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capslocked · 10 months

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SERENDIPITY

male reader x kwon eunbi

18k words

Before the attraction ferments, Eunbi says, kiss me properly and pull me apart. or, Where all your little tragedies begin.

If you want to start getting technical, you’re Minju's plus one to the gala, and that’s already a lot, a lot, a lot to unpack.

She’d gotten whipped into a bad mood that evening before you even had your shoes on, all on account of your apparent inability to distinguish cobalt from azure, and now should anyone have the wherewithal to examine the fabric of her dress, your tie, maybe with a forensic kit, they’d discover the two are not actually matching. If there was any part of you at all inclined toward keeping up appearances, you probably wouldn’t be content with a career in radio broadcast. But here you are, surrounded by actors, actresses, idols, and everyone who thinks the cut of their jaw is just a little better than everyone else’s - the kind of people who feel entitled to time in front of a camera.

Networking, is how Minju ends up pitching it to you, and now it makes the whole thing seem a lot like work and it’s actually kind of exhausting.

It’s not even an open bar either, as she had originally advertised.

You pay - get this - you pay twenty-three dollars for a vodka tonic and it comes with so much ice you’re not totally unconvinced you could build an igloo. So when everything starts to go to shit, nearing the end of drink number one, you’re not even slurring your words. Tipsy, perhaps; just slightly. To the point you can feel it in your fingers. But nothing like a good excuse.

It’s about then that Eunbi navigates her way around the bar - unnerving, enough to make the sweat grow cold.

On account of her being fucking gorgeous, you end up watching her closely: notice first that she’s carrying a pair of heels in her hand, completely barefoot, and you have no idea what that’s about, but you end up more fixated on the fact that she slides herself into the barstool on your left - which comes across as something of an omen, given that the rest are completely unoccupied. It’s only thirty, forty minutes into the event and people are still plenty busy with that thing where they fake smiles at each other until they feel like they fit in, showing, with bare minimal effort, that they too can mingle with entertainment’s elite.

Now, you don’t actually recognize her, not right away that is. The last you’d seen her, she had her hair cut right above her shoulders and its shade was a serious degree blonder than the current iteration - now curtaining her face as she studies the drink menu and flips it over several times in her dainty hands.

After a long minute, she looks up, interrupts the bartender from polishing a piece of glassware, and orders an old fashioned, substitute brandy, leave out the orange peel, with sugar on the rim. If it’s not the usual amendments that give her away, it’s the saccharine-sweet flavor of her voice, lilting in a manner that’s instantly unmistakable.

Eunbi, you’re guessing aloud, a little apprehensive, and immediately you retreat behind the liquor in your glass. She turns to you, slowly, knuckles masking the subtle quirk in her lips at first, before letting her chin rest on the heel of her palm to reveal a flash of her signature hundred-kilowatt smile.

“Oh,” she says, and she’s blinking with clear amusement that you remember her name - as if you could ever forget it, as if these run-ins were somehow infrequent; you’d only both been plotting orbits around the same star that was Minju for the past couple years. Her head tilts, lips parting to ask, “your date ditch you already?”

She’s half-right.

“You break a heel?” you ask her, nodding toward the pair of black t-strap heels she’d tossed onto the bar counter with a defeated sigh.

“Maybe.” Eunbi drags a dark lock of hair back behind her ear. It falls almost immediately back in front of her face and it ends up staying there until the bartender places her drink in front of her. “But my question first.”

For the record, there’s nothing here particularly novel worth dwelling on. It’s always some provocation or another with Eunbi, you remember now, as she holds you with a stare, eyes wide and brilliant; she sails through life all with the confidence of someone very aware of how pretty she is - knows precisely what she can get away with, right down to the letter of the law. The dress hugging tight to her isthmus of a waist is evidence of exactly that - tighter each time you look - so if you’re waiting for her to get it wrong, don’t hold your breath.

“Minju’s having a moment,” you tell her, “it’s not like she doesn’t know where to find me.”

“Hm.” She pauses to take a careful sip of her drink, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she places the glass onto a square napkin. Folds her hands in her lap and asks, “can you explain something to me?”

“If I say no, are you going to ask anyway?”

Eunbi nods to herself, dry laugh telling you it was as rhetorical as you thought. “Seriously, how is it you two are always fighting?”

We’re not always fighting, you want to say, before Eunbi makes a face. She has this uncanny effect on you - raising an eyebrow and tilting her chin as though she were disappointed; the sharp edge to her smile, half challenge, half something far less kind. It could rip truth from the most reluctantly tight-lipped of privacies. “We’re working on it,” you tell her.

“Oh?” she asks, leaning in.

“God, you don’t have to say it like that.” The ice clinks in your glass as you toss it back, finding it lamentably empty. “You make me feel like I have to repeat myself a thousand times - we are,” you add, “we’re working on it.”

“There’s something that keeps you together, clearly,” Eunbi says, pressing her finger to her lips before fixing you with dark eyes and an easy, charming grin.

She has you figured out, to some extent: knows how you’ll slip up for a girl with a pretty smile, prettier eyes, all the sorts of errors you’ll start to allow when you start cataloging the curves of her body, inventorying how they taper impossibly at her waist, flaring again at her hips, her fucking chest, the way they all look under the tight fit of that damn dress-

“The make-up sex really that good, huh?”

You almost, almost choke on the ice cube you’d been sucking to keep yourself entertained.

“Optimistic to think there is any,” you admit, regretting it right away - like think about it: there’s absolutely nothing good that could possibly come of that. “That’s just how it goes.”

Eunbi looks downright triumphant. More than usual. “Oh, sweetie.”

She waves over the bartender and asks him for another whatever it was you were drinking, because she’d hate to see you go dry, and as he’s turning around she shouts over his shoulder, go ahead and make it two, actually. You don’t realize it, but you’re beginning to study her, paying really close attention to all these little details - the sparkle of the bracelet on her slender arm, how it falls a few inches off the corner of her wrist as she gets her hand back in front of her face, raking her nails through all that thick, glossy hair, black as night - you don’t know what the feeling is that rears its head as you watch her, but it’s not completely unwelcome.

“What?” she asks as her eyes flick up to yours to catch you looking at her, closely, not that you’re gawking, but she lets you off the hook like you are - just gestures to the pitiful looking heel on the counter and shrugs. “It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

To be honest, it’s not that you lack basic foresight. In fact it’s shockingly easy to predict where this is going. Because here’s a quick behind the scenes tour on how these interactions usually play out: you’ve got your excuses, your trepidations, justifiably - the reality that you’re kind of already in a pretty high profile relationship key among them. And like clockwork, Eunbi readily finds you game for some flustering. Eunbi, who lays it on thick, comments seeped in innuendo and suggestion, whose glances linger perhaps a little long to be a fascinating coincidence. Eunbi, innocence and arrogance entwined, in the filthiest of minds. Eunbi, always with her fingers twirling her hair and wearing something just modest enough that makes it feel like it’s your fault for noticing that her figure is impeccable. You’ve not actually gathered much from your brief conversations other than that she likes to flirt with you, likes it even more when you’ve got your foot in your mouth, and instead of putting you out of your misery, keeps you suspended there, egging you on - this all beyond the fact that you’ve only really managed to learn the many different ways you want to undress Kwon Eunbi.

You want her pressed up against the wall of your apartment, among other places, one of those pleated skirts crumpling to a pile around her knees as she keens for you, and your hand busy sliding up between her thighs.

You want to listen to her sighs as you unfasten each of the white buttons on one of those collared shirts that stretches and aches to keep her chest concealed, how she’d hum in delight as you trail kisses down each new inch of soft pale skin that all would unveil.

You want her in your lap when you fiddle with the latch of her bra until her tits spill out of its lacy fabric (it’s always lacy in your head), and she’s got you gasping for air, smothered, asphyxiated, dying, ascending, it’s all so, so great in theory.

It’s just that - some way or another - Eunbi looks at you like she knows all of that. You’ve been skirting around the issue for months.

“Tell me,” she starts, and suddenly, without warning, she has you under the microscope, reeling you further into the conversation, pulling at loose threads - where is Minju right now, are you still living together, does she help with chores, can you trust her, does she trust you - she grabs a handful of pretzels and watches you intently as you try and remain unruffled, diplomatic - are you generally happy with how things are going, when was the last time you had sex - you’re blindsided by that last one, or something, but that’s out there now, in the open.

“Uh.” Eunbi purses her lips. “You’re kidding.”

You just shrug.

“How long has it been now between you two? Like officially."

“I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

“Alright.” Eunbi clicks her tongue. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“My fourth year of university, her first,” you explain. Though never before have you felt as crooked about admitting that as you do at this moment. Others had often appreciated something about the impudence of it, but you’re doubting Eunbi’s going to be one of those people.

“Young,” Eunbi states, matter-of-factly. The look on her face says she’s thinking.

“Not that young.”

“You’re twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-five.”

“You’re-” Eunbi’s eyebrow’s knit together like she’s trying to remember something. “Wait, really?”

“Does that bother you?”

“Why would that bother me?”

You’re realizing that she’d gotten closer to you, only now pulling her stool along the floor to catch up with her, and she’d started whispering into the waning space between you as though there was anyone else in the bar you’d need to shield the contents of this conversation from. “It just seems like not a lot of time to get to know yourself. If I were you, I’d be relieved.”

You can’t fucking stop looking at her mouth, glossed pink lips, cupid’s bow and all that between her dimples; your voice comes out oddly thick. “You’re not me.”

“No,” Eunbi says, shaking her head, “I'm not. Here you are, in some miserable relationship to score good karma - I’m having way more fun.”

“Easy,” you warn her, and it comes across just antagonistic enough to let Eunbi know she’s pushing the right buttons, digging in the right place; god only knows what she’ll find.

“Really.” Her fingers start skimming the bottom of your tie, like it’s nothing at all. Like she doesn’t know what might happen if she starts touching you. “Let me guess,” she continues, “A real break-up is too inconvenient or something right now, Minju doesn’t want the bad press, not when her career is still this fragile, because let’s face it-”

“It’s complicated.”

Eunbi smirks, not bothering to hold it back this time. The way she sees it, your usual excuses are losing their efficacy, quickly: you might not be single, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking about how good she looks in that tiny fucking excuse of a dress, how you’re hoping she might need to run off to the restroom later so you can see how her ass fills out the back of it, how it might look even better on the floor next to your bed - that you’re only a breath away, looking for pretext, perhaps just a little encouragement -

She rests her elbow on the counter, leans a cheek onto her fist, and angles herself against the bar so that the intoxicatingly low dip of her neckline is staring you right in the face, soft cleavage out on full fucking display. It’s not subtle. You never thought too hard about why Minju never invited Eunbi over. You’ll never need to.

“But - but I mean, I guess that’s the gist of it,” you feel inclined to add, stumbling a bit, figuring that if you steal away into the safety of your one true talent - talking - you might just resist the very present urge to reach forward and press your lips to hers.

“You’re an accessory,” says Eunbi, unbothered, and her eyes take a lazy sweep from your face down to your waist. It’s a leer. “Though,” she murmurs, “can’t really say I can blame the girl.”

“First off, rude.” You’ve got a finger pointed to the ceiling when you say it. “Secondly-”

“Too nice for your own good, you know that?” Eunbi takes a sip from her glass, and after fixing a dark, stubborn strand of hair back behind her ear, she finds herself again in that anxious distance inches away from your nose. “Why don’t you have some fun with it?”

“Fun with what?”

“Just because you figure you’re going to go crawling back to her doesn’t mean you can’t take advantage of your-” she stops, eyes fixing to your lips before continuing, “situation.”

“Can I mention something to you?” You swallow once, twice. Now you’re both looking at each other’s mouths, breathing the same air. “You have a pretty fucked up perspective on interpersonal relationships.”

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” she asks, completely ignoring the assessment. Her fingernails skate along the counter until she’s pinching at the cuff of your sleeve, and her hair falls back in front of her face again, though this time she looks into your eyes like she’s waiting for you to move it out of the way.

“What are we doing right now?” you ask, agitation just beginning to rear its head. “What are you asking me?”

“I’m bored, and you’re the only other person here.”

“There’s, like, a million people here.”

“I mean right here,” she says, nodding to the broken heel on the counter and gesturing between your chests. “Besides, I like you.”

You really could surge up and kiss her, you realize. Her lips are so close, right there in front of you, and there’s not any sort of question of whether she’d let you. The part that scares you is you haven’t a fucking clue what you’d say when the moment comes to finally pull your mouth off hers, and that’s not something you’re usually trying to sort out. Nor are you really in a blathering mood, and now you’re imagining it: Eunbi’s expression all smug and haughty, something that could inspire a good blather - uh, did you just kiss me?

��Forgive me, but I feel like I need to point out,” Eunbi adds, mildly entertained, “most guys wouldn’t be asking this many questions.”

“I’m not most guys.”

“Uh, I am fully aware,” Eunbi says, running a fingertip along the length of her collarbone, slowly, and her voice dips out if its usual airy register into something less musical, more serious: “Do you even have a clue what I’d do for a guy like you?”

“Eunbi,” you say, harshly, not that it matters; she’s going to tell you.

“For starters,” she says, and her hand is around your tie, tugging like you won’t tell her to stop, like she knows she’s gorgeous in all the most disarming ways. “I’d take good care of him, like I don’t think I could keep my hands off him. I’d be blowing him all the time - until my jaw hurt, then i’d just tell him to pick a hole and fuck a big, hot load of cum into it - hell, I’d probably let him do anything to me.”

“Tactful.”

“I’m not the one having a hard time reading between the lines.”

“That’s not - I’m not-”

“Into me?” Eunbi laughs, leaning forward, your last vestiges of personal space vanishing like a passing thought, and now she’s touching you - a hand on your thigh, higher, higher. “You want to fuck me so bad.”

The fucked up thing, beyond Eunbi being absolutely right, is that you’d rather die than try and lie through your teeth, than succumb in such austere fashion. This thing, this desire, this want, you understand it so intimately you could probably name it like you were christening it in a church. You grab a hold of her wrist, before her precocious fingers can discover how obviously right she is under the seam of your pants, and the suddenness of the challenge wipes the mirth from her face - pulls a small little sound out of her chest, leaves her eyes wide and uncharacteristically docile.

“Are you sure?” you ask, collected and calm, after you’ve both realized how small her wrist fits in your hand. “Is this really the game you want to play?”

Eunbi’s head tips onto this angle, expression perfectly cavalier. “Oh,” she says, uncorking an impious grin, “why don’t you and I go figure that out.”

It’s hard to focus. You’ve got it all wrong, or whatever, practically right from the jump. Your first mistake was veering toward the restrooms tucked behind the bar, where Eunbi pulled at the corner of your sleeve to shoot you a skeptical look - are you fucking nuts, there’s single occupant washrooms upstairs - her explanation was sound, probably, she lost you quickly at: “would prefer no one hear me cum all over your cock.”

The second transgression is the kiss itself, a fucking honest mess.

Eunbi’s perched on the sink, precariously, and as much as you’d rather be smoothing your hands up her curves, you’ve got one preoccupied at her hips, steadying her, the other pulling at your own clothes, slinging your jacket to the floor. It’s this sort of callow tangle of limbs, exchange of spit, imprecise groping - fuck, it actually hurts when your teeth bump together, or when Eunbi pulls a little too hard at your bottom lip - over and over, and your mouths keep missing each other, straying off to cheeks and chins.

You expected there to be a touch more polish to her, for her to be the kind of girl above hooking up barefoot in a public restroom, maybe even preserve any of that infamous intrigue. But those open-mouthed kisses she has leaving marks on your jaw, making welts on your neck do little to help you shrug off the impropriety here, hanging like a sorry cloud. Because you’re barreling toward something desperate and clumsy and hot and needy - so utterly raunchy in all the right ways.

“C’mere,” Eunbi says, smile stretching soft and devastatingly sweet, hardly fussing when you slip your hand beneath her jaw - it takes a moment, a touch of experimentation, until you’re together working toward a common goal. She twists the end of your tie over her wrist once, twice, anchors herself against you, and her legs open wider, a heel hooking around your thigh. The embers in her half-lidded eyes tell a story, tell you you to firm up your grip, clutch her, get rough with her, toss her around - she can take it, she can take more.

Her chin gets set on the angle opposite yours as she starts to pull you in close, the heat in her breath coming closer, and she furrows a perfectly sculpted brow the moment she realizes it’s not reciprocal - that you’re not leaning into her, not pressing your tongue past her lips and grabbing her hair by the fistful - she squints, glowering. It’s actually not a bad look on her.

“Tell me something,” you say, skating your fingertips up her leg until they’re so close to the apex of her thigh you can feel her heat, radiating. “What were you expecting?”

“I try to never expect anything,” Eunbi tells you, and starts once more for your lips, only vexed again when you stiffen up, maintain the distance between you - stop her short at the limit of tantalizingly close.

“Eunbi,” you say, wry with dry laughter and peeking over her shoulder to the reflection in the mirror - backless; you can see the ridge of her spine from her ass all the way up to her neck when you slide her hair to the side. “This is not a dress you wear out with colleagues and friends. This is a take me home and have your wicked way with me kind of dress.”

Eunbi swallows; that’s how you know you caught her. “If the insinuation here is that I’m a slut, I’m not having any of it.”

“Why? Is that supposed to be some sort of secret?”

Her expression falls onto something rather unamused, a glib reply waiting for release at the tip of her tongue, until finally she says, “do you get off on being withholding or some other bull-”

The word vanishes in a sharp inhale the moment you press your hand up between her legs.

“Oh god.” Eunbi’s entire body shudders, nerves bundled and tight and ready to fire at the slightest excitation. Honestly, you’re not even doing anything; you’re pushing fabric into her cunt, and fuck, Eunbi’s already this trigger-happy. The demanding, quick-tempered vixen with something to prove, and she’s already melting over the slightest touch.

Hell, just listen in on those little stuttering breaths falling off her lips when you begin to circle your fingers, slowly, when you reach down further to where she’s so hot, so wet-

You press down and she hiccups.

“Ah, I think I get it now,” you start, watching Eunbi’s lip wobble as the heel of your palm spreads flatter and flatter over her clit, pressure indiscriminate and nowhere close to absolving. “You want me to believe that somehow, you’re a total romantic.”

Eunbi’s mouth slacks slightly as she sighs. “Aren’t we all entitled to a little fantasy?”

“Has the part where I fuck you senseless in a public restroom always worked into that?” you ask, digging deeper, drenching her underwear in her own slick. “Or is that a new development?”

“You’re really testing the limits of your charm here.”

“I dunno. I think the fact that you’re dripping down your thighs means I’m doing all right,” you say, holding onto a smirk that you’re half-sure she’s contemplating slapping off your face.

“What do you want?” she asks, shimmying her hips against you, voice softening into delicate capitulation. “Want me to tell you that I’ve been dreaming about it? Want to know that I think about you when I’m alone - when I’ve got my fingers inside me and I’m sobbing into a pillow - that I’m picturing you fucking railing Minju - picturing how your hands would feel at my waist, on my tits, around my neck - imagining just how good you’d fuck me?”

You nearly snort in amusement. “Oh, want a lot more than that.”

“Then hurry up,” she says - before the attraction ferments. And she sighs musingly when you press your fingers past elastic, find a touch where she needs you, the unmistakable shiver of real contact. “Kiss me properly and pull me apart.”

You tilt Eunbi’s chin up and place your mouth on hers. Kissing her once, twice, until she realizes it’s not even close to enough, drawing in to kiss you back that much harder, all unknowing and candid - like she never once cared for subtlety in her methods of seduction.

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers had already danced over her entrance, rubbed and touched and felt and begun to push. And god, she’s so incredibly wet - not that the push isn’t slow, so unhurried you can feel Eunbi wanting to cry out in frustration as you get deeper, feel her squeeze onto you, just a knuckle inside her, then a second. She barely manages to hush out a complaint into your lips when you drag them back, returning the perfect roughness in your fingers to her clit and applying all this agonizingly-too-gentle pressure. Do anything, she said - said she’d let you; could’ve said, fuck me, ruin me; should’ve told you, no idea what I really want other than for you fuck my brains out, so please take off your clothes and help me figure it out -

It’s actually kind of adorable, that she has to break her lips away from yours to ask for more.

But only a loud, smacking kiss and the length of a heavy exhale later, Eunbi’s tongue slides into your mouth, slipping gently against yours, and flicks up at your teeth as you press the curl of your index finger back inside her. She cries gently, this pitchy little feminine sound, just when you fuck her open with another. You could take all the time you want, you reckon, just pretend Eunbi’s not already all wound up and needy - pussy soaked and hot and begging beneath loose fabric - pretend she isn’t wrapping her slender fingers around your wrist to hold you firm, keep your fingertips present and reliable: something she can buck her hips into, something she can fuck until she’s gasping for you to stop.

“Fuck.” Her moan hums right into your mouth, thin, stretching out on a broken breath as the pad of your thumb skates over her clit, again, again, lighter, barely a touch this time, gentle and tender, and, well, conflicting - because look, everything about this is such a fucking awful idea - you’re going to walk out into a sea of judgement with kiss-swollen lips, hair disheveled and bothered like you’d trekked through a windstorm, with Eunbi hanging on your waist, knees wobbling and perfectly complicit to the crime.

You’ve given the thought barely a moment’s attention when Eunbi’s grip on your wrist goes white-knuckle tight, like she can taste the apprehension on your lips. She tugs on your tie, hard - don’t stop, come, closer - like she’d literally die if you stop fucking her with your fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” you say in the spaces between these stinging, deep kisses into her cheek, her jaw, letting her body slump forward when you let go of her waist and start sliding your hand up her flat stomach, scrunching and furling the material of her dress up around her hips. She totters a moment, feet barely reaching the floor how you have her balanced on the lip of the sink, but you can’t help it: you need to get a hand up, higher, over her ribs, onto her chest -

Eunbi gasps the moment your fingers sink in, loudly, and you’re not even going to try and give her an explanation - fucking christ, her tits are incredible.

“How messy,” you tell her, enjoying how it makes her cheeks start to burn red, and with just that, you’re sure, with fingers becoming fast and frenzied. It’s audible, the slick on your hand, working through the thick of her heat, the tension in her clench. “So fucking messy, I bet you’re close baby, so close - close to cumming on my fingers.”

She purses her lips, chin tucked into where her collarbones meet, and closes her eyes. You think she’s readying some riposte, some quip to needle, something she’d lid her eyes and smirk first to tell you with poison laced in her voice, seethed in sarcasm, in spite.

“I mean, Eunbi, look at you,” you drawl huskily, an effort to lure the words out of her, “and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you yet.”

Her whole body sighs, a concerted effort; she’s panting, sinking her teeth into her lip, and it happens so suddenly, near all at once - those elegant lines in her face starting to twist, betraying that usual sculpted visage of perfection - at the end of a squalling stretch for air, she starts to beg.

“Please,” she mewls, escaping her lips pliant and meek.

And fuck if that’s anything like the bite you’ve come to expect, the serrated edge of the girl who was amusing herself just moments ago with how you rattled and ruffled from behind a glass of liquor - Eunbi, all cunning and guile - jesus, it’s not even close:

“Oh, god, do it, do it, use my pussy however you want, fuck, want it so bad-” Her hair is falling into her face. Skin getting hot and dewy with sweat. She told you earlier that she’d kill you if you ripped her dress, said you had the look of a dress ripper about you - and now she’s looking at you like she might kill you if you don’t. “-anything, I’ll do anything, gods, please just let me cum.”

“Baby,” you murmur against her neck, a pet name you’re slipping into a little too easily. The possession, the way you say mine, you promise it’s all instinct. “Who could’ve ever guessed you’d be this needy?”

The pale column of skin beneath her jaw reveals more of itself to you the faster you drag your fingers through her cunt. She’s recovering from a curl of your digits against that spot that might just be able to get her screaming, and then it’s your thumb: each circle around her swollen clit reducing her to little more than ragged breathing and that causeway of a word, pleading, please, please, please.

You’d spent more time fantasizing about this than you care to admit, though when you tug the neckline of her dress down, free her breast from beneath the tight fabric, roll your thumb over her nipple, and pinch, it’s clear this is nothing like you imagined. It’s so much fucking more: her face winding into a look of equal parts pain, pleasure, eyes scrunching, lips hanging open - she can’t even say anything when you pull harder on the dress, pull her other tit up to your mouth and start to suck, hard - a heavy moan, whining; she doesn’t tell you to stop.

“Do it,” she demands, gulping for her next breath. “I’m so close.”

You haven’t written it off yet, but you also haven’t the slightest idea how she’ll come back from this one, flirting with the boundary at desperate and pathetic, responding to your touch, your fingers, your mouth like you’d spent a lifetime studying what makes her tick. This might be the only time between you that you’ve ever stumbled this close to anything like an upperhand, you recognize, and you’re not going to pass up an opportunity like it, milking it for all it’s worth:

“You ever have someone do this to you, Eunbi?” you ask her when your lips break all that cruel suction around her nipple - it’s red, swollen, aching, and it’s a great start. The throb between her legs isn’t growing any less urgent either, pulsing vigorously onto your fingertips and leaking all over your hand, her thighs, it’s so fucking sloppy and hot and that perfectly submissive expression on her face just looks so, so good on her. (You’re really leaning into it.) “Fuck you with one of your dresses bunched up over your hips? Take you into a bathroom and get you moaning and panting until you admit you’re a total slut? Fuck, I could do this until you can’t remember your own name, pull your underwear back up your legs all soaking and messy-”

“No,” Eunbi says, exasperated, and she chokes on her voice when your thumb digs harder into the puffy lips of her cunt, pushes this exact pressure on her tender clit. You don’t think her eyes could get any clearer, needier, until she starts shaking her head, saying, “you - you’d be the first.”

She practically blue-screens after that, words getting lost somewhere in the pangs of her own agitated pleasure. And like putty, sinking backward into the counter, you spread her legs open wider. Press a kiss into her forehead, skin all hot and sweaty. She almost loses it right then and there when you start reminding her she’s gorgeous, how good her name sounds on your lips, so pretty when she cums like this and then-

Oh.

There she goes.

“Fuck, you’re - god, fuck, I’m - fuck.” Eunbi hisses out your name, panting for air, and her brittle words fall straight to the floor, smash against the tile, and shatter into a million pieces. Cumming, she adds, two or three times for good measure, and you hold her firm, hold her still. Keep her from sliding off the sink so you might even kiss her hard. Feel her come undone.

Maybe it’s the praise; more likely the tempo of your thumb tapping against her swollen bud, again, again. The only thing you know is that the sound of it alone - over the squelch of your fingers fucking her through it, slow and tender like you have all the time in the world - see, that’s a masterpiece in and of itself.

Eunbi’s chest rolls and twitches as you draw your fingers out of her pussy, soaked, clenching at nothing, and drag them up along her waist so she can feel just how much damage you’ve caused, that for all her sloppiness, it’s because of you.

“Here,” you say to her, with two sticky fingers at her jaw, “I know you want to taste yourself.”

Beyond the visual in front of you, you’re kind of stuck on how impetuous, impulsive, how utterly lewd it all is - opening her mouth and fitting your fingertips between her teeth. You scissor your fingers, let her lick her own slick off your you, and when you press her tongue down behind her teeth she starts to suck. It’s delightful, you think, she’s so gorgeous and somehow, flushed and fucked and sweaty, she looks perfect. Never been so stunning.

“Such a good girl,” you tell her, almost maliciously.

And it’s instant - Eunbi sinking further into the counter, her shoulders slumped to the cold mirror, knuckles knocking the bowl of the sink. There’s a hum coming up from her throat when you say it again, getting stuck on your fingers until she spits them out and looks at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, all glassy and brilliant, like you know the answers to all the riddles of the universe. Okay, so maybe it really is the praise, you realize, a weakness, a loose thread, you might never be able to stop yourself from pulling at it. You’d never want to.

“Been so patient, haven’t you? Your pussy is fucking creaming for me Eunbi, so fucking messy, you poor thing.” You’re lifting her panties to the side, assuring her in half sentences and leaving the rest to the sound of your zipper coming undone. “Gonna fuck you now, get my cock in this pretty little pussy of yours, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you baby, just be still and hold on for me-”

“God.” Eunbi startles at the touch of your cock running over her slick, and she starts blinking back into reality, legs bracketing around your hips. Do it - she’s gathering an angry fistful of shirt, pulling at your tie, clamoring for you, all desperation, no composure, as if your mistakes were made for her - do it, do it, and she breathes your name against your mouth, lips trembling, “please.”

Days, weeks, months maybe, the conclusion’s long foregone, inevitable: your cock sinks straight into her cunt.

Jesus. Fuck. Where to start? Eunbi’s eyebrows twist, lips part - with just a wicked, sharp breath of air, she immediately comes undone. So, that might be as good a place as any.

You know by the way she melts, the way her body is coiling tighter around you, clinging to you like you might be able to hold it all together - like you’re not fucking her open, pressing deeper inside her, hotter around you with every passing inch.

“I cannot believe,” Eunbi starts, voice shredded, and the rest of it is so incoherent, so blathering and baleful, that you’re altogether unsure if it’s in protest of you ruining her cunt, or if you’re not ruining it enough. Even though she’s so unbelievably wet, she’s every bit as tight, and you end up prompting this unattractive groan from her throat when you motion your hips forward, just a fraction, before pulling back again. “Oh my-”

You’re trying not to laugh but it’s slipping out quietly, and Eunbi just glares at you, the vibrations from your diaphragm going straight between her legs, where she’s still throbbing and unduly sensitive. A few disheveled strands of her hair end up in your mouth as she fidgets about in your grip. A few more as you ease in further - until your balls are flush against her ass and Eunbi has both ankles hooked around your thighs. Beyond the sweltering heat of Eunbi’s cunt, you’ve got thoughts, photographically vivid, racing through your head: you lifting her small body up, getting your hands under her thighs and pounding her without remorse - turning her over and bending her over her sink, watching her tits bounce in the mirror, face wracked as she cums like that, and you’ll get there - just that right now, seating yourself in her pussy and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck is more than plenty to hone in on.

“Fuck, your cock, it’s-” Eunbi sputters, and it takes a beat to even realize you’re completely inside her, right to the hilt.

And you aren’t making any more sense of how she trembles than of the fusillade of curses tossed in your general direction. Her legs remain locked behind you, holding you motionless - making it difficult to not laugh at her inanity on display, squirming graceless beneath you.

Incredible, is the conclusion you both come to as her cheeks flood again with color, and you start circling your hips into her, moving as much as the confines of her legs - the inelegant entrapment - might allow.

It’s almost cruel: Eunbi gasps when you end up brushing against her tender clit, and you pause, thinking-

(Like this, half naked, dress bundled around her waist, you can take whatever you want. Every now and again you look up and see your reflection, see yourself towering over Eunbi’s lithe frame - oh, the options - they’re nearly endless.)

-she simply growls at you when you inch her hips forward from where they’re perched and do it again.

“I can’t fuck you unless you let go,” you tell her, ducking down and finding her breast with your mouth.

“If I let go,” Eunbi starts, and her voice is jagged with strain, breath steadying, “are you actually going to fuck me, or are you just going to keep teasing?”

“Oh, Eunbi, believe me.” You’re kissing up her chest, her collarbones, pressing your lips sweetly to the hollow of her throat. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming, promise.”

Eunbi holds her gaze to yours, tips up her chin, and says, half daring, “I’m holding you to that,” and as her bind loosens, she tugs your face towards hers by the bottom of your tie. Hard - it’s hardly even a murmur as she leans in, pressing your brow to hers - harder. A rhythm emerges in your hips against hers, though it only complicates the demands: more, please, need it, don’t stop.

But the drag of it is amazing, your cock gliding through the wet heat of her cunt - squeezed tight onto you and fitting you like a glove. So tight, as if she’d been made for you, incomparably coiled around you, and it’s even more perfect as you start to truly fuck into her. Fast and deep and assuring you’d stay true to your word, that you’d get her fucking screaming with it. Each time you pull back and slam into her again, hard enough that she shifts half an inch toward the mirror, you’re listening to that wounded noise, keening out of her chest, punctuated by the way she shudders, bracing against you.

“God,” you rasp through gritted teeth, stealing a delighted moan as she spreads her legs wider for you, stealing several more. “This pussy, fuck, is incredible, Eunbi” - she’s so wet and turned on that you just fucking rail her, that she lets you, that she loves it, to the point where you’re reminding yourself to breathe - “what a good little cocksleeve you are, you’re so fucking wet.”

“Better?” Eunbi is struggling to stay upright, jaw slacked and slumping against the mirror like a puppet cut from its strings. “Better than her, right?”

“Hm,” you say, and the hesitation alone is enough for the corner of her mouth to pull up into a tiny smile. Something she knows she can hook into, something she can work with. “We’ll just have to see.”

There are tears visible at the end , and her words are quickly becoming slurred and mixed up as your fingers turn threats into reality, bruises at her waist, her thighs, her tits, her neck - you’re marking her like she’s yours, like it isn’t dangerous, like it doesn’t spell trouble for both of you. So when she musters the strength to perk up, look you straight on while you pound her cunt recklessly, and meekly say, “be honest,” it’s far too impossible to deny her anything.

“The best, Eunbi,” you start. She doesn’t know where the lip service starts, where it ends, but just hearing you mutter out her name is enough to get her swooning.

It’s not that you don’t understand the irony, that Minju is downstairs somewhere telling a hundred people she doesn’t know where you are, looking pretty and put together, and you’re saving your honesty for this girl, breaking her further to pieces with each thrust her into tight, sweaty body, each stroke into her sloppy, aching hole. You do understand it, and when Eunbi starts whining, sobbing, moaning, you just can’t be bothered to care. “So perfect on my cock, baby, now be good for me - show me how perfect this pretty little cunt is, want you to cum again for me, want to see what a mess you can be, Eunbi.”

You end up with a hand underneath her, the other in the lose waves of hair behind her head, fingers splaying out against the base of her skull, and - fuck, the new angle you settle into when you pull her tiny body up onto your cock, not to mention the depth - it’s wanton, lustful, it’s thoughtless: you’re fucking her so hard and fast that all she can do is throw is her arms around your shoulders and weave curses into her ragged breathing, thinning, threadbare, “oh fuck, oh, jesus, fuck yes, there, your fucking cock, just like that, fucking christ.”

She barely even has one foot on the ground, toes dangling onto the tile, you realize after you finish chastising her dirty mouth. Completely at your beck and call.

Not that it was ever going to make a difference. You fuck her harder, until she’s shaking with it, until she’s crying out, embarrassment long forgotten. She’s so fucked, breathy moans turning to screams, to whimpers, seams cracking into fissures - you’re not hurting her, but fuck if that isn’t the boundary you’re daring to cross. You bottom out in her pussy, over and over; you’re destroying it, ruining it, and she’s clinging to you like wet clothes, like it might soothe her, like her life depends on it.

Eunbi moans when you draw your hips back and nearly leave the perfect heat of her cunt. And when you bury yourself back into her, she writhes.

You look up from the shadowy spot where your cock is disappearing between her legs, and her eyes are flaring again, teeth sinking into her lip as you seek out her chest and start playing with her tits. There, she wants to say, eyelids hooded and voice purring, that’s more like it. But your thumb flicks at her nipple, pert and pointy, coaxing out a quieter reaction - quiet beneath the haggard recoil her body makes in order to sheathe your cock, the gentle tremor at the end of each thrust, stomach muscles contracting under your hand. It’s too much. She only closes her mouth. Lets it fall open again. Sighs.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” you ask, breath landing hot against her face, agitating the flush in her cheekbones. “You’re going to cum all over this cock.” It’s in those eyes; she’s so incredibly close, but Eunbi holds fast to what shred of dignity hasn’t since vanished out of sight, throat working hard to swallow, and she shakes her head, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

In fact, she’s murmuring nonsensically at you, and for a moment you see a hand on her neck, thumbprint searing into her throat, but the image fades as she moans again, hips jumping, palm slapping the sink. It’s the want, the need, for everything you have to give her, want for you inside her, maybe forever more - and want and want for anything that might release her pleasured agony. It’s fucking filthy.

So bend, you tell her, don’t break.

(You’ve never fucked anyone like this either, you think, not Minju, not anyone - fingers skating up the ridge of her back, face buried in the hair falling over her shoulder, taking careful note of how you’re taking Eunbi apart.

How you might ever put her back together.)

“Shit,” she cries out sharply, spine arched and straining against you as - fucking finally - her orgasm rips through her. You’re watching carefully as you fuck into her quivering pussy, listening mostly, once the pressure starts to build behind your eyes. There’s your name torn from her lips (oh god), and how she starts to tremble (oh god), trying to draw you (oh god) deeper inside her while she (oh my fucking god) lets it flood through her.

It’s a lot to take in. Near impossible to focus on any one thing. For fuck’s sake, even the smell of it is divine, of perfume and sex and vanilla and sin.

You’re grabbing Eunbi’s waist again, so hard she yelps, lips parting, struggling for breath every time you fuck her tight little pussy onto you, but she can’t quite say anything. Not yet. Your cock is still too hard, throbbing madly inside her, and she’s near the point of simply collapsing.

You touch her mouth, tip it gently closed. And the docile way she looks up at you is a reminder that you had readied a quip, something about the mess between her legs, that she’s flustering and incoherent and sobbing and how it’s so unlike her. But it’s gone now. Lost to the lust and need crackling in your own brain, you figure. You’d been daydreaming a mile a minute about fucking Eunbi on a good day, and now you’re seeing her here, like this.

It takes the velvety drag through her cunt, once, twice, you’re pounding her so fast, not even trying to hold on, shortening your breath, biting your cheek, counting out the strokes - three, four, five -“Come on,” Eunbi manages in the spaces between her soft, bitten back moans, “do it, wanna feel that big cock fuck a creampie deep inside me, wanna feel your hot cum leak out of me.”

You really could. Because she feels fucking unbelievable, and now you’re imagining it: getting reckless and stupid and filling her perfect little pussy with all your cum; risk it, get her pregnant, you tell yourself, fuck it deep enough inside her to make it a certainty - the mental image alone is enough to send you over the edge. You’re sure of that. It has before.

“Eunbi,” you stammer, “this pussy feels… I’m gonna-”

“I know,” she murmurs, “I know.” Her eyes are glassy, mouth cocked back, half-smiling. “Do whatever you want.” Five foot nothing of immaculate pulchritude and irresistible peril, she looks pristine on the end of your cock, tits in your hands, brow sweating, mouth opening, telling you to cum, to do it, want you to cum, just fucking use her.

“Fuck,” you spit, slipping your cock out of her at the last moment - fucking into your fist - cumming. Messily. Explosively. Eunbi still choking for air in fits and starts, your other hand still wringing her waist.

Though it can’t be more than a few seconds, the difference between you releasing that load inside her and the way it instead winds up everywhere else: in her panties, against the swollen lips of her pussy, the crease of her thigh - how some leaks and spills down her leg, onto the floor beneath the sink. There’s a dress ruiner in you after all. “God,” you add, fighting exhaustion, and Eunbi simply crumples against you, kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before - a long, smooth slide of her lips that leaves you both gasping in its wake.

“So.” Eunbi’s hand is between her legs, assessing the damages, accounting the cum all over her and soaking through the fabric of her underwear. She just raises an eyebrow at you, charming, challenging. “You came all over me.”

“What, you really think I’d cum in you?”

Her eyes squint, and her nose scrunches. It’s winsome, in a way.

Sure, she’s kind of a disaster - the once-carefully-styled waves of her hair are in tatters, makeup running in every direction, tits hanging out of her bra and spilling over the top of her dress, still barefoot and completely unfazed by it. Dismantled is a good look for her, even if she doesn’t appreciate it: reaching into her purse, this emergency kit of wipes, a mascara brush, lipstick. Raring to do a little triage.

“Yeah,” you insist, “you’re out of your mind.”

The droll laugh she gives you when you finally let her go is not antagonistic either, but as with a lot of those things Eunbi does, the click of her tongue, the haughty expressions, the mannerisms, they were all becoming less threatening and more fetching - possibly more now that you’ve seen the face she makes when she cums.

“I think it’s just force of habit.” Having slid from the sink and onto the floor, Eunbi pitches up on her feet to kiss you again, and you don’t try to fight it any more than if she had beaten you in some sporting game and extended her hand to shake yours. When she pulls her lips off you, she adds, “which, you know, serendipitous and all that.”

“Thanks for the ten-dollar-word.”

“Lucky,” she reiterates.

“I know what it means.”

“If I had to guess… Minju doesn’t let you, does she?” And it becomes immediately apparent to you what Eunbi’s playing at. She’s got her teeth sinking into the long game, anticipating that you'll cross your arms, tell her never again: that thing at the gala, the kissing - we can't.

“Can you stop.”

“Does she?”

“Um,” you say, considering carefully for a moment which half-truths you want to tell, which ones you already have. “No, she does.”

Eunbi shifts her body a little, toward you, but not quite close enough to touch you - she’s bending slightly at the waist to scoop her tits back into her bra, her dress. The corner of her lip quirks further, and she asks, completely unrepentant, “does she let you cum in her ass?”

Your throat clicks, swallowing - you can’t even imagine it well enough to begin to know how to lie about it; bashful, everything obvious and on display - so, yeah, you are kind of fucked.

“Your shirt isn’t buttoned right by the way.”

“Here,” you say, still stuffing fabric back into your pants, “stand in front of me in case someone we know happens to come around.”

Eunbi crowds you to the wall, almost too aggressively, and she watches a staff member of the venue walk by carrying a platter full of shrimp tails and used napkins. “You’ve got cum on your pants too.”

“One crisis at a time, okay.”

“What are you going to tell Minju?”

“Nothing.”

“I mean… what is your approach, like when we get over there and-” Eunbi takes a step forward, fitting so perfectly beneath your chin, looking up like she’d discovered something worth marveling at. “Oh my god.” She laughs out loud. “How did I get a hickey under there?”

With just one finger returning to her waist, far gentler than the last time it’d been there, you push her back ever so slightly. “I’m just going to be myself.”

“Hm, bad idea.”

“Oh, alright then.”

Eunbi clutches a hand over her chest like she’d been wounded. “I just mean you’re kind of a nervous wreck.”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her, now properly buttoned, and sliding out from her small-yet-surprisingly-overbearing presence. “And I told you, I bruise easy.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

History, is the word you’re looking for. Minju and Eunbi have history.

It always starts the same way:

A kiss to one cheek, the other, and the two are immediately falling back on placid smiles and the kind of laughter that seems at a glance to be genuine and real. Almost theatrical, the performance.

Though Eunbi’s always had that chip on her shoulder - says she knows what it’s like to be young and pretty and famous - and when they’re together Minju always manages to draw from this near-infinite supply of bashful and modest. Actually, that’s more or less her whole thing.

The mistake you figure, if anyone were to ask you, which no one has one yet - the mistake is in thinking you’re the only one that knows Minju can’t stand Eunbi. Even though she does a great job of hiding it, you might be singular in regards to who gets to hear Minju go off in the privacy of your apartment - arrogant, vain, conceited bitch - but you’re not alone here. No, no.

Because Eunbi - who is perfectly aware just how much disdain Minju has for her - catches your stare. And instead of being content with how you’ve found the ideal spot to stand off to the side to avoid this whole minefield of a situation, she waves you over. Way too enthusiastically.

That has always set her apart. She would invite mischief, if she thought that it would set the scene.

It’s not more than a week before your paths cross again. Perhaps you’re tangling with fate. Perhaps it’s out of your control. Perhaps, you consider carefully, that’s more convenient. You see her first: waiting for a cab at the taxi stand outside the broadcast studio, cardigan sliding down around her shoulders, verily bedraggled in the wind.

The ends of her hair are in the corners of her mouth, and those long shadows cast from the evening sun dance across her face to paint those features baroque, build an image serene and stately - statuesque.

(She’s stunning as ever.)

That Eunbi is even here of all places is a coincidence, but her dimples deepen when her eyes meet yours, like she’s finally found something she was long looking for. “How serendipitous,” she says to you again, smiling.

“Right.” You grimace back, self-effacing. “Lucky.”

“You know,” she says after a moment, “our apartments really aren’t that-”

“Far,” you say, seeing the conclusion that she’s leaping at, and the next to make things become extremely complicated is Eunbi, which is so her that it makes your fists clench in your jacket pockets without realizing it.

“It’d be cheaper, I’m just saying, if we split a cab.”

“What if I told you,” you say, after a long while, “I get reimbursed for the commute either way.”

“Do you?”

“No,” you end up saying, bluntly.

“So, purely a hypothetical,” she suggests, leaning into your personal space, and your eyes drop immediately, past her bare shoulders, past the neckline of a matching top, pointedly to her knees beneath a pair of denim shorts. Her whole outfit is simple, but with a figure like hers, clearly intended to provoke a reaction, one that you’re not going to give her. You’re above that.

“Yeah.” You tilt your head. “Sure.”

Her finger’s tapping at her chin, and it’s sort of cute the way she does it, making the gesture seem about half as patronizing as it should be. “Then just for good company’s sake?

“You-” It comes out uneven enough to get you chuckling to yourself, kind of nervously. Her eyes light up as you swallow back on your drying mouth - a beacon, lighthouse in a storm, safe harbor, siren’s call and all. Your gut is trying to tell you, danger, and then suggests you dive in headfirst. “You might be giving yourself too much credit.”

“Just entertain the thought for me.”

“Like a hypothetical, you mean.”

She laughs, and it has her eyes crinkling at the corners. Likable, you think immediately. Beautiful, right after that, and coincidence, as it were, ends there - just as abruptly.

You’ve made many selfish decisions in your life, but climbing into the back of that cab might be the most out of all of them - Eunbi just smiles when you arrive next to her. You never stood a chance against that, probably. It’s the Orpheus thing. The monkey’s paw thing. It’s not possible to lean out of a moving vehicle enroute toward collision, stop the wheels from spinning when they’re already spun, and unmake the wish.

The blur of passing street lights streak across Eunbi’s face and present it to you in broken images, cycling like phases of the moon, until finally, an overpass sees everything go dark, and you feel her small body slide across the backseat, the heat in her chest as she presses into you.

Her lips are featherlight upon yours, gentle and trepid. For the first time, she seems unsure, as if she didn’t think this would happen. Then once more, with a taste of desperation and sinking into the dark corner of the leather seat, she kisses you like she knows you, pulling tight onto the collar of your shirt like she knows you’ll kiss her back - like she knows that all you’ve been doing, at the end of the day, is delaying the inevitable.

Eunbi’s apartment, actually, is rather modest. More different, and less however you expected.

The walls are painted alabaster, not white, which is only a color you recognize because Minju had waffled between that and eggshell for weeks before tasking you to paint three of the four walls of your living room - only later to realize she wanted something darker as you were priming the fourth. There’s a small powder room by the door, a tiny closet overflowing with jackets and coats and all sorts of outfits you’ve probably stripped off Eunbi in your head a thousand times over - and what the space lacks in size, more than makes up for in the massive set of south facing windows, benefit of an open layout, daylight warm and diffuse.

Well, at least that’s how you imagine it. The sun set while you weren’t paying attention, your thoughts, hands, lips, all preoccupied in the back of the cab, so you’re left with only the recessed lighting, dimmed down to dreamlike allure.

Not that you've ever been one with an eye for detail. No, Minju will happily corroborate the fact. Your talents start at your wit, end at your charm. But it’s just where you’re at - head tipped over the back of the sofa - you’ve got your eyes anywhere besides where Eunbi’s kneeling in front of you, head bobbing up and down between your thighs.

In spite of your plans to fold her over any surface sturdy and horizontal, you ended up like this, jeans not even half way down around your thighs. On instinct, you’re threading your fingers through her silky hair, though you can feel the glare she shoots up as you tighten your grip and start to pull. It’s not that Eunbi takes issue with you fucking her face inherently. It’s nothing like that at all.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” you murmur softly, voice wrecked. “You take my cock so well. Your smart little mouth was made for this, wasn’t it?”

Between messy kisses in the cab, the lobby, the elevator, while fumbling for her keys, she’d detailed to you all the things she wanted you to do to her, how she wanted you to fuck her, how she was going to make you cum. See, her mouth is gorgeous, even more vulgar, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip: you’d understand exactly what that mouth could do.

Because there’s the angle you’re now both familiar with, that you can fuck her apart, get her flushed, faltering and fucked into perfect submission until you steal your own release - that you’ve been running the memory back all damn week - but she figures you ought to know that she can make you cum without you ever needing to lift a finger. And given how sure she is running her tongue all over you, sucking your cock, mouth hot, unashamedly sloppy, fingers curled around your shaft in strokes of genius-

Fuck, she probably will.

Not that you’re one for understatement, mouth falling open as you sigh backward into the upholstery - feels amazing, you’re explaining to her when you’re not chewing your lip, so good at that, a little more, your mouth baby, fuck, it’s incredible. Like she doesn’t already know.

Eunbi just slides her lips down your shaft so perfectly in response. All that wet suction near fatal. But it’s not what gets you to swear audibly, a low rumble from your chest that says she’s on the right track. It’s the look on her face: pouty pink lips cushioning your cockhead, parted around your shaft, sinking further now, back at the top again, spit drooling from the corners of her mouth. Her eyebrows are upturned, and when she hollows her cheeks some - lifts her eyelids and fixes that gaze on you - her irises are gleaming in juxtaposition, this doe-eyed girl blinking up at you, innocently, like she’s not taking your cock further into her mouth, fucking you until she chokes.

Those eyes half-lidded, unknowing, and staring straight into you-

She’ll make you cum, they read, blinking, deep in her throat. Her lashes flutter. She coughs. You’ll cum more.

Though for your part, it’s not like you’re aren’t handing yourself over to the sensation either, indulging in everything Eunbi’s mouth has to offer, what more you’re sure still to take. It’s hot and wet and her tongue is even better licking around the tip of your cock than it was pressed flat underneath it - you’re settling into it, just starting to rock your hips up to meet the softness at the back of her throat, and she nods her head down twice more, bathing more of you in her spit each time, sputtering. You’re not the easiest to take, but she’s almost casually contented, or something more smug, the uppish look of a girl who's never backed away from a challenge - who will happily go for more - and without fuss, she takes your entire length between her lips.

“Oh, fuck me-” you mutter, going speechless the moment she starts to suck.

And with her nose to your belly, Eunbi is straining, fighting for breath. It’s not an accident that she’s making a total fucking mess, drool and precum dripping down your shaft. She’d take more of you, wet on her chin, on her fingers, she’d pull you further into her little mouth, like she’d have it no other way. Still, her tongue licks nonchalantly past the seal of her lips, laps at your balls, and you think you’re going to lose it when she realizes it’ll get you to shiver, how you won’t ask for more, but she can just keep doing it again, again.

You bury your face in your hands as you suck in your next breath. You’re leaking cum actually, only a little, and Eunbi just keeps blowing you like you aren’t.

Fantasies will never work again, not after this, because for all the times you’ve imagined Eunbi’s lips around you, you’ve never come up with anything remotely close. It’s not even clear if this talent of hers is natural, god-given, or if behind each of her coy expressions and holier-than-thou moments of proud eminence she’s secretly an insatiable cockslut, but man, the girl is really good at sucking cock.

Maybe the tricky part about this, if you even want to begin to get into it (you do not) - allowing yourself a small taste of intimacy has sparked this want for so much more. Even when things were good, Minju wasn’t getting her mouth on you like this. You can’t put your finger on it, the last time you’ve had anything as satisfying as the press of Eunbi’s lips around you, this mess of dark slippery hair bobbing up and down in your lap lazily and unbothered, mouth making all these wet noises like she’s yours and nothing more - like she never will be - and fuck, it’s irresistable. Her tongue curls around you again, and she makes her jaw go slack until more spit drools down the length of your cock, lathering in her fingers and twisting around your shaft - it scratches at itches you didn’t even know you had; nascent itches, silent ones, itches cloaked as something else.

Your breath stutters, stumbling into an embarrassing little moan after Eunbi pops her mouth off your cock, and a fleeting trick of a grin rushes across her face. She picks up on where you’re at instantly: “Aren’t you, like, kinda quiet?”

“There’s a lot going through my head right now,” you tell her, and that’s something she knows she can play along with, reveling in how you swallow at nothing when she hooks her hand behind her back and frees her bra from her shoulders. Her tits settling perfectly into place. “Just to be clear,” you sigh, “I’m going to cum in your mouth if you keep doing it like that.”

She tugs your jeans all the way down to your ankles. Arches an eyebrow. “And?”

“It’s called being decent, just something I'm working on.”

“Oh,” Eunbi says, returning her grip around your cock. Her hands are tiny, stacked one on top of the other, and she pumps them slowly, knowing that the abundance of spit and precum in her fingers makes it feel amazing. Every little flick of her wrists every bit as unbearable. “Now you care about decency; the guy who’s cheating on his-”

“Watch it,” you say, rough, “I could go without the reminder.”

Eunbi’s grin flickers a little wider. “Still the guilty conscious, huh?”

You think on it, a moment too long probably, because on one hand, she’s right. On the other - “I’m not going to say it’s guiltless.”

“Okay simple,” Eunbi shrugs, and pulls herself away from you, suggesting, “just touch yourself.”

That’s one way to go about it. You wonder if this is the logic her brain operates on daily. It’d explain a lot.

“That’s like getting away with it on a technicality.”

“It’s an orgasm,” Eunbi tuts, “you’re not robbing a bank.” There’s a brief silence while she brings her palm up over her eyes, peeking through her fingers. “Here, see, I’m not even looking.”

“I’m going to go ahead and just point out that you’re suggesting I jerk off in your living room.”

Eunbi’s hands drop to her sides, before tracking up her ribs and holding her breasts together into a cleavage that is way too inviting for anyone’s sake. You’re enchanted. Beguiled, maybe.

“Or.” Her gaze tapers in on something. God only knows what exactly your tell is; the quirk in your brow, the slightly-more-than-usual-avoidant gaze, something about your lips, the way you’re biting them - that’s where she seems to have honed in. And she’s smoking you out, completely. “I could probably just fuck you with my tits.”

That’s true. She could. And when that developed thought eventually coheres, you sigh profoundly.

She tips her head, interpreting the silence, and the small, wanting groan you make as she starts smashing her breasts closer together between her hands is definitely audible. Here, she’s telling you, with your cock, I know you want to. Even her lips are slanted into a subtle, knowing shape, steeped in all her femme-fatality, before finding the other smile she wears that pretends like it doesn’t know what she’s doing to you. “Is that what you want? You want your cock between my tits?”

“How exactly are those two things interchangeable?” you start, which isn’t anything even in the neighborhood of a no, so Eunbi simply leans forward, raising her chest between your thighs and teasing the sensitive part of your cock with just a brush of her nipple. Grazing down you, it’s hardly any contact at all, but the way you twitch suggests to her you’ll probably never recover from this.

“Well.” Eunbi’s expression is lit aflame with revelation. “I’m just working in the space, thinking about things someone else could never do for you - things I could do for you.”

For one thing - of which there are many - it’s a hell of a departure from the Eunbi who was sobbing against the bathroom mirror begging you to cum inside her. You can hear it. Her voice has the quality of a type of: victory.

(Like she’s just come up with the most brilliant idea in the world. Which - maybe.)

“It’s perfectly normal you know,” she adds, almost as an aside, while trapping your cock between her breasts. “Literally everyone asks me to do this.”

You’re disarmed more than you realized, only able to nod along. Eunbi laces her fingers together, straightens herself, and right after passing her tongue under her top teeth to shoot you a smile, starts moving up and down against you. The way it feels, filthy hot and suffocatingly amazing, fuck, you’re letting out a sound that’s the bastardchild of a laugh and a whimper. You’re stunned. And the way it looks - your cockhead escaping her tits, disappearing again - is almost, almost the best part.

“You’re, like, so hard right now,” she says, deservedly confident, and sliding her tits up around your cock again, she tilts her chin, trying to goad it out of you. “Should I let you cum all over these tits? Like, you’re already throbbing, honey.”

Let you cum, she says. If you weren’t struggling to cope with everything - every pass of soft skin smothered around your shaft sending you further to wit’s end and threatening to abandon you there - you’d recognize the writing on the wall: you’re in the palms of her hands, figuratively, literally. You’re in trouble.

“Oh, is that it?” she asks again. “Should I?”

“Fuck.” Without even thinking, you’re spreading your knees wider, inching toward the edge of the sofa, aching to get deeper between her cleavage. “Fine, yes, fuck-”

“Unh-uh,” says Eunbi flippantly.

See, she’s enjoying this - eyes hot and radiant with authority - she’s enjoying this more than you. Her fingers relax, letting her tits fall around down onto your thighs. The pressure she was letting you enjoy, wrapping around your cock and making you speechless, starts to dwindle to something less brain-numbing. It’s unexpected: the lipstick around her mouth is smeared slightly, mascara under her smoky eyes still in disarray from how you’d had your cock in her throat, and now she’s the one taunting you.

“No, I’m serious,” she adds, “I want to hear you say it.”

Her brow furls immediately when you open your mouth, like she’s already very aware of what you’re going to say, and equally unimpressed.

“Say you want me to make you cum with my tits.”

“Eunbi.” Your voice comes out dry, damaged. “Please.”

“Hm?”

This wasn’t quite how you had pictured it when you’d seen Eunbi leaving the studio, looking like an angel, smiling like the devil; when she batted her lashes at you outside the taxi stand; when she clung to you and kissed you in the backseat of the cab; when that escalated the moment you walked through her foyer; when she dropped to her knees and started at your belt, your zipper, all without missing a beat. This is different. This is you, being desperate.

“Please, with your tits Eunbi, fuck me with your tits.”

Jesus. Now you know how that sounds. And the words are clear enough given the circumstances, but she’s staring at you expectantly, waiting for more. Waiting for you to concede. Waiting like you have no choice - “please, Eunbi, please make me cum, fuck, I need it so bad.”

“Oh.” Eunbi gathers herself again around your cock. Tighter. Triumphant. She laughs dryly and says, aloof, “good boy.”

(Here’s how it goes:

Eunbi has your cock vanished into her cleavage, again, and every soft slide of her breasts coaxes a reaction out of you - some quiet, others louder - coaxes more precum from where your cock is aching, leaking. She adjusts her fingers, moves her palms in further, makes her movements more precise, faster, tighter-

It’s probably not a good sign of mental hygiene that you’re wilting so fast, that you’ve given her so much power so quickly, but the way she has her tits around you is fucking staggering.

“Aw, don’t worry, I’ll make you cum so fucking hard.” Eunbi moves her tits up your shaft. Lets them fall again. “Just relax for me.”

Her dark hair is falling slightly out of place over her ears as she looks down and presses her out tongue out, licking gently at where you’re appearing over and over from her soft breasts. Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing, you think, even though there’s not an ounce of culpability in her face. You’re so unused to seeing Eunbi appear so guileless that you nearly don’t recognize her.

But once you feel the smooth skin of her chest become so wet and slippery with her spit, your precum - once she’s settled into a reliable motion to fuck you with - her eyes lift their focus from what’s just beneath her chin. Get themselves fixed right on you.

“It feels so good doesn’t it?” The smirk that finds her mouth is lethal. “C’mon. I know you want to cum.”

You can only nod, breath panting.

“Cum on these perfect tits, baby. Cum for me.” Her brow is cocked, voice lilting straight into seduction. “Cum-”

Eunbi’s name sticks to the roof of your mouth as you shoot a rope of cum past her collarbone. You send more all over her chest, hot and sticky and shimmering in pale white, and as soon as she slowly slides her chest up again, you drain your balls into the warm wrap of her tits. A truly satisfying mess.

You stare for a moment, wondering, if she’ll open her mouth and swallow you again - all given the way she’s looking at your cock, hungry. But she simply tilts her chin and lets your cum splash onto her neck.

She has her hands pumping you lazily against her clavicle, cooing while she gently fuck out the final, tired vestiges of your orgasm with little flicks of her wrist: “oh, there, look at all that, and it’s all for me.”

Once your knees stop shaking and your breath starts to level - once Eunbi releases you from her warm, wet cleavage - she draws a shiver out of you with her tongue, run up the length of your sensitive cock, and she’s left kneeling there, covered in your cum, with her palms upturned like she’s waiting for someone to give her a towel. It’s you, and it’s her, and there’s something about the image of your cum splattered all over her chest, shining and slippery between her perfect tits. You get your hands on her waist immediately, pulling her up into your lap, her slick, sticky chest sliding against yours, and you devour her mouth greedily, licking hungrily past her lips.

“You are something else,” you say finally, now sunk back into the couch to fully take Eunbi in. “All sorts of party tricks.”

Eunbi preens, utterly satisfied with herself, and she reaches down behind her to your cock, aching in pained pleasure, aching for more. You flirt with the heat that radiates from behind her underwear, grinding against where she’s become hot and wet and needy. She laughs, and the sound turns to a pretty little sigh after she pulls aside her panties and seats herself onto your cock.

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says, and she starts to move.)

It’s never supposed to become a habit. It’s never supposed to be anything at all.

At first? Once a month, and it’s unprompted; then it’s biweekly, then it’s once a week, then it ends up biweekly again in the opposite direction; there are these little text messages back and forth that you’re learning to decipher - hey, they usually start, you up? or you wanna help me move some furniture? or this is crazy, but i cooked way too much ramen? or been horny all day, so like, come over and fuck me?

Some of them, you puzzle out, are easier to decipher than others. And falling comfortably into that category are the nudes she sends you in the middle of a fucking workday:

Eunbi’s standing with the backside of her unfathomable figure facing the bathroom mirror, denim cut offs slipping down past her thighs-

(Fuck. Shit. You drop your phone and it lands face down in a way that makes you scared to check for damages. Luckily, it is unscathed. Mostly.)

-denim cut offs slipped down past the cheeks of her ass. Her torso is twisted in profile, a white linen shirt draped up over her shoulders for ceremonial purposes, gaping open at the front in an effort to cover nothing at all. Underneath that is a plaid swimsuit top for god knows what reason - a pair of large silver hoop earrings, perfectly done eyelashes, and hair far too styled to be gearing up for a swim - then it’s her thumb, hooked under the string that looks to barely be holding the tiny thing together. The picture is taken at nearly the precise moment: she’s pulling up on the bikini top, to the point that her tits look ready to fall out and let gravity return them whence they came.

How she managed it, you’ll never know, but it’s got fantasies come to life immediately. Eunbi whimpering and coming apart, Eunbi stretched out in that bikini top, Eunbi stretched out without it - you nearly drop the phone again.

The text that follows is shameless, complete with a winking emoji and extra letters in all the right places: maybe tell minju you’ll be home late for dinner.

All of this, and suddenly you’re feeling less oblivious about it. You and Minju are at that point. These are your death throes, a swan song, performative; you’re that kind of couple.

You realize there’s this thing that Minju always says.

You’ll often catch her in passing, between your hectic schedules or in her spot between the cushions of the sofa curled up in a blanket and reading another romance novel. She’ll ask you how your day was, or what it’s going to be, and you’ll tell her what you always tell her.

“Nothing,” she responds as you press a dutiful kiss to her forehead, “I’m just thinking.”

But what else is there to say?

There’s Eunbi’s apartment, the usual scene of the crime. There’s the backseat of your car, sometimes the front seat of hers. There’s no lack for nooks and crannies in the production studio. You fuck Eunbi. Eunbi fucks you. All of it rabid and increasingly frequent and most of the time it gets seriously freudian.

“Inside me,” Eunbi gasps, twice. Her chest is flushed, stained again with your cum, sticky strands of it bridging between her tits as they wobble and shake beneath you. It’s all routine, and none of it anything you could ever tire of. The way you’re fucking her, every deliberate thrust something you can hang on to forever - buried inside her hot, tight velvety cunt - it should be aspirational. And you’ve got her here so frequently, so selfishly, so perfectly. With her knees folded up to her shoulders as you ride the motions of the bed springs.

Maybe it’s curiosity at play, to see how far either of you will go. You’re crushing her in more ways than one. It’s hot and filthy and she’s loving every moment of it. You’re pounding her sopping cunt into a swollen, cummed-in mess - more and more as you fuck her further into the matress. “Do it, baby,” she cries, unashamed, “want you to fill this pretty little cunt again, need you to fuck me, use me, need you to breed me - use this pussy however you want, it’s yours, so cum in me over and over until i’m just your little cumdump and nothing more-”

God, you want to give her everything she wants, all of the time. Your hips ride into her again, deep and making her features skip past all the usual coy expressions. And god, she is so fucking tight - maybe you will.

“Just like that, don’t stop.” Eunbi is panting, nails digging into your shoulder blades, and she holds your face to the crook of her shoulder. Her voice comes out in airy gasps, shaking and quivering as you rock her entire body beneath you. You pound away at her pussy, and you fuck her, and you rail her so reckless she starts to cry out, until she’s begging, pleading for you to fill her pretty little cunt.

Even though you should at least hesitate, you don’t. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

Hips grinding against hers, cunt clenched and dripping onto your cock, you do.

You need her.

But what else is there to say? It’s not that you don’t do your fair share of thinking either. Though none of it productive, admittedly. You’ve got all these images, photographically vivid, of Eunbi running through your head. The things you’ve done to her, the things you want to do to her, the things you will do to her.

It starts to get in the way of your work.

“I’m sorry,” you say, caught daydreaming one day. “Could you repeat that for me?”

Sitting across the table from you is Jo Yuri, a mutual friend. She knows everyone, and she’s on your radio show, talking about relationships. “What I’m saying is this: I’m not sure what it is about men that make them think women are so unsolvable, like we’re constantly changing the rules.”

“They’re not simple,” you offer in contention.

Yuri turns her head onto her hand, adjusting her headphones, and leans into the mic. “They’re not complex either.”

But, they are complex, you think to yourself as Yuri continues on her with her point. They’re complex in the way they want you to touch them, the way they want you to hold them, to kiss them; some of them complex in the way they want you to choke them, slap them, get your mouth on them and make them cum over and over-

“If it’s less subtle than a brick to the face,” Yuri says, gauging your lack of a reaction, “it’s probably for your own good. That’s what I think.”

Neither of you cry when Minju breaks up with you on a Friday. You know, like officially. Neither of you shout or throw things or do anything that you could put in a tell-all book in your later years.

So that’s that, is the last thing she says to you.

Whatever the opposite of cathartic is - that’s the vibe.

Her publicist finally sends a letter to Dispatch. Apparently the time is right. Or she’s stopped caring. You don’t know. The article that ultimately arrives doesn’t drag you through the mud, but you don’t come out looking all that great either. And as it turns out, surprisingly, the most tragic part about being dumped on a Friday, aside from the fact that every fool that is doom scrolling twitter knows about it, is it’s impossible to get new furniture delivered until the following Monday.

“Jesus,” Eunbi says, sliding past you and into your near empty apartment. “This place is super depressing.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, tepid. “There’s been photographers watching the door to the lobby for hours.”

“I was just passing by. Saw the lights were on.”

“Yeah, well, I mean I’m here.”

“I see that.” Eunbi smiles simply. “Was all the furniture hers?”

“We replaced a lot of stuff as time went on. Didn’t match her decor.” You lean against the door frame. “Or so I’m told.”

Eunbi does a spin in your living room, finger to her chin. “Looks like she left you a coffee table.”

“The movers said it didn’t fit in the truck.”

“Ah.” Eunbi crosses her arms, and the quiet smile on her face grows just an inch. “Serendipitous, ain’t it?”

“Hey,” Eunbi says, from the passenger seat of your car. “Would you say… are you feeling anger?”

“No.”

She taps away at her phone in a few more moments of silence. The turn signal’s click click click punctuating each one, semi-dramatically.

“Hey,” she says again, turning toward you.

“What?”

“How about this, are you feeling depression.”

You pause before you answer. “No.”

Her mouth finds a subtle twist, almost like she’s pouting. “Are you feeling, I dunno, bargaining?”

“I’m not in grief, Eunbi, if that’s what you’re working toward.”

She sinks into her seat, disappointed somehow.

“Oh, that’s the first step by the way: denial.” Eunbi unclicks her seatbelt, and leans over the console as you pull up in front of a hotel. “This article says that soon the emotions you’ve been hiding will begin to rise. You’ll be confronted with a lot of-”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” she asks, blinking deceptively in an almost comically innocent way.

“Psychoanalyzing.” You shut the car door a little too dramatically to be of any help hammering home your point. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Eunbi murmurs, just low enough for you to catch, “you’re living out of a hotel. And denial is not just a river in Egypt.”

“Why don’t we analyze how you’ve got a real talent for getting under my skin.”

“Oh.” She laughs, eyes bright, cheery. “So we are angry.”

“You might want to be more careful.” You’re wandering into familiar territory here. This thing, the needling, the goading, is it on purpose? Your intuition suggests yes, perhaps. A wealth of experience tells you absolutely.

“Is that so?” she asks, interested and daring and dangerously pretty in the shadows of the parking lot.

“Who knows, maybe I end up getting a little rough with you.”

“Oh darling,” she says, and part of you isn’t too keen on her getting so intimate with you. There’s another part of you that is. “I’m hoping you get a lot rough with me.”

The way Eunbi perches inelegantly at the edge of the bed says a lot. Her legs are wide open and she’s grasping backward at a set of pristine hotel sheets, cumming over and over on your fingers, maybe a little too easily. She’s even giving you those eyes, watery and irresistable. Of course you’re past all that, well familiar with the act, how deceitful it is of her to act so innocent.

So you bring your mouth onto her pussy and make her do it again. Telling yourself it’s what she deserves.

In fact, when the barrage of oh god’s and moaning and panting finally subsides, she ends up laughing, bubbly cute, in exactly the way you’ve grown fond of. It’s almost strange, you think, to be so used to the sound. But when Eunbi finally uncovers her face from her hands, her expression is pointedly not amused, all need and lust and want - she’s not playing around - simply the way your name comes off her tongue could make you melt. “How do you want me?” she asks, “you can’t just leave me like this.”

Fuck, how don’t you want her? It might have been careless, giving someone like you creative liberty - you’re imaging everything. You want her on her knees, you want her ass in your hands, you want her riding you, beneath you; there’s a million and one things you’re thinking about her tits alone. Then there’s the other liberty. That you’re not checking over your shoulder, worrying, anxious, that kernel of shame hidden away somewhere inside you no longer growing as you get your cock inside her. You’ll make her scream your name, beg you to cum. She’s yours, and you’ll remind her who she belongs to. You’ll take all the time you need.

“Stand up,” you end up telling her, and after one of those liquid thoughts finally coalesces into something more rigid, “over by the window.”

“Yes sir,” Eunbi says, huffing a smug laugh. Though whatever faux confidence she thought she discovered vanishes without a trace considering her knees are already wobbling, barely able to support her. Some part of her must be able to sense it: you’re worked up, feeling something. She likes you that way. Likes what it makes you do to her. The fact is, to be truly content - being held down and pounded into, filled so full and fucked apart - it’ll take just a press of her thumb on the scale.

See, Eunbi knows you’ve been holding back. Knows you’ve been flirting with the boundaries she’s dared you to cross. With a little encouragement, she knows you will.

You saw this coming. And to be frank, you’re going to ruin her.

“Take your shirt off,” you say, slipping seamlessly into instruction, “socks, underwear, strip.”

It is breathtaking, the way Eunbi ultimately turns her figure around against the pane, hands running up the glass and stretching above her head, ass poked out and shimmying her hips. She’s right there, waiting for you to grab hold of her, to press kisses into her shoulders, her spine, to pump your cock into her, to cum in her deeper and deeper-

And with much less to say, she finds that shimmy again, the round of her ass proffering. Her patience waning.

“You fucking better,” she says, and her elbow’s bent, finger’s pulling at her ass cheek. Look, this pussy, it’s yours, no one else’s and you made it so, so wet. You almost can’t believe that she’s even real - all curves and sharp angles in the right places, a face like that - you should be at her feet, worshiping her, and you will, in a way: you’ll grip her wrists tightly into your fist and sink your fingers into her waist until you’ve got her bruising and breaking. And that’s just a scratch at the surface.

Eunbi’s pupils are blown, mouthing into her shoulder, “I need you to fuck me.”

The tension in the room hardly stretches more than a few moments, you’ve got your cock out, you’re slipping into Eunbi’s soaked cunt, pushing deep, thrusting deeper, bottoming out - “you perfect fucking slut, Eunbi, so needy aren’t you? Begging me to breed you over and over-” You’ve spent the last god knows how many many months hiding away and stealing at something you weren’t supposed to have. Spent even longer pining for something you’ve never had at all. Your hips snap again, harsh contact against her ass, skin milky white and soft, unblemished and delicate - and when you settle into this harsh tempo, railing Eunbi up against the window, you figure you’ll address all that.

See, you’ve got no ticking clock in front of you. Consider how time starts to slip when you’re inside her, seconds to minutes, minutes to hours, you’ll take as much you can: time to bring her her home, keep your cock in her for a day, two days, three days, keep cumming in all her holes-

“Fuck,” Eunbi sputters, arching her back further, tension building in her spine, in her cunt. The reflection in the window shows her bottom lip start to tremble, and she opens her mouth, repeating it, like it’s all she can remember how to say. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You slap her ass, hard. Handprint vibrantly pink and staring back at you. You kiss her shoulders, you pound her little cunt into consummate submission. I want other people to know, Eunbi’s entirely incapable of telling you right now, drool cornering in her lips. Want everyone to know how good you fuck me, how you own me, how I’m your personal cumdump and forever will be.

You mark her up, like she is yours, hand at her neck, in her hair - you start to pull.

“Yes?” How you’re holding her, how you’re fucking her - it’s physically imposing. You’re towering over the woman, face bent upward and reaching further as the grip you’ve stolen of her silky hair only ever tightens. You can kiss her forehead, but you don’t. You tease her instead. “Aw, you’ve got a look on your face like you have something you want to tell me, Eunbi.”

All too simple, your thumb lands on the pucker of her asshole. And she cums, just like that.

It’s unholy. The overstimulation has tears welling in her eyes, gorgeous, wide, glassy and brilliant. She’s not meant to take this kind of treatment. Reverence, adoration, that’s her usual faire. And she can hardly believe when you bring your hand down her ass again - can hardly believe that you’re fucking her within and inch of her life and wrecking her like you are.

Each thrust sends her voice higher and the lines of her body rippling faster, bending further. Its beauty in resonance, profundity in motion: the soft skin of her ass shaking against your hips, tits swinging against the window. Your hand snakes across her flat stomach, feels her panting for breath, traces her ribs and up towards her chest. Those little whines make it out to be something selfish. Mewling gasps for air make it seem like you aren’t giving her exactly what she asked for. As if you’d ever give her anything less.

Fuck. She’s a hot, moaning mess of a woman. She doesn’t even roll her hips back onto you or fuck herself on your cock; she doesn’t need to. You’re destroying that little pussy, and once you start palming the heavy shape of her breast, you’re letting your fingers sink into all that profundity.

“Please,” finally slips out of her, though she’s unable to add anything in that thin, wilting voice. There’s plea in it, the sound steeped in protest, in penury, in poverty; you’re fucking her and you’re fucking her apart - cock buried deep in her cunt - you never expected to have to piece her together this early.

“Tell me,” you demand, callous, right at her ear, “please what? Please pound this perfect little pussy of yours until I cum? Please fill you with a hot load of cum because what, you deserve it? Is that you want, Eunbi?”

“Please, cum-” Her words vanish like a hot breath against the glass. She’s blathering, eyes falling half-lidded in this amazingly sexy way that almost feels intentional. “Want to feel you cum. Fill me up with cum, please, please, please-”

“Oh, Eunbi,” you drawl, right into the crook of her neck. It makes her shiver. She’s not a princess, curses woven into her breath, but she’s selfish like one. “I’m not going to cum in this perfect little pussy-”

It all happens so fast: you drag your cock out of her cunt, and if you weren’t pressing your fingers into her waist, holding her tighter, you think she might collapse. Maybe you were closer than you realized, moments from draining your balls in her pussy, because when you lay cushioned between the cheeks of her ass, your cock just starts to spill - hot cum weeping from the tip and making a mess of her soft, creamy skin, over the puffy lips of her pussy, across the tight little rim of her asshole.

“Good girls get bred, Eunbi,” you say, voice drying, sensitive, and so far from where you started. “You told me to be rough with you baby. I’m thinking I might cum in this perfect fucking ass. Should I?”

Eunbi’s face is flush against the glass, hands reaching back in response, spreading herself for you. Some part of her knows what you want, and she knows how bad she wants it too. “Please,” she begs, swallowing down on these hoarse uneven breaths, hiccupping between them - “need it.”

You can feel your tip tease her rim, where she’s still impossibly closed and waiting. The cum leaking from your cock is wet and slick and slippery, and with a fist curled around your shaft, realigned, angled down, you slip in.

There aren’t even words for it, how it all comes together. How she comes apart.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, recognizing Eunbi’s weight shift around you. “I’m going to fucking own this little asshole, Eunbi.”

Eunbi’s responsive mmm runs ragged. Face in profile against the window, tits smashed against the glass, you watch her eyes screw shut and her eyebrows draw together - you think for a moment, as you so often do, that you’re hurting her, blazing past safewords and pressing your cock too deep, too fast into her tight ass. “Go,” she tells you, and without even flinching, gets her fingers underneath where you’re splitting her in two, gets them wet with the slick of her cunt and in between your balls, gently. “Want you, please, this big cock.”

Your eyes water, and you start to thrust.

“Baby,” you whisper into the lobe of her ear. For once it’s all slow, sloppy and soft. It’s sin at your waist, fucking her open slowly, pumping into her ass again and again until it’s all so slick she can take you further. But you’ve got your fingers in her hair, preening loose strands back behind her hair. She’s so pretty all the time, and with her face twisted in unbearable pleasure, she’s outright gorgeous. “So good for me, Eunbi, such a good little cumslut aren’t you?”

Eunbi’s voice crackles into broken whimpers, like her lungs are waterlogged and flooded. She steals a hand away between her thighs, and starts ghosting her fingers over her clit. Anything more than that and she’d probably go up in smoke. (If it’s anything like you, cock pulsing with blood and hot as flame, you are about to lose it.)

“Fuck,” she says, grinding out the consonants in your name like she’s crushing them under a boot, “I can’t believe how good you feel, I can’t, I can’t-”

You knew, had always known, that you had - however subconsciously - enticed fate by letting yourself get to this point. Maybe it’s a perfect slowburn, this history, dotting commas and periods in your memoirs, and here you are, pounding at Eunbi’s asshole so fast that she’s stuttering.

“I can’t, fuck - thank you - fuck - feel you throbbing in my fucking ass - love being your cocksleeve,” she hisses, and her body has practically all but given up, knees buckled out, arm dangling at her side, tears streaming down her cheeks. It’s just that she never expected it either, that you’d be pleasing her by fucking her like a toy, so unrepentant she’s sobbing messy, all sloppy and pleading, more, please, harder, faster.

“You like this cock tearing your ass open, Eunbi?” you ask, pushing the hand she has hidden at her cunt out of the way, “you like being such a perfect slut for my cock, don’t you? You weren’t kidding, you’d let me do anything to you.”

“Please, don’t, you’re gonna make me - again,” she squeals, lip wobbling, mouth hung open. You push her hard against the glass, until she straightens out, and your finger is gliding through the slick of her cunt, knuckles knocking the window and honing in on her swollen clit - you’ll make her scream. “Oh god, fuck, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Serendipity is about chance meetings, convenient covers. Life has a way of dropping the world in your lap without you having to do anything. It’s Eunbi’s picture-perfect face, wrecked and twisting as she cums all over your thighs, rolling her hips and fucking her ass onto you - it’s that when she cums with her puckered entrance stuffed full of cock, she squirts everywhere. Lucky, is the watchword you’re sitting on, and of all places, of all people, you’ve been dealt the perfect hand, deck stacked in your favor.

There’s wet splattered all over the window. Stains streaking in the carpet. Dark spots that’ll never fade.

“Keep fucking me,” Eunbi says, head of jet black hair titled back onto your shoulders, hips twisting slow as she grinds down against your waist, moving enough to make your cock throb and pulse. “Keep fucking me, please, until you fill my ass up all the way. I’m yours.”

Yours, yours, yours, she stammers on, failed and wrecked on your cock. Malleable and pliant. Ruined.

“This tight little ass of yours, Eunbi,” you mutter, drawing sharp breath after sharp breath, “is fucking unbelievable.”

It’s yours.

Her body twists, torso turns into you, and you get your mouth on hers, moaning and mewling on the same hot, damp air.

“Good girl,” you whisper against her lips, and with a final kiss to her temple, you fuck into her hard - hands snuck up to hold her breasts and keep her still, hips snapping fast, faster, faster-

When you finally explode up into Eunbi’s ass, she makes a noise fucked and faltering even further than you. It’s desperate and debauched and only staunched by the fingers you slip past her lips. She bites down, but you’re too far pitched into the reality of pumping cum past Eunbi’s tight entrance that you can’t be bothered to care.

“Fuck, Eunbi.” Your voice is sneaking through gritted teeth. She’s tiny against you, body slender and hot and milking your cock. A flash of muscle, a quiver, a pucker, and she’s got you reeling. You think about getting your hand around her throat - fucking her again - but the look her face is so pristine and contented. You have her like putty in your hands, like you could bend her, mold her, break her, and when you instead bring her face to yours in this lazy, clumsy kiss, lips sliding and her tongue licking into your mouth, you know you’d never need to.

See, she’s so dismantled, completely stuffed with cock, and still, with it leaking everywhere you can feel it run hot and sticky, it’s perfect.

The hotel room isn’t big, and until this exact moment, had been so filled with sex that the the sounds of it echoing back and forth make this sudden quiet into a silence puzzlingly calm. Her features relax, into something a little more befitting her reputation. She’s sweaty and wet and you did your part, you fucked her and fucked her up, you realize, she’ll return you the favor later.

You hold your breath, watching the beauty mark on her cheek raise and lower with every panted-out breath, mesmerized-

And with just the slightest shift, Eunbi’s mouth closes into this tiny, satisfied smile.

“You came inside my ass,” she says out loud. She tries not to laugh, and then she does anyway when you slide your cock out of her. “You just came - in my ass. Look.”

It’s almost unfathomable, that you just fucked her until she was sobbing, pushed your cock into her ass and had her uncoil like she did, the window, the carpet. Like a fucking disaster. It’s almost unfathomable that she’s got her hands spreading her cheeks open toward you and presenting the mess you’d made like it was something to be proud of, and after all that the mood of the moment shifts a little more intimate, a little more sentimental.

“You’re trouble,” you tell her, tilting her chin up under your fingers.

“Right back at you,” she says, and she pitches onto her feet until you kiss her again.

(It happens.

Time passes. You work on a new show. You move into a smaller apartment. It reeks of passed time. Maybe it’s the humidity of early sobriety, hanging and palpable. You can hear ticking in clockless rooms here.

It’s been years since Minju dropped the bombshell on the media. You recovered, mostly. Years too since you’ve seen Eunbi.

Sometimes the people you wanted as part of your story are only meant to be a chapter. You could probably stitch that into a frame and sell it to the kind of crowd who’d buy words in a frame.

You don’t.

Instead, you end up a little older, not in any meaningful way. You’re not wiser or any shit like that. Just older.)

You interrupt the producer of your current gig, a pretty middling radio show in a pretty mundane time slot. “What do you mean by new cohost? Like I’ll be working with another human being?”

He nods.

“Like every week?”

Nods again.

“Does he have a name?”

“She,” he corrects, writing judiciously at the clipboard permanently in his hands. Scowl on his face, pencil in his ear, clipboard in his hands, that’s how you know he’s in charge. It’s a whole look. He untucks a blank envelope from the disarray of papers in his hands, saying, “she dropped this off for you too.”

You turn it in your hands twice, until you see the cursive penned into the top right corner. Memories, stinging trifling things rush back to you, all at once: you see her face, her eyes are closed, she’s smiling, she’s a thought you’d tucked away for good, and now you’re wading through it like you hadn’t.

Serendipitous.

#kpop smut #eunbi smut #izone smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #idol x male reader

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angelltheninth · 9 months

Text

A Needed Confidence Boost

Pairing: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, co-worker relationship, praise kink, insecurity, fingering, size kink, desk sex, shy!Reader

Ao3

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Clark commission for @prettysourabbie,

“Miss, I hate to tell you this, but if you can’t deliver on a good story, or even run errands right I don’t really have much need for you as an intern or a future reporter.” Perry White leaned back in his chair, looking at you dismissively, making you feel small under his scrutiny and cold glare. It might be just you but you felt like the temperature in his office dropped, or maybe it was just your fear of losing your new job that had you shaking.

The hand on your back was a sudden source of warmth, “Come on mister White, its not her fault the bad guys were out cold. There’s not a single reporter in the city who got the scoop on them. And probably won’t for a little while since they’re being jailed right about now. She did nothing wrong.” Clark stepped up beside you, his large frame would be the perfect shield from this embarrassment.

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’ll do better. P-Promise.” You honestly felt like crying. This was supposed to be your big break, instead you ran all over this city, dragged Clark with you, lost him half-way there, and still had nothing to show for it.

Mister White looked from you to Clark and with a heavy sigh waived you away, “One more chance. Stick with Clark, he’s been though this and now he’s one of our best reporters.”

“Y-Yes sir. Thank you!” You weren’t out of the woods yet but just stepping out of that office and still having your job felt like an achievement, “Sorry for getting you into trouble Clark.”

But Clark’s eyes held no trace of anger or annoyance towards you. Its strange to feel such warmth form eyes as blue as his, yet every time he looked at you there was a heat spreading through your body. “No problem. He was right, I’ve been though this. Meet me here tomorrow and I promise we’ll find something juicy.” You looked up at him, eyes hopeful but a tiny bit skeptical, how was he gonna just... find a story? “Trust me, I can feel it.” His large hand squeezed around yours. Were his hands always so big? Clark noticed what he did too, quickly pulling away and loosening the collar of his vest, “Tomorrow morning then?”

The slightly higher tone of his voice made your heart skip a beat. Right as it did Clark’s eyebrows rose up, almost as if he heard the elevated heartbeat. “Right. Tomorrow. See you, uh C-Clark.” You turned before he saw how hot your face got because in your head this sounded a lot like a date. A work date? Is there such a thing? Did Clark see you as more then a co-worker? Those questions kept you up almost the entire night, your alarm startling you from your bed and sending you running to the office room.

Or what was kind of an office room to Clark and his team.

It wasn’t as run down or cluttered as it was when they started but it wasn’t the best room either. They’d all been offered better but they always refused, citing that this room meant a lot to them. And so Clark, Lois and Jimmy claimed this office for as long as they liked.

You slammed the door open a bit too loudly in your haste to make it there. It must have been very loud cause it made Clark jump and cringe as he covered his ears, “Oh! Sorry. That was too loud.” You eased the door closed behind you and set your bag on what was actually Clark’s chair but he always let you use it when you were at his team’s office.

“No harm done, I have sensitive hearing so loud noises can be an issue, not your fault, I learned to live with it.” Clark chuckled, handing you an envelope, “Got something you might want to check out. I think you’d do good with this one.”

His smile exuded confidence so you were at least curious. “Clark... is this...” You looked up at him, then back at the apparent scoop he offered you, “C-Clark. This is Lena Luthor. Why would you give me this? I-I-I can’t go talk to her! I can’t even talk to criminals that Superman fights!”

Lena Luthor was the sister of Lex Luthor, current head of Lexcorp, and very much in the public eye right now due to a new tech she’s been looking into. No one’s managed to get an interview with her yet. Not even Clark and Lois, or Cat Grant.

“Well... she will be in Metropolis today and tomorrow. If you get a single word from her about her upcoming project I guarantee Perry will give you the job. I know she doesn’t talk to many reporters but look at you, she can’t say no to your cute face.” This time he didn’t just stop there, rounded the desk and walked up behind you, pointing with his finger, “She’ll be at this lecture in about an hour. You’ve got this. I know you think you don’t have what it takes but I read your reports and they’re amazing.” Once again your heartbeat speed up at his warm, kind words, but also from the close proximity of his body to yours. “You just need help with being more vocal.”

“A-And how do I do that?” You didn’t dare to look up at him, he was already slouching, his breath feeling both hot a cold against your ear. When his mouth opened to speak it startled you, to hear him so close. You back up against his frame, his hands catching you and, with best gentle efforts, pushing you back forward. How is he so strong to push you entirely against the desk, your breasts against the papers, your ass accidentally brushing against his crotch. “Fuck me.” You whisper, very much to yourself and not meant for his keen ears. “You’re really strong.”

“Huh? What was that?” Clark leaned over you rather then backed away, “Did you just say you wanted me to fuck you?” It was so unusual for Clark to tease you, it took your brain a bit to reboot and catch up. “I wasn’t referring to that kind of vocal.”

“I d-didn’t mean it like that. Come on Clark, let me up.” You couldn’t budge him off, it was all too easy for him to hold you down with one hand pressed against your lower back.

You risked a glance at him, his cheeks were as pink as one of his favorite shirts, his frame bulging with every breath. He was flustered too! So how could he sound so calm? “I think you should try it again. Tell me what you want.” He wasn’t forceful by any means, he kept his eyes soft, his voice low, his hand massaging your thigh under your skirt. When did you open your legs? When did it get so hot in here? “Speak up. Clearly, or I stop.”

That was the most threatening thing he said thus far. This was beyond embarrassing, “What if someone comes?”

“Isn’t that the point?” Clark’s large hand cupped between your legs, two fingers bending in a scratching motion over your wet panties.

“N-Not f-funny Clark.” You moaned, the noise echoing around the small office.

“Funny to me. Plus, I have sensitive hearing remember? I’ll hear them. Now, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Be clear, be loud, be confident. I know you can do it.” His words stoked the fire inside you, your head swimming with every dirty thought you’ve had about him and never had the confidence to say. His hands on around your ankles, pushing your legs up, your eyes locked on his huge, thick cock as it enters you and splits you open with its girth, his muscles flexing, sweaty and glistening as the echoes of naked flesh slapping fill your bedroom. “All of that? I see. I can’t do it to you here but I hope this will satisfy you enough.”

You felt two thick fingers moving your panties to the side and plunging into your heat, your pussy clamping around his thick digits, “I didn’t mean to say all that.”

“But you did. So beautifully too.” His fingers curled upwards, pushing against your g-spot, “My fingers might snap in half if you keep clenching so hard. Are you close? Tell me.”

“So close. Feels... full. And with just your fingers. Your cock would split me in two.” It would hurt to take him, you’re sure your pussy would have a hard time with it. “I w-want... your cock Clark.” You confessed in between gasps and whimpers and the wet, lewd, dirty sounds of Clark’s palm slapping against your thighs.

“I can tell. A girl like you need something thicker to make her happy.” You waited for the sound of a zipper, instead it was the sound of your pussy squelching and stretching around a third finger, “I can hear someone. You better finish if you want an orgasm. I know you can finish on command. Squeeze my fingers, show me how you’re gonna milk me dry.”

“Clark!” You called his name once before slapping your hand over your mouth, remembering that he said there was someone on their way here. You let him drag your orgasm out one stroke at a time, his fingers sticky with your juices, dripping down all the way to his wrist.

He pulled them out carefully, setting your panties and your skirt back into place and wiping his fingers on his pants, right over the outline of his cock. “How are your pants not bursting?” Even covered you could tell he was fucking huge.

Clark laughed a little nervously, “I admit I have a hard time shopping for underwear and condoms.” Oh, so he was just humble bragging now, lovely. “You did very well once you got into it. If you can do this with me you can definitely talk to miss Luthor.” Fuck, that’s right. You had to go interview Lena Luthor!

#clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #clark kent fanfiction #superman x reader #superman imagine #superman smut #superman fanfiction #clark kent x female reader #superman x female reader #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics smut #dc comics fanfiction #dc comics x female reader #maws x reader #x female reader #smut

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raainberry · 1 month

Text

Cross The Line (Prologue)

« Doing something outside the bounds of acceptable behavior. »

Mina x gn!reader

synopsis - being a regular at urgent care raises suspicions but apparently also temperatures which results in the blurring of a few lines

wordcount - 1.5K

T/W - mentions of diverse injuries, stitches, and the hospital obviously. resident!mina, patient!reader angst but also fluff that’s not really fluff bc its just angst disguised as fluff. yearning if you will.

A/N - i made my research after writing🧍‍♀️girlie is NOT supposed to be alone with the patient but oh well. we’re here for the plot. happy mina day to all who celebrate!!

Mina’s movements were calculated. Precise, and accurate. She never let any room for the unexpected. It was too dangerous.

Her attention was consumed by the monitors, checking and writing down any anomalies she deemed important enough ahead of your transfer to a surgical unit. You’d come in with an open wound on your cheekbone, and pain in your arm which she quickly found out was a fracture in need of surgery.

She was known to be effective, eyes sharp and catching any detail that dared try and escape her. Like how your heartrate slightly increased on the monitor when she came in earlier, or the way you looked at her whenever you landed in the building.

She tried to ignore the familiar sense of déjà-vu washing over her, but her questions kept increasing in number. She never knew the reason behind your visits, but the nature of your injuries gave her a few clues. A broken nose, scratches, cuts and open wounds, hematomas… Five visits in the past two years, an unusual average, enough to leave an imprint on any Resident.

Something about you was odd. It pulled at a curiosity she’d vowed to ignore unless in name of the patient’s wellbeing, and you were especially good at tempting her.

For whatever reason, she was the one assigned to your case for every one of your visits. A twist of fate maybe. She’d call it incredible bad luck if she hadn’t grown that damn soft spot.

As frustrating as tending to you could be, the hours it took to do so allowed her to get a glimpse of the person behind the entire Unit’s favorite gossip column. Though that glimpse remained very surface leveled.

You were incredibly hard to read through your blatent lies, and it scared her. It made her see through herself more than she probably ever could you.

In short, she was attracted to you.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was soft despite the slight rasp in your throat. It almost made her forget about her surroundings.

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from your figure as fast as she’d found it.

You chuckled, your mind a little fuzzy from the local anesthesia. “Come on, we’re past that.”

Her fingers halted their motion against the clipboard in her hands, something you barely noticed but still had the strength to smirk at. It wasn’t hard getting a reaction from her, but it was hard to catch it.

You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes as the effects of the anesthesia lingered. That was something you usually kept to yourself, and Mina’s attention didn’t fail to catch that detail either.

"You know, it’s getting hard to believe you're not getting hurt on purpose." She sighed, pushing her glasses back up her nose.

"I would never break a bone on purpose.” You mumbled, wincing slightly as you adjusted yourself on the examination table. “Hurts like hell…"

"Thought you'd be a little tougher," Mina remarked in a tone that pushed your eyes open.

It was colder than you were used to. Icy and slippery.

"Yeah, well… we all have our limits, Mina." You replied quietly.

"It's still Dr. Myoui to you.”

You nodded, pursing your lips apologetically. The words would have pulled a laugh out of you if they’d ever come out of anyone else’s chest, but you knew better around her.

"What happened this time?" She asked, and the question surprised you. A glance at her eyes, now on you only out of respect, and you found out it wasn’t her own will.

Don’t be difficult, they begged. So you played along.

"Fell off a skateboard," You responded with as casual of a demeanor as you could.

She stared at you in silence, leaving you a few custom seconds to see if you'd tell her the truth this time. Instead, you offered her your best smile, and she had to hold her own back. "Do you even have a skateboard?"

"Do you need that information to treat me?"

"Just wondering."

"You seem to do that a lot…" You trailed off, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Mina left that as the last of them to be spoken for a long while, turning her focus onto some more medical nonsense you could never decipher to save your life.

Maybe that’s why your eyes always landed on her.

She could feel them, following her every move around the room, and it was hard not to meet them.

A silence you were used to settled, the quiet hum of the room fading into the tension hanging in the air.

You feigned interest in your hospital bracelet to escape it, but the sight of your own name made you look away from it. The blank ceiling was enough to distract you, but only for a moment.

Not staring at her was an effort you struggled to make even with a sound mind. The first time you’d seen her, it took you a full minute to blink. It had pulled a smile out of her, and the words she used to point it out echoed in a blurry memory.

How safe you felt in her hands that night, you sought the feeling ever since. In vain.

Your gaze bore into her, merciless against the composure she desperately tried to hold on to. Each of your visits tested it in a way she had yet to see. To feel. She would resent you if she doubted your intentions. If she doubted her own.

"How long until it's not anymore?" Your voice broke the silence, startling Mina into meeting your eyes again.

This anesthesia seemed to guide you into an uncharted territory, where the boundaries of her professionalism blurred, seeping through her fingers with your every word.

She seemed lost in the place your words had suddenly lured her into, so you offered some guidance.

"How long until I can call you Mina?"

The question lingered in the air, pulling at the veil you’d draped over your desires.

It seemed you were close to baring them, Mina exposing a glimpse with a soft bite on her bottom lip.

You’d sculpted a fragile bridge. Cracked and vulnerable to the slightest movement. You enjoyed dancing around it, but one wrong step and it all comes crumbling down.

Mina hesitated, eyes avoidant and voice soft as she stepped forward. "Maybe once you don't get hurt anymore," she murmured.

This wasn’t the first dance she invited you to. It was rare, you weren’t used to it, but you’d rehearsed enough to guide yourselves through it.

“You know, I'd love to see you somewhere else. Outside these walls, preferably," You confessed in a whisper, wary of the thin curtains separating you from the bustling building.

Those almost slipped her mind. You could tell by the silence that followed.

She put her clipboard on a free space of the table, far enough away to keep it from becoming an obstacle. Her hands reached for your injured cheekbone, carefully examining the cut she’d stitched moments ago.

A breath caught in your throat at the touch and attention, long enough to bring a few changes to the data displayed on the screen not too far from you. A change she didn’t fail to notice yet again as she went to retrieve her notes.

A quiet laugh escaped her lips, catching you off guard. You could only watch her write down whatever conclusions she’d pulled out of her observations, waiting to see if it was safe to carry on.

“Do you feel any pain?” She asked.

“Uhm...” You hummed, focusing in order to identify any pain other than the one in your heart. “Slightly. Now that you mention it.”

Mina nodded and carried on with a bunch of questions about your well-being. You answered all of them honestly, words leaving your mouth without much thought.

“Do you feel lightheaded? Any dizziness?”

“No.”

“Are you feeling thirsty, or hungry?”

“A little thirsty.”

“Can you tell me your name and where you are right now?”

“My name is Y/n, and I’m in… at the urgent care.”

"Where would you like to see me?"

Her voice had dropped a couple decibels on that one. It took a few more seconds for you to sink it in and match an answer.

"Somewhere a little more… colorful?”

Wait…

Your eyes left the spot they’d blankly focused on on the floor to find hers still ignoring you.

“I mean… I don't know, I didn't think that far," you admitted, complying to her silent wishes.

Mina let a smile slip, a rare sight that let you peek at the depth of her feelings, and her thoughts allowed her to fantasize about the world outside. The one she could share with you. "That would be nice," she admitted softly.

Your smile mirrored her own, "So… Is that a yes?" you probed, and she chuckled, ignoring your question once more as she wrapped up her duties.

Just then, a couple nurses stepped into the room, asking Mina to take you away for the transfer you were long past due for.

Your arm was in a far worse state than your face. Or your heart.

"See you in three months, Y/n.”

part.2

#twice x reader #mina x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice mina #myoui mina #twice fluff

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ghostfacd · 8 months

Text

the sun to my moon. QH43

au masterlist

warnings: mention of underage drinking + peer pressuring, cursing, a tiny tiny hint of angst, not proofread so there might be mistakes, someone’s mean to sunny </3

It wasn’t a shocker that Quinn Hughes was a very grumpy person. He was fairly quiet, eyes calculating as they scan every corner of the room.

If you didn’t know him well, you’d probably think Quinn was just plain mean. He wasn’t, or maybe, not that mean, he just didn’t like talking to people—or people at all, for the matter.

It was pretty cold that December in New Jersey, but the lake house was warm and the waters were a fairly nice dark blue. He had gone home to visit his parents, as well as Jack and Luke. It was nice to be back in America, a change from Vancouver.

“Hi Quinn sweetie!” Ellen greets her son happily, engulfing him in a hug that he returns with a small smile. He had only really smiled to his mom, appreciating her constant support and encouragement. “Oh! Jack brought home his girlfriend! You should meet her,”

Quinn raises his eyebrows at this, never hearing Jack mention a girlfriend in any of their family calls. Was the boy finally settling down?

He walked into the living room, surprised to see two brunette girls along with Jack. Brunette? Now this got Quinn’s attention. He’d always thought his brother would go for.. blondes.

“Hi! I’m Jack’s girlfriend, you must be his older brother!” The girl smiles brightly, making Quinn almost grimace. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Jack has told me so much!”

“I’m sure he has,” Quinn chuckles awkwardly, shaking the hand she had extended to him earlier.

Jack smiles at his favorite people interacting with another. “This is my girl’s best friend, Sunny Damount.” He points to the other brunette girl who almost takes Quinn’s breath away.

Jesus, was she an angel in disguise?

“Sunny?” Quinn questions. He’s never met anyone named Sunny, so his voice almost sounds confused.

“I’m Y/N, but everyone just calls me Sunny because they say I remind them of a ray of sunshine!” Her face converts into the most beautiful smile Quinn’s ever seen in his life—aside from his mom—and he can’t help but feel his knees grow weak.

“Nice to meet you Sunny,” Quinn smiles, and Jack and Luke throw a glance at each other in amusement.

“Hey Q, why don’t you show her around?” Jack suggests. “I mean, you know the lake house like the back of your hand.”

Quinn rolls his eyes slightly, noticing what his brother was trying to do. “So do you and Luke.”

“Yeah but cmon Quinn! Don’t be rude to our guest!”

Quinn finally agrees, not like he didn’t want to tour the cute girl anyways. He slides open the backyard door, signaling Sunny to go out first. When Sunny’s back is turned, Quinn slides out his tongue at both Jack and Luke, to which they responded with a mischievous grin on their faces.

“So you go to Umich?” Quinn asks as he closes the sliding door. He noticed her sweater from earlier, the dark blue fabric with a M stitched to its front.

“I do!” The girl giggles, even though there’s nothing funny. If it had been anyone else, Quinn would’ve cringed internally. But he doesn’t. “I’m a junior this year, crazy how time flies.”

“Yeah, really crazy.”

The two are silent for a while, Quinn’s nervousness and overthinking causes him to just go mute while Sunny smiles at practically everything that catches her eyes.

“You’ll be staying here until Jack’s girlfriend leaves?” He questions.

“Yeah! She invited me here because she said I needed to get out the dorm more now that it’s Christmas break. I guess she’s right,”

Quinn looks down at the ground, smiling to himself. Even though he barely knew Sunny, he was glad she was staying at the lake house.

A few days pass by without much interaction from the two, Jack’s girlfriend always managing to take Sunny away before Quinn could even utter out a word. He was slightly annoyed, but he knew he couldn’t tell Jack or Luke. They’d tease them endlessly.

That night, Jack had brought home some beers, all of them, minus Luke, went outside and sat on the dock, bringing the cans out with them.

“Do you want one?” Quinn whispers to Sunny.

Jack and his girlfriend were in another world, busy cuddling up to one another and taking slow sips from their cans.

“Oh no—it’s okay. I don’t drink, I’d rather wait till I’m 21,”

Quinn had almost forgotten Sunny was only 20. It was a surprise to him that she’d actually wait that long; everybody he knew had started drinking in high school, not caring about the legal age.

“That’s alright, you can have fun while being sober too.” Quinn almost cringes at his words, but luckily, Sunny nods with a bright smile on her face.

“You really are a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Quinn whispers.

“What was that Quinn?”

“Oh,” Quinn smiles sheepishly, not expecting Sunny to have heard him. “Nothing.”

The next weekend, Jack once again came up with another one of his crazy ideas—this one being throwing a party since Jim and Ellen were going away for a few days to stay at a fancy resort.

Quinn didn’t like social outings, in fact, he wants desperately to sneak away into his room and blast music in his airpods. But he decides to stay downstairs, sitting right next to Sunny who only has fruit punch in her cup.

“Hey, is that Sunny Damount?!” A random guy comes up to them, getting a bit too close to Sunny for Quinn’s liking. “Sunnyyyyy!”

He’s clearly drunk, and Quinn wants to rip him away from the girl.

“Have a drink Sun! It’s so good!” The guy almost spills his cup of alcohol on Sunny, making the girl’s smile falter. It was the first time Quinn didn’t see such a bright smile on her face.

“I’m okay Kyle, I don’t drink,”

The guy, who Quinn can only guess is named Kyle, gets even closer to Sunny, making her slowly back up into the kitchen island.

“You don’t drink? You’re like twenty Sunny, it’s a party. You have to drink.”

Quinn pushes Kyle slightly off Sunny, throwing the boy a glare. “Sunny says she doesn’t drink, Kyle. So why don’t you turn around and leave?”

Kyle scoffs, throwing a glare towards Quinn’s way. “Whatever, I was going to leave anyway!”

Sunny sighs in relief when she sees the boy leave. “Thank you Quinn,” she shyly mumbles.

“It’s alright Sunny,” he reassures her. “No guy should be pressuring you to drink when you clearly don’t want to.”

And by the end of the party, Quinn realizes he’s fucked.

He’s inlove with Sunny Damount.

And he’s never been inlove. Well not seriously. He has had a few girlfriends then and there, but it was silly and it surely wasn’t love.

So what does Quinn Hughes do when he’s in such a dilemma? He pivots. He does what most considers a fucked up and idiotic thing to do. He ignores her.

What better way to dig his feelings in a hole and bury them than ignoring the girl he was inlove with?

Sunny is clearly confused when Quinn gives her one worded answers, and she almost wants to cry when he barely even acknowledges her presence.

What did she do wrong? Everybody loved her, so why was Quinn ignoring her?

It didn’t make her feel any better when she went to the market and bumped into a really mean girl she knew who said some not so nice things about her.

That, along with Quinn not talking to her, leads Sunny to have a breakdown on the dock, knees against her chest as she buries her face into them.

Even though Quinn tries to put away his worries, he can’t help but feel bugged that he hadn’t seen Sunny the entire afternoon. He spots the familiar brunette sitting on the dock, and even though his head tells him no, his heart begged him to say yes.

Quinn Hughes listened to his heart.

He walks up to Sunny, sitting beside her close enough that lets her know he’s there but not so close that she’s uncomfortable.

“Are you okay Suns?”

Sunny sniffles, lifting her head to see Quinn. Suddenly, her cries intensify, making the poor boy panic in worry.

“Shh, it’s okay Sunny.” He mumbles, patting her back.

“It’s not!” She sobs, “first, the boy I like ignores me for no reason, and then this really really mean girl says that I put on this fake nice act and that I’m just some loser who doesn’t drink!”

Quinn’s heart skips a beat when Sunny practically confesses her feelings to him. He can’t help but feel incredibly guilty at ignoring her for so long.

“I’m sorry Suns, I never meant to hurt you.” Quinn pulls her body into his chest, placing his chin on head. “The truth was, I’m inlove with you and I didn’t know how to handle that so I figured ignoring you would make my feelings away?”

Sunny stops crying for a second, slightly giggling at Quinn’s words. “Are you stupid Quintin?!”

Quinn grimaces. “I know, I know. But I was just scared. You made my heart beat faster, and before I knew it, I felt butterflies in my stomach. I never felt so inlove with anyone before—and I felt like I couldn’t breathe with you not near me. You’re like the sun to my moon, Sunny. You brighten up my day with the most prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, and your giggles bring me the most happiness I’ve ever experienced in my life. I just… I just didn’t know how to express that to you without scaring you off.”

Sunny wipes away her tears, placing a small tender kiss on Quinn’s jaw. “You could’ve just said so, Quinn. I’m inlove with you as much as you are inlove with me.”

Quinn finally decides to push away all his nervousness and lean down to give Sunny a kiss, one that he’s been dying to do since the day he met her at the lake house.

And just like that, Sunny Damount had became the sun in Quinn Hughes’ life.

#[ sunny!yn x quinn ]#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes au #hughes brothers #nhl fanfiction #nhl au

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slayfics · 9 months

Text

Katsuki says he’s sorry.

Warnings: Katsuki aged up | alcholo use

You threw your phone angrily on your bed. Ignited by furry from the last text you received from Katsuki. He always knew how to get under your skin, but tonight went just a little too far.

You looked out your window and a sudden realization occurred to you. You hadn’t really been out with your friends in a while. The last few months your days had been filled with sneaking out to see Katsuki or sneaking him in through your window.

Your finger grazed a part of the window frame that he had damaged once coming in. You let out a sigh and picked up your phone to beg a friend to go out with you. You desperately needed a break from the ups and downs of your relationship.

Your friend excitedly agreed to meet you, having been a while since they’d seen you. You quickly got ready and waited outside for them to pull up.

“Hey! I was beginning to think my best friend was a ghost,” your friend laughed rolling down their car window and beckoning you to come in.

“I know I’m sorry things have been kinda different lately,” you replied getting into the car.

“It’s ok, no need to tell me I know you are busy with your scary UA boyfriend,” your friend teased you. Your best friend was the only person you’d entrusted to tell about your relationship with Katsuki.

“Yeah…” you mumbled and looked out the window.

“Uh-oh, trouble with Mr. Hothead?” Your friend asked.

“He just really pissed me off today and I want to forget about it for a bit.” You said still staring out the window as your friend began to drive.

“What? That guy pissing you off? No way he seems like such a sweetheart,” your friend continued to tease, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m just kidding, say less I know exactly what you need!”

“What's that?” You said finally turning to face your friend.

“To go out drinking and dancing of course!” They responded enthusiastically now having a destination in mind.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your destination. Immediately getting inside your friend pulled you to the bar to grab a drink. Already you started to feel a bit better.

Meanwhile, Katsuki angrily glared at his phone. He knew he went a bit too far with his insult, but were you really not going to text him back? Being ignored cut through him sharper than any comeback could have.

Katsuki yelled and threw his phone. He hated this. He hated being so angry all the time, but he couldn’t help it. He did it to himself. The pressure he put on himself, the way he’d ignore his actual emotions and mask them with anger.

He never cared when it pushes others away, but you… He didn’t want to push you away, but he couldn’t say sorry to you either. That just wasn’t in him. Katsuki threw on a sweater and stomped out of the house.

He’d just have to show up at your window again, that was the only option he decided.

He had walked the route from his house to yours so many times, that he got there in no time. Jumping up and climbing up to your window pane had become a muscle memory to him.

You had left your window slightly ajar when you left making it easy for him to enter. He looked around noticing you weren’t there. He sat on your bed hoping maybe you were just downstairs grabbing some water or something. Until he realized a pair of your shoes were missing and your purse wasn’t in its usual spot.

That was when he understood, you weren’t home at all. Where could you have been? Why weren’t you texting him back? Letting out a grunt, Katsuki stood up, and left out your window determined to find you.

Your friend had stuffed more than enough drinks in you to easily convince you onto the dance floor. However, it didn’t take long for you both to decide it wasn’t enough and swiftly make your back through the crowd of people to the bar.

“Ok, what do you think we should try this time?” You asked your friend.

“Hmm good question,” they replied looking around to get some ideas

“I’d gladly pick out both your next drinks for you,” a stranger had called out standing next to you both at the bar.

“Oh, that’s nice of you!” Your friend responded blinking sweetly fawning over the random man’s attention.

“And what drinks would you suggest?” You asked.

Just when the man opened his mouth to respond someone shot out from behind you and slammed the man’s face onto the bar.

The man fell to the floor and you looked up to see Katsuki as his assaulter.

“Katsuki! What are you doing?!” You yelled, taken by surprise at his arrival. Your friend bent down to check on the man.

“He was staring at you.” He responded, with his explanation for attacking the man.

“Of course he was, we were having a conversation!” You argued back.

“No you don’t understand the way he was looking at you-“ Katsuki tried to explain but you cut him off.

“Don’t you see I’m here to get away from you!” You yelled back. Others around the bar had now started to take glances at the both of you.

“We’ll you can’t just ignore me!” He yelled back.

“Yes! Yes, I can!” You responded, grabbing your friend's hand and pulling her onto the dance floor with you. The man she had been trying to help get back up fell back down crashing onto the floor.

Your friend reluctantly danced with you, while taking glances at Katsuki who did not move. He stayed in the same spot watching you both arms crossed against his chest.

“Maybe he’s trying to apologize in his own way?” Your friend suggested.

“I don’t care!" You spat back refusing to look in his direction.

“Oh come on, he looks so sad over there.” Your friend nudged you. You still refused to look and kept dancing with your friend.

“He just assaulted a random guy at the club!” You argued.

“Yeah but- we probably shouldn’t have been talking to a stranger in the first place. He was kind of looking out for us.” Your friend rationalized. “Besides you can fate a soon-to-be pro hero and not expect them to do some extreme stuff every once in a while.”

“Ugh-“ you signed and rolled your eyes. “Fine- I’ll bring him over to dance with us. But only because if I don’t he’s just going to keep staring like a creep!” You said and made your way over to him.

You started to make your way back to Katsuki doing come-hither dance moves at him. Katsuki just rolled his eyes and looked away before quickly glancing back at you. He pretended as if he was indifferent about you approaching him but the truth was it melted away the anxious feeling in his stomach that had been eating at him.

Finally approaching him, you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him onto the dance floor. However, he did not budge.

"I don't dance," He said dryly.

"Ugh fine-," You let out an exasperated sigh. "Then you're buying me a drink since you won't let anyone else do it," You teased, dragging him to the bar.

Katsuki was fine with your new plan and ordered you both a drink. You swiftly downed yours causing Katsuki's eyes to widen.

"Alright well, I'll leave you to your creepy staring then," You said and began to walk back to your friend on the dance floor. Katsuki reached up and grabbed your wrist holding you back. You turned to face him with furry in your eyes.

He mumbled something under his breath that was impossible to hear with the loud music playing.

"What did you say?" You asked.

Katsuki just mumbled again, barely any louder than the first time.

"Katsuki, you have to speak up. I can't hear you over the music," You said annoyed.

"I'm sorry..." You barely heard the words leave his mouth. You froze in place having heard those words leave his mouth. You knew how hard it was for him to ever admit he was wrong. Still, in disbelief, you moved closer to him kissing the tip of his nose.

"I forgive you Katsuki," you responded.

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egcdeath · 1 year

Text

kith and kin

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (pairing from the soccer parents AU)

summary: your parents finally meet joel in the midst of celebrating your daughter’s birthday.

word count: 8.3k

warnings: brief mention of past abuse, a little tough love from reader’s mom, no use of y/n, cursing, alternate universe: no apocalypse, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, joel is a little anxious, your daughters are sassy, very lightly edited

author’s note: i’ve had the worst writers block recently, but i love this pairing too much to let them go. feel free to send me any requests!

previous part / series masterlist

Joel paced back and forth in your bedroom, the padded sound of his socks hitting the floor pleasant at first but was becoming a bit of an annoyance by the tenth consecutive minute of the sound of pacing.

Chloe’s birthday was in just a few days and your parents had rented out a cabin on Canyon Lake, inviting you and one of her friends to come along. Seeing as you’d been together for around a year now and that there was no better time than the present, you figured it was probably about time for Joel to meet your parents.

“Joel,” you finally said sternly, zipping up your suitcase and looking up at your partner. “Relax, honey. They’re gonna love you. I mean, they’re gonna have to love you since I love you. That’s how it works, right?” you walked over to him and gently grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling him into what you hoped would be a reassuring kiss.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “What if they don’t think I’m good for you?”

“Well, this may be breaking news to you, but we’re not living in the 1700’s. We don’t exactly need my parents’ approval to have a relationship.”

Joel walked away from you, grabbing his own bag from where it laid on the floor. “I know, it’s just… I want them to like me. I don’t want you to have to feel like you needed to choose between me and your family and secretly resent me for years over that.”

“Maybe let’s unpack that last part some other time. But you’re so likable and charming, they’d have to be crazy to not like you.”

“I admire your belief in me, but it’s been well over a decade since I’ve had to meet and woo someone’s parents. What if I’m rusty?”

“Don’t be rusty, just be yourself!” you tried, smiling at your own terrible dad joke.

“Ha, ha,” his laughter was forced and monotone.

“Not the time?” You knew it was bad when Joel didn’t even respond to one of his beloved dad jokes.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. But everything is gonna go great, okay? And if not, you have a few days to make them love you, yeah?”

“You’re right,” he admitted reluctantly, seemingly just wanting to move on from the conversation. “You ready to go?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

When you arrived at the cabin, your parents were sat on the front porch, seemingly deep in their own conversation before noticing your car pulling up.

Chloe was quick to hop out of the car, excited to see her grandparents. Given that they were practically attached at the hip, Sarah followed close behind Chloe, with the pair receiving hugs from your parents as they greeted the girls.

Still firmly seated in the car, Joel took a deep, yet shaky breath, giving you an idea of just how nervous he was to be meeting your parents. Wanting to give the man a bit of reassurance, you grabbed ahold of his slightly trembling hand and squeezed it hard.

“I promise you have nothing to worry about. You’re gonna have a great time, and my parents are probably gonna love you more than they love me. Got it?” you asked firmly, trying to sound sure of yourself despite the minor nerves you were facing yourself.

“Got it,” Joel parroted, although he didn’t exactly sound sure of himself.

“C’mon,” you beckoned, unstrapping yourself before getting out of the car. After a very subtle moment of reluctance, Joel’s door opened and your partner stepped out of your car as well.

The moment he got out of the car, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it once again as a small demonstration of your support before leading him up to the porch.

The girls were already making their way inside when you finally reached your parents, your mom giving you a tight hug and setting her head on your shoulder.

“It’s been too long,” she declared as she squeezed you for a few more beats, finally pulling away to analyze the man you had brought with you. “And who is this?”

“Mom, Dad, this is Joel. He’s Sarah’s dad,” you stepped back to wrap your arm around Joel, a slightly territorial move to show your parents that whatever you had going on was serious. “He’s also my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Joel” your mother greeted, shaking Joel’s hand and maintaining a somewhat loaded eye contact with him. She smiled at him, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Your dad didn’t even bother with the pleasantries, giving Joel’s hand a firm squeeze and one solid shake. Both of your parents looked rather skeptical of the man, but you hoped that the stern look you were offering them was warning enough for your parents to behave around your boyfriend.

As everyone left to put away their luggage, you stayed downstairs with your mother, who indicated she wanted to have a separate conversation with you.

“What’s up?” you asked her, crossing your arms over your chest defensively in anticipation of what she might say. Based on that loaded interaction on the porch, you already had a good idea of where this conversation is going.

“Is this the Joel from Chloe’s soccer games?”

Shit. The one time your parents remember the name of someone you disliked just happens to be the one time you bring them home.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you remembered that,” you attempted to casually brush off. “It is.”

“The one you couldn’t stand?” your mother pressed, her brows furrowing as she looked at you with what seemed like disbelief.

“That was a while ago! Before our kids got closer and I got to know him better. And really it wasn’t even like I couldn’t stand him, it was more like he mildly annoyed me and we would argue sometimes. Even then, I kinda just had a crush on him. That’s why I told you guys about him in the first place. Notice how you don’t know the names of anyone else on the team who I don’t like?” you spoke quickly as you attempted to justify what you’d told your parents in the past.

“Stop. Just stop,” your mother rubbed the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. Growing up, you were all too familiar with that move of exasperation. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing… what?” you said meekly, almost scared of what was going to come next.

“Finding men that don’t treat you right. Men who aren’t good for you?”

Oh. So that was what this was about. It was less about Joel, and more about your parents not trusting you to take care of yourself.

One of your biggest fears after exiting your relationship with Nathan laid in the ways that people would treat you after finding out you had stayed in a relationship that was abusive. Sure, there was the sympathy that always came with finding out about someone’s past trauma, but then there was the judgment that came with finding out you stayed. You knew people would question your ability to take care of yourself and your daughter, and you knew people would question your ability to find a significant other who didn’t end up toxic. It shouldn’t have surprised you that your mother was grilling you like this—after all, it was her that you turned to on nights where you had nowhere else to go, bringing your daughter to her home on days where things with Nathan got particularly tough.

“No! No, no, no,” you protested, emotions that had spent far too long simmering on the back burner beginning to come forward. “Joel is the best thing to happen for me in a long time.”

“Honey,” your mom sighed and looked at you with what could only be described as pity. Frankly, it made you want to crawl out of your skin. “You sound just like a teenager again, defending Nathan.”

You nearly had a visceral reaction at the comparison of Joel to Nathan. You just wished your mother could understand that even though she may have heard some of the things you’d been through, that you had lived through those things, and you would never make that kind of mistake again.

“Mom, Joel is nothing like Nathan,” you expressed passionately. “He’s an amazing partner and he may have only been in Chloe’s life for a short bit of time, but he’s a far better father to her than Nathan’s ever been.”

“I want to believe you, and I am going to give him a chance. But just know that things even seem like they might go South, your father and I will be fighting tooth and nail to keep Chloe safe. You’re an adult; you can make your own decisions, but we won’t let her go through something like that again.”

You understood the implication of her statement and frowned. You knew that your parents just wanted the best for you and your daughter, but this whole thing just made you feel like a child. Why were you being punished for being a victim? Did your parents really trust you so little? Little enough to think that you would intentionally put your daughter in harm’s way?

“Okay,” you uttered, defeat evident in your tone. “But there’s nothing to worry about with Joel.”

“I certainly hope so,” your mother said with a sense of finality.

You found yourself sitting by the lake as Joel played with the kids, deep in thought as you pondered the situation. Maybe inviting Joel was a bad idea. Your parents clearly weren’t happy and your partner certainly wasn’t comfortable. At the very least, the girls seemed to be excited to spend some time on a little vacation with the man.

Chloe ran over to you, pulling your attention away from the cyclical motion of the water as it approached and receded over and over again.

“Come look at our sandcastles! They’re really detailed,” she said excitedly, grabbing your hand and attempting to pull you up. Her excitement was contagious, causing you to completely disregard all the negative feelings you’d been stewing in after your conversation with your mother in favor of adopting some of your daughter’s enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” you laughed, following your daughter out to the shore as she practically ran all the way over to her creation.

You squat down next to Sarah and set your hand on your brow so you could protect your eyes from the sun as you looked upon the three sandcastles in front of you.

“Well, what do you think?” Sarah asked, her tone just as excited as Chloe’s.

“I am very impressed. Great work, guys,” you expressed, beaming at the people around you.

“But which one is your favorite?” your daughter asked, shooting you a cheeky look that you were becoming all too familiar with.

“They’re all my favorite,” you replied, evaluating the castles.

“Boo,” Sarah jeered, clearly hoping for a better answer. “Which one is your actual favorite?”

“Hmm,” you fake-pondered aloud, bringing your free hand to your chin to make you seem like you were far deeper in thought than you actually were.

“We don’t have all day, mom,” Chloe commented, setting a hand on her hip.

“Hey! Good deliberation takes time,” you replied. Given that everyone was sitting by their own castle, it wasn’t very hard to pick out which one belonged to your boyfriend. Seeing as you were in the mood to mess around, you proudly declared Joel’s castle as your favorite, despite his castle not looking so hot.

“That one,” you said, trying to hide entertainment on your face as you pointed to the least technically impressive castle. Joel’s expression matched yours as he clearly bit back an entertained smirk.

“Whaaat? C’mon, I have a moat!” Chloe gasped, throwing a hand over her heart to show just how offended she was.

“And I have a mermaid! What does his have that ours doesn’t?” Sarah protested as she gestured over at her sand mermaid.

“She’s just biased because they’re in love or whatever,” Chloe scoffed. “Don’t worry, Sare. You’re a winner in my eyes.”

“Aw, stop, I love yours too!” Sarah grinned, going in to hug her friend as the two began to compliment aspects of each other’s sandcastles.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face if you tried. Somehow, being around your little found family always made you feel a bit better. Even if your parents didn’t approve and never came around to Joel, that didn’t change the fact that you genuinely were happy with the man, and even happier with the blended family you’d created.

“Girls!” your mom yelled from inside, drawing all of your attention away from the beach and towards her booming voice. “Lunch is ready!”

“I’ll race you back inside?” Sarah offered. Chloe was off on her feet before she could even respond.

You and Joel took your time getting back to the house, walking slowly as you filled him in on your mother’s one-on-one confrontation with you. Despite the joy in the moment just prior, the reality check of having to deal with your parents had brought both of your moods back down rather quickly.

“I don’t think your parents like me very much,” Joel admitted to you, a hint of shame in his voice.

“I-“ you wanted to lie to him, to at least bring a little comfort to your boyfriend who had been worried sick about your parents not liking him. “It’s not your fault, it’s Nathan’s. They think I… they basically think I have a type. It doesn’t help that they think I used to hate you.”

“Fuck,” Joel exclaimed quietly, looking away from you. “I’m sorry, I just… I want them to like me. I’m already so nervous, I feel like I’m gonna shit a fucking brick. How can I make them like me?”

“Just be yourself, okay? And relax. I’m gonna love you regardless of whether or not my parents like you. Nothing's gonna change because of what my parents think of you. At the end of the day, I’m the one crawling in bed with you, not them. Who cares what they think?”

“I care. Deep down, you care too.”

“Joel, please,” you stopped and grabbed his hands, gently tugging him over to you. “I genuinely do not care. I love you. I love our family. Nothing is going to change that, okay? Nothing.”

Joel looked at you anxiously, his eyes a bit more defeated than usual. The two of you made wordless eye contact, communicating something heartfelt without using one word.

“We’re gonna be okay, regardless of how this weekend turns out. Okay? Just be yourself and my parents will eventually come around. If they don’t, it’s their loss.”

The round table at the patio of the lake house had a shape that in any other setting you wouldn’t even really notice, but only seemed to create more tension in this particular context.

You sat next to Sarah and across from Chloe, who sat next to your mother. It just so happened that Joel and your father were sitting across from each other at the table, and you could already feel the stare down just waiting to happen.

“So Chlo, what are you wishing for for your birthday?” your mom gently asked as your daughter took a bite of her food.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she thought. “I don’t really know. And if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you! Remember, wishes don’t come true if you tell people. But I am very happy to be here with everyone. So maybe my unofficial wish is to have more family time.”

“That is a great wish, Bug,” your dad agreed. Sarah smiled mischievously at the nickname and Chloe threw her a playful glare.

“So how is school going, ladies?” your mom asked them, looking between Sarah and Chloe.

You glanced over at Joel, mostly to make sure that he was doing okay under the pointed gaze of your father. Sweat beaded at his forehead and you weren’t quite sure if it was from the dry heat or from the daggers your dad was currently shooting at him.

Thankfully, your kids seemed to be blissfully unaware of the one-sided war going on at the table. You attempted to reach under the table and grab Joel’s hand, but the odd shape of the table didn’t allow for that. He was on his own for the duration of lunch.

The conversation mostly flowed between your mom, Chloe, and Sarah, with your father occasionally butting in to comment on something. All you could do was sit and watch while your dad grilled your boyfriend with only his eyes, with not one thing you could do about it.

Finally, it seemed like everyone had finished their meals, and that Joel could finally get up and be put out of his misery. But fate didn’t seem to be on his side, as he somehow wasn’t off the hook yet.

“Why don’t you all go try out one of the trails? Joel and I are gonna stay behind and do some dishes,” your dad proposed, making pointed eye contact with your boyfriend.

The girls happily agreed with the plan, excited and oblivious of the fear that had just coursed through yours and Joel’s veins with the idea of him being alone with your father.

“Hold on, ladies. You’re still wearing flip flops. How about you go change into better shoes, then we’ll go explore a trail. Sounds good?” you asked, hoping to buy yourself a moment of time to give Joel a pep talk.

Chloe nodded affirmatively and the two of them headed inside to change. At least you could have one private moment with Joel before he had to face off your father.

You stood up and pushed in your chair before grabbing Joel’s hand and squeezing his slightly shaking palm as hard as you could.

“You’ll be okay. Just relax,” you said under your breath so that your parents wouldn’t notice. “Remember, you can’t say the wrong thing. Even if they despise you, I’ll still love you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Joel agreed, although he didn’t seem completely convinced.

“You got this,” you reiterated, letting go of Joel’s hand as the girls came back outside, talking about some show they’d been watching.

When you glanced away, your father had begun picking up plates, looking at Joel like he expected him to be doing the same. That was your cue to leave.

You mouthed good luck at Joel before your mother ushered you all away. You had no idea how your dad was going to act around your boyfriend, but you certainly hoped for his sake that he wouldn’t be too terrible.

After you and the girls left, Joel and your father picked up the dishes outside in silence, with Joel focusing on finding his composure and maintaining it, and your father being completely unreadable.

Joel politely opened the door for the man, even with his hands filled with plates, cups, and silverware. Your father simply gave Joel a curt nod rather than a verbal thank you.

He followed your father into the kitchen, trailing a few steps behind him before setting down the content of his full arms into the sink. Joel did his best not to overthink this interaction, but it was going to be his first one-on-one with one of your parents, and your father had already spent the past hour giving him a nasty glare.

The following silence was awkward and thick. Almost like those tension filled silences you and Joel had the first few times you were together with stakes that somehow felt even higher.

Joel stood at the sink, silently scrubbing away at a dish, hoping that an awkward silence would be the most of his woes that day, rather than any sort of verbal confrontation.

“You do the dishes often?” your dad asked out of the blue, breaking the awkward silence with an even more awkward question.

“Uh,” he tried not to show how thrown off he was by the question. Maybe if Joel could treat the interaction as less of an interrogation and more of a way for your dad to get to know him a little better, things would be slightly less awkward. “I do. I mean, I’ve been a single dad for almost 13 years. Someone had to wash the dishes, and it wasn’t gonna be Sarah.” Joel chuckled awkwardly, but your father didn’t even crack a smile.

“So if you had a wife, she’d be doing the dishes?”

Joel was once again thrown off, this time by the accusatory tone your father had asked the question with. Joel tried to give the man a bit of grace—your dad was probably trying to get a good read on him, so he would try not to let it get under his skin too much.

“What? No! I-I never said that. We’d probably split our house chores. I mean, that’s what your daughter and I do.”

There. That was a good enough answer. Tell the truth while explaining why him and his daughter were a good pair.

“Oh?” your father began with the raise of a brow, setting down the dish he was working on. “Well, why don’t you have a wife?”

Joel was completely taken aback by the blunt question, but assumed it was fair enough game to ask about. He would probably wonder the same if he were in your father’s shoes.

“Uh, my last long-term partner left shortly after Sarah was born,” he answered quietly, afraid of the judgment that your father may pass upon him, and slightly ashamed to admit what happened in the past.

“Oh,” if Joel wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed like your father’s tone shifted, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. “That sounds hard. Do you know why?”

It almost felt like that answer had humanized Joel the slightest bit in your fathers eyes.

“It’s a long story,” Joel dismissed, not particularly wanting to get into all the details at that very moment. “Leaving was better for her mental health.”

“Okay,” your father simply accepted, although Joel had a feeling that answer didn’t quite suffice.

“But things are better now, with your daughter around,” Joel added. “Sarah’s probably happier now than I’ve seen her in a long time. I can’t really speak for Chloe, but based on what I’ve been told, she’s been doing better too. It’s been really nice to finally have another parent around to be able to split duties with. I just wish I’d found your daughter earlier,” Joel gushed, hoping that your father would find his answer pleasing enough.

Your father was unresponsive to Joel’s statement, finishing up the last of the dishes before finally speaking again.

“You talk a lot,” your father said simply, turning off the water flow of the sink and turning to face Joel head on. “I’m not gonna beat around the bush here. I’m glad to hear that things are working well for you two right now. I don’t know how much you know about Nathan. I don’t particularly care how much you know either. What I do care about you knowing is that I will never see my daughter suffer like that again. Understand?”

Joel was taken aback by the abrupt change in tone, and just when he thought tensions between them were easing up. “Y-Yes, yeah I-“

“So if you ever put your hands on my daughter, or raise your voice even an octave higher than it needs to be at her, there will be hell to pay. Get it?”

“I do, uh, I get it,” Joel wasn’t even completely sure how he was supposed to be reacting to this sudden rant.

“I want you to say it. You’re not going to mistreat my daughter, and you’re not ever going to lay a finger on her. And god help you if you do anything to Chloe.”

“I swear. I swear I’ll never hurt your daughter or your granddaughter ever,” Joel’s words were rushed, and he swore he could hear his rushed heartbeat in his own ears. The sudden confrontation being jarring was an understatement, but he supposed that’s how your father intended it to be.

“Good. I’m going to hold you to that,” was all that your father said as turned to dry his hands off on a towel. “Thanks for helping with dishes.”

“No problem, sir,” Joel choked out, like his heart wasn’t still in his throat. He took that as an indication that he was dismissed, and he set down the things in his hand before walking back outside and heading straight to the lake—far away from your father.

As you were heading back from your hike, you were surprised to run into Joel. He looked slightly disheveled, but particularly relieved to see you. The girls seemed just as pleased to see him, talking his ear off all the way back to the lake house. You occasionally glanced over at your mother, trying to get some sort of read on her opinion of Joel, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“So what happened?” you asked as you stepped out of the bathroom, exchanging your towel for the soft pajamas you’d brought with you. “You seemed pretty shaken up after lunch.”

“Your dad just really grilled me,” Joel explained, turning off the lamp on his side of the bed as you flopped onto the mattress next to him.

“My dad can be an ass sometimes. I apologize,” you muttered, curling up beside Joel. “And I apologize for bringing you here. I didn’t know they were gonna be like this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Joel assured, hoping to bring you a little consolation.

“It is, though. I’m the one who suggested that you come. I wasn’t thinking,” you whispered as you set an arm and your head on top of Joel’s torso.

“They were gonna have to meet me eventually. Better now than at the wedding, right?” Joel quipped.

“Right,” you agreed, looking up from where you’d set your head on your partner’s chest. “Hold on, are you proposing to me right now?”

“No, not yet,” Joel began to backtrack.

“Good. You’ll need my parents’ blessing first,” you teased. “Too soon?”

“Maybe a little,” Joel stifled his laugh.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted,” you groaned. “I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“Also exhausted, mixed with a little bit of defeated,” Joel sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “You meant it when you said you’ll love me even if your family doesn’t, right?”

“Of course!” you exclaimed, sitting up a little so you could make better eye contact with your boyfriend. “Of course I will love you even if they don’t,” you promised.

Joel still didn’t exactly look like he was buying it.

“Joel,” you began, tone stern and serious. “Every day, you make my life so much better. You bring me so many laughs and smiles, you’re always there when I need to rant, and you’re the most reliable person ever when it comes to parenting shit. You’re probably the best thing that’s happened to me since Chloe was born. So yes, it would be great if my parents loved you as much as I do. But until they figure that out, I could care less about their opinions.”

That answer finally seemed to resolve some of the insecurity Joel was feeling around wanting to impress your parents, as he didn’t bring it back up for the rest of the night.

It was far too early to be awake, but Joel was having a hard time sleeping. Sure, you peacefully snoozed next to him, and of course Joel was comforted by your sleeping presence, but despite the pep talk you gave him, the knowledge that your parents disliked him and that all of his fears had come to light weren’t allowing him to rest very well.

With not much else to do and an arm that was quickly falling asleep (thanks to your cuddling), Joel snuck out of bed and down the stairs. Maybe he could catch the sunrise on the lakefront.

As he made his way to the patio, he heard a few sounds coming from the kitchen, and went to investigate. He was surprised to find your mother already walking around the kitchen, seemingly making a coffee for herself.

“Morning,” Joel greeted, voice raspy as he announced his presence.

Your mom turned around and offered him a pressed smile. She clearly was not expecting visitors this early in the morning.

“Morning,” she repeated. “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Joel smiled, sitting down at the kitchen table while your mother worked on putting together another mug.

“You an early riser?” your mom asked Joel, bringing a mug and some creamer over to him.

“Thank you. And no, not really. Your daughter and I usually trade off on who’s gonna wake up early and get the kids ready for school while the other gets to sleep in. I just couldn’t sleep all that well today,” Joel shrugged as he prepared his coffee just the way he liked it.

“That’s sweet,” she hummed, taking a sip from her drink.

Joel sipped his coffee as well, and found himself surprised at the quality of the drink. “This is really good,” he acknowledged. “Is this a pour-over?”

“It is! How did you know?” your mother sounded quite excited that you were able to identify any way of brewing coffee, let alone identifying how his drink was made from just one sip.

“I can taste the difference,” Joel explained.

“See! That’s what I’ve been telling my husband.”

“I also may or may not have seen your dripper. But from one coffee connoisseur to another, this is amazing coffee. I’ve always said a pour-over gets you the best flavor.”

“I completely agree! These new, fancy drip machines just don’t do coffee justice. Keurigs, Nespressos, they’re all hunks of junk to me.”

“Well someone gifted me a Nespresso for Valentine’s Day after seeing my dripper and calling it prehistoric. I use it, of course, but it doesn’t compare.”

“Since it was a gift, I can forgive that,” your mother laughed, taking a hearty sip. “Do you ever grind your own beans?”

“When I can,” Joel replied, thinking about the fresh bag of beans he had sitting on the counter back home.

“Ah! Good boy,” your mother exclaimed, clearly pleased with Joel’s answers. “You do any other special things in the kitchen?”

“Eh, not particularly. I do enjoy being in the kitchen, though. I mean, being a single parent, I didn’t really have many options but to learn how to cook since I didn’t have anyone else to carry me in that area. I will say, we’ve been baking more often. Turns out, I can make a pretty mean focaccia.”

“Baking? With my daughter? You sure you’re talking about the one upstairs? I swear I’ve been trying to get her to bake for years and she just… hates it! What’s your secret?”

“I don’t know. The honeymoon phase, maybe?”

Your mom laughed aloud at Joel’s joke. He had to hold himself back from beaming with pride. He could barely speak to this woman the day before, and now he was making her laugh?

“Whatever it is, bring some over next time. I need to be the judge of this ‘mean focaccia’.”

Next time? Thank god for not being able to sleep.

“Of course!” Joel said with what may have been a little too much enthusiasm. He sipped some coffee from his mug while he thought about something else to say to fill up the silence, but your mother began to speak once again.

“So Joel, I want to know more about you. Other than the fact that you raised an adorable kid, like coffee a lot, and used to argue with my daughter during the soccer season.”

“She told you about that?” Joel asked, unsure of how to react. He wanted to laugh at the fact that you’d shared that with your parents, either before your relationship began or recently as some sort of fun fact, but he was still walking on eggshells around your parents.

“Yeah,” your mom acknowledged. It almost seemed as if she wanted to be casual about it, but also was curious for a bit more context.

“It was a long time ago,” Joel explained as if he could make it better. “It was never anything serious.”

“Well, how did you go from arguing every week to… this?”

“After the girls became friends, they kept setting us up to do things together. After that, things progressed pretty naturally. I think we just clicked. Realized we’re a good team and like each other’s company. I mean, I really love her and Chloe. I’m really happy with our little family.”

“Family?” your mom questioned with raised brows and a tilt of her head.

Joel wondered if he’d said the wrong thing or overstepped some sort of boundary. “I mean, I guess. I would say we… function as a family?”

“So there’s no secret engagement or secret wedding I need to know about,” your mother probed.

“No! Not at all,” Joel confirmed, hoping to quell some of the concern that had seemed to find itself on her face.

“And you didn’t come here to get a blessing for an engagement?” she implored.

“No! This is only my first time meeting you guys. I mean, I’m more worried about making a good impression than getting your approval on our potential marriage. Besides, I’m not really sure she’s interested in marriage after…”

Your mother nodded as Joel trailed off, not needing him to finish his sentence to understand where he was going.

“How much has she told you about Nathan?” she queried, seeming to be even more curious about this question than she was about some of the previous questions.

“Bits and pieces. Some things I’ve inferred,” Joel answered.

“Yeah. It was pretty bad for her and Chlo,” your mother simply stated. “Maybe we’ll talk about it some other time. It might help you understand why my husband and I have been the way that we’ve been towards you.”

“No, I get it. If anyone I loved had to go through those things—let alone my daughter, I would react the same way. I’d probably be worse,” Joel stiffly chuckled into his drink. For a moment, Joel thought about punching Nathan. The perfect cathartic moment for hurting and harassing the woman he loves. He’d do it again. And he’d do it to any person who even attempted to hurt you, Sarah, or Chloe.

“I just want to wrap her up in bubble wrap,” your mother admitted. “I never want her to be hurt again, and I know it isn’t possible, but I just want to be so sure that she’ll never be hurt in that way again. I apologize for being hostile, but you understand, right?”

“Of course I do,” Joel said earnestly. “And if it’s any consolation, I would never, ever do anything to intentionally hurt her. I know what it’s like to have a wall built around your heart and to swear that you’ll never let anyone in again. Your daughter let me in, and I’d never want her to regret that.”

Your mom seemed to think for a moment, getting up and setting her mug in the sink before sitting back down across from Joel.

“Either you’re really manipulative, or you really love her. I’m gonna hope for all of our sakes it’s the latter.”

“I can guarantee that it is.”

“I’m gonna believe you. But only because I want to try that focaccia.” Though your mom stated that with the cadence of a joke, Joel couldn’t help but feel that there was some hint of truth behind her words. Sure, this conversation hadn’t fixed everything, but it seemed like she trusted him just a bit more.

You crept down the stairs, clearly trying to be quiet, but failing at doing so. You approached the kitchen and yawned aloud, attempting to alert Joel and your mother of your presence.

“Good morning,” you greeted the pair. “You better not be interrogating my boyfriend,” you told your mom as you sat down next to the man of the hour.

“Nothing of the sort. We were just talking about baking. Why didn’t you tell me you bake now? And why haven’t you baked with me?”

“I guess I just didn’t have the right pastry chef,” you chimed, stealing Joel’s mug and taking a sip of his coffee. “Did Joel tell you that we’ve been working our way up to sourdough? I just ordered some starter the other day.”

“Oh wow. You’re like a completely different person. I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Sorry,” you apologized insincerely.

“Does this mean you’ll start baking with me when you come home?”

“Sorry mom. I’m loyal to my pastry chef. Has he told you about his focaccia? It’s really good. We’ll bring it next time you invite us over.”

You pulled your chair a little closer to Joel’s and held his hand under the table, a simple reassurance that you were there, and you weren’t going to let your parents treat him any way he didn’t deserve to be treated.

“You are breaking my heart,” your mom said, clutching her chest jokingly. “Although you mended it when you mentioned bringing bread.”

Luckily, it seemed like this day had started off far better for everyone—but particularly your boyfriend and mother. The two of them were getting along swimmingly, working together to whip up breakfast, carrying the conversation throughout the meal, and even going on to converse while the girls played at the beach.

If nothing else, you were glad that Joel was growing on your mother. You still couldn’t really get a read on your father’s opinion of your boyfriend, but hopefully with your mom now on his side, she would be able to talk some sense into your father.

It just so happened that your parents had planned to set up a few things around the house in preparation for the birthday festivities for the following day, and your mother had somehow managed to talk Joel into helping them out with their preparation. Since your boyfriend would be setting up, you were tasked with distracting the girls with a day out on the town, leaving your boyfriend alone in the lake house with your parents.

As things seemed to be going well between your mother and Joel at the very least, you at least weren’t too worried about your parents shredding your partner to bits while you pampered the girls and took them shopping.

Despite this fact, you still checked in with your partner multiple times throughout the day, getting updates about things he was doing with your parents, or any particularly interesting conversations they’d had during the day. For the most part, things seemed to be going well, but as the evening began to come in, you began to hear less and less from Joel, making you the slightest bit worried.

Once you got back to the lake house, you were pleasantly surprised to hear the sound of laughter coming from the back patio, paired with the familiar scent of a bonfire. The girls seemed more than pleased to go straight to the backyard, walking off far ahead of you.

By the time you reached the patio, Sarah and Chloe had already found spots to sit around the fire, and Joel was tossing some more firewood into the pit while seemingly laughing at a conversation going on between himself and your father. Although you couldn’t have seen the evening going this way when you initially came the previous morning, you couldn’t have been happier that everyone seemed to be getting along.

You found your own seat by the fire and Joel came back to sit next to you as your mother began to ask the girls a few questions about their day.

After getting as comfortable as you could on what was essentially a rock turned into a bench and leaning onto your partner, you and Joel quietly roasted marshmallows as your daughters excitedly chatted away, just happy to be able to sit and relax after a busy day. You were curious to hear all that occurred between Joel and your parents while you were away that had made them open up to each other more, but you could certainly wait.

“So girls, what was the highlight of your day?” your mom asked, turning to face your daughters.

“We had really nice manicures. The woman who did my nails was so much better than mom is. No offense, mom.”

“None taken,” you laughed at your daughter’s blunt statement.

“If it makes you feel better, you can’t be any worse than my dad,” Sarah offered, only contributing to your laughter.

“You’re probably right,” you agreed, playfully nudging Joel.

“I thought we understood that anything regarding my artistic ability is a soft spot?” he attempted to defend himself, but it was already too late.

“Sorry, Joel,” your daughter giggled, encouraging Sarah to giggle along with her.

“I also really liked our manicures, but we went to this really cute café with really good pastries and drinks!” Sarah exclaimed, gratefully accepting the slightly burnt—and just the way she likes it—s’more that you passed her.

“We only got decaf drinks, don’t worry,” you explained as you watched Joel hand Chloe a s’more of her own. “But everything was really good.”

“You would know, since you tried everything,” Chloe teased.

“Thirteen-year-old Chloe is even more sassy than before,” you teased right back. “It’s called the mom tax. Since I was your chauffeur all day, I got to steal a little nibble of your pastries. I think that’s fair.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sarah added in, grinning mischievously at you.

“I would probably do the same,” Joel interjected, coming to your defense.

“See? This is why I keep you around,” you squeezed his arm and grinned up at your partner.

“Ugh, you guys are always being so gross,” Chloe laughed. “Do you see what we have to put up with?” Chloe directed at her grandparents.

“You know, one day you’ll find someone that you want to be gross with too,” your mother explained.

“No way,” your daughter giggled, standing up and stretching. “Do you wanna go get ready for bed, Sare?”

“Sure!” she said cheerily, popping up and heading inside with her friend.

“Seems like they had a good day,” your father commented once the pair were gone.

“I think so. I hope so. Chlo was pretty bummed when she found out her dad was going to be out of town during her birthday, but I’m pretty sure this has made up for it. Thank you for putting this all together,” you acknowledged.

“Of course! Anything for our girls,” your mom said, smiling softly at you as she reached out to put a hand on your knee.

“Well what did you guys get up to while we were gone?” you asked, hoping to get a little insight into what you missed while you were gone.

“Joel and I did some baking, then he helped your father put together some decorations. Speaking of which, you’re gonna have to help me put up some final touches before the big day.”

“Of course,” you agreed, happy to do anything that would make your daughter’s special day more special.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I can finish up and help you with whatever needs to be done,” Joel offered.

“You’ve already worked so much today, Joel. We couldn’t possibly ask you to do anything else,” your mother practically gushed. Joel seemed like he was going to protest, opening his mouth before your mother cut him off. “I insist.”

You couldn’t believe that just the previous morning your mother was lecturing you over this man.

“Well, I’m not gonna argue with that. But if you need any help at all, I am more than willing to be there,” Joel reiterated.

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” your mom stretched her arms behind her head and yawned. “I’m getting a little tired. Would you like to go set up now?”

You were getting the feeling that the question was less of a question and more of a direction, but you agreed regardless, pressing a kiss to Joel’s cheek before you went back inside with your mom to help set up the last few things for Chloe’s birthday.

Setting things up was about as eventful as you thought it might be, other than the absolute raving your mom was doing over your partner, and the occasional sound of muffled laughter coming from the patio.

“I’m starting to think you like my boyfriend more than you like me,” you commented offhandedly as you tied off a balloon.

“Oh I do,” your mother agreed. “You think I’m bad? You should see your father. Yesterday he was so wary of Joel, but today those two have just been giggling and bonding all day. I should’ve known it was a wrap after your boyfriend made a stupid dad joke,” she glanced over at the glass door leading to the backyard.

“So what changed his mind?” you asked, setting down the balloon. “What changed yours?”

“After talking to him for a while, it was just very obvious how much he loves you and the girls. He also just happens to be a very likable guy. I don’t know how you ever managed to hate him before.”

“I already told you, it was like we were flirt-arguing!” you insisted.

“I know, I’m just teasing. I’ll still be a little cautious, but he seems like a good guy. Now, after he and your dad got over their little awkward thing, they absolutely hit it off. Just started bonding over everything under the sun. Their love of guitar, their love of DIY projects, their love of you…”

You smiled to yourself as you listened to your mom. It was great news that Joel had been able to bond with your parents, despite whatever feelings they’d had towards him previously.

“That’s good to hear. I’m happy you both finally came to your senses. He was worried sick about you guys not liking him.”

“Well, he’s got nothing to worry about now,” your mom flashed you a smile that matched yours as she finished off the balloons. “I think that’s all we needed to do. I’ll wake you up in the morning if I need any extra hands then.”

“Please don’t,” you groaned, pulling yourself out of your chair and glancing back over at the back door, where Joel and your father still seemed to be having a great time. When you looked back over, your mother was approaching you with open arms.

“I’m sorry, honey. I know you’ve already been through so much, and you wouldn’t purposely put yourself through that again,” she began as she embraced you. The apology was like music to your ears. You just hoped that Joel had also received some form of apology from your parents, as he was the one receiving the majority of the pushback. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for leaving Nathan, and I’m proud of you for focusing on yourself, and I’m proud of you for finding someone good for you when you were finally ready.”

“I love you. I’m pretty fond of your boyfriend, too. Goodnight,” your mother bid you farewell, and you couldn’t even think of a proper response before she was already going up the stairs. You had much to process tonight.

Long after you’d fallen asleep, you woke up to the feeling of the mattress shifting its weight. When you turned over onto your side to see what the disturbance was, you just barely made out your partner in the dark.

“It’s just me,” Joel whispered as he settled in bed next to you. Like you were a magnet, you found yourself clinging onto him almost automatically.

“Hi,” you mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Hi,” he repeated, settling his arm on your hip.

“How was today?” you asked, nudging Joel over enough for him to be on his side so that you could spoon him.

“Really good, I think. I think your parents kinda like me now,” he yawned, relaxing into your touch as you held him.

“Kinda?” you muttered sleepily. “What did I tell you? They’d come around eventually.”

“You were right. I should’ve listened earlier,” he confessed as he fell into a more and more relaxed state.

“Maybe. I could care less about their opinion of you. That’s what I wish you listened to earlier,” you explained. “But I am happy that they like you so much.”

You were up bright and early to put the last little finishing touches on Chloe’s birthday decorations. You and your father taped up a few ‘happy birthday’ signs, while your mother and Joel worked on decorating Chloe’s birthday cake. Not much longer after you came downstairs, Sarah found herself downstairs helping to put her own creative spin on the cake as well.

After some discussion of when it would be acceptable to wake up Chloe, you all headed upstairs to her room to wish her a happy birthday.

As her door opened and everyone began to sing slightly off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday,’ Chloe slowly began to sit up as she grew more and more awake before she broke into a fit of slightly embarrassed laughter.

It was quite the scene, and probably not the most ideal wake-up call, but your daughter grinned and expressed her gratitude regardless, getting out of bed so she could attempt to pull everyone into a big group hug.

“Ugh, I love you guys so much,” she sighed fondly. “How did I get the best family ever?”

You were starting to wonder the same yourself.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller imagine #soccer parents au

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raz-writes-the-thing · 6 months

Text

Five More Minutes (Good Omens Drabble)

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader / requests are: open and encouraged

Summary: Your partners catch you singing under your breath.

CW: tooth rotting fluff- make your dentist appointments now

Gomens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

It’s a peaceful morning, for once. No impending doom, no threat of Armageddon, no Heaven or Hell bearing down on all sides. Just a lovely, quiet morning. Your partners had left already by the time you had gotten up in the morning, off doing something they shouldn’t, you supposed. Usually, they’d invite you with them, but they must have known you’d needed a sleep-in. In all honesty, you had been getting a little crabby lately.

There was just something different about today. Maybe it was the warm light pouring through the kitchenette window… Fresh sunlight always made you feel fresh and centred. You popped the jug on and moved over to the radio to turn it on. You had discovered some time back that Aziraphale had put a miracle on the old, vintage thing to instantly find a station that was playing one of your favourite artists. When you’d asked him about this, he’d blushed and spluttered out that he didn’t think you’d notice. He loved doing little things like that for you.

Today, the little radio knew exactly what it was doing and flipped to a station playing one of your favourite songs. You grinned, swanning about the kitchenette to make yourself a cup of tea. You were humming and singing along with the song as you went, hips bopping and swaying just slightly to the music. Yeah, today was going to be a good day.

When you’d made your tea and breakfast, you pulled all the items into the back office room of the Bookshop, settling them down and wandering over to the bookcase Crowley had put in for you, saying you should have somewhere for your own books to read. The both of them sometimes left little novellas and things they thought you might like somewhere on the shelf for you to find, too. It was incredibly sweet of them.

It was as you were reaching up for a book just out of your reach on the top shelf that a warm hand pressed into your side and another hand reached for the novel you were going for. You all but shrieked in surprise, and twirled around to see Crowley lounging on your office chair and Aziraphale pressing up against you with a soft smile on his lips. Crowley was giving the two of you an incredibly soft barely imperceptible smile. Not something you necessarily see a whole lot from him.

“Here, my dear, let me get that for you,” the Angel says softly, grabbing the book and passing it to Crowley, who takes it without question or complaint. You give Aziraphale a confused look. You wanted that. “It’s been quite some time since we heard you singing, love.”

Your cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink. A nervous giggle bubbled out of you.

“Oh, you heard that, did you?”

“Fraid so, Pet,” Crowley said, a little smirk edging its way onto his features. The Demon discarded his sunglasses on the desk. “Better than Mercury, in my opinion.”

You rolled your eyes and looked back at your Angel, who had been surreptitiously placing one hand on your waist and one in your own. With a look towards Crowley, the Demon leaned over to turn the radio up. You grinned, joy radiating off you in waves. Your lovers seemed to bask in its warmth as Aziraphale led you in a dance. He always did love to dance.

When Aziraphale danced with you, it was soft, and usually some kind of dance he’d learned many years ago and seemed all too determined to bring back to the twenty-first century. When Crowley danced with you it was chaotic and without form, the both of you jumping around and doing whatever seemed to fit the song and the moment. You loved them both.

Crowley stood and came to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around the both of you, and Aizraphale dropped your waist and your hand to do the same, so you were cocooned in love and affection. You sighed in pure relief, leaning into them.

Crowley started to sway to the music. Back and forth, humming softly to the tune. It was one of your favourites, so he’d heard it plenty of times. More than enough to learn the melody and the words.

You basked in their love for a few more minutes before clearing your throat sadly.

“As much as I am loving this, my tea will be going cold.” Yet you made no movements to escape their embrace.

“No, it won’t,” Crowley replied knowingly, resting his chin on the top of your head as you swayed to the beat. Ah, he’d pulled a miracle to keep your tea and breakfast hot. How thoughtful of him.

“Just five more minutes, my dear?” Aziraphale asked softly, sighing with pleasure into your shoulder. How could you say no to that?

“Five more minutes, then,” you agreed.

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sinsandsweetness · 11 months

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rickyl + manhandling u after a party when ure a little drunk and giggly and you’re extra obedient for them ><

TOUCH ME, I’M TIPSY

(18+ content, Rickyl x fem!reader)

No cause they would secretly love it when you got that way. All buzzed and giggly in the backseat of the truck as they drove you home. Teasing Rick with your toes as you sprawled out in the backseat for the short drive back to your place. Him trying so hard not to smile as you sang along to the CD that Daryl hated. That extra shot of tequila back at the party had you feeling a little dizzy, stumbling slightly on the way in the front door, giggling extra hard when Daryl told you to keep quiet. Not wanting to wake up the kids. And while you may have been in a great mood, having the time of your life on the makeshift dance floor, they wouldn’t forget the way you’d been teasing them all night. Wearing that itty bitty skirt and those knee high socks. The outfit alone driving them crazy, but your attitude wasn’t helping either. Trying your hardest to get one of them to dance, even though neither would budge. Partly because they had to hide their raging hard ons behind the kitchen counter. And somewhat, because they knew you’d be even worse with your ass pressed against the front of their jeans. When you noticed the sheer discomfort, tight jaws and controlled breaths, you leaned in all close and proceeded to whisper the dirtiest thoughts you could come up with. Absolutely loving the way their hands would tighten around the bottle of beer or glass of whiskey they were sipping on. You were practically begging them to bend you over right there at the party. To take you up to the guest room and have their way with you. And when they’d finally had enough of your little act, they made up some lame excuse as to why they had to leave. Why you had to leave. “We got a supply run in the morning. Bright and early.” Rick would tell Rosita while she pouted at your departure. You trying your best to wave goodbye, and blow her a kiss as the two men placed a firm hand each, on your lower back, guiding you down the front steps. Knowing that the second they got you alone in their bedroom, it was over for you. No more sweet and innocent giggles. Just big doe eyes and eager nodding. Repetitive whimpers of “Uhuh uhuh” and the occasional, “Yes sir”. Simply agreeing with whatever they’d said. You couldn’t really tell. Too drunk off their attention, and well, maybe some of the liquor. Doing every little thing they ordered. “Spread your legs”, “Be quiet”, “Quit squirming, sweetheart”. Bossing you around and fucking you right into submission within the hour. And when you fell asleep right between them, left in only your knee high socks and knotted hair, they’d laugh about how cute it was. The way you thought for even a moment, that you could ever have the upper hand on them. That you could get away with being such a little tease.

taglist: @rickswh0r3 , @elnyrae

✩(I won’t lie, writing in paragraph chunks like this kind of hurts my eyes. I have such a tiny attention span that they usually scare me to read. In saying that… I rlly liked this anyway and felt it fit <3 But please let me know what you think! Feedback and comments are so apreciated)

#rick x reader x daryl #rickyl #rickyl x reader #rick grimes smut #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader

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justagalwhowrites · 7 months

Note

au Joel eating Doc out as she vents about her day at the hospital watching her slowly forget about it

👁️🫦👁️

OMG Hi Bestie!

This ask was DELICIOUS OMFG and soooo Joel coded. Just so so so so so Lavender AU!Joel coded. I love him so much and I just know he's done exactly this for Doc so many times over the years. Girl works a stressful job, she needs some release, after all.

Anyway, I hope this fits what you're looking for! Thank you so much for reading and for asking for this! Love you!!

Long Day

Joel takes care of you after a hard day at the hospital. A one shot set in the universe of the Lavender No-Outbreak AU.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Lavender AU Female Reader

Warnings: SMUTTTTTT. Oral sex (F receiving), unprotected P in V sex. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.9k

Remind me again why I wanted to be chief of pediatric surgery?

Joel wasn’t surprised to get your text when he took a minute to check his phone while on a job site. You’d been up late the night before, preparing for a presentation to the hospital board to get more funding for your department. Some kind of new equipment that you desperately wanted and gushed about at every opportunity that Joel could not understand at fuck all. The curse of falling for a woman so much smarter than him, he supposed.

Because you’re nothing if not a high achiever, he texted back. What’s going on, Baby?

I hate the bureaucracy of this, you replied. One of my favorite kids came in today, her mom is beside herself, and am I with them? No, I’m walking some asshole through the surgical wing of the peds floor.

“Hey Miller!” One of the site managers called to him. “Got a question for you!”

“One sec!” Joel yelled back before he texted you back again.

Think you can make it home at a reasonable time or are they going to chain you to the desk?

Only thing that would keep me here is the inside of an OR, you wrote back. They’d better deal.

Joel smiled a little at that. Back in your residency years, he’d have resigned himself to not seeing you on days like today. He’d take care of Evie and worry that you weren’t eating enough or pushing yourself too hard or crying in the car from stress before coming inside so you didn’t freak out him or your daughter.

He’d caught you doing that once, the car parked on the street as he walked back from loaning a tool to a neighbor down the road. He was so excited to see you that it took him a moment to realize you were crying, your forehead against the steering wheel, your whole body shaking with it.

He opened the door, making you jump and start trying to dry your your eyes before he could notice.

“Hey now,” he said gently, leaning into the car with his arm propped over the door. “What’s goin’ on, Baby?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed. “Just a really really awful day, I’ll be fine, it’s fine, I’m just not used to it yet…”

Joel frowned.

“Used to what?”

“All of it,” your voice was shaky. “Just all the stress and the exhaustion and I keep getting more attached to patients than I should. I had a kid today who was in a car accident and he looked fine so I was joking with him when doing the initial exam trying to keep him calm and the next thing I know he’s crashing and we couldn’t get him back and it just really fucking sucks sometimes, Joel. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this…”

“Hey,” he gently reached out and cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. “You’re the strongest person I know. You can do this. I’m sure of it, never been more sure of anything in my life. Except maybe loving you but that’s an extremely high bar.”

You laughed a wet little laugh and sighed.

“Do you still want to do this?” He asked, frowning slightly. “Because you don’t have to, Baby. Don’t care that you went to med school, you don’t have to be a doctor if it doesn’t make you happy.”

“No, I want it,” you nodded once, more to yourself than anything else. “If I’m strong enough, I want it.”

He took you inside and sent you to go shower, picking up your scrubs off the bathroom floor and putting them in the washer. He set out your favorite swimsuit and made you a frozen margarita before moving the boom box to by the pool and putting on your favorite Beatles album. He grabbed the book from your bedside table and set it next to the margarita just as you came outside, already looking more like yourself.

“Oh Babe, you didn’t have to do all this,” your hand went to your heart and, for a second, Joel was afraid you’d start crying again.

“I know,” he said. “But I wanna take care of my girl. Feeling anything for dinner? I can order Chinese or pizza or make you something?”

“Can I get Mongolian Beef?” You asked, taking a sip of the margarita. “With an obscene amount of egg rolls?”

Joel smiled a little.

“Of course Baby,” he said.

Joel took care of Evie so you had space to relax but you pulled her onto your lap and held her close while you ate, your nose buried in her hair while she told you everything about her day.

When he took you to bed, he had every intention of keeping his hands to himself. But you had a different idea. You kissed his shoulder, his neck, over his jaw.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Don’t push yourself…”

“I’m not,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. “Want you, want to feel you…”

He kissed you, gently at first, but your fingers knotted in his hair, pulling his mouth tightly to your own. Your hips ground against his, your breasts flush against his chest. He clutched onto you and moaned into your lips.

“Make me forget it all,” you said softly. “Please, Joel. Just for a bit.”

He moved you below him and took you slowly but firmly, like he was fucking every ounce of love he had for you, for the family you’d made together, into you until that was all that was left. There were no insane hours, no one you couldn’t save, no life or death stress. There was just you and him and how much he loved you.

The next day, he called in sick and kept Evie home from school. The three of you snuggled in bed until you needed to go to the hospital that evening.

“Thank you,” you said as you kissed him next to your car, the same place he’d found you crying the day before. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“I’m so proud of you Baby,” he held your face in his hands. “My girl the doctor.”

After that, Joel always knew exactly what you needed after a rough day at the hospital.

He texted Ellie to see if she could go to a friend’s place for a while after school - something she was thrilled about - and he stopped by your favorite BBQ place on the way home to pick up all your usuals. He opened a bottle of your favorite French wine and had a plate ready and waiting for you when you walked in the door.

“Joel,” you smiled, coming over and dropping your forehead to his chest. He smiled a little and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Yes,” he said. He felt you laugh against him. “But don’t mind hearin’ it again.”

You vented a little over dinner and the two of you polished off one bottle of wine before you moved to the living room. Joel opened a second and put on your favorite movie and held you on the couch, his hand tracing the contours of your body as he held you close.

“Ugh, you guys are gross,” Ellie said when you didn’t bother to separate from him at all when she came in the front door.

“Love you too, Gremlin!” You called after her as she went to her room. Joel laughed.

“Why do we keep endin’ up with teenaged girls?” He asked. “That’s the hardest age but I swear we’ve had a teenaged girl in this house for 20 fuckin’ years.”

“Gluttons for punishment,” you said, a smile on your voice.

“Doin’ any better?” He asked, fingers trailing through your hair against your scalp.

You sighed.

“A bit but…” your voice trailed off. “I’m so sick of this part of my damn job. There’s only so much board member ass I can kiss before I want to throw up. I got into this to take care of kids not deal with bureaucrats, you know?”

“You are helping kids by dealing with the bureaucrats,” Joel kissed your temple and gave you a squeeze as the credits to the movie ended. “C’mon baby, let me take you to bed.”

He got up and, before you had a chance to follow, he scooped you up off the couch. You let out a little shriek, your arms flinging around his neck and he laughed a little as he carried you to bed.

“Isn’t your back getting too old for that?” You teased as he set you gently on the bed.

“More worried about my knees,” he smiled a little. “Good thing I’m married to a doctor. Damn good one at that.”

“Not so sure about that last part these days,” you sighed and he leaned over and kissed you, gently, your face delicately in his large hand. His fingers tangled in your hair and he lay you back in the middle of the bed until you were stretched out below him. He pulled his mouth ever so slightly from yours, making you whimper.

“What were you sayin’ Baby?” He asked, his nose brushing your own.

“Uh,” you closed your eyes for a second. “I… I’m not sure…”

He kissed you softly for a moment before pulling away again.

“Good.”

He kissed down your body, unbuttoning your shirt as he went, until he got to your pants. He recognized them, you called them your ass kicking pants. You wore them when you wanted the extra confidence, wanted to feel like you could take control of anything. Joel just loved the way they made your ass and thighs look. He took a moment to appreciate the view, pressing a kiss just above the waist of your pants, his eyes running up your body until they met yours.

“Tell me everything botherin’ that pretty head of yours,” he said before kissing your stomach again. Your fingers twisted in the duvet. “C’mon baby. I want to hear you.”

“I had to show around Anders, that one board member who really sucks,” you said, voice a little breathy. Joel opened your pants and hooked his fingers around the waistband of them and your panties. You whimpered.

“Why’s he suck again?” Joel asked, sitting up enough to start pulling your pants down. You raised your hips off the bed to help and he pulled the clothes over your hips.

“You know why,” you were fully panting now.

Joel did know why. That wasn’t the point.

“Remind me.”

He pulled your pants off completely and climbed between your legs, settling between your thighs. He pressed a kiss to your mound and you moaned at his touch.

“He’s all about profit,” you said, voice tense and needy. “He loves plastics because it’s a money driver, always wants them to get the newest technology, everyone else always gets the…”

You cut off with a quiet gasp as Joel pressed his tongue to your clit, licking the sensitive nub firmly. He smiled a little and kissed you there, sucking you into his mouth for a moment before licking up your seam back to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel…” you were panting below him now. His hands went to your thighs, holding them to his head.

“What else, Baby?” He asked, kissing your clit again. “Tell me every little thing making that beautiful brain of yours work overtime.”

“There’s… Um…” your head dropped back onto the bed. “There’s that clinical trial that’s starting in a few weeks…”

He slipped his tongue between your folds, the tip of him slipping into your tight hole, making you moan and your back start to arch. He pressed deeper.

“I lost… I lost a day of work on it today and…”

His nose brushed your clit and you turned your head to bury your mouth in the mattress as you fought to not cry out in pleasure. His tongue opened your tight little hole for him, stretching and reaching deep, parting your walls. You panted and your channel coated Joel’s tongue in more slick, the flavor of your passion smooth and musky and slightly sweet. You rocked your hips against him and he smiled against your mound, his tongue stretched so the tip of it brushed the soft place inside of you that he loved.

“Keep goin’, Baby,” he said, pulling his mouth from you when you’d been speechless a little too long. “Tell me all of it.”

You took a moment, gasping and panting for breath.

“I didn’t get to spend time with Kaylee and her mom, Cara, today,” you managed. “Cara gets worried and I know she trusts me…”

Your voice broke as Joel thrust his tongue and a finger inside your tight hole, pressing deep into you and finding the places that he knew made you fall apart below him. He ate at you, his nose buried in your seam, brushing up against your swollen clit, tongue working you, finger stretching you. You let out a strangled little cry as your channel grew tight around him and he moaned against your pussy, starting to rut his hips down against the mattress. But he didn’t want to distract you, this was about you forgetting, not about him. You ground your hips against his face, unable to stop yourself anymore.

He licked into you, nose working your clit, finger hooking into your inner wall until you came over him, Joel lapping up your wetness as it spilled onto his tongue and his lips.

“Joel!” You gasped, your whole body arched for a moment as you throbbed around him and then collapsed back onto the bed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing against his tongue.

He waited until your body was loose on the bed before he pulled his tongue and finger from you. He wiped his mouth on his arm and crawled up your body to where you lay, panting and pliant below him.

“What else is botherin’ my girl? He asked softly, his fingers in your hair.

“I… um…” you were breathless. “I don’t remember.”

“Good,” he said softly, leaning in slowly to kiss you gently.

He stripped off his clothes and put one of his hands against your pussy, tracing your dripping seam, while he worked his cock for a moment. He kissed you, took your hand and lined his thick cock up with your entrance and pressed into you slowly, until he was deep inside you.

“Joel,” you breathed, your eyes searching his.

“Baby,” he nuzzled your cheek, savoring the feeling of you below him and around him, how tight you were, how warm, how soft. “What do you need?”

“Just you,” you said softly.

He kissed you again and started to move inside you, slow but firm. He thrust deep inside you until the tip of him was pressing against the place inside you that made you start to tighten around him before pulling back slowly. His head caught on every ridge of muscle inside you and he savored that feeling, this part of you that felt like it belonged to him. When just his head was left in your tight, grasping sex, he thrust back in you hard, hard enough to force the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, Joel,” your hips pressed up into him as you started to tighten around him. “Joel, please…”

“Anything else on your mind, Baby?” He panted. You whimpered and shook your head quickly. “I want to be the only thing in this pretty head, want to be the only thing inside of any part of you.”

You arched into him, your fingers digging into the flesh of his back as your pussy got even tighter around him.

“That’s it Baby,” he managed, his own orgasm getting closer. “C’mon, come all over me. Come all over this cock, I’m so close Baby, want you to milk me dry, c’mon Baby…”

You buried your face in his shoulder and thrust your hips up against his as you came around him, your channel throbbing fiercely over him. He only lasted two more thrusts before he pressed himself deep and came in you, filling you with rope after rope of his spend.

Your orgasm outlasted his own, your body pulling every last drop of come from his own and he collapsed as you went limp below him. Joel rolled onto his back and pulled you with him, so you were loosely draped over his body, his cock still deep inside you. He ran his hands slowly over your back as the two of you came down from your shared high. After a moment, you pressed a kiss to his chest and he felt you smile against his skin.

“What?” He asked.

“Definitely doing better now,” you said, teasing a little. He smiled.

“Good,” he kissed the top of your head. “Gotta do whatever I can to take care of my girl the doctor.”

You laughed a little.

“You take such good care of me,” your fingers traced little paths over his chest. “Think I can do anything as long as I’ve got you, Joel.”

He smiled and rested a hand on the small of your back.

“I think so, too.”

#fanfic #kit answers #send asks #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut

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quietblueriver · 4 months

Text

A little Imodna fic re: Imogen’s trip through Ruidus and Laudna’s reaction to it. Angst and fluff and comfort bc they deserve it.

When the dream is over, Imogen has feelings about her trip through Ruidus, about what she wants and whether she’s wanted.

After the others leave, she and Laudna get some time to talk about it.

It’s quiet in their room.

Imogen’s curled toward the edge of the mattress, knees tucked up just slightly, the thick comforter keeping her almost too warm. Normally, she’d turn to Laudna, press close so that the cool of her body balanced out the heat of their bed. Tonight, she doesn’t.

She knows Laudna is awake, can hear the push and pull of thread through her latest project, feels the light touch of fingers on her shoulder every few minutes, gentle enough that they wouldn’t wake Imogen if she were sleeping. She’s not sure if Laudna thinks she is sleeping or if she’s letting Imogen pretend. Which is another way of saying Laudna’s either not paying enough attention to notice that Imogen is awake and caught in her thoughts or she doesn’t feel the need to check in. Either way, and despite herself, Imogen feels it like a slight.

A feeling that causes the weight of shame and an ever-lurking sense of failure to rise up and make the heat almost unbearable. She worms a foot out as quietly as she can, ears hyper-aware of the rustle of fabric she can’t stop.

Laudna’s sewing continues uninterrupted. Imogen’s chest grows somehow more full with her feelings and all the words she’s biting back.

Even now.

Even after their trials with Nana Morri, after all that angsting over honesty and communication and trust, Imogen is quiet.

There are options. She’d known that before they’d been thrown into a pit and attacked by murder wasps and tricked into doubt. There have always been options.

She could turn over. She could reach out her hand and grasp Laudna’s wrist and let Laudna see her eyes. She could ask Laudna to talk to her, could tell her about the thoughts circling and circling through her mind, the ones that have been there since that night in the basement with Delilah.

She doesn’t. She’s tired. And she feels, if she’s honest with herself (and maybe that was the exercise they all needed first, because Imogen’s fairly certain she’s not the only one of the Hells who has difficulty living in her own truths sometimes), like she has been the one bridging the gap, or trying to, without any indication that it’s welcome. Like her honesty and vulnerability have recently been met with hesitancy and hedging and eyes toward a future very different from the one that Imogen had thought they both wanted.

The doubt, an old friend, had begun growing louder in that basement with Delilah and had reached its peak tonight.

The question about giving in to Ruidus was genuine. They’d talked about it before and put it to the side, but now that they’re closer, now that they’re getting ready to really go and do this, it felt important to raise again. She wanted their opinions, because they’d just watched what happened if one of them decided to make a choice like that in isolation, and it wasn’t good.

She wanted to know what they thought, wanted to be as smart about it as she could be.

If you’d asked her, though, even the moment before the question left her lips, whether Laudna needed to be there for that conversation, she would have said no.

Because she knew Laudna’s answer. She saw Laudna’s face furrowing in reaction to her offering her soul on the Crimson Abyss, heard Laudna’s violent threats of protection on her behalf, felt the cold of her form of dread spread and snarling over her as they fought. She knew Laudna’s answer, and it was, “No.”

This was a given, because she loved Imogen more than she loved anything, and because even if Imogen wasn’t trying to be unnecessarily self-sacrificial, there was no denying that giving in could be dangerous.

Except it hadn’t been no. It hadn’t been no, and then, when she’d come back to herself, come back to the cold, exhausting world after feeling so warm, so whole in the heart of Ruidus, and told them just a sliver of it, it still hadn’t been no.

It had been, “If it’s what you want.” It had been, “I don’t want to hold you back.”

And Imogen knows that Laudna loves her. She knows, because Laudna shows her, has shown her, every day.

But the deep and sharpening doubt inside of her says confidently that the love they have for each other isn’t the same.

Imogen wants Laudna. She wants her in every way. There is no future for her, hasn’t been for a long time, that doesn’t have Laudna at its center.

There is nothing she wants more than a cottage with a horse or two and garden beds for Laudna, a porch with a little table where she can start her day with the sunrise while Laudna sleeps and they can end their days with the sunset together, a kitchen like Zhudanna’s, with a stove that works and favorite mugs and a window that looks out at the forest. A home that is warm and easy and theirs.

There is nothing she wants more than to be there, with Laudna. To kiss her good morning and good night and anytime in between. To love her for as long as she’s alive.

And yes, Imogen knows that Laudna loves her.

Long before she kissed her in that marketplace in Jrusar, Imogen knew that Laudna loved her in a way that nobody else ever had. A love so deep and steadfast and self-sacrificial that it made Imogen scared to express the nature of her own feelings because she was afraid Laudna would force herself into something she didn’t want just to make Imogen happy.

Without the circlet, she’d been able to hear the flow of Laudna’s thoughts, often, and understandably, preoccupied with the immediate dangers of their lives after joining the Hells. It felt selfish, in light of that, to ask for more, to put one more thing on her.

And she’d been afraid to say anything without certainty, without some kind of hint from Laudna that she wasn’t going to hurt Laudna and herself and everything they’d built together.

She’d gotten close, before the Solstice. The future they were imagining, the roles they played for each other, Laudna’s own words about Imogen and what she wanted—it closed the gap a little. Made it easier for Imogen to think that maybe, one day, she’d know they were in the same place. That it would be safe to tell Laudna that her love had at some point spilled over its neatly drawn box and had only kept spilling, running over the lines between friendship and devotion and desire until it was all one big pool.

The circlet might’ve made it harder. After all, it was the opposite of confirmation. But the split, her time in Uthodurn, it only made Imogen’s need, selfish as it was, stronger, and when she didn’t have the discouragement of what she thought was knowledge, didn’t have access enough to know that her own want, so fierce sometimes she could hardly think of anything else, was unmatched, she couldn’t keep telling herself the same story about waiting. Fear lost to love (to greed, to desire, to impulse) and suddenly she was kissing Laudna next to the bread stall.

And Laudna was kissing her back. And Laudna was touching her and telling her, softly and with the purpled blush that made Imogen warm and light with affection, that she loved her.

Imogen believed her. She had no reason to doubt her.

Except, of course, for the circlet. Except for the niggling, shameful, persistent voice that reminded her that she could be sure, if she just took off the circlet. That she could be sure, if she let herself explore. That it would save both of them pain if she took even just a minute to be certain that they were on the same page, that Laudna wasn’t just doing her another thing to try to make Imogen happy.

She’d never pry. But without the circlet, she could maybe just stumble into the truth. Fall on it the way she fell onto so many thoughts in the world.

It’s the ugliest part of her. The part of her that believed for most of her life that she knew people because she knew their thoughts, that she didn’t need to listen or to watch who someone was in the world because she could see the real them, the true them.

She knows better now. She knows that people can, and do, fight against their impulses and desires and the darkest voices in their minds. That people work to be more, and better, than their base thoughts.

The problem is, though, that sometimes they don’t. Sometimes people let their impulses lead them and they keep their mouths closed and their hands busy and suddenly you’re watching your friend explode into a million pieces, putting themself and everybody else you love at risk.

She would’ve known, if she’d taken off the circlet. She would’ve seen the plans and heard the reasons and she could’ve done something.

And yeah, it’s about trust. Of course it is. But it’s also about reality, and the reality is that people find it hard to talk about things, especially hard things, and with the Hells, that has the potential to be catastrophic. Has been catastrophic.

It’s easy, to let that logic lead her. She needs to take it off. For protection. For the people she loves.

But if she’s honest with herself, if she fights to be honest with herself if no one else, there are other, more selfish reasons why she sometimes wants the circlet gone.

The biggest one is lying right beside her, humming softly to herself as she works through “the difficult bit. Do you think green or orange, dearest, for the tail?” A question asked before Delilah’s appearance, Laudna’s eyes excited as she held out the options and Imogen kissing her in favor of an answer.

Imogen loves Laudna far too much to leave the worst parts of herself an opening, so the circlet had gone back on as soon as it had been just the two of them. Temptation removed. Laudna had watched but asked no questions and Imogen had offered no explanation and now she’s stuck here in this too-hot bed with her own rambling and pathetic thoughts, lonelier than she has been in a long, long time and looking for a reason not to run as fast as she can back toward the warmth and comfort of that place in her dreams.

Part of her understands. She’d sat, broken-hearted and trembling, on a floor in godsforsaken Whitestone and told Laudna that she loved her and that it was her choice, whether to come back. It was her decision, and Imogen would never ever try to take that from her, even as every part of her wanted to beg and plead and crack open in supplication.

Imogen had refused to be yet another person who denied Laudna a choice. If loving her had meant letting her go, then she would have done it, no matter the cost to herself.

So she understands, a little. If Laudna thinks that what she wants is to leave, to…join with? Return to? Whatever, with Ruidus, and she thinks she’s the reason Imogen is denying herself, then sure, Imogen can understand some of it.

But Imogen’s hopes for the future aren’t mysterious. Even before their kiss, she was clear with Laudna that what she wanted was her. She’d said it over and over again. She’d offered those dreams willingly, in defiance of every part of herself that told her it was foolish and dangerous and pitiful, that reminded her that building a future with someone else was a surefire way to end up like her daddy, lonely and bitter.

Her love won out, and, in the biggest gift of Imogen’s life, Laudna understood. Laudna wanted the same things.

Except maybe she didn’t.

She kicks her second foot out from under the covers, less concerned with the noise, and Laudna stops her motion for a moment, reaches a hand out to touch Imogen’s shoulder.

“Imogen?”

It isn’t really a choice, in the end. Laudna has called her, so she will answer.

“Hmm?”

“Are you…”

The bed shifts, sounds of Laudna putting away her things and moving until her body is against Imogen’s, the hand on her shoulder drifting down to rest on her waist. The cool press of her is such a familiar relief that Imogen almost cries.

“Are you alright?”

Yes. No. Of course not. She feels weak as the water gathers in the corner of her eyes and she bites back her instinct to snap. Anger is first, almost always, and tonight is no exception.

Love surges quickly and she lets it win, feels it temper in the form of an exhalation and the moment she needs to settle herself. Laudna’s trying. Imogen wants her to know, and this is the only way she can.

The metal of the circlet presses into her temple as she gives her body what it wants and shifts back, closer, holds Laudna’s arm to her with her own.

“Do you…do you really not…”

She clears her throat, embarrassed at the sadness and exhaustion that fill the gap left by her receding anger. She’s so tired, and she hates that they’re having this conversation. That they have to have it. That she can’t say what she wants. What she needs.

The question about Ruidus wasn’t a test. This one wouldn’t be either, but it also won’t get her what she needs.

She tries again. Starts with what she knows.

“I…I want you to want me here. With you.” Laudna’s grip around her tightens but she doesn’t say anything, and Imogen takes a second. She sighs out, forces tension from her shoulders and the pride from her throat, open and open and open for Laudna. Trust and honesty and communication. Gods, it’s fucking awful. She presses forward anyway. “It hurt me. B-badly, I think. When you seemed so ready to let me go to Ruidus.”

Nails, now, present but not painful through the fabric of her nightshirt and against her belly, and Laudna’s body tense against her back, and still she’s quiet. Imogen laces their fingers and brings their joined hands underneath her shirt, pressing Laudna’s palm to her skin and shivering as she gathers her words.

“I was tellin’ the truth, earlier. It felt good, bein’ there. But Laudna, I…” She squeezes at her hand and then lets go, pulls and pushes and turns until they’re face to face and she can put her palm against Laudna’s cheek, see the worry in her dark eyes. “I don’t know how else to make you understand that I want you. That I want my future to be you.”

Laudna’s mouth opens and closes and Imogen presses a thumb to her bottom lip and kisses her forehead.

“Sometimes I think I understand the way you feel about me. But the last few days especially, I…” She stumbles again, because they’ve already talked about that night, and she doesn’t want to do it again, although she will if she has to. “I just…” She closes her eyes for a moment and reaches past the sadness and into the fire, lets the slow and steady and bright flame of love and determination and want move her forward. “It doesn’t matter how Ruidus feels. Alright? What’s the moon to me if you’re not there?” She kisses her, hard and quick, and holds her eyes again. “It’s not home. It can’t be. Not without you.”

Laudna swallows and licks her lip and says, slowly, “I want you to have all the things I didn’t get to have.” The pad of her thumb runs underneath Imogen’s eye, turning until the nail is tracing her cheek and down her jawline, over her chin until it comes to rest in the center of her throat. She stares at it as she whispers, voice raspy with the strain of a rope long rotted, “Most of all, I want you to have choice.”

Imogen covers the hand with her own and brings it down, cradling it against her chest.

“I know. I know you do. And I do have choice.” She kisses her again, longer and slower. “I’m choosing you. If you’ll let me.”

She watches the emotions play themselves out on Laudna’s face, expressive eyes widening and crinkling, the corners of her mouth twitching with all the words she doesn’t say, preternaturally sharp teeth tearing at the skin of her lip.

“I can never quite believe that.”

Her lips taste of ichor even more than usual, the texture catching on Imogen’s tongue as she soothes the newly broken skin.

“I know. I know you can’t. But it’s true.” She bites her own lip and asks a question she hopes she knows the answer to. “Is it alright? That I choose you? Would you…would you choose me, too?”

Dark eyes soften and soften, a pair to the arm holding her close.

“Imogen. I chose you a long time ago. I’m so sorry, darling, that I’ve made you doubt that.” She runs her fingers through Imogen’s hair, lets them catch at the back of her head. “It’s beyond my understanding how lucky I am that you would choose me, too.”

It would be easy, to let it go. And maybe she could. Maybe they understand each other, this time. But they’re here, and she wants it to be the last time they have to be (at least for a while, gods help her) so she pulls on the last reserves of her emotional energy to say, “Can you…can you believe me? Please? Or…or maybe we can have a signal, for when you can’t? Because Laudna, I…it’s hard for me to understand that you want me, too. And when you…I can’t always convince myself it’s true, when it feels like you’re tellin’ me to choose somethin’ else.”

Imogen watches as Laudna’s eyes move almost absently over her shoulder before coming back, resolved, as the hand in her hair tightens. “Yes. I’m going to try to remember. This is…thank you, dearest. For telling me. I’m going to think about this more. We can…we should talk about it, again.”

Her displeasure at the thought must register on her face because suddenly Laudna is laughing and the hand in her hair has let go to come pat at her cheek as Laudna tuts. “It’s dreadful, isn’t it?”

Imogen groans and buries her head in the crook of Laudna’s neck. Fingers return to her hair as she nods her agreement. She feels a tug on the circlet.

“Thank you for this, as well.”

Suddenly she’s pulling back, because this is important, because Laudna should know that…

”Laudna, I promise I’d never…”

She’s being tucked back into Laudna’s body before she can finish, lips against her temple before words are whispered into her ear. “I know, my love. I know. But you could, and it means something that you don’t. So thank you.”

She relaxes into the hold, noses into the space behind Laudna’s jaw and breathes for a minute before she kisses the skin there. And again.

Maybe it shouldn’t be as easy as it is for her mind to wander away from Ruidus and their mission and the conversation they’d just had. But maybe they deserve it. Maybe this is what it means, to choose each other even at the end of the world—that joy and desire get their time between exhaustion and fear.

So she doesn’t fight the impulse. “We should sleep,” she says, as she bites gently at Laudna’s neck, moves down to lick her collarbone.

Through a very lovely gasp, Laudna asks, “Forgotten the chasm already, darling?”

Imogen grins. “We should.” Her hands press at Laudna’s hips until she’s below her, bracketed by Imogen’s knees. “But I have another idea.”

Laudna laughs. “Can you be quick?”

Imogen pulls off her nightshirt and feels incredibly smug at Laudna’s wide eyes, the way her mouth is still half-open from her laughter, frozen there.

“Chasm answer? Or would you rather I…”

It’s her turn to gasp, Laudna’s mouth against her and her hands braced against the bare skin of Imogen’s back, nails dragging in that way that makes Imogen whimper shamelessly.

“Hush, now. We’ve done quite enough talking, don’t you think?”

It’s breathed into the skin of her shoulder, and Imogen can only nod, pulling Laudna closer and letting herself remember that she can have this, forever, if she chooses.

#imodna #imodna fic #southerngothic #imogen temult centric

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 1 year

Note

So, I’m thinking R & Nat were shield agents from the start, and they’d always flirt, but they were young and career oriented so neither moved to mate. Fast forward to when Nat leaves for the Avengers she’s distraught to do so, but the R (her “bestie”) understands, and they share their first kiss in a bittersweet goodbye in the quinjets hangar.

Fast forward more to about five years later, and Nat’s been gone for so long, but as Shield was crumbling she ran back to try and help salvage it only to see you. Everything stops, she wants to approach you, but then an arm wraps around your waist and it’s then she sees you’d been claimed, and you watch her calm facade crumble for the briefest of seconds.

Her precious Y/N, her destined omega, was manipulated into another’s arms. There’s pain in both of your eyes, but the redhead smiles politely as the oblivious alpha introduces themselves to her. (Could be a random woman character, or a GN!Shield agent for the sake of mystery).

Natasha gets you alone, and when she does she instantly notices the remorse, you regret your choice, but all she gets out of you is a hushed sorry before you slip away and find your mate. In her mind you were basically pleading to be saved, and in a way maybe you were, and so she enacts a plan to get you back. Maybe, just maybe your Alpha dies on a mission… Then maybe, it’s Natasha who comforts you, and the R’s so vulnerable that she lets Nat mark over the others mark, finally claiming her, and breeding her to introduce a finality to your situation.

Authors note: I'm sorry its a few days late, but better late than never

Warnings: graphic violence, blood/gore, death/murder, Reader has a penis, typical a/b/o stuff(mating, knotting, claiming), sexual content(vaginal sex, teasing touches, groping)

Word count: too fuckin many, i mean uh - 11922

Marvel Masterlist Nat Masterlist

Clint brings her to a meeting room in SHIELD headquarters per Furys request. The gruff man had somehow accepted her into his fold, allowing her to be teamed up with Clint under his handler Coulson. And that meant she had to meet the few other agents the man was training with Clints help.

Most scoffed at her. Not only was she an outsider, but she's ex KGB. She shouldn’t be here and she certainly wasn’t a trustworthy ally. It made her feel like even more of an outsider. Like she really was the monster Dreykov made her to be.

But then her eyes met your y/e/c ones and you smile at her, and she feels a sense of peace wash over her. It's foreign to her, not feeling like she needs to have her guard up to someone new. But those Omega instincts the Red Room tried to bury, they tell her to let you in. And though her mind struggles against its conditioning she tries her best to listen to them

“Hi Natasha, I’m Y/n.” you greet, holding your hand out to her

She briefly hesitates, but as soon as her hand makes contact with yours she feels it. It's like a magnetic pull. She's never felt anything like it before, which causes curiosity to bubble within her. And when she looks into your eyes she can tell you feel it too.

“Y/n here usually gets paired to work with me on missions, and since you will now too, I’m sure the two of you will be spending a lot of time together from now on” Clint says, oblivious to the connection the two of you are feeling.

Her mouth twitches ever so slightly into a smirk, “Nice to meet you Y/n. Looking forward to working with you”

Look here” you instruct, gently tilting her chin up so her gaze meets ours

Butterflies erupt in her stomach at the feeling of your touch and instinctively she leans in as you look over the cut above her left eyebrow. The intensity of your gaze has her not even questioning you as you open the first aid kit on the seat next to her and gather the necessary supplies.

Though she's not used to someone other than herself caring for any injuries she sits compliant as you tend to her wound, first cleaning it before bandaging it appropriately and you thank her for letting you care for her by tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“There, much better” you announce with a smile, happy she's no longer bleeding

She reciprocates the smile as soon as you take the seat next to her, and only then does she let herself relax into the less than uncomfortable seat, “Thank you”

It was so soft you doubt you would have heard it if you weren't right next to her, “You're welcome, Omega”

She blushes at the title, it wasn’t used in the Red Room to address them as using a title is a sign of respect. Something which is still foreign to her even now in this new place she calls home.

A few of the other new recruits on the quinjet notice her unusual behavior, but none are stupid enough to say anything out loud about it. Especially so when you're giving a death glare to anyone that even looks at the Omega.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I had to catch up on some paperwork before Fury came after me” you tell the redhead as you take the seat across from her

She slides you a cup of coffee, “It’s ok, I went ahead and ordered for you”

“Thanks Nat” you tell her before taking a sip, you smile at her appreciatively as the warm liquid slides down your throat

Enjoying the peace of the small cafe compared to the bustle of SHIELD headquarters, the two of you decide to stay there for a while. You both slowly drink your coffees, giving yourselves time to also enjoy the others presence. Which you both greatly do as you share small talk and stories

“And then without any warning the tree branch he was on snapped and he fell straight down. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing when he complained about his sore ass while I patched up his arm” Nat says, a large smile adorning her features as she recalls Clints antics, “I told him the branch wouldn’t hold him, but you know how stubborn he is. He- ”

“You have such a beautiful smile” you blurt out before you can stop yourself

Her cheeks burn a bright pink as she averts her eyes down to the coffee cup in her hands and you can’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing you turned the badass assassin into a bashful Omega just by complimenting her

“Thank you” she mumbles, her eyes still glued to her cup

“Come now Nat, let me see those pretty green eyes of yours” you're not sure where the confidence to say such a thing came from but you're so glad to see her slowly comply to your request and you smile as her gaze meets yours, “There we go”

“You really think they're pretty?”

“Nat, if you carried Medusas curse I would still stare into your eyes, so my stone body could look at perfection for eternity.”

Her cheeks turn even redder but she tentatively reaches across the table, letting her fingers brush against yours as she looks at you for permission. You nod and her fingers quickly interlock with yours causing a soft smile to spread across your face.

“I’d put you on my mantle. You’d be my pretty little trophy mate”

You chuckle at her joke, “Mate, huh?”

“You’d be the luckiest Alpha around” she replies with a giggle and an unnoticed sparkle in her eyes

The barbell presses into your deltoids as you squat down and you let out a soft grunt before rising to a standing position once more. You shift your feet slightly to ensure your form is proper before continuing, dropping down into another squat.

From Natashas spot on the leg press she has the perfect view of the back of your body, and her eyes are glued to you. She watches the way the muscles in your calves tense with every squat and how your biceps are being perfectly shown off as they hold the barbell in place on your shoulders. And if that wasn’t enough to get her thoughts racing, the way your tank top and shorts were sticking to your sweaty body certainly was.

You finish up and drop the weight to the ground before walking over to where you’d left your towel and water bottle. The redhead finally tears her eyes away when you reach your items as she doesn’t want you to turn around and catch her staring

After you finish up gulping down some much needed water you wipe the sweat from your brow, and you smile to yourself when you realize you and the Russian are currently the only two in the gym. You head over to the press and add your desired amount of weight to each end before putting your plan into action

“Hey Nat” you call out, approaching her as she continues her current set, “Spot me on the bench press?”

“Yeah, sure” she replies, stopping her workout to take a drink of water

She stands and makes her way over to the bench press, allowing you to follow behind and admire the way her leggings and sports bra hug her body. She makes her way around to the back as you sit down on the seat, and she tries desperately not to stare at the way your shorts showcase your bulge as you lay back.

“You ready?” you ask, letting your eyes trail up her glistening abs as you look up at her

She nods, “Yeah, go ahead”

Though her hands are ready to catch the barbell should you drop it, her eyes are watching the way your arms flex. It's almost effortless, the way you move the weight up and down, and she starts to wonder if you even needed her there at all

“So, what do you think? Am I doing ok?”

“Yeah, you look good.” her eyes widen as she realizes what she's said and she hurries to correct herself, “ I mean, your form! Your form looks good!”

You smile at her obvious slip up, “Thanks Tasha”

She's thankful it was you doing the reps, because had she been doing them when you called her that new nickname she's almost certain she would have dropped it. And while she knows you’d have caught it she also knows it would have embarrassed her.

After you finish up the two of you decide to head over to the treadmills. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to enjoy your company for long though, because another Omega had come into the gym and apparently she's incapable of doing things herself.

“Excuse me” she says, approaching the side of your treadmill, “I don’t mean to bother you Alpha, but I was wondering if you could help me?”

“Sure” you reply, missing the way Nats eyebrows furrow, “What do you need?”

“Well I wanted to use the leg press, but I’m afraid that whoever used it last is able to move more weight than me, and well, the weights are a bit to heavy for me to remove”

“Not a problem.” you tell her, hoping off your machine, “I’ll be right back Tasha”

She scoffs as you go over and begin to remove weights for the other Omega, she knows for a fact that anyone who works out their arms would have been able to move them. And literally everyone in SHIELD lifts weights of some type, they have to, because the last thing you want is a teammate that can’t help carry you to safety should you become injured or unconscious.

Natasha watches in frustration as the stranger ogles your muscular form as you go about your task for her and her jaw clenches when she sees the way the womans eyes trail down to observe your crotch.

“There you go, that should be a good weight for your reps”

“That's perfect” she says, letting her hand come to rest on the swell of your bare bicep, “Thank you so much, Alpha”

She barely manages to contain her anger and suppress a possessive growl, how dare this nobody come in here and act like she even had a chance with you. The redhead knows she doesn’t, she can tell by the way you smile at her as you return. It’s a smile reserved for her alone. Still, a lesson must be taught.

She excuses herself from her workout and you and heads for the gyms locker room. She removes her workout clothes before redressing in her lounge attire, then she hastily makes her way over to your locker. In front of it lies your gym bag and haphazardly draped across it is exactly what she seeks.

With your favorite sweatshirt enveloping her she stealthily makes it out of the gym, through the halls and into Furys office.

Natasha covertly watches the Omega from the gym incident yesterday head into Furys office. The level 1 agent had been found to be in possession of a level 5 agents personnel file, the schematics to a quinjet and a report of a classified interrogation. All of which on their own would be enough to cost the agent her reputation and would get her demoted at the very least. Combined it's a career death sentence. Especially when she knows there's no way the young agent will be able to convince the Director that what Natasha had ‘found’ was actually planted by the Russian, she was careful to cover all her tracks.

Sure enough after a few minutes pass the Omega emerges, tears cascading down her red puffy cheeks as she holds the box that her belongings are to be packed in, her SHIELD issued uniform jacket no longer rests on her shoulders and her ID and badge are no longer attached to her belt.

Fury's eyes land on her and he gives her a nod indicating she did a good job sniffing out a potential traitor in their midst and she earned a smidge of his trust today. She nods back before heading on her way to meet up with Clint, and on her way down the various halls a smug smile graces her lips. No one touches what's hers and gets away with it, and you were all hers.

“Hey Nat, where have you been?” the archer questions as she finally shows up in the kitchen

“Had to help Fury deal with something” she replies, gaining a brow quirk in response, “It wasn’t anything mission related so don’t worry, just a potential rogue agent I stumbled upon”

“Really? What level were they?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him

“A one”

“Either they were ballsy or whoever hired them was a moron. A level 1, ridiculous. At least go for a level 4, not some newbie”

She smirks at him, “Amateurs”

He chuckles, “I’ll say. But hey, I guess we should be glad the backstabbers are stupid, right?”

She hums in agreement, afterall SHIELD will only ever catch the stupid ones, and she's far from. She was the Red Rooms brightest student. Nearly an expert in every subject she was taught. A prodigy in her own right. Had she not had her heart, her conscious, she would have been the greatest KGB weapon used against whatever enemy Dreykov saw fit. She would have toppled regimes, brought countries to their knees. Compared to that, getting rid of a rookie was childsplay.

“Anyway, have you seen Y/n?”

He nods, “Yeah, she's in her quarters now. She nearly tore the gym apart earlier though. And the communal area before that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she can’t find her…” his words die in his throat as he finally takes in the worn gray sweatshirt that's two sizes too big for the Omega wearing it, “....her sweatshirt”

She smiles as her eyes look down at the fabric covering her torso, “Guess I should help her find it then.”

He shakes his head as he watches her head off for your room, “Omegas and their courting tactics.”

She knocks on your door and smiles as she hears you get up from your squeaky desk chair. You open the door and smile at her, stepping aside to let her in.

“Hey Tasha, Whats- hey wait a minute! That's my sweatshirt!”

“I know” she smirks, “I’m sorry I had you worried about it, I got cold yesterday and it was all I could find.”

She slowly unzips it, relishing in the way your eyes drink her in as she removes it. She wordlessly hands it to you, and your eyes dilate as you're hit with her scent that's practically flowing from it. Her heart flutters as she notices this change in you and she fights to suppress a purr

“Anyway, hope you don’t mind I borrowed it”

You shake your head, “You can borrow it anytime. It looks good on you”

You're awoken by a thrashing sound, and in the pitch black room it takes you a moment to place the noise. But when soft mumbles in Russian take over the quiet night, you realize it's the Omega you're bunking with.

You slip out of your bed and quietly pad over to hers. Now that your eyes have adjusted you can see the deep furrow in her brow along with the sweat that drips from her forehead. Tentatively you reach out and touch her shoulder.

“Hey, wake up”

The only answer you receive is a whimper followed by more thrashing movements. Your heart hurts hearing such pain in her tone and you hate to think about what past horrors she must be reliving.

“Come on Nat, wake up” you try again, shaking her lightly

“Pozhaluysta, ne bol'she(please, no more)”

Your heart plummets even further and you become desperate, “Tasha, please”

Her eyes snap open and she bolts upright, nearly crashing her forehead into yours in her haste. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and her fear filled eyes scan the room almost just as fast, until they land on you.

“Hey, you're ok. You're not there anymore Omega, you're safe”

Her bottom lip trembles ever so slightly and one of her hands reaches out for your own. You meet her halfway and she latches onto you as if you were her lifeline. You can feel her tremble slightly as she works on grounding herself and you want nothing more than to just scoop her up into your arms and protect her from everything the world intends to throw at her

“Alpha?” You squeeze her hand reassuringly, letting her know she can ask her question, "Stay?"

"You know I'm not going anywhere." You tell her, smiling softly, "My beds in the same room"

She shakes her head, the fear in her eyes coming back once more, and you know you've said something wrong

"Stay?" She asks again, this time tugging your hand towards her, "Please?"

You nod, "Scoot over"

She eagerly does so and you crawl in beside her. You're surprised when you feel her take your hand once more as she cuddles against your arm. You hadn't expected her to be this open with affection. Perhaps the nightmare really took a toll on her

"It's ok Omega" you tell her, scooting even closer, "You're safe while I'm here."

“Wow Nat, you look- wow” you stutter as she walks in. The dress she had chosen for this undercover mission was sleek and form fitting, with a generous v at the neckline as well as a slit up her right thigh

“Thanks Y/n. You look pretty wow yourself” she admits, letting her eyes trail over your appearance. The way your suit was hugging your muscular form had her lower lip trapped between her teeth

“For the love of god stop drooling at each other” Hill scoffs with a roll of her eyes, “Heres your mission briefs”

The two of you play off her call out as teasing and re-read the file again before grabbing your gear. Hidden gun and knife for you, hidden widows bites and knife for Nat. You watch the way she slips the fake bangle bracelets on before she bends over to attach the knife sheath up onto the garter on her left thigh. You allow your eyes to roam her plump backside until she stands back upright

“Good luck” Hill says with a curt nod, though she stops you with a rough hand on your shoulder, “And try not to let Agent Romanoffs ass be as distracting to you on the mission as it was in here”

Your brows furrow, confused on what she means before you realize your gun and knife are still in your hands and not in their holsters. Natasha lets out a hearty laugh at the realization on your face and your cheeks go pink as you scramble to get your weapons in place before scurrying after her as she heads for the quinjet

Your head hits the desk with a reverberating slam and vertigo overtakes you as you stumble away from your attacker, or attackers. With the room spinning you can’t quite figure out how many of them there are, or where they are. And that proves to be problematic when you feel a fist collide with your jaw.

You gasp as your back slams into yet another desk, sending the paperwork fluttering to the floor as the monitor screen falls and cracks under your weight. Before you can even attempt to throw a punch of your own someones strong hands are wrapping around your throat and cutting off your air supply.

As soon as Natasha had heard you get attacked through your coms she was on her way to you. Reasonably she knew you were strong and capable, but she also knew the enemy was ruthless and she wouldn’t risk your safety.

As soon as she enters the room she spots you being choked out by some big brute. He smiles wickedly when he sees her, and anger courses through her when she notices the way his biceps twitch, indicating the tightening of his grip on you

Her hand quickly moves to her holster and in a matter of seconds she frees her gun, takes aim and fires. The man doesn’t even have time to be shocked before he falls dead, but when you fall to the floor beside him her heart sinks.

“Y/n!” she shouts, rushing to your side.

She hurriedly moves you from your side to your back and she desperately searches your neck for your pulse. She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when she finds it. It's weak, likely due to how long he’d managed to keep you from taking in air, but it's there.

She takes a moment to look around her surroundings to make sure all threats have been dealt with as well as assessing where new ones could come from before refocusing on you. She resituates herself with her back against the wall so she has a perfect view of both the room's doorways and then carefully moves your head to rest on her lap. She quickly relays your situation to the rest of the strike team so they can send back up and then readys one of her sidearms.

While one hand stays on her gun just in case the other softly threads through your hair. She lets out as many calming pheromones as she can in order to both soothe herself and hopefully rouse you from unconsciousness. Which thankfully works.

“Tasha?” you mumble, cracking your eyes open

“I’m here. I’ve got you” she replies, moving her hand to your cheek, “You're safe, just rest until backup and medics get here.”

“Mkay” you quickly agree, relaxing back into her lap with a sigh

Your current condition keeps you from seeing her smile but she sees yours and she makes an unspoken promise then. You're never going anywhere alone on a mission again. She will always have your back. She needs to make sure you stay safe and she trusts no one with that job but herself.

Clint's pups clamor excitedly around their Auntie Nat, eager for her attention and affections, and although she'd probably never admit it the redhead is just as excited to see them. Because despite her unconventional upbringing, hidden beneath her assassin and spy layer is a lonely Omega. And her instincts make her crave what all Omegas do, to find a loving Alpha to call her own and have pups with them.

You smile softly as you watch her snuggle with Lila and Cooper and your thoughts wander to what the Russian would be like as a mother. At first it's wholesome things like how caring, loving and attentive she would be to her pups and Alpha, but then the longing to be her Alpha fills you and your thoughts shift. You begin to visualize how good your mark would be on her neck, how pretty she’d look beneath you as you claimed her and how beautiful; she’d look with a swollen belly full of your pups.

Unbeknownst to you this line of thought has caused you to pump out even more of your scent than usual, which is something that quickly catches Natashas attention. She stealthily glances over at you quizzically, but when she sees your lust filled eyes and tented pants she understands perfectly. She smiles at the pups before sending them off to find their mother, and she stands from the blanket laid out on the lawn. She stretches, allowing you to catch a glimpse of her bare stomach before she makes her way over to the front porch you stand on under the guise of getting some water.

“Hi Alpha” she purrs, sauntering over to you

You swallow thickly and do your best to stealthily adjust your pants, “Hey Tasha”

She lets her hand trail along your forearm as her eyes take in your bulge, “You were thinking about me”

Your cheeks heat up slightly at the realization you'd been caught, “Shit, I- I’m sorry, I- ”

“Shh, it's ok” she purrs, getting even closer. Her lips are now only inches apart from yours and her leg is dangerously close to brushing against your crotch, “I want you thinking about me, because I always think about you”

“You do?”

“Mhm” she answers, playfully nipping at your collarbone, “You wanna share with me what thought got you so worked up malysh(baby)?”

“I uh…” you stutter, focusing on the feel of her lips against your skin as her nips turn to kisses

“Dinners ready!” Clint abruptly shouts from his position at the grill. His gaze moves to the two of you, almost giving into your urges on his own porch, “Come get your horn dogs!”

“Hot dogs!” Laura quickly corrects, slapping the back of her Alphas head

Natasha chuckles at your obvious frustration, but she places her hand in your own, “Come on Alpha, there'll be time for that someday I promise you.”

After dinner she helps Clint clean up, though it's painfully obvious her focus is on you as you kick around a ball with her best friends pups. She keeps thinking back to what had happened before dinner and she wonders if you had been thinking about what she is now. What having a family would be like, specifically with you as her Alpha.

“You know, even a blind man can see how the two of you feel about each other” Clint speaks up, breaking her from her haze, “I think it's about time you admit it to each other and become a mated pair”

She shakes her head, “We can’t. Not yet at least.”

“Why not? Isn’t it time for you to be happy Nat?”

She smiles sadly, “I still have red in my ledger Clint. I need to atone for that before I can even think about getting my happy ending. Besides, Y/n is very career driven right now and I’d never want to hinder her by asking her to be my Alpha. I want her to be comfortable with her position before she takes on extra responsibilities.”

He shakes his head, “I really think you're missing an opportunity here Nat.”

“I’m not. I know she's the Alpha for me and she knows I’m the Omega for her. It’ll work out. We just need some time”

“I won’t do it” she says, nearly slamming the file back down on the directors desk

He raises his brow, “I wasn’t asking Romanoff. It's an order”

“What?! Stark had a choice!”

“He isn’t one of my agents!” the man shouts in frustration, “If I had the authority to order him around I would!”

She clenches her jaw and looks away from him, desperate to not let him see how glassy her eyes have become with unshed tears. Her heart is already beginning to ache at just the prospect of being away from you.

“Send Y/n too then.” she says, her tone hardly leaving room for argument even from the director of SHIELD

The one eyed man sighs, “Look, I know you have your eye on Agent Y/l/n, but I can’t send her. With you and Agent Barton gone, she's all I’ll have”

She glares at him, “You have Coulson and Hill. Not to mention Carter is rising in the ranks”

“Doesn’t matter. They aren’t specialized in the same things as the three of you were. And she suits SHIELD better than either of you do. You and Barton are wildcards, wildcards I trust, but…”

“But she looks better on paper than he or I do because she doesn’t have a background as a foreign operative or a killer for hire” she finishes

He nods, “I’m sorry. I really am. But if Barton can make his relationship with his Omega work while being an agent, I think there's hope for you and Y/l/n.”

She sighs as dread eats away at her. She knows Clint only makes it work because Laura gave up her job in order to stay at home and raise their pups. As it stands both you and her are career oriented, and with this change of career to something more vital for herself she knows there's no way she could quit to settle down anytime soon. Which means the only option for now is to let you go, part ways until everything lines up and you can be together. She just hopes the wait isn’t long and that you can forgive her for leaving.

“Hey, I got your message. What's going on?”

She swallows thickly, trying her best to not let the built up tears in her eyes fall, “You remember that assignment Fury sent me on for Stark?”

“The annoying playboy, yeah. I remember”

“And you remember how the Avengers initiative tied into it all?”

“Yeah.” you nod, “Did he finally say yes?”

“No.” she replies, looking away from you. And it's then you sense somethings wrong

“Hey, Tasha, you know you can tell me anything. What's going on?”

Her watery eyes meet yours, “Fury ordered Clint and I to join the team. We leave tomorrow”

“Oh.” you reply, trying to ignore the way your heart sinks, “Well, he couldn't have picked better people. I know you’ll do great there Tasha.”

She whimpers as a tear finally falls down her cheek, “But I don’t want to go”

“Oh my sweet girl” you coo, wrapping your arms around her, “Its okay”

“It’s not!” she retorts, burying her face against your neck, “I don’t want to be away from you. And I tried to stay Alpha, really I did but Fury, he-”

“Shhh” you whisper, placing a gentle kiss against her temple, “I know this isn't your choice Omega, and I don’t want you to go either. But as SHIELD agents we have to do what we’re assigned”

She whines and her hold on you tightens, “I don’t want you to find another Omega”

“I could never, Natasha.” you tell her, moving your hands to cup her face, “As long as we stay in contact, everything will be ok and it will all work out in the end.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. You're my Omega”

She crashes her lips against yours in a bittersweet kiss, each of you pour out your feelings for the other into it and god she can’t help but wish she had listened to Clint a few months ago. If she had let you claim her then she wouldn’t be leaving now and this wouldn’t be your first and only kiss in who knows how long

“I’m going to miss you so much” she whispers as you pull apart

“I’ll miss you too sweetheart. So very much.”

Natashas footsteps echo against the concrete as she rushes down the hidden bases passages. SHIELD has fallen and she knows this is the only place survivors of the fallout will reside, the true SHIELD agents. And she hopes beyond hope to find you there, safe. She hopes you weren’t injured in the fighting that escalated once Hydra was found out, but even more so she hopes Hydra hadn’t somehow managed to get their hooks into you and make you one of them.

She shoves the doors open so hard they clash against the walls and the guards' heads snap in her direction, their guns following. They relax when they notice the person barging in is the Black Widow, and she carries on, running past them and further down the next hall.

Finally she comes upon the room where everyone is gathering. Reunited squads sit off to the sides as the middle is a mix of people looking for their partner, friends or mate and her eyes desperately scan for the familiar face she longs to see. She's just about to give up hope of you being here yet, until the sound of your laughter rings out from the other side of the room.

Her head turns so fast she nearly gives herself whiplash, but when her eyes fall on you for the first time since she said goodbye all those years ago and her feet instinctively carry her in your direction as a smile breaks out across her face. She's just about to call out for you when another Omega steps beside you, her arm wraps around your waist with ease and when you turn to smile down at her Natashas heart crumbles.

There in the junction of where your neck meets your shoulder on display for all to see is a claiming mark, and the Russian knows it's not hers. Her eyes dart to the woman next to you and sure enough your mark adorns her neck as well. Tears blur her vision, this couldn't be happening. This couldn’t be real. You were her Alpha. You told her so when she’d said goodbye. She knows she hasn’t kept contact with you as well as she should have but she thought you’d understand how busy she was. She never dreamed you’d move on without her. Or without even telling her.

Just then, as if you’d sensed her you look up and your eyes meet hers. Your heart falls as you realize she's actually there in front of you for the first time in years, because you know you can’t greet her as you want to. And guilt gnaws at you when you see the tears swimming in her beautiful jade eyes. You open your mouth to say something, but when no words come out you end up looking like a fish gasping for breath and the Omega shakes her head to tell you not to bother with an excuse. She pretends like her heart hadn’t just been ripped from her as she lets a calm facade wash over her and she prepares herself for introductions

“Natasha I…I didn’t think I’d ever see you again”

She nods curtly, “So I gathered”

Not sensing the tension between the two of you, your Omegas face lights up, “Agent Romanoff, it's so good to finally meet you! Everyone around here always talked so fondly about my Alphas old partner!”

The Russian quickly covers up the sadness that shines through her eyes and looks to your apparent mate, “Y/n never mentioned you to me, you are?”

You roll your eyes at her behavior and wrap your arm around your Omegas shoulders to reassure her, “Well, maybe if someone hadn’t stopped returning my calls, emails and letters she would know that this is Sarah, my Omega.”

Her jaw clenches as she suppresses a pained whimper, remembering when you had called her that. But before she can muster up the courage to say anything in her defense your mate cuts in

“Well she's here now, which means she can now share in our joy.” Noticing the redheads' brow quirk in confusion she quickly continues, “Now that SHIELD is no more my Alpha has finally agreed that we can settle down and begin trying for pups, isn’t that wonderful?”

A pain like nothing she's ever felt before erupts in her chest at the news and she wants to be angry with you for doing this, but when she looks at you all she sees is the same sadness she feels. Which truthfully confuses her, but it doesn’t lessen her feelings of betrayal.

“Y-yeah that's great.” she grits out through her nausea, “Y/n will be a great mom”

“She really will be” Sarah purrs at Natashas words as she snuggles into your side, “I really got lucky here. Couldn’t believe no one had claimed her yet when I’d met her, I couldn’t ask for a better Alpha”

Nat nods stiffly, “Yeah, you really couldn’t. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Hill.”

You watch her rush off with a sad slump to her shoulders and you decide you’ll try to find her later once your mate is settling into your shared quarters. True you're all into this predicament due to Natashas sudden year of silence, but you still feel like you need to explain what happened. You don’t want her to think you never meant what you said or that you never felt what she did. Because you did, and truthfully still do.

A few hours pass and you manage to break away from your Omega, so you take this chance to track down the elusive Russian. Thankfully you don’t have to search too long, you end up finding her in a remote area of the facility that was to become the armory. Makes perfect sense that she’d be here of all places. Cleaning her guns and widows bites always did help her calm down.

She glances up when she hears someone entering her space, and is surprised to see you there. She assumed you'd be off with your….with Sarah, and she didn’t expect you to come looking for her. She didn’t think you’d have a reason to.

“Tasha- ”

“Dont.” she cuts you off, ignoring the burn of tears in her eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

“Fine.” you sigh, “Natasha”

“Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it” she firmly replies

“Nat, please”

She shakes her head, “No, you made your choice. And it wasn’t me.”

“What was I supposed to do?” you retort, throwing your hands up in frustration, “We talked almost every single day, Natasha. We did video calls, we wrote letters, we texted, we called. Then one day it just all stopped. And you never even bothered to tell me why or what I had done.”

Her hardened gaze softens as she realizes the pain she's caused you, “Y/n, I- ”

“No Natasha! You don’t get to make me feel guilty when you're the one that ghosted me!”

“I- I didn’t ghost you Y/n! I had a sudden undercover mission! I had no time to inform you beforehand and there was a no contact order by Fury!” she defends

“Oh, and this mission just happened to be a whole year long? How convenient”

She shakes her head, “N-no, it was only five months, but when I came back everything was just so hectic and I got overwhelmed. I meant to reach out to you, really I did. But I thought you’d understand my absence.”

“I would have if you just would have taken the time to explain things to me….” you sigh, “I did wait for you, you know. When you went quiet everyone told me to move on, especially when Fury let slip how close Captain America seemed to be keeping you. But I believed in you. But then the months just kept going by with no sign of you and Fury introduced me to Sarah, the new recruit, and she was clear with her interests from the start”

“So you just let her have you?” she angrily asks, tears dripping down her face, “You just gave up on me, on us?”

“I went a whole year Natasha!” you reply, tears of your own falling, “I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you moved on.”

She vehemently shakes her head, “I could never, I always wanted you. I always will”

Not knowing what you could possibly say to make this situation you hang your head before turning around, intent on returning to your mate even though you'd much rather wrap your arms around the trembling Omega in front of you.

She lets out a whine as you begin to walk away, “Alpha, please. Don’t go”

“I’m sorry Tasha…I really am”

So is she, but not for the same reasons…..

Two days later the redhead practically bursts into the common room that you, Sarah and a handful of other agents are currently relaxing in.

“Where's the fire Agent Romanoff?” your mate tries to tease, but it falls flat with the other Omega

“Its all hands on deck Sarah, Hill wants you immediately for a mission”

Her brows knit together in confusion, “SHIELDS collapsing, what mission?”

“The kind that could potentially resolve the dilemma? Are you that clueless?” she bites back

“That was a little harsh Romanoff….”

“This isn’t the time for false niceties Y/l/n, the world is falling apart, in case you didn’t know”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” you bite back, locking eyes with her

“Its ok Alpha” Sarah speaks up, “I’ll be back before you know it”

You break your gaze away from the spy briefly enough to kiss your mate goodbye before heading off to your room, god you were going to dread interaction with her if they all ended up in an argument or a stare down. Why couldn’t things just be like they used to be?

Natasha chuckles as she looks into the mirror, the reflection shows someone that is unmistakably not her and yet it is. She smirks as she takes in the fact that her once bright green eyes are now a dull brown and her vibrant red hair is now deep black. She's glad she decided to keep the veil technology she’d taken from her encounter with Peirce, it will make this operation so much easier.

She slips on a pair of jeans, an old tshirt and one of Clints sweatshirts she no longer cares for before grabbing a pair of shoes she's willing to sacrifice and lacing them up. She quickly grabs her pre packed bag and sneaks out of her room, heading down to the garage section of the base. She grabs the keys to one of the zero mmx bikes and waits.

She stealthily follows the SHIELD issued tactical SUV as it pulls out of the underground facility and she's careful to keep a good distance away from them as she follows. Not that it really matters if she loses them, she knows where they're heading thanks to the perks that come with being a level 10 agent. She knows every single detail she could possibly need to know for her plan to work.

Finally they arrive at the mission location. And in true SHIELD style the SUV practically parks right at the front doors, but she needs to be more discreet. She parks her bike nearby, hiding it from view of prying eyes, before slipping into the old Hydra building. She sneaks through various hallways, ones she knows go without surveillance so both Hydra and SHIELD will be none the wiser to her little plot, and waits for her prey.

However when the main doors to the facility do finally open, she's struck by the fact that she can hear two distinct sets of footsteps. That wasn’t right, Sarah was supposed to be here alone. She recommended it as a solo mission, but it appears as though Maria had other plans and sent along some backup. But she's not about to let that deter her from this. No, she will simply deal with the other agent first.

“I’ll take the left wing, you stay right” she hears Sarah say

“Ok, just keep your comms open in case there's trouble” the male voice responds

She waits a few moments to give them a decent headstart down their respective halls before she moves from her hiding spot, not wanting to risk being seen. True she could still take them both if caught, but there's just something so satisfying about toying with your prey. And that's just what these unlucky agents are now, prey for the deadly Black Widow.

She cautiously leaves her position and turns down the right hallway. The abandoned facility is dark, and from where she currently stands she can only see the agent's position due to the light he shines in front of him. A smirk tugs at her lips, this is a weakness she can exploit. Her eyes can become attuned to darkness within seconds, the Red Room has practically made them as good as cat eyes, she needs no flashlight. She easily moves along the hall, stepping around shards of broken glass and broken chunks of cement that would give her away as she sneaks up on the man.

He moves to an entryway a few doors away and she knows this is her moment to take him out. This way if something happened and Sarah shone her light down the hall, he wouldn’t be noticeable. She follows behind him like a shadow, only moving when he does to avoid detection. But when he finally passes the threshold into the old office she closes the door behind them. It creaks, like one in a horror film would and the agent spins around quickly.

“Who's there? I’m an agent with SHIELD, show and identify yourself!” he calls out, his flashlight trained on the door as his other rests on his gun, ready to pull it free from the holster if need be. Now that he's worked up she can tell he's an Alpha, but that doesn’t matter, he's still an easy target.

He takes a deep breath before taking a few steps back, making room in case someone was outside ready to barrel in, “Agent Harris, be advised I have movement. We aren't alone here."

He frowns when he gets no reply, not even the normal static sound of a quiet comms channel. His eyes widen with realization then, “Shit, comms are being jammed”

He reaches for his cellphone then, and Natasha sees her opening. Like a viper she strikes, swiftly knocking the flashlight from his grip with one hand while the other uses the cold steel of her knife blade to slice through his throat.

“Gyykkk!” he chokes out as he collapses to the floor, his blood quickly draining from him as he continues to gasp and sputter

“Sorry Agent Marques, you weren’t supposed to be here.” she solemnly admits, as she leans over him. She eyes a clean spot on his pants and wipes the blade there, cleaning it of his blood, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of your partner”

He lets out one last gurgle as she leaves the room and she smirks knowing what's to come next. She practically races back down the hall before veering to the left in order to track Sarah down. After a few minutes she finds her, alone in a large room that appears to have once been used to store files. The Omega is too busy rooting through a stack of papers to realize she's not alone anymore. Before she even has time to react a cool cloth is covering her face, and her world fades to black.

When she wakes she finds herself tied to a chair with some kind of blindfold blocking her vision. She tugs at her bindings in an attempt to see if there was a weak spot. To her alarm the rope appears firm and panic starts to set in. Her mind begins racing. Was Hydra doing this? What motive would they have to kidnap a SHIELD agent instead of killing them? And where was Agent Marques? He should have noticed her absence by now. He should have come looking for her.

“It's about time you woke up” a females voice calls out

Sarah pulls at her bindings again, “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Oh honey….” the voice coos as rough hands rip her blindfold away, “I want my Alpha back”

Her brows furrow in confusion but before she can question the woman out loud she watches her remove something from her face, allowing her true features to show. And Sarah's stomach drops when she recognizes the person in front of her.

“A-agent Romanoff? I don’t understand?”

The Russian steps forward with a dangerous look in her eye, and one of her hands wraps around the brunette's throat, “I’ll make it easy to understand then. Y/n is mine- ”

“She's mine” the bound girl retorts

“No. She's my Alpha.” Natasha growls out, “She's always been mine, since the day I met her. I mean, do you really think she wants you?”

A few tears slide down the other girl's cheeks, “Y-yes. She claimed me”

The other Omega laughs, “Only because I wasn’t there and Fury made her think I wasn’t ever coming back. Otherwise my Alpha wouldn’t have even looked at you”

“You're lying” Sarah argues with a shake of her head, “Y/n chose me for a reason. She- she loves me”

Another more vicious growl leaves the redhead, “Y/n only loves me. If she really loved you then she would have knotted you when she claimed you, letting you carry her pups. But she didn’t, did she?”

“Because it was too dangerous!” Sarah defends, “It wasn’t the right time!”

Nat quirks a brow, “Really? Too dangerous for two government agents to have pups? That's ridiculous and you know it. It wasn’t because it was the wrong time, it was because she had the wrong Omega.”

“That's not true” she whimpers, “I’m her Omega.”

Nats green eyes glare dangerously as her hand tightens around Sarah's throat, “No. You're not. I am."

The younger Omega thrashes violently against the chair she's tied to as her air flow is slowly cut off, and the fear in her eyes makes the redhead smile, "Oh, are you already scared? Well sweetheart, you better prepare yourself then, because we're just getting started"

She lets go of Sarahs throat and chuckles as she hears her suck in deep breaths, desperate to fill up her oxygen deprived lungs once more. While the other Omega is distracted she unsheathes her knife, and she slowly walks around her victim.

"Do you know what it felt like when I saw her again, only to find your mark where mine should be?" She asks, obviously rhetorically, "Or how it felt when she called you hers?"

Sarah remains silent as more tears fall. She knows nothing good is in store for her, she can only hope that Marques is ok and alerting you to a problem. Then you'll come for her and save her from your delusional old friend

"Well don't worry, I'm going to make sure you know exactly how it felt."

With that Natasha uses her blade to tear through the woman's shirt, exposing her skin to the cool air around them. She shivers but freezes when she can feel the cold metal being pressed against her.

She cries out as Natasha makes the first slice, creating a slash in the brunette's shoulder. It's nothing too deep, she wants this process to be agonizingly slow after all, but it's deep enough that blood is trickling. She repeats this action a few more times to various areas of the agents chest.

"P-please, you don't have to do this!" she pleads, the look in the other woman's eyes putting a great level of fear in her, "Please! I just want my Alpha!"

The Avengers sneers at her, "She isn't yours! Get that through your head!"

She continues her barrage upon the tied up girl for the next half hour, slicing into nearly every part of bare flesh she can find. Chest, abdomen, arms, legs, shoulders, ribs. They're all littered with various sized slashes. And crimson now paints the majority of her skin, and Sarah can feel the blood loss beginning to take effect.

"Please…" she whines, "I wanna go home"

Natasha smiles as she wipes a drop of blood from her cheek, "Oh you poor, dumb bitch. You aren't going home. You're never going to see Y/n again"

She cries, "No, please…we're gonna have pups together…"

The redhead let's her knife tip dig into the other woman's thigh, "The only Omega having her pups will be me. Because I'm going to be able to go home. I'll get to console her on your loss and then I'll rightfully make her mine."

"She won't move on t-that fast" Sarah stutters, feeling lightheaded

"Oh she will. Because really you meant nothing to her. You were a placeholder" the older Omega admits, "But I'm her true Omega"

"N-no…"

"As soon as I show up offering comfort she'll come crawling into my arms. And I guarantee I'll have her forgetting all about you as she claims and knots me, pumping her cum deep inside me so I can bear her pups."

Sarah lets out a whine, "She wouldn't want someone like you having her pups…she wants someone loving and caring, not …a psychopath"

"Oh believe me, I am loving and caring. Especially when she's involved. I'd do anything to make her happy. Which is why I'm doing this. I can't watch her be miserable with you when I know she'd be happier with me."

"And when she finds out what you've done…..will she want you then?" She asks, playing on the Russians insecurities

Nats jaw clenches, "She knows about my past. I never hid anything from her. The information that was leaked, she already knows"

"I mean this…me." The injured Omega clarifies, "When she finds out you killed me…her innocent mate….do you really think she'll still love you?"

"She won't ever find out. But if she did, I know nothing would change how she feels about me. Y/n will always love me"

Sarah leans back in her chair, feeling defeated by the other woman's words, and her eyes begin to feel heavy as exhaustion seeps into her. She knows that even if she managed to get free she's already lost too much blood to escape on her own. She probably couldn't even stand anymore.

As she thinks this her legs instinctively twitch, and Natashas grin widens as a new idea enters her mind. She chuckles to herself as she crouches beside the terrified Omega and she lets her blade point skate across the woman's calf before looking up at her.

"This will hurt"

Sarah lets out an ear piercing scream as the blade cuts through the sides of both her knees, severing the tendons and muscles that reside there. She continues to cry out as pain ripples down to her toes and up to her hips, it feels like her entire lower half is on fire and she's all too aware of the warm sticky blood oozing down her legs.

Suddenly however, the pain begins to die down. At first she thinks she's gotten another wave of adrenaline. But then a numbness begins to creep into her feet and as travels up her legs she realizes it's not adrenaline.

"Wha- what did you do to my legs?!" She cries, trying to move them to no avail

"I made sure you won't be running anywhere. Your tendons and ligaments have been severed, your muscles have been shredded and your nerves are badly damaged."

Sarah lets out a sob as her tormentor's words sink in, and she begins to mourn for the life she'll never get to have now. She won't get to live in a beautiful house with you, she won't get to raise your pups, she won't even get to have the dog she's always wanted. She won't even get to see your beautiful face one last time, you won't get a proper goodbye.

Her tear filled eyes look up at the other Omega and she can tell by the look on her face that time amongst the living is soon coming to an end. She's accepted that now.

Natasha moves quickly, plunging the knife into the chest cavity of her victim. There's a crunch as it scrapes against bone and the agent lets out a breath of air that would make you think she's been punched. Nat locks eyes with her, then she twists the blade.

A muted scream leaves your Omega and her face contorts into one of pure agony before the blade is pulled from her. The Russian watches blood gush from the wound and onto the concrete below and Sarah gurgles fill the room.

Panic filled eyes look at the redhead, likely hoping that she'll end her suffering. But Nats is content to watch as blood spills past her lips. Sarah coughs up crimson only to sputter and choke as she attempts to get air. But it's in vain, she's drowning in her own blood.

Finally after a few more choked sounds her body stills and Natasha has the great pleasure of watching the light fade from her eyes as all life leaves her.

Happy with her work she heads back to her original hiding spot where she'd left her bag and she quickly changes. She sports a new outfit and shoes now, the old blood covered ones take their place inside the bag and she places the veil back over her face. She quietly heads out of the building and hops back onto her bike, taking off in the direction of the new headquarters.

She takes a route a little out of her way, which takes her over one of New Yorks many bridges. She easily tosses her knife and sheath into the cold waters below and traffic zooms by her. Once she's in the heart of the city she heads down the first back alley she sees. Sure enough at the end of it is an old oil drum that homeless people now used as their fire pit. Thankfully one is around to see her toss her bag inside before lighting it ablaze. Not that they'd recognize her anyway.

Finally she's back at the facility and she pulls her bike into the garage. She sneaks back upstairs in time to get a call from Maria.

"Hey Nat"

"Hill" she greets, "What can I do for you?"

There's a sigh on the other end, "Marques and Harris haven't checked in. We haven't been able to get through to them either. I need someone I trust to go investigate it."

"And that someone is me"

"Correct." Hill responds, "Y/n has already been informed about the situation"

"Ok. Send me their mission location and I'll be on my way."

Natasha makes sure her entire investigation and her reports are done by the book. She'd even called Maria to inform her of the tragic news and get a body retrieval unit there asap. And now that they were here, Nat could leave and head back to find you. No doubt you had already been informed.

Once again she pulls her vehicle into the garage before she heads upstairs. She heads for your room first and knocks on the door. Worried when she receives no answer she lets herself in, but all she finds is an empty room. She heads for her room next, perhaps you were there checking to see if she'd returned yet.

When she opens her door she's shocked to find you laying in her bed, covers pulled tightly around you. You're obviously asleep as your breathing is even and she carefully sits down on the bed next to you.

A smile spreads across her face when she realizes you're wearing your old sweatshirt. The one she liked to steal because it smelled like you, so of course she'd taken it with her when she left. Of course it had lost your scent years ago, but now it will have it again.

A familiar scent permeates your dreams and your eyes gently flutter open, "Tasha?"

It's obvious by the rasp of your voice and the redness of your cheeks that you'd been crying so she gives you her best reassuring smile, "I'm right here, Y/n"

Without hesitation you fling yourself into her arms and she wraps you up in her tight embrace. She relishes in the way your body feels against hers, she's missed physical contact with you so much.

"I'm sorry about your….I'm sorry about Sarah"

You nod against the crook of her neck, "So am I. I should have been a better Alpha."

"You're an amazing Alpha "

You shake your head, "No, I'm not. I didn't wait for you and then I let Sarah claim me just because I was afraid to be alone and now...now she's gone and I don't even feel heartbroken"

The Omegas heart flutters in her chest, "What do you mean?"

"I feel terrible because she's gone, and she must have been so scared all alone like that. But I also feel relieved, and that's such a terrible fucking thing to say." You admit, running a hand through your hair

"Hey, hey. It's ok" she coos, trying to relax you

"I'm not glad she's dead, of course I'm not. She was a kind and sweet girl who really did care for me. But I never felt for her what I feel for you"

She purrs at your admittance and snuggles into you once more. You relax slightly as her nose brushes against your scent gland, but the guilt still gnaws at you.

"I should have gone with her."

"No" she sternly replies, "Then the same thing might have happened to you. And I can't lose you Alpha."

Her voice had cracked at her truthful admission, causing you to hug her tighter, "I know, and I can't lose you either Omega. I missed you so much"

"I missed you too" she purrs, gently connecting her lips to yours

To her satisfaction you don't pull away, instead you lean further into her, deepening the kiss by sliding your tongue into her mouth. She lets out a soft moan at the action and tightens her hold on you. Her heartbeat quickens when your hands land on hips and she allows herself to be pulled closer against you.

The kiss quickly becomes desperate and sloppy, causing the Omegas hips to grind ever so slightly against you. You can feel yourself getting worked up by her actions and shame overtakes you. Your Omegas body is hardly cold and here you are practically ready to make Natasha your own.

“Tasha….We…we can’t do this” you pant, pulling away from her slightly

“No please malysh(baby)” she whines, disliking the lack of contact from you, “This is all I’ve ever wanted”

Your heart soars at her admission, but your Alpha instincts are torn. Do you mourn your lost mate, who you never truly saw as yours? Or do you give into your urges and finally take Natasha as your Omega?

Sensing your inner turmoil the Russian reaches out for your hands. She guides them to her face, and purrs when your thumbs begin to gently rub her cheeks, “It’s ok Alpha, just focus on me”

“I think that's part of the problem actually” you mumble, smiling when she laughs

“What I mean is, you're too focused on how you're supposed to be acting and what you're supposed to feel as a grieving Alpha. You're too worried what others will think” she explains, “Instead, focus on this”

You look to where her hand now rests on your chest, “My heart?”

She nods, “Listen to what your instincts are telling you. What does your heart want?”

“You” you answer without hesitation, “I want you. Wanna make you mine”

“Please do Alpha. Want you so badly”

You surge forward and connect your lips to hers once more. Your hands eagerly roam her body and she whimpers at the affection, which only further spurs you on. Your lips move to her neck and she gasps as your tongue traces around her scent gland. Her hips jerk against you and her hands tug at your shirt

“Malysh(baby), please”

Not wanting to keep your Omega waiting you eagerly strip her and yourself of your clothes, and you marvel at how wet she is for you. Her slick is practically dripping to the sheets below and you can’t help but let your thumb run through her folds. She moans as you press against her sensitive clit and you can feel how she clenches around nothing. Your cock twitches at the thought of being inside her, getting to feel that for yourself

“So beautiful” you remark, gently pressing your lips to hers as you line yourself up with her, “Even more beautiful than I imagined”

Her cheeks heat up at your compliment but her reply dies in her throat as you begin to slip inside her, and she lets out a moan instead. Her hands clasp at your shoulders as you bottom out, and despite your urges to pound into her you still, allowing her to adjust.

After a few moments her bright eyes gaze up at you, and you find nothing but tenderness and love in them, “Please make me yours Alpha. Claim me”

You grunt as you comply, thrusting into her with a quickened pace. The way your cock stretches her out feels delicious and she knows nothing will ever compare to having you inside her. Her toys will never give her the same enjoyment after this.

“Fuck, Y/n…just like that..don’t stop”

“Not gonna stop” you grunt into her ear, “Not until I knot you and fill you with my pups”

A mix between a purr and a moan leaves her and her eyes roll back as you hit a sensitive spot inside her, “Yes, please Alpha. Wanna be yours, wanna have a family”

Her hands move to your neck in an attempt to pull you impossibly closer, but when her thumb brushes against your old mark for her a spark of jealousy flows through her. It matters little that the other Omega is dead now, what bothers her is how Sarah got to have you first. But she takes great pleasure in knowing she’ll be the first to take your knot, and your cum

Her velvety walls clamp down around you, and you let out a moan that has even more of her arousal gushing onto you, “Fuck baby, you feel so good”

She purrs and lets her walls squeeze you, “Want your knot Alpha, please”

“I’ll give it to you, don’t you worry baby” you reply, thrusting into her roughly

“Oh fuck! Gonna cum!” she shouts and with another thrust she releases all over your cock

“Such a good Omega” you tell her, kissing her neck as you continue to pound into her

All she can do is whimper and grasp the sheets as you continue, quickly bringing her to a second orgasm. But right as she can feel herself about to snap she feels your knot press against her. Excitement floods her at the thought of finally being yours and having you as her own and she hooks her legs around your waist to help pull you into her

You both moan in unison as you slip fully inside and lock into place. Her mind goes blank as she feels your cum fill her and a satisfied smile breaks out on her features when she feels you bite into her scent gland.

After a few seconds you pull your mouth away to nuzzle against her, “Mine. My Omega”

She's too blissed out to say anything in return but she purrs happily as your hand caresses her face. After another minute or too she begins to gain back some awareness and she hungrily eyes your neck.

“My turn” she whispers before biting you

She does her best to cover the other Omegas mark and she takes pride in knowing it won’t take long for the remnants to fade into nothing now that hers is there instead. Her hands rub your back as she kisses and licks at your wound and her heart practically bursts from happiness when you croon for her

“My Alpha, all mine” she declares, tightening her hold on you

“All yours Tasha. And I expect you’ll be with my pups soon now, so don’t you dare even think about returning to that damn team without me”

“I wouldn’t dream of it malysh(baby)” she responds, “I’m not ever leaving you again. But I’m also not willing to endanger our pups. I’m done with them.”

“I don’t think Fury will allow that” you admit, worry knitting your brows

“Oh, he won’t have a choice”

“Find yourself another assassin. I’m through” Natasha announces as she saunters into the Directors office with you behind her

He eyes her skeptically, “You can’t leave Romanoff. The team needs you”

“Frankly I don’t care” she admits, “Despite your interference I have my Alpha now, and I’m not going to give up being happy just so you can put me on babysitting duty. HAve Hill watch the team”

His nostrils flare as he becomes impatient, “You're not leaving. You leave and I tell your Alpha exactly what you did. Down to every detail”

Natashas eyes widen slightly. She knew he was smart, but she's sure she covered all her tracks…of course if you knew the situation as well as Fury did it would be easy to conclude that she had done it. But does he have proof? No, if he did she’d be in a cell

Your hand on her shoulder pulls her out of her thoughts and she hesitantly looks at you. She's petrified that you're catching on. Would you leave her if you knew? Would you hate her? Hate your pups?

“I know what she's done” you annonce, glaring at Fury with an intensity your Omega has never seen

The man chuckles, “Oh I’m not referring to Red Room activities here Y/l/n. This information would break you”

“Oh I know what you refer to, and if you think it changes anything about my feelings for my Omega, you're wrong.”

The man looks taken aback by your statement. Apparently he had been foolish enough to believe that you had actually moved on from the Russian when you settled for Sarah. Apparently he thought one no contact mission and a heap load of paperwork and endless missions would be enough to push her into Caps arms instead of making her long for yours.

The Russian approaches him with a smug grin, “You heard my Alpha. You have nothing to use against me. But we, oh we have plenty”

His jaw clenches as she slides him a file. He immediately picks it up and looks through it. There plenty of documents and pictures that paint him to be in league with Hydra. Selling them weapons, giving them data. IT makes it appear as if he knew they were in SHIELD the whole time and the only reason he got shot was because he refused to give them something vital.

“None of this is real. It's all a bluff. Doctored photos and my name inserted into others files”

You nod, “But who do you think the public will believe if those get leaked to the press?”

“What's left of SHIELD will fall without you to guide it, and your reputation will forever be ruined” Nat tells him, “Not to mention you’d be locked up in the Raft with all the other traitors”

His hand crumples the paper in her hand and he sneers, “Fine. Both of you go. Leave and have your normal life. But i don’t want either of you crawling back”

“We won’t” you tell him, taking your Omegas hand as you lead her from her his office

She happily giggles as she gets into your car and you smile at her, “I love you, my Omega.”

“I love you too, my Alpha. Now let's go start our new life”

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #omega!natasha romanoff #omega!nat #a/b/o fic #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o #a/b/o universe #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o april

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fleurriee · 8 months

Text

— love and life ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; yourself and neteyam had managed to keep your relationship a secret for a short while by your request. but there was always going to be a time when the truth had to come out.

word count ; 7.1k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings ; kissing, overprotective father, use of y/n...

author’s note ; god i have no idea how i feel about this chapter. it’s kinda choppy & a little all over the place, but i did enjoy writing it & i love my little loves so much <33 tysmmm for reading this series,, kinda sad that it’s over, but, i will but posting little tid bits of them every now and again, so make sure to look out for them!!

previous part

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That particular moment had been playing in the back of your head like a home movie for weeks now, on a continuous loop until you were sure you could memorise every small detail about it. Because, from that moment on, you and Neteyam had… something going on.

When he’d asked you about trying something out together, going at a slow and comfortable pace for your benefit, but allowing the two of you to experience some sort of relationship together - it was all so surreal.

Sometimes, you catch yourself thinking back to the time when they’d first arrived in your home, and your eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards him. He was like a magnet, one you were drawn towards, his ethereal energy catching on to each of your senses and never letting go. Maybe you should’ve realised from that day that you had felt something for the outsider, even if it was just a little crush.

Even now, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was that you felt for him - all you knew was that it was completely loving, nerve-wracking and all-encompassing… and, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Not when it came to Neteyam Sully.

Of course, with such a big change to your routine of life, came the obvious consequences. When you both feared such a loving feeling, and sought it out at the same time, there was truly no way to hide how you were feeling. Maybe it was because you wear your emotions more on your sleeve than you’d realised, or maybe certain people just know you a little too well.

Suffice to say, Tsireya was the first one to notice.

Sure, you’d been acting a little funnier or weirder than normal, but you didn’t think anyone would take too much notice in that. After all, no one really considered you to act in the ‘normal’ sense for a typical Na’vi anyway.

Alas, when Tsireya had cornered you one evening, coming to her senses after watching over you and picking out subtle things over the past few days, she’d questioned you - she’d asked you if anything was wrong, what was going on with the way you were acting.

At first, you were ready to deny everything, but she hadn’t exactly accused you of anything, had she? And, when you attempted to respond some form of normality to her, the only thing that left your mouth was stumbled words and incoherent mumbles. Even if you weren’t going to attempt to lie to her just for your own piece of mind, you didn't know what the truth was, still slightly unsure yourself.

But, Tsireya being Tsireya, someone who had grown up with you practically since day one, side to side and hip to hip, through every up and down that you experienced together, noticed the blush coating your cheeks and the way you couldn’t get a proper word out, and she knew instantly.

“Is it him?” Her question had come out with a slight tease to it, a subtle smirk upon her lips, but still, her words were gentle and soothing, not wanting to scare you off for thinking anything else.

Your rambling had stopped instantaneously, head shooting up to her in shock, mouth hung slightly agape as you were at a lost for words. Maybe you had an idea how you were easy to read… but, you didn’t think you were that easy!

“You two disappeared the other night…” she started, and the blush on your cheeks only went darker, looking down at your lap. “Was he good to you - was he nice?”

Slight confusion grew within you at her seemingly random questions, unsure as to why she was asking you these specific ones. Nevertheless, with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, trying to will the blush to disappear from your cheeks, you nodded in response.

She sighed. “Then let yourself fall in love with him, y/n…”

In an instant, everything blows wide - your eyes, your mouth, your mind. You could feel your ears perking up astonishingly at her words, repeating them within your brain in order to properly have a grasp on them and understand them. But, despite your shocked and intimidated expression, the one thing that truly gave you away was something you couldn’t control - your tail. It flickers back and forth in excitement the moment you comprehend Tsireya’s words, and you couldn’t get it to stop.

Still, you’re adamant. “No,” you deny, shaking your head, “no, ‘reya, it’s not-”

“It is,” she cut you off, a gentle hand placing itself down upon one of your crossed legs and gently rubbing her thumb along the skin there. She’d always been good at calming you down and bringing you back to the ground. “I can see it from here, and Neteyam’s not even near us right now…” Despite the loving gestures and gentle words, she sighs when she notices the unfortunate forlorn expression upon your features, nerves on show and not leaving anytime soon. At the sight, she shuffles herself closer to your figure, embracing you warmly like she knows always works, her arm snug around you. “You said it yourself - he’s nice. From what I’ve seen, he’s a gentleman - he won’t hurt you. And, I know it can be scary, but it can also be exciting and beautiful and magical.” With one last soft squeeze against her, she speaks with the upmost seriousness you’ve seen within her. “Let yourself fall in love with him, y/n.”

And, you did.

For the rest of that day, and practically the entire night, you’d thought of nothing but the words your best friend had spoken to you. They replayed themselves over and over for you, continuously causing yourself to question everything you’d ever known. But, in the end, you knew she was right, and you knew you were practically already there anyway. Thankfully, you hadn’t seen Neteyam, which allowed you to attempt to sort your thoughts and feelings out, preparing what you were going to say to him whenever you saw him next without any distractions.

Eventually, when you’d gone back home to your marui that night, you’re parents had picked up on the clouded expression you were holding, too; the way your eyes were slightly glazed over and your mind was clearly too far away to be present with the rest of you. But, they knew better than to question you on it.

There were times when your parents knew it was better to leave you alone and let you deal with it yourself rather than coddle you to open up about whatever was bothering you. They knew you liked to keep your feelings to yourself every now and again - that way, they don’t feel as real as they actually are - and, even though they know it’s not exactly the healthiest for you, sometimes it can end up with bigger consequences if they try and push you.

So, neither of them say anything, rather just sharing a slightly worried look between the two of them as they let you bask in your lingering and overbearing thoughts. Not much else is said that night, the three of you having dinner together, but it’s clear you’re still not entirely there. Maybe you just needed to sleep it off…

Except, the next day, you truly believed you were going to be sick any moment.

Even though you’d spend the entire night thinking this whole thing over, you somehow still felt unprepared, like your next moves were going to cause the end of the world and that would be it for you… even though you’d technically had this conversation with him beforehand. Still, you just wanted to be clear on some things. You couldn’t blame yourself.

When you found him a short distance away, looking out at the water as he watched over his youngest sister, Tuk, splashing about and making tiny waves, your nerves completed skyrocketed. But, these nerves felt both bad and good, and you weren’t entirely sure what to do with that information, because, for the longest time, your nerves had only ever felt like the worst. And, now, here comes Neteyam, strolling into your life, gently grasping a hold on your heart and not wanting to give it back.

You still couldn’t entirely wrap your head around how much had truly changed since the Sully family arrived, and you were sure it was only going to continue to change.

With a deep breath, trying to collect your nerves as the waves tumbled clumsily across the sand, you tried desperately to ignore the nagging thoughts that told you this whole thing was stupid, that he was going to think you were weird and wanted nothing to do with you afterwards, even after all he things beautiful things he’d said that night.

The only thing allowing your mind to drift away from those pessimistic thoughts was the sight of him alone - the way the sun rays shined down upon him, basking him in an ethereal glow; his back carved out like some sort of god as he clapped his hands; his arms flexing with such an exuberant smile upon his lips-

You’d been staring a little too long, and he must’ve felt something upon his back, because the next thing you knew, he was looking straight back at you. Somehow, his smile got even wider, gesturing you over with his head and calling out your name in pure happiness.

Collecting yourself, you gave in to the invisible pull that was attaching itself to the two of you, making your way over. When you got to his side, watching as he cheered for Tuk before turning his attention to you, the flutters in your stomach increased massively, smiling down at you as he continued to tower over you. “You okay?” he questioned, eyes flickering between each of your own as he took in your nervous expression, and the way you wrung your hands out together.

Your brows furrowed, sealing deeply to somehow attempt to compose yourself, your eyes flickered continuously this way and that, trying to find a way out - a reprieve - but nothing happened, one didn’t expose itself to you. You were stuck in this situation - and part of you was glad that you were, because this was something you needed to do, that you wanted to do.

But, before you can even get some sort of word out, you feel the softest, most gentlest finger tap against your clasped hands in front of you. Looking down at the sensation, you spot Neteyam’s outstretched before you, so close to encircling your own.

When your eyes shift back up to his face, you find him already looking deep within your eyes, smiling sweetly at you. “May I?”

You nod, already knowing what he’s asking you - but, even if you didn’t, you were sure you’d still have said yes - and feel as he unclasps your hands to take them smoothly within his own. His hands feel slightly rough and calloused again, like last time, but still, they somehow emit such warmth and beauty.

You want him to hold you forever.

“Take your time,” he assures you, which turns out to be the conformation you needed that allows you to continue with a little more confidence in your systems, allowing you to say what you came here for.

“I know we already spoke about… it,” you start, nodding to yourself slowly, “but, I want to tell you that I am comfortable with… this… trying it out…?” You don’t bother looking at him once, fear beginning to overtake you gradually.

Somehow, you words managed to end in a question, despite it not being one to begin with. You were just unsure yourself, waiting for the moment the beautiful man before you told you what you were saying to him was stupid, because you’d already spoken about this and there was no need to seek him out just to say the same thing again. You couldn’t help it - this was something that was eating away at you, and you needed Neteyam to know that despite your shyness and introverted tendencies, you wanted this as much as he did. It was so important to you for him to truly know this.

But, none of those things you expected to happen did. Because when you looked back up to him, eyes locking into his pooling ones that spoke more than words ever could, he held the same expression as when you’d first seen him that day - sweet, comforting, welcoming.

“I just…” you continued after another deep breath, finding comfort in the way he looked down upon you and mustering up whatever little confidence you held within yourself, “I felt like last time, I hadn’t really said much back to you… it was just nods and nervous smiles and…” you finish by evenly cutting yourself off, cringing at the words that were tumbling out of your mouth before you had a proper chance to fully know what you were saying, and chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as it hung low. The only warmth you felt in that moment was the beautiful feeling of basking in the sensation of Neteyam’s fingers rubbing gently against your hands.

You hear him chuckling above you, too, head shooting up and catching his beautiful smile being targeted solely upon you. It has you feeling weak at the knees, wanting nothing more than to see such a sight for the rest of your life, especially when you were somehow the cause of such an ethereal view.

Neteyam’s quick to reassure you. “That’s okay. I can somehow already tell what you’re feeling without you needing to say anything.” He shrugs at his admittance, the thought of such an idea coating your cheeks a darker shade. Smiling bashfully, he continues. “Maybe it’s because I spend too much of my time admiring you…”

Without even realising such a thing was possible, you blush more harshly once the words tumble from his lips. Instinctively, your head shoots to the ground in an attempt to hide yourself away from him, but it’s obvious he’d already noticed when he laughs softly down at you. Nothing malicious in that sound - just pure love.

“I’m glad you came to tell me again, though,” he begins, his words somehow even softer than they were before, except this time, there isn’t as much teasing involved. “It reassures me that I’m not the only one feeling this way.”

Making sure to keep your gaze focused upon the ground, you nod to him, fangs biting your bottom lip as a smile crawls its way onto your features. You can feel your eyes beginning to crinkle, too, too happy and elevated at the situation you had managed to find yourself in to want to ignore your emotions.

For just a few seconds, there’s nothing around the two of you but soft silence, the crashing of the waves as they cascaded against one another, and faint chattering of those in your clan in the near distance. Maybe you’re the only one out of the two of you that thinks it’s just a tiny bit uncomfortable (because, it’s you, and when is anything not uncomfortable for you?), but you know the both of you are also feeling the comfort provided within it. You know yours is from Neteyam’s presence alone, and you find yourself hoping that he’s feeling the same for you.

After that, you finally decide to hold your head up high again, standing with your back a little straighter as you wish to not come across so sheepish to someone you’ve just bared your heart to. Your lips quirk up subconsciously, one that’s unfortunately a little shaky and small, but it’s full of meaning, all the same.

Ewya, does Neteyam Sully love that smile.

“I’ll, um,” you start, “get going then…” Before you can unclasp your hands from his own, moving further away from him and hiding away to calm your racing heart, he pats them gently like he had beforehand. It’s something you’ve learnt is his subtle way of showing you his feelings for you - he knows you don’t exactly find it comfortable in certain situations where you're put on the spot and feeling vulnerable in front of too many people, and he’d hate himself if he ever made you feel such a way - and, this was exactly his best way to make you feel… like home… appreciated.

“I’ll see you tonight, tahni (star).” His words are so unbelievably soft and gentle, you were sure you heard them wrong. But, when you looked back over at him, noticing the warm and loving expression he held towards you, you knew you couldn’t have been wrong.

The blush comes back to your cheeks full force - although you’re sure it never really left to begin with - and you struggle to fight the huge smile plastered against your lips. Ewya, this boy was doing wonders to your once-shielded heart.

Carefully walking backwards, secretly not wanting to depart from him, your giddy smile helps his focus linger on you, too, and the butterfly sensation you feel ringing within your system every time he’s near doesn’t dissipate - no, it only intensifies.

Whilst the last few days had passed since that particular conversation that had your whole routinely life changing for the better, to say that your heart had never sped so fast in its entirety would be the biggest understatement of the century.

You found yourself spending more time than ever with him, Neteyam always being gentle and just a smidge hesitant with you. He was constantly nervous that he would subconsciously force you to overstep the boundaries you’d set up for yourself, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. You meant the world to him, and he’d protect you at all costs, even from himself.

And, like the true gentleman was, and just like Tsireya had promised you from the very beginning she started to notice something different with you, Neteyam took his time with you, giving you all the space you might’ve needed whenever necessary and allowing you to fall gracefully into step beside him.

He’d decided early on that he’d wait however long you needed for you. He didn’t care if it was weeks, months or years, so long as you were comfortable and his plans were still in place, he’d wait forever.

But, you also found out early on that even the barest things he did towards you still managed to cause your heart to race at a speed that should be worrying, and your cheeks to darken to a shade so unlike your natural colour.

It had originally just started off with looks - whenever the two of you were in a bigger group of friends (something you were slowly getting used to, also, much to your glee and pride), Neteyam’s eyes were seeking you out until they found your own. He’d give you a subtle nod and a reassuring smile, like he was checking in on you and making sure you were okay. It always managed to speak more than words simply ever could.

He’d take cautious steps to move closer to your figure until he standing right beside you, your arms barely brushing against one another with only the faintest of touches, and yet, it still caused your skin to warm up all the same. Neteyam would love the way you reacted to just being near him each and every time, a small chuckle flowing from his lips, looking down at your innocent expression and basking in it entirely, loving the way he could so easily make you blush.

It constantly gave him an incentive to do it more.

After a few doses of those types of interactions, there came the firmer touches - at first, it started off with his usual routine of tapping gently against your hands or your arms to garner your full attention without truly crossing any of your boundaries, before he would hold out his own in front of you.

You adored when he did this, and he knew it, too. Something about it made you feel so much more at ease, considering words were more difficult for you, and if he asked anything with his voice rather than his actions, you truly believed you’d struggle a little more at accepting such a new part of you.

So, whenever he gestured for the two of you to hold hands, to join together as one in a way that was so intimate for you, it made it all the more easier to step forward like this. Comfortably slipping your own into his hold, enveloping together and embracing the warmth that radiated within him - it was awe-inducing for you.

Neteyam would keep his hold loose against your hand, ready to let go just in case you got scared and wanted to retrieve back inside your shell… but, you never did. No, you stuck your ground, wanting to be bold and embrace something that was so beautiful and somehow only for you, enjoying these feelings for once rather than running from them, terrified.

Then, the night before now, the two of you took your relationship one step further, hand in hand as you experienced this beauty together.

Previously, Neteyam had invited you to hang out with him to watch the sun set, when no one else was around, everyone back in their marui’s to sleep off the day’s work. Rather, it was just the two of you, sitting side by side right at the edge of the sand, tips of the waves cascading cooly against your feet, no voices shared between the two of you. It was only the ethereal sounds of nature around you, and your breathing, shared and somehow calmer than you’d anticipated, especially when sitting next to someone new.

But, he wasn’t someone new anymore, was he? No, he was Neteyam Sully - your Neteyam Sully.

For a second, you hadn’t realised just how quiet it had become, though - Neteyam’s breathing had slowed down so completely, you couldn’t even hear it anymore. Beforehand, you were listening out for it, finding solace in the sound that reassures his presence was so close to you - you’d clearly gotten distracted when it’d slipped from your mind.

Turning your head over in his direction, you looked at him with furrowed brows, already being able to tell that something was off with him. But, when you came to face to face with him already gazing solely at you, paired with one of the softest expressions you’d ever witnessed, your heart leaped within its place and up to your throat, careful not to show how much it really affected you.

Still, your features slacken just slightly, partly from nerves and partly from the way he gazes at you. “What is it?”

A smile makes its way automatically upon his face when your soft voice graces his ears, shaking his head and clearly lost within his own thoughts. “Nothing…” he speaks, voice hazy and eyes glazed over, somewhere else completely. “It’s just - you’re so beautiful…”

Heart picking up speed once more - as per usual - you swallow your nerves that had suddenly built up down and smile back him, all giddy and sheepish. You hang your head low subconsciously, basking in his compliment.

Giving you away, your tail started to tap against the sand in excitement, something you knew he picked up on. In your embarrassment, you tried your absolute best to will it to stop and not so obviously give your feelings away, but if anything, in your haste, it only seemed to increase in speed.

Stupid tail.

“Can I-” neteyam cut himself off suddenly, and when you automatically looked back over to him, you noticed nerves were clear in his expression now. Before, you could’ve strongly said that Neteyam didn’t get nervous - simply because he was Neteyam - but he was good at hiding certain emotions like this. You didn’t like that look, either, because if he was nervous, you surely needed to be absolutely terrified.

His eyes gazed over you once again, and they somehow managed to notice every little thing about you - your doe-eyed expression, innocence radiating off of you in blissful waves, expectant of whatever he was going to say next. Even with so much life emanating around him from a new setting by the ocean, the sun setting and the waves crashing - and, still, you were the most beautiful sight there.

Neteyam found his confidence in your beauty, soaking in it and imprinting it to memory. “Would you be okay if I… if I kissed you?”

The question took you aback completely, feeling stumped for words, but that wasn’t exactly anything new. You knew then that the nerves he’d been feeling hadn’t been from wanting to kiss you, but from asking you such a thing - you knew he cared about your boundaries, and asking you had been a big deal to the both of you. If you’d said no, that could’ve changed things between you - shrinking back into your shell and not coming back out for a very long time. He didn’t want to do that to you.

But, he didn’t have anything to worry about. Sure, your breath stuttered for a second, feeling your palms beginning to sweat… but, a much stronger part of you wanted nothing more - you wanted to kiss him, too.

This was so completely new and different to you, you weren’t entirely sure what to do next. How had you gone from someone who had no desire to meet anyone new and interact more than you believed to be necessary… to falling for someone completely different from you and wanting to kiss him?

So much had changed since that day… and, you found yourself loving it.

With a deep breath and a shaky smile, trying to will what you were truly feeling onto your features for once in your life, not wanting to leave him hanging in negative thoughts for much too long, you nodded at him, so slowly he was almost unaware of it. And, he would’ve been, had he not been watching you so intently for any small sign.

Oh, did Neteyam love to admire you.

And, when you agreed to him, your feelings shown to be the same as he felt, it seemed like the whole world glowed brighter around him. Like, Ewya herself was painting you in an ethereal glow and showing Neteyam that you were made completely for him.

He slowly scooted himself closer to you, legs now touching as he faced you direct. The heat of him was scorching you in the best possible way, so close to you now that his breathing was mingling with your own as it stuttered nervously, but neither of you backed away.

You both wanted this as much as the other, and instead, you stayed exactly where you were, allowing Neteyam to take control. You’d never felt safer in someone else’s hands.

Eyes boring into your own, there was another question lingering behind them, waiting for your answer. You could tell what he was asking you - are you definitely sure? - and you knew you’d never been more sure of anything in your life, giving him another a nod, needing him to know everything going on in your mind. And, that was all the confirmation he needed.

Closer and closer, Neteyam brought his face nearer to your own, lips barely an inch apart as you felt them tingle against your own. You closed your eyes as anticipation filtered through you, and the next thing you knew, he was pressing his lips upon yours. It was one of the softest sensations you had ever experienced in any way, shape or form, and you loved it more than anything else.

It wasn’t a quick kiss - it was one he prolonged, wishing to stay in that position until the moment he was taken from this world, the feel of your lips against his so ethereal-feeling. This was your first kiss for each of you, and the both of you were so undeniably glad that nothing else had come in the way of denying you this feeling for the first time.

Eventually, you did have to part, but you automatically kept your eyes closed for another couple of seconds, forgetting about anything else that was solely Neteyam. He was all that was playing on in your mind, the way he felt against you and how you wished to do it more and more and more.

There was a gentle touch against your cheek that brought you out of your reverie, opening your eyes to find Neteyam caressing you lovingly. His eyes were imploring into your own, gazing upon you like he’d never loved anything more… and, he hadn’t.

“I know I said it before…” he began, mind still reeling from the feeling of you against him, “but, you really are so incredibly beautiful, yawne (beloved)…”

Somehow, that kiss had seemingly brought you a little more confidence than you’d ever felt, because the giddy smile upon your lips was also accompanied by a small laugh, one that was albeit slightly louder than your usual soft one.

Both the sight and the sound of you altogether filled Neteyam’s heart whole until it was full to burst, moments away from wearing it on his sleeve and letting you do whatever you wanted to it - because it was yours.

When your laugh trailed off, you looked back over to him, one side of your mouth curled up into a sheepish smile. “I think you are very beautiful, too, ma’teyam.”

Ewya, the way you said his name… It’d be the death of him, he was sure of it.

All of that had occurred a few days ago now, and you had never felt more complete, more safe than when you were with him. So much so, you had even briefly discussed the idea that Neteyam wished to court you, and asked your parents for their permission.

When he’d told first told you such a thing was bouncing around in every corner of his mind, everything else within you had shut down. You were sure you had to have been dreaming, because, whilst you had slowly come to terms with the idea of Neteyam liking someone like yourself, this was a whole other level. This was spending the rest of your lives together, starting a family together, becoming one until there was nothing else but each other. How could he want something so special with you?

But, Neteyam insisted that he was in it for the long run, which was obvious even from where you were standing. When it came to how much he wanted you all for himself and no one else, he knew he had to do this right, in a way you found loving, sentimental and comfortable. And, that meant starting with your parents.

Such an idea started your heart on fire, terrified of coming clean to what had been occupying your mind for a short while now, along with their reactions to you having changed perspectives seemingly so quickly. But, this was you being one step closer to feeling truly happy, to getting what you’d secretly always been looking for - Neteyam. Surely, they’d come to terms with it the way you had.

So, albeit a little begrudgingly, you agreed, Neteyam reassuring you that everything was going to be okay. He told you to leave most of the talking to him, seeing as he’s better with words than you are, and that he’ll handle anything that comes your guys’ way. It seemed as though Neteyam had been secretly preparing for the worst of it all, too.

Even though you reminded yourself of all the assurances Neteyam spoke to you the night before and that very morning, repeating them in your head on a loop and telling yourself to not think so pessimistic when it comes to such a beautiful situation… everything felt as though it’d dissipated completely. The two of you had gathered both of your parents in a marui, and you could only feel as though this was the beginning of the end of the world, bile rising up to the top of your throat and threatening to escape. The only way that worked to calm your heart was by consistently looking back at Neteyam’s somewhat composed figure, standing right beside you and just a step in front, almost like he was shielding you of anything bad coming your way.

How he knew such a thing was on its way, you didn’t know. Neteyam clearly had a better read on people than you did.

“You want to what?” Your father asked, piercing through the now-tense atmosphere after silence lingered between the group of you.

It truly felt like the two of you against the world as each pair of eyes implored into you, digging into your systems until they knew every little secret you held dear to your heart. You subconsciously started to fidget from one foot to the other, fingers thrashing and heart beating relentlessly. This, by far, felt like the worst situation you’d ever been in.

Maybe you should’ve expected something a little like this, but, for once, you wanted your pessimistic thoughts to turn even just slightly optimistic. You knew your parents had no idea about that had been occupying your mind all this time, as you’d been too scared to actually admit anything to them, but you hoped they’d somehow managed to garner some sort of idea. Clearly, they hadn’t.

You wondered if Neteyam’s parents were able to guess this, or whether they’d been told previously. Before you could look over at the two of them, Neteyam’s strong voice spoke up once more. “I wish to court your daughter, sir… to become my mate…” he repeated what’d he said originally, this time a little firmer to ensure each of them understood the seriousness of the request. Still, the words he spoke were a little uncoordinated, but he made sure to stand his ground.

Once the words left his mouth for a second time now, you finally looked over at his own parents, and felt yourself feel all the more reassured at their demeanour. Both of them were relaxed as they watched the two of you ask for something so special, eyes full of love, watching their son fight for everything he wanted.

Subtle smiles graced their features, eyes locked on their eldest son as he showed who he truly was, that he was a man and he was ready for the next chapter in his life. They allowed him to take control of the situation like he clearly wanted to, like he was supposed to do, but, they were ready for the moment when he might’ve needed their help.

As far as you were aware, just from the way they looked down at their son, eyes flickering over to you with a similar look every now and again, they were okay with such a match - happy.

It brought you a little bit more ease… and, then your father spoke up again.

“But, you are…” he started, somewhat hesitantly, like he didn’t want to say what he was about to because it wasn’t in his nature. Yet, when it came to his only daughter, your father would do anything for what was best for you. He sighed in defeat, shaking his head before his eyes moved over to your figure, speaking solely to you, now. “Y/n, he is not Metkayina. When I said I wanted you to meet new people - a mate - I was hoping you would choose one of us.”

Brows furrowed, heart dropping in your stomach at his words, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing from him. This wasn’t like your father at all. Yes, all he’d ever wanted was for you to get out there a little more, talk to more people in the clan and make more friends than mainly just Tsireya, and eventually even a mate. And, for the longest time, you’d always pictured that person being Metkayina, and he had, too, clearly… but, everything changed the moment outsiders turned up on your shores seeking help.

What you didn’t understand was that, despite whatever hypocrisy he was thinking at that moment, your father had been the one to urge you into talking to the newcomers, to the Sully’s. He’d reassured you that this was an opportunity you simply couldn’t pass up, to help them learn your ways and become one of you. Now, he was suddenly going back on every he’d said? Now, they could never be considered one of us all because one had taken a liking to his daughter?

It didn’t make sense to you, and you supposed it never would, not until you had your own children. Even then, maybe it still wouldn’t, because you’d be a mother, not a father.

And, your thoughts were clear when your mother spoke up in your defence. “Munxta (mate),” she soothes, voice calming as she places a hand against your father’s chest, “this is her decision - if she wishes to-”

“She doesn’t know what she wishes,” your father cut her off, voice just a little harsher than he’d probably intended, “if he was Metkayina-”

“He’s learning,” Jake interrupted, Neytiri biting back a hiss at the insult of her son, “he will become one of the people-”

“When? When will he become one of the people? I cannot allow my daughter to-”

You’d had enough of this. This was supposed to be a moment remembered as one of purity and happiness shared between two families becoming one through their children. And, yet, here you all were, arguing with one another because their children had managed to fall in love and whilst some were happy with it, others weren’t, simply because they were different than what they’d been expecting.

You’d had enough.

“Father, I’m of age,” you speak up for the first time in that moment. Your voice was firmer and louder than your parents had ever heard it, needing to get your point across - this seemed like the only way. It wasn’t like you wanted to snap at them, but, if they couldn’t see what you felt for Neteyam and how much he meant to you, they left you with no other choice. “I want this…” your eyes subconsciously trail over to Neteyam, noticing how his once dejected expression from your father’s words brightened at your own. “I want him…”

Silence was palpable around the six of you, each and every one of them watching the way your features softened so gracefully whenever your eyes landed on Neteyam, and how he felt much more at ease with you around when defending what he loved the most. None of them could deny that this match was something Ewya had crafted herself, not even your father…

He sighed loudly, everyone else listening in and waiting for what he was going to say next. After all, he was the only one who didn’t immediately seem to approve. But, he was your father, and no one would ever be good enough for his little girl. “Do you truly want this?” He questioned, holding up his hand when you went to respond and reaffirming his words. “I don’t want you saying this just because I told you to make friends with them, and you feel as though you need to-”

“I do, sempu (father),” you implore, smiling at him with all the love you’ve ever held for him, for everything he’s ever done for you, helping you out and shaping you into the woman you are today. “I’ve… I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

Clearly, he could see everything you weren’t saying out loud in your very gaze, the way this meant the world to you, and would mean so much more with his approval.

He had to remind himself that you’d always be his little girl, that no matter how old you got, how big your family became, how much you fell in love with Neteyam, he was always the first man in your life, and he’d always be the one you went back to should you need someone to rest against.

Even if that meant your mate wouldn’t be Metkayina.

“Fine,” he sighed, nodding with purse lips, before settling on Neteyam. “You have my permission.”

A collective breath of relief fell from everyone’s shoulders at his decision, knowing that his last word was clearly the most authoritative one here. Your smile grew brighter, elevated by what had just transpired around you, that you were now officially being courted by someone you could’ve only imagined meeting in your dreams. And, when your father watched you looked blissfully over to Neteyam, hearts in both of your eyes, he was seeing someone who he’d been dying to meet for so long now; a woman who’d grown up so beautifully in such a short space of time - and, he knew he had Neteyam to thank for that.

From your other side, steps were heard next to you, turning away from Neteyam and meeting his mother directly in front of you. She briefly placed her hand against your shoulder, before placing her other one against your cheek. Neytiri gazed lovingly at you like your mother always did, the sight making your heart full. Bringing the hand that was once on your shoulder away, she brought it up to her head and signed an I see you greeting. “I see you, ma’eveng (my daughter),” she spoke, every action and word full of motherly love. It made you feel so utterly accepted.

Her words (more so, what she’d called you) caused a blush to rise against your cheeks, the firm and seriousness of the situation finally beginning to settle into you. But, as you looked around at the people near you, your family - Jake, standing a little behind Neytiri as he nodded proudly at his son; your father, a begrudging tilt of his lips sent your way; your mother, beaming as bright as the sun as she felt the happiest she’d ever been to see her daughter become a woman with a future mate; and, Neteyam, looking down at you like you were a star in the night sky, like you were the most beautiful, most brightest thing he’d ever lay his eyes upon, never wanting to look at anything else ever again, because nothing else could compare to you - you knew you’d made the right decision to listen to Tsireya all that time ago, forcing you into the Sully’s company.

You supposed you’d have to go and thank her for everything at some point.

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