#i forgot how damn slow the beginning of the game is like.... everything is slow.. my god.. idek if i'll have the patience to get to

[devvy]

drew some discord req's ++ made a new save file to marry lucius... i'm excited

#sun haven #lucius #sun haven lucius #donovan #sun haven donovan #shang #sun haven shang #man i'm so tired tho LOL #i forgot how damn slow the beginning of the game is like.... everything is slow.. my god.. idek if i'll have the patience to get to #mid game with narcisse... but i shall try. #art

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God: Chapter 16

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: It's the morning after - but is it really a 'morning after' if the events repeat themselves?

Warnings: Smut (anywhere but a bed), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, orgasm control, clit slapping, degradation, choking, dom/sub dynamic, dom!Matt, p in v (unprotected), breeding kink, cum play, religion kink, blasphemy, slight angst at the beginning, mentions of grooming and an awkward conversation about sex

Word Count: 14.4k

A/n: I'm just digging my own grave here. How far in hell do you guys think I'll go when I die? Surely, there is a place reserved for especially horny fuckers like me (and you, if you're reading this. No offense, we're all the same here. There's no shame in this game period)

I literally just spat on catholicism (and all of Christianity, for that matter) in this one... If you don't like the use of religious imagery during sex, do not read on!

Read Chapter 16: Do I Wanna Know? here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

Sex is amazing, rough sex even more so, as long as both parties enjoy it. What’s not amazing is the morning after. Sometimes it’s awkward, other times it involves tremendous guilt, and even if it doesn’t involve either thing, the soreness sucks. 

Eliza woke up to the sun tickling her skin and forcing her to awake. She turned around, looking at the alarm clock next to the bed. Matt was gone. Her hand met the air when she touched his side of the bed. The time showed 11:32 am. It was late, pretty late. 

She almost forgot what happened the night before. The sudden movement shot pain straight through her core. Her panties were suddenly too rough and the shirt brushed terribly over her breasts. Her neck was bruised, she could feel the way the skin pulled just underneath her fingers. But oh, did it feel victorious.

She took a careful glimpse at her hips. The hickeys were more than prominent, one on either side, and there were marks of the same proportions sucked into the insides of her thighs. She loved them. She loved every last mark he left on her because it reminded her of what happened. It wasn't supposed to feel good. She wasn't supposed to feel so happy, not with everything else going on. There was no time for this, technically. Practically though, she couldn't possibly go without having him inside of her again and again and again for an entire day. It felt like a virtual impossibility.

“Shit,” she cursed quietly. She could barely stand. Her legs were trembling. If Matt picked up on that, she would never hear the end of it. 

Eliza slid the bedroom door open. He must have closed it again after leaving to keep the sounds out. Plates were clattering in the kitchen. The coffee maker sizzled. Slow jazz music was playing. She crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame, watching Matt with his back turned as he poured the scrambled eggs into the pan. 

“Good morning,” he said.

She scoffed. Of course, he heard her. "Hey," she said. Her voice was still thick with sleep, a little raspy too. She couldn't see him, but he was smiling. "You always let your hook-ups wake up alone?"

He tensed up at the joke.

"Sorry." She realized how that had sounded. "I was just..." her hand trailed off along with her words.

She missed his touch. She wanted him to move from the kitchen and hug her, do anything but stand several feet away from her. The weather outside was warm, she knew it was, yet she was freezing, and not because she was lacking clothes.

“I wanted to let you sleep in," he clarified. "Despite what you keep telling yourself, you need sleep. And you know, you’re adorable when you sleep, so I did us both a favor.”

Finally, he turned to look at her. There was this glint in his eyes again, and he was smiling, competing with the sun streaming in through the tainted windows.

Eliza hugged her arms around herself. Damn it, he looked so beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat, and then another one and another until she felt like she couldn't breathe, and suddenly she was more than glad that Matt wasn't close to her. She would have pushed him away.

He took her silence and changed the topic. "Breakfast is almost done," he said.

She took a closer look at his get-up. He was dressed in his work suit, the grey one, minus the jacket and the tie. Both hung over one of the chairs at the dining table. He had combed his hair and the bruises on his face appeared fainter than the day before – did he steal her concealer or did he keep one for emergencies?

“I used yours.”

“You can read minds now?” she asked.

He chuckled. “No, but you tend to think pretty loudly.” When he finally turned fully around, he was smiling. It was a full one, the one she liked.

“If you say so.”

Matt carried the plates to the table. She caught glimpse of the croissants and the orange juice, amongst the other various breakfast choices he had laid out for them. He even cut up some fruit. 

“You went shopping,” she observed.

“Didn’t want to serve you beer and cereal, which were the only things I had left in my fridge. So I thought, what if I just bought some milk, but then again, who serves their guests cereal for breakfast? That would have been really sad. Anyway, that’s why I got some more stuff to, uh, choose from. Eggs, fruit, bread - you know, the good stuff. All without meat, I made sure of that.”

Eliza bit down on her thumb. If the heart were the same type of organ as the penis, she would have gotten an obvious boner by now. “And you did this all for me?”

“Sure,” he said. It was natural. Making her breakfast, doing all the things no one had ever done for her before. But it wasn’t supposed to be. “I noticed you don’t eat enough. Your blood sugar bottoms out, your heartbeat is either too fast or too slow, and your stomach grumbles a lot.” His silly chuckle somehow made her smile, too. “If you don’t want to do it for yourself, that’s fine, but then at least do it for me. I’m the one who has to listen to your body scream for sustenance. It’s irritating.”

“Duly noted,” she said.

“You need to know," he leaned on the back of his chair with the veins on his forearm popping out like he was intentionally trying to kill her, "I don't usually do breakfast.”

The conversation she had been dreading.

He chuckled, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, the evidence of just how uncomfortable he felt. “Foggy likes to call me a manwhore and you know, maybe he's right. I don’t really keep count, that would be weird, but relationships and I… we’re not speaking terms. Pun intended.”

She nodded again.

“I thought it'd be only fair to tell you that most of my mornings after don't go like this. Not like I can't tell you already knew that by the way your heartbeat just picked up, and you’re listening to me, so I take that as a sign that you’re not about to smack the hell out of me, but yeah... I felt the need to say it out loud. Open communication, you know. Get it all out there.”

Admitting to having an active sex life shouldn’t have to feel so humiliating.

Her bare feet patted closer to him. “I figured that much,” she said. The thought of him with other women made her feel insecure all of a sudden.

"Okay.” Matt took another deep breath, pushing himself off the chair again. “What I'm trying to tell you is that you're not like everyone else. You're not some woman I picked up in a bar to have sex with just to get the edge off. No. I know you think that but it's not true. I wouldn’t do that to you, not ever. That’s not… I’m trying not to be like that anymore. Have been for a long time. I just get weak sometimes and I can’t help it, but I promise you, it’s been a long time. I haven’t had anyone over in a while. If I did, I would tell you.”

Eliza nodded. "Okay." She chose to believe him.

"I'd like to take care of you if you'll let me, just to prove to you that I meant everything that I said last night." He motioned to the table. "I care about you, and I don’t want this to ruin us. It’s the last thing I want, believe me. Please? Let me take care of you, Eliza.” She couldn't say no to his smile either.

He was surprised at her following actions. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting her head right in his neck and the rest of her barely covered body right on his. He hugged her back. His arms wrapped all the way around her, holding her close to his chest. His heart skipped a beat. She couldn't feel it. He was more than glad she didn't share the same abilities.

Matt wasn't sure what he was doing. He had told her the truth without actually telling her and now he felt guilty. He felt guilty because he was still carrying the same, big secret he had taken her to bed with. He had sex with her. He made her breakfast. He was acting as if they were in a committed relationship and he didn't mind. In fact, he loved it, but Eliza was complex. He could hear the confusion in the way she moved. Her attraction seemed entirely physical.

She cared more than the general population, she was a good friend, an even better person, and a hero, but there was one thing she couldn't do: Love. Eliza wasn't sure how to fall in love or how to even stay in it. She hated herself. Truly, she was incapable of relationships that went beyond sex and since that seemed to be what Matt was starting to want, she found herself in the worst position possible.

What the hell are we supposed to do now?

She kissed him as if that would answer her question and solve the internal battle she had to fight with herself. It just momentarily eased the ache. Finally, he kissed back. She could lose herself in that feeling forever. It was much better than love or friendship. It was an easy feeling to sort. Physical attraction made sense.

"Thank you, Matt," she said. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say, and she meant it, every last syllable.

He pressed his forehead to hers. She sensed sadness in his eyes. The colors were dancing tango around his soul.

"Yeah, of course," he hummed back.

"No, seriously. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Die, probably."

"Yeah, probably."

"C'mon.” He squeezed her hips. "Let's eat breakfast.“

She lowered herself down on the hardwood chair. The second her ass hit the surface, she regretted ever considering sitting down. Her wince didn’t go unnoticed, but that was to be expected.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. She was lying. 

Matt sighed. He opened the fridge, retrieving the ice pack he kept there for the many nights he came home with a black eye. Either that or he used frozen beans. He walked around her and dropped it in her lap, gently pushing it against her aching core. She hissed. It was cold and the pressure sent shockwaves through her body. She was incredibly overstimulated. 

He rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Cue the catholic guilt. He traced over her neck, feeling the blood pooling underneath where his fingers used to be. His voice cracked, “Is it bad?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?” 

She caught his hand. “No, Matt, I’m okay. Just sore.” She shifted to readjust the ice pack. Her legs protested. “Like, very sore,” she said, and that made him chuckle. "Seriously, it's like a whole bench truck rolled over me, or I accidentally sat down on a beehive, and now everything's on fire."

He laughed at her bluntness. "Sitting on a beehive does not sound fun. Have you done it before?”

“Shut up!" she snorted. "I asked for it, remember? My body just isn’t used to this anymore. Having sex, I mean. It’s been a long time for me too, y’know. Very long.”

“Oh.”

“About a year and a half, to be exact, and it lasted for about five minutes instead of five rounds. So, this is all a bit confusing for me, too.”

His head snapped around. “What?!” he blinked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” The question came soft. "I would have been gentler." He brushed over the bruise on her throat again. It was fading by the second, but he couldn’t see that. His mind switched to the ice pack, then he remembered the many hickeys he couldn’t help but leave. She was completely covered in him. But at what cost?

“I shouldn’t have squeezed this hard,” she heard him mutter. “I should have been in better control of myself?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stared at him. “Why do you feel guilty for something I wanted and clearly enjoyed?”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t look like someone jumped you.”

“That’s because I was jumped. By you.”

“Okay,” he chuckled drily, “but the choking…”

“Was something I asked for. Besides, I bruise like a fucking peach. You’re not special.”

His eyebrows shot up. It took him a moment to process.

“You heard me,” she said. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. You’re not that strong.”

A laugh bubbled out of him. “You really have no filter, do you?” he said.

“No.”

“God.” His chin tilted upwards. “You’re…”

“What?” She smirked.

“I don’t- you’re crazy.” He wanted to say something else entirely. “I should have asked you before,” he said. “I didn’t think… you made it sound like you do this more often.”

“I used to before Sokovia literally dropped out of the sky,” she told him. “The Avengers kind of went to shit after that. Didn’t have much time to think about sex between all the rules and the people dying around me.”

“Okay, fair point.”

“Hey,” Eliza said and reached for his hand on the table, squeezing it once she finally grabbed a hold of him. “You eased me into it. You didn’t just fuck me, you took your time and you talked to me and I-“ she struggled. She wasn’t sure how to say it without getting emotional. “I’m not used to this, not at all, and it scared me at first, how willing you are to listen to me, but I… I felt seen, for the first time. Do you- does that make sense to you? I’m not- okay, I have no idea how to talk about sex, so I’m just gonna stop now. This is embarrassing.”

Eliza hid behind the lid of her mug, eyes closed. The silence was agonizing. She didn’t want to look at him. There was always the possibility of being resented, and she wouldn’t survive that.

His soft voice and the spoken words made her heart flutter like a little butterfly. “It's not embarrassing," he said.

"It kind of is. I mean, I'm not nearly experienced enough. I don't know how to do this."

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't been in a situation like this before either." He smiled alongside his words. "Like I said, this isn't what I usually do."

"Manwhore," she said, "Yeah, got it."

He barked out a laugh. "Of course, that's the one thing you remember."

"I would have made that deduction myself, but you do this thing with your mouth..." she shook her head, "I don't know. You're pretty good for a manwhore."

"Ah, thank you."

"Not that the bar had been high. That thing was impossibly low. You could have been on your knees and still hit your head.”

His face turned serious, as did his tone. "I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “So it's true then. No one has ever tried to understand what you like. They just took what they wanted, leaving you high and dry.”

"Pretty much," she said.

“Christ, I’m… how did you… why did you…” His frown showed his hard time understanding.

It wasn't all that complicated though. She picked men who chose to have sex for their own pleasure, men who didn't care about their partners, they just wanted to stick their dick somewhere and get off. There was no reason why.

There was no thrill in not enjoying sex, she realized that the second Matt kissed her the night before. He was supposed to be the standard to live by, not some guy off Tinder looking for a fuck-doll. But the number of people who were like Matt was limited to one. There could only be one of him, only one who did it quite like him, and that made her feel a little better.

"I just want to understand why you settled for less than what you deserve," he said, managing to piece his messy thoughts together.

“Don’t ask me," she answered. "After last night, I’m questioning a lot of things myself.”

“The things you like... it should be fun. You should be with someone willing to entertain your fantasies, as long as they don't cross a line, not someone who failed every possible anatomy lesson in high school."

“You wanna tell me that you knew all of that from the beginning?"

"Of course not," he chuckled softly, "but I experimented. I experimented and I learned what it could be like to share intimacy with other people. What it should be like. I had sex because I enjoyed it and I made sure that the other person was just as comfortable as me. It’s what should matter. Of course, you don’t know any of this right after your first time, you learn as you go.”

"My first time was in the dirty bathroom of a bar.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him that. “I was nineteen, the guy was probably thirty-two.”

He blinked. “What?”

The math in his head triggered all sorts of alarms.

“Yeah,” she said. “But I was also high on Oxy at the time, so I wasn’t really there. Mentally, at least.“

Once she got to talking, it was hard to stop. The tension in his shoulders multiplied by the second. Her words hit parts of him that urged the animal out of hiding. The animal that didn’t want her to get hurt. The animal was ready to burn the world down to destroy everyone who had already hurt her and prevent any further damage. The animal that was so carnal, revenge came naturally and as second nature. He just wanted to destroy everyone she told him had hurt her in one way or another because she deserved the best and the people who used her deserved nothing but whatever punishment the devil had planned for them even long before their demise.

“Did he-“

“No. I wanted to. Or I thought I did. I know I said yes, but I didn't know what I was signing up for.”

“I don’t think it counts then. If you didn’t like it, you don’t have to say it was your first time. Virginity is a social construct anyway.”

“I second that, but what’s the point?”

“You could start over.”

“What’s done is done,” she stated.

“No,” he said sternly. “The guy groomed you. That wasn’t sex.”

“You’re right, he did. I’m not even gonna sugarcoat it. It’s bad. He was too old, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I was high. We both were. The consent on this one is a bit dubious but on both ends.“

“Okay.” He took a big breath. “You’re right,” it hurt him to cave. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’m just curious,” he leaned forward, “Why did you continue having sex with people you don’t enjoy it with instead of finding someone you like?”

She supposed the question was fair and accounted for.

"I watched porn.”

“What?”

“To prepare myself, I mean, but there is something inherently wrong about a lot of porn. It doesn't match up with reality at all. Most of it is staged. They fake orgasms, making the watcher believe it's that easy to cum. And everyone enjoys it. When you watch porn, everyone's moaning and they're having the time of their lives, no matter with what partner, so I thought that's what it's like. Fun. Sexy. Pleasing."

"And then the guy picked you up and it was nothing like what you prepared for."

“And I simply thought I was broken, so I accepted it.”

His nostrils flared. "God, this is- I'm sorry."

"No one told me it was going to hurt, that you had to be gentle the first time. I never had the talk because I didn't have parents, and Tony wouldn't bother, which I understand. I wouldn't have wanted him to. I didn't like having sex, I never had an orgasm before, and I was okay with that. It's sex. Everyone does it. Gets your mind off of things, even when you're not enjoying yourself. I don't know, I guess after that first time, I thought that's what sex is like. The guy offered, he showed me the only kind of affection I knew how to deal with and I was just so fucking broken, I couldn't help it. I needed to get rid of a pain that not even the drugs could make disappear, and I'm not even sure what kind of pain it was- is.” She scoffed into her coffee, watching as the liquid parted with her breathing. “I realize now that I might have oversexualized myself because all the men in my life ever did."

She expected a smart comeback, but instead, he took the hand that wasn't holding onto porcelain in both of his and kissed over her knuckles. "You're worth so much more than what they made you believe," he said.

"I keep thinking if someone had just told me, if I had known better, things wouldn't have turned out the way they did," she said. "I don't know. It's a stupid thought. I probably wouldn't have listened anyway."

"You can't put the blame on yourself," he said.

"But I chose to sleep with the wrong people."

"Still not your fault."

She smiled softly, almost sadly. "You put me on too high of a pedestal, Matt."

He shook his head, kissing her knuckles again. Part of him wanted to agree because he knew that. He knew he was thinking of her as some saint, but she wasn't. She was a person. No one is ever truly perfect. She had rough edges, she had issues and she wasn't relationship material. The things she did in the past would never go away. She was tainted. She wasn't the pure, innocent woman he liked to think her to be. But he didn't fall in love with her because he thought that. He fell in love with her because she wasn't perfect. She was far from that. She was neither a sinner nor a saint. She was Eliza. She was his person. He fell in love with her, all of her, not just the perfect picture his subconscious liked to paint. He fell in love with her for her, nothing else, nothing less, and nothing more. She was everything already. She was his world. She was everything he wanted and would ever need by his side. Losing her, he was sure, he wouldn't survive. And for Matt, that was one of the scariest yet exciting things to realize.

He blew over the wetness his lips left behind. She shuddered. The Matt Murdock effect was a dangerous game. "No," he whispered into her skin, hoping his voice would stay tattooed there, his words branded into her brain, "You're right where you need to be."

"And where is that?" she breathed.

"With me." Lovesick, a person would use to describe the look on his face. Trapped in a constant state of bliss.

"What does that mean? For us, I mean."

"I don't know. We'll figure it out." He had no doubts about that.

Eliza sighed. It didn't feel right. All of this was just too damn perfect. She hated perfect. She hated happiness. She hated couples who flaunted their relationships as if it wasn't the hardest thing to do. Most of all though, she hated love, because love is a fucking tricky bitch and she hated what it did to her.

She hated who she was becoming. She hated that she was doing this to him and he had no idea. He had no idea she was going to break his heart. It was the only thing she knew how to do. Whenever a perfect thing presented herself, something good, something stable, something that could possibly heal her broken soul and make her whole again, she felt the sudden urge to destroy it, and she would because that was all she knew how to do. Destroy the only good things in her life.

She was a menace. A wrecking ball. Her powers weren't the problem, and neither was the reality stone - she was.

Her voice was the last crack in the foundation. "I'm sorry." She was sorry for nothing in particular. She was sorry for everything.

He reacted differently from what she expected. He leaned over, grabbed her face, and kissed her. His eyes were glossed over and slightly red, and his lashes were already wet from the transference. "Listen," he called her name softly, "Promise me something?"

Eliza nodded.

"Whenever someone tries to take advantage of you, hurt you, or use you, fight back. And I don't mean physically because I know you're more than capable of that." He stopped to sniffle, trying to divert the tears. Those were tears stemming from a deep, sensitive part of him that constantly wanted to die whenever he was near her - he cared that much. "I mean, you need to fight back and talk about what you want. I need you to use your words to stand up for yourself, and if that's not enough, please, for the love of God, hit whoever tries to hurt you so hard, they will learn what it's like to be blind."

She wasn't sure how to deal with this whirlwind of emotions. He watched in horror as she broke down crying in front of him. Her hand dropped in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks, and the sobs wrecking her body were painful to listen to. Every intake of breath was louder than the next one. If she kept this going, she would hyperventilate. Her heartbeat was already through the roof.

A hand found the back of her neck, moving her forward until she was safe in his arms. She tried to fight it, but Matt was stronger. He held her tightly against him, hoping she could hear his heart beating, hoping she could feel the comforting warmth and realize just how much she meant to him. He wanted that to be enough.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "Fuck! I don't deserve you. I don't."

He shook his head instantly. "Don't do that," he said. "Don't say that."

"I can't do this."

I can't love you.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Whatever this is, we can figure it out."

He was too good for her, to her.

"I promise you," he said, holding her a little further away, just enough to press their foreheads together and her hand against the left side of his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart. "I have you," he said, "and I'm never letting you go. You're mine now and I'm yours. C'mon. You and me against the world, remember?"

"You and me?" she asked. The tears finally subsided, but the numb aching in her chest remained. She needed a remedy, something to reverse the poison her mind shot into her veins, tainting her perception of what she truly wanted.

"It's always gonna be you and me, sweetheart. Until the world ends."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, promise."

Her eyes flicked to his lips. He wet them. There was so much left to discuss, so many things left unsaid, but none of that mattered. She felt trapped in her mind, the place was terrifying, and she needed out. The only way to do so was right in front of her, handsome and bruised, an angel with broken wings.

She kissed him first. The force tilted the chair back, his foot being the only thing keeping them connected to the floor. Eliza threw her entire weight against him as if that somehow would make her melt into him and make her disappear, just for a minute.

Regaining composure, Matt kissed her back with just about the same amount of force. Messy fingers mapped out every last inch of skin he could find. The picture of her was burned into his brain. He knew he could have her simply by saying the word. She would jump at the slightest possibility to please him. And as much as he loved the thought of that, he couldn't follow through with it.

He forced her face away from his. “I think we should talk about this first," he said.

She was afraid of talking. Talking ruined too much. “Why talk when you could do something else?” she said. Words weren't meant for people like her.

He was weak. Pathetic, foolish, idiotic, and the list went on. She flicked the switch and the tables turned. He licked his lips. “I can’t,” but he wanted to. “I’ve got an appointment with the prison Fisk is being held in.” Though his thumb tweaked her nipple. The other hand moved up her side, touching where he left the hickeys. He could feel them underneath his calloused fingertips. The fabric of his dress shirt was so thin, he could feel her heat radiating through it. 

Eliza pouted. His dress pants did little to conceal his erection. Amazing what just a little kissing could do to a man that proud himself on having self-control.

“God, you drive me crazy, you know that?” 

She ground down on him, sucking his bottom lip between hers. The sound was obscene. “I know.”

He hummed. His fingers worked wonders to ease the knots in her back and upper thighs that were restricting her movements. She relaxed in his arms.

"I think you need a hot shower," he said. "Always helps with sore muscles."

“I'm not in the mood for a shower."

"Why not?“

“‘Cause that’s not what I’m in the mood for.” Her eyes darkened. She prayed for him to get the hint.

Matt kept massaging her thigh, but his hand started to move further up until he reached her ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze. At this point, he was fully hard in his pants, cock straining painfully against the thin fabric.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

The smack against her left cheek was gentle, yet enough to make her jolt forward. “Yeah,” he breathed into her mouth, engulfing her in a tight hug as he pressed their lips together in a sloppy battle of tongue and teeth.

“You’re enjoying yourself too,” he underlined his words with a swift squeeze of her ass, causing her to moan against his hot mouth.

“Hmm, seems like I am." She played with the collar of his shirt where his tie was supposed to sit. One of the buttons opened itself. "I guess I just really like your lap."

"You do look good in my lap," he said. "It's almost like you were made for me."

"What a shame then that you can't enjoy it. I have so many great ideas."

Matt moved her further up so she was resting right above his crotch. "Oh yeah," he breathed huskily. "What would that be, exactly?"

"Oh, it involves a lot of sex."

"Really? Tell me more.”

He breathed in sharply. Her arousal made him high. Her scent lay in the air, thick and choking him into unconsciousness.

"You'd fuck me," she said. "Right on this table, then the kitchen counter, against the wall, the couch-"

"Damn," he interrupted her. His cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. "Do we ever get to the bed in your theory, or is it just random surfaces in the apartment?"

"That depends. How much time do you have?"

"None," he had to admit, sadly.

Eliza hissed. "Bummer, and I was just getting started."

"I know. I can smell you, sweetheart." His nose nudged at her neck.

"You can actually smell me?"

"Oh, yes."

"So you could tell every time I-“ she was panicking.

“Well, not on purpose!”

“Oh, my God.”

He grabbed her before she could slip off of him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I was trying not to, but the more I tried, the worse it got.” He stroked his hands over her burning cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. There is no reason for you to be. It’s sweet.”

“Me?” she asked, voice quivering.

“Yeah. You’re sweet, and you taste and smell the same. It’s not a bad thing. If anything, you should be proud of yourself. I just have to say something flirty or take my shirt off and-" he snapped, "Instantly, without touching you, your fucking scent fills my nose. It makes my dick so hard, sweetheart. You have no idea how painful that is."

“Jesus Christ, Matt!” Her head dropped into the crook of his neck, which made him laugh. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just so cute when you get flustered.”

“No,” she whined. “You could tell every time you turned me on and you just- you didn’t say anything.”

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“No!”

“Then why are we arguing?”

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing.”

“Tell me,” he said and bucked his hips so his hard cock bumped against the wet spot on her panties, “Does this feel like something you should be embarrassed about?”

She bit down on his shoulder. “God.”

“Hm? I don't think so.”

The friction of the two layers of fabric rubbed deliciously against her slick folds, the head of his cock pressing down on her clit ever so slightly, movements restricted by his pants and his boxers. They fell into a steady rhythm. He was as sensitive as ever, every move of her hips knocking the air out of his lungs and adding to the overwhelming pressure in his stomach. She started circling her hips and it hit his cock in all the right places, he threw back his head in absolute bliss, eyes shut and bottom lip bruised from the teeth grazing against it.

“You still embarrassed?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she shot back. Her hips faltered. He whimpered into her ear. “Oh-“ Her muscles twitched with the sudden wave of pleasure that shot straight to her core. The sound was heavenly. A sound so high coming out of a mouth that was usually so tough painted the most delicious picture, one she would never be able to get off her mind again.

His cock in the confines of his slacks was starting to hurt. He tried to angle her differently. The several layers of fabric sliding against the weeping head burned through his entire body, making his toes curl. It was the sweetest form of torture.

Eliza realized he was trying to gain more friction while at the same time, trying to free himself. "You need any help with that?” she asked.

"No, it's good," he said. He broke into a choked-up cry, her cunt leaving a wet trail on the grey of his suit. Her clit brushed against his cock and he could see the stars evading his vision clearly. Even with the world on fire, the darkness managed to explode.

She raked a hand through his hair. Sweaty strands stuck to his forehead. The single tear of pleasure tasted salty on her tongue, licking it up from where it trickled down his bearded chin. The hairs scratched at her tongue. His eyes fluttered shut. She was all over him, lips, hands, heartbeat to heartbeat - she was close enough for him to hear the wetness gush out of her hole, making the desperate back-and-forth of her hips even easier. Her arousal seeped through his pants, through his underwear, and onto his cock. It could have just been sweat mixed with her signature scent; he was too far gone to question the feeling.

His nails dug into her back. "What do you need?" she asked him, breathless and high.

He couldn't possibly form a coherent sentence.

"Do you need me to go faster?"

He nodded feverishly at the suggestion. She grinned against his jaw, picking up the speed of her hips, sliding her cunt harder and faster against his crotch and what she could feel of his sturdy thigh.

With another helpless whine, he demanded, "Kiss me."

She supposed he needed to suppress his moans, even though they were the only thing keeping her going. His voice alone was enough to make her wet, but the sounds erupting from his sound were the definition of pornographic.

In response, she sucked the golden cross in between her teeth and kissed him. He tasted the small piece of metal on his tongue. It was hot, laced with her signature scent and her spit. He kissed her through it, occasionally biting and licking with his tongue. The whole scene was so blasphemous, he should have felt guilty. He should have gone to confession then and there because this wasn’t right, far from it, but there wasn’t a bone in his body that cared. 

He growled when she stopped grinding and instead, started palming him through his slacks. “I should punish you for that,” he said. She squeezed her hand around his cock and he moaned, throwing his head back to taste her arousal in the air.

She bit her lip. “Oh, if God could see you now. What would he say then? If he could see what a slut you are for me.” 

His hips bucked into her touch.

“You see, you’re not the only one with a dirty mouth,” she said. Skillfully, she unbuckled his belt to free him, finally, and he hissed at the cold air touching the head of his cock. “God,” she growled, “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

His eyes rolled back. “Fuck.” 

“Everything about you is absolutely divine. And you're good, so good, Matthew." He could only whimper in response. "It's okay, baby. You can let yourself go. I'll help you."

He grabbed her wrist, encouraging her movements. With every movement, he felt the endless bliss inch a little closer. He bucked his hips in time to meet her hand. The other slipped between her spread thighs, rubbing circles on her swollen clit, playing with the wetness that had collected in her underwear, a mixture between her and him.

Eliza huffed. She took the hand touching her pussy and forced it around her neck. “That’s not what this is,” she said. “Surrender control.”

He gritted his teeth. Of course, he would say no. He once again attempted to move his hands anywhere other than where she forced them to be. It was useless.

"You're not used to this position, are you? You're not used to being the submissive one?"

"I’m letting you do this, sweetheart,” he bit back. She pinched him.

“You could always do this yourself,” her breath was hot against his neck when she kissed his pulse point. His heart skyrocketed. The way her finger kept rubbing over his cock was too much.

“Don’t you dare,” he said. 

“Wasn’t planning to.”

“If you would just let me get you off-“

“Aw, are you getting close? Do you not want to be the first to cum?"

“No.”

"That's a shame 'cause I'm not giving in."

"C'mon." He ignored her silent demand to keep his hands to himself, reaching into her panties this time, catching her clit. She stilled. If she allowed herself to enjoy his touch, she wouldn't win. She knew she would fall apart if he kept this up. He drew circles around the sensitive nub, eventually sliding down to collect the wetness at her entrance and rubbing it all over her cunt. Her pulse pounded hard and heavy underneath the sore skin. He could hear and feel it loud and clear.

While his thumb stayed, doing the job it was supposed to do, his middle finger dipped into her hole. She gasped. He wasn't playing fair. This was her moment and he was ruining it by taking control. The position made it a little harder to slide his fingers inside of her, but the man was flexible, especially with his hands. He had no trouble stuffing her with his fingers, his thumb still drawing symbols on her clit. Her thighs twitched. It was unfair how good he felt.

She sighed. "You really can't take when something is given to you, can you?"

"No," he smirked against her neck.

She desperately searched for support when he managed to slide a third finger in.

"Oh, God. Fucking Christ. Shit!"

"Language," he murmured. His lips were sure to leave a bruise on her collarbone.

"Oh, I hate you," she panted. The way his fingers expertly thrust into her had her hanging over the edge in seconds, held up only by a small string of self-control.

Matt kissed her neck. "Sure you do." He didn't seem bothered.

Until her fist tightened so incredibly hard around his cock, he almost came right then and there. "Stop fighting, Matthew," she said.

"You stop fighting." He curled one of his fingers to hit her G-spot.

Her eyebrows shut up. “You are such a brat, Matthew Murdock. This is honestly pathetic.”

She lost hold of his cock, surprised to see him stopping her completely. He kissed her, lips hot and wet, and he stuffed himself back into his dress pants, hard and leaking precum. She was this close to making him come apart. Instead, he chose to torture himself. She was trying to not take it personally.

Who would have figured that the Catholic guilt made Matt Murdock horny as fuck. 

He pulled his fingers out of her, leaving her empty and aching, and in one big swoop, he wiped the dining table clean. All the food and cutlery fell to the floor. Liquid spilled everywhere, hopefully not on the carpet. He lifted her off his lap with a single arm, sitting her down on the table.

He ripped his shirt open, the one she wore. Buttons joined the chaos on the floor. “I have ten minutes,” he growled into her neck. “I will make you cum in five and if you try to stop me or pull my head away, I'll make you wish that you'd never pushed me this far.” 

Eliza stared up at him. Well, shit. 

Instead of pulling the underwear down her legs, he pulled at the waistband. Her cunt was aching, she probably couldn’t take another orgasm, not for another day, so why was it that she found herself in this position again? 

She couldn’t help herself. She needed him like she needed air to breathe.

The fabric of her panties was pretty much torn to shreds by the time it landed on the floor. She gasped.

“I want to try something. Would you be okay with that?" He pushed her hair out of her face.

Eliza wanted to say no, but the offer seemed too exciting to decline. "Yeah," she breathed out.

"We need a safe word," he told her. "Green means go, yellow indicates that you’re nearing your limits, and red means-"

"Stop," she finished. "Yeah, got it."

He smirked. "Eager, are we?"

"Well, I'm certainly not gonna cum on my own."

"Okay. Listen, if this weren't so time sensitive, I would leave you here with only your fingers and then see how close you can get without my help." His head cocked at her sharp intake of breath. "So, I'd be careful if I were you. Unless you want to suffer for the rest of the day."

Her whine sufficed. "I'm sorry," she said. She sounded so small. She hated how he managed to make her go from confident to submissive in one go. He reached for the steering wheel and took over. It was frustrating but at the same time, it turned her on like nothing ever had before.

Matt kissed her. "Good girl," he said. He pushed her back with a flat hand on her stomach. "Now be even better and spread your legs for me, sweetheart."

She threw her head back against the wood of the table. His head buried deep in her cunt and while it hurt, she couldn’t help but moan. It felt good, his tongue flat against her folds as he spread them expertly once again to unsheath her clit. Still swollen from the night before, she was sure she was going to finish in less than five minutes. 

 “Oh, God!” She chanted his name like a prayer. In response to that, a single hand reached for the cross necklace and forced it between her teeth. She moaned. She wanted to gag at the taste, but she couldn’t. She could barely breathe. 

The crown of her head was the only thing connecting her to the table. The wood hit the wall behind them repeatedly, with every thrust of his tongue and the desperate attempt to bring her hips closer to his mouth. It made the floor shake, it seemed. Her hands tangled in his hair. He could hear the blood rushing in her thighs next to his ears. It was excruciating, it was painful. He needed more or he would surely die.

What was he doing to her? This couldn’t possibly be real. No one could be as good at eating pussy as he was. She was dreaming, had to be. 

His hands found her bare tits. His fingers were rough, his touch gentle. He squeezed the tender flesh. Her nipples perked up at the sudden attention. He tucked at them, expertly playing with them, and it added heavily to the painful pressure building in her lower stomach. She wanted to savor it longer, but she was stumbling on the edge, her muscles too sore to focus on anything other than the high she was chasing. 

Her hands found his, keeping him wrapped around her breasts. She encouraged him to squeeze harder. The flesh was incredibly soft underneath his touch. 

Matt sucked at her clit again. The suction was wet and obscene and it hurt so good, she choked out a warning. “Fuck, don’t stop,” she said. It was more of a breath than spoken words, but he heard her loud and clear. “Don’t stop!” 

Four minutes and thirty-two seconds. He counted the movements of the minute hand inside the clock on his kitchen wall. 

She cried loudly when he stopped. Her hips bucked, but the thought alone didn’t work. The pressure subsided. She was left aching, clit pulsating, and the air cold on her pussy. She wanted to pass away. The tears she fought were ones of frustration and pure pleasure. She hated him. It wasn’t fair. 

Matt pursed his lips and blew cold air against her clit. She whined. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Her leg twitched from where it was still seated over his shoulder. 

“I need you to hold it,” he said. The tone of his voice sounded firm as if something might happen if she disobeyed.

Eliza bit her lip. The blood was pooling in her mouth and around the cross necklace. “I can’t,” she choked out.

Squeezing the outside of her thighs added to the pain of the already-formed bruise. “Stop saying you can’t,” he said. 

“I really can’t. I need to-“

His large hand reached over her hip and between her legs. The slap wasn’t loud. He flicked her clit only enough to shock her. She clenched her legs around his neck. Her attempt to pull him in failed, instead he brought his palm back down on her sex. 

“Stop,” the demand was clear. “Don’t cum unless I tell you to."

And he dove right back in. His mouth attacked her clit with new vigor. He sucked and nibbled at the skin, tongue pumping into her. It was torture, him between her thighs, the sight of his hooded eyes searching for hers, knowing what he was doing. He moaned, that bastard, and his voice vibrated, adding to the pressure that was steadily growing again. She clenched her muscles, it was the only way to stop the inevitable from happening. Her fingers pulled at his hair so tightly, she could have sworn the next moan he let out was one of pain, not pleasure, but with Matt, the two often blurred the line.

As predicted, she tried to push his head away. It was too much, too painful and she knew if she didn’t, she was going to finish and it was going to hurt even more. The knot was so tight, the glass was about to break. She couldn’t make any noise, she was paralyzed.

He pulled her further into him, the response sounding more like a warning, “What did I say?” he growled. “What did I tell you about pulling my head away?”

She was crying. “I’m sorry, I just- Please, Matthew!”

“No,” he stated plainly. 

“Please!”

“You wanna be my good girl?” She nodded feverishly. “Then hold it.” 

His head disappeared between her thighs again. He kissed her folds. This one was gentler. He took his time. The rough surface of his tongue felt like sandpaper. 

“Fuck!” and she wasn’t sure if she said, Matty or Daddy. Her mind short-circuited. She was a woman out of control and he was holding the remote.

“A bit more,” he whispered to her clit, “You can do it.”

She could have said red and then the torture would have been over. He would have stopped and they could have gone about their day, but truth be told, she didn’t want to. She wanted him to stop yet keep going at the same time and it was fucked up because as much as she tried to ignore it, his dominance was turning her on, and she was more than ready to comply. She was more than ready to suffer through it. 

"You taste so good, fuck! I love it when you do as you're told."

“Oh, fuck you, Matthew!” 

Her eyes flew open. He stopped. 

“What did you just say?” he asked. His chin was glistening with her arousal, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded. “Repeat that back to me, sweetheart. What did you just say?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Matt. I was-"

"I said, repeat it back to me."

"I said fuck you, Matthew. But I didn't mean it, I swear."

Her sobs were pathetic.

"Something tells me you did," he hummed. "Do you want to get off or not?"

"Yes!" she cried out. "Fuck, yes. Please! I need to cum, ah!” His teeth dug into the inside of her thigh. She threw her head back. "I really want to cum. Please, Matthew. I'll be good! I'll be good, I promise."

He cooed, "How could I say no to that?"

She nodded feverishly. She hoped he would continue, allowing her some of the sweet relief she was chasing.

“Hey," he forced her to look at him with a harsh tug at her thighs, "If you keep talking to me like that, I won’t let you cum at all.” The statement left no space for discussion. "We clear?"

"Yes," she choked out. "I'm sorry." The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.

He caught onto the tears and how some of them started to feel like more than just frustration seeping out of her pores. His gaze softened. "You okay?" he asked. His controlling facade dropped and the normal Matt started to peek his head around the corner.

Eliza lifted herself up to her elbows. Her head was dizzy. The ruined orgasm kept on building, even without him touching her, but the lack of pressure on her clit was frustrating and she wanted more. She needed more. She needed all he had to give and his sudden patience made her almost angry.

"What?"

"You okay?" he smiled up at her.

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Fine. What- why are you-" She couldn't even speak properly anymore.

"What's your color?"

This wasn't part of the play.

She blinked again. It took a moment for her brain to piece the puzzle together. "Green," she told him.

Relief washed over him. "Thank you."

“Now, can you get back to what you’re doing or-“

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re gonna wish you didn’t just say that.” And then the dominant Matt returned and she drove back to her bed in heaven. She wanted to stay there for all eternity, and he wouldn't mind building a home between her thighs either. It was his favorite place in the world already, and he had only gotten two tastes so far.

His tongue flattened against her folds. He thrust the tip in, nudging his nose against her clit. The pressure was sweet torture. And he decided to take his time. He explored her insides with his tongue while his hands kept feeling her up. He caught her nipples with his fingers, pinching them. It elicited a cry of pain from her, but it quickly turned to pleasure when he soothed over the ache by squeezing her tits. 

“Matt,” she as much as begged. “Can I..."

He shook his head. The movement felt absolutely genius on her sensitive skin. The inside of her thighs was red and her pussy was swollen from all the attention. She would surely find serious beard burn later. He was trying to avoid rubbing against her too much, but with her thighs clenching around his head and squishing his cheeks between them, he didn't have much of a choice but to let it happen. The fire was bittersweet.  

He moaned. He did that on purpose. “One more second.”

Every muscle in her body was tense. “I can’t take another second! Fuck!” 

“Ah-ah,” his nails dug into her hips, “Do as I say.”

“Please, Matt!”

He decided to have at least some mercy on her. “Fuck my face and I might just let you.” 

She bucked her hips into his mouth. He greeted her gladly with all he had to give. It was messy, she was chasing the high her body had been denied so many times before, and pathetically, it took her some time before her legs locked around his head. He was holding her so tight, she wasn’t sure why. Until he groaned, a broken scream, and finally, after what felt like an eternity. “Cum.” 

She bit into her forearm when she came. It was way too early for the neighbors to hear obscure moaning from next door. She was pretty convinced, also, that none of this was particularly helpful to her concussion. Her head came down so hard on the wooden table, the sound was deafening even to her ears. The rest of her body shut down, paralyzed in their spot, and Matt was trapped between her thighs. The second the orgasm crashed over her, the pain multiplied. Like a hot sword, it cut through her. But what started as painful slowly turned into pleasure – extreme pleasure. It was the kind of pleasure that makes you see the gates of heaven as your soul slowly descends from your being. 

Her fist hit the table. Her teeth drew blood on her arm. The orgasm went on forever, it seemed. Her body wouldn’t stop convulsing underneath him and greedy as he was, he made sure to completely suck her dry. He dragged it on for far too long, but she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the way he took care of her. 

The pain long forgotten, all she could feel was his mouth and the small groans he allowed himself to release as he cleaned her up. He sucked up every last drop she had to give

“Good girl,” he said. “Such a good girl.”

He peaked up at her, eyes blown wide with lust and his mouth glistening with her release. He was searching for her face and almost succeeded, but only almost. He failed her by millimeters. 

Maybe sex with Matt Murdock was exactly the remedy she needed. 

The gentle stroking of his hands along her sides brought her back to life. She breathed shakily, watching him rise to his feet and lean over her, brushing the hairs out of her face, sticky with sweat. 

He accidentally brushed against her nipples. She slapped his hand away. He took the hint, making sure to avoid her erogenous zones altogether as he kept kissing her skin to calm her down. 

She looked down to see the obvious wet patch in his pants. Oh.

OH.

“You see what you do to me?” he muttered. 

She thought him calling her sweetheart was a compliment enough, but damn it! Seeing the effect she had on him was the best fucking compliment anyone could have given her, ever.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“No, thank you.” He stroked her cheek. She watched as he dipped a finger between her legs to collect the wetness still leaking out of her, and he licked his luscious lips. "That was so good."

"Hm. I think you completely ruined my thighs."

His hand soothed over the reddened skin.

"Did you ever consider shaving?" she smirked at him. "Like you shave your chest, I mean."

"Foggy said that makes me look like a baby in a suit," he said.

"Boss baby."

"That's exactly what he called me!" He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Seriously now though, do you need me to shave? Does it hurt?"

She giggled. "No, I like your beard."

"Okay, good."

"And I think I would like it even more if you grew out your chest hair." The post-orgasm haze made her particularly talkative this time around.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"But I can understand why you don't. It's probably uncomfortable with your hypersensitivity, right? I know I get annoyed by my body hair sometimes, so I prefer to shave, but not everyone does and that's okay. Shaved or not, doesn't matter. As long as you're comfortable."

"I actually just thought less hair would be more aesthetically pleasing."

"You're easy on the eyes, either way, Matt," she said. Her hand ran through his hair, down his face, through his stubble until she found his covered chest. She opened three more buttons, just enough to reveal the first half of his chest. The skin was smooth, moisturized, and shaven. He had freckles. They weren't just limited to his perfect nose. He had them everywhere, the top of his chest, his back. The little things she paid attention to were the most beautiful.

He smirked. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Perhaps I will miss a day or two now that I know you like my body hair so much."

"I don't think I'd be able to survive." She sighed dramatically. "It'd be the death of me."

"That bad, huh?"

"The perfect wet dream. Don't make me think about it, you're making me horny again."

Matt pulled his dress pants up by the belt, laughing at the cute nonsense she was spilling. He pushed her foot away when she tried to pull him back into her. She whined.

“I have to go,” he said. 

“Can’t you stay for five more minutes?”

“Sweetheart, if we start this, it’s gonna take longer than five minutes, and I’ve already dragged this on for longer than I should have.” 

“I don’t care.”

“Fisk’s lawyer is gonna kill me.”

“Just tell them your driver was late or something. Please,” she reached for his small waist, “I need you.”

She had never begged for anything before in her life, especially not for this. 

He kissed her, sighing into her mouth. She kissed back harder, pushing her tongue against his. He didn’t have much of a choice. Not without a cold shower first. She made out with him painfully slow, hands caressing his sides, trying to get under his dress shirt. She made work of the buttons, trying not to ruin them, but she was this close to tearing the fabric apart. 

“I haven’t felt this free in years,” she breathed against him. “I haven’t felt like anybody found me beautiful for so long, I started to believe that I’m just not worth it.” She moved his hands back to her breasts. He kept them there, squeezing slightly. “And you’re right,” she stopped to moan, “I let the men in my life use me because I believe I don’t deserve better. I just… I’m desperate here, Matt. I’m desperate because I have nothing left to lose, and if I’m not close to you, I’m sure I will break apart. You make me forget about all of this. Please, Matthew.”

This was the first time in all of her existence that she was begging to be loved, just once, just one more time. She had never needed assurance more than at that moment. He was the only person she believed when he told her she was beautiful. He was the only person she could fall into and not care about how she looked or sounded. Matt judged people on a deeper level. He judged them by all the non-superficial things. He wasn’t objective. He could see a person’s soul, almost like she did, and so his judgment was often right. With him, she could breathe. That had never happened before. 

He cocked his head. If he took a cab instead of the bus, he still had some time to spare. And he couldn’t say no, not when she sounded so sweet. She was asking him to take care of her. It was new. Eliza hated to admit when she needed someone, which only proved how serious this had to be. 

Matt grabbed her chin rather firmly. “Hey,” he said. “You’re so beautiful, don't think any less of you.” 

“Show me,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “Show me how beautiful I am.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts.” 

It broke him, and not in a sexual sense. He wasn’t quite sure if acting on her wishes was a bad idea; she agreed to it, but she seemed oddly emotional, even for her, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

“I can’t take you with me,” he said. 

“But you can put your dick in me.”

His breath stuttered. “Sorry?”

“You heard me.” The grin on her face was cocky. “Unless you don’t want to.”

But he had already opened his belt buckle again. “I hate you so much,” the words turned to grunts.

He felt the pattern of the leather, then attempted to look at her. He couldn’t ask her that. They slept together once. Sure, she was kinky, extremely so, and he was so glad to finally have found someone who was more than ready to entertain what he liked, but this was something not made for the second time.

Still, he licked his lips and he wondered what it might be like to tie her hands behind her back while burying his cock to the hilt inside of her from behind, ass bouncing as he kept thrusting to fill her up with his cum, breeding her, marking her.  

And he was instantly hard again. 

She pulled him closer, but he stopped her before she could kiss him again. He hoisted her up in his arms, legs wrapped around him as he made his way into the kitchen, a higher surface than the table only a few steps away. The marble of the kitchen counter was cold against her bare backside once he set her down, and he easily slipped between her thighs, repositioning her so she was as close to the edge as possible without falling. 

Eliza tried to open the button and the zipper at the same time. "Oh, fuck me," she grumbled. His slacks, more expensive than anything else he had in his possession, had a mind of their own. They didn't seem to want this as much as she did and it was frustrating. if someone had told her before that she would get angry at a piece of clothing simply because she was desperate for some dick she probably would have laughed.

"Hey, don't ruin my pants," he said. The amusement was clear in his eyes.

"Don't tell me what to do," she bit back. Finally, the button budged and she managed to slide the zipper down. She shoved the last barrier between them below his ass, just enough to help his cock out of it. She didn't need much more.

His erection poked her stomach. She sighed, almost proud of herself for getting him this far. “Is this okay?” he asked between kisses. 

She nodded. “Yes.”

He hooked her leg around his waist. “Tell me, what do you need?”

“I need you, Matt.”

“And what do you need me to do?”

“Fuck me,” she said with an almost frustrated groan. “Just fuck me, please.”

Her desperation made him smile. “Breathe,” it was the only warning he gave before he thrust into her with one smooth move of his hips. 

She moaned loudly. He split her open, but unlike the night before, he didn’t care much about taking his time to enter her. Once he bottomed out though, he groaned into her neck and he stayed there. Arms on the counter, hands placed above each other behind her to cage her in, to hold her there, making more than sure she wouldn’t hurt herself. He gave her time to adjust. It was still a surprising stretch, though she was way more relaxed than the first time, which made it easier for him to bury himself to the hilt inside of her. She was so warm, her pussy hugging him so tight, he was convinced that if she moved, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. And Matt wasn’t prone to finishing too early. 

Eliza dug her nails into his shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked her, and she bucked her hips forward, hoping it was answer enough. The dark locks he kept groomed but never fully shaved grazed against her clit. An arm reached around her waist. 

“Matt,” she begged. 

“You need a minute," he said.

"No, I'm fine."

"Trust me. Let me stay here a little longer. Just a minute."

She clenched down on him. 

“God, I love it when you do that.”

“What?” she teased, chasing after the bare skin of his torso, pressing her lips everywhere she could find. “This?” She clenched around him again.

He grunted. “Yeah, that.” He reached for her face from where her lips were sucking at his erect nipples.

She tilted her chin up to take his invitation to kiss her. He bunched her hair in his hands; it was wild and free and it was getting in the way of touching her completely. Nails scratched across his torso. Her hips bucked again, this time out of instinct.

“You need me to move?” he asked.

His breath shuddered. “Please.”

“How would you like me to move?”

“Oh, are you kidding me,” the last part of the sentence got swallowed by his mouth.

Matt brought his hips back, pulling out slightly, then thrust forward. He split her open agonizingly slow and she wasn’t having any of it. He chuckled against her throat, her neck thrown back in ecstasy because while his pace was annoying, it felt too good not to enjoy it while it lasted.

He didn’t expect her nails to dig into his ass, pulling him close and deeper into her pussy, and then she pulled at his cheeks until he had almost completely pulled out. He followed her movements with his senses intently, curious about her approach.

He cocked his head to the side. “What are you doing?” he wondered out loud.

“I need you to do something, Matt. Anything, just... don't just stand there,” she said, and she hid her face in his chest to hide the blush of embarrassment on her cheeks. “We’re either playing twenty questions or you’re fucking me. We can’t do both.”

“Alright, all you had to do was ask.” He captured her lips with his. “Smartass.”

“Yeah,” she kissed him back, “But you love it.”

He chuckled. "Are you sure?" It quickly turned into a giggle, which made her bite back a moan. He was cute and it wasn’t supposed to turn her on but it did. “Here,” he hummed, reaching for the thigh on his right to rest straight against her chest, but he didn’t throw her entire leg over his shoulder, he just angled the limb impossibly high, still supported by his broad chest and hands as he pushed into her.

“Oh, fuck!” She threw her head back.

“Yeah, where did that smart mouth of yours go now, huh?”

She groaned, pulling at his hair. Their lips met. It was hot, tongue and teeth clashing, and she took his breath away.

He started with slow, deep strokes. The squishy walls of her pussy had a vice grip on him. He didn’t have much of a choice but to comply with what her body told him. She wanted faster and deeper, but not harder. Not this time. She wanted him as close as humanly possible, kissing his lips, and playing with his tongue. She tasted her juices on him still, the faint scent of the cum on his pants sending her into a space where she felt like an addict all over again. 

“You feel so good.”

The blood rushed to her cheeks. Eliza moaned, feeling her muscles tighten around him. He sighed, this was perfection.

She arched her back and his hand found its way back to her throat. He didn’t choke her this time, he just made sure she didn’t injure herself. On the kitchen counter, that was a possibility he didn’t want to explore. 

Her fingers pulled at his already messed-up hair as he bit down on her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone and sucking a purple mark into her soft skin. She still tasted like him. He moaned, the palm of his hand moving between them to rest over her lower stomach. 

“You feel that?” he asked. He pushed down and she cried out, feeling his cock underneath her skin. 

Her foot dug into his ass. His hips snapped against hers. Skin slapped against skin, low moans, and heavy breaths caused the windows to fog with condensation. His dress shirt was soaked with sweat, and hair fell into his face, and she pushed them back behind his ears.

Matt grabbed a fistful of her hair to yank her back. “You think you can take another one?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” she choked out. 

“C’mon. I’ve got you.” He took one of the hands from around his neck and slid it between them. "I want you to touch yourself."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"Use your hand. Touch yourself for me. You can do it."

"I don't know how..."

"Yes, you do." He helped to circle her fingers against her clit. His hand around her wrist eased after she found a rhythm that she enjoyed, and he pulled away to touch the rest of her. "There you go," he praised into her ear. “I can feel that you're getting close.”

Her head was spinning. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, she could only smell his skin, taste the sweat in the air and feel every last inch of his cock stretching her out in the most delicious of ways. Her fingers kept drawing circles on herself. It was almost enough to make her combust.

She whined, “I need more.”

He was biting at her earlobe then. “What do you need?” he cooed.

“More,” she said. Not getting the hint, he listened to the way her heart raced, analyzing the twitching of her muscles. She reached for the arm he kept around her, forcing his hand to her neck.

He hesitated, fingers only brushing the skin slightly. “You’re already bruised.”

“I don’t care,” her tone was firm.

Matt was fighting an internal battle. Of course, he wanted to, but he was scared. He didn’t want to hurt her. She wasn’t fragile. She was stronger than him, could heal faster than him, yet he couldn’t help but see her as fragile glass that could break at any moment, and he was scared of the day it might actually happen. He didn’t want it to be at his hand, though there was nothing he craved more than to feel her pulse jump beneath his fingers.

He let the Devil take over. His grip knocked the air out of her lungs in the most literal sense of the phrase. He squeezed tightly, cutting off her air supply for several seconds before releasing her neck. It was just what she needed. Her eyes rolled back into the back of her head and she was so close, she was whining and crying, but it felt too good, too real, and the lack of oxygen made her feel like she was on top of the world. It was like the perfect opioid high. She couldn’t feel a thing but him and the way her body struggled to keep up with the inhuman amount of pleasure that was unleashed on her. She didn’t need air when she had him. He could breathe for the both of them.

Her head rolled back, fingers stopping their movements on her clit. She enjoyed the feeling of his fingers around her throat. It was all she could focus on. She jolted when he pushed two fingers past her lips, allowing her to suck on them. They were gone way too fast, replacing her own on the sensitive skin between her legs, just above where his cock kept disappearing inside of her.

She was useless. Not a single thought to be uttered in her mind, no words, only obscene sounds that came strangled. She called him names and it was pathetic; it was so pathetic, she wanted to die, but at the same time, she had never wanted to live more. He owned her. He could have asked her all kinds of things and she would have done them, not even questioning his intentions. He had that kind of control over her mind and especially over her body. She was addicted now, there was no way of recovering from that.

“Look at me,” she heard him say. A soft command. She opened her eyes, exhausted, but she managed. “Good girl. Look me in the eyes, come on.” She blinked to meet the brown of his eyes. Heaven was only a footstep away.

“Can you cum for me?” he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Hm? Can you be good one last time?”

She nodded.

“Always so eager to please.” He chuckled, but he couldn’t hide the fact that this was affecting him as well. “Go on then. Make daddy proud.”

Her thighs locked around his hips. He just so caught her before she could split her head open on the counter. Her walls contracted around his cock. He held the back of her head, leaning over her, and the sweet sound of her moans into his ear was enough to send him over the finish line.

He came with a quiet shout of her name. The hot white of his cum coated her walls and she held him even tighter as he released everything he had to give inside of her, milking him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Taking me so well. Fuck. Letting me fill you up. So good.”

“Fuck!” she felt him dripping out of her. 

He rode out his high with slow, hard thrusts until he had given all he was capable of, and her walls were completely filled with his spend.

There was a moment of silence between them, only their uneven breathing filling the air. Their heartbeats aligned until they managed to calm down, still pressed close to each other, hugging over the kitchen counter.

He lifted himself on his forearm, smiling lazily down at her. “Hi,” he said. 

She stroked his sweat-soaked brow. “Hi,” she replied. 

He pulled out of her with a small whine. Slowly, as if trying not to hurt her, he used the hand behind her head to help her sit up straight. Her legs were shaking. She tried hard not to show him, but as soon as he unhooked himself from her, he caught the way her thighs vibrated on the kitchen counter. She couldn’t even press them together. It made him incredibly proud of himself.

Matt dipped his finger into the line of cum trickling down the inside of her thigh. She watched curiously as he moved back up. His eyes were dark, darker than usual, and his pupils were blown wide at what he was about to do. 

Eliza choked on nothing when she felt him remove the necklace around her throat. The golden cross pressed into her thigh, covered in his released and partly her own. He traced it up her skin, leaving a sticky trail of cum behind. It pooled around the metal. 

“God, forgive me,” he said. 

He used two fingers to stuff the cross covered in his cum back inside of her, penetrating her already sensitive walls with his thick digits and the foreign object. She would never get it back, at least not for her to wear. 

She choked out a broken moan. Her thighs shut. His bicep got trapped between them, fingers still buried inside. She tried to keep him there. She was so full, so warm, she needed him to stay. Her head fell back in absolute bliss. 

Matt kept on slowly fucking his cum into her with the necklace and two thick fingers penetrating her, guiding the crucifix where it needed to be.

He pulled out to drag the tip over her clit. She sobbed. “Matt, this is not a good idea- Ah!” Her walls clenched around his finger. 

“Are you-“ he raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sensitive, fuck!” He began to thrust his fingers faster, the cross cold against her clit. He moved it in circles, in awe at how fast he had her on the edge again. Her pulse was racing. She was the only thing left on his mind. “I bet you’re gonna cum again for me, aren’t you?” he said almost mockingly. 

She nodded. “Fuck!” Her hips met the movements of his fingers. He wasn’t even completely inside of her, but the sight of the crucifix on her pussy and his fingers disappearing between the red walls of flesh, squelching with the wetness she released, was enough to build the inevitable orgasm.

He should have known this was going to happen. 

“I think you’ll need to repent for that,” he whispered into her ear. “I think you might need to pray a whole lot of Hail Marys for what you’re doing right now. I think you should confess.” He pushed the necklace harder on her clit, starting to move in circles. “Do you know how to do that, hm?”

She gasped against his plump lips. “Yes.”

“Then do it!”

“Oh,” – he curled his fingers – “Fuck me, Father, for I have-“

“No,” he stopped his movements. “That’s not how it goes. I hope to God himself you’re not asking him to fuck you for your sins.”

“Jesus-“

“No, not him either. You know,” he began to pull out, “If you’re gonna be blasphemous, at least moan my name.“

Panic spread in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Matthew,” she said. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Then confess.” He started moving his fingers again.

“Fuck! Forgive me Father for I have sinned…”

Matt smirked. “That’s it, that’s my girl. What do you have to ask forgiveness for, baby?” 

“For using the lord’s name in vain?”

“Yes. What else?”

“For… for not taking him seriously. Oh, fuck!” He brushed over her g-spot, “Right there.”

“That’s not what I’m waiting to hear,” he said, thumb joining the crucifix. “C’mon, say it. I know you want to.” 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” – this was turning her on so fucking much, she wanted to combust, but she knew better than to cum without his permission – “For tainting the lord’s name and putting shame on all of Christianity by fucking this… fuck! Stupid crucifix.”

“And do you like it?” He curled his fingers again to hit her sweet spot. She grabbed onto his shoulder. “Do you like having it on your clit, along with my fingers inside of you, curling up,“ he demonstrated, “just like that?” 

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say you love it.”

“I-“ her eyes rolled back. “Fuck, yes!”

He clicked his tongue. “Ah, not what I was asking.” 

She had her hand wrapped around his wrist, but he wouldn’t let her thrust against him. His body towered over her, locking her in place. 

“Say it, sweetheart, or I’m compelled to stop. Do you love being fucked like this? Do you love to use God for your pleasure like the dirty little whore you are?” 

“God, yes, I love it! I love it so much.”

“Dirty girl.” He leaned in to kiss her. 

She desperately sought some friction, lifting her hips. “What’s my sentence, father?”

Oh, that makes so much more sense now. Matt growled. He removed the cross from her clit and shoved it back inside of her, listening intently to the sound it made twisting against the walls of her pussy. His thumb returned to rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Cum,” was all he said. 

She gushed all around his fingers and the crucifix, leaking onto the kitchen counter. He buried his head in her neck as she leaned against him, releasing the filthiest sounds directly in his ear. 

Eliza whimpered when he didn’t stop pounding into her. He cut her off. “Shh. Just making sure you won’t forget me while I’m gone.” 

Matt made use of her slack jaw, shoving the necklace back between her lips. The taste was almost too much to bear. When he took it back out, it was dripping with her saliva, still slightly white from the cum she hadn’t been able to lick from the edges. 

He scoffed mockingly. “Would you look at that?”

“Oh,” she moaned, “We’re going to hell.”

“We all are.” He lowered his head to slip the necklace over. It left a wet patch from where it was now dangling around his throat, the pendant pressed to his chest with the slick. “Blasphemy has never smelled so fucking good.”

“Are you gonna tell your priest about this?” 

“No,” he chuckled. “This is only for me to remember and I will now, every time I pray.” 

Matt could smell her, he could taste her. Sweet, sweet torture he brought upon himself. By the time he finished getting dressed, Eliza had cleaned most of the mess they made. He followed her movements, sticky thighs, sweaty skin - she was perfect. The dress shirt was still dangling off her shoulders, torn apart, and the rest of her was completely bare to him. 

She caught him staring from the door frame. “What?” self-consciousness laced her voice. 

“Nothing,” he waved her off. Hands slipped underneath the dress shirt, grabbing her butt. “I was just thinking, maybe you should put on some clothes before Foggy comes over. Not that I can blame him for eye-fucking you, but it's not for him.”

“Not fond of sharing, are we?” she teased.

He chuckled. “Not really, no.” His hands released her butt, allowing her to find even footing again. “Especially not with Foggy.”

“Oh, anyone you would be comfortable with?"

"Well, there is this guy who wears Devil horns at night. He likes to enforce justice with his fists, puts bad guys behind bars. I heard he has a great butt, too.”

"Really?" she played along. "I don’t think I know a guy like that.”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“No.”

“He likes to wear red or something, I don’t know, I can’t see, but he’s been rumored to have put Wilson Fisk behind bars. He destroyed the Yakuza, did all of these super cool hero things… c’mon, you know him.”

“Hmm. Do you mean Daredevil?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"And you would share me with him?"

"Only him," he said.

"Hm,” – he caught her devilish grin with a frown – “so why is Foggy coming over again?” 

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you. I put him on Eliza duty.” 

She reached around him, over the waistband of his fresh slacks, and then smack! 

“Hey!” Matt glared. 

Eliza only sighed in relief. “I always wanted to do that.” 

“You know, I thought you were gonna fix my tie.” He bit back the smirk threatening to form. “Since you pride yourself on being so good all the time.”

She only squeezed his ass again. There were no words in the existence of the English language to explain what it felt like. It was even better than looking at it. He had the perfect ass. 

He broke out into laughter. “You done?” he asked.

“No.”

“You can feel my ass whenever you want, sweetheart. In fact, I encourage you to do so, but I really need to get going now.”

With one last smack, she released him. Her eyes narrowed down on his hip. “I’m coming back for you,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You’re a lost cause.”

Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck to fix his tie, like he originally wanted her to. “So, what’s Eliza duty?” she questioned.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself in trouble. So I called him,” he said, placing his signature red glasses on his nose, “Uh, he’s gonna walk you through all the files we have on Fisk and you can help him get on the same page we are, so things will be easier from here on. Once he knows everything, I mean.” 

“Does he know what you’re planning to do now?” 

“Not exactly.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was gonna pursue a lead, I just didn’t tell him where.”

“Oh, Matt.”

“Hey,” he said, “I’m gonna be fine.” 

She breathed in his scent. He must have showered. “Please, be careful,” she said. 

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “See you later, bug.”

Bug. 

“What did you just call me?”

But the door shut without an answer, and she was left pondering the one question that should have been answered before they did what they inevitably ended up doing; what did all of this even mean?

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #foreigner's god #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #matt murdock x female!oc #foggy nelson #karen page #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock imagines #marvel #angst #charlie cox #matt murdock fic #daredevil fic

[curestardust]

Dust Watched: Macross Δ Movie 2: Zettai Live!!!

Genres: Action, Mecha, Music, Space // 2h movie // M01 (x)

My experience with this movie could be summed up in a single sentence which is “Slow the fuck down!!”

✧  story  ✧

Obligatory note that I’m not really into Macross or Mecha stuff. I do enjoy it but its plot leaves my brain the second the anime ends, which is kind of a problem when you’re trying to write about a franchise branching across 50 years.

Anyway, this movie is the sequel and ending to the previous one which shows us an Alternate Universe story of the events of the original Macross Delta series.

The biggest problem this movie suffers from is that it tries to tackle about 100 things at once. Character drama, character relationships, character progression, a movie only plot, expanding on the original plot, wrapping up elements of the original plot, wrapping up this movie only plot, referencing the previous franchises, bringing back old characters, introducing new characters, giving character focus to THESE characters, a huge dose of exposition dumping then add a sprinkle space battles in the mix and the flow and tonal shifts of the show felt like *I* was the one sitting in one of the mechas and going at lightspeed.

I feel like I’d need a thesis to talk about the story and not get something wrong so I won’t. All in all, it was your usual affair of Big Bad Mecha needs to be taken down, and then it is. Yay!

✧  characters  ✧

Offta, they really tried to force a lot of things on the characters. The tonal shifts are the worst here; we can go from one scene where Makina is pushing her boobs up against Mirage and they’re goofing around only to then transition into a scene of someone dying a tragic death. A good example of just how much is going on is Bogue; he goes from hating humans still, to losing one of his comrades in battle, to joining up with the humans and taking orders from their commander. All the while, we basically see no reaction from him to all this besides one or two side comments. They try to give Mirage a plotline as well, and it... I mean it’s alright? RIP to all Hayate/Mirage shippers out there tho. And speaking of...

Freyja, oh my dear girl. Freyja (and Hayate’s) plotline gets the most focus even though with everything going on their scenes have a lot less impact than they should have had.

<spoiler> I almost was about to say that the last scene was truly heartbreaking but they pussied out. BRO!!! Show me her passing on properly! Her vanishing into the wind in her lover’s arms would’ve been so impactful but before that can happen they just show the credits? Why?? This an AU, you don’t have to do the “did-she-or-didn’t-she” game here, she is alive in the original series, so just commit to it! <spoiler>

Oh right, almost forgot about them. Yami_Q_Ray, who are even on the cover, went really underutilized which is a big shame. Would’ve loved to see more of them.

✧  art  ✧

The art was also veeery wonky most of the time. The background art were gorgeous, the mechs looked good enough I guess (I don’t know anything about mechs) but the characters... in some scenes they looked like paper cutouts pasted on a background. They lacked detail and depth. The animation was the same. Weird and janky. The CGI looked the best (the inro sequence of Walküre was a treat). The battles were really hard to follow too.

✧  sound ✧

Fantastic as usual. Macross has always been about the music and I’m glad that at least that didn’t disappoint.

✧  overview ✧

In conclusion, I feel like they spent 90% of the budget on the 10 minute long Macross F short in the beginning of the movie. Which I didn’t talk about cause I genuinly have no clue what was going on but damn did it look great.

My Rating: 5/10

#macross #macross delta #dusty reviews

[the-swedes-knees]

Time in A Bottle (Agent Mobius x Reader)

Summary: Everyone has a guilty pleasure. For Mobius, it's a slice of pie in a very specific slice of time.

Word Count: 1.8k

Located in the middle of Downtown, bordering on the corner of old-time druggies and newly gentrified condos was a moderate sized building with an exorbitant monthly rent. 

It was a theme restaurant, if the theme was 'we opened in 1953 and we'll be damned if we change the decor'- done up in chrome and frosted glass windows that clashed against the surrounding brick and mortar. The neon sign bearing the establishment's name had burnt out years ago, but it wasn't the type of place one would seek out.

Unless you were Mobius, that is.

[09:45:00]

Technically, he shouldn't be here.

His unit was nearly a mile out, or, more accurately, they would be within the hour. Dates like this, where a simple flap of a fat pigeon's wing could ripple into Nexus event after Nexus event had a name. A proper designation in their severity and frequency of necessary resets.

But he just always referred to them as 'a real pickle'.

You glance up at the front door as the brass bell affixed to the frame jingles loudly. The man that enters looks around the place before making eye contact with you and smiles. He points to the empty bar and you nod your head.

Once you finish refilling the other customer's drink, you see that he's made himself comfortable in the middle stool.

"Hey there." You greet from the opposite side of the counter. He offers a sheepish greeting in response as you set a water down in front of him, balancing a plastic straw on the rim of the glass. "Can I start you off with some coffee? Just made a fresh pot."

"That'd be great, thanks."

You place the mug and matching saucer in front of him and pour. For a moment you look up at him, and he's smiling a very genuine smile- something very rare these days.

As soon as it's full to the brim you're reaching under the counter and grabbing a clean glass sugar pourer, placing it right next to his cup.

"How'd you know?"

"Customer service intuition, I guess." He thanks you before unfurling the napkin containing his flatware. Like someone with real proper manners, he drapes the napkin over one of his legs before stirring an ample amount of sugar into his drink.

You can't help but notice just how much he fits in to the whole aesthetic with his well fitted brown suit and slim tie. New York offered a multiplicity of personalities, and you'd become quite numb to anything and everything that would walk through that door.

Yet, someone about this man was intriguing, familiar in a way. Like in the past life he was a PI that you hired to confirm your husband's affair.

Both a confidant, and a stranger.

"Feel free to take your time, but, do you know what you'd like?" You note his closed menu pushed to the side. He raises his eyebrows and nods while mid-sip, and you pull out a notepad and pen from your apron.

"Sure do, could I get two slices?" He points the vintage rotating pie cooler to your left and specifies his selection.

Easy enough. You put two generous slices onto separate plates, and he declines your offer of whipped cream or ice cream on top.

"Good choice, this one's my favorite."

"You don't say." The knowing twinkle in his eye wasn't noticed as you busied yourself with refilling his coffee. He holds his hands up in mock defeat and sighs. "Well, I guess you'll have to join me." The ceramic scraped against the quartz tabletop as he pushed one of the plates across the bar, directly opposite himself.

"I'm on the clock-"

"Don't worry, another customer doesn't come in for-" He pauses to flex his arm, riding his jacket sleeve up just enough to check his wristwatch. "12 minutes and 43 seconds."

[09:52:16]

"Am I supposed to trust you on that?" You raise an eyebrow, and his only response is a slight head tilt and pushing the second slice a nudge closer to you.

It wasn't every day courteous men offered you a break in the form of your favorite desert. Your face screwed up in contemplation as you looked at the only other two patrons in the diner before giving in and grabbing a second set of flatware. "Well, it is slow-"

"For a Friday?" He has another bite before setting down his fork and dabbing at his face with his napkin.

"Is it Friday already?" You sigh, bent over the counter to take a bite of the pie. Delicious as ever. "Hardly feels like it, all the days are melding together."

"I think this one will stand out."

"What is the date, anyway?"

"May 4th." You make a hum of acknowledgement and he gives you a lopsided grin. "2012, incase you forgot the year too."

"I'll mark it in my calendar," You laugh, using your hand to cover your mouth as you continue to chew. "'The Day I Met-'"

"Mobius." He introduces himself, extending his hand over the counter and you shake it. His grip is firm, authoritative. Before you can reply with your own name, he refers to you by it while maintaining perfect eye contact.

You can't explain why, but it feels so right when he says it. Like it was perfectly made to be pronounced in his charming Texan drawl with just the faintest hint of gravel.

While you're fixed in a stunned silence his eyes deliberately dart to the lapel of your uniform. You follow his gaze and laugh at yourself for neglecting that you were indeed wearing a nametag.

"So Mobius... like, from maths?"

"Yeah, like math." He eyes his untouched water and picks up the plastic straw. His fingers move carefully, removing the straw from the perorated paper. You watch with curiosity as the man twists the paper once and pinches the two ends together with his thumb and index finger.

Mobius holds his opposite hand out to you, confident, waiting. With a bemused smile you allow him to guide your hand. His skin is warm, presumably from the way he had cradled his coffee mug, but it's comforting in a way. His rough hand guides you, your finger tracing the geometry of the paper-straw shape.

"A path that twists and turns... but always ends back at the same spot."

"I wasn't very good at math." You admit, and gesture around as if working in a place like this was a testament to that fact. "Why does it matter that it always ends where it began?"

"Well, that all depends on perspective. Maybe it doesn't matter. But to the one who observes it, it makes all the difference." You quirk an eyebrow, silently pressing him to elaborate. "Maybe that point's... where you got your first kiss, the feeling when your favorite football team scores a winning touchdown, a perfect sunset-"

Mobius catches himself trailing off, and looks down at his plate. He puts another bite onto his fork and cheers it to you.

"Or having pie in good company."

You look around the mostly empty diner before bracing your arms against the counter, leaning in as if you were to whisper some great secret.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit odd?"

[09:59:06]

"No-" His eyes crinkle as he laughs. "No, that's a new one. But you find it charming." He winked, actually winked, and leaned back in his stool, smirking into his coffee.

Your fork was halfway to your mouth as your just stared at him, frozen. You feel your mouth open and close a few times as you try to think of a somewhat dignified response.

"How would you know that?"

"I just know things." He shrugged.

"Like what?" You challenged.

"How about, Paul- over there." You crane your head to follow his line of eye, your coworker currently bussing a table that had just left. "Worked in this place five years, loves Coke- from the glass bottle, nothing else. Has a girl on the Upper East Side and runs a decent sized internet radio station out of his apartment."

"You're one of his listeners." You narrowed your eyes at him, a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Oh, no. Hyperpop... not my style."

"Alright, BBC Sherlock-" You countered. You give a subtle head tilt to a woman sitting in a far off booth, papers spread out on the table around her pancake combo. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn't a regular. "How about her?"

"Mrs. Braverman. Youngest of eight siblings, English teacher at the charter school up the avenue. Actually prefers imitation maple syrup to the real thing."

You know very well Mobius could be talking out of his ass. But he's confident, nonchalantly so- like this was a game to him and he was obviously winning.

"What about me?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Your anticipation is palpable as he swallows his final bite, taking the time to wipe his face of crumbs before smiling softly at you.

"You are... a poem of a person. Charming, capable, when you walk into a room people notice- even if you convince yourself that they don't." His gaze is steady, patient, and he's looking at you as if you're the only person in the universe. "You have big dreams, far beyond all... this... and you're gonna make it."

[10:04:59]

The sound of the door chime breaks you out of whatever hypnotic state you had found yourself in. Sucking in a breath and blinking away the very beginnings of tears in your eyes you tell the new customer to sit wherever they like.

Mobius took this chance to check his handheld, sighing at the time and the ever-growing slope of the branch variation.

The reset charge would be set soon, with or without him there.

"Look at that. Duty calls." He stands up and pulls a billfold from his jacket pocket, not even counting as he puts the cash down on the counter.

Mobius turns to leave, but hesitates. He turns back around to face you and places his hands on his hips. Allowing himself to play into the fleeting illusion just a tad longer.

"One more thing I know about you-" Mobius rubbed his chin in careful consideration. "You have a date tonight."

"Ah-" You wag your finger at him and shake your head side to side, "got one wrong."

"Did I? Ah- well... How about we change that?"

You pause. The plates you had been holding found their way back to the counter as you set them down slowly. Once again in a very short time span, he had left you speechless.

"That... was possibly the lamest pickup line I've ever heard." Though you mean it to be snarky, it sounds more like praise coming from your smiling lips. "I get off at 6:30."

"Alright." He looks perfectly pleased with himself as he lightly knocks on the counter with his fist. "It's a date."

Walking out the door, Mobius gave one last look at the diner before reporting to the event site.

He knew would see you again, always at 9:45.

#agent mobius #mobius #mobius m. mobius #agent mobius x reader #mobius x reader #loki series #loki #marvel #marvel x reader #sorry for the interruption from my usual content #but I love time traveling men

[rrazor]

positions | m. issei

tags: fluff, mildly suggestive content

issei never knew how much he loved touching you until he was granted unconditional permission to do so. he thought he was relatively independent and someone who didn’t need as much reassurance or physical affection compared to other guys around him, like oikawa and hanamaki or even iwaizumi.

he thought he’d be fine, satisfied, content with just having you sit next to him or holding your hand or just being near you.

he thought wrong.

but he’s okay with that—you always indulged him after all, more than happy to have him close. your face lights up in a way that’s so adorable it pains him and has his fingers itching for contact.

he toys with the edge of your hoodie, watching your in-game character dash about. turning his head, he dips it into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes. his arms automatically tighten around you as he noses into the skin there.

“‘sei, you bored?”

he mumbles his “no” into your skin, smelling clean and cottony from your shower. his legs tangle with yours underneath the blankets. the side of his right foot comes up to brush against your bare calf and he begins to wish he wore shorts instead.

you hum, fingers tapping away at the screen while his slide up under your hoodie. you glance down at them before looking back to your screen again. issei grins happily behind you, gently roaming his hands across your stomach and up to cup your boobs. your skin is soft, recently moisturized. you talked about how you bought a new one, how it was “natural” and made your skin feel like velvet. he agrees, roaming his hands around and taking in all your dips and curves.

“hey!” you squeal. “i’m fighting!”

he chuckles, kissing your cheek. “and you’re gonna lose if you don’t focus.”

you huff, but to his delight, don’t tell him to stop so he lets you grumble, snickering like the cat who got the cream.

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

he wakes up to a delirious fog, overheated and chilled to the bone. bringing his hand up to rub at his eyes, he blinks through the darkness of his room, slowly extending an arm to his phone on his nightstand.

5:37pm.

“nii-chan… room… dinner.”

he hears footsteps get closer to his door. a short series of knocks.

“issei?” your voice is soft. “are you awake?”

“yes,” he tries to say, but it comes out a rasp, too quiet. he wonders why you’re here anyways, on a school night when there’s a math exam tomorrow. an exam he hopes he’ll pass given the state he’s in.

the door opens gently, allowing the soft yellow light from the hallway into his room. you walk in, hands carrying a tray. he hears the china knock into each other.

“oh, you’re awake.”

he nods, watching you set down everything on his nightstand before putting a hand over his forehead. the steam of the mug rises and already, he can feel how dry his mouth is.

“how’re you feeling?”

he clears his throat, wincing at the amount of phlegm he’s forced to clear out. you frown, if your down turned eyebrows are anything to go by. he can’t see the rest of your pretty face behind your mask.

“been better,” he croaks.

you huff out a laugh. “got enough energy for your meds?”

he nods, sitting up just enough to make it easy to wash the pills down with water before he slumps back into bed.

“are you hungry?” you ask, sitting down at the edge of his bed.

he shakes his head, letting you touch his forehead again.

“tired? wanna go back to sleep?”

he hums noncommittally, bringing his hand up to hold onto your wrist. you run your fingers through his soft curls, making him shiver.

“go to sleep,” you whisper.

he shakes his head, pulling you hard enough that you fall over him in surprise. he wraps his arms around your torso, burying his face in your chest.

“hey,” you chide, resting on your elbows above him. “you need to rest.”

he nuzzles into your shirt, relishing in having you close. the smooth, cool cotton of your shirt a welcome feeling on his overheated skin.

“missed you.”

straight through the heart.

“i missed you, too,” you whisper.

“stay a bit?” he pleas. he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t really help himself.

you bring the blankets up over yourself and his heart soars. he tucks himself on top of your chest, heart pounding in his chest as you pull your mask down to kiss his forehead. it’s tender, so comforting.

he falls asleep to the smell of cotton and camomile.

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

“babe.”

you hum, lips resting against his forehead. the clock on the bedside table reads 9:48pm in muted led.

he can’t see you in the dark, tucked in so close to you. issei’s resting beside you again. because he can’t ever get enough. because that’s where he belongs, hands on your skin, head tucked into your neck. he’s tall, might as well be two metres, two whole hundred centimetres but issei adores it when he gets to be the small spoon.

“d’y’ever think about the people who got infinity symbols tattooed or those moustaches—wonder how they’re doing?”

he can hear you, feel you laugh.

“no, i would’ve never if you didn’t bring it up,” you snort. “forgot about those dumb trends.”

he chuckles softly into your pajamas, slotting himself closer to you. he can’t explain it but an overwhelming surge of love blooms in his chest when you bring the blankets up to cover his shoulders.

you’ll probably end up on opposite sides of the bed in the morning, maybe even turned away from one another. s’fine, he usually ends up scooching over to you anyways. the rise and fall of your chest slows. it’s a bit too early for him to doze off—.

“g’night, ‘sei,” you mumble, kissing his hairline. “love you.”

he nods imperceptibly, kissing where your heart is. “night,” he whispers. “love you more.”

you mumble something into his hair. he draws infinity signs on your back.

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

today, he’s the big spoon—sorta. you’re on the train to the mitsui outlet park. it’s crowded, likely because of the kamen rider event going on. the rest of his family got there early to participate from start to finish.

it’s 11:58am and he’s caged you in between the train walls, a nice barricade from other passengers.

he’s zoning out when he hears your stomach growl.

“did you eat breakfast?”

you look up at him sheepishly. “no?”

he leans down to knock his forehead against yours, lips curling upward when you make a funny noise.

“i think i have candy in my pockets.”

his mom was giving them out in the morning after finding them in her purse. she handed him a few saying she got them from work.

“really?” your eyes glimmer as your hands reach into his pockets. your rummaging digs up two pieces of caramel. you unwrap them and feed one to him before pocketing the plastic.

“y’know i think i love you a little bit.” you grin, tongue swirling caramel goodness.

“yeah?” he snickers. “can’t blame you. i’m the ultimate catch—tall, funny, handsome.”

you roll your eyes, watching as he leans against the glass perpendicular to the doors. he stands closer when the doors on the opposite open. you raise your fists up in front of you. “i’ll have you catch these hands.”

“you could have just told me you wanted to hold hands, babe,” he chuckles, grabbing your right one and leaving a quick kiss on your forehead.

“don’t twist my words,” you grumble. your words are half spoken into his chest when he presses closer as a businessman squeezes by.

“oh, don’t worry.” he winks. “i know you and i have other plans for these hands later.”

you snort. “yeah, prayer.”

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

issei leans back against the couch, tilting over onto the arm to rest his head as he settles into his food coma.

“issei, come back and have some marinated duck!”

he groans a little, telling his grandmother that he’d be over soon. though he could eat a lot, the walls of his stomach could never defeat nor contain the power of his grandmother.

he decides it’s a great time to take a picture of his extended stomach and send it to you.

>> (05:47) babe >> (05:47) [img.png] >> (05:48) i’m expecting

>> (05:51) what the Hell >> (05:52) tw: mpreg

>> (05:53) did you just trigger warning me?

>> (05:53) yes

>> (05:54) damn >> (05:55) well I don’t need this negativity in my life >> (05:55) relationships r built on mutual respect >> (05:56) I’ve told u I love you what more do u want

>> (05:57) nudes

>> (05:57) 😔😢😢

>> (05:58) here’s one of mine >> (05:58) [img.png] >> (05:59) 🥰❤️❤️❤️

he’s never sat up so fast in his life.

“issei, are you coming?”

he bites his tongue. “yes, grandma.”

｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ

he comes back home to you two days later. he drops his bags on his bedroom floor and is about to run out the house to yours when his mom yells at him from the kitchen, “issei, sort through your things before you go!”

his shoulders slump and his head hangs but he gets it done and then he’s off.

>> (02:12) I’m home 😎😎💩 >> (02:12) wait ididnt mean the poo emoji

>> (02:13) welcome home 🌸

>> (02:13) Open the door  

you do, though it takes you a millisecond too long but he’s not going to gripe too much about it. he engulfs you in a hug the moment he sees you and nearly knocks your cell phone onto the pavement. your arms automatically go behind him. swaying, you stay there, sun shining and leaving an orange tint behind when you close your eyes.

“welcome back, ‘sei.” you nuzzle your head into his. “how was your grandma’s?”

he mumbles something but doesn’t make any effort to move. not wanting to attract stares, you slowly waddle backwards to get him through the front door. on your third step back, he just picks you up and does it himself before closing the door behind him and returning to his original position.

“‘sei,” you drawl out. “my back huurts.”

he pulls back the slightest, eager to see you up close yet wanting to keep you close. “i just wanted to hug you, is that so bad?”

“bedroom” is all you say. he frowns but lets you take him there anyways.

you sit on the bed and pat the space next to you. he instead opts to kneel down on the floor and rest his head on your thighs.

“‘sei?”

“grandma’s was good,” he murmurs, eyes closing when you run a hand through his curls. “thank you for the nude.”

you laugh and he takes the chance to get up and pull you into bed with him. he rolls you on top of him, brushing your hair away and cupping your face to pull you in for a kiss. his tongue is warm, soft, lax and you melt into him, onto him.

“wait,” he mutters.

“hm? something wrong?” you lean up a bit.

“i left your food at my place. my grandma made you some.”

you hum, leaving kisses on his jaw and swinging your legs. “we can go over later. kiss me more, please?”

he grins. “thought you’d never ask, babe.”

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

ILLICITUS: CHAPTER 5

Prompt: Y/N is a respectful narcotics agent, she worked hard to have her work recognized in a prominently male work field. She‘s assigned to the most important case of her whole career, investigate and apprehend the biggest drug dealer of U.S.A, the only thing she didn’t count on, was for the bastard to be so damn charming.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Mob!Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, dirty talk, blackmail, cursing, conspiracy.

Tagging: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @lilred91 , @auawdo @bayley-no-friends @lustyromantic

Notes: Finally is smut time 😏...To catch up with the previous chapters just hit my Masterlist! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

I keep staring at Roman, looking for any signs that he might be joking, but to my surprise, he wasn’t.

“You’re dead serious about this, aren’t you?” I whispered

“Of course I am! I’m not a man who play games Y/N, I know what I want so I go for it. And I want you ever since you stepped a foot inside of this house”

“I-I...I can be fired for this! If someone finds out...”

“They won’t, as long as you keep your pretty mouth shut, baby”

“If I do it, are you really going to forget the tracker incident?” I sincerely ask

“Yes. You can even take it with you, if you want” He smiles and I quickly put the tracker inside my leather jacket side pocket.

“So, the tracker never happened?” I sighed in relief

“What tracker?” He smirked before kissing me roughly

Roman pulls me up by my ass so I can wrap my legs around his waist. He holds me up with one arm as the other tossed all the contents upon his big oak desk to the floor, including a MacBook.

Roman sat me on the desk, sliding off my jacket from my shoulders and throwing it across the room.

I pulled Roman closer to me by his gold chain, deepening the kiss, devouring his soft full lips until he stepped back to catch his breath.

“Fuck baby, you’re surreal” Roman says while taking my t-shirt off, unclasping my bra and getting rid of my jeans and panties

“Take it off” I murmured tugging on his t-shirt and jeans

Roman obliged, standing in front of me with nothing but his boxer briefs on and I take the opportunity to sink my hand inside of it and pump his incredible length.

“Oh, you’re mean. You’re so fucking mean” He’s intention was to laugh, but he ended up moaning instead.

I nodded with a giggle “And I’m going to enjoy this” I squeeze his dick slightly

“Yeah? You’re gonna claim this dick?” He asked, sucking on my bottom lip.

I smile at him, finally pulling him out of his boxers, aiming so that my spit could fall upon his shaft. I successfully hit my target and slowly spread the wetness all over his length.

Roman locks his gaze with mine, licking the pad of his thumb and pressing it on my clit, circulating around the nub with such ease.

“I like this dirty side of you” He chuckled amused “So much better than your Mrs. Righteous one” Roman said and increased the pressure upon my bundle of nerves, making me moan loudly

“Oh, that’s the best sound I’ve ever heard! Do it again, baby” He coos and I obliged

“Fuck me, please. I need you to fuck me right now” I panted

Roman smirked “So eager to take this cock, aren’t you baby girl?”

“Yes, please”

His eyes were firmly glued to mine as he entered my core, sweetly stretching my walls.

“Oh you’re big, you’re so big” I moan, closing my wrist around his gold chain tugging it down

“You like a big cock, don’t you? I can see you do baby ‘cuz you take me so well. This tight little pussy can take so much, fuck”

He thrust into me slowly so I can get used to his size.

“Faster” I panted

Big, strong hands roamed up on my body. One lightly squeezing my neck while the other had a tight grip on my hair, pulling on it by the scalp as an incessant sound of hard and persistent pounding filled up the room.

“Oh, you fuck me so good” I whispered

“How could I not? This is such good pussy” Roman grinned

The pacing became more calculated, slower even, but with sharper harder and deeper thrusts that made him reach my cervix.

My arms circled around his neck, closing it on a tight grip. I needed him closer, I needed every part of my skin glued to his own. I needed that connection, that feeling of having someone there for you, someone you could get attached to, even if it was for a couple of minutes in a fantasy world. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that human touch that I almost forgot what it felt like.

Roman throws his arms around my waist, taking me off the table and laid me down on the floor, upon the rug.

His broad body hovering mine creating a shelter around me, his warm tanned skin made me feel secure, comfortable even. Safe. And I couldn’t help it to think about everything that happened to me in the past.

“Don’t go there” He whispered on my ear, pulling me back from my trance.

Was when I noticed his pacing became almost unnoticeable..lazy..slow..

“What?” I murmured

“I said don’t go there, is not good for you and you know that” He delicately brushed a strand of hair away from my face

“What the fuck are talking about? You don’t even know me” I panted

“You’re overthinking Y/N, don’t do that baby. Stay here with me, focus on what’s happening right now, focus on us and leave all that shit behind”

Roman kissed me so softly that I swore I almost gave in.

Almost.....

“Is that all you got Casanova? Whispering sweet nothings to me? Sorry, but that won’t work because” I pulled him down by his chain and whispered in his ear “I like it rough” Slightly nibbling it.

He smirked deviously while sliding out of me “Turn around, baby and spread your legs”

I obliged, curious as to what he would do, but it didn’t took me long to find out.

Quickly entering my core again, he positioned his body between my legs, hands securing my hips to the floor as he took his cock all the way out, just leaving the tip in and then

“Oh fuck” I gasped when he sharply entered, beginning a merciless thrusting rhythm.

“Yes, yes, yes” I mumbled

“God, you love it like this, don’t you baby?” Roman grunts pulling my hair back until I arched my back in a way I was sure it would break me.

“Yes, sir” I grinned widely

“Fuck” He chuckled amused

“I want more, please give me more” I begged

“You like it that much, huh?” Roman turned up his pace violently

“YES! Just like that, keep doing that, please don’t stop” I whined

His lips covered mine, the best way he could, for a rough kiss

“You know, deep down I wished you were a cock whore, but baby, you’re beyond that! You’re addicted to it, aren’t you? Addicted to a cock buried balls deep in your tight little pussy, stretching it, claiming it” He moaned

I nodded “Only if it’s a good cock like yours, Mr. Reigns” I purred and slid back as much as I could to meet his thrusts

“Yes baby, just like that. Take that cock” He snarled

“I’m gonna come, fuuuck it feels so good” I shivered

“Come baby, come all over my cock”

I obliged coating his member with my juices as I felt him quickly pulling out and hot ropes of white cum landed on my butt cheeks.

“Fuck” We both sighed

“Nice game, man” He laughed and slapped my ass playfully

“Shut up” Rolling my eyes I felt my cheeks already turning red from embarrassment

“You know Y/N, I was thinking-“

A brief knock on the door made him stop

“What?” He shortly asked

“Mr. Reigns sorry to bother you, but we have a situation-“

“I’m busy! Deal with it” Roman quickly said, not even letting the man finish

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, sir”

Furiously getting up from the floor, he puts his boxers back on and go to the door, opening it just slightly, to make sure the man wouldn’t see me there, laid down on my naked glory.

After a few minutes of mumbling, Roman returned and began to get dressed

“We got a problem, baby” He quickly said, pulling his t-shirt back on

“What is it?”

“Your boss is here” Roman was now zipping up his jeans “And he brought a team with him”

“A team?” I asked confused

“Search team” He tossed my t-shirt and jeans to me. Smiling when he found my lace panties, shoving it on his jeans pocket.

“To search for what?” I ask

“You. He’s looking for you Y/N. Apparently you’ve gone missing since Monday”

“What?” I whispered

TO BE CONTINUED

Please let me know your thoughts on this series so far, feedbacks are always nice and appreciated 🥰❤️

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #illicitus series #masochist writes

[babbushka]

It’s All Worthwhile

Lawyer!Kylo Ren x Reader

3k, mostly fluff based off the song Baby It’s Cold Outside, with some NSFW (vanilla sex [PIV, lots of kissing])

Available on AO3

                                                    ----------------

It’s snowing gently, when the last of the guests leave through the door of Kylo’s penthouse apartment. You can see the flurries passing across the great big windows that span across the living room, Manhattan a glow of golden lights. Windows, traffic and the little illuminating bulbs on the bridges twinkle in the dark, evening finally turned to night. Though it may be dark out in the world beyond these windows, inside Kylo’s apartment is comfortably lit and cozy.

Decorative lamps and of course the flame of the candles in the large menorah on the mantle fill the living room with a warm orange glow, one that has you hating the thought of leaving. But it was Kylo’s apartment, and you didn’t want to overstay your welcome, so you push yourself off the couch and make your way to the foyer where Kylo is closing the door behind the last of his guests.

He turns towards you, looking painfully handsome. It was a work party, upscale and exclusive for the top lawyers in his circle. Why Kylo decided to host the Hanukkah celebration at his place rather than the office he holds in the Freedom Tower was obvious – he had a damn good apartment and you could tell he was eager to show it off, to impress.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were impressed.

“I’m really glad you came, you know.” Kylo approaches you, leans up against the wall of the hallway.

He took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie. There was something about the more casual appearance that make you blink quickly, remembering that this was your greatest rival, your biggest enemy. He wasn’t handsome, he was a pain in your ass…or so you keep reminding yourself half-heartedly.

“It was a great party, I’m exhausted.” You lie, “I should probably head out.”

“You don’t have to.” Kylo’s eyes are hopeful, especially as he doesn’t even spare a glance to the giant windows before trying to come up with the excuse of, “I mean, well, look at this weather.”

There is nothing in your body that tells you to leave, and everything that is screaming at you to stay. One look at Kylo, and you can read in his body language that he doesn’t want you to go either, and that’s a comfort. Still though, he is on the other side, he’s on the rival team, he’s your competition. Did you have strong feelings for him? Of course! But…

But lately it was becoming harder and harder to figure out exactly what those feelings were. You had been convinced in the beginning that it was hatred – because damn Kylo really managed to piss you off sometimes – but now, now you’re not so sure.

“I really can't stay.” You say slowly, carefully, hoping hoping hoping that he’ll pick up the game you want to play.

Maybe both of you can get what you want without having to admit to it.

Maybe, just maybe, neither of you have to wear your hearts on your sleeve.

“But baby…it's cold outside.” Kylo catches on immediately, a great big grin slowly spreading across his face.

He approaches you, rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up over his forearms. The act is so casual, and yet your eyes are drawn to it instantly, unable to look away from the thick cords of muscle that flex as his hands reach for you. You’re all alone now, just the two of you, no one is around to see if maybe you should kiss, if maybe you should allow Kylo to hold you close.

“I’ve got to go away.” You allow him despite the words, allow him to slip an arm around your waist, pulling your bodies together.

“But baby, it's cold outside.” He shakes his head, biting at the inside of his cheek. He wants you desperately, wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. You are the first and only person to ever match him so well on so many levels, it’s absolutely intoxicating.

“This evening has been – ” You start, pulling away from him, finding your pulse beginning to race, your lungs beginning to squeeze as you hold your breath. You were so sure he would kiss you just then, but then he hadn’t, so away you go, just another step in the dance.

“I was hoping you'd drop in – ” Kylo talks at the same time as you, the two of you always did have a problem with interrupting one another, he hated that about you. He loves it.

“ – So very nice.” You begin to search for your gloves, taking a real long time, surely they haven’t gone too far. Maybe you spot them over by the long couch, and maybe you ignore that, maybe they weren’t yours after all.

“ – I'll hold your hands they're just like ice!” Kylo’s fingers twine through yours as he grasps your hand, spins you around and pulls you close to him once more.

His eyes are brown and sparkling in the warm glow, his chin tucked in to look at you properly. He had a good couple inches on you, even with your heels on, and you find that you don’t mind craning your neck up to bite back a smile at him, not one bit.

“My secretary will start to worry,” You say, licking your lips, your eyes on his mouth. They flick back up to his gaze, and he notices, of course he notices.

Kylo leans in, presses his forehead against yours, your noses rubbing together.

“Beautiful watch you're wearing…” He murmurs, turning your hand in his so he can see the diamonds catch the light. You’re so elegant, everything about you makes him sweat in his Louboutins.

“So really I'd better scurry.” You tilt your chin up a little, just barely a little, your bottom lip catching his ever so briefly. It’s not a kiss, not really – someone could come back in, couldn’t they? Maybe one of his friends forgot something behind, maybe someone was watching from a building across the way, maybe --

“Beautiful, please don't hurry.” Kylo brushes his lips back against yours, his eyes slipping closed, hand cupping your jaw, your cheek.

Beautiful? That was a first, your heart leaps in your chest. Kylo had called you a lot of things over the years that you have been butting heads together, how strange that this time, with your foreheads literally touching, he calls you something so sweet?

“…Well maybe just a half a drink more?” You finally start to show your cards, finally start to give him some proper leeway that he can take and run with.

And run with he does – he steps away from you abruptly, clapping his hands together once with excitement, already making his way to the elaborate home-bar that he has set up. The bartender he hired for the party is long gone, but Kylo knows his way around his spirits.

“Put some music on while I pour.” He gives you a cheeky grin, and you have to hide your face in your hands, chuckling out your happiness.

He could be such a jackass sometimes, but he could also be so incredibly thoughtful and charming and funny and smart and – oh no, you can practically feel yourself falling for him. You find that maybe, you don’t necessarily dislike the sensation of the butterflies in your stomach, as you step out of your heels to be more comfortable, and go over to the smart speaker mounted to the wall.

The baby grand piano sits comfortably in the corner of the great room, a few guests having taken a turn on the ivory keys, and you think that maybe one day you’d like to hear Kylo play. For now, the speaker will have to do, as you select a seasonally classical playlist of soft romantic music that immediately resonates through the room.

Kylo offers you a cocktail, and much to your surprise, there’s no alcoholic taste to it at all. You appreciate that, appreciate him not pressuring you to get tipsy or anything. Kylo wants you for you, wants you to be with him because you want to be with him. Still, you give him a bit of a hard time, even as he wraps one arm around your waist, the two of you slow dancing to the music.

“You know, the neighbors might think…” You raise a brow at him, and that makes him laugh out loud – he doesn’t have any neighbors, certainly not any that would matter. He’s all alone up here in this beautiful box in the sky.

Well, not entirely alone.

“Baby it's bad out there.” Kylo just shakes his head, giving you a spin that has you nearly missing your footing, the two of you giggling over the silliness of it all.

“Say what's in this drink?” You tease, knowing full well there’s nothing in it at all other than some sprite and pomegranate juice.

“Don’t joke like that.” Kylo stops moving entirely, grasps your jaw in his big hand and gets your attention with a scowl. You smile, both an apology and an understanding, not wanting to have caused him any offense. He rubs his thumb across your lip, the crease between his brows already slipping away, “In any case, you’ll never get a cab out there.”

That has you laughing again, just the realization of what you’re doing.

You’re in Kylo’s apartment, just the two of you, and you’re having fun. No yelling, no arguments, no name calling or temper tantrums for once, and it’s so nice. Now why couldn’t he be this agreeable all the time, you can’t help but wonder?

I wish I knew how, You think, casting a gaze over to the menorah that’s starting to burn down to nothing, to break this spell.

 Her eyes are like starlight now, Kylo thinks, regarding you softly, watching you watch the candles. He walks away from you and blows them out the rest of the way, not wanting his apartment to burn down if he leaves them unattended – and he was getting tired of staying in the living room.

He wants you in his bed, if you’ll allow him that privilege, if you want it too. Only if you want it, but fuck does he.

“I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell.” Kylo offers, holding a hand out for the beret that’s fastened to your head with a couple pins. He wants to touch your hair, wants to card his fingers through it, wants to caress and kiss and fuck you, if you’ll let him.

“I ought to say no no no, sir – ” You duck your head, unpinning the beret anyway, shaking your hair out from underneath it. Trying not to think about the possibility of hat-hair, you hand him the beret, his big hands folding it gently, resting it on the big glass coffee table.

“Mind if I move in closer?” Kylo steps out of his dress shoes, leaves them right there on the plush rug in the living room.

“—But maybe just a cigarette more.” You grin, taking his hand when he extends it to you.

“Never had such a blizzard before!” Kylo beams, practically pulls you up the stairs, leading you down the hallway to the master bedroom.

You don’t have much time to really look at any of the furnishings, but it’s neat and clean and well kept, the sheets crisp, everything varying shades of white and cream. Finally finally finally, Kylo surges forward to kiss you, his hands on your face, your neck, wanting you everywhere, wanting his hands on you everywhere too.

Kissing Kylo was always everything you thought it would be, you think as your hands fumble with your outfit, trying to get your clothes off and away. You and Kylo had had sex before, hard angry fucks in offices behind closed doors – but never anything like this. Never these soft laughs and gentle groans as Kylo helps get you naked, wanting not a single stitch of clothing on either of you.

Once your body is exposed to the slight chill of the air, you shuffle yourself under the covers of Kylo’s pristinely made bed. It’s a silent signal for him, one that tells him you’re spending the night, you’re not going to get out from under these blankets and sheets once you’re in them. Kylo reads you loud and clear, and practically trips over himself to get naked too.

He crawls under the covers with you too, and immediately you roll to face him, to get as far into his space as you possibly can. His hands grasp your face again, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you some more, sucking on your lips, your tongue, swallowing you whole. His hands move all over you, grasping at your body, wanting to feel every inch of you.

You throw a leg over his hip, his hard cock brushing against your stomach. It’s hot and throbbing, you wonder how desperate for you he must’ve been all evening. Kylo lowers one of his hands to your pussy and thrusts a couple of his thick fingers up inside you, stretching you just enough to take him, kissing you, breathing hard. Your head sinks into his soft plush pillows, and your body opens for him, especially as he rolls over on top of you. Legs falling apart, Kylo thrusts his cock into your wanting cunt with ease, the two of you letting out a moan when he finally bottoms out.

You’re both electrified by this, both wanting it, having wanted it all evening – wanted it for years. But that was a scary thought, so you stick to something safer like just tonight. The way he was such an effortless host, champagne glass in hand, laughing and smiling with ease at his guests, the way everyone was comfortable and not a single person had a single complaint was so sexy to you.

You had no idea, how could you have, but he threw the party for you.

Just for you.

Kylo grunts into the crook of your neck as your legs wrap around his waist, his arms caging you under his body as his cock rocks in and out of you, feeling too good, feeling right. It just feels right being here, and if he were to ask you, you know you’d agree.

“I got to – oh don’t stop – get home.” Still, the game isn’t over yet, there isn’t a clear winner, not yet.

Was it you? Or was it him? You both wanted the same thing for once, were both on the same side, what a Hanukkah miracle that was!

“But baby you'd fucking freeze out there.” Kylo pants as he speeds his hips up, watching the way your breasts bounce from the effort, from the sheer momentum of his thrusts. He shifts up enough to grasp the headboard for leverage, and your back arches up into his touch, mouth falling open and eyes pinched shut as you take the pleasure he so eagerly gives you.

“So lend me your coat – yes!” You’ve got so much spirit, so much stubborn strength, Kylo can’t help but laugh at your remark. You always have to have the last word, don’t you?

“No way, it's up to your knees out there.” Well, so does Kylo, and he smacks your thigh a little, watches as the flesh jiggles for him, your pussy soaking wet and velvety and tight around his cock, wanting nothing more than to come deep in you, claim you as his and let you claim him as yours.

“Look, you've really been great – ” You stumble and bumble and hiccup around the words as your toes curl, chest heaving, pleasure washing over you in waves and waves, “– Oh fuck, please?

“How do you do this to me?” Kylo groans out, dropping down back to your neck, worrying the skin there as his hips rut against yours, shallow thrusts with his cock practically buried in your hot pussy, not wanting to be anywhere else other than right here.

“There's bound to b-be talk tomorrow…” You moan, pinching at your nipples, trying to get some more friction as your orgasm builds builds builds, Kylo moving the whole bed, the entire mattress shifting on the supports.

“Think of my life long sorrow – ” Kylo grunts, thrusts growing erratic as he gets closer, pushing into you deeper, harder, faster, more more more until your whole body shakes and rattles and trembles.

“Oh – oh yes, yesyesyes right there Kylo!!” You’re loud, practically shouting out his name, the word echoing and bouncing around the ceiling.

“ – If you caught pneumonia and died, ohhh fuck.” He comes then, hearing his name on your lips, on your tongue, that frantic beating of his heart making him dizzy, making him sweat. He can feel his come spreading through you and your body goes limp under him, star-fishing out on his mattress.

You’ve got a big blissed out smile on your face, and Kylo thinks that as much of a fucking thorn in his side you are, he’d do anything to keep that smile there.

Not that he’d ever tell you that. You were rivals, after all.

“Hey Kylo?” You pant, wiping the sweat away from your brow.

“Mhm?” He’s collapsed down on top of you, and he’s half expecting you to tell him to get off, that he’s crushing you, that you can’t breathe and you’re dying and a million other things.

“I’m really glad I came too.” You whisper instead of all of that, and that wasn’t something that Kylo was prepared for, not really.

So he doesn’t say anything at all, grateful that you chose to be here with him, chose to accept his invite, chose to make this entire party worth it.

Because it was worth it, just getting to be with you.

 Oh baby it's cold,

Baby it's cold outside

 (tagging some lawyer!kylo friends, I hope this is alright no pressure to read of course! @safarigirlsp​ @direnightshade​ @barbers-glimmerin-darlin​ @steeevienicks​)

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren/you #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fluff #lawyer!kylo #lawyer au #hanukkah #my writing #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver character #adcu #kylo ren fanfic

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter Two)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Language... shitty language. And maybe sheer size? This one’s nearly 6,000 words... I may have gotten a little carried away. 😬

It began as a drunken joke, a flippant what if…

“If no one else is gonna do it,” you’d slurred out, voice barely above a whisper despite the cantina being utterly empty aside from the two of you, “we should take the motherfucker out ourselves.”

He’d laughed at the time, and promptly cut you off before insisting on walking you home. He helped you along the uneven streets of Leticia, held back your hair as you blew chunks into a dark alley, even slept on your couch that night just to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep. That’s what he told you, anyway. But you suspected that Santiago stuck around that night because he just couldn’t get your words out of his head.

You hadn’t been so drunk that you’d failed to notice the way he went eerily silent following your seemingly ludicrous suggestion. You hadn’t been so far gone that you’d missed the sudden glint to his eyes, nor the crooked smile that wrapped around his face as you said the words, “I want Lorea dead.”

That next morning, he brought it up casually, asking – before you even had the chance to brush your teeth – if you remembered what you’d said. When you told him you remembered every part, he simply told you to go on, nodding slowly along as you dove headfirst into a painfully impulsive proposal, your words still tinged with a lingering, drunken idealism. You spilled out the disparate thoughts you’d been harboring for months, if not longer – the ones that together formed little more than the ill-conceived beginnings of a damn stupid plan – only to discover that they were precisely in line with what he’d been contemplating as well.

By the end of the week, you were introducing him to your longtime informant, a woman who’d worked for Lorea in some capacity for years. A gorgeous woman, whom you’re almost entirely certain Santi fell into bed with later that same night. And after just a few months of nearly constant off-the-record investigating – both of you becoming utterly consumed by the thought of bringing Lorea down – that crazy, ridiculous, fucked-up joke you’d made had become a highly illegal, morally questionable, might-just-get-you-fired-and-thrown-into-a-federal-prison plot for ending the reign of one of the premier drug traffickers in South America.

You’d started it. There was no denying that. You’d started the whole damn thing.

For nearly three years, you fought the good fight with Santiago Garcia down in Colombia. He was one of just a handful of people there whom you trusted. He actually was one of just a handful of people there you even really knew.

If you ever got to chose an advisor to head up a mission, he’d be it. Any raid that fell within your purview, he’d help to organize. Intel was slow in coming, CIs dropping off, bosses telling you not to leave Leticia and to remember to stay in your lane? No problem. Garcia to the rescue.

He was able to operate largely independently – unlike poor, bound-by-the-rules-and-regulations-of-the-DEA you. Local cops and the surrounding military actually liked him and never balked at bringing him in, mostly because he was more than capable of playing along with their bullshit. Hell, he was so good at it, that for the first few months you knew him, he had you convinced that he either completely bought into the very obvious corruption surrounding that Amazonian paradise, or – if he really didn’t see it – he was dumber than a fucking box of rocks.

But Santiago Garcia never missed a damn thing. And while he might have seemed to have written off the actions of certain officials or the peculiarities you both encountered, he never ignored – nor forgot – the individuals he suspected of collusion. He was just smart enough to know when to act.

You, on the other hand, well, you never were very good at not calling people out. For all your life, if you saw something that seemed funky, you’d say something… immediately. If you ever suspected someone of lying, plotting, taking bribes, just plain being dirty, you’d raise an accusing finger high. Hell, that’s the main reason you got sent down to that southernmost point of the country, transferred away from what you saw as being the real goings-on, to simply help keep an eye on the drug runs taking place at the border.

Santiago taught you to quell your initial reactions of raising a stink when you believed something was amiss. He urged you to stop seeing the word in a never-ending list of black and white rules. He showed you how to keep from boiling over and calling people out, a thing that undoubtably kept you from getting yourself reassigned somewhere you’d be less of a nuisance… again.

He also fed you intel, shared specifics of his suspicions, and helped get you into military-run raids where DEA might otherwise have been shut out. And in the time in between – when you would normally just stalk around your small apartment all alone or perhaps stalk about the city… also all alone – he provided friendship, that not-so-tiny thing you’d been lacking ever since getting transferred from your post and away from the workmates and friends you’d had for years in Mexico.

He was fun and sharp-witted and outgoing, eager to make friends with just about anyone. He invited you out for drinks, dancing, into local card games. And though you often wondered why – did he feel sorry for you because the local police and military alike treated you like a damn leper? Was he trying to show others that you were alright, despite being a gringa DEA agent? Did he simply want to fuck you? – you’d be lying if you were to say that you didn’t feel damn lucky he’d stumbled into your life and forced his friendship upon you.

And how did you repay him? For all of the invites he’d extended, all the drinks purchased, all the intel he threw your way, all the military-run raids he somehow managed to get you in on? All of the trust and faith he invested in you?

You’d set him on a path to ruin.

000

The bar was much larger than you’d anticipated, the quick drive-by you did on your way to the motel earlier this afternoon making the freestanding structure – out in the middle of nowhere, like everything else in this Bumblefuck, USA town – appear small. Maybe it was because the massive parking lot dwarfed it. Maybe it was because you were only half awake, at best, and just didn’t notice the size of the place. Maybe it was because Santiago drove past it at 65 miles per hour, alerting you to it – that’s where we’ll meet up tonight – just as you flew by, allowing little more than a meager glimpse.

Regardless, you expected… less.

But the place is huge. There are two bars on either side of the sprawling building and tables flanking the wide-open center, which you could only imagine would at some point be flooded with drunken townies, eager to dance the night away.

When you first arrived – well over an hour ago – it had been just you and a handful of incredibly loud bros populating the place. You took off for the far bar, ordered yourself a drink, and slinked into a large table in a dark corner, eager to remain invisible until Santi arrived with his friends… his crack team. But – just as you’d come to expect from Garcia – he was nearly an hour late, and by the time he and his brothers-in-arms strolled in, you’d already been spotted by the douchebags at the bar and had to fight off the advances of two separate assholes, each of whom only approached you when making their way back from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, bonita,” Santiago had proclaimed with a wide smile and a not-at-all-stifled laugh after you told him of your troubles. He turned to face the group of strangers at the bar, caught the glares of a few of them, and shouted over a simple dictate to, “Fuck off!”

And that had been the cap to your introduction to your new co-workers. They strode in, all smiles and laughter and blooming drunken glows, coming from what must have been a great fight night, undoubtably made all the better by being together once again, only to be forced to shake hands with you… a jetlagged stranger, washed out in the low light, obviously frazzled by having a guy fresh from the men’s room – who probably didn’t even bother to wash his hands – wrap an arm around your shoulder and tell you that the bathroom door locks… in case you wanted to check it out with him later.

They took your uncomfortable story in stride, exchanging pleasantries and apologizing again for their tardiness – well, Will apologized at least – before grabbing some drinks and then plopping down at the isolated table you’d chosen.

For a bit, the group of them just talk to one another, tying up loose ends to the conversations they’d been having before arriving. You catch snippets of nah, man, she’s gone… didn’t work out and do you have any idea how expensive kids’ soccer is? as their conversation flows around you, seemingly oblivious to your existence. For those first ten minutes or so – save Santiago’s paltry threat shouted across the bar and Benny’s rather flirtatious introduction – the whole team settles in around you and acts as though you aren’t even here at all.

The only exception during this time is the pilot, Frankie Morales – had Santi called him Fish? He keeps quiet as the others speak, cracking a smile at their comments every now and then, but mostly nursing his beer and awkwardly picking at the label in silence. Every so often, he steals a glance over at you, as if to say, yeah, I know you’re here. His eyes are warm and friendly despite the otherwise utterly unreadable expression planted on his face.

Maybe you’re simply intrigued by the fact that he’s the only one actively acknowledging your presence, or it could be that you’re just rather curious to figure out what his placid expression is hiding. Or perhaps you’re merely a fan of the subtle beauty that his sharp profile paints on the background of the dark, seedy bar. Whatever the reason, you find yourself not just staring but gazing at the man long after he looks away.

“So, shoot me straight,” Will says suddenly, nudging your shoulder and tearing into your thoughts as he turns to face you. Your eyes bounce wildly away from Frankie’s face, a heat creeping up your neck as you light on the patient smile of the man next to you. “That file… it’s your work, right?”

“Hey,” Santiago scoffs from across the table, leaning over to backhand his friend in the chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Will’s face cracks and a deep rumble of a laugh spills out of him as he bites out, “It’s good work. Too good to come from your sorry ass.”

Santi scoffs, his hand flying to his heart with a wounded quality. You simply shrug, small smirk perking your lips as you feel some of the initial tension of the gathering – and the strange concern that you might actually have somehow become invisible – finally start to lift. “He helped,” you say, tone coy.

“Oh, c’mon,” Santiago gripes, giving you a slightly irritated, definitely amused look. “Half that intel came from me. The PNC, Colombian military, they barely even acknowledge you’re there.”

You interrupt with a snort and a scathing, “Yeah… it’s really fucking annoying when people do that,” before choking down the rest of your beer.

If he understands the jibe about your current situation, he doesn’t let on, instead pushing his point that, “None of them would’ve given you jack shit.”

“And the one informant who actually got all this started?” you counter, accusing brow raised high. “Who’s informant was that?”

His face begins to blush, just a bit of redness seeping into his cheeks, as he reaches out to grab your empty bottle. “She was mine in the end,” he mutters, shoving back from the table and rising from his stool. “I’ll get the next round.”

“Yeah,” you call out after him. “You owe me more than just a beer for stealing my CI!”

“I’ll get you a shot too!” he throws over his shoulder, never looking back as he makes his way to the bar.

You turn back to the men surrounding you, each of them now eyeing you warily, and a part of you wants to go back to when they ignored your presence entirely. Tom – what did Santiago call him? Redfly? – is the first to break the awkward silence, ticking his chin in your direction. “So,” he starts before pulling a long breath in through his nose. “DEA.” He overenunciates each letter and states rather than questions your affiliation, despite there being an inquisitive – or is it accusing? – glint to his eye.

“Yeah,” you say with a lingering nod. “Yep. DEA.”

“They teach you about this kind of thing?” Will asks, his drawl deep and languid. You turn to look at him, the imposing man by your side, and feel your shoulders tighten all over again when you see that the stern expression he had worn when first shaking your hand has returned. But then something lightens, the corner of his mouth ticking up just a bit, his gaze softening as your eyes meet. You’re certain that he can sense the rise in tension, understands with just a glimpse of your face that you’re way out of your element here. Intimidated. Nervous. And while the softening of his countenance doesn’t wipe away your anxiety completely, you do at least appreciate the attempt.

Ben, the tall, younger man flanking your other side, must notice the unease building up inside you too. He leans in and bops you with his shoulder, a light, buoyant laugh bursting out of him. “Aw, hell,” he emits breathily. “Leave her alone. If Pope trusts her, she’s got to be good.”

“Not saying she’s not good,” Will intones, shooting you a quick wink that, oddly, really does manage to set you at ease. “Just wondering how much experience she has with ops like this.” His eyes start to sparkle as they lock onto yours once again. “So, sweetheart, you ever pull a recon mission deep in the jungle?”

You offer an evasive shrug and release a tightly held breath. “I got lost in a corn maze once. Had to find my way out on my own. Probably would’ve starved in there if I hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring a funnel cake in with me.”

On your left, Ben snorts out another laugh, and across the table you see Frankie try to maintain that straight, impassive face. But Will’s deadpan expression doesn’t shift in the least. “Well,” he says with a sigh, bringing his nearly empty beer bottle up to his lips. “I guess that is pretty damn close.”

“Ha, ha,” Tom mocks. He waits to go on until you look his way, and once you do he levels you with what can only be described as a fatherly stare – oddly disappointed and imploring, stern and warm all at the same time. “We’re all very glad to hear that you have a sense of humor.”

“Very glad,” Ben interjects with a wide grin.

“But,” he continues, “You’re not gonna go in there and be part of this unless you can convince us that you’re capable.”

Santiago’s voice cuts in then, sounding over the clink of beer bottles as he lays out the next round on the table. “She’s capable,” he states simply before sliding back into his seat next to Frankie. “We’ve been on…” he glances over at you, “how many raids now?”

“At least a dozen,” you answer.

He gives a firm nod and lets his eyes drift between the men at the table. “She’s done good every time. Stays outta the way, does what she’s told.”

Your brow wrinkles and tugs tightly together, deep frown taking over your face. “Jesus, Garcia. I’m not a fucking dog.” He gives a quick laugh, but says nothing, prompting you to defend yourself. “I’ve worked with military advisors for years. Most of my career has been spent working alongside foreign armies and police forces. I’m not just some kind of desk jockey, I promise you that.”

“This is different.” The words flow across the table, the deep rumble sliding just beneath the reverberating bass coming from the jukebox in the corner. You look up and lock onto Frankie’s eyes, note immediately the hesitancy building behind them. He raises his brows as he looks at you, almost into you, and says simply, “This isn’t a raid. This isn’t some amateur hour bullshit put on by the local cops. And you won’t have the military or CNP or the US government at your back if something goes wrong.”

You nod, wanting – for some inexplicable reason – to pull your gaze from him, but finding that you just can’t. “I know. I get that.”

“Do you?”

Santiago gives his friend a little shove, just enough to cause him to look his way, breaking the odd hold he has over you. “She’s a good shot,” he tells him, tells all of them. “And she’s done enough undercover work for me to know that she sure as shit can keep her head.” He looks over at you again – “I still don’t know how you managed to get out of that shit in the comuna last year.” – and then gives a wry little laugh as his head shakes absently.

“Alright,” Tom mutters just as he slams down an empty bottle and reaches over to grab a new one. “She follows orders and keeps her cool… at least we can work with that.”

Benny nudges you with his elbow and when you look up at him you’re met with the widest, sunniest of smiles – never mind the deep split in his lip from the fight that he claims to have won just a few hours prior. “Hear that? That’s just about the best kind of approval you’ll ever get from Redfly.”

“Approval?” Tom shoots across the table. His voice drops an octave as he aims a serious stare over at you. “I’m still not convinced that we can actually trust you.”

“Jesus,” Santi breathes out with an annoyed air. “You really think I’d bring her here… hell, you think I’d have put all this together with her if I didn’t think – know – that she can be trusted?”

He shrugs. “You haven’t really known her that long,” he mutters thickly, his expression slipping back into something wary as he folds his arms across his broad chest and falls into a speculative silence as he mulls over his friend’s words.

You watch him closely, trying to discern what exactly he’s thinking. But long before you’re able to draw any sort of conclusion, Benny bumps you with his shoulder again and says simply, “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. He’s onboard.”

There’s a part of you that balks at the darlin’, just as you had almost called Will out on his use of sweetheart. But the truth is – both times – the names are uttered with a casual, even reassuring, cadence that you’re certain holds no demeaning intent. And you’ve been in enough male-dominated circles over the years to be able to discern at least that much. Even the way Ben’s looking at you now – genuine grin and kind eyes – seems to hold no innuendo. So you let it slide.

“How long did it take him to trust you?” you ask, the tension in your shoulders lifting when a throaty chuckle bubbles out of him.

“Oh, I don’t know that he does. I don’t know if Tom really trusts anyone.”

A snort of a laugh rings from the other end of the table, surprisingly coming from the Doubting Thomas himself. “You’re so full of shit,” he mumbles as he sits back upright and grabs his beer. He takes a giant swig and tacks on for good measure, “Besides, nothing wrong with being… cautious. My being – ”

“A distrustful prick,” Santiago interjects brazenly.

“Whatever you want to call it,” he counters with a faux-saccharine lilt. “It’s saved all your asses more than a time or two. Hasn’t it?”

There’s a quick round of almost wistful snickers from nearly all the men, each seeming to light onto a particular memory, their gazes faltering and ticking briefly off towards nothing. The exception is Frankie, who simply stares down at the battered beer bottle in front of him, sticker half peeled off and clinging to his fingernails as he continues to work at it with a frown. “What about this informant of yours,” he says, low voice slicing into the newfound silence. He shifts nervous eyes over to the man at his right. “You’re sure she can be trusted?”

Without hesitation, Santiago nods. “I’m sure of it. And besides, we’re not basing all of this just on her word. You read the file, right?” He glances over at you and ticks his chin in your direction. “We checked it out. We’ve been out there enough to get a lay of the land. We’ve seen the deliveries of cash coming in… and not going back out.”

Will speaks next, his words soft and slow. “Could all be a setup… a giant, well-planned setup.”

You shake your head. “No. No, it’s legit.” Five sets of eyes turn to you, drilling into you for something more substantial. But the truth is, all that you have is in that file. And, yeah, it could be an elaborate setup. Or – more likely than that – just a really, really bad idea. But your gut says it’s neither. Your gut says that this whole damn thing is the only way to put an end to Lorea’s ever-growing cartel.

Tom’s eyes narrow at you once again, suspicion still lingering in his glare. “How’d this all happen, huh? How’d you even get involved with this… this shit-brain scheme?” he asks before the serious countenance begins to crack and he blows out a harsh chuckle. “How’d Pope sucker you into all this?”

Santiago answers before you get a chance to even open your mouth. “I didn’t sucker anybody into anything. And I don’t use the same callsign down there, so…”

Your eyes flash over to meet his, face splitting into an insolent grin. “Pope…” you mutter, popping the p at the end. “How exactly did you get that name, anyway?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to know.”

“He spent his first firefight hailing Mary through the coms,” Will chimes in with a teasing lilt. “All damn night.”

“I was nineteen.” He defends… almost whines. “You wanna tell her how you got Ironhead?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of his beer. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Frankie smirks from the other side of the table as he issues out under his breath, “You should be.”

Your eyes bounce eagerly back and forth between the men, silently pleading for someone to tell you the story of Will’s ridiculous moniker. But it seems that you’ve once again gone invisible.

“Hey, he held that record for a solid decade,” Benny mutters beside you. “And I’m pretty sure that dipshit, MacCovey, cheated to take the title.”

“How can you cheat at that?” Frankie asks with an incredulous laugh.

“He cheated.”

“Cheated at what?” you blurt out, eager to just hear the tale. “Ironhead’s a title? With a record? For what?”

Will pivots in his seat, flashing you a smug grin as he rather haughtily announces, “Record for the most concussions sustained during basic training. And no one can take Ironhead away from me… especially not some hardheaded kid from freaking New York.”

“How do you know he was from New York?” Santi asks.

Frankie cocks his head at his friend too. “You met him?”

“Didn’t he die?” Tom interjects, confusion suddenly weaving through the lot of them.

“Did he?” Will asks. “Shit, guess he wasn’t that hardheaded after all.”

Benny leans forward to address them all. “He didn’t die. Just lost a leg. Roadside bomb.”

“Shit,” his brother repeats solemnly.

“Was supposed to be his last tour too. Well, guess it still was.” He looks down for a somber beat before lighting on Frankie. “And I heard that he never actually hit his head when he fell off that tower, so… cheated.”

Throughout all of the back and forth, you just sit, eyes wide, expression both amused and deeply concerned. “Jesus,” you finally breathe out once everyone falls quite. You turn to Will, look a little closer at him as though you might be able to discern some of the damage done so many years ago. “Are you… okay?”

He lets out a hearty laugh and raps his knuckles on his skull. “Nothing to worry about here,” he tells you with a wide smile. “Ironhead, remember?”

Tom snorts and shakes his head skeptically. “Tune’ll change when that CTE shit kicks in… start wandering around the neighborhood, talking to yourself, picking fights with people in grocery stores.” He stops short and flashes a shit-eating grin. “Oh wait…”

The joke – if there even really is one – is lost on you. But Will must get it, because his face flashes in irritation, a mere, “Very funny,” falling from his lips as he brings his beer bottle up to meet them.

You let out a sigh – “I’m confused.” – and choose to ignore Tom in favor of getting more of the story from Ironhead himself. “Did you get concussions on purpose? Why does this seem to be some kind of source of pride?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“What about that full can of soup you tried to crush on your head?” Frankie interjects with a raised brow.

“Yeah, alright, there was that one,” he concedes.

Your forehead furrows deeper. “If you were always getting hurt, why didn’t they call you something like, Falls-a-Lot or Unlucky Charms or just Blockhead?”

He stares at you for a long moment, face hardening into a stoic set. “Wasn’t Tom asking how you got yourself into all this? Wasn’t that what we were talking about?”

You offer a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t think we were really talking about it…”

“She basically started it,” Santiago states simply. “I mean, I was in the minute she brought it up, completely in. But it was her shit-brained scheme from the get-go.”

“Really?” Tom smarts, skeptical look once again riding his face as he takes a pull from his beer.

“Look,” you begin, tone painfully sincere, “I’ve been on the losing end of this battle for years. And the people down there, the families… the kids he recruits…” You stop for a beat and slowly, bitterly shake your head. “Lorea, and all the others like him… It’s their turn to lose.”

Tom nods, his gaze never breaking from yours. “You do realize you sound just like him,” he mutters, ticking his chin towards Santi. “Seriously,” he begins, stare serious, but tone glib. “Did you two hatch this crazy little plan together in bed?”

You glance over at Garcia, quickly taking note of the burning blush creeping up his neck as he hides beneath his baseball cap and tries not to laugh. Then, on their way back to Tom, your eyes light on Frankie. He too is ducking his head. But he doesn’t seem to be laughing like the others. Rather, from what you can make out beneath the shadow of his hat, he looks… embarrassed. No. Dejected.

Your heart skips a beat and you blurt out suddenly, “We’re not sleeping together,” a little too loudly to come across as anything other than agonizingly defensive. The laughter intensifies and you clear your throat before going on to say, “Garcia’s usually too busy fucking his informants to ever even think of giving me the time of day.”

Benny just about loses it, his body pulsating with fits of giggles as he leans back a bit and reaches out to give you a high five. You oblige, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you see Santiago shift across from you. He peers at you from beneath the ballcap, eyes dark and smile wide as he says, voice deep and honeyed, “Oh, bonita, trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

You roll your eyes and tip back the nearly empty bottle to your lips, draining the last dregs of your beer before rising and stating, “I’ll get the next round… as long you guys promise to do nothing but regale me with embarrassing stories about Pope for the rest of the night.”

000

Jetlag. It’s something you’ve experienced countless times over the years, hopping from place to place, office to outpost to field. And yet you’ve never really managed to get used to it, the bone-deep fatigue kicking your ass after each and every trip you’ve ever taken. A full day of travel, and now a full night of drinking, and by the time the lot of you stumble out of the bar, you’re barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

“Lightweight, huh?” Benny jokes as he pushes past you on the way to his car.

You grumble under your breath, something akin to, shut the fuck up, though your words aren’t all that put together right now either. But Ben doesn’t hear any of it anyway, he’s already giving his brother an unforgiving shove in the nearly empty parking lot and laughing maniacally as he dodges the lazy retaliatory punch.

“Don’t mind him,” Frankie mutters from behind you. You stop and turn, squinting through the harsh halogen light piercing your eyes as you look up at him. He notices the pained grimace you give and lets out a light chuckle as he takes your elbow and swings you back around to lead you to the car. “You seem more tired than drunk to me,” he says with a lilt as he easily slips his arm beneath yours for a little extra support.

Without thinking, you let your head tip to the side and rest on his shoulder. “Soooo tired,” you bemoan. A deep rumble of a laugh pulls from Frankie’s chest, reverberates up and through his entire body so that you feel it vibrate into you. It makes you smile. It makes you tuck yourself in a little closer. You stumble a bit, your toe catching on a crack in the pavement, and before you can even think to right yourself, his arm pulls away and reaches around, the warmth of his hand splaying across your hip as he steadies you. “Maybe a little drunk too,” you admit with a sigh.

If he thinks it’s odd that you’ve burrowed so close to him, or if he’s the least bit uncomfortable with your fingers now clinging to the back of his shirt, or if he’s irritated at having to slow to a crawl to help you to Santiago’s car, he doesn’t show it. Instead he easily slows his pace to match yours, giving your hip a little squeeze as he says, “Hey, sorry about earlier.”

Your shuffling stops as you pull back to look up at him with a confused frown. “You mean telling that story about Santiago’s ex? I don’t think I’m the one… to apologize…” Your brow furrows even deeper as you try to sift through what you just said, trying to determine if it makes any sense.

He lets out another low laugh, the sound quickly becoming a new favorite tune. “No. I mean about…” He hesitates for a moment, the smile slowly melting from his face. “When I was… questioning you. Whether or not you’re up for this. And, you know, whether or not you’re getting played.”

“Oh,” you bark out, far louder than intended. “Yeah, no.” You wave it off and waste no time at all – fatigue and alcohol both wiping away any embarrassment you might otherwise feel at plastering yourself up against a near stranger – falling back into him.

He chuckles again as he hikes you a bit higher and leads you over to the tiny blue rental car in the corner of the lot. “It’s just… I know you put a lot of work into gathering the intel. And I know this is… important to you. Or you wouldn’t be here. But still…”

You turn your face into his shoulder, his chest, unabashedly breathing in the musky scent from the collar of his jacket as you mumble into him, “I promise not to fuck it up. At least not too bad.”

“Hey!” Garcia calls out from the car, swinging the back door open as you two approach. “You getting handsy with my girl?”

Frankie snorts out a laugh, incredulous, almost sardonic, and not nearly as endearing as the ones that have been rumbling into you for the last however many glorious minutes it’s been. “Not your girl,” you mutter blandly. “Too risky… too many possible diseases.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, standing back as Frankie helps you into the car, his palm pressing gently on the back of your head to make sure you duck inside safely. “She took like five Xanax on the flight in,” he tells his friend with a snicker. “Probably shouldn’t have let her drink so much on top of that.”

“Hate flying,” you breathe out as you settle back, harshly tugging at the seatbelt to your left.

Frankie shakes his head in amusement as he watches you grow increasingly frustrated with the non-cooperative seatbelt. “How can you hate flying?” he asks, crooked smile stretching across his face.

You stop the infernal struggle and collapse back into the seat, “Fucking hate it,” coming out of you in a petulant whine.

“Alright,” he murmurs amid a snicker as he leans into the car, easily tugging the seatbelt out and reaching around to buckle you in. Your eyes droop further, slipping closed as he pulls back out of the car, fading into the night. “You guys good?” you hear him ask, the deep tenor of his voice sounding even more melodic when penetrating the dark.

“Yeah,” Santiago tells him, fatigue drowning just that single word. “We’re over at the Motor Inn. Just a few miles up. Listen, Frankie… thanks for this. Really. This…” You almost open your eyes again, want to just to see if the expression on Garcia’s face matches the earnestness in his tone. “This isn’t just a standard op, you know. To me. To her. This is… just… thanks.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Well, uh… I’ll see you Thursday.”

The only other sounds you hear before slipping away entirely are the door gently closing beside you, the engine starting up in a soft roar, and Santiago muttering, seemingly to himself from the front seat, “I am not carrying your ass to bed.”

Taglist: 

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #will ironhead miller #benny miller

[deja-you]

ten ways to say (i love you)

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Thomas has never liked the conventional way of saying ‘I love you.’

word count: 6.1k

warnings: a little bit of angst, high school, karen

masterlist

1.

There is no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to your first class.

In Y/n’s defense, she had left her house early. For once in her life she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time, Y/n allowed herself to stop at a drive thru and pick up a drink as a reward. Everything was going according to plan. 

That is, until the Karen in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it. To make sure she didn’t mess up Karen’s order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow. Y/n groaned as she watched the time tick by minute by minute. Just her luck.

Y/n watched the barista hand the drink to the Karen and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, Karen’s car didn’t move. She had her drink, but Karen continued to talk with the barista. Y/n cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel. She must have been more aggressive than she was expecting, because she accidentally honked her horn. 

She jumped back in shock at the loud noise. Karen poked her head out of her window and immediately began lecturing Y/n on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what Y/n assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear the Karen with her windows rolled up. Y/n bit her lip, gave the Karen a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually Karen had finished her rant and left the drive thru. Y/n got her drink, no longer a reward, more like a consolation now, and sped to school. There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time Y/n arrived, remind her of just how late she was. Y/n shoved all her materials in her backpack, locked her car, and quickly walked into the building. 

Of course, Y/n’s first class just had to be with Mr. Rousseau. Any other teacher would just let her tardiness slide. She opened the door to Mr. Rousseau’s classroom, and any conversation that was being had stopped. More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and Y/n wanted to melt right there and then.

“Miss L/n, nice of you to join us.” Mr. Rousseau addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning against his desk as he sized her up. “If you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.”

Y/n swallowed roughly, and nodded. Rousseau went back to lecturing the class on how his class would be run, and Y/n did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. She instinctively made her way over to where her best friends, Abigail and Thomas were sitting. 

Thomas moved his backpack off the desk next to him, and mouthed, “I saved you a seat.”

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks.’ 

Abigail leaned forward and whispered, “Mr. Rousseau wasn’t very amused with you being late, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” Y/n insisted. 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t hate you, hon’.”

“Thomas is right,” Abigail said. “Mr. Rousseau doesn’t hate you especially. Everyone knows he just hates women.”

2.

Late night study session was code for hanging out at John Adams’s house and messing around.

Abigail was dating John, so Y/n was friends with him and his friends by association. Abigail, Dolly, and Y/n were actually trying to study. John and James were discussing the football team’s chances of winning their next game. Martha and George had snuck off to get freaky somewhere. 

“Okay, Dolly.” Abigail held up a flash card. “What can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?”

“Um, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” Dolly replied lazily. 

“No. Well, I guess you’re not completely wrong...”

Y/n threw her body against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay here any longer, Y/n would throw herself out a window. Not that she didn’t want to hangout with her friends. After a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she spent the whole day with. If it wasn’t for her fragile social status, Y/n would have already been home in her bed right now.

“Sorry m’late, had to drop my sister off at a gymnastics class. Or fencing. Or Italian. Honestly, I can’t remember.” Thomas walked into the living room where everyone was hanging out.

“Ah, yes. I had almost forgot that the Jeffersons are all overachievers,” Y/n said with and eye roll. 

He wore an easy grin as he made his way over to Y/n, leaning against the couch and staring down at her. “What can I say? We’re just built different.”

Y/n scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes again, pretending she was back at home under warm covers. 

“I brought you food.” 

This caught Y/n’s attention. She slowly opened one eye to see if he was telling the truth. Thomas held up a bag of fast food he must’ve picked up on his way over. Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she sat upright.

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, hon’.” He handed her the bag. “I know you didn’t have time for lunch today, and I know you likely wouldn’t have gotten around to eating anything yet.”

Y/n happily pulled out an order of large fries out of the bag. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are, Thomas?”

“Not often enough.”

“Well. You are amazing. So amazing.”

Y/n finished her fries and was looking through the rest of the bag to see what else he had gotten her when John called out to her. 

“Hey, Y/n,” John said, “what are your thoughts on my cousin?”

“You mean Sam Adams?” Y/n asked. 

“Yep. The very one.”

She shrugged. “He’s cute. Why?”

“He thinks you’re cute. Wanted me to ask if you’re single,” John said nonchalantly. 

Abigail took time away from quizzing Dolly to get invested in the conversation. “She’s very single. Right, Y/n? You and Sam would be so cute together!”

Y/n could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and she suddenly found the hardwood floors very interesting. “I don’t know... he really thinks I’m cute?”

“S’what he said,” John replied. “Can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a shrug. “Yeah, why not?”

“Y/n and Sam? I totally ship it,” Dolly said.

“Right?” Abigail grinned. “They’re going to be such an attractive couple.”

“Okay, can we stop talking about this now? I’m here to study,” Y/n insisted, pulling out a textbook.

“I’d rather not fail tomorrow’s test,” Thomas agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Thomas took that moment to sit next to Y/n on the couch. She was flipping through the pages of her textbook before she came to a stop. Y/n passed the textbook to Thomas and pointed to the painting on the page.

“Look, this one’s my favorite,” she said.

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” Thomas read. “You’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich, then?”

Y/n shrugged. “I’m just a fan of the Romantic movement in general. Everything was just so creative, and beautiful, and emotional. There’s just so much feeling in this painting. It’s overwhelming.”

Thomas frowned looking back at the painting, and then back to Y/n. “It certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Thomas watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. Finally, he decided to say what was on his mind. 

“So, you and Sam Adams, huh?” He nudged her gently with his shoulder.

Y/n bit her lip and focused on a peculiar tchotchke the Mrs. Adams had decorated the living room with. “I guess. I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

“That’s right. Abbie and I spent most of science class teasin’ you about that. No wonder you’re so bad at physics now.”

She frowned and playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “I’m not bad at physics.”

“Really?” Thomas considered her with eyebrows raised. “Remember that botched science experiment that nearly killed Mr. Newton?”

“Can we not talk about that? He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

He hid an amused look. “Whatever you say, honey.”

3.

You’re tired. The sheets are too hot. It’s been a long day, your body is exhausted. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Your mind is tired, too. The sheets are too hot. If you just close your eyes and stop thinking you’ll be asleep in minutes. The air in your bedroom is too cold. Not thinking isn’t exactly easy. The sheets are too hot. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how -- damn you, Sophocles, and your terribly beautiful words. 

Thomas threw his covers off his body and sat up in bed. He wasn’t going to get much sleep no matter how hard he tried. Thomas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there had been any sleep to begin with. 

There was no doubt that he was tired mentally and physically. Emotionally? His heart was eternally restless. He crossed his room to sit at his desk, fully accepting that sleep wasn’t a viable option anymore. 

The blue light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of his room, but his eyes adjusted quickly. Thomas didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night.

His fingers knew. They opened up an application and began scrolling. No, no, no, yes. Perfect. No, no, no, no, no, yes. This is her. And this went on for an hour or so, Thomas lost track of time. He’d be tired tomorrow, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he was finished. 

When he actually was finished, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calm washed over him, and before he knew it, Thomas was back in his bed falling asleep. 

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as a Jefferson could look. He had still had the sense to dress nicely, collared shirt, sweater, ironed pants, polished dressed shoes. Thomas was still sharp as ever in all his classes, but anyone who really knew him could tell he was a mess. 

“You okay, Thomas?” Y/n asked at lunch in Mr. Locke’s classroom (Mr. Locke was kind enough to let a group of moody teenagers eat lunch in his class, the lunchroom just wasn’t cool enough for them).

“Hm? Yeah. I’m great.”

Y/n cocked her head to the side. “You sure? You seem tired.”

“Don’t worry about me. Actually, I have something for you.” Thomas fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Yeah, I’m sending it now. Check your phone.”

She raised an eyebrow, but Y/n opened up her phone to check the text Thomas had sent her. 

“Sophocles and Serotonin.” Y/n read aloud. “What is this?”

“I made you a playlist of songs I thought you might like.”

“Seriously?” A smile played on her lips; Thomas couldn’t help but reflect it. “When did you have the time for this?”

He shrugged. “I have more free time than you’d think.”

“With all your APs, varsity sport, and extracurriculars? I highly doubt that.” Y/n looked up at him, a teasing lilt transparent in her tone. “I appreciate the playlist even more, knowing you took time out of your rigorous schedule to create it. Thanks, Thomas.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on to press a kiss to his cheek. Thomas froze like a deer in headlights, and if Y/n noticed, she didn’t say anything. He put himself back together before she could notice he was momentarily put-off, and leaned back against another desk in an attempt to look cool.

“S’what do you have planned for after school?” He asked in his best nonchalant voice. 

“Well, Sam and I are going to go see a movie.”

“That’s still a thing, then?”

Y/n shot him a look that had him raising his hands up in surrender. “Yes, it’s still a thing. I really like him, okay? He’s a good guy.”

“But is he good enough for you?” Thomas crossed his arms, his eyes not leaving her’s. It wasn’t that Thomas didn’t like Sam. Sam was great. It was just a fact that no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend. 

“He is.” She said with an eye roll. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Hon’, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh trust me, I know.”

4.

Summer had felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago. The yellow leaves and the updated fall Starbucks menu were enough to convince anyone that it had always been October. 

It had taken a lot of convincing and a little bit of bribery to convince Thomas to attend the Homecoming football game, but with the assistance from Abigail, Y/n had eventually gotten Thomas to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there. 

Of course she could have taken her own car, but Y/n would rather not waste her own gas when she could use Thomas’s instead. It’s not like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, his Mercedes Benz had a seat warming function that Y/n couldn’t get enough of. 

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over his seat warmers, and Thomas spent most of the ride making fun of how excited she was about seat warmers. Eventually, they parked outside of the stadium, and Thomas paid for their entrance fee into the stadium.

“It’s co--” before Y/n could finish her sentence, remarking on the obvious cold weather, Thomas had handed her a sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at Thomas, her mouth slightly open. “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t have to ask,” he shrugged. She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Thomas glanced at, bit the inside of his lip, and shook his head. “Now, don’t go thinking I care about you or somethin’ like that, hon’. Couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d be cold.”

She looked at him with a smug smile on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place. “Yeah? Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all.” He was doing his best to act annoyed by all her questioning, but he couldn’t help but find it endearing. When he came up with another argument, he added on, “besides, ma would be upset with if she knew I let you freeze. It seems like she loves you more than she loves me sometimes.”

“That’s because she does,” Y/n pointed it out like it was obvious. “Can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man I have to drag to football games.”

“That’s it. Give the sweatshirt back. I hope you freeze.” Thomas was giving her the dirtiest look he could muster. Y/n had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her purse, and after some digging around, she pulled out a five dollar bill from her wallet. Y/n thrusted the money into Thomas’s hand and pushed him in the direction of the concession stand. “Here. Go get us some popcorn, maybe you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you. I’m going to go find some seats.”

Thomas grumbled something about “not being irritable” but nonetheless ventured off toward the concessions. Y/n climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Abigail sitting in the student section, all decked out in school colors and face paint. Abigail greeted Y/n with a warm hung, then holding her at an arms length, she took note of what her best friend was wearing.

“Is that Thomas’s sweatshirt?” Abigail asked.

Y/n looked down at the the University of Virginia sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself. “Hm? Oh yeah, it is.”

Abigail pursed her lips and mulled over this new information. “What’s going on between you and Thomas?”

“What d’ya mean? We’re friends.” Y/n pursed her lips. 

“And Thomas knows that?” Abigail observed Y/n. “Do you know that?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Sam now, okay? Thomas and I have always just been friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Abigail held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. If you say so, I’ll believe you. I just don’t want any feelings to get hurt between the two of you.”

“There are no feelings between the two of us,” Y/n said, but she wouldn’t stop thinking about Abigail’s words for the rest of the night.

5.

All week, Thomas had dreamt about the mint chocolate chip ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer. 

It was his favorite flavor, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl. He had promised himself he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he had really deserved it. After spending a productive hour studying for the test he had tomorrow, Thomas decided he had finally earned that delectable bowl of artificially colored green ice cream. 

He made his way to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. Thomas had made it all the way to the freezer when there was a knock at the front door. 

Thomas paused. He was so close to getting his ice cream. Maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the bowl or ignoring and continuing to dish himself ice cream. Thomas was leaning toward his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the fridge and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Y/n?” He said in surprise when he opened the door.

“Hi, Thomas. I didn’t know who else to come to. Abigail’s out with John right now. Dolly and Martha aren’t good in situations like this,” she was speaking quickly, sniffling between sentences, and trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheeks. “I just--”

He interrupted Y/n by pulling her into his house and his arms. Y/n melted into his touch, her hands gripping his shirt as she hugged him back. 

“What happened?” Thomas asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Sam and I broke up.”

Thomas sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip, weighed his options, and came to a reluctant conclusion. Thomas pulled away just enough that he could look Y/n in her bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream, huh?”

She offered him a miserable smile. “Ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to his kitchen and began digging through the kitchen while she hopped onto the counter to sit. Thomas hid a frown from Y/n while in the process of pulling out the nearly empty carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

“So you want to tell me what happened?” Thomas asked, pulling out a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup.” Despite her words, Y/n still wiped at her tears with the sleeves of her shirt. “We mutually agreed it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “He’s just not... he’s not the one.”

Thomas felt something twist and turn in his stomach, but he knew it wouldn’t be right to be happy when his friend was so miserable. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form in the corners of his mouth. “M’sorry about that, honey.”

“I know it was the right decision,” she said, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt not to let any more tears stream down her face. “Doesn’t mean it hurts any less, though.”

“It’s normal to be upset after a break up,” Thomas shrugged.  

“You’re not going to have any ice cream?” Y/n asked quietly as he handed her a singular bowl.

“Not in the mood for it,” he lied. 

6.

“You get enough sleep last night, hon’?”

Y/n was in mid-yawn when he asked her the question. She held a hand over her mouth and nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him. “Wow. Just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re a charmer, Thomas Jefferson?”

“You’d be surprised.” He gave her a teasing smile. “So who’s the cause for your sleepless nights?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She held up her textbook for him to see. “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you like spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch.” Thomas held a hand over his heart. “You really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone’s as gifted as Thomas flippin’ Jefferson.”

“Flippin’?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school. Gotta keep it PG, right?” She shrugged. “So yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a good amount of sleep. S’not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. I’ll make you a Quizlet next time so you can get more sleep.”

Y/n was about to say something in response when her phone began ringing in her pocket. “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Thomas turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his smile. 

“Thomas.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Abigail sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? Thomas had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he would be certain not to share with her.

“Yes, Abbie?”

“Do you have a crush on Y/n?” 

Thomas blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Abigail right. “Excuse me?”

Abigail rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You heard me right, Jefferson. Do you have a crush on Y/n?”

“Y/n? Where’d you get that idea?” Thomas made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re always following her around and doing whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention you always call her “hon’,” seems pretty affectionate to me.” Abigail had a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since I can remember, of course I care about her. So what if I have a nickname for her? Doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you ‘Abbie’. I have a nickname for everyone.”

“We both know that’s a load of B.S. Are you really telling me you don’t like Y/n?”

“I don’t like Y/n.” And it wasn’t exactly a lie, because the feelings he had for Y/n had progressed far beyond liking. 

7.

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” Y/n said, pulling out a ball of azure colored yarn.

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall. “Sure, ‘cept maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She scowled at him. “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student. My only income comes from birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I’m sure Abigail will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” Y/n muttered, staring at the mess of strings in her lap.

Thomas’s eyes widened a little. “You telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“How hard could it be?” She pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, Y/n had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help.”

“You know how to knit?” Y/n raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

Thomas rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands. “This is crocheting. You don’t even have knitting needles.”

“Apologies. You know how to crochet?” 

“Lucy went through a stage where she was really into crocheting,” he shrugged. Thomas had quickly untangled Y/n’s “progress” and began to expertly thread together loops of yarn. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form. “See? Perks of growing up with sisters.”

“I hate that you’re good at everything.” 

He snorted and gently began to move the work into Y/n’s hand for her to finish the rest. “’M’not good at everything. Just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Y/n was now laser focused on the project in front of her, determined to get it right this time. Thomas would advise her, but for the most part he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner.

“You’re never going to get it like that, hon--” Thomas caught himself, remembering the conversation he had had with Abigail earlier. “Y/n. You’re never going to get it like that, Y/n.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “What?”

He swallowed roughly and shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just... You’re going to want to pull the yarn tighter or it’s all going to unravel later.”

“Oh. Thanks, Thomas.”

8.

It was 2 a.m., and Y/n had already came to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to get more than five hours of sleep. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe a dozen times now, but it wasn’t like anyone was posting in the middle of the night. Instagram was doing a poor job keeping her mind distracted. 

Lightly biting her bottom lip, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and caved, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, Y/n tapped his contact with her thumb. Her phone began to hum while she waited for him to pick up.

“Hey, Thomas. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. Y/n frowned when she saw him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no. Couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy voice.

“You’re lying. Hey, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. Don’t let me bother you.”

Thomas stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at Y/n firmly through the camera. “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, yeah? Don’t worry about waking me up. I’d rather talk to you any way.”

Y/n pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. Thomas was too polite to ever tell someone if they were bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he really wanted to talk to her, or if he was just too courteous to tell her otherwise. 

He noticed the look she gave him and rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you don’t believe me. Would’ve stopped bein’ friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing. Promise.” Thomas shot her a smug smile that made her wish she hadn’t called. 

“So kind of you,” she said sarcastically. 

“I try.” His grin widened, if that was even possible. “So what’d you want to talk to me about?”

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Thomas narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted, uncomfortable by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved. “I can’t stop thinking about how you called me ‘Y/n’ earlier today?”

He tensed up but the action was barely noticeable. “What about it? It’s your name.”

“Sure,” she nodded, “but you never call me ‘Y/n.” It’s always ‘hon’’ or ‘honey.’ Always. Did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No, ‘course not. Everything’s fine.” He paused. “That really upset you? Me calling you ‘Y/n’?”

“It’s just not normal.”

“It’s not normal for people to call you by your name?”

“It is, but you are supposed to call me ‘honey.’ Okay?”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop an amused smile from spreading on his lips. “Okay, honey.”

9.

“I’m finally going to get to see your mural, then?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “It’s not my mural, Y/n. It’s the senior mural. It’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea.” She gave him a playful nudge. “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the great Thomas Jefferson designed it, it’ll be the best Senior mural ever seen at Charlottesville High School.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, hon’. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re Thomas Jefferson.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Henrietta Johnston, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colorful hand prints standing above the blue-gray sea.

Y/n stared at the mural with an open mouth. She looked from Henrietta to Thomas, then back to the wall in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colorful with handprints,” Thomas said. “Thought it would be nice to let our class to literally leave a mark on this school.”

Henrietta smiled at the mural and set down her paintbrush. “It was a good idea. The splash of color is just what it needed. What do you think, Y/n? Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it. It’s... it’s perfect.” She turned to Thomas with wide eyes. “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. This is my favorite painting.”

“I noticed -- don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much. You just never shut up about that painting. It’s annoying, really,” Thomas muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the ground.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the painting, and Thomas was glad. 

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Thomas was flustered. If Y/n had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t say anything. 

10.

Charlottesville High School was filled with rich kids. The Charlottesville High School debate team had a minimal amount of members. These factors resulted in Thomas and Y/n having their own hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating, Thomas and Y/n walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they spared looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Thomas cleared his throat. “So that guy in the green shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him. “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. Told him you snored like an ogre and I gave him Maria’s number instead,” he said with a shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? I don’t snore like an ogre! He was cute and interested in me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Y/n scowled. “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny and enjoyable to be around. Even if I ‘snore like an ogre’ I’m also extremely attractive, so it makes up for it.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable, honey,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At the same time, Y/n and Thomas turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realized they were only inches apart, he could hear every inhale and exhale. His eyes flicked to her lips. It was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed it. 

Thomas took a step back and cleared his throat. “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed. They both hurriedly stepped into their own rooms. 

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Y/n leaned against her hotel room door. Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook her head and grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe Y/n could stop thinking about it after a good nights rest. She changed and was about to brush her teeth when she felt some kind of nagging feeling inside.

It was naïve to think she was going to get any sleep tonight if she didn’t confront Thomas about it. Y/n set down her toothbrush and made her way out into the fluorescent lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she paused.

Is this really what she wanted to do? If Y/n brought up their almost-kiss, would they be able to go back to friends? Did she even want to go back to friends? Y/n bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should just go to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their friendship in jeopardy. But then again, Y/n would always wonder what could have happened if she didn’t confront him.

She raised her fist to knock on Thomas’s door, but before she could knock, the door swung open. Thomas and Y/n once more stood face to face. She had a wide eyed expression that mirrored Thomas’s.

There was an accelerated heartbeat. A flutter. Thomas’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Y/n’s hand found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to her’s. His eyes were half open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair was all too real. 

Thomas pulled her into his room, kicking the door closed behind them. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. 

Thoughts were racing in Y/n’s mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist tightly -- there would be bruises there the next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss. Y/n came up empty handed.

There was no way Y/n felt the same way, Thomas told himself. There was no way she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with Y/n L/n. And for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her best friend.

Thomas missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were swollen and her hair was a mess. Her bright eyes, and the way light highlighted the softness of her skin. Thomas took that moment to memorize every line and curve of her face, branding the memory into his head. 

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time, sitting up. “Stop. We... we can’t do this. This can’t just be a one time thing.”

“Why not?” Her voice was quiet and delicate.

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw. “Because I love you.”

#modern!au #high school au #hamilton #abigail smith/adams is asian american in this fic and you can't change my mind about that #she's probably prez of the feminists club too #never been on a debate team #i have no idea how it works #maybe that's obvious #ANYway #get it thomas #get it y/n ;) #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson x reader #daveed diggs x reader #Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #hamilton x reader #x reader #reader insert #just finished this at 2 am #can't remember the last time i did any writing during the day #adjusting to a school schedule is going to be the worst #um #why are you still reading my tags

[i-am-finally-clean-13]

Taylor Swift Songs by Season

I don't know about you guys, but I get strong seasonal vibes from many of the Taylor Swift songs. So, since I have no life, I decided to sort all of them by the season they remind me of.

Winter:

These songs are ones I would consider cold. These songs tend to be sadder and slower than the others, and have a crisp, clean sound to them. Of the albums, the only full album that I would classify as Winter-y is Evermore.

Teardrops on My Guitar

Cold As You

Invisible

White Horse

Breathe

You're Not Sorry

Forever & Always (Piano Version)

Back To December

Last Kiss

The Last Time

I Wish You Would

Clean

So It Goes...

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

New Year's Day

It's Nice To Have A Friend

Exile

The Lakes

Champagne Problems

'Tis The Damn Season

Tolerate It

Happiness

Coney Island

Evermore

It's Time To Go

We Were Happy

Spring:

These songs tend to be happier, more optimistic and upbeat than the winter songs - but these aren't the super peppy songs, or the overwhelmingly happy songs (for the most part). I'd classify the original Fearless album and Folklore as Spring albums.

A Place in This World

Stay Beautiful

A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Love Story

Hey Stephen

The Best Day

Jump Then Fall

Superstar

Mine

Speak Now

Never Grow Up

Enchanted

Ours

Superman

State of Grace

Stay Stay Stay

Everything Has Changed

Starlight

Girl At Home

All You Had To Do Was Stay

I Know Places

You Are In Love

Delicate

Dress

Call It What You Want

Lover

Death By a Thousand Cuts

London Boy

Me!

Daylight

The 1

My Tears Ricochet

Seven

Illicit Affairs

Invisible String

Willow

Long Story Short

Today Was a Fairytale

That's When

Don't You

Summer:

These songs are the ones that I'd classify as hot. The intense emotions - primarily happiness and anger. These are the super upbeat songs, the ones that you can dance to, and the majority of the big radio singles fall under this category. Of the albums, 1989, Reputation, and Lover are all Summer albums.

Mary's Song (Oh My My My)

Our Song

I'm Only Me When I'm With You

You Belong With me

Forever & Always

Change

Sparks Fly

Long Live

I Knew You Were Trouble

22

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Welcome To New York

Blank Space

Shake It Off

Bad Blood

Wildest Dreams

Wonderland

New Romantics

...Ready For It?

I Did Something Bad

Don't Blame Me

Gorgeous

King of My Heart

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

I Forgot That You Existed

Cruel Summer

The Man

I Think He Knows

Paper Rings

False God

You Need To Calm Down

The Last Great American Dynasty

Mirrorball

August

Mad Woman

Betty

Gold Rush

Dorothea

Mr. Perfectly Fine

Fall/Autumn:

These are the cool songs, falling somewhere between slow and upbeat. There is less hope in these songs than there is in the Spring and Summer songs. They frequently detail the decay of a relationship, when things are falling apart. These songs have the largest variety of emotions - and there are more songs on this list than any of the others. Of the albums, Taylor Swift (debut), Speak Now, Red, and Fearless (Taylor's Version) are the ones I'd consider autumn albums. The songs from the vault are what pushed Fearless (Taylor's Version) onto this list when the original Fearless is on the Spring list.

Tim McGraw

Picture to Burn

The Outside

Tied Together With a Smile

Should've Said No

I Heart ?

Fifteen

Tell Me Why

The Way I Loved You

Untouchable

Come In With the Rain

The Other Side of the Door

Dear John

Mean

The Story of Us

Better Than Revenge

Innocent

Haunted

If This Was a Movie

Red

Treacherous

All Too Well

I Almost Do

Holy Ground

Sad Beautiful Tragic

The Lucky One

Begin Again

The Moment I Knew

Come Back... Be Here

Style

Out of the Woods

How You Get the Girl

This Love

End Game

Look What You Made Me Do

Getaway Car

The Archer

Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince

Cornelia Street

Soon You'll Get Better

Afterglow

Cardigan

This Is Me Trying

Epiphany

Peace

Hoax

No Body, No Crime

Ivy

Cowboy Like Me

Marjorie

Closure

Right Where You Left Me

You All Over Me

Bye Bye Baby

I really enjoy sorting and classifying Taylor's songs into different emotions and categories - there was a time I sorted them based on Hogwarts houses and Zodiac signs, which I may post here at some point.

@taylorswift @taylornation

#taylurking #taylor swift #fearless #fearless (taylor’s version) #speak now #red #1989 #reputation #lover #folklore #evermore #seasons #winter #spring #summer #fall #autumn

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-No-Orochi (Part 1) Uncle Caesar

We’re finally getting to the tail end of the Story Quests. Thanks for reading this far if you have. :D I’m so happy writing this, I’m just plugging story beats out like a happy like choochoo train, but this took a bit of thought.

This scene does not appear in the novel, manhua, or the game, however, it logically sets up a conflict that should have been there had the MC had real relationships with the characters and actual agency in the story. 

Enjoy!

It was about 9 am in the morning when Caesar got you out of bed and dressed you up as usual. He didn’t choose anything too casual or too sexual. He chose a yellow pleated skirt, a simple cotton white blouse and warm navy jean jacket, and knee high waterproof boots and invited you out with him for the day.

“Where are we going?” You had asked him.

“Just out shopping. Whatever you like. You’ve had a hard time. So it will be good for your mental state to get out and not be shut in feeling sorry for yourself.” He replied. But his eyes are not sunny, but clouded, like the sky over Tokyo.

So you spent the day shopping after breakfast, mostly for clothes and shoes. But Caesar took you to a toy store and insisted you buy something to play with. “You never played as a kid right?” He had asked you.

“No… not really. I liked to watch movies.” 

“Pick out a game. Anything you want.”

He didn’t accompany you shopping for the toys. He stood outside, smoking the cigar with his umbrella, not minding the rain. You were concerned about Kaguya but the disturbed weather was disrupting a lot of the internet access around Tokyo and the umbrellas provided physical disguise against searching surveillance cameras. Caesar didn’t mind being out, and while you shopped, he was keeping watch.

You spent a long time pacing the shelves, back and forth until finally you settled on a Sailor moon action figure. You pick it up and smile at the signature phrasing. “In the name of the Moon, I will punish you!” You could still hear the words clear in your head.

You come out with your single doll in the small bag and you put your two fingers in a V-shape over your eye playfully, just like the heroine in the Anime.

Caesar grinned broadly, but the sadness did not leave his eyes. 

You’d spent so much time in the stores that the sun  was already going down. “I’ve made reservations for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Won’t Nono get jealous?” You snort.

“Not at all. She knows she has all my heart in her hands. But it's important to talk to you. You gave a starheart to Ruri Kazama last night. That means he reached you, right?”

“Yes, but … he’s the lead member of a yakuza group and he’s kinda out of my league.”

He waved the cigar in his hand airily. “It’s good for a young woman to raise her station through marriage in any case. But in your case, I don’t think any man is out of your league. If you think he is above you, then that’s a good thing. There are not many men like that. Much less, a man like that who you’d find attractive enough to grant a star-heart.” 

You laugh. “You sound like an old Uncle playing matchmaker.”

“I know and I hate it, but I’ve given it a lot of thought.” He grimaced. “I thought you would be good for Lu Mingfei, but he’s a stable European Hybrid who grew up in a stable household. You’re a wild thing of the White King. You’d never be a good match.” Caesar mused. “Ruri, on the other hand, knew more about you than you did about yourself. You seem to understand each other well. You clicked at the Takamagahara Club. I was pretty pissed about that but now… not so much.”

You’d walked until you reached the historical luxury district. There were restaurants here that were passed down generation to generation for hundreds of years. They survived both World War I and World War II. The bricks and mortar were older than Anjou.

He reached over your head to open a small glass door. Inside, you saw only an old Japanese man behind a counter, who looked at you through his craggy face. You figured that this place was by reservation only simply because it was so small. “Let me guess? You bought out every table in this place?”

“That’s right. Lu Mingfei helped me with the Japanese.”

“Is he doing alright?” You ask.

“Yep. He’s got that girl wrapped around his little finger.”

“That’s kinda messed up.” You say, recalling your last conversation with Chance about Izanami using Izanagi’s feelings to further her own ends.

“Well, hopefully it will turn out to be genuine.”

You shake your head smiling. “You really are an Old Uncle.”

Caesar pulls out the chair for you and you sit. “Don’t worry about ordering anything. Everything here is good.”

A waitress came and poured sake into saucers from a black bottle and you remember that you promised Caesar to have a date over Sake and this was it. You can’t believe you forgot about that but given everything that was happening it was understandable. It was more incredible that Caesar actually remembered.

Once the sake was poured, Caesar raised his saucer and you joined him in a toast. “A toast to the best damn freshman I’ve ever met.”

“And a toast to the fearless friend of justice!”

The sake was good, not quite sweet but full of the aroma and taste of rice in the alcohol.

“I want to discuss your future at Cassell after this. It’s unfortunate to say, but once this mission is over, even if I’m alive at the end, I won’t be able to shield you from the school board or anyone else.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Oh? The Gattuso heir admitting that he can’t protect a lady? Did I wake up in an alternate universe?”

But Caesar didn’t laugh or crack a smile. “It’s the official policy of Cassell College not to admit anyone with unstable blood, like yours. My family pursued Chu Zihang because they suspected him of being of poor bloodline. Had they succeeded, they would have sent him away on an island, far from human civilization. I was able to vouch for him at his trial and foil their plans, but I won't’ be able to help you if you run afoul of them because after this mission, I’m graduating, MC. I will go back to Italy and marry Nono.”

Your expression falls and you feel a trapdoor has just opened underneath you. You were still heartsick over losing Chance. But Caesar was your support staff you could lean on. Without him, you would have given into despair long ago. How could you stand on your own now? You would find a way surely but you hadn’t expected to part from him so soon.

He stares at you now and you understand the cloudy look in his eyes. “I want to make an arrangement with you. For your safety. But it will take you far away from me. So I don’t like it. But I feel it's the best for you. If you agree, then… alright.”

“Alright,” You echo. “Let's hear it.”

“We talked a little last night about how Ruri Kazama wants the Devil Clan to join Cassell and replace Hydra as the Japan Branch. But Ruri Kazama does not want to stay at Cassell and run the Devil Clan. His dream is to become a Kabuki actor and singer. He also mentioned that he recently lost his lover, and cannot help but feel extremely lonely. When he feels very lonely he looks for the loneliest girl and keeps her company. I think you can tell what I’m getting at.”

“Yes, we’re like mirror images of each other now.” You murmur. “So I will join the Devil Clan until Ruri can get them settled with Cassell College and then leave the Clan and Cassell to be a companion to Ruri Kazama?”

“You’ll be safer, and happier, with your own kind.” Caesar said, gloomily

You let out a breath. “But you’ll miss me.”

“I already do.” He reached for a cigarette and pulled it out. Old places like this didn’t mind smoking.

“Thank you for thinking of me. Of course, it really depends too on how well we get along.”

“You don't just give out star-hearts. Pursue him. I think it’ll be nice.”

The plate of artfully crafted fresh sushi was carried to you. Even though you have seen so many wonderful things in Japan, you continue to marvel at the creative ways they put rice together with fish and vegetables to make a bright and colorful display. Even the heads of the prawns served as a splashy centerpiece, their antennae waving slightly like bright orange fountains.

You eat in silence for a few minutes. Neither of you are adept with chopsticks so you just use your fingers. 

Finally Caesar broke the silence. “Can you tell me something? You mentioned Ruri Kazama would have to fight another lion. Who is this other lion? I saw that there is a mystery contender that also received a star heart.”

“He doesn’t have a name. I just call him Z, and he’s followed me my whole life. He won’t give up easily.” You lower your eyes and your chewing slows.

“Also a hybrid?” He glances at you, his blue eyes suddenly clear and sharp.

“Yes. The strongest hybrid out of all of Black Swan Bay.”

“Your old boyfriend.” Caesar looked out of the glass door at the front of the store.

“We were never really boyfriend and girlfriend. He trained me to fight. He’s specifically told me not to fall in love with Ruri Kazama.”

“Any particular reason why?” Caesar balanced the cigarette on his fingers.

“He says he knows how that story will end.” You look at him seriously. “He’s possessive and very jealous. It might not go well for Ruri if we end up together.”

“If you’re not boyfriend or girlfriend, what does he care who you end up with?” He put the cigarette between his lips and inhaled.

“I don't know.”

“What will happen if you defy him?”

“I’ll probably die. He’s the one who has guarded my life. My guardian angel. He says that he has known how to keep me alive from the very beginning. If I don’t do what he says, then he probably won’t keep guaranteeing my life.”

Caesar’s eyes narrowed and you saw the killer aura rise in his eyes. “Where can I find this Z person?”

You shrug. “He’s a mysterious thing. All these years and I still can’t figure him out. He just… has a lot of control over things that happen. Like everyone is a puppet on a string and he’s the ultimate puppetmaster. Even Chu Zihang couldn’t help but notice how fortunate it was that we ended up in the backyard of Genji Heavy Industries to hide. Or how the fortunate earthquake I caused managed to assist you in battle. He was the one who took me down to the Genji Elevator and showed me the deadpool even though Chisei Gen didn’t know about it. He was the one who told me to cause the earthquake that saved Lu Mingfei in the elevator.”

Caesar leaned forward. “So is he our ally?”

You lower your voice. “I think your purposes align. He views you as no competition to him. He only gets annoyed at my love interests. Since you are not pursuing me, he couldn’t care less what you do. But I’m telling you this, because if you do send me away with Ruri, it could have consequences both for Ruri Kazama and you.”

“A love triangle?” His eyebrows raise.

“Yes.” You chuckle. “I guess you could call it that.”

Caesar lets out a breath and a puff of white smoke. “Just when I thought I had it all figured out.”

“You almost did.” You giggle freely.

“I do have one ace in the hole. If I can guarantee your life, then that will free you right?”

“But I’m dying as an unstable hybrid… I…”

“Yes but so is that Uesugi girl. The documents in that folder said that the Black Swan Bay children only lived to age 20 and at that age they inevitably turned into deadpool. Erii was created as a dying ghost, the same as you, by the same people that created you. You’re both alive, but you are 18 and Erii is 21.”

You gasp, suddenly breathless. Z’s words to you, that the key to your survival is in Tokyo, come roaring back.

“If I can figure out the secret to how they’re keeping her alive, then you won’t need the Z person.” Caesar smiles, but it’s challenging, snarling.

“You’re kidding! You’re not seriously considering competing with Z!” You always felt that Z, deep down, was a killer, who taught you to be a killer. What Caesar was doing was a dangerous thing, putting himself in the line of fire of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to arrange his death the same way he had arranged everything else.

But Caesar was always like this, running headlong into danger and saying, ‘I’ll figure it out when I get there’. And appealing to fear would never dissuade him.

“I’m not competing for your heart, only your freedom. I don’t like men who threaten the lives of women. There’s actually more I can say, but given your position, I’ll keep it to myself.” He was still smiling that deadly smile, staring out the door as though seeing an unseen person.

“Oh… my god…” You sigh. “Well, if anyone could do it, it would be you.”

Your appetite significantly diminished. You felt cold and anxious. You wondered what Z would say if he ever appeared to you again. You wondered if Z would ignore Caesar, or if Caesar would simply disappear without a trace, as though he never existed.

You left the restaurant and Caesar pulled you close, one hand over your narrow shoulders. “You’re afraid of him. Aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, not even with a nod.

“That makes me more curious. Stay close to me then. That way, if he wants to keep you, he’ll have no choice but to show himself.”

#Dragon Raja

[daisyjoons]

Love Notes

— who knew a piece of paper would be the cause of all this love, and heartbreak.

— ot7 x reader

— college!au, bet!au, heirs!bts, angst, some fluff, hurt and comfort

— like one mention of “dxxx” but it’s in a joke, a couple cuss words, like one or two f-bombs (cuz that’s apparently another level than ‘cuss word’) 

— word count: 2.8K

— this is my first fic using“bullet points” (which i kinda really enjoyed writing) so tell me if you guys like this style or not! also!!!! my inbox is always open to talk! about my fics or even just to say hi! i’d love to interact with you all some more! 

— HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! IF U DRESS UP GREAT!! TAKE CUTE PICS THEN TAKE IT OFF AND GET IN YOUR PJS AND WATCH A DAMN MOVIE :D WE’RE IN A PANDEMIC AND A PARTY IS NOT WORTH IT!!

↬ The bet was so completely stupid. 

↬ That’s all it was but they had made it. And now they had to deal with its aftermath. 

↬ It had happened when they were sophomores in college. 

↬ You had just started your freshman year and for some reason, the boys didn’t like you. 

↬ So during the Art History class they shared with you, while the teacher was talking about the syllabus, the boys did it. 

↬ It started with mocking texts, and ended with a $20 bet on who can get you to date them for 2 months. 

↬ And yeah they all loved each other, but Jungkook didn’t know of the feelings between the boys, or the feelings the boys had for him as well.

↬ He also remained unaware of the secret kisses shared between the boys, of the days where they sneak out on dates, the boys not knowing how to tell him. 

↬ Given the fact that they all came from rich families (also the reason for all the age differences) the bet was more of a fun game for them all.

↬ The boys had agreed to write it all down on paper, letting Hoseok who was studying law, (and subsequently getting ready to take over his mother’s very successful law firm) write it out. 

↬ With the “contract” that detailed very explicitly what the bet was, the boys all signed their names.

↬ Two days after, Jungkook went up to you to ask for the syllabus notes, as he didn’t pay much attention.

↬ Two weeks later he asked you out on your guys’ first date.

↬ Two months after that, he asked you to be his girlfriend. 

↬ Everything was going great, until he decided to introduce you to his friends a week after being his girlfriend.

↬At this point the boys had forgotten about the bet, seeing you only as someone who their object of affection loved. 

↬ Now, you knew they didn’t like you, and during the meeting you definitely felt the jealousy aimed at you when you got close with Jungkook.

↬ So, you tried to avoid him a little, hoping it would help his friendship with the boys. 

↬ But Jungkook had forgotten about the bet, he just saw you as the sweet girl he’s been dating. 

↬ And maybe it was wrong because he still felt his heart flutter when Joons chin did the thing while he studied, or the way he just wanted to kiss Jin's lips when he pouted, or because of all of his midnight cuddles with Hobi, but he loved you.

↬ That was the thing about Jungkook, once he loves he loves truly and rawly. 

↬ And you now held a part of his heart and he couldn’t change that. 

↬ After a few days the boys all noticed the younger's attitude, and with a discussion decided to talk to you. 

↬ To say Namjoon showing up at your door at 6pm was strange would be an understatement.

↬ He was on the brink of tears when he asked you to talk to Jungkook and it was obviously more than just friendship that caused the distance between you and the boys. 

↬ So, with slight hesitation you ask. “Do you love him?” 

↬ With no hesitation he answers, “Yes. We all do, more than a brother, but as a lover.” 

↬ With that he explains about the relationship with the boys, and how Jungkook didn’t know of it. How they all loved Jungkook.

↬ “But he loves you, Y/N. And we love him, enough to know that we just want him happy, even if it’s not with us. We do like you, you seem nice, we just- we just got jealous. We’re sorry for acting the way we did but please, don’t let us hold you away from Jungkook.” 

↬ And perhaps it was wrong the way your heart fluttered at Namjoons sincerity and maturity.

↬ But you paid no mind, it didn’t matter. 

↬ The next day you talked to Jungkook after class and everything was good again.

↬ The boys started acting nicer to you and slowly you fell in love, and it was so slow that you were able to ignore it until you couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

↬ First it started with Namjoon, and small coffee study times between you two. 

↬ Then came Yoongi, with the cute gummy smile he got when he created a good song. 

↬ When Hobi learned you didn’t know how to dance and absolutely insisted on personal classes so he could teach you. 

↬ Who would’ve thought the amazing, straight A law student would be this wild while dancing. 

↬ Surprise!!! He could get wild. 

↬ Whenever Jin brings home special dishes from one of his dad's restaurants that he knows you like.

↬ Taehyung probably took the longest to warm up to you, but you fell in love with him so easily.

↬  And Jimin, he fell in love with you first, and made his move first. 

↬ During a movie night, he blurted out his love for you that led to a night filled with tears and yelling and kisses and sweet words. 

↬ That’s how you all fell in love.

↬ Now two years later, you’re helping them move out of their dorms and into their shared apartment, none the wiser of the bet.

↬ The boys had just graduated and decided to buy an apartment together. 

↬ And you were gonna move in too, after your senior year. 

↬ But here you were, cleaning out Jungkook's closet when you come across his backpacks from the last four years. 

↬ “Jungkook! Why do you just have all your old bags!”

↬ He turns around before laughing at the bags that were jammed up in the corner of the closet, still filled with notebooks.

↬ “Oh, I probably forgot to just throw those away, You can just toss them in the trash bag over there, babe.”

↬ “What! No! These look almost brand new still! Why don’t you...I don’t know, donate them? Crazy idea.”

↬ Jungkook laughs at the obvious sarcasm at the end of your sentence and at the knowledge that you would do so anyway before nodding with the go ahead. 

↬ You start dumping all the bags out and tossing the trash before you recognize the sophomore year bag. 

↬ Your mind immediately drifts to two weeks into the friendship when he had yet to return your notebook and had to go through the giant mess in there. Almost all of the papers in his bag were crushed and crumbled in the bottom.

↬ Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, you find only a single crumbled paper left at the bottom.

↬ A small smile peeks at your lips as you start to unfurl the paper, thinking of how he might’ve tried to clean the bag after you yelled at him for how messy and unorganized it was.

↬ But when you read the paper your smile falls and tears gather in your eyes.

↬ They start falling when you see the signatures.

↬ All seven of them.

↬ Jungkook turns around at the sound of a sob escaping you. 

↬ “Babe, what’s wrong? Did you get hu-.” 

↬ “What the fuck is this!”

↬ The boys all rush in at the sound of your voice, you have never ever raised your voice. 

↬ All of their faces pale when they take in the paper in your hands, it was extremely detailed, there was no way to make it seem like a misunderstanding.

↬ “B-Babe I know how this looks, a-and it’s bad it really is but please, let us explain.” 

↬ Namjoons shaky and desperate as he speaks, he had to tell you everything, he couldn’t— he wouldn’t let this piece of paper decide everything.

↬ But you dodged every one of his attempts to hold your arms, an incredible feat given the fact that dorms were as small as they were. 

↬ “Explain? Kim Namjoon, it’s very clear what this is, and you should know given your name is signed here.” 

↬ Hoseok's voice rang out, filled with guilt and shame, “We know what's on it, love. Hell I wrote it. But we swear, we had completely forgotten it.”

↬ Another sob ripped its way out of your chest at his words because he just confirmed it. It was obvious from the beginning but you hoped that maybe, just maybe it was a misunderstanding. 

↬ You couldn’t breath, and you most certainly couldn’t be here right now. 

↬ Jimin, always so perceptive of you and how you feel, immediately noticed and rushed to grab a water bottle. 

↬ But Tae could see how your chest was moving, as though you were being suffocated. You couldn’t breath.

↬ “Guys, let’s give her some space yea? We can talk about it without hovering over her.” 

↬ As soon as they moved away, you started pushing towards the door, being here with them wasn’t what you needed right now. 

↬ Jungkook grabbed your arm, however, stopping you from moving forward. 

↬ Looking at him you could see the desperation in his eyes while holding your arms.

↬ “I-I just I need to be alone right now. I’m sorry.” 

↬ And with that you run out of the dorms, the boys calling out after you. 

↬ And all the boys could do was glare at the crumbled paper that was on the floor. A paper that caused this mess.

↬ The boys decide they can’t lose you, no way. And so they come up with a plan, a plan to prove that this relationship is more than some fucking bet.

↬ So every morning for the next two weeks, you wake up to coffee and a muffin in your kitchen, with love notes addressed to you. Your roommate forgives the boys after one day. 

↬ Given that they have a key to your apartment, also given to them from your roommate because “their so cute!! get that dick, babe!” , it’s very easy to leave cute things for you, breakfast, presents, snacks, all accompanied by love notes that they hope tell you that you have their love. 

↬ Getting seven sweet love notes in the morning from your boyfriends-but-on-a-break-maybe(?) made you happy, but apprehension crawled up your throat and dug its claws into your heart at the thought of “this is just another piece of paper that determines my feelings.”

↬ You highly doubt they would stay with you for two years for a bet, the paper only specified two months, so you know they love you. But the idea of, the beginning of your relationship, the notes, the cute dates, wasn't all from love. Those emotions back then were one-sided. 

↬ And this probably would’ve continued longer but your roommate came home one day from her class and yelled at you about how they were waiting at the café you always loved. They said they would wait there for you but you didn’t think they’d actually do it without a response from you. 

↬ With no hesitation in mind, you get up and grab your coat while simultaneously trying to put on your shoes. As soon as your shoes are on you run out to meet the boys. 

↬ Arriving at the café you enter to see seven extremely nervous but also slightly dejected boys. One caramel iced latte sat waiting across from them, slight condensation on the outside showing there’d been waiting for a while. 

↬ Walking over you sit down in front of them, all of their eyes snapping to you with hope. Jungkook's hands reach over, ready to hold your hand after two weeks, but Jin stops him before he can. 

↬ Yoongi speaks first, right as you're about to sip the latte, “W-Wait! Let us buy you a new one! That one’s kinda watered down now and it won’t taste as good.”

↬ And you go to tell him it’s ok, that it’s your favorite and it’ll taste good anyway but he’s already up and moving to the counter, he’s so visibly shaking and you feel your heart clench. You want to hug him, tell him to breathe with you, but you can’t move. You can tell they’re afraid at the even sight of you, fear that the relationship with you is done. 

↬ “...I’m not breaking up with you all.” A simple sentence but at it, the reactions explode. Jimin starts crying,  Jungkook lunges forward and grabs your hands Namjoon and Jin are continually repeating “thank you, I love you, and i’m sorry” Yoongi drops the latte, the baristas start making another already, and he wraps his arms around you, crying into your shoulder. Hobi falls on the floor in shock. 

↬ You consider yourself and the boys lucky that the café isn’t well known and empty aside from you and the boys right now. You let the boys calm down and sit back down, Yoongi still hugging you and Jungkook's hands intertwined with your own. 

↬ You look up, wary of your next words, “Can you...can you guys explain it to me? I’m not breaking up with you, I highly doubt a bet would go on for two years and I know you all love me the way I love you now but- there’s a part of me that just needs to know how long the relationship was one-sided.” 

↬ “It didn’t even last two weeks.” Jungkook says, his grip tight and his voice strong. He goes on to explain how he technically won the bet, but he had forgotten after only two weeks of dating you. After your first date, he genuinely liked you, liked the way your eyes shined. Your soft hair and how you would shyly tuck it behind your ear when he complimented you. The cute laugh that you always hid behind your hand. He loved you before he even knew he loved you. Before you even loved him. 

↬ The relationship between you and the boys grew completely organically, the bet didn’t have any effect at all. This poly relationship was never planned, was never a part of it. But it was a happy turn of events. 

↬ You sip at your new coffee, the barista kindly brought it to you to avoid anymore accidents, “The love notes were cute, they made me feel happy through the day. I think that’s the only way I lasted through the two weeks.”

↬ Hobi pouted at that, his cheeks puffing out as he slumps with his arms crossed. “Should we not have sent them? Maybe we could have seen you earlier.” 

↬ A laugh fell from your lips at your boyfriends adorable pout. “No, I think the fact that I had the constant reminder that, yes you guys do love me, helped make me ready to talk to you all. It reminded me that, that stupid fucking paper was just that. A piece of paper. And I was getting many more pieces of paper refuting what it said. They kept me from overthinking and believing my thoughts. What did you do with the paper anyway?”

↬ “Oh, we burned it before dropping the bags off at the elementary school.”

↬ “... Can we go home?” Jimins sweet voice spoke up from where he sat. “I want to cuddle, we went two weeks without them.”

↬ Grabbing his hand with one of yours and the other holding Kooks, you all head out to cuddle at their apartment. And when it was time to head back to your apartment, arms stayed wrapped firmly around your waist. And when you put your jacket on the next morning, a piece of paper fell out. 

                                       We Love You 

#btswritingcafe #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #namjoon #hoseok #seokjin #jimin #taehyung #yoongi #jungkook #bts fluff #bts bet au #bts poly #bts poly au

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

drunk!geralt

I’m hopelessly hung up on this repressed mess. I have no decent excuse. 

Warnings: drinking, heavy drinking, nothing else, unless you dont like tickling? 

Summary: Geralt is a cute little goofball when hes drunk and I will fight everyone over this. He. Is. A. Happy. Drunk. 

__________

“One, two, three, four, five, six, uh… seven, eight… nine. No! Ten.” Geralt proudly counted out how many drinks he’d had for the night on his fingers. You’d only sat down at the bar two hours ago.

You just shook your head in amazement, raising your voice to be heard over the rather pitchy bard in the corner, “You forgot the one in front of you.”

His face lit up as if you’d just told him a salacious  secret, “Eleven?”

“There it is.” you raised your own glass, only number four, in salute to his mathematical accomplishments. 

He toasted you back and chugged the full mug before you could take a sip,  “Let’s make it twelve!” he rumbled.

You frantically signaled to the bartender not to listen to him and grabbed his hand, “How about we drink water for a little bit?”

“Water in these parts tastes like clay. More alcohol.”

“Only if you go upstairs and drink some clay water.” You bargained. You knew as soon as you got him in the room he would forget about his next drink. Getting him there was the tricky part.

He flattened both hands on the table, leaning back and squinting his eyes at you, “No.”

“Oooookay.” you wracked your brain for another way to trick him, but he’d played this game with you before and he was getting much better at it. You were also considerably tipsier than the last time you tried it. 

The bard switched to a familiar jig and Geralt forgot about your battle of wits, “Lets dance.”

“Dance?” you asked, honestly not sure if you’d heard him right. 

He had a huge goofy grin on his face as he stood and pulled you up with him, “Yes! I thought you liked dancing?”

You nodded and let him lead you to a semi clear area of the room. He spun you around and held both your hands in his then froze.

"What are you doing?" You asked, glancing behind you to check he hadn't seen something. 

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "I don't remember the dance." He looked so worried and sincere that it took everything you had not to hold his cheeks and tell him how adorable he was. 

You nodded solemnly, playing along, "I'll teach you. Follow me." 

You guided him up the stairs, nearly having a heart attack when he stumbled into you and almost sent the two of you over the railing. It took some shoving and a few obscene swear words to achieve, but at last, Geralt was safe in your room. 

You sighed in relief as Geralt sat in front of the fire and watched it intently. You took your hair out of a bun and changed into your night dress, keeping one eye on him the whole time. 

He turned around to face you with a worried look, "Who is Emeel?" 

You spun to see if he was joking, "Who?" 

He looked heartbroken, clearly reading too much into your reaction, "The name," he moaned, "The na-" he was interrupted by a hiccup, "The name- the name in a heart on your fireplace!?" 

You crouched next to him to investigate, "Darling this is a shitty inn." You assured him, resting a hand on his shoulder, "I don't know Emeel." 

"I knew that." 

"Of course you did." 

"I did!" He insisted, pulling you onto his lap and burying his face in your hair.

You giggled, "You're very drunk." 

He nodded and took a deep breath in, squeezing you a little tighter, "Your hair is so soft."

"Thank you." You rubbed his back in soothing circles as he held you. These were some of your favorite nights with Geralt. When he relaxed (and drank) enough to stop brooding for a little while and just be.  Sometimes he'd get intensely affectionate, others he'd turn into a giant puppy, but mostly he was just happy. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked, leaning back to look at you. His yes were not quite bloodshot, but certainly not clear and focused, and there was a bewildered quality to his expression.

You knew what he meant but this wasn't a conversation for his drunken giddiness, "I'm cuddling with my white wolf, what does it look like to you?" You placed a quick kiss on his nose and he blushed. 

That was another thing you loved about drunk Geralt, he stopped stifling his responses. 

"I don't want any of that self loathing nonsense from you tonight." You instructed, wriggling out of his grasp to stand and offer him a hand up, "Plus, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried." 

He took your hand, standing up rather unsteadily as drinks nine through eleven were probably just making their way to his brain. 

"Are you dizzy?" You asked, lacing your fingers through his to keep a better grip on him.

He nodded, and giggled. 

Now that was your favorite sound. It struck you as odd the first time you'd heard him giggle because the sound was so uncharacteristically high in his register, but you'd made it your life's work to hear it as much as possible. Yes, his voice did things to you when he growled sweet nothings in your ear or woke you with a low, hoarse 'good morning'. But this was pure and innocent and you wanted to hear it every damn day you lived. 

You placed your other hand on his shoulder and made to give him a quick kiss. Instead, he placed his hand on your waist and tried leading you in a dance he had forgotten along with his sober self-consciousness. His steps were messy, and you trod on his toes at least twice, but he didn't seem to notice, eyes shut and grinning. You could just barely hear that the music coming from the dining room was definitely not suited for this type of dance but you certainly wouldn't point it out. As the song ended Geralt stumbled back into the bed and lost his balance, taking you down with him when he fell. 

His laughter was as intoxicating as the surprisingly strong liquor you'd consumed earlier and you laid your head on his chest, wanting to be as close as possible, as you giggled along with him. 

You propped yourself up with one arm on the bed to look at him, "Very graceful. Tell me where did you learn to dance?" You teased. 

He tilted his chin to look at you, a lazy smile on his face, "It's required at Kaer Morhen. You can't leave until you can turn heads at the finest courts." 

"Mmm… what a fine finishing school that must have been." Your sarcasm drawing another giggle from him as you trailed your fingers over the scars on his collar bone.

"Don't do that," he gasped, swatting your hand away, still giggling. 

"Do what?" You knew exactly what you were doing and you moved quickly to pin his arms under your knees to continue. 

He let you, heaven knows you had no physical powers over him, "Stop! It tickles!" 

You rolled off him so you could get a better angle and attacked his ribs, "Never." 

He squirmed and laughed, trying to get away but get his revenge simultaneously. Of course he did this quite quickly. Your arms were pinned above your head in seconds and he tickled you mercilessly. 

"Ger-alt!" You squealed, trying to get a solid breath in between your uncontrollable laughter, "Not- fair!" 

He stopped and placed a quick kiss on your forehead, "It absolutely is, you had the advantage to begin with." 

You managed to get a hand free and push his hair out of his face, "Your disarming beauty made it null and void." You argued. 

He rolled his eyes and pulled you close, tucking your head under his chin, "I love you." He sighed. 

You wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed, feeling the cold metal of his medallion pressed against your neck, "I love you too." 

"Hmmmm… glad we're on the same page." He kissed the top of your head one last time before his heartbeat slowed and you heard a soft snore as he fell asleep. You joined him not long after, the happiest you'd been in a long time.  

#goofy!geralt #drunk!geralt #geralt is a goofy drunk #full stop #geralt of rivia #geralt fic #geralt fanfic #geralt oneshot #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia fan fic #geralt of rivia oneshot #the witcher #the witcher one shot #the witcher fic #geralt fluff #geralt of rivia fluff #the witcher fluff #fluffy goodness #geralt x reader #geralt x reader fluff #drunk!geralt x reader #how many tags is too many #like am i looking too desperate for the validation #bc i am #and i need it

[captainficspace]

Game Night- Five’s Day

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy 

Characters: The Hargreeves Sibs

A/N: I think this is actually my favorite fic I’ve written for this week. I couldn’t wait to post it :) 

Movie night wasn’t the only “mandatory fun” the household had started keeping up with. Game night probably never would have happened in a million years if Vanya hadn’t suggested it and everyone wanted to let her have this one thing. Not that it had gone well, naturally. The initial concern would be that no one would care enough to show up, but the opposite ended up being true. No, everyone cared entirely too much when it came to game night. She had forgotten that everyone in the house was competitive as all hell, and so far there had been three game nights in a row that ended in someone flipping the board in frustration. It took serious begging to give it all one more try, and reluctantly, everyone agreed, if not out of the potential entertainment that would come from giving Klaus a Taboo buzzer.

Vanya had also thought things over, learning from the past nights. This had to be different. Everyone gave her looks of startled bewilderment when she came into the house that day, Klaus in tow, with a traffic cone, a 2x4, spray glitter, and a bulk bag of googly eyes.

“We’re making the game this time and it’s gonna be better than anything else you suggest, so don’t even start.” Klaus announced.

 It somehow ended up being so much worse. There were seven pages of hand-written rules and a haphazardly painted board studded with google eyes and plastic dinosaurs. They had all been trying to play for a solid half hour and not even Vanya could remember what the objective had been. Putting the finishing touches on the game had taken up a good part of the night, so midnight was slowly approaching when things started to get real.  

 “So clearly, the spacemen need to roll to enter the chaos volcano and trade for the ice crystal if you’re going restore the dinosaur kingdom.” Diego moved the plastic army man they had been using as pawns, approaching a cardboard volcano at the center of the board.

“We don’t have enough HP to enter the volcano realm, yet. Everyone still needs to collect the spells.”  Luther said, flipping back through the rules again for what seemed the thousandth time. None of it made sense. Vanya sank down in her seat ever so slightly. The goal was to make a game where everyone used their competitive-ass natures to work together for once, and she couldn’t even do that right. Five kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, silently begging for her to allow him to leave. If this didn’t turn around in fifteen minutes, she was throwing in the towel.

“How can we be spacemen and also wizards?” Allison asked, looking over Luther’s shoulder to see the rules for herself, trying to find the bizarre cast of characters they had to pick from when starting the game. Spacemen, necromancers, aliens, ghosts, something called Bananamen…was there even a mention of wizards here? Five, on the other hand, had not looked at the rules since beginning out of silent protest for being part of game night once again. He stared into space or at the bottom of his empty mug, waiting for everyone to give up so he could just go to bed.

Klaus had long stopped trying to explain the rules that he and Vanya had come up with and instead became distracted with how many of the little plastic eyes he could pick off the board and stick to his face.

 “Well, my character is a dinosaur and also a necromancer, so anything is possible.” Vanya added, trying to stay positive.

 “See, so she can resurrect us in the volcano realm.” Diego said.

“She can only be allowed three healing spells. Did you pay any attention to the lizard king?”  Allison asked.

“If Diego had used the action cards to fill out the sidequest-“ Vanya tried to balance between letting the others figure things out and outright telling them what to do out of growing frustration, and it wasn’t going well.

“Who has time for the sidequests?”

Five buried his face in his hands, slowly slumping down in his chair. No one could tell him he wasn’t being a good sport for just showing up.

“You’re just going to sit there as a level-two hermit and tell me, to my face, that I’m wrong?” Oh great. Diego was on his feet now, staring Luther down across the table. It was only a matter of time before the giant sheet of plywood they had used as a board was going to go flying.

 “I will look you dead in your face and say you have zero idea how the sidequest with the elf queen was supposed to get us to the volcano realm.” And now Luther was also standing, nearly hitting his head on the chandelier that hung over the table. A shadow fell over the board

“Hey, guys. Look. I’m an angel now.” Klaus interjected, drawing attention to his eye-covered face, “I’m using my holy damage by punching the volcano in the face until we get the ice crystal.” The two feuding brothers ignored him, still refusing to take a seat until the problem was solved.

“You shut your damn velociraptor mouth.” Diego growled.

From behind his hands, Five squeaked. Vanya looked closer and realized his shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t just playing up his exasperation for dramatic effect; he was giggling. The others turned as well, equally surprised.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Allison asked, “We hadn’t heard much at all from our level 3 firebreather.” Five shook his head, still covering his face. He was doing a progressively worse job at keeping himself quiet, and his laughter was beginning to break through, high-pitched and sweet.

 “He would always get like this when he stayed up too late.” Luther said, “Don’t you guys remember?” The memories slowly started to come back of them sneaking into each other’s rooms after lights-out to actually be kids for once. Five was always the first to succumb to the midnight giggles, curling up and hiding his face in a pillow to muffle the sound so he wouldn’t get them caught. It would spread like wildfire, and they would all end up giving into that magical hour of the night where everything became funny, cracking jokes and teasing each other and finally not taking anything too seriously. Either Five had never outgrown it, or it was just another perk of new form.

“He’s overtired. I guess he’s just loopy.” Allison said, grinning as she heard a muffled snort come from the giggling pile of sleep-deprived goo that was her brother. He put his head down on the table and buried his head in his arms, well-past being able to stop at this point.

“Instead of turning into a pumpkin at midnight he just turns into a gigglebox.” Klaus leaned over and squeezed his knee, “Come on, let me see your smiling face!” Five squealed, nearly falling out of his chair trying to squirm away. He still refused to lift his head and show that he was actually capable of laughing.

 “We need your firebreather wisdom, be a team player!” Diego added, coming over from behind and digging his hands into his ribcage.

A solid thud came from under the table, knocking over several pieces on the board from the force. Everyone sitting nearby said a silent word of thanks that Five ended up kicking the underside of the table and not anyone’s shins. Five kicked like a mule when he was tickled, especially in the scream-laughing stage Diego had him in as he wiggled his fingers in-between each bone.

“Oh, and now he’s taking down the bananamen army.” Luther said, throwing up his hands in mock-anger.

Five finally lifted his head, swatting his brothers away. His unrestrained cackling bounced off the walls, almost startling in its volume and intensity.

“E-Enough!” He squeaked out, sniffling. His face was bright red and streaked with tears. The brothers slowed down, but still didn’t stop completely, sneaking in pokes and squeezes to keep him giggling.

“His dimples hadn’t changed at all.” Klaus said, pinching his cheek and giving him one last tickle behind his knee. Five swatted him with one hand and muffled his laughter with the other, shoulders shaking. He couldn’t look Klaus in the face with those stupid googly eyes and Diego’s ‘ ”shut your velociraptor mouth” comment kept playing over and over in his head. The teasing and the tickling did nothing to help his attempts at pulling himself together. He pounded his fist on the table, the hand over his mouth doing little to suppress his giggle fit.

“Is it past someone’s bedtime?” Allison asked, doing everything in her power to be condescending.

“I h-HA-hate you!” He managed out at last. Everyone waited for him to blink away in a burst of angry eyebrows and swearing, but he stayed. He actually stayed. Vanya then considered every part of game night a success. No one had seen or heard Five laugh, really laugh, in forever. She had almost forgotten what it sounded like. Five himself probably forgot what it felt like, still shaking with leftover giggles from the tickle attack. He finally caught his breath, trying to scowl but failing.

“I hate you.” He repeated, wiping his eyes.

 “You hate how much I’m kicking this volcano’s ass.” Klaus said, “You wish you were a level 420 angel spaceman like me.”

“Now you’re just making things up!” Vanya said. The game was hopelessly out her hands at this point, but she was strangely at peace with it.

“We made up the entire game! If anything, I’m just creating the expansion pack as we speak.” Klaus defended, grabbing the rules out of Vanya’s hands and scribbling a new page of ideas.

 The game went on well into the night, with each twist and turn becoming more and more bizarre. Five’s uncommonly giddy mood was infectious, and everyone had to stick around to enjoy it while it lasted, even grabbing at his knees when he tried to shift back into his typically grouchy state. The ice crystal was never acquired, but Five ended up with the hiccups from laughing so much and so hard, so everyone thought the evening was worth it. As the game wrapped up, everyone left the room feeling somewhat lighter, relieved almost. They were going to have to start later more often.

#tua tickle fic week

[skylarmoon71]

AU Leonardo x Blind Murdock Reader (TMNT 2014/2016)- Chapter 7

~Two Months Later~

“It’s in your left hand.”

“Damn she got it again!!”

You smiled at Mikey, and he tossed the candy into his mouth.

“Alright Mikey, it isn’t a magic show stop messing with her.” you grin at Leo’s comment.

“I don’t mind. It actually helps sharpen my senses.”

Leo just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. Mikey was pretty easy to keep entertained. He jumped from his spot, giving you a high five as he moved to the game console to occupy his time.

You turned in his direction, the smile never leaving your face. Although you couldn’t see him, just listening to his voice, you could almost picture him. How could someone shoulder so much and still be so cheerful all the time. It was amazing, inspirational even.

You gripped the cane in your hand, leaning your head to the left.

“Leo?” There was a quick strum of his heartbeat, and your brows knitted in confusion.

“Everything okay?” You could have been imagining it, but he was acting pretty weird lately. He kept lingering around you, when you trained together it was different too. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“I should probably leave you to it.” He didn’t wait for you to even form a reply, he was already leaving. You frowned, baffled at the strange behavior.

“Don’t take it personal, Leo’s weird like that.” Raph stepped over giving you a pat on the shoulder. “If you ask me though, I think he has a cr-”

“RAPH! C-Can you help me with this please.” Donnie’s stuttering voice made you raise a brow, and Raph grumbled walking over reluctantly. “You know I’m no good at this tech stuff.” he groused. You were left standing there, perplexed.

“Leo has a what?” With all you were capable of, you honestly thought it made reading people easier. But it was still a slight mystery. Or maybe you hadn’t quite mastered all your talents yet. What you did know though, Leo was definitely keeping something from you. You were going to find out what.

You followed in his direction, determined for some answers. It’s been just two months. So much had changed. Your perspective on life, it was completely different from before, and you had the turtles to thank for that. In the beginning you convinced yourself that you were fighting for the city. Your father never wanted you to follow in his footsteps, that is why you worked so hard at school. You did your part to ensure you could pursue a healthy career.

But when he died, because of your selfish wish for him to win that stupid match, you couldn’t think of what else you could do. You needed to do something to make up for his death. To fill that hole in your chest. So you fought. For people who couldn’t fight for themselves. That’s how it started. Somewhere along the way you stopped caring about your own well being. It wasn’t really your tolerance for pain, it was more like your disregard for your own health. You didn’t care about the hits your body was constantly taking. You just..wanted it to end.

If you hadn’t met the turtles, that would have still been your mindset.

Their optimism, positivity, dorkiness...love, it’s what has completely rewritten the world for you. You didn’t have to be alone. You didn’t have to hurt. You could be a part of something more, and still make a difference. That’s what you thought. Your head lowered. Leo’s behavior made you question if you’d done something to offend or possibly sway his trust in you.

You couldn’t recall such a thing happening. The start of your partnership was tough, maybe more on your part. Trust issues kind of did that. But you were better now. Or so you thought.

A gentle knock to his door.

“Leo?”

It creaks open, and you can feel where he stands, just a few meters away. His hand stills from his present action.

“(Y/N), is something wrong?” you close the door. “I was about to ask you that, you’ve been acting weird. So I came to find out why.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine.” You stop walking, a bit stunned by something. There’s a change in his voice. One that Leo’s never used before.

“You’re lying.”

Leo had never once lied to you, and now you’re a bit terrified. Did you really do something to jeopardize your relationship with him?

Leo spots the panic that’s clear on your face and before you can overthink it, he makes his way over to you, you're a bit scared of what he’s going to say. Does he not want to work with you anymore? He rests his hands on your shoulders gently to calm you down, and your head raises. This is one of the few times you wish you could see. You want to read his expression, find some kind of indication of what he’s going to say. What he needs to say.

“Leo I-”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart almost stops at the statement. There’s a little part of your mind that tells you to run as fast as you can. You don’t want to hear the rest. It’s your biggest fear. You finally manage to trust someone again and it’s stolen from you. Your body nearly goes into autopilot, but the strumming that rings in your ears, it stops you. You swallow as you begin to make out just what it is and where it’s coming from. It’s a heartbeat. You catch every quick increase.

“I can’t continue to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you (Y/N).”

This is far from what you thought. You’re not sure what to say, because for the longest while, you sort of forgot that you’re a teenage girl. When was the last time you even felt like one. A warrior, that’s been your title since you realized what you were capable of. How does someone as amazing as Leo fall for someone as broken as you.

It doesn’t make sense, this doesn’t make sense. Hell, didn’t guys like that whole damsel in distress thing, and what about sex appeal. You were covered in scars for goodness sake. Not all visible, but still very much there.

“You...y-you can’t..that’s...I’m not..”

You’re not even pretty. Damn you didn’t even know, the last time you saw your reflection was when you were ten. You backtrack to try and evaluate all of this. You can’t get your mind to focus and because of your current predicament, you don’t even register the bed. The back of your knee hits the bottom of the bed, and you fall back in shock.

Leo notices, moving to help. He stops when he notices there’s no clear danger, but your flustered expression, it just increases his heart rate, and that jump starts yours. Leo is still partially leaning over the bed, hand pressed into the side of the mattress right at your side. You can feel him, and it leaves you breathless, and red faced. Were you really blushing. You didn’t think you were capable of such a thing.

“You..really have no idea how amazing you are, how beautiful…” His whispers just make the color in your cheeks worse, and you're angry at your heart. It just won’t slow down. He lowers unto his elbows slowly, and you feel a bit paralyzed in this moment. What do you do? You’ve never been in this position. Leo is now face to face with you. His other hand rests on your cheek, and you’ve regained some movement.

“L-Leo you-” his finger runs along your lower lip, and you tremble with want.

Why the hell does it feel so damn good to be touched by him?

“I know how I feel about you (Y/N), I think I’ve known the minute you took off that mask.”

His head turns, and now you feel his breath gently wafting over your lips. He’s right there. Probably mere inches away. If you move just a little, you can close the distance and claim them, claim him.

“But I won’t do anything until you’re ready.”

You haven’t even noticed that your hands have been trembling. Leo apparently has, and all at once, his touch disappears. He lets out a soft breath.

“I’m willing to wait (Y/N), because I care about you, and you’re more than worth it.”

You're in awe, and you can tell it takes everything in him to walk away from this moment, but he does. And your left lying there, reconsidering all that’s happened that led to this point.

#blindreader #murdockreader #love #fear #loss #crime #leonardo #tmnt donatello #raphxreader #leo x reader #michelangelo #splinter #mature #gore #fights #crimefighters #tmnt fluff #bayverse turtles #family #brothers #lair #crushes #Self accepectance #care #scars #scaredoflove

[checkurwindow]

ten ways

Book: Open Heart

Warning: So sweet your dentist would be concerned Rating: General Pairing: Bryce x F!MC Word count: 6500+ Author’s note: I finally wrote something that isn’t angst and oh god is it long. I spent so much time on this so please please consider reblogging and let me know what you thought of it, and maybe check out my masterlist while you’re at it.

1.

There was truly no better way to start off senior year than arriving late to her first class. 

In her defense, she had left the house early. For once in her life, she was actually going to be early to school. She was so proud of herself, and was so certain that she had extra time that she allowed herself to stop at a drive-thru and get a drink as a reward to herself. Everything was going according to plan. 

That is, until the lady in the car in front of her decided she wasn’t pleased with her order and made the barista redo it; and to make sure he didn’t mess up her order a second time, the barista was extra careful. And extra slow. 

She groaned as she watched the time tick pass minute by minute. Just her luck. 

She watched the barista hand the drink to the lady in front and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, the car didn’t move, not a single inch. The drink was already in her hand, but the lady just had to continue to talk with the barista. 

She cursed under her breath and banged her head on the steering wheel in frustration. She must’ve been more aggressive than she was expecting, because her horn went off, and loudly at that.

She jumped back in shock at the noise. The lady poked her head out of her car window and immediately began lecturing her on how rude she was being. At least, that’s what she assumed she was saying, she really couldn’t hear her with her windows rolled up. She bit her lip, gave a little wave, and mouthed an apology.

Eventually, the lady finished her rant and left the drive-thru. She got her drink, no longer a reward and more of a consolation, and sped to school.

There weren’t any other students in the parking lot by the time she got there, only a reminder of just how late she was. Shoving all her things back inside her backpack, she locked the door and hurried into the building.

Of course, her first class just had to be with Mr. Anderson. Any other teacher would have just let her tardiness slide, but not him, never him. She opened the door to his classroom, and any conversation that had been going on stopped. 

More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to her, and she wanted to melt into the floor right then and there. 

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Mr. Anderson addressed her. He narrowed his eyes at the nervous student, leaning against his desk as he sized her up, “if you’re done being a distraction to my class, I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat.

She swallowed roughly and nodded. He went back to lecturing the class on how his classes would be conducted, and she did her best to find a seat as quietly as she could. Instinctively, she made her way over to where her friends were sitting.

Bryce moved his backpack off the desk next to him and quietly whispered, “I saved you a seat.” 

She gave him a grateful smile and mouthed back a ‘thanks’.

Sienna leaned forward, “Anderson really wasn’t amused with you, huh?”

“I swear he hates me,” she insisted.

Bryce rolled his eyes, “he doesn’t hate you, Boo.”

“Bryce is right,” she said, “everyone knows he just hates women,” she stressed the last part with exaggerated disgust.

2. 

Late-night study sessions had evolved to become code for hanging out at Danny’s house and messing around. 

Sienna was dating Danny, so naturally, she had become friends with him and his friends by association. Sienna, Aurora, and her were actually trying to study. Danny and Elijah were discussing the school football team’s chances of winning their next game, and Jackie and Bryce were in the kitchen getting snacks and undoubtedly bickering about something completely irrelevant. 

“Okay, Sienna,” Aurora held up a flashcard, “what can you tell me about the defenestration of Prague?” 

“Uh, people were thrown out of windows for fun?” She replied, barely having read that chapter of the textbook.

“No- well, actually, I suppose you’re technically not completely wrong.”

She let her body fall back against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. If she had to stay there any longer, she would’ve thrown herself out the window. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out with her friends, it was just that after a long day of school, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to spend more time with the people she had already spent most of the day with. 

“Sorry I’m late, I just spent the better part of the last hour trying to explain to a group of freshmen that I won’t be dating or teaching “my ways” to any one of them,” he shuddered dramatically as he walked into the living room where everyone was.

“Ah yes, I almost forgot I was friends with the Bryce Lahela,” she said overdramatically.

He rolled his eyes but decided to amuse her nonetheless, “what can I say, I’m just clearly superior.”

She scoffed but refused to dignify him with any further response. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended she was back at home under her warm, soft covers. 

“I brought you food.”

That caught her attention. Cautiously opening an eye to see if he was telling the truth, she was met with the sight of him holding up a bag of fast food that he must have picked up on his way over. She couldn’t help the growing smile on her face as she sat upright. 

“For me?” She asked.

“Of course, Munchkin” he handed the bag over to her, “you skipped lunch to finish up the science project you were behind on and I’m certain you haven’t gotten around to eating anything yet,” he said confidently.

She happily pulled an order of large fries out of the bag, “have I ever told you how amazing you are, Bryce?”

He smiled, “not often enough.”

“Well, you are. So amazing.”

She had just finished the fries and was looking through the back to see what else he had gotten her when Danny called out to her.

“What are your thoughts on Rafael?” He asked.

“Aveiro?”

“Yep.”

She tilted her head, “he’s okay, pretty cute. Why?”

“He told me he likes you, even wanted me to ask if you were single?” Danny said nonchalantly.

Sienna immediately got invested and joined in on the conversation, “she is very single, and I for one think they would be a great couple!”

She could feel her cheeks begin to heat up, and suddenly she found the hardwood floors very interesting, “I don’t know…he actually likes me?”

“That’s what he told me,” Danny replied, “can I give him your number?”

She weighed her options before giving a careless shrug, “Yeah, why not?” 

“You and Rafael? I knew this day would come,” Aurora commented.

“Okay, we’ve talked about this long enough. We need to study,” she insisted, pulling out her textbook.

“I’d rather not fail this test,” Bryce agreed.

Everyone begrudgingly went back to their previous activities, and Bryce took that opportunity to fill up the space next to her on the couch. She flipped through pages of her textbook before coming to a stop. She passed the textbook to Bryce and pointed to a large picture on the page.

“This one’s my favourite,” she said. 

“Wanderer above the Sea of Fog,” he read,  “you’re a fan of Caspar David Friedrich?”

She shrugged, “I guess I’m just a fan of the Romantic moment in general. Everything was so creative and beautiful. I just think it’s crazy how this painting holds so much emotion.”

Bryce frowned, looked at the painting, then back at her, “it certainly is romantic.”

She gave the painting one last look before she began flipping through the pages of the textbook again. Bryce watched her curiously as she read over the vocabulary words for that week. After a while, he decided to say what was on his mind. 

“So,” he broke the silence, “you and Rafael, huh?”

“Yeah,” suddenly, the furry carpet on the floor looked beyond interesting, “I used to have a crush on him in middle school, remember?”

His mouth broke out into a smile, “Sienna and I used to tease you about it all the time! No wonder you’re so bad at chemistry,” he joked. 

“I happen to be pretty extraordinary at chemistry, thank you very much.”

“Hm, I think that botched experiment that nearly killed Mrs. Durnam tells a very different story,” he said, and she playfully punched his arm. 

“She’s still alive, isn’t he? Plus, you were the one who didn’t make me double-check!”

He had an amused look on his face, “keep telling that to yourself, babe.”

3.

He was tired, the sheets were too hot. It had been a long day, his body was exhausted. The air in his bedroom was too cold, his mind was tired, too. If he would just close his eyes and stop thinking, he’d be asleep in mere minutes. Now the sheets were hot again, so he kicked them off. Then the air was too cold, so he pulled the sheets over him again. Not thinking ironically proved to be harder than perceived. Go then if you must, but remember, no matter how fooli- damn it, Sophocles, damn your terribly beautiful words.

Bryce threw the covers onto the other side of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t going to get much sleep that night no matter how hard he tried, anyway, no need to lie to himself. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, if there even had been any sleep in the first place.

There was no doubt that he was tired both mentally and physically. But emotionally? His heart was eternally restless when it came that. He crossed his room and sat down at the expensive wooden desk, fully accepting that getting any rest that night was no longer a viable option.

The bright light from his computer was a harsh contrast to the darkness of the room, but his eyes adjusted soon enough. Bryce didn’t even know what he was doing on his computer in the middle of the night. 

But his subconscious knew. His fingers opened up the application and started scrolling. No, no, yes. God, no. yes, definitely, perfect. And that went on for an hour or so, though Bryce wasn’t exactly keeping track of time. He’d be near-dead at sunrise, but he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he finished. 

When he actually did finish, he smiled contentedly to himself. A wave of calmness washed over him, and before he knew it, he was face down and lost in his dreams asleep.

He looked terrible the next morning. Well, as terrible as Bryce Lahela could look. He still dressed as great as always, even styling his hair with a little more volume than usual. He was still sharp as ever in class, but anyone who really knew him could tell that he was a total mess. 

“Hey, you okay?” She asked during lunch in Mr. Jericho’s classroom (He had been kind enough to let a bunch of teenagers spend lunch in his class; the cafeteria just wasn't cool enough for them).

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

She cocked her head to one side, “no you aren’t, spill.”

“Don’t worry about me. I actually have a little something for you,” Bryce fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have something for me?”

“Sending it now. Aaaand…...check your phone!”

She raised an eyebrow and cautiously unlocked her phone to look at the text he had sent to her.

“Sophocles and Serotonin,” she read off her phone, “ what is this?” 

“I made you a playlist of songs that I thought you’d like.”

“Seriously?” A smile emerged on her lips, and Bryce couldn’t help himself but to reflect it, “When did you even have the time for this?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “I happened to have free time last night.”

“With Mr. Anderson's early deadlines? I smell a steaming hot pile of bullshit, Lahela,” She looked up at him, a teasing lilt prominent in her tone, “I appreciate the playlist even more now that I know you took the time out of your night to make it. Thank you, Bryce.”

She leaned forward on the desk she was seated on and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He froze like a deer in headlights, and if she noticed, she definitely didn’t say anything. He compiled himself back together before she could notice that his usual smirk wasn’t as smug as it usually was, and leaned back against the desk behind him in an attempt to look cool. 

“So, what’re you doing after school?” He asked in his best casual voice. 

“Rafael and I are going to see a movie.”

“That’s actually still a thing?”

She shot him a look that made him raise his hands up in surrender, “Yes, it’s still a thing. He’s a good guy, I really like him.” 

“But is he good enough for you?” He crossed his arms, eyes not leaving hers. It wasn’t that Bryce didn’t like Rafael. Rafael was great, but no guy would ever be good enough for his best friend. 

“He is,” She said with an eye roll, “why do you care anyway?”

“Just looking out for you, Sweetheart.”

“I can take care of myself perfectly fine, Scout.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead, an impressed look across his face, “trust me, I know.”

4. 

Summer felt like an eternity ago, when in reality, it had been less than two months ago The yellow-orange leaves and updated Starbucks menu was enough to convince anyone that it was already October. 

It took a lot of sweet-talking and a tiny bit of bribery to convince Bryce to attend the Homecoming football game, but with Sienna’s assistance, she eventually got him to cave. She wanted him there, but more importantly, she wanted him to give her a ride there. 

Of course, she could have taken her own car, but she would much rather not waste her own gas when she could take advantage of his instead. It wasn’t like it mattered to him, his parents paid for his car, insurance, and gas anyway. Plus, the seat warming function in his cushy Mercedes Benz was a huge incentive.

She spent most of the ride over to the stadium raving over the seat warmers, and he spent most of the ride making fun of how obsessed she was with said seat warmer. Eventually, they parked outside and paid for the entrance fees. 

“It’s kinda co-” before she could even finish her sentence remarking the cold weather, Bryce handed her a comfy looking (and feeling) sweatshirt. She looked down at the maroon sweatshirt, then back at him, her mouth slightly ajar, “You brought an extra sweatshirt for me? I didn’t even ask.”

“You didn’t need to,” he shrugged. 

She put on the sweatshirt and stared at him with wide eyes. Bryce glanced at her, bit the inside of his lip, then shook his head, “Don’t go thinking I care about you or anything now, Lovey. I couldn’t have you taking the sweatshirt I’m wearing, then I’d freeze up. 

She looked up at him with a smug grin on her face that made him regret bringing her the sweatshirt in the first place, “Yeah? Is that really all it was?”

“Yes, that’s all, Sunshine,” he did his best to act all annoyed by her questioning, but instead found it endearing in the end. 

It took him a moment, but eventually, he came up with a half-decent excuse, “besides, you know my grandma would kill me if she knew I let you freeze. I swear, sometimes it seems like she loves you more than she loves me.”

“That’s because she does,” she pointed it out like it was the only possibility, “can you blame her? I’m funny and adorable. You’re just a grumpy old man that I had to drag to this game.”

“That’s it. Take the sweatshirt off, I hope you freeze,” he said with the dirtiest look he could muster and she had the audacity to throw her head back and laugh.

She reached into her bag, and after digging around, she pulled a five-dollar bill out of her wallet. Thrusting the money into Bryce’s hand and pushing him in the direction of the concession stand, “here, go get some popcorn for us. Maybe then you won’t be so irritable once you get some food in you, I’ll find us some good seats.’

Bryce grumbled something about “you’re irritable” but nonetheless ventured off towards the concession stand. 

She climbed the steps up the stadium and immediately found Sienna and Danny sitting in the student section, all decked out in their school colours and face paint. Sienna greeted her with a warm hug. 

Pulling back, Sienna took note of what she was wearing, “is that Bryce’s?”

She looked down at the Stanford sweatshirt she had wrapped around herself, “Oh yes, it’s pretty comfortable, actually.”

Sienna pursed her lips and mulled over the new information, “What’s going on between the two of you?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends,” she shrugged.

“And Bryce knows that?” She paused, “Do you know that?”

She narrowed her eyes at Sienna, “Yes, of course I know that. I’m dating Rafael now, okay? Bryce and I have always just been friends, and that's all we’ll ever be.” Sienna nodded her head, “Okay, okay. If you say so, I believe you. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt, I care about both of you.”

“There aren’t any feelings between Bryce and I, don’t worry,” she said, but those words didn’t leave her mind for the rest of the night.

5. 

Bryce had spent a significant amount of the week dreaming about the coffee and cookie dough ice cream that was waiting for him in the freezer.

It was his favourite flavour, and there was just enough left in the carton for one last bowl of that sweet sweet goodness of a food. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t eat the last of it until he really deserved to. After spending his afternoon being productive and studying for the test he had tomorrow, he decided that he finally earned that delectable bowl of unhealthy but utterly delicious caramel-colored ice cream. 

He made his way down to the kitchen, humming an upbeat tune and sliding across the smooth marble floor in his most comfortable pair of socks. Bryce had made it all the way to the freezer, barely moments away from the compartment holding his currently most prized possession when a hasty knock at the front door stopped him in his tracks.

He paused. He was oh so close to getting to his ice cream; maybe it was just a delivery? He debated answering the door or ignoring it and getting the ice cream first. He was starting to lean towards just going for his bowl of ice cream when there was a knock at the door again. With a scowl on his face, he abandoned the freezer and any hope for happiness he had left and made his way to the front door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He said in surprise when he saw who was standing at her doorstep.

“I didn’t know who else to go to. Sienna’s out with Danny, and Aurora and Jackie aren’t good in situations like this,” she spoke quietly and sniffled in between sentences, trying not to let any more tears fall down her cheek, “sorry, I just-”

He interrupted her by pulling her into the darkening sky and into his house and arms. She melted into his touch and gripped his shirt tightly as she hugged him back. 

“What happened?” he asked softly, rubbing circles into her back with his thumbs.

“Rafael and I broke up.”

Bryce sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. He bit his lip and weighed the options in front of him, before he came to a reluctant conclusion. He pulled away just enough so that he could look her in her teary bloodshot eyes.

“I think this is the part where we break out the ice cream.”

She offered him a slightly trembling smile, “ice cream couldn’t hurt.”

He led her to the kitchen and began digging through the freezer while she hopped onto the counter beside him. He hid a frown from her while in the process of pulling the nearly empty carton of coffee and cookie dough ice cream out of the freezer.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Bryce asked, retrieving a bowl from one of the cabinets.

“It wasn’t even a bad break up,” Despite her words, she still wiped at her tears using the sleeves of her shirt, “we mutually agreed that it was best for both of us.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “he’s just...not the one, I guess.”

Bryce felt something twist and turn in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t right to be happy when his friend was so miserable, but he was anyway. He did his best to hide the smile that wanted to form at the corners of his mouth, “I’m sorry, Cupcake.”

She laughed, “Cupcake?”

He rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face remained, “I’m trying something new, okay? Running out of nicknames.”

She couldn’t help but match his infectious smile, “you’re not gonna have any ice cream?” she asked as he passed her the bowl.

“Nah, not in the mood for it,” he lied.

6. 

“Did you get enough sleep last night, Hon?” She was already in mid-yawn when he had asked the question.

She held a hand over her mouth and nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You look terrible.”

She scowled at him, “wow, just what a girl wants to hear. Anyone ever tell you you’re one hell of a charmer, Lahela?”

“You’d be surprised, actually,” he gave her a teasing smile, “so who’s the cause for your sleepless night?”

“Napoleon Bonaparte.” She made an emphasis on the textbook in her hands, “Why’d I ever let you convince me to take an AP class with you?”

“Because you so desperately enjoy spending time with me?”

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“Ouch,” Bryce held a hand over his heart, “you really stayed up late studying for the quiz?”

“Some people have to study, okay? Not everyone is as gifted as Bryce flippin’ Lahela.”

“Flippin’? Really?” He stifled a laugh.

“We’re at school, gotta keep it PG,” she shrugged, “so yeah, I stay up and study sometimes. High schoolers aren’t supposed to get a normal amount of sleep, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I worry about you.”

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile, “you don’t need to worry about me, Bry.” 

“Believe me, if I could just shut it off, I would. Look, I’ll make you a stack of flashcards next time so you can get more sleep.”

She was about to say something in response when her phone rang in her pocket, “I should get this.”

She went out into the hallway to answer the call, and Bryce turned back to his lunch, not even bothering to hide his growing smile. 

“Bryce.”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and turned to see Sienna sitting at the desk across from him. Had she been listening to them the whole time? He had completely forgotten she was there; a fact he certainly wasn’t about to share with her. 

“Yes, Sienna?”

“Do you have a crush on her?”

Bryce blinked a few times, certain that he hadn’t heard Sienna right, “Excuse me?

Sienna rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “You heard me right. I’m not blind, Bryce. I see the way you look at her when you think no one is focusing. Do you have a crush on her?”

“That’s ridiculous, where’d you even get the idea from?”” He made a face like he was disgusted by the very thought of it. 

“Oh, I dunno, you just do whatever it takes to make her happy. Not to mention that you have a different pet name for her every time I see you two, seems pretty affectionate to me, Bryce.” She did always have a talent for laying out the facts.

“We’ve been friends since before I could remember, of course I care about her. And so what if I have a nickname for her? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not like you have a nickname for anyone else.”

“I call you...Si...all the time,” he paused to rethink what he just said, “I have a nickname for everyone.” 

“We both know that’s a load of B.S, are you really telling me that you don’t like her?”

“I don’t like her,” and it wasn’t an exact lie, because the feelings he had for her had progressed far beyond liking. 

7. 

“There’s nothing people appreciate more than a hand-made gift, right?” She said and pulled out a ball of azure coloured yarn.

Bryce crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a wall, “Sure, except maybe a nice Rolex or a new car.”

She gave him a look, “I don’t know what it is about me that makes you think I can afford a Rolex or a new car. I’m an unemployed high school student, my only income comes in the form of birthday cards from my grandparents.”

“Well, I’m sure Sienna will love the scarf you make for her.”

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” She muttered and stared blankly at the mess of strings in her lap.

His eyes widened a little, “Wait, you’re telling me you’ve never crocheted before?”

“I'll get the hang of it soon enough,” she pulled up a beginners guide on YouTube, and five minutes later, she had a knotted pile of yarn in her hands. She huffed in frustration and began to aggressively pull at the yarn.

“Let me help you.”

“You? Know how to knit?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. 

Bryce rolled his eyes, sitting next to her and taking the “scarf” out of her hands, “This is crocheting. You don’t even use knitting needles”

“Apologies. And how do you even know how to crochet?” 

“I may or may not have taken lessons a couple summers back to impress Alisson Rivers?” He admitted, quickly untangling her “progress” and began to expertly thread the loops of yarn together. He held up his work to her once a pattern had begun to form, “being incredibly sexy has its perks,” he jokingly winked at her. 

“I hate that you’re good at everything.”

He snorted and gently began to move the work into her hands for her to finish the rest, “Not everything, maybe just most things.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,”  She waved him off, now laser-focused on the project in front of her and determined to get it right that time. Bryce gave her tips and advice every once in a while, but for the most part, he let her work on it by herself. She was a fast learner. 

“Sweethea-” Bryce cut himself off, remembering the conversation he had with Sienna earlier. He cleared his throat, “you’re never gonna get it like that.”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows, “What?” He swallowed roughly and shook his head, “It’s nothing. Just...you’re going to wanna pull the yarn a little tighter or it’s all going to unravel before you’re even finished.”

“Oh,” She gave him a thankful smile, “thanks, Bryce.”

8.

It was almost 2 in the morning, and she knew that getting any more than four of sleep was out of the equation at that point. She wasn’t exactly trying very hard to sleep. She had tried to refresh her Instagram feed maybe two dozen times now, but it wasn’t as if anyone was going to post in the middle of the night. And even so, Instagram was doing a fairly poor job at keeping her mind distracted. 

Sighing out in frustration, she threw her body back onto her bed with a loud sigh. She wrinkled her nose and finally caved in to her temptations, navigating to the facetime app on her phone. Hesitating one last time, she tapped his contact with her thumb. The phone began to hum as she waited for him to pick up. 

“Hey, Bry. I know it’s late,” she said when he finally answered the phone. She frowned when he realised he was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” replied his groggy and raspy voice. 

“I know you’re lying, Bryce. Don’t worry about it, go back to sleep”

“I was already up.”

“No, you weren’t. It’s really fine, don’t let me bother you.

He stopped rubbing his eyes and looked at her firmly through the camera, “Maybe I was asleep, but I’m up now, aren’t I? Don’t worry about waking me up. Besides, I’d much rather be talking to you.’

She pursed her lips, giving him a doubtful look. He was too polite to ever tell her if she was bothering him. She couldn’t tell if he genuinely wanted to talk to her, or if he was too courteous to tell her otherwise.

He noticed the look she gave him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me. I would’ve stopped being friends with you years ago if I didn’t find all your annoying habits endearing as hell. I promise,” he shot her a smug smile that almost made her wish she hadn’t called him up. 

“How kind of you,” she said sarcastically.

“I try,” his grin widened, if that were even possible, “so what did you want to talk to me about?” 

She chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged, “I dunno.”

“You don’t?” Bryce narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to the camera. After he had examined her carefully, he leaned back and crossed his arms, “Yeah you do. What is it?”

She shifted uncomfortably by how easy it was for him to see right through her. Once more that night, she caved, “Earlier, when you told me to tighten the yarn. You stopped yourself from calling me ‘sweetheart’.”

He tensed, but she didn’t notice, “I mean, what’s so unusual about that? That's a perfectly normal thing for someone to do.”

“I know,” she nodded, “but you always call me some cheesy pet name. Always. So, did something happen? Are you mad at me?”

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, “No, of course not. Everything’s fine,” he paused, “that really upset you?”

“It’s just that you’ve always had a nickname for me, I guess I got used to it.”

He laughed through his nose and couldn’t stop the amused smile from spreading across his lips, “Okay, Boo.”

9. 

“Am I finally going to get to see your mural?”

Bryce rolled his eyes, “It isn’t my mural, Love. It’s the senior mural, it’s not like I’m painting it.”

“Yeah, but it was your idea,” she gave him a playful nudge, “I don’t know why you haven’t told me what it is yet. I’m sure if the amazing Bryce Lahela designed it, it’ll be the best senior mural this school has ever seen. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Babe. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said matter-of-factly, “you’re Bryce Lahela.”

They turned the corner to see their fellow senior, Kyra Santana, working on the mural. The previously beige wall was now covered in black, gray, and light blue paint. In the middle of the painting was a figure made up of colourful handprints standing above the blue-gray ocean in front of them. 

She stared at the mural with an open mouth. She glanced from Kyra, to Bryce, then back to the artwork in front of her.

“It was my idea to make the figure all colourful with the handprints,” Bryce said, “I thought it would be nice to let our class literally leave a mark on this school.”

Kyra smiled at the mural and set her paintbrush down, “I was a great idea, the splash of colour is just what it needed,” she turned to her, “what do you think?”

“Like it? No, I...I love it, it’s perfect,” she turned to Bryce with wide eyes, “Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, this is my favourite painting.”

“I noticed--don’t give me that look. It’s not like I care that much, you just never shut up about this painting. It’s annoying, really,” he muttered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his shoes.

She smiled and turned her attention back to the mural, “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this. I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course. It’s worth it, seeing how much you like it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You’re the kind of person I could fall in love with, you know that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the wall that the mural proudly sat on, and Bryce was glad.

Maybe if she had looked at him, she would have seen his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widen just a little bit. If he was the kind of person she could fall in love with, then why didn’t she? Bryce was flustered, and if she had noticed his lack of response, she didn’t mention it.

10.

Their high school was filled with rich kids. Their high school also had a debate team with a minimal number of members. These factors resulted in Bryce and her having their own separate hotel rooms when they attended a debate function in Washington D.C.

After a long day of debating and watching other teams debate, she and Bryce walked side by side down the narrow corridor to their respective rooms. Every now and then, they sneaked looks at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Bryce cleared his throat, “So that guy in the blue shirt asked me for your number.”

She glanced up at him, “He did? Did you give it to him?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Thought he was out of your league. I told him you snored like an ogre and gave him Jackie’s number instead,” he said with a careless shrug.

She gasped and shoved his shoulder, “Are you kidding me? You know I don’t snore, he was cute and interested in me!”

“Can’t imagine why.”

She scowled, “For your information, I’m adorable. I’m funny, enjoyable to be around, and have a high tolerance for assholes who shut down opportunities for their friends. And I’m extremely attractive, which is an added plus.”

“You don’t need to sell me on reasons why you’re dateable,” he chuckled softly.

“Oh yeah?”

At that very moment, they turned to face each other. Their teasing banter stopped when they realised that they were only inches apart, able to hear every inhale and exhale of the other. His gaze flickered down to her lips, and it was only for a second, but she hadn’t missed a single bit of it. 

Bryce took a step back and cleared his throat, standing rather uncomfortably, “It’s late, we should go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed before they both hurriedly turned around and stepped into their own rooms.

Had he almost kissed her? Did that really just happen? Her mind wandered as she leaned against her hotel room door. 

Maybe she had just imagined it. She shook the thought out of her head and grabbed a sweatshirt along with a pair of shorts out of her suitcase. Maybe she would stop thinking about it after a good night's rest. She changed, brushed her teeth, and was about to turn the lights off when she felt that nagging feeling bubble up in the pits of her stomach once more.

It was naive to think her mind would stop racing that night if she didn’t confront Bryce about it. She set the covers that were in her hands down and made her way out into the fluorescent-lit hallway. She had made it all the way to his door when she stopped herself. 

Was that really what she wanted to do? If she brought up their almost-kiss, would they ever be able to go back to being friends? Did she even want them to go back to being just friends? She bit her lip and glanced back at her own room door. She should’ve just gone to bed, it wasn’t worth putting their entire friendship on the line. But then again, she would always wonder what could have happened if she never followed her gut.

She raised her fist to knock on his door, but before she could make contact, the door swung open. They once more stood face to face, their wide-eyed expressions mirroring each other. For a moment in time, all that stood between them were the accelerated heartbeat and the flutters they felt for one another. 

Bryce’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her hand had found its place on the back of his neck and guided his lips to hers. His eyes were half-open, sneaking glances at her to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. Her overwhelming scent and the feeling of his hands threaded through her hair were all too real.

He pulled her into his room, kicking the closed door behind him. Placing both hands on his broad chest, she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

Thoughts were racing in her mind. She tried to put reason to the way he gripped her waist so tightly that there were sure to be bruises there the very next day. She tried to put reason to the way his pupils dilated as she went in for another kiss; she came up empty-handed. 

There was no way she felt the same, Bryce told himself. There was no way that she loved him the way he loved her. For as long as he could remember, he had been in love with her, and for as long as he could remember, she had only seen him as her friend.

He missed the warmth of her lips when she pulled away, but he couldn’t help but admire the way her lips were slightly swollen and her hair was a mess. Her eyes were mesmerising, and the way the light highlighted the softness of her skin made him fall even more. He took that moment to memorise every line and curve of her face, forever branding that memory into his head. 

She leaned in to kiss him again, but he pushed her away this time and sat up, “Stop. we...we can’t do this.  This can’t just be a one-time thing.”

“What?”

He felt his heart twist inside his chest and he clenched his jaw, “Because I love you.”

Her lips curled up in a smile, “I love you too.”

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