#though the coffee here has a much higher concentration than in the US from what I hear so the glasses are p small

[pulim-v]

Get pestered. Knowing things about your life time

What’s the last thing you’ve eaten

Last time you’ve riden a rollercoaster?

How’s uni going

Do you drink coffee? If so, how do you take it

UHH I DON'T KNOW THE WORD FOR IT IN ENGLISH AGDHJSJFJF

This 👍 it's bread with butter grilled on a pan (ig you could call it toast but I don't think that's right LMAO)

No idea when I last went on a roller-coaster ride lmao maybe on 2021? Was a pretty small one tho

Uni is Definitely Going 👍 I won't say why because Those Who Know might get info on where I study but I just got a week-long break lmao will probably use that to catch up on the stuff I lost out on when I traveled w my family

Yup! I drink like 3 glasses on the morning and 3 glasses in the evening, and it's always white coffee with a lot of sugar since I don't like it being too bitter :P

[reiding-writing]

I’d love to know how Spencer meeting cold!reader for the first time went! Like I’d imagine she wasn’t always as soft on him as she is now right?

GREETINGS & SALUTATIONS — SPENCER REID!

you meet spencer reid for the first time.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 0.9k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — this is super short but i wrote it to procrastinate an essay i have due in tomorrow 😭

The air is sharp with the tang of coffee and the subtle rustle of case files as you step into the BAU conference room for the first time.

You're no stranger to these environments—two years of working with the VCAC Program have hardened you to the sterile camaraderie and cautious smiles of seasoned agents. But this is a new team, a fresh start, even if you’re not entirely convinced you need it.

Agent Hotchner stands at the head of the table, his presence as steady and no-nonsense as you expected from your prior phone calls. “You’ve all been briefed on the newest addition to our team,” he says, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmur of the room. “She’s joining us after transferring from VCAC. Her experience will be invaluable here.”

You nod briefly, scanning the room. There’s a mix of polite smiles and speculative looks, each agent sizing you up in their own way.

One face catches your attention—not because he smiles, but because he doesn’t. A young man with a mop of brown hair and wide, curious eyes hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, studies you like a puzzle he’s already halfway through solving.

He looks too young to be an FBI Agent. But you can’t say much about that yourself.

—

“Your desk will be over here,” Hotch says after the short introductions, gesturing for you to follow him out of the room. You’re led to a desk directly opposite the curious-eyed man, his desk cluttered with neatly stacked books and meticulously arranged pens.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch introduces. “He joined not long before you, so I trust you two will be able to aid in each other’s adapting to working here.”

“Hi—” Spencer blurts, standing too quickly and almost knocking over a coffee mug. He’s taller than you realised, looming slightly as he tries to straighten his tie. You’re grateful he doesn’t try to shake your hand.

You nod curtly. “Hello.”

It was like looking at a perfect opposite of yourself, both in the same situation, but so utterly different in the way you conducted yourselves.

Spencer's smile falters for a fraction of a second before he launches into what can only be described as a deluge of words.

“You know, it's really great to have multiple academic doctors on the team. Statistically, the BAU has a higher concentration of advanced degrees than most FBI units, but even then, it's rare to have two people with different PhDs working in tandem. It reminds me of this study I read about cooperative dynamics in small teams—“

You tune out the rest of his rambling, nodding occasionally out of thinly-veiled politeness while setting your bag on your desk and beginning to unpack. His voice is animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he dives into tangent after tangent.

“—and, of course, there's the entire field of developmental psychology, which is fascinating, especially when applied to criminal behaviour, though some people argue it's more of a soft science compared to neuroscience, but I disagree—“

You glance up, meeting his gaze with a neutral expression. “Sure.” Your tone is flat, your attention already shifting back to arranging your space.

Spencer stammers slightly, clearly searching for a way to salvage the conversation. If you could even call it that. “I-I mean, I guess you probably already know all that, given your background.”

“Yes, I do.” you reply simply, not offering him a lifeline.

There’s an awkward silence as Spencer shifts from one foot to the other. “Where did you complete your degree?”

You bite the urge to tell him you’re not interested in small talk. God knows you’re going to be sat across from him for who knows how long.

“Stanford.”

“Wow,” Spencer’s eyes widen just a tad, nodding. “That’s really impressive,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No—” He back tracks immediately. “Not like— I didn’t mean—” He takes in a sharp breath. “It’s a very good place for Psychology, and I’m sure learning there was a great opportunity for you— Stanford has been held to extremely high academic standards since it was founded, and so the workload has been known to overwhelm a lot of it’s students, especially PhD students, so you having graduated from there is a really impressive feat,”

“It’s a College. Who cares?”

“Right… Uh, well— Welcome to the team,” he says, retreating into the comfort of his desk chair at the dismissal in your tone. You definitely didn’t want to speak to him.

You don’t miss the way he glances at you periodically over the rest of the work day, as if trying to figure out the best way to approach you next time.

You don’t mind that as much. At least he’s not numbing your eardrums anymore.

[bibicoffee-com]

Does Strong Coffee Have More Caffeine? The Truth Revealed

Does Strong Coffee Have More Caffeine Strong coffee will change your drinking experience. Some people even report that this beverage can wake them up. Hence, the rest may associate coffee strength with its caffeine content. So, does strong coffee have more caffeine? And what affects the caffeine level in java? If you can't answer those questions, we will get you covered. This article will explain the link between caffeine and coffee strength. You can also learn how to serve yourself the perfect java for your needs. So let's scroll down to discover the truth! What Is Strong Coffee? In coffee, strength refers to the brewing process. For example, the typical brew ratio of coffee to water is 1:15. Yet, strong coffee has a higher ratio, such as 1:10 or 1:12. Espresso is strong coffee by definition because we brew it in a concentrated form. Meanwhile, weak coffee is made with not enough grounds to the water used. People love strong coffee for multiple reasons. First, they may like the rich and bold aroma of the drink. In addition to the taste, strong coffee offers a high energy boost. Thus, we can fight fatigue and focus on our work effectively. Another reason is the coffee-drinking ritual. For example, some people only want a high-quality cup of coffee with a strong aroma. In the end, people's reasons for liking strong coffee may differ based on their tastes, lifestyles, and cultures. And interestingly, some people love strong coffee because they think there is more caffeine. But is it true? We will talk about it right now. Strong coffee has a bold flavor Does Strong Coffee Have More Caffeine? Not really. Strong coffee doesn't always have more caffeine. So you need to consider other factors to measure the caffeine amount in your java. The idea of strong coffee is that you put more coffee into it while reducing the water content. Hence, it will be more abundant in caffeine than a regular cup. However, the caffeine content only depends on different factors, such as the bean type, ground size, and brewing method. For example, there is 90 mg of caffeine in 15 mg of ground coffee. The caffeine content will be the same even if you add less water to have a strong coffee. So, the strength doesn't necessarily affect the caffeine. But what will? We will discuss all the determinants right here. Coffee Bean Type Let's check the bean type first. There are two primary types of coffee beans: Robusta and Arabica. Interestingly, these two beans have different caffeine levels. More specifically, Robusta beans contain twice as much caffeine as Arabica beans. Hence, if you compare a cup of strong Arabica coffee and a cup of standard Robusta coffee, you can't tell which has more caffeine. Robusta beans contain more caffeine than Arabica Coffee Ground Size Aside from the coffee bean type, the size of coffee grinds will impact caffeine levels. The modification, though, is minor. Please note that extraction plays a vital role in the brewing process because it's where the caffeine, aroma, and flavor arise. The critical factor in the extraction phase is surface area. Since finer grinds have more exposed surface area, they will hasten and simplify the extraction process. Nevertheless, coffee grinds don't always change the extraction or caffeine content of the drink. Instead, the brewing method is a more significant factor. Brewing Method As aforementioned, the brewing method will determine your java's caffeine content. It's because some methods require a higher level of extraction. For example, you can soak the coffee grinds in boiling water. Then, you will get a cup of coffee with more caffeine. But remember that brewing methods are not the only determinant, even though they will affect your beverage's drink. In general, it would be best to experience different brewing methods. You will soon find the best flavor with the strongest coffee. The brewing method plays an important role How to Make A Strong Coffee? You can use the AeroPress coffee maker to prepare a cup of strong coffee. There are two ways to do it. Classic coffee First, prepare 15 grams of finely ground coffee and 30 grams of water. Then, the coffee-to-water ratio for your drink will be 1:2. After gathering the ingredients, please follow these steps: - Boil water and let it cool slightly. - Assemble the coffee maker. - Add ground coffee to the brewing chamber. - Pour hot water into the ground coffee until it reaches number 1, then stir gently. - Let your coffee steep for one to two minutes. - Gently press the plunger to extract the coffee into your cup. Drip-style coffee On the other hand, this recipe will be ideal if you love filtered coffee. The instructions for making a drip-style coffee are as follows: - Boil the water. - Put the ground coffee into the brewing chamber of the coffee maker. - Add hot water to the chamber until it reaches number 4. - Wait for the extracted coffee to drip through the filter. Drinks Black Brewed Seeds Glass Coffee Beans Hot How Much Caffeine is Too Much? The answer depends on your age, weight, health, and caffeine sensitivity. It's because the reaction to caffeine differs significantly from person to person. According to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA), you should not take more than 400 mg of caffeine a day. Yet, some people may be more sensitive to caffeine than others. For example, two cups of coffee may seem fine to you. However, your friend may experience anxiety, insomnia, jitters, or headaches. And in worst cases, excessive consumption may cause severe health problems, such as: - High blood pressure - Heart palpitations - Cardiac arrest - Difficulty breathing If you don't know your safe limits, contact your physician for help. They will give you advice based on your health status. The question now is, "How can people with caffeine sensitivity drink coffee?" Fortunately, there are several ways to adjust the caffeine content in your java. We have discussed some determinants of caffeine. Hence, you can work with them to get the desired caffeine content. Another easy way to try is to drink decaf coffee. Have you ever heard about that? If not, check this video to learn: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ny4cYj_25c Do not consume too much caffeine Popular Types of Strong Coffee If you love strong coffee, there are many options to choose from. Each has a unique flavor, aroma, and characteristics. In this section, we will highlight some terrific types of strong coffee. By reading through all of those ideas, you will understand more about how the brewing method affects your coffee. Espresso Espresso is concentrated coffee. You can make it by using high pressure to push hot water through finely-ground coffee. The result of this method is a bold, strong coffee flavor. You can also use espresso as a base for other coffee beverages. We highly recommend Americanos, cappuccinos, and lattes for this experience. French Press To make French Press, you will steep coarsely ground coffee in hot water for a few minutes. Then, press the coffee to the bottom of the pot. The outcome of this method is rich java. Cold Brew As the name implies, you need cold water to prepare a cup of cold brew. This method involves steeping coarsely-ground coffee in cold water for a few hours. Finally, you will get a smooth and less acidic coffee. Turkish Coffee This beverage calls for finely ground beans. To be more specific, you will boil the coffee grounds with water and serve the liquid with cardamom. In the end, your coffee will have a thick texture. Cuban Coffee Cuban coffee is a stronger version of espresso. Hence, coffee drinkers often use it with demerara sugar to have a bold yet sweet flavor. Black Coffee If you like classic java, go for black coffee. This beverage only needs coffee beans and hot water. Besides, you can use any roast levels and brewing methods to adjust its strength and flavor. There are many types of strong coffee Frequently Asked Questions 1. Which coffee type is strongest? Based on the coffee-to-water ratio, espresso is the most concentrated coffee. This ratio for some types of strong coffee is as follows: - Espresso: 1:2 - Cold Brew: 1:4 - French Press: 1:12 - Turkish coffee: 1:12 - Cuban coffee: 1:10 2. Is it OK to drink very strong coffee? Yes, if you drink it in moderation. Otherwise, you may encounter side effects, such as diarrhea, insomnia, headache, etc. Although strong coffee doesn't necessarily contain much caffeine, you should still be aware of your caffeine intake. As a result, limit your coffee consumption to a safe rate, and stop when you experience adverse effects. 3. Which coffee is highest in caffeine? Coffee made from Robusta coffee beans has the highest caffeine content. However, we can't name the exact type of coffee because the beans are not the only determinant. Nevertheless, the caffeine content in a cup of coffee also depends on the brewing method and ground size. That's why we have hundreds of coffee types with only two coffee beans. 4. Does stronger coffee give you more energy? Not really, because strong coffee doesn't contain more caffeine. Yet, you may still feel more energy due to the more robust aroma and flavor. They will quickly give you a stimulating effect. In addition, the act of drinking coffee is already energizing to many people. So, some may not care about the caffeine content or the strength. 5. What does strong coffee do to your brain? Strong coffee, with its caffeine and other ingredients, will affect your brain in these ways: - First, it will increase your brain activities to improve your mental focus. - Also, the levels of dopamine and other neurotransmitters will increase. Since they connect to your feelings, your mood may improve. - Another effect of caffeine on your brain is improving your cognitive function and memory. Hence, you can handle mental tasks effectively. - Last but not least, caffeine helps reduce fatigue. It performs this task by preventing adenosine receptors in your brain. Conclusion Coffee strength refers to its coffee-to-water ratio. Hence, stronger coffee doesn't have more caffeine than standard one. In fact, strong coffee has a bolder, richer flavor and aroma. So even if the caffeine content doesn't change, it can also give you an exciting experience. After all, depending on the preparation method, you will enjoy the best cup of coffee for your preferences. And feel free to contact us for any difficulty while making it. Thank you for reading! Read the full article

[sundaysundaes]

My Words, Your Thoughts (Teaser)

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU

Part of the beautiful ‘Aubade’ collaboration hosted by @hyucksie​

Synopsis: As an introvert, you are familiar with the silence. Drowning yourself deep in your thoughts has been a habit you’ve become addicted to. Your life begins to change, however, ever since the day you turned twenty. Suddenly, there’s this song that’s stuck in your head, and no matter how much you yearn to hear your thoughts or be comforted by the silence, it keeps on playing. You only get to find the answer to your problem when a young, cute barista hands you a cup of coffee one day, with that song’s lyrics written on the side. And you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been hearing voices in your head.

Warnings: explicit sex, expletives, mentions of physical abuse and astraphobia (not for the main characters)

WC (Teaser): 4k

Release Date: June 27, 2021, 10 AM KST

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

It’s weird that you’ve been hearing this song replaying over and over again in your head when you’re sure you’ve never listened to it before. It’s also weird because sometimes the song sounds like the ones you often hear about on the radio—complete with instrumental accompaniment and everything—but most of the time, it just sounds like someone is humming to it. Sometimes quietly, but more often than not, vehemently like they’re having a concert in the shower, not caring if the neighbors might hear.

As someone who rarely listens to mainstream music, you don’t keep up with the trend these days but the tunes are catchy enough that you think, maybe, it’s one of those Justin Bieber’s songs people always talk about. You’re not fond of it, though, so even if you’ve heard it somewhere in a cafe or a mall, there’s very little chance you’ll be humming it in your head.

And yet, it keeps on playing.

It gets worse when it goes on for a whole day—a whole fucking day—that your brain feels like it’s seconds away from bursting into pieces. It doesn’t even sound like your voice. It seems like it belongs to a male, a bit light and a pitch higher than most. Though it sounds pleasant, the voice is unfamiliar to your ears and that’s what bothers you the most. 

Trying your best to escape, you plug in your AirPods to your earholes, choosing one of the most beloved tracks from your playlist—today, it’s Bloom by The Paper Kites—to help you relax as you lie down on your bed. But no matter how many times you turn up the volume—it’s practically turning you deaf, ironically—you can still hear that one goddamn song playing.

“Oh my God,” you groan, projecting a murderous glare at the ceiling of your room before you shriek all of your heart’s content to your pillow. “Make it stop!”

This has been going on ever since your twentieth birthday and it’s been three months since then—three months of suffering, to be exact. Fortunately for you, you haven’t been listening to the same song for those amount of time—God, you would’ve killed yourself if that was the case. The song changes without warning. It can change ten times within a day, or stay the same for ten days. You have never heard of these songs except for the popular ones, and even then, you only ever listened to snippets as they don’t suit your taste. 

So… It doesn’t make sense that you could recite the whole lyrics, does it? 

And yet, you can. 

Somehow, you already know every word, every tune, even every ad-lib in these songs and it both amazes and creeps you out. It’s as if somebody else is singing about it in their mind, and you, somehow, are mentally connected to them.

But that’s surely not the case, right?

With more days passing by, as your brain deteriorates little by little, you start to think that maybe that is the case.

Or maybe you’re just going crazy.

It’s nine in the morning and your eyes are bleary from how you involuntarily skipped sleep last night. With the loudest sigh and your half-charged MacBook sitting still in your backpack, you let your wobbly legs carry you to the nearest coffee shop. There’s a new Starbucks store opening just a couple of blocks away from your apartment and it’s perfect since you’re going to pass it every day on your way to college. 

You’re not excited though, not when you have Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror playing in your head for the, approximately, thirty-fifth time that day. And it’s only nine in the fucking morning.

When you enter the coffee shop, greeted by a cute Christmas tree and festive decorations spreading all over the place even when it’s still three weeks away from the holiday, you almost weep in joy when the song stops playing in your head. It does happen from time-to-time, sometimes it stops for a few hours before it starts again with the same song or an entirely different one. But in most cases, it only pauses for a few minutes which just doubles the torture whenever you’re trying to concentrate on your paperwork.

“Hi.” You display a timid smile at a female barista, slightly wincing when the song in your head starts blaring again, as expected. It’s still the same song this time—so that thirty-sixth by now, Jesus Christ—but instead of someone humming it, it’s the original version that plays. You’re having trouble focusing on her greeting when the sound of a synthesizer echoes through your ear, stridently so. “I would like a tall skinny latte with a double shot, please.”

“Would you like anything else to accompany your drink?”

Perhaps a gun to blow my head off? “No, thanks. That’d be all for me.”

“Is that for here or to go?”

You take a quick scan of your surroundings. You still have an hour before your first class starts and since the place isn’t that crowded, you figure you might as well just spend some time here. “For here.”

You tell her your name and slide down your card to complete the payment. “All right. We will call your name once your order is ready.”

“Fantastic. Thanks.” As the female barista takes an order from another customer, you drag yourself to an empty seat in the corner of the room, next to the glassy window where you can glance at passersby. You lay your head down on the table, cheek pressed against the wooden surface, lower lip jutting out in weariness. You’re drowsy and you want to think about the snow that’s probably gonna fall sometimes near Christmas’ Day and maybe the sight of a warm fireplace where you can cozy up with your imaginary boyfriend (also known as Jung Jaehyun—that one perfect boy who lives just across of your hallway), but no, unfortunately for you, you no longer have any space left in your brain since Michael Jackson is performing a damn concert and it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna stop anytime soon.

“I’m starting with the man in the mirror…” Great, now you’re singing it. “I’m asking him to change his ways…”

The music in your head abruptly stops again but before you can close your eyes to finally enjoy your silence, a familiar voice chimes in.

“It’s a great song, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you quickly lift your head to identify a male barista placing down a cup of your ordered latte on your table. You swear you recognize his voice but his face doesn’t ring a bell.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I don’t usually bring orders directly to the table but I think I misheard your name so I couldn’t call you out from there.”

“That’s, umm, that’s okay…” You hide the bottom half of your face behind your scarf as you’re not used to talking to a stranger, especially one that looks overwhelmingly pretty. “What did you think my name was?”

“Umm…” He rubs the back of his nape awkwardly. “I don’t think you want to know. It was a bit… inappropriate.”

“R-right…” You glance at the cup. “It says ‘Michael.’”

He chuckles but with only a slight hint of amusement in it. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to come up with something and it was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And it has…” Your eyes widen when you notice the words he’s written on the side of your cup. It’s not a greeting, it’s not a motivational sentence, it’s the fucking lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror.

“Yeah, okay, so—” Noticing the appalled look on your face, he hurriedly tries to reason out. “I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day long—I just listened to it a minute ago while making your order—and the lyrics are just so inspirational so I decided to write that down. I hope that’s not too weird.” Then he laughs a little, a tad more genuinely this time. “But I heard you singing that song just now. What are the chances, right?”

You swallow hard. He’s been thinking about that song too? Listened to it a minute ago? What are the chances of this is happening? Is he the one whose voices I’ve been hearing in my head—

The male barista abruptly takes a step back, his tray nearly slipping out of his hold. He has a hand pressed against his ear, eyes blinking several times in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” He splutters, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“What?” The way he seems like he’s looking at a ghost sends goosebumps all over your skin. “What is it?”

“Think about something.” 

“Umm—” What is he talking about?

This time he gapes, his jaw dropping low. “Holy shit, I can really hear you. Think about something else—think about me.”

“Look, I don’t know you and you’re being weird.” The sudden change of conversation baffles you but when his words sink in, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about him as he orders. He’s cute, his entire features are cute—you’ve noticed that from the first second you laid your eyes on him, but what catches your eyes the most is his lips—the way they’re shaped so beautifully, like a cupid’s bow—

“You’re thinking about my lips? Seriously?” He asks, but might as well splash cold water to your face. “If you said something about my eyes, sure, I mean, they are attractive. One might even say that God Himself took the stars from the sky and put them in my eyes—but my lips? Huh, that’s new.”

You loudly gasp when you’re finally aware of the situation, hands flying to your face to cover your gaping mouth. “You can hear my thoughts!”

“And you can hear mine too!” He points out, and as startled as you are from the previous realization, you instantly frown upon his words. 

“I don’t think so,” you reply. “I can only hear—”

“Donghyuck-ah!” Another barista comes to interrupt from the other side of the room. “We didn’t pay you to flirt, come back here!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” He shouts back, tips of his ears reddening. When he turns to you again, he has a prominent scowl on his face which makes you squirm on your feet. “We need to talk about this. My break is in an hour, do you think you can wait?”

It sounds more like an order than a request. “B-but I have a class in an hour.”

“Skip it.”

It takes all the strength in your body to be brave enough to retort back with, “Why don’t you skip your work?”

“I’m already half-done with my work, I can’t bail out now.” He rolls his eyes. Suddenly, his courteousness just vanishes without a trace. “Look, I’ve been hearing your thoughts for months now and I have a lot to complain to you about.”

You grimace. “It’s not like I can control my thoughts—”

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He picks up the tray, his gaze softening but only slightly. “I just want to complain. You’ve been driving me crazy these past few months.”

You glance away, pouting. Wow, he surely knows how to befriend a stranger.

“I can hear you, you know.” He sighs as if talking to you is exhausting, when it should be the other way around. “Look, I’m sure you’ve been going through the same thing. Don’t you want this to stop?”

You’re not wasting any second. “Yes, please.”

“Then wait for me. We’ll talk this through.” He pivots on his heels, his tray glued to his side. When you can finally breathe properly, exhausted from the social interaction as you sink back to your seat, the barista—Donghyuck—adds, “Oh, as you wait. Can you please stop thinking about my lips? Or just how cute I am in general? It’s sweet but I gotta concentrate so I won’t write another Michael on my next order.”

You slam your forehead down the table, face aflame. “I-I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

***

“You just can’t stop thinking about my lips, can you?” Is the first thing Donghyuck states out as soon as he’s approached your table. He runs a hand through his brown hair, which looks out-worldly fluffy that you begin to wonder what kind of hair product he’s been using. “Or my hair.”

Mortified, you mumble out, “I’m sorry,” with half of your face covered by your hands. The more I try not to think about his lips, the more I do—shit, is he hearing this too—

“Yes,” Donghyuck says, but this time with an amused smile. “Man, I didn’t know my lips were that appealing to ladies. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Well, he’s making you blush for sure. “Would it be too much to ask for you to stop listening to my thoughts?”

“Believe me, woman, I’ve tried.” He groans, taking his apron off before he sits in front of you. He loosens up his collar, unbuttoning two buttons of his white shirt—which is two more than necessary to your liking—and you have to gaze away before another thought forms inside your head about a certain part of his body. 

“Sorry if I came on too strong before. I’m Lee Donghyuck,” he introduces formally, offering you his hand. You reply with your name but you’re reluctant to shake his hand since you’re sure you’re breaking into a cold sweat, and an overly sweaty palm doesn’t really scream attractive—

“It’s literally just a handshake,” he says, stifling down a laugh. “I’m not gonna start judging you about it. You’re cute, sweaty palms or not.”

You nearly choke. “If I can’t ask you to stop listening to my thoughts, can you please be quiet about them?”

“That’s also impossible since talking is an integral part of my charm.” He leans back to his chair. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

That was… a poor choice of words, you think, as you stare at his lips and can’t help but wonder what can that mouth do other than talking. You take a bite of the bagel you just ordered, desperately trying to avert your attention.

“It wasn’t a poor choice of words.” He winks. “I did mean that in every way possible.”

This time, you really are choking.

“Okay, so what’s happening to us?” Donghyuck questions, after you manage to shed a tear or two during your attempt in relieving your throat. “Why have I been hearing your thoughts? I don’t even know you.”

“Same here.” You’re still going through a hard time keeping eye contact with him, but with more seconds passing by—and him pronouncing every bit of your thoughts out in the open—the knots inside your chest begin to loosen. “Ever since I turned twenty, I’ve been hearing these songs playing in my head that I’d never even heard of.”

“Never heard of?” Donghyuck snorts. “What, you never listen to Billboard’s top forty?”

You weakly shrug. “I prefer indie music better. Or instrumentals.”

“I would say that you have a soul of an old lady but the way you’ve been thinking about my lips reminds me of my sister who’s going through puberty.”

“Okay, this isn’t fair.” You shake your head, ashamed and tired of being humiliated over something you can’t fix. “Why can you hear my thoughts but I can’t hear yours?”

“Believe me, you’re much better off this way.” His face contorts in pain which makes you feel somewhat sorry if he’s not constantly being an ass about it. Hearing your insult, he notes, “Also, I’d prefer to be called with terms of endearment in the future, if that’s okay with you. Something like Babe or Darling.” The way he raises his eyebrow is just strictly illegal. “And in return, I’ll call you Sweetheart.” But before you can say anything—or run toward a running bus to put an end to this endless humiliation—he questions, “Wait, when you hear the songs I’ve been thinking in my head, does it sound like the original version of the song, or like me singing it?”

Finally, a proper conversation. “If you’re listening to the actual music, I can hear the original song as if I’m hearing it through my headphones. But when you’re just thinking about it, well, I‘ve never heard you sing, but,” you decide to tease him back—which startles you from how blatant you’re being. “From how amateur and pitchy this voice sounded in my head, I think I’ve been hearing yours.”

“Cute.” He scrunches up his nose. “Okay, let’s try again. Can you hear what song running through my head now?”

You stiffen, sitting in silence. After a few seconds pass by with only you exchanging stern stares at each other, your eyes gleam with a spark of hope. “Wait, I can’t hear you. Does this mean it stops? Because we’ve met in person?”

“Sadly no, because I was just thinking about how silly you looked when you choked over your food earlier.” He chuckles to himself and sends you another wink when you degrade him in your head. “Okay, let’s try again.”

“For real this time?”

“For real this time, Sweetheart.” He closes his eyes, holding back a smile when he catches how you flinch a little at his pet name for you. This time, you really do hear him humming inside your mind. “Don’t tell me by words,” he immediately adds, “Just think about them.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes too. I’ve heard this song somewhere.

“If you’ve never heard about this song, I will literally cry and apologize to the world on your behalf.”

Be quiet, please, I’m trying to concentrate.

“Worried that you’d be thinking about my lips again?”

You almost fall from your seat. Almost. Okay, you’re singing to… You knit your eyebrows together as you provide your best effort to remember the tunes. You’re singing to Super Mario Bros theme song?

“Correct.” He taps his fingers to the table, simpering. “This is actually pretty cool. We can be, like, partners in crime or something.”

You shudder. “Please don’t tell me you’re an actual criminal.”

“If looking this handsome is a crime then I am, yes. Guilty as charged.” He makes a kissy face when you think about throwing the rest of your bagel to his head. “You look like someone who writes fan-fiction about their idols having sappy first kisses in your spare time but you’re actually pretty wild in your head, aren’t you?” He loves seeing your reactions, you know that, so you give your all in trying to act nonchalant. “Now, let’s try again. Did you bring your headphones with you?”

You check your coat’s pocket. “I got my AirPods.”

“Perfect. Put them on and play something from your phone.” As someone who’s pretty carefree, he can get serious at times. “Play as loud as you can until you feel like you’re going deaf.”

“I’ve tried that many times.” You nearly wail at the memory. “But it’s hard to drown your voice since it comes from inside my head.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’ve been hearing your thoughts too, remember? Don’t you think I would at least try something like that?” You narrow your eyes menacingly at him but he simply waves you off. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m trying to do. Put them on and you’ll see.”

He’s ordering you around. He just met you and he’s ordering you around. Socializing with people in general already zaps your energy pretty quickly, so socializing with a brat—

“I’ll grow on you, don’t worry.” He smirks and you take a mental note to really learn how to control your thoughts this time.

You follow his lead, as requested, connecting your AirPods to your phone and play something relaxing—because God knows how desperately you need it—as loudly as you can bear. Okay, go try… whatever it is that you want to try.

He smiles and shifts slightly on his seat, facing the window. His eyes glimmer under the light when he parts his lips, mouthing some words—no, singing something that you can’t hear.

Wait. I can’t hear?

Donghyuck glances at you, a grin breaking further on his lips upon hearing your thought. He gestures to you to take your AirPods away and you nod. Vacation Manor’s You promptly fades as his voice enters, and it’s weird because you’ve heard him sing in your head so many times yet it doesn’t do justice to how beautiful he sounds in real life.

It’s almost angelic, the sound he makes, which is kind of ironic for a little devil that he is. His honeyed voice is soothing, almost like the patter of rain on your window at dawn, lulling you back to sleep. You’re no expert in music but to you, he sounds impeccable that you run out of words to describe how pleasant his voice is to your ears. It’s so distinct, soulful—

Donghyuck giggles. “Thanks.”

—and annoying. “Okay, so what happened?” You try to divert the topic. “I can’t hear you when you’re singing out loud, but I can hear it when you’re thinking about a song?”

“I guess so.” He furrows his eyebrows, deep within his thoughts. “I figured it out when I couldn’t hear your thoughts whenever you spoke out loud. I think we can work from this?”

“So instead of thinking about what I have to say, I should focus more on saying what I want to say?” You shake in horror. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What, you don’t like talking?”

“I’m…” You swallow your breath. “I’m not really good at that.”

“You’re talking to me just fine now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, because you make it so easy.”

“Aaw,” he purrs, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“No.” You hold up a hand. “I mean, since you can hear my thoughts, I have no other choice but to speak. Also, you seem like you’re the type who just says whatever that comes to mind without worrying too much about my feelings—”

“Hey, now you’re just making me sound rude—”

“You are rude,” You emphasize. “But it works well with me because then I don’t have to hold myself back and pretend to be somebody else.”

“Why do you have to pretend?” He frowns. “Because you’re afraid people are gonna hate you? Judge you on your words?”

“It’s…” You look away, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I just… I’m trying to be a good person so people will like me—”

“I like you,” he says casually as if he was talking about having a cute Pomeranian as a pet, and there you are, almost fainting in your seat. “I mean, in the last forty minutes I’ve known you, I think you’re great the way you are. You don’t have to be good, you just have to be you.” He shifts closer, crossing his arms on the table, and lays his chin on them, gazing up at you with a soft smile that doesn’t match well with his previous attitude. “Don’t you think it’s great if people accept you the way you are?”

You hurriedly take a sip of your coffee, pretending to swallow even if it’s already empty. “You’re… not so bad yourself.”

“What was that?”

“Okay, well I think I should go.” There’s no way you’re gonna repeat that. Donghyuck titters, taking a hold of your wrist when you’re about to stand up from your seat.

“We still have loads to talk about.” You observe the way his fingers linger around your arm, his sun-kissed skin feels silky smooth against your own. “Why don’t we have lunch together? My treat?”

“D-don’t you have work to do?”

“I’ll make an excuse.” 

A barista with the word Jeno written on his name tag walks by and slaps Donghyuck on the back of his head as if it’s something he’s done on a daily basis—probably is. “You’re not going anywhere, asswipe, get back to work.”

When the brunette boy turns to you, he winces. “Or maybe you can give me your number so we can meet up later?”

***

A/N: I’m both nervous and excited for this as this is my first collaboration. Thank you so much, Denise, for having me on this wonderful collab!

[jean-kayak]

So...ahaha...*holds out credit card* Head cannons of Aizawa, Hawks, Bakugo, and Shinsou reacting to seeing their chubby black twin babies after a long day of work? The babies have their dad’s hair or eye color but they got the skin and hair texture of their Mama. 💳💥💳💥💳💥💳💥💥💥💳💥

This is the cutest request in the world anon

🧣This mans just wants to crash on the bed

🧣This particular day at work was really taxing physically and he's literally running on fumes

🧣He can barely make it through the door without passing out

🧣Poor guy doesn't even have enough energy to announce that he's home, and he loves his students, but they're definitely bigger than a handful

🧣He toys his shoes off, and he can only make it to the couch, sitting down and letting his head fall back

🧣You already knew how hard his day was because you barely heard him come in, so you carefully sneak into the living room, your twins in your arms

🧣He jumps slightly when he feels the light weight on him, lifting his head up to see his kids sitting on each of his legs

🧣His demeanor changes instantly, a sleepy but wide smile appearing on his face

🧣"Da!" your daughter says, the only thing she can manage right now while your son yells "Sho!" picking it up from hearing you call your husband by his first name

🧣He brings them closer to him, peppering kisses on their faces, making them shriek happily, the tired look in his eyes replaced with immense happiness

🧣He watches them laugh and smile before they both start to reach for each other, messing with each other's hands

🧣And he huffs softly, both of them the spitting image of you, and the same thought of being so lucky to have them and you in his life plays in his head once again

🧣You lean down and he's meeting you halfway, both of you exchanging a quick but loving kiss, and your kids start rubbing their eyes

🧣You go to reach for them, but he pulls them closer to his chest

🧣"What're you doing?" he whispers before he yawns, his eyes red with fatigue

🧣"You're tired, baby," you respond, and he shrugs as he moves them to lay on his chest, both of them snuggling into him

🧣"So are they. I can stay here for a while." You give him a soft look, your kids already out like a light as your husband yawns again, his eyes drooping

🧣You hum softly before you kiss all of their foreheads, Aizawa's breathing already slowing and evening out

🐥He actually came in through the door this time, so tired, he didn't even realize it

🐥So, he's surprised when he doesn't immediately see his kids when he walks in

🐥Worry sets in instantly, but then he hears small gasps, and he looks up to see them sitting in front of the balcony, which is where he usually comes in

🐥They jump up quickly and run over to him. "Daddy!" The tired frown on his face is gone immediately, and he's crouching down to their level, picking them up in his arms

🐥The girls wrap their tiny arms around his neck, their wings flapping wildly, and he rubs his face in their curls, his body relaxing

🐥"What were my birdies up to today?" he asks, setting them down, and they start to bounce on their feet excitedly, their curls doing the same

🐥"We learned how to fly!" one of them practically yells, and he responds with a dramatic gasp

🐥"No way!" He looks up when he hears your chuckle and your footsteps

🐥"I told them they had to wait for you if they wanted to go outside."

🐥"I can fly higher than she can!" Both of you laugh softly, and this of course starts a competition of who can fly the highest

🐥He holds his hands out when they show him, both of them sticking their tongue out in concentration as their feet slowly and shakily leave the ground

🐥He takes a step back as you keep your hands out, ready to catch them, and he has them fly towards him

🐥You clap your hands when they reach him, and he cheers excitedly before lifting himself off the ground as well, spinning them around

🐥They both giggle loudly before sets them back down before helping them with steadying themselves

🐥"Look, Daddy, mines are glowing!" She yells, making her sister say the same thing, both of them turning around and proudly showing him

🐥And he enthusiastically "oohs" and both of you figure it partially comes from your quirk

🐥For the rest of the night, he helps them, catching them before they can hit the ground, encouraging them, and giving them tips

🐥They all end up tuckering themselves out, and you find them sitting in his lap, sleeping against his chest

🐥Keigo is asleep as well, his wings curled around them protectively as he sits on the floor, his soft snores filling the room

💥He was very, very close to punching a wall when he got home, his day at work making him way more than irritated

💥But what he doesn't do is slam the door because ain't no way in hell you allow that especially now that you have kids

💥He actually got home really late, stuck with paperwork to fill out, so he's very careful and quiet with taking his shoes off

💥He actually freezes for a second when he hears your footsteps, and he turns around, the anger seeming to vanish when you walk towards him with your twins in your arms

💥"They didn't wanna go to sleep until you got home," you whisper, and both of them rub their eyes

💥Bakugou smiles softly, stepping forward to brush the curls out of their faces, carefully pushing up the masks that match his hero suit onto their foreheads

💥"Hey, you little monsters," he starts quietly, taking the both of them out of your arms. "It's past your bedtime."

💥"We wanted to show you our suits," your son says, and you straighten out their clothes, revealing his suit, which is just a big t-shirt with the outline of his suit on it

💥He chuckles softly, the smile on his face widening. "They look awesome," he compliments, and they bounce tiredly in his arms

💥"We wanna be like you," your other son says, and Bakugou feels his heart swell as he walks the both of them into their room

💥"You guys are gonna be better than me," he replies, making them smile as they curl further into him

💥He goes to put one of them in their bed, but he grabs into him tighter so he won't let him go

💥"You gotta go to bed, bud," he tells him

💥"You haven't told us a story yet," your son says, his words obscured by a yawn

💥You give them a fond look, knowing he's already given in, and he manages his way on the bed, leaning against the headboard

💥"Well, today, I had to take down this villain, with no help from the sidekicks, tch." He rolls his eyes, making you do the same

💥"But I took him in down in an instant. Just one explosion, boom!" he whisper yells, jolting them slightly

💥He's not even halfway done and they're already asleep, Bakugou already on his way out

💥And later, when you're definitely sure he's asleep, you take a picture and make it your new lock screen

🟣Work seemed to be more stressful today even though he wasn't even there for long

🟣All he wanted to do was lay down, a headache already starting to form as he walks through the door

🟣He rubs at his head with a heavy sigh as he hears a pair of footsteps running towards him, and two pairs of arms wrapping around his legs

🟣"Daddy! You're home!" He winces slightly at the high volume, but smiles nonetheless, crouching down to his daughters' level

🟣"Yeah, I am. How are my babies doin'?" They nearly tackle him to the floor with hugs, and he wraps his arms around them, a body relaxing sigh coming out of him

🟣"Don't yell so loud, he has a headache," the other one scolds, and her happiness turns into a frown when she pulls away

🟣Both of them place a small hand on his forehead. "Are you okay?" she asks softly

🟣He chuckles before grabbing both of their hands, placing a soft kiss on them as he nods

🟣"Yes, I'm okay. Thank you for asking," he tells them earnestly, and all of their attention shifts when you call his name, walking into the living room

🟣"We have to be quiet because Daddy has a headache," she informs you, and you respond with a quiet apology

🟣"I see. Well, we can make it feel better," you say, and they look at you in confusion as Shinsou stands

🟣You plant a kiss on his forehead, making him hum softly, leaning into your touch, and they gasp softly before making grabby hands at him

🟣He laughs this time, picking them both up and lowering his head, so they can plant a wet kiss on his forehead

🟣"Do you feel better?" they ask and he nods

🟣"It's like it was never there."

🟣They look at him with wide eyes full of pride before they ask if he wants to color with them

🟣He accepts and he sets them down before they run towards the coffee table, which is covered in crayons and paper while you slide him some medicine

🟣He sits in between them, coloring with them and helping them with some of the things he can't draw, their curly pigtails bopping every time they look up from the paper to show him what they drew

🟣"Does your head still hurt?" one of your daughters asks, and he squints for a second

🟣"Not as much, but maybe one more kiss for good measure," he lies, but he doesn't feel the tiniest bit guilty when he feels them do it again

🟣"I love you, Daddy," she tells him. "I love you, too!" her sister says, making sure to keep her voice down

🟣And he brings them closer to him with his arms, planting a kiss on their forehead. "I love you too, kiddos."

A/N: You really out here making my baby fever worse anon 😐💀

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 8

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Saturday at 5:00, she’s standing outside Mulder’s apartment door. When he’d proposed watching a movie, she questioned whether that was the best idea. She doesn’t have any particular reason for trying to hold off on things getting more physical, other than the lingering subconscious belief that nice girls don’t take their pants off before there’s a ring on their finger. That’s never a policy she’s stuck to in the past, but it still feels like they should wait a bit. Maybe it’s what happened before, their previous indiscretion, that makes her feel compelled to take things slow. Regardless of the motivation, spending time alone at one of their apartments is a surefire way to end up ditching her plans, along with her clothes.

Speaking of clothes, she’s worn jeans and a T-shirt, decidedly more casual than their last date. She’s also put on a black lace bra and matching boy short panties underneath, just in case. She has no intention of Mulder seeing her underwear, but on the off chance she changes her mind, she’d hate for him to see her granny panties. She also shaved her legs and her bikini line, just in case. Taking a deep breath and promising herself she will exercise exceptional self control, she knocks.

When he answers, she instantly feels her resolve falter. He’s wearing jeans and a white T shirt, bare feet, and a beaming smile. He immediately steps forward and slips his arms around her waist, pulling her close and kissing her like she’s just returned from sea. He smells clean and masculine, the stubble on his chin scraping her cheek and summoning a groan from her throat, which she successfully stifles. Finally he pulls back, looking at her with soft, affectionate eyes.

“Hey,” he says with a little smirk, and she smiles at him like they’ve just shared a secret.

“Hi,” she replies, resting her palms on his upper arms.

“Sorry to accost you before you’ve even gotten inside,” he says sheepishly, his arms still wrapped around her, “I’ve been waiting all week to do that.”

She chuckles and he releases her, slipping his hand into hers and leading her into the living room. When they enter, Priscilla stands from her place on the couch and arches her back with a meow, then paces excitedly with her eyes trained on Scully.

“Hi Priscilla,” she greets the cat, sitting on the couch where Priscilla climbs right into her lap and starts purring noisily. Scully laughs and runs her hand from Priscilla’s head down to her tail, smiling as the cat closes her eyes contentedly and drool drips from the corner of her mouth.

“She missed you,” Mulder says as he looks on, smiling with his hands crossed over his chest. “She doesn’t drool for just anyone.”

“I missed her too,” Scully says to Priscilla, then turns to look at Mulder with a soft smile. “I missed both of you.”

They hold eye contact for a beat, then he looks away, walking towards the kitchen. “I was just going to order pizza, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds perfect,” she replies, looking around. Not much has changed since she was last here, though he’s hung a couple new things up on the walls.

“What do you like on your pizza?” he calls from the kitchen.

“Surprise me,” she replies. She’s not a very picky eater and can’t think of any topping that would be a dealbreaker.

“I like your style,” he says in response, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

There is the muffled sound of him calling the order in, then he returns with a beer in each hand.

“I rented two movies,” he says as he sits down close beside her, their thighs touching. “Take your pick between Twister, or Mars Attacks.”

“I saw Twister in the theater when it came out, but I can’t say that I’ve seen, nor did I ever intend to see, Mars Attacks,” she replies with a knowing smile, taking the open beer he holds out to her.

“You gotta see it, Scully, it’s an instant classic,” he says with a tone that she can’t pin down as facetious or not.

“I guess we better watch it then,” she says with an equally ambiguous tone.

———

Six empty beer bottles are lined up along the far end of the coffee table, a pizza box sitting open in front of them. Mulder is lying with his head propped up on the arm rest of the couch, one foot on the floor and the other stretched out in front of him. Scully is lying on her stomach against his chest, her cheek resting on his pectoral and her arms wrapped around his rib cage. It was a slow progression towards them ending up fully entwined like this, her belly pressed against his groin, and he has one eye on the TV and the rest of his attention concentrated on not getting hard.

The movie, which is even more campy and stupid than he remembered, is nearly over, and he hopes she doesn’t hop up and leave right away. Looking down over the crown of her autumnal head and along the narrow expanse of her back, he sees a sliver of skin exposed between her jeans and T-shirt and his cock stirs. He slides the hand that had been resting in the middle of her back lower until his fingertips meet with her bare skin and she shifts a tiny bit, but not uncomfortably. Slowly, causally, while keeping his eyes on the screen, he begins to trace his fingers in slow circles on her lower back. Her skin is unbelievably soft, supple and warm. As his movements continue, he increases the size of his circles, inching her T-shirt up higher to expose more skin, and she pulls in a deep breath and holds it for a moment before she lets it out slowly, concluding with a sound that’s almost like a hiss. She shifts again and her stomach rubs against the swelling lump of his erection, pronounced enough now that she may be able to feel it. He dips the tips of his fingers under the waist of her jeans, running them from one hip to the other, and she lifts her head, propping her chin on his chest and looking up at him. Her expression is unreadable; she definitely isn’t upset, but she’s not smiling, either.

“Your skin is so soft,” he offers, as though it were an excuse for why he’s touching her, as though it would not be enough to say he’s doing it simply because he wants to.

She shimmies up until they’re nose to nose, the friction sending a jolt to his groin, and he resists the urge to thrust up against her.

“I moisturize,” she says plainly, her breath hot against his lips smelling like hops and garlic.

She drags her lips over his softly, side to side, then kisses him fully with a contented sigh. His hands find the small of her back and push up underneath her T-shirt, sliding over more of that silky softness, and he does thrust up against her, though gently.

They kiss slowly, in no rush, his hands cupping her ass and gliding down her sides, up into her hair and then back again. Her own arms are tucked up underneath her, propping her up as she kisses him, though she shifts her pelvis against his erection gratuitously, not in any way pretending that it’s not intentional.

“Mmmmm, Mulder,” she hums into his mouth, flicking at his tongue with her own and then sucking on his lower lip.

“Hmm?” he asks in response, gripping her ass and pulling her firmly against his groin as he pushes it against her.

“I don’t think we should have sex. Not yet,” she croons into his ear, pulling the lobe between her teeth gently.

“Okay, of course, whatever you’re comfortable with,” he answers back with a pained groan, his body not on the same page as his brain. “If you want to stop, let’s stop.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to stop,” she replies, kissing down the side of his neck until she comes to the place where it meets his shoulder. “I just said I don’t want to have sex. There are a lot of things we can do that aren’t sex.” She slips her arm free from beneath her torso, snaking it down between them and rubbing it firmly over his aching hard-on.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, flexing his hips wildly as he seeks more contact.

She brings her lips back to meet his, peppering small kisses as she strokes him over his jeans.

“How about,” she begins breathily, “one of us keeps our clothes on.”

“Okay,” he responds, sliding his hands around her hips to find the button of her jeans.

She laughs a little and sits up on her knees between his thighs, just out of reach.

“I was thinking maybe I would keep my clothes on,” she says in a playful tone, though her expression is bashful.

“Oh,” he answers dumbly, trying to piece together what she’s saying. When her hands go to the fly of his jeans he sits up. “Wait, one second, why me?”

She tilts her head with a curious furrowed brow. “This may be the first time in recorded history that a man has objected to receiving rather than giving.”

He cocks his own head at her, mirroring her confusion. “I think you’ve been hanging around the wrong men.”

After a beat, they both break out into ironic smiles, realizing what they are arguing over. She leans forward, crawling up to kiss him.

“If we were keeping score, which we are not, I would say I owe you one, Mulder.”

No matter that it was nine months ago, she’s referring to the one and only other time they’ve done more than kiss. She’s not wrong, but he doesn’t care. He loves making women come; it’s practically a hobby.

He wants to object, but she already has his fly open, her tiny hand slipping underneath his boxers and gliding down the length of him. He groans and she kisses him again, stroking him slowly in the narrow space beneath his stiff jeans. She sits up and tugs at the waistband and he lifts his hips to help her before pulling his T-Shirt off over his head. Within fifteen seconds he’s naked, his ass sinking into the warmed leather of the couch and Scully’s hot little hand cradling his balls.

“Can you take your shirt off?” he asks hopefully, “is that allowed?”

She smiles at him. “Let me consult the commissioner,” she says, then glances up and to the side. “Commissioner says yes,” she finishes, pulling her shirt over her head and revealing a black lace bra, her modest breasts pushed up deliciously within its cups. He feels his cock lurch in response and he reaches up to pull her on top of him, deftly unhooking the clasp and chucking the bra across the room.

She sits up again, perched between his thighs topless, and lazily slides her hand up and down over his length. He stares slack jawed at her pale pink nipples, hardened into rose buds in the cool air of the room, and she gives him a devilish little grin before bending at the waist and taking him in her mouth. The wet heat of her is sudden and jarring, so overwhelming that he closes his eyes against the flashes of white hot pleasure as his hips buck uncontrollably.

She plants her palms on his hip bones to hold him steady and moves up and down at a slow pace, her tongue sliding along the underside of his cock until the head is at her lips, where she swirls it around in a circular motion that makes him see stars. He opens his eyes, watching her through the curtain of her hair as his shaft disappears into her hot little mouth, the pink peaks of her nipples becoming visible at regular intervals. She tilts her chin up slightly and looks at him, meeting his eye before she lowers herself further than she had before, and he feels his head hit the soft flesh at the back of her throat before he slips just a little further, pressing into her pharynx. He stiffens and groans, the sensation different and somehow explicit, like he’s somewhere he’s not supposed to be. His hands hover near the sides of her head, gripping at air as he resists the urge to touch her, to control her movements. When one of them brushes against her scalp, she reaches up and takes it, pressing it into her hair and granting permission. He threads his other hand into her tresses and lets them glide with her as she moves up and down. Her fingernails scrape gently over the papery skin of his scrotum and he feels a tightening, coiling sensation that means he’s close. He lets his head fall back and enjoys the incredible feeling of her tongue hot and wet, her lips firm, her hands gentle. When he’s approaching the point of release, he lifts his head and whispers hoarsely, “Scully, I’m gonna come,” and removes his hands from her head so she can pull away.

She does not pull away.

Instead, she doubles her efforts, sliding up and down fast and firm, squeezing his balls gently and sucking hard on the upstrokes. Wanting to make sure she still has the opportunity to pull away, he tells her again, “fuck, I’m coming,” and she keeps right on pace as an explosion echoes from his balls through his cock, waves of release stealing his breath as he goes rigid and then falls apart in a cascade of expletives, returning his hands to grab a fistful of her hair as she swallows him down, slowing but continuing her movements until he’s soft and no longer throbbing.

She crawls up his body, gently resting against him with her chin on his chest, her breasts pressed against his bare skin, and waits for him to return to Earth. Finally, he settles his gaze on her, on those earnest blue eyes and that pink mouth that he now knows holds the secrets of the universe. He feels like he could cry, so instead he makes a lame joke.

“Did it hurt?” he asks, running his hands over her bare back.

She gives him a quizzical but amused expression. “The blow job?” she asks incredulously.

“No, when you fell from Heaven.”

She rolls her eyes and suppresses a smile as Priscilla springs unannounced from the floor and lands right on Scully’s jeans-clad ass, kneading the flesh a little before curling up for a snooze.

Scully laughs gently, not wanting to disturb the cat. “Is this a thing cats do?” she asks amusedly.

“Not really, you just have a great ass, I can’t hardly blame her,” he responds, and she smiles at the compliment. “You can’t leave now, we’re stuck like this,” he adds. “Priscilla can sleep forever, we may die here.”

Scully shrugs, sighing contentedly. “But what a way to go.”

[taylorsage22]

Massage(Chris LaSalle x reader)

A/n-Wow My FIRST LASALLE SMUT NCIS NOLA !!!!!💙

You’d had a long, stressful day at work. You woke up late and therefore hadn’t had time for breakfast, so on your way to work you grabbed a quick coffee. However, leaving the coffee shop, someone bumped into you causing you to spill the coffee down your top - having nothing spare to change into - having to go back in to use the toilets to try and clean up your top as much as possible. Then, you ended up being more late and got a knowing look from your boyfriend LaSalle. Your rough morning had evidently put you into a sour mood for the rest of the day, you felt so horrible you even lost your appetite and kept getting simple tasks wrong, in the end your Pride saw that you were having a rough day and told you and Chris to leave early. All you could think of on the drive home was how tired you were and how much you just wanted your bed and your boyfriend to just hold you.

When you arrived at the apartment you shared with your boyfriend. you immediately stripped out of your coffee stained clothes and slipped into your favourite of Chris’s shirts and some pyjama shorts and flopped onto the bed. He was just laying in bed waiting for you.

You look up to him cause of the warm feeling of Chris’s large hands on your lower back, digging the heels of his hands into your back and rubbing in circular motions. The tense feeling you’d had all day slowly disappearing with Chris’s magic touch, you let out a contented sigh and let him run his hands higher on your back.

“Hey, sugar belle. I know you’ve had a rough day.” Chris says, still rubbing circles into your mid back. You let out another sigh as his fingers worked a knot, easing the tension.

“Mhm. Had a bad day.” You speak into the bedsheets, your voice muffled by the thick duvet.

Chris’s hands are working further up your back now, he unhooks your bra, gaining access to the broad space of your upper back and shoulders, massaging the area, the warmth of his hands mixed with the skill of his fingers felt incredible on your tense back.

“wanna talk 'bout it, sweetheart?” Chris asks while his fingers worked all the tough knots.

You explain to him how your morning went, while his fingers worked deeper into the tense knots, rubbing your back up and down with the heels of his hands, squeezing your shoulders when he comes to them. You pause every so often to let out small moans and sighs of contentment and pleasure.

Chris repositions so he’s straddling your legs, the denim of his jeans against your soft, bare legs only adding to the pleasurable feeling of his movements, causing you to moan again slightly louder this time. Chris chuckles to himself, loving how he makes you feel and the way he makes you squirm beneath his touch.

“Here, darlin'?” he whispers, while his fingers work a particularly tough knot on your lower back. Your back arches into his touch as you let out another sigh, shifting your position beneath Chris.

“Yes, Chris, please.” You sound needy at this point, your voice hoarse. Chris’s hands never falter, his knuckles work into the knots of tension on your back now, the digging sensation easing the pain of your stressful day.

Chris concentrates on massaging your back, relaxing you further. You feel as though you’re in heaven, Chris’s hands are warm against your cold skin, his fingers performing magic as the tension on your back gradually disappears. Your senses heighten slightly, you can feel Chris on top of you, you hear how his breath hitches each time you let out a small moan of pleasure - obviously this makes you moan more, just to tease him - you feel his hot breathe on you as he leans down. Chris’s hands lower down your back, he goes back to massaging your lower back, squeezing around your hips causing you to moan louder - he's also a huge tease - his hands travel lower until he reaches your ass. He begins to massage the area, his warm hands squeezing and rubbing your bum making you moan louder now. He breathes heavier against the back of your neck as he lowers his head to whisper in your ear; “I think I know of a way we can relieve your stress completely, darlin'.”

You whimper at this statement and squeeze your thighs slightly to try and ease the throbbing of your core. He really knows how to tease you, his hands still squeezing your ass whilst his lips ghost down your neck and shoulders. You move one of your hands from beside you under Chris’s legs, bringing it around to grab onto his hair, pulling his head closer to your neck - unable to take anymore teasing. He takes the hint and presses his lips against your neck, kissing from just below your ear to where your neck meets your shoulder, his hands now pulling on the pyjama shorts you’re wearing.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me already, sugar'.” He gasps as he feels you through your underwear, kissing across your shoulders now. You whine from the teasing telling him “just fuck me already.”

Chris continues rubbing you through your underwear, feeling your arousal. You can feel his bulge against your thighs, the rough denim only adding to the pleasure of his fingers on your pussy as well as his lips kissing and sucking at your neck.

“So demandin', sweetheart.” He chuckles as he pushes your underwear to the side, able to access your cunt. He starts circling your clit, your body arching upwards, your free hand grabbing onto the duvet underneath you, your moans being muffled due to your face being buried in the covers. Chris loves seeing you like this, his t-shirt on, bra unhooked baring your back to him, shorts just under your beautiful ass and your underwear pushed to the side, giving him a lovely view of your wetness and his fingers which slide so easily against your pretty pussy. Your moans get louder as he rubs circles on your clit, eager to get you to orgasm soon. Your hand reaches behind you once again, pulling Chris’s arm as he continues his movements on your clit, he brings his other hand to you, inserting a single finger into you with ease due to your evident arousal. You whine his name as he watches his finger disappear into your pussy, hardening in his jeans even more, if that were possible.

“You like it when I touch you here, don’t you babygirl?” He asks while changing his position so that your legs are now on the outside of his, bringing your hips up, he pulls your ass towards him, causing his finger to deepen inside you; “do you like it when I fuck you like this?” he growls into your ear, you can feel your legs begin to shake from his fingers both stimulating your clit and fucking you.

“Yes, baby, fuck right there.” You whimper, grabbing the duvet with your now free hand whilst the other remains in Chris’s arm, your grip tightening as you feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten and your legs shake even more.

“Fuck, Chris, ‘m gonna come,” you pant as he continues fucking you with his fingers, rubbing your clit harder and inserting a second finger into you. He watches your ass bounce back whilst he fucks you with his long fingers, hitting the right spot each time.

“Don’t hold back, darlin', come for me.” His voice more delicate than before, but still holding a dominant tone. Chris’s encouragement of your orgasm along with his talented fingers inside you are enough to bring you to the edge. Your legs shake and you let out a strangled moan of “Chris!” along with a string of curse words while you come on his fingers. Chris groans at the sight of you coming on his fingers, he slips them out easily due to the wetness, after you come down from your first high. Red in the face and hair messed up everywhere, he loves you post-orgasm, he finds you absolutely incredible. Chris pulls your body up to his, your back on his torso and says, “open”, inserting his fingers into your mouth you lick them, tasting yourself.

“Fuck, darlin' , you’re so sexy. Can’t wait to be inside you.” and you’d moan because you can’t wait to feel him inside you either.

Like the gentleman he is, Chris waits until you’re fully recovered from your previous orgasm before he pulls off your pyjama shorts and underwear, discarding his own clothes shortly afterwards. He reaches into your bedside drawer for a condom, rolling it down his hard cock while you turn your head to watch, biting your lip.

“Like what you see, sugar belle?” He asks, cockily, smirking.

“I’d like it better if it were inside me.” You reply, just as cockily smirking at the way he licks his lips and roughly grips at your hips, pulling you back to him, legs on either side of his. He loves fucking you from behind, watching your sweet ass bounce back on him, watching his cock disappear into your tight entrance, he has access to your back and your hair, sometimes pushing your back down so your arms drop, giving him the perfect position to hit just the right spot inside you. Sometimes he pulls on your hair to bring you up against him, your back pressed firmly against his sweating torso, giving him the ability to fuck you deeper and harder.

He grabs your hip with one hand while lines the tip of his hard cock up to your wet pussy, sliding his dick through your folds, teasing you.

“Christopher, baby, please just fuck me. I need you now” you moan, fed up of his teasing.

“As you asked so nicely, darlin' .” He replies, slowly pushing his thick cock into your aching pussy, sliding in easily due to the wetness of your previous mind blowing orgasm.

“Shit, babygirl, you’re so tight.” He’d growl through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to fuck your brains out while relentlessly gripping your hips. He pushes further into you, causing you to moan and wiggle further onto him.

“You’ll be the death of me, angel.” He’d tell you whilst bottoming out, his cock filling you perfectly. You whimper as he pulls back, only to push all the way back in again. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan, but Chris loves hearing you - loves knowing how good he makes you feel. He grips your hips firmly, pulling you back against him each time he thrusts into you. One of his hands comes back to your ass, squeezing and rubbing one of your cheeks while he brings you back onto his cock, hitting you deeper each time. Your moans and whimpers get louder and louder as Chris fucks you harder and harder, hands tightening on your hips, grunts and groans becoming hoarse and croaky while his thrusts become sporadic. The sound of skin slapping skin, along with the grunts and groans from you two, can be heard in the room. Chris’s panting “so tight” and “shit” under his breath, the lack of rhythm in his thrusts signifying he’s close to finishing. Chris’s pants become louder as he nears his orgasm. He brings a hand around you to rub your clit again, set on you coming before him.

“CH-ris, shit,” you cry out as he rubs fast circles on your clit while fucking you fast but deep from behind, the feeling of his cock brushing your walls almost too much to handle. He keeps rubbing your clit while fucking you, chasing your high as well as his own. You collapse, your arms no longer being able to hold up your body while Chris thrusts into you watching your ass bounce against him.

“Baby, gonna come soon, fuck,” you whimper out, legs shaking from your fast approaching orgasm.

“Shit, sugar , I’m not gonna last much longer,” Chris announces, rubbing your clit harder and thrusting into you faster. You are both moaning messes at this point, sweat forming on both your bodies, your face turning bright red from the hot, sweaty atmosphere.

Your moans get louder, your breaths get heavier, Chris’s movements become sloppier and your legs get shakier with your orgasms approaching quickly and intensely.

“Chris, baby, I’m gonna - fuck!”

“Come on' , sweetheart. I’m not far behind,” he says, still thrusting his cock deep inside you. Moments later you come for the second time that night, gripping the sheets beneath you and clenching your wet pussy around his thick cock, legs shaking as he still thrusts into you. You let out a moan verging on a scream, Chris fucking you through your orgasm, his approaching fast.

“Shit, I’m comin' ” he announces, hips bucking wildly into you, he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging in deep, he slams his hips into you a final time with a loud grunt, releasing his load into the condom. After you both come down, he slowly removes himself from you, you immediately miss his warmth. You roll onto your back, bra still on but unhooked, legs still quaking from your orgasms. Chris discards of the condom and goes into the bathroom, returning with a damp towel, cleaning you up before he cleans himself. He climbs onto the bed with you and pulls the covers over the two of you.

“You should give me massages more often,” you say to Chris as you snuggle up to him and rest your head on his bare chest. He chuckles, “Agreed'.”

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

70 George Weasley headcanons in celebration of 700 followers!

A/N: I hate to repeat myself but I do still love and appreciate all 700 of you! Thank you for reading my stuff and here’s to 700 more! <3 

Find the 70 Fred Headcanons: Here 

George is well known to be the brains behind the twins’ operations. He sorted out finding the location for the shop in Diagon Alley, he came up with most of the names for their products, even if Fred came up with the idea for the product itself, and for the longest time, he was the one who sorted out sales and orders for stocking their wares as well as overseeing the owl post-service while Fred sorted the more practical parts.

It might sound crazy, but if you ask George, he didn’t actually like Fred very much until they were about eight or nine years old. George was a lot more quiet and emotional than Fred and frankly, probably feared his mother more than his twin, and so George always thought Fred was too brash for his liking. Eventually, as we know, Fred’s crazy ideas rubbed off on George, and he started liking his twin more and more until they became the inseparable duo we know and love today. Mostly this was because the two found out how well they complimented each other, which meant that whatever they got up to turned out a lot better than when they’d attempt the same alone. 

Fred added an extra oomph to their escapades, daring to aim just a little higher, and George was sensible enough to make sure that a little higher wasn’t too high. 

It’s only their older siblings who noticed this change and remember the times where Fred and George didn’t get along as well as they did, which is why Bill, Charlie and Percy tend to treat the twins more as individuals whereas Ginny and Ron are more likely to see them as a duo. 

Since George is more sentimental, he’s also the bigger worrier. Did they like that joke? Did that prank go too far? Is this worth it and what are we going to do if it isn’t? He’s usually also the twin who’s more likely to step back and apologise to anyone they’ve pranked or teased, not liking the idea of upsetting someone.  

This also means he’s incredibly considerate concerning relationships, he’s not afraid to voice his concerns and worries. If his s/o is struggling with something, he notices, worries and tries his best to support them. 

Essentially, if their s/o is upset: Fred is more likely to make a joke to make them laugh and take their mind off it, George is more likely to take them aside and talk to them about it, letting them let their feelings out for as long as they need, he’ll listen for hours if that’s what his s/o needs. 

Speaking of letting feelings out: It’s been pondered if the reason George is the better beater, despite Fred being the more brash and extreme of the two, is because he uses the quidditch pitch as an outlet for his aggression and considering his anger doesn’t just involve beating bludgers but also resorting to elbowing people in the face (or beating Malfoy up) I’d say that this is incredibly true for him. Most people share the opinion that if something angers George, he’d let it build up until he explodes (myself included) and playing quidditch is a good way to let off steam without it being directed at anyone in particular, making him extremely violent on the pitch, though after every game he plays, he’ll probably be in his most zen and relaxed state of mind.

I do also like the idea of George being very emotionally mature in the sense that he knows how his feelings tend to build up, and since George is also a worrier, he probably doesn’t like the side of him that explodes in people’s faces and yells until he’s done being angry, so: He does try to confront his feelings as soon as he feels them so they don’t get a hold on him. If he’s angry with you, he’ll tell you, if he’s upset because of something that’s happened he’ll tell you. If he doesn’t and seems all quiet and broody (cause he’s not a saint and sometimes he doesn’t confess his feelings) then it’s probably a good idea that you ask him about it. 

George is also not afraid to cry, or at least he’s not as afraid to show it as Fred. He actually cried quite often as a small child, as Fred will happily remind him. The only times George will hold his tears back is when he doesn’t want to make the people he loves the most worry, like when he lost his ear. 

He was so close to crying he thought his throat would split open but he kept it in while his parents and Fred were there; he couldn’t bear to worry his mother more. Not to mention Fred for that matter. Instead, he waited until he was allowed to take a shower and let it out as quietly as he could, though little did he know Fred was standing guard on the other side of the bathroom door, crying as well. 

George doesn’t want a lot of children, he’s so used to the large family dynamic. It’s not that he disliked having many siblings but he’d prefer to have a few kids, three at most and be able to spoil them rotten. 

George has only broken one bone. It was his collarbone from a bludger. Besides that, he has dislocated his arm once due to hitting a bludger too forcefully from a wrong angle and sprained his ankle from landing too quickly more times than he can count. He’s also been concussed from taking bludgers to the head twice. 

George is actually a bit of a neat-freak. He likes having things in order and in the right place so he doesn’t lose track of things. He can’t put too many things in cupboards because if he can’t see them he’ll forget he has them and buy more and more (cause ADHD, baby), so instead he keeps things where he can see them, though in racks and specific orders which Fred often messes up.

Generally, once they moved out, George was better at doing the housework and he didn’t mind at all. Doing all the housework means it gets done the way he wants it done. 

His favourite season is winter and his favourite holiday is Christmas because it’s “a time for family”. 

George prefers Molly over Arthur (though it’s a tough pick), and he especially loves spoiling her once the shop takes off. He’ll buy her gifts often and always writes to remind her how much he (and Fred) appreciate her. 

He’d never admit it but he also does this as a way of proving himself to her. It really hurt him in those years where Molly would disapprove of his and Fred’s plans and even when he found success he still grappled with the feeling of his mother not being proud of him, despite her telling him that several times. All this just added to his disliking of Percy when he was at his going through his insensitive-git-phase.  

 George’s favourite time of day is the evening. When everything’s quiet and still he can concentrate better. He wrote most of his essays and came up with most products for the shop during this time. 

George loves intimacy. He’s not big on PDA. Cuddling alone together, being all tangled up in each other and having whispered conversations when everyone else is asleep are more his thing. 

He does love being close to you in public though, he’ll sit next to you, hold your hand, have an arm around you, lean his head on yours, bump his knee against yours under the table if you’re in a lesson or at a meal together. Small yet intimate touches are George’s romantic love language. 

George’s favourite sweet is chocolate. Anything with chocolate is good. If there’s caramel or coffee involved too then even better, mint is also accepted (his favourite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip and he will fight you on why it’s the superior ice cream flavour) 

George prefers tea over coffee and drinks AT LEAST two cups a day but can easily have up to four or five depending on how long his day is. 

George takes a lot of naps. He’d occasionally nap at Hogwarts, like most students. He really started after he lost his ear because Molly kept fussing over him and forcing him to go lay down and rest, then it became even more of a regular thing after the battle of Hogwarts when he’d stay with Fred at st. Mungo’s, while he got better, and then when Fred forced him to go back to work because “sitting here, is not going to make my leg work, now go make us some galleons you git!” he’d work the shop mostly by himself, well, actually completely by himself beside his employees, which was still a small team at the time and he’d often just have to excuse himself to go upstairs and take 30 minutes to nap before he’d pass out from exhaustion. 

George struggles with some sensory problems since losing his ear, he gets a faint ringing sound in his ear every now and then, and though he can hear out of his missing ear, it’s less than his other one and he struggles determining where sounds are coming from which is distracting sometimes. He also got a bit of vertigo every now and then as well as some nausea for the first few years after he lost the ear, it got better and better and today it barely bugs him, though he gets dizzy easily.

On the subject of the ear: George enjoyed telling his nieces and nephews (and heck his own kids too) these wild stories of how he lost his ear: he paid it as a toll to an ancient spirit to gain superpowers, it froze off on a particularly cold camping trip with their uncle Fred, a bludger blew it right off, he was possessed by the spirit of van Gogh…. the list goes on. 

George was also slightly self-conscious of his ear for a while, he often worried if people were grossed out by it, though with time he forgot about it more and more until he hardly noticed it himself. Now he doesn’t notice if others notice and frankly, he couldn’t care less if they do.

Fred and George mention in OOTP that they took turns testing products, George tested puking pastilles and ended up taking several days off because of what Madam Pomfrey thought was a bad case of the stomach flu, nosebleed nougat (he said himself how it kept bleeding and at that point he let Fred do more testing because Madam Pomfrey was starting to get wayyy to suspicious of him having some terrible disease that was thought to be long gone) and fever fudge though Fred also tried that one. 

George takes after his mother as a parent, his platonic love language is definitely cooking for his kids, making them hot cocoa and baking with them during Christmas breaks. 

Does he fuss over his kids as Molly does? Noo, absolutely not no. no way. no. no. (yes)  

George’s boggart is being left alone. 

Despite that, he hates it when people assume that he and Fred are interchangeable and incapable of being without each other. He loves his friendship with Fred, he’s very happy to be his twin but he’s still his own person and it would be nice to be seen as such and not just “one of the Weasley twins” 

Mostly his hatred of being seen as “one of the Weasley twins” stems from the fact that people always assume Fred first, meaning George has been mistakenly called Fred more times than he can count. 

George is very timid, to begin with, in any relationships because he’s worried his s/o wants him to be like Fred, and that they don’t really care about him as a person but see him more as an asset or “the next best thing to Fred” Which is also why he’d never marry Angelina after she’d dated Fred, even if it was just for a while. 

George spent his first salary from the shop on a gift for his mother, a necklace, and a mixed bag of sweets from Sugarplums'...He knows it’s stupid but he just wanted to buy as much candy as he wanted without feeling guilty about spending money for once. 

George is not squeamish what so ever. He has got a stomach of steel. It’s almost kind of freaky how unfaced he is but then again, he did invent and test puking pastilles and a product called you-no-poo, so he’s seen a lot.

George’s favourite dates are movie nights and going for ice cream. 

George (and Fred) regularly attends quidditch matches, they also love to go back to Hogwarts to watch their kids play (you know at least one of their kids would be into it, considering the Weasley’s history with the sport) and they always yell out their support v e r y loudly. 

George really likes wine. The older he gets he appreciates it more and enjoys talking about it without any knowledge on it at business dinners, he’s impressed quite a few potential clients and business partners by giving them a long tirade about wine, without a single thing of it being necessarily true. 

George (+Fred and Lee, lol) experimented with eyeliner for a short while, they stopped because it was quote-unquote: “too much work” which made a lot of their female friends roll their eyes because, oh you’ve no idea, do you, Weasley?

I mean someone had to test the wonderwitch products, right?

George is a very light sleeper, and since Fred is anything but that- what with his sleepwalking and tossing and turning- George rarely got a lot of sleep, meaning there’s a large percentage of his detentions in school that were solely from “inattentiveness” aka “falling asleep in class.” 

George always thought that if he really really couldn’t work with the joke shop, he’d be a healer. He doesn’t know if he’d be any good at it but it’s a nice thought and he does have a caring gene from his mother. 

George’s first sign of magic was when he was a year old. He summoned a blanket into his crib, so it wasn’t much. His first noticeable thing he did was three years later by blasting Fred off him when they were play-wrestling, he basically shocked him with a defensive charge which sent Fred flying onto his back. Fred’s reaction was sitting up, looking shocked, rubbing his head and then whispering: “cool!” They spent days trying to recreate it but to no avail. The story of the event has been greatly exaggerated by both Fred and George to their nieces and nephews. 

They still joke that George has a secret superpower that can only be unlocked by play-wrestling him. 

As George gets older, he requires glasses like his father, though mostly for reading and sometimes for working on products. 

George’s favourite genre of music is soft rock, he’ll belt out an 80’s power ballad any day (and preferably while cooking) 

Oh, cooking. George gets super into cooking and baking after the twins move out, he tries his best to recreate his mother’s recipes and is still to this day attempting to perfect her cornish pasty (a personal favourite of his) and every Christmas, George and Molly practically never leave the kitchen in the burrow, as George desperately tries to learn everything he can. 

George is the godparent of all Fred’s kids as well as Albus, Dominique and Lucy. 

George buys the best gifts, I’ve already touched on this, but he has a weird ability to get you not only what you wish for but what you really need. 

Also, his gift wrapping skills are out of this world (his kids + nieces and nephews will never not receive those gifts that are wrapped in like 100 layers of paper)

George loves pet names, he loves the overly sweet, cliché ones and the simple, common ones. His favourite to call his s/o is darling, sweetheart and, weirdly, pumpernickel (he just thinks it’s a funny word).

George’s favourite dates he’d take his s/o on is: museum dates, cooking for them at home, picnics and going to the beach. 

George actually kind of liked the Hogwarts uniform. It was easy to keep track of and it meant he could spend minimum time in hand-me-downs that rarely fit perfectly. 

George would love to have (and probably has already got) a dog, he doesn’t care what size or breed (but personally I can see him getting on well with a cavalier or a Stabyhoun) 

George (also) has a small size kink: He loves wrapping his arms around his s/o from behind, enveloping them in his jacket when it’s cold and resting his head on top of theirs. 

George is either full of energy and wants to do five things at once or wants nothing more than to lay flat on the nearest soft surface he can find and watch movies until he falls asleep. 

He often takes his s/o on random adventures, he does it as a way to escape boredom or if he’s lost his inspiration. He finds it helps to come up with new ideas if you throw yourself off your rhythm (if you get it you get it) by doing something random you don’t normally do. 

George has big John Mulaney energy and if his s/o ever showed him his shows, he’d probably never stop quoting them. 

George’s favourite body parts on his s/o: Neck, hands, lips (and butt) (this is where it gets steamy just fyi) 

George is very respectful in bed, he’s the type to ask “are you ok?” and “is this ok?” a lot, at least the first couple of times he’s together with his s/o until he gets to know them better. 

George def. has a praise kink, he loves giving praise but he also loves feeling like he’s appreciated and loved and doing a good job, you know? 

We all know George has a thing for lace, we’re way beyond that at this point. Consider silk, though. He’d totally be into silk over the lace, it’s a light fabric, pretty and really easy to tear away…. *wink* 

George is surprisingly good at opening bras. 

Generally, he’s really good with his fingers…

He has a pretty dirty mind when it comes to sex but is also super embarrassed about it so he’d only admit his kinkier thoughts when he really trusts and knows his s/o. 

I think he’d be pretty two-sided in bed, he loves the intimate, sweet sex but also the rougher, tearing-your-lingerie-off-you sex. 

He prefers receiving more than giving oral but it is by such a small margin, he’ll happily give. 

He can only last one round (maybe two if you give him a long break) but he’ll absolutely make it count.

George’s fav position is missionary. As much as he likes trying other positions, he prefers the intimacy of missionary. Plus he thinks being able to see your face as you unravel under him is really hot. 

[highstwildflower]

Highly

A/n: this is really long I’m sorry!😂

Words: 2000 ca.

The cloud that erupted from your lips vanished into thin air, reminding you of the man who used to fan the smoke away from his reach. Now the spot next to you was empty, no one was complaining and no one was bugging you about being unhealthy. The thick joint was pressed between your lips once again, sucking the poison into your lungs. The relaxing plant infected your system and everything slowed down. The stars swimming above you dripped into the moon that was filled to the brim. You finished the joint, leaning back with a heart that was aching. Moving around you found the position that allowed your heavy heart some rest, your phone was out of reach and you were too lazy to retrieve it. You wanted to shoot him a text tho, telling him all the words he never got to hear.

Instead you lay there, images burning behind closed eyes. Images of his green forrest eyes that disappeared when his laughter erupted, how you would kill to hear that laugh again. The feeling of  the vibration through his chest as he sung you a new tune. How he used to look at you, eyes searching for inspiration and the look in them the second he found it. Being his muse had been the greatest achievement of your life. Your favorite memory was from the frosty night in December only five moths prior, ditching a party the two of you had ventured off into the night. He had held you close when you arrived at your shared home, bodies moving in sync, the rhythm you fell into in the bed had been steady and slow. Intimate love making till dawn. Your bodies not craving sleep, instead you had moved to the patio. His large body had been pressed firmly against the lounge couch and he had pulled you against him. Limbs draped over each other's and low voices filling the air with words of adoration. The conversation following the flow of the wind, the chilly morning offering you an excuse to snuggle closer to your love. He had happily accepted the closeness, and soon series of laughter had erupted into the slow morning. Just the two of you, bodies pressed together and love flowing freely.

You mind had turned off to the memory of him, and next thing you knew you woke up in your lonely bed. It had never felt so big when Michael had been taking up half of it. The empty room taunting you and the long halls hunting the memories that was made here away. As days fell into night and night turned into days your speckle off hope had vanished. The hope of feeling his body once more, his lips on yours and his voice rumbling against your skins. Instead you tugged away your emotions everyday walking through life as someone else, and only allowing the emotions to take over at night. Most nights your mind raced to the loving memories, but some nights it was the burning memories of pain the pressed into your head.

Dating Michael had been fun and easy, when he asked you to build a home with him you had been ecstatic. Slowly reality dawned on you, the rockstar lifestyle being far away from the life you wished to led. His drinking turned into situations that was hurtful, a large number of girls pressing on. Wishing to enter your relationship, you begging him to change every night when he would stumble through the door.

The last time you saw him stung in the back of your mind. Just mere hours after you had told him that he had to stop with the excessive amount of alcohol and he has kissed you with a promise of doing better. You were fuming when you heard him fumbling with the front door, the creaking of the door setting you completely off. With steam clouding your mind you had entered the entrance and he had shot you a short smile. As he came close the words that left his mouth dragged your breath away, leaving your body defenseless "I though you were out with us? Who was the girl I kissed than?" He carelessly moved through your house towards the bedroom. Tears drawing pathways down your cheeks and hiccups threatening to spill passed your lips. You stayed up all night, waiting for him to sober up. Every minute of the night was spent considering the conversation of tomorrow. When he was clear in his head, he yelled out for you, his words bouncing of the walls. Your fragile body towering over him, and your voice anything but fragile. He was shunned from the house, leaving in a hurry as you yelled out your pain. Months passed where you awaited his next move, silently hoping that he would beg for you to forgive him. Instead you got nothing.  His stuff was still where he left them except from his guitars. And you knew everything but his guitars was replaceable. When Calum had turned up at your door with a sorrowful painted across his face you knew he was there to pick them up. It hurt every time you glanced at the empty room having yet to entered it, dust was covering the corners and slowly tugging the room into a dull forgotten memory.

Your high ponytail was swinging from side to side as you strutted down the sidewalk. The pep in your steps were just a reminded to yourself that you had the power to move on. When you spotted him at your favorite coffee shop, your steps came to a halt. His eyes meet yours long before yours meet his. He saw you and froze. Your smile telling him that you were doing good but your eyes spilling your secret. Awkwardly you walked over to him "hi stranger" your voice was a pitch higher than usual and you mentally scolded yourself for the preppy outburst. His voice was darker than you remembered but the impact of his words stronger than you expected "Hi. How are you?" The concentration on your face told him that you were trying your best to stay cool "I'm good , yeah very good. What about you?" The forced smile made his heart ache and his guards grow weaker. "Im glad you are doing good y/n. Im getting through day by day. 4 months sober yesterday" His voice grew with pride as he told you about his sobriety, and his smile grew even larger as he saw the proud look on your face. Without thinking twice you leaped into his arms, hugging him tightly against yourself "Im so proud of you Micky." Your cheeks grew red as you realized that this wasn't what was normal for you to do anymore. The break up meant that you had to sacrifice being close to him and just watch his life from afar. You knew he was sober, his instagram had told you so. But to hear the words leave his mouth made you ache with pride. When he felt you draw back he pulled you into himself again, not ready to let you slide through his fingers once more. Your smell was filling his nostrils and he wanted to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. When he let go of your body, you stumbled back and took him in. He looked better than ever, more fit and more alive. The silence laid as a blanket making the air hot and thick and just as you were about to say your byes he spoke up "Do you wanna catch up some day? maybe drink a cup of coffee?" you smiled shyly at him, and the fact that he had cheated on you was forgotten, "Yeah I would like that." Just like that you had a date with him, your body felt like yours for the first time in months and the pep in your step were no longer forced.

The knock at your door alerted you that he had arrived. You opened the door and smiled at him a laugh followed shortly behind "Quite weird having you knocking on your own door" he smiled back at you before he spoke "Thats ok, you look absolutely beautiful love" he handed you the flowers in his hand and you felt oddly embarrassed, such gestures never fell naturally to Michael. More a man of words he would praise you, shower you in physical affection but stray away from gifts. The ride in his car was longer than you remembered it, the small drops of sweat that was collecting at Michaels hairline let you know that you weren't alone with the crippling feeling of anxiety that started to form the second you woke up. His hands were both clutched to the steering wheel and as he turned into the coffee shop your stomach turned with anticipation. "I was thinking we could do to go? And then go to our spot?" You smiled at his idea, that he remembered how much you enjoined your spot.

The car came to a halt at the empty parking spot. Michael was quick to climb out of the car and open your door for you. Slowly you made your way towards the spot. Surrounded by nature you felt your breath become easier. The large stones that leaned against each other offered a place to take a seat. He came prepared with a blanket and a packed picking. Like so many times before you took place next to each other, the still warm air clinging to both your bodies as the sun continued it's decent. The ocean reached the stones and splashes were sent into the sky. His legs rested and made contact with the firmness of your other thigh. Slow conversation filled the space between you and drew you closer. Coffee was sipped and sandwiches shared. The sun came into contact with the ocean and Michael dived into the cruel conversation that was awaiting you. His body turned to yours "I'm sorry" his words were low but you heard him, your eyes meet and you signaled for him to go on. He took deep breaths of fresh air, worried that his fragile words wouldn't be enough "I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I've realized that I was so far out of line. All my decisions fell back onto you. And I'm awfully sorry about kissing another woman. You are truly the only one for me. I understand if you aren't interested in being with me ever again, but I've changed y/n. I'm still working on myself, but you are my motivation every single day and I want to make it up to you." You mind was clouded by his words, the mentioning of his infidelity was like salt in wounds but you wanted to give him a chance. "Yeah you sucked" you tried to lighten the mood but you both knew that, that was a light way to put it. You continued while gripping his hand " I want to be with you Mickey. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me to trust you" you smiled a careful smile at him and he moved even closer, desperate to feel you. His hand moved to your face as he silently asked for your permission to press his lips against yours. You nodded your head, eager to feel the movement. The world stood still, birds chirping became louder and the intensity of the small gesture made you dizzy. Michael was right there with you, you soft lips sending him into a feeling of ecstasy.

Silent promise between lovers who had been torn apart filled the now colder air. Sun kissing the ocean and dancing in warm colors. Pulling one another closer, and thinking of each other highly.

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Seducing Suga - Part 2

⮱ Summary: You were happy to find out that Yoongi likes your rap skills, and your original plan involved him, but then the unexpected happened.

Back to 🌼 PART 1 🌼 ⇖

⮱ Words: 2k

⮱ Pairing(s): Yoongi x Reader, t i n y Jungkook x reader

⮱ Genre: Smut, Angst

⮱ Warnings: Cheating, graphic depictions of sex, swearing

                                _______________________

“I’m just moving forward, no matter what happens behind me,

Even with the tears running down my cheeks I, I, I am a survivor.” You finish recording the demo as the girl group looks at you with curious wide eyes. You weren’t just singing, you were crying. The leader of your girl group, Nadi, made sure to give you a tight squeeze before patting you on the back and sending you out. It was official, you were the biggest loser of an artist the company had produced.

You’ve been crying a lot lately, and everyone knows it’s because of your idol boyfriend. Because of certain obligations, you had to come clean about your relationship to Yoongi, so that your company could take measures to help you come up with a cover story. You weren’t in a good place with him at the moment, since you hadn’t texted each other in a little over a month and you expected him to text you first.

Your company had declared you their new solo artist and you just had to work on a collaboration with BTS. This one wouldn’t feature a rapper though, you were to record vocals with Jungkook and they wanted you both there to get a sense of your sounds together. Old fashioned producers prefer it that way. 

You know you’ll have to meet Yoongi, Namjoon, or Hoseok but most likely Yoongi since he was on the list of producers for the song. You already released your first album and you were planning on dropping two singles. The first one would be the finished version of “Survivor,” the song which you just recorded a demo for, and the second one will be the song you’re working on with Jungkook.

“There you are! The girls told me you were crying? Come on honey, look over the lyrics for your new song. Jungkook himself wrote it after sitting down for five minutes. This boy has a knack for writing about feelings.” Confused, you take the sheet of lyrics from her hand and you see them handwritten in cursive english. You could tell the song was meant to be sung in Korean but for whatever reason, Jungkook decided to translate them to English.

“If there’s a love that must be true,

That would be the love I have for you.

No matter what may pull us apart,

In the end you have my heart.

P.S I hope this collab makes you feel better, I know you’ve been hurting just as bad as my brother has been.” You sigh at the note, smiling and feeling my spirits lifted higher after reading Jungkook’s neat handwriting. You thought it was sweet that he still believed in old pen and paper as his main form of communication. Obviously, he has a phone and he could’ve texted you, but he opted for the letter.

You open up your phone and send him a picture of the paper. A few minutes later he replies back, and you talk more about the collab. Then you stop talking after he tells you he has to practice. It has been a while since you sat down and talked about your life with anyone. Normally you stay away from talking about work when it comes to Yoongi, but it’s so natural with Jungkook.

You decide to sit down and start writing. “Dear Jungkook,” You start.

Your POV

The day for our first collaborative project has arrived. After sending each other letters back and forth for the past month or so, me and Jungkook were joined at the hip. So much so that Jimin pulled me aside to tell me off about my closeness with Jungkook and how it was like I was forgetting about Yoongi.

“How is it any of your business, Jimin? Me and Jungkook are friends. If Yoongi thinks there’s something more, that’s his problem. Did you know that I was heartbroken after he decided not to text me after telling me he needed a break? We haven’t even talked to each other since then. Things aren’t the same between us. I didn’t realize how much I had in common with Jungkook until after that happened. So in a way, I’m glad that me and Yoongi are no more,” As soon as I say those words, Yoongi steps out of the shadows. “Gah! Where did you come from?”

“I was having my coffee in the other room. I heard about what you said. It sounds like you and Jungkook really hit it off. I’m happy for you, really,” He sets down his mug on a coaster nearby. “So that’s why I wanted to tell you that we should break up.” I feel a pang of sadness inside but it’s nothing compared to the immense longing in my heart I have for Jungkook. The positive feelings took over the negative ones, and for the environment and mood in the studio to be good, I needed to concentrate on that.

“Okay. I agree with you. Shall we start?” I ask him as an artist would to a producer, and he nods, sitting down with a blank look on his face. This time, it really does look blank. I can’t read him as well as I used to, I suppose.

Me and Jungkook ended up spending four hours together, and after a lot of time holed up in the studio, we were a lot closer than before. Enough for him to kiss me during our 30 minute break. I returned the kiss gingerly, savoring the taste of his strawberry lip balm. This boy smells and tastes good.

“Will you please go on a date with me?” He asks after recovering from the long-winded kiss.

“Yes.” I smile in response, happy to jump back into recording with Jungkook. We even filmed a Bangtan Bomb, and it was so obvious that there was a spark between us. But the closer I got to Jungkook, the more gloomier Yoongi got. 

“And it’s time for Yoongi to hop in the booth with you. It’s the rap verse.”  I check the paper quickly, noticing that Jungkook hadn’t written a prior note about Yoongi.

“There’s a rap verse?” I ask in disbelief.

“Yeah, I added it after hearing you guys together. It didn’t sound like enough…” He dissed my singing skills right in front of me! We sit through two grueling hours of that before we’re dismissed for the day.

I grab Yoongi’s collar and I drag him towards the janitor’s closet. “How romantic. Isn’t it sweet that we have candles already here to set the mood?” I raise an eyebrow, pinning him against the wall.

“Shut up. I just wanted to be happy and I was starting to really like Jungkook. Why do you always have to ruin everything?” Seeing his blank expression soften, my heart started to race. What’s wrong with me now?

“Your lips say one thing, but your eyes say another,” He shushes me as he suddenly has me pinned to the wall, reversing our predicament so that I was in his trap again. “Maybe we should see what your body says.” Before he puts a hand on me, I stop him.

“Yoongi…” He stops midway, making sure he has my full consent before proceeding. “...Kiss me.”

We start off slow, with kisses so fiery they could melt my heart into a puddle. Yet my heart was encased again, as my body was telling me to act on impulse. The lust takes over each of us, pushing us into the wall-literally, as Yoongi’s tongue slipped into my mouth and I parted my lips so that he didn’t have to force his way in. Our tongues danced together as our lips collided in a sad, forbidden way, and we pulled apart for air after the anticipation had died down.

“You didn’t think we were stopping just there, did you?” I feel his hand circle my thigh and I warm heat shoots up my core. 

“I don’t know. Depends on what you want.” He lets his hands linger for a bit, groping me in ways that should make me feel dirty but instead I feel excited. The thrill of the moment makes me feel good.

We kiss again as he pulls off his shirt and I lose my own, our bodies filled with lust for only each other again. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time.

“Shit, I’m hard. You feel that? You make me so hard, princess.” I roll my eyes at the cliche line.

“Don’t call me “princess.” I ain’t royalty. Call me by my name, kitty cat.” I allude to his nicknames from the fanbase, mostly cat-based since he resembles a cat with how tired he is whenever a camera is in his face. Little do they know that behind the scenes, Yoongi is a hard worker and that is why he is tired all the time. He barely had time for me when I was his girlfriend.

“Don’t call me kitty cat. It’s bad enough I gotta deal with crazies on a daily basis who baby me and call me lil meow meow.” I suck in a deep breath when he drops to his knees, his fingers hooking on the sides of my panties before he pulls them down. I shudder at the feeling of the cool air hitting my sensitive region at first, and I practically melt when Yoongi puts his lips on me.

I groan and buck my hips as he savors my juices, making me climax with just his lips and tongue. He smirks, burying his head further between my legs as I smother him with my clit, stroking his smooth tufts of grey locks as he kisses me to my orgasm.

“Yoongi, Oh it feels too good. Fuck yes.” I moan as he drives me over the edge, slapping my clit with his fingers before lapping up my juices. 

“That felt good, didn’t it sweetheart?” I nod, unable to speak as the aftershocks of my orgasm leave me unable to stand straight for a minute. He helps me up, lifting me to my feet since my legs forgot how to function from the crazy orgasm that Yoongi administered. “Well you’re in for a treat. Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work. Now, sit back and relax.” I nod as he makes me sit with my legs wide open in a chair and he strips down completely so that I have a great view of his giant dick and cute butt. “I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?” He asks as I gulp, feeling thirsty as he lowers his cock into me slowly.

“That hurts.” I groan, earning an apology from him before he turned me around and unclasped my bra so that I was fully naked as well.

“Shit, such a nice ass.” He spanks me as I bounce on his dick, moving involuntarily since he was the one slamming into me in the first place. I feel his warm hands on my ass, taking in the pleasurable feeling of his cock sliding into me with ease, as he was hard and dripping. I realize somewhere in the middle of riding his dick that we forgot to use protection.

“Yoongi, are you cumming yet?” He shakes his head, his pale cheeks flushed red as sweat drips down his forehead and our bodies cling together from the extra sweat. He looks a bit more exhausted than usual, but that’s probably because he was tasked with fucking my brains out for over an hour now.

“Shit, I’m close now. Y/N, hold me.” 

“But I-” He kisses my neck, holding my hips in place as I attempt to bounce off his lap, and before I can say anything his hot white semen has painted my inner walls. Cream drips down my inner thighs, leaking onto his stomach as I pop off his dick with an evident look of fear on my face.

“That was amazing, babe. I haven’t cum like that since—”

“I’m not on birth control, Yoongi,” And with those words he freezes, his look of pleasure replaced with fear. “That’s not all. I just cheated on Jungkook. Oh my god.” I feel my heart beating out of my chest, blood rushing to my head all at once before I pass out.

[giggleandtears]

Crimson Renegade, Part 3

What it feels like to match wits (With someone at your level) 

Summary: Danvers and Kirk enjoy winding McCoy up

Pairings: OC/Jim Kirk(Platonic), OC/Leonard McCoy(Eventual Romance)

A/N: If you haven't seen Star Trek Discovery season 2, Pike makes it well worth it. ;-)

Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Guiding me to the closest patient area, McCoy offers his hand to assist me in sliding onto the bio-bed. Jim quirks a brow at the chivalrous gesture but McCoy has already turned away to gather a few supplies for the exam. When Jim saddles up beside him, my mind runs wild with comparing the two men. Though they are roughly the same height, the air that surrounds them couldn’t be more different.  

Jim’s flaxen hair, crystal blue eyes, and perfectly chiseled jawline, screams fairy tale prince more than captain. Unless you use Captain Pike, circa 2250, as a barometer. Jim’s the type to whisk you off for an idyllic weekend getaway in a cabin, nestled between snow-capped mountains. A roaring fire would await, champagne chilled and at the ready. I think Dr. McCoy would take a slightly different approach. The fire would remain, as would a refreshing beverage. But replace the champagne with bourbon laden hot chocolate. The cabin would stand resolute against the onslaught of swirling flurries, having been built with the strength of his bare hands. Jim and McCoy are two sides of the same coin but only one is commanding my full attention.

"Ok, what you playin' at?” McCoy whispers to Jim, like salt through a grinder. It’s not standard practice for the captain to escort an uninjured crew member to the Med-bay just for a friendly hello. Jim looks on in unabashed amusement and lets McCoy continue his tirade. “We almost got shot to tarnation and you’re here to introduce a woman? Good god man! Have you no shame?” He says in a huff, gathering and regathering the same tricorder and PADD. “Are those boots even regulation?”

“They are.” I chime in sweetly, like honey flowing fresh from the comb. The boys slowly turn at McCoy’s covert mutterings being so easily overheard. “But the tights sadly are not, yet.”

Walking over to me, McCoy places the PADD beside me and can’t stop his eyes from wandering down. Under further inspection, my boots are indeed regulation, stopping just above my calves. The tights, however, are of my own design. Dark mesh blends expertly with my boots before shifting into a less opaque hue, coming to a point over my knee. Tracing McCoy’s gaze downward, I completely understand why the higher hemline of my dress uniform and the illusion of knee-high boots leaves the doctor’s mouth a bit parched.  

Clearing his voice before he continues, McCoy begins to run the tricorder around my head, then on a steady path from my forehead to abdomen and back. “So, what brings you to our favorite tin can in the sky?”

“I'm working on a new shield prototype with Scotty. Can't steal your head engineer, so here I am.”

“At least he's not on that ice planet anymore.” Jim says, with a nearly imperceptible shiver.  

“You always say that, but I had fun on Hoth.”

Shaking his head, Jim snorts wryly. “You’re about the only one.”

McCoy raises his brow at the name, no doubt never hearing of that planet in any star system. Sadly, that also means his knowledge of historical fiction is sorely lacking. How it’s not a more beloved genre is beyond me. Jim mouths ‘You don’t want to know’ to McCoy and lets it drop.  

“Keenser’s hooch always kept me warm. And what else do you really need besides that and good company?” I say. “Besides, it never seemed to be as cold as everyone whined it was.”  

A small smile highlights McCoy’s handsome features as he continues my scan. Although the warmth of his smile is unmistakable, the delicate lines around his eyes seem to narrate a tale of inner weariness. Something tells me coffee, a nap, or even a stiff drink couldn’t lessen whatever’s weighting on his shoulders.  

Returning to the conversation at hand, McCoy’s asks about my position on the Enterprise. “If you're a commander, doesn’t that make you chief engineer?”

“A commander is usually the head of a department. If Scotty needs me, I’ll be there to lend a hand but the prototype is my first priority.”

McCoy hums lowly in understanding, although his gaze has been diverted. He's concentrating deeply on the tricorder in his hands. After each tap of the device, his expressive brows grow closer and closer together.

“Something wrong?”

“Yea.” McCoy begins in a huff. “This darn thing is on the fritz again. I tried a few tricks Scotty taught me but nothin’s workin’. I assumed you were human and bypassed the initial scan but that didn’t help. You are human right?”

“To my knowledge, I am. Is trans-species a thing?”

“You’d be surprised.” McCoy says wryly. “All I got was you’re alive, but a bucktooth gopher in a melon patch is less obvious than that.”

I fail at holding back a snort.  “I have absolutely no idea what that means but it was certainly entertaining.” Offering to take a look, I extend my hand. “Let me see.” The blueprint for each circuit board and screen readout, run through my brain with ease. Fiddling with the small piece of technology is as natural as breathing.  Feeling the heavy gaze of a man no more than 2 paces away from me, is not. Widening his stance, McCoy impatiently crosses his arms after I open the back of the tricorder. I don’t think my brooding companion takes kindly to anything impeding his work, especially a pesky piece of equipment. “The circuits and connectors are in perfect condition, not charred or corroded. So, it must be a programming issue.” Replacing the back of the tricorder, I widen a few scan parameters and disable a couple more, then hand it back to McCoy. “Here, try this.”

After restarting the scan, the familiar steady beeps resume.  

“Well how ‘bout that.” McCoy says, with quiet astonishment. “How’d you know to do that?”

Swinging my legs like a schoolgirl, “Engineers are more than contraband and a good time, Dr. McCoy.”  I say, with cock my head and a cheeky grin. “Or haven’t you heard?”

“I’ve heard a lot of things but that don’t make’em true.”

Leaning the tiniest bit forward, “Is that a challenge?”  

McCoy meets my eye with a sumptuous quirk of his brow. “Only if you can deliver.”

A smile slowly spreads across my face. His steady gaze is electric, sending waves of heat to tickle my skin. Neither of us is backing down. With each passing millisecond something becomes abundantly clear; I am in trouble. Jim clears his throat, breaking us of the spell neither of us intended to cast. Honestly, I forgot Jim was even here.

Leaning back, I straighten my spine and clasp my hands in my lap. Professional as always. “So, did your scan turn up anything interesting?”

“Yea. Are you always this hot?” McCoy asks innocently, without any trace of innuendo.  

This is just too easy.  

Before I can reply, McCoy corrects himself.  “Is your temperature always this high?”

He’s learning  

“Yes. My temperature is usually above average for most humans. 99.3 to 102.4 is normal for me.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

Smiling, “I thought doctors liked specificity.”  

I expected to hear a smart quip but it never comes. McCoy’s face has grown dark.

“There’s also a fair bit of pressure at your temples and occipital lobe.”

Jim stiffens, instantly on alert. A nervous stab blooms in my stomach. I just got here. I can’t be grounded already. McCoy places a calming hand on my shoulder but addresses Jim. Silently they spar, only using their expressive eyes to communicate. I can read Jim like a well-trained empath but McCoy is a completely different beast. The altercation only lasts a few seconds but the decision is final.  

Jim sighs and stuffs his hands roughly in his pockets. “I’ll be right over there, ok?” After nodding, he saunters up to nurse and starts a friendly conversation. Jim manages to only look back once, our concerned expressions mirroring each other.  

“If only he was as protective with himself as the rest of us.” McCoy says.

Smiling weakly, I hum in agreement. With an ever-increasing nervous energy, I pick at the jagged edge of my thumb nail. I’m willing the pressure in my head to subside before McCoy takes the tricorder to me again.  

As if I'm a doe in a wooden glen that’s easily spooked, McCoy speaks much softer than before. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is the pain?”

I rub my forehead. “5, maybe.” Even to my own ears, it sounds more like a question than an answer.  

McCoy stares at me disapprovingly. Maybe I don’t have as good a poker face as I thought. He asks how long I've been having headaches and if they make my duties more difficult. I have to think back but it's been over 6 months. I can handle the pain but the dizziness that sometimes accompany them is harder to shake off. I've been found in a dark supply closet more times than I care to count. McCoy bobs his head with each detail I recount, though his lips remain pursed. He picks up the tricorder once again but decides to hand it off to a passing nurse.  

“Do hypos help with the pain?” McCoy asks. Vigorously rubbing his hands together, he steps forward. Meticulously, he feels around my throat and neck.  

“Only for a few hours.” I answer honestly.  

“What did your last physician say about them?”

“Since I could still fulfill my duties, not to worry until that changed.”

McCoy’s hands still. Exhaling harshly, his nostrils flare. “What kinda bonehead, idiotic...” With a sigh, McCoy calms himself. Letting the matter drop, he continues his exam. McCoy softly eases my head to the side to rest in his large palm. His nimble fingers purposefully flutter up and down the tendons in my neck, even into my shoulder blade. When he tilts my head back, I can’t help but stare. McCoy is so, determined. It’s as if my pain and discomfort are the only thing important to him. For a moment he closes his eyes to concentrate more intently on what he feels beneath his fingers. Smiling to myself, I close my own eyes before I’m caught.  

A slight sting radiates at the base of my neck where McCoy was focusing his attention.  His deft fingers and what I suspect was a sly hypo start to alleviate the pressure that’s been building for hours. Releasing a heavenly sigh of relief, I slowly blink open my eyes. Having them closed for only a few short moments; my lids have become quite heavy.  

McCoy tips my head back with a knuckle under my chin. When my eyes catch the light, he inhales suddenly. “Well I’ll be-.” He whispers, astonished. He slowly moves forward as if an invisible string is pulling us together. I’m enveloped by his impressive stature. His warmth seems to seep into my every pore and somehow, I already know I’ll miss it when he moves away. A sly smirk creeps onto my lips when McCoy’s eyes round in amazement. Imaging myself through his eyes is intriguing. Warm brown eyes of amber with flecks of maroon. It’s a fairly typical combination in this day and age, except they weren’t always like this. The longer the light shines in my eyes, the red specs bend and shift until it nearly overtakes the brown. I found the change to be off-putting at first but I've grown to like it.

McCoy leans in closer and cocks his head to the side. “Retinal morphic photoplasia.” Taking a pen light out his pocket and sweeps it over my eyes. “With a nearly a 47% increase in your concentering rate. That’s mighty rare.”

I shrug nonchalantly.  “Yea. It’s just one of my many tricks.”

McCoy smirks until he realizes how close he is to me. His hand has inched up from my neck and is cradling my cheek in his palm.  Clearing his throat, he gently guides my head down and releases me. Dr. McCoy returns to his PADD, tapping harshly. His faced is etched in frustration as he mumbles to himself. I sigh inwardly. I miss the teasing back and forth, the banter. I’d even settle for Mr. Grumpy Pants.  

I speak as light and airy as possible. “So, am I dying Doc?”

“No!” McCoy says, jerking upright. “Why would you go and say somethin’ like that?”

“Because you're looking at my readings like I have the plague.”

“Now that would be a magic trick, since it's been cured for over 600 years.” Sighing, McCoy places the PADD down. “I’m just not too keen on mysteries in my Medbay.”

McCoy explains my scans are in normal ranges, though a little odd. The headaches could be stress related but he’s concerned about the duration. Since I can't think of any triggers and I couldn’t have come into contact with any alien contagions, McCoy decides to take a few samples and run some more extensive test.  After getting a nurse up to speed, McCoy gives me some very pointed instruction.  “Tell me immediately if the headaches get worse. It doesn’t matter if you can still do your duties.”

“Sure thing, Dr. McCoy.” His name rolls easily off my tongue. However, McCoy’s pinched expression looks like his mama forgot to sweeten his lemonade. “Did I say something wrong?”  

He shakes his head ‘no’ but doesn’t offer any further explanation for his sour expression. I’m starting to think maybe that’s just his face.  

Shaking it off, “So, am I good to go?”

“Yes ma’am. No palpations, fever, or hives to speak of.” McCoy drawls.  

Smiling, “Great!  Thanks Doc. I'll try to keep it that way.” Hopping off the bio-bed, I look around the Medbay.  “Now where did my escort get to?”

“Jim,” McCoy says, hollering over his shoulder. “Don’t you have a ship to run?”

Jim says a few last words to an utterly bewitched nurse and walks away. He leisurely walks over, smiling to himself. “So, what I miss?”  

“I don’t know. Home trainin’?” McCoy says, dismissively. I snort softly into my hand and McCoy rewards me with a small smile. But Jim’s piercing gaze is squarely on McCoy, waiting for my results.

McCoy answers simply, all joking aside. “The commander is cleared for duty-”

“Glad to hear it!” Jim says. His jovial-self returning.

“And she knows where to find me if that changes.” McCoy gives me another pointed look for good measure.  

Inwardly I chuckle to myself but stand straight at attention. I give the doctor an emphatic though comical two-finger salute. I know we haven’t had an active military in centuries and technically McCoy and I have equal rank. But he understands me nonetheless. Or I should say we understand each other. If my condition changes and I don’t tell him, he will hunt me down and there will be hell to pay. McCoy nods curtly, satisfied with my answer. After a beat, his eyes soften and the corner of his mouth lifts just a touch. Relaxing again, I smile in return.  

Jim sees our mostly silent exchange and shakes his head. He looks like the cat that caught the canary and I’m not sure I like where this is headed. “You know I always thought you two would get along.” Jim may be right but that doesn’t mean he has to point it out. “You never let me have any fun.” Oh, how I wish that was true. “Both of you can drink me under the table.” True. Jim pauses for good measure. “And you both hate people.”

And there it is.  

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose.  

“For Christ's sake-” McCoy growls.  

“I do not hate people!" We say in perfect unison.  

Slowly, McCoy and I look at each other with the same horrified expression. Brows in our hairlines, eyes bugging out and mouth agape.  We even mirrored each other’s tilted head. Neither of us know how to address what just happened, so we quickly act like it didn’t. McCoy becomes intensely interested in his PADD and I kick myself at falling for Jim’s bait so easily. His smirk is already insufferable but I do address his previous assertion.  

“After an 8-hour shift, who wants to be around people that can't hold a conversation, let alone a drink?” I ask rhetorically.  

“Couldn’t agree more darlin'.” McCoy says, clearly on my side.  

Trying to bite the inside of my cheek does little to disguise my smile. “Thank you.” I’m not sure what garners my appreciation more, his immediate understanding or being called darlin'. I haven't been called that particular term of endearment since I was a child. Oddly, I’m not averse to it. Especially coming from the doctor’s lips.  

“Wait,” Jim interjects, “are you finally admitting there are people you don’t like Commander?”

“Yes, and you are quickly becoming one of them Captain.”

This is quickly ramping up into a tit for tat situation and McCoy is having none of it. “Jim, can you let my patient get a hot meal before you start up again?”

Snickering, I mouth ‘Thank you’ and head for the door. As the doors slide open, I stop and look behind me. Jim is slowly walking with his back towards the door, whispering something to McCoy. I don’t know what he’s saying but McCoy crossed his arms in a huff. “Jim, you coming?” Jim turns smoothly on his heel, not missing a beat. The moment Jim’s back is to McCoy something peculiar happens. His arms drop and he … chuckles. His broad shoulders gently shake until he sighs to himself. For a moment he stares into space. The makings of a smile start to form-

“Danny, you coming?”

Jumping slightly, I turn towards Jim’s voice. He’s mere inches from my ear. After scowling in his general direction, I try to get one more glance at McCoy but he’s already gone. We walk in companionable silence toward my quarters but Jim is determined to spoil it. He keeps smirking like he has a secret every time he catches my eye. Its driving me nuts.  

Exhaling slowly, I mourn my sanity. “I know you have something to say. Spit it out.”

Jim shrugs nonchalantly but smiles nonetheless. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just that you owe me a bottle of whiskey.”

[corvus--rex]

Since I don't write smut, I wanted to challenge myself to cover an Omega's heat without it. That thought resulted in this unfinished piece. Semi-abandoned, it features Omega Keith and Alpha Lance during the week of Keith's heat. It could conceivably be a one shot all on its own, but has a bit of an open ending, which is why I want to come back to it at some point. It - obviously - is an Omegaverse, so skip it if it's not your thing :)

~*~*~*~

Keith paced in his bedroom, becoming more restless. He’d known his heat was starting that day, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t concentrate on anything. Not his digital art, not his piano, not his paints or charcoals, not his photography. And he was absolutely not touching his embroidery or cross-stitching projects. Both were so detailed he would end up stabbing himself and possibly destroying hours’ worth of work. Not even the playlist he had specially cultivated for his heats was helping. He was losing patience. Keith knew exactly what would help, but Lance hadn’t come home yet, the Alpha unable to get the first day of his mate’s heat off this time. The rest of the week was clear, but trying to deal with even one day felt like torture.

Keith had built and destroyed six nests at that point, not even that helping to calm him. He had no idea what was keeping him so worked up. His heat would hit its peak on day three, but this was day one. He really did not want to think about what two days from then would be like. At least he would have his Alpha there to help him through it. Speaking of said Alpha, where the fuck was Lance? He should have been home at least ten minutes earlier. Keith went back to pacing like a caged animal, his head snapping toward the direction of their front door when he heard the key in the lock.

Running footsteps preceded Lance rushing into their bedroom, kicking his shoes off and shedding his jacket while he ran.

“I am so sorry, cariño. Iverson came by today, and, as much as I don’t like him, I can’t just leave. Dr. Ryner tried to let me go, but Iverson just kept talking.”

Keith silenced Lance with a rough kiss, dragging his mate into the seventh, and last, nest he’d constructed. The Omega was just glad he’d remembered his shot that morning, the one he only used during his heats as normal birth control wouldn’t work.

Lance woke the next morning to find Keith curled in a tight ball, whimpering in his sleep. He knew that his mate’s heat was rising, and would peak the next day. Lance had to spend what time he could preparing for that during the day. He’d have to be quick about it, though, only being able to leave the nest to prep while Keith was asleep. He figured he still had a few minutes before his mate woke and Lance needed to fight him on getting up and getting fed and hydrated.

The Alpha slipped out of the nest, racing down the antique hallway to get ready for that day and the next. Lance was genuinely thankful for the old house and its brick walls. It meant that, even as close to their neighbors as they were, not much in the way of sound came through to the outside. He breathed a sigh of relief when he came back to their bedroom and found Keith only just beginning to wake.

“Hrrmm?” It was a soft sound, pitched higher than Keith's usual range, but a normal one for Omegas. It was a sound made when looking for their mates.

Lance hummed, low in his throat, as a response, climbing back into the nest with breakfast. The sound was soft and low, one for comfort and reassurance, letting an Omega know that their mate was nearby and they were safe.

Cold things were to be avoided during heats, as such a degree of difference in temperature could be a shock to an Omega’s system. Lance was well aware of this, and brought hot coffee for himself, and the herbal tea blended for heats, heavily sweetened, for Keith. One thing that Lance knew very well was how much of a sweet tooth his mate developed during his heats. It was always readily apparent when the end of Keith’s pre-heat hit because he went on a baking spree, Lance making sure he remembered the specially formulated protein/vitamin powder as it was common knowledge that Omegas’ eating habits during their heats weren’t nutritionally sound.

Logically, it didn’t make sense. Logically, it would make more sense for Omegas to instinctually optimize their nutrition for conception. But what science and research had found was that it was actually logical in a sense. No two Omegas experienced heat cravings the same way. And multiple studies conducted over years, and in a few cases, decades, had found that fighting those cravings during heats had actually decreased the chances of conception, but was in no way an effective birth control method.

The breakfast tray had been set on the bed table, safely out of the way. Keith launched himself upright and into Lance when the Alpha came back, his Omega pressed close, getting as much skin-to-skin contact as he possibly could, given that Lance had made him dress before finally falling asleep the night before. Keith whined, a high-pitched, thready sound, startling his Alpha. He was already giving in to his heat, Omega instincts surfacing and making him nonverbal. It was something that didn’t happen until heat hit its peak, but Lance was realizing just how unusual this heat was and made a mental note to make sure Keith saw his doctor once it was over. Something wasn’t right, but there was nothing that could be done for an Omega in heat other than heavily sedating them, and that was something that would only ever be done in an emergency.

“No, love,” Lance said gently, “You need breakfast first. You did remember your shot yesterday, right?”

Keith whined again, but nodded slightly. It was enough for Lance to know that he’d been heard, and the reassuring scent that rose from his Omega gave him the answer he needed. Keith was still aware, but Lance didn’t know for how long before Omega instinct took over and even getting him to eat would be a fight. But for now, anyway, Keith accepted that breakfast was necessary, putting himself in Lance’s lap for the duration.

Once Lance was satisfied with what Keith had eaten and that his tea was gone, he allowed the Omega to take over. He was concerned as he watched his mate sleep after. Keith had been growling and biting far more than he usually did. Biting was pretty rare for him, only happening when he was in the heart of his heat. Growling was more common, but the intensity had been worrying. Lance made sure Keith was warm enough, repairing the walls of the nest before heading back down to the kitchen to continue preparing for the next day.

He wasn’t sure what it would be like if that day was already so intense. He had the distinct impression that it was possible that neither one of them would be functional, and that the sheer intensity of Keith’s heat would push Lance into a rut harder than it usually did. If it did, he knew that even staying hydrated would be nearly impossible. But he kept preparing anyway, knowing that it was better to be over-prepared when it came to his mate’s heats.

When Lance returned to the bedroom, Keith was fully cocooned in the nest, shivering. Lance found that he’d undressed himself and kicked the blanket off, but then had tried to wrap himself up again and failed. The Alpha climbed in, pulling the blanket back up and wrapping himself around his mate. Keith relaxed into Lance’s hold, getting as close as he could. The rest of the day continued the same way with Lance having to convince Keith to eat at all, and that night when he tried to get his mate cleaned up, Keith had practically attacked him. He got it done, but Lance knew the next day was going to be rough.

He wasn’t wrong. Lance was barely able to get breakfast in his mate before the Omega’s instincts took over completely and Lance submitted to his rut. Once the Alpha instinct to mate overwhelmed him, neither one left the nest for the entire day, passing out tangled around each other somewhere in the small hours of the morning.

When Lance woke on day four, he was clear-headed but could remember the previous day in detail. That was also odd. Usually, memory of a rut was hazy, far too clouded by pheromones and instinct. But he remembered everything. It made him wonder how much of this heat Keith would remember. Lance was aware that he needed to get them both breakfast and that he needed to get up to do that, but his mate was wrapped around him, a soft purr rumbling through a contented coo. Keith was still asleep, and it was the perfect time to run down to the kitchen, but Lance just couldn’t bring himself to get up.

Sensing his mate was awake, Keith stirred, more aware than he had been the day before, but still nonverbal. He picked himself up, his violet eyes bright, with a playful smile on his lips. Lance was still thinking about how unusual, unique really, this heat was and how concerned he was about it. It must have been on his face and in his scent because Keith's expression faded, his scent clouding with worry. The Omega trilled in distress, not knowing what was upsetting his mate. Lance shook his head with a soft smile, brushing Keith’s hair out of his face.

“Don’t worry about it, love. It’s ok. We both need breakfast. Neither of us have eaten since yesterday morning.”

Keith pouted, wrapping himself around his Alpha. Lance unwrapped himself, getting up and tucking his mate back in.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here,” he said softly, and left the bedroom, closing the door.

Lance put together a bigger breakfast for the two of them, knowing they both needed to refuel after the previous day. Once coffee and tea were done, he brought the tray back upstairs. Keith hadn’t moved except to free an arm, trailing his fingers over Lance’s pillow. The Alpha could tell his mate was more aware than he had been in the past two days, but he was still nonverbal. Hopefully it would be over by the next day. Keith put himself in Lance’s lap again, less resistant to breakfast that morning. Once they were finished, Keith dragged his Alpha back into the depths of the nest.

Lance woke up before his mate, turning the sleeping Omega into a human burrito before heading back to the kitchen. He thought about making lunch, but decided that it would likely be too much, instead bringing another cup of herbal tea for Keith and a more standard black tea for himself along with his mate’s favorites from his baking marathon. Back upstairs, he woke the Omega with a soft kiss, snacks ready. As he had for the past three days, he insisted on sitting in Lance’s lap the entire time, something his Alpha had no issue with.

By the end of the day, Keith still was nonverbal, but didn’t fight eating or getting himself cleaned up. He resisted dressing for bed, but Lance insisted and Keith lost. By the time he was ready to actually sleep, he didn’t have the energy to fight getting his clothes back on, and fell asleep curled around his mate.

Lance was still asleep when Keith woke the next morning. It was day five, the last day of his heat. The Omega stretched, cat-like, and looked over his sleeping mate. He yawned, and it felt like his tongue unlocked. His memory of the previous four days was vivid, and he knew how nonverbal he’d been. He also knew how he’d behaved, and just how intense his heat had been. He could still feel it, even if it was far weaker than the previous days. Keith still felt the need to be as close to his Alpha as possible, laying back down and curling himself around Lance.

When the Alpha finally woke that morning, Keith was already awake again, snuggled in and watching him sleep. The small, contented smile on the Omega and the sparkle in his violet eyes told Lance that he was fully aware again.

“Hey, you,” he said, shifting to face his mate, “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Keith answered, “I know I couldn’t tell you before, but I know my heat’s been weird this time. And I remember all of it. I know I usually check out in the middle, but I remember it. Sorry about the biting.”

“Yeah, that was weird. And the growling,” Lance agreed, “I think you should get it checked out. It worried me.”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, s’not a bad idea. I want breakfast. I’m fuckin' starving.”

Lance laughed. “Ok. Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

The Alpha took off downstairs, bringing their breakfast back up in record time. They were both feeling more relaxed, and took the last day of Keith's heat more slowly, laying together in the nest afterwards without feeling the need to just pass out. They were able to take the day to actually enjoy what they were doing instead of being fueled purely by an instinctual need to mate. That feeling was still there as Keith’s heat wasn’t quite over, but it wasn’t the driving need they’d experienced over the previous days.

The mate-pair spent the weekend relaxing and recovering. The heat nest was taken down, its components and the bedsheets washed. The bedroom was aired out, windows opened to the cooling September air. Lance and Keith padded around their brick Victorian, the Alpha able to appreciate his post-heat cuddly mate. They talked about the oddity of Keith’s heat, and the Omega fully agreed to see his doctor about it. By Sunday night, both were ready to get back to work, and went to bed snuggled together.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Lance returned to his job as a junior professor of Mediaeval Literature at the nearby college that technically predated the city. The professor he taught under, Dr. Sioned Ryner, had been a mentor to him while he was a student, and continued in that role along with being his senior professor. She often teased him about being the prettiest teacher in the department, as she was doing then.

“Your adoring fans missed you last week,” she said, coming into his office, “They’d be even more upset if they knew why you were off.”

“Yeah, I'm sure they would. But I’m starting on Spenser this week, so I think they’ll forgive me. Though I've never understood why we teach an epic written specifically for Elizabeth I in a Mediaeval Literature class.”

Dr. Ryner burst out laughing. “I have no idea, but they’ve always insisted. It has King Arthur in it, must be mediaeval.”

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Chain-Reaction

Is it 5:30am? Yes.

Did I just smash out another part to the Mafia series that has accidentally been put in motion? Also yes.

So here’s part four and again, feel free to let me know what you think because it’s butt-fuck o’clock and tired bitch is going to bed now that she’s written way more than she intended to for the night/morning.

🥃 AO3 🥃

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

.

“Hey, (Name)! Open up!”

 .

You let out a deep breath as you opened your front door, giving Eijiro and Tamaki an unimpressed look while they stared at you in what looked to be confusion; though you were positive you had called Taishiro to tell him you weren’t going to work today and not to send them to walk you home.

Since it was a daily occurrence now, you didn’t want to worry them by simply not being there; so, it had made sense to you to call him and give them a heads up. Apparently, that had been a mistake seeing as though he sent them to your house instead.

“You’re alright?” Tamaki made the quiet observation as you stepped to the side, allowing them to enter your home; if they wanted to check on you so badly, the least you could do was check Eijiro’s hand and offer them a drink. Maybe some snacks.

“Yes, I’m fine. What did Taishiro tell you to make you think that I wasn’t fine?” You stared at Tamaki with an expression of vague concern on your features, worried for whatever words had left Taishiro’s mouth. All you had said to him was that you weren’t going in to work, nothing more and nothing less; it didn’t make any sense for them to assume something was wrong. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

“He said you weren’t going to work” Eijiro gave a shrug of his shoulders, moving to sit down at your kitchen table when you pointed to it; already knowing what you wanted from him.

“That is what I told him…but that doesn’t explain why something has to be wrong with me” You walked up to Eijiro while Tamaki moved to turn on the kettle, already knowing where everything he needed would be; having visited a few times before for a relaxing cup of coffee.

“It isn’t like you to miss work, not from what we’ve seen.” You couldn’t help but utter a quiet hum of agreement as you unwrapped Eijiro’s hand, carefully inspecting the cut on his hand. Much to your surprise, the bandages had remained untouched and as a result, his cut looked fine; it would only need a little more ointment and a new bandage.

“I suppose that’s a good point…Eijiro, wait here. I’m gonna go get some more cream for you” You offered him a smile before making your way through your house, heading for the medical supplies that you kept in your bathroom and luckily for them, you had only just recently re-stocked your supplies.

“If you’re okay, why did you skip work today?!” Eijiro called out to you while you rummaged through the cabinet in your bathroom, obeying your instructions to remain seated in your kitchen if you were to go by the lack of footsteps trailing after you.

“Because I’m thinking things over, I guess…” You sighed as you walked back towards your kitchen, speaking loud enough for the both of them to hear you, not wanting to repeat yourself with such a topic; it was already hard enough to admit to yourself, but after yesterday’s encounter with Taishiro. Well, you found yourself thinking things over a little too much; you needed a break from work.

“Wait, so does that mean you’re gonna join us then!?” Your mouth dropped open as you stepped into the kitchen, Eijiro’s puppy-like look catching you off-guard while Tamaki continued to make the three of you drinks; pretending to mind his business.

“I…no, that isn’t what it means Eijiro. It means that I’m thinking about what I want to do with my life” You hesitated as you spoke, careful with how you worded your explanation so that they wouldn’t get the wrong idea; the last thing you needed was for them to give Taishiro the wrong impression. You didn’t know what you were going to do anymore, you had been considering the idea of joining them; but after yesterday, after nearly kissing the mafia boss, you weren’t sure about anything.

“Are you really okay, (Name)? You’re acting weird” Eijiro frowned at you while you applied the antibacterial ointment to his hand, refusing to meet his crimson gaze, well-aware that he could read you a little too well.

“I’m fine.” You offered a tight-lipped smile to back up your statement, eyes never leaving the hand that you were now wrapping up; careful not to lose your focus and wrap his hand up too tightly. It was hard to think straight with his non-stop questions, but telling him to be quiet would be both rude and suspicious. It was easier to let him ask his questions.

“Taishiro was worried after you called” Tamaki paused as he placed two cups on the table, looking into your eyes when you looked over at him; it was clear he didn’t believe you, yet he wasn’t the type to say it in so many words. Instead, he would press the issue in his own way until you caved.

“He gave us the entire day to be here. To take care of you if something was wrong.” He reached for his own drink as he explained the motivation behind their visit, filling you with a sickening kind of guilt; not that you had done anything wrong per se. You simply disliked the idea of worrying Taishiro, especially after calling him to let him know everything was fine and that you weren’t going in to work today.

“…How much of this is Taishiro going to hear?” The question had Tamaki and Eijiro looking at each other for a minute before their gaze finally settled back on you; a silent agreement having been made.

 .

“Only what he needs to. You’re our friend (Name), talk to us.”

 .

Eijiro’s words managed to bring a small smile to your face as you reached for the cup that Tamaki had prepared for you, the kindness in them something you still weren’t entirely used to from them. Of course, it was a silently known fact; they just hadn’t said it like that before and it warmed your heart to know that they felt that way.

“Taishiro and I nearly kissed yesterday by accident…and…I think, I think that I wanted it to happen” You kept your voice quiet as you spoke, watching them for their reactions while sipping at your drink; you weren’t expecting anything astonishing, but it felt like it was a serious thing to say. Especially to people that worked for the giant of a man. To his family.

“Okay, well. Wasn’t expecting that.” Eijiro laughed nervously as he spoke, rubbing at his neck with his good hand and shooting a look towards Tamaki that somehow looked even more surprised; the only thing you could think of in that moment was that you would hate to see a bad reaction from the two of them.

“You know what? This was a bad idea. Let’s go back to me being fine and you two being clueless” You put your cup down slowly, looking away from the two of them before they could see how sick you were starting to feel after actually admitting it aloud; instead, the nearby cupboard had your attention. Maybe you could distract them with some biscuits or something like that.

“No, it’s fine. We just weren’t expecting that! Right, Tamaki?” Eijiro spoke quickly, earning a quiet mumble of agreement from Tamaki while you searched through the cupboard for some kind of snack; anything would do at this point.

“It’s not fine.” You frowned as your hands went still, leaving you to stare blankly into the cupboard with no idea what you were actually searching for; snacks would be fine, of course, but your mind was quickly turning into a mess and you couldn’t concentrate long enough to find what you had been searching for.

“I barely know him…and I had no reason to get as close as I have to him, or to you guys! I’ve gotten myself involved with the fucking Mafia for fuck’s sake!” Your voice grew higher with each word spoken, the weight of the past few months finally beginning to settle in now that you’ve said your feelings aloud; it was scary and you felt like you had done something wrong.

 .

“(Name).”

 .

You turned slowly at the sound of Tamaki’s calm voice, tears filling your eyes while the two of them moved towards you slowly; helping you towards a chair before you collapsed from the mental attack you were currently experiencing.

“Take some deep breaths, everything is okay. It’s not as bad as you think it is” Eijiro smiled at you warmly, rubbing your arm as Tamaki reached for your cup; holding it out to you until you took it, allowing a deep breath to escape you at the same time. Accepting their help without question, needing the stability.

“Better?” You gave Tamaki a nod in response to his question, not trusting your words quite yet; it was easier to calm down when you didn’t have to speak yet and the warm drink was certainly helping to calm your nerves.

“Good. (Name), I think you’re overthinking this. You know us and you know our boss, whether you realise it or not.” Tamaki spoke quietly, taking a seat once more while Eijiro continued to stand by your side; rubbing your arm in a soothing manner.

“He’s right! Plus, there’s nothing wrong with getting involved with us. You aren’t doing anything illegal and you don’t know anything about what we do, boss has kept it that way on purpose” You nodded your head as Eijiro spoke, taking in the words they were saying silently; thankful that they were actively doing their best to help you when you needed it most.

“Taishiro doesn’t know, right? We’ll keep it that was as long as you need us to. This can stay between us and if you feel like it’s the right thing for you, you can join us. If not, we’ll continue walking you home from your shifts at the hospital” You inhaled deeply as Tamaki laid out your options, it didn’t matter that you already knew the possibilities; it was nice hearing them again. It helped you focus and made it that much easier to organise your thoughts.

“…Thank you, both of you” You smiled as you spoke, laughing quietly at your overreaction to the situation; it seemed like such a silly thing to get worked up over now that you were calm again.

“Don’t worry about it! But hey, what’re you gonna choose?”

 .

“Ah, well…I suppose I’ll just have to…”

[imaginesmai]

Tom Holland - Relax

If you like this, there will be a second part!

Plot: Tom is driving you mad without knowing, but that’s about to change after an stressful day.

Warnings: this is almost smut

“Have you actually moved in the last hour?”

You finally tore your eyes away from the blurry letters and symbols on the computer screen, to glance back at where Tom lounged in a nearby spare chair, his feet up on one of the emptier desks. You blinked your weary eyes clear of the engrained pixels in your vision, watching as the yellow ball Tom had on his hand was tossed again into the hair, only to fell back into his palm.

“It’s called working” you muttered in annoyance, your throat slightly croaky from the lack of use, as you turned back to the screen. “I could ask you the same thing. Isn’t there somewhere you need to be other than in here, being a back-seat driver to my work?”

“First of all, that was mean” Tom smirked, the ball once more in the air. “Secondly, no. I guess I enjoy your company as much as you enjoy mine”

Just then, there was a knock at the door behind the two of you, and your boss walked in. She called your name while looking at some papers; when she looked up and saw Tom leaning in one of the chairs, she flattered, raising her eyebrows in surprise. He had managed somehow to drop his legs from the table, so he then sat upright and looking intently at the ball; as if it would save him from the scold you would give him later.

“Uh, can I speak with you alone, please? Y/N?” she asked, eyes flickering between you and the actor. Tom spared you a glance, and it made you feel like if you had kicked the most adorable puppy of all times. His curls were covering half of his face and he had his shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, sure” you blinked away from him.

Tom got the hint and got up, looking at you once more time from the door before whispering that he would be waiting for you by the coffee machine. That was what you got when you joined a busy day and a needy best friend who didn’t have anything to do. You felt your lip twitch in mirth as he slipped out of the door and down the corridor, while dragging his feet way more than necessary.

When he was finally out of sight, you turned to your boss. She was looking at you with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile.

“When was the last time you got some?”

You blinked in surprise. Dropping the professional act, Lauren fell back against the chair Tom had been sitting on and propped her legs up, the heels forgotten on the ground.

“Afternoon to you too, Lauren” you sighed, turning in your chair to move closer to her, leaning your head against your hands. “Yes, I’ve slept well and no, thank you, everything is fine and I don’t need anything. What about your day?”

“Answer the question, Y/N”

That was how your relationship with Lauren went. You had known her since you were kids, and you used to play in the backyard of her house. While you were happy with your actual position in the enterprise, she was aiming higher; and that was probably the reason why you were still good friends. It felt nice to have someone to talk to in such a boring place.

“You mean when was the last time I slept with someone?” you asked, glad that was the topic and not the ‘aggressively nice’ suggestion of getting Tinder.

Lauren nodded, before looking around your desk and taking a sweet that you kept on a bowl. She unwrapped it and threw it over her mouth, perfectly. Then, smirked at you, still waiting for your answer.

“Why would you like to know that? New curriculum trait?”

“I’m just trying to be a good friend” she shrugged, and you quirked an eyebrow in amusement, knowing most of the times she said that you ended up taking one of the worst decisions of your life. “I mean, you look stressed. You’ve locked yourself away in here for days on end, and you haven’t made much progress…”

“Hey!” you frowned, offended. Even if it was true that half of the room was full of papers and the screen mostly showed errors and half-finished documents.

“You need to unwind. Let it all out. Breathe, and get laid. Really, you must relax” she smiled at you, voice weird because of the sweet traveling through her mouth.

“Don’t people usually suggest a bubble bath for that sorta thing?” you said, smiling.

“I didn’t say where you had to get laid, just that you had to” she chuckled, winking at you.

“Ew, no” you gagged.

Truth was, you hadn’t been really lucky lately with love. You had had a few boyfriends here and there, some guys of just one night stand. But that was all, because you had everything you needed; work, friends, social life and happiness. And you had Tom Holland as your best friend and crush, so you didn’t have time to focus on boys; not that any of them would be worthy against the British boy.

“What about Tom?” Lauren asked, gaze lazily focused on the window. Cars passed by, people run. The world was still spinning, and you blushed as if you were the centre of it.

“What about him?”

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

You shook your head quickly, turning the wheeled chair away from her and back to the computer. Before you had time to reach it, her hand with her perfect painted nails gripped it and pulled you back. She had you in front of her with her inquisitive eyes in a second.

The question was simple. Had you fucked with him? No. Would you like it? Well, dreaming about it more than once was enough reason to think yes.

“It’s not like that” you shrugged, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Like what? A girl likes a boy, they fuck, they have a good time and finally the girl can be relaxed. I’m sure you’re getting where I’m going”

“Lauren, is not like that!” you repeated. “I-Tom only sees me as his sister. We share everything, we are best friends. Nothing more”

“Though you would like that to change?”

There was a pregnant pause when you swore you were in a TV show. Where a lot of eyes were on you and a bright light was aiming to your face. Lauren seemed to see that it was an off limit topic even for her, so she patter your knee and started talking about other thing.

You kept talking about your problem with sex for nearly an hour, in which Lauren showed you at least twenty candidates from her Tinder profile. Tall, short, blondes, brunettes and even bald. She seemed to have a special notebook on her desk where she kept all the names of the boys who she had been with, who, frankly, were a lot.

“Sorry to break it to you, but even the boss has to work” you said, mouth full of vanilla cookies. Lauren had opened the box fifteen minutes ago and barely the crunches were left.

“Guess so” she yawned, getting up. “I’m only going back because Darren of the next table was thinking about inviting me to dinner”

“I don’t know why I keep being friends with you. I could just pay a whore and she would probably be nicer”

“Focus more on being a little bit like me, Y/N” she said, walking to the door. “You’ll need it!”

“I hate you!”

Lauren winked at you one last time before she sauntered out of the room. You sighed and shook your head at how ridiculous all of it was, turning your concentration back on the numbers in front of you.

At least, to you they were only numbers. They had to have some correlation, you had to do something with them; but you couldn’t focus on it because the only thing you were thinking about was that bubble bath, you between Tom’s arms and him doing all those things Lauren had said to you.

You blushed and hid your face against your hands, willing yourself to go back to the work you had been working so hard for a week.

Two tables with different equations, related with the incoming of that month and the previous one. The task, easy; find a relation and create a graphic to find solutions. Tom leaning over your lips, slowly, as his hand cradles your cheek. He closes his eyes, and his wet lips barely touching yours.

Also, there were more than one hundred photos of the last conference, where Lauren had given the opening speech. She had been wearing an incredible red long dress, and you had to select the best ones to be sent to the magazine. There is a bathtub on his apartment, one you had been in a lot of times; alone. Tom holding you close, naked chest against your back, hand caressing your thighs. He’s kissing your neck, hot breathing fanning over it.

Your co-worker had sent you his monthly sum up so that you could work on your own, still undone. It was due to the end of the week, but you had yet to open his email. You laying on top of him, grinding and making out on his couch. Tongue on your lips, hands on your ass, and sweaty skin against yours.

“I’m taking a break”

You pushed yourself up from where you had been hunched over the desk, leaning with a heavy sigh and stretching your arms. Taking your purse with you aggressively and praying not to find Tom in your way out, you closed the door and locked the office.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The corridors of your apartment seemed narrower than usual, and you felt jumpy and nervous; as thought, if anyone saw you, they would somehow read the guilt in your face from what you were about to do. You finally slipped into your room, quickly shutting the door behind you and breathing in relief in the safety of it.

You paused, then turned to face your room in thought for a moment. The decision had come to you as soon as you had shut the computer closed. You had a problem and had something to do with you. Thankfully, it was not really severe, since surprisingly Tom hadn’t been in the coffee machine when you  got out; if you had seen him, you were sure you would have just slammed him against the elevator.

Maybe you could try to put some effort into it, light a candle. Or make yourself feel good with the nice underwear Lauren had given you for your birthday last year. In reality, it was simply an experiment, a task you had to fulfil thanks to the hormones in your body blocking your brain’s full capacity. Lauren’s talk had gotten your mind into the darkest corners, and you couldn’t erase the image of Tom on top of you. Or under you. Wherever, as long as it was him.

It just another chore to complete. If you thought about that, perhaps you’d be less embarrassed about ditching work to masturbate about your best friend.

You moved to your bed, laying down in the centre of it and allowing yourself to be comfortable. Keeping your eyes closed, you allowed your hand to slip to the waistband of your black trouser, unbuttoning them and letting your fingers disappear under the underwear.

But they weren’t your fingers, they were Tom’s. Tom’s fingers, who were much larger than yours, and probably more experimented, found your clit and started rubbing it, creating the friction you had been dreading for. You bit your lower lip to keep the moans out.

Tom’s fingers teasing your lower lips, nails scratching them while one circled your entrance.

Tom’s finger being pushed inside of you, while his thumb gave the attention needed to your clit. He rolled his finger against your bud, he moved his hand against your mound, he made you pant for air, he-

-was standing at the door, with a wide mouth forming in a small smirk and eyes dropped to your slightly exposed panties.

“I didn’t expect that.”

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[lovelyysiriuss]

weak when ur around

*gif not mine

author’s note: HELLOOOOOOO Tumblr!! it feels so amazing to say that again, I used to write on this account 2 years ago under the username “lovelysiriuss” (basically my user without the extra “y”). but from not continuing with my writing and losing inspiration from it, I deleted my entire account. I had written so many oneshots that received numerous of positive notes along with followers. I was so sad and it’s one of things that I regret most since Tumblr is such a great community, especially for a Harry Potter lover like me. thankfully, I had transferred all those oneshots into a big fat book on wattpad that has over 15k views!! 

on that note, I will be continuing to write Harry Potter imagines/oneshots on this new acc of mine. this quarantine had made me realize how much I missed writing, even if it’s fanfiction. 

I'm so excited to be posting my first ever oneshot that I had ever written on my previous acc on this new and improved Tumblr account of mine! please, stay tuned for many many more Harry Potter oneshots of all your favorite characters. thank you, I love everyone in this community <3

MASTERLIST | ASKS! REQUESTS! TAGS! | SUBMIT ANYTHING!

PAIRING: Young!Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

PLOT: In which Sirius realizes he feels weak when he's around her, but not knowing what to do about it.

WORD COUNT: 1014

SIDE NOTES: inspired by the song “weak when ur around” by blackbear

        NO ONE IN A MILLION YEARS would believe that Sirius Black would go to the library. They would just laugh right at that person's face. Then once they have calmed down they would utter a simple sentence.

       The library and Sirius Black, are not a good combination.

       That was indeed true. Little did those people know that the only reason Sirius went to Hogwarts' library is to watch a certain girl he's been completely infatuated with for a few weeks, yet he has known her almost half of his school life.

       Y/N. God, even her name gave him butterflies. That's basically how whipped the dark-haired fellow is.

       He was currently watching her, well, "studying" the way that he puts it, it was fitting though especially since he doesn't actually study for anything; the way she bit her lip when she was concentrated, the way she absentmindedly raises her brow whenever she was thinking, the way she fluttered her thinly mascara-coated lashes so she can stop the sleep from taking over her body. The way how she was not like any other girl Sirius has ever come across.

       Sometimes he would see her in the common room, talking to a friend. The way she would attentively listen to what they had to say, the way she would engage in the conversation while sharing her opinions rather than just nod along like most girls that he knew would have the position to do.

       He has talked to her before. But when he did have the courage to, his palms became all sweaty, stomach churning, breath staggering.

       While he just smiled, licking his lips and biting them, chuckling nervously. Pulling off some sort of facade like he was "okay" when in reality he really did not know what that word even meant.

       However she just politely smiled, biting her lip. A habit she had when she was nervous. Perhaps she felt the same?

       One day when he just couldn't take it anymore, he decided to let all his feelings out to his best friend, James.

       "Prongs, you don't understand. I can't eat, I can't sleep, not without thinking of her!" His voice rising higher and higher with each word. But the question is, how could he not understand? Since he's been in love with Lily for the longest time, this was basically how he was feeling in his state of 'depression' for years.

       Sick of hearing Sirius' puppy-love for the girl he could just glance at and have her in his arms; while James has been chasing after the same girl for years and still has yet to get, James decided to pop the question Sirius was thinking about since he first felt this sensation, "Then why don't you tell her you love her!?"

       The silence was deafening in the room they were in. After the both of them have recoiled from their previous ruckus, Sirius decided to clear the air.

       With vulnerability, Sirius softly shook his head, "I-I can't. She doesn't fall for the bad boys. A-And she's hard to get, I've heard."

       James waved his hand, smirking. "Pish posh. You're Sirius Black! You could get a girl just by laying a finger on her and she's already on top of you!"

       Realization dawned on Sirius, his mouth gaping open. He is, in fact, Sirius Black, why has one girl taken away his one power? The one thing that he was good at doing? Pun intended.

       "Y-You're right! This is why I can count on you Prongs! I love you, man!" He was practically tumbling out of the room mid-sentence. Prongs chuckling as the raven-haired man left their shared room.

       Now he was trying to find the girl, who of which calls herself Y/N. When he fled down the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room, he saw her. Sitting on the couch, books sprawled out on the coffee table in front of her.

       Sirius couldn't look back now, growing a pair, he waltzed over to the flawless girl. She saw someone walking towards her from the corner of her eye, looking up she realized it was just Sirius. "H-Hey Sirius?" She greeted, quite questionable since he barely talked to her.

       "Hey, um... so what are you doing there?" Nervously running his hands through his jeans, to prevent his hands from sweating. Then sat next to his crush.

       The girl was completely confused. "Er-Just studying." She offered him a tight smile. "Okay, cut the crap Sirius, what are you really here for?" The girl voiced her own thoughts.

       He tried to laugh it off, giving it away. To which Y/N just looked at him oddly, he finally decided to come clean. "Y/N you don't understand, I'm totally weak when you're around. I get all nervous and fumbly around you, I've never been like this around any girl. To me girls were like socks, they get changed every day and/or week. But you, oh God you...y-you're different than any girl I have ever met..." He put a hand on her cheek, shocking her slightly to which she widened her Y/E/C eyes.

       "So will you please, for the love of Godric, go out with me?" He dramatically asked grabbing her hand, without thinking, and pulled it to his chest. She looked into his eyes, he had the most sensitive, loving, look in his stormy gray eyes.

       Being a bit daring, she leaned in capturing his lips onto hers. Molding together, fitting perfectly, she couldn't help but melt into him. This was a moment of bliss for the both of them. He was so in love with this girl.

       He knew it was cheesy, but he actually felt sparks and fireworks erupt within him.

       He was first to break the kiss, taking a long intake of breath the air was offering him. He broke the tension, "Is that a yes?"

       The Y/H/C girl looked at him, grinning from ear to ear. "Just shut up and kiss me."

[creek4lifeman]

One of those days

Here’s another Creek fic for you guys that I made art for.

Title: One Of Those Days Rating: T Pairing: Tweek X Craig Characters: Craig Tucker, Tweek Tweak, Mrs. Tweak Tags: Canon Complaint, AKA they’re in 4th grade, Craig POV, Mild Language, Mentions of Anxiety and Mental health issues, Coloring books, Fake Tattoos, Fluff, Dorks in love, One shot, Tweek’s parents are clueless, Art in fic Summary: Tweek is having a bad day and Craig goes to visit in order to be there for him.  Even if that just happens to be coloring and giving each other fake tattoos. 

Read below the cut

Craig knows it’s going to be one of those days when Tweek doesn’t show up to school. Craig’s used to it at this point, but it still never sits well with him whenever the desk next to him is empty. He’ll never admit it out loud, but it’s days like these that unsettle him the most and he finds himself missing the sound of his boyfriend trying his best to keep quiet or the way he can’t sit still to save his life.

It’s the consistency mostly, Craig tells himself or at least that’s the conclusion he’s come to. He’s just plain and boring Craig, who lives by schedule and likes to keep it that way. When Tweek can’t go to school, they don’t meet up at their locker in the morning so that they can hold hands to the cafeteria for breakfast and when that happens, well, Craig’s whole day is then thrown off completely.

The only constant on days like these are that if Craig doesn’t get detention, which chances of that are much higher on the days Tweek isn’t in school, then he immediately heads to his boyfriend’s house as soon as he leaves the building. 

Today, it’s Mrs. Tweak that answers the door.

“Well, hello Craig. Are you here to see Tweek?”

Of course he is.

No matter how often he shows up on days like these, the Tweaks always stare at him in awe when he shows up. Almost as if they wonder why Craig would show up when Tweek is like this. Which only pisses Craig off even more at how terrible his significant other’s parents are.

“Yes, ma’m. Is he okay?” Craig manages to ask between gritted teeth. He already knows what her answer is going to be too. But if it’s the best way to get permission to enter, then Craig’s going to put in the effort.

“Oh, he’s fine honey. Tweek’s just going through one of his usual fits. Nothing to worry about,” she says with her plastic smile.

Craig clenches his fist but carries on. “He is? Then can I go up and see him?”

Mrs. Tweak hestates, like she always does. As if she’s afraid to be caught in her lie. Craig doesn’t know why Tweek’s parents act like everything is always fine, when it’s not. Maybe they are ashamed of Tweek and his bad days. He will never know and maybe he’d have been turned away if he was any other person. 

But he’s Tweek’s boyfriend, and the Tweak’s absolutely adore Craig for making their only son a homosexual. As if Craig had any say in that. A gay son made Tweek more interesting and by that reasoning, made the Tweak’s more interesting. So now Tweek Bros Coffee gets more business and because of that Craig will always have special privileges, such as being invited in on a bad day

“Come on in Craig. I’m sure seeing you will make him snap right out of it.”

Mrs. Tweak opens the door wide and Craig has to pinch his leg to keep himself from snapping at her that it doesn't work that way.

Unlike the Tweaks, Craig has done his research on mental illness and while he’s come to accept that he can’t fix everything, It took him a lot of hard days to realise that as well, at least Craig knows a few techniques he can try.

Taking the steps, two at a time, Craig makes it up the stairs in no time. He reaches the room with a guinea pig poster, an anniversary gift from Craig, and knocks in a familiar song like pattern before opening the door. It their way of communicating to each other that they are visiting each other’s house. That and it prevents Tweek from panicking when the door suddenly opens.

“Nnnngh!”

His honey is bent over in concentration at his desk, a crayon in his hand sweeping across a booklet he doesn’t recognize. Tweek mutters for a moment more before screeching and tossing the yellow crayon across the room. 

Wild eyes turn to face Craig and it takes the boy only a few seconds to access the situation. Tweek waits for Craig to say something, anything. Craig knows better though. Tweek doesn’t need Craig to tell him everything is going to be fine. He doesn’t speak. Instead, Craig opens up his arms and it’s so worth it when his boyfriend smiles, even shakingly, and then throws himself across the room to wrap his arms around Craig’s neck in a warm embrace. 

“Hey Babe, I missed you in school today.”

“S-sorry Craig, I just couldn’t today,” Tweek groaned as he slumped further into Craig’s shoulder.

“It’s fine dude. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

It felt nice having his boyfriend in his arms. It didn’t exactly make up for missing him all day but it did come super close.

Tweek leaned back and reluctantly Craig let him go. 

“It was those damn underpant gnomes man! They kept me up all night trying to explain their profit system again and I-”

“Tweek,” Craig interrupted and after saying his name twice, his honey paused mid sentence to gape at him.

“Relax. You don’t have to explain,” he assured Tweek but then remembered that sometimes talking is exactly what Tweek needs, “..unless it helps?” 

“I-it does, but now it’s too much pressure to explain,” Tweek replied after taking a moment to consider Craig’s words. 

Craig didn’t pressure him though. Instead, he grabbed Tweek’s hand and led him back to the desk he’d been furiously working on. 

“Okay babe, then how about you explain what you were doing before I came in?”

Craig reached out towards the book spread open with different crayons littered all over it and saw that Tweek had been coloring in stars and planets. 

Is this…

“A space themed coloring book?” Craig ended up saying out loud.

“Y-yeah, I was trying to color before you got here. My therapist said it could help, b-but I can’t seem to stay in the lines."

True to his word, Tweek had gone off and messed up in some areas, but Craig didn’t care. He was too entranced by the fact that Tweek had doodled them standing together on a planet while holding hands. That and well, what’s more awesome than a space themed coloring book?

“C-can I have this picture when you’re done?” Craig practically whispered but there was no denying the need in his voice. He never wanted anything more this moment.

“What!?” Tweek shrieked, “Why dude? It sucks!”

“No it doesn’t,” Craig immediately defended the piece of work. It may not be perfect to Tweek but to Craig it was. “I like it, so I want it.”

“Ngh, I don’t know man...”

Tweek reached out for the coloring book and Craig let him have it. Not wanting his selfishness to lead to a panic attack In fact, he had an idea to help him convince Tweek.

“Then how about this, I color one for you and you finish coloring this one for me?”

Tweek’s eyes widened in shock before staring back down at the coloring book and pulling it close to his chest. “Oh jesus, you really want this that bad?”

Craig rolled his eyes at being called out like that but didn’t say anything to deny it either. “Don’t act like you don’t want one of mine either.”

“F-fine!” Tweek squeaked, his cheeks turning pink and a small smile crawling up his cheeks. “But you have to cut out the page so that I can finish and so that y-you can pick out whatever you want, man.”

“Okay.” Craig easily agreed. He grabbed the pair of scissors stored in the cup full of other writing utensils before carefully cutting out Tweek’s page. They each set up a coloring station, aka Tweek at his desk while Craig took the floor, with crayons, color pencils, and snacks that were brought up by Mrs. Tweak.

Craig flipped through the pages until he got to the center and found that there was a sheet full of space themed stickers. No wait, he was wrong. These were those fake tattoos that applied to the skin with water.

So cool!

Craig cut them out for later and continued searching until he settled on an awesome rocketship shooting through the sky. Immediately he drew a version of himself and Tweek in the window. It wasn’t as great as his boyfriend’s depiction of them, but it would have to do. After that, he picked up a blue color pencil and began to fill in the area around the ship to make it look more like outer space.

After a couple of minutes, Tweek stopped what he was working on to turn to Craig.

“Thanks…”

Craig paused as well to stare at his boyfriend. Unsure of what exactly he was being thanked for. Maybe his confusion is written all over his face because Tweek continues.

“For coming over to color with me.”

Oh.

Craig tried his best not to smile.

“No problem, honey. Is it helping?”

Tweek swiveled back towards his page to avoid facing him with what Craig assumes is another blush on Tweek’s face before nodding towards the wall.

This fills Craig with joy as they spend the next couple of minutes coloring in a peaceful silence.

That is until he hears his boyfriend groaning again in distress. It starts off with a couple noises here and there but then it turns into full on frustrated growling after ten minutes.

“Babe? You okay?”

Craig looks at his boyfriend in concern, only to see him snapping a purple crayon in half.

So, not okay.

He gets up and calmly collects the broken pieces from Tweek’s hands and places his free palm against his boyfriend’s cheek.

There’s tears in those emerald eyes and it immediately makes Craig’s heart fall.

“What’s wrong honey?”

Tweek shoves the paper as far away from him, almost practically ripping it in two before glaring holes in the now bare table in front of him. 

“I just can’t gah get the color to look right dammit!”

Craig frowns before using his palm to turn Tweek’s head to face him.

“Alright, then how about we take a break and come back to it later?”

Tweek blinks at him before replying.

“And do what?”

This time, Craig doesn’t hold back his smile at the adorably curious but pouty look his boyfriend gives him.

“How about we give each other Tattoos?”  

Tweek screams.

“Craig! We can’t ngh give each other tattoos! We don't know how or have the right tools! What if I get ink poisoning? That’s a thing right? Or worse! Infected!”

Wait what?

Craig is at a loss of words until it hits him what Tweek is actually talking about. 

Real tattoos.

He literally has to grab the tattoo sheet and show Tweek what he means in order to get him to calm down. When he finally understands that the tattoos are fake, Tweek takes a deep breath and stops shaking so hard.

“All better, babe?”

“Y-yeah.” Tweek stutters as he takes the sheet and looks over the options. “You want to wear these?”

Craig scoffs, “Uh yeah, they’re space themed. Of course, I do.”

Tweek giggles before pointing at a space helmet tattoo. “You should do this one.”

“Because I’m Spaceman Craig?”

“Yep,” Tweek nods before reaching for his scissors to cut out said tattoo. “Where do you want it?

“Hmm, how about on my face?”

“Okay!”

Tweek stands up and leads them to the bathroom so that they can wet a towel with warm water to use as a compress and make the tattoo work. As soon as they are done with Craig’s, the helmet comes out perfectly, it’s Tweek’s turn.

“Can I pick yours?”

“Uh maybe?” Tweek says sounding unsure, “What were you thinking?” Craig looks over the sheet before settling on a rocket. Just like the one Tweek keeps in his room and points at it.

“That one.”

Tweek smiles before agreeing and points to his own cheek so that Craig knows where to place it.

They go back and forth, placing fake tattoos on each other until Tweek points at a pair of stars and suggests, “We should each get one in the same place to match.”

It’s cheesy but it’s also the most romantic thing Craig’s ever heard of and he agrees without missing a heartbeat.

They both decide to wear their matching star in a place that can’t wash off so easily. This just happens to be on their upper arm. 

They spend the rest of the day covered in tattoos and coloring. When Craig has to go home and shower, he makes sure to avoid rubbing off the star tattoo.

When the next day comes and he finds Tweek at school showing off the star tattoo to Token, Jimmy and Clyde, Craig can’t help but feel a swell of pride in his chest and the hope that one day in the future they can get a permanent matching one.

End