#yes it is basic scan and move controls and reading text but it just works

[virtualcamelselfies]

In Other Waters 💦🤿

[throughthetulgeywood]

The Power of Literacy: A Means to Control

Literacy is, and always has been, a cornerstone of personal and collective power. When I reflect on this, I think about the sheer transformative potential hidden within the basic ability to read and write. These are more than just skills—they’re gateways to independent thought, self-expression, and, ultimately, the freedom to shape our own destinies. Yet, as history constantly reminds me, those very gateways have been fiercely guarded or slammed shut by those looking to keep control. This isn’t ancient history either; these tactics are alive and well in various forms today. Let’s plunge deeply into how restricting literacy has been wielded to keep people in check, examining the tactics, the motivations, and the very real impact on countless lives.

The Denial of Education to Marginalized Groups

If there’s one strategy that never really went out of style, it’s denying entire groups meaningful access to education. Slavery in the American South is a classic—and sobering—example. I can’t help but imagine the courage it took for enslaved people to seek out secret lessons in reading and writing, all while knowing that discovery could mean whippings or worse. Denying literacy wasn’t just about stopping revolts; it was about keeping people mentally shackled, making it nearly impossible to communicate revolutionary ideas or aspire to life beyond bondage.

Move northward and forward in time, and we see women routinely excluded from formal education across Europe and North America well into the 19th and even 20th century. When I scan through accounts of pioneers like Mary Wollstonecraft or Malala Yousafzai, I feel the tension between a yearning for knowledge and a society determined to say "no." And it’s not limited to the West or to the past—across the globe, marginalized ethnic or caste populations have faced systematic exclusion. In India, Dalits were historically denied the right to read religious texts. In South Africa under apartheid, the government’s Bantu Education Act deliberately kept Black students' education inferior to maintain economic and political dominance. Each of these cases reminds me: illiteracy is rarely an accident, but more often a tool to cement disparities and maintain the rungs of the social ladder.

Censorship of Information: Controlling What People Know

Another weapon in the arsenal of control is selective censorship. Book burnings and banned manuscripts might strike some as relics of a wilder past, but the urge to control information is timeless. The Nazi regime’s infamous book burnings are shocking in their brazenness, yes, but are sadly not unique. During the Cultural Revolution in China, vast libraries of historical literature were destroyed, while individuals who clung to forbidden texts faced imprisonment or forced labor. What chills me is that the intent is always the same: erase inconvenient narratives, narrow the mind, and stymie the questioning spirit.

It’s easy to think this is just something authoritarian governments do, but even democratic societies have grappled with waves of censorship. The Comstock Laws in 19th-century America made it illegal to send “obscene” literature—in practice, this law censored everything from contraception pamphlets to literary works by James Joyce. Today, some governments continue internet blackouts and block access to websites they fear might threaten their political stability. I’ve read about countries where textbooks are rewritten to gloss over ugly truths or omit uncomfortable facts. The net effect? An uninformed, compliant population whose vision of reality fits snugly within whatever bounds the powerful set.

Suppression and Silencing: Literacy as a Gatekeeper to Resistance

Suppressing dissent is a close cousin of censorship, but with a more personal twist. If you can keep people from learning to read in the first place, you don’t have to worry about them writing pamphlets or leading movements. This is why, historically, activists and outspoken reformers have often found themselves the targets of literacy crackdowns. The more I study figures like Frederick Douglass or Nelson Mandela, the more I notice this thread: their transformation from illiterate to literate marked the beginning of their ability to challenge the systems keeping their people down.

In modern times, the targeting of ethnic minorities through educational discrimination remains prevalent. The Rohingya population in Myanmar has long been denied formal education, cementing their exclusion from civil society. And in Afghanistan, girls’ schools have been repeatedly closed by groups seeking to “restore” traditional control. Each instance is a chilling testament to how education (or the lack thereof) can determine not just one’s present, but the entire arc of a community’s future.

More Modern and Global Examples

Let’s not fool ourselves into thinking the digital age is a magic fix. In fact, the explosion of online content has made digital literacy just as vital as traditional reading and writing. I see state firewalls in places like North Korea or Iran, where youth grow up with tightly filtered versions of world events. Even in advanced democracies, algorithm-driven echo chambers and disinformation campaigns muddy the waters, creating a populace that—while technically “literate”—may lack the tools for genuine critical engagement.

And it goes deeper. During recent protests in Hong Kong, activists distributed physical pamphlets to circumvent digital crackdowns and reach those without internet access, a reminder that literacy remains fundamental to organizing resistance. Meanwhile, in many countries, indigenous languages are excluded from formal education, effectively shutting communities out of civic life and eroding cultural identities. The links between literacy, voice, and community pride are, to me, perfectly clear.

The Ongoing Battle for Universal Literacy

This brings me to a conviction that shapes everything I’ve said so far: fighting for universal literacy isn’t just about teaching people to sound out letters. It’s about making sure everyone has the power to interpret their world, to challenge official stories, and to imagine better futures. Every time I encounter a new story of someone overcoming barriers to literacy—whether it’s a girl walking miles to attend school, or an adult learning to read in midlife—I’m reminded that each act of reading and writing is an act of defiance against engineered ignorance.

For a society to thrive, it must make literacy free, accessible, and protected from those who would wield it as a weapon of exclusion. Otherwise, we’ll always be fighting the same old battles, just dressed up in new clothes. Universal literacy is not a luxury; it’s the first step toward building a world where everyone has a voice, and no one is left in the dark deliberately.

[michiieewrites]

THORST COLLAB: Bakugou - Starving till I tasted you

A/N: First: IF YOU’RE UNDER 18, BEGONE FROM MY BLOG SINCE I WRITE MATURE CONTENT!! This one has been sitting in my documents for almost 2 months now. This week inspiration finally struck me once again tho!

This fic is actually a Thorst Collab between my lovely friends & I on Discord. I’m the first one to post mine, so I can’t wait to see what the others will write!

Now.

STRAP ON YOUR SEATBELTS CAUSE THIS MOTHERF!@#$%CKER IS 4.2K+ WORDS LONG

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If someone told you a year ago that you would have enough money to pay off your student debt, buy your dream apartment, help out your family and friends, move abroad and drive in a ’67 Chevrolet Impala, you would’ve died laughing at the joke.

You told yourself it was stupid, buying that lottery ticket. But here you are; $100.000.000,- on your bank account. A young and now rich Omega in her prime. After making sure you had spend part of it wisely, you made sure to live the rest of your life on interest alone.

The first month had been nice. Decorating your new place, going out for dinner every day, getting a new wardrobe, spoiling yourself silly. You got new nesting materials, softer blankets and bigger pillows. It felt nice. Until it didn’t anymore. It started to feel pointless and empty. You felt like you were becoming one of those people that flaunt their money and that isn’t the type of Omega you are.

So here you are. Sitting in your peach colored dress and a numbered paddle in your hand. Tonight, you attend a charity auction. The charity was a rehabilitation program for criminals who want to get back on the right path.

The auction items aren’t exactly… items. They’re Pro Heroes. People could bid on having a date with some of the most desirable Pro Heroes, Alphas, Betas, Omegas, all of them. Even No. 1 hero Deku and No. 4 hero Red Riot are up for auction, both being Omegas.

One of the last dates are being auctioned and you realize you have been zoning out. Not having bid anything yet, you put up your paddle.

“Going once, going twice… SOLD TO NUMBER 917 FOR TONIGHT’S HIGHEST BID OF $300.000,-! A date with explosion pro hero Ground Zero!”

Oh lord. Yes! You got- wait… You got actually got it? You won a date with Pro Hero Ground Zero. Wasn’t he the one with the explosion quirk? Impressive power and always capturing the villains. What separates him from Deku is his social skills. Or lack thereof, to be more precise. Ground Zero isn’t really the type of hero to stick around the people he saved to see if they’re okay.

On top of all that he’s also an Alpha. Highly sought out by Omegas who want a pup, but not the Alpha. His genes are what people want, not the man himself. His personality also making it harder for people to approach him. And you just won a date with the most desired and aggressive Pro Hero Alpha there is.

“Oi!”

The voice behind you pulled you from your thoughts. The subtle scent of caramelized candy apples caught your attention. You turn around and find a handsome Alpha standing there. Arms crossed, cardinal red eyes watching you and his lips in an almost angry looking pout. This is the man you just bought yourself a date with.

“H-hi!” you manage to stammer out.

With a huff, he places a card on your table. You pick it up and see that it’s a business card from Ground Zero’s agency. At the bottom, writing in sleek handwriting, is a phone number. You look back up at him, ready to ask him why he gave this to you. But he’s already turning around and heading for the exit.

“Just contact me when you wanna plan that date things.”

And just like that, you had Ground Zero’s personal phone number.

 ~ A few days later ~

 You’re sitting at a small booth, sipping on your matcha latte. You were a half hour too early, so you decided it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and order a drink before Bakugou would arrive. In his very first text he made it clear to call him ‘Bakugou’ and not by his hero name. He said that it would feel too much like an interview otherwise. In return you told him to just call you ‘Y/N’.

After some back and forth texting the last couple of days, you two agreed to meet up at a local coffee shop. Not a lot of people know about this shop. It’s small and the interior looks more like cozy living room than a flashy coffee shop. It was your favorite place to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee, tea or like right now, matcha latte.

Neither of you had any set plans for the rest of the day. Just kind of going with the flow seemed like the way to go. This would give you the freedom to hopefully have a quiet ‘date’. But you can’t really know that for sure when the person you’re on a date with is a Pro Hero.

The sound of the bell above the front door rings. You look up and see him walk in. Sitting all the way in the back, you can’t even smell him scent. Weren’t Alpha’s supposed to have very strong scents? Maybe he’s on suppressants?

He scans the shop, probably looking for you. His eyes land on you. He walks over and sits across from you. He leans back against the chair and swings his right arm over the arm rest while the left one is resting on the table. His eyes trail down from your face to the drink in your hands.

“I see you couldn’t wait for me to arrive,” he gruffly says.

“Uh-uhm, yeah. Sorry, I was super early. I hope you don’t mind.”

The silence that spreads between you two makes your Omega feel uncomfortable. Something doesn’t feel right and you’re starting to think that the Alpha in front of you truly doesn’t want to do any of this. So, to make it a little more bearable for yourself, you pump out a small amount of calming pheromones. Just to take the edge of this meeting.

Bakugou keeps looking at you. Until he finally picks up the menu card and says: “It’s fine. It’s your day, after all.”

He was right, you figured. But you still wanted him to have a pleasant time today too.

And so the day continues. The conversation isn’t very lengthy or deep. You discuss basic things like work, hobbies, favorite food. After a while the conversation kind of dies down. You suggest you two head out and into town. The man in front of you doesn’t seem overly thrilled about it, but still agrees.

When you go up to the front to pay, you hear him quickly walking up to you. He pulls your arm back. Surprised, you let out a small sound of shock and look up at him. A confused look is on his face and he pulls his hand away from you.

“The heck are you trying to do?”

Confused, you say: “Uh, paying?”

“I see that, but why? Omegas don’t pay when they’re with Alphas.”

Wow. At first you didn’t know how to respond to this remark. True, Omegas usually aren’t the ones paying on dates. In the past an Alpha would go out and hunt for their Omega. Since the hunting days are over and many Omegas work nowadays, treating them on dates are a way to show the Omega they can provide for them.

“Well,” you say as you hand over the money to the Beta barista behind the counter and thank him, “I don’t know about other Omegas, but I’m perfectly capable of paying for drinks too. I can provide just as well as any Alpha.”

You two walk outside and turn left to head into town. You’ve been meaning to go to the bookstore and hopefully find some new reading material. Two birds, one stone, right?

“Tsk, should’ve known a rich Omega like you doesn’t like to be told what to do,” Bakugou mumbles to himself.

You stop in your tracks. What? Was that really what he thought of you? A rich and snobby Omega?

Realizing you’re not walking beside him anymore, Bakugou turns around. Your head is bowed in shame. Normally your scent smells like peaches and hazelnuts, but now it turns into that of rotten fruit. You feel called out. For winning the lottery, for treating this Alpha to some drinks, for basically buying yourself a date with someone who clearly wishes to be anywhere else but here.

Your voice shakes, but you gather all your courage. “I’ll admit I was given a lot more financial freedom recently. And yes, I don’t like being told what to do. I believe everyone should be treated equally, regardless of their second gender. But I have never in my life asked for something. I was taught to work hard, to help people and to help and reward the people that help you.”

You pick up your head and look him straight in the eyes, politely smile and say: “I’m sorry you had to do this. This isn’t really how you planned your day would go. You can go, if you want to.”

As you pass him, determent to still go to the bookstore, you feel a weight being lifted from your heart. It really is unfair to the Alpha to make him go on a date with someone he doesn’t like. Deep down inside your Omega whines sadly. She recognized a good and safe provider in the Alpha, one who isn’t driven by hormones to just get an Omega pregnant. One who isn’t controlled their Alpha status. Too bad his Alpha isn’t interested in the Omega.

“Fuck, crap- wait! Shit!”

The cursing Alpha quickly catches up to you. He stops in front of you, holding up his hands to halt you. “Okay, fuck-just… let me explain.”

You cross your arms at him and wait for him to continue.

“Okay, so… Listen, I’ve been a real dick to you. Not just today, but basically since that charity event when I gave you my card. It was wrong of me assume anything about you. Shit Y/N, you’ve been nothing but nice to me. You don’t mind carrying the cost of a date, you’re not flaunting it around town that you’re spending time with a Pro Hero, you put up with my shitty responses and that isn’t how you should be treated. Or anyone for that matter! You deserve a proper date. So just, maybe I can make it up to you?”

By the end of his apology, Bakugou practically gives you angry puppy eyes in an attempt to ask for forgiveness. He reminds you of an angry Pomeranian. Smiling, you tell him that you forgive him. This day is supposed to be a fun one.

“But! You’ll have to carry the books I’ll buy as a punishment. And just so you know, I always come out with two shopping bags,” you tell him.

Bakugou just grins. “Fine. They’ll probably weigh nothing for me.”

Something in the air changes. A little sniff of your nose helps you identify the change. The scent coming from the Alpha next to you is slightly peaked. You heard that when an Alpha is preening their scents get stronger. You hardly think that’s the reason. Maybe it’s just because he’s in better mood now. Whatever the reason, you find yourself agreeing with your Omega; it’s a very nice scent.

 ~ An hour and a half later ~

 “I’ve never met someone who spends over an hour inside a bookstore!”

“I told you when we came in that it could take a while,” you reply to Bakugou’s complaints.

“You do this with nesting stuff too? You know, blankets and shit,” he asks.

In both his hands, Bakugou is carrying a bag containing close to twenty books you can add to your bookcases back at home. Even underneath the sleeves of his hoodie you can see the muscles of his arms. He’s not as bulky as Pro Heroes Deku and Red Riot, but those muscles are pretty impressive. You bet your money that those thighs could squish a watermelon. You can practically feel the water filling your Omega’s mouth. She wants nothing more than to chomp down on those delicious shoulders. And honestly, you wouldn’t mind that either.

You remember you were asked a question. “I do. How else am I gonna know I made the right choice? All of those blankets and shit, as you put it, go in my nest. I’m at my best with a perfect nest.” A confident smile forms on your face and from the corner of your eye you can see Bakugou looking at you. A small smirk creeps up on his face.

While enjoying our little banter, you both failed to notice the Alpha towards the two of you. Until he opened his mouth. “I bet I can make your nest even better, little Omega.”

The other guy stops right in front of you, completely ignoring the Alpha next to you. You’re shocked and take a step back to create some distance between you again. But the guy doesn’t let up and steps closer again.

“No, now get lost,” you firmly say. This wasn’t the first Alpha-asshole you encountered.

“Awh, why the sour face, baby? Bet I’ll be more fun than the hedgehog here.”

“Oi, asshole! She said to get lost.” The smells of pheromones of two Alphas are dominating the air. The strongest one being the creepy guy, Bakugou’s not so much. You honestly confused on that point. With an Alpha as desirable as Bakugou, you truly expected a stronger scent.

You can’t help but release your own distressed scent. The tension is getting to you. Even other people noticed and are stopping to see how this plays out.

The creep briefly looks at Bakugou before returning his attention on you. “Come on, baby. Ditch this  guy and then you and I can have our fun. What do you say?”

He extends his hand to put it on our waist and before you know it, you slap his hand away and punch him in the face. He stumbles back while cupping his now bleeding nose. Screaming in pain and shouting names at you. He’s beyond pissed; punched by a fucking Omega!

The adrenaline is pumping through you and every instinct in your body is telling you to run. Hide. Find an Alpha to protect you. You’re frozen on the spot. Your mind shutting down.

That’s when you feel a hand tugging you away. Your Omega recognizes the person this scent belongs to. Caramel candy apples. Bakugou.

You don’t know where he’s taking you. Your mind still processing things. All you know is to follow. ‘Cause he’ll lead to safety. Alphas keep Omegas safe. Follow. Safety. Alpha.

By the time you get to take in your surroundings, you realize you’re in an office. An office? What are you doing here? You look around and see a wooden desk with a black leather chair. A small bookcase, a closet and a couch with coffee table. A puffy black rug is covering the wooden floor, complimenting the one black wall behind you. The other walls are a tinted orange color.

The scent hanging in this office is… comforting. Soothing. Safe. You’re safe in here.

You’re seated on the couch. Wrapped in something soft. A blanket. A big, fluffy and soft blanket. The scent is even stronger on the blanket. You slowly inhale, imprinting this delicious mix of sweetness. After a couple seconds you finally notice the man next to you. Bakugou grins as he sees your focus shifting to him.

“I take it the blanket is approved,” he jokes.

You slowly nod. This small little cocoon makes you feel less vulnerable. Just like the presence of Bakugou next to you. It feels right. “Where are we?”

“Oh yeah, fuck. We’re at my agency. This is my office.”

You’re confused. “Your office? Why? I’m sorry, I kind of… froze. Can you tell me what happened afterwards?”

The smile that spreads on his face makes you feel funny inside. “What happened?! Y/N, you punched that fucker right in his fucking face! Shithead had it coming, tho. You just beat me to it. Omega or not, you know how to fight.”

You two look at each other and burst out laughing as you think back to that glorious moment. The creep definitely didn’t see your punch coming. It feels good to know the man next to you thinks you’re a decent fighter. He seems to actually be enjoying your company. Maybe he’s one of those people that are careful with who they get comfortable with. It feels good to know he feels like he can relax a bit more around you now.

You jokingly nudge him and say: “I bet I can even take you on, you big grump.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow is raised, grinning with his canines on display. “Prove it then.”

Knowing a challenge when you see one, you keep your eyes fixed on his cardinal ones and slowly lean in closer. Baring your neck to the side in submission to lure in his Alpha. Your Omega is very pleased by the motion. Just as he moves to lean in too, you throw the blanket in his face, grab his neck and shove him down on the ground. Stradling him and jabbing your elbow into his side, pressing your nails into the skin of his neck.

Smiling down at the man below you; “How’s that, Alpha?”

A short lived victory as he snarls and the two of you roll over, with Bakugou keeping you pinned underneath his weight. He may not look like it, but this man weighs a ton!

“If you’re trying to be a worthy opponent, why not call me by my first name? It’s ‘Katsuki’,” he breathes heavily atop of you.

Next to your ear you hear a low grumbling sound. Still seeing this as a playfight you laugh and reach back. Your fingers finding pressure points in his neck, making him let go of you. This gives you the chance to overpower him again and straddle him once more while holding his wrists above his head.

Victorious once again, you look down. Growling and teeth bared, the air around you growing thick. The smell surrounding you hits you like thunder. The caramelized candy apple scent overwhelming your senses. Your eyes travel down to his neck and see something you failed to notice before; gland patches. Patches to block someone’s scent from becoming too noticeable. That’s why the other Alpha smelled so much stronger. But now, now you’re drowning in it. You can pick up on rage, possessiveness and… arousal. As much as he’s growling and snarling at you, you know that he’s enjoying this too.

Chuckling at you, he cranes his neck. His face now closer to you than a moment ago. “I’m pretty sure I just got my ass handed by the most perfect Omega.” His words push through the alarm bells his instincts are sending off. His Alpha is not pleased about being pinned down. But as it takes in the Omega’s scent of peaches and hazelnuts, it can’t help but lie down and surrender itself to this tasty smelling Omega. An Omega that can fight back. An Omega that can hold him close. An Omega worthy of carrying his pups.

His Omega.

Before either can properly get out any words Bakugou has wrestled his hands free and grabs a hold of your hips while your hands pull his face closer and seal the distance between your lips. The taste of sugar coated apples is even stronger on his lips and you can’t get enough of it.

His fingers press deeply in your skin, kneading the flesh. His hips pushing upwards while holding you in place. The low rumbling sound in the back of his throat being accompanied by your mewling. You wanted more of him, your Omega needed more.

The Alpha makes his displeasure heard. You both part to breathe in fresh air. His lidded eyes are on fire and following every movement you make. Your hands slip down to his collarbones and settle on his shoulders. The path of your hands make Bakugou throw back his head. His body is pressing into yours desperately, like he has no control over it anymore. His growling increases in volume.

Through gritted teeth he manages to speak to you. “Fuck, Omega. What are you doing to me?”

Taking a leap of faith, you answer: “I don’t know. All I know right now is that I need capable Alpha to take care of me. Are you that Alpha, Katsuki?”

Before you can even blink, you’re being rolled over again. This time you’ll let him have his way. His hands are sliding their way up to your chest, grabbing the front of your shirt and tearing it apart. You try to protest, but you’re stopped by the warning growl of his Alpha. You lay back down and occupy yourself with running your fingers through his hair. Your gently massage making the Alpha let out a content sound.

Entranced by the man above you, you hardly even notice his onslaught on your clothes. And his own clothes. Getting those replaced will be a worry for later, your Omega decide. All you need to focus on right now is Katsuki. You want this Alpha to mate you and it needs to happen right now, or else your Omega just might perish on the spot.

That’s when you feel it. The hard and heavy feeling of his cock rutting itself against your core. Your body can’t help but react to it and release a good amount of slick. Katsuki’s mouth nipping along your collarbones as your bare you neck in submission. You feel his fangs graze your scent glands and you start to whimper desperately.

“Fuck, Y/N. Keep making those pretty noises,” Katsuki says.

“Yes, Alpha, yes. Just-ah shit! Just fuck me already!” you loudly exclaim.

Now who is Katsuki to deny such a nice plea from such a good Omega?

Wasting no time, he slides himself inside. The stretch making you cry out for more, deeper, more, anything he can give you. You just know you need more. Barely able to hold himself back from ramming himself inside and fucking you like you’re in a heat, he takes his time for your to fully take him in. A sigh of satisfaction leaves you both when he finally does.

Your legs wrap around his waist and try to pull him deeper in. Your fingers curl around his spikey locks and tug harshly to get him moving. Grunting, Katsuki finally complies. Being buried inside you sends him into over-drive. You feel too damn good around him. He feels too good inside you as he sets in a brutal rhythm. You’re pretty sure no other man could ever make you feel this good. No other Alpha could ever please your Omega ever again. Feeling his body slam into yours like his life depends on it is possibly the best feeling in the world. Your lungs are sending out a mix of his name, pleas for more, for him to go faster.

Katsuki can’t help it, he can’t stop himself anymore. He need to do this, he needs you, his Alpha needs to mate your Omega. Give her everything she wants and all that she’ll take. Only the best for his Omega, he will be worthy of giving her pups.

You can feel the base of his cock starting to inflate. His knot. His knot is growing. As soon as you notice, you start to claw at his back. A need filling you till the point you’re almost bursting.

“Alpha! Knot, please- Alpha, knot me- I need- Need your knot, Alpha!” you scream in desperation.

He wants to. Oh, he wants to so badly. But in the back of his mind there’s one braincell left that tells him that now is not the time nor the place. His Omega deserves better.

“You deserve better than to be knotted in my office, Y/N,” he moans, “please give me a chance to give you something better one day. I’ll be the best fucking Alpha there is!”

You love the sound of that. Something better. Somewhere in the future. A future with Katsuki. “Yes, Kastuki! Only you, you’re the only Alpha, please, I’m so cl-“

The moment he sinks his teeth into the flesh just above your collarbone, you’re send into a world of blinding lights and exploding fire. His name keeps falling from your lips. The waves of fire keep pulsing through your body.

The tight grip around him becomes too much for Katsuki. He needs to pull out or else he’ll knot you for sure. When he you keep chanting his name, he pulls out and covers you in thick, long, white streams of his cum. Covering you in his seed, marking you as his in an obscene, but beautiful way.

“Look at you, perfectly covered in my cum,” he pants.

You preen at the compliment. A content scent is released. The smell of a happily fucked Omega. Katsuki could get addicted to this smell.

With the shredded pieces of clothing he cleans you up. He pulls the blanket you discarded earlier over you both as he lies down next to you. Your tired and warm body cuddles closer to him. He drinks in your scent a you purr softly.

“What did you have the blanket for in your office?” you ask with a yawn.

Katsuki looks down at your half-asleep face. A smile forms on his lips as he gently kisses the top of your head.

“I kept it for my future mate.”

Tagged: @reinawritesbnha @thots4daze @hipster-merchant-of-death @aizawascumslut @strawbirb @ravenfeet222 @sailor-manga @yanderart @league-of-villians-headcanons

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s field trip part 2

March 7th

Peter's POV

I woke up peacefully to Friday playing Highway to Hell and telling me it was 6:30am and I needed to get up for school. Concerned for Wade's sleeping I quickly told Friday to be quiet and that I was up, I obviously didn't want to wake him at such a cruel hour.

Stumbling out of my room in a sleep filled haze, almost walking into the door frame and tripping over my shoes, I made my way to the kitchen to find Pops trying to cook breakfast and silently arguing with Thor who put his hammer in front of the fridge yet again, Loki really is a bad influence on the God.

"Uncle Thor please move the hammer so I can have breakfast. Please." I requested giving him my puppy dog eyes knowing he can't resist them.

With a small grunt Thor moved his hammer and set it on top of the kitchen counter out of people way. Pops sent me a grateful look before pulling eggs, milk and cheese out of the fridge to make Captain America's famous omelette. I smiled slightly and moved to sit on one of the bar stools at the island counter and watched slowly as all the Avengers plus Loki, T'Challa and Shuri were woken up by the amazing smell. All but my boyfriend who could probably sleep through an earthquake, hurricane and tsunami all at once. It's a gift.

-1 hour later-

After breakfast I got ready to just come back here, grabbed my back, kissed my now awake boyfriend goodbye, hugged my Dads goodbye and made my way to the car with Happy prepared to take me to school. On the way Happy gave me a lecture on how I was basically representing Dad and SI so I should be on my best behaviour. It was boring and in all honest, I'd heard it before on the field trip to the zoo we have last month, that didn't end well in all honesty. It's better left saying some monkeys escaped and it totally wasn't my fault.

"Right Kid. We're hear, I'll pick you up tomorrow from here so message me when you're on your way back to school." He told me, I could tell he was going to miss me but I could also tell he was looking forward to the extra one hours sleep he was going to get tomorrow from not needing to drop me off.

"Bye Happy. Tell everyone I'll miss them. See you tomorrow and I'll give regular update and text you if anything happens." I told him before exiting the car and walking up to Ned who was waiting outside the bus ready for me.

"Hey man. You looking forward to the surprise field trip?" Ned asked as we stepped onto the bus.

"Not really. I'm gonna miss everyone at the tower. Wade arrived last night as well so I'm not gonna see him for like another two days." I sighed as we sat down next to each other in the middle of the bus.

"Hey penis. I know what the field trip is and you're gonna be in so much shit." Flash tainted as he passed us.

"Steve wouldn't be happy with your language." I mumbled so only Ned heard. We both giggled a little but everyone was soon quietened down by Mrs Robbins shouting at us.

"Okay so before we leave we must take role call to see who's here." She explained and started reading names off of her sheet. Everyone responded with a simple yes miss and everything was going well until she got to my name.

"Patricia Parker!" She yelled and looked directly at me. I simply ignored it and continued to stare out of the window until she shouted it again louder.

"Come on Penis just answer. Don't try and stall this." Flash huffed from the back of the bus.

"Fine. Peter Parker is here." I told her emphasising the work 'Peter'.

"What ever." She grumbled going back to role call.

-30 minutes later-

As we were driving I noticed a lot of places, it took a few seconds until it finally clicked as to where we were going. Stark Industries. Over night. Oh dear.

“Right kids. We're going to be there in roughly 5 minutes so please get you begs sorted, make sure your areas are clean and you have everything with you." Mrs Robbins told us from the front of the bus.

"I bet you'd recognise this way from your internship, if it was real." Flash sneered as if it was going to affect me.

Soon we pulled into the visitor parking lot and exited the car. I was slightly shaking with anxiety especially when Happy and two other security guards, Johnson and Stone (I don't know their first names) walked over to us and started running through the security guidelines.

"And finally and type of bullying or intolerance towards anyone inside this building with not be tolerated and the person doing it will be kicked out immediately. That could be in 10 minutes or at 2:00 in the morning. It will not be tolerated." Happy finished giving me a look that said 'I know something you don't know I know'. Shit.

"Okay now that that is out of the way with, follow us." Happy said leading us inside the lobby of the building by swiping his security card.

“Okay we're gonna give you all access passes. These are the lowest of the 10 levels you get get so basically all you can use them for is the toilet. We have a strict no re-printing policy and a display policy. In other words you must always have your pass on display on your outer most layer of clothing, if it's lost then you will be searched and escorted out of the building if it is not found. Let that be a warning to everyone." Johnson explained as Stone started handing out the passes, glossing over me, Ned and MJ of course, until everyone had them.

Me, Ned and MJ all had to pull out our avenger themed cards. Mine was half and half Iron Man and Captain America cause there my dads. Ned's was a combo of everyone's as he couldn't decide which one he preferred. MJ went for Nat cause MJ liked the fact that she, and Pepper, could control all of us and was the only girl original Avenger. MJ admires her as a icon for women.

"Okay everyone scan your passes as you walk through the scanner like this." Stone demonstrated as he scanned his pass and walked through the scanner with his hands out.

"Logan Stone. Security level clearance:8. No unauthorised items." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice announced.

"Now all of you do it." Happy instructed.

Everyone started going through the scanner, Flash being the most smug as his level 1 clearance was announced, until it got the the final three. Me, Ned and MJ. MJ decided to go first, F.R.I.D.A.Y announced her name, level 9 security clearance and the fact she had no unauthorised items with her. Next was Ned, F.R.I.D.A.Y announced his name, level 9 security clearance and the fact he had no unauthorised items. Next was me, I was dreading it.

"Come on Patricia, just admit your internship is fake now and save us all the trouble." Flash shouted over everyone making Happy stop and glare at him. He was about to make a move towards Flash but I put my hand out and stopped him.

"Just leave it Hap. He's not worth cancelling whatever Dad's got planned." I told him in a low voice trying to be unheard.

"He says one more thing and I'll knock him out." Happy threatened.

"I have no doubt you will." I sighed and decided I stalled enough. I quickly scanned my card and walked through the scanner with my hands up like everyone else.

"Peter Stark-Rodgers, level 10 security clearance. No unauthorised items. Mr Stark-Rodgers has already been informed of your arrival. Thank you for using the front entrance." F.R.I.D.A.Ys robotic but slightly sarcastic voice announced.

The tour started off normal. One of the actual interns, Owen, greeted us and me separately. We were quite good friends as he was one of the people to help me when Wade asked me out, I will be eternally grateful to him.

"Okay, our first stop on this tour is the avengers museum. You will be allowed to take photos but please refrain from touching anything as they could activate. Everything thing in this room is the real deal except a few things. We will also be trying to lift Thor's hammer in this room with him there of course." Owen explained. So, this is where Dads plans begin.

We walked into the museum and was greeted with 3 main area. Original Avengers, later added Avengers and Avengers associates. Then, I saw a red and blue display. Spider-Man has his own display IN THE LATER ADDED AVENGERS SECTION. Did this mean Dad wanted me to be an Avenger? What's going on? Did Fury know about this?

Ned grabbed my hand and led me to the display cases where I saw my old suit and computers next to replicas and photos of my current ones. This is so cool.

“Spider-Man is the latest mighty hero to join the Avengers in their mission to protecc the Earth and Asgard. Spider-Man has been described my many to be funny, witty and charming. He the only Avenger to have not revelled his identity yet but we are sure he will in due time. Fun facts about Spider-Man:

He is afraid of Spiders ironically,

He's a complete Daddy's boy,

He made his first suit himself,

He lives with Tony and Steve Stark-Rodgers,

And finally, he can rival Tony Stark-Rodgers levels of Sass." Ned read from the information

I silently groaned at the second fun fact knowing full well Dad was just trying to boost his ego. Oh well, it's kind of hard not to be true.

"Oo Penis Parker checking out the exhibit on his 'friends'." Flash sneered putting air quotes around 'friends'.

"Right, come along people. We have an exclusive lecture with Dr Banner on Gamma radiation and how it affects the human body. Everybody make and orderly que and and we can make our way there." Owen informed and instructed.

We all qued up with me and my friends at the back and started to walk towards the elevator to go to Bruce's lab. Once we found ourselves outside of the lab the reality of the situation set in, we're going to be talking to my Uncle Bruce. While no one in the class knows he's my Uncle and I'm with my Bully and Transphobic teacher. I dread to think what's about to happen.

"Okay kids. Be very polite and respectful, we don't want a code Green." Owen instructed before knocking on the door and waiting for Bruce to open it as Owen didn't have high enough clearance to open the door.

After a minute of waiting and no sign of Bruce Owen knocked again but to no avail. I knew that Bruce was working on a new project last night so it's highly likely he's asleep so I stepped forward, security card in hand and swiped it for entrance.

"Peter Parker, access granted." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice sounded from above the door way.

I opened the door slowly and saw Bruce asleep on the couch. Motioning for everyone to give me a minute I creeped into the room to gently wake him up.

"Uncle Bruce, you have to give my class a lecture. Uncle Bruce wake up." I said softly and gently shook him awake.

"What? Peter? Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Bruce asked slowly sat up.

"I'm on a field trip and you're supposed to give a lecture to my class. They're all outside but you fell asleep." I informed him.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. Ask them to give me a minute and I'll be mostly ready. Thanks Pete." Bruce replied scrambling to clean up a little bit and get sorted.

"He'll just be a minute." I informed my class while exiting the room waiting for Bruce when I heard Uncle Clint shifting in the vents. Oh no, this has been planned.

“Hello Midtown. Sorry for the delay, life of a stressed scientist. I'm sure most of you know what that's like. Come in, take a seat and please excuse the mess." Bruce greeted and opened the door wider for us to enter.

We all shuffled into the highly cluttered room and sat down in one of the fold out chairs set us in the centre of the room infront  of three dry erase boards. Uncle Bruce started his lecture but I soon tuned him out as I had heard it all before.

"Peter!" Clint yelled popping his head out from the vent with a grin on his face.

"Barton." I said in a monotone voice to hopefully convey my disinterest in whatever he was planning.

"I was asking if I could go into your room to borrow some silly string. Tony fucked with a few of my arrows and I'm not happy about it. I was literally shocked!" He shouted the last sentence making me wince and cover my ears.

"Yes you may but only one can. I need the rest for Loki cause he's the only one out of all of you that hasn't had a string attack yet. Hopping to change that soon." I informed.

"Cool. I'm taking the blue one. Bye, see you later." He waved before disappearing back into the vents and crawling away.

"He has this all planned doesn't he?" I asked Uncle Bruce signing slightly.

"Sorry kid." He smirked and continued with his lecture despite people only being focused on gawping at me.

Soon after that his lecture was finished and we moved on. Owen took us to a more general development lab where people started their testing to see if it was possible and worth perusing. As soon as we entered I was greeted with Shuri running towards me and hugging me tightly.

"Shuri, you literally saw me last night. Why are you hugging me so tightly?" I asked smiling slightly.

"I still missed you. Brother has been boring but these labs are very interesting, still they would be more so with you here." She told me pulling away and looking at my astonished class.

"Hello children of Midtown High School. I am Shuri Princess of Wakanda and this is my brother, the king." Shuri introduced smiling at everyone's shocked faces.

"I can introduce myself sister." T'Challa told her.

"Now you know how I feel." She told him smirking before walking off to see one of the experiments happening in the room.

We looked around the lab for a little while, I helped a few people with equations and how to improve their testing. Shuri and I shouted memes and vines at each other from across the room. Flask and Mrs Robbins glared at me any chance they got.

"Right Children, it's time for lunch. You've been privileged enough to have lunch on the level 7 balcony right near the landing pad. Please be calm and sensible and respectful of the employees eating there." Owen explained and lead us up to the eating deck.

Once there I immediately noticed Uncle Thor and Loki waiting around the corner obviously looking for me. They truly planned this. Anyway, me, Ned and MJ all walked over to an empty table and they took out their lunches when I noticed I left mine in the kitchen this morning. Shoot.

"Peter!" I hear Thor yell as he and Loki walk around the corner with his arms out.

"Hello Thor. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked jokingly formally.

"Does one need a reason to visit his favourite nephew?" Thor asked bringing me into a hug, possibly crushing everyone of my ribs in the process, while Loki stood awkwardly to the side.

"If your all going to embarrass me can I ask you a favour in return?" I asked the brothers.

"Of course Peter! Anything for my nephew!" Thor all but yelled and clapped me on the back.

"Yeah, I left my lunch on the kitchen counter today. Could you possibly run up and get it for me please." I requested when a flying object fell from the sky.

My lunch.

"YOUR WELCOME!" I heard Sam yell from above us.

"THANKS BIRD BRAIN!" I yelled back at him and sat back down as the table, Thor and Loki soon following.

"Peter, I was wondering later if you could help me with my magic. I've been trying to work on my long distance aim and I think you'd be the perfect person to practice with." Loki asked shyly, he still isn't comfortable with all of us yet but he's made loads of progress.

"To hit or to avoid?" I jokingly asked earning a slight laugh out of the giant.

"To miss. I'll place the object I want to hit next to you and 'throw' a spell at it. If you're next to it it gives me more motivation to not hit it." Loki explained.

"Yeah sure I'll do that. What time were you thinking?" I asked.

"Well, you're class is staying the night and tomorrow day so maybe we could find time tonight or tomorrow night." Loki said making me realise my entire class has witnessed this entire encounter. For frick sake.

"Peter!" The deep voice of Bucky yelled from the doorway to the balcony.

My entire class looked in shock as I hugged good bye to the Gods and James 'Bucky' Barnes walked over to me with a bag and an apron saying 'Kiss the cook' on it. Once he was within range I could smell the contents of the bag. White chocolate and caramel cookies. My favourite.

"I made cookies and thought you might like some while they're hot." He explained handing me the beg witch I immediately accepted and took a cookie from.

"Thank you Uncle Bucky." I said but it was muffled by the whole cookie I shoved into my mouth. Classy.

"Hey you said you'd wait for me!" I hear my boyfriend shout appearing at the doorway and running towards me with his arms spread.

"I said I was leaving in one minute and you could come if you wanted. I never said I'd wait for you cause I know how long you can take." Bucky complained to Wade who crushed me into a hug and kissed my lips briefly.

My entire class and teacher were stunned at this point. Every single jaw, except Ned and MJ's, was on the floor. When Wade kissed me I could faintly see from the corner of my eye my teacher so red and angry. Close minded female dog.

"I've not seen you all day how are you?" Wade asked pulling away.

"I'm fine, you saw me less than a few hours ago. Not much changed." I told him smiling a little and pulling him into another kiss. I did this to annoy my teacher but mainly because I just loved to kiss my boyfriend. Sue me.

"I know but anything could happen while I'm not there. I love you too much to allow anything to happen to you." He said to me after a solid 40 seconds of kissing.

"Right well, I'm gonna go back upstairs. Wade, you can stay with Peter as long as you keep your hands to yourself." Bucky warned before walking off back into the tower and Me and Wade sat down with me on his lap.

After a few minuets the shock wore off and people started whispering and pointing at me and Wade. Nothing I didn't expect if I'm honest but it's a lot more annoying than I thought it would be.

“I love you Wade." I said putting my head on his chest and eating my cookies.

"I lub you too Pete." He responded making me giggle a little. "And you're ass that will be mine tonight." He whispered seductively into my ear and gently grabbed my ass.

"You two make me want to be sick." MJ joked making a disgusted face at us before continuing with her lunch.

"Right everyone, we have ten minutes before we need to move on." Owen warned.

To be continued...

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Fifteen Minutes After

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

Rating: EXTREMELY T

Summary: "It felt like a challenge. And the answer was no. Carlos absolutely could not handle whatever was going on right now, hence why they were about to walk into his home and do whatever it was you did with a one night stand you picked up at the bar."

A/N: "Yes, I recall the fifteen minutes after we met." Since we didn't get to see any of those fifteen minutes I have filled in the blanks. Episode tag for 1.01. Huge shoutout to @bluenet13 who basically deserves a co-writer credit at this point because I literally can’t post without her.

Read it on AO3

Captain Strand’s son was…not a good dancer. Carlos had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as he watched the other man attempt to shimmy and follow along with the steps. It was adorable. Incredibly, wonderfully adorable. And no matter how bad his hip shaking was, Carlos still found him incredibly attractive.

Also, he should probably introduce himself so he could stop referring to him as ‘Captain Strand’s Son’. “I’m Carlos, by the way,” he said as they turned to the left and then to the right.

“T.K.,” he said, flashing him a ridiculously cute smile.

T.K.? Well that was different. Carlos would have pegged him as more of a Ryan or a Chris, but T.K…he liked it. He liked him a lot. 

“Does that stand for something?” he asked, kicking out his feet in time with the music.

“Yep.” T.K. gave him another sassy smile that said he would probably have to work to get the answer. 

The dancers turned to face the back wall and Carlos turned with them. When he turned back he found T.K. checking out his ass. His eyes slid up to meet Carlos’ and he didn’t look in the least bit sorry to have been caught. “Like what you see?” Carlos asked, flashing a smile of his own.

Like what you see? Who the hell was he tonight? Carlos was a confident guy, but he wasn’t usually so cocky with people he’d just met. His mother had raised him with manners. All of which had apparently gone out the window the second he got an eyeful of T.K. Strand.

“Not bad,” T.K. said, his eyes full of laughter and…a little bit of desire? Maybe? Was Carlos reading that right? God, he’d been out of the dating game too long, he couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Not bad?” he repeated.

“You heard me,” T.K. said with a smirk. 

Carlos felt himself growing tongue tied. Yet another thing that didn’t typically happen. He was a controlled guy. Confident. Not falling all over himself over a guy he’d known for all of five minutes. What the hell was wrong with him?

“It’s just kind of hard to tell,” T.K. said leaning close to him, “with your jeans on.”

If Carlos had been sipping a drink he would have choked. As it was he missed a step and nearly stumbled into the woman next to him. “Sorry,” he apologized as the song ended and the crowd shifted around him.

By the time he looked up again T.K. had moved back to the bar, but his eyes were still on Carlos, who found himself walking toward him as if pulled by a magnet, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He absolutely had not come here tonight looking for a hookup. He’d just come to hang out with Michelle. He hadn’t even thought about the hot firefighter from the call earlier. And he definitely hadn’t been hoping he would see him again sometime.

He was halfway back to T.K. when his path was blocked by Michelle. “Hey you need a drink?”

“Uh, no, I’m good,” Carlos said, looking past her to where T.K. leaned against the bar top, a smirk all over his face, clearly having clocked the situation. 

Michelle peered at him closely. “You okay? You look a little flushed.”

“What?” Carlos snapped his eyes back to her. “Yeah, yes, I’m fine. It’s just hot in here.”

His eyes found the bar again, but T.K. had disappeared and Carlos felt something akin to panic as he scanned the room trying to find him. Which was ridiculous. Because they didn’t even know each other. At all. 

“You sure you’re okay? You’re acting strange,” Michelle said skeptically.

“I—yes.” Carlos caught a glimpse of T.K. headed out the front door. “I’ll be right back.”

Michelle called something after him but Carlos was already gone, pushing through the crowd to the front of the Honky Tonk. 

The night air was cool against his burning cheeks as he searched the parking lot for T.K. “Well fancy meeting you out here,” said a voice to his left and Carlos pivoted to find T.K. sitting on top of the low porch railing that ran along the front of the building, half hidden in the shadows.

“Are you leaving?” Carlos asked, trying to keep his tone casual even as desperation filled him. He didn’t want this man to go. For a thousand reasons he couldn’t even explain.

“No, I was waiting for you,” T.K. said, taking a step forward. 

Carlos’ breath left him in a rush and before he could even think he was moving, crashing into T.K., lips seeking, hands fumbling.

It was intense. T.K. tasted like spice and mint and a little bit of smoke. And Carlos wanted more. So, so much more. He was used to being the one in control, but T.K. met and matched his every move, parting his lips, hands sliding under his shirt, bodies bumping up against each other.

Carlos moved to T.K.’s neck and smiled when the other man let out a groan, his fingers fisting in the fabric of Carlos’ shirt. His hips bucked against Carlos’ and Carlos made an appreciative noise of his own. 

His heart was pounding so hard in his chest it was almost painful but he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. He just wanted more and more and more.

It wasn’t until he felt T.K.’s fingers on his belt buckle that a tiny sliver of reason managed to worm its way through the screaming haze of his libido. He pulled back just a little bit, his breathing so ragged it was like he’d just run a marathon. He felt almost dizzy with want and lust. “Wait, just, hold on,” he rasped.

T.K. made a noise that almost sounded like a whine, but he allowed Carlos to take a half step back. “We can’t—I’m a police officer, I can’t hookup with you out here like this.”

“Are you sure?” T.K. asked, lips finding Carlos’ earlobe and Carlos felt his resolve weaken so much his knees almost gave out.

“I—yeah. I mean your entire crew is inside.” Another thought struck him and his eyes grew wide. “Your dad is inside.”

“Maybe we should get out of here then,” T.K. said, his voice low and full of sex.

Yes, yes, that was a thing you could do, right? They didn’t have to stay here, they could go somewhere else. “My place or yours?” Carlos asked.

“Yours,” T.K. said immediately. He seemed to realize he’d spoken too quickly and looked a little bashful. “I uh, I currently live with my dad.”

Well that was fucking adorable. How could this man be so cute and so sexy at the same time? It didn’t seem possible.

“No shame in that,” Carlos said. “I lived with my parents until I graduated from the police academy.”

How had they gone from pawing at each other to such easy and practical conversation? Carlos felt like his head was spinning. T.K. smiled and adjusted his shirt so he looked slightly less rumpled. “Just uh, just give me a minute?”

“Yeah, sure, of course, take your time,” Carlos said immediately.

T.K. looked him up and down and let out a breath, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He disappeared inside and Carlos took a second to try and unscramble his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and texted Michelle. Heading home. Headache.

Seconds later a text came back. Really? Okay. Feel better.

Of course she wouldn’t be suspicious. Because Carlos never took guys home. Ever. It was a rule. A big rule. Not something that he did. Until tonight. Apparently tonight he did. Oh god, what was he doing?

He was about three seconds away from hopping into the Camaro and driving away as fast and as far as he could when T.K. reappeared, all smiles, his hair still mussed from Carlos’ fingers just minutes before. “You good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Carlos said. “Yeah let’s go.”

If Carlos had been worried about the twenty minute drive home and whether it would be awkward or a mood killer, he didn’t need to be. T.K. was charming and easy to talk to. He kept the conversation flowing so easily that Carlos felt like he’d known him for years rather than minutes.

“So you have any weird roommates I need to know about or anything?” T.K. asked as Carlos turned onto his street.

“No,” Carlos said. “No roommates. I live by myself.”

“Interesting. Are you sure I’m not a serial killer or something? Isn’t it a little dangerous for you to take me home like this?”

Carlos chuckled. “I’m a cop T.K.”

“Oh, so you think you can handle me?”

It felt like a challenge. And the answer was no. Carlos absolutely could not handle whatever was going on right now, hence why they were about to walk into his home and do whatever it was you did with a one night stand you picked up at the bar.

Carlos glanced over and looked him up and down. “I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

The butterflies were back as they walked through the front door. He was completely out of his depth and trying hard as hell not to let it show. He tried to remember everything Adriana and Francesca had told him in vivid, explicit detail about their own one night stands, but everything seemed to have left his brain except for T.K.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he turned to lock the front door. “Water or—”

Before he could finish, T.K. was on him, lips against his, hands in his hair, hard and hot and intense. And for all his nerves, now that the moment was here, Carlos didn’t hesitate, grabbing T.K.’s ass and pulling his hips into his own. It felt like his whole body was on fire. Appropriate since the man he was currently making out with was a firefighter.

It seemed like T.K.’s hands were touching him everywhere at once, tangling in his hair, gripping his waist, sliding across the planes of his chest and stomach, and Carlos couldn’t get enough of the way his fingers moved so tenderly across his skin. 

Carlos’ own fingers were making quick work of the buttons on T.K.’s shirt. “Is this okay?” he managed to ask.

T.K. nodded, letting his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed, breathless as Carlos pressed a kiss to his chest for each button he undid. He was holding back a little bit, trying to gauge T.K.; what he liked, what he didn’t, although, so far, it seemed like T.K. pretty much liked everything. “My bedroom’s upstairs,” he mumbled against T.K.’s skin. 

“Okay,” T.K. said, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get there, grabbing Carlos’ face and lifting him so their mouths met once more.

His hands moved to Carlos’ belt and this time Carlos didn’t protest as T.K. undid the buckle and then moved onto Carlos’ jeans. He paused briefly, eyes meeting Carlos’. “Yeah?” he asked, searching for consent.

“Yeah,” Carlos replied and T.K. wasted no time undoing the button and the zipper, pushing his jeans down until they hung low on his hips.

Carlos wasn’t sure how they made it up the stairs without dying, both of them half undressed, falling all over each other. When they finally reached his bedroom he felt desire burn down his spine so hot and fast he could hardly stand it. He steered T.K. toward the bed by his hips and gently pushed him down. “Oh so that’s how it is?” T.K. asked with a laugh as Carlos pulled his shirt off.

“Yeah, that’s how it is,” Carlos said as he climbed onto the bed. “Do you think you can handle it?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” T.K. said with a grin.

Time seemed to slip away and before he knew it, it was the early hours of the morning. T.K. was up and pulling on his clothes. “You can stay, you know,” Carlos said, shifting in the bed. “If you want. It’s late.”

“You don’t do this a lot do you?” T.K. asked with a smile.

Carlos barked out a laugh. “Not really.”

Never would be more accurate, but T.K. didn’t need to know that.

“I gotta say I’m surprised. A guy like you,” T.K. let his eyes wander appreciatively over Carlos’ body, “I can’t believe everybody in that bar wasn’t trying to take you home.”

Warmth flooded through him. Was this bliss? It wasn’t love. For sure. You couldn’t fall in love after one heated make-out session and a couple hours of mind-blowingly good sex, right?

“I already called an Uber,” T.K. said. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “This was fun though. We should do it again sometime. Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number.”

Carlos reached for his nightstand but came up empty handed. “I think my phone’s in my pants downstairs.”

T.K. grinned, clearly remembering exactly how those pants had come off. “Do you have a pen?”

Carlos managed to find one and T.K. took it, then reached for Carlos’ hand, carefully writing down his cell number. “Don’t lose it,” he said with a smile.

Carlos would have it tattooed onto his skin if necessary. 

T.K.’s phone buzzed and he looked down. “That’s my ride. No don’t get up,” he said when Carlos began to rise. “I’ll lock the door behind me.”

He leaned over and pressed one more burning kiss to Carlos’ lips. He turned when he got to the doorway, biting his lip and eyeing Carlos critically. “Very nice.”

“What?” Carlos asked in amused confusion, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

“Your ass. Now that I’ve seen it, I can say for sure, it’s very nice.”

T.K. grinned at him and then vanished down the stairs. Carlos snorted and shook his head. He wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but whatever it was, he’d liked it. A lot. And he really hoped they would do it again.

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

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

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap. 

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?” 

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more. 

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public  in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.” 

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to. 

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that. 

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.” 

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.” 

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.” 

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.” 

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list. 

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.” 

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.” 

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face. 

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.” 

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together. 

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge. 

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it. 

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain. 

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?” 

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch. 

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.” 

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels. 

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you. 

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?” 

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip. 

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.” 

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch. 

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again. 

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew. 

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later. 

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made. 

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.” 

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it? 

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy. 

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.

[sequinsmile-x]

In Sickness and in Health

It was part of their vows, but they had been caring for each other long before they were married.

Part of the Glittering Mica series.

Read it below the cut, or on a03

Let me know what you think! 

The first time he sees her when she’s sick is when she’s been back from Paris for a few months. She wakes up in the morning feeling awful, her whole body feeling heavy and sore. Her head was pounding, and the light from her cell phone screen as she drops Aaron a text letting him know she won’t be in only makes the pain worse.

The day drags. She spends it between her bed and the bathroom floor as she struggles to initially keep even painkillers down. By the evening she feels slightly better and moves to the couch, the siren song of trashy tv to soothe her weary soul too much to ignore.

She has only just settled down when there is a knock at her door. She groans and considers just leaving it, hoping the person on the other side would go away eventually.

“Emily? It’s Aaron.” His voice travels through the door, making her sit up faster than she should have done, making her head spin for a moment.

She stands and walks over to the door, where she pauses when she takes stock of what she must look like. Hair thrown up into a bun, the shorter hairs falling out and sticking to her neck. A pair of leggings and an oversized FBI t-shirt, stained with god knows what. She thinks she might just talk to him through the door, and convince him she’s ok so he can go home. But he’s seen her at her worst. He’d seen her lying on the floor of a warehouse with a table leg through her stomach. He’d visited her in her hospital room when pain was still lacing throughout her entire body, wrapping around her like a snake, as she cried when he told her as far as everyone else was concerned she was dead.

She sighs and opens the door. “Hotch?” She sniffs, her voice cracking from misuse and the abuse to her throat that day from coughing and throwing up. “What are you doing here?”

He looks concerned, eyebrows furrowed together in a way that always made her stomach flip in a way she pretended she didn’t feel. He lifts up a plastic bag, a takeout from the place that does her favourite soup coming into her view. “I brought you soup.”

Her stomach flips again and she knows it’s nothing to do with the sickness that's been following her all day. There was always something between them, just simmering below the surface. Emily knows in another lifetime, maybe in one where they both weren’t so broken, they could have been something beautiful.

She smiles and steps aside and lets him into her apartment. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well.” He turns back and smiles at her, an eyebrow quirked in her direction. “You aren’t well known for looking after yourself.”

Her protest dies on her lips as he guides her to the couch, tells her to sit whilst he prepares her soup for her. He makes fun of her for only having one bowl, but eight wine glasses, the tone to his voice soft and kind.

Aaron sits next to her and they chat whilst she eats, and she knows he is staying just to make sure she does. Once she’s done the energy feels like it seeps out of her, and she feels herself start to drift off, her couch cushion feeling suspiciously like one of his suit jackets.

She wakes in the morning in her bed, a note on the pillow next to her in his scrawl, telling her to take another day and that he will be back that evening too.

It makes her smiles sadly.

They really could have been something, _____________________

She gets a stomach bug when they’ve been together for three months. She tells him to stay away, doesn’t want to pass it on to him, but he ignores her like she secretly hoped he would. He uses his own key to let himself in, and leans down over her couch to press a kiss to the top of her head in greeting, a small chuckle escaping him when he sees she is watching trash tv.

He places the container of soup on her kitchen counter. “Do you want to eat yet?”

She groans, almost gagging at the thought of eating. “Oh god no.” She pulls the blanket she's got over her tighter around her body.

He walks over to her, places a hand on her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

She hums, eyes closing at the touch of his skin to hers. “I’m hot all by myself, Aaron. You should know that by now.”

He laughs, fully rounding the coach and staring down at her. “Sit up for a minute.”

Emily glares at him but does it, immediately grateful when he sits down and drags her upper body into his lap. She looks up at him. “This feels familiar. Although last time I didn’t have my head in your lap.”

They’d never spoken about it, never acknowledged those two days when he looked after her all those years ago. A passing moment between friends who could have been more. And now they were. He traces her jawline with his thumb and smiles at her. “No, but you did fall asleep on my shoulder.”

She opens her mouth in shock. “No I didn’t.”

He laughs at her indignation, cups her face in his hand. “Yes. You did. You drooled on my jacket and everything.”

She scrunches her eyes shut and groans. “Oh god, Aaron, that's so embarrassing.”

“You’re my girlfriend, sweetheart. If you can’t drool on me, who can you drool on?”

“I wasn’t your girlfriend then.” She grumbles, grabbing his tie and playing with it in her fingers. “You were my boss and my…” She drifts off, unsure how to explain it. Not sure what they really had been back then.

“We wasted a lot of time.” He says, a sad look on his face that always makes her heart ache.

“Yeah.” She grabs his spare hand, the one not cupping her face, and links their fingers together. “At least we have each other now.” _____________________

He falls out of the attic and scares the shit out of her, the loud bang as his body hits the ground reverberated throughout the house. She runs to find him, sees him sprawled out on the floor and for a moment he is worryingly still. Then he moans, loudly, sitting up as he cradles his head in his hands.

“Just so you know the ladder to the attic is broken.” He groans, attempting to look up at her but grimacing when he tries to move his head that much.

“Be careful, honey.” She kneels on the floor next to him, places one hand over the one he has on the back of his head, and the other on his thigh. “What the hell were you doing up there?”

“I was getting the Christmas decorations down.”

“Aaron...it’s early November.” She moves his hand off of the back of his head, winces when she feels a lump there. “It’s your birthday tomorrow.”

“We’ve always put the decorations up early. Haley used to love Christmas. She always put the decorations up on my birthday.”

She smiles at him, threads her fingers through his hair briefly, her adoration for him beaming out of her face in a way that she couldn’t control. His love of Haley, the way he kept her influence around for Jack, was one of the things Emily loved about him the most.

“Well next time, just for help ok?” She palms the back of his head gently and he winces again. “I think we should get you checked out, you could have a concussion.”

“No, I’m fine. I just need to get up.”

She rolls her eyes but stands up, offers him a hand he doesn’t take, his stubbornness coming through even though he clearly needed the help. He stumbles as he stands, his co-ordination off kilter.

“Ok.” She says, steadying him with a hand on each arm. “I am taking you to the ER and you aren’t arguing with me.”

She drops Jack a text when they get to the hospital whilst Aaron is getting a scan. She tells him not to worry, to have fun with his friends as planned for the weekend and that she will look after his Dad.

Two hours later they are home, Aaron with an official diagnosis of a concussion, and Emily with specific instructions from the doctor on how to keep an eye on him.

Aaron thought she would let it slide, her history of ignoring medical advice well known, but when he looked back on it he realised he should have known better.

She wakes him every two hours as instructed. The third time she does it he groans and switches the light on. She looks exhausted, tired eyes staring at him as she asks him basic questions to make sure his brain is still working.

“Em.” He interrupts her as she asks him if he knows what day it was. “I’m fine, you need to get some sleep. I do. Let's just sleep through until morning.”

She frowns at him, sits up in the bed to look down at him. Her sleep shirt slips down her shoulder, exposing her pale skin and he readjusts it for her, fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Aaron, I’m just doing what the doctor said.”

“Em.”

“No.” She says firmly, grabbing his hand and linking their fingers. “I don’t want to wake up in the morning and find that you can’t. I’d never forgive myself.”

He considers her for a moment, the raw honesty something he still wasn’t used to from her. He nods, regrets it immediately as the pulsing in his head gets worse, and leans forward to kiss her. “Ok.” He says when he pulls away. “But let's go to sleep. It’s only 95 minutes until you next wake me up.” _____________________

Emily gets horrendously drunk at her surprise bachelorette party.

Aaron had known it was happening, had kept the secret JJ, Tara and Penelope had sworn him to, and sent her off for what she thought was just a normal night out.

The furious text from her when she realised something was going on was evidence that she really had not known what was happening. She had been insistent that she didn’t want one, that she was too old for a night to celebrate the end of her single years. When all she really wanted to do was marry him and just be his wife.

When she gets home at 11.30pm, guided by a very amused and equally as drunk Tara up the porch steps, she is delighted to see him. Her eyes slightly unfocused with joy and alcohol as she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him in a way that makes Jack groan from where he is sitting behind them in the living room.

“I missed you.” She says against his lips, smearing the taste of tequila across his tongue.

He smiles at her, wide enough that his cheeks ache with it. “I missed you too.”

“You guys are disgustingly cute.” Tara says, turning around to leave their house. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Take me with you.” Jack pleads jokingly, getting a laugh out of Tara who closes the door behind her.

Aaron focuses his attention back on Emily, who sways slightly in his arms. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She smiles devilishly at him. “Sounds like a good plan Mr Hotchner.”

“Ok.” Jack snaps the book he was reading shut and stands up. “I’m going to bed.”

Aaron throws him an apologetic smile, but doesn’t hide his amusement well. “Night, Jack.”

He gets her up the stairs, her hands wandering the entire time, and he is quickly reminded just how handsy tequila makes her. He sits her on the bed, a kiss pressed to her forehead as he goes about getting her ready for bed. He changes her into her pajamas and takes her make off for her, wraps her up in their bed as he gets ready to get in himself.

She’s almost asleep by the time he joins her, eyes fluttering as she settles into his side.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” She slurs, words pulled apart by sleep and alcohol.

He kisses the top of her head. “I can’t wait either sweetheart.”

The next morning she feels horrendous and doesn’t cover it. She’s dramatic when she's hungover and he loves it, the only time she will all but demand he looks after her instead of trying to act like she didn’t need his affection.

He brings her water and aspirin. Sits with her wrapped up in his arms and strokes her hair until she falls back to sleep. When she wakes up she sees he’s been out and got her favourite breakfast from the cafe they go to frequently, with extra bacon and a cold brew.

They eventually move to the couch, cuddled up under a blanket watching old movies. Jack eventually joins them, makes some comments about Emily’s hangover that make her stick her tongue at him.

Aaron loves her, more than he ever thought was possible, and he wants to bask in it for the rest of his life. _____________________

Emily is in her office when she gets the call. An unknown number appearing on her cell phone screen was not unusual in her job, so she answers without thinking. “Agent Prentiss.”

“Hi, I’m calling for Emily Prentiss?” A woman’s voice comes down the line.

“Speaking.”

“I’m Sophie, I’m a nurse at St Sebastians. Your husband Aaron Hotchner was brought in an hour ago after suffering a heart attack.”

Her world narrows to the phone gripped in her hand and the sound of the nurse's voice. “He had a heart attack?”

“Yes ma’am. He’s in surgery right now, and will be out in the next half an hour or so.”

“Ok. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She clears her throat, tries to force the lump of emotion she can feel lodged there out of the way. “St Sebastian you said?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She hangs up the phone with shaking hands, grabs her bag and walks out the office. JJ stops her, a concerned look on her face and a gentle hand on her arm. “Emily, what's wrong?”

“I’ve got to go.” She tries to get by her friend, but JJ grips her arm, won’t let her move.

“Emily, what’s happened? You’re crying.”

Emily lifts her hand to her face and wipes away tears she didn’t realise were there. The rest of the team had gathered around them with looks on their faces that she hates. She takes a deep breath. “Aaron had a heart attack.”

JJ gasps. “Oh, Em.” She looks around at the team, a silent conversation that their boss doesn’t, and can’t, pay attention to. “I’ll drive you to the hospital, these guys can hold the fort here.” She watches as Emily opens her mouth, clearly going to argue. “You are in no state to drive. I’ll take you and keep everyone else updated. Let’s just get you to him, ok?”

Emily nods, relenting to her friend's demands. They leave the bullpen, words of support from the rest of the team chasing them out. As they get into the elevator Emily struggles to maintain her composure, more tears escaping past her lashes.

“We’ve only been married two months. I can’t lose him.”

JJ grabs her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You won’t.”

Emily doesn’t believe her until she is in Aaron’s hospital room, sitting on the edge of his bed with one of his hands caged in between both of hers. His warm skin and grumpy demeanor at being in a hospital loosening the tightness in her lungs.

This hospital holds bad memories for them, the actions of George Foyet still affecting their lives to this day. She remembers the feeling of finding him here all those years ago. When she first started realising her feelings for him were more than they should have been.

“Are you ok?” He asks gently, running his thumb over the back of her wedding and engagement ring.

She shakes her head at him. “You had a heart attack, Aaron. I don’t think either of us are ok right now.” She kisses him and then leans her forehead against his. “You’re going to listen to everything the cardiologist says, ok? I’m not losing you this soon after I got you.”

He nods his response and kisses her again. “Of course, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Her phone rings and she sees it is Jack calling her, desperate for an update. He was with Jessica and her father for the week at the family cabin. “It’s Jack, I should answer this.” He nods as she stands and exits the room, catching the start of her conversation with his son.

When they meet his cardiologist for the first time she takes a lot of incredibly detailed notes. He should have expected it, memories of her waking him every two hours when he had a concussion the year before flooding his brain.

She makes him take up running again, and goes with him despite it not being her thing at all. She insists he eats healthier, and makes Jack do the same, insistent that they were all going to do better.

Aaron gets frustrated at her once when they are at the grocery store when she throws the bacon he had just put in the cart back onto the shelf. She looks at him, long and hard. “I just want you around for a long time, Aaron. Is that such a bad thing?”

That, he realises, he can’t argue with. _____________________

When Elizabeth dies Emily has a delayed reaction. It takes almost a day for the tears to come, brought on by Jack’s kind words and reassurance, and once they start she cannot stop them. Grief for her mother, the only parent she had ever really known seeping out of her every pore, along with grief for the relationship they were never destined to have.

Aaron walks into their bedroom to find her curled up in their bed, body wrapped around his pillow, tears still streaming down her face. “Sweetheart.”

It makes her sob more, unable to deal with the unfaltering kindness he alway shows her. He settles on the bed next to her and cups the back of her head, pleased when she doesn’t shy away from his touch.

“What do you need?” He asks gently, thumb running back and forth over her temple.

She sniffs and looks at him through swollen, tear filled eyes. “Just you.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.” He takes his pillow out of her hold and puts it back in its normal place, laying back on it as he pulls her into his arms. He holds her tightly as she presses her face into his chest. She’s close enough that her sobs vibrate through his chest. He runs his hand up and down her back until she eventually falls asleep, his embrace providing her with the safety it always had done.

He doesn’t move all night, and she tells him off in the morning when he can barely move his back from the position he slept in. _____________________

In the end, when they find out he is dying, they look after each other. Tears and reassurance from them both as they try to come to terms that after all their time together, the twenty years they got as them, that it was coming to an end.

It would be easy for them to think they could have had longer. That if they’d got their act together sooner they could have easily had another decade of their love. Maybe had a child or two of their own.

They don’t think that way though. Any regrets they had about the past are long gone, a sense of acceptance and peace that this is what they got, and that it is far more than they ever thought they would have.

His last words to her were ones of love, and she knows if she had the chance to do it all again she wouldn’t change a thing. _____________________

‘Promise me, In sickness and in health, In agony and in joy, In fights and in love.

I would still have all of you, In every part of me.’ - Isha Gupta

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 280: I Am Red Riot

Previously on BnHA: The pro heroes over at Gunga Mountain struggled against Gigantomachia and the League until finally Midnight was all, “fuck it, let’s just put the kids in charge.” Momo immediately got to work organizing a sophisticated counteroffensive involving an exploding swamp, a bunch of sedative cans, and a massive coordinated team attack. I gotta tell you guys, it’s really something to watch a large-scale group attack in which all of the team members are actually competent. I don’t know what Japan put in the water when all these sixteen-year-olds were growing up, but that shit has paid off big time, and basically the only reason Machia hasn’t gone down yet is because he cheated and was all “sneeze” and the kids all got blown away because they are little and because he is really, really big. Anyway so then Dabi set the forest on fire because he loves doing that, and the chapter ended with Mina using her Acid Man attack to make herself FUCKIN’ FIREPROOF so she could charge through the woods ready to save the day and stuff!

Today on BnHA: Mina launches herself straight at Machia like the beautiful corrosive wild child she is, but then everything goes to shit when she recognizes him from that one time she almost got murdered while giving a strange man directions. Just when it’s looking like she might get killed for real this time, KIRISHIMA SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY AND SHOVES HER TO SAFETY AND IS ALL “BOTTOMS UP” AND HEAVES A LITERAL CAN OF WHOOPASS RIGHT IN MACHIA’S MOUTH. At this point the grown-ups are all “oh wow look at that, time for us to take over for you kids now, don’t worry we’ve got it all under control” because Oh Those Wacky Pros and all that, but at least Majestic finally deigns to show his face so that’s a plus! The chapter ends with us cutting back to the Jakku battle, where Tomura is curled up in a little ball all “curse you heroes, how dare you [checks notes] save people all the time”, which is a real take and a half. Anyway so things are looking up, which can only mean everyone is about to die. That’s how it works, right. Shit.

HOLY SHIT LOL

THIS IS MINA. SHE’S REALLY COOL AND SHE CAN MELT PEOPLE. um, the hell kind of tagline is that?? holy fucking shit?? “melt and succumb”?? IS THE SUCCUMB PART REALLY NECESSARY. IS THAT NOT ALREADY IMPLIED. it’s like saying “die and then perish”, which actually sounds really badass and I’m about to make it my new go-to threat actually so you know what never mind. where the fuck were we anyway

“IS EVERYONE SAFE” some absurdly bad-at-gauging-situations kid from class B is yelling while the forest is on fire and all the kids are recovering from having been catapulted fifty miles by King Dodongo’s windy yeet breath. of course they are safe, sweet child. of course everyone is absolutely fine, why the fuck would they possibly not be safe after something like that

KAMINARI NOOO MY POOR SWEET BABY

AT LEAST HE’S STILL CONSCIOUS ENOUGH TO MAKE STUPID JOKES. holy shit this baby got concussed to hell and back and then Machia turned him and the others into precipitation and he wasn’t in any kind of state to even try to land safely, I hope to god someone caught him

Sero is all “is there anyone still in range!” and damn, I like that he’s taking charge and trying to regain their momentum. he is so criminally underrated. I feel like he’s in the top six or seven of class 1-A kids who I would most trust to take charge. which is very high praise because that class has a lot of charge-taking kids

SPEAKING OF

it “probably” can’t get through her acid, she says. my god. sometimes the spirit of Plus Ultra just takes ahold of these kids and it’s like, I want to ruffle their hair proudly and then grab them by the shoulders and shake them vigorously because WHERE EVEN IS YOUR SELF-PRESERVATION WHY DO NONE OF YOU HAVE IT GODDAMMIT AIZAWA REALLY SHOULD HAVE EXPELLED YOU GUYS AFTER ALL

man. and yet I really do love this “be the one who can do it” stuff. what a heroic fucking attitude dfjfklks. I’ll just go put on my humongous sandwich board that reads GIANT FUCKING HYPOCRITE and go stand in the corner

damn it this week’s scan is annoyingly dark, it’s really hard to tell what’s going on but it looks like the pros are attacking Machia and the League at long last. way to go guys it only took you seven years but you finally hopped to it

MINA WHY IS THE ACID COMING OFF OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. PUT IT BACK!!!

I KNOW SHE’S NOT GONNA DIE DAMMIT BUT AHHHHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH

okay what the hell is up with these weird zen proverbs though

“your fear stricken heart”, “the shortest path”, what the fuck even is this. whose thoughts are these. normally these translations are honestly decent enough but I gotta say this time around I’m totally being thrown for a loop lmao

(ETA: FYI I’m only just now realizing that he was saying the shortest path to Master, as in Tomura, not “master” as in to master something fjkldjskf lol some delayed reading comprehension there. so basically he’s just bitching about how annoying these little “flies” are proving to be.)

JESUS CHRIST

okay is it just me, or is Gigantomachia suddenly showing intelligence in his eyes instead of mindless animal instinct the single most pants-shitting thing you’ve ever seen?!! holy shit. the way he just LOOKS at her out of nowhere all of a sudden?? holy fucking shit DO NOT HURT MT. LADY OH MY GOD I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. AND DON’T YOU DARE HURT MINA EITHER!! JUST FUCKING DIE AND PERISH

but also though, is that recognition in Mina’s eyes?? because even though this dude is 80 feet tall now, her encounter with him a couple years back had to have been one of the more memorable experiences of her young life. damn I was wondering when this would finally come into play

OKAY YES THE NEXT PAGE IS A FLASHBACK OH SHIT

this has nothing to do with anything but Mina just has the prettiest hair, btw, and this “just woke up covered in acid” look is a particularly good one on her. it looks so soft and fluffy, like damn. this is like Shouto-hair-billowing-in-the-wind levels of pretty here

NOOOOO

oh my god holy shit?! putting her back in the school uniform to show the slip in her mentality is a PUNK MOVE, HORIKOSHI, and I respect the shit out of you for it you manipulative bastard. goddammit. bracing myself for the incoming wave of Mina feels... here they come... they’re a lot... let’s see if I can latch on to anything I can actually figure out how to describe in words

okay well here’s one, my respect for Mina’s bravery just went up like a thousand percent in this instant, because now we know this was actually such a traumatizing event for her that hearing Machia’s voice again years later immediately sent her into a full-blown flashback. she was that scared and yet she still stood up to him and didn’t hesitate. and now I’m remembering how her knees just buckled right afterwards, and just...

and this visual, though!! what a brutally effective way to show that in her mind she went right back to being that scared middle schooler again for a moment. god fucking damn. holy shit you guys is Kirishima fireproof because if he comes waltzing out of the woods next I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. lolo kids getting traumatized left and right this arc is fucking merciless

um eXCUSE ME!?!?!

YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT LET GO OF HER RIGHT NOW OR I AM GONNA LOSE IT!!

THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!

holy shit he could have fucking snapped her neck like that??! I don’t like this at ALL WHAT THE FUCK

OKAY SERIOUSLY

I’M GONNA NEED ANOTHER KID TO STEP IN HERE WITH A LAST MINUTE SAVE LIKE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, OR I AM GOING TO THROW MY COMPUTER OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND MOVE TO THE DESERT AND BECOME A HERMIT AND NEVER READ MANGA ON THE INTERNET AGAIN

OH THANK GOD

TODAY WE SPELL “REDEMPTION” K-I-R-I... ETC. THERE’S A LOT OF LETTERS BUT YOU GET THE DRIFT!!!

holy fucking shit y’all. I mean, it’s not like it came out of nowhere, like the setup could not have been more obvious, but let me assure you that none of the predictability lessened the actual impact of this moment in the SLIGHTEST. Horikoshi really wrote a flashback scene one hundred and thirty five chapters ago and planted it, watered it once a day, and patiently waited for THREE LONG YEARS until he could finally harvest the badass fruits of his labor in the midst of his most epic arc to date. I’m so fucking hyped I’ll even forgive him for sacrificing Mina’s big moment and having her get rescued, because it’s such a good reversal. he didn’t freeze up this time. he promised himself he’d never freeze again and he didn’t and he saved her and god fucking damn. anyways so now Machia is going to treat him like a fucking action figure though but he’s a solid little dude he can take it hopefully

NO WHAT IS THIS!!! STOP KILLING MY MOOD!!!

she better not be dead!! SHE BETTER NOT FUCKING BE DEAD I WILL RUN MY PC THROUGH A PAPER SHREDDER AND GO AND LIVE ALONE WITH MY FEELS ON A MOUNTAIN IN TIBET

CHINTETSU!!

well we know he’s fireproof. another callback at the least expected of times lmao

so Tetsu’s all “yeah Kirishima’s not really all that fireproof but he totally ran over here anyway to save you. oh wait that probably wasn’t very comforting of me to say.” maybe that’s why it seems like he might not have actually said it out loud, now that I’m reading this over again. good call Tetsu

ARE YOU STANDING UP AND CASUALLY STRETCHING OUT YOUR BACK

I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE HOW MUCH I HATE THIS GUY RIGHT NOW. WE’RE REACHING LEVELS OF HATRED RESERVED FOR NAZIS AND PEOPLE WHO WALK TOO SLOWLY IN FRONT OF ME IN A GROUP SHOULDER TO SHOULDER INSTEAD OF SINGLE FILE SO I CAN PASS IN FRONT OF THEM. YOU’RE A FUCKING TOURIST IN NYC YOU PIECE OF SHIT

lmao he’s just dropping this random hero person and letting him fall to his doom wheeeeee

remind me to leave all of the League of Villains’ texts on read for the foreseeable future. goddamn. I still love you guys but also, fuck you so damn hard

OHO A LIL RED SCALY BOI ISN’T DONE YET!!

real talk, just between you and me, I’ll lower my voice so that Kirishima can’t hear. so uh. we all agree that even if Kiri is fireproof and squishproof, that little can of tranquilizer juice technically shouldn’t have been, right? but we’re all going to hush and pretend like it was anyway for the sake of not spoiling his big moment. even though I am crossing my arms and tapping my chin with my finger while doubtfully glancing to the side

anyway here he goes!

YEAH KIRI GO GETTIM [stage whisper] there it is, in his pocket. should’ve burned. we won’t discuss it

OH FOR FUCK’S

TOGA YOU LITTLE WIENER BUT WHAT’S THIS ABOUT “MY HALF” NOW????

DID HE GRAB MINA’S MID-AIR?? IS HE REALLY REACHING INTO HIS BACK POCKET AND FUCKING UNZIPPING IT RIGHT NOW WHILE HOLDING ON TO NOTHING AND PRESUMABLY FALLING THROUGH THE AIR. DID A LITTLE BIT OF OCHAKO’S QUIRK RUB OFF ON YOU OR WHAT

OH SNAP SON HE REALLY DID THE THING HOLY SHIT???

AND TOKAGE FLEW OVER AND SAVED HIM AND NOW TANKS ARE SHOOTING AT MACHIA, LMAO WHAT IS THIS. MOMO HOW MANY GUNS DID YOU MAKE

Shouji standing there trying to be useful any way he can. are eyeballs really that much more effective if you make them the size of tennis balls and hold them up above your head. legit question, I don’t really know how eyes work

okay after 45 seconds of googling this my impression is that no, they are not. well good on you for giving it the old college try anyway though Shouji

oH MY GODLKDLK?!?!

DID SHE SAY WHAT I THOUGHT SHE SAID, DID SHE SAY MAJESTIC, ARE WE GONNA SEE MASJKESLTKCI DSFLKJL

oh my god he really is the Magic Man dude??? TIME TO DUST OFF MY INVENTORY OF ADVENTURE TIME QUOTES

(ETA: AHH FATGUM AND GANG ORCA ARE THERE TOO YESSSS!)

“that’s enough depending on some interns” oh, okay. now that they’ve done all your work for you. I see, I see

so now Gigantomachia is LITERALLY UNHINGING HIS JAW I can’t fucking believe this dude you guys. everything he does is just like, ARE YOU SERIOUS

please go to sleep already. thanks to you I have my keyboard set to capslock as the default for the duration of this chapter

ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU FUCKING WAITED UNTIL MAGIC FUCKING MAN SHOWED UP TO TEACH US MAGICAL LIFE LESSONS AND NOW YOU’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE TOMURA FIGHT?? WHY DO WE KEEP LETTING THIS MAN GET AWAY WITH THIS

oh my god you guys they really fucking did it

I guess that Howitzer slash fire punch combo really was that potent huh

anyway so now Endeavor is standing there making a big speech instead of reaching into Tomura’s pocket and taking the bullets that he doesn’t know about and shooting him with one asap. dammit Endeavor

aaaaand Tomura is firing back with the wisdom of Shimura Fucking Kotaro of all people

well you sure convinced me. damn I don’t know what I was thinking. heroes suck you guys. how dare they help other people all the time

so now he’s all “PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT!!”

take that Endeavor. you heard the man. it’s not destruction without conviction, as god as his witness he will have you know it is destruction WITH conviction. something something the great sage Shimura “I hurt my family for absolutely no reason at all, fuck this ‘helping others’ bullshit” Kotaro. I hope you packed your textbooks because you just got SCHOOLED. I hope the person who ordered you signed up for delivery notifications because you just got SENT. I HOPE YOU LIKE CAPITALISM BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT OWNED. I HOPE YOU CHOSE PAPER AND NOT SCISSORS BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT ROCKED

what an absolutely, unreservedly bizarre place to end the chapter lol. we’re really just done with this week, just like that. Majestic showed up and Gigantomachia opened his chin like a garage door and Tomura is all “you may have won the battle but you suck” while he buys time for Aizawa to suddenly sneeze or something so he can make his terrible comeback and continue Horikoshi’s Traumatize Every Kid in Class 1-A 2020 campaign. what an arc this is my friends. what an arc

[meanhoeforcb97]

Say My Name

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (and a bit of fluff at the end🙈)

Warnings: Hard Dom! Chan, Daddy/babygirl kink, oral (f), mentions of alchohol(??)

Words: 3.3k

Masterlist

I'm so embarrassed to post this eYE–

Let me know if you wanna see part 2 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

★━━━━━━━━❍━━━━━━━━★

It was a lovely quite warm evening during the middle of March and your friend Leah had persuaded you into going out for a couple of drinks.

After your last relationship had come to a bad end a few months prior –almost a year– you hadn't been going out much as you weren't interested in a love life at the moment.

Which also ended up affecting your sex life and making it basically nonexistent.

So Leah was determined to change that.

She helped you pick out a dress and you both got ready at your house. She did your make up and you did hers, you were having a great time with one of your closest friends and you genuinely thought this would be a girls night. Little did you know what was about to take place only a few hours from now.

"Damn! You're fire!" You told Leah hyping her up and boosting her confidence. She was wearing a black, strapless and tight fitted dress with some fishnets and knee-high boots.

"You are not so bad yourself!" She said joking as she gestured towards your outfit which consisted of a red tight fitted off-the-shoulder dress that reached just a few inches above your knees and had a slit up your left thigh suggesting what was laying underneath paired with black stilettos.

You weren't really the type to dress up or go clubbing often but whenever you did, you honestly loved it! You loved how confident these sexy outfits made you feel. You loved the stares coming from men and women left and right. You loved the euphoric feeling of sex mixed with alcohol. Nights like these were the ones you strived to always remember.

So with one last check in the mirror you and your friend exited your house, locked the door behind you two and entered a passing cab. Both of you agreed that you wouldn't drive as you both planned to drink at least one glass. So to be safe, you called a taxi.

Arriving at the club, you both entered while holding hands as to not get lost between the sea of sweaty bodies grinding up against each other.

You hadn't even made it to the bar yet and you had already spotted a few hotties—this definitely wasn't gonna be a girl's night.

Leah sat on one of the stools and you sat right next to her and you both turned to the barman.

From the corner of your eye you notice how Leah was basically drooling, and in all honesty she had all the rights to. He was tall and incredibly gorgeous. He seemed to be quite young, at least younger than the two of you so you weren't planning on making any moves as for Leah, that's another story.

"So ... Hyunjin." She said reading his name tag.

"Yes miss, how could I help you?" He asked slightly leaning into the counter with a sky smirk on his face.

"My friend over here and I would like something to drink... give us your best drinks." She said placing some money on the counter and he looked at her hand pushing the bills.

"This one's on me, gorgeous." He said as he sent a wink her way and got to work.

She turned to you and you pouted, "What the actual fuck Leah? It hasn't even been 15 minutes since we entered and you already have found a hottie who will probably fuck the shit out of you later. What am I supposed to do?" You whined at her.

"Calm down okay? I'll help you! I'll find you a nice person to take care of you!" She said with a wink.

"How about this guy right there? The one with the blonde hair and green eyes? He looks fine!" She said and you bit your lip about to give in, but then saw a girl wrapping a hand around his waist and he leaned down and kissed her.

"Oh.." She let out dumbfounded and you sighed.

"Just forget it, I don't need any guy to show me fun! I can do it myself! I'm gonna dance!" You said trying to make her forget about it.

Just at that moment Hyunjin turned around and placed two glasses on the counter, you thanked him, grabbed yours and left right away.

The dance floor was busy with sweaty bodies dancing like crazy to the upbeat music blasting through the speakers.

Taking small and frequent sips of your drink, you found yourself letting loose to the music and your body moving according to the beat.

After a few of these drinks you were getting tipsy and you were dancing on your own for a long time now, deciding that was enough for now you went to leave when suddenly you almost bumped into a male figure.

And fuck, was he hot though?

"Oh oops, I'm sorry!" You said and went to leave.

"Its okay I wasn't looking! By the way love your dress!" He said as he winked at you and you smirked slyly.

"Well thank you, you look quite nice yourself." You said in a joking manner.

Being tipsy and all you continued to dance alone in front of the man's presence as he continued to talk with you.

And he couldn't help but stare in curiosity and lust.

You were so fucking hot he couldn't even comprehend how fuckable you looked all sweaty under the dim coloured lights of the club.

It made him think about you sweaty and under dim lights in a completely different scenario.

"So my names Chris, yours? Or should I call you gorgeous?" He asked in a flirting manner as he grabbed his lower lip between his teeth.

He proceeded to dance along to the music and waiting for an answer.

You couldn't help but scan the man from head to toe, his hair was a beautiful shade of dark brown matching with his eyes. His lips were plump and pink and he had adorable dimples that showed up whenever he smirked playfully at you. His body oh gosh his body was something you really wanted to explore. His exposed biceps were buff and veiny and it was obvious that the man worked out a lot.

You smirked and looked straight into his eyes and moved closer to his form still dancing.

"The names Y/n.. but you can call me whatever you want hottie" you said and proceeded to grind your ass against his thigh.

He bit his lip harder as his hands landed on the small of your waist.

"This is a dangerous game you're playing little girl.." he said through clenched teeth as he leaned so far in that your noses were almost touching and you could feel his breath fanning your lips. You leaned into his ear and let out a chuckle.

"Maybe this isn't the most dangerous it can get.." you said and captured his earlobe between your teeth.

Chris's grip on your waist tightened and his breath slightly hitched.

He pulled you back and kissed you on the lips. The kiss was rough and full of lust, your tongues fighting for dominance and yours winning for a second before he regained control. He bit and sucked on your lips and tongue making you let out tiny noises of satisfaction making him pull even closer to his body.

You were both a mess, making out in the middle of the dance floor and grinding against each other like wolves in heat.

"Wanna take this to my place?" He asked as he pulled away from your mouth panting.

You turned towards were your friend was sitting to see her still flirting with that Hyunjin guy. You took out your phone sent her a quick text and nodded at him.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd, leading you outside he called a taxi and then turned to you and kissed you on the lips once again.

"You sure about this babygirl?" He asked making sure you were doing this with full consent.

"Babygirl huh?" You smirked slyly and leaned in towards his face.

"Sure thing daddy." You whispered into his mouth before biting his lip and he groaned in response grabbing your hips and bringing you closer.

You started making out in the parking lot and just when his hands travelled from your waist to the curve of your ass, the taxi arrived.

You both got in and continued making out at the backseat after Chris instructed the driver to get you two to his house.

Once the car came to a stop he paid for the ride and lead you inside by pulling on your hand.

Throwing your handbag by the door you turned to him only to have him pinning you up against the wall and sucking on your neck searching for your sweet spot.

Your legs immediately became wobbly and your hands found a tight grip on his biceps.

It took everything in you not to moan but when he sucked on that specific spot close to the center of your collarbones you couldn't help but let out a strangled whine.

You bit your hand embarrassed by the sound that came out of your mouth.

"Oh no babygirl! Let daddy hear your beautiful voice alright?" He said as he gave your lips a peck and moved his way downwards to your littered neck full of fresh marks.

Unzipping your dress and sliding it down, he stopped just above your stomach so your boobs would be freed.

He kissed on top of your cleavage and couldn't help but bury his face in them.

He quickly took off your bra throwing it somewhere in the livingroom.

He then proceeded to suck, lick and bite onto your right boob, paying extra attention to the erect nipple.

"Chris~" you couldn't help but moan his name as he worked wonders on your breasts.

"What was that babygirl?" He asked as he stopped.

"N-Nothing! Please don't stop!" You practically begged as you tried to pull his face close to your naked chest once again.

"I'm gonna let this slide just this once. But daddy won't be as generous next time! Understood?" He asked and you nodded desperately.

He had barely even touched you yet and you were already wet, your panties getting more and more soaked by the minute.

With a last squeeze and a kiss on your breasts he pulls away, took off his dress shirt and lead you to his bedroom.

The room was dimly lit by some side lamp on his desk and the bed was large, but that's just about everything you noticed before he pushed you on the bed and pinned your hands above you head.

Taking off the dress completely, he exposed your lower half which was covered by a thin layer of lace.

He smirked and licked his lips with lust and hunger mixed in his beautiful but dark irises.

"You planned on getting fucked tonight didn't you?" He asked as he pulled on the under garment's band and then let it slap against the beautiful and not to mention unmarked skin of your thighs.

"Well you ain't getting fucked by a little boy today, so why dont you let me show you how daddy fucks his little girl huh?" He said and you couldn't help but clench around thin air, your thighs closing and your butt squirming.

"Hmm, my  babygirl is so needy~" he cooed as he gripped your thighs and forcefully pulled them apart revealing your covered heat.

Chris quickly rid you of the last piece of clothing remaining on your body and his breath hitched in his throat as he saw your glistening wet flower.

He trailed kisses down the center of your chest to your tummy and lastly to your danger zone— but no! Chris wasnt gonna give it to you so easily.

He kissed all around your pussy and thighs avoiding your clit and entrance and kissing around it on the outer lips and inner thighs.

Leaving a few marks here and there as well your hips thrusted forward trying desperately to find some sort of friction.

He quickly pinned your hips down with his strong hands and finally looked straight into your eyes as he landed the first long and sharp lick across your slit.

You moaned loudly and he couldn't help but groan as he lapped up all of your arousal.

Focusing on your clit, he slipped one finger in your tight hole making you moan louder and pant heavier than before.

"Oh my gosh, keep going! Just like that!" You moaned as Chris hit your g-spot with his finger repeatedly.

He hummed against your clit causing the vibration to send waves of pleasure all over your body while at the same time he added a second finger.

All of the stimulation of your most sensitive parts soon enough drove you over the edge.

Chris sensed that you were close as your walls tightened around his fingers so he gave your clit one last strong suck and pulled his mouth and fingers away from you making you let out a cry of frustration as you lost your high.

"I swear to God if you don't finish what you started... I haven't had sex in freaking months!" You said as you sat up on your ass looking at Chris frustrated.

"Watch your mouth babygirl.." He said as he glared at you. You couldn't help but be intimidated by his naked and toned figure hovering over you.

"And don't worry I'm about to change that." He said with a smirk as he unbuckled his belt and proceeded to take off his jeans and briefs.

Once his member was out and free you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together at the image of his red and angry dick standing tall against his toned stomach and leaking with pre-cum already.

"You caused this babygirl..." He growled as he came closer to you. "How do you feel about that?" He asked as gripped a fistful of your hair and tilted up your head to look straight into his eyes.

"Proud." Was all you said before he crashed your lips together in yet another sloppy make out session and he pushed you further into the bed.

You could feel his cock against your pussy and all you wanted and needed at that moment was him inside you and fucking you mercilessly.

"What do you want baby? Let me hear you.." He panted in your ear as he placed a condom around his erected cock.

"I want you Daddy! I want Daddy to fuck me till I cant think straight! To fuck me so good that I wont be able to walk for days!" You cried out and he groaned.

"Your wish is my demand..." he managed to growl out before plugging his thick and rock-hard cock into your swollen, wet cavern.

You both let out sighs of relief at the pleasure of him being inside you.

It was as if his cock was made just to be inside your pussy as he filled you to the brim and stretched you out oh so good.

Soon he started rocking his hips in the most delicious pace and your moans mixed with his.

The strong smell of sex inhabited the room and the sound of skin slapping against skin was loud.

He was fucking you so good. He was hitting all the right places and had you a moaning mess in no time.

"Faster daddy, faster!" You cried out as you felt your orgasm being just around the corner.

He groaned at the sound of your voice so desperate and so shamelessly begging for his cock.

Chris grabbed one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder. This new angle gave him the chance to explore your pussy in a whole different depth.

With this position you could feel him hitting your g-spot repeatedly once again making you basically scream in pleasure.

He looked at your beautiful face while trusting his hips deeply into your own and he couldnt help but moan at your fucked out expression and sweaty face. Your hair was disheveled and flying everywhere. And as his eyes travelled further down he watched as your boobs bounced from the hard rocking of his hips and just a little bit lower he saw as his dick was engulfed by your hungry vagina.

You were gorgeous.

He kissed your lips and sucked on your tongue as he brought a hand down to your entrance and rubbed inconsistent circles on your swollen clit.

You gasped and cried out at the newfound pleasure.

"Oh my gosh I'm so close! So close!" You managed to let out as you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

"Let go for daddy babygirl, let daddy see how much you enjoyed him fucking your tight little pussy." He said as he watched you intently and adding even more pressure to your clit.

You let out a strangled moan and gripped his biceps tightly slightly scratching him in a progress and came undone.

The orgasm was so intense that your body was shaking violently afterwards.

As you came, Chris could feel your walls tighten around his dick and his thrust got sloppier and sloppier as he continued fucking into you, chasing his own orgasm while at the same time helping you ride out yours.

To help him, you took down your leg from his shoulder and pulled him closer to you sucking on his neck leaving marks all over it.

He moaned in pleasure when you found his sweet spot and guided your hand to his balls, and you got the memo and massaged them.

He moaned even louder this time as his own orgasm wrecked his body. Coming into the condom he stopped his movements but stayed put inside you as he caught his breath.

Looking down at your face he leaned down to kiss you, both of your foreheads sweaty and with hair clinging onto your skin so he took a stranded and placed it behind your ear.

Placing his forehead on your own he sighed as he pulled his member out of your vagina and you squeezed your thighs together as your previously filled pussy lost its warmth and you trembled lightly.

He took off the condom and threw it away, he leaned down and placed a soft peck on your lips far different than the previous kisses you two shared.

"I'm gonna go grab something to clean you up alright? I'll be right back." He said and you nodded, he smiled and placed one last peck on your lips before leaving.

Laying there alone in his bed you felt your body slowly but surely start to drift in and out of conciousness as you felt completely and utterly exhausted.

At some point your eyes were closing in their own accord and you were almost asleep when suddenly the bed besides you dipped.

You forced your eyes open to see Chris sitting next to you, still completely naked, while holding a wet towel and a glass of water.

He helped you up to your butt and passed you the glass of water. You drank it all in one go and he took back the glass as he helped you lay down again.

"Such a good girl for me... taking my cock so well and cooperating with me.." he cooed at you as he grabbed the towel and placed it on your vagina softly.

The towel was warm making you relax under his gentle touch. He gently and carefully cleaned your vagina and thighs before folding the towel in half and with the clean side he proceeded to wipe the sides of your face, neck and chest.

He stood back up and pulled the duvet over you, placed a kiss on your forehead and left the room with the towel and the glass once again.

He came back soon after though and got under the duvet with you, you were turned away from him so he got this chance to hug you from behind and be the big spoon.

And at that you both fell into a peaceful dreamless sleep.

[danielleslegacy]

Hold Me || Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

Request: yes / no

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: So im a little selfish and i was having a rough day when i wrote this. SO basically im an anxious person so i wanted to write something that made me feel better, and now you can read it. 

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Panic attacks and sadness. idk. 

Pairing: fem!Reader insert x Spencer Reid

All writing is my own, so please don’t steal this. Also, I would appreciate any feedback/comments/requests! xx

*GIF IS NOT MINE SO CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER*

As I let out a breath, and wrap the blankets around myself, the panic subsides in my chest and the tears slowly stop falling. Hands begin to steady and breathing returns to normal. I attempt to squeeze every last bit of the anxiety. The sniffle that accompanies that feeling. Hands pressed to eyes. Desperation to feel okay again, the pure exhaustion. Slowly I sit up, but only once I’m completely ready. And I look around the room. It’s messy, probably from the whirlwind of a week it’s been, amongst the chaos my eyes stop on a framed photograph. 

Spencer Reid. 

The photo shows one of the best days of my entire life so far. It’s of us, cheeks pressed together and huge grins on both of our faces. The sunset displayed behind, shining in a beautiful pink, purple and blue gradient. Our first date. It didn’t really feel like one though, something that can probably be contributed to knowing each other for years and years. 

We were 15, when we first met, all the way back in California, he was in college, and I was a freshman in high school. Next door neighbours and each other's safe space. Spencer had gotten into the FBI and I was so incredibly proud of him. We both moved to Virginia and I was attending college at the University of Virginia, and we were friends. Our first date was at 26. But one day, we were at a drive-in movie theater watching some shitty movie that I wasn't actually paying attention to when I just made the move and kissed him, and that was what we would later determine was our first date. 

We had snapped that photo just after we got there and were waiting for the sun to go down. Spencer made fun of me for taking it but I had this weird gut feeling that the moment was one we would want to remember. 

That photo has been in that frame since it was printed. Spencer has grown to hate it, but It is an important one to me. 

My phone rings, breaking me out of my thoughts, tears dried on my cheeks and anxiety subsided. I raise it to my eyeline, eyes straining to see the bright screen in the dark room. A text from Spencer. 

Spencer: I’ll be home soon, Y/n. I miss you. X

A sign escapes my lips and tension physically releases from my shoulders and I allow the blanket to go with it. 

Me: Do you want me to have a coffee ready?

Spencer: Why are you up?

Spencer: Yes please. 

I let out a soft laugh, standing from the bed and turning on the coffee machine. My phone buzzes once more. 

Spencer: I’m coming up now. 

I sink my phone into my pocket and prepare a cup of coffee. I flick my eyes to the clock and see that it is just after 5 am. I run my hands over my face, and grip the back of my neck. Tears gather in my eyes once again, residual sadness from the earlier panic attack. The sound of the door unlocking breaks me from the trance I had found myself in. I curl my arms around my stomach and turn to face the opening door. Spencer throws his suitcase to the left, just inside the door and beams up at me. 

“Hi,” he says bobbing down to the ground to untie his laces, slipping his shoes off, “Why are you up?” 

It’s then that he properly looks at me, our eyes lock and it’s like he can see right through me. His eyes scan me looking for any physical causes for the pain that he sees in my eyes. He takes a cautious step towards me, and extends his hand towards me and I quickly link my fingers with his. 

“What’s wrong, Y/n,?” He asks, taking the coffee from the bench and brings it to his lips, running his thumb over our joined hands. 

“It’s been a rough night,” I whisper, afraid to speak at a normal volume. 

“What do you need?” He whispers back, matching my volume level. I shake my head and move closer to him, and Spencer's arms wrap around me instinctively. My face buried into his chest and I took a deep breath in, taking in his scent. Cinnamon and Mahogany. A smell that has begun to smell like home. His hands cradle me, so gently that tears spring to my eyes. I feel his lips connect with the crown of my head. 

“Studies have shown that hugs cause the body to produce oxytocin, which can help to calm the nervous system and reinforce relaxation. Oxytocin also reduces blood pressure and heart stress. Hugging leads to lower blood pressure and a reduced heart rate,” Spencer breathes, causing me to giggle a little bit. 

I lift my eyes to meet him, “Thank you.” 

He hums in response, confusion evident on his face. 

“For understanding me.” 

“It’s literally in my job description to understand people,” He says, eyes crinkling as he smiles at his own joke. I roll my eyes at him and press my lips to his quickly. 

“How was work?” I ask. 

He shakes his head, slipping his Caltech hoodie that was on the bench over his head. “It was as good as it can be, we got the bad guy.” 

His eyes narrow at me and he lifts the hoodie up to his nose and my cheeks flush red. “You’ve been wearing this haven’t you?” 

I shrug in response, “Your clothes are fair game if you’re not here.” 

“Smells like you,” Spencer laughs. 

I take a step towards our bedroom and sit on our bed, Spencer following soon behind. 

“Want to talk about it?” he asks softly, running a hand down my back and sitting by my feet. 

“I don’t really know why I got so anxious, work was long and hard this week and I’ve been feeling really out of my depth and out of control.” I take a deep breath, “I’m probably over tired and due for my period.” 

“Do you want to go to sleep?” 

“Not really,” I say shifting so that I’m leant against him, “Did you sleep on the plane?” 

He nods his head, shifting to hold me in his arms. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” I rake my fingers down his arms. 

“Did you need anything?” 

“Just you.”

[eccentricpony]

Hello dear! I kind of did a spin on this request, and the story starts around the time of their first meeting and shows the progression into a romantic relationship. Mildly inspired by Tenma’s home screen quote to practice a kissing scene.

I think it’s a good blend of angsty, spicy, funny, and fluffy, but you be the judge! I am quite fond of this piece, and I hope you are, too!  <3

Bad First Impressions

Despite your best efforts to suppress it, a dramatic sigh rumbles past your lips. And to think that you had actually looked forward to working with Tenma Sumeragi. You had watched his performances in a few teen dramas and found his ability to be quite impressive, and he was highly lauded among other actors in your professional circle for being the consummate professional and perfectionist. More like pretentious and pompous.

“…and you there-“ the haughty redhead pointed towards a mousy looking boy sitting at a diner table on set.

“Uhh, B- Bill?” the mousy boy responded meekly.

“Yeah, sure – no one just stares at the person across from them without saying anything at all. It’s creepy and weird. That goes for you, too, guy with the glasses.” He moved an accusatory finger towards Bill’s dining companion. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of “peas and carrots”? I mean, this is amateur hour stuff that you don’t even need any skill to execute…”

“Can you just close your mouth and do some work, Sumeragi?”

You could hear a pin drop in the spacious sound studio. The cantankerous teen star whipped his head towards you with a pointed glare. You were an up-and-coming actress in the teen drama scene, and although you were a year older than he was, his acting resume was at least three times the length of yours. Sure, you were pretty, and you seemed passably talented, but you had a long way to go before you could even reach the echelon of his level of expertise. And you had the audacity to criticize his judgment??

“Excuse me?!” His eyes raked up and down your form, sizing you up in an attempt to appear intimidating. The manner in which you nonchalantly rested your hand upon your hip, head-cocked and eyes rolled; it was utterly disrespectful to him, a major authority in the industry, not to mention disrespectful to your fellow actors, to the very sacred space of-

“And to think that I had heard you were a competent leader…” you continued in a jaded tone. There was a visible flare in Tenma’s cheeks, the fury sizzling behind his eyes red hot.

To his credit, he certainly had a high level of talent, but that gave him no authority to degrade his teammates, whether they be fellow actors or the key grip. You weren’t normally this abrasive, but charming teen cutie Tenma was a self-important bully who was surrounded by “yes” men. This suave schoolboy star needed a wakeup call. The scandalized celebrity opened his mouth to commence a tirade when the director stepped in.

“Now, now, please folks. Let’s be civil…” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he glanced between you both with a pleading look.

With a final sour stare in your direction, Tenma transformed back into TV’s favorite high school hottie with a heart of gold.

“Yes, of course,” he replied, and you also nodded in consent. Everyone placated Tenma, endured his toxic attitude because he brought them money. But one thing was for sure, you had no intention to relinquish control to tyrannical Tenma.

Japan’s Newest Sweetheart

Tenma rushed down the street, tipping the brim of his hat further down his forehead, his alarming speed drawing attention from passersby. But he couldn’t slow down now; it was only a matter of time before Igawa caught up to him and asked where he was going, and why he was going by himself, and what was he looking for after all, and a number of other questions whose answers he would very much prefer not to explain.

With the convenience store in sight, he quickened his pace until he reached the threshold, throwing open the door with a tenacity that startled the cashier. Returning upright from where he hunched over his newspaper, the shopkeep threw a cautious eye to the young man at the doorway, wearing a suspicious amount of accessories and panting like he was running from the law.

The ginger on a mission performed a quick visual sweep of the displays until he located the object he desired. Bounding forward, he approached the magazine rack and flipped open the arts & entertainment periodical to the index. …page 31…

Rifling through the flimsy pages of the gossip rag, he at last reached the article which he had sought. There looking up at him was a page-wide spread of you, armed with an impossibly charming smile and a sparkle of mischief in your eyes. The page opposite of your come-hither headshot bore the headline “Japan’s Newest Sweetheart.”

It was infuriating. You were a nobody – barely any experience at all, and certainly not in anything particularly noteworthy – yet you were the one pushed to the forefront of advertising. His eyes flicked back to your picture once, twice… I mean, it was a good photo.

Ignoring the manner in which his throat seized when met with your 2-dimensional gaze, he directed his attention to the article. His eyes tripped along the words, “captivating new series… “ “character growth and development…” – aha! He spotted his name among the text and focused on the containing paragraph.

“blah, blah… he’s a true veteran in the industry…” Tenma puffed up like a rooster at this remark. Damn right, I am. He continued to read your commentary, mouth silently forming the shape of the words, scouring each sentence for more well-deserved praise. You went on to describe the characters, their struggles and how the cast related to their roles… One line in particular raised his brow. Tenacious young man?? Young man, what? She’s like, one year older than I am! He rose his head, appalled that you would speak of him like a child. He turned back to the print, reviewing the sentence a second time. She’s not even a whole year older, we’re practically the same age. He bent his brow in concentration. He counted back from your birthday. Yeah, totally not even a year old. Tch. He chose to ignore the fact that he recalled your birthday so quickly and glowered down at you while you beamed right back up at him.

It was undeniable that he was pissed off due of all the attention you were receiving when he was the lead. Possibly because… well, maybe you did deserve it. He had come to respect your acting ability over the past few months, in particular your impressive ability to become truly immersed in a role.

But maybe also because…. well, you looked good in this spread. Like, really good. Your smile was intoxicating; why didn’t you smile at him like that?  On second thought, maybe it was for the best that you hadn’t. His hardened exterior would likely dissolve, and he’d be a stuttering, fumbling mess. Scanning your features, he noticed that they airbrushed away a tiny birthmark on your face. Or maybe it was a freckle?  And they did something to your eyebrows, they just looked off. Why would they even do that? They were perfectly fine eyebrows…

“Hey, buddy, are you going to buy that or not? This ain’t a library.”

Tenma’s head shot upright, dazed for a few moments before he comprehended the words spoken to him. His tense fists gripped the wrinkled magazine tightly, fragile pages strained and starting to tear. Loosening his hold, he spared a final glimpse at your face before neatly closing the pages and smoothing out the bent cover.

“Uhh, yeah. I am.”  

Sliding his shades further up his nose with his pointer, he coolly ambled to the checkout area and lay the gentleman’s digest upon its surface. The material refused to remain flat after its recent abuse, leaving your shirt and neck visible beneath the dog-eared pages. The employee recognized the article right away.

“That new actress is really something, huh? They say she’s going to be the next big thing.”

Tenma scoffed but offered no discourse, handing over the required yen.

“Pretty cute, too,” the young worker added as he slipped the purchased item into a plastic bag.

“Yeah, whatever,” Tenma huffed heatedly, snatching the illustrated booklet containing your first big media premiere and returning to the sidewalk to await Igawa.

Salty to Sweet

“Don’t they teach you how to stay on task in Middle School? Or are you in High School?  Your lack of common sense is misleading…”

“Funny,” Tenma retorted caustically, though more annoyed at himself than you. He had been finding it challenging to focus as of late since he bought that magazine and he kept screwing up on the same damn lines. His short fuse was growing ever shorter with every butchered word.

You could see that Tenma was downward spiraling; the spark he always carried behind those big, vibrant eyes was fading fast.

“Look, why don’t you try something else…” you started, preparing for opposition.

“What?” the taller boy began, with no small amount of skepticism. Ignoring his sour attitude, you stood opposite him and continued in a calm tone.

“Try talking to me about something you really like while staying in character.”

“Talk about something I like?” Tenma replied incredulously. “What am I, six?”

“Sometimes I wonder, with the way you hide your vegetables under your mashed potatoes during lunch, so no one notices you throwing them away.”  You smirk knowingly, pleased with the look of surprise on your fellow actor’s face.

“You saw me do that?”  Tenma stared at you with a look of both wonder and bewilderment. He was certain no one could see him do that, and you sat at another table entirely! How on earth could you have been paying close enough attention to him to spot that, unless…

“Everyone knows that,” you deflected quickly, the rosy tint on your cheeks belying your innocence in the matter. “So what are you going to talk about?” Your bitter scene partner rolled his eyes. As a veteran in the industry, he felt pretty foolish having you talk him through basic acting exercises. Yet….  There was no question that he was struggling with the script, and no better ideas came to mind. With a sigh of defeat, Tenma offered the one outlet that came to mind.

“Bonsai…” he mumbled in a barely audible tone.

“What was that?” you ask, leaning it. Your close proximity fuels a steadily growing warmth along the back of his neck. He takes a sudden step backward and repeats himself louder.

“Bonsai! Are you deaf?”

“Bonsai, huh?” You smile with amusement. “Well, that’s something you don’t read in all your magazine interviews.”

“Reading my interviews, are you?” he responds dryly, but his stomach does a flip. He thinks back on the magazine he has featuring you, kept privately stashed away in a box under his bed. The thought that maybe you had a magazine featuring him tucked away somewhere in your bedroom causes chills that ran down his broad arms and shoulders.

“Nevermind that,” you grumble, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Well, bonsai it is, then. Whenever you’re ready.”

You spend the next few minutes listening to Tenma ramble on about bonsai pruning, the proper tools to use, and even the proper light, pH and moisture levels to ensure optimal bonsai health.  Despite the fact that you now know more about bonsai trees than you would have ever cared to know, it seems that engaging, dynamic Tenma has returned. He comes to a full stop after finishing a discourse on bonsai diseases; his head now feeling clear, he’s convinced that he can recite his lines without hesitation.

“That was really good,” you commend him honestly, mirroring the pleased look on his face.

“Naturally,” he boasts in a cocky tone, feeling confident following his flawlessly delivered bonsai monologue. “It’s amazing how pleasant you can be when you’re not yelling at me,” he jibes, looking rather pleased with himself. You raise a brow at his renewed brashness, but you’ve always been quick on the trigger.

“It’s amazing how handsome you can be when you’re not scowling,” you reply with a smug expression, reveling in the crimson darkening his cheeks.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he mumbles with an air of mild embarrassment irritation, rubbing the back of his neck which is now damp with sweat.

“Who says I want to go anywhere with you?” you shoot back with a patronizing smirk before turning your attention back to the script. “SO, where were we?” you inquire loudly before he can get a word in edgewise. Thumbing through the marked-up pages, you see in your periphery that he is doing the same.

“Scenes 12 and 14 we did, 17 we did… no need to go over scene 28…”

“Why are we not practicing scene 28?” Tenma inquired in a cheeky tone. He knew exactly which scene 28 was: the kissing scene. You hadn’t gone over it yet, in read-throughs or on set. After you had just bested him in a mini battle of wits, this would be a great opportunity to even the playing field.

He had performed at least a dozen kiss scenes; it was old hat for him by now, and he knew for sure (not that he had googled your TV and film credits or anything) that you had never performed one. He was certain you’d flounder in search of a clever comeback, then, admitting defeat, blush profusely and outright refuse to do it.

“Fine, let’s do it.” You were no fool, and Tenma Sumeragi couldn’t bluff to save his life.

If Tenma wasn’t youthful and in great health, he might fear he were having a heart attack. Words seized up in his throat, and he could only manage a curt nod. He walked in a small circle, shaking his limbs as he often did while getting into character. He could do this, this was nothing. He had kissed, like, at least 12 girls before. 12! That was more girls than most men kissed in their entire lifetime! Wasn’t it? He couldn’t really think straight. With a long breath in, and out, he reformed his strategy.

He would perform a star-worthy kiss, absolutely knock-your-socks-off amazing, and then swagger out of the room while you were still swooning and dazed. His ego swelled a bit at the thought of leaving you desperate for another kiss, but his blood ran fast and furious at the thought of… well, actually having the kiss.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you started in the tone of your character’s persona, the sudden smoldering look in your eye plucking at his every last nerve.

“At lunch, in the hall… even waiting for the bus.” Slowly, you crossed the floor towards Tenma’s frozen form. “You’ve given me flirty smiles, you’ve given me teasing winks, but there’s one thing you have yet to give me...” His pulse pounded in his ears as you leaned in closer, far closer than you had ever been before. His eyes flicker anxiously to your mouth, his breath held tightly in his throat.

“A kiss” you purr, biting your lip with the thrill of anticipation. Your lip bite just about crushes any dignity that remains in Tenma; tracing the lines on your lips with a wanton stare, it takes him a few seconds of feeble gaping before he remembers he has a line.

“Come and get it,” he whimpered, his line in a tone more befitting the token band geek than a smooth high school hunk. And get it, you did.

His script is lost to the floor as you press your lips onto his, his body rendered both limp and tight all at once. He did not expect this kind of kiss from you. Or maybe it was because he was used to a stage kiss, with twenty people watching and instructions from several individuals on how to hold his mouth at just the right angle for the camera. This… this was a kiss kiss. Your soft mouth was moving fluidly against his with such hypnotic, sweet caresses that he was convinced that he had never truly kissed someone before now. It was humbling but delicious; he had no control, and he couldn’t care less.

He couldn’t contain the small whimper of disappointment you drew from his throat when at last you pulled away, slyly wiping your reddened lips with the back of your hand. Tenma watched you with a mixed look of shock and awe, as though you had just miraculously materialized from thin air. Practice was over.

“Don’t lose that script,” you called over your shoulder cheerfully as you exited the practice space. “I think you could use another review of that scene.”

The Premiere

The Interview

You: …and it’s been bittersweet, but we’re both ready to move onto new projects. Isn’t that right, Tenten?

Interviewer: Tenten? That’s adorable, is that your nickname for Tenma?

You: Yeah, I call him Tenten because to me, he’s a ten out of ten. [You place an overly-dramatic kiss on his cheek]

Tenma: [Feigns a gagging sound while seated beside you, but reciprocates the kiss] That is a heinous lie, by the way, on both counts. [Tenma’s ability to poke fun at himself is refreshing, his overall manner humble and gracious, demonstrating his tremendous growth from child star to the consummate professional actor.]

Tenma: Actually, one of my fellow trou- uh, one of my friends at the Mankai Company, Kazunari, gave me that nickname.

Interviewer: The Mankai Company, that’s right! You’re putting on a production soon, aren’t you?

Tenten: We are! I’d love to give you the details of our production if you could publish them alongside this article.

Interviewer:  Absolutely. [Turning to you] And do you usually attend Tenma’s performances? I know both of your schedules are rather hectic these days, with all the job offers you’ve both received following the highly successful final season of your most recent television drama.

You: Yes, absolutely; I attend every one.

Tenma: In the front row, every performance. [He links his arm in yours, speaking with a tangible sense of pride]

Interviewer: I’ve noticed you have at least a half dozen bonsai trees in your apartment. Is that a mutual hobby?

You: Well, it’s our thing. I mean, it’s his thing really, but it’s kind of both our thing now. [You smile at Tenma with affection]

Interviewer: And, I’ve been meaning to ask - that framed script on the wall there, is that a keepsake? Or a valuable script from one of your favorite films perhaps? [The interviewer gestures to the worn script hanging above the mantle, protected and held in place by a thick pane of glass, bearing a large penned “SCENE 28”]

Tenma: Yeah, it has a…  special meaning. [Your boyfriend contributes, glancing into your eyes with a knowing smile that only you two could understand]

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Four: Get to Know You

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Since you guys seemed to like the text messages between Y/n and George, I decided to include a chunk of them, since there weren’t any in the last part.

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some making out, thigh riding and dry humping. Yes, y’all read that correctly. 

George hadn’t spoken to me since the incident in his office. I figured it was because he’d been occupied with his friend, but when Saturday rolled around, he’d make up for all of the missed time between us.

Bree had informed me that she was going out with a group of our friends from college, which she’d invited me to, but I assured her that I was feeling ill and didn’t feel like leaving the house. I felt bad for lying, but I needed to see George. I missed him awfully; I missed the way his bare skin felt flush against mine, I missed seeing his smile and hearing his laughter, like music to my ears. I missed the feeling of his locks in my fingers, feeling his breath tickle my neck.

I couldn’t take it anymore; I messaged him immediately.

9:13 pm, Me: Apartment to myself... You busy?

Buzz.

9:14 pm, George: Nope. On my way.

I smirked to myself, hugging my phone to my chest before ripping my clothes off of me and replacing my casual undergarments with my best lace panties and matching black balconette bra. The thin lace and underwear revealed my nipples sexily enough through the unpadded, thin fabric of the bra. I grinned proudly at the lingerie before slipping into jeans that made my bum look extra good and a sexy tank top with lace trimming. Was it too much? Maybe. Did I care at this point? Nope.

I didn’t care to put shoes on, plopping on my stomach onto my bed, waiting for him to message me that he’d arrived. I was shocked when I heard a knock on my door, causing me to get up and open it with furrowed eyebrows. It swung open, revealing my favorite man standing with his hands in his pockets. I tilted my head.

“You remembered where my apartment was?” I asked him, putting my hands on his hips.

He nodded, leaning down to peck my forehead before entering. I blushed at his simple act of affection, shutting the door behind us and following him inside. I clapped my hands together, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” I suggested.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

I led him to the sofa, sitting myself down as he took a seat next to me. I grabbed the remote controller, opening Netflix and scrolling through the movies. I laughed out loud as a movie I’d watched the previous night with Bree popped up.

“What?” he asked, his lips curling in a smile at my sudden laughter.

“Bree and I watched this movie last night, and it’s really funny,” I explained to him, trying to fight back the giggles that threatened to escape as my brain replayed the funny scenes in my head.

“Well, put it on,” he ordered, gesturing his hand to the television. “Let’s see if it’s as funny as you claim.” He winked.

I pressed on the movie, slouching back into the sofa as it started. I wondered if I should’ve cuddled up next to him, or if that’d be too much. I kept my posture, keeping to myself as the opening credits rolled onto the screen. 

As the movie began, I found my mind wandering immediately. My fingers began drumming onto the fabric of the couch, as I found myself staring at the screen, but my mind remained occupied with other thoughts. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I began to ponder George and I’s relationship again. I had just found out his birthday, and it made me uncomfortable that he’d explored so much of my body, yet I felt like I barely knew him. 

“You alright?”

I turned my head to him. He looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixated on me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I pulled my legs up, crossing them as I slouched, trying to make myself more comfortable.

I returned my eyes back to the television, trying to concentrate on the film until my eyes scanned the room in thought, as my lip was pulled in between my teeth again.

I wondered what his favorite movie was, what kind of movies he’d liked. I didn’t like that I didn’t have the answers to these basic personality questions. I pondered what his childhood was like, if he’d met Dean in the United Kingdom before prior to moving to America. 

“You’re doing it again.”

I whipped my head toward him and cocked an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You chew on your lip and stare off with your eyebrows furrowed,” he observed, moving closer to me. His blue eyes bore into mine as I guiltily stared back at him. He tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, his eyes not leaving mine. “What’s wrong, love?”

I sighed, removing my eyes from our eye contact as my head lowered in thought. His fingers went to my chin, gently lifting it to meet his eyes again.

“I want you to be able to be honest with me, Y/n,” he admitted, his thumb running over my chin. 

“I want to know more about you,” I confessed, my eyes worriedly staring back at his. “I feel like I barely know you.”

He smiled softly, bringing his hand up to my cheek, caressing my face. His hand trailed down my arm, down to my hand before bringing it up to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand softly before holding it in his own, lacing our fingers together. 

“I was born in London,” he began, his eyes never leaving mine. “March thirteenth, nineteen ninety-two. As I’ve mentioned before, my father’s Australian and my mum’s British, but they chose to raise me in the UK, obviously. I have a sister named Daisy, who lives in London with my parents. I try to visit them during the holidays, but it’s not as easy with work. Sometimes, Dean and I will fly down together to visit both of our families.

“I moved to the states after graduating from Uni when I was about twenty-four years old; my parents weren’t super keen on me leaving to a whole new country by myself, but they wanted me to be happy. Dean and I didn’t meet until my first job after moving to New York. We hit it off so well, that we ended up moving in together, and not long after that, we met Andrew at the same job and invited him to move into our flat. About a year or so after, Dean and I decided to apply to Essence, because we felt that we needed a career change. 

“Andrew ended up being promoted at our old job, so he wanted to stay there, plus, he’s happy working there whereas we weren't, really. Once we started working there, I decided to get my own flat; the pay at Essence was much better, I was almost entirely done paying off my student loans, and I felt that I was in need of a different atmosphere. Hearing your roommates play video games constantly, and being the only one who could cook in the house was not something I particularly looked forward to,” he laughed as he recollected the memories from the past. 

“But, long story short, one day I’d been looking for Dean and I saw that there was a new girl, sitting across from his desk in a chair that I’d never seen occupied before. The way you talked to me, you were so nervous and innocent; After seeing you on multiple accounts, in the cafeteria, at your desk whenever I’d come to talk to Dean, I started thinking about you a lot more,” he admitted, his thumb tracing along my knuckles. 

I noticed his cheeks tint scarlet and he wet his lips with his tongue, still maintaining eye contact with me. 

“Like, I would go to the cafeteria and hope that I'd see you? I hope that doesn’t sound creepy,” he laughed a little. “And, when you told me how you felt at the bar, I was baffled.”

My eyes widened, as I tried to recollect the nonexistent memories of being at the bar that night. My eyebrows furrowed and I could feel my cheeks heat, wondering what the absolute fuck I said to him.

“What did I say to you at the bar?” I queried, chewing on the insides of my cheek anxiously. 

He bit his lip, staring back at me for a moment, as if he was pondering how to tell me. He finally parted his lips, as he recalled our conversation at the bar that night.

Dean got up from his seat, leaving George and I to ourselves. I grabbed my glass and downed the rest of the vodka soda in the glass, slamming the empty glass down on the bar and turning my body to face him.

“Hi George,” I smiled, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, my elbow resting on the table.

He turned to me, his lips curling into a smile.

“Hi, Y/n.”

I giggled, smiling blissfully at the beautiful man next to me.

“George,” I began, batting my eyelashes as I looked up at him. “You’re so great.”

His eyebrows knitted together, an entertained smile evident on his lips as he looked down at me.

“And why is that?” He took a swig from his beer bottle as I began my slurring.

“Becaaauuuse, you’re a fucking art director, which is, like, crazy,” my bloodshot eyes bore into his bright, piercing blue ones. “And you’re, like, crazy handsome.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, smirking as my eyelids hung heavy, my eyes barely visible as I smiled. My face was red, as my cheeks had always heated up when I was drunk.

“You think so, love?”

I nodded, attempting to take a swig out of my glass as the empty cup poured nothingness into my mouth, reminding me that I’d finished off the drink minutes ago.

“You’re obliterated,” he observed.

“Want to know a secret?” I asked him in a sing-song voice. “I smoked weed before I got here, because my roommate told me it’d make me less anxious,” I whispered, giggling between words.

He raised his eyebrows, his jaw dropping before he started laughing.

“Jesus, Y/n, I didn’t know you were so reckless,” he gasped.

“Well, I didn’t waaannnnt to do it, but if I hadn’t done it, I’d probably be standing in the corner, too nervous to talk to you,” I admitted.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why would you be nervous to talk to me?”

I gave out a big sigh.

“You’re sooooo hot,” I moaned. “I kind of want to fuck you, but I don’t want to lose my job,” I admitted, licking my vodka-tasting lips before continuing. “And also, I got, like, cheated on big time in my last relationship and it left me with some crazy trust issues and self esteem issues. And, I haven’t had sex since then! It’s been two years, George, can you believe that?!”

My eyes blinked a few times as I stared at him, completely and utterly dumbfounded. My eyebrows were raised and my jaw struggled to keep closed. 

“W-was this before or after I threw up?” I asked, trying to compose myself as I felt my face heating up.

“Literally right before you threw up,” he answered with a small laugh. 

I withdrew my hand from his, using my index finger and thumb to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. 

“I can’t believe I said that shit,” I groaned, leaning back into the couch. “I can’t believe you didn’t just laugh in my face, God, that’s so embarrassing!”

He watched me with amusement, an entertained smirk making its way onto his lips. I rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head in disappointment. 

“Well,” he began, playful eyes staring at me. “If you think about it this way, love, if you’d never said anything, then we’d both probably still be too nervous to talk to each other.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

“Do you think we’d still end up, you know...” I trailed off, referring to whatever label we shared.

He paused for a moment, he eyes drifting in thought before nodding. 

“I think that you were made for me, love,” he admitted, his voice softer than before. He moved his hand onto my thigh, rubbing it gently. “I’ve never been so easily infatuated and comfortable with someone before you, Y/n.”

I wanted to cry, his words painted my heart with the love and desire I had failed to receive in my previous relationship. I blushed, blushing at not only his words, but his touch. The feeling of his hand on my thigh was anything but a soothing rub to me at that point, and my brain had addressed his touch far more quickly than it should have. My eyes dropped down to his hand, watching as it caressed me, just far enough from my heat. The contact sent me into overdrive, as my eyes moved back up to his face, scanning his plump lips.

I moved myself over to him, slowly leaning in until our lips brushed softly. My hands went to his shoulders, gently massaging them as I kissed him softly. His hand moved from my thigh and to my back, his other hand joining as he pulled me closer to him, our lips beginning to move at a steady rhythm. I moved on top of him, knees on each side of his legs as I settled into his lap, our lips still connected. He brought his hands down to my ass, squeezing my bum. I moaned, and he used my parted lips as access for his tongue. Our tongues danced together as his hands snaked back up to my back. 

As I straddled him, I slowly rolled my hips against his lap, needing the friction against my heat. I could feel the tent in his pants against my core, making me moan against his lips. His hands moved back down to my hips, guiding my movements as I rolled my hips against him again. He groaned, lifting his hips for more friction. My lips parted from his as I moaned again, tugging my shirt off of my body, revealing my bra to him. His eyes widened at my exposed nipples through the thin lace fabric, his hands subconsciously raising to cup my breasts. The pads of his thumbs ran over the raised buds, making me let out a blissful sigh at the intimate contact. His fingers ran around my torso, to unclip the bra. He gave me a look, wanting permission first. I nodded, looking down at his dark, blue eyes before his fingers effortlessly worked their way with the clasp, removing the bra from my body. 

He immediately attached his lips to one of my nipples, lapping at the bud and gently nibbling on it, as I tilted my head back in euphoria. 

“Can we, fuck, take this to my bedroom?” I breathed, looking down at him.

His mouth released from my nipple with a pop, as he picked me up and walked me to my bedroom. He settled me down onto my bed, not bothering to close the door as he settled himself in between my legs. The tent in his jeans rubbed against my core as he ground his hips into mine, his lips returning to my own. 

We were lost in each other, voicing soft moans into each other’s mouths while our hips moved together, too lost that we didn’t hear the front door open. 

“Y/n! I have some soup for y–HOLY SHIT!”

George peeled off of me, my hands immediately coming to cover my exposed breasts. 

I heard the sounds of her shoes against the floor as she scurried away, shutting my bedroom door. 

“I’m sorry!” she called from the living room, as George looked at me with an amused smirk.

I threw one of my throw pillows at him with a roll of my eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” I groaned, biting back a smile of my own.

He tossed the pillow onto the floor, moving himself back on top of me.

“Make me,” he whispered, attaching his lips onto mine. 

I let our lips move together in a steady rhythm, before I pulled away, concluding our kiss with a peck on his lips.

“My bra and top are just sitting on the floor where my roommate’s probably trying to eat right now,” I groaned, embarrassed. 

As if on cue, the door opened as we heard the sound of something dropping at the entrance of my room, before the door closed again. I sat up, noticing that she had returned my missing pieces of clothing to me as they sat neatly in front of the door. I got up, arm slung over my breasts before pulling the shirt onto my torso, not bothering wearing the bra. I tossed the bra into my underwear drawer, before returning back to the bed. I watched as the man on my bed hungrily looked at my chest, not caring whether I noticed or not.

“You’re teasing me,” he moaned, his voice husky with lust. He sat with his legs criss-cross, watching me as I mimicked his seated position.

I could feel my hardened nipples against the fabric, teasing him with my now-covered breasts. 

I got on my knees and hands, prowling towards him. Smirking, I nudged my nose against his own, watching as his eyes watched me in awe.

“What are you going to do about it?” I chided with a whisper.

Without a warning, he captured my lips with his own, hands going to the back of my head to pull me closer to him. Our tongues danced together as we feverishly kissed, wanting needing the contact with each other. His lips moved to kiss the corner of my mouth, before moving down my jaw. 

“What do you want to do, love?” he asked between kisses as his lips began sucking on a spot on my neck. 

My eyes rolled back at the sensation, as I tried to control myself to answer his question. 

“I-I don’t want to, fuck, George, d-don’t want to have sex yet,” I admitted between moans as his teeth nipped at the spot, igniting more and more pleasure. 

His mouth left my neck for a moment before finding another spot on my neck, sucking sweetly at the skin just like before. 

“You want to ride my thigh, angel? Want to get yourself off on me while I watch?” he growled against my neck.

My cheeks flushed at his dirty words, but I could feel the pool of wetness growing in my panties. 

“Yes, George,” I pleaded. He pulled his lips away from me as I peeled my shirt off and went to unbutton my pants. 

He replaced his fingers with my own, fumbling with the button and zipper much more slowly, thickening the tension and teasing me. I helped him peel the fabric off of my skin, standing up from the bed and tossing them without thinking. I was left in my lacy black panties, stalking over to him nervously whilst he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. I met my lips with his in attempt to calm my nerves, my fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. He pulled away to quickly peel his shirt off of him, making his locks look more disheveled in the sexiest way possible. 

He propped my legs up so that my knees were on either side of his left thigh, our chests flush against each other. His hands went to my hips as I lowered myself onto his thigh carefully, before slowly rolling myself against him. I sighed at the contact of my clothed clit against him, feeling him flex underneath my core. One of his hands went to my knee, pushing it closer to the tent in his pants. As I rolled myself against him again, I made sure to rub friction from my knee against his boner. His lips captured mine in a sloppy kiss, as I started to gradually pick up my pace. His hands went back to my hips, guiding my movements as I humped his leg. 

I felt the pleasure building inside of me, as I quickened my pace, desperate for my release. Our lips pulled away from each other, as I leant my forehead against his own, not able to concentrate on kissing anymore. My breath quickened and I moved my fingers to his hair, chasing my release. 

“Cum for me, angel,” he ordered, his voice soft, but raspy with lust.

I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my mouth, due to his dirty words and the way this new nickname, angel, rolled off of his tongue. I hit my climax, as I continued to rub my pussy against his leg, riding out my high. As my breathing slowed, I attached my lips back to his, pushing him back onto the bed. He scooted himself up, allowing us to lay whilst our lips danced together. He rolled himself on top of me, as my legs immediately found their way around his waist. My fingers wandered down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and fumbling with the zipper while my feet helped me peel the fabric off of his legs.

I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I could feel another ache between my legs and I was desperate for another relief. He kicked off his shoes, leaving him in his boxers as the tent between his legs became much more present. He attached his lips back to mine before surprising me, grounding his hips into mine as I felt his clothed cock against my clothed core. My jaw went slack as another moan left my lips, my sensitive heat dripping from the sensation. He rolled his hips against mine again, pressing as much into me as he could. My legs pulled him into me, needing as much friction as possible.

He began picking up the pace, his face digging into the crook of my neck as his clothed dick humped my pussy. I felt his hot breath against my neck, motivating me to move my hips against him.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he moaned into my hair. “You gonna make me cum in my briefs, angel?”

With that, I released for my second time, my body stilling underneath him as the pleasure waved over me. I could feel him twitch against my heat, feeling small spurts make wet spots through his underwear. I rode my high against him, as my breathing slowly returned to its normal pace. He rolled onto his back, lying beside me as his chest rose up and down. I turned my head to face him, as I watched him do the same. He leant his head up, looking down at the wet spot displayed through his underwear. He chuckled softly.

“You made my cum in my bloody underwear, Y/n.”

[shinelikethunder]

Fandom Userscript Cookbook: Five Projects to Get Your Feet Wet

Target audience: This post is dedicated, with love, to all novice, aspiring, occasional, or thwarted coders in fandom. If you did a code bootcamp once and don’t know where to start applying your new skillz, this is for you. If you're pretty good with HTML and CSS but the W3Schools Javascript tutorials have you feeling out of your depth, this is for you. If you can do neat things in Python but don’t know a good entry point for web programming, this is for you. Seasoned programmers looking for small, fun, low-investment hobby projects with useful end results are also welcome to raid this post for ideas.

You will need:

The Tampermonkey browser extension to run and edit userscripts

A handful of example userscripts from greasyfork.org. Just pick a few that look nifty and install them. AO3 Savior is a solid starting point for fandom tinkering.

Your browser dev tools. Hit F12 or right click > Inspect Element to find the stuff on the page you want to tweak and experiment with it. Move over to the Console tab once you’ve got code to test out and debug.

Javascript references and tutorials. W3Schools has loads of both. Mozilla’s JS documentation is top-notch, and I often just keep their reference lists of built-in String and Array functions open in tabs as I code. StackOverflow is useful for questions, but don’t assume the code snippets you find there are always reliable or copypastable.

That’s it. No development environment. No installing node.js or Ruby or Java or two different versions of Python. No build tools, no dependency management, no fucking Docker containers. No command line, even. Just a browser extension, the browser’s built-in dev tools, and reference material. Let’s go.

You might also want:

jQuery and its documentation. If you’re wrestling with a mess of generic spans and divs and sparse, unhelpful use of classes, jQuery selectors are your best bet for finding the element you want before you snap and go on a murderous rampage. jQuery also happens to be the most ubiquitous JS library out there, the essential Swiss army knife for working with Javascript’s... quirks, so experience with it is useful. It gets a bad rap because trying to build a whole house with a Swiss army knife is a fool’s errand, but it’s excellent for the stuff we're about to do.

Git or other source control, if you’ve already got it set up. By all means share your work on Github. Greasy Fork can publish a userscript from a Github repo. It can also publish a userscript from an uploaded text file or some code you pasted into the upload form, so don’t stress about it if you’re using a more informal process.

A text editor. Yes, seriously, this is optional. It’s a question of whether you’d rather code everything right there in Tampermonkey’s live editor, or keep a separate copy to paste into Tampermonkey’s live editor for testing. Are you feeling lucky, punk?

Project #1: Hack on an existing userscript

Install some nifty-looking scripts for websites you visit regularly. Use them. Ponder small additions that would make them even niftier. Take a look at their code in the Tampermonkey editor. (Dashboard > click on the script name.) Try to figure out what each bit is doing.

Then change something, hit save, and refresh the page.

Break it. Make it select the wrong element on the page to modify. Make it blow up with a huge pile of console errors. Add a console.log("I’m a teapot"); in the middle of a loop so it prints fifty times. Savor your power to make the background wizardry of the internet do incredibly dumb shit.

Then try a small improvement. It will probably break again. That's why you've got the live editor and the console, baby--poke it, prod it, and make it log everything it's doing until you've made it work.

Suggested bells and whistles to make the already-excellent AO3 Savior script even fancier:

Enable wildcards on a field that currently requires an exact match. Surely there’s at least one song lyric or Richard Siken quote you never want to see in any part of a fic title ever again, right?

Add some text to the placeholder message. Give it a pretty background color. Change the amount of space it takes up on the page.

Blacklist any work with more than 10 fandoms listed. Then add a line to the AO3 Savior Config script to make the number customizable.

Add a global blacklist of terms that will get a work hidden no matter what field they're in.

Add a list of blacklisted tag combinations. Like "I'm okay with some coffee shop AUs, but the ones that are also tagged as fluff don't interest me, please hide them." Or "Character A/Character B is cute but I don't want to read PWP about them."

Anything else you think of!

Project #2: Good Artists Borrow, Great Artists Fork (DIY blacklisting)

Looking at existing scripts as a model for the boilerplate you'll need, create a script that runs on a site you use regularly that doesn't already have a blacklisting/filtering feature. If you can't think of one, Dreamwidth comments make a good guinea pig. (There's a blacklist script for them out there, but reinventing wheels for fun is how you learn, right? ...right?) Create a simple blacklisting script of your own for that site.

Start small for the site-specific HTML wrangling. Take an array of blacklisted keywords and log any chunk of post/comment text that contains one of them.

Then try to make the post/comment it belongs to disappear.

Then add a placeholder.

Then get fancy with whitelists and matching metadata like usernames/titles/tags as well.

Crib from existing blacklist scripts like AO3 Savior as shamelessly as you feel the need to. If you publish the resulting userscript for others to install (which you should, if it fills an unmet need!), please comment up any substantial chunks of copypasted or closely-reproduced code with credit/a link to the original. If your script basically is the original with some key changes, like our extra-fancy AO3 Savior above, see if there’s a public Git repo you can fork.

Project #3: Make the dread Tumblr beast do a thing

Create a small script that runs on the Tumblr dashboard. Make it find all the posts on the page and log their IDs. Then log whether they're originals or reblogs. Then add a fancy border to the originals. Then add a different fancy border to your own posts. All of this data should be right there in the post HTML, so no need to derive it by looking for "x reblogged y" or source links or whatever--just make liberal use of Inspect Element and the post's data- attributes.

Extra credit: Explore the wildly variable messes that Tumblr's API spews out, and try to recreate XKit's timestamps feature with jQuery AJAX calls. (Post timestamps are one of the few reliable API data points.) Get a zillion bright ideas about what else you could do with the API data. Go through more actual post data to catalogue all the inconsistencies you’d have to catch. Cry as Tumblr kills the dream you dreamed.

Project #4: Make the dread Tumblr beast FIX a thing

Create a script that runs on individual Tumblr blogs (subdomains of tumblr.com). Browse some blogs with various themes until you've found a post with the upside-down reblog-chain bug and a post with reblogs displaying normally. Note the HTML differences between them. Make the script detect and highlight upside-down stacks of blockquotes. Then see if you can make it extract the blockquotes and reassemble them in the correct order. At this point you may be mobbed by friends and acquaintainces who want a fix for this fucking bug, which you can take as an opportunity to bury any lingering doubts about the usefulness of your scripting adventures.

(Note: Upside-down reblogs are the bug du jour as of September 2019. If you stumble upon this post later, please substitute whatever the latest Tumblr fuckery is that you'd like to fix.)

Project #5: Regular expressions are a hard limit

I mentioned up above that Dreamwidth comments are good guinea pigs for user scripting? You know what that means. Kinkmemes. Anon memes too, but kinkmemes (appropriately enough) offer so many opportunities for coding masochism. So here's a little exercise in sadism on my part, for anyone who wants to have fun (or "fun") with regular expressions:

Write a userscript that highlights all the prompts on any given page of a kinkmeme that have been filled.

Specifically, scan all the comment subject lines on the page for anything that looks like the title of a kinkmeme fill, and if you find one, highlight the prompt at the top of its thread. The nice ones will start with "FILL:" or end with "part 1/?" or "3/3 COMPLETE." The less nice ones will be more like "(former) minifill [37a / 50(?)] still haven't thought of a name for this thing" or "title that's just the subject line of the original prompt, Chapter 3." Your job is to catch as many of the weird ones as you can using regular expressions, while keeping false positives to a minimum.

Test it out on a real live kinkmeme, especially one without strict subject-line-formatting policies. I guarantee you, you will be delighted at some of the arcane shit your script manages to catch. And probably astonished at some of the arcane shit you never thought to look for because who the hell would even format a kinkmeme fill like that? Truly, freeform user input is a wonderful and terrible thing.

If that's not enough masochism for you, you could always try to make the script work on LiveJournal kinkmemes too!

[coldartisandonut]

Best compact printers 2020

Getting one of the best compact printers can save you a load of space at home or in the office. Printers are a useful tool, but some of the bulkier models can take up a ton of space, so we’ve put together this guide showcasing small printers with compact designs. With advancing technology and more space-conscious consumers, there is a great selection of compact printers that are easy to move and don’t take up much desk real estate. You don’t have to give up print quality either, as some of these portable models have comparable print quality to their larger cousins.

Compact is a term that covers a wide range of printers though. If you’re looking for something ultra-portable - basically handheld - then there are a few options that you can look into. These compact printers are typically battery-powered, letting you use them on the go. These are ideal for those who travel regularly. There are also a range of compact printers that are still designed to sit on your desk, but that don’t take up much room. These are perfect for people with limited space, such as a small desk in an apartment.

We thoroughly tested the best compact printers on the market. We looked at the print quality by printing hundreds of documents and images. We also considered the size, form factor, design, and portability when comparing each device. In the end, we think that the HP OfficeJet All-in-One 250 is the best compact printer on the market today. The OfficeJet 250 offers a wide range of features, including a built-in scanner while still remaining light and compact. Alternatively, if you want something bigger, we’ve got a guide to the best all-in-one printers too.

1. HP OfficeJet All-in-One 250: The best compact printer

The best compact printer, with plenty of features and excellent print quality

Battery life: 500 pages per charge | Dimensions: 15 x 7.8 x 3.6-inches | Weight: 6.3lbs | Print resolution: 4800 x 1200 | Paper capacity: 50 sheets | Scan and copy: Yes | Connectivity: USB, WiFi and Bluetooth

Great performance Large paper trayPrints, scans and copiesExpense compared to rivalsHeavy for a compact printer

The HP OfficeJet All-in-One 250 sits at the top of our best compact printer guide because not only does it come with a great set of features – it lets you print, scan and copy documents on the go – but in our tests it performed extremely well too, with very few ink- or feed-related errors. The print quality from this compact printer is truly impressive, rivalling that of many standard-size inkjet models, likely because it has a 4800 x 1200 dpi (dots per inch) resolution.

For a mobile printer, the OfficeJet 250 also printed quickly – eight pages per minute for black-and-white documents and seven pages per minute for color documents. As a bonus, it’s much quieter than other mobile printers as well. The machine uses a tri-color and black cartridge. Printers that use individual cartridges instead of tri-color ones tend to have lower ongoing ink costs, but this HP model also takes high-capacity cartridges, which can keep costs down.

In our tests, the printer’s copier and scanner also reproduced documents faithfully. With a scan and copy resolution of 600 x 600 dpi, text was easy to read. There was also a little color variance from the original documents. The only downside is that the scanner and copier can’t read double-sided sheets.

The HP OfficeJet All-in-One 250 is compact, but isn’t the smallest mobile printer available. However, even with its robust feature set, it only weighs just under 7 pounds with the battery attached and fits in a standard carry-on or backpack. The battery pack comes with the printer and holds enough charge to print 500 pages or to keep it working over a long weekend. You control all the printer functions with a 2.65-inch touchscreen on the front of the device. You can use USB, Wi-Fi or Bluetooth to send documents to the printer. The machine doesn’t directly support programs like Google Cloud Print or Apple AirPrint, but there’s an app you can download from HP that lets you print from your mobile devices. Overall, the HP OfficeJet All-in-One 250 is easily among the best compact printers you can buy.

2. HP OfficeJet Mobile 200: Best value compact printer

HP OfficeJet Mobile 200

Excellent print quality and very portable, but with fewer features

Battery life: 500 pages per charge | Dimensions: 14.3 x 7.3 x 2.7-inches | Weight: 4.85lbs | Print resolution: 4800 x 1200 | Paper capacity: 50 sheets | Scan and copy: No | Connectivity: USB and WiFi

Excellent print qualityCosts less than our top pickHas a long battery lifeCan’t scan or copyNot the lightest or smallest testedDoesn’t work with Google Cloud Print or Apple AirPrint

The OfficeJet Mobile 200 is the less-expensive sibling of the HP Office Jet All-in-One 250 above (our top pick for the best compact printer). Like the fancier model, it boasts superb print quality for a mobile printer – sharing the same high print resolution (4800 x 1200 dots per inch) and print speed (about seven to eight pages per minute). However, the OfficeJet 200 doesn’t have a heavy copier and scanner weighing it down, which makes this compact printer both cheaper and easier to lug around. At 14.3 x 73.32 x 2.7 inches, the HP OfficeJet 200 weighs less than five pounds if you use a cable to power it. With the included battery, it’s a little heavier, but it still fits easily into a bag. You can check the battery level anytime, and starting with a full charge, it can print up to 500 pages. This compact printer has a convenient document feeder so you don’t have to stand nearby to load each page one by one. However, there’s no output tray to catch your documents, so you should use the OfficeJet 200 on a flat surface. When we researched ink prices, we found that each page printed with this machine costs about 21 cents. If you invest upfront in the high-capacity ink cartridges, you can save just over five cents per page. Bear in mind that rather than having a touchscreen like the OfficeJet 250, the 200 has button controls. And while you can connect to the printer via USB and Wi-Fi, you can’t print over Bluetooth. However, if you can do without the bells and whistles of the 250, and you just want an excellent compact printer, the OfficeJet Mobile 200 is fantastic value and a brilliant choice.

3. Brother PocketJet 7 PJ723: Most portable printer

Very lightweight Printed text is sharp and cleanOptional battery pack prints 600 pages per chargeLower print resolutionOnly prints in black and whiteThermal paper harder to find

Easily the most portable printer we tested, the PocketJet 7 PJ723 sacrifices some features to be ultra-light. Weighing just over a pound and with dimensions of 10.04 x 2.17 x 1.53, it can fit into a large pocket. Rather than having inkjet technology, which requires moving parts, the PocketJet 7 uses thermal technology to print. While this means you don’t have to purchase replacement ink, you can’t print in color with this device.

Also, it can be hard to get your hands on the specialty paper it requires, which is similar to the receipt paper most stores use. You need to carefully select between long-lasting and regular thermal paper, depending on how long you want to archive documents, and it may be worth buying the kind that you can write on – because the surface is slippery, it can be difficult to write on normal thermal paper. It's important to note that the battery isn’t included with the PocketJet 7 PJ723, but if you choose to buy one, it allows you to print up to 600 pages on a single charge. You can also by accessories, such as a car charger, that give you some additional flexibility. This thermal printer produces documents more slowly than our top picks, reaching speeds of about five pages a minute. You also have hand-feed the documents through the printer unless you invest in a roll or a fan-fold stack of paper. The PocketJet 7 creates very sharp text, even with its low 300 x 203 dpi resolution. Because the device doesn’t use the most common printing technology you’re likely used to, you may find that your documents have a slightly odd smell. This compact printer doesn’t have as many connectivity options as our top picks. You can only print from a laptop, and you can’t do so wirelessly. Because of these limitations, we don’t recommend this mobile printer for everyday use, unless you plan to print invoices for clients or have a similar use in mind. But if you're looking for a highly portable compact printer that's easy to carry with you, the PocketJet 7 PJ723 is well worth considering.

4. HP DeskJet 3755: Best scan and copy

Large paper tray means fewer refillsMore affordable than othersNo batteryNot portable

The HP DeskJet 3755 isn’t a mobile or portable printer. Instead, it has the all-in-one features, including a scanner and copier, you need for a permanent addition to an apartment or dorm room. Still, at 5.5 pounds, it’s easier to move and stash than other all-in-one inkjets, which can weigh up to 40 pounds.

The DeskJet 3755 also has a larger paper tray than many of the compact printers we tested, so you don’t have to reload it as often. During testing, we noticed it created a few more print errors than our top pick, but it’s much more affordable.

The scanner and copier work just fine, but because of the printer’s size, you feed documents through the machine instead of using a traditional flatbed scanner. If you need a compact printer that can scan and copy, the HP Deskjet 3755 is a solid pick.

5. Epson WF-100: Best for business

Built-in battery for easy chargingMany connectivity optionsSlow print speed

The Epson WF-100 can print up to 100 sheets per battery charge. Our best compact printer can print up to five times more pages per charge – but the Epson WF-100 costs significantly less. And unlike some printers, its battery is included in the initial purchase, which saves you money.

The Epson WF-100 is also smaller and lighter than many compact printers we tested, weighing only 3.5 pounds. It includes all the connectivity options business travelers need, and our testing revealed it has better-than-average print quality, though it prints slower than other compact printers. Both its print tray and cartridge capacity are functional, but we would’ve liked to see higher capacities for both features. However, those limited capacity increase the portability of this compact printer.

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How we tested the best compact printers

Because portability is important to consider when choosing a mobile printer, we used hands-on tests to evaluate each machine’s weight and size, then assigned it a score. In addition, we researched each printer’s battery life and checked to see if the battery was included or had to be purchased separately, which affects the device’s value. Batteries that print a lot of documents on a single charge fared better in our comparison.

We examined hundreds of sample documents, dozens printed with each device we reviewed. During our tests, we printed the same samples on each machine and compared their output quality, looking for frequency of printing errors such as spotting, streaking or bleeding. In addition, we compared the machines’ print resolution side by side.

After looking at the machines' output quality, we assigned each one a grade based on its performance. Printers that produced readable test with some noticeable errors received a C grade, while with B grades performed about average with only a few errors. We reserved A grades for printers that create easy-to-read text with few to no errors. Most users won't be satisfied with a printer that earned a grade lower than a C.

Ongoing ink or thermal paper costs are important to consider when buying a compact printer, so we noted which ones require specialty paper and which use standard 8.5 x 11 printer paper. We also compared the cost of ink for each printer we reviewed – we broke this information down to how much it costs per page to print with each machine so it’s easy to compare the long-term expense of owning each one.

Finally, we looked at the rest of the printer’s features, noting if it includes Wi-Fi and other connectivity options like USB or Bluetooth. Online support is essential for printers these days, and some printers connect to mobile devices with popular cloud programs, while others use proprietary apps.

How much does a compact printer cost?

Compact printers tend to be pricier than all-in-one models because of their size and how portable they are as well as their batteries.

The compact printers we tested range from around $75 to just under $400, and the average price of a compact printer is around $250 – a little more than double the cost of an average all-in-one model. However, the priciest compact printers aren’t necessarily the best investment. You can get great print quality and functionality without paying a premium. For the best value, look at models that cost around $200.

Key features to look for when buying a compact printer

Printer design Generally, the lighter a mobile printer is the better. However, we looked for models that balance features and quality with their compact size. As you look at a mobile printer, check its dimensions to see if it’ll fit inside of the carrier you typically use, like a laptop bag or backpack.

Another important consideration is the battery life. Check to see how many documents you can print or days you can go before you need to recharge the battery. If you have to plug the battery in regularly, it impacts the printer’s overall portability.

Output Print quality is one of the most important considerations when buying any kind of printer, so we looked at documents printed by each machine under high magnification. Since you likely won’t compare sample documents side by side in person as you choose a printer, we suggest comparing their print resolutions, which is a good indicator of how much detail a printer can recreate in images. The higher the numbers, the better the resolution. Smaller, high-resolution printers usually cost more, so you may have to compromise on resolution and portability to find something in your price range. If you're printing pictures, we'd recommend one of the best photo printers to be sure.

We looked for printers that can standard-size, 8.5 x 11 documents, but the more flexibility you have in your paper choice the better. While all the printers we considered handle standard-size paper, watch for special paper requirements. For example, the Brother PocketJet PJ723 uses thermal paper.

Manufacturers list printer speed in the machines’ specs, but we timed the models we reviewed to approximate their speed in real-world conditions. Based on what you’re using the printer for, speed may be important to consider.

Ink & media You want to check to see what types of cartridges your inkjet compact printer uses. If it takes high-yield cartridges, you can usually shave off a few cents per page. Or you might consider a printer that uses thermal print technology like the PocketJet PJ723, though the specialty paper these machines use comes at its own expense.

Pay attention to the printer’s regular output specifications, including the maximum number of pages the manufacturer suggests printing per month, called the monthly duty cycle. Regularly printing above this number can wear the machine down faster and cause damage, so make sure the duty cycle matches up with your needs.

Connectivity Printers that connect to a variety of online storage and cloud systems are more useful, especially now that so much is stored digitally. Check to make sure you’re preferred cloud storage program is supported by your printer.

[littlehouseofkarlacade]

Darkness of Wonderland: NaNoWriMo 2019 Day 1

Word Count: 1670

Total Word Count: 1670/50000

~~

Her cheeks hurt. 

Having to smile all the time was… exhausting.

It wasn’t as if anyone actually cared whether Lyssie was smiling or not. The people she served every day seemed to only see her as some sort of robot, some sort of machine that could be ignored as she rang up their order. The only time eye contact seemed to be given was when something rang up for a different price than they saw on the shelf, or on the internet, or somewhere else. Oh, boy, then were they determined to let her know exactly what they thought. Because, didn’t she know? It was all her fault when prices were marked wrong, or it was her fault when the online price was less than the one in the actual store, and she had to change it right then and there, right now!

I don’t have any more control over how things are priced than you do, Lyssie always found herself thinking in those situations. My job is to just have you pay for all your crap.

The same old thoughts were in her head as a new customer rolled up to her lane. Lyssie internally groaned as she saw the full-to-bursting cart park itself in front of the belt, and a stream of mental cursing unleashed itself in her brain as the stranger began to unload the contents onto said belt. So many small things… What in the world would possess someone to spend a fortune on small, tiny things that would probably end up broken within a month? Maybe it was just her own tiny budget screaming about it, but either way, it didn’t seem to be the smartest idea.

Oh well. She wasn’t here to judge someone’s purchases.

“Hello. Did you find everything alright today?” The greeting sounded hollow to her, a sort of faked perkiness that she was far too painfully familiar with, from not just herself but also her fellow coworkers. Oh well, it wasn’t as if the customers would know the difference.

“Yes, I did.” Even while answering, the customer wasn’t actually looking at her; instead, she was fiddling with her phone. Probably scrolling through text messages or through some social media website, as so many of these customers enjoyed doing at the register. “Also, can I have gift receipts for all of these? Thanks.”

Lyssie, having already scanned several items, had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as she halted the scanning in order to hit the gift receipt button for each item. This was going to end up making the transaction take much, much longer than she wanted, especially because her supervisors preferred their cashiers to be rather quick with transactions, but… There was no saying no to the customer at this place. They could make any outrageous request, and Lyssie would still have to honor it. Because… that was how customer service worked, according to every higher-up she had ever spoken to about it.

What a ridiculous policy.

The customer’s phone began ringing, and she picked it up and answered it, beginning a conversation in the middle of the line. Lyssie sighed, knowing that now, there was going to be no further speaking to her. How she hated when customers did this. It was so undeniably rude. That would be like… if Lyssie decided to stop whatever she was doing in the middle of a conversation with someone else to go off and do whatever it was she wanted to do.

Yeah, go on, give me even more of a reason to feel like I’m not actually a human being in this job.

The transaction continued in this way, with Lyssie scanning an item and hitting the gift receipt button on the register, and the woman continuing to keep up her phone conversation, until Lyssie finally reached the last item. Upon hitting the total button, she finally looked up at the customer, who seemed to have completely forgotten that she was at the register. No words left Lyssie’s mouth, however; she merely stood and stared at the customer until she decided she was done speaking. It would have been rude to interrupt, after all.

“What?” the customer snapped. “I’m on the phone!”

“I am aware,” Lyssie replied. “Your total comes to 327 dollars and 49 cents.”

Lowering her head to hold the phone in place between her shoulder and her ear, the customer dug through her purse to pull out her card. She shoved it into the machine, muttering, “I always spend way too much at this place!”

As the card reader began to process the customer’s payment, Lyssie found herself almost wanting to laugh. This woman was one of the many that life seemed to grant so much luck to, considering that the total of this purchase was more than Lyssie made in two weeks. If someone could afford to drop that much in one purchase and do it regularly… something lucked out for them. Honestly, seeing so many people being able to make purchases like this always seemed to plant the seeds of depression in Lyssie’s mind. People younger than her that could drop a hundred dollars with no hesitation… It was hard to not be jealous of them from her point of view, who struggled to even meet basic needs with the pay she brought home. Living alone was difficult, even moreso seeing people like this.

Why the hell am I in retail again? That’s right, because I don’t qualify for any other position.

What a grim state of mind to be in.

The receipt printed, causing Lyssie to break out of her thoughts, and she handed the receipt over to the customer. Said customer took it without a word of thanks in return, rushing away with the cart full of bags, still on the phone. Lyssie glanced around to see if there were any more customers headed to her lane before letting out a groan of irritation. “Oh my god… Customers are the worst thing about mankind…”

“Hey, Lyssie, want to go on your break?”

Lyssie turned just then to see one of her shift leads at her side, reaching up to switch off her register light. “Oh, absolutely. Get me out of this place for a while.”

The shift lead chuckled. “Yeah, I feel you. Enjoy your break.”

Lyssie stepped away from the register, escaping to the employees-only area as quickly as she could. The only thought she could cling to at the moment was the same thought that passed through her head every time she went on break: there would only be little under half her shift left when she came back, and then she could go home. But, for now, she could forget about work for fifteen minutes.

After pulling on her jacket, she exited the building, going to sit on one of the benches outside in front of the store. Time to flip through the same social media apps, the same text messages, the same communication apps as she always did. Those were time-wasters; she rarely spoke on any of them, but she did enjoy reading what other people posted. In all truthfulness, Lyssie rarely spoke to people at all. People exhausted her, and she relished those times that she could spend alone, recharging from the day’s efforts. Of course, she had a few friends, and a few coworkers she did enjoy conversing with, but overall she considered herself relatively solitary.

Her break passed without much event, and when she went back to work, that passed as well with little event, thankfully. The chaos of the oncoming evening crowd barely fazed her at this point; they were always here around five and six o’clock, those people with actual real jobs that paid them good money and probably made them feel as if being there was actually worth their time. When it came time for Lyssie to clock out, she did so, shutting off her light and disappearing to the employees-only area once again. Her name badge came off, being placed in her jacket pocket before she clocked out and departed the building again.

“Another day over, another day tomorrow of the same shit,” she muttered as she crossed over to the bus stop. She couldn’t afford the upkeep needed for a car, so she merely took public transportation everywhere. It was slightly inconvenient, but still much better than having to walk everywhere. She lived just far enough away from her workplace that walking was out of the question if she wanted to actually have the energy to work for however many hours she was scheduled.

The bus pulled up soon enough, and she climbed on. The wait for it to start moving was short, and she pulled out her phone again once it did. More mindless scrolling through the news feed. Oh, look, the political administration was being stupid again. Oh, someone got married. Oh, someone else got engaged. Oh, a different person is having a birthday. Oh, look, more children from someone completely different.

I wish I had something interesting in my life to post about. All I do is just share images that I relate to. I’m probably alarming someone with some of them.

Lyssie chuckled as the thought passed through her mind. She had a bit of a morbid sense of humor when it came to what images posted online she found funny. Things that she could easily sympathize with, things about being broke all the time, things about jokingly saying that death was a preference to the current state of the world… It was all amusing to her, and she sympathized way too well with it all. Every so often she would find an image of a cute animal to shake things up, and she would share that as well, because everyone on her list deserved to see the cute animal as well. Everyone deserved to see something cute to potentially cheer them up, so she thought. At least, she did.

[siyeonrk]

MGA SEASON FIVE !      EP. 1 → PART ONE: CALLBACK PERFORMANCE       ( SINGING FLY 0:00 - 1:55 )

when she receives the email, she assumes it’s a politely-worded rejection letter ( albeit automated and thus, void of any actual sympathy ). it’s disguised a little like a positive note from the subject line, but siyeon’s received enough strongly worded emails from her parents about her behaviour at boarding school to know that’s how they reel you in — give you a false sense of serenity before hitting you with the hard stuff. so, she doesn’t rush to open it. she’s in the middle of her shift, hands ( and now phone ) covered in flour so she pushes it to the back of her mind and carries on through to the evening, the notification almost forgotten until she gets into the safety of her bedroom at home. 

a text from jeno lights up her screen but she barely reads the message. instead, her eyes are drawn to the box below it, the sender screaming at her loud and clear. mnet global auditions. yes, her rejection email, and so finally, she picks up her phone with little care, sighs as she clicks through to read it. 

congratulations. she thinks it strange to include the word on your final communication with someone, but the further she reads, the more it sinks in that this isn’t a rejection, far from it, actually. by some miracle, she’s through to the next round, one of far too many whittled down to a mere hundred— how had she sneaked her way in? endless wit and charm? potential for spinning a narrative down the line? she can barely believe it. 

so she reads it again, reloads and reloads as if closing the app or restarting her phone will prove to her that it’s just a figment of her imagination, that it isn’t real — that she hasn’t been contacted for a callback. if her phone hadn’t cost so much ( and hold so many memories ) she’d have dropped it straight to the hard floor. 

the next morning, when it’s all finally sunk in somewhat, she re-reads it again with a clear mind. two minutes, prepare a song, dance or rap for judges and the other ninety-nine contestants. for a moment, she feels a little nervous. she’s never sang for a group so large before, her biggest venue being her friend’s family-and-friends-only birthday party in late 2017 of about fifty people. or rather, forty-five that were actually awake by the time she took the microphone. god, who thought inviting their conservative extended family and all their grandparents to an 18th birthday party was a good idea? out of loyalty, she sang the full five songs she promised she would but after the second verse of the first, she was ready to call it a night. 

regardless, she has to do it. if not to be able to say she did, then to prove to herself that she can. her biggest problem is choosing a song. she already knows immediately that she’ll sing. what is the real question, though. for the auditions, she’d chosen something she felt would be entertaining and upbeat enough on a long day, but she doesn’t want to continue doing exactly the same thing. she’s not thinking too much about making herself memorable amongst so many likely far more talented contestants; in all honestly, the probably vital concept completely slips her mind. instead, she’s wondering how she can build upon what she auditioned with, how she can show something a little different without venturing so far out of her comfort zone that she risks it all. she wants to sing something familiar, something soft, without it being just another happy acoustic guitar and piano song. maybe something slow and sensual? an english ballad? 

in the end, spending hours scrolling through songs, she settles on something closer than she’d intended, but still distant enough that she feels that it gives off a different vibe. this time, she should have the chance to show off a little more colour to her voice. there’s a little tame belting, plenty of opportunities for her to adlib. it’s a great version of an otherwise very pop song, too, that she hopes most of the audience aren’t familiar with so it piques their interest when the backing track starts. 

only time will tell, and tell it will, as she spends the next few days practising it endlessly. her coworkers are fed up of her noise in the kitchen, her grandmother even grew tired of her singing wherever she is, whatever she’s doing, that she’d started going out on walks to the convenience store more, despite siyeon’s protests about her health. ( the doctor had said it’d be good for her to get out more, get fresh air and stretch her legs, but siyeon worries. she always worries. ) 

when the time comes, she nervously takes a seat, re-tucking her t-shirt into the waist of her jeans. the belt feels a little tight under all the lights and the pressure of so many eyes scanning by her as each contestant seems to be glancing at their competition. it’s hard not to run over the crowd growing when she knows there’ll be familiar faces amongst them, friends she’s not seen for a while because they’re all so busy with this and even a few ex-idols, too. her curiosity usually gets the better of her, after all. 

the hustle and bustle begins to die down as the next step of the auditioning process begins. now it feels like a tv show, with their elaborate stage and the lights dimming and cameramen whizzing around. she doesn’t know how much of today will make it into the first episode of the show, or how much of their previous round of auditions will either, but it’s a question long forgotten in the back of her mind when they announce the arrival of the judges. she expects it to be a group of known idols, seniors in the industry that are highly respected and regarded for their respective talents, like lc9 and myname members, or that phenomenal vocalist from she’z, but lo and behold, it’s another step up even from them as the ceos saunter in and suddenly siyeon thinks there’s no way I can do this and her palms begin to feel sweaty. 

this is so much pressure, she thinks, so much more than I expected. having to sing for a crowd so large already was enough to shake her a little bit, but she’d gotten over that with time. this, however, is an entirely different ball game— and she’d had no time to prepare for it. maybe if she’d known the ceos would be here, she’d have practised harder, brought something more extravagant to the game. they’ve seen countless talents in their lifetimes, what makes her think they’ll even bat an eyelash at her? 

but she’s here now and she’s worked so hard for it. she’s spent more hours than she has fingers and toes three times over readying herself for this moment — for being called down to sing and to show them what she’s capable of and hopefully, what she could be capable of in their experienced hands. she sucks in a deep breath. she has until she hears her name to centre herself and thankfully, with a hundred contestants, there’s plenty of time to get there. 

( and of course psych herself back out again, and then up again, then out, then up— and so forth. ) 

by the time she is called, she isn’t really sure what she’s feeling. it’s numb, surreal, and she thinks she’s probably going to trip on her way there just to ice that sweet, sweet carrot cake, but soon she’s standing before five of the most influential people in the industry and her palms are sweaty and her feet fidgeting and she’s bowing ninety degrees for a little too long. 

“I’m park siyeon and I’ll be singing fly by jiu.” she barely has time to shuffle her weight about to loosen herself up before the backing track is starting. 

it’s softer, already more subtle than the pop genre original, but siyeon honestly likes both reasonably equally. despite her usual affinity for acoustic tracks, she appreciates the harmonies and positive vibe of the first iteration of the song. after all, it’s a song about self love and that’s always best expressed through a happier beat, she thinks. but this version, the one she starts a few seconds in, comes from a different place. it might not entirely be something that’s overly important to her, to her own growth, but she knows confidence, spreading your wings, believing in yourself— they’re things so many people struggle with and if she can touch anyone with this deeper, more emotional rendition, then she’ll consider it a success. 

she does have to actually make it through the next two minutes first, though. 

invisible 안갯속에 나를 찾아야만 해 yeah 작은 불빛 그 희망은 상상만으로도 you’ll find

for the first verse and pre-chorus, her voice is much more gentle in tone. it’s akin to her audition, a little too breathy in places and a little too powerful in others as she moves into the chorus in due time. when she watches clips of these shows, so many contestants close their eyes, look as if they’re totally submerged in the moment but siyeon smiles, clicks along to the beat with a bit of bounce in her body. she wants to look relaxed, like she’s having fun ( and isn’t, instead, screaming for basically two minutes in her head not to forget the lyrics or mess up; no biggie ). of course, it means she probably looks like she’s trying too hard, but she’d rather appear nervous but trying than too dramatic, than emotionless or dry. delivery is just as important as actual talent, right? or maybe that’s just what she’s telling herself as she fails to see how else she might stand even a fraction of a chance against the other performers she’s seen thus far. 

높은 곳을 향해 손을 뻗어 볼 때 닿을 것만 같은 느낌 바라왔던 날들 가까워진 걸까 저 하늘에 그려져

just spread your wings 저 끝까지 가슴 뛰는 소릴 따라 두 눈을 감고 꿈을 펼쳐봐 you’re a hero, you can fly you can fly, oh, yeah, oh

the belted notes of the chorus are a contrast to what she’d handled in her audition. she doesn’t want to fall flat, so she always ends up putting a little too much gut into them, a little too much effort. on their own, they sound great. on their own, the softer verses sound great. together, her song is a little disjointed, her transitions between each unpolished but the potential is there. she lacks a little of the control they so likely desire, but it shows in her adlibs that she’s capable of it — if only she were to know what she was doing, if only she had someone to guide her along the way. 

though, again, maybe that’s just what she’s telling herself to plough through the worry that she’s already messing everything up. is there a world record for fastest mga audition to go wrong? at least she could stand a chance at that if all else fails. 

단 한 번도 보지 못한 세상이 펼쳐질 거야 구름 위로 날아올라 ‘cause your wings are made to fly

somehow, with the blink of an eye, she’s at the second verse and generously more than half way through her performance. she mellows back down to her quieter tone, though her bright smile doesn’t falter. she can’t let herself slip now; she’s made it this far and she’s determined to make it to the end. she’s no longer nervous about singing for the sheer number of people here, nor the ceos, instead a little elated despite other worries that she’d had the honour at all. after all, she can barely begin to imagine how many people auditioned and yet, here she is, one of the hundred the roster was whittled down to. that has to mean something, right? potential ( as a trainee or just as entertainment on the show, she doesn’t want to think too hard about ) shown, possibly, or even just to help buffer up their favourites for the show ( by comparison, she’s sure they’d look much more impressive ) but whatever it is, she’s here and she intends to savour every moment of it. 

due to the layering of the original, there’s a lot that’s missed in this subdued, single vocalist version. for that reason, she has to skip the first half of the opening line of the pre-chorus this time around, her voice projecting clearly with the run from the end of the verse. she’d practised it especially hard, recording herself to see how it sounded. she’d wanted them to think she’s professional, serious about this— isn’t fancy vocal tricks the way to do that? thankfully, she’s not able to overdo it, so it’s still quite tame as she executes a pretty adlib or two throughout. she wishes she could sing right through to the very last beat, show them how sweet her voice is in the slightly higher bridge, but her time is coming to an end. 

손을 뻗어 볼 때 닿을 것만 같은 느낌 바라왔던 날들 가까워진 걸까 저 하늘에 그려져

it’s not the most natural finish to a performance, but she does her best to fade out as the instrumental behind her does the same. the harsh cuts of her audition song had put her off, so she’d asked for help this time making sure she wouldn’t be remembered for making ninety-nine contestants and the five ceos jump out their seats at the sudden melody. 

when she’s done, satisfied, she bows once more and makes her way back to her seat. her heart’s thumping aggressively in her chest and the contestants sitting around her offer her encouraging smiles as she makes her way back over. her fingers shake against her thighs but she’s done and now it’s just a waiting game. a really horribly painful waiting game.