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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

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Joel Miller: Birthday Boy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: He was so golden, so smooth yet smothered in moles that you’d kissed and purple marks from your teeth. So perfect. So yours. Your lips parted, craving the taste of his skin once again. You recalled his statement from the night before.

“Wake me up with your mouth, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “Drown me with it.”

How could you say no to the birthday boy?

You set both coffee mugs on the side table, rubbing your hands together to keep the leftover heat from the steam alive, and slid your way back to the position you were in before. His breaths remained steady and a big part of you just wanted to let him sleep. He never got enough, with money and providing for Sarah always on his mind, and maybe that would be the best thing for him.

Drown me with it.

Maybe not.

Warnings: SMUTTT, oral sex female receiving, joel has a giving kink @ me, mentions of Sarah (RIP), allusions to the end of the world.

A/N: So much Joel Miller content, I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I hope you enjoy.

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If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(GIF credit to owner, please let me know if it’s yours)

You awoke to the taste of him still on your tongue—it was practically still drooling down your chin—and the warmth of his naked body draped across your frame. Your eyes were puffed and cloudy and your hips felt yellowed and sore, giving you flashbacks of the night previous.

Open your pretty mouth, darlin’.

Fuckin’ shit, this wet already?

Easy now, we got all night.

Ride me till I’m numb, baby.

You closed your eyes in bliss and whispered to yourself in a sing-song tone, “happy birthday.”

His small snores and hot breaths against your earlobe showed he didn’t hear you. He wasn’t meant to. He was meant to stay asleep—deep asleep—until you decided otherwise.

You were tempted to stay there, in his arms, forever. With his woody-cinnamon scent wrapped around you, his permanent scowl softened into an almost-smile, and his body slack against your own. This was Joel Miller—not the one lessened to a struggling carpenter, a single parent, or a lonely man—this was the whole Joel Miller. The true Joel Miller.

This was your Joel Miller.

You smiled at him, letting your eyes serpentine and circle around him for as long as you could, before pressing the softest kiss to his cheekbone. You barely pressed your lips to the hairs that coated it. You hummed to yourself, unable to prevent that sweet sound of pleasure whenever your lips touched his skin, and slowly started scooting your way out from underneath him. Your body screamed at you to stop, stay awhile, never leave, but you persevered.

He was so out he barely twitched.

You laughed to yourself as you found your footing on the cold, grey-carpeted floor. Your fingers twitched to comb through his hair, map out his body, or reach downwards to the sweet spot of your own at what a vision he was, but you somehow managed to continue on.

A midnight-black Henley of his had been discarded at some point in the night, likely thrown across the room by your own hands, and you threw it over your bare body as well as fresh underwear before making your way down to the kitchen. Joel always joked how your stealth was a wasted talent of yours.

I know who I’d ally with in an apocalypse, Tommy would joke.

Idiots.

You made your way to Joel’s most prized possession—his coffee-maker—and threw in his favorite brand of beans. Despite drinking plain black, he did have a taste for higher quality arabica. He would have never bought it for himself.

“Present number one,” you whispered to yourself as the smooth steaming liquid made its way into his rough coffee cup. It was old, chipped, and on the verge of shattering, yet still his favorite. You wondered what that said about him.

You set his aside and made a small cup of your own—adding plenty of cream and sugar thank you very much—and made your way back up the stairs, taking little sips as you walked. Sarah’s room was still locked shut and it was still plenty dark outside.

Good.

Your toes pressed onto the carpet again as you walked back to your side of the bed, and Joel had not moved an inch. His lower half remained swaddled in blankets, while his upper half…

…fuck.

He was so golden, so smooth yet smothered in moles that you’d kissed and purple marks from your teeth. So perfect. So yours. Your lips parted, craving the taste of his skin once again. You recalled his statement from the night before.

“Wake me up with your mouth, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “Drown me with it.”

How could you say no to the birthday boy?

Drown me with it.

Maybe not.

You leaned forward and breathed in the skin on his neck before placing a faint kiss on his pulse. You then moved to his adam’s apple, kissing up to his chin. He stirred a bit, unconsciously pulling you closer to him, and you kissed around his mouth. You pressed one more kiss to his hairline, his hair soft and ruffled from your own fingers, before he whispered incoherently.

“Hm?” you asked, bringing your mouth inches away from his.

“I said—” but he was interrupted by your lips on his.

You parted them quickly and deeper the kiss, tugging him close to you with your hand on the back of his head, and his large hands molded against your hips. You teased him with your tongue just enough for him to tilt your head back for more, but you pulled away.

“Happy birthday.”

He grinned and worked his right hand up to your face, framing it. “Thank you.”

You smiled brightly before sitting up completely and grabbing both coffees. He sat up with you, making himself comfortable leaning his back on the bed frame, and took the mug you handed him eagerly. He immediately sipped it and hummed, closing his eyes.

“You didn’t,” he whispered, his accent in full force.

“I did,” you whispered back, and sipped your own.

“These beans are over ten bucks.”

“I know,” you responded, and took another long sip. “This is present number one.”

“Number one?” he questioned with a laugh. “How many are there?”

You only smiled back at him, enjoying his questioning look.

The two of you proceeded to sip your coffee in silence—enjoying the slowly rising sun, the birds chirping, the wind blowing, and the creaks and groans of the house. Joel took his time, drinking his coffee slowly instead of chugging it as he ran from the house, and he enjoyed every sip.

Finally, he broke the ice. “Darlin’, since when did you have clothes on?”

You laughed enough to make your eyes crease before saying, “Since I went to make you coffee this morning with the risk of Sarah coming downstairs to use the bathroom.”

He chuckled and took one last sip, finishing his cup completely, and you took the cup from him to place it on the nightstand. He mumbled a quick “thank you” before you did, a grateful look in his eye, but once you turned back around, the chocolate in his caramel eyes had completely taken over. The rising sun illuminated their darkness that much more.

“I don’t think you’re understandin’ me,” he whispered, and the look in his eye suddenly made sense. Arousal rolled over you like a wave, and a smirk made its way to your face.

“Am I not?” you questioned, lowing your voice exactly how he liked it. The ink in his eyes was beginning to drip down to his body language—tense, itching to touch and unravel you.

“You’re not,” he said, and leaned closer, close enough for you to feel his hot breath on the skin of your collarbone. “I want them off.”

He kissed your collarbone and neck, reaching his hand underneath his own fabric to meet his calloused hand with your soft skin, and you smiled. “It’s your birthday. Take what you want.”

You didn’t have time to think before his mouth met your own.

He quickly took the mug still in your hands and leaned over you—mouth still claiming yours—to set it on the nightstand. He then took the opportunity pin you fully to the bed. His tongue fully mapped your mouth now and you whined at his taste—black coffee, morning, and the residue of you. He likely tasted the same thing on you.

“Gotta stay quiet,” he whispered, slipping your shirt completely off. “I do have a model of responsibility to set.”

You laughed into his mouth. “How’s that going?”

He laughed with you and kissed you again, feeling you everywhere. You took the chance to feel him up too, dragging your nails up his chest and over his back, through his hair, and across his scruffed face. His facial hair always tickled at the very least and burned at the very most. This morning, your face felt a bit of both.

He was kissing you so good and your head was so lost in all of it that you almost missed when he mumbled, “Let me try somethin’.”

He pulled away completely to look at you. Your eyes were blissed out, your lips were tingling, and your brain was absolutely reeling. He smiled down at you, likely because of how out of it you looked. “What?”

“Let me try somethin’,” he mumbled again, kissing down your face and to your chest. You closed your eyes and breathed erotically at the feeling of him all over you. Everywhere. “I’ve gotta eat somethin’ after my coffee, don’t I?”

Your eyes widened to saucers. You sat up, putting your weight on your elbows, and met his eyes. He was now hovering over your lower stomach. “Joel, you don’t have—”

“It’s my birthday,” he whispered with a kiss to your midsection. “I want this. I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You and Joel had been together for a while, longer than a while, and the sincerity in your feelings for one another had only grown with each passing day. You had started spending nights at his house, he had started spending nights at yours, and you had met his daughter a few months ago. You had even started spending weekends with Joel and Sarah as a way to get to know her better and test the dynamic which, so far, had been smooth sailing. She had obviously enjoyed your company, even asking you to stay at their house throughout the week. You and Joel were becoming serious, very serious.

And yet, he hadn’t done this for you before. He had offered it before, but you had always wanted to suck him off instead. It seemed that today, he knew what he wanted.

Your pants started getting more infrequent with even the thought of him doing this to you. You wanted it badly. His cocky grin showed you that he knew that too.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you today?”

His grin only expanded. “Do you seriously think I won’t come from this?”

And with that, he pulled your underwear down your body, and began his feast with a hunger. With one lick from his tongue, your goal of keeping eye contact with him shattered, and a long groan escaped from your mouth.

“Quiet baby,” he whispered against your mound. “Quiet,” and he continued.

He mapped you like an expert—memorizing exactly where you whined, honing in on those areas just long enough to make you shake, and just before you found your release, he would move on.

“Fuck you,” you whispered after the second time he did this, sweat dripping down your face and breasts. He chuckled into you and pulled one of your hands off his head to wrap it in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Patience baby. It’s my birthday.”

He continued squeezing your hand as he worked, and you continued biting your tongue until you nearly drew blood.

This was heaven. Heaven on earth. Eternity between your legs. The world could end tomorrow and you wouldn’t care, not after this. Not after him.

It was when he nudged your clit with his nose just so that you felt that familiar ball of flame inside of you begin to oxidize, expanding from a lick of flame to a fire.

“I’m so close Joel please.”

“Jesus woman,” he replied, the noises coming from his mouth on you borderline obscene. “Sound so pretty.”

He kept at it, nudging your clit with his nose and licking you where you needed. It was then that you noticed a small rock to your bed and a consistent creak. You used the last of your strength to pull yourself up, only to be met with Joel’s now hazel eyes, and the lower half of his body fucking hard into the bed.

“Told you I’d come from this,” he whispered, and kissed your clit.

Your fire became unstoppable, and you let yourself fully release into his mouth.

He didn’t stop. Not after you gave him one more.

Finally, he parted from you with one final kiss, and you didn’t even realize your eyes had fallen shut until he kissed both of them. They fluttered open to be met with his smiling face.

He looked so damn happy.

You brought his mouth to yours, tasting yourself mixed with his morning coffee, but he pulled away quickly.

“How was I?”

Your face broke out into a smile so big your teeth showed. “Perfect.”

He pecked your nose. “Good.”

He laid down on his back next to you, panting and exhausted, and you immediately cuddled into him. You threw your leg over his own only to be met with something…sticky?

He came. Purely from sucking you off.

“What’s this, the third time I’ve told ya?” he whispered into your hair. “I did this for you, but I wanted it just as badly.”

You couldn’t help the shock in your voice when he hugged you close. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“I love you Y/N,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

“I love you Joel,” you whispered back weakly, feeling the exhaustion envelop you once again. “Happy Birthday.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, likely grateful that you had woken him up early enough for him to go back to sleep. You followed him in your failure to sleep, but just before you reached unconsciousness, you felt yourself whisper.

“Don’t think I’m not paying you back for this.”

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not present/not working. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!)

@leahkenobi @aninnai @untitledarea @avengersfan25

#joel #Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hbo

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llovelymoonn · 4 months

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favourite poems of december

a.r. ammons collected poems: 1951-1971: "dunes"

jennifer robertson shrill shirts will always balloon

n. scott momaday in the presence of the sun: stories and poems, 1961-1991: "the delight song of tsoai-talee"

ted berrigan the collected poems of ted berrigan: "bean spasms"

natalie diaz when my brother was an aztec: "abecedarian requiring further examination of anglikan seraphym subjugation of a wild indian rezervation"

greg miller watch: "river"

joanna klink excerpts from a secret prophecy: "terrebonne bay"

dorothy dudley pine river bay

brenda shaughnessy our andromeda: "our andromeda"

frank lima incidents of travel in poetry: "orfeo"

lehua m. taitano one kind of hunger

no'u revilla kino

linda hogan when the body

paul verlaine one hundred and one poems by paul verlaine: a biligual edition: "moonlight" (tr. norman r. shapiro)

mahmoud darwish the butterfly's burden: "the cypress broke" (tr. fady joudah)

mahmoud darwish the butterfly's burden: "your night is of lilac"

amir rabiyah prayers for my 17th chromosome: "our dangerous sweetness"

sara nicholson the living method: "the end of television"

charles shields proposal for a exhibition

ginger murchison a scrap of linen, a bone: "river"

tsering wangmo dhompa virtual

anne carson the beauty of the husband: "v. here is my propaganda one one one one oneing on your forehead like droplets of luminous sin"

muriel rukeyser the collected poems of muriel rukeyser: "the book of the dead"

anne stevenson stone milk: "the enigma"

david tomas martinez love song

robert fitzgerald charles river nocturne

thomas mcgrath the movie at the end of the world: collected poems: "many in the darkness"

linda rodriguez heart's migration: "the amazon river dolphin"

donald revell the glens of cithaeron

sumita chakraborty dear, beloved

angela jackson and all these roads be luminous: "miz rosa rides the bus"

kofi

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writeblrfantasy · 2 years

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JACK OF FOOLS: PROLOGUE

He did not start out starbright.

He got his origins here, in this very bloody alleyway—though it’s not so bloody now. Everything’s been cleaned, washed away. This alleyway, for all appearances, is like any other in this city at night. Dark, cloaked in shadow where monsters of endless kinds lurk, dangerous to the wrong folk who get lost wandering. The ones who should never have been allowed to wander so freely in the first place. He was one of those, once. That night that led him here.

This alleyway fades and yet he has never forgotten its location, even after the buildings on either side changed and burned and built back up again, replaced with new owners and new memories. Only he remembers the old days, undoubtedly.

If he closes his eyes, he can breathe in the long ago bloodsoaked stench on his hands, his nails, the cobblestones, the glinting knife in his shaking grip. His blue coat. That blue coat got sliced to shreds quickly, the last of its kind.

It was here in these shadows, here that he said, I will never be powerless again. Here that he said, not another living soul will go a day without recognizing my name, even after I am cold and gone. Here where he grew his famous smile.

Here that his faded old name became lost to time, banished to the darkest hallways of his mind, and he became starbright instead. Glittering. Effervescent. Unforgettable.

Eternal.

Many in his position would say they do not remember the before times, the era where they scrounged for scraps of bread and groveled in the filth for a copper. They claim they were born draped in silks and velvets, never bathed in anything cold and dirty. They laugh. They sparkle with their eyes, their jewels, their coin, just as he does every night.

They all lie.

The memories so crystal clear grip Jacke with a cold hand, a tight hold around the throat that chokes and cloys even after all this time. He does not need to stand in this alley to summon the fear, bitter and sour. It has not forgotten him.

Footsteps make his eyes fly open, an instinct born from these before times. What worry, after all, would someone of his status and wealth have for his own safety when he could hire out a whole battalion of the city’s most talented protectors? He should sleep like a baby each night in his plush mattress and satin sheets, unwitting to the assassins lurking outside, forever waiting for their moment. Instead, he lies wide eyed most nights, frozen stiff with anticipation of attacks that he has not suffered since this alleyway.

The footsteps are not coming his way, a drunken stumbling he is well familiar with hearing. However, they are a stark reminder that he is not at home, and he’d best get going. He has indulged himself in humbling memories long enough. No matter where he goes, it seems he’s never alone for long, even if the passersby don’t know who he is standing in the shadows, his hat tipped low to hide his eyes. He doesn’t need to see much here, not that the dark would be agreeable. His feet know the way.

Without a further sound, he creeps back down the shadows the way he came, leaving any who might’ve seen a red coated figure scratching their heads as to his whereabouts.

general taglist (if you'd like to be on a taglist for jack of fools let me know) @magic-is-something-we-create @muddshadow @47crayons @worldbuildng @nicola-writes @twoseeds

#writing #writeblr #my wip #fantasy #fantasy writeblr #my writing #bean's excerpts #fantasy writing #excerpt from my wip #original fiction #lila's excerpts #lila's wips: jof

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year

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Rei saw right through him:

Kazuki: “[...] and make it clear to everyone whose daughter is the best!” - He is talking about the lunch he made Miri (her bento).

Rei: “You’re trying to get back on her good side.”

Kazuki looking shocked with his hands on his chest, looking like he has been shot.

Rei got a 🎯. And this is such a great scene of growth for both of them. With Kazuki, he has always been able to read Rei. He did as much in Episode One when Rei is sulking about the cat:

He’s good at understanding people and emotions, Rei isn’t. So Rei being able to read Kazuki in the above scene in Episode 6 says a lot about how he is growing on an emotional level. Emotional intelligence is a thing and something that can be learned. Rei never really learned it as a child because of his father and general upbringing, but because of Miri and because he is now a member of an actual family he is learning.

As for Kazuki, back in Episode 4, on Miri’s first day of daycare, he brought a bento too.

It was huge. It had three levels to it and Kazuki tries to be all, “Aw, there’s nothing special about this!” but the whole episode was about him trying to show off, rather than just be normal and authentic and nothing special.

The bento that Kazuki makes for Miri in this week’s episode (Episode 6) it is far less (only one level of food) and has a lot of quick and simple foods (wieners, fried chicken, beans), but there is still some craftsmanship put into this bento as well (the eggs making hearts and the panda onigiri). It feels much more authentic and from the heart, and more an appeal to Miri (which it is meant to be) rather than a one-up on the other moms at the daycare (like his Episode 4 bento was meant to be - the kids would go home, tell their moms about Miri’s bento, and impress them - that was what he intended).

Mom’s one-upping each other through bento is an actual, legitimate problem, which is probably one of the reasons Miri’s daycare does a school lunch (with the exception of something like this, a field trip). There is a good article on this on NPR (I’ll link it below), here is an excerpt (kyara-ben is the name for the kind of bento Kazuki made above) :

The moms in Maruo's class say they don't do it every day, but on mornings they make kyaraben, they block out as much as 90 minutes to make lunch. And not every Japanese parent wants to do this — but the cultural pressure is high, because it's hard to be the parent whose kid has a lame lunch.

"I think it's oppressive," says Margarita Estevez-Abe, a political science professor at Syracuse University, who specializes in gender issues in Japan.

"In a sense, they have a lot of time on their hands and they are just putting their effort and time into creating and competing over who makes the best character bento box," Estevez-Abe says.

So yeah, it’s nice to know that Kazuki has grown a bit and that he is doing stuff more for Miri, rather for himself, though he still has to work a bit on making assumption. Of course, both Kazuki and Rei having their own flaws are important too and those flaws tend to play off each other nicely, while being fairly realistic (a little exaggeration here and there for comedy).

It’s also nice to see that, while Rei has grown a lot emotionally, he still does some things his own way. Take, for instance, the scene where the bus leaves for the field trip.

Many of the other moms are waving their kid good-bye, but Rei doesn’t. He also stands apart from them, because he seems to not really like being in large crowds. But that is shown as being perfectly fine here. None of the moms are judging him here (some are also not waving) and he just continues to do his own thing. And Miri likely knows that.

Anyway, I love how, with each episode, we see more and more growth with all of the characters (Miri included!) and how these three feel more and more like a family. I know that was one of the focuses of the series (”to become a family through raising a child”), and I think the series is really succeeding at this!

#Buddy Daddies #KazuRei #Rei Suwa #Kazuki Kurusu #BD #BD spoilers #Buddy Daddies spoilers #long post #image heavy post #meta post

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glossgojo · 8 months

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pretty boy

carmen berzatto x mafia boss reader

excerpt from my full one-shot on ao3

MINORS DNI: violence, carmy cleans up your wounds, AFAB reader, smut, p in v, no protection, cream pie, carmy has to make it fit 😵‍💫, riding, rushed and desperate, all in his tiny office, set in s1

the week was eventful, you had scars to show it. one of your men had gotten out of line, selling drugs on the side to kids and you had to take action, of course with everyone’s approval. since he was part of your family you would deal with it, the guy didn’t take it well even trying to stab you and missing your scalp but grazing it in the process. in the end you had won, the body disposed of in the river as was custom for disgraced members. your body still ached but it didn’t stop you from visiting the beef the day after.

the cut was stitched up, covered in bandage. the members were laying low following the event, there was going to be a meeting to discuss how it could happen. carmy had noticed that the shop was less busy today, the street still safe but no suited men in sight.

and then he saw you walk in, still beautiful as ever but an unmistakable bandage on your forehead and his stomach flipped. without thinking twice he crossed from behind the counter to where you stood, anxiety bubbling up his throat, burning his insides as he spoke up.

“what happened?” his hands were on his hips, he almost looked angry and for some reason it bothered you. his eyes bore down at you, making you grimace.

“i don’t like lying carmy and you’re not gonna like the answer.” you muttered, eyes looking away. this would be it, he’d think you were too much and too scary and cast you away. carmy took in your dejected expression, combed his fingers through his hair and thought about your words before responding.

“fuck fine, but you’re okay right?” you lifted your head, taking in how crystal eyes scanned your face, his tattooed hand leaving his hip and a finger hovering over where your bandage was.

“yeah i’m okay.” you gave him a small smile and it quelled some of the burning in carmy’s gut. he motioned towards an empty booth, he knew how to get rid of the rest of the feeling. he could take care of you the only way he knew how.

“sit let me grab you something to eat.” before you could argue, he was flying back to the kitchen and you were grateful for the lack of patrons. you felt less guilty in stealing his time. maybe ten minutes had passed before a grilled chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and greens were in front of you. steam rose from the food, aroma rising with it and you felt a surge of hunger. carmy took a seat across from you, setting down a glass of water for you as he did.

“you made this?” you were a little bit stunned, not able to remember the last time someone outside of family cooked for you without being paid for it.

“uh huh, try it.” you dug in, grinning and groaning at the flavors on your tongue and carmy was reeling from your reaction. his anxiety was fading away, instead now his blood rushing, he could hear your gleeful sounds.

“this is seriously so good, did you try some?” he shook his head and you just wouldn’t have that. if the table wasn’t so wide you would’ve fed him yourself but instead passed the plate to him. he cut up a piece of chicken and added mashed potatoes before biting down. you watched the fork enter and unabashedly stared at his fingers, they looked so much larger and thicker around the utensil than yours. and the same fingers were moving to cut more pieces, cutting the green beans into chunks before pushing the plate back to you. you watched in awe as he slowly chewed on his bite, trying to figure out why he had just cut your food up for you. did you look helpless? was this the special treatment he was talking about? surely he didn’t see you as a cute little puppy needing affection and care. you were more than that, you had to prove it. you watched him swallow down and then took a bite of your own.

carmy couldn’t help the twitch in his pants when he noticed you suck on the fork a little bit longer than needed as you slid the utensil between your lips. was he imagining things? you finished your food with as much pleasure at the first few bites, never getting tired of the flavors and textures on your tongue. carmy had been watching you, even passing you water when you hadn’t drank it in a while. as he watched you eat, his anxiety was practically washed away and what was left was his stomach coiling in an entirely different way. you dropped your fork after setting it down and swiping it off the table with your sleeve, both of you ducked under to retrieve. you strained your arm to reach the fork and when you came up your forehead grazed the table corner. it wouldn’t have been an issue if not for your wound. almost instantly two things happened, you winced and clutched your forehead and carmy rounded to your side and kneeled in front of you to check your wound.

“lemme see.” his hand covered yours, your eyes shutting in pain as you moved you hand away. carmy sucked in a breath as he saw blood stain the bandage. “i got first aid in my office come with me.” you nodded, he stood up and offered his hand to you. one hand in his, carmy led you to his office. you clutched the damp bandage against your head using your other hand and tried to ignore the throbbing feeling.

carmy sat you down on his desk, shoving away some papers and angling his desk lamp up at your face. the office space was cluttered and small, you felt so close to carmy as he grabbed the first aid from a drawer and set it next to your thigh. in this office your breath was becoming his and his scent was overwhelming you, a mix of spices, cigarettes, sweat, and aftershave that made your head spin further. he removed your bandage, seeing a pill of blood pooling behind it and quickly soaked it up with a cotton pad, he put antiseptic on a q-tip and cleaned up the skin surrounding the wound before reapplying a clean bandage. carmy did his best not to think about how you got such a cut or why it needed stitches. all he could do was focus on fixing what he could. you watched him work, silent besides the puffs of air, his hair was cascading onto his forehead, his arms tense as he cleaned you up. mostly you couldn’t ignore how his jaw ticked and his brows got more furrowed.

“what are you thinking about?” you murmured almost a whisper, not wanting to disturb his peace.

“the fucker who did this.” he seemed satisfied with his handiwork, pulling back a little, hand still on your cheek as he made sure your wound wasn’t still bleeding through the bandage.

“he got it worse.” you pressed a kiss to the palm of the hand that was tilting your chin up. and carmen berzatto almost lost his remaining marbles at the action. without thinking about it, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, careful to not bump his head against yours and you gasped at the feeling. you hadn’t expected him to make a move, fully prepared to do it yourself. his lips were much softer against yours than you expected. the way he moved was careful and sweet but you wanted more. you wound your fingers around his apron tie and tugged it, pulling you closer against him and licking at his lips against you. the action made carmy lose his senses, immediately reacting to you by wedging himself between your legs and pulling you closer by your hips, now filling the small space between you and the edge of the desk. his lips moved much less carefully now, licking into your mouth and memorizing your taste and sounds. the kiss was hot and messy, much more like what you were used to and it made the ache in your head move south. you pulled back for air noticing how he trailed after you pressed kisses to your neck like a seal had been lifted and he could finally do what he wanted. you whined at the feeling, moving back to lift his head to meet your gaze. his eyes looking up at you made your head swim, his glossy lips painting much darker images of similar positions.

“carmy, i need you.” and carmy could hear the banging and yelling in the kitchen behind me, he could smell something burning on a stove. but carmy could also hear your labored breathing combined with his, your swollen lips and your rising chest, and not to mention your intoxicating scent. it wasn’t just your perfume, as he pressed kisses to your neck he couldn’t get enough of you. your taste and your presence was making him want to be selfish, it felt right to stay here with you and it scared him. carmy still would’ve chosen what he did despite the feeling, lifting his apron off and throwing it on the floor nearby.

“fuck it, come here.” he sat down on his office chair, opening his arms for you to climb onto his lap and you took in the sight. muscular legs stretched out in front of him and his tattooed arms beckoning towards him was something you wanted framed. on shaky legs you stood up and straddled his waist, swallowing as you sat down. carmy was watching you with a new determination, looking up as you rested your hands on his shoulders. you were still too far, he needed to feel you fully against him, holding you by the hips and moving you closer, grinding you against his hardening cock in the process. the motion made you stiffen, a small gasp leaving your lips and carmy couldn’t help but lift a hand to your cheek. it was just as soft as he imagined, stroking it with a callused thumb and you pressed your face closer to it. god must have taken his time with you, carmy decided.

unfortunately he had no luxury of time, he was sure richie would come looking for him soon. leaning back in the chair, taking you with him, and clicking the lock of the door. “can i?” he had a finger hooked under your shirt hem. you could feel him, large and throbbing against your core and you nodded furiously as he lifted it off you. you shoved your hands underneath his shirt too, watching him for a nod before you tore it off. carmy seemed to be taking it all in, leaning back again and you weren’t even hiding your ogling. why the fuck did a chef in a deli have abs? you weren’t complaining, not one bit, you could think of a lot of things to do with them. your hands were much less careful than his, not even hesitating as they glided up his taut tanned skin watching his chest rise and fall as your hands returned to his shoulders. he relished in how soft and warm they were, smooth like butter and warming up his skin everywhere they went. carmy was much more patient than you it seemed, you had been practically foaming at the mouth waiting to touch him. but carmy was just in awe.

“you’re driving me crazy.” his voice was gruff and low as he said it, watching you as he undid your bra and slid a rough hand up to your breast. immediately your nipples perked up and carmy licked a long stripe across your right breast, watching your whine as you tilted your head back. his hands felt so rough and large against you, covering you and spreading their warmth. you whined as he bit down, taking his time teasing you. the drag of his teeth against your sensitive buds and his abrasive palm massaging you was grating against your rational thought, your body moving to its own accord as you ground down on him, hips moving desperately. you needed some relief and the hard throb of him against the sensitivity between your legs was enough for now. his free hand found purchase in the dip of your waist and pushed down, halting your movement. he was slightly drunk off your taste and scent so he had to remind himself he couldn’t take his time with you. any minute now the door would be banged on, pulling him back to reality. he unlatched from your skin with a lewd pop and tapped against your hip, unzipping his jeans and you eagerly moved off him. you tugged your own jeans down, eyes not moving from his bulge as it sprung free against his boxers. carmy’s eyes always seemed to be on yours, taking in the emotions there and it felt somehow much more intimate than you standing in front of him topless. he reached towards your hand, pulling you back and out of your thoughts.

“i-i don’t know if it’ll fit.” you’d been thinking it since before when he was biting up your chest, but now with it prodding your clothed clit it felt too big. carmy had to hide his amusement, tried not to think about how all your confidence and eagerness had slipped away.

“do you think you can try? huh?” he brushed a hair back, caressing your cheek and looking at your face for any hesitation. you nodded, lifting up on your knees to push your underwear to the side as carmy sprung himself free. you gasped as his tip pressed up against you, making you clench on air, and looking down didn’t help your growing wetness. he was long and thick, red neglected tip hot and heavy against your skin and you wanted to memorize the veins along the side. the sound of your shallow breath mixed with his, a symphony of anticipation. you wove a hand down, collecting the slick at the tip and coating his length. god he was so long, probably the biggest you’d ever had and you weren’t sure if you could walk out of here on two stable legs.

carmy watched as you swallowed down, eyes on his member and this time he couldn’t hide his smirk. your skin was on fire, it wasn’t like he was any better but he wasn’t unabashedly licking his lips like you had just done. it took all his self control to not just slip up into you when your eyes widened as you looked down. you led him into your entrance, practically dripping onto him and carmy threw his head back. with shaking hands and aching thighs, you slid him against your entrance. he was too thick, his tip catching against your clit as you tried to shove him in. you glared at him like it was somehow his fault and carmy swiped his thumb across your hip in apology. your hands were shaking and your legs ached, but you tried again, tried to relax and pushed him in. instantly the stretch made you gasp, adjusting to the burn between your legs and how fucking stuffed you already felt.

“fuck, so fucking tight.” carmy felt like you were choking him, warm and constrictive. it felt his blood flow was being cut off. you breathed in and out letting yourself get used to the stretch as you lowered down on him, your thighs burning as you concentrated. the ache in your body was pain earlier but now it mixed with the intense pleasure of being beyond filled up. would you ever be able to fuck anyone besides carmen berzatto?

the ache was quelled by the feeling of him twitching inside and you moaned as you nearly bottomed out. carmy watched your eyes flutter closed in concentration, your eyebrows knitted together and your expression wracked by pleasure. his hands were a vice grip around your waist, you’re sure there would be bruises there tomorrow but you didn’t care, you slowly lifted up on him and moved down, his veins dragging against your walls as his tip bumped against the fleshy spot inside you that made you clench on him. if he bottomed out you’re sure you would feel him prod at your heart. you set a slow pace, moving slowly up and down as carmy did his best not to take over. finally when he could tell the burn in your legs was becoming too much he experimentally thrusted up, and your eyes snapped to his face. your pupils were blown out and glazed over in lust and your lips raw from where you’d been biting them to hold back your sounds. carmy wished he could hear them, wished his ears were ringing from how loud you could yell his name, but today wasn’t the day.

so instead he took control, holding your hips in place as he jacked up into you, driving against the spot he knew made you fall slack in his hold. your body twitched and shaked against him, mind going numb as his control slipped and he bottomed out in one sharp thrust. your lip slipped from between your teeth and like you couldn’t help it any more you whined his name. and he didn’t think anyone would fault him for losing the remainder of his sanity.

driving in and out of you with a force that bounced your legs upwards as his tip grazed your cervix, you could feel him everywhere could feel him twitching inside you, his veins, the now slickened hair at the base of his shaft and you could feel yourself pouring down on him, his coated balls slapping against your ass. it was all too much, the way he pressed a kiss to your neck as he dug himself into you, shaping you for him and plugging you so full you couldn’t breathe. he slowed his pace, feeling like he couldn’t hold back much longer and slightly pushed you back, unclasped your hands from around the back of the chair and brought a free hand down between your bodies. his finger found your clit, massaging it as his thrusts became deeper and slower. in this position you felt exposed, your bleary eyes and bruised lips looking down at his blown out pupils and tousled hair. his eyes were always the most expressive part of him, watching you in amazement and pure desire. and then carmy pressed a flat hand against where he was burrowed deep inside, against your stomach and it all became too much, shaking as your orgasm overtook you. you clenched around him, thighs digging into his sides as he continued fucking you through it, his hand massaging your puffy overstimulated clit as you bit down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming his name.

you slumped over him, carmy keeping his hand on your stomach as he reached his own high and pumped you full, throwing his head back and letting you take it. to no surprise his come was slipping down your thighs, already too stuffed full to keep anything in and you groaned at the feeling. the loss and the messiness of it all made you cringe. carmy slipped out of you, moving your underwear so the remainder would stay with you, keep reminding you of him and you tried not to think about the implication. instead you just sat back down, feeling much emptier this time and stared at his fucked out expression. he pressed a kiss to your lips, the meaning now too apparent for you to ignore, it felt like a goodbye kiss. you couldn’t take this much longer, if he didn’t want to see you again you had to leave now.

you moved off on shaky legs, his eyes tracking your movement as you did it, you could still feel his gaze as you turned around to find your clothes. however you didn’t expect him to break the silence, you thought you’d slip away and he’d pretend that it never happened.

“what happened here?” he pressed an outstretched finger to your back, you’d forgotten about the scar there. you probably shouldn’t have shown your back to him, most people you slept with didn’t ask questions like that but you should’ve expected it from him.

“honest answer?” you pulled on your jeans and bra, turning to face him, he’d pulled his boxers up, you masked the disappointment on your face. he nodded slow, a little bit worried what the answer was but still wanting to know all the same, he could guess based on the scar but he wanted to make sure. it was a circular indent, like something had pierced it. he didn’t feel anxious, he just felt this strange anger welling up in him.

“i got shot.” you said it nonchalantly, like it happened to everyone. carmy closed his eyes for a second as if you couldn’t see the flash of emotions on his face and when he opened them he just nodded, doing his best not to freak the fuck out. you were standing in front of him, looking like an angel sent just for him telling him you got shot. he wouldn’t survive you, but then he couldn’t think about just letting you go either.

“the other person?” a smile tugged at your lips, maybe carmen berzatto was different from what you thought.

“got it worse.” he nodded standing and grabbing your shirt from where it had been flung behind him, pulling it over your head as you watched him in amusement. you pushed down the feeling that sprung up from him dressing you, instead focusing on the graze of his fingers on your skin.

“you can ask me more you know?” you could see the questions on the tip of his tongue, his lips pursed like he was physically holding them back. you looped your arms through the shirt as he stood cross armed in front of you. you didn’t have anything to lose so your eyes didn’t leave his tattooed arms, tracing the veins and muscles along them. carmy blushed like a school girl at your actions, like his office didn’t still smell of sex.

“i don’t know if i’ll survive the answers.” he was being honest, his jaw clenched as he ruminated over all the worst case scenarios. his stomach flipping as your eyes found his once again.

“i guess ignorance is bliss,” you didn’t believe that, not really, in your line of work knowing everything possible was the only way to survive.

“you’re safe though right?” carmy realized he was being a little bit ridiculous given the circumstances but you could lie to him, try and convince him that yes you were safe. instead of answering you just looked at him, really looked at him, you tried to memorize the different hues of his eyes and the sharpness of his nose, the marks on his face. the longer you didn’t answer, the longer he felt a cold sweat line his back. he was running out of time, he needed to get back out. “what’s your number?” leaning over he grabbed his phone from his desk, his arm grazing yours. you put it in and handed it back, saving your contact as well.

“just uh tell me you’re okay alright?” it was probably the sweetest anyone’s been to you in a while, earnestly at least, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek nodding and slipping out of his office quietly. carmy did his best to conceal his red face as he got redressed and exited his office, met with yells and questions.

#carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto imagine

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fiapple · 1 year

Text

Sweet Bean Paste by Durian Sukegawa [trans. Alison Watts]

#this is very quickly becoming a favourite of mine to be honest with you like i have such admiration for the way sukegawa writes #& i'm very deeply endeared to both tokue & sentaro they're newly found beloveds to me #like it's just such a richly told & deeply fucking emotional story.#there's something almost musical about? in the way it weaves & bobs & crescendos.#like truly i am not finished it yet but this book is one of the most beautiful things i've ever read it has my whole-hearted adoration.#i cannot emphasize enough just how much the emotionality & the characters & the narrative voice are just so far beyond stunning.#it is a brilliant brilliant fucking novel.#sweet bean paste #durian sukegawa #currently reading #2023 reads #excerpts #tw suicidal ideation #sentaro tsujii #this used to be a tag

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bitkahuna · 3 months

Text

I have normal thoughts but also, wouldn’t it just be really neat if while in the throes of dragonsickness, Thorin became obsessed with Bilbo. Like, in a really morally questionable way, but not to the point of crossing any serious lines. But like, also, what if

—

“You wanted to see me?” The hobbit asked, staring up at Thorin on his throne, flanked by both Balín and Dwalin.

“I wanted to ensure your gift was suitable.”

“Oh, yes. I learned all about mithril and I must say, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

Bilbo might have his doubts, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what Thorin was after. Naturally, Kíli spilled the beans on his suspicion that Thorin might be trying to court Bilbo. Rather than be bashful, he immediately believed it.

“Have you tried it on?”

“Of course. It fits wonderfully.”

“Show me.”

Bilbo went red as he looked up at the king whose lust of gold was quickly becoming something else. Those hungry eyes bore into him. He saw the king’s greedy hands clench.

Fuck.

His pants were tighter than they used to be. Well. They used to be pants. Now they were so tattered he’d cut them into shorts.

The most shameful part of it was that Bilbo, for a moment, wasn’t sure he truly wanted to slay this dragon. For the first time, someone was earnestly pursuing him. Someone wanted him in a way that was beyond carnal. Someone who pushed beyond his coy display and gave him what he wanted.

Thorin wasn’t in his right mind.

Bilbo couldn’t want this.

But he certainly liked it.

“I’ll go put it on.” His voice was much quieter than he intended.

“Here.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened as he looked to Dwalin and Balín, who seemed momentarily dumbfounded.

“Turn around.” The king insisted. But when they hesitated, he nearly barked the command, “Turn around!”

They both shot Bilbo a concerned look before turning away.

The hobbit slowly reached up and pulled his arms into his shirt before looking up at the dwarven king, making sure this was what he wanted.

The king nodded.

Bilbo pulled his shirt off and revealed his form.

——

Excerpt from Yavanna, Guide Me on AO3

#bagginshield #bagginshield fic #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #thorin fic #dragon sickness #fanfiction #ao3 author #fanfic #ao3fic #fic excerpt

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rallentando1011 · 3 months

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hi! Saw the inbox was open, and wondering if I could slide in with a rise donnie boy x readerone-shot..

So essentially- donnie is STEM smart right? What if- what if reader was the opposite, like lit/history smart? Like, reads a lot, and almost never puts there book down, even when people talk to them (puts it down for donnie and gives him their full attention tho-) knows a lot about almost any point in history and adores archeology. (The only thing they understand when donnie goes science mode is biology.)

And so what if- what if reader, who's oblivious to almost everything and is a huge hopeless romantic bc of ✨️books✨️, decides to try and come up with ideas to ask donnie out in a more STEM way? But like, before they can donnie sees the list and is just like "smh ur math is atrocious/aff" and then fluffy stuff yaknow??

Lol sorry, went on a tangent. Anywhizzle, love ur writing! Don't forget to take a break, stretch and get some food and water if you need to!Have a good morning/evening/night!!! :))

U + Me = Date?

(this took a minute, but it’s such a fun and sweet request that I had a wonderful time with! Tysm, and please make sure that you’re taking care of yourself as well! Enjoy! Request guidelines are located here btw) Word Count: 2371

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything on earth has a niche, a designated function it gets to act out, a role it gets to fill. The Cape May Warbler, Bay-Breasted Warbler, and Yellow-Rumped Warbler have the top middle and bottom of a spruce tree to eat in, respectively. Humanity has its niche of expansion, whether it be out through the globe or up in towering metropolises.

If you had to specify your niche, it would just about have to be reading. Now, of course your life is filled with numerous aspirations, but your multifarious interests can all be classified under your affinity for books.

Any form of literature, thrillers, epics, romance novels, they all did it for you, enveloped the entirety of your attention in an immersive world.

That was without a doubt: they entertained you.

At least, they made you feel inspired to do things, take action in your personal life, possibly commit to confessing certain feelings to a certain softshell turtle. Actually committing to the bit, though, was a completely different story.

In the extensive library you had under your belt, there were many a meet cute and innovative confession. However, just because it worked out in literature, it didn’t mean that you could actually do it. What if it ended up weird or cringe or downright friendship shattering?

The status quo was comfortable, subsisting off of shared time in your turtle-in-question’s lab, the two of you simultaneously performing your own tasks. You would sit and enrich yourself with a book, Donnie would tinker until he had something that piqued his interest, which happened rather frequently, and your attention would suddenly be on him. It was simple. It worked. Taking action could complicate things.

So, your inspiration remained squandered by doubt, an inkling of hope staying concealed internally.

At least, inspiration wouldn’t make anything occur unprompted, and, luckily, that nudge came swiftly.

Earlier, as you were straight chilling in a cozy bean bag chair in the lair’s living room, you saw Donnie enter the room out of your peripheral vision. However, he only seemed like a purple blur because your attention was on the thick, dense book sitting on your lap. The cover was of a similar slickness and feel to that of a textbook, the size was as well, but this read was solely for entertainment. The content could practically be summed up as history of the entire world, i guess but fleshed out with more anecdotes and primary sources.

You had been soaking in a finely written excerpt entailing early hominid tool use, accompanied by an image of a related artifact, when you felt a presence leaning over your shoulder. You opted to continue your train of thought through the lines until you heard a familiar timbre clear its throat behind you. With a sigh, you placed a finger on your spot and faced one Donatello.

“Something the matter?” You blinked slowly.

“Oh, nothing,” he shrugged, expression seeming intentionally cool, “just checking out the book choice for today.”

You lifted the book from your lap to display the contents to him.

His eyes skimmed over the page before he grinned slightly. “Ah, prehistoric archaeology? I could dig it.”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep your thought from spilling out of your mouth before ultimately giving in to your amusing whims. “Leo ahh humor.”

Donnie gaped. “Gasp, you wound me. I rescind my statement and shall not be partaking in any archaeological reading-slash-discussion with you.”

“I’m just messing around, ‘Tello. I can dabble in some crude wordplay.”

“Crude?”

“Crude. Heck, I’d bargain to say that was more archaic than the sector of human history I’m in right now, and they don’t even have wheels.”

He raised a curious brow, visibly less offended. You could work with that.

“Rather intriguing. Care to join me?” You patted the ample space on the bean bag next to you.

Curiously, he stared at you, then the space you were offering, and back, before slipping beside you.

“Care to enlighten me on this subject?” he parried, and with a grin, you were off, describing the main theme of the page, the early development of primates and humans, as well as outside archaeological examples that you knew of, the whole nine yards.

As you rambled on, you locked eyes with him occasionally, and his eyes were intrigued saucers every time you did. It made something in your brain click.

He played along with your banter. He was sitting right beside you, absorbing your words so vehemently and genuinely and ohmigosh this guy of all people wouldn’t judge you for trying something that could be weird. Heck, he’s a fanatic of oddities, anything mystic or scientific, so if he didn’t like you asking him out, at the very least he’d admire the effort. So, you were inspired to try something, finally take some action.

You were going for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You set to work on your asking-out endeavor as soon as you arrived home.

At first you tried looking at STEM-related pickup lines.

Sardonically, of course. You wanted something that got your point across without seeming too vulnerable, something you could play off in the scenario you got completely and irrevocably rejected.

“I less than three you… That’s not that bad,” you scrolled through the results of your search, perched at your kitchen table.

You only made it down the list to ‘the square root of all my fantasies is you’ until you actually needed to call it quits on that route. There was a fine line between being intentionally corny and the monstrosity that was that line.

So you took the next completely logical leap: concocting a page full of intricate mathematical and scientific questions, the answers of which spelled out an encrypted message.

It was the sane thing to do.

4 1 20 5 20 15 13 15 18 18 15 23 ?

D A T E T O M O R R O W ?

You scribbled the message on a scrap piece of paper. You entertained the idea of writing a whole sentence, but just these two words covered the gist clearly and concisely. Plus, coming up with questions for only two words was enough to melt your brain.

“Limit as x approaches sixteen of the square root of x… equals… yeah, four. That works,” you mumbled. “One down,” you sucked in a deep breath, “eleven to go. Crud.”

The next few hours blended together aimlessly, riddled with just about every mathematical scenario you could conjure up. Sure, derivatives and Planck’s Constant and the unit circle (the bane of your existence) were all ambitious topics to have on the totally inconspicuous worksheet, but, to quote a phrase, go big or go home. When in Rome also works.

By the time you reached ungodly hours in the night, you had curated a functional way to surprise and ask out your best friend. With your brain oozing out of your ears, you put the paper somewhere safe and collapsed face down on your bed.

You would have mentally prepared yourself to give him the paper tomorrow if not for the calculus-derived headache already splitting your mind.

Instead, you immediately dozed off.

You could deal with the minutiae of tomorrow… tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day when you waltzed into the lair, he was conveniently seated at the desk in his lab.

“Heya D! I come bearing gifts.” You presented him with the paper as coolly as you could, keeping all the panic and nerves internal, and took up the chair beside him.

“A calculus sheet?” He grinned. “You shouldn’t have.”

After a moment of looking at it, however, his eyes dimmed and smile lessened. “...You shouldn’t have.”

You faltered. “Oh, gosh, is it that bad?”

“Which letter corresponds with negative one?”

“What?” you exclaimed. “Oh nononono no, I checked my math like five times, it’s not even possible-”

“The derivative of cosine theta is negative sine theta. Not positive. Simple mistake, really. It was a valiant effort of- whatever you were trying to do.”

You blinked, smacked your lips. Well, that was the end of that. You would just take your leave and move out of the city and change your name and never feel anything again. Easy.

“Just forget I did anything, forget this paper exists- like, what paper even?” You reached for the sheet of paper only for him to use the mechanical extensions on his battle shell to hold it out of your reach.

“No, my interest is piqued,” he smirked. You could almost feel the mischievousness emanating from him. “I will gladly continue, if you do not mind.”

You complied and sat stiffly, anxiously glancing about the lab, until you saw him pick up a utensil and start marking on the paper.

“Are you correcting it with a pen? Are you seriously grading this right now?” you muttered. You weren’t mad, just thoroughly panicked.

He stopped writing momentarily. “What? No, not grading, per say. This is just how I’m deciphering this.”

You knew that tone and you knew that was a lie.

“I- ugh,” you flopped your head down on his desk and closed your eyes. “Just tell me when you’re done fixing it. I spent a needlessly long amount of time on this just for it to be terrible.”

He didn’t deny that it was terrible, though you excused that to him being busy and hopefully not him agreeing.

Although, with how quickly his pen was scratching marks on the page, the latter seemed more feasible.

You focused on taking deep, steadying breaths, relaxing to the sounds of the busy pen until it suddenly stopped.

Lifting your head from its place, you saw he had completely stilled, staring at the paper with wide eyes and upturned lips.

“What? Did you spot another comically egregious mistake?” you mumbled, halfway intrigued.

He took another few seconds to answer you. “Something like that.” And with that nothingness of an answer, he started writing again, much more fervently.

“Okay then.” You went to put your head down again before he slammed the paper down before you.

“Boom! Here is the revised and finalized version of the worksheet,” he grinned.

You narrowed your eyes at the comments about your inability to include units, corrections on when something was supposed to be negative, but the markings at the bottom of the page were what caught your attention the most.

When you looked at the corner of the page, you saw an odd combination of zeros and ones.

01101111 01101000 00100000 01111001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101

“Actually, what is this?” You gestured to the code.

“It’s my response.”

“And you had to put it in binary?”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk in codes.” He sounded frustratingly nonchalant.

“Yeah, but-” you considered asking him to directly tell you, but maybe this was slightly less nerve wracking. Ripping off the bandaid be darned, you took the coward’s way out and pulled out your phone. “Man, I let you get away with way too much stuff. Has this interaction not dragged on painstakingly enough?”

“The greater the hardship, the greater the reward,” he commented with a shrug.

That pleasant surprise of a response made you copy the ones and zeros faster into the binary decoding website you’d searched up.

Just as you had everything in and your finger steadied over the button that would tell you what he was saying, you hesitated, steadied yourself with a deep breath, and hit it.

Nothing could have prepared you for the rush of adrenaline and euphoria that washed over you at seeing his answer.

“Ohmigosh, you’re serious?! Because you cannot be joking like this, Donatello.”

“As the plague.” One of his hands rested on his chest, the other was in the air as if taking an oath.

“Haha, yes!” you cheered, spinning the desk chair you were in. The late night and headache had paid off, and it felt great!

“So, where am I accompanying you tomorrow?” He mused.

Immediately, you paused. You’d only spent time thinking about the part where you ask him out, not the actual going out part.

“Where? Uhh, I hadn’t really gotten to that point of the planning stage.”

“You were too focused on biffing a math paper to actually plan out its intended purpose?”

“Yeah, not my brightest decision, nor my best work. It was a rather dumb decision on my behalf.”

“You are a dum-dum, but just because of how needlessly complex you made this, not because of your mathematical errors.”

“I genuinely don’t know if I should take offense to that or not.”

“Maybe you should be thinking about where we’re going tomorrow? Just a thought.”

You clicked your tongue. “Fine, uhh coffee?”

“A little trite for a first date, no?” Donnie propped his elbow up on the desk and rested his chin on his hand, smiling widely.

“Okay then, coffee and we go to the library?”

“Don’t we normally do that anyway? What about it makes it a ‘da-”

“Donnie, I am running on fumes from making the erroneous atrocity that is that worksheet last night. If you don’t have any suggestions, coffee at the library works. If you have a contribution, go right ahead.” You put your hands up in surrender.

Donnie’s smugness faded slightly and he lightly nudged your elbow. “Coffee at the library sounds great. And for what it’s worth, I appreciate that you tried to do something innovative. It was truly a highly admirable effort.”

“Thanks, D.”

“Of course. But from now on, let’s leave the math to the professionals.”

There it was again: the sass.

“Oh, that’s a low blow.” You shook your head, still smiling.

“A low blow would be mentioning how you confused the natural logarithm for a standard logarithm. You see, when you have e to the power of…”

The corrections and banter flourished on from there, the both of you giggling and getting mockingly, lightheartedly angry with each other.

Despite your interests in different subjects, the two of you understood each other. It was wonderful to have a partner that you could be niche with wherever and whenever.

It was almost worth all the math and science it took to get there.

(I actually made inconspicuous math worksheet that reader made for Donnie, and it is linked HERE!)

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