#Late Night part 23 also final | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

romugh · 2 months ago

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SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her.

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

#romugh writes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #romugh's requests #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson reader #marvel #black widow

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denwritesandcries · 2 months ago

Text

Fall(ing for You) – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x soft goth!reader

Summary: Sam is certain that Tara's new quiet friend may turn out to be Ghostface, unfortunately – or not –, that friend is you.

or, it takes the help of tara and a dog for sam to finally come to her senses.

Word count: 6,0k.

Content: scream 6 but without the killing, r's 23, cursing, wingman tara ft. yr dog, jokes abt r being ghostface, fluff, pining, sam falling first AND harder, silly movie references.

Note: hey guys, It's been a while since I've written for scream but I rewatched it recently and finally got some inspiration again! I describe the reader a little more in this but it won't really affect anything if you choose to ignore it.

English is not my first language.

Tara made a new friend.

Sam still isn't sure exactly, but the only plausible explanation for the way Tara has been acting lately is that her sister met someone interesting enough to keep her attention so that she gave everyone a break from her tantrums and reckless behavior since their new start outside of Woodsboro.

Now, that could be a good thing, it had been months since the kids started college and they were all doing relatively well. Mindy had Anika, Chad had Ethan and also there was Quinn, even though she wasn't very close to anyone. Tara should have someone too.

The problem is that Sam has no idea who this person is. Tara just won't tell her.

You see, Sam understands that she might have been a little too protective of her sister and that this made Tara's behavior become defensive towards her. Her new therapist – after she got rid of that quack – is helping her work through that, okay? But curiosity and worry were eating away at her insides. The curfews, the tasers and pepper sprays, and especially the ID checks were all important to keep them safe, dammit! Mindy and Chad had no problem with it, and it was only after all the appropriate measures were in place that Sam could breathe and let these new people be a part of their lives. Not knowing this so-called friend, let alone who they were, was driving her to the brink of a breakdown.

She was trying to give her some space, probing with subtle questions here and there and the most she got was an eye roll and ‘It’s just a sophomore I met at the film club, haven't you said I should try to be part of something that didn’t involve frat parties?’

Well, at least it wasn’t a boyfriend, given the lack of dreamy sighs, giggles into the phone and late-night escapades. That was good. They already had enough problems to deal with and a new relationship so quickly was the same as asking for a ghostface to go for them again and Sam hadn’t been back in Tara’s life long enough to know how to deal with this part of being a big sister yet.

Sam had understood that she wouldn’t meet this mysterious person for a while, at least until her sister’s tantrum had passed, and between two shitty jobs and trying to keep a structured life being responsible for a bunch of teenagers in the big city, she couldn’t find it in herself to insist on the subject any further and get the risk of causing a fight. She thought it would be forgotten.

Now just imagine Sam's surprise when she came home one night after a long, exhausting shift, expecting to eat the leftover pizza she had hidden in the fridge and fall into a deep sleep, only to be knocked over by an noisy and strange dog with a piece of pizza in its mouth as soon as she opened the apartment door. Her pizza.

“Koda!” Someone called. Someone unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the dog, there was a stranger in her house.

Sam’s hand instinctively moves to reach for the taser hidden in her jacket when a pair of black-clad legs show up in her vision. Does Ghostface work with dogs now? She wonders in confusion for a moment, and has given up on the voice changer?

The only thing stopping her from tasing this potential killer in front of her is the pure bewilderment and Tara’s laughter filling the room.

“Oh my god,” the figure bends down, picking up the dog who turns out to be a very excited puppy, the pizza falling from its mouth and onto her shirt, getting it all over her, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s a girl, a face she’s never seen before, looking completely mortified.

“Hey, Sam,” Tara stops beside her, a barely hidden tone of satisfaction in her voice, “This is my friend. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

It's safe to say that Sam didn't like Tara's new friend at all.

“You didn’t think about telling me you were bringing someone?” Sam exclaimed, rubbing her temples wearily, “Especially that Lydia Deetz project right there? I almost shocked her in the middle of the hallway!”

Quinn shifted from where she was leaning against the counter in the small impromptu meeting and didn’t bother to hold back her laugh, “Nah, I think Tara would fit that role better.”

“Quinn,” Sam groaned exasperatedly.

“If I had told you you would have said no,” Tara shrugged.

“Yes! Because we don’t know her!”

It was quite awkward sitting on the couch in their living room less than five feet away from the kitchen and being able to hear every word spoken as if you weren't right there, with your messy dog happily chewing on the sock on your ankle.

This wasn't the turn you expected your night to take when you decided to accept Tara's sudden invitation for a movie night, visiting her off-campus for the first time since you became friends.

You met her at the start of the school year, the day she showed up for a film club meeting before anyone else arrived, well, anyone except you. She seemed completely lost and suspicious, even though she was clearly struggling not to show it, which made you like her right away.

Getting attention and starting conversations was never really your thing, this whole club thing wasn't either, honestly, but you ended up being one of the last older members to join with most of the others having recently graduated and the responsibility of looking after the new freshmans gradually fell on you. Most of the time you kept to yourself, preferring the behind-the-scenes side of things to participating in the long-winded debates of high school teens obsessed with slashers and making Stab parodies, but you noticed the way Tara seemed desperate for any sense of normalcy beneath her laid-back facade and the whispers of murder that haunted her.

You took what seemed like a rabid kitten under your wing and ended up cornered by the personification of a Doberman because of it. Talk about doing good deeds and stepping out of your comfort zone. What a joke.

Tara’s older sister, Sam, if you got it right, stared at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes – just like Tara when you first approached her – towering over your figure that tried to look smaller than it actually was on the couch, as if she was trying to learn every little hidden detail about you.

“So…” you began hesitantly, wanting to break the awkward silence that had ensued, “you have such a beautiful house.”

“Aren’t you too old to hangout with a freshmen?" Sam cut in coldly, one eyebrow perfectly arched in distrust.

You sighed, this conversation sure started off very well, “I’m 23,” you cleared your throat, “Tara’s in the same club as me, and I’ve just been helping her with some classes I used to take when I first started here.”

You hear Tara’s distinct chuckle, clearly amused by your frustration, which doesn’t help your situation much. What a wonderful friend, indeed.

Sam hummed with fake indifference and the other two housemates watched the exchange intently, eyes darting between you like they were at a tennis match, amused by the sight of Sam trying to intimidate the poor unsuspecting twit that you were.

A great friend, for sure. Ugh, this is why you don’t sponsor obviously troubled kids.

It’s not like Sam Carpenter is really intimidating or scaring you out the way she seems to want to, she has bags under her eyes and a greasy pizza stain on her shirt and you’re a grown woman, for God’s sake! It’s just that it was extremely embarrassing to cause a scene like that, especially with someone who you really wanted to make a good first impression.

Interacting so much socially lately was becoming relatively exhausting and you expected it wouldn't become a thing, as you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. You hoped this would be the last big meeting you had for a while. Tara had told you a lot about her sister, mainly about how it was a pain in the ass to always have someone hovering over her, but it was something you never took seriously because of the way she sounded when she talked about it, too loving for someone who hated the situation so much. No, Sam was important and Tara had insisted that you meet her after doing the same with the twins just a few days ago. You had carefully planned how it would happen, what clothes you would wear and what you would say and now your chance to make things right was ruined, the words seeming to have escaped you in a flash. You were reserved, quiet, small in the midst of so much hustle and bustle, used to watching everything go by from the safety of the shadows. Being a mouse was easy.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Less easy when caged with a lion.

“Look,” you tried again, silently squirming as your pup start sniffing Sam’s combat boots furiously as you stood to pick him up, “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble or misunderstanding, Tara called me earlier while I was walking this little guy and insisted it would be okay if I came over for a movie. I can leave now if you want to, I’m really sorry for… well, all of this.”

You noticed Sam's expression became conflicted, as if she didn't know exactly what to make of you standing in the middle of her living room without showing any threat and wasn't used to people actually listening to her on sight. Still, she wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Great,” Sam nodded, her voice sounding less firm, “go then.” She pointed directly at your dog, now sitting at her feet with its fluffy head tilted to the side in a guiltily innocent manner, “And make sure to take that pizza thief with you.”

(You swear he looked personally offended.)

“What? No!” Tara seemed to realize that her little game could backfire and came out from behind the counter in your defense.

“Tara—”

“Come on, Sam, it's movie night!” She stomped her foot loudly, “I refused the invite to Jason's party for that, we were marathoning all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres!”

You don’t even have to be good at reading people to know that Sam had lost that fight the moment Tara looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that there was no way to blame her for simply doing what she asked.

That didn’t stop Sam from rolling her eyes and huffing in irritation.

“Fine,” she practically growled, shifting her attention back to you, “But I’m gonna keep an eye on you, so you better not act all smart and keep that fleabag away from me.”

“His name’s Koda.” You pointed out, before softening, “And thank you, I promise I’m not gonna—”

“Shush.”

Sam was sure this was all part of an act of yours, just the first step to infiltrate their lives and pull the rug out like others have done before, because no one in their right mind would sit quietly next to someone who nearly shocked and threatened them in many ways just a few minutes ago.

Especially if that someone is burning holes in your head with their eyes, like she's doing now.

Sam watches shamelessly and intrigued, shooting daggers at your figure as you lean back with Tara babbling enthusiastically between you, your puppy completely knocked out on her lap, oblivious to the sounds of death and fake blood spurting from the TV. She notices the way you effectively ignore her, responding to Tara’s remarks with genuine interest, even if your voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm.

You remained quiet beyond those moments and the tiredness along with your lack of sudden movements made Sam feel secure enough to leave the room and finally take a shower – because along with everything she never saw much fun in these movies like Tara –, warning you that it was better for everyone to finish the night when the movie ended.

(She also forced Quinn to take her place on the couch and promise to scream if anything happened. You didn't comment on that either.)

Sam only falls asleep when she hears the sounds of goodbyes coming from the living room and the door house being closed, finally relaxing after all the interaction, deciding that it was enough. You could have been at her house, but that doesn't mean she would let you come over again.

You come back, because of course Tara doesn’t give a damn about Sam’s warnings about being careful around strangers – incessantly claiming that you’re not a stranger – and there you are at the next game night that Chad insisted on making a tradition.

At least there’s no sign of the shirt-destroying furball this time and there are pizzas smelling good on the kitchen counter.

“‘Sup, Sam!” Chad greeted loudly as she walked through the door, waving excitedly from the couch, “We’re playin’ uno!”

Her eyes landed on you, who waved at her with a small, tight smile, awkwardly sandwiched between Anika and Ethan, the way you stood out among them so comical that Sam suppressed a snort. She decided to join in without much protest, someone responsible still had to watch you, after all.

Sam wouldn’t admit to anyone, absolutely anyone, that she was enjoying the evening, listening to the heated exchanges as everyone got competitive. Strangely, she noticed that you didn’t try to engage much in the conversation, just like the other night, seeming happy to just be there. She thought you had been withdrawn then because of her behavior towards you, but maybe you were just shy.

That made her raise an eyebrow, Tara didn’t usually embrace introverts. Actually, she had always been pretty popular even before Sam left, if she remembered correctly, so this was new. She felt a small piece of curiosity spark inside her instead of more mistrust as she expected and it disconcerted her.

“The whole point of the 7 card is that you're not supposed to talk, man!” Mindy throwing chips at Ethan interrupted Sam's flow of thoughts.

“This rule is stupid! The manual doesn't even mention it, read it for yourself!” Ethan shuffled the cards wildly – everyone at the table had seen his hand – pointing, “And you’re talking too!”

“Whatever! Nobody reads the fuckin manual to play uno, Ethan!”

Tara groaned, “Guys, just shut up and everybody buys a card.”

“But that’s not how you play!”

She decided to abandon the game and all the fuss in favor of getting some air and a slice of pizza and was surprised to find that her favorite was still untouched, which was a miracle in such a crowded house.

“Tara said that you liked this flavor,” your voice coming from nearby startled her and Sam saw you gesture to the box in front of her, “My treat, for the other day.”

She cleared her throat hesitantly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” you dismissed with a wider smile, “My dog left you without dinner.”

Sam didn’t respond, but you leaned against the counter next to her anyway, picking at the dark polish on your nails casually, listening to your friends arguing in the background.

“Get tired of the crowd?” Sam asked, deciding that ignoring you wasn’t an option since you clearly weren’t leaving.

“Yeah,” you agreed, shrugging with an odd laugh, “I guess I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

Sam wasn’t sure why she didn’t just send you away then, seizing the perfect chance to dismiss you like she’d wanted all along and avail everyone's presence to remind that you weren’t welcome, but that strange spark flared in her and made her smile unconsciously, more sincere than the previous tense ones.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she agreed slowly.

Your expression brightens in surprise, as if you expected a cold, blunt rejection or maybe a slap (probably both) and Sam feels a bit guilty by it. Sighing, she waves you towards the apartment’s tiny balcony, silently inviting you to join her, to which you respond with a firm nod as you watch her unwind the chain on the sliding door – they keep everything locked up tight now – and follow her.

Sam swears she’s not doing this to be nice or anything, all she wants is to repay you for your politeness, that’s all.

The night breeze is refreshing and sends pleasant shivers down your arms and shoulders as Sam leans against the railing and the two of you fall silent. It’s pleasant, actually.

Sam takes a moment to look at you, like, really look at you for the first time since you met and her breath hitches.

Your relaxed features look cheerful and are well-emphasized by the makeup you’re wearing – she tries to search her memory and gets frustrated when she can’t remember if it’s the same style as the night you met – your hair blows a little in the wind and your clothes just fit. Every single thing about you seems to have been specially made to be this way, charming, beautiful.

Your elbow brushes hers in the small space as you lean in to better contemplate the dreary, empty New York sky and Sam’s skin is burning and she doesn’t understand why.

Sam didn’t realize, through all the haze of anger and suspicion and tantrum, until she was touching a pretty girl, that you were, in fact, a pretty girl.

Shit.

“You’re trying so hard not to like her that I’m getting embarrassed for you.”

It’s late. Everyone has already left, including you, who went early claiming you had to work the next morning. Tara should be in bed by now, but she’d be upset if Sam told her to do that, so she doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam dismisses, packing up the last of the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“But you do,” Tara hums smugly, stifling a yawn, “Just admit that you were wrong and that I’ve made a friend who’s not a potential serial killer. And that you might have a crush on her. I saw you two on the balcony.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she grumbles, “And I wasn’t wrong for being worried that you brought home a stranger without telling me, even if she’s not dangerous.”

“Ha!” Tara points out, “So you admit she’s no danger.”

Sam sighs tiredly, bringing a hand up to massage her temple, “She can keep coming over for movie nights or whatever if that’s what you're asking me.”

Tara cheered, jumping up from where she was sitting on the counter to finally go to sleep. She stopped just before turning the corner to her room.

“Seriously though,” she caught Sam’s attention, “You guys have more in common then you might think, that’s why I like her. I think you could too, if you get to know her better.”

“That’s impossible, Tar,” Sam says weary, looking at her sister with the most done expression, “I don’t ‘get to know’ anyone, I already have all the people I need in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll be surprised,” she shrugged, “It would be good for you anyway.”

Sam's approval was all Tara needed to make you a regular fixture in their lives and make movie nights an official thing. Sam usually walks in when they're in full swing, with the two of you deep in conversation about the completely random movie you decided to watch that day, and now she greets you back instead of ignoring like she did before and you look happier every time she does it openly.

She finds excuses to wander around the living room and kitchen when she hears Tara pause the tv for whatever reason, just so she doesn't leave you unsupervised in their house – it was still too early to rule out all the care, after all. It ends up making her feel kind of ridiculous, because, hell, she shouldn't have to make excuses to wander around her own house! But you guys talk during these moments, sometimes.

Sam learns more about you as time goes on, and she tells herself that it's just gathering information, that you're not friends at all, but she finds herself soaking up every bit of detail. What are you majoring in, how long have you been in town, if you live close to campus like most students or if you have roommates like them.

(Actually, when she thinks about it now, Sam probably sounded more like a maniac trying to find out where you live, but at least you didn’t call her out on it.)

Then movie nights are joined by study sessions that Tara insists on having as her first week of finals approaches, and you manage to convince Sam to let you bring your puppy too so he won’t be alone for so many hours and she can act a little more normal around you and have a conversation that doesn’t sound like a job interview. You tell her about the movies you like – which consist of more than just an extensive list of slashers like she initially assumed – in a loud and excited tone instead of your usual repressed one, and it stirs something inside her, which leads to several other facts. Your favorite color, what kind of music you like, what you do when her sister isn't dragging you somewhere, and why you decided to adopt a dog so young when you already had so many other responsibilities.

“He helps me not feel alone,” you replied, looking deep into her eyes, “my roommate graduated last year and moved out. I guess I couldn’t stand coming home to empty houses, you know? And he’s my guard dog, he takes care of me and I take care of him. The little guy might be small but knows how to do damage.”

She could relate to that, in part.

And then you start asking too, suddenly and Sam finds herself with a dilemma after so long avoiding your attempts to get to know her. She’d rather remain closed off.

But a trade isn’t a fair trade unless she gives you something back, is it? And you’ve been quenching her thirst for knowledge for a long time now, you gave her a lot.

So, during one night when you insist on helping her make dinner, she confides in you – somewhat reluctantly – that she really enjoys cooking, especially healthier meals. She doesn't look at you, nor does she say it clearly but still, you listen and Sam is surprised when she finds herself speaking.

“You really should ask her out.”

And of course, Tara is always close enough to raise an eyebrow with a knowing look at her on practically every occasion.

“I've told you already, it's not like that.”

“You're cuddling her dog right now.”

“Just so he stays quiet and doesn't disturb you two! Shouldn't you be studying, by the way?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sam can almost, almost admit that you're her friend too.

(Though she kinda wished it were a little more than that.)

Movie nights evolve into sleepovers, because Sam argues that it’s simply too late and dangerous for you to come back alone and she feels embarrassed – and guilty as much – when Quinn brings up that it has always been dangerous and she didn’t mind letting you go before, when she didn’t care about you.

Now there are some of your clothes in a drawer Tara set aside for you just like a colorful food bowl in the living room for your dog – Mindy jokes that it's theirs now – and there’s rarely a day that goes by where she doesn’t see you.

And when you don’t come over, Tara makes sure to remind her of how anxious she looks waiting for a knock on the door and how she lights up when you greet her first when you finally arrive.

“I swear that now she comes here more to see you than me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs, “And when are you gonna make a move again?”

“Never, Tara.”

Sam hasn't heard a thing about you in days. Tara said yesterday that you ended up getting really busy with a college project, preparing a presentation that, her sister quotes, 'needs to be perfect because public speaking is horrible and there's a big chance I'll embarrass myself.'

It's not that Sam asked, it's just that she doesn't text you often and Tara thought it would be convenient to talk about it out loud when she was on the phone with Mindy.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter, it's not like you two are close. You are Tara's friend. If it weren't for her, you two wouldn't even have a reason to see each other. There's no reason to be so stressed.

But she misses you anyway. She's having a shitty day at her shitty job and everything seems to go by even slower because Sam knows that when she gets home at night you probably won't be on the couch waiting with the soft smile she's grown accustomed to looking forward and if she has to deal with another group of rude teenagers she'll freak out.

The sound of the bell ringing at the entrance draws Sam’s attention back to the counter and she ends up face to face with the person who has been on her mind all day.

“Sam!” you approached with a tired smile, your dog wagging his tail happily on a leash in one hand and a paper bag in the other, “I was looking for you.”

You'd never visited her at work before, she didn't even know you knew where it was, having only mentioned it in passing, but there you were, with the smile she wanted to see and bags under your eyes.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up. Damn, she looked like a teen girl with a crush, “I didn't expect to see you here, what, uhm, what do you need?”

You snorted at her flustered attending voice. Seeing her show any kind of nervousness was very unusual.

“Tara called me today demanding I get out of the house for a bit and ‘touch some grass’, so I decided to bring this buddy along, he was begging me for a proper walk,” you shrugged, “And she asked me to bring your lunch.”

Sam paused at that, Tara definitely didn't make lunches for her, much less go to the trouble of delivering them like that.

“...Thank you,” she accepted the paper bag you held out delicately, eyeing the package suspiciously. You held back a giggle when she looked at you again, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, “I’m taking Koda to the park nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to come with us. If you can, of course.”

Sam couldn’t really, it was still a few hours before her shift ended at the coffee shop, but she didn’t want you to leave without the promise of seeing you again.

“Of course,” she found herself replying instead, “I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when you gifted her with one of your warm smiles.

“Okay! Nice,” you nod, absently twirling your dog’s leash around your fingers, startled by the sudden, loud bark he lets out at the delay, breaking the oblivious bubble you were in, “Alright, I should go before he starts trying to jump over the counter.”

Sam barely hears the sound of the bell announcing your departure over how loudly her heart pounds in her ears.

It takes a lot of willpower and her last pack of good cigarettes to convince her insufferable coworker — who’d watched the whole thing with a bored expression and loudly chewing gum while cleaning the coffee machine — to cover the rest of her shift. He ended up ordering her lunch too, thinking it might be something special, only to complain when he was met with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of warm apple juice. Tara really didn’t cook… but then why had she done that?

(She laughed at him anyway.)

“You owe me, Carpenter,” he grumbled, taping a note to her arm that had fallen out of the package.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Sam was out the door before he could change his mind.

Taking a deep breath of the damp autumn air, she picked up the yellow post-it note curiously, recognizing her sister’s handwriting immediately.

‘u looked so depressed lately that I

decided to send u a gift

DO something this time

good luck!!’

She knew. She fucking knew that smartass had set her up. Sam should have guessed it before. Tara would never let her get away with this without doing something with her own hands. At least she hadn’t brought Mindy into the scheme this time.

The park you had mentioned was more like a small square and with the rainy cold weather of the last few days, it was pretty empty. Sam could spot you without difficulty, sitting on one of the few benches watching the scenery and she made her presence known when she got close enough.

“Can he even sit still sometimes?” Sam asked, hands in her bomber jacket pockets, pointing with her chin at the dog playing alone on the grass. You moved a little so she could sit next to you and subtly moved closer when she did.

“It rained last night and he's a big fan of puddles,” you chuckled, “I guess he's just excited, we haven't been out much lately.”

He wasn't the puppy he'd been when Sam had first seen him a few months ago and the sight of him running around the trees chasing flowers and stray twigs was actually quite funny.

“He's so covered in mud that it looks like a bear.”

“Well, his name's Koda,” you pointed out amusedly, “I would have called him Pongo but he always looked more like a small bear than a dalmatian anyway.”

She snorted, “If you say so.”

Sam couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed, with the weight of your shoulder resting against hers, enjoying the weather of the early season, the ground covered in orange and yellow leaves framing your surroundings.

She couldn't stop the restlessness she felt inside her chest, watching your profile. Feeling warm inside, but also shivering with a terrible fear of ruining everything. Do something, do something, do something echoing like a mantra in her head.

Sam took a deep breath. She'd faced murderers before, for God's sake! She could be braver than that.

"So..." She coughed, "Tara set this up, you know? The lunch stuff and everything."

You turned your attention to Sam, raising an eyebrow with a confused look.

"She did?" You asked, "Why would she do that?"

It's now or never, Carpenter. Focus.

“She did it so I could see you,” she looked away, “Because I missed you. Because I…” She felt your hand reach for hers and noticed a fallen leaf on your shoulder.

“Because you…?” your voice echoed anxious. She could do this. She's going to do this.

“I—”

A loud howl scared the two of you and you turned to see Koda behind a pile of leaves, pupils dilated and jumping up and down.

“Oh no.”

“What?” She stammered.

“He saw a pigeon.”

You see, Sam is not a pet person. She has only had one guinea pig her entire life and only before her father left and a 6-year-old Tara let it escape from its cage never to be seen again – poor Darwin would always be remembered – she does not know how to handle dogs, much less big, excitable ones like yours.

Yet she grabs the leash from your hands when you finally reach your dog who won't stop barking at a tree and ignores your warnings that he is heavy and strong, Sam, it will end up dragging you away and tries to gently pull him to convince him to let go so you can get out of there. Because she is big and strong and she wants to show you that she can handle a mere happy dog.

He acknowledges her like she wanted and also drags her like you said he would.

This manages to surprise her more than the first stab wound she took, how one minute she’s standing still, telling your silly dog to walk in a confident condescending tone, and the next she’s running at full speed through the trees and puddles of the park, your worried voice ringing behind her, as does your laughter.

“Sam!” you exclaimed from a distance, hands cupped around your mouth and dark red scarf falling from your neck, “You need to stop!”

She does stop, yes, but only after your dog has already circled her and Sam must be a ridiculous sight with a colorful leash wrapped around her legs and a dog panting with its tongue out next to her.

“Oh my god,” you lean in closer, unable to hide the amusement in your voice, “Are you okay?”

Sam huffed, feeling a strand of hair fall across her face: “A little help would be appreciated.”

“Sure,” you laughed, reaching out to carefully untangle it, “Maybe I should call him Pongo after all.”

She rolled her eyes: “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, it’s just cute.”

Sam opened her mouth to retort, only to realize how close you two were, with your hands resting on her shoulders to steady her and your faces just inches apart, your breath tickling her skin. You seemed to realize the same thing, tongue coming out to wet your lips, your gaze fixed on her mouth.

Do something. Do something. Do something.

She finally does something. She kisses you.

It's all a mix of sensations, she feels when you sigh, breathing through your nose in surprise and satisfaction, she feels where your hands tighten on the fabric of her jacket and tastes you, warm lips contrasting with the cold skin of your cheeks, with traces of coffee, lipstick and something else so undeniably you that Sam swears her heart might stop.

You pull apart hesitantly, breathing fast, noses touching, eyes shining, and she feels herself falling, literally. Your dog jumps on your waist, demanding to be petted, and you fall, taking Sam with you.

Landing in a pile of leaves is more uncomfortable than the movies make it out to be, but Sam can’t find it in herself to protest when you’re the one on top of her. She smiles and you laugh out loud. She didn’t mess up.

“You’re covered in leaves,” you say, running your fingers through her hair, “And your face is smeared with black lipstick.”

She scoffs, “I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“He is,” you point innocently at the dog standing next to you.

Sam rolls her eyes, but cups your face with her cold hands to pull you close again, and the second kiss she gives you is just as magical as the first.

Tara doesn’t expect to find a dog taking up the entire couch for the first time in days when she comes back from Chad’s dorm after sending you off on a fake mission to find her sister. Yet, hours later, there it is, with one of the sneakers she forgot to put away when she got home from class stuck in his mouth and trails of mud and leaves across the room.

“C’mon, man, that’s not a toy!”

She hears a laugh and finds herself face to face with Sam, looking completely filthy despite the sound of the shower running in the hallway and Tara knows Quinn isn’t home yet. Oh.

“So, you finally did something?”

Sam nods solemnly, pointing to the dark kiss etched into her jaw.

“I did.”

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream x reader #scream vi #scream imagine #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #melissa barrera #denwrites #scream franchise #sam carpenter fluff

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snowysosturn · 3 months ago

Text

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 17

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : (This is the longest chapter so far, 5.2k words, warnings will contain spoilers!!) MDNI, angst, fluff, tension, slight arguing, cheating (dont do this) smut, p in v (protected!), guilt, also not fully proof read ill do that when I wake up in the morning lol

After a few more moments of soaking in the thrill of the evening, it was time to leave the rink. The cold air had seeped through our clothes, and the exhilaration of skating had left us both pleasantly tired. As we slowly made our way to the edge of the rink, I couldn’t help but glance back at the ice one last time. It had been years since I felt so alive, so connected to something I loved, with someone who was becoming more special to me with every passing moment.

Matt reached the edge first, turning around to offer me his hand as I approached. I took it without hesitation, his warmth cutting through the chill in the air. We stepped off the ice and walked over to the benches to change out of our skates. As we sat down, the silence between us was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that tonight had been something special. I unlaced my skates, my fingers still tingling from the cold, and slipped back into my shoes. Matt did the same, occasionally glancing over at me with that easygoing smile that made my heart skip a beat.

Once we were both ready, we gathered our things and headed for the exit. The rink was eerily quiet now, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly through the empty space. As we reached the doors, Matt paused, as I turned to look at him with a playful glint in my eyes.

"Can I just say, I’m amazed with how good you are on the ice" I teased. "You’ve set the bar pretty high for our next hangout."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, so now there’s a bar I have to maintain? I see how it is."

I grinned, as Matt held the door open for me as we stepped out into the cool night air. "Well, you’ve definitely got me curious about what else you can do."

The parking lot was almost empty, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cars. We walked toward his car, the night wrapping around us like a blanket.

As we reached his car, Matt opened the door for me, his hand lingering on the frame as he looked at me. For a moment, we just stood there, the unspoken connection between us stronger than ever. Then, with a soft smile, I slid into the passenger seat, and Matt closed the door behind me. He walked around to the driver’s side, and got in. As he started the engine, the car hummed to life, and we pulled out of the parking lot. The drive back was quieter than the drive there, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Instead, it was the kind of silence that felt full, heavy with the memories of the night and the growing connection between us. Every now and then, Matt would glance over at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

He finally broke the silence, his voice soft “I honestly think you should get back into skating Y/n."

I laughed, turning to face him. "No I can't, it's too late now, I’ve missed the opportunity."

"It’s never too late, and from what I witnessed earlier on you still have it, it comes so naturally to you." He replied, his tone sincere. "Even I felt like I learned a lot from you, maybe I’ll become a figure skater now. You know, give you a run for your money."

"Ha, I’d like to see that" I said, rolling my eyes but smiling. "But seriously, it was really fun. I haven’t felt that free in a long time."

"I’m glad" he said, his eyes flickering toward me briefly before focusing back on the road. "You deserve to feel like that more often."

We fell into another easy silence, the sound of the road beneath us and the faint hum of music playing softly in the background. The city lights blurred past, and I found myself lost in thought, the events of the night replaying in my mind.

Before I knew it, we were pulling up to my apartment building. Matt slowed the car to a stop in front, the engine idling softly. He turned to me, his expression softer, more thoughtful now.

"I really enjoyed tonight, Y/n" he said, his voice low. "It was.. special."

"Yeah, it was.." I agreed, my heart beating a little faster as I looked at him. There was something in the air between us, a tension that had been building all night. Part of me wanted to close the gap, to see what it would be like to kiss him, to let this connection go where it felt like it wanted to.

But before I could act on the thought, the car’s dashboard lit up with an incoming call. A serious sense of deja vu running through my body. Emily’s name flashed across the screen, and just like that, the moment shattered.

I blinked, the reality of everything crashing back into place. I knew I was breaking up with Alex, but to him, the relationship wasn’t over yet. He was clueless about what was coming, about what he had done to push me away, and the fact that I know what he’s done. As for Matt, things were different. He didn’t know about Emily’s betrayal, how she had basically ended their relationship with what she did with Alex.

Matt glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly. He ignored the call, but seconds later, it rang again, Emily’s name glaring at us from the dashboard. I took it as a sign, a reminder that whatever was happening between us, it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

"I should go.." I said softly, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for the door handle.

Matt looked at me, something unspoken passing between us, but he nodded. "Okay" he replied, his voice laced with disappointment. "Goodnight, Y/n.”

"Goodnight, Matt," I said, giving him a small smile before I opened the door and slid out of the car. I paused for a moment, looking back at him as he finally answered the phone. His voice was low, and I could hear the tension in his tone as he spoke to Emily.

I turned away, walking up the steps to my apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. The night had been perfect, almost magical, but it ended on a note that brought me right back to reality. As I reached my door, I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if things were different, if we were both free to explore whatever this was between us without the shadows of our current situations looming over us.

But for now, all I could do was disappear into the night, leaving Matt to deal with his own tangled mess as I tried to untangle mine.

Matt's POV

Standing outside Y/n’s door, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. I hadn’t planned on showing up unannounced, but after yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I wanted to do something special, something that she loved, like skating. When she opened the door, I couldn’t help but smile at the surprise on her face.

“Hey, sorry for just appearing… Are you free for the night?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my heart was racing.

She stood there, clearly debating whether to mention something, maybe that she already had plans. But before she could respond, I knew I had ro say something else, I really wanted the plans I’d made to happen, “I have a bit of a surprise for you.”

I could see the curiosity spark in her eyes as she nodded. I felt a surge of relief. This was going to be good.

In the car, she kept asking where we were going, but I just grinned and told her my lips were sealed. When I mentioned it would be an hour's drive, she looked at me like I was crazy, but the way she smiled told me she didn’t mind. I suggested she jump on aux, and soon we were caught up in a back and forth of sharing songs. Each song she played gave me a glimpse into her world, her taste, and it felt like we were connecting on a level I hadn’t expected.

When she saw the sign for LA Kings Valley Ice Centre, the way her eyes lit up was worth every second of planning.

“We’re going skating?” she asked, clearly excited.

I nodded, feeling a bit proud of myself. “I was serious when I said I wanted to learn how to spin.”

Her excitement was contagious. “This is where I used to go to skate school,” she said, and I could hear the nostalgia in her voice. She kept thanking me, but honestly, seeing her this happy was thanks enough.

Renting the place wasn’t an issue to me, I wanted to make sure it was just us there. The look of surprise and gratitude on her face made me feel like I’d done something right. Something she needed.

We laced up our skates and hit the ice. I could tell she was expecting me to be a total mess out there, but when I glided smoothly beside her, she looked genuinely surprised.

“Woah, you can skate?” she asked.

“Played hockey for years” I replied with a grin, enjoying the way she looked at me, maybe seeing me in a different light.

She teased me about my skating skills, so naturally, we decided to race. We lined up at one end of the rink, and I couldn’t help but notice how she looked - confident, poised, and honestly, really attractive. We took off, laughing as we pushed ourselves to go faster. She won, of course, but it didn’t matter. The way she laughed as she reached the other end made me feel like I’d won something else entirely.

After the race, she finally started to teach me how to spin. I watched closely as she walked me through the steps, focusing on her movements, her voice. When I tried it myself, I was nervous, I wanted to impress her and honestly, I wasn’t half bad, but nothing compared to the way she moved. When she started doing her old moves, I was in awe. She still had it, the grace, the skill. It was mesmerizing to watch.

I couldn’t stop watching her, how she has so much potential with skating, how it looked like she’d never stopped doing it, I was in absolute awe. The connection between us grew with every moment we spent on that ice. I didn’t want the night to end, but eventually, we had to leave.

On the drive back, the atmosphere in the car was different, calmer, more intimate. We talked about the night, about how much fun it was, I really want to push her to skate again. I wished I could erase the day she ever stopped doing it because I can see what those few hours meant for her. I could feel the tension building again, like it had when we were at the rink. I kept glancing at her, wondering if she was feeling the same way I was.

As we pulled up to her apartment, I felt this urge to kiss her, to see if what I was feeling was real. We sat there for a moment, talking, and I could tell she was thinking about it too. But then my phone lit up with a call from Emily, and the moment was gone.

I cursed under my breath as I saw her name flash on the screen. The timing couldn’t have been worse. I ignored the call, hoping we could get back to where we were, but she called again. I could see the shift in Y/n, the way she pulled back slightly, the way reality crashed back down on both of us.

She opened the passenger door, giving me a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes, and said goodnight. I wanted to stop her, to tell her that this wasn’t the end of the night I wanted, but I couldn’t find the words.

I watched her disappear into her apartment, the weight of everything settling on my shoulders as I finally answered Emily’s call, her voice came through loud and clear.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you, Matt.”

I sighed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I was driving, my phone wasn’t connected properly. Didn’t think it was safe to answer while I was on the road.”

“Driving where? You didn’t mention going anywhere tonight.”

I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to get into the details with her. “Just out, needed some air.”

She huffed on the other end, clearly not satisfied with my vague response. “Have you been speaking to Y/n at all? Alex said she’s been really short with him, and he hasn’t heard from her in hours. He’s starting to lose it.”

I felt a twist in my gut. I wasn’t going to lie fully about being around Y/n this time, only hiding the parts I needed to. “Yeah, I talked to her. But why is he losing it? They’re still together, right?”

Emily scoffed, her tone laced with venom. “Barely. She treats him like shit, Matt. It’s no wonder he’s upset. She’s always so distant, like she couldn’t care less about him. And now, she’s ignoring him while he’s on the other side of the world? That’s just selfish.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling my patience wearing thin. “That’s not fair, Emily. You don’t know what’s going on between them. It seems Y/n’s been dealing with a lot lately, and maybe she just needs some space.”

Emily’s laugh was bitter. “Oh, come on, Matt. Don’t defend her. Alex deserves better than someone who barely gives him the time of day. I mean, look at how she’s acting now. It’s like she’s purposely pushing him away.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re wrong about her. Y/n isn’t the problem here. Alex has been distant for a while, and maybe she’s finally had enough. That doesn’t make her the bad guy.”

There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost picture Emily’s surprise at my sudden defense of Y/n. “You’re really going to take her side?”

“It’s not about sides, Emily. It’s about understanding that there’s more to this than you know. Maybe if you spent less time shit talking Y/n and more time trying to actually help your friend, you’d see that.”

Her voice dropped to a cold, almost threatening tone. “You better be careful, Matt.”

I felt my frustration boiling over. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and I couldn’t stand the way Emily was twisting everything. “I think this call is over, Emily. I’m done with this.”

Before she could say anything else, I ended the call and threw my phone onto the passenger seat, feeling a wave of anger and guilt crashing over me. I couldn’t believe how Emily was acting, how blind she was to what was really happening. And the worst part was, I knew Y/n was suffering because of it.

I turned off the engine, unbuckling my seatbelt as I made a decision. I couldn’t let the night end like this. I had to do something, something I should’ve done a long time ago. Without another thought, I got out of the car and headed towards Y/n’s apartment.

I knew this was going to change everything, but at that moment, I didn’t care. It was time to set things right, no matter what the consequences were.

Y/n’s POV

As I walked up the steps to my apartment, my mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, emotions pulling me in every direction. The night had been perfect, well, almost. There was something so easy about being around Matt, something that made me forget the chaos my life had become. But as soon as Emily's name flashed on his dashboard, reality came crashing back.

I reached my door, sliding the key into the lock, and stepped inside. The familiar comfort of my apartment wrapped around me, but it did little to ease the storm in my head. I leaned against the door after closing it, trying to make sense of everything. The skating, the music, the laughter. It had felt like an escape, like we were in our own little world where nothing could touch us. But that world wasn't real.

Matt was still tied to Emily, and I was still stuck with the knowledge of Alex’s betrayal. The fact that Emily had basically cheated on Matt with Alex, and that Alex was oblivious, Matt was obvious. It didn’t make it any better. If anything, it made everything worse. Was I any better than them for feeling what I felt about Matt? For enjoying tonight as much as I did? The guilt crept in again. I was planning to break up with Alex, that much was certain. But did that make what I was feeling, what I was starting to want, any less wrong? Could I really justify it?

I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away, but they clung to me like a shadow. Matt was different. He wasn’t like Alex. But Emily.. Emily had her claws in him, both of them it seems, and I couldn’t forget that. She might not deserve him, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still together.

A sudden knock on the door yanked me from my spiraling thoughts. My heart jumped into my throat as I turned towards the door, my pulse quickening. I hesitated for a moment, trying to pull myself together, before reaching for the handle.

As soon as the door swung open, I barely had time to register Matt standing there before he closed the distance between us. His hands cupped my face and his lips crashed against mine. It was like a dam had broken, all the tension and longing we’d both been holding back finally pouring out. I could feel the urgency in his touch, the desperation. I responded instinctively, my hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as we lost ourselves in the moment.

I felt the world around us disappear, nothing else mattered but this - Matt and me, finally giving in to what we both wanted. There was no hesitation, no second guessing. Everything felt right. His lips moved against mine with a perfect rhythm, and I could feel the heat between us growing, the connection we shared becoming more intense with each passing second.

As we continued to kiss, Matt’s hands slipped from my face down to my waist, pulling me even closer to him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the way his heart was racing just as fast as mine. It was intoxicating, the way we fit together, the way everything just clicked.

But even in the haze of the moment, there was a tenderness in the way he held me, a sense of care that made my heart swell. He wasn’t just kissing me - he was telling me something, something that went beyond words. And in that moment, I knew I felt the same way.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other’s. Matt’s eyes were searching mine, as if trying to find the words to say something, but he didn’t need to. I knew what he felt, and I felt it too.

“Matt..” I whispered, my voice shaky from the intensity of what had just happened.

He didn’t respond right away, just held me there, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time” he finally said, his voice low and full of emotion.

I smiled softly, feeling the truth in his words. “Me too” I admitted.

We stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. There were still so many things we needed to talk about, so many complications, but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that we were finally here, together, and everything else could wait.

Everything else melted away. The confusion, the guilt, the doubts - they all vanished in the intensity of that kiss. It was like every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, was finally being released. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, I could only feel. This was what I had been running from, what I had been trying to deny. But now that it was happening, now that Matt was kissing me like this, there was no going back. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

We stared into eachothers eyes again momentarily before closing the gap again, this time more intense than before, like we couldn’t get enough of each other. I began to walk backwards, pulling Matt along with me by his shirt.

I break away from him, grabbing his hand and turning to guide him to my shared bedroom. I push open the door and we rush straight in, both too consumed by the connection between us to speak a word.

Matt shuts the door behind him and latches his lips onto mine once more, his hands sliding down to my waist as I wrapped my arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and before I knew it, I was guiding him backwards towards the bed, my heart racing in anticipation. When we reached it, I pushed him gently down onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss.

I climbed onto his lap, straddling him as our lips continued to move together, the heat between us growing. Matt’s hands found their way to my back, holding me close as if he didn’t want to let go, and I felt a thrill run through me at the intensity of it all. The sensation of being so close to him, of feeling his heartbeat against mine, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

I could sense the restraint in Matt’s movements, the careful way he held me, as if he was trying to balance the passion with a deep sense of respect. It was a reminder of why I was drawn to him in the first place - his ability to make me feel safe and cherished, even in the most intense moments.

Eventually, we pulled apart slightly, I looked into Matt's eyes, seeing the same mix of vulnerability and hope that mirrored my own feelings.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, wanting to make sure we were both on the same page.

"This feels right." He whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

I nodded with a soft smile. "It does."

Before I knew it Matt had flipped me over, now laying with my back against the mattress. Foreplay wasn’t on the cards right now, with how bad we desperately wanted each other.

Matt stood up and unbuckled his belt, the metallic sound of the buckle was sharp in the quiet room, a reminder of how far we had already come, and how much further we could go.

I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all I saw was the same intensity that had been there all night, a mix of desire and something deeper, something that made my heart race even more. He paused for a moment, as if giving me the chance to stop, to say something, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Instead, I sat up, to capture his lips again, my hands resting on his shoulders as I felt the belt slide free. The kiss was softer this time, more deliberate, as if we were both savoring every second, every touch. The tension between us was electric, a current that I could feel in every inch of my body.

Matt's fingers traced up and down my thighs as he kissed me back. He hooked his fingers under my pants, pulling them down along with my underwear in one swift motion. I stared up at him with innocent eyes as he threw my pants on the floor and began to pull down his own, now standing in his boxers.

“Is this okay?” Matt asks, trying to make sure he had as much reassurance as possible.

“Of course.” I responded, trying to make him aware of how badly I wanted it.

“Do..do you have anything?” Matt mumbled.

Fuck I never thought this through.

“Uh.. yeah there should be some there in the top drawer”.

Knowing that Matt was about to pull out an unopened pack of condoms that belonged to Alex made my skin crawl. I knew they’d be unopened as our sex life died about a year ago.

Matt rummages around the top drawer and pulls out an open box of condoms. I don’t know what I’m more embarrassed by, the fact that Alex has most definitely been fucking someone else or the fact that Matt definitely thinks that they were being used for me.

“Are you ready?” Matt whispered.

I nodded as he pulled my legs apart, steadying himself at the edge of the bed while he pulled his underwear down, ripping the top of the condom wrapper with his teeth. He looked up at me once he was finished and our eyes met each other, locking into each other's gaze as he pushed into me. My back arched as I squeezed my eyes closed, opening my mouth from the feeling of Matt in me.

“Fffucck” I cried.

He leaned over and gave me a smug smile before kissing me again, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I could barely kiss him back as I couldn’t stop myself from moaning. He fit in me as if it was meant to be.

“You’re so perfect” Matt whispers to me while he starts to kiss my neck.

“Y-you feel soo goood Matt” I whimpered, my body buckling with the multiple sensations I was feeling.

Matt stands up straight again, still keeping his pace, thrusting into me as his hands grip my hips. I feel the loss of his touch on my left side, as he removes his hand and traces downard on my stomach until he reaches my clit. I feel my core start to clench as he swirls his thumb in circles on my sensitive bud.

“Does that feel nice?” Matt whispers, his full attention on me.

“S-so good, Mattt… I’m so close” I whimpered.

“You look so pretty, my girl.” Matt says breathless as he looks at me in complete admiration.

Matt picks up his pace in both areas ever so slightly, still making sure he’s gentle with me. “Fuck you’re so good Y/n, I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck I’m-” I whimper, clenching around his dick as I climax, my body shaking underneath him. Matt wrapped his arms around me and buried his head in my neck. His grunts filling my ears as his thrusts now become sloppy as he finishes. Both two sweaty mess’ fully engrossed in eachother.

I’ve never had this feeling before, finishing by the hands of a man, and I’m glad he was the one that finally could do it for me. I felt an insane amount of comfort with him, my body fully trusted him.

Matt pulled out of me and bent down to give me a slow, passionate kiss. Feeling more connected than ever. He pulls away and looks at me with a slight concerned but playful look to him.

“D-do you have any where I could put this?” Matt asks, pointing in the direction of the filled condom that’s still attached to him.

I giggled at the realization “Yeah, the ensuite is the door behind you.” Nodding in the direction of the door. Matt made his way to clean himself up in the bathroom while I slipped into something comfortable.

I walked back over to my bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling. I hear the bathroom door open as Matt reappears in the room, walking over to lay down beside me, my eyes still stuck on the ceiling. The room was filled with a quiet stillness, the only sound being our slowed, steady breathing. The warmth of Matt’s body was still close enough to feel, and everything seemed to fade into a soft haze. My mind was swimming with the events of the night, the weight of what had just happened slowly settling in.

I turned my head slightly to look at Matt. His eyes were half closed, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he now stared at the ceiling. There was a calmness in his expression, but I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, just as they were in mine. We had crossed a line - one that we both knew couldn’t be uncrossed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I didn’t want to break the silence, didn’t want to shatter the fragile bubble we were in. But as I lay there, the reality of everything began to creep back in - the complications, the uncertainties, the questions about what this meant for us, for our relationships.

Finally, Matt turned his head to face me, his eyes searching mine. I could see the same mix of emotions I was feeling reflected in his gaze - satisfaction, confusion, and a touch of concern.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

I nodded, though the simple gesture felt inadequate to convey the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. “Yeah.. I’m okay,” I whispered back, my voice almost trembling.

He reached out, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face, and the tenderness in that small gesture made my chest tighten. “I’m glad” he murmured, his thumb grazing my cheek. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I don’t” I said quickly, more sure of that than anything else. “It’s just.. there’s so much to think about now.”

Matt sighed, rolling onto his back again and staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, there is” he agreed. “But right now, I just want to focus on this, on us, and what we have in this moment. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

I nodded, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me. The idea of dealing with the fallout of this was daunting, but Matt’s words grounded me, reminding me that we didn’t have to have all the answers right now. We could take it one step at a time.

I shifted closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his warmth. The comfort of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, made it easier to push away the looming thoughts, at least for a little while.

In that quiet aftermath, with the weight of the night pressing down on us, I found a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever came next, whatever challenges we’d have to face, I knew we’d face them together.

a/n : after 16 parts of tension building they finallllllly get together!!! let’s just see how things play out..

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#snowy speaks #speeding car #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader

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gurugirl · 10 months ago

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Can We Start Over | Ch. 5 The Coincidence

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 5. Summary: Things have changed for you and Harry but when you see him at a meeting, you are taken by surprise. It feels like destiny. Maybe this time things will work out for you two.

A/N: This is the final part to this series! Thank you everyone who stuck with the story and gave it a shot! Appreciate all the love!

Word Count: 12.7k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, smut, fluff

Can We Start Over? masterlist

Mr. Allen was on the phone again. He’d called you into his office but the moment you stepped in he got a call and told you to sit and wait. That it would only be a minute.

And it was only a minute. But then he got another call and now it was 23 minutes later while he was still yammering about some person who was just the worst.

You were used to it, though. Mr. Allen was retired so nothing was a rush for him anymore. Which also meant he held other people up. But waiting for your boss was the least of your worries.

His wife and her ever-changing personality was your biggest concern. She was, to put it mildly, a monster. And to make matters worse, she ran the whole household so you were often seeking her out for things. Mrs. Allen also handled her husband’s schedule and if he was running behind guess who got the blame. That’s right. You did. Every time.

And it was the same thing over and over again. You started your day trying to keep Mr. Allen up to task, failed, got reprimanded and degraded by a nasty human, held back tears and then took a long drive with loud music to clear your head with a quick stop for dinner, probably at a drive-through.

Needless to say, you were already planning on quitting. You’d gotten really lucky with Alfred. And even working with Harry hadn’t been as bad as it was working for Mrs. Allen and her husband. But you tried not to think about Harry if you could help it.

By the time Mr. Allen got off the phone he was running late for his physical therapy appointment. You got him moving along quickly and sent him on his way but not before Mrs. Allen started poking around and making comments under her breath.

“What was that?” You turned to look behind yourself at the wicked witch as she stood near the edge of the foyer.

“He’s late again.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“That is correct.”

She rolled her eyes, “What’s the point of having a personal assistant who can’t even keep the boss on schedule?”

You smiled, holding back your true thoughts, “Well, being as my job description doesn’t entail using physical force on the boss, which is what it would take to get Mr. Allen to keep on time for anything, I’m certain you’ll find that once again, this isn’t my responsibility.”

“Lazy,” she spoke under her breath.

You tilted your head and squinted your eyes at her, “That’s the last thing I am. Now, if you don’t mind, my workday is over. Have a good evening.”

You walked past her to go into your room to pack up your laptop and leave. You’d stay at your own place that night. You hated staying at the Allen’s house. Not only was the room they’d given you a tiny spec of a thing with no windows, no closet, and not even a single rug to cover the cold tile floors but being anywhere near Mrs. Allen made your skin crawl.

“I don’t know why we bother with the room for you,” she was standing in the doorway when you turned around.

“You really didn’t bother much with the room in the first place. That’s why I don’t stay here. My house has a better bed with a big window looking into my backyard. I just feel better in my own bed at night.”

You walked past her and held your breath so as not to inhale her disgusting, pungent perfume. You used to like the scent she wore. But now you loathed it. Whenever you smelled it, even on another woman, it made you queasy. You very much did not like Mrs. Allen.

You turned up the volume on your car radio the moment your front tires hit the road. You always looked forward to going home after work. This day wasn’t as bad as you’d had before and tomorrow you’d do it all over again.

And instead of stopping at a drive-through for fast food, you decided you’d stop at the grocery store and pick up ingredients to actually make something fresh.

Typically you didn’t cook. You didn’t have time for it. Picking up groceries would put you home at almost 8 pm. And then you still needed to cook so you wouldn’t be eating until close to 9 and then you could finally relax with a glass of wine and a good book or something trashy on television. Which was why drive-throughs were your go-to dinner plans. It meant you were home by 7:30 and dinner was already cooked. Not the best use of money and certainly not the healthiest way to live but you wouldn’t be doing it much longer.

You had a meeting to attend with Mr. and Mrs. Allen the following week that piqued your interest. It was for a piece of art that they’d been looking for. And someone found it for them. From an art dealer who was not too far away. You didn’t know for sure but you had a feeling. And you wanted to find out if that feeling was right.

Maybe you were a masochist and just wanted to pour salt onto the wound of your split open heart one more time. Or maybe you did have some hope that it was Harry and that maybe you could try and receive his feelings for you once and for all.

But it’d been just over 9 months since you’d seen him and you were sure he’d moved on by now. There would be no reason for him to still be pining over you the way you were over him. And what were the chances that it was him in the first place? You didn’t know but you needed to find out.

Yeah. You regretted what you’d done. Pushing him away like that. But once you’d done it, it felt like it was too late to go back. Maybe it was your pride. Or that little voice in the back of your head that told you men always leave and they always lie. That anyone that might love you would probably just disappoint you in the end.

But now you were in therapy and talking to someone opened your eyes to your self-sabotaging ways. You had been certain that the way you felt couldn’t be helped. That you were a prisoner to your trauma and all the hurt and that it was for the best. You’d been wrong, though. You could help the way you processed feelings and the way you responded when things got hard. You didn’t have to push away the notion that a man could love you or keep running away from your problems.

After picking up ingredients to make a nice little dinner for yourself you arrived at your cute house.

You loved the place. Loved the neighborhood. You found it a few weeks after you told Harry to leave your apartment. It wasn’t that far from your old place but you felt like it was good enough for a new start. At the time, you were ready to take the plunge. To move on. It was just a rental but it felt like your own place.

Though, not long after moving in you started feeling like getting rid of every trace of Harry had been a bad idea. You missed him. However, you didn’t recognize how you were feeling for him until you began therapy. The more you spoke honestly about everything and without any judgment, you began to peel off layers of yourself that you had unconsciously piled on to protect yourself. But that only wound up making things worse.

And one night, almost six months since you’d seen him, you decided to drive past his big, gated home. You still had the fob to his entry but of course, you wouldn’t use it. You only wanted to just drive past. To your surprise, there was a For Sale sign stuck in the grass in front of the gate.

You parked across from the house and tried to see if there was anything that indicated he’d actually moved out but seeing inside was impossible. You could see the top level of the house and that was really it.

The sinking feeling in your chest that you’d probably never see him again started to settle over you slowly. You’d moved away and blocked him from everything and then deleted his contact and now he was no longer living in the only place you knew where he might be. He was gone.

But then when you helped set up the meeting with the art dealer there was the smallest tinge of hope there. You felt like this might be your last chance. You had just been about to quit when Mrs. Allen gave you the number to an assistant of a dealer who had access to a painting they wanted. You never learned the name of the art dealer, only of the assistant who worked for them.

So you’d stick it out until after the meeting and then you’d give up your hope for ever seeing Harry again if it wasn’t him. And you’d also quit your job once and for all.

Of course, it’s not him. Don’t get your hopes up.

You had to remind yourself of that over and over again. The chances were slim that you would actually be seeing Harry.

Either way, you were looking forward to that meeting. Even if it wasn’t Harry, you’d be free of Mr. and Mrs. Allen once and for all after you quit.

But the days dragged on slowly. The only thing that was good about the time that led up to the meeting was the little secret that you were quitting. It was something you were excited about.

The morning of the meeting you woke up well before your alarm went off. You’d been unable to fall back asleep as you remembered the last time you and Harry slept together. The words he spoke to you that night haunted you every day since, “Want to make you feel so good. Want to make you smile, Y/n. Want to make you happy.”

You sighed. You hoped it was him at the meeting. You hoped there was still some way to salvage what you’d done. Hoped there was still something there. If it was him, that is.

Your entire morning routine had turned into a spa event. You turned on your coffee pot and then got into the shower, getting yourself ready for the possibility of anything and everything. You had selected your outfit days prior and put on a full face of makeup. You were going to look your absolute best.

And no matter what the outcome of the meeting was, today was a good day. Because at the end of it, you’d be a free woman. You’d never again step foot in the Allen house. You took all of your belongings from the spec of a bedroom over a few days so no one would notice. You rarely stayed over anyway so it wasn’t like you needed to keep much there in the first place.

You had a taxi take you to the Allen’s on that day. Because your plan was to quit the moment the painting was purchased and you weren’t going to be going back to their house with them after the meeting just to get your car. You’d get a taxi home. It was quite dramatic but you couldn’t wait to quit. Couldn’t wait to tell Mrs. Allen you were done and then walk off. Only a few more hours.

When you arrived at the Allen’s your first stop was the kitchen to make Mr. Allen’s coffee (skim milk and stevia) and Mrs. Allen’s chai green tea with raw honey. This was always the best part of your day. Things were usually quiet, Mrs. Allen wasn’t raging just yet, and the morning light that came into their gorgeous kitchen felt peaceful. While the coffee was perking you brought Mrs. Allen her tea drink where you knew you’d find her and placed it down on its coaster next to her. As usual, she did not acknowledge your existence or even say thank you.

Mr. Allen was always cordial, however.

“Morning Mr. Allen. Here’s your coffee.”

“Thank you, Y/n. Have you seen my wife this morning?”

You smiled and stood next to his desk, “I just gave her some tea. Why?”

“I think she wanted to make sure we had wire information set up to pay for the painting today. She’s very set on making the purchase. Can you double-check we have everything we need?”

“I’m certain we have everything we need but I’ll definitely do a quick check.”

As you suspected, everything was ready to go. When you confirmed as much you went to find Mrs. Allen to tell her.

“Mr. Allen told me you wanted to make sure the wire instructions were ready and I just wanted to let you know that we’ve got everything we need and it’s all ready to go for when it comes time to pay.”

“Good. Now,” she turned to look at you, “this is a meeting we cannot be late for so I’d appreciate it if you could have everything ready for us so there are no delays. I don’t want any excuses.”

You nodded, stifling the small laugh before it could make it out of your mouth, “Of course, Mrs. Allen.”

But as always, Mr. Allen was dawdling. You did remind him of the meeting but he assured you he was going to be on time. He wasn’t. You weren’t surprised.

When it was time to leave he was still in his office in his slippers on his third cup of coffee talking to his brother about sports.

“I told you this is a meeting we cannot be late for. This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Allen was red in the face as she barked at you. Somehow, she always seemed shocked when her husband held things up. You didn’t know how it was possible that she was so surprised.

You blinked your eyes and sighed, “He doesn’t need to be at the meeting with us. I say we just go. He’ll be fine here by himself.”

She nodded and mumbled under her breath about your incompetence, “Tell him we’re leaving without him. I’m going to get the driver to pull the car around.”

You poked your head into the office and waved at Mr. Allen and he pulled the phone from his ear to look at you with his brows raised. As if he didn’t know what was going on.

“We’re going to leave now for the painting. You can stay behind. No need for you to be there. Okay?”

He smiled at you and nodded before getting back to his call. You knew he didn’t care. This painting wasn’t for him. It was for Mrs. Allen. It was something she’d been wanting. She’d just hang it up alongside the rest of her collection of exotic animal paintings and artwork.

The car ride was silent. Which you preferred. You tried not speaking to Mrs. Allen when you could help it. Luckily she wasn’t interested in having a conversation with you.

And 30 minutes later when you arrived, your mind was swirling with thoughts of what could happen and what probably wouldn’t.

Your nerves were all over the place. If you were about to walk into a room with Harry Styles, being nervous was warranted. You hadn’t seen his handsome face in so long and wanted so badly for it to be him.

It was unlikely. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. No reason to get your hopes up.

You and Mrs. Allen got out of the car once the driver had let you both out at the front.

It was a public gallery so everyone could just walk in to admire the art. You noticed there were people inside looking at the sculptures and paintings as you followed behind Mrs. Allen toward the desk at the side of the room where a young woman sat.

“Hi. I’m Delia Allen here for a meeting to view the Ghaui piece.”

The young woman smiled widely, “Yes. Of course! Just follow me. We have it moved into a special viewing room just for you.”

If there was ever a moment in your life where you thought that one small step toward a physical room could forever change your life, it was this. What if he was there? What if he wasn’t?

The gallery wasn’t a large space but there were temporary walls placed around the room to act as dividers and a spot for more art to hang. You wove around the walls and into a hallway where the young woman stepped into a room with Mrs. Allen just behind her. You paused for a moment before stepping inside. This was it. It either was or it wasn’t.

Placing your hand on the frame of the door and taking a deep breath you breached the space to enter the viewing room and found that there was no one else inside. It was the painting that Mrs. Allen had been so keen on buying, hung up with lights aimed at it, a table and chairs.

You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t this. You imagined someone would be inside the room waiting for you.

“The dealer will be right in. He’s finishing up something with someone else. Five minutes tops.”

The painting was of elephants in an African wildlife scene. It wasn’t your taste but you had to respect Mrs. Allen for her interests. If there was anything about her you could say you liked, it was her love of animals and how much support she’d given African wildlife sanctuaries. She’d also gone on many safaris (without Mr. Allen you learned) and helped fund conservation parks that helped employ people and protect the land and animals. Honestly, when you found out this was her thing you felt like you were looking at a different woman.

She was still a bitch, though.

“I thought this meeting was set up and ready to go, Y/n,” she turned to look at you. As if somehow the dealer running late was your fault.

“It is set and ready. The girl said the dealer would be right in. We just need to wait a couple of minutes.”

You didn’t look at her face as you responded. You were done looking at her face. After this meeting, you’d never have to look at it again.

“Sergi could’ve come if I knew this was going to happen.”

You rolled your eyes, back facing her as you looked over the lines and the paint on the canvas. It was a well-done piece of art.

When the door opened only a moment later you felt your heart stop for a split second, a chill ran down your face, over your shoulders, and through your spine as you slowly turned around when Mrs. Allen spoke, “Finally.”

Your vision grew spotty, like tiny particles floating around and mixing up the scene before you. Fuzzy like a grey screen on a television. You blinked your eyes to clear your sight as you looked at him for the first time in over 9 months. It was him.

And his reaction to you appeared much the same, with him pausing in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“Hello? Are you the dealer?” Mrs. Allen was great at ruining a moment.

Harry’s eyes blinked as he shook his head and finally peeled his sight from you to look at the other woman in the room. He cleared his throat, closing the door behind himself, and stepped forward to Mrs. Allen with his hand out, “Yes. I’m the dealer. Harry Styles,” he shook her hand and then shot his eyes back to you, taking in your outfit quickly before moving toward you, his hand outstretched in silence.

You hadn’t moved from your spot next to the painting. You hadn’t closed your mouth or peeped a single word because you couldn’t. And even though you had a feeling that it was him before the meeting ever took place, the surprise and shock you felt was overwhelming.

It was really him. It was Harry. And you couldn’t believe it was him.

You placed your hand in his to shake and the moment was eternity. Your eyes pinned together, palms warm to the touch, searching gazes, and a million little thoughts dancing around your heads. It was real. He was real. You were real. The moment was real.

But of course, as Mrs. Allen tended to do she interrupted the odd reunion and began speaking, “Please go over the details with me. I think I’d like to know a little more and then we can talk price.”

Harry’s adam’s apple bobbed as he released your hand and straightened his posture and he handed a folder to Mrs. Allen and began to go over everything she might want to know.

Your heart was racing and you were unable to listen to anything he said regarding the painting. It all sounded like gibberish to you but you could hear his smooth deep voice as he spoke, and the occasional glance in your direction had your skin sparking in delight.

“Earth to Y/n,” Mrs. Allen waved her hand in front of your face and you slowly drifted from your reverie back to reality and looked at her.

“Jesus, it’s like herding cats with you,” she pointed, “Let’s get this part ready. Open your laptop.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop, placing it on the table so you could begin the wire payment. You looked from Mrs. Allen to Harry and then back to your screen as the bank sight loaded.

Of course, you had to log in and the internet connection wasn’t as fast as you’d have liked so Mrs. Allen let out an annoyed sigh.

“Always like this with her,” she looked at Harry with her arms crossed, “Slow. Lazy–“

“Are you serious?” Harry sounded perturbed. Aghast.

You looked from him to Mrs. Allen and the look on his face matched the sound of his voice as he looked at her with disdain.

“Of course I am. You don’t know her so you have no idea what–“

“I do actually know her,” he glanced at you softening his gaze. “Don’t speak about her that way or the deal is off.”

You blinked and smiled gently as you opened up the bank wire screen.

“What? You can’t treat me like this. I’m a paying client. I will walk out of here without this painting if you dare–“

“Then leave.” He looked at her with his brows raised in a dare.

She huffed and clutched her purse, “Fine. Just… do the deal, Y/n. I’ll be right back. I need to use the restroom and get some air. When I return I want this to be over with.”

She walked out of the room and slammed the door rudely and Harry stepped in front of the computer as you looked up at him, “Y/n. I can’t believe it’s you. Are you working for her?”

You stood up straight and nodded, “Yeah. It’s a disaster. I’m quitting as soon as this is over. It’s been my plan for a month.”

He smiled, “You’re quitting? Now?”

You nodded again, “Yes. As soon as this deal is complete I’m done.”

“Can I see you? Like, after this? Dinner maybe?”

You sputtered a tiny laugh. It was like music to your ears, “Okay. Why not?”

Harry grinned widely and pointed at the computer, “Let’s get this over with then. Push that payment through and let’s get out of here.”

There it was again, the blurred vision, grey and colored specs floating around you as if you were in the grey screen of a TV. You couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was only a dream. Perhaps you were about to wake up and it was all going to have been just a wild dream that you’d never recover from.

You called the bank with a smile on your face to begin the wire transfer. Everything was set as you entered the details into the account on your laptop and spoke with the representative.

But of course, there was one thing holding the whole thing up. Mrs. Allen had to be there to verbally give the go-ahead to the man on the phone. You were not authorized.

So when she came back to the room and the payment wasn’t yet completed she was furious, “How can you mess up the simplest things, Y/n?”

“All you need to do is tell the man this wire transfer from your bank to the owner’s is authorized. You’re holding this up. Not her,” Harry spoke.

She pulled the cell phone from you with a sigh and spoke into the receiver as you smiled at Harry.

“There. It’s done.” She handed the phone to you and the transaction was finalized. Emails went out to all the parties involved in the sale with the receipt and you closed your laptop.

“Good. Now, have someone wrap this so I can bring it back without getting scratched.”

Harry nodded, “I’ll have Laira get someone for you and they’ll bring it to your car.”

Mrs. Allen looked at you and snapped her fingers, “You can go wait in the car for me. No need to have you standing around and gawking like an idiot.”

You stuffed your laptop into your bag and looked at Mrs. Allen, “Delia?” You made it a point to call her by her first name, which you knew she hated, “I quit. Working for you has been hell. You’ll go home without me as I’ve already made other arrangements. Tell Mr. Allen it was lovely to work for him. I’ll send him an email explaining why I quit tomorrow. Also, the agency won’t work with you again after I share details and proof of the way you treated me.”

Her mouth dropped open and the look of surprise on her face was quite hilarious as you pushed passed her with Harry following behind you.

You felt exhilarated and your heart was pumping blood through your body and your limbs rapidly as you smiled and made your way to the front of the gallery.

Harry kept in step with you as he waved at the girl at the desk, “Please help Mrs. Allen get the painting wrapped and put into her car. I’m done for the day. Call me if you need anything.”

You felt the warm air hit your cheeks when you stepped outside into the sun with Harry behind you.

“Y/n, I’m still kind of in disbelief that you’re here. I must be dreaming,” he turned toward you with a wide grin.

“I feel the same way. Like I’m just going to wake up and it’s all been a dream.”

“Pinch me,” he put his arm out and pushed his shirt sleeve up to his forearm, displaying the tattoos on his skin.

You laughed and put your thumb and pointer over his skin and gave him a good pinch and he let out a deep breath, “Do it again.”

You couldn’t stop the small chuckle that fell from your lips as you pinched him again and he grabbed the tops of your arms tightly, “Y/n I’ve missed you so much. I’ve wanted to talk to you so many times. I have so much to tell you.”

“Me too, Harry. There’s so much to say.”

He led you to his car and you both got inside. It felt so surreal to be climbing into Harry’s car with him, “Where would like to go eat?” He looked at you from the driver’s seat as he started up his car.

You shook your head, “I don’t know. Don’t care really.”

He nodded, “Yeah I don’t care either. Just as long as I get to go there with you. Okay, we’ll go to this spot I found some months ago. They have great crab cakes.”

When he pulled out to the street you looked at him, “New car then?”

He nodded, “Yeah. The lease came up on the other one and figured something different would be nice. I’ve had this for a few months.”

“And did you move?”

He licked his lips and glanced at you, “Yeah. Not long after you left. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone. I… did a lot of thinking about what I want in life and how I want to live it. The place was too big. Not sustainable for me any longer. Too expensive.”

“Really? That’s surprising.”

He breathed out through his nose as he nodded, “I stopped dealing with stolen items. It was dumb of me to get involved in all that in the first place. I never started off being an art dealer with the idea that I would be wealthy. It began because I genuinely love the art world and discovering new pieces. I lost that somewhere along the way and you leaving like you did remind me of what was important in life. Money is not all there is.”

You were surprised to hear this. It made you wonder what else had changed.

The restaurant was a small, hip-looking spot. You had both arrived before the dinner crowd, it was still a bit early for dinner, but to you, it didn’t matter. You were with Harry again and even though you weren’t quite sure what to expect things were going better than you imagined.

You and Harry were seated at a small round table for two by a big window looking out over the parking lot. It wasn’t fancy but it felt amazing to get face to face with him after all that time.

“Y/n, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look incredible. I know I said it already but I really missed you. I hope you and I can keep in touch after this. If that’s something you wanted. It would mean so much to me to be able to see you again.”

You picked at the corner of the laminated menu that had been placed on the table in front of you and looked up at him, “Harry, I missed you a lot too. I regretted the way I ended things. Moving away and blocking you. I thought it was the right thing to do. I deleted every part of you from my life and by the time I realized it was a mistake I didn’t have your contacts anymore,” you shook your head as you looked into his eyes, “I’m sorry I did it that way. I’m sorry for walking away from you.”

Harry reached across the table and put his hand over yours, “I’m glad you did. Y/n, I don’t know if I would have had the kind of self-reflection and epiphany I did if you’d stayed. But you leaving like that made me rethink everything I thought was important. Made me realize that dealing in the black market and jet-setting all over the world to do something that goes against my very core… I hated it. I hated you leaving but it opened my eyes.”

“So you really don’t do any of that anymore?”

He shook his head, “No. Now I bounce around from gallery to gallery to view pieces and check the legitimacy, the provenance. I work for myself still but now I’m not making as much money. Which is fine!” He laughed, dimples digging into his cheeks, “It’s better this way. I sleep better knowing I’m doing things right now.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Like twenty minutes from here. Bought a regular-sized house with a garage and an ugly entryway,” he grinned, “But I love it. I love it because it makes me feel happy. It’s not so much to maintain. Had to let go of all the staff I had but other than that, I haven’t missed the income as much as I thought I would.”

You were impressed with him. You never imagined he’d stop dealing in illegal items because you knew the money was so good.

The waiter stood at your table and you both told him what you’d like to drink. A sparkling water with lemon for you, and a hot black tea for him.

“So you were working for that woman. She’s awful. How long did you stay with her?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I worked for the Allens for just over seven months. Hated every minute of it. She only got worse as time went on. I thought once she got used to me she’d lighten up be she was truly evil. Would just talk down to me and blame me for everything that went wrong.”

“Why did you stay there for so long?”

“At first I stayed hoping it would get better. You know you kind of get into a groove and can look past bullshit and then everyone starts to get used to one another. But that never happened. I tried to stick it out. But then of course I needed the money too. Well, on some level. The security of having a job is nice and the rent at my new house is a lot more than what I paid at my apartment. Figured I’d wait for the right moment. Then about a month ago I found out that Delia wanted to buy this piece of art she’d been wanting and she was going to go through a dealer and I was just about to quit. I really was but,” you shrugged and smiled as you looked down at the menu, “Though it would be funny if maybe you were the dealer,” you brought your eyes back up to him.

He squinted, his brows pulling in as he looked at you, “You continued working for them when you thought maybe I was going to be the dealer on the sale? So you could see me?”

You nodded and smiled, “I mean. Sort of. I really didn’t think it was going to be you but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just see. So I stuck it out. My plan was to quit the moment the deal was over. That’s why I was saying that at the gallery. It was like, one last thing, just to see if it was you and then I was done working for them.”

Harry laughed and pulled his lips into his mouth, shaking his head in amazement, “I can’t believe you wanted to see me. I was certain you were done and wanted nothing to do with me. I did go back to your apartment one day, maybe like two months later. But you’d already moved out. And you never responded to any of my texts or calls. Figured that was that. What made you want to see me?”

You tried not to feel bad how you ended things with him but it was hard not to, “I really did like you. It was just hard for me to admit how much. And then Brandy, my best friend, talked me into going to therapy. And honestly? Just talking about how I process things and my emotions with someone else helped me a ton. Helped me see how I self-sabotage. Anything that might make me happy, specifically romance, was a big block for me. I didn’t even realize it consciously. I think I knew I pushed people away when I didn’t need to. And I realized I did that with you.”

Harry nodded as he listened and the waiter placed your drinks down on the table before taking your orders for food.

It felt like you had so much to tell him and you could see Harry felt the same with everything he admitted to you. You loved listening to him and watching him as he spoke or the way he gazed at you as you recounted the last 9 months to him.

While so much did happen in those 9 months, you felt comfortable sitting at that small table talking to Harry about it all. Everything felt so familiar and nice with him. It felt like you were both exactly on the same page and this time around maybe you could really have something special with him. If he wanted the same thing as you.

“So you missed me? What did you miss about me?” Harry smirked at you as he took a scoop of the dessert you were both sharing.

“Hmm… I think I liked it when you were nice to me and vulnerable with me. Our late-night kitchen chats. How you took up for me with that one lady. And even today you did it again with Mrs. Allen. I think there were times when I hated you but mostly I liked you. And those things I missed.”

His smirk didn’t fall from his lips and it looked like he was holding back what he wanted to say.

“What? What’s that look?” You pointed your fork at him.

Harry laughed and looked down at the table before putting his eyes back on yours, “You didn’t miss… like my body or something?”

You laughed and grinned at him, “Oh my god, Harry,” you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“I mean you have to admit, Y/n, we are very good together. Aren’t we? Like… just fit so well me and you.”

You inhaled and let your eyes trail over his features as you tried to keep the grin off your face.

“You’re insane.” You licked your lips.

“No, I’m not. You know it’s true. Tell me you’ve had better with anyone else and I’ll tell you you’re lying. You missed me but you also missed all those dirty little things I did to you.”

“You’re way too confident and cocky still,” you laughed.

“Am I?” His smile was something that always got you. The grin, the dimples, the crinkles at the edge of his eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? That I missed little Styles down there?” You sputtered a laugh.

“Little? Is that what you’d call it?” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward closer to you, “You said otherwise when–“

“Anything else for you two?” The waiter broke the tension as Harry shot his eyes up to the man.

“I think we’ll take the check. Thank you.”

You laughed as the server walked away and Harry cocked his head with that smirk still plastered on his face.

The sun was beginning to go down as the check was laid on the table and you insisted on splitting it with Harry. He grumped about you paying anything at all but you weren’t taking no for an answer.

You were surprised you’d been at the restaurant for so long. Hours had gone by but it didn’t feel that long because you two had so much to talk about. So much lost time to make up for.

“So where do you live, Y/n? Should I drop you off at home?”

You bit your lip and shrugged, “Not too far from here. Off Coalfax and the interstate. Do you want to drop me off?”

Harry’s smile softened, “I don’t want to drop you off. No. I want to continue this. I’m not ready for you to disappear again.”

Swallowing you reached your hand toward his and rubbed your fingers over his knuckles, “Then you don’t have to drop me off. Come with me. I’ll invite you in.”

Harry stood up quickly, taking your hand in his as you both walked to the exit and toward his car. You laughed as he pulled you along.

“Coalfax? Just North of here?” He spoke as he started up his car.

“Yeah. Exactly. You’ll take a right on Coalfax. I’ll tell you where to go.”

Harry kept glancing at you and the smile on his face stayed throughout the entire drive. You were sure he was feeling the kind of excitement you had bubbling in your tummy. Still not quite sure of what to expect but nearly certain of what could happen.

Maybe you were jumping in too fast but maybe… just maybe the timing was exactly right. You couldn’t tell but you weren’t going to let yourself overthink it. That wasn’t going to happen with you anymore. You already regretted too much of what had happened with Harry and this time would be different.

Harry parked his car on the street in front of your small house and you both walked up to your door, “You’ve still got the same car,” he noted.

“Yup. Runs well. No payment other than insurance. Cheap maintenance. I love the old thing. Hope I never have to get rid of it.”

Harry followed behind you through your front door and you switched on the light before you felt his hand tugging at yours.

You turned to face him and the reality of everything was clear suddenly. You’d reconnected with Harry. The one man you couldn’t stop thinking about. Couldn’t stop replaying his words to you, couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed you and took care of you.

“I can’t believe you’re standing here in my living room,” you smiled at him and Harry shook his head.

“I can’t believe I’m here either. I can’t believe I’m looking at you and that you were there today and…” he swallowed as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t want to scare you off, Y/n, but you have no idea how happy I am right now. How this all feels like destiny. Like we were meant to be here right now.”

You laughed through your nose, “I don’t really believe in stuff like that, but it doesn’t kind of feel that way, doesn’t it? Like another chance.”

He nodded, “Another chance. Exactly.”

“Do you want to sit? Or would you like some wine?”

Harry looked around the space of your living room. He hadn’t taken his surroundings in until then as he was too focused on you.

“Maybe a glass of wine. If it’s not too much trouble.”

You grinned, “Of course it’s not. Come. It’s in the kitchen.”

The light flickered on overhead as you flipped the switch and then opened your cabinet to retrieve the bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Y/n, this place is really nice. I like it.” Harry looked around as he spoke.

“I like it too. It’s why I moved here. Felt like home when I walked in to view it for the first time. It’s just a rental but it’s perfect for me.”

You placed the bottle on the counter and handed him a glass of wine.

Harry held his glass up, “Thank you for inviting me in and for humoring me with your kindness.”

You laughed, “Humoring you? Harry, I am fully genuine right now. I wanted to have dinner with you and I wanted you to come into my home. I’m not just being nice. I want you here.”

“I like hearing that.”

You both took a sip of your wine as Harry kept his eyes on you.

It was warm. Searing hot in fact. Harry was gorgeous and he was in your house and he was looking at you with those green eyes that had looked at you so many times before.

“Have you…” He paused as he placed his glass down and cleared his throat, “Have you seen anyone since? Like dated? Are you dating?”

You laughed at the way he fumbled his words. He seemed nervous suddenly, “No. I haven’t.” You placed your own glass down and suddenly felt that flutter of nerves, “And… I’m a little nervous to ask you the same.” You raised your brows at him.

He shook his head, “No.”

You nodded, “Surprised to hear that. But relieved I have to admit.”

“Why are you surprised?”

“Because I thought you’d have your pick. In fact even today when I thought there was a chance I might see you, felt like it was silly because surely you’d moved on and found someone.”

Harry’s brows stitched together, “I had a hard time feeling okay after that day when I left your apartment. Have actually never been so depressed and distraught over anyone before. I couldn’t just move on. Even when I started to feel a little better about it all. I just missed you so much. I know you blocked me on every platform out there. I got the hint when you didn’t text or call back. But I still missed you.”

You smiled, “And you’re not on social media at all. I did look but I kind of felt like if I did find you it wouldn’t have been good for me. I know I could have tried harder to reach out. I think I was a little scared of what I’d find.”

“What did you think you’d find?”

“That you were dating someone. I don’t know.”

The air shifted when Harry brought his hand up to your chin and gently gripped your face, “You’re the only woman I’ve had my mind on all these months. The only one I could ever think about. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your lips parted and you blinked your eyes as you took in his words.

“Do you understand what I mean? I don’t know if you feel the same way about me but just to know that you missed me and want me to be here with you right now means everything to me.”

“I don’t want anyone else either, Harry.”

“Does that mean you want me? I just need to hear it if it’s true, Y/n.”

You gulped and nodded, “Yeah. I do.”

The hand that held your chin released you and moved around to the back of your neck while his other hand landed on your hip and he pressed his lips to yours.

At last. At last.

You closed your eyes and drew your hands up to the back of his neck and moaned as he opened his mouth and you opened yours. Lips winding and smearing and pushing…

It felt like you were looking down at yourself, watching as you kissed Harry in your kitchen. And it was a beautiful sight. The two of you joined, grasping onto the other, hearts thrashing in your chests, bodies alight.

Harry’s grip on your side tightened, his fingers pinching around your clothes. The hand at the back of your neck squeezing and holding you in place as his lips slid against yours

You allowed yourself to be pulled in closer and moved your hand into his curls. You missed his scent. You missed his touch. His warmth. His care.

He parted from the kiss and moved his hand to your jaw, “Can we start over? This time, Y/n, you’re not going to regret it. This is it for us. Understand me?”

His words were almost a threat. Or maybe a promise. Both perhaps.

“Yes, Harry. I’m not going to regret it this time. I promise.”

He nodded, still holding you close, and then softly ghosted his lips over yours, “Because I can’t lose you again. I want this with you.”

You were gonna lose it. Everything was too much and not enough. You wanted him and you wanted to go slow but you wanted to tear his clothes off and feel him all over.

“I want you, Harry,” you breathed out against his lips as you clung to him, “I want this with you.”

You felt the vibration of his moan against your mouth as he dropped his lips to your chin and then along the curve of your jaw. When his lips pressed into the skin on your neck you gasped and hugged him tighter. His mouth drew your flesh in as he sucked a spot and then lowered to the curve of your shoulder and neck, suckling again at the skin where you knew it would be bruised.

“Fuck…” he whispered as he pressed his nose against your jaw, “Where’s your bedroom, Y/n?”

That was easy. The house was small. You led him down the hallway to your bedroom where you turned on your lamp and he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Take your clothes off.”

You were surprised by his sudden command but you didn’t want to ask questions. The only thing you wanted was him and his hands and his body…

You pulled off your top before unzipping your skirt and kicking it down your legs. Harry’s eyes were dark as he continued taking his clothes off while he watched you undress.

When you were only in your underwear and bra he pointed, “Off. All of it.”

You swallowed and did as he said. Taking your bra off first and then your panties slowly as you used your bed to keep balance.

Harry was left in only his boxer briefs as he stalked toward you like a predator. You’d seen him in action before, you’d seen him a little dominant but this was different. It was like he had something to prove.

“On the bed, Y/n.”

You gave him a curt nod and sat down before scooting back into your bed. He climbed between your legs and moved your thighs apart, “You want this right? You want me? Want us?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “Yes, Harry. I do.”

That seemed like all he needed to know before he finally placed his lips on your chubby thigh, dotting wet kisses down and toward the soft inside near to your crotch and then he switched to the other side, kissing upward gently as he looked at you and then gripped the back of your thighs to push your legs apart, switching his sight from your face to your pussy.

“Y/n I missed everything about you,” he lowered himself, putting his stomach down onto your bed as he held himself over your core, “I know I only had you twice like this but I missed your body. Your smell,” he let go of your left leg as he pressed his fingers onto your mound and slowly dragged them downward, “The way your thighs part and how your skin looks right here,” he pressed a kiss over the spot right next to your labia.

But then he pushed himself up and climbed over you releasing your leg, his hands finding your breasts, “Your perfect tits,” his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue laving over your sensitive bud and kissing over your soft skin toward your other side, lapping at your plush breasts before dragging his mouth upward to your neck, “Your skin, your voice,” hot peppered kisses up to your jaw until his mouth met yours again.

“Your mouth, this mouth,” he licked against your lips and pushed his mouth against the edge of yours and ran his nose against yours, “You. I missed you. Everything. Your heart and your laugh. I can’t do it again. I can’t go through that again.”

You felt his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks as he looked down at you, “Don’t leave me. Not ever again.”

You shook your head and lifted a hand up to his jaw, “Never. I don’t want to, Harry. I won’t.”

He grinned dreamily at you, his eyes wandering over your features slowly before he lowered himself down your body again, pressing his shoulders to the back of your thighs, and hooked his arms underneath to keep you in place.

The moment you felt his mouth on your core you clenched your eyelids closed and sighed. It had meant so much to you to have him loving on you, touching you, needing you. And Harry was the only man who’d ever worked an orgasm out of you with his mouth.

And even then, his tongue dragging through your pussylips and up to your clit, over and over again in a teasing, slow build it had you unwinding and unfolding for him. You wanted to give yourself to him fully. And that felt so good.

It felt good to trust yourself for once. To allow yourself to trust him. You could push past your feelings of inadequacy and thinking that no one would actually want you for you. Because that was a lie. You had been lying to yourself for so long and even though you knew it was your own hangup, it was hard to get past it. Until now. Because now you weren’t going to undermine yourself anymore. You learned it was okay to question motives but that it was also okay to accept kindness and love where it was offered.

You felt as he applied open-mouthed kisses to your clit and finally began to push over it, the pressure and the slide of his tongue right where you needed him had you moaning. Had you getting his face all wet.

Harry’s mouth and tongue worked at you strategically; slow teases of a gentle lap at your bud and then a harsh suck and flick to make you shiver. Every wet drag of his muscle against your clit drew you closer to your end as you gave in to the feeling.

And just like the other times he’d eaten you out you reached down to push your fingers into his hair and arched your back into him as a signal for him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. And he seemed to understand your nonverbal cue as he dug in and continued lapping and sucking exactly like you liked.

He watched your tits wobble and your body jerk and convulse as he kept his mouth suctioned to your pussy with his tongue wagging and slicking over your puffy clit until he felt you pressing his head down further and you coughed out a loud groan when your thighs started to shake.

His moans into your pussy vibrated through to your guts and it felt like you were going to explode.

“Fuck, Harry!” You were grinding yourself into his mouth and nose as you felt your release snap and you lost control of your volume and the sound of your voice and your limbs as he held you down so he could press broad strokes of his tongue over your pussy back and forth.

Harry closed his eyes and let you use his face and mouth to grind your clit on as you orgasmed. His cock was so hard; just tasting you and hearing your gasps and pleas of need had him spinning in the clouds. It made him happy to hear how good he was making you feel.

And that’s what he wanted the most. Was to make you happy. He wanted your smiles and laughter. He wanted you to enjoy his company and to feel happy with him. He wanted your heart and your soul and everything that made you who you were because he’d already decided he’d give you everything he could. His heart was yours already.

Ever since that day you kicked him out of your apartment, he hadn’t stopped thinking about all the things he did wrong. How childish he’d been with you. He hadn’t meant to fuck up so badly but he would make sure that his old ways were in the past. Now he was yours and he would prove to you that you could trust him.

When you gently released his hair and pushed yourself up to look at him he lifted with a grin, “Felt good?” His mouth and chin were glistening with you.

You laughed and nodded as you watched him slide his underwear down his sturdy thighs and toss them onto the floor. His body was even better than before. You weren’t sure why. Maybe he’d been hitting the gym harder. Or maybe it was just that now things were different. And you were seeing him in a different light. Looking at him in a way that you never had before. But you were still focused on his strong build and dark tattoos as well. That glorious cock, bobbing and heavy was all yours. You loved the way he felt inside of you and how perfect it looked hanging between his thighs like it was.

You sat up and got to your knees to adjust yourself and laid a palm on his thigh as you looked at him and licked your lips. He understood your hint as you moved your hand up toward his cock and he looked down at your fingers before placing his hand over yours, “We’ll do that later. Plenty of time to get to all that. I just want to make love to you, Y/n.”

“But you ate me out. I should at least–“

“No. Later,” he got to his knees and pushed you gently back to your bottom, “You don’t understand. I can’t wait one more second to be inside of you. We’ll have plenty of time for that other stuff but I haven’t had sex since in 9 months. If you put your mouth anywhere near my cock it’s gonna make me come too fast. A little out of practice,” he smiled with a small laugh as you laid your back into the mattress and he settled himself between your legs, hips tucking against yours.

You could feel his rigid, girthy cock slide through your labia as he rolled his hips down and up, wetting his shaft, “Want to fuck you now. Okay?”

You moaned and nodded. It was okay by you. You knew there’d be time for blowjobs later so you didn’t mind having him inside your cunt, stuffing you to the brim like you knew he would. There was plenty of time for all that, now that you weren’t going to be running off from him again.

“Want this cock, honey?” He continued rocking his hips. Sliding himself up and down, the tip of his cock collecting your arousal and pushing it up to your clit.

“Yes, Harry. Please.” You bucked upward to catch him at your entrance but he pressed your hip down and grinned at you playfully.

“Love hearing you say please. Such a good girl for me.”

You groaned when he wouldn’t push in right away, still teasing you with the drag of his thick shaft up and down through your labia and against your clit. The sound of it was lewd. Filthy.

“Please fuck me!” You whined.

Harry paused his motions, keeping his eyes on yours as he reared back and took his base in his palm to line himself up to your hole. He kept one hand on the inside of your thigh as he began to press himself inward slowly, the snap of his bulbous head entering you and pushing through your walls was the first act of confirming everything.

Confirming that this was it. That now you were connected and there was no turning back. That all the promises spoken were sealed.

You both kept your eyes pinned on one another as he bottomed out, balls tucked against your ass with a whimper from his mouth and a deep sigh of relief.

He slowly pulled back before inching his way back into the hilt and repeated his languid strokes as your wet pussy blossomed and opened wide for his girth until he was rocking down into you with a force that had your tits bouncing and harsh breaths punching from your lungs.

Harry’s strong abs clenched as his thighs flexed, working into you, exacting strokes deep into your cunt and skin colliding every time you felt the dip of his crown nudging into your tummy.

He sat back to his haunches, knees bent with the back of your thighs draped over the top of his. He watched as he sunk into you and pulled back to his tip, his shaft glistening and coated in you before he thrust back in until you were gasping and reaching for his arms to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself of who’s cock was fucking you so good.

“Love this pussy, Y/n. You take me so well. So fucking juicy and plush,” he pounded into you, putting everything he had into it, muscles working and pushing him further and further as you bounced upward on the mattress every time he crashed into you.

“Hear that, baby?” Harry used a hand to squeeze at your tit, “Your bed squeaking, your pussy creamy and wet around me, those desperate whimpers from these pretty lips?” He pushed his hand up to your mouth, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip.

You moaned in response and nodded as you stitched your brows together in bliss.

“That’s right. That’s the sound of me fucking you and we’re gonna do it again and again and again. Yeah?” He spoke through clenched teeth.

You nodded, “Fuck! Yes, Harry!” Your words were punched from your lungs as he continued railing ito you, his hips rocking against yours.

Your whole being was lit up. From your racing mind to your tingling skin and toes, the bones that kept you solid, your pumping heart, and your pussy gripping onto Harry’s fat cock as he slid into you, back and forth, bumping through your inside walls into that hard-to-reach little dip that had you breathless.

Every stroke he gave you put you closer and closer to your second orgasm. The delicious emergence and unraveling of your end made you delirious.

When he leaned himself over you he thrust down harshly, pushing your thighs wider apart, the sound gushy and slick as he drove into you. You could feel his cock sliding through your guts and his pelvis grinding against your clit making you quiver.

“Oh my god…” you panted as you reached up for his shoulders where you could feel the taught muscle keeping himself up and aligned as he fucked into you, your back digging into the mattress underneath.

“Yeah? Feels good huh? Told you we fit together perfectly. Pussy deserves to be filled and stuffed every day. Want you to feel so good, baby…”

“It’s so fucking good,” your whimpered words were shaky and breathy.

“I know baby… So good… gonna give it to you every fucking day like this. Make love to you and treat you like a queen. Be so good to you…” his strained words were breathy as he was feeling the heat with you.

His lips pressed into yours and your brain short-circuited as you fell into that hazy, floaty space of ecstasy and need. Need for Harry and his body and his heart. Need for happiness with him. The need to feel happiness with someone you could trust.

When you sucked on his tongue and he rocked into you, keeping his hips smoothe against yours you began to whine and moan as your orgasm approached.

But then Harry stopped. He pulled back from the kiss and looked down at you with that evil grin you’d seen before and you gasped at the loss. You had just been on the cusp of coming.

He quickly pulled out as his own chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cock swayed and you pushed yourself up to see what was happening before he grabbed your sides and rolled you over to your tummy.

“Harry!” You yelped at the sudden maneuver and felt his palm land harshly on your bum. And then again and again. You jumped and crooned out as he issued your ass a handful of spankings to each side and then heard him moan when he kneaded into the meat of your bottom as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You suddenly felt him pushing your legs apart and fitting himself between them as he forced his hard cock back into your wet pussy, his heavy tip pushing past your small opening and you gasped at the suddenness of it all.

You moaned at the relief of finally having him tucked back inside. He slid through you smoothly, his hands holding your ass cheeks apart as he worked himself in over and over. You had your face smushed into the blankets as you sighed.

His hips rocked against your ass and you could feel him swiveling himself in every time his balls pressed into your skin, grounding himself deep through your tummy. The sounds he was making had you grinning. It felt just as good for him. He needed your body for relief. You were happy to let him get whatever he needed from you.

Slow languid strokes of his long cock, splitting you open with every thrust felt so good. It reminded you of how big he really was. How bulky and long his cock was as it disappeared inside of you and nudged its way into your depths.

“Stick your fingers over your clit, Y/n. Go on baby.”

You gurgled a moan and lifted your hips slightly to allow your right hand access to your pussy. And it was more relief. The feel of it all coming together was perfection. His fat cock taking up every inch of your insides, his tip crashing through your guts, the weight of him behind you and fucking you into the mattress, and your fingers on your clit, slipping and pressing…

Harry gave himself a moment to bask in the view of his cock spreading your vagina apart. He dragged a thumb over the spot where he was fucking into you, feeling himself move in and out, watching your pussy wrapped around him, glistening wet until he felt his balls tightening and constricting and your walls clamping down over him.

He could see your hips moving faster as you ground over your hand to get to your orgasm but then he pulled at your hand, moving your fingers away from your clit and you felt his chest against your back and his lips against the shell of your ear as he mumbled something you couldn’t quite hear.

It caught you off guard. The second denial of your orgasm. You angled your neck to try and turn toward him, “Harry, what?”

You felt him press his cock in hard, hips stilling against your ass, his lips pressed over your ear, “Put your fingers back on your clit but don’t move them til I say.”

In confusion, you slid your hand back to your core and he continued, “Good.”

He reared back and then thrust forward again, “Do you want to come, Y/n? Wanna come on my cock?”

You moaned a yes as you secretly slid a finger across your bud making you shiver.

“Then tell me you’re mine. Say you’re mine, Y/n, and I’ll let you come.”

You had no hesitation in telling him just that, “Harry I’m yours. I’m yours…”

“My girl. That’s right. Rub your pussy, baby. Get yourself off,” his breathy words were warm over your ear and neck as you began to slip your fingers back and forth to get you back to that spot that would have you tipping over the edge.

Then you felt Harry shift behind, his chest no longer pressed into your back as he started pounding into you, “Fucking come, baby. You’re mine now…”

You grinned in elation at his words and the way he sounded totally fucked out himself. Much like the way you were feeling. Like he was out of his mind with lust for you.

Every smack of his hips into your bum had you jolting up and you ground down into your hand, rolling your clit over whatever you could reach when you started to feel that melting, unraveling sensation. The electrical charge that made your pussy quiver and your back arch and your vision go white.

“There it is! Fuck!” Harry’s thrusts were harsh but every stroke felt like a sparking and exhilarating charge going through your body. His tip plunged into your cervix and fingers gripped your bottom harshly as you heard him choke out a loud moan.

“Gonna fill you fill you up baby… fuck… stuff you with my come…”

You could hardly hear your bed creaking and clanking as your ears began to ring and you gushed around Harry, your walls spasming and constricting around him tightly.

He moved into you, gliding in and out until finally his balls squeezed and pumped sperm through his cock directly into your wet hole. He stilled his hips as he whimpered a groan, throwing his neck back with his mouth dropped open, his cock throbbing inside of you, coating your walls with his come.

It seemed to last forever. He moaned and twitched, his body connected and pressed into yours as he drained every bit of himself into you. He pressed inward further, stuffing your pussy with his come, making sure every bit of it seeped through your cunt and soaked your insides.

He hadn’t had sex in 9 months. Jerking himself off didn’t do it like the real thing and when it was with you it was even better. The best. He hadn’t come so hard ever in his life he was certain as his body flushed in heat and his heart thudded wildly in his chest when he crumpled over your back, tucking his arms around you and kissing your neck softly.

You moaned quietly at the feel of him on your back. The post-orgasm glow was never so good before. It felt like you were in a different realm of existence, floating and glowing in bliss.

“You’re mine, Y/n?” He wanted reassurance. Which was understandable after the way you handled things the first time around. But this time was going to be different. You two were starting over again. This time with a better understanding of what the other needed, with a better understanding of yourself and what each of you needed to do to be a good partner. Things were different this time.

Harry pushed himself up and looked down at his sensitive cock still inside of you. He drew himself back and watched as his creamy come leaked from your hole and he pressed himself back inside. You felt him pumping himself in and out shallowly and turned your head to look at him. His eyes were glued to your cunt where he was fucking his come back inside of you. A natural urge he couldn’t deny.

When his eyes found yours and he finally pulled himself out, he helped you roll to your side as he laid next to you, his hand on your cheek and you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m yours, Harry. I was back then too I just didn’t realize it. Couldn’t admit it. But I’m yours.”

You both smiled at one another. His eyes were bright and clear and you could trust him. You knew you could. He made you feel so comfortable about yourself. Made you feel like you could make him happy and that he’d want to stick around for you. That he would make you happy in return.

He took your hand and pressed it harder over his chest, “I’m yours too. I was since the day I first met you. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful, Y/n. And I’m not letting go of you again.”

You grinned and pushed yourself up to his mouth to kiss him. You felt his palm slide down your side and to your bum, as he squeezed you, causing a laugh to puff out from your lips against his.

“Sorry, I love your ass. Feels so good in my hands. Just wanna bite it and stuff my face against it. Can’t help it.”

You rolled your eyes at him still grinning but when he swatted at your bottom your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. When I tell you I love your ass, I fucking mean it.” He gave you another good squeeze to emphasize his words.

So you slid your hand down to his nipple and squeezed at it, “And I love your nipples and these tits,” you laughed.

Harry’s wide grin and dimples were suddenly hidden when he nuzzled his face into your neck and you heard him inhale deeply.

The afterglow with him was something out of a romance novel. It was beautiful and precious. Almost too good to be true.

The sound of a cellphone ringing had both you and Harry lifted out of the sweet moment. He sat up, “It’s me.”

He hopped out of your bed and you watched as he crouched down to his pants where his phone was in his back pocket. His strong back flexing as he pulled it out and then stood up to answer the call.

“Hello?”

You frowned as you watched him disappear into your hallway, still nude. Turning to look at the clock on your side table you noted that it was paste 10 pm. You wondered who was calling at the late hour. Couldn’t have been work. What could be so important that he had to leave your side after he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life?

“I’ll be there! I’m booking a flight as soon as I get off the phone. Yes..”

You could hear him pacing and talking. You picked up most of what he said as you sat silently on your bed waiting for him to return and explain himself.

“I missed you too. I can’t wait to finally meet her. I know. Me too.”

You slid off your bed and pulled a t-shirt from your drawer to put it over your body as he ended the call with an I love you.

Harry walked back into your room with a huge grin, “My sister just had her baby!”

You smiled at him widely as he took three long-legged steps toward you, his cock swaying as he was still completely naked before he wrapped you in a tight hug, “Today is like the best day I’ve ever had. First you,” he kissed your cheek, “Now my sister...”

You laughed when he twirled around with you and then he let go, a sudden look of realization on his face, “Come with me to London. I want everyone to meet you!”

You blinked your eyes and stuttered your words, “Are you serious?”

He grabbed your hands, “Dead serious. Come with me. It’s not like you have to ask off for work. We can go for a couple of weeks. God, it’d be so fun, Y/n. Me and you… My mom’s going to love you.”

Your head was spinning from everything that had happened that day. From the moment Harry walked into that room at the gallery to now having him standing naked in your bedroom asking you to take a trip with him to see his family and his sister’s new baby. But, spinning or not, there was no part of you that would turn down the offer.

“That sounds amazing. I’d love to, Harry.”

He pulled you in for another hug and pressed his face into your neck, “This is going to be so good, Y/n.”

You laughed as he squeezed you tight and then his hands cupped your cheeks, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll book our flights. Yeah?”

You nodded as your cheeks burned hot when he pressed his mouth to yours again.

It was a funny thing to you. That the first time you had sex with Harry the post-orgasm afterglow was interrupted by a phone call. And this time another phone call had broken the moment too. Except things were not the same as they were then. Now you knew who Harry was. You trusted him and this time everything was going to be different.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this!! xoxo

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eddiesghxst · 1 year ago

Text

summer vacation

me writing a full eddie fic? who would've thunk fr

lmaoo here's a little something I randomly typed up, yes it is older neighbor!eddie and no, this trope will never get old (TO ME! TO. ME.)

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: older neighbor!eddie x college fem!reader

summary: You're back from college for the summer and your parent's new neighbor, Mr. Munson is hot

contains: age-difference (reader is 23, Eddie is like late 30's or sum idk...older), slight forbidden-relationship trope, car sex, making out, tiny mention of oral, fingering, slight praise kink, p in v (unprotected - don't be stupid), creampie, and eddie being a slutty flirt <3

word count: 4.6k

-masterlist-

okay, I think that's everything so...enjoy!

Coming home for summer was, for the most part, decent. You don’t have to worry about buying food and toiletries; you can spend your days doing nothing without feeling like shit about it, and apart from seeing a few familiar faces you aren’t quite fond of, you also get to see childhood friends you’d missed over the semester.

Your parents moved into a bigger house after your mom finally persuaded your dad to buy her the home of her dreams. White picket fence, green grass to match with a wrap-around porch, and a lovely pool in the backyard. It was beautiful, no doubt. And the neighborhood was nice, apart from the obnoxious kids that play rounds of ding dong ditch every now and then, along with your neighbor that blares his heavy metal music all day. You’re forced to listen to mixes of Dio, Megadeath, and Ozzy on a day-to-day basis, but you can’t find it in yourself to be mad, considering the man blaring said music is a sight for sore eyes. You’ve only seen him in passing, in the morning when he’s moving the trash for pick-up day or when he’s just getting home from work.

His name is Mr. Munson; your mother told you one day. “He’s quite friendly, actually. He hasn’t said much since we moved in, but he’s nice for the most part."

And you can admit when someone is attractive, and Mr. Munson is attractive. But he’s your parent's neighbor, so there’s not much you can do in that realm except admire from afar whenever you get the chance.

You end up booking yourself a babysitting gig for a family friend halfway into the summer: two kids, Lily and David, a set of six-year-old twins. For the most part, they’re easy to manage, David is quieter and more reserved than Lily’s extroverted nature, but they balance each other out enough for you to tolerate them.

It’s Friday night, and you have them until the morning because their parents are having a date night. Your parents have been on a cruise the past week, so apart from Lily and David, you’ve got the house to yourself. You let the twins choose what they wanted for dinner, and they picked pizza hut, something about them wanting to try cheese stuffed crust. You allow them to have one can of soda each as long as they promised not to tell their parents, and they swore on Lily’s stuffed animal, Oreo, that they wouldn’t share your secret.

It’s nearly ten o’clock when you settle into the couch to watch a movie. You’re under the impression that the twins are asleep until you hear the soft patter of little feet behind you. You turn around to see a sleepy Lily rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Hey, bud, what’s up?” You question, watching as she rounds the corner to stand before you. “I can’t sleep. The music is too loud.” Lilly complains. You frown, “There’s no music playing, buddy.”

Lily shakes her head and points towards the living room window, and you immediately know what he’s talking about. You can see the garage light from Mr. Munson’s house, indicating that he’s most likely working on something in there. You nod and get up, “Okay. I’ll take care of it; just wait here.”

Lily watches as you put on some shoes before slipping out the front door. You can see her watching through the window as you walk across the lawn toward Mr. Munson’s garage, and you laugh to yourself.

You’re slightly nervous to ask him to turn the music down, but you’re sure Lily isn’t the only annoyed person in the neighborhood, so you take it that you’re doing everyone a favor.

He’s leaned over the open hood of his car, elbow-deep in grease, as he tugs at a few parts. You don’t want to startle him, so you clear your throat, but it’s drowned out by King Diamond singing ‘Curse of the Pharaohs.’ You’re not entirely familiar with the band Mercyful Fate, but you’ve heard Mr. Munson play them quite a few times, enough to be able to name a few of their songs.

His garage is nice, mostly clean apart from cluttered shelves and cabinets. Three electric guitars hang on the wall, equally spaced from each other to form a pristine presentation. Around the instruments, the wall is filled with posters of different metal bands, a few of them you recognize but for the most part, you just think they add a nice touch.

You step further into the garage and lightly tap his bare shoulder. The man glances over at you, and you catch a glimpse of a cigarette hanging from his lip before he returns to his task. “Can I help you?” He mutters over the music.

Your mother’s words toss around in your head; He’s quite friendly, actually... he’s nice for the most part. Some friendly introduction that was.

You clear your throat before you speak, “Yeah, I…I live next door, um, I’m babysitting tonight, and so I was just wondering if you could turn down the music.”

He doesn’t respond, and for a moment, you think he didn’t hear you, but then he’s taking in a breath and standing up straight as he steps away from the car, grabbing the towel in his back pocket to wipe his greased hands as he turns around and eyes you for a moment.

You take in the full sight of him, dressed in ripped jeans and a shitty loose white tank top. His hair is tied back into a bun, messy bangs dusting the tops of his eyelashes as he blinks at you. He takes a drag of his cigarette before he speaks, “How can I help you?”

So, he didn’t hear you. You take in a breath as you rock on the heels of your feet; you speak louder this time, practically yelling over the music, “I’m babysitting right now, and uh, your music is a little loud.” He studies you, slightly narrowing his eyes before he speaks again.

“Don’t like my music, princess?”

Your lips part in surprise before quickly shaking your head, “No! No, I don’t mind, really. I’m not exactly the one with the request.” You gesture towards your house, and he glances over at where you had pointed to catch a glimpse of the little kid watching from the window. Mr. Munson lets out a small laugh, and you smile as he turns back to you, placing a hand against his chest and bowing his head, “My apologies.”

You watch as he turns around and walks over to the shelf where his stereo sits, reaching up for the volume and turning it down to an acceptable level. You take the time to admire the stretch of his arms and the few tattoos on display beneath the garage light.

He’s taking another drag of his cigarette when he turns around and walks over to you. “Better?” It’s a lighthearted tone he uses, straying away from what many would think to be condescending. You nod and breathe, muttering a small thank you before turning on your heel to walk back home. But for some reason, something compels you to turn around. You have to force yourself to ignore that he has still been watching you from where he stands, leaning against the side of his car.

“I really like your car, by the way.” You sound breathless, like you’d been holding the compliment in, and it suddenly burst from your lips. Mr. Munson glances down at the car and smiles. It’s a vintage 1968 Ford Mustang fastback, one you’ve seen many times on those car-themed calendars they sell at the gas station register. It’s black with nicely tinted windows and a top coat so shiny that you believe it’s freshly painted. It fits him perfectly; they complement each other in a seamless way that you admire.

“Why thank you, princess.” He’s walking up to you, and you hold your breath. He stands next to you and turns to join you as you admire the car from afar. He takes one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it beneath his shoe. “You like vintage cars?” White clouds escape his lips as he talks, and you like how the smoke burns your lungs.

You glance towards him and nod with a smile, “Yeah. I’m a big fan of Mustangs. I wanted one in high school, but my dad said no— too fast for a 16-year-old, I guess.” You softly laugh, and he smiles, gazing over at you. “Remind me one of these days, and I’ll let you take her for a spin.”

Your head snaps towards him, and you glance up at him with a look of surprise. “I—... Seriously? I don’t know if I trust myself not to crash it.” You nervously laugh. He laughs with you and pats your shoulder, softly squeezing as he responds, “I’ve got faith in you,” You shiver when he leans forward a bit, “Don’t tell your dad; it’ll be our secret.” Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest when he sneaks in a quick wink, squeezing your shoulder once before walking back towards the garage.

“Um… Okay, Goodnight, Mr. Munson.” You internally cringe from your high-pitched voice, and you swear you can hear a smile when he responds, facing you as he gets back to work beneath the hood, “Night, sweetheart.”

You’re halfway down his driveway when he adds, “Oh, and uh… Just call me Eddie…” You turn around to see him sifting through his toolbox, glancing your way, and flashing a small smile. “No need for formalities. I’m not eighty years old.” He waves a dismissive hand, and you nod. “Okay… Eddie.” You tell him your name, and he smiles before returning to his task.

You practically sprint back to your house, slamming the door behind you with a deep exhale as you replay the entire conversation.

You spend the rest of your night thinking about your neighbor, Eddie Munson.

————

Over the next few weeks, you conclude that Eddie Munson was not flirting with you.

There’s no possible way he could’ve been flirting with you. For starters, he’s a grown man; he most likely wants nothing to do with a 23-year-old woman struggling to make her way through college. Secondly, you probably had just mistaken him being nice for whatever flirtatious fantasy you’d made up. And lastly, what puts the final nail in the coffin, is when you catch a glimpse of him walking into his home at two in the morning with a woman, one you’d never seen, but someone of his fancy considering the way she’d dragged him inside to do…god knows what.

So, no. Eddie Munson was not flirting with you, and he does not want you. As much as it crushed your ridiculous Lana Del Rey-inspired fantasies, you accepted that the older man had only seen you as a neighbor— a possible friend at most.

The two of you speak here and there whenever you cross paths when he’s leaving for work, taking the trash out, or when he’s working on his car, and you’re watering your mother’s flower bed—a friendly wave with a soft smile. You force yourself to ignore the little things he says that can be mistaken for advances because, in reality, he’s just being nice, and you have a crush.

It’s a hot Saturday afternoon when you see him again, three weeks after your first late-night conversation. You’re standing on the lawn, one hand holding a water hose to spray the flowers and the other hand busy holding a popsicle. Eddie is busy replacing a part in his car, something about a failed transmission he mentioned to you some days ago.

You’re busy listening to your summer playlist as you devour the sweet treat and water the plants, so focused that you don’t even hear Eddie call your name. Through the blaring volume of your headphones, you can catch the sound of a car horn, pulling you from your task-induced trance. You look over to Eddie’s driveway to see he’s pulled the car out of the garage and is now standing outside, leaning against the open car door.

You remove a single earbud and turn off the water hose. You can’t see Eddie's eyes behind the dark-tinted sunglasses he’s wearing, but you can tell he’s looking at you. “You still up for that drive I promised you?”

You think how quickly your heart begins to race inside your chest is stupid. “Uh— now?”

He shrugs, and you take a silent sharp breath, “I mean, unless if you’re doing something better—” “No!” You feel embarrassed at your evident enthusiasm, “No, I mean… yeah, okay, just…let me get my shoes.”

You don’t stay long enough to see Eddie smile, but you hear him chuckle to himself as you drop the hose and jog into your house. You curse as you rummage through your closet for the shoes you had in mind, hastily slipping them on once you find them and throwing away the rest of your popsicle. On your way out, your mother asks where you're headed, and you spin a quick lie about going to the gas station for a drink.

Eddie is patiently waiting outside his car when you walk up to him, a nervous smile plastered across your face. “Um… So, where are we going?”

He’s casually chewing a piece of gum as he lazily smiles; you can see the reflection of yourself in his glasses, and your heart races in anticipation. “You ever been to the drop-off?”

You shake your head no, and you’re becoming a little concerned with the rate your heart is beating as you watch the smirk on Eddie’s lips spread into a full smile. “Well, you’re in for a treat, princess.”

————

The ‘drop-off’ is a cliff.

A beautiful one, full of wildlife and trees, with a tiny stream at the bottom. You’d question Eddie's motives for bringing you here if you didn't know better. For all you know, Eddie could be a killer that’s coaxed you into his car, driven you out to this cliff, and intends to toss you over the edge to face your inevitable doom.

However, you don’t think that’s his intention, especially not with how he’s licking into your mouth with a lustful hunger, moaning against your lips when you climb over the console to straddle him and grind against the obvious tent in his jeans.

You’re not 100% sure how you ended up here, making out with your much-much older neighbor, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop and think about it because he’s kissing you in a way that makes you want to do unspeakable things.

“For a second there, I thought you wanted to kill me,” Stupid, such a stupid thing to say in the middle of making out, but you say it anyway. To your delight, Eddie breathlessly laughs as he looks up at you, licking his lips whilst his hands slip beneath your skirt to squeeze at your hips.

There’s music softly playing in the back, Mercyful Fate again; Eddie had told you he stumbled across a few of their old CDs while cleaning out his storage and has since been going through one of those phases where he can’t seem to listen to anything else.

You want to kiss Eddie again, but suddenly he’s clearing his throat and giving your thighs a soft pat in indication to move back to your seat. “I should get you home now; it’s late.”

The frown on your face isn’t hard to miss, but Eddie doesn’t see it either way, too preoccupied with avoiding your gaze. “What?” “It’s late.”

You gaze down at him silently for a few seconds before returning to the passenger seat. You don't understand. You don’t understand Eddie Munson. All this time you spent convincing yourself that he wasn’t into you has gone to waste now that he’s just stuck his tongue down your throat, but now he can’t even look you in the eye.

He takes a slow breath, twisting one of the many rings wrapped around his fingers. “Look…I know how this seems, and you probably think I’m an asshole, but… we can’t.” Eddie can feel you glaring at the side of his head, and he braves through it to glance at you. You look confused and upset, much like he’s feeling right now, unbeknownst to you. “Why not?” “Because I—” He looks at you again and pauses before shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

You let it sit for a few moments before you speak up and say his name, waiting until he looks at you to speak, “I wanted to come here… and I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here and… I want you to fuck me.”

You’re not exactly sure where the sudden boldness came from, but you feel so fucking good having it off your chest. You want Eddie to fuck you. You’ve been wanting Eddie to fuck you; hell, it’s practically all you’ve been thinking about since you came home for summer and saw him. So many fantasies of Eddie fucking you in various places; your house, his house, on the hood of his car, in your backyard near the pool. You want it all, and you’re bored of using just your hands and imagination.

“I don’t think you understand what you’re really asking for here, sweetheart.” There’s a warning glint in his eyes, an offer to back out and forget this ever happened, but you don’t want that— you want him.

“But I’m not asking. I want you to fuck me, Eddie. And I know you want it too; otherwise, we wouldn’t still be here.”

Eddie looks at you with a gaze good enough to have you clenching your thighs beneath your skirt. He looks away with a breathless laugh, “You don’t give up, do you?”

You try to hide the smile tugging at your lips but fail as you shake your head. “Shit… Okay… Okay, fine, uh— get in the back.”

You try to be as coy as possible and not show your excitement as you climb into the backseat of Eddie’s car. You watch him sift through his glove box, cursing to himself when he can’t find what he’s looking for. “I’m on the pill,” You suddenly say, growing shy when Eddie looks back at you. “...Just thought I’d let you know.”

Eddie nods and shuts the glovebox, “I guess that solves that problem, then.”

Eddie’s then climbing to the backseat to join you, groaning in protest at the cramped space and his tight back. His lips meet yours in a hasty kiss when you advance, hungry to feel him in any way you can. He curses under his breath as he finally settles in, pulling you closer to sit on his lap. “You sure your parents aren’t gonna be wondering where you went?” He mutters against your lips, moaning when you reach down to palm him over his jeans. You nod, breathless, as you respond with a mischievous smile, “Told them I was going to get a drink.”

You’re back to kissing, rutting against one another like you’re getting paid to do it, and Eddie makes a comment about feeling like he’s back in high school fucking in some empty parking lot, and you laugh. Your laugh falls into a moan when Eddie sneaks a hand beneath your skirt to pet over your clothed center, humming at the obvious evidence of your arousal. You try your best to keep kissing Eddie, but you lose focus when he pushes your panties aside and drags a finger through your wet heat. Your hips twitch against his hold, and you mewl, dropping your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Need it, Eddie, please.” You beg, and Eddie hums, rubbing your clit and causing your thighs to twitch, “What, princess? What do you need, hm?” “Need you to fuck me.”

He chuckles, and you whine in annoyance at his teasing when he rubs your clit, “Gotta get you ready for me first, pretty girl. That okay?” He can feel you hastily nodding against his neck, hips squirming for more when he finally gives it to you, slowly sinking a single digit into you. Eddie’s sporting a short scuff these days, too lazy to shave, and the sensation of the coarse hair scratching against you sends shivers down your spine as you nuzzle against his neck, begging for more, more, more.

His other hand smooths up the expanse of your thigh and around your hips to squeeze the fat of your ass, groaning lowly when you whimper and push against his hand. “M-more, Eddie.“

Eddie could come just from hearing your broken voice beg for his fingers, “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, princess.” He sinks in another finger, slowly fucking them in and out of your wet cunt until you’re a whiney mess atop of him, begging for more.

You reach a hand out to hold onto the seat behind him, nails digging into the vintage leather as you rock against his fingers. The wet sound of Eddie’s fingers thrusting into you fills out the space, falling into a filthy harmony with his radio. Eddie will, without a doubt, be thinking about this moment for the coming weeks. He’s sure of it.

Eddie makes you come twice before laying you across his leather seats, once with just his fingers and again with his fingers, pulling down your tiny tank top to suck and lick at your tits, leaving little red and purple blotches across your soft skin.

The space is tight in the back of his car, but neither of you cares enough to mention it. You’re starry-eyed and blissed out as you watch Eddie sit up to unbuckle his jeans and push them to rest below his ass. Your mouth waters at the sight of him; he’s long and thick, not the thickest you’ve had but definitely the longest. As you watch Eddie languidly stroke himself, you want to wrap your lips around him and taste the small amounts of precum he smears across his tip. Eddie glances at you and smirks when he sees your hungry gaze; he knows what you want and wants to give it to you.

He leans over you and smears his sticky thumb across your bottom lip, begging for entrance which you gladly grant him. You wrap your lips around his thumb and suck as if it was his cock, swirling your tongue around the pad of his finger and humming at the burst of flavor against your tongue, the taste of Eddie Munson. You love it, and you want more, but Eddie has different plans.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and brings it down to slicken the slide of his cock as he strokes himself a few more times. He runs the tip of his cock from your entrance to your clit, slapping it against you a few times to pull pathetic moans from deep within your chest. He smiles, kissing you as he does it again, “Fuck, you’re so wet, Jesus Christ.” He moans against your lips, and you softly laugh, squirming to feel more of him. The sounds you’re making are obscene, both your moans and the wet sloshing between your legs each time Eddie taps himself against you.

“Eddie, please. Please fuck me, I want it so bad—” He cuts you off with another kiss before he pulls away to adjust your position. He lifts one of your legs to drape over his shoulder as he pins the other leg to the seat. “There we go, keep them open, baby. Just like that,” He hums in approval, and your chest flutters at the notion. The initial push of Eddie’s cock within your walls is what you’d imagine heaven to feel like in the form of a sensation.

He was big, that much you could tell from looking, but actually feeling it is almost otherworldly. You can feel every vein rubbing against your walls with each inch he sinks further into you. By the time he bottoms out, balls pressed against the thick of your ass and pelvis deliciously kissing your clit, you’re at a loss for words.

You can hear Eddie praising you for how well you’re taking him, but through your lust-clouded mind, you don’t comprehend much, too absorbed in the feeling of Eddie slamming into you repeatedly.

Eddie’s hand is pressed into the seat right next to your head, holding him up as he fucks you for all your worth, and you find yourself wrapping a hand around his wrist, nails digging into the tattooed skin. He hisses in pleasure, moaning when you clench around him. “You feel so fucking good, princess. Taking me so well, fuck.”

You let your head fall to the side, lips pressing against Eddie's wrist in a gentle kiss, and it seems to flip something in Eddie’s brain because he gives you a particularly rough thrust, humming when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Oh my god—- shit, you’re so fucking wet. This is all for me, hm?”

You’re pathetically nodding and moaning in response, grinding your hips to meet his hasty thrusts.

With your two previous orgasms, you find yourself teetering on the edge of overstimulation, thighs twitching to close around Eddie’s frame, but he’s quick to deny you the right. “Keep them open, princess. Need to see the way this pretty pussy swallows my dick.”

Eddie’s now sitting back on his knees, head tilted down to avoid hitting the roof of the car, allowing him to gaze down at the sight of your wet cunt taking every inch of him. He’s got tunnel vision as he coasts his hands from your hips to your cunt, slowing down his thrusts to spread your sticky lips apart slowly. You pulse beneath his gaze, and you feel him twitch within you. “Look at this pretty flower,” he hums, leaning down to let a dribble of spit drip onto your awaiting sex. You moan his name, and he smiles, dragging a thumb through the spit to spread it against your clit.

He begins thrusting again, caught between the sight of his cock drilling in and out of your pussy, the bounce of your tits with each thrust, and the way your face twists with pleasure whenever he hits that one spot.

It’s unexpected when you come; you’re practically speechless as Eddie fucks every thought out of your head. He groans at the feeling of you clenched around him, the view of you squirming beneath him and clawing at his seat. If it were anyone else, he would’ve bitched about that, but you look so fucking good.

“Holy fuck, I’m gonna come,” Eddie pants, and you moan in eagerness when he says it, eyes fluttering open to watch as he starts to succumb to the feeling. ”Fuck, where do you want it, princess?” “Inside, please. Want it inside, Ed’s.”

Ed’s, that’s what does it for him. He’s immediately tipping over the edge, pressing his entire length into you and filling you to the fucking brim. You can feel some of it leak out of you, dripping down your ass and onto the seats below you. You watch in awe as his jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut, and head tipping back in ecstasy. You want to take a picture and have this view for the rest of your life.

When Eddie pulls out, you’re sensitive and cry out in protest, but he kisses your jaw gently and tells you how good you did. He can’t help it when he leans back and looks at the sight below him, ringed fingers gently massaging your sore inner thighs, “You look so fucking pretty filled with me, sweetheart… I’m going to be addicted to you.”

You laugh, and he smiles before proceeding to help you get appropriately dressed again. Once you’re both dressed and cleaned to the best of your ability, with the help of a few leftover fast food napkins in Eddie’s glove box, you make your way to the front seats again.

Eddie glances over at you and smiles when you shy away. He reaches for his box of Marlboro's on the dashboard, and you watch as he lights up. He takes a slow breath, letting the smoke properly settle into his lungs before turning to you with a smirk.

“Let’s go get you that drink.”

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ace-turned-confused · 6 months ago

Text

shiftin' gear | part two

joel masterlist | series masterlist

pairing: mechanic!joel x f!reader series outline: a slacker of a boyfriend, no job, and now your car needs serious maintenance. heading to the mechanic’s, you’re just expecting him to rid you of your car troubles and move on — you’re certainly not expecting him to change your life chapter summary: with big decisions to make, life throws you a curveball that leads you to joel again word count: 3,2k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied, boyfriend is still useless & also a prick, minor injury & blood, my car knowledge™️, bit of a cry & breakdown sesh, age gap (23/50), smutty thoughts, allusions to f masturbation a/n: thank you @frannyzooey for all the help & encouraging words when reading this over 😚❤️

A month has passed since you first met Joel Miller and you haven’t gone to see him since. You certainly wanted to, but couldn’t bring yourself to go there under the excuse of a lie, or the alternative of admitting you went just because you could. Every time you turn your car’s ignition, a small part of you hopes that another light will flicker on the dashboard, but so far that dream hasn’t been fulfilled.

A month since you met Joel Miller but three months since you and Jake last slept together. The few times you’ve come close, you end up giving him an excuse. At first, you simply couldn’t be bothered to put so much effort in, claiming you were tired. But lately, it’s because you’re thinking of Joel — what it’d look like having his hand dipping into your panties, how his mouth would feel on you, how you’d burn up watching him take himself out his pants.

Which is not ideal when Joel isn’t the one trying to do those things.

Jake’s been putting more pressure on you to see him more regularly again and it’s laborious, draining, constantly needing to put on this cheerful persona around him — you’re never able to mope around or yell or cry just for the sake of it. Truthfully, you’ve been trying to work out for a long time now how to go about breaking up with him.

His reaction to why you had quit your job had catapulted this even further. I’m sure the guy was a deserving candidate. You can’t just quit because someone better than you got the job. Not asking how you felt, not asking for details, simply not caring. He still had the nerve to ask if you were staying the night after that, and that’s when you dropped the conversation. Your employment hadn’t been brought up again.

As brief as it was, you found great comfort in talking to Joel about it — not once did he tell you you’d made a mistake, or that you’d regret it down the line. Just knowing he’s there to listen is more than what you have right now.

Maybe you should stop by sometime.

You have plans to see Jake tonight, and you’re undecided on whether or not you should finally cut ties with him. You’re dressed in a square-neck navy top and black pants that hug your hips and thighs amazingly. Sure, you might end the night by breaking a boy’s heart — though, you’re not sure he’ll feel much emotion other than confusion — but this might be the one thing that’ll keep you feeling good about yourself right now.

Stopping off to get a few small items at the grocery store, the parking lot is mostly empty by the time you walk out. As you reach your car again, you see one of your back tires is almost completely flat. Dropping your bags, you seethe with anger – it feels like one fucking thing after another.

Taking a breath, you calm yourself down and start unpacking the toolkit from your boot. Car jack, lug wrench, some… other tool that’s used for something — it can’t be that important. You run the process over in your head — it’s just changing a tire, how difficult can it be?

Crouched down on your knees, you’ve partially loosened the lug nuts on the wheel and are busy jacking up your car when your mind drifts off to Joel. He’d probably do this for you and you wouldn’t even argue with him — you couldn’t look away the first time he worked on your car, and you doubt that’ll ever change.

Maybe he’d be surprised you can do this, maybe he’d be impressed. Maybe he’d tell you you’re too pretty to change a tire and get your clothes dirty. You’d laugh it off, but you might just believe him.

You can’t picture Jake saying that to you — you can’t remember the last time he even gave you an honest compliment and meant it, not something backhanded, not something that elevates him higher than you.

What’s sadder is that it doesn’t upset you anymore.

Changing a tire is easy enough in theory, but this is the first time you’ve actually done it yourself and Jesus Christ it’s more taxing than you anticipated. You’re sweaty, out of breath, and you’re sure you’ve pulled a muscle. In the depths of your daydreaming, you lose your grip on the lug wrench and fall forward, scraping your arm on the tar. It stings to no end and blood starts settling in small pools, the surface of your skin covered in a rough mixture of gravel and bits of tar — the last thing you need, but it’ll have to wait.

Tossing the wrench to the ground, it lands with a startling clank, the sound reverberating through your skull. You’re hauling the old wheel into the boot of your car and see a nail, stuck flush in the tire, still shiny and new. You wish you could feel shiny and new again.

Fuck this. You pull out your phone to text Jake.

You: just got a fucking flat tireYou: not coming anymore, sorry

You don’t wait for him to respond and focus on lowering your car again. You consider your options on where to go after this — not particularly wanting to go home so soon to be grilled by your dad, there is one place you can think of.

It’s early evening and Joel’s getting ready to close up shop for the day, tools pushed to the side and cash books up to date. Piling up loose papers, he finds the invoice for the brake sets he used on your car and he can’t help but wonder how you’ve been the past month. Each day that passed he hoped you’d show up — maybe something else was wrong with your car, maybe you’d just come to see him for the sake of it, but you never did. He told himself it was better that way.

He’s been keeping himself busy otherwise, teaching Eddie some tricks of the trade and avoiding Hazel. She’s not a bad woman, but he’s made it clear on plenty of occasions that he is not interested, be it a one-night stand or something serious — then, of course, he met you.

He hasn’t been on a real date in a lifetime, he’s had casual flings here and there, but he’s felt drawn to you right from the start. He just wants to take care of you, give you the treatment you deserve, which you aren’t getting from your boyfriend. Emotionally, physically — whatever you need, whatever you’ll let him do. A part of him hopes you and this Jake boy will eventually break up and you’ll come running into his own arms instead, as selfish as it may be.

He hears a car stop outside and a door slams shut with a thud, pulling him out of his thoughts. Turning around he sees you dragging yourself in from the street, bloody scrapes on your arm and dirt stains on your pant legs. You look tired, rattled.

“Joel? Please can you help me?”

Joel’s standing alongside your car, hands on his hips, in the same tight coveralls you saw him wearing a month ago.

“You know you could’ve just called sweetheart, I would’ve come to change it for you.”

“I can change a tire.” Previously, the endearment would’ve made your mind go blank, but you’re tired — tired of Jake, tired of life’s bullshit, tired of everything, and it comes out much harsher than you intended.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice. If he does, he doesn’t comment. He bends down to inspect it and a small part of you hopes he’s impressed by your efforts.

“I can see that, you did a good job of it too.” He tries twisting a lug nut and it doesn’t shift. “Who taught you how to do this?”

“Common sense? It’s not that complicated.”

“You didn’t wanna call your dad or that boyfriend of yours to come and help?”

“My dad would tell me I’m doing it wrong and I’d tell Jake he was doing it wrong. No thanks.”

You stand, arms folded across your chest and give him a tight smile, which fades as fast as it appears. Usually you’d revel in the banter between you, but tonight you can’t find it in yourself to let go.

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I’ll put a new tire on here for you and you’ll be good to go on.”

Your phone rings before you can respond — you tilt the screen and can see it’s Jake. You let out a bitter sigh, not in the mood for the insensitivity and all-round lack of respect you’re bound to get from him. You don’t excuse yourself when you answer, beyond caring what Joel may hear from either of you.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you call me, I could’ve come to help.”

“Says the guy who needed the manual to find the lever for the fucking fuel cap.”

“Well, I could’ve fetched you or called someone else.”

“It’s fine, it’s done. I’m getting a new tire fitted anyways, I’m at the mechanic’s right now.”

“Alright, whatever, but it’s not too late — you can still come over, stay the night maybe?”

“I said I’m not coming — my clothes are filthy, I’ve got muscle cramps where I didn’t know I fucking had muscles, and I’m not in the mood Jake. Not tonight.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel stills, just for a moment, like that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. You swear you can see his ears redden and you wish you could see the expression on his face.

“Thought you’d have changed your mind by now but okay, I could come over to…”

“I said no. I have to go.”

You end the call and cut his goodbyes short, putting your phone on silent and shoving it back into your pocket. Seeing Joel had lifted your spirits ever so slightly, and now that’s all been undone. You’ve held it together all day but you feel tears start to well in your eyes. You blink furiously, trying your hardest to will them away before it’s too late.

“Everything alright?”

Joel stands and turns to face you, repeating his question when you don’t respond and sees you staring ahead, tears streaming down your cheeks. As if on instinct, he moves towards you and wraps his arms around you. He feels your body go rigid and begins to pull back — this was a mistake, he should’ve asked — but as fast as he lets you go you’re pulling him back in, your arms now wrapping around his middle.

Standing with your head buried into his chest, your breaths come out in gasps as you try to stop yourself from crying. He can feel your hands are balled into fists and you’re squeezing your arms like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded, like you’re scared he won’t come back if you let go. Joel’s careful not to put his hands where he really shouldn’t, one between your shoulder blades, the other cradling your head. Everything is not alright, but he doesn’t want to overstep, risk pushing you further down into yourself and further away from him.

“Hey, sweetheart, let’s go sit.”

You don’t object as he moves his hand to the small of your back and walks you into the office. He sits you down on the couch, handing you water from the fridge and you’ve gone silent, eyes drawn to the floor, but your tears have somewhat slowed. He notices blotches of dried blood on the bottom of your shirt and gets up to find some bandages and cotton pads — he knows there’s a first-aid kit somewhere around here.

“Just wanna clean your arm up, that okay?”

You nod your head meekly, still avoiding his eyes. He takes your arm in his hands, twisting it to see the scrapes and grazes in their entirety. He wipes your arm down with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad and you pinch your eyes shut, wincing slightly at the inevitable sting. Thankfully your arm just looked worse than it is; he’s able to leave most of it uncovered, only bandaging a small section that looks particularly inflamed.

Placing your arm down in your lap, he’s not sure how to carry on. He can practically hear you thinking, but what exactly is turning over and over in that head of yours he doesn’t know.

“Sorry,” you mumble weakly, angling your head towards him, gaze still downward.

“Sorry for what?”

“This.” You shift your hands around in your lap and start picking at your nails. You slump down on the couch, continuing, “Sorry for crying.”

“Hey, look at me.” Joel turns himself to face you, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. He waits for you to turn and you finally lift yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes red and glassy.

“Don’t apologise for crying, sweetheart. You’re allowed to cry.”

“I’m twenty-three, I should be better at all this by now.”

“Better at what? I’m about to turn fuckin’ fifty and I still cry sometimes.”

You turn away from him again — you furrow your brow and he can tell you’re trying to come up with a reason why that shouldn’t apply to you, why you need to be stronger than anyone else.

“I assume that was your boyfriend on the phone? Sounds like you had grand plans for tonight.”

You screw your face up at that.

“Don’t call him- don’t say that. He had grand plans, I was psyching myself up to break up with him.”

He knew that something wasn’t right between the two of you, but he didn’t realise it would be quite this bad.

“It’s just…” You sigh again, sounding despondent, like all that anger you had earlier has been dissolved, absorbed, or maybe you’ve just become desensitised to it.

“I just don’t understand, how is he so… detached? It’s like he’s from another fuckin’ planet. I can’t tell anymore if he just doesn’t care or if he truly is that self-absorbed.” You lean back and bring your arms up, draping them over your head.

“Was it always like this?” He’s trying his best to tread lightly, but hopes you’ll feel more at ease if you can get some of this off your chest.

“No… at least, I don't think so. Maybe it has been and I was just blinded by the bare minimum. Only now he doesn’t even do that.”

You turn to look at him again, eyes changed from glassy to broken and exhausted. You whisper a thank you, a soft, sad smile on your face and he decides not to push you any further. You’ve shared, and that’s a start — you’ll come to him again in your own time.

“Gonna go finish up that tire of yours, you can stay in here a while if—”

You’re standing before he can get the words out, straightening out your shirt and wiping your tear-stained cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Sounds good, let’s go.”

No longer hysterical as you push past to walk outside, now you just look defeated. He should insist you stay put to be alone, but having just opened up about your insecurities and loveless relationship with Jake, now isn’t the time to defy you. Maybe he can try and bring a smile to your face before you say goodbye.

You thought your night might end in tears courtesy of Jake, but this isn’t what you were expecting. You can’t believe you broke down so easily in front of Joel, but maybe deep down you knew he wouldn’t mind, knew he’d be there to console you.

You have to admit, it felt nice to be held, to feel safe in someone's embrace. Your head was spinning — Jake’s an asshole, my arm hurts like a bitch, I’m never gonna get the blood out of this shirt. Then Joel took your arm in his hands and it had your head spinning for entirely different reasons. Feeling his fingertips dig into your skin and his hold around your wrist had you longing to feel those same sensations on the rest of your body.

Joel shook your hand the first day you met and you committed it to memory — firm grip, calloused palm, thick fingers. You replayed it in your mind on countless late nights with your hand between your legs, trying to imagine how different it would feel, how much better it would feel if it were his instead.

Coming outside into fresh air was supposed to calm you down, until Joel carried on replacing the tire and you felt heat settle under your skin, neither from injury nor anger. Muscles flexing under his coveralls, neck tensing and the grunts from the exertion — something else you can commit to memory. You feel your panties dampen and you don’t feel ashamed.

Joel stands when he’s finished fitting the new tire, lifting you out of your fantasy. Thinking back to the last time you saw him, you remember his parting words to you: you’re welcome to come answer the phone for me. You couldn’t tell if he was being polite or actually offering you a job.

“Were you serious about all that answering the phone stuff?” You wring your hands, worried you’re about to make a fool of yourself.

“You wanna work here?” Joel straightens up, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I mean, I know my dad would like to see me out of the house and actually doing something. I doubt this would impress him, though.”

Joel cocks his head to the side, hands planted on his hips as he inches towards you and you feel yourself heat up instantly, eyes going wide as embarrassment washes over you.

“Sorry! No offence to you, I just mean- I’m not saying it’s- God I’m really not helping myself.” You snap your eyes shut, hands flying up to cover your face and you wish the world could just swallow you whole.

Joel starts laughing, a quiet, gravelly sound and you open your eyes to glare at him. He raises his eyebrows, a wide smile now across his face.

“No offence taken. Do you really wanna sit here answering the phone? I‘m sure there’ll be some other stuff we can do, too, but not much else beyond that.”

Other stuff we can do. You could certainly think of a few things, that’s for sure.

“Well, something’s better than nothing. And you play nice music, so there’s that.”

He laughs again, shaking his head.

“Maybe you can teach me some car stuff when I’m not answering the phone. And… you’re nice to be around, I guess.” You purse your lips, trying your best to play it off as an innocent compliment.

“Well alright then, I’ll see you next week sweetheart.” He smiles warmly, eyes just beginning to crinkle around the edges and for the first time today you feel at ease.

Joel saves your number and waves you goodbye as you drive off. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he’s still standing in the road, a smirk plastered on his face and you grin like an idiot. You still have Jake to deal with, and your blood-stained shirt might go straight in the bin, but at least you have working with Joel to look forward to.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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vivid-ink · 1 year ago

Text

'The Love Shack'

Part IV - Haunted by You

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Part IV Summary:

It seemed like such a simple plan to execute: Stay away from Neteyam, distract yourself with other males and move on… But your body seems determined to fight you every step of the way, longing for the touch of a man you are desperate to forget… Your mind is haunted with memories of him, and the only place you seem able to find your pleasure is when you’re alone, drowning in your fantasies and pretending your touch is his…

Read Part I, II and III in my Masterlist HERE

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Word count: 15k

Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome smut, sex toy play, squirting, double penetration, anal sex

Author's Note:

This chapter really ran away with me. It was a struggle to write, at points, so I'm not sure how I've managed to churn out 15k words. 🥲 Now that I've written this part, I can confirm there will also be a final Part 5 to this series after this.

Without further ago, enjoy Part IV, my lovelies!

***~~~***

The sound was muted, hushed. It was a soft keen, so quiet he barely heard it.

Perhaps if Neteyam hadn’t recognised it, hadn’t replayed the sound so many times in his head, he would’ve thought nothing of it and kept walking. But his ears pricked upright in keen attention, swivelling instinctively in the direction of the noise. The turn of his head followed and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lo’ak slow in his steps and do the same, both of them, two brothers standing still with their heads turned in a perfect parallel of each other.

They were on their way home from a late-night run through the bush to calm their nerves as they’d both ended their work day tense after a disastrous day of hunting.

A miscommunication between the two hunting parties had lost them a valuable opportunity to bring down a small herd of yerik (hexapedes). Yerik were a prime resource for the clan; their meat was a staple food source and their hides and innards were useful for many things like clothing, weapons and other instruments. The lost opportunity had culminated in a series of heated arguments between the hunters and harsh words of blame had been exchanged.

Distracted now from their homebound journey, the two brothers stole through the brush like predators locked onto the sound of prey. The forest of the Great Mother was luminous around them and alive with the vibrancy of night. Years of warrior training and countless hunts meant that stealth was an ingrained habit of theirs. Even outside of their work hours they crept intuitively through the thick undergrowth of the woodlands on nimble feet and with soundless breaths.

Locating the source of the noise, Neteyam felt his mood curdle at the sight that greeted him through the loreyu (helicoradians) and eyaye ferns.

Lying sprawled on your back in the glade, thighs parted and beneath another eagerly rutting male, was you.

Your moans and whimpers had been unmistakeable, sounds that both he and Lo’ak would recognise anywhere after their many nights with you at the shack. Whatever tension Neteyam thought he’d rid himself off during his run returned to him in an instant, hot ire bubbling in his veins and seizing his muscles.

Everything had changed after his one night alone with you at the hot spring… You’d begun putting walls up after that night…

The memory of your reaction to his affection, of how you’d used your safeword during the tender intimacy you’d shared post-sex, stung bitterly in his chest. It was a painful reminder to Neteyam that whatever pleasure you chose to share with him was purely that; physical and nothing more.

An unimpressed groan left Lo’ak and he turned bothered eyes at his brother, his tail swishing low behind him, “At least now we know why she’s not coming to the shack anymore. She’s playing elsewhere.”

Lo’ak’s voice had been a low murmur, but Neteyam’s gaze flicked anxiously toward the coupling pair in the glade. Neither you nor your playmate appeared to have heard though. He rolled exasperated eyes at Lo’ak and shook his head slowly, scowling in upset. Begrudgingly, he glanced at you once more before he looked away, his eyes finding his feet.

A grumbling curse left Neteyam under his breath and he grouched sourly, “Well, let’s hope she’s satisfied.”

Lo’ak could see the thunderstorm of agitation brewing in his brother and he tugged on Neteyam’s elbow, urging him to move onward. Neteyam acquiesced, but not before he saw your back arch beneath your playmate and he heard you let out a higher-pitched moan. He frowned, cocking his head curiously.

The sound was all wrong… He knew what you sounded like when you came, when your passion finally consumed you. This moan was too controlled… It lacked the breathless quality and note of wild abandon that usually accompanied your cries of bliss.

Neteyam felt Lo’ak tug on his elbow again and he set his feet moving, following along behind his brother.

It appeared Lo’ak shared the same previous thought, however, and he scoffed a little louder as they shifted out of earshot, “She doesn’t sound very satisfied; rather contrived if you ask me.”

Neteyam gave a snort, “If it’s Kai she wants, then so be it.” He recognised the male you were with; tall, broad shoulders, with a head of long and thick dreadlocks.

Kai was the commander of the clan’s fisherfolk. The young man was the same age as Neteyam and had completed his rites of passage alongside him growing up. Kai had done well in archery and hand-to-hand combat, but he had excelled particularly with a fishing spear. He’d chosen to join the river platoon, hunting and gathering in the rivers, but he could easily have joined the warriors if he wanted to. Neteyam wasn’t close with Kai, but they were friendly enough.

Although that had changed in recent weeks…

Neteyam gritted his teeth until his jaw muscles ached. His breath whistled from his flaring nostrils as he walked and his steps weren’t so much stealthy now as they were stompy. He’d suspected for a while now that Kai was trying to woo you. The river huntsman had been lingering in your vicinity at mealtimes and he’d even started wishing you well in the mornings, seeing you off on your work days.

As Neteyam’s suspicions had grown, his greetings in passing with Kai had grown brisk. The easy smile he usually graced his fellow clan members with no longer made an appearance when he regarded the other man. And the more Kai loitered around and flirted with you, the more intense Neteyam’s glowers became whenever he was in Kai’s presence.

The tangle he and Lo’ak had found you and Kai in tonight was simple confirmation of what Neteyam already knew, and suddenly, Kai was a rival.

“You know, I don’t think that’s it.” Lo’ak’s voice came out of the blue after a while.

“What?”

Lo’ak looked back at his perturbed brother, “I don’t think Neyomi wants Kai.”

Neteyam’s expression was one of impatient displeasure. Did Lo’ak not just witness the same thing he did?...

His ears flattened in annoyance and his response was a bitter hiss, “She hasn’t come to the shack for three weeks straight and now we walk in on her fucking Kai. It’s pretty clear cut, bro.”

“She might be fucking him, but it’s you she really wants.”

Tetchily swatting a low-hanging shrub out of his eyeline, Neteyam’s laugh was incredulous, “Have you had your head in the clouds these last couple of moons, Lo’ak? She’s been distancing herself for weeks now. Her reaction after the one night I had with her made it quite clear that she doesn’t want anything deeper than body play.”

Neteyam felt his face contort into a crabby pout as he recalled the events that had followed. You’d barely been able to look at him the next day. It didn’t help that every time you spoke to him or answered him during your work days, you used your formal address of him as ‘sir’. What had been a playful and titillating game of rank that night had now become an awkward aide-memoire of your dismissal of his affection. And things had only worsened from there.

Your next visit to the shack had seen you impose a new boundary: No kissing. It wasn’t something you’d discussed with him and Lo’ak out loud, but it became clear after the first few rebuffs. It’d been obvious in the way you’d subtly twist your head so their seeking lips would meet your cheek instead, or how you’d deliberately keep your face tilted downward, buried in their necks or against their chests.

It hadn’t stopped Neteyam trying at first, but each unspoken denial hurt him more than the last, and when his attempts appeared to aggravate you, he gave up altogether. He’d already spooked you with his behaviour that one night and his fear of driving you away entirely made him play along with your new rules.

As if that wasn’t bad enough though, your weekly visits to the shack then began to dwindle. It had started with excuses: Your parents needed you for something; you weren’t feeling up to it; or something had cropped up. Eventually the excuses stopped, but so did your visits. You gave no reason to him or Lo’ak, but there was a tense and tacit understanding that lingered between the three of you whenever your work put you near each other, that your arrangement with them had reached a conclusion.

Lo’ak chewed on his bottom lip. Unlike Neteyam, he wasn’t convinced that you didn’t have feelings for his brother, “You need to talk to her, bro.”

“She’s avoiding me. She keeps things professional during work times and she’s near impossible to get hold of in the evenings. It’s a clear message. There’s nothing to discuss.”

Lo’ak frowned, his eyebrows pulling into a deep knit as he pondered his thoughts. He’d teased you about your crush on Neteyam many times. Tula had even confirmed to him that you had a soft spot for Neteyam, that you liked him. Great Mother, Lo’ak had seen the evidence of your growing emotional attachment to Neteyam for himself during the nights you’d spent with them at the shack.

He’d seen it in the way you responded to Neteyam: The way your hands had always reached instinctively for his brother; the way you’d kissed Neteyam so deeply and so keenly; the way in which you came so utterly undone in your pleasure only when it was his brother who fucked you; and the way it had always been Neteyam you curled up against if you fell asleep after their playtimes. Ordinarily, Lo’ak would’ve been incredibly envious, but he knew of the tender feelings Neteyam harboured quietly for you and he was happy for his brother that you appeared to reciprocate them.

But then something changed after the night you’d spent alone with Neteyam. Your behaviour flipped, almost becoming a direct contrast to what Lo’ak had initially seen. Something had spooked you that night, but Lo’ak didn’t believe for one moment that it was because your feelings for Neteyam had changed.

“You’re the olo’eyktan in waiting, successor to the clan.” Lo’ak reminded his brother matter-of-factly, swivelling around to face Neteyam, “If you need to speak to her, you have ways of ensuring a meeting.”

Tail lashing behind him, the affront was clear in Neteyam’s stance and in his outraged expression, “I won’t use a formal summons to get her to talk to me! What kind of man would I be, cornering her like that?”

“A man who fights for what he wants!”

Neteyam snarled heatedly, shouldering past Lo’ak to walk onward, “Enough! This conversation ends here, bro.”

Growing up as the annoying little brother had its perks. Lo’ak was used to weathering Neteyam’s admonishments and he wasn’t letting this argument go. It seemed so simple in his mind. Neteyam had feelings for you and Lo’ak was quite sure you felt the same. All that stood in the way appeared to be mixed signals that stemmed from a lack of communication and badly wounded pride on his brother’s part.

Deciding to change tact, Lo’ak broached a related subject, “Didn’t Grandmother agree to what you and Dad proposed to her?”

“Yes.” Neteyam’s patience was wearing thin.

“So what’s stopping you opening up to Neyomi? There’s literally nothing standing in your way now. Didn’t you initiate the arrangement because of her?”

“Actually, the arrangement was Mum and Dad’s idea because of Kiri and her talents.”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes and waved a hand in the air, “Whatever! But you backed the proposed arrangement because of Neyomi. It gave you the opportunity you wanted and now that you’ve got the tsahìk’s approval, and Kiri’s acceptance, you’re just going to throw it all away and let things slide?”

Neteyam whirled around to face Lo’ak and though his volume was a careful hiss, his words dripped with acrimony and his fists were clenched tight, “She doesn’t want me, Lo’ak! You weren’t there that night! We were done playing, just winding down. I had her in my arms and she used her safeword! She was uncomfortable!”

“That’s such bullshit, bro. She used to let you clean her up, let you take care of her and coddle her. She was happy for me to join in, but it certainly wasn’t my arms she used to fall asleep in.” Lo’ak countered, shooting his brother a shrewd stare, “Look, I don’t know what’s happening with her. All I know is that something spooked her that night, but it sure as hell isn’t because she suddenly decided to go off you.”

“It is what it is.”

Lo’ak looked on silently at Neteyam’s retreating back as his brother strode away from him. With a long-suffering sigh, Lo’ak dragged a hand down his face. Neteyam was level-headed and wise when it came to matters of leadership and strategy. He was adept in his navigation of clan politics and his interpersonal skills were strong, but if there was an area of life that wasn’t Neteyam’s strong suit, it was women.

Women fawned over him and he enjoyed them easily enough, but Neteyam didn’t know women like Lo’ak did. And Lo’ak knew that when it came to a woman’s behaviour, things were never as straightforward as they seemed.

***~~~***

“Thanks for walking me home.” You pushed onto the balls of your feet to brush a kiss of gratitude against Kai’s cheek.

“Don’t mention it. Goodnight Neyomi, sleep well.” Dissatisfied though with your chaste farewell, one of Kai’s hands caught your elbow and he pulled you towards him to claim a proper kiss against your lips.

They were smooth and warm, comforting, but also entirely wrong…

Kai’s kisses didn’t spark passion within you, they didn’t make your heart skip a beat or make your stomach flutter with need. His kisses were too soft, almost tentative at times as if he didn’t want to scare you. It wasn’t what you craved. You craved confidence, sure hands and sure lips that consumed you entirely as they set your body ablaze with desire.

You forced as genuine a smile as you could at Kai as you pulled away to disappear into your family’s shelter, “Goodnight, same to you.”

Your parents would be asleep by now, but you still skulked through your home on silent feet towards the little alcove that was your own private space in the shelter. You were the youngest of three siblings and your two older brothers had left home several years ago after getting mated. It made home seem less lively than you remembered as a child, but you were thankful for the lack of people about now.

Less people at home meant less chance of someone overhearing what you were about to do. You hadn’t found satisfaction with Kai tonight and your body still burned with the need to be satiated.

You liked Kai, you really did. He was warm-hearted, thoughtful and incredibly sweet. He was strongly built and also good-looking. In fact, his build was very similar to Neteyam’s, tall and brawny in all the places a woman appreciated. Guiltily, you acknowledged within yourself that it had been the similarities in his physique that had drawn you to him in the first place. However, apart from his height and muscular build, that was where the similarities ended.

Hidden now in the privacy of your alcove, you double-checked that the thick cloths that hung from its entryway were tied and fastened to keep them closed and you lit the small oil lamp that hung in the corner. Little needles of shame pricked in your gut as you unfastened the ties at your hips and behind your back, letting your loincloth fall while you shimmied out of your chest piece.

You weren’t ashamed of touching yourself, that part was natural. It was the shame of the entire conundrum you found yourself in that made your face flame. You’d been seeing Kai casually for just over a moon now and while your encounters with him were pleasant, and his touch felt good, your traitorous mind refused to forget the other man who your heart yearned for. Your body refused to submit to Kai’s touch and it denied you the height of pleasure with him as a result.

Kai tried, truly. It wasn’t lack of enthusiasm or skill on his part. It just didn’t feel the same. He simply wasn’t Neteyam. So, to avoid the certainty of awkward conversations and to save Kai’s pride, you’d faked your pleasure with him from the beginning. How low you had sunk…

It had been Tula’s suggestion to distance yourself and try to connect with other males. Near distraught at the doom you felt after the night you’d shared with Neteyam, you’d spilled the entire truth to your best friend the next evening. Tula had looked on with a myriad of emotions and reactions as you relayed your story from start to finish; of your secret arrangement with the brothers, of the unadulterated bliss you found with them, and the subsequent crash and burn of your emotions for Neteyam at the end. You’d thought you could keep things simple, keep the lines clearly drawn between pleasure and emotion, but you’d failed ultimately.

Beautiful soul that she was, Tula hadn’t judged you, only comforted and consoled you before advising you of what you already knew you had to do. Put space between you and Neteyam, end the arrangement with him and Lo’ak, and try to move on. But alas it wasn’t working…

Sinking down to sit on your heels with your knees splayed, one of your hands snaked downward to its destination between your parted thighs. Licking your lips, you let your head loll backwards, eyelids sliding shut as your fingers smoothed through your still soaked folds. Your pussy throbbed, appreciating the repeated stroke of your fingers delving into its slick depths, alternating with a sensual massage over the swollen nub of your clit. You were helpless to stop the torrent of images and memories of Neteyam that swamped your mind; the feel of him suckling at your nipples; the feel of his longer, thicker fingers stroking in and out of your pussy; the ravenous look in his amber eyes as he looked at you while his tongue and lips wrought pleasurable havoc at your core.

Rolling a nipple between the fingers of your free hand, the dual stimulation made your pussy squeeze and pulse desperately for something to fill it. The three fingers you had buried to your last knuckle inside you weren’t cutting it and you needed something bigger. Your eyes travelled to the neatly piled heap of your belongings on your right where a cloth-covered satchel sat.

Pausing in your pleasure, you reached for the satchel and undid the fastening at its front to flip it open. Rummaging through it, it didn’t take long for your hand to grasp hold of what you were looking for.

Long, girthy and weighty in your palm, the blue toy was a striking replica of a Na’vi cock. It was called a dildo apparently and its use was obvious to you from the first time you’d laid eyes on it. You’d filched the toy from the toy box at the shack many weeks ago when the brothers hadn’t been looking. If they had noticed its absence since, they hadn’t remarked on it.

Heat pooled between your legs and you could feel your slick dripping from you in anticipation as you turned the dildo over in your hands. It wasn’t as smooth or as seamlessly designed as the other toys you’d been introduced to, and it didn’t hum, but by Eywa did it feel fucking good with its bulbous head and its ridged shaft. The dildo had a flanged base where it could suction to a flat surface and you reached towards your pile of belongings again for its accompanying aid.

Gingerly, so you didn’t make a sound, you extracted a long and shallow wooden serving platter from the pile. You turned it upside down so the smooth wood of its polished base was turned upwards towards you and placed it between your thighs. A wave of embarrassment washed over you again as you positioned the dildo on the platter so you could mount it.

Great Mother, your mother would kill you if she knew what you were doing with her serveware…

Lifting your hips and shuffling forward on your knees, you let the head of the dildo smooth past your folds, lubricating it. You were so wet that you knew the impressive size of the toy would be no issue upon entry. Aligning it with one hand, you let your weight bear down on it and your other hand flew to your mouth to stifle a muted cry as it breached you.

The stretch of it entering you was rapturous and your aching pussy eagerly swallowed its length whole, your inner walls squeezing appreciatively around its fulfilling girth until you bottomed out. It wasn’t warm with body heat and it wasn’t attached to your man of choice, but it was a close second. You undulated your hips, testing the feel of things, and when unfettered ripples of pleasure shot through your core at the movement you instinctively began a rhythm of gyrating hip thrusts.

Your fingers circled at your clit while you moved, your body rippling back and forth in time with the slight up and down of your hips. Your thighs burned with the exertion, but your pussy burned even more torturously as your climax came hurtling towards you. An unbidden fantasy of Neteyam groaning beneath you plastered itself to the back of your closed eyelids. You rode him wildly, imagined the feel of his fingers digging into your hips while you worked his hard cock in and out of you. You could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the shine of it over his flexing abdominals as he panted and strained with you. And then you felt the familiar burn of urgent pressure low in your pelvis.

It was like an old friend that had come by to visit. The urgent pressure mingled with the pulsating of your pussy and it thrilled you because you knew what it signalled, what was coming. You hadn’t felt this sensation in weeks, not since your last session at the shack when Neteyam had pinned you beneath him and drilled into you from behind with your face pushed into the plush bedding. Your encounters with Kai hadn’t even come close to the mounting bliss you were feeling now.

Caressing one of your breasts and stroking over the nipple one last time, you flew over the edge of ecstasy into freefall. Your face scrunched tight and you fought to remain quiet while your core clenched and pulsed with orgasm. Your inner walls had a crushing hold on the dildo, gripping it within you and your pussy gave a cathartic little squirt of pleasure. Chest heaving with panting breaths, your vision cleared as you opened your eyes, the last image your mind supplied was one of Neteyam smiling sleepily up at you.

The furnishings of the alcove swirled around you, the flickering flame in the oil lamp casting warm shadows about the place. You were alone in your alcove and you’d once again touched yourself to imaginings of a man you were supposed to be trying to forget. A juddery sigh of defeat left you and you flopped over onto your side, rolling onto your back so you could press your fingers firmly against your eye sockets.

The futility of the situation began to overwhelm you and you felt hot tears sting behind your closed eyes. Try as hard as you might, your little plan of ‘move on and forget’ wasn’t working. Kai was a wonderful man, skilled, respected and honourable. You enjoyed his company and everything about him showed real promise that he could be a good mate for you. But the heart wanted what it wanted, and it was Neteyam that your heart soared and longed for.

You hiccupped as sobs began to wrack your frame then. Your hands were pressed tight over your face and your palms grew wet from the streams of your tears. A smothered snuffle snuck its way out from behind the cage of your fingers and you fought to keep any more from escaping. The lump in your throat hurt and you swallowed it down stickily.

It said a lot that you found your sobs harder to stifle than your moans of bliss.

If only you’d kept your distance from the beginning. In hindsight, it would’ve been easier for you to have never known Neteyam like you now did, and to just have watched, daydreaming from afar. But too late now. You’d made your bed and now you had to lie in it.

***~~~***

Your emotions had gotten the better of you last night and you’d awoken far later than you were supposed to this morning. You’d hauled yourself from the floor onto your bed at some point and proceeded to cry yourself to sleep. Your mother’s concerned voice had roused you in the morning as she’d jostled the hanging cloths at your alcove entrance with a query about why you weren’t up yet. You’d shot a panicked glance at the floor then, before relief washed over you when you found that you’d at least had the sense to remove the evidence of your late-night activities before bedding down.

Your pa’li whickered softly and you treated her to a sweet tuber while you continued to secure your hunting gear to her leathery back. Blinking scratchy eyes, your stomach rumbled with hunger. You’d woken so late this morning that you’d missed communal breakfast, so a lone yovo fruit from your family’s fruit bowl had been your only breakfast sustenance so far. Today would be a gruelling day again. The hunting platoons were going to make a second attempt at felling the small herd of yerik that was passing through the clan’s territory.

Neteyam was in a particularly disagreeable mood this morning.

He’d been very terse during his briefing of the hunters, making sure to reiterate and clarify the plan several times before sending them all to their departure positions. It was fair to say that he was likely still upset about yesterday’s failure, but the botch-up had been as much his fault as it was yours. The miscommunication between his platoon and yours had occurred because his orders hadn’t been clear, but you’d also been too proud to clarify, so you’d assumed and assumed wrongly. All because you were avoiding as much interaction with him as much as possible.

Stupid.

“Good morning, sevin (pretty).”

You heard Kai before you saw him and you couldn’t help but smile at his smooth voice. He really was very sweet. Turning to face him, you greeted him with a kiss to his cheek and he extended his greeting by placing a warm kiss against your temple as well.

“Look at you in your warrior garb. So fierce and ready to take on whatever danger the day brings.” Kai teased with a toothy grin.

He was dressed for his work day too in a simple loincloth, fishing spear in hand and his long dreads bundled atop his head in a messy topknot. The fisherfolk spent much of their day in the rivers wading and swimming, so the lack of any other accessories, like arm bands, limb guards or necklaces, all served to reduce friction while they swam. Even without all the embellishment, you had to admit Kai looked good.

Tutting your tongue you cocked your head at him and shrugged, “Well, you could’ve been a warrior too, Kai. I remember you did well in training.”

“Nah, the rivers have always called to me.” Kai answered assuredly. He held up a small parcel in his free hand, “Here, I noticed you missed breakfast so I brought you a niktsyey (food wrap) to take with you. You’ll need your energy.”

“Thank you.” You accepted the parcel gratefully, its delicious scent drawing another audible rumble from your stomach and you both laughed. Grinning at Kai, you placed a hand on his muscular chest and wished him well, “Eywa be with you, have a good day.”

Kai nodded, one of his large hands covering yours where it rested against him, “You too. I’ll see you tonight-”

“Neyomi!” A booming call of your name sounded in the near distance before you could utter your response. Neteyam.

Kai’s eyeline flicked over your shoulder and his ears pinned flat, his jaw clenching tightly. He squeezed your hand before taking a few steps back from you, letting it drop to your side again as Neteyam came striding up to the pair of you.

“Neteyam,” Kai greeted coolly, acknowledging the other male.

“Kai,” Neteyam’s acknowledgement was equally frigid.

Neteyam turned to regard you and you were momentarily struck by his arresting presence. Neteyam always looked striking, especially so when he was in full regalia with his arm bands, leather limb guards, cummerbund hugging his waist and dagger strapped across his chest. The glower on his face today was new, but the addition only seemed to add to the appeal.

“We’re already running behind time.” Neteyam’s gaze then shifted back to Kai, “I’m sure as commander of the fisherfolk you can appreciate the importance of timeliness where orders have been given to move out.” His words were a deliberate jab at Kai and the implication that he was holding you up was clear.

“I was just giving Neyomi some food to take with her.” Kai’s icy response was delivered with a scowl that rivalled Neteyam’s.

“The warriors have packed plenty of food for our journey. We’re more than prepared.” Neteyam hissed.

“Yes, but she missed breakfast this morning.” Kai countered, his posture and his glare throwing Neteyam an unspoken challenge, “Now, as future olo’eyktan, I’m sure you can appreciate the importance of looking after those in your command and ensuring they have what they need, the most basic of which is keeping them fed.”

The challenge was not well-received by Neteyam and the ferocious snarl that left him shocked you. Kai took a step back but returned a snarl of his own, both males baring their teeth with pinned ears and whipping tails.

“Enough! What the fuck is wrong with both of you?” You growled, maddened by their ridiculous behaviour, “If you’re done comparing cocks, then let’s all get to work, shall we? Since we’re so late.” Your last sentence was thrown at Neteyam with a glare, and you shoved past him to mount your pa’li.

Kai shot you an apologetic glance as you cantered past him towards your waiting platoon.

Flustered by the testosterone-fuelled interaction you’d just witnessed, you hastily unwrapped the niktsyey and took a big bite out of the savoury wrap. You paused. You couldn’t smell your food.

Kai’s and Neteyam’s scents had spiked during their spat, their bodies emitting a pungent surge of pheromones that now clogged your nostrils, both alluring and both very male. But only one of those scents lingered heavier and for longer than the other, tantalising you, causing your nipples to stiffen and sending liquid heat pooling between your thighs.

You sighed.

No prizes were being awarded for guessing whose scent was responsible for your body’s reaction…

***~~~***

You jolted awake with a start, the peaceful serenity of the surrounding woodland glade quickly coming back to you as Kai’s shoulder shifted a little beneath your cheek. Instantly, you felt remorse as you realised you’d done it yet again, fallen asleep on one of your date nights with Kai. The patch of young grass you were both lying on was soft beneath your elbow as you moved to prop yourself up into a sitting position. You turned contrite eyes at Kai who gave you a weak smile.

“Sorry, I fell asleep again.” You apologised shamefacedly, “You’re not boring, I swear. I think I’m just really tired tonight.”

“It’s alright,” Kai answered, his strong abdominals contracting as he pulled himself upright into a sitting position without using his arms. He reached out to pat at your hair on the side of your head that you’d fallen asleep on, smoothing down the fly-aways that had freed themselves from your braided locks. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, so it gave me some time to think.”

His kind face was vexed and a furrow creased his forehead. His thick mane of dreads was loose and they framed his head and shoulders quite impressively. It made him look very imposing, but you knew Kai was gentle-natured. It was one of the reasons he chose not to pursue a warrior’s path despite excelling in all his physical training tests. He preferred more temperate work as opposed to the potentially dangerous and adrenalin-filled rush of hunting and patrolling.

Feeling a renewed rush of penance as you took in his troubled mien, you took one of his hands in yours, “I feel bad. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. It’s a day of rest tomorrow so we can head out during the day, maybe take our ikran out for a flight and stop somewhere? Then you can tell me what’s bothering you, if you want to share.”

Kai was also easy-going and he usually leapt at any opportunity to spend time with you, but he seemed unsure today. He began worrying his lower lip between his teeth, appearing to be seriously deliberating your suggestion.

Growing apprehensive at the uncharacteristic and uncomfortable silence, you filled it, “Or not. We don’t have to if you’ve got other plans. I really am sorry for falling asleep. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

He chuckled and scratched uneasily at his jaw, “I’m not upset that you fell asleep, it’s OK really.”

“But?” You could sense there was something else weighing on him, something that was on the tip of his tongue that he was wavering over.

“I don’t think we should see each other like this anymore.”

Kai’s words were unexpected and they hit you like an unwelcome splash of cold water. Confusion flushed through you and you felt your own brows pull into a frown as you spluttered, “What? Why?”

“There are things going on in the background that need to be resolved and they’re outside my circle of control.”

There was something in the inflection of his voice, an unspoken implication that pointed at these unresolved issues being your responsibility to settle. He wasn’t being direct about his meaning though and your annoyance flared, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Look, I may have respectable standing in the hierarchy of this clan as commander of the fisherfolk, but even I have enough self-preservation to know better than to challenge the future olo’eyktan.”

An incredulous scoff left you and you blinked in disbelief, “Wait, is this about what happened with Neteyam last week? Before we left on that yerik hunt?”

Kai’s silence was all the confirmation you required.

“No, Kai, come on. He was in a really bad mood that day. He’s not normally like that.”

Kai’s answering laugh was bitter and he shook his head, “Neteyam has been glaring daggers at me for weeks now. He’s territorial over you and he’s made his claim clear to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. It was ridiculous what you were hearing and indignance swelled within you, “That’s bullshit! He has no such claim on me whatsoever and if he’s told you so then he’s lying!”

“He’s not said anything, but it’s been clear in his behaviour.” Kai clarified.

“So what?” You exclaimed, your exasperation clear in the way you threw your hands into the air, “Don’t I get a say in this? You’re just going to tuck tail and run?”

“It’s not just that-”

But you weren’t listening. Your skin prickled with anger, outraged that Neteyam appeared to be consciously sabotaging your budding relationship with Kai. As if he hadn’t caused enough emotional turmoil in your life already… You were trying so hard to move on and for some reason unknown to you, Neteyam had decided to act up. The man had barely spoken three sentences to you in the last moon!

“I’ll talk to him.” You declared to Kai firmly, “I’ll set him straight!”

“Neyomi, stop. Listen.” Kai implored, clasping your hands in his to stop your heated gesticulations. The points of his ears lay flat, not angry, more defeated and unhappy. He held your gaze and his eyes were cheerless as he continued, “I know that you have history with Neteyam. I don’t know the exact details, nor do I want to. But whatever it is going on between you, I can’t continue seeing you like this until it’s resolved.”

“There’s nothing going on between me and Neteyam.” You spat. Ain’t that the truth…

Kai let go of your hands, letting his own slide gently from yours before returning them to his lap. His voice when he spoke was a murmur, but his words were incriminating, “You talk in your sleep.”

You froze and dread seized hold of your heart at what you might have muttered unknowingly.

Consciously making every effort to appear unaffected by his words, you queried, “What did I say?”

“Just his name.”

You attempted to brush it off with a scoff, “What? Just now? I don’t remember what I was dreaming about, but I might’ve been having a work argument with him for goodness sake.”

Kai exhaled and he asserted more firmly. “No, you sighed his name. And it’s happened on more than once occasion.”

The gravity of the situation was plain and you were scrambling to formulate an answer, anything at all that would refute the impression that Kai had formed. You decided to stick to the facts.

“There isn’t anything and will never be anything between Neteyam and me. He’ll choose a woman fit to be our next tsahìk. That won’t be me.”

“So you don’t deny your feelings then?”

“W-What?” You stammered, taken aback by the directness of the question, “Neteyam can’t claim me, Kai! It’s not possible!”

With an exasperated growl that surprised even you, Kai slammed his palm down onto the lush grass beside him, “I’m not talking about him right now, I’m talking about you!”

It was surreal what was happening and an odd, foggy feeling was consuming you. Part of you was reeling in disbelief and another other part of you was simmering with ire.

Your answered in a quiet voice, “I want this to work.”

Kai’s sigh was heavy and when his gaze met yours again, you perceived firm resolution in them. He replied, “So do I, but it won’t work if your heart’s not in it.” He rested one hand on your knee, “Look, when all this has blown over, and if and when you’re ready to open up fully, you know where to find me. But I don’t want to be second-best and I don’t want to be settled for. I’ll see you round, sevin.”

With a sad smile, Kai squeezed your knee before rising to his feet. He threw you one last parting glance and departed, leaving you flummoxed in the glade. Your brain made a frantic attempt to sort through the whirlpool of your emotions; shock, woe, confusion… But the dominant emotion was anger. Beneath the surprise on the surface, you were frothing with rage, not at Kai, but at Neteyam.

There’d been inklings of something good with Kai, something you could grow into and learn to cherish. Sure, your body seemed slow on the uptake, but perhaps that would change as time passed and as the memories of your mistakes began to dull. However, Kai had snuffed that little flame of possibility out tonight.

You pressed your lips together in mounting irritation as your breaths began to heave louder and louder. You counted the days of the week and realised it was the fifth night, which was when you’d normally have gone to meet the brothers. Shack night. Perfect.

Hopefully the object of your ire would be where you expected him to be, because you had a mighty big bone to pick with him.

***~~~***

Neteyam swilled the pulpy residue of his rumautpxir (fermented cannonball fruit beer) that was left in the wooden vessel he held. The alcoholic odour of it burned his nose a little and it certainly burned going down his throat too, but the drink was a welcome indulgence on nights like these. He was reclined in a hammock strung inside the old shack and it swayed gently with his movements. The oil lamps about the place flickered, bathing the shack in a lambent glow.

He expected your no-show tonight, to be fair. You hadn’t come to the shack for the last three weeks and tonight was the fourth in a row. Neteyam’s heart twisted sorely in his chest and his mind gave a mental eye-roll at the expected result. Licking his lips, he downed the bitter remnants of beer and swung his legs out of the hammock to get a refill.

The quiet chafing of a blade against wood filled the background while Lo’ak busied himself with carving a new wooden charm that he intended to affix to a choker necklace. Ordinarily he’d be yammering away to Neteyam whilst he worked, but his brother wasn’t in a talking mood tonight. Lo’ak had all but given up trying to convince him to speak to you. Sulky wasn’t a description Lo’ak would ever have used to describe Neteyam in the past, but the last four weeks had changed that.

Neteyam had always been quick to learn, quick to bounce back from setbacks, but you’d clearly wounded him acutely with your dismissal of his affections and his pride hadn’t recovered. This only served to exemplify to Lo’ak the depth of what his older brother felt for you, but Neteyam was convinced you didn’t feel the same and that talking to you would only wound him further.

“Want a refill, bro?” Neteyam asked, holding his hand out to receive Lo’ak’s empty vessel.

“Nah, thanks. I’m good. I’ve already had four tonight, which is plenty.” Lo’ak eyed the refilled vessel that Neteyam was nursing. This was easily his fifth or sixth of the night and his inebriation was clear in the slightly glazed look of his eyes. Thank Eywa that tomorrow was a day of rest for the clan…

The familiar swish and rustle of foliage outside the shack made Lo’ak’s ears twitch in keen attention. He set down his craftwork, eyeline instantly trained on the shack’s entrance. He saw Neteyam had turned to do the same. Someone was approaching and judging by the rapidly thumping crunch of leaves under their feet, they were approaching quickly.

In a flash, the heavy draping cloths at the shack’s entrance flew aside to admit you as you stormed through the entryway. Your breaths were audible and you were sporting a deep scowl. If he wasn’t a warrior, Lo’ak would’ve jumped at the ferocity of your entrance. However, the only thought that crossed his mind as he took in your outraged state was that you reminded him very much of their mother Neytiri in that instant, all fearsome grace and incredible beauty.

“You!” You snarled, catching sight of Neteyam and closing the distance between you in several big strides. You aimed a forceful shove against his chest with both arms, causing him to take a step back.

The sight of your figure storming into the shack was a shock to Neteyam, but he only had seconds to ponder if it was a drunken hallucination before your violent shove knocked him backward. He hissed a curse as his drink slopped messily over his hand and wrist from the force.

Neteyam hissed caustically, fixing you with narrowed eyes, “Didn’t your parents ever teach you that shoving someone while they’re holding a drink is rude?”

“Well, let me solve that problem for you then.” You snatched the vessel from his hand and brought it to your lips. Tipping your head back, you downed the contents in three large gulps. The alcohol scorched its way down your throat and you grimaced, its bitter fumes stinging your nose and making your eyes water.

“Whoa, easy sweet thing. You’re supposed to drink that stuff slowly.” Lo’ak remarked, carefully setting aside his work and dusting his hands off to get to his feet. He moved closer to Neteyam, but stopped short of standing beside him, opting to stand a few feet away instead. He sensed that things were going to turn heated between you and his brother.

Recovering quickly from the alcohol’s physical assault on your senses, you slammed your hands against Neteyam’s shoulders again in another shunt, “You need to leave Kai alone! Mind your own business and stay out of my shit!”

Neteyam was quick to catch you by your elbows though and his firm grip encircled your upper arms. He emitted a hoarse chortle and he smirked at you, “Kai sending you to fight his battles for him, is he?”

You could tell Neteyam was drunk, the sweet odour of the beer lingering on his breath and seeping from his pores to mingle with his scent. You squirmed, fighting his hold but failed to break free. You carried on your tirade nonetheless, “How dare you intimidate him! You’ve got no right. You’ve got no claim over me whatsoever and you never will!”

Your last words were a shriek and even Lo’ak felt their impact. He snuck a cautious glance at Neteyam and saw the effect they had on him. His brother’s jaw was clenched, his upper lip curled in a slight snarl. Lo’ak sighed internally. Eywa, your words were just another blow to his brother’s pride…

Neteyam fought to hide the injury your words caused him. It was yet another painful reminder that you didn’t return his affections. He still had a hold of you and your chin was tilted up defiantly as you stared up at him in challenge.

He growled, “If Kai has a problem with me then perhaps he needs to grow a pair and bring it up with me himself.”

Your mouth snapped shut then and you couldn’t find any appropriate response to Neteyam’s retort without having to admit that Kai had ended things with you tonight. All you could do was glare at him. You realised in that moment that while Kai’s decision to break up with you was upsetting, you weren’t hurt by it. You were disappointed, maybe? But the root cause of your current bitterness was really Neteyam’s audacious interference.

Neteyam watched you, his amber orbs piercing your own gaze as he waited for your answer. Your response never came and that in itself was telling. He understood then what had happened and he snorted, “He didn’t fight for you, did he? Typical.”

Lo’ak pursed his lips at the hypocrisy of Neteyam’s remark and he couldn’t help the smartass comment that left him in a mutter, “Bit rich coming from you, bro.” His brother’s reaction was instant and a snarl of warning was thrown his way.

Much to Lo’ak’s disappointment, you didn’t catch on to his meaning and you continued to twist in Neteyam’s hold. You shrieked, “Only because you’re throwing your weight around where you have no business doing so! Let me go, kurkung (asshole)!”

Your struggling only seemed to spur Neteyam on further and he looped a muscled arm around your waist, clutching you to him. Trapped against his torso now, you cursed your traitorous body as it took note of how hot his body was, and how the heady musk of his scent filled your nose. You’d missed this, missed him… You were angry still, but the heat of your ire was quickly waning. Being in his arms felt so disastrously right…

Neteyam crushed your slighter frame to his, scenting the skin of your neck in small puffing sniffs. He could smell you so clearly at this proximity and he hated that he could smell Kai on you. It’d been weeks since he’d held you against him and the addition of his alcohol-induced confidence made him daring with his words, “You stink of him, paskalin.”

“Don’t call me that. Let me go and you won’t have to smell it anymore.” You hissed, but it sounded half-hearted even to your own ears as the words left you.

“No.” Neteyam’s voice was a rumbling purr and he rubbed his cheeks against yours while his hands roamed the expanse of your slender back.

You knew what he was doing. He was marking you with his scent. Your body warred with the logic in your mind. Your conscience told you to finish saying your piece and leave, but your body wanted to indulge in this gorgeous male it had been denied the pleasure of for weeks. Your neck prickled when the heat of another warm body closed in on you from behind. Lo’ak.

“Forget about Kai. He doesn’t deserve you if he won’t fight for you.” Lo’ak murmured matter-of-factly, settling his hands on your hips and caressing your skin. His eyes locked with Neteyam’s behind your back then and he gave his older brother a sharp and pointed look, “The right man will.”

“I’m not staying. I didn’t come here for this.” Your tone was more breathless than you’d anticipated and you could feel the alcohol you’d foolishly guzzled earlier settling in a haze over you, clouding your inhibitions. Your head was craned to the side, your jaw cradled in one of Neteyam’s hands while his lips worshipped the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You don’t sound very convinced, sweet thing.” Lo’ak chuckled hoarsely. His hands stroked in a bold path from your hips to your bottom, squeezing the pert flesh of your derriere, “We’ve missed you since you’ve been away spending time with that skxawng.”

“Leave Kai alone. What’s your problem with him?”

Never one to pass on an opportunity to crack a joke, Lo’ak snickered and crowed, “Nothing. There’s just something fishy about him.”

It was a corny attempt at a joke, but it elicited an amused chortle from Neteyam nonetheless and even you had to fight a grin.

However, the moment of light-heartedness was short-lived and you reminded yourself of why you’d even come to the shack in the first place. You fortified your defences, squirming away from Neteyam only to find your back wedged against Lo’ak’s front. You were thoroughly sandwiched between them.

You pressed your point insistently again, “Stop it, both of you. I came here to make a point, now let me go.”

“Aww come on, sweet thing. You might as well stay and play now that you’re here.” Lo’ak cooed, tracing the fingers of one hand up the seam of your buttocks to grasp the base of your tail. He twisted it in his palm and the feeling sent a sensual shudder through you. “You didn’t even say goodbye the last time.”

Lo’ak’s lips began their own assault on the free side of your neck that Neteyam wasn’t attending to, and you fought the urge to whimper. Their hot hands were everywhere; gripping your hips, tickling your ribs and caressing your tail. There was so much of them against you, hot and masculine and Great Mother did they smell good. Their scents were familiar, strangely comforting yet also tantalising in the promise of the pleasure you knew the brothers could bring you.

And by Eywa, you had missed the pleasure… Your body ached for it… The urge to just give in was so strong. In your mind, it was as if you stood on the edge of an abyss within which raged a churning whirlpool that would swallow you whole if you stepped off the ledge.

Neteyam’s lips wandered from your neck, pressing kisses along your jaw and up to the corner of your lips. You stiffened. You wanted his kiss, craved the sweet, searing heat of it… But no, you’d be taking five steps backward if you were stupid tonight…You turned your face from his.

Neteyam’s jaw tightened at your refusal. Fine, still no kissing… But he was desperate and he would take what he could get from you. He uttered his request, “Alright, you’ve made your point. I’ll back off Kai, but only if you stay tonight. One last time, paskalin.”

Lo’ak chimed in with a filthy promise by your other ear, “You know you won’t regret it. You never do.”

Your knees almost buckled and you knew your mind had lost the fight against your body when you felt your inner walls clench and flutter involuntarily.

Fuck it. Fuck logic, fuck your conscience.

You’d spent the better part of the last several weeks trying to pick up the pieces of your dignity, only to find yourself right back where you started every time you’d faked an orgasm with Kai and then touched yourself to thoughts of Neteyam after. You just wanted to feel good now, wanted to feel your body detonate with mindless ecstasy. Fuck it all. You’d deal with your regression later. That was a tomorrow problem.

Their breaths were hot around you and you could smell the alcohol they’d both imbibed. Their loincloths didn’t do much to disguise their erections. Their hard arousals dug into your flesh, one poking insistently into one round of your bottom while another was nestled against your lower belly.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you hissed an impertinent taunt, “You’re both steaming drunk. How long can you keep those cocks hard for?”

Their dark chuckles resonated in the shack as the brothers smirked triumphantly at each other. Lo’ak’s fingers were already flying to untie your loincloth while Neteyam dropped to his knees and pushed your breasts free of their covering, opting to indulge himself with a taste of your nipples while his fingers dealt with discarding the covering there.

“You let us worry about our cocks and just focus on yourself. Rest assured we’ll stay hard long enough to do more than satisfy you.” Lo’ak guaranteed, and without any verbal warning, he hauled your now nude form into his arms and carried you to the main play area at the back of the shack.

He settled you on your feet before the large mirror in the space to divest himself of his own clothing. When he straightened to full height again, just as bare now as you were, you reached out to give his proud cock a stroke. Lo’ak sucked a breath in through his teeth and his hips jolted forward into your grasp, “Oh, he’s missed you alright. Tonight’s not about us boys though. It’s all you, sweet thing.”

Neteyam wasn’t far behind and he returned to join you and Lo’ak. He’d clearly paid a visit to the toy box and he deposited a few of your favourite toys onto the bed behind you. He strode up to you, but before you could greet his naked body in the same manner you’d greeted Lo’ak’s, he clasped your chin in a firm but not ungentle hold. Tilting your face up to his, he eyed the outline of your plush lips.

For a moment, you thought Neteyam was going to infringe on the boundary you’d set as his face neared yours. His lips grazed yours, but it was the lightest of touches and not quite a kiss. You both felt and heard him as he murmured against your lips, “Since you won’t let me kiss these, I’ll have to content myself with kissing you everywhere else. Any other boundaries tonight?”

Freeing both of your hands, you ran your palms down his front, enjoying the ridges and planes of his muscled chest and defined abdominals beneath your fingers. Finally reaching him where he strained the hardest, you gripped his cock and pumped your fist several times, spreading the already beading pre-cum over the rigid length of him. Neteyam flinched at the contact and his eyes slid shut in pleasure.

“No, no other boundaries. Just the usual. Same safeword.”

A low purr of approval sounded from Lo’ak behind you and he reached around you to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking repeatedly over the peaked buds of your lilac-coloured nipples. You moaned wantonly and pushed your bosom out towards his touch, the pleasure pulses zinging in a direct line from your nipples to your pussy. Neteyam swiped two fingers between the apex of your thighs and, even without looking, you could tell you were embarrassingly wet already just by how easily his fingers moved through your folds.

Neteyam brought his fingers to his mouth and cleaned them off in a slow, smacking suck. He groaned quietly and nodded his head at his brother.

It was a signal that Lo’ak understood without words. Standing behind you, he crouched to slide his hands down your thighs, before gripping you behind both knees and suddenly lifting you, folding you in half with your thighs splayed wide. He sat down on the edge of the bed then and hooked each of your knees over his, leaving your bottom dangling down between his shins.

You gave a startled cry at the change in position. It was a new position to you too. You were facing your reflection in the mirror and the wanton young woman who stared back at you tonight was a far cry from the sobbing mess you’d been most nights in the last while. Your folded body was hanging in what could only be described as a deep squat, your arms and knees hooked over Lo’ak’s splayed thighs to keep you suspended just above the floor. You were nimble though and the position was oddly comfortable despite how it looked.

The position left you helpless and completely exposed, but judging by the hungry expression that both brothers were sporting, it was exactly what they wanted.

Neteyam situated himself in front of you, stretching out on his front and balancing the weight of his upper body on his elbows. His face was parallel with where he wanted to ravish you, but before he indulged, his gaze flicked up to meet yours and he checked in with you gently, “You comfortable there?”

You nodded and your answer was quiet, “Yeah, I’m good.”

This was the sweet side of him, you mused. It was the side of him that you loved most, and it was the side that you hadn’t seen in a while. Your interactions since the night at the hot spring had been awkward and then they’d dwindled to become few and far between as you both avoided each other. Your work day conversations were kept to a minimum and whenever you had spoken, he’d been clipped and guarded. You’d missed seeing this sweet side of Neteyam…

Although, it was also this tender side of him that had made you run in the first place…

The corner of Neteyam’s lips quirked upward in a small smile and he scooted forward to cup your bottom, helping to support your weight as he lowered his lips to your waiting core. He kissed your folds then, languidly, his lips and tongue stroking and sweeping over your flesh as if he was kissing you on your mouth instead. Your breath stuttered and the muscles in your thighs tightened at the delicious sensation.

Your reflection was a sensually gratuitous picture. Your eyes were hooded and your cheeks and chest were flushed a deeper hue of violet. Neteyam’s head bobbed and shifted between your thighs where he pleasured you, and you could see that Lo’ak was enjoying the show. He had his cock in hand and the slippery length of it was disappearing in and out of his tight grasp whilst he stroked himself.

You were entirely at Neteyam’s mercy in this position. You couldn’t move or grind your hips against him. He had complete control of the situation and all you could do was squirm and whine his name while he worked. He was suckling intently at your clit now, your pussy throbbing with the rhythm of your pleasure.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like that.” Lo’ak groaned, watching you through the mirror, “You want to cum so bad, don’t you?”

Neteyam’s fingers were digging into your hips where he held you and you canted your hips as much as you could against his face, “Y-Yes, but I need more-”

With a small pop, Neteyam released his hold on you and you gasped at the sudden lack of stimulation. His grin was a dirty one and he clucked at you as he shifted to sit upright, “So impatient. We’re going to take our time with you tonight.”

Lo’ak chortled in agreement and he reached over to pass two toys over to his brother, “One last hurrah, right? Gotta savour it.”

“You taste like nectar, paskalin. So sweet and so soft.” Neteyam crooned, toying with something in his right hand.

You glanced downward and you recognised the glass butt plug he was holding. They’d used it on you in the past. It was good size, neither too big nor too small. It was just big enough to give you a feeling of fullness in a place you’d never explored in this way before the brothers, and you certainly never expected it to feel as good as it had.

Neteyam ran the cool surface of the plug against your pussy, lubricating it with your copious moisture. He teased you deliberately, letting the glass bulb of it slip into your pussy a few times, causing a mix of curses to tumble from your lips. He smoothed his thumb over your butthole with his other hand, slowly letting the digit work its way past the tightness of the outer ring of muscle at its entrance. You were chanting his name under your breath like a prayer now, eager for him to insert the plug.

Lo’ak’s own breathing was laboured and he stifled a few curses of his own, slowing down his palming of his cock, “Shit Neteyam, just give it to her already.”

“Losing your control?” Neteyam goaded with a sneer, “It’s alright. You can blow your load. You don’t need to fuck her tonight. I’m happy to do all the honours.”

“Not a chance, bro. I’m not missing out.”

Your pussy squeezed hard at Neteyam’s display of possessiveness. It was so fucked up, especially given the circumstances, how your body thrilled to know that he wanted you for himself. It was so fucked up also on another count that you were excited by the idea of his sexual possession, but his emotional possession had sent you running for the hills. But you knew it was only because you’d end up hurt, you both would… If there was a way that you could have him as more than a playmate, perhaps as a potential mate for life, you’d have drowned happily in his tender affections.

The sore turn of your thoughts was halted when you felt Neteyam press the glass bulb of the plug against your butthole. The feeling of the pressing stretch as he worked it into you cleared your mind and you were forced to breathe through the slightly uncomfortable sensation.

“Relax for me, good girl.” Neteyam murmured, his free hand rubbing gentle circles over your clit.

With a quick slip and clench, your body accepted the plug, seating it into its intended position inside your rear. The discomfort of its initial entry faded and was replaced by a gratifying sense of fullness. The plug was weighted and the slight heaviness of it was a wonderful addition. You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling and you heard the familiar click and whirr of another toy coming to life in Neteyam’s hands.

“You take that plug so well, sweet thing.” Lo’ak praised, leaning down to pepper the side of your face with a few kisses, “I love watching it pulse as you enjoy your pleasure. You going to put on a show for us tonight?”

Your response was a skreich of pleasure when Neteyam parted your folds to settle the clit sucker over your little nub. Your clit was already so sensitive and swollen from his earlier suckling. The toy’s intense and pulsing suction formed a seal around it immediately, throwing you straight onto the racetrack towards a powerful orgasm. Your pelvic muscles quickly settled into a thumping tempo, your inner walls contracting and releasing with bliss, making the glass plug physically jump where it was seated in your ass.

Cracking open your eyes you spied yourself in the mirror, splayed open as you were before with a clit sucker held against you while your pussy and ass visibly pulsated. Your slick was trickling out of you and down your rear with each squeeze of your core. It was a horribly obscene yet incredibly arousing image that you were sure would make any heterosexual man salivate. Your mouth was slack as you mewled and cried out, and sure enough, you discovered both brothers were furiously working their cocks while they watched; Lo’ak seated on the bed above you and Neteyam sitting on his heels beside you.

With another audible click, you felt it when Neteyam turned the intensity of the clit sucker up a couple of levels and within moments your first orgasm crashed into you. A hoarse cry left you as your torso and thigh muscles went rigid, your entire core bursting with bliss. There were mutual groans coming from both Neteyam and Lo’ak too, but in the height of your pleasure, the noise sounded muffled and far away.

“Fuck, Neyomi. I need you right now.” Lo’ak ground out through gritted teeth, “I want to feel your pussy squeeze around me like that when you cum.”

There was commotion as Lo’ak pulled you upward from where you dangled between his legs. He settled you on your side on the plush bedding. Your legs tingled numbly and they felt like they were no longer solid.

“Do you think you can get onto your hands and knees for me, sweet thing?” Lo’ak urged, steadying you as you made an attempt to roll onto your knees. He caught sight of the thunder on his older brother’s face then and he rolled his eyes, peeved, “Sharing is caring, bro. I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

“Don’t be too long. And don’t-”

“Yes, yes I know! Don’t cum inside her.” Lo’ak waved Neteyam off irascibly, “I know the drill.”

Manoeuvring onto all fours, you found, to your relief, that your limbs were fairly stable. Your legs were still tingling, but the numbness had disappeared now and you could hold yourself up just fine. You felt Lo’ak mount you from behind and he gave the butt plug a teasing tug while he lined his cock up with your entrance. Eager to be penetrated, you lowered yourself onto your elbows with your rump high in the air.

Lo’ak didn’t waste a moment more. He ran the head of his cock over your folds once and then plunged into your wet heat with a brutal thrust of his hips. His cock easily slid to its hilt with how slick you were and a harsh groan was his reaction to the feel of your walls enveloping his length. Gripping your hips, he drew his hips back and thrust in again, earning him a guttural cry from you.

Neteyam leaned against the wall on the adjacent side, facing you so he could watch your face dance with your many expressions of pleasure. Lo’ak was less patient than he was and Neteyam wanted to be the last to have you so he could take his time. He tried his best to focus on you instead of the fact that his brother was fucking you. It was an exercise he was used to by now, given that this was always the order of things when you’d visited the shack. Not that sharing you had become any easier the more you’d visited the shack…

Neteyam was impatient tonight though. He hadn’t had you in weeks and things had been strained. Though he hoped otherwise, tonight was quite possibly the last time he’d ever have you. Especially if you were going to try and work things out with Kai… He had promised you earlier that he would back off. If Kai was truly who you wanted, then Neteyam wouldn’t stand in the way. His heart thumped painfully in his chest at the thought.

If tonight was to be the last time he could have you like this, then he was going to make the most of it. He was going to try to steal a kiss from you tonight by hook or by crook.

Through the jarring smack of Lo’ak’s hips against yours, you saw Neteyam watching moodily from against the wall. He had his arms crossed over his chest, but his cock was still hard and standing at attention, jutting out from his narrow hips. A thin string of pre-cum was dangling from its thick head and your mouth watered, wanting to lick it away and taste it. Lo’ak had set a steady pace and one of his hands was skilfully working at your clit while he thrusted. You could feel your second orgasm building gradually, but you were still distracted by the sight of Neteyam’s cock.

Unable to speak because your breath was being forcefully pushed from you with each of Lo’ak’s thrusts, you caught Neteyam’s eye and extended a hand out towards him. You curled your fingers, wordlessly beckoning him to come towards you where you were positioned on your hands and knees at the edge of the bed. He seemed to catch your drift and he pushed off the wall to stalk towards you.

Once he was within reach, your encircled his erection with one hand and tugged him closer until his knees were flush against the bed. A particularly hard thrust caused you to lose your balance and you let go of him, palm slamming flat against to the bedding again to steady yourself. Your mouth had been open though and your intention had been clear enough to Neteyam. He grinned and guided his cock to your lips, which parted again to receive him.

“Oh paskalin,” Neteyam’s breath rushed from him as your mouth engulfed him with moist, tight suction.

You couldn’t take him all the way in your position without the risk of choking and hurting yourself due to Lo’ak’s thrusting, but you could take him half way. You sucked in your cheeks and swirled your tongue over the tip of him, enjoying the salty-sweet taste of his pre-cum. You didn’t even need to bob your head, courtesy of Lo’aks jolting thrusts.

The sight of you spit-roasted on two cocks between him and his brother was enough to almost make Neteyam lose his control. He closed his eyes, willing his throbbing cock to just teeter on the edge of bliss without spilling. He burned the image of you into his memories; the way your lips stretched over his thick girth; the way you whimpered as your body jerked while you were being railed; the way your eyes watered a little every time a hard thrust made his cock head hit the back of your throat.

Lo’ak’s intermittent groans were becoming more frequent now and his pants were getting harsher. You knew you were close too with how your pussy seemed to be trying to swallow more of him with each pulsating throb. The consistent rub of his fingers over your swollen nub made your core burn with impending ecstasy, your climax so close yet not quite within reach. But you knew what would send you over the edge, you knew whose eyes you wanted to lose yourself in as you came.

Neteyam’s thumbs stroked at your cheeks encouragingly and you pulled your head back as far as you could so you could catch his eyes. A pleasure-filled frown was twisting his handsome face and the moment his piercing golden orbs locked with your green irises, your second climax shattered you. Your pussy clenched down hard and you heard Lo’ak emit a gravelly shout.

Lo’ak had never felt anything as intense. He was supposed to withdraw and spill outside you, but your orgasm triggered his own like a sudden and hot strike of lightning at the base of his spine. Your inner muscles had clamped down on his cock, his own climax merciless as he felt himself ejaculate. He hadn’t had time and he couldn’t help it. Instead of pulling out, his primal instincts overwhelmed him and forced his hips to stay pressed against your rump while he spilled.

An unrestrained string of curse words left Lo’ak as he withdrew afterward, collapsing onto his side in a heap of heaving breaths. Neteyam’s displeasure was immediate and a harsh growl filled the air. He pulled his cock free of your mouth and he would’ve rounded on his younger brother if not for your hand, which had caught him around one wrist.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t stop it!” Lo’ak exclaimed, dragging a hand down his face and pawing at his eyes, “I lost control, alright? I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s OK.” You placated, tugging on Neteyam’s wrist. His expression was still marred by a snarl and you gingerly rose onto your knees to smooth a soothing palm over his chest, “Calm down. It’s my body and I’m OK with it.”

Neteyam wanted to tell you that he didn’t care that you were alright with it. He wasn’t alright with it. He wanted to be the only brother in that space to have you that way, and Lo’ak knew that. His brother was more than aware of what it meant to him to be the sole bearer of that privilege.

“I swear it was an accident, bro.” Lo’ak mumbled tamely.

You saw Neteyam shoot an unimpressed glower at his brother and you caressed his cheek, drawing his attention back to you, “Come on, put your hands on me. How do you want me? Facing you or from behind?” You took his hands and placed them over your breasts, loving the feel of his rough palms against your nipples.

A peculiar sense of déjà vu washed over Neteyam at your question and he realised it was the same question he’d asked you on your very first visit to the shack: Do you want me to take you from behind or do you want me to face you?...

It was a poignant moment for him and he echoed your original answer from that first night back to you, never feeling the truth of them more than he did in that instant, “I want to kiss you.”

Your eyes softened and he saw sadness cloud your irises. You remembered too.

Your soft fingers stroked Neteyam’s jaw and you murmured despondently, “You can kiss me everywhere. Anywhere but here.” The fingers of your free hand touched your own lips and you kissed them, before pressing those fingers to his lips.

Neteyam’s eyes were aggrieved, but he toppled you onto the bed anyway and covered your body with his. It seemed he’d taken your answer seriously as he began to leave a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses down your body: from your cheeks, down your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your navel and lower. Your skin prickled in heated anticipation; your arousal still high despite your first two climaxes. Neteyam seemed to have that effect on you. Your body would always respond to his and it could keep going.

Neteyam reached for the last toy that they hadn’t yet used tonight. The wand vibrator.

Parting your azure thighs, he found the butt plug still nestled neatly in your rear and your core glistened with your slick and the pearlescent remains of his brother’s cum. The reminder of Lo’ak’s mistake annoyed him, but he had to admit that the vision of the sticky mess smeared over your pussy was very arousing.

The wand came to life with a low whirr and he ran it gently over your luscious folds. You jumped with a moan, the intense and rumbling vibrations of the toy stimulating every last nerve ending between your thighs. Your pussy pulsed and the butt plug jumped with the flex and lax of your pelvic muscles. Lo’ak had recovered from his earlier orgasm and had quietly rejoined to play. He busied himself with your breasts, letting his tongue rasp over their sensitive peaks while his fingers fondled and squeezed.

“Come on, paskalin, you know what the aim of the game is.” Neteyam purred, focusing the head of the wand on your clit while two of his fingers curled inside your pussy to find your g-spot.

“Ohhh Eywa!” You squealed, thighs quaking and tail curling under as Neteyam’s fingers found their target swiftly and efficiently.

All it took was for him to apply pressure with his curling strokes and your body skyrocketed to the precipice again. The pleasure was so intense with the wand that chills raced their way across the expanse of your skin. The burning pressure built and built in your lower belly. Your clit throbbed under the wand’s unforgiving assault, and combined with the full feeling of the plug still in your bottom, you hurtled over the precipice for a third time with a scream. Your entire frame seized and you pushed through the euphoric blow of your orgasm, releasing the pressure with a wet squirt that you knew was inevitable the moment Neteyam had laid his hands on you.

You began to writhe in discomfort, your body oversensitive now and uncomfortable. Neteyam’s fingers left you, but the wand remained over your swollen and stinging clit. You tried to squirm away from it, reaching down with your hands, only for Lo’ak to stop you, “Nuh uh, we’re not done, sweet thing. Use your safeword if you need it. Otherwise, you’re going to have to ride the overstimulation out.”

“W-Wait, no!” You wriggled and twisted, the stimulation almost too much and yet it was still so incredibly good.

“Use your safeword, Neyomi.” Lo’ak reminded.

When your safeword didn’t leave your lips, Neteyam positioned his hips at your parted thighs, still holding the wand in place with one hand. He added, “One last hurrah, and we’re going to make it worth your while.” Aligning himself with your pussy, he pushed his thick cock inside you.

The speed of his penetration had been slow and steady, but you felt every single bit of him; from the swollen head of his cock to each raised ridge on his shaft. You felt as if you were melting around him, as if your body was moulding itself perfectly to his. It was absolute paradise.

The triple stimulation you were experiencing was devastatingly good. You could feel the girth of his cock grinding against the butt plug through your inner walls as he thrusted with each roll of his hips. Your mind was blissfully clear as your pleasure heightened again another notch, every single cell of your being focused on the never-ending rapture that appeared to have consumed you whole. You didn’t even know if you were climaxing or not because it just seemed to carry on.

When another pulsing squirt gushed from you, Neteyam abandoned the wand and pinned you beneath him in full missionary position. There was only a moment’s reprieve from the assault of pleasure while Neteyam repositioned himself before he hips began their relentless onslaught again. You clung on for dear life, your ankles crossed behind his back, your arms looped about his ribs, nails raking his skin.

Burying his face against the side of yours, Neteyam ground out his assertions, “This might be your last night here, paskalin, but you’ll never forget this. You’ll never forget us and how we made you feel.”

“Y-Yes…” Your answer was a shaky whisper.

“We’re going to have all of you tonight, you hear me?” Neteyam continued, and it was testament to his athletic strength and stamina that he could keep up whisper to you while maintaining the speedy canting of his hips, “I’m going to cum so deep inside you and when I’m done, my brother and I are both going to take you at the same time.”

Beads of wetness seeped from the corners of your eyes to run into your braided hair and you realised you were crying. Whether from overstimulation, from the filthy promise of Neteyam’s words, or from the looming reminder that you were going to be an emotional wreck tomorrow, you weren’t sure.

You hiccupped softly and Neteyam pressed a kiss to your wet cheek. He couldn’t hide the tinge of concern in his tone, “Those better be tears of joy. You know what to do if it gets too much.”

You shook your head, clutching on even tighter to him as what felt like another tidal wave of pleasure began cresting towards you. Your body tightened around his, your core squeezing around his cock in preparation to milk him dry. The tidal wave curled and crashed in the next moment and you screamed his name, your pussy squeezing and squirting so hard that the butt plug was ejected from your bottom by your pelvic muscles.

Neteyam roared his climax into the plush bedding by your head. Your pussy contracted and pulsed in time with the spurting of his cock, and he could feel the warm heat of his cum filling you. Great Mother, he never wanted to be without you like this… Everything about you was good and right… Instinctively, not wanting to suffocate you with his dead weight, he rolled off you to rest on his side.

Your hitching breaths were a staccato harmony to his ragged breathing. Everything on your body was buzzing with oversensitivity. Your nipples tingled uncomfortably and you felt feverishly hot between your legs. Your skin felt too tight all over you and your nose was a little stuffy from mucus. However, if you thought you were going to be able to lie there for a bit, you were wrong.

Neteyam called out to Lo’ak, who was reclined on your other side, “Roll her over onto you, bro, gently.”

You blinked teary eyes at Lo’ak as he scooted closer to you. He stroked your forehead and your cheeks, wiping away the sticky tears that rolled down your face, “Shh, one last thing ok, sweet thing? One last thing and then we’ll take care of you and you can sleep.”

Taking your upper arm, Lo’ak pulled your upper body over his, before hooking his palm behind your knee to haul the rest of you over him. You were lying front to front with him and he settled your cheek against his shoulder and collarbone. You instinctively curled against him, tucking your arms against his ribs and tucking your knees up under you by his hips. Unbeknownst to you, it was exactly the position they wanted you in.

You’d heard other women speak of the term ‘fucked dumb’ before, and you’d merely thought they were joking or exaggerating. But you understood it now. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess and coherent words were far from your lips.

“No one will ever make you feel this way again,” Lo’ak murmured to you, and you felt him shift your bottom over his pelvis. It didn’t surprise you anymore that his cock was erect again. Both brothers appeared to be at the height of their virility currently. Two rounds was no issue, some nights even three.

You felt like putty and allowed Lo’ak to guide himself into your silky heat once more. In your position, your body sank onto his cock easily and you whimpered again at the girthy stretch of him. Lo’ak chuckled, “Now for the good part.”

The bedding dipped a little on either side of you and Lo’ak when Neteyam came to position himself behind you. He was straddling your hips in a crouch and you felt him bring your tail over one of his shoulders. His earlier words rang in your ears and you understood what he was about to do… My brother and I are both going to take you at the same time…

Neteyam ran his thumb over your puckered butthole. Between your slick and his cum, there was plenty of lubrication available for what he intended. He caressed one round of your pert bottom and pulled the flesh aside a little, “I said I wanted to have all of you, Neyomi.”

An audible gasp left you as the blunt head of Neteyam’s cock pressed at your rear entrance. He said nothing to reassure you, but his touch was gentle and cautious. He pushed further and you felt your body resist the girth of him. You breathed deeply, fighting to relax the muscles like they’d taught you when you’d first been introduced to the butt plugs. Slowly but surely, your body accepted him and he slid into your bottom with a tight groan that was echoed by both yourself as well as Lo’ak.

The fullness was exquisite. The three of you remained still, just getting used to the sensation and enjoying the initial wonder of something new.

Balancing on the balls of his feet while he straddled you, Neteyam’s voice was an indulgent purr, “You feel fucking amazing.”

Lo’ak began to move first, just a slow and shallow rock of his hips and it amazed you that Neteyam synced in with him almost immediately in the opposite direction. When one brother pulled outward, the other pushed inward, their cocks slipping in and out of you in coordinated tandem.

The dual stimulation was definitely overwhelming. You were quite literally stuffed full of them both and it was an incredibly intimate position. Neither of them were thrusting particularly deeply, both just rocking their hips with you sandwiched between their bodies. It was slow and sweet, and it felt strangely like making tender love with two people at once.

It was the most tender that either of them had been with you all night. There was just one thing missing that would make things perfect; one crucial thing that would see you violate the very boundary that you had set for yourself if you did it. A kiss.

Tonight was your last night with Neteyam and Lo’ak, it had to be. From tomorrow, you’d have to put all of this behind you, keep it locked away in the deepest recesses of your mind. Forget about Lo’ak. Forget about Neteyam. Try to work things out with Kai and move on with your life.

The reckless part of you offered up the idea of crossing your boundary again. It was your last night here and look at all you’d done with them tonight already. Surely crossing that line couldn’t hurt that much more, right? What was one last kiss in light of everything you’d done tonight?

Your heart trilled with contentment at the thought. You would remember their bodies and remember the touch of their hands; remember their scents and remember their voices as they teased you and praised you. You resolved to share one last kiss with each of them, so you would also remember the feel of their lips against yours too.

You raised your chin to look at the brother closest to you. Lo’ak raised a brow at you and a corner of his lips quirked upward in a small smile. With shaky breaths you eyed the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. One last kiss from each of them Neyomi, and then tomorrow it’s back to reality… Carefully, you leaned downward and gently slanted your lips over his.

Abruptly, the tender and serene mood was splintered by an ireful hiss from Neteyam. You jumped, pulling back from Lo’ak to see him regarding you with a confused expression, the furrow between his brows knitting deeper with every passing moment. The gentle rocking of your bodies ceased and you cried out as Neteyam swiftly withdrew himself from your body in a jarring tug.

Everything happened so quickly and the last thing you perceived, as you craned your head backward, was Neteyam’s frame storming angrily from the shack.

Lo’ak moved beneath you, taking you by your hips to roll you gently onto your side again. You could see your own confusion mirrored back at you through his amber irises. Your body buzzed still from the aftermath of your pleasure and your brain was a foggy muddle.

“What just happened?” You asked meekly.

Lo’ak scoffed and shook his head at you, appearing equally bewildered and upset, “I could ask you the same thing. What the fuck are you playing at?”

***~~~*** Part V - The Fault Is Ours now HERE

Author's Note:

Gaaaah another cliffhanger!! 🫣 Spill your thoughts and all your messy emotions to me, my bebes! Neteyam is such a stubborn ass, right? And oh that unwitting mistake that Neyomi made at the end... 🥲

I hope this made your heart squeeze as well as other places... Thanks for reading. I love each and everyone of you that supports me. Comments, reblogs and likes are all very much appreciated! 😘

Taglist note: There are so many of you who've asked to be tagged that I've exceed the tag limit. So if you haven't been tagged in the body of this post, I haven't forgotten you! I've probably tagged you in another post that links you back to this one. 💖

Taglist:

@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @itsjazzsworld @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt

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lowkeychenle · 8 months ago

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masterlist + all about me (and nct dream)

hi everyone! name change/rebrand alert ;)

prev @/lowkeyjaemle, now @/lowkeychenle :D

i'm juls (as some of you already know) and my ult group is NCT Dream! i'm chenle biased (this will never change lol) and the majority of my blog is also chenle biased lol.

i do not have a bias wrecker. chenle is safe (although jisung is my #2, which just makes sense bc chenji is a package deal okay).

i'm 23 years old, and my pronouns are she/her. now that all this intro/boring stuff is out of the way, please keep reading for my updated masterlist ;)

p.s. if u are also a chenle stan, there are so many chenle fics here just for u

AY YO! MDNI >:(

text!au masterlist | smau masterlist

labyrinth (M) fic teaser

Chenle was more complex than you originally gave him credit for, and unfortunately for you, that would be your downfall. Lost in the labyrinth, you’ll always struggle to find your way out when the rose-colored glasses don’t let the light shine through.

the hardest part (M)

You, Chenle, and Jay have been best friends since before you could even remember. After moving away to pursue your dreams, you don't talk to them as often as you should. One day, you get a call notifying you of Jay's passing. When you go back to your hometown, you find everything is different except for one person--Chenle.

Some Things Can't Be Taught (M)

In which you are failing college physics, and your childhood best friend offers up one of his friends as your tutor—except, there’s a little something he wants to learn from you in exchange.

Guilty As Sin? (M)

Chenle is everything you want--everything you need. Somehow, the thought of him manages to pull you back in even after you were free. Messy kisses, late night trysts, and him tracing the word 'mine' on your thigh--barely anything, so how could you possibly be guilty as sin? (based on Guilty As Sin? by Taylor Swift)

And Then It Was (M)

After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Cruel Summer (M)

He wants you. Everything to do with you--your heart, your body, all while keeping your friendship. What's a man to do during a 30-day hook up to get you to stay? (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

See My Sea (M)

You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Like We Just Met (M)

Everything else about the day is completely normal when Chenle realizes he wants to marry you. It hits him like a tidal wave, and he's itching to tell you just how much he wants to love you forever. (smut/fluff) *WC>10k

SOS (M)

Road trips with Chenle are your favorite thing. Late at night, the two of you stop at a hotel, but it's not everything it seems to be. You barely have time to settle before you get a call to evacuate immediately. Beneath red neon flashing lights, you and Chenle have to try and escape the group of people hunting you down. (suspense/thriller/smut)

this is me trying (M)

Meeting Chenle was a fluke--a good one, at that, but you never expected things to escalate the way they did. But despite the whirlwind romance, you'd go back to December if you had the chance... (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Is It Over Now? (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Your relationship with Chenle is nothing but fight after fight. Amidst the toxicity, infidelity comes into play--except you're determined to one up him...but is it ever truly over? (angst/smut) *WC>10k

Within the Piano Keys (M)

For as long as you could remember, Chenle has been your neighbor and childhood best friend. That is, until one day he disappears without a word…or so you thought, since your mother hid all the letters he sent you. (smut/fluff/angst) *WC>10k

Paris (M)

Pure smut on a hotel room balcony in Paris! Woo. (smut)

Sunshine (M)

You're not usually able to wake up with Chenle due to his schedules, but on the days that you can, it's certainly worth it. (smut/fluff)

Quiet Down (M)

You and Chenle visit your parents, but he just can't help himself... (smut)

You're Not Sorry

You and Chenle broke up two weeks ago. The first time he calls you at 3am, you ignore it. Then he calls again. You answer, and you go to him knowing there's nothing he could do to fix what he's broken. (angst)

The Last Straw (M)

Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin). (smut/fluff/angst)

Chilled Nights, Fogged Windows (M)

After being gone for weeks, the first thing Chenle wants to do is get ice cream with you. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, you're in the backseat (oooops). (smut)

In Your Dreams (M)

What started as innocent phone sex hotline stuff (if that can ever really be innocent?), you get an offer you just can't refuse...you just have to be a little sleep deprived ;) (Chenle as Freddy Kruger Halloween thing lol)

Irrevocably (M) Series Masterlist

You were friends with benefits with Chenle until he got a girlfriend...fast forward months later, and now they've broken up--leaving Chenle to come back to you, very much in need of a distraction. (angst/smut/fluff)

Opposites Attract [Poly!Jaemle AU] Series Masterlist

Your relationship with Jaemin started out simple--friends with benefits with zero complications...until there was one. That complication's name is Zhong Chenle, and after Jaemin agrees to expand your exclusivity deal to involve him, there's only one logical thing left to do... (smut)

모래성 (ONE) (TWO) (THREE)

You and Mark have had a friends with benefits relationship for almost a year now. He's in love with you, addicted to you, but you don't feel the same. You're his poison. (smut/angst)

Late Nights (M)

Mark's busy schedule only gives him time to come over late at night, but it's safe to say neither of you are complaining by the time you fall asleep. (fluff/smut)

Empire State of Mind (M) (Feat. Jisung)

Life with Jisung is almost perfect. He loves you, and you love him. But when you run into your ex, Mark Lee, you realize the one thing you've been missing all along is him. (smut/angst)

Lost & Wayward Mini-Masterlist

After the worst couple weeks of your life, you finally break down in the middle of an alleyway. Jaemin hears you and comes to comfort you, and little do you know, he's about to change your life--in more ways than one. (fluff/smut/angst)

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itsasilentreader · 9 months ago

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 𝐌𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ― 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Sebastian Sallow x F!Slytherin!reader

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: fluff, just a little bit of angst sprinkled in here

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.4K — 23 𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙

𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: alcohol/drug consumption, suggestive dialogue, maybe some curse words? idk anymore

Characters are aged up, 18+.

𝘼/𝙉: Use of Y/N, there are some descriptions about the outfit of the reader but if you want to imagine a different outfit, please do! I tried to write a reader who is more self-assured in her relationship because I like to read that once in a while. Also, English is not my first language, so please ignore all the grammatical errors in this one. I’m still editing and learning how to write dialogue so please bear with me!

⤷ 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘚𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘚𝘭𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

⋮ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

It was finally Friday night and as per usual, one of the houses was throwing a party. As it was agreed to rotate every week, it was now time for Slytherin to host again.

You got ready with Natty and Imelda in the dorm room you shared with Imelda. As you were still deciding on an outfit and trying different pieces of clothing on, Poppy entered your room, out of breath. “Sorry, I know I’m late and I see you are almost ready. But I have a good enough reason to be late.” Imelda rolled her eyes, before focusing back on her make-up. Poppy gave her a light (friendly) shove as she walked past her towards your bed. “Oh stop that, will you.”

She set down her make-up bag and clothing before turning towards you. “Okay first of all, if you’re going with that green top you should wear that black skirt you got last month.” You looked at her through the mirror and nodded to her. “I guess you’re right, let me change into a skirt.” You turned towards your closet. Poppy nods and sits down. “Okay, the reason why I’m late is because I overheard Violet on my way here.”

This causes all three heads to turn towards Poppy. Imelda had eyeliner on only one eye as she stared at Poppy to continue. “If it caused you to be 20 minutes late, this should be something interesting,” Natty spoke up from the floor next to your bed, her eyes fixed on the mirror while doing her hair.

“It is,” Poppy nodded, “Okay, so you know how obsessed Violet is with Sebastian?” You scoff and give her a pointed look. “Even Ominis can see that and that kid is blind.” You turn your attention back to your closet and continue to look for the black skirt you want to try on with the top. Poppy rolls her eyes at your comment.

“Anyways, she said she is so sure she can get him into her bed by the end of the night. Seems like she really wants to make her move on him tonight.” This causes the girls to stop their movements and stare at Poppy. Imelda closes the cap on her eyeliner pen and speaks up, “So… she really doesn’t know Sebastian is in a committed relationship and head over heels for our lovely Y/N here?”

“Well, she did mention it is always difficult to talk to him because he is always with Y/N. Even went as far as to say that she doesn’t understand why he puts up with you” Poppy replied, the last part directed towards you. “That little-” you huff out when you turn around, skirt in hand. Changing into the skirt, and sighing when you think over the words Poppy just said. “I mean, we didn’t come out as a couple you know, so I’m not surprised she doesn’t actually know we’re together. And it is not like we act differently around each other now we are together. Besides, everyone already assumed we were.”

You smooth out the skirt and hum in approval of your outfit. “Yeah, everyone but Violet”. Natty says. “She even admits it is hard to talk to him because he’s always with you. Besides the point that he is your boyfriend, doesn’t she know he is not interested in her?” she continues, “Even before you came to Hogwarts in our fifth year, he always tried to avoid her at all costs. She is so overbearing.”

You sigh and walk over to your bed after approving your outfit. “Knowing Violet she probably wants to do it publicly so I would know she claimed him.” You sit down next to Poppy on your bed and start putting on your make-up. “Everything we do is a competition in her head, so this would be the same.” Poppy shifts on the bed and turns to you. “We all know Sebastian only has eyes for you, you don’t need to worry about that.” She smiles softly at you as she opens her make-up bag to quickly get ready.

“I know, I’m just a little worried about how far Violet will go.” Natty looks up to you from her seat on the floor. “You know we will hex her if she does something out of line”, you snort at her comment. “Imelda is just dying to do it for you, you know.” Natty says while Imelda smirks proudly.

“Okay enough about that ugly shade of purple,” you turn your attention to Poppy. “Are you finally making your move on Garreth tonight?” Poppy gasped lightly and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” only the blush spreading on her cheeks is telling you otherwise. “He asked if you were coming tonight” You looked into your hand mirror and applied your eyeshadow. “He did?” Poppy squeaked out. Clearing her throat she asked again, “He did?” Imelda locks eyes with you and smirks as you try to contain your laughter.

“Sooo…” She drags out, “I guess Y/N isn’t the only one going back to the dorms with someone tonight”. Poppy glared at her and scoffed. “Just let us know how it was in the morning, I am kinda curious about his dick,” Imelda commented nonchalantly. This causes you and Natty to bark out a laugh while Poppy stutters over her words. “Imelda, you’re gay.” Imelda barks out a laugh, before replying, “So? I might munch muff but I still acknowledge Garreth is easy on the eyes.” Poppy just huffs and focuses on her make-up. She mumbles something under her breath but Imelda drowns it out when she laughs at Poppy’s reaction again.

As you walk down to your common room, you can already feel the bass vibrating the walls. Muffled voices and music are heard down the hall and you are in desperate need of a shot, or two. You are sure Sebastian wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or jeopardize your relationship, but you still feel a bit uneasy because you know Violet will do anything to get what she wants.

As Imelda opens de door to the common room, you are met with a full house and someone sneakily pushing past you into the common room. You couldn’t see exactly who it was, as they already disappeared in the crowd.

The party is in full swing and fire whisky is flowing richly. You spot Garreth already, with some other Hufflepuff girl next to the fireplace. It seems like he already started mixing the fire whiskey and Mallowsweet. You can see Poppy’s facial expression fall when she follows your sight. It is no secret she is attracted to the red-headed Gryffindor. Poppy rolls her eyes and drags you with her to look for a bottle of fire whiskey. “I need a shot!” She yells over the music.

The other two girls follow and eventually get caught up by others and their conversations. You have yet to spot your boyfriend. While searching the room for his presence, Poppy helps you and herself to a shot of fire whiskey. After tasting the burning alcohol at the back of your throat, Poppy seems to have poured herself already a second shot. Filling up your glass, you both took another shot. Poppy seems to be in her head as she pours another one. “Okay hold on Pops, I think we should slow down on the shots after this one”. You pry the bottle out of her hands and pour yourself one last shot. “Last one,” Poppy said and downed it. “For now.” she mumbles after taking the shot.

The night went on and there is still no sign of your boyfriend. Suddenly you spot Ominis standing against the wall and walk up to him. “Have you seen Sebastian?”, you ask after you greet your friend. He shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink. “He went to the bathroom a while ago, seems like he hasn’t found his way back yet.” You sigh and lean against the wall next to Ominis. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon.”

“He better be,” you grumble next to your friend. “It’s just, Poppy overheard Violet and I just don’t want to see what she has planned tonight to get with Sebastian.” Ominis laughs at your comment and shakes his head. “That girl is as daft as a brush”. You chuckle at his remark and nod along, even though he can’t see it. “I know, let me know if you find him will you?” Ominis nods and lets you go on your way.

You walk back towards Poppy and see her finally talking to Garreth. It seems like they only have eyes for each other. The other Hufflepuff girl is long forgotten, as is her annoyance with Garreth from before. You watch how Poppy giggles at something Garreth says and slaps his chest. His hand comes up to hold her hand there and leans in slightly to hear her better. Her cheeks turn red when she notices Garreth leaning into her, her eyes widening a bit but her smile never falters.

You decide to search for your other friends as you walk by Violet. Her presence alone is enough to annoy you, but hearing her shrill voice greeting you makes it even more unbearable. You turn towards her and give her a fake smile as you try not to roll your eyes.

“How lovely to see you this evening, but I have noticed you’re not glued to Sebastian’s side. Did he get bored of you already?” She smirks and cocks her head slightly to the side. You scoff slightly and cross your arms. “Is there another reason you keep talking to me about Sebastian or are you just that obsessed?”. You see her eyes narrow slightly, seems like you’ve hit a nerve. “You know, I just don’t know why he keeps being friends with you. I mean, you always follow him around like a lost puppy. Is it still not obvious that he doesn’t want to be more than friends?” Her expression turns into a sympathetic one, albeit a fake one.

“And what makes you think Sebastian and I aren’t together already?” You feign innocence as you ask her the question. Curious as to what she will answer you take a step closer to the dark-haired girl. “I mean, you said it yourself earlier. We are always together, glued to each other’s sides. Who knows what goes down behind closed doors.” This causes Violet to scoff loudly. “You really think he would choose you?” she rather states instead of asking. You shrug innocently, awaiting her next move. Of course, you know for a fact that he would 100% choose you.

“I know for sure he needs someone who can challenge him, and of course, please him like he should be pleased,” Violet smirked at you. “Don’t you think?”, she taunted at you while tilting her head. Just the thought of her hands all over Sebastian made your stomach hurl, but hearing her imply that she thinks she knows how to please your boyfriend makes your blood boil. You scoff at her comment and roll your eyes. “Let me guess, you think you are the one who can do exactly that hm?”

Her eyes narrow slightly while her smirk falters at the tone of your voice. It is sharp enough to take hers down a nudge. Violet tries to hide her annoyance on her face, “We both know who he would choose when it comes down to both of us. Some are just,” Violet chooses her next words wisely, “better than others.” Shrugging her shoulders, she feigns innocence. The smirk reappears on her face.

This remark causes other students to stop their conversation and turn their attention to the altercation between the two Slytherins. Because of the small commotion that ensues, Imelda and Poppy appear next to you. Your eyebrows shot up at her comment. Before you could throw an insult at her, Imelda beats you to it. “At least Y/N doesn’t need to desperately throw herself at someone, just to get a smidge of attention.” That should knock her down a peg. Poppy just nods along with Imelda’s comment. Imelda is not one to hold her tongue, sharp as ever. It is not always celebrated but it can sure come in handy in times like these.

Her eyes narrowed again before spotting someone, be it your boyfriend, walking towards the commotion. Her sour expression disappears and a sickly sweet smile paints her lips. “ Well, well, well, speak of the devil,” her voice turning into a syrupy sweet one, replacing the ice-cold one she uses to speak with you. “Hey, handsome.” When Sebastian is close enough, her manicured hand shoots out to place it on his bicep to greet him. Slightly squeezing his bicep as she steps closer to him all while batting her eyes seductively. “This girl has no shame.” Imelda murmurs to you and Poppy.

His eyes follow her hand and frowns a little. “What is going on here? Ominis told me you girls are causing a fuss?” His head turns to you, and smirks. “What is it about?” You roll your eyes at the sound of his voice and his questions. He knows damn well that if you and Violet having a squabble, it most likely is about him. He knows how obsessed Violet is with him.

Every time there is a quidditch game, Violet tries to sit in the front row to cheer him on, next to you of course. She tries to catch his attention by cheering loudly for him, a little too loud. Always trying to be the first to greet him after the game and sitting close to him during breakfast, lunch and dinner. Whenever you two are walking together or sitting together, she tries to come between you two. She even goes as far as to persuade the professors to switch partners if she is not partnered with Sebastian. Luck is almost always on your side as most of the professors brush her off and tell her to work with the student she was originally paired with. This girl was as desperate as one could be.

Sebastian is not going to lie, it does stroke his ego. Of course, it does when he sees how you react to all the things Violet is trying to do to your boyfriend. Your little huffs of annoyance, or the way you roll your eyes when you hear her shrill voice say your boyfriend's name. He loves it when you try to keep your calm when Violet wants his attention.

Although he likes to receive the attention, he won’t act on it. His heart is set on you and you know that. Nobody can compare to you and he makes sure you know that, in every way possible. Besides, he loves how riled up you are when Violet tries to make a move on him. He loves to see how possessive you can get and claim what is yours. The sex that ensues after makes him go crazy.

“Violet thinks that if you have to choose between us two, you would definitely go for her,” You shake your head a little, before continuing. “She is sure she knows how you should be pleased.” She snaps her head from Sebastian to you. Sebastian tries to hold back his laughter after seeing how Violet stares you down. Still standing a little too close to him, he takes a step back. “Oh, do you now?” You raise your eyebrow to challenge her as if to say ‘Go on, tell him’.

There is a slight pause before she answers him, “I can show you if you want.” as Sebastian takes a step back, she tries to take one step closer to him again. Her manicured nails trailed up to his bicep again and a sultry smile on her lips. “You should see and feel what I can do with my tongue.”

Imelda and Poppy greeted this remark with a loud laugh. Soon, Sebastian joined them. You, however, hate the way she speaks to him. She is trying so damn hard. Sebastian steps away from her grip and shakes his head. “I’m sure you can make someone else happy with that, but I don’t think my girlfriend would like it when you do that.” He turns to you and takes you in his embrace. Wrapping one arm around your shoulder and giving a quick kiss on your temple. “Hi, love”.

“Besides, this one right here is the only one I would ever want. Nobody compares.” You smile softly up to Sebastian. Even though you’ve been together for quite some time now, he still gives you those butterflies. How could he not when he just said in front of everyone, in front of Violet, that you are the one for him? That nobody compares to you in his eyes?

Violet’s shocked expression makes you stifle a laugh, and then it turns sour. “What?” she asks, “You two? For how long?” She almost stomps her feet, like a small child whose toys have been taken away. This time, Garreth speaks up from behind Poppy. “Everyone with eyes and Ominis could see it, Violet. You’re just daft.” His comment, albeit a snide one, is met with chuckles from those who’ve gathered to see what the commotion is about.

At this point, her face grows red from embarrassment and before she stomps off she looks at you. It looks like she wants to say something, but decides against it. She pushes her way through the small crowd and disappears to the girl's dormitory. Her friends flocked behind her.

“Well, that was something.” Poppy speaks up next to you and turns to Garreth, “The last comment might have been a little much”. Garreth just smirked down at her and shrugged. Before he could reply, Sebastian said, “No she did deserve it. She was a little too obsessed. Told her multiple times I wasn’t interested, even before I got together with this babe.” He wiggles his eyebrows as you roll your eyes. “Hm, turning to flattery now, are we?” He gave you a soft smile and leaned in for a quick kiss. Soon, everyone around you goes back to their conversations, games and dancing.

“Where have you been the whole time? I was looking for you.” You turn in his arms to face him completely. He sighs, “I know, I’m sorry. Ominis told me you were looking for me. Caught a fourth-year sneaking into the party when I came back from the bathroom. Had to get the little git back to his dorm.” You giggle with a shake of your head. “Ruining the fun for the younger ones now too?” Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“You know my heart is only set on you right?” Sebastian says to you as he pulls you closer by your waist. Your chests flush against each other as he looks down in your eyes. Your hands slide up his arms and to the back of his neck. Playing with the hair on the base of his neck, he leans into your touch. “I know, and I trust you completely. It’s just girls like Violet that I don’t trust.”

Sebastian nods slightly and drops his forehead against yours. “Well, I understand that. I mean, the guys are no different.” He gives you a soft smile before his eyes flicker down to your lips. “But, you know, if you want me to show you how much I love you, I’ll be happy to do so.” His eyes glimmer with love and lust and his soft smile turns into a smirk. His hands wander from your waist down to your ass and he squeezes slightly.

This makes you gasp and giggle into his chest. You tilt your head and capture Sebastian’s lips for a quick, soft kiss. You feel him smile into the kiss and when you try to pull away, he deepens the kiss. “Room of requirement?” He asks breathlessly when you finally pull away from each other. You nod eagerly and take his hand in yours to sneak out of the party.

Sebastian definitely showed you how much he loves you and your body until the early morning. And your altercation with Violet is long forgotten as Sebastian keeps reminding you; you are the only one for him.

Please let me know what you think of this one! All the likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction

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aestheticaltcow · 9 months ago

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Our Future

The Bear Masterlist

Next Part

A/N: I've been workin' on this one for a couple weeks now and I finally finished omg

“I just don’t know if I want her to meet Eva.” Tiffany sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood in the doorway, “Tiff, do you wanna meet her first or somethin’?” Richie asked, scratching the back of his head. “Richie, I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but she’s like, what 23?” Richie sighed awkwardly. “Yea…” Tiffany shot him a look, “Look, Tiff, she’s really great-. I want Eva to meet her.” he looked down at her hopefully, Tiffany sighed. He’d been okay with Eva meeting her current boyfriend, so it would be hypocritical for her not to let Eva meet Richie’s girlfriend- you. Tiffany nodded. “Just promise you aren’t breakin’ up with her anytime soon. I don’t want Eva to also get her heart broken.”

Over the summer, you worked as a waitress at The Bear. You thought Richie was handsome from the start. He was tall and rugged, and you couldn’t help but watch his hands as he did paperwork or signed for the liquor order. His hands were so big… you couldn’t help but imagine what they’d feel on your body. Manhandling your breasts, wrapped around your neck, pulling you over his knee to spank you… you dragged yourself out of a daydream when Carmy asked the wait staff a question. “I’m sorry my mind was elsewhere… what was the question?”

It went on like that for weeks, Richie being the focal point of your daydreams. Your friends slowly started noticing how you’d turn down guys when you’d go out. Your parents noticed you were taking your time to do your hair and makeup before work. They’d assumed you had a crush on another waitstaff member or, heaven forbid, a line cook; oh boy, did they not expect the man you’d been dolling yourself up for someone 20 years your senior.

One night, you agreed to go out with some friends from high school. You weren’t looking for a hookup or anything, but when you saw Richie across the street from the club at some pizza place, you were glad you’d borrowed a short cheetah print dress from your friend Mandy. You snuck away from the rest of the group and ‘causually’ bumped into Richie. He’d always thought you were pretty and quick as a whip, but he was significantly older than you, and the idea of even hitting on you made him uneasy. But, when he bumped into you on that night out, he couldn’t get the idea of you out of his mind. “Yo, cousin. You good?” “Ugh yea… was just sayin' hey to y/n.” Carmy chuckled when he saw you walking away from Richie, “She’s into you.” Richie adamantly disagreed, “She’s a good kid, but I’m way too fuckin’ old for her Carm.”

As the summer came to an end, you’d turned in your two-week notice. Leaving Richie with a sense of urgency to at least follow you on Instagram. By your last day, he did manage to get your phone number, which, in turn, led to some late-night Instagram stalking from both of you. Richie didn’t expect anything to happen. You were three hours away from Chicago, back at school, surrounded by boys your age. There's no way a girl like you would ever want some 40-year-old divorced single Dad. At least, that was until you’d come home for your Mom’s birthday in mid-September.

You needed a break from your family. You saw Richie was out with some of the guys from The Bear and decided to make a move. ‘Casually running into’ the group was more challenging than you thought, but when Sweeps noticed you enter the bar, he knew why you were there. “Richie, your girls here.” he laughed; Richie was confused but was happy to see you. You two spent the night talking, “So you got a little boyfriend at school or somethin’?” Richie had hoped the answer would be ‘no,’ and then he could swoop in and show you how a man should treat a woman of your caliber. “Depends on who’s askin’.” you teased, making Richie chuckle. He offered you a ride home.

As Richie pulled up to your parent’s apartment building, you said fuck it and swiftly moved to place a kiss against his lips, the tickle of his facial hair adding to the stimulation. Richie was taken aback; he’d wanted to kiss her for months but didn’t think it would be like this. He kissed you back as soon as he’d realized what was happening. What should have been the perfect first kiss was ruined when your Dad saw you get out of ‘some random old guy's car’ and told you to get your ass inside.

Your parents scolded you, “Wasn’t he your boss!” “Y/N! We forbid this!”. You were mad at the pair and returned to school sooner than expected. You turned your phone off and stared at the ceiling for a few days; maybe they had a point. Was Richie too old for you? He disagreed; if two people like each other, what’s the big deal? It’s not like she was fresh out of high school- she was 22, and he’d just turned 42.

A year later, you graduated college and moved back to Chicago to be with Richie and work at a tech start-up. It took a while, but your parents had warmed up to Richie. Granted, your Mom still hated him, but you took a win as a win when your Dad referred to him as an ‘okay guy.’

Tiffany was hesitant when Richie brought you around Eva at first. She liked you, but she knew Richie better than anyone and didn’t want you to get your heart broken. She didn’t bring anything up until Eva’s birthday party. You were watching the kids play in the backyard when Tiffany saw an opportunity to talk to you. “Hey, Y/N, thanks for comin’.” you smiled up at Tiffany as she sat beside you. “Of course, I couldn’t miss Eva’s Taylor Swift party.” Tiffany nodded before asking, “Can I talk to you about somethin’?” you nodded, “What’s up?” “Might be a little awkward, but um, you and Richie? How’s it goin’?”

You squinted in Tiffany’s direction, “Why do you wanna know?” “I don’t want him back, but you’re just in such a different-” you scoffed. “Tiffany, I don’t think your daughter’s birthday party is an appropriate place to bring this-” “Y/N. I know Richie better than anyone. You have so much life to live. Don’t you wanna travel or get married or have kids someday? I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into before you’re too invested in this.” “Thanks, Tiffany.”

Richie was talking to one of Eva’s friend’s Dads when he saw you walking toward the gate, “Sorry, I gotta check on somethin’...” he ducked out of the conversation to follow you out of the backyard. You wiped your eyes as you walked up the street. It was only a couple miles to the closest train stop, and you figured the walk would be a good way to clear your head. “Hey baby- you okay?” Richie called as he ran up behind you. You nodded, “Yeah, everything is fine… I just have to do some stuff…” “What about Eva’s party? Haven’t even had cake yet…” he noticed you’d been crying, “Did Tiff say somethin’ to you? I can-” “Richie- do you wanna get married again?” the question left him dumbfounded. “Maybe?” he shrugged, “Why are you askin about that?”

You sighed, “Richie, I wanna get married and have kids someday.” you flexed your hand as you stared at the ground, “Okay, we can… we can talk about it later… come back to the party?” Richie said, trying to change the subject and cut the tension between you. “ Yes or no, Richie? Would you want to marry me and have a kid or two within the next three years?” “Baby,” Richie said softly as he touched your bicep, “Let’s talk about all of this later.” you shook your head. “Go back to the party. I have some thinking to do.” you calmly said as you looked up at him. “OK,” Richie nodded and kissed your forehead, “I’ll see you at home?”

You haphazardly packed some clothes into a suitcase before grabbing your chargers and laptop from the bedside table. This wasn’t how you thought your day would end, but Richie’s answer- or lack thereof- was all you needed to know. Before leaving the apartment, you messily wrote Richie a note saying it was over and your Dad would come by to pick up the rest of your stuff later in the week. You felt your heart break as you locked the door behind you. It was over.

#richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich fan fic #richie jerimovich fan fiction #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich angst #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear fan fic #the bear fan fiction #the bear imagine #the bear angst

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bloodrvvvsh · 5 months ago

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Code Red, Code Blue. Chapter 1: Acquainted.

Synopsis: When the BAU is led to a case in Seattle, with Seattle Grace Mercy West as the focal point. And after an unfortunate incident involving two cups of hot coffee and a ruined pair of scrubs, Spencer meets a girl that changes his whole life.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Lexie Grey

Warnings: Typical CM discussions of crimes, typical Grey's discussions of gore and medical talk (very minimal, though!), meet-cute, literally one (1) offhanded "killing yourself" joke

Word count: 3.0K

Notes: My baby.. she's finally finished... Please enjoy, I spent way too long on this!

Likes are appreciated, but reblogs and comments help writers more!

Wednesday, September 29. 9:42 AM in Quantico, Virgina.

Spencer had only ever been to Seattle once.

Working in the BAU took him all over the country. Cases popped up in every corner, in every state, in every place you could possibly imagine. He had seen nearly every part of the vast landscape that was the US of A.

The last case that had led them across the country to Seattle was The Seattle Strangler, back when Gideon was still on the team. Spencer had mixed emotions about that thought. But he was a professional and he was going to do his job.

Their current case was as close as you could get to clean cut and dry in their line of work. Women in their 20s being stabbed. Pretty simplistic, right?

The one connection each murder had, though, was that every single woman was eventually directed to Seattle Grace Mercy West. And while the hospital was a fairly major one, it was a Level 1 Trauma Center, after all, which meant a lot of patients, it was definitely raising a few alarm bells in their heads. Each woman was also eventually declared dead at that exact hospital.

It could never hurt to check every possible lead, could it?

Spencer used two fingers to rub at the sleep clinging to his eye still. He tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn as he shifted in his seat. Although he was quite used to struggles with sleep (hence his dependence on caffeine), it never truly got any better.

“Late night?” Morgan inquired. He propped his arms on the top of Spencer’s seat, peering over the other man’s shoulder.

Spencer shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. He frowned softly, continuing to try and rid himself of the tiredness that stuck to his lashes before he was interrupted by another yawn.

God, he could really use some coffee right now.

He glanced down at his watch and his frown deepened. They still had at least another two hours until they would land.

Spencer would consider himself a fairly patient man. He didn’t mind waiting, hell, he most often played the waiting game in his job as a BAU agent. But right now, sitting on that jet running on only five hours of sleep with not a drop of caffeine in sight, he was feeling just one moment away from simply losing it.

Not like it would actually happen, though. Spencer wasn’t that kind of guy. He was calm and reserved, even in the face of adversity.

Hotch’s voice cut through Spencer’s internal monologue for the moment, snapping him back into reality. “We’re going to head to the police station first,” he began, casting a glance over each BAU member in eyesight, “After we get all the necessary facts, we’re going to head to the hospital. Sound good?” He was met with a round of nods from everyone and he nodded back.

Wednesday, September 29. 11:23 AM in Seattle, Washington.

Lexie needed a goddamn break.

Being a surgical resident had to be a punishment designed in one of the seven pits of hell. How dare she desire to save people's lives, right?

At least it was better than being an intern.

She loved her job, don’t get her wrong, being a surgeon was her dream. It’s just that she couldn’t remember the last time she got more than four hours of sleep a night and she was just so tired all the time. From running around constantly to several hours long surgeries to forty-eight hour shifts.

Not to mention the constant drama and tragedy that filled the Seattle Grace Mercy West halls. You couldn’t turn a corner without hearing about someone sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend or about another MerDer breakup or another surprise pregnancy. Really, sometimes it was just ridiculous.

Lexie herself had been the victim of that good ol’ SGMW drama. She was trying to pull herself free from the clutches of it all, but it always seemed to follow them all. Like some sort of curse was placed on that very hospital.

But that was besides the point. The point was that she needed just one moment of peace, away from all the chaos of the hospital and the drama. Was that so selfish of her?

The sound of sneakers shuffling and her racing heart filled Lexie’s ears as she rushed through the halls. The occasional ‘excuse me’ slipped from her lips, trying not to crash into everyone that was in her way.

When your attending pages 911, you don’t walk - you run.

Her feet skidded to a stop as the familiar emergency room came into view, nearly making her trip with the sudden halt. Her movements seemed almost practiced with the near mindless way she moved - triage gown, tie in the back, gloves. This wasn’t her first trauma, and it would be far from the last.

“What do we have?” Bailey’s voice cut through the millions of other noises filling the room - the rustling of fabric, the snapping of latex gloves on skin, the chatter of voices. The ER was ever far from being quiet.

“28-year-old woman stabbed fifteen times in the torso, majority in the chest,” Owen shot back. He rushed forwards when the glint of red and blue lights followed by the sirens that would follow them for the rest of their lives came into view, and the rest of them marched behind.

“God, overkill much?” Cristina muttered low to Meredith. Bailey, who heard everything always, shot a glare over her shoulder. Cristina threw her hands up in defense, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Her face fell the minute Bailey turned away and she shook her head with a quiet scoff.

The doors to the ambulance flew open and out rushed a woman on a stretcher. “BP is 158 over 92, HR is 92,” an EMT announced. Owen cursed under his breath as he took the railing of the stretcher into his hands.

“She’s hypertensive,” he announced. Quickly, other hands began to grab onto the stretcher as well, guiding the women into the hospital doors. He barked out a few names and different orders and Lexie slowly loosened her grip on the railing as her feet quit keeping pace before stopping entirely. She watched as the woman was rushed towards a trauma room, a frown falling on her lips. Trauma was never a pretty sight.

With a sigh she made her way to the receptionist desk near the ER entrance doors where a few of the other residents left behind had gathered.

“That’s the third stabbing in less than two months,” April remarked. A little frown began to form on her lips as she flipped the chart in her hand. “And they’ve all been women in their late 20s.”

She didn’t have to say it. They were all thinking it. The glances exchanged spoke a thousand words.

“You don’t think..” Meredith trailed off. She shot a look towards Cristina, then glanced back at April. The current hypothesis wasn’t looking so hot.

“It’s probably just a weird coincidence,” Lexie was quick to interject. Her words did little to quell the tense energy that filled the emergency room. “I mean, Seattle’s a big city. Plenty of crazy people doing crazy things. I’m sure they’re not related.” She waved a hand dismissively. Then she added, “It is getting close to the holidays. Don’t crime rates increase during the holiday seasons, or something?”

The pager attached to her hip beeped. She groaned, a pout appearing on her face at the sound. She unclicked it from the waistband of her scrub pants to take a glance at the numbers displayed on the screen and she sighed once more. It was Derek.

With a murmur of, “I’ve got to go,” that was met with a few dismissive waves of goodbyes from her fellow residents, she made her way towards the elevators, absolutely not ready for whatever Derek had in store for her now.

Wednesday, September 29. 2:17 PM in Seattle, Washington.

One thing you never want to hear in a hospital is silence. And that’s exactly Lexie had been greeted when she emerged from the imaging room, a stack of paperwork and scans ordered by Derek in hand. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something was absolutely happening and she’d be damned if she was left out of it.

It all started to make sense, though, as she made her descent down a floor of stairs and she noticed a group of her coworkers crowded behind a corner. Mentally she counted heads - Cristina, Meredith, Alex, Jackson, April.. All five of them in the same place at the same time, clearly hiding from someone (or something?), always spelled trouble.

Cautiously, she made her way towards the group. She tried to stand on her tip-toes, trying to look over their shoulders to see whatever the hell it was that was making them all stop in their tracks, but to no luck.

Finally with a huff, she decided to pipe up. “What are we looking at?” Her sudden appearance obviously spooked them, as they all nearly jumped at the sound of her voice, but they quickly relaxed when they realized it was just Lexie. She flashed a little smile that was short lived and didn’t quite reach her eyes with an utterance of ‘sorry’.

“Them,” Meredith said. Lexie leaned to the side and she followed the finger that Meredith pointed with. Never would have Lexie guessed what would be standing before her right now.

There, talking to the Chief and Owen, was a group of people that certainly didn’t look like they belonged together. One man in particular, though, stood out among the rest - a tall man with curly brown locks and the most beautiful face Lexie had ever seen. “I heard they’re FBI agents,” Cristina cut in, knocking her out her little lovestruck daydream, and Lexie’s head snapped so quickly to look back at her, it’s a wonder it didn’t break.

“What?” Was all she could manage in response. “FBI, wh-” She shook her head, trying to clear her head from all the thoughts racing through it. “What would the FBI be doing here?” Her voice dropped low, almost to a rushed whisper.

Cristina shrugged. “Hell if I know.” Lexie frowned. And just as she opened her mouth, ready to say more, Owen gestured in the direction of their little gathering. And when the group of supposed FBI agents looked at them, they all took off, scattering away in their different directions, like roaches when you turned the lights on.

Except for Lexie. She was frozen in place, her blood running cold in her body when their hard eyes locked on her. She forced another smile, a nervous little giggle escaping her as heat washed over her cheeks in heavy waves. She raised her free hand to offer them a half-hearted greeting before pointing behind her with her thumb and then promptly spinning on her heel and hurriedly trying to escape the embarrassment that was that interaction.

Wednesday, September 29. 2:45 PM in Seattle, Washington.

Spencer had drank approximately four-and-a-half cups of coffee since landing in Seattle, and he was not quite satisfied yet.

Would he ever truly be satisfied with the amount of caffeine he consumed? Could anyone, really? The answer didn’t really matter. Not to him, anyways. Especially not now, when the tiredness ran bone deep and the day was nowhere near close to being finished. So, he was going to get another cup.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” he announced offhandedly as he pushed himself up from his seat.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the young genius as he started to make his way in the direction of the coffee machines. “Really?” Morgan said. “Another cup of coffee? Seriously, kid, you’re going to kill yourself with all that caffeine and sugar you consume.” Spencer waved a hand in response and Morgan could only shake head with a small smile falling over his lips.

“Oh, you’re getting coffee?” JJ perked up, craning her neck slightly to catch Spencer’s eye before he disappeared. “Do you think you could get me a cup, too? Please?”

Spencer nodded. “Cream and sugar?” A grin split across JJ’s face at the idea that he remembered what she liked in her coffee. Although, with Spencer, he couldn’t have possibly forgotten in the first place. “You know it!” she called out to him. “You’re the best, Spence!”

“No problem,” he called back to her as he turned the corner.

The trek to the elevator and up to the coffee carts was not a particularly long one, but it did give Spencer enough time to get lost in his thoughts. His movements almost ran on autopilot as he got on the elevator and pressed the button with the number four painted on it.

His feet moved for him, guiding him in the direction of exactly where he wanted to be. Ideas and different theories of their current case filled his head as he walked.

All of this to say - he was not paying attention. Not one bit. Not even as he mindlessly ordered two coffees - one mocha latte with room for sugar and one black with cream and sugar. Not as he began to round the corners that he was starting to become familiar with from turning around so many times due to his near caffeine addiction.

Not even as another body rounded the same corner as him.

It wasn’t until the harsh impact came, the colliding of two people knocking hard into each other and hot coffee being dumped all over each other, that he really came back to reality.

Lexie gasped as the coffee crashed right onto her, burning through her scrubs and stinging her skin. She glanced up, wanting to look whoever just ruined her scrubs in the eye, and it was like the whole world slowed for a moment.

It was cute supposed FBI agent guy.

Her jaw went slack, practically hitting the floor, and all she could do was stare. She almost wanted to pinch herself, check if any of this was really real, but the hot coffee burning her skin told her it was true.

“I’m so sorry,” The words fell out of Spencer’s mouth in an instant. He glanced around in search of something, anything, that could clean up the mess he just made, but he was coming up empty. “Really, I am so sorry-”

Lexie shook her head. “It’s fine-”

Spencer’s eyebrows pinched together. “I just spilled hot coffee all over you, it is not fine.” Lexie could feel her heart skip a beat.

“No, really, it- it’s fine,” she chuckled. “I have another pair of scrubs in my locker, it’s okay.” Spencer didn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

Now it was his turn to shake his head. “Can I make it up to you? You know, for.. getting you doused in coffee and ruining your scrubs.”

Lexie hesitated for a moment. While he was very cute, and seemingly very sweet, she barely knew this guy.

But something inside her told her to take her chance.

“Uh,” she bit down on her bottom lip. She waited for a beat. “Yeah,” she found herself saying, “Yeah, why don’t you buy me a coffee?” Spencer’s whole face lit up at her answer.

Could you blame him, though? Even covered in coffee, the woman before him was absolutely stunning.

“My name’s Spencer,” he finally added. “Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, actually.’” Lexie arched a brow at him, head tilting to the side. “Doctor, huh?” she echoed. “Are you, like, new around here, or something? Did you transfer from another hospital?”

“Oh, no. I- I’m not an MD, I’m, uh.. I’m a PhD.”

Lexie slowly nodded her head. “Right,” she muttered. The smile on her face couldn’t seem to budge. “Well, I’m Lexie,” she stuck a hand out to him, “Doctor Lexie Grey, MD.” They both grinned at her words before chuckling. Spencer found himself thinking her name was beautiful. He glanced down at her outstretched hand and then so did she, and for a moment they were both just staring at her hand.

Finally, he spoke up again, “I- I don’t do handshakes,” he spit out. “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s, uh- it’s actually safer to kiss.”

Lexie nodded her head once more and let her hand fall back to her side. She ran her palm down the side of her thigh, subtly trying to wipe the gathering sweat. A part of her was tempted to ask if he wanted to kiss her, but she held off. For now.

“So, are you a germaphobe, or something? Or do you just know a lot of different facts?”

“Both, actually,” he said. “I, uh, I have an eidetic memory, so I remember everything I read. A lot about bacteria.”

“An eidetic memory?” Lexie echoed. “Really?”

Spencer nodded, a smirk worming its way onto his lips as he began to rock himself on his heels. “And an IQ of 187 and I can read 20,000 words per minute.”

“Oh, so you’re some sort of super genius, is that what this is?”

Spencer shrugged and his smile seemed to grow. “I don’t think intelligence can be defined by arbitrary measures. But for all intents and purposes, I am a genius.”

“You know, that’s really weird, because I actually have a photographic memory,” Lexie said. She tilted her head to the side again. “Does that make me a genius, too?”

Spencer chuckled. “Well, being a doctor isn’t an easy thing to achieve. Especially being a surgeon. I would imagine you have to be fairly smart to become one.”

Lexie’s own smile seemed to grow as well. “Well, Dr. PhD, why don’t you tell me a little bit more about yourself?” She nodded her head in the direction she came from before she started to walk. And Spencer found himself following behind her.

For some reason, Spencer felt like he wasn’t going to regret spilling coffee on her.

for @gghostwriter bc i don't have a taglist <3

(if you would like to be crcb taglist, let me know!!)

60 notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 7 months ago

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 24

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, weed, smut, fluff, angst, more heartbreak

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Can't believe this is the second to last part. Our boy has come far 🥲🤍 If you look closely, you catch a couple of throwbacks. Also, tons of funny moments ahead with some severe stabbing of the heart on the side (last time, tho – I promise 🤞)

<< 23 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

24. Don't Dream It's Over

“Smoke that bong! Smoke that bong! Smoke that bong…”

Y/N hears the girls chanting and giggling as she hops into the common room of the motel on her crutches. She laughs a little as she finds the women in a circle, strewn all over the four couches as they pass a bong back and forth between them. The air is filled with smoke and reeks of reefer – a typical Friday night at the Dusty Spur.

“I thought this was a team meeting about finale ideas,” she teases with a slightly scolding eyebrow and finds a seat on the dingy carpet next to Jo, leaning her crutches against the couch and clumsily lowering herself to the floor with a grunt.

“We are. We just needed a little help with the brainstorming,” Ruby assures innocently and holds the bong out to her with a daring smirk. “Pipe down, Captain!”

Y/N snorts in amusement, shaking her head. “Guys, no. I don’t do drugs.”

“C’mon, last chance. You’re gonna be a cool kid and finally smoke with us or not?” Ruby’s grin widens as she seductively wiggles her eyebrows with a demonic glint.

Y/N sighs, sending her a raised look that’s a bit playful in nature and less chiding than it usually would’ve been. “That feels like peer pressure,” she notes but then smiles coyly. Honestly, after the night she’s had, she could use a little fun and forgetting. “But alright. Gimme that bong.”

Some of the girls holler and cheer as Ruby passes her the bong and even lights it for her while she takes a deep inhale. Jesus fucking Christ, the cloud of smoke blows straight to her head, her throat scratching with a cough. She already feels lighter as if she’s floating through the fabric of the universe.

“You’re a natural. Never been fucking prouder,” Ruby says with a dirty grin and hands the bong to Alex next. Honestly, that girl might have escaped straight from hell.

Jo snorts as she looks at Y/N’s widely blown pupils before her eyes land on the blue and green bruises that decorate her neck and clavicle. “You’ve got something there,” the blonde deadpans, gesturing with an arched brow to Y/N’s throat.

Flustered, Y/N swiftly pulls the collar of her jeans jacket higher, trying to hide the evidence on her skin. “Probably just fell weird or something…”

“Fell in what? A pit full of leeches?”

Y/N bashfully ignores Jo’s teasing and clears her throat. “Sorry I’m late. Those crutches really slow me down.”

But Jo throws her a knowing look. “You’re late ‘cause you’re boning Dean. Own it.”

“What, no…” Y/N scoffs. It’s probably her worst performance to date.

“You haven’t slept here in four weeks. Everyone knows,” Jo says bluntly, watching her friend’s cheeks redden with embarrassment and a trace of panic.

“They do?”

Jo then looks to the group, speaking louder. “Guys? Who here knows about Y/N and Dean?”

Several hands raise without a twitch of surprise on their faces. In fact, they even seem bored by the news.

“Duh,” Ruby says to drive the point home.

“Wait, Dean?” Charlie seems bewildered for a moment before she sighs and pulls out a $50 bill, handing it to a victoriously grinning Ruby. “Dammit.”

“Thank you,” party girl says happily and pockets the money before a few other girls hand her money as well. “Pay up, bitches!”

Y/N’s brow furrows in suspicion and some offense. “Were you guys betting on me?”

“No,” Missouri sings in nonchalance. “We were betting on who you were doing it with. Some of us thought it was Benny, some Dean.”

Y/N gasps as she watches Billie pull out her money as well. “You too?”

Billie shrugs unapologetically. “For the record, I thought your slutty ass was doin’ both of ‘em. Donna even thought you were doing them at the same time.”

You gape at the blonde in shock. “Donna!”

“A girl can dream,” is all Donna says with a twitch of her shoulders.

“I knew it was Dean,” Meg tells you. “I could smell his cologne on you. You also smelled like dick and sex.”

“Unbelievable,” Y/N mutters under her breath, feeling quite speechless. Another part of her feels relieved, though. No one seems to be mad at her. In fact, the girls all seem to digest the news quite well.

There’s suddenly an odd feeling festering in her heart, and her mind wanders back to Dean and the dance, wondering what he’s doing right now. But she fights the part of her that urges her to go back and be in his arms again. Has he been trying to tell her what she thinks he has? Was he about to say–

“You okay?” Jo’s voice hauls her back into the present moment.

“Fine,” Y/N says quietly, shrugging it off. Her eyes then search for Ruby. “Can I have that bong back please?”

Ruby smirks all too happily. “Of course. Look at you!”

As Y/N takes another hit to blast her sorrows into a cloud of reefer, Bela storms upset into the commons. The girls look at her worriedly as she plops down on the couch next to Cassie and pouts.

“I’m getting deported. Your government told me to leave the country in thirty days. I don’t want to go back to England and my awful parents,” Bela groans with a miserable look and crosses her arms as she sinks further into the couch cushions. “What am I going to do?”

“You could marry an American,” Donna suggests half-jokingly.

“Who?” Bela asks wryly with a roll of her eyes and throws her arms into the air. “You think it’s that easy to get a man to marry you?”

Y/N’s eyes widen, the weed hitting her fully. It feels a little like she’s floating outside of her body. “Oooh! Chucky!”

Jo lifts a brow at her suggestion. “Her pathetic stalker fanboy?”

“No! Fuck no!” Ruby huffs, vividly shaking her head. “I mean, perfect solution and no, I don’t have a better idea, but fucking no! The guy is a weird loser.”

“Yes! Marry the weird stalker loser and then divorce him once you’ve got your green card,” Y/N proposes, her red eyes only growing wider. She then gasps as if a giant lightbulb went on in her hazy brain. “Oh my God! Our final show! Season 1, it’s time for a wedding!”

“Not the worst idea,” Billie agrees and glances at Bela, who purses her lips in thought. She doesn’t seem convinced yet, though.

“Cambridge, heartbroken after she discovers Mick is a mannequin after all, finds true love in the arms of her number one fan, Chuck Shurley,” Y/N pitches excitedly, while Jo stifles a laugh next to her, hiding half her face in her blouse. “We’ll pull out all the stops, and you guys get married in the ring! You’re Chucky’s bride! You can finally ride in on a horse!”

Bela sways her head pensively from left to right. “Loving the idea a little more…” She giggles in nervous excitement. “I’ve always wanted a horse. You think Dean will go for it?”

“I’ll make him!” Y/N promises eagerly. Jo’s lips part for a moment, wanting to say something, but then she closes her mouth again.

Ruby raises a brow and deadpans, “How you’re gonna do that? Blow him?”

Y/N almost laughs hysterically. “Yes! This is our finale, you guys! I’m so fucking high! I’m overflowing with genius ideas! Now, I know why Dean does this all the time. Can I have more?”

Jo snorts a laugh, greatly amused. She shakes her head. “Oh no, you’re cut off…”

Even Ruby nods in agreement for once.

Y/N’s been MIA for two days when Dean strolls back into the gym on Monday morning after a really shitty weekend. Claire left with Lisa, but at least he managed to convince her to let his daughter visit during summer vacations and some holidays. He insisted on Halloween, which didn’t receive any protest from Lisa, and promised Claire they’d watch tons of slasher movies together. And when his kid left with tears in her eyes, he might have cried a little, too. Not that he’d admit that to anyone.

Y/N, on the other hand, hasn’t called once or even sent a damn smoke signal, so neither has he. She hasn’t slept over for the first time in goddamn weeks, leaving him cold turkey. So, Dean drank till he passed out on the bed and forgot that her side was depressingly empty while Phil Collins’ A Groovy Kind of Love played on repeat. It was a fucking new low for him in terms of musical taste. He didn’t do drugs, though, and was real proud of himself, considering all the emotional turmoil he’s currently going through.

His skin tingles, nerves sizzling with every step closer to the bleachers. His heart jumps out of his chest with excitement as soon as his green eyes spy Y/N in the ring with Billie and Donna. She looks absolutely stunning. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe before he shakes it off and finds a seat next to Jo, who’s already been impatiently waiting for him.

“We know what you’re thinking, ‘How can she wrestle with a cast?’” Billie throws out rhetorically, all of it feeling eerily like a high school presentation. What’s next? A fucking diorama? Dean knows they’re trying to help Y/N, but he’s already anticipating a bit of a disastrous train wreck.

“I’m the novelty act!” Y/N announces and tries to sell it with a proud grin. God, she’s so fucking cute, and it’s hot all the same. He loves when she gets all nerdy and desperate. It feels a little like a throwback to the time he met her.

“Yes, people love watching someone beat the odds. It’s an underdog story,” Donna adds. Honestly, Dean feels slightly like he accidentally switched on the home shopping channel, expecting them to sell him some broken crap shortly that he doesn’t need and will then rot in a closet somewhere in his house.

“Alright. Take it away. Let’s get this over with,” Dean tells them with a small sigh, ready to placate his not-girlfriend, who actually might not even be his not-girlfriend anymore. She’s his not-not-girlfriend.

The girls then start, and Jesus fuck, it’s not good. Dean can hardly believe they have even worked on this for weeks, but he knows they did. Y/N’s told him as much. He then notices how Jo sinks lower in her seat, her brow creasing and twitching, jaw clenching and lips pressing into a thin line.

“Oh my God, it’s all so slow and weird,” the blonde whispers only loud enough so he can hear. He usually doesn’t agree with her, but…

“Yeah, that’s why I tell her to just lie there whenever we… Never mind.” The green-eyed director clears his throat when Joanna sends him a chiding glare.

But truthfully, having sex with Y/N in a cast has been a bit of a challenge. He mostly just pushes her into a position and makes her do a little role-play without moving around too much. Fuck, he can’t believe he won’t get to nail her in all her moving glory once that cast comes off. It feels a little like a cosmic joke. Yes, you can finally have her but only with broken parts. Dean can hear God laughing upstairs.

“Anyways, she really wants to wrestle,” the director explains sympathetically, keeping one eye on the atrociously dreadful match in the ring for show. Sometimes, he smiles through his pain, too, and nods politely. The three seem to buy it so far. Maybe he should become an actor. “And the girls really want her to be in the ring, too…”

Jo groans under her breath and rolls her eyes quickly, not longer than a blink. She does her fake Miss America smile at her colleagues every once in a while. It’s not as good as Dean’s, though. “You’re weak,” she hisses snappily. “Y/N’s gonna be fine. She deserves the truth.”

Well, by that logic, Dean should also tell her he loves her, and that’s just a ridiculous idea.

“We can’t deliver a match like this. We’ve got network executives coming,” Joanna reminds him and makes a little more sense now. Dammit. Her eyes flicker to the ongoing match with a shudder. “Dean, make it be over, please.”

Dean takes one more look, too, and sees Y/N clumsily tumble to the mat in slow-motion. “Yeah, alright!” Dean jumps up from his chair and raises his voice, taking a few steps closer to the ring. “I’m sorry, ladies, but it’s not… It’s just not working,” he says apologetically and sees Y/N’s face fall.

Oh God, he used to enjoy seeing that face once, all sad and disappointed, but now he just wants to hug her and tell her he’s here for her. Kiss it better. Maybe run her a bubble bath. Just make her happy, you know?

What the fuck happened to him?

“It’s about to pick up steam, I swear!” Donna exclaims, all panicked. At least, Y/N has found great and very loyal friends.

“What if I rip my cast off and land one last move?” Y/N presents her next idea with a dramatic hand gesture and an elevator-pitch smile. It’s like a villainous salesperson trying to sell snake oil. Ah, there it is – the desperate twinkle in her eyes is back.

It’s like walking down memory lane today.

Of course, Y/N would break every idiotic bone in her body to be in this stupid, stupid, stupid show one last time. But don’t worry, Dean’s not going to let her do that. He’s not as insane as you think he is.

“Yeah, let’s not do that.” He shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Y/N blinks at him with puppy dog eyes and a fucking pout as she hops to the railing and leans on the ropes in her tiny leotard. “I might never wrestle again. I don’t wanna go out like this. Guys, please.” More pouting and begging. Where the fuck is he? Hell?! “Dean?”

The director glances back over his shoulder at Jo, close to whimpering. His eyebrows draw together, however, when the blonde mouths, “Weak.”

She shoots a small glare at Dean and clears her throat, looking at Y/N. “If we have a good enough show and get another network to sign us, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to tumble around the ring again,” Jo argues with a convincing smile. She’s so wise all of a sudden. Dean wishes he would get that much clarity from a single line of coke. Since the accident, she seems like a whole other person.

Well, a smidge different.

Y/N seems to accept that bit of wisdom as well, although she lowers her head with a sniffle. Dean even recognizes a few tears brimming in her eyes as she nods defeatedly.

Internally, he sighs. That used to make him happy, too. Back then, when he cut her during auditions and she looked like he was destroying all her hopes and dreams. Back when she hated him so much and that hatred lit up her eyes, stoking the glowing embers of fire inside them. But now, he doesn’t see that hatred and recognizes something else.

That something makes him smile. His heart flutters. She loves him too, doesn’t she? She might never say it, but he can feel it without words.

Dean then rubs his palms together, an idea hitting him. He knows his Alma, after all. She wants to be needed, so he’ll need her. “Alright, how about you’re with me, huh? Co-directing!”

Her face lights up like the brightest spotlight beam. He's this close to hanging her over the ring and save some money on electricity. “Really?”

Dean purses his lips, hiding his smile underneath it. She’s so fucking cute. “Yeah, I mean, you’re gonna do it anyway, so let’s just make it official, alright?”

“Okay, imagine I’m the bride,” Dean says as he swoops through the ropes into the ring.

“Alright, picturing you in a white dress,” Y/N closes her eyes and teases, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her pink lips as she leans on her crutches.

The two of them had been working on the final episode for the last day, Y/N filling him in on her vision of a wrestling wedding. Then, Dean got to work and tried his hardest to make the magic happen. One good thing about co-directing with Y/N is that he can call as many meetings as he wants to under the pretense of the show.

The young actress still hasn’t stopped by his house yet or slept over, but at least he gets to spend the days with her. He actually loves the idea of a wedding. People surely are into that kind of shit – the love shit. And what’s a finale without some satisfying romance?

Dean scolds her with a look, playfully warning her. “Could we take this directors’ meeting seriously, please?”

Y/N hides her grin and gives him a nod. God, he’d love to spank her defiant ass right now.

“Okay, so, I’m the bride, standing right here underneath this beautiful arch in the middle of the ring, being all nervous…” Dean hears her snort a giggle before she stifles it when he sends her another admonishing little glare. The prop department (aka some of the girls) has built an obnoxiously pink balloon arch. “Alright, zoom in, and then bridesmaids are coming out one by one, sliding into the ring.”

“Bela will be riding in on a white horse, by the way,” Y/N declares more than she asks permission. “We’ll make it look like a unicorn.”

Dean curls his lips. “Is that negotiable?”

She firmly shakes her head. “No.”

Y/N’s not usually this confident or disagreeable, so he knows she has most likely conjured up a character role inside her head. Dean probably could tear it apart and make her cave if he really tried, but he doesn’t care enough about a fucking horse to do so. Guess he’s gotta make someone rent a horse somewhere and bring it to the gym.

Benny.

“Okay, I’ll allow it. Keep the horse,” Dean agrees, smirking like the devil on the inside. “So, who’s gonna give the bride away?”

“Why do we need someone to give her away?” Y/N shrugs. “Kinda sexist. She’s not a possession.”

“C’mon, you’re a pastor’s daughter. This is weddings 101.” Dean shakes his head in incredulity. You’d think a woman knows something like that.

Y/N snorts in amusement. “You would know, Mr. Divorced Twice.”

“Ha ha.” Dean narrows his eyes with a warning look. “I thought you girls fantasized about this shit your whole life.”

“Not me. That’s a gross generalization,” Y/N says and holds herself up by the ropes as she slides her crutches into the ring and follows them shortly after. Dean waits patiently till she’s back on her feet and sticks, standing next to him underneath the balloon arch. “I think we need a platform and some stairs leading up with an aisle through the bleachers.”

“Yes!” Dean agrees eagerly as they play off ideas and plan a fucking wedding of all things. He never would've thought they'd do it this soon. However, brainstorming with his Alma has always been his favorite part. Y/N’s still and forever will be his goddamn muse. “A platform, so everyone can get a good look at what true love looks like.”

His heart twinges as he looks at her and the way she smiles and gnaws on her bottom lip, swaying on her crutches. When has she gotten so close to him? He can smell her deliciously seductive perfume and feel her inviting and irresistible warmth. She’s so goddamn close that he could kiss her right now if he really wanted to. And fuck, does he want to.

The director subtly clears his throat, continuing, “Alright, next is, you know, vows… declarations of love… how they can’t live without one another.” His forest-green eyes find hers. He swallows thickly and takes a step closer. His heart skips a beat, and he can tell hers did, too. She sucks in a breath. “You know, fiction,” he adds and grins wryly. Y/N tilts her head, throwing him a look that says she doesn’t buy into his cynicism. Probably for the best since it’s all bullshit, anyways. “And then…”

“They kiss?” Y/N beguilingly smiles up at him, her eyes flashing to his lips. This time, it’s her who steps closer, her body only inches away from his at this point.

A soft smile forms on his freckled face. He dips his head, his fingers reaching underneath her chin and lifting her lips to his. They brush against each other for a few palpitating heartbeats before she parts her mouth and lets him slip inside. His massive hands roam from her cheeks to her neck and down her sides and waist and back up again. Her crutches fall to the mat by her sides as she locks her arms around him and seeks support on his body instead.

He kisses a path along her jawline and back to her ear, his teeth scraping her lobe. His hands hold her close by her waist and dent the taut flesh there. “Little risky, isn’t it? Since when are you okay with gym PDA?” he teases, his gravelly voice sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N chuckles softly and seeks his lips again, kissing him once, twice before she looks into his eyes, the tips of their noses touching. “They kinda already know.”

Amused, baffled, and most of all happy, Dean arches a brow. “Really?”

His heart melts onto the fucking butterflies in his belly till they’re screeching. Maybe he doesn’t need a wrecking ball and a bulldozer to conquer her heart by force. Maybe all it takes to win her over is just a billion tiny baby steps and a plethora of patience. The only problem with that is that Dean can hear the clock ticking away his precious time. There are only two days left till the final show and an impending goodbye.

Y/N nods without a sliver of panic. “Yeah, it sorta came out during our finale meeting. I took drugs.”

Dean blinks in sheer amazement. “I’m sorry, what? You were fun for once, and I missed it?” he teases, earning him a playful slap of his arm.

“Yeah, I smoked a bong and got high,” Y/N tells him with a clandestine grin like she’s sharing a secret only meant for his ears alone.

The green-eyed director snorts, however. “A bong? Reefer? Sweetheart, that barely counts as a drug.”

Y/N gasps, bewildered. “Sure it does! It’s illegal, Dean.”

“You’re such a nerd.” He grins down at her and cups her cheeks, pulling her back to his lips. His mouth wanders down to the column of her throat and the fading bruise there, sucking a new one into her skin. He’s so busy he doesn’t even hear the gym door open.

“Hey boss, might wanna focus that Hoover vacuum somewhere else. Like her clit,” Ruby hollers, laughing loudly as she passes the ring with a few other girls on their way to the changing rooms.

Y/N snorts into his chest, laughing as well. She tries to curb it, but her whole body is shaking in his arms. For weeks, Dean wanted the girls to finally know about them, so he could kiss her whenever and wherever he wanted to. He should’ve known that wish would come with a steep price.

The director heaves a sigh and caresses her cheekbone. “Wanna continue this meeting in my office?”

“Fuck,” Dean groans, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. He slows his thrusts a little, trying to rein himself in before he blows his entire load. He adjusts her legs around his waist and pulls her a few inches closer to the edge of his desk with a bruising grip on her hips.

“You need to hurry up. The show starts in ten minutes,” Y/N reminds him, giggling softly.

Hungrily, he claims her lips and kisses her breathless. “You need to come first.”

Y/N shakes her head before it falls back with a moan when his lips trail a wet path down her throat. “I already came four times. I’m tapped out.”

“Nah, I don’t buy it. I’m not stopping till you wet my dick again, sweetheart,” he threatens with a playful smirk. “So, if you want us to be punctual…”

Dean’s hand dives between them and pushes her leotard further out of the way till his fingers reach her clit properly. Although she’s not performing tonight, he still made her dress up in full hair, make-up, and costume. One, so he could fuck her exactly like this. And two, he still has a surprise in store for her that will surely get him his cock sucked later tonight.

He pushes deeply back inside her, slow and steady strokes of his cock that match the circles on her sensitive flesh. Y/N’s whimpers grow louder, her pussy grips him tighter, and her nails dig deeper into his shoulders.

“Oh shit, Dean! Fuck, that’s it…”

Y/N’s last orgasm is violent as she screams. He can tell it even hurt a little by the sheer force her cunt squeezes his dick. It’s not the small, regular pulses that happen with the first few. This climax feels more like an epileptic spasm, almost causing her to pass out as tears sting her eyes.

Dean can’t restrain himself any longer and spills into her throbbing pussy with a primal cry. When she’s steady enough, his hands let go of her hips and brush her cheeks, pressing kisses to her panting and pink lips.

He rests his sweaty forehead against hers and smiles crookedly. “Last night… You wanna come over to my place after the show? Have dinner with me, enjoy a few drinks?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N agrees and kisses him softly.

As soon as he slips out of her, the young actress then eagerly puts on her headphones and makes herself comfortable in his chair by the monitors, Dean taking a stand behind her. He honestly can’t help the proud grin on his face as he watches her. She’s come so fucking far.

“It’s a full house today. I think we’ve made something that people really love,” Y/N notes with a smile curving her features. It’s almost melancholic in nature. They both know it’s make or break tonight.

“Good. It’ll look great for the suits,” Dean says and leans his palms on the backrest of her chair, looking over her head at the screens.

“Crowley’s here, too.”

The green-eyed director groans slightly at that. “Maybe he came to apologize for being a spineless dickhead. Still can’t believe he left you alone in that hotel room. Probably should’ve bashed his car, too…” he grumbles.

Y/N’s brow raises as she finds his eyes over her shoulder. “Who’s car did you bash?”

“Uh…” Shit. “Dickbreath’s,” he confesses.

Y/N’s face softens. “Really? Why?”

Dean only throws her a look that says, ‘You know fucking why.’

“For me?”

“Yeah. Of course for you,” Dean tells her and pecks her crown affectionately. She smiles gratefully up at him, her eyes watery. He rolls his at her sentimentality, albeit his heart bawls in his ribcage out of sheer happiness. “Get to work. Don’t fuck this up.”

Y/N only snorts at his feigned sternness, not taking him seriously in the slightest. “Alright, boss.”

The music then starts with the classic Wedding March as the first bridesmaids slide into the ring in matching pink and gold leotards. Joanna’s character is, of course, the maid of honor and comes in last before Bela slowly rides down the aisle on a white horse with a pink glitter cone on its head.

“That horse better not shit in here,” Dean mutters and crosses his arms with a sternly knit brow.

“Oh, it’s definitely going to,” Y/N says with an amused chuckle.

Guess Dean will have to find some poor soul to clean all that shit up after the taping.

Benny.

“Where did you guys get that wedding dress from?” Dean asks curiously as he eyes the pompous and puffy princess puke with disdain.

“Oh, it’s Jo’s old one. We agreed to burn it in a dumpster in the parking lot after,” Y/N quips, laughing.

“So, you guys are really friends again?” Dean suspiciously quirks a brow. He hasn’t seen or heard anything to the contrary, but with these two you never know.

“Yeah, better than ever, actually.” Y/N smiles brightly. “She even offered to drive me to my audition in San Diego three days ago.”

“Hey! I was supposed to do that!”

The actress only shrugs. “You were busy.”

Dean purses his lips, his head bobbing. “So? How did it go?”

“Good, I think. They didn’t hate me straightaway. They even smiled. That’s-, uhm, that’s good, right?” With an insecure lip bite, she glances up at him.

Dean twitches his shoulders and gifts her a small smile of encouragement. “Yeah, maybe.”

He’d love to tell her she would surely land that role and hype her up like the best cheerleader in the country, but truth is, he doesn’t want to see her get crushed by the cruel machinery of Hollywood again. There are some things he can’t know nor control. Y/N’s career is one of those things. He wants to protect her heart, and in a way, he’s shielding her from too much disappointment.

“Yeah, I mean, I know I’m not gonna get it, so it’s fine,” she says as casually as possible and gulps, focusing back on the monitors in front of her. But Dean knows it’s a lie. She really seems to want it.

“What’s the part, anyway? You never told me.” Dean smiles interestedly. It feels a little surreal that, come tomorrow, she won’t walk through the doors of this gym anymore and work for him.

“Oh, uh, they’re doing a reimagining of fairytales. It’s pretty cool. I auditioned for Cinderella,” she tells him with bright excitement before trying to rein herself in again.

Admittedly, it sounds like the perfect fit. Evil step-sisters torturing her? She certainly has some experience in that department. Fucking great. Now, Dean’s got to muzzle his own excitement. He believes she might honestly get that stupid role.

“I object!”

Y/N and Dean stop the chitchatting and turn their strayed attention back to the sudden commotion in the ring. All they see is Bela standing with her fanboy underneath the balloon arch. Rufus is dressed in a priest costume and officiating, but then there’s also Cas, who swoops between the engaged couple and pulls Bela to the side.

“Garth, tighten up on this,” Y/N orders one of the camera operators as Dean puts his own headphones on, listening in.

There’s some vivid back and forth before Bela announces she won’t be marrying stalker fanboy Chucky, after all. She’s marrying Cas, instead.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you! Love is fake, just like wrestling!” Chuck screams before the bridesmaids tackle him and throw him out of the ring. The crowd then does the rest and boos the guy out of the gym.

“Granted, this is some amazing television,” Dean notes but then shakes his head, furrowing his brow. “But what the fuck is Cas doing?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N snorts a laugh, amused, her eyes transfixed by the show below. “But Bela’s about to marry a millionaire without a prenup.”

Dean groans. “Oh Cas, you fucking idiot…”

As soon as the vows are exchanged, chaos ensues. The rules for tonight’s battle royal are: Whoever wins the bride’s bouquet, wins the plastic crown. It was Y/N’s idea.

“Y/N, stop humming Dammit Janet,” Dean warns her as soon as he hears the familiar melody again. She’s been doing it this whole week.

The girls then fall out of the ring one by one until only three remain: Joanna, Donna, and Meg.

“Hey, Benny, I want a close-up of Donna’s face as soon as she wins the crown,” Y/N commands into her microphone.

Dean laughs a little, his grin widening. “Oh, Donna’s not winning the crown.”

Her eyes dart to him, brow questioningly creasing. “Is Jo keeping it?”

Dean doesn’t answer her directly. Instead, he grabs her crutches. “Take your headphones off. That fuck before was enough warm-up, right? Ah, never mind. You'll be fine...” He quickly helps her to her feet as she keeps blinking at him in utter confusion. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Dean leads her outside the office and shows her to a zip line with a pulley, leading straight down to the ring. “Alright, don’t do some fancy shit and hurt yourself. Don’t make me regret this. Just catapult in with your foot out, okay? They all know you’re coming, so crown's yours.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but her lips begin to quiver before the first sob follows, a few tears escaping her eyes. She then hops over to him and slings her arms around his neck, crying softly into his chest.

“Okay, alright… Don’t fucking cry. You’re gonna be on TV. Get it together,” he reminds her firmly but can’t help the smile that flickers alive on his face. He rubs her back, hugging her briefly before he lets her go again.

But Y/N only stretches her neck and captures his lips in a passionate kiss. She steals his air right out of his lungs, her wet cheeks brushing his skin and beard. As she withdraws, her eyes find his, shimmering with words she can’t say out loud, although, for a heartbeat, Dean thinks she might. But she pecks his lips instead, her hands grabbing hold of the pulley.

Dean helps her onto the wooden railing and, upon her determined nod, gives her a little push. Cast first, she flies into the ring, the girls tumbling to the ground and rolling underneath the ropes like pins in a bowling alley.

Triumphantly, Y/N grabs the bouquet and takes a few victory laps around the ring before Rufus places the glittering plastic crown on her head. And while she jokes around and does her bit in full Russian persona, her grateful eyes never truly leave the director.

She flashes him a smile, and Dean knows then that he can’t keep it in any longer. It’s all or nothing, make or break tonight.

“This is the best night ever,” Y/N sighs and snuggles herself deeper into his arms, her head lying on his chest as they sit on the loveseat on Dean’s backyard porch and enjoy the quiet chirping of cicadas and splashing of sprinklers on the suburban grass.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees with helter-skelter heartbeats. His fingers grasp her a little tighter as he rests his chin on her crown and inhales her scent, trying to memorize it in case he won’t get to smell it ever again.

It feels like they’re an old married couple, cuddling on the porch under blankets. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they’d been doing this for thirty years. And as Y/N pointed out, he’s already been married twice, so at this point in his life, he truly knows when something feels real and unique. When something needs to be cherished and protected. None of his previous marriages have felt anything like this.

“You think the meeting with the network executives tomorrow will go well?” Y/N asks, glancing up at him as he thoughtfully nurses his beer.

“Maybe, we’ll see,” he sighs and pecks the top of her head. “You girls still planning on going on that insane camping trip tomorrow?”

Y/N giggles. “It’s not insane! It’s supposed to be relaxing. Just us and nature. It’s our last hurrah if you will.”

“You know what else is relaxing? A spa,” Dean retorts. “You guys are no campers. One or more of you is gonna be eaten by a mountain lion or a coyote come Monday.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Y/N laughs. “How can you still underestimate us after all this time?”

Dean only chuckles in amusement. “Sure you don’t want me to book you something in Palms Springs?”

“No,” Y/N insists, laughing. “I’m actually looking forward to this. I even got a trail map. I wanna go hiking.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a sound decision, considering you’re on crutches.” Dean snorts, rubbing his temples. At least a rattlesnake won’t be able to bite through the damn cast on her leg.

“A small hike,” Y/N adjusts her answer. She then twists her head back and cups one cheek, bringing his lips to hers. As she pulls back, she bites her lower lip, a smirk visible underneath. “I think I’m ready for dessert now.”

Dean smiles gently but stops her hand from crawling down his jeans. Fuck, he should get a medal for this. “Hold on a second, okay?”

“Is everything okay? You always want sex.” She looks the same amount baffled as she does worried – like he just ran into the middle of the 101 completely naked after escaping Betty Ford.

“Yeah, no, I-, uh, I just wanna talk for a second, alright?” Dean swallows harshly but is by far not courageous enough to look at her yet. His hand covers hers, drawing small circles with his thumb on the back of it. It’s more for his comfort than hers.

“Oh-kay…” Y/N chuckles nervously, lifting an eyebrow.

“I don’t want this to end, Y/N. I wanna give this a shot,” Dean confesses bravely and finally meets her eyes. His shoulders feel a million tons lighter as the words rush out. He’s caged them for so long in his heart, it almost feels odd to set them free now.

“What d’you mean?” Y/N straightens in her seat a little, her brow creasing more and more with every passing second. He knows it might go horribly wrong at this point, but he needs to get it all out in the open. Shoot his goddamn shot before it’s all too late. Dean wants to be buried with as little regrets as possible.

He has already accumulated enough of those over the years. His first two wives, not seeing Claire grow up, the drug addiction, and one godawful movie. He doesn’t want Y/N to be among those things.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you gotta know at this point.” Dean looks at her, gauging her reaction. But all he sees is a sea of confusion and denial.

“Know what?” Y/N starts to get defensive, so he does as well.

“That I’m in love with you,” Dean grits with some bark in his voice, which is probably not the best way to deliver a love declaration.

Y/N’s mouth parts, but no words come out. She looks shocked, but Dean can’t tell whether it’s because she really didn’t know or because she didn’t ever think he’d say it.

“I didn’t know…”

“Yes, you did,” Dean snaps, the anger and frustration inside of him surging. “Is this really how you’re gonna play it? C’mon, I know you want this, too.”

“I-I don’t, okay? I’m sorry if I misled you,” Y/N retreats further and blinks at him apologetically.

“Oh, you didn’t.” He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head at the audacious incredulity. A part of him hoped she would just admit it and say it back if he pushed her hard enough. But if anything, he knows she’s a stubborn one. “I mean, Jesus fuck, Y/N! Would you just stop being a fucking idiot?”

“I’m not being an idiot,” Y/N defends. “Why are you being mean?”

“You are, and I’m not! You’re just fucking frustrating me,” Dean huffs and takes a deep breath to calm down a little. How the hell is he supposed to get through that thick head of hers? “You’re really gonna throw all this away? You and me… what we have… Do you know how fucking rare that is? ‘Cause I fucking do. I’ve looked all my life for this… for you.”

“I-I thought this was just sex for you… You said this was just fun,” she argues.

“Do you really think that? Y/N, if all I wanted was easy fun, I would’ve kept fucking Bela,” Dean tells her bluntly and watches her gaze fall into her lap where she fumbles with her fingers.

“I don’t wanna lose you as my friend,” she says quietly.

“Well, you’re gonna. I can’t keep doing this with you. Either you love me, or you don’t. This is it,” he says plainly. Maybe an ultimatum isn’t the best way, but Dean can’t do it anymore. If he plays this game with her any longer, whatever is left of his plastic heart might disintegrate for fucking good. “I love you. I fucking love you.”

Y/N’s eyes begin to sting with tears. Her lower lip trembles as she swallows. “I-… I should go. I’m sorry.”

Clasping his mouth with a palm, Dean defeatedly falls back into the seat and stares up at the dark night sky above him. He nods, tears brimming in his green eyes. “Mhm, yeah, you should. Go. Fucking leave…”

Dean doesn’t look at her. He can’t watch her go, so he willfully keeps his eyes trained on the few stars that weren’t swallowed by light pollution till he hears the front door softly shut.

Fuck.

25. Dare

You're probably screaming right now, and I get it. But let's give our girl some time to think, alright? I have a feeling some stinging desert sun will help with that. After all, you can't have a finale without some satisfying romance 😏

Focus on the good and funny! What was your favorite moment of this part? 👑💖

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73

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gunsandspaceships · 4 months ago

Text

MCU Timeline: Iron Man. Part 3 (The Cave)

Part 1, Part 2

We know Tony spent 3 months in captivity:

He was in Afghanistan from late January/early February 2008 until May 2. Since we don't have exact dates for February-April, for convenience I will take approximate ones and write down the periods of time that might be needed.

Day 1 (~Feb 5):

~3:30 pm - the attack. Tony is mortally wounded and captured by the Ten Rings. They give him emergency medical care to keep him from bleeding out and, while he is unconscious, transport to their base in the mountains. They are not very gentle and add abrasions to his head.

Evening - Raza records a video for Stane.

Same night - Yinsen performs surgery to remove shrapnel and bolts an electromagnet into Tony's sternum.

In 2 weeks (~Feb 20):

Tony finally wakes up (he partially woke up earlier - there is blood on his right hand and on the bandages, which means he was messing with his wounds not long ago).

He meets the Ten Rings and refuses to work for them.

The Ten Rings torture Tony by dunking him in a barrel of water. Due to this (electromagnet in chest+water are not good for one's heart) or to shrapnel-inflicted damage to his heart, Tony develops arrhythmia.

During the torture, Tony's brain comes up with the idea of a miniaturized arc reactor.

Why so long? 1) Facial hair on his cheeks and neck has already grown. It is about two weeks long; 2) His wounds needed time to heal; 3) Some of the wounds on the torso have already developed scars; 4) He had a nasogastric tube inserted, which means enough time had passed for him to need it; 5) His lips are very dry and chapped.

Next few days (~Feb 21-22) - torture continues, this time they beat him on the head.

~Feb 22:

The Ten Rings take Tony outside to show him the SI weapons they have, and offer "to free" Tony if he builds them the Jericho. Tony "agrees". He sees that they have missiles with palladium, which he needs to build the reactor.

Later that day, Tony comes up with an idea for how they can escape: the armor.

~Feb 23-29 - "one week before death". Tony and Yinsen work on the reactor and pacemaker. Tony makes a drawing of Mark 1.

~March 1 - Yinsen performs the second surgery to implant the pacemaker, the housing for arc reactor and the reactor.

~March 1-April 12 (about 6 weeks) - post-op recovery:

First 4 days (~March 1-5) - Tony is unconscious and on a ventilator to help him breath.

~March 5 - Tony wakes up.

~March 15 - Yinsen starts physiotherapy to restore Tony's movement.

~April 6 - Yinsen removes bandages (scene on the surveillance camera).

~April 6-12 - Tony is almost recovered, but not yet strong enough to work. So he and Yinsen play backgammon, drink tea and talk.

How can we tell that a lot of time has passed between these two scenes (Tony showing Mark 1 drawing and the backgammon scene)? In the backgammon scene, Tony is shaved and his skin is clear - there are no traces of small wounds on his face and neck, as well as the long cut on his collarbone that was visible earlier.

~April 12-29 - work on "the Jericho" - Mark 1.

End of April - Rhodey goes back to Afghanistan with pararescue to search for Tony.

April 29 - Raza threatens Tony and Yinsen, demanding that they build him the Jericho by tomorrow. Tony and Yinsen work intensively all day, night and the next morning.

April 30 - Escape day:

Morning - Tony and Yinsen assemble Mark 1. They attack the Ten Rings. Yinsen dies. Tony destroys the base and escapes.

Evening - wounded Tony wanders through the desert. Hypovolemic shock kicks in. Rhodey finds him.

Why the same day? In the "Iron Man novelization" (not canon, based on an original script, unreliable source) and "I Am Iron Man" comics (many scenes are also different and cannot be seriously considered canon), Tony spent the night in the desert. The scenes in the book and the movie are very different. In the book, Tony was unconscious and unable to move when Rhodey found him. In the movie, Tony is not that exhausted. He couldn't walk all day and night in the desert and be so active. Also, it gets very cold there at night, and Tony used the jacket to cover his head from the sand, not to keep himself warm, which would have been more important. Still he's cold, but it's daytime (it is hot in the desert in April). Therefore, it must be from hypovolemic shock and not from the actual ambient temperature.

May 1 - Before returning home, Tony had to spend some time in a hospital at a military base in Afghanistan. During this time, he and Pepper were contacted by the Department of Defense, the FBI, and the CIA.

May 2 - Tony comes back to US.

Part 4

#marvel #mcu #tony stark #iron man #mcu timeline

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abrcmswrld · 1 year ago

Text

Treacherous | Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: Reader and Mike have been best friends since childhood. After a fight, Reader is given a surprise visit.

Warnings: General Angst, General Fluff, a suggestive make out scene in the nude but nothing too crazy, mentions of feminine clothing in one part but overall gender neutral

Author's Note: IM EDITING THIS RN SO PLEASE JUST IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND LIKE DUMB STUFF This is my first fic for Mike so bear with me! I tried so hard to adhere to the movie timeline but if it seems shaky please just ignore it lmao. I'm also bad at pacing sorry. I’d love to make this a series cause I’m in love with a good friends to lovers trope.

Mike had always been a bit of a mess. All of the time that you've known him, this has never changed. You can recall times on the playground of boys calling him names for his sensitivities. How were they to know the gravity of his situation? How were you to know? But you always felt called to stand up for him either way.

So you'd hound them off. You'd grab his hand and pull him off the dirt and to a quiet corner of the playground. The two of you would sit on the wooden border, picking at the grass and watching the other kids play.

His sensitivities would quickly turn to a certain hardness that you'd never fully come to understand, even in your late twenties. He'd open up the tiniest bit in high school, after his mother had passed away. He was only 17 years old. You were still children.

You have memories of standing uncomfortably in the dress your mother had insisted you wear to the funeral. You didn't know how to approach him then. He sat alone in a chair on the far side of the funeral home, a blank expression on his face. You couldn't say a word as you took tiny footsteps towards him. And he didn't say a word either, just looked up with bloodshot eyes. You'd hugged him then, feeling his shoulders shakes against you.

Soon it was time for the two of you to start thinking about college and your lives outside of the scope of small town high school. Talks of plans to find something new and excited were quickly stomped out by the failures of his father. You can recall a 23 year old Mike begging for your company on late nights when his father's drinking had reached a climax.

And you'd gladly show up for him. Abby was only six by that time, and Mike was all she had. Mike spoke about his father with disdain to you. Never crying the way he had as child, but you could see a sad anger within the conversations. And really, you couldn't blame him.

You can remember a night on the roof of your childhood home. It wasn’t your first time sneaking Mike through the window of your bedroom. It was a cold December night, and you were home for the holidays.

“I don’t think my dad’s coming back.”

Your knees were pulled up and under your chin as you rest your head and listened to his worries. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean, he hasn’t been back for three days and I think this might finally be it.”

You furrowed your brows and met his gaze.

“I’ll move back here.”

In that moment he had begged you not to. You were so close to finishing your degree and he insisted that he could not be the reason you didn’t finish. So you heeded to his wishes. You finished your final semester.

In the 6 months that you were gone after that night, his dad had not returned. Mike had stepped up to be a guardian for his sister. Family court would later assure this in legal documentation.

You had hugged him tightly the first night you were home and assured him that you would be there, for the both of them.

━━━

You would prove that to him when his original babysitter had ghosted him.

“Probably got tired of not being paid.” He had said when you asked why.

You don’t ask for pay. You had a day job that kept you stable enough to live. And as Mike’s hours were night shift, there was really no problem with the arrangement.

It would go on for a few weeks. You hadn’t seen pay, but you didn’t mind. Mike would cook you breakfast when he got home. That was payment enough for you.

But you could notice he wasn’t doing well. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He had confided in you about the actions of his Aunt Jane. He showed you the papers with bold letters proclaiming a request for a change of custody. His stress and worry made sense to you now.

He would have to prove he was fit, a big ask in a court setting, especially for someone like Mike. You had encouraged him the best you could.

But everything had come to a head on a night when Mike had intended to actually pay you.

He woke you from your light sleep on his couch, alerting you that he was home. He sat his tired body on the recliner.

“There’s a 20 dollar bill in my jacket pocket.”

His eyes are closed as he speaks. It seems the night has been a rough one for him. “You don’t have to, but thank you.” You find the jacket lying on the kitchen table. You feel slightly bad as you reach your hand in to find the bill, but your guilt falls into confusion as your fingers brush the tiny bottle inside.

You let your eyes travel over the orange bottle in your hands. You furrow your brows. You turn to face the recliner he sits in.

"Mike."

He turns his head to face you, tired eyes falling on yours. He sees the bottle in your hands and you can see a sense of uncertainty and dread fall across his features.

"What are these? Sleeping pills?"

He immediately tenses, as if he had been avoiding this topic with everyone. But he responds quietly, “Yes.”

You fall silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Realistically, there was nothing wrong with sleeping pills. People use them all of the time to sleep. But Mike seems hesitant to cover the topic of these pills and why he uses them.

An additional concern comes up in the way he had stuffed them in his jacket pocket. Why was he taking them to work? You hate the way your thoughts sound like the micromanagement of a mother, but all you can see is the bright yellow of the custody papers and Abby’s sweet face in your mind.

“Have you been taking these at work?”

He’s silent. It’s enough of an answer for you. You sigh as you sit the bottle down on the kitchen counter. You’ve known he wasn’t well. The incident that had gotten him fired from his last job, the dark circles under his eyes, the hardness about him, it all worried you. But you had always chose to let him live. Let him make his mistakes.

“Mike, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

He lets out a spiteful scoff as if the conversation is beneath his worries at the moment. He lets out a shaky sigh. “I feel connected to him there. I don’t know why, but I do.”

There’s no doubt in your mind who he is referring to. His baby brother. The one he couldn’t save. You let him continue.

“If I can put myself into the right state of mind, I can see it. I can watch it over and over. And if I try hard enough maybe I might see who took him.”

He voice drifts off to a quiet and weak tone, “That’s all that matters to me.”

You can tell he’s hurt by the way that his voice comes out strained and weak, and it hurts you too. It’s not as if you couldn’t understand the pain of the situation. He’d cried to you all those years back when it first occurred. What you can’t understand is how he could let it ruin his relationship with Abby. Abby who is alive and well. Abby who, even if discreet, sees Mike as the moon and stars.

“And what about that little girl who sits around and draws you all day long?”

It makes you feel like a bitch to even say such a thing to him, but if it gives him a shake maybe it’d be worth it. “What about her?”

He stands still as a statue, emotions shifting across his face as he processes the words you’ve shot at him. You’re sure they strike like a bullet. His mouth opens and closes again, so you speak again.

“I know how badly you want to bring him back, Mike. To bring him back and be able to pretend none of that ever happened.”

He furrows his brows and you can the see the hurt flood his expression.

“But you’re going to lose them both if you don’t get your shit together.”

You sigh. You hate the way you sound like a mother scolding a child. You take a shaky breath. “Do you think that this job is really good for you? I mean-“ He cuts you off with a scoff and a laugh.

His tense attitude has you uncomfortable and defensive. You hate the way your voice becomes strained as you speak. “I just think it’s taking a toll on you.”

“I need this job, otherwise I’m never gonna see her again.”

And of course you know that. He needs a job to look good for a court that’s supposed to be able to decide if he’s right to take care of his sister. But what good does a job do on paper if the court can clearly see the way his mental stability is shaky? He hesitates and meets your eyes with a tense look as he speaks,

“You’re here to babysit Abby, not me.”

You stand silently in front of him for a moment before grabbing your coat. You turn toward him. You can see the quirk of regret on his expression, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t take it back.

“It’s gonna take more than a shitty job that drives you crazy to keep her. I think you should find somebody else to babysit Abby.”

There’s malice in your tone and you hate it. But you can’t make excuses for him. You ignore his voice as he says your name quietly. You just let the door close behind you a you walk to your car. You wait for the door to open again behind your back. It doesn’t.

He doesn’t text you either. In fact, you don’t hear from him for another week and you wonder if he’s already replaced you and plans on holding the grudge.

You assume he must have. He must have found another babysitter for Abby. It seemed he was saving money to actually pay whoever took that role.

You can’t stop yourself from becoming more and more sad as the week goes on. You find yourself worrying more and more about Mike. And Abby. There’s no doubt in your mind that Jane was still adamant on proving in court that Mike was an unfit guardian.

You don’t know why you feel as though your presence could somehow remedy that. You don’t know why you feel an ache so deep in your heart. Friendship breakups are common. But Mike was different.

You still don’t let yourself text him. You would give him the power to choose that route. To choose you and the friendship you had given him since you were both children. And by the end of the week you have to force yourself to sleep.

And by the end of the week you get what you had secretly hoped for.

━━━

The knock on your door is urgent. You're half asleep as you rise out of the comfort of your bed. Your feet press against the cold floor as you rush to see who it could be. As you glance through the peephole you're met with those familiar black curls.

You open the door swiftly, shivering at the cool breeze that flows in. He looks like hell. Abby stands at his side. You're stunned, "Oh my God." You open the door wider and usher the two of them in.

Abby seems to be physically uninjured, while Mike's face is bloodied and bruised. You whisper to Mike,

"What the hell happened?"

He looks to Abby before he answers. "Abby should get some rest while we talk." You nod immediately. "Of course. She can sleep in my bed while I patch you up."

You lead the young girl to the bed and ensure she's tucked in. She thanks you quietly before you leave the room. You grab some first aid supplies from the bathroom cabinet on your way back.

"Sit."

You point Mike in the direction of the couch. He winces as you wipe the open cuts with alcohol wipes. You raise an eyebrow, “ You look like hell, Mike.” He scoffs in response.

“So you gonna tell me who did this to you, or am I just gonna have to keep wondering?”

Mike hesitates. You stop your movements to look at him with concern. He shakes his head, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” You sigh,

“Mike, I know you. Just tell me.”

And so he does. He explains everything down to the little details he can remember. It sounds crazy, it absolutely does. But you can’t bring yourself to think he’s faking it.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. She knows what she saw.” He points in the direction of the room Abby was soundly sleeping in.

“I believe you.”

He closes his eyes and exhales a large breath. You continue to clean the cuts along his face and head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” He nods. There’s still an awkward tension between the two of you. He’s upset with himself for letting you leave the way you had, and you’re ashamed of yourself for letting him push you away. You break the silence at the same time,

“You know-“

“I’m sorry-“

You can’t help but laugh a little, and he smiles weakly back at you.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You continue.

He shrugs. “You were just looking out for me. I understand that now.” It means a lot coming from Mike. He’s stubborn, not usually one to admit when he’s wrong. It makes the moment all the more sincere. You smile slightly, letting a hand brush his cheek where a bruise is blossoming under the skin.

“I wouldn’t have said what I did if I didn’t care about you.”

He nods slowly and leans his cheek into your caress. You can feel the warmth of his hand as he lets it fall to your hip. His voice falls to a whisper.

“I care about you too.”

You smile and swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, where the plush skin has split from impact and smeared blood across his pale chin. He groans as he leans up, it’s only then that you notice the large gash on his side.

He attempts to stand, hobbling on his injured leg. “Mike,” He turns toward your bedroom, ready to grab Abby and get out of your hair. When he turns his back, you can see the blood seeping through his shirt and the large tear across his back. You grab his hand,

“Mike.”

He faces you again, letting a quick glance fall to your now connected hands. “Let her sleep, she’s alright. Let me help you.”

He stands awkwardly in front of your bathroom counter. His muscles flex with each touch of your fingers around his wounds, his fingers gripping the counter until his knuckles are white.

“I think it’d be best if you took this off.”

You’re awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his long sleeve shirt. He meets your gaze in the mirror and you feel small. Your voice is nearly a whisper, “I- I just can’t see.”

You stare at the floor as he pulls the shirt over his head. The gash is messy, but not deep enough to require stitches. Regardless, it’s covered in a thick layer of blood and sweat. You usher him to turn, and you see that the cut on his side is not better.

He can see the way your eyebrows screw together. “Is it that bad?” His voice has a touch of dread hidden in its tone. “I mean,” You glance at him.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you need to clean them or they’re gonna get infected.”

He swallows and nods. You walk to the shower, turning the knobs and adjusting the water to an appropriate and comfortable temperature. You clear your throat, “Here. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you…do your thing.”

You turn on your heels to give him privacy. As soon as your fingers touch the metallic surface of the doorknob, his hand catches your free hand, pulling gently. You turn toward him, meeting his eye. He pulls you closer and carefully pulls you into an embrace. You’re worried you’ll catch his wounds with your hands so you let them hover above his skin, not actually touching. But you want to.

You can feel his breath on your neck where he’s buried his face. He speaks into the sensitive skin, “Thank you. I don’t thank you enough.” That’s the moment you finally let your hands rest on his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mike. I do it because I care about you.” You gently brush your fingers across his upper back, avoiding his cut. “Besides, you’d do it for me.”

He pulls himself from your neck, and you drop your hands from his back gently, expecting him to pull out of the embrace. But he stays close to you and only pulls back enough to see your face. Your cheeks are so hot. You can feel it and you know he can probably see it. He keeps his hands at your sides, just above your hips in a way that feels respectful. You allow yourself to put your hands on his forearms, thumbs resting in the bend of his elbows.

“Your water is gonna get cold.”

It’s a whisper as it comes out. He simply nods but doesn’t drop his hands from your sides. You smile shyly at him.

“Come with me.”

Your face is instantly hot and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the steam that’s building in the room and around the two of you. With your eyes wide and your mouth opening but no words coming out, he looks at you with hesitation, like he can’t believe the words actually left his mouth.

You can see the fear building on his expression the longer the silence drags on. Thoughts are racing through your head. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of this. You loved him. There’d always been a flutter in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks that let you know that perhaps it could be more than a friendship. You want that. But is this really how it’s going to happen?

You imagine the two of you going from childhood friends to becoming well acquainted with each other’s bodies in the span of one stressful night after not speaking for nearly a week. But there are no alarm bells going off in your head. You can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

So you kiss him. With his arms still around you and the heat from his bare chest creating a sense of protection from everything. With the whirl of water hitting the tub filling your ears. With the image of Abby sleeping soundly in your bedroom in your mind.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a sense of longing you’ve not seen on him before. You don’t want to say a word, not right now. It’ll be complicated. You know it will be. And you’ll have to have that conversation eventually, but right now the only thing you want is the heat of the water and the silk of his skin against yours.

So you finally unwrap yourself from him to begin working the buttons on your shirt. You’ve turned your brain off momentarily. Your fingers are on autopilot as they remove each article of clothing. If you allowed yourself to think, you’d surely turn in on yourself from the shame.

But when you’re finally bare and displayed in front of him, he doesn’t speak. He only looks with a fondness in his eyes that goes beyond a lustful stare. He slowly works his pants off his injured figure, wincing in the process, and soon he’s just as bare as you.

You’re shaking and cursing yourself internally for doing so. God, why were you shaking? You know he notices as he reaches his hand out to touch your arm lightly, grounding you in reality, and speaks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. More than okay.

The water feels heavenly as it beats against the skin of your back. Mike hobbles into the shower after you. He’s hesitant as you usher him to switch with you. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s necessary.

Your fingers lightly brush the wound on his back. He'd already been wincing slightly from the sting of the water, but your touch has him tensing immediately. You grab a cloth and dampen it enough to be effective in cleaning the general blood and grime from the afflicted wound.

The moment your cloth cover hand touches the wound, he cries out through closed teeth, "Fucking- fuck!" His hands are planted against the shower wall in front of him. He bites his lip, holding in the whimpers of pain, trying his hardest not to wake Abby.

"Shh. It's okay, Mikey."

You let a gentle hand fall to his non injured side, brushing his skin. You're trying to sooth his tense and pained form as much as possible.

Soon enough you have both gashes cleaned up and ready to be bandaged. Mike turns to face you in the shower. His face still has a slight touch of discomfort to it, but he smiles weakly at you.

“Thank you.”

You smile back and nod. You’ve hardly said a word outside of attempting to sooth his pain with sweet words. The cold is starting to seep in from the tiny crack in the shower curtain. You can feel tiny goosebumps beginning to form on your skin. He frowns slightly and breaks the silence again.

“Did I cross a line…with this?”

Your head is already shaking before you can even comprehend the question. Like your body knows the answer before your mind does. “No, Mike.” He hesitates in his response, standing still and quiet before stepping towards you.

He seems to be able to move around a little better. You’re not sure if it’s the water cleaning the previously irritated wounds or if it’s the adrenaline pumping through his body. Either way you’re thankful as his hands are grabbing at your face and pulling you into another kiss.

It’s sloppier than the previous kiss you had shared, and he’s pushed you back so far that your back is hitting the cold tile of the shower wall. A fog has taken over your mind as you reach around his shoulders, digging your fingers into the plush muscle of his back.

The feeling of his tongue swiping into your mouth has sent you entirely mad. You’re whining slightly at the feeling and your eyes are half lidded. You can’t even think of the fact that this is your childhood best friend kissing you. Making you shudder. You can’t find it in you to care, you want him.

“Mikey…”

It’s a whispered moan as you let your head fall back against the tile, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his wandering mouth.

Despite his injured form, his hands are tight around you. You'd thought of this before, in the heat of the night alone in your high school bedroom, hormones taking over completely.

You'd imagined the strong grip of his hands and the contrast of his plush lips. The bite of white teeth and soothing warmth of the hot water.

It’s absolutely divine, you think. He is divine. You know you’ll have dark bruises on your neck from the way he bites. You can’t help but run a hand through the hair on the back of his head and tug slightly. The moan is elicits rumbles through your neck and you want more.

You’re absolutely drunk off of the feeling of his body being this close to yours, nearly intertwined. You don’t even think when your nails swipe the cut on his back. That is until he lets out a yelp in the crook of your neck and promptly jump back.

You’re wide eyed immediately, realizing what you’d just done.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mike.”

You can still see the remnants of a wince on his face but he laughs. And you find yourself letting out a nervous laugh with him. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

You laugh again, holding the palm of your head to your forehead.

“We should probably get out. It’s getting cold.”

You nod.

━━━

You manage to sneak past Abby’s sleeping figure long enough to grab old clothes from your room. You find yourself thanking the universe than Abby is a heavy sleeper.

You’re also thankful that you hadn’t given Mike back an old t-shirt that he had left in your home years ago. He smiles at you when you hand it to him. He puts it on and examines the familiar print on the front.

“You’ve been holding this one hostage, huh?”

You gently nudge his shoulder and let out a chuckle. “Shut up.”

You’ve layered blankets in the middle of your living room floor. You speak as you lay pillows down on the makeshift palette. “Abby is sleeping peacefully, I’m not letting you drive home tonight, and there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on my tiny couch.”

You point exaggeratedly at the “bed” you’ve created for the two of you. “Ta-da.” You let yourself fall back onto the layers of pillows and blankets. It’s surprisingly cushioned. You sigh. “Actually not that bad, Mikey.”

He watches you with a smile from his seat on your couch. “You’ve really out done yourself.” He slides off the couch and into the layers of blankets and pillows next to you. He turns to rest on his uninjured side, facing you. It’s dark in the room, but you’ve left one lamp on. You can see his features glow under the warm light. You brush a hand on his cheek lightly.

“I’m glad you didn’t die tonight, Mike.”

He snickers, but you’re serious. The thought of his face on the news, just another tragedy at Freddy’s, haunts you. “I’m serious.”

He simply stares at you. “You’re not gonna go back there, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna take care of her. I can’t keep a job.”

Your thumb brushes at his cheek, soothing his tension. “I’ll help you. When have I ever left you alone in this?” You shiver as you think of the only time you’d walked out on him after that heated argument. You push the thought away and close your eyes.

“Really love you, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

You open your eyes hesitantly and you can see the shine of moisture in his. “Love you too.”

You place a kiss on his lips. It’s chaste, but full of a deep warmth. It leaves you wondering what comes next.

You tuck yourself in close to him.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff

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autumnshighlady · 9 months ago

Text

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 24)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris is now High Lord, but the three of you have a serious talk

warnings: Feysand slander, tooth-rotting fluff and adorableness to make up for the emotional last few chapters

word count: 5.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: to those of you who thought the last chapter was the end, do not fear! There's still 5-10 more chapters to go. But the poor reader finally gets a break. This is a chill chapter with lots of fluff as a little treat, enjoy

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23

read on ao3

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It had been three days since Eris killed Beron in the dungeons. After it was done, the new High Lord ordered Azriel to take you to your room, where you would be guarded and seen by servants for your injuries. You had protested, wanting to join your mates in dealing with the aftermath of the days’ events, but were quickly shot down.

“Absolutely not.” Eris had said sternly. “You have been beaten senseless and need time to heal. There are going to be lots of angry individuals and people attempting to challenge me, and I will not have you anywhere near that. We will find you when things settle down, I promise.”

Additionally, he had mentioned that he would be blaming his father and brother’s death on Hybern assassins – they had snuck into the castle in an attempt to wipe out the Vanserra bloodline while they slept. The story was that Beron had been slain during his late night walk around the dungeons, the assassins had attempted to kill you as well, but Malgorm died defending you. Hence an explanation for your injuries and a way to keep you sheltered from the chaos of Eris’s transition to High Lord.

The idea that Malgorm would be perceived as a noble hero in the narrative made you roll your eyes, but Eris assured you that there wasn’t a single individual in this court who didn’t know how vile Malgorm truly was. It made you feel slightly better.

You had been bored out of your mind for the past three days. Your injuries were almost fully healed, thanks to the work of the healers. Nesta had come to visit you a few times, brushing your hair or holding you in her arms until you fell asleep again. You yearned for the additional comfort of Eris’s presence, but he was understandably busy. Nesta insisted he was remorseful for his lack of time to see you, but you could feel it through the bond already.

Part of you was still angry with Eris for hiding his knowledge of the bond. Deep down, you knew he did it out of concern for your safety, but even though you had come to terms with the idea of Eris being your mate, the betrayal still stung. You tried to ignore it – Eris had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to help you and Nesta, the least you could do was give him the benefit of the doubt. But with everything that had happened, there hadn’t been a good time to talk about it with him yet.

Lirilla had also paid you one or two visits over the past three days. She had thanked you over a dozen times, tearfully expressing how she owed you an eternal debt for bringing her back at the cost of never seeing your own mother again if you were to die. You had teared up in response, a hundred different emotions running through you. At first, you had expected to feel some faint resentment, knowing your mother’s soul had brought back the Lady of Autumn.

But there was none. In fact, you had an opportunity few others had – to say a proper goodbye to a departed loved one, and have one final moment wrapped in their embrace. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t cried into your pillow several times over the memory, clinging onto it as if it would fade away into the breeze. But somehow, having Lirilla alive and present helped you.

Night began to fall on the third day since Beron’s death, and it took you great effort to pry yourself out of the warm bubble bath a servant had drawn from you. Lavender and mint clung to your scent from the healing soaps you had used to scrub yourself raw, still feeling the sticky sensation of Malgorm’s blood being painted over you. No matter how many times you bathed, it wouldn’t go away.

After putting on a pale grey nightgown, you settled into bed to read when a soft knock sounded at your door. The inside of your chest warmed and fluttered like a cat purring, and you felt the bond glow with happiness. You knew who it was before the door even opened. “Come in, Nesta.” You called out, propping yourself up on the lush green pillows.

Nesta entered your room, still wearing her dark red dress from dinner. Half her hair was pulled back into a braid, the other half cascading down her back in elegant waves. In her hand was a plate of fresh strawberries, the unmistakable rich smell of chocolate coming from the small bowl beside the fruit.

Your mouth watered. “Please tell me those are for me.”

“No, I brought them all this way just to make you watch me eat them in front of you.” Nesta said dryly, closing the door behind her. “Of course they’re for you. I snagged them from dessert. Figured you’d want some.”

“Obviously.” You said, shifting more to the centre of the bed and patting the space next to you. The bed was absolutely massive, leaving tons of room for the female to come sit beside you. After kicking off her shoes and sliding under the thick covers, she settled the plate carefully on her lap. Wordlessly, you curled into Nesta’s side, resting your head on her chest and sighing contently. Slender fingers came up to tangle themselves in your hair, gently caressing the locks. Nesta’s free hand reached down and grabbed a strawberry, dipping it in the chocolate before bringing it to your lips. Eagerly, you lifted your head slightly and moaned as warm dark chocolate hit your tongue, along with the sweet taste of the freshest strawberry you’d ever had.

“Mmm…” You mumbled, swallowing the delicacy. “I could die happy right now.”

With the hand that was stroking your hair, Nesta smacked you lightly. “Don’t you dare even joke about that,” She scolded. “You’ve had too many close calls for that to be even remotely funny.”

“Whatever. Feed me another chocolate covered strawberry and I’ll shut up about it.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but obliged, and you rested your head back on her chest after swallowing. You couldn’t help but notice how different she was now from when you first met her in the House of Wind. Her body had filled out, soft flesh hiding the brittle bones that used to stick out from underneath her pale skin. For Nesta to be relaxed enough to be this close to you as a huge change. She was not on edge, body tense and flinching with every shift in movement. Even when you had tentatively held her hand or brushed your knee against hers while in the Night Court, she seemed afraid of the contact, always tensing before relaxing into you.

Now, she showed no signs of anxiety. You knew that physical touch was not something that Nesta was used to, but you could tell through the bond that she was comfortable doing it with you.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Nesta asked, noting your silence.

“You.” You said truthfully.

She snorted. “Care to elaborate?”

“You’re different now.” You admitted, choosing your words carefully.

But her voice was curious, not defensive as she spoke. “How so?”

“I feel like you’re more… you. You’re not putting up a wall anymore. You seem more comfortable in your own skin, that’s all.”

You felt Nesta rest her cheek on the top of your head. “I do. You’ve helped me with that.”

You shook your head. “No, Nesta. That was all you.”

“Perhaps. But you being there by my side throughout all of this has helped.”

You hesitated before asking the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for a while now. “Do you have any regrets about doing this?”

A moment of silence filled the room. Part of you had constantly asked yourself if you were dragging Nesta into your plan too much. As much as you knew she wanted out of the Night Court, to switch courts so quickly after having her entire life uprooted by the Cauldron was a drastic change.

“No.” Nesta said confidently. “Not for a second. I have no desire to return to the Night Court. While I will always love my sisters, it is clear that they care about their image more than what is truly best for me. I have no place there in their little found family, and that does not bring me any sadness. Now, I am free to make my own decisions free of their scrutiny, and that brings me comfort. So no, I don’t regret taking this journey with you.”

You closed your eyes, the rhythmic stroking of Nesta’s fingers through your hair making you tired. “We have to talk about Cassian at some point. About all of us, about what comes next.”

You felt Nesta sigh. You knew she didn’t want to talk about Cassian, and neither did you. But he was convinced that he is Nesta’s mate, something that could potentially bring a threat. If he invoked a blood duel, Eris would certainly win with his new power as High Lord. But you? You stood no chance against the Lord of Bloodshed.

“You’re right.” Nesta said slowly. “But I think we need to wait for Eris before we have this conversation. It involves him, too.”

“You’re right. When will I get to see him?”

“He said he’d come here after his last meeting. He should be here soon.”

You sat up, reaching for the plate and grabbing another chocolate covered strawberry. You felt a bit of the chocolate smear on the side of your lip as you ungracefully popped the strawberry into your mouth, attempting to keep the expensive duvet free of mess.

“You’ve got something on your face.” Nesta snorted.

You rolled your eyes at her. “Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you so much for pointing–”

Your sentence trailed off as Nesta reached down and slowly wiped the chocolate off your lip with her finger. You watched with wide eyes as she then took that chocolate covered finger and closed her lips around it, sucking the chocolate off. Her blue-grey eyes never left yours as she did so, making your body tingle.

“That was one of the top five hottest things you've done.” You said, causing Nesta to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, you have a list now, do you?” She murmured, amusement across her sharp face.

You shrugged nonchalantly, but heat flooded your cheeks. Truthfully, everything Nesta did was absolutely mesmerising to you. It was almost impossible to actually think of five moments that stood out. “Maybe.” Was all you mumbled in response.

Nesta simply chuckled, then leaned down and sensually pressed her lips to yours. You moaned into her mouth, melting into the touch. It was different from the tender two kisses you shared previously – ones that were gentle and soft, as if you were both afraid that the other would disappear from in front of you at any moment. No, this kiss was more passionate, sending goosebumps up your arms despite the warmth of the room. She tasted like chocolate and wine, and it took all your self control not to simply melt right there and then.

When Nesta eventually pulled away, she cradled your head back into her chest. You were so comfortable, encased in the expensive fabric of the lush bedsheets and cuddled up against Nesta’s side. A distinct knock on the door snapped you back to consciousness. “Three guesses who that is.” You muttered groggily.

Nesta snorted, but called out, “Come in, Eris.”

Surely enough, the door swung open to reveal Eris. His red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was dressed in his sleepwear of a white tunic with long, billowy sleeves tucked into loose brown pants. Despite the casual look, the soft hum of power coming from the male made it hard to mistake him as anything other than a High Lord.

“How’d you know it was me?” Eris asked, closing the door behind him as he sauntered into your room.

“Oh please, you knock like a pampered princess.” You said playfully, popping another strawberry in your mouth.

Eris narrowed his eyes at the delicately placed bowl of melted chocolate on Nesta’s thigh. “Please tell me you’re not getting chocolate on my expensive bed sheets.”

“You’re High Lord, can’t you just use your fancy new power to remove any spills?”

“Ugh, please don’t remind him he’s High Lord.” Nesta insisted, rolling her eyes. “It’ll get to that pretty head of his and he’ll become even more insufferable than he already is. Besides, he hardly needs reminding with how much he throws his new title in everyone’s faces every two seconds.”

You laughed, causing Eris to look down at you from where he was standing at the end of the bed, pressing a pale hand to his chest with mock hurt. “Your cruelty wounds me,” He sighed. “I do not know what I did to deserve such treatment.”

“You make it too easy.” You patted the space next to you on your other side. Eris scoffed, but peeled back the covers and crawled under them anyway, sliding right next to you and resting his back against one of the many pillows behind you. You leaned forward and grabbed another chocolate covered strawberry, bringing it up in front of his face. “Here you go, oh mighty High Lord.” You said dramatically.

The male raised an eyebrow, but kept his amber eyes on yours as he leaned forward and gently took the fruit from your hand with his mouth, lips brushing your fingers ever so slightly. You suppressed a shiver at the sensation, trying to ignore Eris’s moan as he savoured the rich chocolate. You straightened up, no longer leaning against Nesta’s chest but instead still keeping your shoulder pressed against hers.

“Delicious.” Eris muttered after swallowing. “And exactly what I needed after today.”

“What did you get up to today?” You asked. “Or any of the past three days, since I haven’t been allowed outside of this room to see for myself.”

Eris shot you a light glare. “As both of us have explained to you several times, you are in here because we need to wait until things settle for a few days. Right now, you are vulnerable. Both physically and in terms of your position as an unwed and unengaged female. While I intend to eliminate anyone with the same mindset as my father regarding females of your status who refuse to change, they might not yet be revealing themselves. Many have tried to challenge me these past few days, and every one of them has been turned to ash. I need to ensure nobody will come after you.”

You sighed, knowing Eris was right. A female like you without ties to a male would be an easy target for those looking to cling to Beron’s ways. You briefly wondered exactly how many people Eris had slain in his first few days of being High Lord, but dared not ask. “Did everyone believe the story about Hybern assassins being responsible?” You chose to ask instead.

“Mostly.” Eris said. “Those who seemed suspicious have been dealt with. But it matters not. I am High Lord now, and the court knows that if they dare question how I came to be in this position, they will not live to see the next sunrise.”

“So what happens now?” Nesta spoke up. “With the three of us, I mean. And we still have the Night Court to deal with, not to mention Cassian.”

“Given your sister’s situation with her pregnancy, I believe the Night Court will be occupied by that for the next while.” Eris said. “She is due soon, is she not?”

Nesta nodded, but said nothing.

“Can we help Feyre?” You asked hesitantly, feeling Nesta’s turmoil through the bond. While she did not part on good terms with her sister, you could tell she felt anguish at the idea of Feyre dying because of this pregnancy. And as much as you disliked the High Lady, you did not wish such a fate upon her either.

Eris spoke with caution. “I have spoken with our best healers. And to be truthful, yes, we have the means of removing the baby surgically rather than having little Archeron try to deliver the child naturally. But I do not think it’s a question of whether or not we can, but whether or not we should.”

You blinked in surprise, feeling Nesta tense beside you. “What do you mean?” You asked. “If we have a way to save her life, why not use it?”

Eris shifted slightly, turning on his side to face you. “Because it is leverage we can use against them. A bargaining tool. We could promise to save the High Lady’s life on the condition that they leave us alone, permanently. That they are never to enter our court without permission, including the brute.”

You bit your tongue. Nesta was silent beside you, her expression unreadable. “Nesta?” You asked quietly, pressing your arm into her. “What do you think we should do?”

There was a minute of silence before she straightened her spine, grey eyes finally landing on you and Eris as she spoke. “The Feyre I knew who went under the mountain is gone.” She said, her voice like steel. “Once she accepted the mating bond, she changed. Rhys changed her. The Feyre I knew would never just sit by and let her mate make the decisions for her. The Feyre I knew would never have sent me to be locked up if Rhys hadn’t planted the idea in her head first. She used Elain as a bargaining chip to strong arm me into doing her bidding. If she has no qualms about using our lives for her own gain, then I have no issue doing the same with hers. But under one condition. Feyre has to agree to it. Hers is the only opinion that matters. Rhys cannot accept the terms, only she can. It will be her choice, and her choice alone.”

Eris nodded respectfully. “Very well then. Once everything settles further over the next week or so, I will set up a meeting with the Night Court and we can propose our bargain.”

“Cassian can’t be there.” Nesta said suddenly. “I can’t see him. Please.”

“We won’t let him try and take you,” You grabbed her hand, holding it reassuringly. “I promise.”

Nesta bit her lip, worry lining her features. “He thinks we’re mates. I don’t trust him not to try something.”

“Cassian does not stand a chance against us.” Eris said calmly, fiddling with the emerald ring on his finger. “Although I am curious as to why he is acting like a mated male when Estelle said he is not mated to you, Nesta. There’s something else at work here, maybe having him at the meeting will allow us to figure out what it is.”

Nesta hesitated, but exhaled softly. “Fine. Cassian can be there. But the dragons will come to the meeting.”

“They will be delighted.” Eris chuckled. “I am sure they will happily eat anyone who dares protest against our lovely mating bonds.”

You went still, the soft sheets of the bed suddenly stifling. Aside from your brief moment after saving Lirilla, you hadn’t yet acknowledged or discussed your mating bond with Eris yet. With Nesta it was easier, as you had plenty more time together to mull things over. But with Eris, it all happened so fast. The High Lord duties swept him away from you before you could even propose the discussion.

“Eris…” You said carefully after a few moments. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew we were mates?”

At first, the male did not reply. Eris Vanserra usually had a witty reply for everything, a silver tongue that came up with a response within a half second no matter how unprepared he was for the question. So you turned to face him. Eris’s expression was one of regret, tender sadness in his usually stone cold eyes. But the mask was off. He had no need for it anymore.

“There were so many things happening at once.” Eris said slowly. “I did not know how you would react, truthfully. We all needed to be focused, just until we were safe from my father. I did not want to risk compromising what I’ve been working towards for years. It is selfish, I am well aware. But it is the truth. If you knew about the bond, who knows how different things could have been? And if anyone found out, it would be used against us. I could not let that happen.”

The High Lord swallowed thickly, his slender hand gently coming to cover your fingers as he continued. “I know what a breach of trust this was, little fox, especially after you put your faith in me. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it, because I selfishly cannot stand the idea of you hating me for it.”

You inhaled a shaky breath, wetness lining your eyes. You felt Nesta rubbing your back comfortingly, as if she, too, felt your pain through the bond. “I don’t hate you for it.” You said quietly. “I understand your reasoning, I just wish none of this had to be this way.”

Eris smiled sadly. “I wish that very much, too. Although this path has led me to you, to Nesta. So despite everything, I have no other regrets about how things played out.”

“Me too.” Nesta said from behind you, squeezing your shoulder. “It was all worth it to get out of that situation, to end up with both of you.”

Your heart fluttered as you smiled. Even though the past months have been hell, they lead you to Nesta and Eris. Everything you had been through, it was all worth it to get here. Because you knew that even though the horrors you had endured would keep you up at night, you’d have your mates to ease the pain.

But your smile faded as reality sunk back in. “What about the wedding?” You asked. “If you two are getting married, where does that leave me? I know marriage is a sham at the end of the day, and the mating bond is what truly connects us. But I admit that I will not feel like an equal if you two are wed.”

You felt the bed shift as Eris straightened beside you. A hint of a blush came over his cheeks as he coughed before speaking. “Well, I thought of a solution for that. It’s a bit outlandish, and something that would definitely make the majority of this court lose their minds over it. And don’t be afraid to tell me I am a fool for this, Mother knows everyone else will be–”

“Eris.” Nesta said sharply, cutting off the male’s rambling. “Spit it out already.”

You could feel Eris’s nerves in your chest as if they were your own. You had never seen him so flustered before, so unsure of what to say.

“Well,” He continued, taking a deep breath. “It is not unheard of in Pythian’s history for a High Lord to take two wives…”

“You’d want to marry both of us?” Nesta said incredulously.

Eris blushed further, his eyes narrowing angrily at the heat of his cheeks. “Well, it would be a good way to ensure you are both protected–”

“Stop.” You cut him off firmly, squeezing his hand. Eris was silenced immediately, doubt flickering in his eyes as if he were afraid this would happen. “Fuck the political scheming and doing everything for the sake of a plan. We’ve made it this far, guys. It’s time to think about what we want, not what we should do. So, Eris, what do you want?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have you both as my wives…”

Nesta snorted. “A heartfelt proposal, Eris. Well done.”

Eris shot a playful glare at the female. “Smartass. Watch it, or I’ll leave your finger without a ring and keep (Y/N) all to myself.”

“Oh, please. You’re too obsessed with me to do that.”

“I am afraid you are right, Nesta Archeron.”

The three of you laughed, the harmony of it echoing throughout the spacious room like a song. But Nesta’s serious tone returned, cutting the laughter off. “But seriously, Eris, are you proposing this because this is what you want, or because of the mating bond?”

Eris shifted as he reached forward, taking each of you and Nesta’s hands in his own. The authority of the High Lord rang in his voice as he spoke, his amber eyes meeting Nesta’s blue-grey ones. “Make no mistake, I am happy about the mating bond. But it does not create this desire from nothing. It merely amplifies what is already there. The desire to marry you, Nesta, began the day we danced together in the Hewn City. I knew then that I wanted you as my equal at my side. I wanted you because you were you, sharp tongue and all, not because a mating bond made it be so.”

Eris then turned to face you. “The desire to marry you, (Y/N), began the day you came to me with your plan. I saw your resilience, your brilliant mind, and I wanted you. Not for your magic, or your connection to the Mother. I didn’t even know you were my mate then, or that you possessed a unique power, and I wanted you. My desire for both of you did not come from wanting something from you, or because of a mating bond. You asked me what I wanted, (Y/N), and this is it. I want you and Nesta as my equals, my wives, my High Ladies by my side. If that is what you wish, of course.”

You teared up, seeing Nesta do the same. Eris spoke so fiercely, so passionately it pulled at your heart strings. All this time, you had prepared yourself to see Eris and Nesta marry for political convenience, leaving you on the side with your secret ancient vows to Nesta that could never be shared with the outside world. You had prepared yourself to put aside your feelings for Eris, and your feelings for Nesta, to once again make a sacrifice for the ones you loved.

But you didn’t have to do that. Somehow, along the way Nesta and Eris had fallen for each other. And you had fallen for Eris, and he for you. The bond the three of you shared was deeper than any mating bond – it was a bond of survival, of fighting for a better life. A life you now couldn’t imagine sharing with anyone else.

“I would like that very much.” You said through tears, squeezing Eris’s hand.

“And I as well.” Nesta said softly. “Although I never thought of being High Lady.”

“You are both free to pass on that,” Eris said. “It would simply be an added bonus. But you both have enough power to be my equal as High Ladies, and you would be free to be as involved or removed from court politics as you wish.”

You glanced at Nesta, meeting her eyes. You knew Nesta had never possessed any ambitions to become a leader. She was content to simply exist in her own life, as long as she had control over it.

But this opportunity Eris was presenting could be used to help people. All you wanted was to make Autumn safe for females in a way Rhysand failed to do with his own court. Perhaps instead of relying on Eris to make it happen, you could do it yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” You said.

“Me neither.” Nesta replied, nodding. “If my sister can be High Lady, so can I.”

“Feyre Archeron does not know how to run a court,” Eris snorted. “You’re the sister much better suited to the job.”

“One more thing.” You interjected, turning to Nesta. “Technically, we are already married due to the spell we used to create the daemati bond. But I would like to redo it, with a proper wedding. That way, the world will know that we aren’t just married to Eris, but to each other as well. I want everyone to know you’re just as much mine as Eris’s. If you’ll have me.”

It was not how you could have ever imagined proposing to Nesta, fumbling over your words so casually as if you were suggesting trying a new food for lunch. But it felt right. You wanted to be married to Nesta properly, in the eyes of the world. True, you had known her for less than a year. But you knew in your heart you would want to marry her eventually – why not now while she was already marrying Eris?

Nesta’s lips twitched for a second, as if she were instinctively fighting off her smile. But then her face loosened, and she allowed her smile to stretch across her cheeks fully. “Of course I’ll have you, you fool.” She said softly. “Without a shadow of a doubt.”

“In that case, I shall inform the priestess so she can modify the ceremony.” Eris said, grinning in a way that made your heart sing. “If my father could see this, he would lose his mind. As will many members of the court, probably. Having two High Ladies married to each other and me will be a lot for them to comprehend.”

“It’s actually possible, right?” Nesta asked him. “For all three of us to be married?”

“There is no law or religious text that prevents it, my dear.” Eris reassured her. “It will be legitimate, I swear.”

You smiled, another tear of happiness slipping down your cheek. “So this is really happening, we’re all getting married?”

Eris nodded. “Yes, love. We are. And we can take as much time as we want to plan the wedding so it’s exactly how we want it, not how my father wanted it to be. It will be a day about all three of us.”

It was like a heavy boulder had been lifted off your chest. All of the anxiety of the past few weeks was gone, replaced by pure happiness at the idea of marrying Nesta and Eris. Before, the talk of a wedding filled you with dread, a reminder that you were engaged to a cruel male who would delight in torturing you however he could. The idea of a wedding made you feel sick, and sad at the same time knowing you’d have no say in any of the planning.

But with Eris as High Lord and your soon to be new position as High Lady, everything would be different. You would be able to pick out your dress, the flowers, the cake, everything. After months and months of having no control over your life, you were finally taking the reins back.

You wrapped your arms around Eris, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “Thank you.” You muttered.

When Eris pulled away, his amber eyes burned into yours. It ignited something in you, making your blood sing as his voice dropped as he spoke. “I know by tradition I am supposed to wait until the wedding to kiss my brides. But I would really like to kiss you now. Both of you.”

“Fine by me.” You said, your heart racing and drowning out the sound of your own voice.

Eris smirked, his hands coming up to either side of your face to cup your jaw. Towering over you, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your own. Instantly, it was like a tidal wave of lust surged through the bond, as you melted into his mouth. It wasn’t the seductive, claiming kiss you had expected an Autumn court male like Eris to give. It was just as sensual, but softer, like a warm hearth rather than blazing wildfire. It was a kiss of love, of promise for a better world.

Your hands brushed the fabric of Eris’s tunic as he kissed you, and you felt the male shiver beneath your touch. When his lips finally abandoned yours, you let out an involuntary whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Eris purred, his thumb stroking your cheek. “There will be plenty of time for more later.”

The High Lord then turned towards Nesta, taking her hands in his own. You watched as he leaned forward, kissing her with the same tenderness he had with you. Nesta’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, her body relaxing. They were like a scene from a painting. Nesta’s wavy locks contrasting with the fiery straight hair of Eris, their heads angled so perfectly as their lips moulded together with longing.

As you watched your mates kiss, you felt no jealousy. No anger. No feeling of exclusion. You only felt love – happiness that the two people you cared for most loved each other just as much as you loved them.

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