#I think I might change that and make it a little longer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daredevils-stuffed · 1 day ago

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One Shot - Help a Girl Out

Matt is sick of hearing how you’ve been unable to cum. From men and on your own. So, he takes it into his own hands.

Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags: boss/ employee vibes kinda not really. There is an actual like story, not just smut. But, Smut. A little kinky if you squint. He counts your orgasms. Office sex.

•••

Authors note: Happy Daredevil: Born Again Eve to those who celebrate. Very excited for tomorrow.

•••

The first time Matt hears of your issues. It’s early on a Monday morning.

Matt first learned about your issue on his way into the office.

He doesn’t mean to listen—doesn’t want to listen—but the moment your voice filters through the air, he can’t stop himself.

You’re perched on the edge of Karen’s desk, your morning coffee barely making a dent in your exhaustion. It had been a long night, and Karen needs to hear all about it to make yourself feel better.

“So,” you sigh dramatically, “I don’t think he was confident enough to use anything other than his hands. It was like I was his guinea pig. Just kinda laying there pretending to moan, pretending to feel something.”

Karen pouts back at you, understanding your predicament like most women would. “Oof, that is bad. At what point did you call it?”

“When he kept trying to make eye contact with me…from down there, it gave off weird vibes. So, I just patted him on his head and got up.”

“You did not!”

You groan up at the ceiling, covering your face with your hands. “It gets worse…after he left, I tried to help myself -yah know. And nothing.”

“I think you might be cursed.” Karen has already given you all the advice she could. What helped for her, what didn’t, even which brands of lube that might help. But nothing. Literally nothing has helped.

“Yeah, no shit! I’m convinced I’ll never know how it feels to have my own mind blowing, out of this world, orga- “

You stop dead.

The weight of your stare pressing against him even though he can’t see it. He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses as he enters the room.

You quickly shoot a look to Karen who just smirks.

“Morning Matt” you both chime, dripping with innocence.

He grumbles a response not really stopping to interact with you. His mind running a mile a minute. Have you never had an orgasm? Maybe I could help?

Matt doesn’t know why that gets under his skin as much as it does. But it does.

He drops into his chair, flexing his hands at his sides. Your voice is still there, looping in his head, and it shouldn’t be this distracting.

I’m convinced I’ll never know how it feels…mind-blowing, out-of-this-world…

Christ.

He doesn’t need this. He’s had a hell of a week already—barely any sleep, too many cases piling up, and now? Now he’s going to spend the rest of the day haunted by the mental image of you—spread out, breathless, wanting.

Matt knew the dynamic between you went beyond friendly colleagues. There had always been something there, an unspoken tension simmering beneath every playful jab, every stolen glance. But he had never taken it seriously.

That changes now.

He moves before he can stop himself, heading to the office kitchen. Two cups of coffee—one for him, one for you. It’s a rare gesture, but he knows you’ll appreciate it.

“For you.” He grunts shoving a mug towards you. Your fingers brush his as you take it. Matt lingers for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes boring into yours intensely. The telepathic message he’s sending not quite reaching you.

Just when you think he is going to say something his lips smack closed and he’s walking away.

The words I can help lost in his throat. Matt scowls at himself for chickening out. He couldn’t embarrass you like that. It really is none of his business.

All you notice however, is how his fingers are flexing at his side, as if your quick brush has stung him. The gesture of coffee confuses you, but you’re too distracted by his hands. You picture what they can do for you, take you to an edge you’ve never experienced before.

“Well, I don’t get coffee like that” Karen snides from her side of the room. You flush and hide behind your stack of papers. You take a sip and hum. It’s just how you like it, Matt always knows how you like things.

Matt spends the rest of the morning trying—and failing—to focus.

The sound of the office hums around him, phones ringing, papers shuffling, the steady rhythm of keyboards clacking. But all he can hear is you. Your voice, looping in his head, the way you sighed when you talked about last night, the frustration laced in every word.

I’m convinced I’ll never know how it feels…

His fingers twitch against the edge of his desk. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t want to care.

But he does.

And that’s the problem.

By the time lunch rolls around, he needs space. Needs air. Needs to clear his head before he does something stupid.

Because the last thing he wants is to come off as some arrogant asshole who thinks he has all the answers. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s just like every other guy who assumes he knows what you need.

Even if, deep down, he’s pretty damn sure he does.

The thought twists in his gut as he heads back to the office, rehearsing ways to make a move that don’t end with him humiliating himself—or worse, pushing you away.

But the moment he steps inside, ready to test the waters, Foggy’s voice cuts through the air.

“…I know he knows what he’s doing.”

Matt stops. Freezes mid-step on the stairs.

He’s on about a blind date.

Someone else.

Someone else touching you. Someone else making you laugh, making you moan. Someone else failing you.

Whilst Matt was out Foggy took the opportunity to swoop in, grinning as he flops into the chair across from you. Getting you to spill all the details from last night.

You skim over the basics—the guy took you to a nice restaurant, knew how to flirt, wasn’t exactly your usual type but still tried. Foggy questioned if you managed to get off, which shocked you. You knew you hadn’t told him, which means Karen must have.

The snap of Matt’s jaw tightening echoes in his ears.

He doesn’t remember moving, doesn’t register the way his fingers crush the takeout bag in his grip, barely even feels the splintering pressure of his cane beneath his palm.

All he knows is that when he speaks, his voice is sharp enough to slice through the air.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, can you please leave our paralegal alone to get on with her work?”

Silence.

He’s standing in the doorway now, Foggy blinking at him in surprise, you stare at him like you’re trying to read him. Like you can feel the heat radiating off of him from across the room.

Matt clenches his jaw, forces himself to move, to breathe. Forces himself to walk away before he does something reckless.

It’s not my problem. It’s none of my damn business.

But the thought of anyone else fixing this for you—that is what has his stomach twisting. That is what has his grip tightening around his cane until he’s sure the wood is about to crack.

I know what I’m doing.

Your pulse, however, is unsteady as you turn back to your desk, your mind is spinning.

Matt never snaps like that—not over you.

And yet, the frustration in his voice, the heat behind it, the way he stormed off like Foggy had just personally offended him—

You swallow hard.

No. No, you must be imagining things. Reading too much into it.

But then some time later, as you return from the bathroom, you pause. Confusion flickers across your face as you spot something on your desk—a plate, half a sandwich, some chips.

You glance around, questioning, until Karen gives you a knowing smirk, tilting her head toward Matt’s office.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t acknowledge what he’s done.

•••

It’s late. The office is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and the low hum of Matt’s computer. Everyone has gone, leaving just the two of you in the dimly lit space. You’ve been pretending to focus on paperwork, but your mind has been elsewhere- on the weight of Matt’s presence, on the way he looks in the glow of his screen, his jaw tight with unspoken tension.

Matt, with headphones in, is distracted. He’s thinking about you, like he has been all day. Thinking about the way you might touch yourself when no one is watching. About how much he wants to be the one touching you instead.

The thought takes hold, creeping into his veins like wildfire. His hand drifts lower, pal, pressing over the hardness straining against his slacks. He exhales sharply, his mind flooding with images - your skirt bunched around your waist, your body arching against his, the breathless sound of your moans as he drives you over the edge. His fingers tighten. He’s losing himself in it, lost in the fantasy of you, of having you, of making you his.

He doesn’t hear you approach.

You stop in your tracks, eyes widening at the sight before you - Matt, head tilted back against his chair, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, his hand gripping himself through his trousers. A bead of sweat slides down his temple. Your name spills from his lips in a quiet, desperate murmur.

Heat coils in your stomach.

You should walk away. Pretend you never saw. But you don’t.

Instead, you step closer.

“Enjoying yourself, Mr Murdock?”

His body goes rid His body goes rigid. His eyes snap open, unfocused but sharp, as if he can feel your presence more than see it. His breath is unsteady, his arousal still evident, straining against the dark fabric of his slacks.

It takes him a moment to speak. "You’ve done this to me," he rasps, voice rough, edged with frustration. "Drove me to this. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day."

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. You take your time, stepping between his spread legs, savouring the way his breath hitches. You step closer, the air between you electric. His hands clench at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to pull you into his lap and grind against you until you’re just as desperate as he is.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confesses, voice tight with restraint. “Every look. Every word. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You hum, tilting your head as if considering his words. “And what exactly have I done, Mr. Murdock?”

His jaw tightens. He’s unraveling, restraint slipping through his fingers like sand. You see it in the way his breathing turns ragged, in the way his control—so carefully maintained—is fracturing before you.

“You already know,” he growls.

Your hands brush along the armrests of his chair, caging him in, your body close enough that he can feel your warmth. His fingers twitch, aching to touch.

“You’ve spent all day thinking about me?” you murmur. “Thinking about what you’d do if I let you?”

His control snaps.

One hand grips your waist, dragging you onto his lap in a fluid motion. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head so your lips are a breath away from his.

“Say the word,” he rasps, mouth ghosting over your skin, teasing, tormenting. “Say the word, and I’ll show you exactly what I’ve been thinking about.”

Heat coils in your stomach. His fingers dig into your hips, firm and possessive, as if grounding himself.

“Then show me,” you whisper.

It’s all the permission he needs.

In a blur, your skirt is bunched around your waist, and his mouth is on you—hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down your neck, each one laced with the promise of what’s to come. His hands roam your thighs, spreading you open, savouring every inch of exposed skin like it’s something sacred.

"You smell incredible," he murmurs against your lips, voice reverent, like he’s memorising every piece of you. His touch is maddening—just enough to make you shiver, but not enough to satisfy the ache burning between your legs.

He lowers himself to his knees pulling you to the edge of the desk. Bringing one of your legs over his shoulder, placing gentle kisses until he reaches your centre.

His breath hitches as he finally—finally—tastes you. A low groan vibrates through his chest as his tongue drags over you, slow and deliberate. You gasp, your fingers threading into his hair, anchoring him there.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against you, voice thick with reverence. “You taste even better than I could ever imagine.”

His tongue moves in long, languid strokes, teasing, savouring, drinking in every sound you make. His grip tightens when your hips jerk against his mouth, an unspoken command to stay still.

But he’s not done teasing you. Not yet.

“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” His voice is low, gravelly, sending shivers through you. “Going to do exactly what I say?”

You can barely form words, nodding, breathless.

“Good.”

And then he ruins you.

His tongue works you over with practiced precision—each flick, each stroke designed to drive you higher. Your body trembles, a desperate whimper escaping your lips as pleasure coils tighter, hotter.

“You like this, sweetheart?” he taunts, voice dark and full of promise. “Like knowing how fucking desperate I’ve been for you?”

You moan, back arching, legs trembling as you lose yourself in him. He keeps going—pushing you closer, dragging it out until the pleasure is unbearable. It’s almost a pain mixed with white hot pleasure. You beg for more. For it not to stop. It can’t stop. You grip Matts hair to be sure it doesn’t. He sucks on a spot that makes you want to scream. Or maybe you are. It’s all too much and you need it. And then you reach a point where it is too much, and your eyes squeeze close and your thighs shake.

And then—release.

You shatter, thighs tightening around his head, a strangled cry escaping your lips. He groans against you, lapping up every last tremor, drawing out every aftershock until your entire body is shaking.

And still—he’s not finished.

Before you can catch your breath, he’s pulling you into his lap, large hands tracing slow, grounding patterns along your abdomen. The fabric of his slacks is rough against your oversensitive skin, the hard press of him impossible to ignore.

"That’s one," he murmurs, lips brushing against your temple.

You barely register the words before his fingers are sliding back between your legs—tracing, teasing, pushing inside you with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your body jolts, oversensitive, but Matt doesn’t stop.

“We’re not done yet, darling.”

You grind against him instinctively, chasing friction, chasing him. His head tips back, jaw clenched, as you roll your hips over him.

"Fuck," he grits out, hands gripping you tighter. "You're going to kill me."

His fingers curl inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy. His breath is hot against your ear, murmuring filth that makes your toes curl, your body tightening once again.

It doesn’t take long until your second orgasm hits like a freight train. "That’s two."

And then he’s standing, lifting you like you weigh nothing, and bending you over the desk.

Your cheek presses against the cool wood, the contrast to his burning heat making you shudder. Light brushes against your shoulder blades as he moves your hair aside, placing slow, reverent kisses down the curve of your neck.

"You have no idea how perfect you are like this," he groans, his hands steadying you, grounding you. "Falling apart for me. Letting me take what I want. You deserve to feel it all."

Your mind is blank—no, not blank, just utterly consumed by him.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" His touch is slow as it glides down your spine, teasing, taunting.

You barely manage a nod.

He chuckles darkly. “Think you can take one more?”

A whimper is all you can offer.

"That's what I thought."

And then he’s inside you.

The stretch is exquisite, overwhelming, a perfect contradiction of pleasure and desperation. He gives you a moment to adjust—to feel every inch of him, to let the sensation take you over.

And then he moves.

Deep, unrelenting strokes, each one angled to wring more from you, to keep you right on that edge where pleasure and pain blur into something devastating.

"So tight," he groans. "So fucking perfect for me."

He fists a hand in your hair and pulls you up, your back flush against his chest. The movement is purposeful—possessive. His free hand finds your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling the way you gasp for him.

You’re babbling, incoherent, barely able to hold yourself together. And Matt loves it.

His rhythm falters, hips stuttering as the pleasure consumes him. "Fuck," he hisses, his grip on you tightening. "You’re going to make me—"

Your body clenches around him, and that’s all it takes.

He groans your name into your neck, the sound raw and wrecked as he tumbles over the edge, heat spilling inside you. His hold on you tightens as he rides it out, dragging you with him, until the only sound in the room is your ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of your hearts.

And still, he doesn’t let you go.

His arms stay wrapped around you, holding you firm against him, his breath still ragged against your ear. His hands, once gripping with desperation, now trace slow, grounding circles over your skin. Neither of you speaks for a moment—just the sound of your heartbeats, the slow rise and fall of your chests in sync.

Then, finally, Matt exhales, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder. His fingers slide down to your waist, squeezing gently, almost reassuringly.

“You okay?” His voice is lower now, softer, a stark contrast to how he had just wrecked you.

You hum, too blissed out to form words. He chuckles, the sound warm and satisfied, and the vibration of it sends a pleasant aftershock through you.

For a while, you just stay like that, his body still pressed against yours, neither of you willing to move just yet. He runs a hand up your spine, then down again, like he’s memorising every dip, every curve, every shiver you give him.

Finally, reluctantly, he pulls back just enough to let you turn in his arms. His face is unreadable, but there’s something intense lingering behind his expression. Something possessive, something tender.

His fingers ghost along your jaw, tilting your chin up. He studies you, like he’s committing this exact moment to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, dazed, still trying to process everything. A small, breathless laugh escapes you, and he grins, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

A beat of silence stretches between you. The weight of everything settles in the air—what just happened, what it means, where it leaves you both.

And then, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“So…” he murmurs, a teasing edge creeping into his voice. “Still convinced you’ll never know what a mind-blowing orgasm feels like?”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you swat weakly at his chest. “Shut up, Murdock.”

He laughs, catching your wrist, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. “Just making sure you’re keeping count,” he teases. His lips trail down, ghosting along your collarbone, dangerously close to starting something all over again.

You arch a brow at him, trying to feign exasperation, but you already know the truth.

You’ll never be able to get enough of him. From the look in his eyes, he feels the same. And that? That might just be the most dangerous thing of all.

#matt murdock smut #daredevil x reader #daredevil: born again #daredevil smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #karen page #foggy nelson #no beta we die like foggy Nelson apparently

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sweetdispatch · 2 days ago

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Can I order 2 heart cookies with anything flavors except chocolate and coffee, with whipped cream please!

Opposites - J. Slafkovsky

v' bakery pairing: Juraj Slafkovsky x fem!reader summary: You and Juraj are coming from two different planets but this didn't stop you two from falling in love warning: none

It happened during summer. Juraj stayed a little longer in Montreal to enjoy free time with his teammates before he went back to his country. You bumped into him at one of the house parties and there was something electric about him. You two sat down on the couch and had a really long conversation about each other’s lives. In that moment you realised that your priorities and life are on a different path than his.

Juraj was a hockey player who wanted to succeed. His mind was wrapped on hockey and his team. You were a student who worked as a waitress. You were keen on graduating and seeing what life has for you. You didn’t have a plan for your future when he was already trying to achieve his plans and dreams.

You and Juraj were total opposites yet you two were attached to each other. You couldn’t understand what’s so special about him since you shared way different interests than him. Also, your character was way different than his. It was like you were made for each other despite all the differences.

You exchanged your phone number with Juraj and spent the whole summer talking to him. He was showing you what he’s doing and pretty much for 3 months he was just resting and travelling across Europe. You at the same time were working and trying to earn as much as possible to work less during the semester.

When Juraj returned to Montreal, you two were going out together at least once a week. You two were from different planets and every time one of you were talking about life, the other was confused. It was a bizarre experience for both of you but still, you two couldn’t stop. You were a quiet person, a listener when he was a loud person who couldn't stop talking.

This was something new for you because your friends were similar to you but Juraj was different. There was something in him that made you fall in love with him. You didn’t say it out loud to him, scared of his reaction. You were well aware that there’s a huge difference between you two and this would never work.

Juraj felt the same about you. He was slowly falling in love with you but he hasn't said a word to you about it. He felt like you see him only as a friend. He was scared that he might be too much for you and didn’t want to ruin the friendship to see if you two can work as a couple.

You’ve met his teammates and Juraj met your friends. Everyone could tell that you two are way different but at the same time, you two fit perfectly to each other. Everyone was trying to convince you and Juraj that you should risk and tell one another about the feelings but there was a barrier that none of you wanted to break.

Everything changed during the Halloween party. Juraj asked you to be his plus one and you happily agreed. When you two arrived, you went straight to the bar. One drink turned into another and before you could know, you were drunk. Juraj was having his eyes all the time on you to make sure you’re alright. During the taxi ride back to his place, you confessed to him.

“I’m in love with you” That was the last thing you said to him before you fell asleep on his shoulder.

Juraj could swear that his world stopped. He couldn’t believe that the girl he's obsessed with shares the same feeling as him. He brought you back to his place and put you in a bed without disturbing your sleep. He went to his bedroom and tried to sleep but his head was spiralling thinking all the time about what you said in a taxi.

The next morning you woke up with a terrible hangover and saw that you’re not in your place. At first you freaked out but after a second you realised that you’re in Juraj’s place. In that moment, the memory hit you of what you said to him. You didn’t know what to do and there was no escape from his apartment without being caught by him. You decided to confront him and face your actions.

You stepped out from the bedroom and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Juraj was sitting on the couch and immediately stood up to talk with you. For the first time, you two felt awkward around each other.

“Are you feeling alright?” Juraj asked you.

“I’m fine. You?” You returned to question and took a sip of water.

“I’m good” Juraj ran his hand over his face before he spoke again. “About yesterday…” He couldn’t finish because you stopped him.

“Can we forget about it?” You pleaded.

“We can’t because…” Juraj took a deep breath. “I also love you. I didn’t say anything, scared that you might not feel mutual but when you said it yesterday, I knew I have to tell you this”

“Prove it” You said and put the glass of water on the counter. “Prove, that I’m not delusional and I’m not making this up”

Juraj, without thinking, put his lips on yours. This kiss was full of unspoken emotions that he shared towards you. You melted under his touch. Despite all the differences between you two, you were soulmates and nothing could change it.

#juraj slafkovský #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky fanfiction #juraj slafkovsky oneshot #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #montreal canadiens #v' bakery

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blu3haw4 · 2 days ago

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Happy Clexaweek everyone! I bring to you today a new idea born from... such a random post. An anon sent me a prompt for introvert college gamer Clarke and Lexa and I couldn't resist. I build up their characters through asks and I've been having a lot of fun with it, So

Here's... (already on AO3)

The Sex Life Of Gamer Girls

Summary: Clarke and Lexa are introvert college student who unknowingly attend the same school. They both love gaming and they meet online, they love chatting with each other, and there's lots of flirting online as well. After learning they attend the same school -and a little awkward silence- they make plans to meet up.

“You’re still in your underwear!” Octavia groans, closing the bathroom door forcefully behind her.

Lexa turns to frown at her, despite knowing that attitude is more than justified. She’s changed too many times to count, and they don’t really have that much time until they must be at the theater for sound check with the rest of the orchestra.

It’s just… that she has a few options. Three pairs of pants and three blouses give her room to try them all a few times in different combinations, and that’s not even adding the jackets, which may change the outfit completely-

“Why are you so worried, I though Sky was just a friend”

“She is! And it’s Clarke-”

“Not the point” Octavia rolls her eyes; she knows Clarke and Sky are the same person.

“That she’s my friend doesn’t mean I don’t want to impress her” Lexa deadpans.

“Okay, and you don’t think the master solo you’re playing tonight will do the trick?” Lexa just huffs at her and turns to examine her clothes again.

Octavia groans again.

“Just tell me what’s up” She rolls her eyes falling into her bed. They both know what’s up, they’ve been best friends for too long and roommates for what feels like even longer to not know what is up.

Still, neither would say it.

“You’ve never cared about your looks other than the prize and brand of your clothes-“

“That’s not true”

“Yes, it is”

“No it’s not”

“And understatement then”

“Overstatement”

“Whatever!” Octavia growls and Lexa can’t help the triumphant smirk “If she’s really just a friend go black dress-pants, black shirt and the grey vest. You look cool, you dick”

Lexa’s smirk falls, she utters a response about the word sounding like dyke just to keep Octavia talking as she turns back to her clothes with a frown.

She knows she looks cool with the vest, profession even, some might say. The colors, or rather shades, are fitting for the play and she knows it’s going to be comfortable on her seat. And she knows Clarke is just her friend, her online friend that she’s going to meet in real life for the very first time. After a year of playing together and recently after an awkward couple of months since they found out they go to the same school, but ultimately, just her friend,

But she might be more, closer than expected, they flirt a lot, or at least Lexa thinks they do, sometimes, not that she has ever asked or acknowledge it with her, she doesn’t want to or would admit it -right now-…

“What if…” She sighs through her mouth, sitting down on Octavia’s bed and avoiding eye contact with her “cool… is not… what I’m going for”

A second goes by, then another. She counts to three before gazing over to Octavia. She’s narrowing her eyes and it’s clear she’s trying to tame the smirk raising, Lexa can’t help but join her.

“If… you would rather, let’s say, look… hot. Go with the leather pants and the green knitted sweater with the… big crunch turtleneck” Octavia hums “Your figure does “Woop!” She says, making an hourglass silhouette with her hands and winking at her.

“I don’t have an hourglass figure” Lexa rolls her eyes at Octavia’s defiant laugh. She stands to get the sweater regardless. It wasn’t within her first options, but it should work, she can envision the outfit in her head and… yeah, she does look hot in that.

“The tight ones?”

“No, the others. With the belt. You could also do heels.”

“I’m not doing heels” Lexa rolls her eyes, putting on an undershirt before grabbing the sweater.

“Your ass pops with heels. Sexy as fuck”

Lexa pauses, with the turtleneck half over her face, considers for a second and turns to look at Octavia. She’s already smirking, Lexa huffs as she pulls the sweater the rest of the way down revealing her own smirk.

“I’m just saying, Sky is going to love it, she would have to be blind to not want to kiss you”

“It’s Clarke” Lexa corrects as she slides the pants up and bounces to get them past her hips. She ignores most of the sentence and refuses to acknowledge the blush rising to her cheeks.

“It’s the same person! We both know who I mean”

“But I need us to get used to calling her Clarke”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been calling her Sky since we met, and she asked me to please call her Clarke when we see each other”

“Okay… but why?”

“Because it’s her name!” Lexa rolls her eyes. And okay, that is maybe a bullshit answer, but she doesn’t have to explain everything to Octavia.

---

There’s no need to, really, when Octavia has heard it all already. From the first time Lexa realized they never addressed each other by any names, through teasing when she heard ‘princess’ coming out of Lexa’s mouth for the first time, all the way to a few days ago when Clarke asked to "please, for the love of god, don't you dare call me Sky.”

It was a funny thing, a few memories that Lexa held dearly, close to her heart.

The first time they talked they greeted each other with ‘hi there’s and ‘hello’s and continued to talk directly about the game, they told each other coordinates and gave each other directions, they were the only two playing so there wasn’t any real need to clarify who they were talking to.

It went like that the first few times they played together, just greeting each other with ‘hi’s and ‘hey there’s while Lexa started to realize there were only two ways she could think of to call her new duo and one of them was ‘Princess’.

The first time she called her Sky wasn’t even talking to her, Lexa was telling Octavia all about her new online friend and she went with it and it just kinda… stuck. She still didn’t bring it up to Clarke for another while, Clarke hadn’t brought it up either, but they’ve talked once about potentially playing in teams of four which would inevitably force them to talk about it.

“We were just talking the other day that it would be fun to play squad but” Lexa tasked, she didn’t know why she felt so nervous “I mean, I would have to ask her a name or something, right? If we’re going to be talking with more people, I mean… But her username is SkyPrincess… and I’m not about to call her Princess”

Octavia eyed her suspiciously, because of course she noticed Lexa’s nervousness, she could’ve brought it up directly to this Sky, but instead she asked her best friend for advice.

So, it was her job… to tease her.

"I mean if you wanted to” she said suggestively.

"Octavia! No" Lexa blushed, because… maybe she did. A little. Secretly.

"Okay, but keep it in mind" Octavia winked at her before tasking and turning more serious “Just ask her. I mean it’s not like GaHeda gives any indication of your name. It translates to Girl Commander”

“She could think of calling me Heda”

“Didn’t you already tell her what it means? She would be having the same argument we’re having with her friends”

Which might as well be the case, she didn’t ask, but she got a better grip on her emotions by the time the subject of playing squads was brought up again.

“Should we play with open mic?” She asked.

“I mean… sure, it would be fun. Does it matter?”

“Uhm not really I just… I would need to know... how to call you, so we can communicate better.” Lexa paused. “Cause I’m not gonna call you Princess"

“What if I am an actual princess?”

“I... you aren’t- are you?” Lexa stutters, not that she believed so, but… could it-

Clarke snorts, unable to keep up her own lie “no… but I could've been” she joked, oh so pleased with herself.

Lexa snorted and rolled her eyes “Can't imagine a princess using Fornite’s open mic”

“Are you a princess? How would you know?”

“I could be. And that's the reason I wouldn't call you a princess”

“…You just stepped on your own lies” Clarke giggled out after a second.

“Whatever!” Lexa rolled her eyes again, she was smiling though, Clarke always made her laugh whether she was trying or not “Can I call you Sky or are you going to tell me your name?” She tried, smiling through it, no longer nervous.

“Will you tell me yours? Because I don't want to call you "Heda" now that I know it means commander... even though you are bossy” Clarke started laughing,

“You are bossy!” Lexa laughed with her.

They calmed into a few giggles “Okay, okay. I must admit I do like sky…” Clarke chewed her lip and considered for a second before adding “but uhm, my name is Clarke”

“Klark” Lexa tried out, and it made her smile.

“Mmh, sure, click the K however you'd like” She couldn’t help but murmur, trying to tame her smile.

“I'll stick with Sky then” It’s the tasked respond she gets, making her laugh a full belly laugh. She could almost imagine the eyeroll that accompanied it, if only she knew how Lexa looked.

“I should make you call me Heda just for that” Lexa huffed while she was still laughing.

“I'll call you Gabe if you don't tell me your name” She shot back, still giggling when she answered, not missing a beat.

“Noo! Iugh, that's awful” Lexa sounded truly disgusted “It's G-AH not G-ei-b. You're not trying to say g-ei-m. It's like g-ah-m-ah” she clarified, it was a different language after all.

Before Clarke could come up with a joke she added “aaand! My name is Lexa”

It paused Clarke. It’s pretty, it fits her in a way that she can’t fully understand. She tested it in her head for a second, mouthing it as her eyes roamed her screen, dreaming of putting a face to the name.

“Lex-ah” She smiled, unable to be serious for too long “... not lex-ei?”

“I’m disconnecting” Lexa sighed immediately through what Clarke simply knew to be a tamed smile.

“No wait!” She called out anyways, giving the seriousness Lexa was surely looking for… only for a little bit “Lex-aH is fine, Lex-aH is perfect, beautiful even"

She said without thinking, not realizing she put no filter in her words. She didn’t take it back, not embarrassed, no regrets. She hoped Lexa liked it… or at least didn’t hate it.

“You done?” Lexa asked in a dry tone that was just so… her. So used to be serious but hiding laughter behind it.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile knowing that she had got to know Lexa enough at that point to be able to tell those little details.

“If you forgive me, yeah” She tried with her brightest smile, knowing that even if Lexa couldn’t see it, she could surely hear it.

“Let's play then Sky”

“You're really not going to say my name again?”

“Noup” and there was laughter, slipping through a single word and making Clarke smile and giggle.

Clarke didn’t argue, she did laugh the first twenty times Lexa called her Sky, not caring that their different teammates couldn’t understand what was so funny.

Lexa continued to call her Sky every time after that day, and Clarke did end up calling Lexa Heda sometimes, mostly as a way to mock her bossy-ness, laughing at her -and maybe flirting a little- after Lexa described exactly what she needed to do.

Lexa got her turn as well, when Clarke was feeling serious and she took it upon herself to boss her around about weapon load-out and heals and locations, she would just throw in a “yess, princess!” not only making her blush but immediately disarming her.

It was annoying that she liked it so much.

Annoying that she liked Sky just as much, because no one else called her that, it was their thing, Lexa’s names only for her. There was always a specific tone that came with it as well, a tone to shifted and morphed through the months, when there used to be a teasing tilt now there was a softness to it, an affectionate tilt to the word, maybe a flirtatious one as well… or maybe Clarke was projecting.

There have been other names recently, proposedly thrown in there to test the waters on what exactly their relationship was about. It was a constant state of doubt, of overthinking and questioning if what she was doing was okay, if Lexa liked it or was just been polite, of whether she was actually clueless, and Clarke wouldn’t -couldn’t- blame her, she didn’t know what exactly she was doing either.

She couldn’t say that it had started recently, but it definitely felt like there had been a pause when they found out they went to the same school, and then they were back to it even stronger after the holidays.

It was a little over a year since the first time they played together when they talked about it for real. They both knew the other was a college student, but they didn’t know much else about it. They hadn’t really talked about it in depth, just the classic ‘oh I need to study for a class’ or ‘I have this group assignment’ and then they were back to talking about the game.

The only reason Lexa started asking more questions that time was because Clarke had joined the game three hours later than they had agreed, she was three hours late because a group meeting for a class she didn’t even like had run that late because everyone was knee on arguing with each other and they couldn’t agree on anything. Clarke was so tired and so pissed, Raven was out at a party with Nyilah and Echo had a terrible headache and Clarke just needed to complain about it to someone.

That night was the first time she shared about her career choice -by complaining about the classes that didn’t fit with it anymore- how she had only truly realized what she wanted mid semester and now she was stressing with a pair of classes that she didn’t like or care for, and it felt good to share with Lexa this new part of herself one she was really and recently excited about.

In turn, Lexa shared a little about her life as well, she told Clarke about the classes she was learning were not what she wanted, those subjects she learned she only liked as extracurriculars, she told her about her extracurriculars, and that it was very likely that anytime she said she couldn’t make it after class it was probably due to them, much more probable than her needing to study.

They talked about the different courses their schools offered and were surprised to realized they offered pretty much the same ones, they got suspicious when Lexa mentioned a science fair she attended a few day prior and Clarke remembered there had been one at her school as well. Neither of them really wanted to ask because they were afraid to be right; Clarke had never pondered the idea of actually meeting Lexa in real life, but suddenly it became all too possible when Lexa cleared her throat and reluctantly asked.

“Hey uhm… Clarke?” and that was already a change, Lexa calling her by her name always meant serious, though until this point nothing had ever been truly serious “are you… attending *Polaris University*?”

“I… am. Are you as well?”

“…Yeah”

They were in the middle of a game, so it wasn’t hard to shift subject and ignore the awkwardness, one that was born from… very confusing feelings. Because they both knew that if this was anyone else, they would close the game and block the person to never have to worry about it again, instead, because they liked each other so much they were caught in this limbo of what the fuck to do.

When they ended second place in their game and the options’ screen loaded in, Lexa asked “Ready up?”

“Yep, let’s go” Clarke answered, and they played for another hour before saying goodnight like any other time, only difference been not asking when they would get on again.

It was around the end of November so it wasn’t hard to use Thanksgiving as a self-told excuse to not play much -Lexa lying more than Clarke about not having the time, she retired back to other, offline, games since she wasn’t spending it with her family, and there's only so much time you can spend talking with your best friend when only one of you has a social life and you live together-

After Thanksgiving is finals time so it’s the same thing, neither ask the other to play and they don’t really chat over discord, but it still feels like they are giving out excuses even when they’re only in their heads. It’s around this time that Clarke finally tells her roommate and college best friend, Raven, about Lexa. Over the past year Raven has heard her name a few times, she’s never bother asking more though since Clarke also played with other people including her childhood best friends.

Clarke has no filter that day, she sits on Raven’s bed and asks for her help on her dilemma, she explains how she met Lexa and how great she is and how much she likes playing with her and how good it felt to tell her about her life and feel like real friends -she didn’t mentioned the flirting- but how that had led to finding out they were in the same school which then led to the awkward thanksgiving break that made Clarke realize she didn’t want to lose her but didn’t know how to move forward. Ultimately the answer was giving it time and Raven promised not to tease her about it… in front of their roommates.

Finals roll out and then winter break and they finally calm down a bit, Lexa has been playing on her own since Clarke hasn’t even started the launcher, but then a day before Christmas she gets on.

They’re both in their hometowns, it’s late at night for both and it’s easy to send a group request and play together, blaming their quietness on tiredness and just chilling in every game. Just like that, they start playing regularly again, Lexa confesses to being practically free all break long and Clarke jokes -and means it- that she’s going to use her as an excuse to get aways from too much family time.

They go back to school, and they go a few weeks playing without mentioning it, each pondering in their heads the chances of running into each other, of whether they would recognize the other and whether they would want that to happen.

It feels like they get to the same conclusion at the same time when they start tiptoeing around the subject. The flirting turns ON for real, silly still because that's who they are but oh so clearly there. It’s fun, and it’s easy to forget they were troubled by about a month with this when now it felt so easy.

Clarke starts very consciously saying "sorry, babe" and "babe, c'mon" during fights, Lexa leans much more into calling Clarke Princess, either while watching her clutch a 1v2, or when she's found her favorite gun and she’s bringing it over to her - Clarke misses snipers this season but will settle for the hunting rifle recently added- Lexa also sneaks a little "goodnight princess" every so often, that makes it impossible for Clarke to sleep those night, blushing and smiling like a fool while trying not to imagine other scenarios where Lexa could call her that.

The nagging feeling that it can all fall apart if she pushed too far is still there, and then Lexa brings up meeting up, very casually mentioning she’s going to be playing with the orchestra -because yes, she plays the piano- and she would like if Clarke could assists “I think you could like it, it’s quiet an epic set”

---

The doubts and questioning and overthinking only increased after they had agreed to meet up. And they are right there as Clarke changes outfits so many times, not deciding on color palette or style, and what she’s supposed to do for her make up, and her hair-

She tried to do all this freaking out during the week, preparing beforehand was a smart move, even though she wasn’t supposed to be stressing; Lexa was her friend… had to be, at least until they met for real and she figured out her feelings.

Hiding away from Raven … wasn’t her smarted decision. She Is, after all the only person who knows about Lexa, or how Clarke feels about her. She already knew her so well - sharing a dorm and a room together for a year and a half does that- of course she clocks Clarke’s internal struggle the minute she walks into their room, dressed and ready to be Clarke’s plus-one, and finds her in front of the mirror with three different tops on her hands, and none of them on her.

“Girl, really?”

Clarke turns straddled, wide eyes pressing the tops close to her body and blinks.

Raven closes her eyes and sighs, if she wants to laugh, she covers it perfectly, she drops her bags and massages her forehead before getting to work.

“Did you pick the bottoms?”

“Uhm-”

“Cargos, then, you look good, you’ll feel comfortable and they’re easy to match” Raven grabs one of the tops from her hands and throws it back to her bed “That one doesn’t. Are you going light or dark?”

“I… was thinking light” she swallows, she’s not intimidated… at all, it’s just that Raven is weirdly this serious and she’s unsure how to react. That’s all.

“Light blue one, I love those. These two don’t match though” Raven says as she grabs the remaining two tops and throws them as well. She finds Clarke’s cargos and throws them at her “Put them on” She says as she starts rummaging through Clarke’s closet.

“Ohhh look at you! you’re perfect” Raven gasps after a second “Listen I know you love cleavage” she says turning to face Clarke “but you don’t own this top for no reason” she smirks showing her a knitted, sleeveless crop-top color cream.

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s throwing it at her, she throws herself to her bed with a satisfied sigh and lets Clarke get dressed.

“I think you know you need to go with the combat boots, and for coats, just pick any of the high-end long-ass ones, I know you own a bunch but just don’t take forever. Actually, just go with the cappuccino one”

Clarke simply nods, going over her large selection of coats in her head as she finished dressing, confirming that, yeah, the cappuccino one is perfect. She’s a bit surprised at how… honest Raven’s help seems to be, she know Raven is a good friend and cares about her, it’s just that her help is usually accompanied by-

“I don’t know why you’re so worried about this- Scratch that I know why” Raven interrupts her thoughts, turning to her with a smirk.

Oh, there it comes.

The teasing.

“Obviously you’re like in love with this girl or something-

“I’m not!”

“-but I mean come on, you already know each other, she already likes you!”

“I’m not worried”

“And I’m not a genius, Griffin don’t lie to me!” She rolls her eyes “if you weren’t worried you wouldn’t have told me about her when you found out she was studying here” she raises her eyebrows, giving her time to say something even when they both know she won’t.

“You say she’s your friend, and you think she’s inviting you to this thing as a friend… but you don’t know if you want her to be more -Your words, not mine-”

“I know! Can you just… forget it, just today. Just be there, don’t mention it” Clarke pouts and then spins in place showing off her outfit to Raven.

“Hot” Raven nods and winks, and as Clarke walks to her closet to grab her coat and boots Raven sighs, long and tired “Fiiine, but only because I love you. And only today, I want all the details tomorrow. No gatekeeping!”

“Some gatekeeping”

“Only if you get lucky. I’ll forgive you wanting to keep the details of some gross love making”

“Raven!” Clarke scowls, blushing.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Ugh!” Clarke simply groans and walks out with her purse and phone.

It’s nerve wrecking, to stand backstage knowing Sk-Clarke!- is out there and will be able to tell who Lexa is immediately. It’s a little ridiculous that she’s not nervous about playing but about Octavia getting recognized by Clarke while popping her head out of the curtain to try and see if she finds her.

“How do you not know how she looks?” Octavia huffs as she closes the curtains for a third time.

“I told you, she just said she’s blonde” Lexa shrugs, she doesn’t want to stress out -more than she already is- trying to find Clarke in the audience, the chances of recognizing her were practically zero, she had no description, no picture, nothing.

“How will you meet up then?”

“I told her I play the piano, and that we can meet after at the… one of the exits, I don’t remember now” Lexa shook her head. Octavia rolled her eyes painfully and returned to her position between the curtains trying to see if she could spot Clarke.

She gets scowled at by their maestro and sent to her seat behind her drums a minute later and Lexa follows suit sitting behind the piano. She tries to focus on the sheets of music written in front of her, but her head is already running over any possible place Clarke could be sitting and how she might look from there.

‘So much for not stressing’ She scowls at herself, but it doesn’t stop her from spotting every blonde in the audience as soon as the curtains open. She closes her eyes a minute later as the greeting applauses quiet down and she takes a deep breath, focusing, tuning everything else out.

The music’s start with the piano and Clarke can’t comprehend how incredible Lexa looks leading the group. Raven asks which one is Lexa as soon as the curtains open and Clarke has to pause for a second, realizing she’s going to need a minute -or an hour- to process seen Lexa for the first time, so she lies, she tells Raven she doesn’t know. She’s honest when she tells her that they’ve never shared any social media or pictures of each other, but the reality is that there’s only one piano, and the pianist fits the description perfectly.

Lexa looks… majestic. The sweater is very feminine, the crunch turtleneck softens her broad shoulder, the light behind her accentuates her waist, as does the thick belt attached to the high wait of her pants that have no right making her legs look that good while sitting down. Clarke can’t tell from this far, but she wonders if the color of the blouse is a choice to accentuate that of her eyes. Her hair is tied back at the top by a few braids and the rest falls like a cascade over her back, her posture is pristine and relaxed, she moves with the music naturally and graciously.

Clarke can’t imagine how she’s supposed to stay friends with this girl.

The set ends with an explosive assembly, Lexa meets eyes with Octavia, both sighing heavily out before smiling brightly. As usual the standing ovation and exit of the stage is a blur, Lexa find Octavia out of the shared changing room, and they hug the rest of the adrenaline out.

And while still high on that feeling, on that excitement that is amplified by the thought of meeting Clarke, her stomach still crunches when she spots a blonde girl walking towards her with purpose at their agree exit. She’s looking at her, a smile growing bigger with each step, because of course she already knew who Lexa was, she had to have known from the moment the curtains opened and must’ve been watching her the entire set.

Lexa is breathless before Clarke can even reach her, because not even all the excitement in her body can make her heart cartwheel the way seen Clarke for the first time does.

Clarke is… gorgeous, she looks like a model striding towards her, the cappuccino coat gives her an air of confidence that matches her steps, the cargo jeans frame her hips perfectly, giving a teas of her tummy before the crop-top covers her from and reveals the slightest bit of cleavage. Her hair is loose, and her waves bounce with her steps. She’s wearing eyeliner, a simple strip of black line makes the blue of her eyes shine, or maybe that’s just the excitement.

When she’s finally withing reach, Clarke goes in for a hug; she lifts her arms before the distance is gone, shrugging a little as a warning to Lexa, barely missteps, cautions for only a fraction of a second, before she goes fully into it, deciding that it’s fine, because they’re friends, they have been for over a year now and it might be the first time they see each other in person, but this is how Clarke greets her friends, and she won’t apologize unless Lexa complains.

She doesn’t, she actually likes it, so much that it feels unreal. Lexa’s not a hugger, she only ever hugs Octavia but other than that she keeps physical contact to a minimum, and yet, she melts into the feeling of Clarke’s body fitting into hers. Clarke pulls her close and Lexa wraps her arms around her waist over the coat, she closes her eyes against Clarke’s shoulder and squeezes back when Clarke pulls her even tighter against her and sighs into her neck.

It's definitely a little too long before they pull apart and Lexa spares a thought to Octavia before she’s looking at Clarke again and all thoughts evaporate.

“Hey there!” Clarke breathes out as her eyes jump all over Lexa’s face, trying to take it all in at the same time.

They haven’t let go at all when Lexa laughs a little nervous “Hi”

---

It takes them both right back to the first few times playing together, all the excitement and nervousness to get to hang out again, the comfort of having fun with someone new, the insecurity of sounding cool that faded through time as they learned to be goofy with each other.

The very first time they played together was in the early morning of November first, Lexa had dropped Octavia off at the custom party of one of their soccer teammates before getting back home to play fornite -with her spookiest skins- She decided to play duos a few hours in and opened her microphone.

Meanwhile, Clarke came back from a frat party she went to with her friends -who all remained there or migrated to other parties- a little tipsy and knee on continuing to have fun she immediately opens the voice chat and starts playing duos.

Lexa is the first person to join the voice chat since Clarke started.

Clarke is the first match since Lexa opened her microphone.

They greet each other and Clarke is very excited to talk to someone, Lexa isn’t sure if she finds it endearing yet, but she plays along. At first all they say are technical stuff; where the other likes to land, with what strategies the other plays, which are you chosen weapons and such, better at shooting or building and such.

They communicate well during fights, and they actually win their first game. From then Lexa gets more friendly, she asks more specific questions about the game and preference whiting it, she laughs and tags along to Clarke’s idea of switching skins anytime they lose, Clarke asks her which are her favorite and they spend an entire game discussing old ones and new ones, Lexa can’t believe she agrees to put on the Christmas ones nor can she understand how Clarke convinced her to ‘go festive’ to ‘call for the Christmas spirit’

They learn through games and games what better strategies fit them better, Lexa is less coy -and maybe a little flirty, Clarke has a pretty voice- when admitting to feeling like a pro at building and editing them. In turn, Clarke’s confidence turns up as well going over the top to prove that her aim is unmatched.

They win countless games, and they go on for hours until the sun rises and they’re both shocked that they’ve been up so long. Joking and laughing they promise to get on another time and try playing ranked since “Clearly we’ve found ourselves the wining duo”. They disconnect with quiet goodbyes and go to sleep with untamed smiles.

For months to come they play together often, they get each other’s discords to be able to invite each other more often and the audio is often better as well. They keep playing for months and months, through winter, spring and summer all the way back to fall.

---

Octavia, who has known about Clarke all along, and is casually standing behind Lexa, can’t help but think “Friends’ my ass” as she tries not to react at Lexa’s very unusual response to a hug. She stands there for even longer than she expects after they part from the hug and just hold each other.

Eventually they seem to remember they’re not the only people in the world and Lexa turns to look at her, finally -and maybe reluctantly- letting go of Clarke.

“Uhm, Sk-Clarke” Lexa slips for a second and Clarke’s eyes widen even while her smile seem to grow “This is Octavia, my best friend” she finishes, turning to Octavia with a blush raising from her chest up to her cheeks.

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you… and heard you a lot” Octavia winks as she extends a hand.

“Sorry about that” Clarke breath a laugh while Lexa frowns at her. Before they can fall into some awkward argument or silence Clarke continues “Well, I would love to introduce you to my roommate, who so kindly joined me” she give Lexa a look, a smirk is there and Lexa’s eyes shine with hers “But she has abandoned me as soon as we stepped out”

“Oh no, were we that bad?” Lexa jokes, still smiling, unable to stop. She can’t explain it and doesn’t want to think about how Clarke’s mare presence makes her so happy.

“Oh no, god, you guys were amazing! It was honestly so enchanting, it felt magical”

“Thank you” Lexa and Octavia answered automatically, they could both hear the genuine tilt of happiness in Lexa’s voice though.

“Raven’s probably off trying to find a party” Clarke added after a beat of smiling at Lexa.

She just couldn’t help it, Lexa was… so pretty. Beautiful, and hot and just- so attractive, but specifically pretty, her gaze had a softness that complimented the sharp angles of her jaw, and her smile? The way her eyes lit up with it and her nose seemed to crunch a bit as if she was used to taming it down, she was just so pretty, and Clarke didn’t even want to pretend. She was sure that after a few more conversations she would say it to her, just like she told her she liked listening to her voice after only a few times playing together.

“I’m uhm-” Lexa turned only for a second to look at Octavia “I’m pretty sure some of the boys are from a frat house, they surely have a party or something planned”

Lexa finds herself saying, unsure why and not really bothered by the implication that she would go to something like that. She doesn’t get the chance to clarify anything or for Clarke to ask her because Raven joins them, all cheerful jumping into Clarke’s back and shouting a ‘hey-yoo’ as a greeting.

Lexa’s eyebrows raise up to her hairline, her smile is too bright to fully fall, but there’s definitely a different feeling in her gut now.

“I landed us an invite to the celebration with the musicians! I already texted the girls. Did you find your chick?”

And now she is blushing -she’s not sure which is responsible, the implication that ‘your chick’ is more, is different, not necessarily a friend or that ‘your chick’ is said with familiarity, like Clarke talks about her like she’s… hers.

“Raven!” Clarke hisses, blushing as she pushes her off her “Don’t jump on me” she says trying to cover up for the phrasing. Because she’s not ready to process any part of that sentence, even when it’s only two words “Be nice This is Lexa, and her best friend Octavia. This is my roommate Raven”

“I’ve been denigrated to ‘roommate’!? You’re repaying me with extra shots tonight. Hi! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you. Great play back there, by the way, gave me chills, for real!”

Clarke sighs, she tries her best at not closing her eyes -or rolling them- at Raven’s extra extrovert greeting. Lexa remains still, smile frozen and eyebrows still raised. She looks like a deer caught in headlights.

Clarke moves to try and say something, salvage the situation, but it seems to be all Lexa needs to recover.

“Hi. All good thing I hope and… thanks, we’ve been practicing a lot, it was very exciting. The crowd’s reaction was great” she says fluidly. Strongly, confident.

Clarke swallows, she sounds different than she’s even heard her, natural but also monotone like she’s used to it, like she knows how to handle it, she sounds… very sexy. And her smile is still there, her eyes don’t shine as much until she glances at her briefly, and maybe Clarke is protecting, but she smiles again, even if Lexa isn’t looking at her anymore.

Lexa sees her smile in the corner of her eye as Octavia greets Raven and they start talking about the party, sure that she’s no longer needed in the conversation she turns back to Clarke. She’s smiling, wide like she can’t be bothered to tone it down and it makes Lexa feel validated, because she’s so happy, she’s so excited to get to be with Clarke in person and she’s still too stunned to know what to do with herself.

“Y’know…” Clake stars, needing to stop the racing thought in her head “when you told me you played the piano, I didn’t imagine you would pull a solo like that, it was truly incredible”

“Thanks…” Lexa blushes, it’s not that she doesn’t know she’s amazing in her solo, it’s just that Clarke… noticed- “I mean you’ve seen my skill building and editing…” She adds, smirking a little, leaning closer “Did you really think I don’t explode this talent”

She doesn’t mean to flirt -or so she tells herself- but the implication of how far her talent extended wasn’t lost to her once the sentence left her mouth, and she won’t bother with clarifications.

Before they can gather their thoughts, their friends tell them to start moving. There’s a slight pause after Clarke asks where they’re going, and Raven rolls her eyes “Obviously to the party I just mentioned”

Octavia looks at Lexa and she doesn’t know what to say or do so, she looks at Clarke instead, who’s already looking at her with a questioning gaze. She doesn’t look hopeful nor disappointed, a little worried maybe but Lexa doesn’t even question it when the next sentence out of her mouth is “Sure, let’s go”

Her hopes of not making it a big deal go out the window when Octavia jumps on her back, letting out a strangled “Really?” before she’s squeezing her tight and vibrating with excitement.

“Okay, people this is not a drill! Let’s get going before she changes her mind!” Octavia says as soon as she jumps off her, she grabs her hand in the process and pulls at her while Lexa blushes furiously.

Raven turns to Clarke with raised eyebrows and all Clarke can do is shake her head with a shrug. She laughs when Raven grabs her hand with a shrug of her own and pulls at her in a similar manner.

She doesn’t let her anxiety take over, it starts pushing her to wonder if Lexa doesn’t actually want to go to this party, instead, Clarke takes a deep breath and waits until she’s alone with Lexa again -it happens fairly quickly, they catch up and Raven replaces her with Octavia, before they resume their own conversation.

“I take it frat parties aren’t your usual?” She asks even while Lexa still isn’t looking at her, she does smile at the question though.

“Not really” Lexa concedes and braves a look at Clarke “Parties in general are not… my usual- but hey! Neither is making friends online and yet here we are” She smiles bright, renew excitement over the topic.

Clarke smiles with her, likes the way Lexa shrugs and lifts a conspiratory eyebrow, still she can’t help but worry “We don’t…” she swallows “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to- we can do something else or… go somewhere else” it’s Clarke’s time to shrug.

Lexa’s smile softens, and she has to look away from Clarke because really, quit it with the blushing! “It’s fine, really” she reassures “It’s not that I’m not a fan of parties per se” she smirks just thinking about it “I just… don’t particularly like people” she grimaces but her smile is too bright for it to look genuine.

Clarke snorts, like she doesn’t mean to laugh but can’t help it “You and me both” she hushes leaning closer as they giggle “I’ve heard… that alcohol helps a lot with it though” she says after a bit and it’s Lexa’s turn to snort.

“Oh I know” she nods her head, leaning into Clarke as well, because she can, and it feels good and Clarke isn’t complaining “I do know it tends to... become a problem later on as well”

“Touché” Clarke nods “Good thing we can leave whenever we want” she winks, reassuringly, she thinks, she wants Lexa to know that she can be honest anytime she’s not comfortable. And so what if it’s also a little flirty? It’s harmless.

They make good use of that statement in the end.

When they arrive at the party, the frat house is packed, there isn’t a line yet, but a couple of boys are out talking, planning a head of that moment. One of them is the guy Raven talked to, he shamelessly flirts with her and looks shocked to realize Octavia and Lexa are coming with her, he invites them in and promises to find Raven later.

All throughout Lexa eyes Clarke with a slight frown, she just keeps shrugging and shaking her head lightly, it’s a normal thing, typical Raven behavior.

Octavia grabs Lexa’s arm inside and they make it to the bar. Her best friend is giddy she gladly takes two shots from Raven, Lexa doesn’t even look at Clarke as she dedicates the first of whatever is in the tiny plastic cup to Octavia.

Lexa turns to Clarke when Raven places a second round and Clarke smiles, she leans in to be heard over the music and tells Lexa that she’ll take hers if she doesn’t want it. Lexa in turn raises a challenging eyebrow clinks it with Raven’s before taking it.

Octavia hugs her again once their grimaces are gone and Raven offers to pour them a mixed drink to last them a while, Clarke wants vodka and Octavia asks for rum for her and Lexa, she winks at her discreetly and then hugs her again.

“You’re not even drunk, stop being so clingy”

“I’m just excited that you’re here!”

“And I’m excited that you’re both here!” Raven cheers downing her drink quickly and pouring another “Which one of you is going to introduce me to the rest of the music bros?”

Clarke tries not to laugh as Lexa turns to her alarmed, she shrugs just for the sake of it and then Octavia is speaking, Clarke can’t hear it very well over the music, but she assumes she’s offering because a minute later they’re both gone.

The butterflies come swinging back to her stomach and a smile rises without her consent when Lexa turns to her again.

“Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?” Lexa leans in, a smile of her own adorning her face.

It takes them a minute to move around the packed house and then some to find a pocket of air with less noise. They end up sitting in the nook of a window by the corner of the huge lounge room, they’re farther from the dance floor than they were in the kitchen, and they both sigh a sigh of relief followed by giggles as they lean back.

They sip their drinks, suddenly a little awkward, not sure how to start a conversation and afraid to keep on just looking at each other. Clarke is the brave one at first, asking about Lexa’s drink choice and how Octavia answered for her.

“I’m don’t usually drink so… I tend to not care what I am drinking” Lexa shrugs, she takes another sip and braves a look at Clarke “Is Vodka your usual?”

“Yeah” Clarke smiles “It’s… tasteless enough, I think it makes it easier to mix. I’ve learned to drink tequila in mixed drinks with Raven, though, and there’s just… nothing like it”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah, it’s so much better. Specially with sweet drinks… but it’s more expensive and it’s quick to give a hangover”

Lexa laughs “Oh yeah, I’ve had my fair share of tequila hung overs”

It’s easy to move the conversation around, it feels nice to ask the questions they avoided before, those that felt too person for two friends that only talked about the game they were playing. Lexa shared about her friendship with Octavia going all the way back to sophomore year of high school, Clarke tells her how Raven quickly scaled from roommate to best friend and how her childhood friend met her the summer before, and they were so jealous.

They talk about all their classes and possible majors, Clarke just about figured out before break that she’s really interested in biochemistry, and she’s excited to see where it might lead her, Lexa joins in excitedly to talk about science since one of her many extracurricular is focused on chemical experimentation, she explains to Clarke that she has a lot of extracurriculars, always has had, from sports to chess, to science and music, all her passions have led her to a variety of classes, but she’s mostly find them boring or overly specific.

They talk a little bit about high school and how each of them moved around the bizarre social hierarchy of it, they maybe throw in a little hint about their dating game and maybe it’s a little flirty, maybe it’s a bit of a joke but so easily not.

Throughout their conversation Raven comes over a few times to check in on them and Octavia comes over to hug Lexa anytime she sees her, Lexa accidentally calls Clarke Sky a couple of times and it may become a little less intentional once she realizes Clarke blushes every time.

They’re constantly leaning on each other and talking closely, and giggling all the time.

They refill their drinks and ‘babe’ enters Clarke’s vocabulary full force, she ignores Raven’s looks from across the room and can’t help but blush any time she catches Octavia winking at Lexa, for her part Lexa downs her drinking faster than Clarke, too happy and too comfortable to care about any of it.

Their friends drag them into a game of beer-pong with shots -warm beer is gross and it’s not like most people here aren’t rich- appealing to their competitiveness to lure them. Octavia and Raven team up against them, swearing that they’re the sober ones and thus will win. Clarke and Lexa are content to stay glued to each other, leaning into the other as they wait for their friends to shoot, holding the other as they drink their shots and calling out sweet encouragements before every shot.

They end up winning against their friends, barely, and as celebration the crowd makes them down the remaining of their shots. They chose to grab some water next and return to their little nook. With liquid courage they get even more comfortable in each other’s personal space, they flirt a lot, smirking every other sentence and talking about anything that comes to mind.

Clarke calls Lexa Heda jokingly making her drop a few Princess’ in between, they’re not blushing as much anymore, just enjoying it and leaning into it, so much that they don’t mind Octavia’s side eyes and Raven’s raised eyebrows, they just keep trying to find ways to make the other call them pretty names.

They start talking about fornite at some point, they recall Winterfest and how they sped through levels to get every reward possible, they agreed, now that it was over, that it was kinda… ‘meh’, the year before had been better and it mostly had to do with the addition of the OG maps and all the hype about that taking away the attention of the holidays.

“The collaborations were insane though!” Lexa rolled her head back and the sideways to rest on Clarke’s shoulder.

“Right?!” Clarke turns to her even when she knows she won’t be able to see her, it’s nice to have their faces so close together “Like what do you mean Snoop Dog, The Shack and Marya fucking Carey all have matching Santa skins?”

They both break into laughs and Lexa leans heavily into her. They sigh in unison with smiles on their faces, content to watch the party for a minute- that is until a group of frat boys not too far from them start… barking?

Lexa quickly lifts her head off Clarke’s shoulder and turns to frown at her, Clarke shrugs with a shake of her head and it’s not long until they start laughing again. They giggle the remnants of their cringe out while looking at each other and then Clarke smirks a mischievous little smirk.

Lexa tilts her head, and Clarke does the same in the direction of the exit, she doesn’t take her eyes off Lexa and her smirk grows when Lexa imitates her, they continued tilting their heads and nodding them until they can’t keep from laughing anymore.

The frat boys are still barking when they stand up and start looking for their friends, they tell them they’re heading out and make a quick job of leaving, they both take deep breaths a block down the house and sigh out giggles.

“Where should we go?” Lexa asks, and she doesn’t care that she still hasn’t let go of Clarke’s hand.

“Don’t call me crazy-” Clarke uses their joined hands to pull Lexa closer and whisper conspiratorially “but… we could… go… play”

“Oh, this is why we get along!” Lexa throws her head back and Clarke reigns her back in when she loses her balance for a second.

“Let’s go then Heda”

“Lead the way Princess”

They agree to go to Clarke’s place first, Octavia will be staying with a friend so they can have the room to themselves, thus they’re going to pick up Clarke’s laptop and go. The walk is full of talking and laughing and flirting, it’s silly, so unserious but so… them.

“This’ me” Clarke nods to their right as they approach the dorms wing of campus.

“Really?” Lexa huffs “I’m right over there!” she points to their left, two buildings down from Clarke’s.

“For real? That is so crazy!” they laugh and decide to ignore that before today -okay maybe form a month ago- that information would’ve been scary as fuck.

They enter Clarke’s dorm quietly, not remembering that her roommates were all at the party they just left, Clarke hesitates before letting Lexa into her room, but it’s hard to think when she turns her head and Lexa is right there, practically glued to her and so giddy.

They’re a little drunk, so Clarke is stumbling a little, throwing her coat over her bed and trying to get her laptop, she’s also trying to make sure her -half- of the room is presentable or close enough to Raven's to pretend. And Lexa is all excited for apparently no reason other than being in Clarke's room, and the flirting hasn’t stopped and it’s making them both a little dizzier.

So when Clarke stands up and Lexa is standing too close, neither of them move.

They're breathing unevenly and they stare at each other for a long moment, trying to decipher what's going on, looking for the answer in each other’s eyes.

Lexa is all too happy to stay right where she is, she knows in a few minutes or less she’s going to want to touch Clarke in some way, grab her hand or her wait, kiss her or worse, lean her forehead to hers, but she can’t be bothered right now, because Clarke is really pretty and she’s really happy that she was brave enough to invite Clarke to her orchestra, because she’s really happy to be there with her.

Clarke is a bit more antsy; she’s looking up because Lexa us wearing a bit of heel, and she was already a bit taller than her and her lips are right. There. So Clarke has enough. She leans up and touches her lips to Lexa’s softly. She doesn’t mean to capture her lower lip in hers, she’s just a little clumsy, at the moment, and Lexa-

Lexa is kissing her back.

Lexa’s hands move quickly to hold her -uncovered- waist, and sighs into Clarke’s mouth at the contact, she doesn’t question anything, doesn’t even think about it when she stars leaning into her, chasing her lips and that tongue that ever so softly teases her bottom lip.

Clarke sneaks a hand up to Lexa’s jaw and holds onto her -very… vert strong- bicep with the other, she takes half a step back and her ass meets the side of her bed, she has to sort of sit on it when Lexa keeps leaning because the bed is a little lofted for storage. She doesn’t move her hands from Lexa, which makes it so she can feel her bicep flexing when Lexa takes a larger step closer and pulls at her waist lifting her so she’s sitting fully on the bed.

The kiss is teasing and tight, but the moment Lexa wiggles her way between Clarke’s legs, parting them just enough to fit and pull her close, the kiss turns deep, Clarke doesn’t think twice when the new angle and closeness allows her to comfortably slide her arm around Lexa’s neck and swipe her tongue confidently into Lexa’s mouth.

Lexa moans in turn, chases her tongue and sucks on her bottom lip, she’s still leaning on Clarke, pushing her onto the bed. She extends a hand for leverage and snakes the other one around Clarke’s waits, leaning more fully into her. Clarke’s hand on her bicep flies back to hold herself as well when Lexa keeps on leaning until she’s practically on top of Clarke even with her feet still on the ground.

It’s outrageously long before they break for air, and when they do, they don’t part if anything they hold each other closer as if to make sure the other won’t leave. They press their foreheads together, but neither is brave enough to open their eyes, they breath heavily, drunkenly.

Lexa moves slightly, bumping her nose with Clarke and huffing a giggle at Clarke’s answering bump, she opens her eyes just in time to see Clarke open hers and the smirk adorning her lips reaches up to her eyes.

Over all the noise in Clarke’s head, questions and desires and also just mush, she can’t help but high-five herself in her head, she was right Lexa’s sweater do compliment her eyes, it’s a deeper shade of green than her grey-ish green eyes, but green all-the-same.

“Hi” Clarke’s giggle drunkenly.

Lexa smiles dopily “Hey there”

“You didn’t tell me you were such good kisser”

“I’m good at a lot of things” Lexa giggles, and she really doesn’t mean it flirty this time, but then Clarke’s pupils dilate and she’s thankful to her subconscious.

“Yeah?” Clarke bites her lip “Will you show me?”

Oh hell! She’s got game!

Lexa kisses her, she kisses her deeply and dirty because that was really hot, and oh so smooth and she doesn’t know what to say, she’s always been better with actions anyways-

She can’t help the smirk that gets kissed off by Clarke at her next idea; Lexa sneaks a hand under Clarke’s top and feels around the clap of her bra, she pulls away from the kiss with a wet sound and smirks at Clarke’s frown before she’s snapping the claps open with a simple twist of her wrist.

“Example number one” She giggles again and Clarke gasps at her with a smile.

“You should get my top off next” Clarke winks, recovering quickly.

It takes Lexa a second to swallow down before nodding her head “yep, great idea”

They make quick work with the crop top, and Clarke throws her bra to the side enjoying the way Lexa completely stops at the sight of her boobs.

“Like what you see” she bites her lips, one hand back behind Lexa’s neck and the other planted back on her bed, her back arches in such way and she knows she’s an spectacular view.

Lexa gapes, blinks once and then not for a long while which makes Clarke chuckle, she pulls slightly at Lexa’s neck, urging her to lean on her again and Lexa can only brace herself on the bed, still transfixed.

“Can I-” She clears her throat, her voice is hoarse, eyes dark with want as she looks up to her eyes. Clarke shudders a breath as Lexa swallows and tries again “Can I touch you?” she breath out.

Clarke could moan at the sound of Lexa’s desire, she bites her lip harder instead, takes a shuddering breath and nods her head.

Lexa’s eyes are back down to Clarke’s breaths, it’s not that she hadn’t realized Clarka had… such voluminous rack, she just thought she wasn’t supposed to care. And there’s a very big difference between clothed and enclosure boobs and… this.

She moves her hands to Clarke’s hips, enjoys the way her breath catches when she moves them to her waist and they make contact with her bare skin. Lexa licks her lips as her hands travel up Clarke’s ribs and move accordingly to fit the underside of Clarke’s breast in the cup of her hand.

They both sigh when Lexa presses up and squeezes the full weight of Clarke’s boobs.

“Fuck”

Clarke smirks, and Lexa can’t be bothered to recognize that she said that out loud, she plays with Clarke’s nipples for only a second before Clarke is pulling her forward into a kiss. She pauses her ministration, if only to moan into Clarke’s mouth as their tongues meet.

A hand snakes down her neck groping her tits over the sweater on its way down to her waist when Clarke pushes the sweater up to pull her closer still. She quickly pushes it higher util Lexa has to lift her arms to take it off, she does so reluctantly, not happy to let go of Clarke’s breast.

Clarke laughs at her when they kiss again, having regained her balance she kisses Lexa more comfortably, now sitting up, while making a quick job of Lexa’s belt, and consequently, her pants.

Lexa steps back to step off them and Clarke takes the chance to slide off the bed, ready to comfortably kiss all over Lexa’s body when she freezes. Lexa’s is wearing a matching set of linger. A dark shade of green, it’s not see-through but the artist in Clarke can recognize the work of the beautiful design over the lace.

She blinks when Lexa huffs a smirk at her, her gaze breaks the patter of bra-abs-panties to look at Lexa in the eye; she gives her a smirk of her own and pulls her closer by the hips, bending down to drop a kiss under Lexa’s sternum and dropping down to her abs.

While Lexa shudders at Clarke’s lips on her skin she can’t help the smile on her lips, it feel good to have this effect on Clarke, it makes her feel sexy and desired and she likes it. Clarke moves up her body grabbing a handful of Lexa’s ass to drag her closer and kisses her again, she’s still leaning on her bed and Lexa happily steps into her again, holding Clarke’s shoulder as they kiss and taking the chance to kick off her heel.

The first step down leaves her eye level with Clarke and their lips part at the change angle. Lexa moves her hands down to Clarke’s knees consciously through the holes in Clarke’s cargos, and Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist. She kicks her second heel off while they look at each other smiling.

“Come here” Clarke breaths into her leaning forward for a kiss and then back to pull Lexa on the bed.

They giggle and adjust so Lexa can climb on the bed, they kiss and tickle each other trying to get Clarke’s shoes and pants off. Clarke lays flat on her back and encourages Lexa to straddle her.

The sight of Lexa fluidly sliding down to kiss her is one Clarke’s sure she’ll never forget, she moans into the kiss and holds Lexa’s waits, she arches her back at the feeling of the linger gracing her nipples and she suddenly can’t wait to her Lexa’s bra off.

She’s a little distracted though, Lexa moves to kiss her jaw and down her neck, and Clarke’s hands travel up to Lexa’s ribs and then down to her hips and back to grab a handful of her butt.

They moan and sigh and they pull at each other for kisses while molding their bodies together. Lexa sits back to flick her hair, and Clarke follows her halfway up, chasing her lips, but stopping at the gorgeous view of Lexa straddling her. Clarke absently traces her hand up Lexa’s tight and while leaning on her elbows she sneaks her hand to cup Lexa’s cover core.

Lexa bites her lip to contain a groan as she rocks her hips into Clarke’s hand. She keeps going like that rolling her hips sensually, her hand holding her hair as she watches Clarke watch her.

“Fuck… I want to touch you”

“You are touching me, Clarke” Lexa smirks, enjoying the effect she’s having on Clarke.

Clarke pushes herself up and ghosts a kiss over Lexa’s lips “I’ll be more specific. I want to be inside you” her voice huskier than a second ago “Can I do that?”

The little whimper that crawls out of Lexa’s throat is not something she’s proud of, but she can’t ignore the glow of pure want the fill Clarke’s eyes after hearing it. She bites her lip, nodding her head and moves her hands into Clarke’s hair to draw her into a kiss that is all tongue and teeth.

Clarke wastes no time moving her underwear aside and making room for her fingers to explore. Lexa resists the urge to roll her hips into every touch while smirking at every one of Clarke’s gasps.

Clarke teases her entrance repeatedly, rubbing around her clit but never truly touching it, she bites Lexa’s bottom lip and licks into her mouth while using her free hand to encourage her rolling hips.

It’s not long before they both know Lexa is ready and Clarke enters her with a singular digit. They moan into each other’s mouths as Lexa stills and gasps, adjusting to the feeling, she moans again when she starts moving and Clarke follows suit, calmly going in and curling out. A second finger is added, and Lexa turns her head to hide in the hollow between Clarke’s neck and shoulder, she nibs and kisses the skin available as her arms go around Clarke’s shoulders, giving her more leverage to rock into her fingers.

Clarke sucks her neck and bites her earlobe as they move in sink and she gasps every so often, adjusting her hand to give Lexa a better angle to rub her clit over Clarke’s palm. It’s only the third time Lexa’s open mouth kiss turns into a shuffled moan that Clarke speaks to her.

“Lexa… you know we’re completely alone right? You don’t… need to keep quiet” she says, blushing. Because they concept of wanting to hear Lexa feels way more intimate than the position, they’re in, specifically since it’s an addition to it.

Lexa grunts lifting her head, she doesn’t stop the rolling of her hips and Clarke doesn’t stop the movement of her hand “These are paper-thin walls Clarke!” She scowls, heaving the words out, her face is flushed, and the crown of her head is damp from forming sweat -Clarke didn’t know she could get even more beautiful- “of course I have to keep quiet!” She groans.

Clarke kisses her instead of arguing, because she can, and she looks so pretty, and she can feel the moan she heaves into her mouth and it’s good enough for now. They continue kissing and huffing and moaning into each other until a particularly perfect moan from Lexa cuts off by her biting her own lip.

“Hey. Listen” Clarke huffs “quick floor plan description, behind me is the common room, currently empty. Behind you there’s a laundry room that is obviously closed right now, past my closet is the hallway, also empty, and out the window… you saw it was also quite empty”

Lexa closed her eyes hallway through the sentence, frowning and she kept moving and conflicted as to how Clarke could form such an elaborate sentence when all Lexa could think was-

“Fuck!”

She feels the smirk Clarke presses onto her neck, she bites her lip again and assumes her brain understood beyond her consciousness.

“That’s it, let me hear you, Heda”

She moans a filthy moan, Clarke smirks is wider, she bites Lexa’s neck, and she huffs in mild annoyance.

“Make me, Princess” she shoots between hoarse breaths.

She smirks when she opens her eyes to a gapping Clarke staring at her with lust, she closes her eyes quickly after when Clarke moves to lean one hand back fuck her harder with the other.

“Sky!” Lexa moans and immediately blushes.

It was loud, very loud. And the wrong name-

“Say that again” Clarke hushes, nibbing her jaw, thrusting up to meet her rocking hips.

“Sky…” Lexa… whimpers, she wishes she could call it something else, but it is what it is.

Clarke kisses her and they rock against each other in sync, Lexa moans and Clarke gasps and they’re both panting. Lexa closes her eyes, throws her head back, Clarke can’t keep staring. Their rhythm is thrown off for a second when they hear a creaking sound, they both blink and quickly realize it’s the bed protesting from the motion.

They smirk at each other.

They kiss messily while still smiling and pick up the pace, Lexa throws her head back again, moaning freely and Clarke latches her mouth to her neck. She moves her arm from behind her all the way around Lexa’s torso and pulls her close.

Lexa adjusts in Clarke lap, making her lean on her hand again and she takes the chance to push her by the shoulders back to the bed. Clarke lands with a huff and her hand flies to pull pillows behind her head when Lexa presses her hand over Clarke’s ribs, almost cupping the underside of her boob and starts rocking her hips firmly into Clarke’s hand.

Her moans grow louder, her eyes close and her breath heaves even more, her hips eventually start stuttering, moving erratically and Clarke holds her hip while thrusting up, helping her hand reach deeper.

“Fuck! Sk-mmhh, Clarke!”

They both know she’s close, she’s riding Clarke’s fingers with purpose, sighing and moaning and huffing heavily, all it takes is Clarke moving her free hand to press her thumb to Lexa’s clit and one singular undulating thrust for Lexa to frees in pleasure, strangled moan caught in her thought before she comes undone, shaking screaming out the end of her moan.

She leans heavily on her hand over Clarke’s ribs through her orgasm and eventually flops forward, laying half on top of Clarke with both pairs of hand trapped between them.

As Lexa lays there, completely spent, Clarke can't help but smile and move to kiss the side of her forehead. Her fingers are still wrapped around Lexa's warm walls and her hand is folded with her release. She leans to kiss her shoulder as well as she moves her hand out of Lexa and from between their bodies, she grabs Lexa's hand to move out from between them as well and can't resist the chance to kiss the back of it.

Lexa huffs a laugh and what feels like an audible eye roll. She lifts her head slowly and deliberately leans in to kiss Clarke. The kiss is soft and so deep, Lexa is fully leaning on her now and her weight make the kiss harder.

Lexa moves her kisses to Clarke's jaw, she bites her earlobe and sucks on her pulse point, she moves down to kiss her collarbone as Clarke huffs a shig, her breaths fastening. It is with only one slurry look, that Clarke arches her back, and Lexa starst devouring Clarke’s nipples expertly.

“Can I go down on you?”

“You, uhm- you don’t have to” Clarke breaths, heavily.

“I-" Lexa bites her lip, looks down and they slowly sensually up "I want to”

"Mh-mhh?" Clarke hums, high pitched affected not only by Lexa's work on her tits but also the look of pure desire on Lexa's face.

At Lexa's nod, Clarke nods as well and Lexa smirks as she starts making her way down to her core.

Lexa takes only a short moment to admire the glistening heat of Clarke's heat before diving in. Clarke moans loudly at the first swipe of Lexa's tongue, throwing her head back and grabbing onto her sheets. It spurs Lexa on, each new movement, new swipe or kiss to Clarke's can't grants her a series of different sounds and reaction out of Clarke that are simply too hot.

A thought of where and with how may people Lexa might've learn to be that good crosses Clarke's mind, but before she can get jealous of upset she remembers she's no one to judge. She doesn't dwell on it for too long either, Lexa is far too talented with her tongue for Clarke to be able to hold any thought for longer that two swipes of Lexa's tongue.

Eventually Lexa enters her with one finger and then quickly a second one when it goes in too easily. She looks up as she attaches her mouth to Clarke's clit a second later, smirking as Clarke whimpers a shudders below her.

"Fuck! God Lexa yes!" Clarke throws her head back, a hand jumping to Lexa's hair when she starts moving; both her fingers inside her and her tongue over her clit, circling it expertly..

It doesn't take too long before Clarke is coming apart, shaking and shouting out Lexa's name, shuddering away and up into Lexa's mouth, overwhelmed with pleasure.

She taps Lexa's head tiredly to signal her that she can't take anymore and still whispers when Lexa removes her mouth from her. Lexa smirks and moved to kissing her tight, pulling her fingers in and out slowly to draw out the last of her orgasm.

Lexa kisses her hip next, leaving a mark as her fingers continue moving and Clarke jerks and moan with the aftershoks, she moves to the other hip and pulls out slowly when Clarke taps her head again, she takes a long deliberate path up Clarke's body, kissing any skin aviable and diving right into a kiss to her lips once she reaches them.

Clarke moans at the taste of herself on Lexa's tongue and enjoys the way Lexa deepens the kiss and rolls her hips on top of her as a response. They make out for a bit, smiling and huffing at each other, bumping noses and rolling into each other as their hands roam mindlessly.

That is until Clarke slides a thigh between Lexa's and feels her wetness rub on her. She presses up, moaning as Lexa bites her lips and cants her hips mote firmly into her. Clarke leans up to kiss Lexa and in a swift and impressive move turns them around in the small bed to lay on top of Lexa.

"Fucking me turned you on, didn't it?" Clarke whispers against Lexa's ear, snaking a hand down her abdomen and bitting her earlobe.

Lexa breaths out, swallowing a whimper as Clarke grazes her fingers over her folds finding her freshly wet.

"You're very vocal" she eventually breaths out, her eyes are closed and Clarke is sucking a bruise into her neck as she toys with her can't lazily.

Clarke smiles into her neck, hums in agreement and bites her lightly. She moves her fingers as though she's going to enter her and lifts her head.

"Do you like that? That I'm vocal?"

Lexa opens her eyes while blushing, she bites her lip and nods slightly, she then throws her head back with a moan as Clarke enters her with two fingers easily.

"Good... because i want to talk you through this one okay?" She huffs a chuckle into her lips, and Lexa moans as Clarke pulls out hooking her finger on the way.

"Skyy!"

Clarke thrust into her with the help of her thigh and starts a rhythm, one that Lexa matches with her huffs and moans and curses and calls of her name, all the while Clarke prises her, and tells her how good she feels, how good she sounds, how beautiful she looks and how she can't wait to see her come undone again.

"Fu-fuck! Like that-SKY!"

"I love it when you call me that, fuck"

"Yeah...? Fuck-" Lexa bites her lip.

The bed is creaking again, knocking against the wall as Clarke pounds her fingers into her cunt.

"Yeah, but... fuck. I want you tl say my name when you come. I want to hear you clicking that K like you always do-

"Fuck- ah! you" Lexa huffs a laughs and Clarke laughs with her, kissing her cheek and making her blush.

Becasue of course something like a kiss to the cheek after a joke would make her laugh, never mind that she's but naked, legs spread open and Clarke fingering her into an orgasm.

A kiss to the cheek is too much.

"Fuck Lex, you're so tight" Clarke hushes against her collarbone.

Lexa moans, because she likes the nickname, it's nothing special, but she likes it. And Clarke is doing ungodly things to her pussy, caressing her sides, saying all the right things and sucking on that specific spot right on top of her collarbone that drives her crazy, because she has her all figured out already.

And she is tight, she can feel it, she's so close, she can feel that familiar feeling in her lower belly, tugging at her, making her moan-

"Cla-ahrke!"

She comes so hard, for so long and Clarke keeps taking to her, she can't tell what she's saying because her brain is mush, but it's dragging her climax on and on until she can't take it anymore.

Still shaking she grabs at Clarke's bicep, squezing and whimpering, moving her hips away.

"No more?" Clarke whispers soflty. Lexa can't only shake her head "Okay baby" she kisses her jaw and if Lexa's face wasn't already red from coming, she sure as well would be blushing.

Clarke kisses Lexa's shoulders soflty, trying to keep her weight off her as she still breaths heavily. Lexa's eyes are closed and Clarke takes the chance to look at her. Her faced flushed a pretty fading shade of red, her lips parted sightly as she huffs her breaths out, her hair is a mess, sprawled around the pillow under her. Her collar bones and chest are red as well, adorned with a couple hickeys she can't help but to be proud of.

And then Lexa blinks her eyes open, heavy eyelids drop a couple of time before she can keep her eyes fully open. And then a smile raises slowly, and Clarke realizes as she tries to smile, that she was already smiling brightly.

"Hi" Lexa chuckles.

"Hey there" Clarke leans in to kiss her and Lexa moves her hands to hold her close.

They move a little messily, laughing as Lexa refuses to separate their lips, Clarke lays on her side and Lexa turns with her.

The kiss turns lazy when Lexa has no strengths to even coordinate her lips, her eyes close permanently. Clarke smiles and pulls back, kissing Lexa's nose just because and watching a smile rise slowly with a slow huffed laugh.

"Sweet dreams, Heda"

"Mmhh, g'night Princess"

...To be continued 😉😌

#Clexaweek 2025 #gamer girls au #Clexaweek 25 #10 years of clexa kisses #I put extra attention to their first kiss after these little trend 🙂‍↕️#clexa #clexa fic #writing prompt #my moodboard #I spent corporate hours on it 🙂‍↕️#i also wrote half of the smut while at the beach #which madame realize these two would absolutely fuck at the beach #add public place fucking to Lexa's bucket-list of kinks #bc these two would absolutely rent a beach house one summer and spend all days giving each other quiet secret orgasms #this was supposed to have a little bonus #ill add it later #you guy's it's here! 🥹🥹#i hope you like it

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dramas-vs-novels · 2 days ago

Note

Can you please elaborate how payurain portray a healthy 24/7 d/s relationship? And how payu shows casual dominance?

I love this ask so much!

First and Foremost:: They're Equals

A healthy D/s dynamic- especially a 24/7 one- isn't built at all on "one person is better or more in some way than the other" (there is a separate kink for that if it's your jam). The Dominant doesn't think he's superior to the submissive, or if he does that's a couple who won't last long.

They have to see themselves as equals, so it's a conscious decision to submit or Dominate. It is a choice being made. Rain sees himself as less than Payu- the god-like senior with the good job and extreme wealth. But Payu never sees him like that. He never says "I'm better than you" or "I'm worth this, you're worth that".

As Love Storm goes on, but especially in the LITA Special Novel, you see Rain shedding his "unattainable perfection" image of Payu and seeing him as human. Rain will always hero worship him, but he no longer does it from a perspective of "Look how much better than me he is", but rather just "He's amazing, I'm lucky to have him in my life". He doesn't belittle himself, and a hell of a lot of that is because that's how Payu has always treated him.

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

Domination and submission Displays

I did want to include this because it isn't as nebulous as the other topics, but it's very much a part of things. It also goes towards your question about casual Dominance.

D/s have a sort of ritual to them in displays between the Dominant and submissive that... you don't really see in PayuRain as obviously as you might in others.

Rain has to call Payu "Phi" and use respectful language, but he isn't calling him "Sir", he isn't expected to say like "Yes, sir" or "No, sir", he isn't expected to seek permission for actions or wait for Payu to order or command him.

But they still have their almost ritualistic elements that present a clear sign of "You're stepping out of your lane" and kind of pulling the leash on the dynamic to get everything back where it's supposed to be.

Most obviously, Payu has subtle ways to command Rain that the little guy might not wholly be aware of himself. When Payu strokes Rain's bottom lip, that's "Obey", and Rain always obeys when Payu pulls that trigger.

It is also a kind of "Submit" switch- if Rain is being a brat and Payu does that, Rain immediately changes tune. A hot example is during the race kink scene, when Payu opts to bite the sitch instead of stroke it like he usually does after Rain goes too far.

Rain has a sexual response to that bottom lip being messed with (a seed Payu plants in the bathroom stall), and whenever it is touched (or in this case, bitten), you can see the boy utterly melt. In some scenes, once Payu touches that, Rain's eyes become heavy and he immediately shudders.

Fun note: when Rain wants to try being the one in control (race kink scene), he does the same move to Payu.

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

Rules and Guardrails Apply to Both

Rain doesn't know anything about D/s dynamics or relationships, but Payu does, so he gently shows Rain how to handle the checks and balances. He respects Rain, he asks for respect in return. He has his Rules for their relationship, but he shows Rain from the start that he's allowed to make Rules.

He also- big point- explains why he makes the Rules, they aren't arbitrary things Rain is expected to follow blindly. They aren't just for fun to see if he can make Rain obey- they're serious, and he treats them seriously.

When Rain breaks Payu's Rules, he's punished accordingly. But when Payu breaks a rule, he knows Rain doesn't understand yet that there has to be a ding on Payu as well. That's one of those areas where they are equal and have to be treated equally. Rain isn't a pet, he's a human being. Just because he embraces being a submissive doesn't mean he doesn't have power.

24/7 Cannot Be Unbreakably 24/7

The other important thing I want to mention (because one of my favorite Special Chapters is all about this) is that even if there is a 24/7 dynamic in place... That doesn't mean it's actually, mercilessly, 24/7. It isn't some unending roleplay, it's their lives.

Payu has good days and bad days. He has his needs- physical, emotional, and sexual. But so does Rain. And Payu is very respectful of those. If either one is upset, the Rules or the dynamic are set aside.

Payu will drop his Dominant air the moment he sees that Rain is geniunely upset about something.

And he never stops doing that. Even if it's for something stupid- if Rain is upset, Payu won't push their dynamic, and he will very sincerely try to understand Rain's feelings (please note the finger trigger being used in the last image!)

Or, when Rain runs away from Payu's home and breaks critical aftercare for both him and Payu (I did a whole post about this one, so I'm glossing past it), he both makes sure Rain knows that's not cool, but also doesn't press the matter because he knows the boy isn't feeling well.

And later on, after Rain has started to grasp the controls of their dynamic, when Stop enrages Payu, he steps well out of his comfort zone to be more kitten-ish and try to help break Payu's bad mood. He uses nicknames with himself he hasn't entirely warmed to, and coaxes Payu in a public setting.

The absolute best example of this- which is such a base, foundation-level core of 24/7 D/s relationships- is this excerpt from a Special Chapter in the novel.

Rain is heading into exam season, an incredibly stressful time, and he's utterly overwhelmed. He's burning the candle at both ends, feels lost and dejected, and doesn't even have time to acknowledge Payu, let alone be with him. And at the back of his mind, because of this, he feels like he is failing as Payu's sub by not being available for him romantically or physically.

Payu, meanwhile, is more worried about Rain. he knows the pressures and the stress, but it doesn't make it any easier. So Payu will make Rain food and try to keep it warm until Rain has a minute to eat, he'll let slide Rain ignoring him, and he'll do what he can to make things easier.

But when Rain eventually explodes, cussing Payu out... Payu doesn't play the dynamic. He doesn't bring up Rules or even consider punishing Rain in the slightest. He lets Rain vent as much as he needs to, even if it hurts his feelings a bit. He gives Rain space to kind of re-spool.

And when Rain comes down, now crying for how he's treated Payu, Payu reassures him and supports him. He gives Rain the strength he needs to succeed and adds a Rule that Rain has to set aside some time each day to eat and take a break. Anothe Rule put into their dynamic, but with Rain's physical wellbeing being the focus.

I'm sure I'm forgetting stuff, I'm sure people would like to add stuff. I don't engage in 24/7 D/s so there might be elements I'm not mentioning that other people would, but I tried to kind of highlight the biggest areas.

At the core of it all, the D/s are both equal.

Rain's little "submit" switch.

Rules have to apply to both.

24/7 cannot be 24/7 without mercy.

#payu #rain #payurain #love in the air #lita #love storm #ask

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arokomaeda · 13 hours ago

Text

I think one of the most compelling parts of Su Yishui's character is his relationship with self-worth and how it changes over the course of Love of the Divine Tree. On the surface, it seems that Mu Qingge's love is what transforms him (and this is certainly what Su Yishui himself believes), but I believe that this is only the nudge that allows him to choose a life for himself.

It's pretty clear throughout most of the series that Su Yishui despises himself, and yet the reason for his lack of self-worth shifts significantly quite a few times.

Mom! I promise if you hit me and scold me, I won't hide anymore. Please let me go back! [...] I promise I'll only eat one bite of food every day. I promise I won't waste much money. (ep. 3)

As a child, Su Yishui already sees himself as a financial burden with little to offer his family. That he views himself as a disposable object (put food in, get household slave) shows that his self-worth is directly tied to what value he can bring to others, not to anything intrinsic to himself. It's further reinforced by Prince Ping, who says he doesn't need a son, but someone valuable.

The jade hairpin he was sold for sparks such rage in Su Yishui years after the fact, precisely because he was taught that this is what his life is worth. (In that sense, it's a bit poetic that it is offered as a gift to Mu Qingge, but destroyed by Su Yishui himself.)

I want those who once despised me to kneel before me one by one, begging me to spare their lives. [...] You have to be more ruthless and callous than others to stay on top. In this world, if you don't want to be manipulated, this is the only way to go. No other choice. (ep. 3)

10 years later, Su Yishui is still under Prince Ping's control, but he no longer values himself in terms of what he can offer his father. Rather, his self-worth is tied to the Spirit Spring and the power that it can give him. He wants to control it for himself and use it to dominate others. Only in this way, will he finally feel fulfilled.

What happens, then, when that power is taken away from him? He is completely lost. He begs Mu Qingge not to remove the Spirit Spring in this heartbreaking speech:

Do you know how I survived Prince Ping's refining back then? If it wasn't for opening my heart to hatred and allowing that drop of Spirit Spring to take root in my heart, I would have died long ago. I want the universe. Every time I crawled back from hell, it was this belief that kept me going. I've lived with it day and night, and this thorn in my heart has long since become my courage to defy the universe. Without the Spirit Spring... I'll have nothing left. These 10 years of suffering and endurance will be meaningless. I'll become a complete joke. Master, I've never said these words to anyone before. You are the only person I trust. Master, I beg you. Please don't do this to me. (ep. 4)

This is why Mu Qingge's refusal to let him keep the Spirit Spring feels like such a personal betrayal; Su Yishui is unable to separate his self-worth from the Spirit Spring. Rejecting it and calling it evil is the same as rejecting him. The fact that the drop of Spirit Spring is implanted so deeply in his heart that Mu Qingge cannot completely remove it further emphasizes this point.

We can also tell from the amnesia arc that at this point, status and wealth are also markers of self-worth for Su Yishui. He makes a fuss about the place he lives, the carriage he rides, what kind of foods he will eat and clothes he will wear. Given how much pain he's gone through as Prince Ping's son, he might as well flaunt his status where he can.

After Mu Qingge's death, Su Yishui no longer cares about any of these previous indicators of self-worth. He finally had someone in his life who cared about him regardless of his "value", and yet he directly led her to die in his place. Now, his self-worth is based on whether he can protect the person he loves, and he has utterly failed. At this point, without any false props to hold up his ego, he spirals into intense guilt and self-loathing. If not for Mu Qingge's final request for him to seal the Spirit Spring in the netherworld and his desire to save her, there would be absolutely nothing keeping this man alive. Here's what he tells Zeng Yi:

If she doesn't forgive me, so be it. I'll pay for her with my life. If she wants to kill me, I'll prepare the knife for her. If she never wants to see me again, I'll arrange everything for her and send her away. I swore that I would protect her in this life, and no one, including me, could hurt her. (ep. 8)

We see over and over again his self-sacrificial methods to protect Mu Qingge / Xue Ranran: he (1) shortens his lifespan by consecrating his blood to fight off Wei Jiu, (2) uses his blood to gather the remnants of Mu Qingge's soul, (3) crawls up a massive flight of stairs while being stabbed over and over by swords to get the Reincarnation Tree, (4) sacrifices half his Golden Core (forcing him to fall from the cusp of the Transcendence stage and thereby preventing him from removing the Burning Curse) to plant the tree, (5) removes his spiritual soul to accompany her when she is reborn, (6) uses Ling Xiao to endure the pain in Xue Ranran's place when she is cultivating in Westerly Valley, (7) lures Wei Jiu to destroy his own consciousness in Xue Ranran's place, etc... I haven't even gotten to anything past episode 8, but the list just continues to grow. As Mu Qingge says in episode 2:

Killing me by injuring yourself? Do you have a death wish? You brat, you're cruel to others, but even more so to yourself.

Even as Xue Ranran starts to fall in love with him and he is able to enjoy her company again, he denies himself this happiness over and over. When others accuse him of being heartless and taking advantage of Xue Ranran, he never defends himself. It's an all-encompassing kind of self-harm. All he can do is quietly dedicate himself to her safety in penitence.

In his drunk confession in episode 18, Su Yishui finally puts to words his feelings toward Mu Qingge:

What about you? What am I to you? I used to think you had at least some feelings for me. But after stirring up emotions I couldn't bear to let go of, you still chose Su Yu. [...] Everyone says Mu Qingge was so obsessed with me. Was that true? Someone smiled at you, treated you well, and called you the best, making you think this was an obsession. But it was all bullshit. If I were given another chance, I would still fall deeply in love. I just couldn't avoid it. I've long known I shouldn't, and I don't deserve it. But even if it's just a fleeting moment of affection, I still want to indulge in it. But God loves playing tricks on me. The person I love is right in front of me, but I can't court her. Neither can I let her go. Can we only end up like this in this life? [...] If you'll still end up getting hurt because of me, I might as well end it here and let you leave me.

Su Yishui wants to protect her, but in his mind, he is only capable of hurting her. We continue with this theme of Su Yishui warring between his feelings of affection and self-loathing for most of the show. See his confession to Xue Ranran in episode 27:

Ranran, you've forgotten what I used to be like. I was ruthless and cold, not kind at all. I've experienced trust and hatred, but in the end, all that was left was deep regret. To this day, I still don't know if everything Mu Qingge did for me was out of love or righteousness. But no matter what, I was the one who killed you. [...] How could someone like me dare to ask for anything? I hate myself more than anything. [...] You and I are destined to part ways. I've always known this in my heart. But being with you day and night, I couldn't help but fall for you.

Although he begins to accept Xue Ranran's love, his guilt towards her remains unchanged, eventually culminating in his decision to shatter his core and kill himself to defeat the Spirit Spring and save her life. Only, Mu Qingge / Xue Ranran saves him from death. Trapped in a nightmare where he is stabbed over and over for his crimes, we see Mu Qingge / Xue Ranran help Su Yishui make the final shift in his mentality.

It's all my fault. If you had never met me, you wouldn't have been hurt by me again and again.

That's not true. This is not your fault at all. Without having met each other before, even if we could avoid some pain, what about those happy times? Do you want to give them up too? You have brought me so much happiness in this life. From the past till now, you've always been an indispensable ray of light in my life. (ep. 37)

It's at this point that Su Yishui finally understands that his existence and her happiness are not mutually exclusive. Rather, the opposite is true. By his own will, he defeated the Spirit Spring and protected her. Having finally succeeded where he once failed, his sense of self-worth is restored. At last, he is able to fully accept the love that Mu Qingge / Xue Ranran gives him, and allows himself to fully love her back.

In the end, I feel that Su Yishui's major conflict stems not from others, but from himself. His decisions are all based around his self-worth; first, to prove it by force, then later, to deny it out of guilt. I think what's beautiful about his romance with Mu Qingge / Xue Ranran is that it's not a story where her love suddenly "fixes" him. In fact, you could argue that her care for him mostly intensified his self-hatred. Rather, their story shows that giving love to others paradoxically gives meaning to oneself.

His sense of worth, his willingness to be loved, his motivation to continue living despite the pain he bears - these are all things that Su Yishui claims for himself by his own decisions. Certainly, her love is the spark that starts this journey, but it's a path that he chooses to walk of his own accord. Even when he was convinced that Mu Qingge never loved him, he still chose to become a good person. It's exactly as Mu Qingge says in the very first episode:

Everything will be determined by his heart.

#love of the divine tree #lotdt ramblings #god i don't even know if i'm making sense but all i know is i love su yishui #who am i if not obsessed with characters for whom love and guilt are grossly intertwined #writing this was a great excuse to rewatch deng wei's emotional performances #oh su yishui the sad little meow meow that you are #i only meant to ramble a bit but i ended up writing a whole essay with citations. my brainrot

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magic-shop-stories · 2 days ago

Note

I just found your blog and I love the way you set up your headcanons!!

Could I request your take on soulmate aus for all the boys? Like, what kind of soulmate system would each of them have, how would they meet their fated person? Does it go smoothly, or is it a bumpy ride?

💌 Reply:

Ahhh, thank you so much for the love and this adorable request! 💜 I’ was so thrilled to dive into BTS Soulmate AUs and i really hope it's what you imagined and that it is to your liking 💜 ... Have fun - C -

NAMJOON

Intellectual Slow Burn

HOW YOU MEET

tiny indie bookstore in Mapo-gu

shelves crammed with philosophy and poetry

Namjoon frequents it weekly

always in the same corner - floor cushion #3

green tea cooling beside him

you’re the part-time clerk who restocks the “Existentialism” section every Thursday

you both annotate books with sticky notes

leaving thoughts for strangers

one day, you pick up Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra

you find his note: “Is the Übermensch just a coping mechanism for capitalism? (asking for a friend) – RM”

your reply: “No, but your sticky notes are. – Y/N”

DETAILS

His Notes

philosophical musings in tiny

precise handwriting, dotted with coffee stains

he underlines quotes about self-love and the universe’s indifference

Your Notes

sarcastic quips in purple gel pen

doodles of crying clouds next to Camus passages

The Book That Changes Everything

a battered copy of The Little Prince

he writes: “Do you think the rose ever apologized for being high maintenance?”

you respond: “The fox did all the emotional labor. Discuss.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

booshop

8 PM

rain taps the windows

he’s clutching The Myth of Sisyphus like a lifeline

What He Says

“So. You’re the one who called Kant a ‘coward in a wig.’” (Rubs his neck, glasses fogging.)

“I... I brought banana milk. As a… peace offering? For the capitalism thing.”

His Thoughts

“She’s prettier than her handwriting. Way prettier. Abort mission... wait, is that a Demian reference on her tote bag?”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves longer notes with his phone number scribbled in Morse code

you decode it while he pretends to browse

Phase 2

“accidentally” drops his favorite fountain pen near your counter

note inside:

“Dinner? I’ll let you rant about Heidegger.”

Phase 3

you hesitate

he blurts:

“I’m not good at this. But I’m really good at… listening. And losing umbrellas. Mainly listening.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Week 1-4

notes escalate to essay-length debates in the margins of Rilke poetry

Week 5

first “date” at a 24-hour diner

he brings a 3-page bullet-point list

titled “Reasons I Might Be Annoying (Please Critique)”

Week 8

takes you to Seoul Forest

kneels to fix your shoelace

muttering:

“I think… I’m yours. If you’ll have me. And my overthinking.”

DETAILS pt. 2

Glasses Move

adjusts them three times when nervous

you count them during his confession

Banana Milk

always keeps a carton in his bag

“in case of existential emergencies"

Secret Playlist

makes you a lo-fi mix titled “Margin Notes”

samples of bookstore ambient noise

track 7: “Pause for Highlighters.”

Bookmark Gift

carves you a wooden bookmark with “NamKimdiary” on the back (his old Tumblr username)

KEY DIALOGUE

After Your First Kiss

“I’ve written a thousand metaphors about love. None of them… this.”

When You Fight

“I’d rather lose every debate than lose you. Even if you’re wrong about Sartre.”

Proposal (Years Later)

slips a note into your shared copy of The Little Prince:

“Tame me?”

JIN

Culinary Chaos to Comfort

HOW YOU MEET

a Michelin-starred restaurant in Gangnam

Jin is the elusive "Chef Kim"

known for emotional tasting menus

you’re a food critic

anonymously reviewing his dishes

every course he creates makes you feel his hidden emotions

loneliness in a bitter chocolate soufflé

joy in honey-drizzled tteokbokki

you taste the true emotion behind his dishes

he receives anonymous letters about his food = your critiques

they inexplicably quote his inner thoughts

DETAILS

His Dishes

Jjajangmyeon that tastes like nostalgia

= his childhood memories of cooking with his mom

Bingsu that bursts with loneliness

= his early trainee days

Your Reviews

“The sea urchin risotto screamed, ‘I miss my brothers.’ Hire a therapist, Chef.”

“The kimchi stew is perfection, but why does it taste like you’re afraid of being forgotten?”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

his restaurant’s kitchen

2 AM

corners you after you sneak in to confront him

What He Says

“You. You’re the one who called my soufflé ‘a cry for help in dessert form.’”

arms crossed, apron splattered with gochujang

“Do you have any idea how many chefs cried because of your ‘constructive feedback’?”

pauses, then smirks

“…It was kinda hot.”

His Thoughts

“She’s got a resting critic face, but her eyes… they see me. Wait... did she just steal a dumpling?

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves a mystery dish at your doorstep daily

each meal paired with a dad joke: “Why did the tomato blush? Because it saw the salad dressing… and also you.”

Phase 2

invites you to a “private tasting”

just him cooking army stew in sweatpants

“No Michelin rules. Just… us.”

Phase 3

call him out for hiding behind jokes

he admits:

“I’m scared you’ll taste the mess I really am.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1

exchange angry sticky notes on his fridge

he doodles himself as a crying onion

Month 2

crashes your live mukbang stream

shouting:

“That’s my japchae! And my future wife!”

trends for a week

Month 3

cooks you a five-course meal where every dish tastes like unconditional love

no words

just a ring hidden in a bubble tea pearl

DETAILS pt.2

Dad Joke Diary:

keeps a notebook of jokes to make you laugh

#1: Why don’t eggs tell jokes? They’d crack up… like you do at 3 AM.

Secret Ingredient

adds a pinch of sugar to every savory dish he makes you

“To match your smile.”

Mukbang Cameos

sneaks into your streams wearing a Gucci apron

shouting “EAT THIS, NOT THAT!”

feeding you strawberries

Birthday Surprise

recreates an "I Purple You” live setup in your kitchen

“This time, it’s our color.”

KEY DIALOGUE

During a Fight

“You think I’m just ‘Worldwide Handsome’? I’m terrified you’ll realize I’m just… Jin.”

First “I Love You”

“I don’t need a Michelin star. I just need you to taste this.”

feeds you a strawberry that bursts with devotion

Proposal

“Marry me. I’ll annoy you with dad jokes for eternity… and make sure you never eat alone again.”

YOONGI

Silent Understanding & Creative Synchronicity

HOW YOU MEET

late-night music production studio in Hongdae

Yoongi works under the pseudonym "Agust D"

you’re a lyricist for indie artists

known only by your pen name "Shadow"

your words and his beats have been paired anonymously by a streaming algorithm

= creating viral hits

you’ve never met

your lyrics and his instrumentals align too perfectly

every time he uploads a track labeled “Unfinished”

you fill in the gaps with verses that mirror his unspoken emotions

fans call it “fate’s playlist”

DETAILS

His Tracks

haunting piano melodies with gaps in the rhythm

as if waiting for words

song titled “Interlude: Ghost”

muffled voice memo:

“Someone out there… knows.”

Your Lyrics

raw, introspective verses about isolation and quiet hope

they trend every time he drops a beat

bridge for his track “The Last”

reads:

“I built these walls, but you’re the echo in the hall.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

24-hour coffee shop near his studio

he recognizes your voice from a podcast where you dissected his “Daechwita” instrumental

What He Says

“You’re Shadow.”

no greeting, just a tired smirk

slides you a USB drive

labeled “Track 08 – Fix It.”

“The last line you wrote… ‘the static in my veins.’ Why?”

stirs his black coffee

avoiding eye contact

His Thoughts

“She’s younger than I imagined. But her eyes... they’ve seen the same nights as me. Damn, she’s good.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves cryptic notes in the metadata of his tracks

“Meet me at 3 AM. – D”

show up at the studio with a thermos of honey citron tea

Phase 2

collaborates with you anonymously

a song called “Burn It pt.2”

changes the final chorus to “Stay.”

Phase 3

after a year of demos, he sends a track titled “First Love”

no melody

just his voice:

“I’m bad at this. But… let’s try.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Year 1

anonymous collabs

notices you quote his live rants in your lyrics

Year 2

confront him after recognizing his piano riff from an old Bangtan Bomb

“You’re Agust D. Why hide?”

Year 3

he produces a fully instrumental track for your poetry book

liner notes read:

“Your words were my first language.”

DETAILS pt.2

Studio Ritual

leaves the window open when he wants you to visit

playing “Seesaw” on loop

Secret Track

hidden file on his SoundCloud named “Glossary_Of_Us”

has snippets of your voice

Lyric Easter Egg

quotes your first-ever verse in his SUGA mixtape sequel:

“The static’s gone. Now it’s just us.”

Coffee Cup Codes

draws tiny piano keys on your takeout cups

he’s too shy to say “I miss you.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Confront Him

“I don’t believe in soulmates. But you… you’re a glitch I can’t fix.”

First Duet Session

“Your voice isn’t perfect. Good. Neither am I.”

Proposal

samples your laugh into a song titled “Forever Interlude.”

credits list: “Feat. My Forever First LOVE.”

J-HOPE

Collaborative Growth & Digital to Real-Life Connection

HOW YOU MEET

on a global dance challenge app called SyncSteps

users upload videos and are algorithmically paired with "rhythm partners."

Hobi joins anonymously under the handle SunshineDance

you’re a shy dance enthusiast

using the app to overcome stage fright

posting under ShadowSteps

the app’s AI matches you based on complementary styles

your fluid, expressive movements sync perfectly with his sharp, energetic choreography

your collaborations go viral

you don’t know each other’s identities

DETAILS

His Videos

crisp, powerful routines tagged with motivational captions:

“You’re one step closer to shining!”

a freestyle titled “Midnight Groove”

= he leaves a frame empty

urging you to fill it:

“Your turn, Shadow.”

Your Videos

intimate, emotion-driven dances in dimly lit rooms

your first upload caption:

“For the girl in the mirror who’s still learning.”

a response to Midnight Groove where you dance in a sunlit studio,

caption: “Found the light.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

app’s chat feature

he messages after your first collab goes viral

What He Says

“Your flow is 🔥! But why hide your face? The world needs to see you.”

adds a sunflower emoji

“I’ll teach you a confidence combo. Step 1: Pretend the mirror is your best friend. Step 2: Steal their swag.”

His Thoughts

“She’s got raw talent, but she’s holding back. Let’s change that… gently.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

creates personalized warm-ups for you

tagging you in posts:

“@ShadowSteps – this one’s for your left side hesitation.”

Phase 2

sends voice notes with pep talks

disguised as "dance tips":

“Remember, mistakes are just freestyle opportunities!”

Phase 3

after months of collaboration, he slips his number into a private video description:

“Text me. Let’s choreograph IRL.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1-6

viral collabs

late-night app chats

he nicknames you “Shadow Warrior.”

Month 7 - 8

you join a live workshop he hosts

masked, like your videos

he recognizes your signature wrist flick mid-session

Month 9

invites you to co-choreograph a piece for his dance crew

at rehearsal, he pulls off his cap:

“Surprise. It’s your Sunshine.”

DETAILS pt.2

Playlist Clues

his practice mixes include BTS’s “Butter” remixes

track #7 is always “Chicken Noodle Soup”

= your first collab choreo song

Signature Move

adds a tiny hop to routines when he’s happy

you mimic it in your videos

Secret Code

uses yellow post-it notes during IRL performances

“YOU GOT THIS”

= the same phrase from his app comments

Meme King

sends you edits of your dances with dancing carrot GIFs

captioned: “When you finally nail the combo.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Reveal Your Face

“I knew you’d be beautiful. But damn, you’re a supernova.”

During a Setback

“We don’t ‘fail.’ We freestyle. Now grab my hand and trust the beat.”

Confession

“I fell for you in 8-counts. But I’ll love you in infinite ones.”

JIMIN

Emotional Mirrors, Artistic Synchronicity

HOW YOU MEET

global photography platform called Frame & Soul

users submit photos

paired algorithmically with "emotional complements."

Jimin posts under JM_Eyes

you’re a introspective travel photographer

posting as Silhouette_Shots

app pairs your photos based on unspoken emotions

his shot of a rainy Seoul alley at 3 AM syncs with your sunrise over a deserted beach

both tagged “loneliness and hope.”

your galleries become a silent dialogue

DETAILS

His Photos

moody, intimate shots:

half-empty wine glass backstage

his shadow stretching across a rehearsal floor

crumpled lyric sheets.

self-portrait of his reflection in a broken mirror captioned:

“Pieces of me I can’t name.”

Your Photos

stark, vivid contrasts:

a lone flower in a cracked sidewalk

storm clouds parting over a cityscape

a response to his mirror photo:

“Even broken glass reflects light.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where:

Frame & Soul exhibition in Busa

your paired photos are displayed side-by-side

recognizes your style instantly

What He Says

“You’re Silhouette_Shots.”

voice soft

eyes tracing your photo

“How did you… see that?”

“Your picture of the ocean... it felt like my choreography. Heavy, but… free.”

His Thoughts

“She’s quieter than I imagined. But her hands, they’ve held cameras and courage. God, she’s beautiful.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves cryptic comments on your photos:

“Your shadows have better rhythm than me.”

attaches a video of him dancing to your sunset photo’s timestamp

Phase 2

sends you a disposable camera with a note:

“Capture something I’ve never seen. I’ll do the same.”

return it with a shot of dandelions surviving concrete

sends back a photo of his bare feet on a studio floor

matching your caption:

“Roots in unexpected places.”

Phase 3

invites you to a silent photo walk through Seoul

communicates only through his camera lens

guiding you to his favorite hidden spots

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1-3

viral photo pairs

late-night app DMs dissecting light and shadow

Month 4

sneaks you into his dance studio

choreographing a piece inspired by your storm cloud series

“You’re my muse. But I’m… scared to be yours.”

Month 6

you collaborate on a photo book titled “Unspoken.”

final page is his shot of two coffee cups with steam forming a heart

your caption: “Developed.”

DETAILS pt.2

Polaroid Habit

leaves Polaroids in your bag

doodled arrows pointing to his favorite parts of your face

Dance Codes

humming “Serendipity” when he’s nervous

then denying it

“It’s… a vocal exercise.”

Exhibition Easter Egg

hides a tiny JM logo in the corner of his photos

matching your SS watermark

Secret Project

films a dance video

his movements trace the shapes of your photographs

credits list: “Choreography by Us.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Doubt Your Art

“You think your photos are just ‘pretty’? They’re alive. Like you.”

First Kiss

“I’ve danced for millions. But this… this is the first time I’ve felt the audience.”

Confession

“I used to chase perfection. Now I just chase your light.”

TAEHYUNG

Tangible Connections & Nostalgic Serendipity

HOW YOU MEET

a cozy vintage shop in Daegu named Timeless Treasures

known for its eclectic mix of retro cameras, vinyl records, and handwritten letters tucked inside secondhand books

Taehyung frequents the shop

leaving behind curated items with cryptic notes

you’re a freelance writer

you discover his first note inside a 1970s film camera:

“Capture the moments everyone else forgets. – V”

you both leave meaningful objects for each other in the shop

accompanied by handwritten stories or questions

the shop owner, a wise elderly woman, acts as a silent guardian

she's placing your items in a dedicated corner

labeled: “Soul Exchange.”

DETAILS

His Items

a saxophone pin with a note:

“For the jazz in your soul. Play it loud.”

pressed maple leaf from his childhood home:

“Autumn remembers what summer forgets.”

Gucci scarf (fake) with:

“Even fakes can feel real if you believe.”

Your Responses

a typewriter key (the letter “V”) and a poem:

“Words fail, but keys don’t lie.”

mismatched teacup with a story about your grandmother:

“Broken things brew the best stories.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

shop’s dusty record aisle

catches you inspecting his latest gift

= a vinyl of “Fly Me to the Moon”

a note: “Dance like no one’s watching… but me.”

What He Says

“You’re the one who took my camera.”

grins, holding up your poem

“Your words taste like hobakjuk; sweet, but… lonely.”

“Why a typewriter key? I’ve been staring at it for weeks.”

tilts his head, curiosity sparking

His Thoughts

“She writes like she’s lived a thousand lives. And her smile... god, it’s brighter than my flashbulbs.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

leaves a blank journal titled “Our Untold Stories”

a challenge: “Fill this. I’ll do the rest.”

you respond with a tale about a boy who speaks in riddles

Phase 2

gifts you a polaroid camera and a map of Daegu with circled locations:

“Show me your city.”

your photos of abandoned theaters and sunlit alleys become his muse

Phase 3

sends a vinyl record with a hidden track

his hummed rendition of “Winter Bear”

label reads: “For the girl who hears my silence.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Month 1-5:

exchanging objects and stories

nicknames you “Time Traveler” in his notes

Month 6

you find a script titled “The Boy in the Beret”

a play about a man who falls for a stranger’s words

final page: “Auditions: Tomorrow. 7 PM. Bring the teacup.”

Month 7

the shop’s annual “Nostalgia Night”

he wears the saxophone pin you gifted him

you arrive with his Gucci scarf

owner smiles: “Took you two long enough.”

DETAILS pt.2

Beret Code

wears a red beret on days he plans to leave you something

nod to his fashion

Secret Stash

hides cocoa in the shop’s fridge for you

labeled “For the Writer’s Block.”

Vinyl Clue

his “Winter Bear” vinyl has a scratched groove that plays “I purple you” when spun backward

ARMY Nod

leaves a BT21 Tata keychain with a note:

“Found this alien. Think it’s yours.”

KEY DIALOGUE

When You Confront Him

“You think this is a game? I’ve been writing us into existence since day one.”

First Date

takes you to a silent film screening

whispers: “Dialogue is overrated. Just feel it.”

Confession

“I collect vintage souls. But you… you’re timeless.”

JUNGKOOK

Competitive Synergy, Digital to Real-Life Bond

HOW YOU MEET

online multiplayer game called Arena Legends

players worldwide compete in team-based strategy battles

Jungkook, a top-ranked player, goes by the alias GoldenJK

you’re a rising star known as Valkyrie

notorious for your unorthodox tactics

the game’s algorithm pairs you as rivals in ranked matches

your playstyles clash yet complement perfectly

aggression meets precision

game’s AI assigns you as Nemesis Partners

= rare status where rivals share exclusive challenges

each victory unlocks a personalized clue about the other player

Jungkook’s clues hint at his art

“A rabbit doodle in the killfeed”

yours tease your love for indie music

“A lyric snippet in the chat log”

DETAILS

His Gaming Traits

Aggressive yet strategic

dominates matches with bold moves

always protects teammates

leaves golden bunny emojis in the chat after wins

Your Gaming Traits

creative sabotage

use map glitches and unexpected combos

posts montages titled “How to Outsmart a Golden Bunny.”

secretly drop song lyrics as taunts:

“You’re my favorite mistake.”

FIRST CONVERSATION

Where

Nemesis Partner chat room

unlocked after your 10th match

What He Says

“ValkyrieV. Your playstyle… it’s like watching abstract art. Chaotic. Beautiful.”

sends a bunny emoji

“Why the lyric spam? You a BTS fan or just trying to distract me?”

winks via emoji

His Thoughts

“She’s ruthless. But when she revives teammates? Soft. I need to know her IRL.”

HOW HE APPROACHES

Phase 1

creates a custom map titled “Rabbit Hole”

hidden ARMY references

final clue: “Find me where the sky is purple.”

= his favorite Seoul rooftop

Phase 2

sends you a mystery USB drive containing a game mod.

transforms his avatar into a golden knight

guarding a pixel-art version of your hometown

Phase 3

challenges you to an IRL match at a PC bang

shows up wearing a bunny hoodie

controller in hand: “No avatars. Just us.”

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

Timeline

Week 1-4

toxic rivalry turns into respectful banter

screenshares his art mid-match

you play “Euphoria” over voice chat

Month 2

you team up for a charity tournament

his avatar sacrifices itself to save yours

“Why’d you do that?!”

“Couldn’t let my nemesis die.”

Month 3

invites you to his studio

you find a painting of your ValkyrieV avatar

caption: “My Greatest Opponent. My Only Equal.”

DETAILS pt.2

Gamer Tag Easter Egg

username GoldenJK rearranges to “Jungkook Loves ARMY.” later

IRL Clues

wears a BT21 Cooky keychain during streams

you gift him a golden bunny sticker for his laptop

Secret Mod

codes a private server

your avatars dance to “Still With You” under pixelated stars

Post-Win Ritual

sends you banana milk deliveries with notes:

“For the victor. Next time, though…”

KEY DIALOGUE

During a Match

“You fight like you’ve got everything to lose. Why?”

“Because I hate losing to rabbits.”

First IRL Meet

“You’re… shorter than your avatar.”

“And you’re exactly as cocky as yours.”

Confession

“I used to play to win. Now I play to hear you laugh.”

24 notes · View notes

andromeda-pleiades · 3 days ago

Text

Just Trust Me

WORD COUNT: 3,536

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Hi sorry it took me a little more than a month to come out with the next chapter I was writing another story and broke up with my boyfriend. ●﹏●

Also someone has the strongest accent in this chapter sorry

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You tried calling your sister first, then an old friend, but no one answered. Your calls went straight to voicemail, leaving you staring at the screen in frustration. It only reinforced what you already knew—there was no one else to turn to. With a reluctant sigh, you pull up Kyle's contact.

You: I need help. I don't know who else to turn to.

The dots appear and disappear for what feels like an eternity before his response finally comes.

Kyle: What's going on?

Your fingers tremble over the keyboard. You don't know how much to say. If you tell him everything, will he even believe you?

You: I think he's tracking everything I do. I feel trapped.

A longer pause. Your stomach churns. Maybe he's trying to find the right words. Maybe he doesn't believe you.

Kyle: Are you sure? Simon wouldn't just do that without a reason. Maybe you're overthinking.

Your breath catches. Doubt creeps in, but you shove it down. No. You know what you saw.

You: I'm sure.

Kyle doesn't immediately agree to meet. Instead, he hesitates, his messages measured and deliberate.

Kyle: Look, I get that things might feel off, but maybe you're just stressed? Simon cares about you.

Your fingers tighten around your phone. Gaslighting. Whether intentional or not, that's what it feels like.

You: Kyle, please. I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't sure.

A long pause.

Then, suddenly—

Kyle: Let's meet. We'll talk in person.

Kyle suggests meeting at a diner just outside town. The drive there is nerve-wracking, each passing car a potential threat. When you finally see his familiar face—casual, steady, a tether to the past before everything fell apart—relief washes over you.

"You look like you haven't slept for days," he murmurs as you slide into the booth across from him.

You let out a dry laugh. "Haven't had much reason to."

He signals for the waitress, ordering coffee for both of you before leaning forward, voice dropping. "Tell me everything."

You do. Carefully at first, testing the waters, but soon the words tumble out faster than you can contain them. You tell him about the tracking software you discovered, the notes detailing your daily movements, the control tightening around you like a noose.

Kyle listens, his expression shifting between concern and something unreadable. "You were right to reach out," he says when you finish. "Simon... he's always been intense, even before all this."

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know what he's capable of, but you have to understand, it's not just about control for him. Simon was made into what he is. Task Force 141 doesn't recruit soft men. It shapes you, sometimes into something you never wanted to be."

You shift in your seat. "That doesn't excuse any of this."

"No, it doesn't," Kyle agrees, his eyes meeting yours. "But it explains it. His past, everything he's been through—it broke him in ways neither of us will understand. And Price..." He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "Price was like a father to him. More than that. He was a guide. Simon respected him more than anyone. And what Price taught him? Control means safety. For himself. For the people he cares about."

You frown, stirring your coffee absently. "You make it sound like he's protecting me."

Kyle gives you a small, sad smile. "Maybe, in his mind, he is. That doesn't make it right."

A strange pity coils in your stomach, unwanted but undeniable. Simon—ruthless, obsessive Simon—was once just a man looking for structure, for someone to follow.

You shake the thought away. It doesn't change what you need to do.

"When the ten days are up, I have a place," Kyle says suddenly, lowering his voice further. "A safe house. You can come there. No strings. No Simon."

Hope flares in your chest, but something nags at you. Kyle's hands are steady, his words reassuring, but there's something about his delivery that feels... rehearsed. Too perfect.

You ignore it. You have to. He's your only chance.

"Okay," you whisper. "I'll come."

Kyle smiles, a little too quickly. "Good. You won't regret it."

You stand at the doorway, watching as Simon secures the last of his gear. His movements are methodical, efficient—just as they always are. The weight of his presence lingers in the air, suffocating even as he prepares to leave.

"I'll be back before you know it," he says, pulling on his jacket. He steps toward you, cupping your face with a gentleness that still makes something inside you ache. "I love you."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to nod. "I love you too."

The words taste like ash now. You watch from the window as Simon's car turns the corner and disappears. But you don't move yet.

Instead, you pull out the small leather-bound notebook you bought three days ago, flipping to a fresh page. Your handwriting is tight and cramped as you note down the time of Simon's departure and what he said about his return. *"Six days until Simon returns from alleged conference. Will prepare to leave on day four, heading to Aunt Marie's cabin in Vermont."* This last part is a lie—Aunt Marie doesn't exist, and you have no plans to go to Vermont. But if Simon or anyone else finds this journal, the false trail might buy you precious time.

You list each suspicious detail methodically: Kyle's hesitation when you first contacted him. His immediate attempt to rationalize Simon's behavior. The way he knew so much about Price without you telling him. The convenient timing of the safe house offer.

Closing the journal, you tuck it into the hidden pocket you've sewn into your jacket lining, then double-check the locks, leaving the front door bolted as you slip out the back. You take the long route through side streets, keeping to the shadows, doubling back twice just to be sure. Only when you're certain no one is following do you head toward the meeting spot where Kyle waits.

Kyle's safe house is tucked away in a remote area, but the moment you step inside, unease prickles at your skin. It's too exposed. The windows aren't reinforced, and the locks seem flimsy—if Simon wanted to, he could be here in minutes.

"Not what you expected?" Kyle asks, watching you closely.

You force a tight smile. "Just... getting used to it."

But the lie sits heavy. Every instinct screams that this isn't far enough, isn't safe enough. You need to disappear completely.

You notice dark clouds gathering on the horizon as Kyle shows you around. "Looks like a storm's coming," he comments casually, glancing out the window. "Cell reception gets spotty out here when it rains. Power too, sometimes."

The words send a chill through you. Isolated. No communication. No witnesses.

That night, when Kyle steps out to take a call, you see your chance. His laptop sits on the table, screen dark. He's always cautious with it, rarely leaving it unattended. This might be your only shot.

Hands shaking, you ease into his chair and lift the screen. Locked. Of course. But when you press a key, it flickers to life. He must've forgotten to log out.

Your pulse hammers as you scan the desktop. Most files mean nothing to you—until you see it.

Price_OpSec

A chill rushes through you. Price. That name again. You click on the file, but a password prompt stops you cold.

You're about to give up when you notice a folder labeled "Surveillance." Your fingers hover over the trackpad, hesitant, then click.

The breath leaves your lungs as images fill the screen. Photos. Dozens of them.

You. Going to work. Shopping at the grocery store. Meeting friends for coffee.

And then—your heart nearly stops—Simon and Kyle. Together. Not in old photos from their military days, but recent ones. In one, they're sitting at a café, heads bent close in conversation. The date stamp is from just two weeks ago. In another, they're standing outside your apartment building. Kyle is pointing toward your window.

Before you can think, your phone buzzes.

Simon: I love you.

A second message follows.

Simon: Don't forget to double-lock the back door. It sticks sometimes.

Ice floods your veins. That's something Kyle told you about the safe house. The house Simon shouldn't know you're at.

Your breath quickens. The room spins. Your fingers dig into the table as the walls close in. Was this all planned? Is Kyle feeding Simon information? Are you running in circles, trapped no matter what you do?

You quickly take photos of the screen with your phone, hands trembling so badly you have to try three times to get a clear shot. You close the folders, returning the laptop exactly as you found it just as the first raindrops begin to hit the windows.

You clamp a hand over your mouth, stifling a sob as your chest tightens. The air feels too thick, your lungs too small. Panic claws at your throat, sending you spiraling. You trusted Kyle. You needed to trust him. But now... now you don't know if you can trust anyone.

Your mind races, desperate for a foothold. What if Simon has been ahead of you this whole time? What if every move you've made was predicted and accounted for? Your vision blurs at the edges. The betrayal you feared most wasn't from Simon—it was from the one person who was supposed to help you escape him.

You press your forehead against the cool surface of the table, forcing yourself to count. One. Two. Three. Your fingers dig into your arms, grounding yourself. But the tremors in your chest refuse to subside. Every interaction with Kyle replays in your mind, now tainted with suspicion. Every reassuring word, every careful gesture—was it all an act?

A sob threatens to break free, but you swallow it down. Kyle wouldn't betray you. He couldn't. You remind yourself of the boy you once knew, the friend who had your back when no one else did. If he's acting strangely, it must be because of what he's seen, what he's done—they've changed him, made him cautious, secretive.

You shake your head. The evidence is right there. The photos don't lie.

You can't afford to break. Not here. Not now. Not when you might be running out of time.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to breathe through it. Think. Think.

There's still a way out.

There has to be.

The storm arrives in full force, rain lashing against the windows as thunder rolls overhead. The lights flicker once, twice, then go out completely. The safe house plunges into darkness.

"Power's out," Kyle calls from another room. "Stay put. I'll find the flashlights."

You sit frozen, your mind racing. This is it—your chance. In the darkness, with the storm masking any sound, you might be able to slip away.

Pulling out your journal, you scribble one last entry by the light of your phone. *"Kyle definitely working with Simon. Found photos. Heading to Vermont tonight. No other choice."* You leave it on the table, open to that page—your final decoy.

You don't sleep.

The hours drag by, your mind cycling through every interaction, every misplaced word, every look Kyle has given you since this began. You should have been more careful. But now, standing in the dim light of the safe house, phone clutched tight in your trembling hands, you have only one option left.

You confront him.

"How did Simon know about the back door?" Your voice is steadier than you expected, but the weight of the question hangs between you like a drawn blade.

Kyle looks up from his seat at the small kitchen table, brow furrowed. "What?"

You hold up your phone, screen illuminating your face. "Simon texted me about locking it. That's something you told me, not him. So how did he know?"

Kyle leans back, exhaling slowly. "Come on, you know how he is. He gets in your head. He's probably trying to mess with you, make you doubt everything." He gestures at your phone. "You think he wouldn't guess how paranoid you'd be about the locks? He's playing you."

You shake your head. "No. This isn't a guess. This is something specific, Kyle. Something only you mentioned."

His expression hardens. "So what, you think I told him? You think I sold you out to Simon? After everything he's done? After everything I've risked to help you?"

Your stomach churns at the way he flips the accusation back onto you. Doubt creeps in, whispering that maybe you are overreacting. That maybe Simon really is just messing with you. Kyle's been your friend since childhood. If you can't trust him, then who?

"I don't know what to think anymore," you admit, voice cracking. "I just—I need the truth."

Kyle runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "The truth? The truth is Simon's got his hooks so deep in you that you're seeing shadows where there aren't any. He's always done this, hasn't he? Made you question yourself? And now you're doing his work for him." He leans forward, tone softening. "Look, I get it. You're scared. But you have to trust me."

The words scrape against your raw nerves. Trust him. Like you trusted Simon?

You sit down slowly, trying to steady your breathing. "Then tell me about Price."

Kyle freezes. It's barely perceptible, but you catch it.

"What about him?"

"Simon listens to him. I keep hearing his name, but I don't know who he is."

Kyle exhales, rubbing his hands together. "Price is... not what you think. He's just some old war dog Simon admires, someone he learned from. But he's not pulling strings here." He looks at you, eyes careful. "That's why you need to stop panicking. If Price is involved, it's just another layer to this, not the end of the world. We need to be smart."

You hesitate. Everything in you screams that this isn't right, that you should leave. But Kyle is so convincing, so steady. And deep down, there's still that part of you that doesn't want to believe he'd betray you.

"So what do we do?" The words taste like surrender.

Kyle relaxes slightly. "I have a contact. Someone outside Simon's reach. They can keep you safe, but we need to move."

Every alarm in your mind blares at once. Another move. Another safe house. Another place where Simon might already be waiting.

Kyle offers you a small, reassuring smile. "I promise, this time, it'll be safe."

You swallow your fear and nod. You want to believe him.

But as you gather your few belongings, you slip a kitchen knife into your pocket. This time, you won't be caught unprepared.

The storm intensifies throughout the night. Rain hammers against the roof, and wind howls through the trees, enclosing the safe house in a wall of water and sound. The power remains out.

Kyle's restlessness grows as the hours pass. He paces, checks his phone repeatedly despite the lack of signal, and keeps glancing out the windows into the darkness. The small space forces you to remain in close proximity, every movement amplified in your hypervigilant state.

"We should get some sleep," he says eventually. "Big day tomorrow. I'll take the couch. You can have the bedroom."

You nod but have no intention of sleeping. As soon as Kyle settles on the couch, you begin your wait, counting the minutes until his breathing deepens.

Three hours later, with the storm still raging, you make your move. The journal sits conspicuously on the kitchen table, your false plan clearly visible. Your real bag—small, containing only essentials—is hidden under your jacket.

You ease the back door open, wincing at the soft creak. The rain is instant and merciless, soaking you within seconds. But the downpour masks any sound you might make as you slip into the darkness.

The forest behind the safe house is dense and unfamiliar, branches whipping your face as you push forward. Your phone's flashlight offers minimal guidance, the beam swallowed by the thickness of the storm. You know there's a road about a mile east—if you can reach it, maybe flag down a passing car...

A flash of lightning illuminates the trees ahead, and in that split-second burst of light, your blood freezes. A figure stands twenty yards away—tall, muscular, with a distinctive mohawk now plastered to his scalp by the rain. He hasn't seen you yet, but he's scanning the woods methodically, one hand holding a flashlight, the other clutching a walkie-talkie.

You duck behind a large tree, heart hammering against your ribs. Through the sound of rainfall, you catch fragments of his voice:

"Na visual yit... Grid search in progress... She coudnae hae gaen far... "

The walkie-talkie crackles with a response too distorted to make out, but the mohawked man nods, then changes direction, moving across your path rather than toward you.

"Copy that. Circling back tae th' creek. Over. "

They're watching you. Tracking you. How many cameras are out here? How many eyes?

You wait until the beam of his flashlight disappears among the trees before moving again, this time in the opposite direction. The undergrowth tears at your clothes, mud sucking at your shoes, but fear drives you forward.

Another lightning flash reveals a steep embankment ahead. You slide down it, half-controlled, half-falling, coming to rest in a shallow ravine. Above you, the storm continues its assault, but here, partially sheltered by the high banks, you have a moment to catch your breath.

The respite is brief. A beam of light sweeps the ravine, and you press yourself against the muddy wall, praying the shadows are deep enough.

"Ah ken ye'r doon thare ," a voice calls out, eerily calm despite having to shout over the storm. "Thir's nowhere tae go. Th' road's blocked. Th' river's flooded. Juist come oot noo, 'n' no one haes tae git hurt."

You remain motionless, one hand gripping the kitchen knife in your pocket. The beam sweeps back and forth, methodically searching every inch of the ravine.

"Simon's worried aboot you," the voice continues. "He juist wants ye safe. Ye ken how dangerous it's oot 'ere."

The light stops moving, fixed on a point just feet from where you hide.

"Last chance."

You hold your breath.

Footsteps approach, sliding down the embankment. The mohawked man lands heavily in the mud, his flashlight beam dancing wildly before steadying again. He's close now—close enough that you can see that he is Soap the man Simon brought to your home a few weeks prior, the same soap from the texts.

"There ye are," he says, spotting you at last. His lips curl into a smirk as he raises the walkie-talkie. "Target located. Southeast ravine. Movin` tae secur”.

Your fingers tighten around the knife.

He reaches for you, confident, unhurried. "Let's nae mak' this difficult."

You don't think. You move.

The knife flashes in the beam of his dropped flashlight as you lunge forward. He reacts with military precision, blocking your arm, but your momentum carries you both backward. You fall together, landing hard in the mud, his greater weight driving the air from your lungs.

His hand clamps around your wrist, squeezing until your fingers go numb. The knife slips, embedding itself in the soft ground beside you.

"Stupid move," he grunts, pinning you with one arm while reaching for the walkie-talkie with the other.

Desperation lends you strength. You twist violently, driving your knee upward. It connects, and his grip loosens for just a second—enough for you to wrench free and scramble for the knife.

Your fingers close around the handle just as he lunges for you again. You roll to the side, and in one fluid motion, slash outward blindly.

A howl of pain tears through the night. Soap staggers backward, hands pressed to his face. Blood seeps between his fingers—dark, almost black in the dim light. You've caught him across his left eye.

"Ye bitch!" he screams, lunging forward blindly. But his footing is compromised, his vision obscured by blood and rain.

You don't wait. You clamber up the ravine, soil and rocks giving way beneath your desperate grasp. Behind you, the man is still shouting into his walkie-talkie, his voice ragged with pain.

"She's armed! left th' ravine heading wast! a'm needin' backup! A’M NEEDIN’ BACKUP!"

His voice fades as you reach the top, replaced by the relentless drumming of rain and your own ragged breathing. You sprint through the forest, no longer caring about stealth, only distance. Every flash of lightning guides you forward until finally, miraculously, you see it—an access road cutting through the trees.

You have no idea where it leads, but away is all that matters now. Away from the safe house. Away from Kyle's betrayal. Away from Simon's control.

Behind you, distant voices call out, but they're growing fainter with each stumbling step you take. Soap won't be following—not with that eye. And whoever else is out there, they're too far behind.

For the first time since this began, you feel something close to hope. You're still running, but no longer in circles.

You're finally breaking free.

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #ghost #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #andromeda pleiades

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ladylooch · 1 day ago

Text

Bones - Part 19 [Mack x David]

A/N: Are you ready for some running?? Cause we are about to start sprinting through the timeline for the remainder of the series. There are so many big moments left to show you all and I'm so excited for all my secrets to be revealed 😘 I do hope you all are enjoying this as much as me. My little labor of love!

Word Count: 5.3k

(David)

June 2057

The electricity in Madison Square Garden with 1:13 left in the Stanley Cup Finals is everything. The hair on David’s body stands on end. He feels dizzy with how loud it is in the arena. He is gassed. He hurts every where.

But fuck all of that.

He is so damn close to the ultimate, NHL victory.

With so much on the line, the Rangers have their top pair defensemen on the ice. David wouldn’t have it any other way. This is the shit he has worked his ass off for. To be out here, trusted, in this big of a moment for his team is everything. David coughs, trying to clear his lungs of the tightness from being run ragged in the third. The Avalanche are pushing hard now. They’re in desperation mode to tie the game at 3 and the Rangers are doing everything they can to keep the puck out of the back of their net.

In 73 seconds, both teams will know who was successful.

David skates by Woody out to the right face off circle. His green eyes drag up the stands, looking at where his wife clutches their son to her chest. She’s so nervous. He can feel her nervous energy reach him at ice level. David chuckles because as always, when she looks like that, a calm flows over him. She’s depending on him to get this done. Maybe for other guys, that would feel like a vice. But that look on her face fuels his determination further. Everyone he cares about is counting on him to shut this team down.

So he does.

He blocks shots. He balls out. He tosses himself in front of anything and everything so nothing can get through to the net. He works his stick into opponents backs, making it impossible for them to get position in the slot, so their goalie can see everything. Woody is right there beside him like the best damn captain in the league. The whistle blows with another save. All of David’s conditioning work is being put to the test. He thinks he might be dying. So he hunches over his stick waiting for the next puck drop.

23 seconds now between them and greatness.

Coach looks at his two defenseman, asking for if they need a change.

No way in hell are David or Connor getting off the ice.

“Harder than before.” David huffs out to Woody. Connor nods, gasping then spitting on the ice.

David might puke pushing to get through these 23 seconds, but he's gonna do it.

The puck drops. The Rangers center wins the face off, Woody banks it out to neutral ice. They both get to the top of the circles before the Avs try to return to the Rangers zone. Woody steps up, taking one for the team into the boards and eating the puck. The right wing and center come in as reinforcements. They’re holding it close, but it’s Connor who is doing the heavy lifting right now.

“Fuck yeah, Woody!” David yells to him.

The crowd starts to roar. David peeks at the scoreboard.

7 seconds.

“Seven! Six…” David screams to his partner so he knows how much longer to hold his ground. The puck shifts further into the Rangers zone, but Connor follows it. David tracks with an Avalanche player in front of the net.

“Five!” David screams to Connor by the hashmarks.

Then the crowd takes over the chant for David.

Three… Two… One…

“Yeah!!!!!” David yells when the buzzer blares. His stick and gloves fly towards the rafters. He tosses his helmet to the side and rushes to Woody. Connor’s face is engulfed in relief, joy, exhaustion and disbelief. David is sure his mirrors that back to his partner. They throw their arms around each other. Connor grips David’s jersey with his battered hands. Their wrist tape is falling off. Their hair is matted to their foreheads. But they both hug each other like the brothers they have become.

“Holy fucking shit. What a ride!” Connor laughs into David’s ear. He pats the back of his captain’s sweaty head, then they break apart to join the rest of their teammates. The team mobs each other, sharing hugs, patting backs, reveling in this moment that they all broke and bled for.

Stanley Cup Champions.

For David and Connor, again.

Last time was early in David’s career. He had been a cusp player and the win didn’t feel earned like this one. It didn’t feel sweet either. Not like it does looking up at his whole world, grinning with his name on their backs. Once he locks eyes with her, David can’t stop staring at his wife. Her amber eyes are teary and he watches her shoulders shake with a disbelieving laugh. He sees her lips form an “oh my god” before she turns away from him to hug her sister. Even as other teammates hug him, his focus is on her. She’s right there, within reach, and he needs her. His body vibrates for her.

He needs her with him more than he needs to lift that hulking silver trophy over his head.

Time passes slow through the ceremony. David knows what it’s for but holy fuck, he just want Mack on the ice and that cup in Woody’s hands.

“Connor Wood, you have the honor of hoisting the hardest trophy in sports to win for a second time. Please come grab the Stanley Cup.”

A wave of tears hits David like a ton of bricks. This isn’t just about winning the cup for him. It’s about doing it with that man right there. His D partner. His best friend. His brother. Connor leads by example on and off the ice and it’s his leadership that got them here. David hoops and hollers with the rest of the team through the agonizing 200 photos they want to take of Connor and the commissioner. Then Connor grabs the Cup into his battered hands and BOOM! The roof blows off the place with screams as 20,000 people ride the wave of victory.

Connor wheels the silver beauty around the rink as the guys jump and zip around with him. He kisses it, then thrusts it into the air, an illuminating smile on his face. He ends his lap with a stop in front of the Wood girls. Lucie jumps up and down, clapping and laughing excitedly.

“I love you, baby! This is me and you!” She nods back to him, tilting her head back to the roof with laughing, gasping sobs. “Get over here, gramps!” Connor yells to their most veteran Ranger teammate, one who hasn’t had the privilege to hoist this yet. The cup is passed off and the rest of the team floats back to their blue line, hugging each other again, anxiously watching as they start to gather the family members to come join the team.

When it’s David’s turn, the cup is as light as a feather. He can barely feel it in his tired arms as he floats around the rink. He thinks of his parents, holding it up as high as he can so they can see it clearly where they rest in eternity. He licks at his top teeth as his eyes blur. Fuck, he wish they were here. He wishes he could hug his mom and shake his dad’s hand. His chest aches in places it hasn’t in awhile and he’s back to needing Mack in his arms as he passes the trophy to the next teammate.

When he sees her, he goes to her immediately. He places his hand in hers and then tugs her into his body, hiding his nose into her brown hair. She smells so good. Like sweetness and fresh laundry. In her arms is their sleepy son. He looks less than thrilled to still be awake, until he sees David’s face.

“I love you.” He tells his wife as he gathers their almost two year old boy from her. Nicky latches to David’s sweaty skin immediately. “This means so much more with you.”

“I know. I love you too.” She kisses his lips. “They’re here.” She mumbles against his lips, kissing him through another wave of agony that his parents aren’t physically present. He blows out a shaken breath then nods. He smoothes Nicky’s jersey down as he struggles to remain composed.

“Yeah.” He drops her nose into their son’s hair, kissing the back of his head as he settles against him. David looks around, smiling at his teammates greeting their families then return his gaze back to my wife. “Wow.” Is all he can say. There are no words he can conjure up for what it means to share this moment with her and Nicky.

But he doesn’t have to.

Because Mack already knows.

- - - & - - -

The silence in the elevator is needed after the craziness of the past week. Mack and David are running on fumes and still trying to chase away days long hangovers. At least Mack is. Mack is pretty sure David is still drunk. He might still be drunk when they get to Iowa next weekend at this rate.

It’s all in good fun though. Her parents have been here all week to help them and the Woods with childcare, so they can enjoy the celebrations with the teams. They’ve been on the streets, in restaurants, roof tops, clubs- you name it, Lord Stanley has been there. It’s been an epic celebration, capped off today by the championship parade. They were in a double decker buses with the multiple generations of Woods, her parents, and all their children. It was a wild and fun day. The memories will last a lifetime.

Tomorrow, the season ending interviews and locker clean out happen, then they are getting the hell out of here. Back to a quiet way of life that Mack craves by the end of the hockey season now. Truthfully though, David does need to get back to the farm because Felix is about to go on leave for an overdue hip surgery.

“I’m gonna need some of your coffee to rally here.” David sighs through a yawn. “My buzz is wearing off.” He rubs his hand over his face as they get to their floor. They already dropped Nicky off with Lexi and Nico at the Wood apartment so they can get ready for the next adventure. This is the final team dinner before everyone will begin to depart for their off-season destinations.

Mack smiles at the thought of the off-season and the very important goal her and David have decided to work on.

Baby number two.

It came up in a drunken moment the night of the cup win, but was reinforced with sober thoughts the following morning. Mack wants it. David does too. So she tossed her pills in the garbage and now they’re trying.

“How about you get me pregnant instead?”

“Geez, hon.” David groans, looking over at her. “My dick like half works and you wanna do that now?”

“Yeah, your whiskey dick won’t be any better tonight after dinner.”

“True.” He agrees, grabbing her hand as they walk down to their unit. He unlocks the door, holding it for her as she walks in. Their fingers fall apart as Mack drops her purse onto the entry table.

Slowly, she licks at her top teeth, eyes scanning up her husband’s body. From a few feet away, the smells of beer, liquor, and cigar smoke with a faint hint of weed waft off of him. Their gazes meet and a sexy smirk flows over her husband’s lips. Any worries about his dick half working have vanished, being replaced by a need that is never satisfied in him when it comes to her.

“Where do you want to make our baby?” He drawls, his slight country twang dripping off the words.

The air in the apartment takes a quick shift from tiredness to primal need. Mack swallows, stepping forward to put her hands on his chest. David gathers her into his arms, pressing his lips against hers, then kissing along her jaw. Mack appreciates the feeling of his mouth on her, thinking about his question.

There is their bedroom, or the couch, or the kitchen counter. But all of those feel like mundane options compared to being fucked against the wall of their shower. Mack wants to watch him get her pregnant in the bathroom mirror. She shivers, thinking about the darkness in his eyes, the way he will pound hard into her, not letting himself come until he’s fully sheathed in her, cum smooshing into her cervix.

“The shower.” She moans as he sucks her throat.

“The shower?” He repeats. It wasn’t what he was expecting from her.

“Yeah. Wanna watch us in the mirror.”

“So sexy.” He compliments her.

Mack leads the way. She can feel his heavy gaze on her ass as she sways down the hallway. He keeps his hands off of her until they’re in the bathroom together, then his hands wind around her hips to her jeans. She reaches over his shoulder to grab his Stanley Cup shirt, pulling it over his shoulders. It gets caught on her body until she steps away to get her jeans and panties completely off. She turns in his grasp, grabbing his strong shoulders after he pulls her top off.

Mack fumbles with his belt and jeans as David reaches around her to turn the shower on. He keeps one hand on her lower back, keeping her enclosed in the smell of Stanley Cup celebrations. The steam beings to bellow out of the enclosure, creating fog around their bare legs. David gathers Mack’s face in his hands, kissing her deeply and fully before he leads her into the shower. The shower has dual heads and a long bench running along the wall for them to utilize. Mack grabs David’s body wash and begins to suds it up. It’s a rich, pine scent that always makes her nose tingle.

“You smell like all the sins.” She chuckles as he stands there, watching her suds up his hairy chest. She rolls her hands over his back, up his shoulders, then back down his arms. He reaches out for her with sudsy fingers, rubbing her nipples with both his thumbs. A heavy ache settles between Mack’s thighs as he draws slow circles into her mauve skin. Her inner walls pulse and collapse around a stubborn emptiness. She raises her gaze to his, eyes closing slightly as he tugs her nipples hard before they break away to cup her breasts completely.

“Cannot wait to see you filled up again, honey.” He murmurs. His hands run down to her stomach, spreading wide there. Then he rolls one to her back, turning her around. He pulls her back into his shower head with her, letting the warm water flow over her body.

His right hand rolls over her belly button, then down to the apex of her thighs. He runs his middle finger down her slit, circling her entrance then back up to her clit. Two fingers touch her now, rolling her sensitive bud until her lips are puffy and pulsing. His other hand comes to her breast, holding it, then rolling her tight nipple. Her eyes float to the ceiling, surrendering to the ecstasy of David’s touch.

“You’re not watching.” He points out to her, nibbling her ear lobe.

Her eyes fall to his in the mirror. They look so good together naked. He towers over her with huge muscles doted with random bruises and faded cupping marks from the final series. He has cuts on his left cheek and the bridge of his nose that are healing but still an angry red around the edges. David’s thumb runs down from her chest to the faint stretch marks from her previous pregnancy. His favorite things to trace now; the beautiful reminder of what she went through to give them a son.

“Can you see it, babe? How good you’re gonna look again? How bad you’re going to need me to fix that constant ache in your pussy every day.” She smirks. Yeah, those pregnancy hormones really did a number on her. “Think about that while I bend you over here.”

With his encouragement, Mack presses her hands on the glass door. David lines up his swollen tip from behind her, then raises his eyes to the mirror as he presses in. It’s so hot- the look, the stretch, the slight stitch of pain. Mack licks her lips, eyebrows folding together over her nose. He exhales in pleasure then pulls out, keeping his eyes on hers. Mack’s mouth drops slightly open as he pushes back in. A soft cry of pleasure slips between her spread lips.

“The best you ever look is filled to the brim with me.” He smirks at her reflection. “Take cock so good, honey.” Mack’s forehead goes to the glass and she chokes on a moan as David’s tempo begins to build. Mack rolls her hips forward, presenting her pussy more for him. David slaps her ass hard as a warning of trying to take control from him, then he unleashes his fast bucks into her.

Mack brings an arm across her breasts, stopping them from slapping around and instead keeping them tight. She tweaks her nipple then savors the way David’s hips clap into her ass. For being concerned about his dick half working, he is hitting all the right spots inside of her. Mack can feel her coil beginning to fray away. Whisping away at the edges with each needy moan that drops from her mouth.

“Right there.” She begs at his reflection. She keeps herself steady, letting it build to a delicious release that has her mouth salivating. “Yes.” She hisses. Her breathing hitches and then she’s gone, falling into the white hot heat. Her heart pounds in her ears, blood rushes through her body and David has to wrap a second arm around her waist to keep her upright.

David kisses along her back as he pulls out of her momentarily. Then he turns her into his grasp. His hands dive into her wet hair, tilting her face so he can swirl his tongue in her mouth. They make out like that, consuming each other, until David can’t stand being out of her any longer. Between them, the tip of his cock weeps onto her stomach, red and swollen with the need to release. He lifts Mack into his arms, turning and pressing her back into the cold, tiled wall.

“Watch us, baby.” He demands against her lips as he slides in, head tilted slightly to the side so she can see past it. He peers at her face, exhaling a moan over her lip as she bites it. “Gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. Gonna be out of this world beautiful with my baby in you again.” Then he bites her lip as if to assert his dominance over her.

“Yeah.” She agrees, sucking in a deep breath as he begins to piston into her. “Oooo.” She rests her tongue on her top lip, letting the uninhibited groans fall from her mouth. “Fuck, that’s good. Great. Really, oh, really great.” Mack encourages him. Her finger nails bite into his shoulder and ribs. Her ankles cross above his ass and she watches as his thick, hockey butt expands and contracts with each fuck into her heat. “God, that’s so good.” She tells him, pulsing around his cock at the sight of him fucking her so well.

Mack works the hand from his shoulder up into his wet hair, scratching gently at his scalp, wanting him to feel good everywhere, not just where they’re connecting. Her abdomen tightens, beginning to shake as he sucks the skin above her collar bone.

“I’m gonna come, baby.” He warns her, voice laced with a deep pleasure. Mack nods, nose against his cheek, unable to speak as he pushes her closer to that too. Her head falls back to the tile, but she keeps her gaze on them. She feels him release into her then her orgasm pulls those white ropes deep inside of her. They pulse together in sync. David pins her to the wall with his hips, staying inside of her as he recovers with his forehead on her shoulder.

When he turns his face, Mack catches his lips.

“Thought I was gonna black out there.” He murmurs. “I’m sweating.”

“Me too.” She laughs.

“Making babies and winning Stanley cups with you this week has been… indescribable.” He murmurs, holding her up with his hands on her bare cheeks. She tightens her legs around him, trying to keep his release inside of her as long as possible. David’s nose wrinkles slightly at the sensitivity of her walls milking him more.

“It all feels like a dream I never want to wake up from.” She admits. Her fingers card through the sides of his black hair. Then she kisses him again. This one is soft and sweet, lazy too like they have the rest of their lives to stand here with each other.

“Let’s stay in.” He begs into her mouth. “Just me and you. No one else matters like this.” His hands squeeze her ass. “Make sure you’re pregnant by the end of the day.”

“You’re never going to get this time back, babe.” She smiles, shaking her head no slowly. “One more night. Then we don’t have to share anymore. We go back home to our quiet, farm life.” She scratches at his scalp as he drops his face to her shoulder again. She feels his lips plump there. “I’m proud of you. And I love you so, so much, David.”

He sighs into her skin.

He’s a 2x Stanley Cup champion but all he really cares about is being hers.

- - - & - - -

The first time Mack took a pregnancy test, she had insisted she wanted it to be by herself. But this time around, she can’t imagine not having David with her, despite the annoying pacing he did outside the bathroom while she tried to pee.

Once she was done, he rushed through the door to hold her.

In their farmhouse bathroom, wrapped up in each other, they wait. They took a brief pause in from planning David’s day with the cup to find out if their second child is on the way. Mack is late, but with the craziness of winning the Stanley Cup, hurrying back to Iowa, and being thrown back into Farm life, it could just be stress from bouncing between parts of the country with a toddler.

“Why does this feel so long?” David grumbles.

“Because it’s literally two life changing minutes.” Mack chuckles, rubbing his back in comfort.

David huffs, then rests his nose on top of her head. Mack watches them sway together in the mirror. David’s eyes close and his lips plump into the part in her hair. She smiles, looking dreamy and in love through the reflection.

“I’m definitely pregnant.” Mack murmurs to him before her timer goes off.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, look at me.” She gestures to herself, shrugging her shoulders. His eyes trail down her, from the top of her head down to her toes, pausing at all the tell tale places on her body in between. His hands come to her stomach, thumbs brushing on either side of her belly button. The glow on her is obvious and David smiles, clearly pleased that he contributed to that.

“I think you are too, honey.”

Mack reaches for the test, pulling it out of the packaging she put it back into so they wouldn’t peek early. David pulls her back into his chest and they both smile at the two pink lines that greet them. Mack sighs happily, resting the back of her head on his chest. He grins at her in the mirror.

“Two.”

“Two.” She repeats back to him. His hands move from her hips to her belly, lacing together there. Her hand comes on top of his and they stay like that, imagining this next phase of life until their current chapter calls them back in the form of a crying toddler.

A month later, the Stanley Cup arrives at Des Moines International Airport and receives a police escort down to the Carlson Family Farm. David stands on the porch with Mack and Nicky, watching the dust fly up behind the police cars and white van. Last time, he didn’t bring the Stanley Cup here. He took it to places in Michigan that had felt more like home to him than this place. Truthfully, we didn’t want his lackluster life here to be shown on a national stage.

Now, he doesn’t have to worry about anything like that.

He has a family now. One that loves and cherishes him. People who flew from across the world to celebrate this moment with him. It means more to David than he could say to share his second Cup with this group of people.

Mack feels lucky to share in this with him too. They weren’t together when he won his first cup. She only knows it from the perspective of her brother in law. To now share this moment as a family of three, soon to be four in March, is pure magic.

When they told her parents earlier this week about another Carlson baby, her mom had started laughing so hard she was almost crying.

“Our Stanley Cup baby is having a Stanley cup baby!” Lexi slapped Nico’s thigh who grinned.

“Full circle, sweets.”

Mack chuckles, thinking about it now. Yeah, she suppose it is. The baby is even due a week after her birthday.

The main street in town is decked out in Red, White and Blue like it’s the Fourth of July. Conveniently, they could reuse the decorations for the occasion to match the Rangers colors, even if it is August. The town is so ecstatic to share this moment with their biggest accomplishment. In a town of this size, celebrations like this don’t happen frequently. People have come from five counties over just to see the Stanley Cup in Iowa.

David is gracious with the cup. In the discussions they had about how to celebrate, it was clear that he wanted to share it with people. The day starts off on the farm, doing breakfast with the farm hands and taking pictures in various spots on their family land. Of course there is a stop at his parents resting spot, where they sit and tell stories and let Nicky run around and play.

From there, they took the cup to the local ice rink David still skates at in the summer for training. They unveil a permanent banner that has her husband turning all sorts of pinks and reds of bashfulness. It takes up a huge part of the building, meaning every time they go to the grocery store, they’ll see his face.

“Oye.” He scrunches his nose after they get back in the car. He rubs at the back of his neck after turning the truck on. “I don’t think I like that.”

“You look hot.” She nods in appreciation. They used a picture of him with a fierce look that highlights all his dark features, but also his bright green eyes. He looks smoldering, strong and sexy. The words “Proud hometown of 2x Stanley Cup Champion, David Carlson!” line the bottom in bold letters. David looks around her to take in the banner again as they drive away.

“Yeah, I guess it’s not that bad.” He shrugs, turning the wheel of the truck.

That’s her husband- humble and quietly successful.

After the rink, they do a main street celebration including a mini parade. Tons of candy is passed out, beverages are flowing, food vendors are lining the streets- all free for the town and paid for by David. He is swarmed for hours on end, but he takes it all in stride. Mack disappears a few times because she is overwhelmed by the attention. David always welcomes her back into the circle, keeping her pinned into his side for the duration of the event.

Once his obligations are complete with the outside world, everything turns inward. The group heads to a local event center/brewery where they enjoy delicious midwestern food, desserts, drinks, and of course, his closest family and friends all in one place. Nicky crashes out quickly on David’s chest. He holds him for almost an hour like that until Mack finally convinces David to let him lay down on the couch in the corner. She sits there with their sleeping baby, her mom and sisters, chatting about the day and how incredible her husband is.

The crowd continues to party, but Mack’s pregnancy energy level wanes. She stands up, going to where her husband is smoking cigars with the boys outside by the fire pit. David looks glowy and drunk, hot from the fire and the still warm night air. His shirt is unbuttoned, exposing his hairy chest and firm abdomen. The boys laugh loudly at some story as Mack threads her fingers into her husband’s by his thigh.

“Hi, I’m going to go home with Nicky.” She murmurs after a kiss to his lips.

“Okay. I’ll come too.”

“No.” She smiles. “Stay here. Enjoy your party until they kick you out, then come home safely to me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. My dad is going to bring us home, then he will come back for you, okay?”

“Okay.” David leans down, wrapping his arms around her after handing Cody his cigar to avoid showering her with secondhand smoke. “I love you.” He kisses her lips. “I’ll grab Nicky and bring him to the car for you.”

“My dad already did.”

“Oh… well, I wanna give him a smooch before you leave.”

Together, they walk towards the truck. David pops the back door open, making the car ding as he leans in to kiss their sleeping boy. Nicky stirs a bit, then settles back into his sleep. David quietly shuts the door again before opening up the passenger door for Mack.

“Thanks for taking them home, Nico.” He calls to where her dad is in the driver’s seat.

“For sure, I’ll be back for you all later.”

“Thanks!” David tosses his hand in the air then shuts Mack’s door. He watches them drive off, making Mack pout at the bummed look on his face. She stuck it out as long as she could, but growing a baby is still exhausting work, even if she’s been through it before.

Mack is just crawling into bed when she hears the front door open again. She assumes it’s her dad and prepares to meet him in the living room by grabbing a sweatshirt to put over her thin pajamas. A few moments later, her husband comes in. She furrows her brows at him.

“The party is over?”

“No, I didn’t want to be there without you. They’re all still going.” He tells her as he undresses. He gets down to his bare skin then crawls into bed with her, leaving his clothes in a heap by the bed. “All I wanna do is this.” He insists, sighing contently as he puts his head on her chest. His cheek is warm and he immediately sticks to the top swells of her breasts.. “I…mmm…” He trails off before he gets the rest of his sentence out. Within two seconds, a light snore exhales from his nose.

Mack chuckles, kissing the top of his head.

It’s supposed to be his day, celebrating his huge accomplishment, and all he wanted was to end it early to be home with her. He has two Stanley cups, but his wife is his ultimate dream come true.

“Goodnight, babe. I love you. Forever.” She murmurs to his sleeping form.

Then follows behind him into dreams of her own.