#running around with their little half developed brains

[soaps-mohawk]

Wow, chewing on polly pocket clothes huh. A bunch of weirdos up here. Lolol jk jk, I used to chew on toilet paper so I can't even say anything. Now I just crunch on ice lmaaoo

Toilet paper is wild. The texture...I feel like it would stick to your mouth. That would be too much for me

[ceilidho]

soap developing an unhealthy attachment to his therapist post his brush with death after being shot at point blank range. he was reluctant to see a therapist at first because he didn't like what it said about him that he was being more or less strong armed into seeing a shrink (like no one trusts him anymore; they don't think his head's on straight since being shot), but as time goes on, he grows to cherish the relationship he's cultivated with his therapist because,

well,

she understands him. she listens to him. where everyone else seems to want him to just hurry up and get better (the nightmares, the mid-sentence brain fog, the erratic mood swings, the silent brooding when he can't find the words, aphasia on the tip of his tongue, the constant, constant headaches and auditory hallucinations that he can't seem to kick), she doesn't put any pressure on him to heal right away. she works with him and his medical team; gives him the space to process what happened to him, and has a seemingly bottomless wealth of patience for him.

he can talk for hours in her presence. it's a shame their time together is limited to an hour and a half every week. the dulcet sound of her voice is such a comfort to him. it's a shame she politely but firmly rejects his advances when he finally asks her out, tells him that it wouldn't even be appropriate for them to be friends outside of his sessions. that it would in some way hinder his healing journey. which pisses him off because Soap has progressed in leaps and bounds since those early days when he used to stumble over his words sitting on the couch across from her, head in his hands when the language felt beyond his grasp, a fine tremor still running through his hands that he's since managed to contain,

and

his head is throbbing again. a sharp pain above his eye that pulsates like a drum in his head and -

he thinks about her constantly. in and out of sessions. she's a frequent topic of conversation when the brass finally lets him back out in the field, Makarov finally dealt with (resting six feet deep in an unmarked grave). he ignores the looks oscillating between concern and worry that Price gives him. ignores the way Ghost barks at him to quit bothering the bird in the tight skirt and fuck someone that won't get him discharged. ignores the way Gaz pulls him to the side to ask if maybe he needs to see another therapist, y'know, mate...get some distance.

they act like this is something new. an abberation and not his very nature. like he hasn't always been the type to lock onto a scent like a hunting dog. a sniper by training. he sits and he watches and he waits; waits for the right moment that he alone knows.

it comes to him on an inauspicious day, when he's leaving the training facilities and spots his sweet thing rummaging around in the boot of her car, her ass beckoning him forward like a siren's call. now, now, now, the little itch in his head says, the voice that knows when the time is right. it's a sense acquired through conscious and unconscious observation, letting it all filter into his frontal cortex until he knows without knowing that the parking lot is empty apart from the two of them and the men at the base gates half a mile away.

it would take nothing for him to come up behind her and push her into the boot. nothing to wrestle the purse from her hands and slam the trunk shut. nothing to drive off base with a flick of his fingers to the guards that hardly ever bother to question him before he leaves (though they know what car he actually drives), made complacent by familiarity.

and he knows that it's wrong, knows that there's a line that he shouldn't cross, that choices have consequences, but,

his mouth salivates when her hips twitch, the urge to take settling over him. surely they'd forgive him one indiscretion.

[onlyhereforpazzi]

Let me be your rock 🪨 (get to because my last name is stone.. I have crippling debt..)

Warnings: NSFW contains smut (finger A!r Eating out p! Scissoring) angst mentions of running away from home.

A sort of fluffy fic :)

Enjoy :)

It started off small. Sharing little moment’s in Azzi’s room, hugs from behind, little pecks to the cheek, cuddling late at night, long welcoming hugs that were a bit more than just friendly, and hand holding everywhere they went. Azzi’s dad Tim would make jokes that Paige and Azzi were attached to the hip since birth, Paige would just laugh at that. But then they got risky with the end of the year coming soon they felt and needed to rush things, Azzi became just as clingy as Paige and they got a lot less demure with their touches and acts of effect.

 Paige laid next to Azzi in her queen size bed rubbing her stomach softly as she pecked her lips against Azzi’s every few seconds whispering sweet nothings into her ears, such as.. “Such a pretty girl Az..” “Look at my princess..” “Gonna dream of you every night ma..” Until Azzi finally put a stop to it by pinning Paige down with a slick move. “Whoa ma-” A startled Paige said looking up at the younger girl, adjusting her hands so one was on her ass the other on her hip smirking in that cheesy way she knew Azzi loved.

“Oh you are such a dumbass..” Azzi mumbled softly, moving a hand to the blonde’s cheek leaning down and pecking her lips in such an easy motion like banking a layup or a floater to the two hoopers. “My dumbass though..” The younger girl smiles and pecks her lips again. 

The blonde looks up at the younger girl. “Love being your dumbass,” She paused for a moment before adding “as long as I get to see that ass shake ma.” Paige was then met with a playful smack from her best friend on her arm. “What Az it is true!” Paige laughed and rolled over so the younger girl was under her.

“Yeah but is it so inappropriate!” Azzi said as if half of the stuff they have done in this very bed (or in the shower) was any better. Luckily Azzi used her brains and covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t you even think about it Bueckers..”

“You love me Az, I know it..” The blonde smiled and pecked the younger girl's lips before whispering playfully in a seductive voice. “But you know maybe later I can show you inappropriate things.” She ran her finger down to the younger girl's shorts with a smirk, before doing her classic ‘rizz-hands’ grinning ear to ear. “Dork..” Azzi mumbled pecking her lips again, a knock at the door prevented Paige from deepening the kiss. Paige groans and rolls off Azzi so she can get up. Azzi opens the door to find Tim, the man was tall standing at 6 '7 and was a stocky man developing a bit of a dad bod from being off the court for so long, most guys didn’t ask Azzi out because her dad was so scary. Deep down he is like a big old teddy bear. “Hey girls, dinner is ready! Azzi you need to clean up your room after dinner hun.” Azzi nodded and Paige smiled before standing up and following Azzi downstairs to the dining area. The Fudd house was well kept and generally clean, except for the couch which was covered in Azzi’s two younger brothers controllers and such. Paige sat next to Azzi and placed her hand on her thing, rubbing gently as they waited for the dinner to be set in front of them. “So how was your day y’all?” Azzi’s mother Katie asked, her voice had a twang to it that made her seem more stern then she was. She looked at her two younger sons who instantly stopped messing around with each other. “Jose, remember to put away your clothes. I have asked you three times this week alone.”

Paige had grown used to this, it was nice having siblings in the house all the time and two loving parents even if they weren’t actually hers. Paige was only three when Bob and Amy got a divorce, it took her till she was seven to figure out why. She used to blame herself. It was a bad habit she developed, someone was to get hurt in court. She must have not tried enough to prevent that. It was horrible, when she found out Azzi tore her Azzi she blamed herself for not being there and not kissing her all better, not holding her in person (all they did was Facetime), not having Azzi squeeze her thighs around Paige’s head as she.. When Bob and his current wife had Drew, Paige was so happy to have a younger sibling she could treat like a little baby. Often Azzi was sent photos of Paige and Drew, in return Paige would get silly pictures of Azzi or her brothers, which she always kept in case she needed to make a quick roast on them. “My day was good Katie thank you for asking..” Paige smiled looking at the women who helped bring life to this goddess next to her currently. She held Azzi’s hand under the table while they ate and enjoyed the food. Soon they finished eating and Paige took the honor of taking Azzi’s plate to the kitchen and washing it well. Azzi watched Paige do so, before trailing behind her holding her mother’s and father’s plate. “Oh hello there madam Fudd..” Paige grinned at her cheesy words, taking the plates and pecking the younger girl's cheek. “I must say madam Fudd you look absolutely delicious in those jeans.” The blonde's eyes drifted down to her ass in those jeans smirking. 

“My eyes are up here Bueckers..” The younger girl hopped onto the counter looking at her best friend washing the dishes before walking over placing her hands on her thighs rubbing softly looking up at her. “Hm?” The younger girl hummed in a questioning tone looking at the older girl. “Nothing, just admiring this beautiful girl in front of me..” Paige grinned and pecked her lips softly against the younger girl who returned the kiss before pulling away. “Mmm, love those kisses..” The blonde began to kiss the curly haired girl's cheeks and jawline. “So perfect..” Eventually Azzi pushed Paige off of her and they went back up to Azzi’s room. Paige began to get ready for bed which included taking off her clothes. Azzi had seen Paige naked a few times but that didn’t matter. Paige undresses quickly before helping Azzi undress. It was difficult for the younger girl to deal with her injury. “Thank you P..” The blonde nodded and kissed the younger girl in a ‘your welcome’ fashion. The older girl helped Azzi get dressed until her body was dressed in short shorts and an oversized shirt, Paige got dressed in some flannel Pj pants and an oversized shirt that read ‘Hopkins basketball’.

Paige laid down next to Azzi in her bed rubbing her back gently, her touch soft against her even softer skin. “There you go Az..” Paige mumbled quietly, “Love you so much.. Gonna be here forever for you..” Azzi smiled before rolling over and kissing Paige, kissing her until her lips were swollen and she needed to catch her breath. The blonde moved down and kissed her neck softly. “Love this girl..” Paige mumbled softly kissing down her neck. Paige backed off studying her neck, looking at the slight mark on the neck of the girl. “Look at that baby..” Azzi rolled her eyes, pinning Paige to the bed smiling as they cuddled and tickled each other, acting like the teens that they were thrown into adulthood at 17 and 18 due to picking the career of basketball called the next greats hold back due to the injuries. Giving them a wider view of the world, being thrown into the world of live television during the USA basketball olympics or even just being told you are the greatest in the country added pressure, and pressure, and even more you guessed it pressure until they couldn’t take it. They were lucky to have each other to be each other's crunches, that supported their legs that held them back. “Paige?” Azzi mumbled and Paige hummed softly in reply. “What college did you choose?” “Oh um.. I have chosen Uconn, Geno seems like a great coach. He has coached the greats like Sue Bird, Taurasi, Stewie..” Paige smiled at Azzi before continuing. “Soon to be great Paige Madison Bueckers..” Azzi punched her arm softly, rolling her eyes. “Yeah.. Azzi isn't that far away from Virginia or Minnesota, I mean it is quite a bit away from Washington and like Montana but that doesn’t matter really. It isn’t like I will get drafted and go to the Storms or Wings..” “Yeah I know I just..” Azzi began but didn’t finish looking up at Paige whose blue eyes had an understanding look. “I just am scared P.. what if I don’t get drafted if my injury holds me back. I have my good grades but basketball.. It is my life P..” “Hey hey no you will get drafted in the future and I will be right there watching you cheering you on.” Paige held the younger girl's face in her hands. “We can be roommates in college, we could share a bed and have some fun every few nights.” Paige raised her eyebrows and pecked Azzi’s nose softly. “Azzi nothing is holding you back, you are the greatest player of your class. Prove it to the world, and you know maybe I will take that stupid fucking elderberry stuff again just for you.” 

Azzi laughed at the last thing Paige said before leaning in and kissing her softly. “Mmm okay but you can’t run out of the house..” Paige kissed her back gently smiling as she rubbed the hand of the younger girl. Paige pulled away gently. “No promises on that..” She leaned back and kissed her again. “Do you know when your parents are going to your brother's little thing?” Azzi shook her head before grabbing her phone to check her calendar. Paige kissed her neck gently as she did so, wanting the younger girl to feel loved. “His thing is in an hour and he wants to be there like 30 minutes early so probably in 10 minutes they will leave..” Azzi said, stroking the blonde hair of the older girl. The blonde groaned complaining that it was too long of a wait and Azzi should just let her have some fun right now. “Paige you can wait ten minutes..” Azzi smiled at the older girl, kissing her lips softly.

 “Ugh you are so mean to me..” Paige mumbled kissing the younger girl back acting as if they didn’t go four months before even having the conversation. “I love you Azzi but man you bully me..” the blonde joked and teased the younger girl.

Azzi pulled out her phone and scrolled through it while Paige clung to her, once they heard the garage open Paige grinned ear to ear. “Oh man are you excited babe?” Azzi asked, looking up at her Paige who nodded eagerly kissing the face of her best friend with eagerness. 

“Look at this face ma..” Paige mumbled the roar of the engine in the background gave Paige a signal it would be okay to take Azzi’s shirt off of her tossing it somewhere between the bed and dresser not really caring where it landed. “These motherfuckin’ abs ma..” She leaned down and kissed her stomach softly rubbing it gently between kisses. Paige kept complimenting her body, kissing down and down until she reached her shorts. “May I?” Azzi nodded and Paige pulled her shorts down to reveal the pretty underwear she watched Azzi put on. “Paige, stop teasing..” Azzi mumbled and watched as Paige pulled down her underwear letting out a moan at the sight of the younger girl's pussy. Her eyes tracing around the folds, to the clit, and then back again in a constant cycle she looked up at Azzi and smirked. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy ma.. Wet for me, yeah?” She kissed right above it as her thumb found her clit and rubbed slow circles around it. Her head lowered as she kissed her clit softly, spitting a bit she ran her middle finger up and down her soaking folds waiting for Azzi to give some sign of not being able to take the teasing anymore. She got what she wanted soon after when the younger girl's thigh twitched rubbing against her hand. “Want more?” Azzi nodded eagerly and Paige slipped her finger in teasing her with her slow sliding in and out. “Like that?” She smirked and added a second finger speeding up a bit as she began to stretch her out. “P.. Paige.. Fuck..” Azzi moaned her eyes on Paige struggling to hold in her moans against her bottom lip which she bit. “Paige fuck your fingers.. Need more..” “Oh yeah ma? Well then I will give you more..” She lowered her head and sucked her clit while Azzi kept moaning her hands gripping her sheets tightly scrunching the normally perfect surface. Paige's fingers curling into Azzi with a steady rhythm.. “Yeah Paige.. Paige Paige.. Fuck I am close..” Paige grinned and leaned up pecking her lips before spitting on her still moving fingers. “Damn damn.. Fuck P..” “Yeah baby let it go come on cum for me..” Azzi’s hips bucked up to meet Paige's fingers until they faltered before crashing right back down. Paige let her ride her high out until she laid there breathing heavily.. Paige pulled her fingers out and sucked on them softly. “It tastes so good ma..”

“Yeah I bet..” Azzi mumbled as she looked at Paige, “Alright my turn..” Azzi laid back against the bed while Paige stripped down to nothing but her sports bra. Paige gripped the head board as she lined herself up. “There you go..” Azzi mumbled gripping her thighs as Paige lowered herself on Azzi’s face with a moan, her folds opening around the younger girl's tongue. “Damn Az..” She slowly rose up and back down a few times before sliding against the younger girl's face as she lapped up her mess. She began to imagine what Azzi’s mother's reaction would be if she walked in and saw her daughter’s best friend sitting on her face. She was about to laugh when she was interrupted by a moan coming from herself. “Tastes so good P..” Azzi mumbled as her chin became covered with Paige’s slick and her own drool.. “Could eat this pussy every day…” Paige groaned as she rode her face fast, craving that high. She moaned again followed by some swearing as Azzi helped her reach her goal. Paige’s actions slowed and followed every few seconds till she cummed on the younger girl’s tongue. “Damn..” Paige lifted her hips and sat next to Azzi smiling at her. “So what position next hmm?” Paige rubbed Azzi’s thigh as Azzi cleaned up her face, with the back of her wrist. “Uh we could do some scissor action you know..” Azzi suggested smiling at Paige who nodded and took a deep breath before beginning to align their weak pussies, Paige slowly lowered herself to the point where they met. The two girls moaned at the touch and grinned against each other and Paige’s eyes rolled back in overstimulation of her clit touching Azzi’s folds. “Wow.. wow Azzi..” “AZZI (enter Azzi’s middle name) FUDD!” A voice called out, opening the door to find them in such a position. Paige, not knowing what to do, froze, luckily Azzi had some brains and pulled a blanket over them. Azzi’s mother stood in the door, her face must have been as red as her hair. “YOU TWO GET DRESSED AND BE DOWNSTAIRS IN 5 MINUTES..” Katie was furious this was not something Paige wanted to happen. Paige quickly got up once the door closed, pecking Azzi’s forehead before getting dressed helping Azzi get dressed. “Fuck Azzi what are we going to do.. What if they kick me out.. I can’t go back to my dad’s yet..” Paige stared at the younger girl's brown eyes until they answered her. “They won’t Paige I promise and if they do we will move out together.. I have enough money to buy a hotel or something. Come on, we can do this..” Azzi answered as she pulled her shirt over her head standing slowly using Paige as her support, her rock. Paige was her rock always was. “Come on, let's go..” Paige mumbled as they made their way down the stairs to the living room, the caring and gentle Mr. Fudd at a stern expression as he looked at the two girls, but he wasn’t the one they were worried about. They watched as Katie reentered the living room, her expression sterned as she pointed to the couch telling them to sit. “Mrs. Fudd I can explain..” Paige began but was shut down when Katie raised her hand up.  “So Azzi why when I come home from your brother's event do I find you and the girl you swore to me was just a friend in bed together doing certain acts?” Katie asked, staring them down like a hawk. “Explain to me why I found you in such a position hmm..” “Mom, I really like Paige..” Azzi’s voice was timid so Paige held her hand rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “I have liked her since we met. She is the best thing to happen to me, please don’t take her away…” Tim spoke up, “How long has this been going on?” His voice was rough like gravel in a driveway. He stared at the two girls, his eyes flicking to each as he rubbed his forehead softly.

“About 8 months but we only started doing that like a month ago..” Paige responded quickly, still holding onto Azzi’s hand.

“Unbelievable..” Katie mumbled before Tim put his hand on her shoulder. He seemed like he wanted to reason with the girls. “Listen I get you guys are teens and all but that isn’t an excuse really.. Now here is the deal: no more sex under my roof got it? But you two can be all couple like..” Tim smiled at the two girls before his expression became serious. “Now Bueckers if I find out you broke my little girl's heart.. I will not hesitate to break you..” The large man grinned and smiled at the girls once more.

Katie jumped in, “I think you two can do a bit of cleaning to make up for this..” She looked between the girls who nodded, gratefully that they at least still had each other. Still had their rocks.

[dollfacefantasy]

how’d you think spanking with frank would go ><

frank castle x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, spanking, brat taming, subspace a/n: eeee thank you for the frank ask bb, i hope you enjoy <3

you cry out as another harsh smack lands on your backside. the sting reverberates across your ass, already burning from several previous swats just like that one.

a whine trickles from your lips, and you lazily kick your feet up and down. it's not an attempt to fight off frank, just a way of coping with the painful glow you feel developing on your cheeks.

either way, your boyfriend doesn't care. you know the rule. no moving when he has you over his knee. he responds to your disobedience with another two swats, one on each side.

you cry out again at that, bucking your hips atop his thighs and trying to squirm forward. now you are trying to get away. you reach out and claw at the blankets in front of you. frank had sat down at an angle when he started this, allowing you to rest your front half on the mattress, to bury your face against the bed if needed.

the position wasn't meant for you to escape though.

wrapping his hands around your waist, he drags you back and centers you on his lap again.

"such a brat tonight. you must want this bad, sweetheart," he grumbles before delivering another firm lash.

you squeal, toes curling and thighs flexing. "'m not being bad," you whimper. your voice comes out breathy through your shaky pout.

"really? we're lying now too?" he taunts, clapping his hand against the space where your thighs meet your ass, "you know you're supposed to stay still. not make this harder for me."

"i can't help it," you plead, "it hurts too much."

he chuckles at the petulant ring to your words. for a moment, you get a little break. he rubs his hand against your bottom in soothing circles, smoothing it over the aching skin. but it only lasts a second before he brings his palm down harder than before, slapping you so hard tears form in your eyes.

"frank!" you whine, sniffling a little.

"it hurts too much," he echoes your words mockingly, "i know you can take it, babydoll. just like all the other times i've had to deal with your attitude."

"i'm sorry," you whimper. you turn your head to look back at him over your shoulder, giving him a glimpse at your shimmery eyes.

it doesn't soften him up any though. he tuts at you and pats your ass. ordinarily, the touch wouldn't hurt, but with how many times he's hit you, it bites a little.

"crying won't get you out of this, honey. i warned you. told you what would happen if you kept running your mouth," he reminds you.

"i know but-" you start only to watch his hand raise again.

his palm is red by this point. you wonder if it stings a little at the same time your skin does. even if it did, frank would never move to something else. he'd threaten the belt on occasion, but you'd never come close to actually provoking it off his waist. it was always his hand correcting your bratty attitude. never a tool. always skin on skin.

a few hot tears stream down your cheeks as he pops you this time. you let out a tiny sob and drop your head forward again.

"i don't want excuses. you take what i'm giving you," he says.

in contrast to his words, his touch eases up a bit. his palm runs up and down your spine, sliding under the hem of your shirt that's bunched around your waist. the thumb on his other hand ducks between your thighs and rubs up and down your center over your panties. the digit slots between your puffy folds. it glides across your clothed entrance, flattening out to massage your slit.

he hasn't even neared your clit yet, and you're already melting. your breathing is still rough, but your sobs have quieted. that light pressure against your pussy is all it takes to reduce you to a puddle. you're not sure why, what part of your brain reacts so strongly to the first sign of tenderness after all the spanks, but it's out of your control.

you lower your head onto the bed, cheek squishing against the cool sheets. one of your hands stays on his knees, loosely attached to the rough denim.

"there you go. take a deep breath," he murmurs.

the tip of his thumb ventures south and circles that throbbing bud. it swirls in tight rotation, teasing its arrival. when it does finally press on your button, you mewl and a shudder courses through your body.

he wiggles the fingertip back and forth, stroking your clit just how you like. your fingers flex against his joint while you smoosh your face into the bed.

"for someone having such a hard time, you're pretty wet," he says, "almost soaking through your underwear onto my leg."

"it still hurts..." you defend weakly.

he huffs out a small laugh. he can tell your head is drifting to that sticky, sweet space where thoughts come second to feeling good. your words sound slightly garbled. your hips lightly rock up and down into his touch.

"yeah, and you like how it hurts, so no complaining next time," he says.

he stops playing with you for a second to flip you over. you whine at first, but settle down the second he gets you cradled to his chest. his hand slips right back into your panties, this time at an angle to rub you more strategically. you whimper, letting your mind empty out again. every little flick to that nub between your legs drains another thought from your head.

frank holds no delusions that this will be the last time you act up to the point of a spanking, but that's because neither of you want it to be. you'd never get tired of ending the night limp and dazed in his lap, and he'd never stop wanting to get you like that.

he didn't mind dealing with his little brat's tantrums when she looked so precious in the end.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ok I just saw your Vamp!Rhys brain rot headcanons post and I'm letting you know right now if you do not develop them into full blown chapters for Vamp!Rhys I'll literally sue for emotional damages ok thank you <3

lol I suppose I can make that happen ;)

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

Ancient Recipes

The bed is, surprisingly, empty when you awaken, the last rays of evening light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. Your hands brush absently through the cold sheets as if they could tell you where he’d disappeared off to. He’s not usually up this early.

With a yawn, you slide out of bed and yank on one of his discarded shirts, leaving the silky button down open down the middle in a half-hearted attempt at decency before padding off in search of him. 

The library and game room is empty, the curtains pulled tight, the air a little stuffy. You can hear Cassian snoring from behind his closed door and a tendril of shadow still guard’s Azriel’s door handle, telling you that he’s not off with either of them this early.

Eventually, you find yourself wandering down into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty too, but figuring it’s worth a shot. You’re surprised to find Rhys bent over the stove, shirtless, sleep pants slung low over his hips as he carefully chops a mix of vegetables. His ears twitch as you walk towards him, a sure sign that he hears your approach. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says without turning. You can hear the pout in his voice without seeing the purse of those full lips you love so much.

“Missed you,” you say as you slide your arms around his waist and bury your head between his shoulder blades.

He sets the knife down long enough to run a hand over where yours hold his waist. “I was coming right back.”

You place a kiss against his spine before leaning around him to get a better view of what he’s doing. “I didn’t know you could cook?”

“I am a thousand years old, Darling,” he purrs. “That’s a long time to not learn how to prepare a meal.”

There’s an old, hand written book propped up against the stone wall, the swirling script fading under the cruel hands of time in a language long forgotten. The pages are brittle and yellow now, the date written in the corner nearly illegible. 

“What are you making?”

Skilled hands throw in diced vegetables and dried herbs into a pot simmering with some sort of red sauce. “Something my mother used to make me,” he says softly. “These are her recipes.”

Your chest tightens. He’d told you about the hunters that had killed his mother and sister not long after that night when those hunters had come for you. He’d, understandably, been on edge since, the encounter bringing up a lot of old memories he hadn’t touched. It’s little surprise that he would try and find some solace here.

“Smells good,” you say. 

He twists and pulls you in front of him, so you can watch as he works. “Can’t find all the right ingredients,” he frowns. “Some of these spices have been lost to time. I think these will work instead. Hopefully.”

Rhys dips a wooden spoon into the bubbling liquid and brings it to your lips, “Try this for me?”

You give it a second to cool before taking a taste, the mixture both earthy and spicy, but deliciously warm. “It’s good!”

“Yes, but is it right?” He insists.

You tilt your head up to look at him, brows raised, “How would I know, Rhysand? By the sound of it, most of the things you’re missing were lost to the world before my parents were even born.”

You think if he was capable of it he might have blushed against the mistake. Instead, he kisses the top of your head. “I suppose I could ask Az.” He licks a bit of the mixture, frowning as he goes, before putting the spoon directly back into the pot. Apparently a key ingredient in ancient recipes is a little bit of saliva. 

A moment later, the shadowy vampire emerges, summoned for this oh so important errand. Azriel’s dark hair is sleep tousled, shadows swirling lazily around his bare shoulders. Any other morning with the two males looking like this you would have climbed them like a tree, but this morning is apparently for other things, as Rhys nearly flings the spoon in Azriel’s direction. 

“What am I missing?” He demands.

Az takes a taste and spits it into the sink. “What did you do?!” He all but shoves the two of you out of the way to reach for the spice rack in the cupboards above your head. “Your mother would have beat you with that spoon.”

“I know!” Rhys huffs. “What did I forget?”

Azriel starts opening old jars of dried herbs and adding them into the pot. “Egg and thyme for one thing, dumbass.”

Rhys grabs the book off the counter and looks more closely at the recipe, keeping one arm around your shoulders to have you close even so. “Oh, yeah I did forget the egg.”

Azriel cracks four of them into the mixture, before throwing in more herbs. “You’re cooking it too high too.”

Rhys brushes his lips over your hair. “Wanted to bring it to you in bed before you woke up.”

You twist and lean up on your toes to give him a proper good morning kiss. “I would have loved it anyway.”

“Human taste buds are disgusting,” Azriel huffs.

You hear Cassian’s footsteps before you see the half-awake vampire stumble into the kitchen. “Are we cooking what I think we are?”

“Not if Rhys has anything to do with it,” Azriel huffs.

“It was for Y/N!” Rhys returns. “I didn’t make enough for everyone.”

“But she’s so good at sharing,” Cassian says with a wink, his sleep thick voice enough to make heat pool between your legs. 

Rhys lifts you up and places you on the counter, beside where Azriel still chops more ingredients, so he can kiss you deeper this time. “Mine.” 

“Not with your cooking she’s not,” Azriel quips. 

Cassian tuts as he comes over to Azriel’s other side and dips a finger into the now simmering pot. Azriel smacks his hand with the back of the wooden spoon and Rhys hisses, fangs glinting in the candlelight.

“How are you supposed to take care of the little human if you can’t even cook her a decent meal?” He brings his fingers to his mouth for a taste, then frowns. “Do neither of you own any peppers at all? What is this, baby food?”

“I added the aleppo, just as the recipe said!” Rhys retorts. 

“You definitely didn’t! Your mother never made anything this bland!” Cassian insists.

“I’m following the recipe!”

Azriel snatches the book, scarred hands thumbing quickly through the pages. “I remember it being spicier.”

Rhys frowns. “Maybe we’re thinking of that other recipe she used to make?”

“No that one was for dinner,” Cassian returns. “I definitely remember a spicy breakfast dish. Especially on cold winter mornings.”

“He’s right,” Azriel chimes in, eyes still glued to the pages. 

“I mean, our tastes did change when we turned, maybe we’re the problem?” Cassian asks, running a hand over his face in thought. 

“Your tastes change when you turn?” You ask.

“A little,” Rhys says with a frown, violet eyes on the dish. “Maybe you’re right, Cass. Did you think it was spicy, Darling?” 

“A little,” you reply. “It could use more, I think, but again, I’ve never tried it before so I’m not exactly an expert.”

Cass peers into the pot. “It looks right.”

Azriel sets the book back on the counter with nothing short of reverence. “Guess it is us.”

Rhys’s face falls, it’s like watching him lose a piece of the past. You take his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. “I think any mother would be proud to know that you loved something so much that you put all this effort into sharing it, whether is tastes the same or not.”

His grin is soft, like the kiss he plants on your lips, taking his time to pull out of it.

“Thank you for sharing a piece of you with me,” you say.

Azriel scoops it up into four small portions, the wooden dishes old and reminiscent of a time long passed. Not the formal dining ware they bring out at parties, but a little piece of home that managed to survive the passage of time. 

It’s delicious, Az had been right about needing the egg and thyme, it brings a more rounded flavor to the dish. But it would have been equally fine if Rhys had brought the first attempt to you in bed, simply because he loved you enough to try and make something for you even when he could not fully enjoy it himself. It tastes all the better because it’s something the four of you can share, can make new memories out of. You certainly will not forget it, not even in the coming change of your mortality. 

“Well now you’ve got me curious for what other ancient recipes you’ve been hiding,” you say as the meal comes to a close. 

“You make us sound like we’re old as dirt,” Cassian huffs. 

You wink up at Rhys as he kisses your temple. “A thousand years is a long time. What else can you make for me?”

[itsa-me-lily]

I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)

Here is other Simon & Thimble playlist

Here is more Military Program Spouse AU

It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude

Content warning;

Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite

“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”

Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.

Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.

Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.

He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.

“Seriously? What did I just say?”

Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.

“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”

Not a lie, but not quite the truth.

“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”

He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.

“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”

That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.

“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”

“Your what now?”

Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.

“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”

“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”

He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.

Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.

Edit

I am very passionate about my soup

[maybankswhore]

BARBIE AND KEN

summary: you force rafe to dress up as ken to match you for the new barbie movie— and he starts feeling himself way too much.

warnings: cursing , a little cringe ( but i can’t resist soft!rafe x reader idc how fanon anyone thinks it is. this is the character development rafe we need in the next season. )

— no ‘barbie!’ movie spoiler!

Wearing his old clothes made him feel different. He had ditched the polo shirts for just plain tees. His hair was buzzed , no longer able to be gelled back in a way that made him spend alot longer looking in the mirror than he’d ever admit.

At first when you told him your idea , asking him if he’d do it with you , he was completely against it. He didn’t have a problem taking you to the movie— but he didn’t know how he felt about dressing up for it.

But the look on your face was too hard to let down and eventually , he cracked. A smile tugging on his lips while he rolled his eyes at you , shaking his head when you clapped happily and pulled out the bag of clothes you had bought for yourself.

“Remember that peach polo you’d always wear?” Your heart glimmered that piece of Rafe’s life. Even if he hadn’t been the most liked , and he seemed like a real big asshole— it was the start of everything and it always held such a big place in your heart. Knowing the boy him , before watching him become the man he was now was touching to you. Especially when you thought about him and how he’d watch you do the same. “I got you the same kind just a different color so it’ll match the dress I bought!”

Your smile took up half your face as you laid it on the bed beside you. Rafe’s face scrunched up at the color , rubbing his temples. “Oh fuck me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. The Rafe I knew two years ago would’ve ate this up and you know it!” Pointing an accusing finger in his direction , you burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh! Your perfect little hairstyle too. It’s time like these when I miss that asshole–esq haircut.” You sighed sadly.

Rafe scoffed as he picked up the shirt to examine it closer. “Please , you loved that haircut.”

“I did.” You giggled and stood up. You wrapped your arms around his neck to catch his attention , flushing at his eyes on you. “We’re gonna be so cute! You’re so Ken , Rafey.” You gushed. There were many things you loved and adored about Rafe , but your favorite was when he’d do whatever you asked— no matter how silly other people would think it was.

Rafe smirked and threw the shirt back on the bed lazily to hold your hips. “I am , aren’t I?”

“You so are.” You agreed , kissing at the apple of his cheeks. “You’re like. . . Polo Ken.”

“Okay I don’t dress like that anymore!” Rafe defended himself with a groan.

Your brain flashed back all the memories you had of him , the earliest ones making your heart flutter at how sweet and innocent things were. It all started with a teenage girl with the biggest crush on the King of Kooks— adorning him from afar until he finally cracked first. The relationship wasn’t always perfect and it had its bumpy moments , but the outcome would always make it worth it. Absentmindedly , your hands trailed up to the back of Rafe’s neck. Your fingers fiddled with his hair , feeling the edges of his buzzcut. You remembered when you’d run your fingers through it after his shower and all the gel would be gone. The loose strands of hair making him boyish and sweet , stripped of that ego and left with just him. “Remember those backwards hats?”

Rafe let out an exasperated noise and dropped his head low at your teasing. “Must you torture me with reminding me of my horrible fashion taste?”

“Mine wasn’t any better.” You laughed at yourself , remembering what you used to wear.

“Well back then , you weren’t wearing alot of clothes around me.” Rafe smirked , wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

Your cheeks burned up as you slapped his chest , backing away. “Anyways—” you huffed whilst he chuckled. “The movie’s in like two hours so I’m going to shower and get ready.”

“Perfect! Me too.” He grinned. Though his smile dropped as you grabbed your things and walked towards the bathroom without him.

“Not in the mood to be peed on today.” You sang towards him and shut the door.

You smiled at yourself in the mirror , smoothing down your hot pink dress. You had done all the works. The hair and makeup with the dress and wedges. You wanted to feel like a real Barbie , and right now— you did. Your smile couldn’t be any bigger and the girlish excitement you felt rumbling in your belly made your skin dance.

“Rafe! You ready?” You yelled out to him. You had decided in the shower that you wanted it to be a surprise. This would be something nostalgic for you , fun. You couldn’t wait to take all the pictures to store in your camera and keep as a sweet keepsake.

It was something you and Rafe were doing all on your own. It wasn’t Midsummers , or a special costume party. It was just a cute memory to make with your boyfriend , and it comforted you. You felt all the emotions in your belly. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were all flushed and you felt like a little girl again , meeting her crush on the first day of school. . . Even if it did feel a bit silly , it was nice.

“Yeah , baby. I’m ready , alright.” Rafe called back to you. He too couldn’t keep his eyes off the mirror. He looked like him , but not the him he was used to anymore. The attire holding onto so many feelings and memories. Some were good , and some weren’t so good. But it didn’t take away the small , innocent grin threatening to reveal itself on his face.

You threw the door open and was immediately filled with glee. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him , looking like the teenage boy you fell in love with. The two of you were only just entering your twenties— but seventeen felt like a lifetime ago now.

You clapped happily at him. Rafe couldn’t help the blush on his face at the feeling of your adornment. And you had looked— so pretty. It wasn’t just the outfit , but how you glowed wearing it. Your shoulders were squared and your face was so bright and Rafe swore he hadn’t seen anyone more beautiful. “Polo Ken is now my new favorite.”

Rafe smiled down at you. His thumb brushed your hair away from your face , and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and press a kiss to your lips softly. The lipstick the last thing on either of your minds. “You look so , so pretty.” He assured you.

“We are real life Barbie and Ken.” You hummed. “I don’t make the rules.”

And you were. Rafe had loved you then , and he only loved you twice as much if that was possible. Sometimes , he felt as though his heart would grow out of his body for you.

It was just you and him in your own little dreamland for now.

And you’d onto that , for now , as long as you could.

[catscidr]

Ok, crowtorre? 10/10. THE 💣 💣 💣 😭 But omg how would he fair with a cat or wolf hybrid reader..

PLS

NOO he would be such a tease!! he’d be so mean!! im imagining cat hybrid reader (bc im biased lol) but LORD he’d be even more mischievous than usual, to the point where you go out of your way to avoid him at all cost if you get that feeling in your gut that tells u he’s going to be particularly annoying (he’s pissed you off so often you eventually developed a sort of sixth sense related to it. a headache radar, if you will)

(prev crowttore post for context)

cw: crow hybrid!dottore x afab!cat hybrid!reader. established relationship, he’s annoying, pure rambling from yours truly so barely even proof read. second half is nsfw, minors dni, scara mentionned once, rough sx, possessive behaviour, talks of breeding, overstim, smidge of aftercare.

“your reactions are entertaining” he’s told you once, his excuse whenever you shove him away from you. ever since then, you’ve tried to keep your reactions to a minimum. give him nothing more than a glare. but you fail. every single time. it’s not your fault he’s so good at reading people!! curse his big wrinkly brain

it’s not all that bad, though. sometimes he helps, like when you have knots in your shoulders he’ll gladly "preen" you and rid you of the pesky tension building up in your aching muscles with his nimble fingers. sometimes he even takes time to brush your tail for you; but that’s not something he does solely for your benefit. he’ll pluck out the fur that gets caught in the brush, and he'll use it for... something. you never asked, and you don’t really want to know (especially considering what he does to people on a regular basis)

but, at the end of the day, being with dottore is a chore at best. he can be a decent partner, but he, for some reason, makes it his mission to get on your nerves everyday. he’ll poke and prod at your ears and tail, “begging” you in a mocking tone to let him run tests on you. he’ll invade your personal space on purpose until you hiss and swat him away, only for him to grab your wrist and taunt you to “try harder than that”.

even if he doesn't go out of his way to irritate you, sometimes you'll just glance at him and get annoyed. maybe that was just a reflection of how little patience you had around him, though.

at this point you’ve lost count on how may times he’s run your patience to the ground (whether on purpose or not), but if there's one thing he's good at its pleasing you. he's smart (though calculating), dexterous, and observant. surely that means that he'll ditch the teasing and be a good boyfriend for you once you go through your monthly heats!

NO. LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. WRONG!!!!

you'll be writhing in discomfort in his bed, tail all fluffed up and twitching, swiping at the sheets beneath you as you rut into his pillow. you're smearing slick all over the fabric, a mix of curses and whines slipping past your lips.

he refused to take the day off to take care of you when he saw the state you were in, saying something like "you're an adult, surely you can control your urges" with the same, sickly sweet smile he flashes at you whenever you pout at him. he even made sure to give you a kiss after he left your shared flat to go to his lab, something he never does.

and there you were. watching the clock tick, impatiently waiting for him to come home to replace the stupid toys that couldn't even drag one measly orgasm out of you. not a single one. all you could think about was him, him, him.

you could barely smell him on the pillow anymore, since all you smelled was how horribly horny you were. but as soon as you heard the front door open and the familiar sound of his boots stepping on the worn-out "welcome" mat, you swear you felt even more slick drip out of you (if that was even possible)

the second dottore steps into his room and he's at arms length, you grab onto his sleeve and tug him closer. unfortunately for you, your muscles are considerably weaker than usual and you don't even get to move him even an inch closer to you.

he revels in the whines that leave you and in your discomfort. he's both the best and worst person to take care of your heat; he knows what he's doing, sure, but he also knows exactly what to do to keep you right on the edge. both with actions and words.

"why would I help you with you heat, darling? don't you need a fellow feline hybrid to help you?" he coos, slipping his coat off of his shoulders, making you all but drool at the sight of the harness hugging his firm torso.

"no. no, fuck you, i need you," you whine, a pout tugging at your lips as you take in a deep breath to steady yourself. he just smiles, bending down to your level to cup your face in his soft, feathery hands to speak to you in that condescending tone he always uses this time of the month. "want me to call the balladeer to take care of you? i'm sure he'll be delighted to blow off some steam. and he'll be helping you, too! don't you want that? to have his cat cock drilling into you?"

when you scowl, tail whipping against the bed with dull thumps, he grins. of course he would never hand you off to his coworker, he doesn't trust any of the harbingers around you when you're in heat anyways. dottore knows only he can quench your insatiable thirst, but he adores hearing it from you. hearing you whine and beg for his touch, for his cock gives him an ego boost- makes that primal, possessive part of him coo in delight.

and when he finally touches you, black nails scraping against your sticky, sweaty skin, you swear you almost cum on the spot. it would have been embarrassing if it wasn't for the fact that you had been on edge the entire day. at least he was kind enough to make you cum properly with his fingers one time to rid you of that hunger for just a second, enough for him to get rid of his slacks to free his aching, hard cock from its confines.

seeing you beg for him fed his ego and, in turn, made his blood rush down to his second head, you really can’t blame him.

he manhandles you so easily it makes you throb with need, your first orgasm having faded away already, making you ache for him to pull another one out of you. and he would do so oh so graciously, pulling your ass back with a tug on the base of your tail, admiring the view of you on all fours just for him.

“ahh… i’ll never get tired of seeing you like this, waiting all nice and pretty for me. want me to fuck you nice and good, don’t you? breed you full of my seed?” he coos right into your ear, pulsing erection sliding up and down your wet folds, just barely dipping inside of your hole. you hiss, words failing you as you slip a hand between your legs to guide him inside.

and he lets you, smirking at the sight of his stubborn, headstrong partner reduced to a puddle of carnal need. you feel all nth inches of his hard cock fill you up and you cum hard, crying as you finally get what you had been craving for hours. his length all snug inside of you, letting you cockwarm him until the aftershocks of your climax fade and he can start moving in you, fucking you.

it would only be the beginning though, because he always made it his mission to “beat” your heat, so to speak. make you cum on his cock so much you would be pushing him away, weakly tapping his chest and clawing at his back as you plead for him to pull out.

you’ll be pinned to the bed on your stomach as he thrusts into you; sharp, hard plaps echoing in the bedroom over and over again, the bedsheets soaked with your juices and his seed. you can barely even think of running away, brain reduced to mush as he admires the way your ears seem to be glued down to your head, tail flicking weakly in time with his thrusts.

but when he finally takes pity on your poor sore and used cunt, he’ll rub soothing circles on your back as you purr quietly, satiated. for now. he doesn’t bother leaving the room to get a washcloth because he knows you’ll only claw at his arm, pull a few feathers out as a result, and look at him with those eyes that make him want to take you all over again.

he knows you’re tired though, if it wasn’t already obvious by the way you don’t even bother to untangle yourself from the soiled bedsheet you laid on. and he’ll gladly stay with you, keeping his wing spread out over you to keep you warm until you wake up and pounce on him for even more rounds.

[fics-by-noworriesifnot]

Chapter Eight: PART TWO: Requiem for the Half-Brained Do-Gooders. “I couldn’t save you.” Hermione croaked. They were back in the dungeons now staring into the pensieve. “A-After that, Bellatrix attacked us.” Hermione said, raising her eyes to look into Draco’s stony expression as he stared into the swirling basin.

“Luckily Ron’s mum appeared and-” 

“Spiders” Draco said vaguely. Hermione watched him apprehensively. “Malfoy?” She spoke his name cautiously. He’d brought a hand over his mouth and his eyes had widened. “So…” Draco said, leaning forward over the pensieve, his fingers pressed to his temple as though he were nursing a headache. “You mean to tell me, at the last possible moment, I developed a hero complex.” He straightened suddenly, his hands clasping briefly together before he leaned forward again on the bench. “And then… on a half-brained impulse I ended my entire bloodline to save- Harry Potter- of all people?” His last sentence came out as a dark chuckle, his face pulled into a maniacal grin. His eyes seemed unfocused as he watched Hermione struggle with a response. “I, erm- don’t know if I’d put it that way, but-” “FUCK!” Draco turned away from her and screamed into the sprawling darkness. He was doubled over and took several hulking breaths before turning around to face her, running trembling hands through his silvery translucent hair. “Apologies.” He muttered without need for explanation. “Malfoy, I-I’m sorry.” Hermione stuttered. She looked at him through eyes bright with tears. “You kept talking about Lucius as though you expected him to return. I realised that you didn’t remember.” Her head dropped as Draco took a step towards her. 

“If I just-” “Don’t.” Draco said, leaning in to her. Without hesitation he raised his hand to her cheek to catch a tear from falling, but the tear passed through his fingers and travelled down her chin. “There’s nothing you could have done.” Draco said, his eyes fixed on where his hand should have been touching Hermione’s cheek, but instead Hermione felt only air. He withdrew his hand and looked down at it, his expression weary.

“I wish I could…” He began, but stopped himself. Instead, he closed his hand into a tight fist and lowered it to his side. He straightened abruptly and schooled his voice to a cold aristocratic tone. “Look, thanks for the memories Granger, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone down here.” He said. His face bore little expression. “Are you sure?” Hermione asked, worried to leave him alone with everything he’d just seen. “Positive.” He replied curtly. Without another word Hermione shepherded Crookshanks up the stairs, turning back to see Draco take a seat on the staircase. As she closed the door behind her, she heard a strangled sob from the other side. 

[gogomatthew]

You’re mine

KINKTOBER DAY 2: Mutual masturbation

PAIRING: SPENCER REID X READER

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST HERE🎃💗

warnings: stalking • mutual masturbation • semi public sex • humiliation • phone sex • paranoia? • mentions of violence • let me know if I missed any •

A/N: sorry about the KTOBER delay.. this ones a little dark but ill make up with a sweet one next week! reminder english isnt my first language but feel to correct any grammar mistakes

summary: Spencer fears he is being stalked after receiving gifts from a secret admirer only to fall for her • MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 18+

“Hey whats wrong?” Morgan stops Spencer as he rushes into the BAU frantic with an orange envelope at hand “Gather everyone in the conference room please” he gets out of morgans grip and makes his way there. “Whats this about?” Hotch walks in confused on the whole situation, raising a questioning eyebrow at Spencer “Ive been on edge the past month and yesterday I received this..” he hands the envelope to Hotch. Inside theres a handwritten letter with the words “I know you were thinking about me” and multiple photographs of Spencer jacking off in his room.

Truthfully he didn’t want to show anyone but this was getting out of hand. In the photograph his room was illuminated by warm toned lamp, his mouth hung open and anyone with half a brain could assume he was letting out sounds of pleasure, his head was thrown back and his eyes were shut tightly, while his hand wrapped around his leaking dick as he lazily sat on his desk chair with his trousers hanging around his ankles. Hotch’s eyes go wide for a second as he quickly puts the pictures away only making his subordinates blush grow a burning pink. The team share a few glances and connect the dots in an instant. “Morgan you have experience in obsession crimes.. what do you think this is?” Hotch asks after analyzing the letter he spoke up “Are these the only “gifts” you’ve gotten? any other notes we should know about?” morgan glances up at him making sure to put emphasis on the word “gifts”

“I-I mean theres always a lingering feeling im being watched and I got a bouquet of flowers last monday along with a letter every other day from a “secret admirer” but I didn’t think much of it.. I just assumed some neighborhood boy was playing a prank on me..” he says running his fingers through his silky brunette hair, clearly stressed out “looks like you’ve got a groupie” spencer looks back down to morgan “HUH?” morgan hands the letter back to spencer “The writing is clearly written by a female, its dainty and not aggressive.. almost as if to show her love and devotion to you instead of threatening you. That isnt to say she wont get violent later on.. it may trigger her to see you with another woman around her age maybe something set her off and decided to finally make her move.” hotch lets out a breath “Morgan, Reid, you stay here and find a motive, Prentiss and I will go to the scene and try to get more geographical information on how they even managed to take these photos.. wheels up in 30” and with that everyone’s getting to work.

They made a geographic profile, retraced steps, came up with a profile and even a plan on how to catch the unsub. “We think our unsub is a female in her mid 20s, if you were to cross her path shed blend right in, shes not very confident or careful but she is smart, if you bumped into her she’d apologize even if it wasnt her fault, she has an obsessive personality though she probably doesn’t even realize it odds are if she were to go through a psychotic break she would only go after Spencer or people close to him so we don’t have to worry about civilian safety” after notifying the local PD they develop a plan.. Emily was going to pretend to be Spencers girlfriend, holding hands on the subway, walking him home, spending time in his apartment ect, to get a rise out of the unsub, it was a long shot that youd even buy it if youve been stalking spencer but it was worth a try “you sure you got this?” she looks up at Hotch as he adjust her mic pack and silently nods as Spencer copies her movement.

That afternoon he and Emily walk out of the subway station hand in hand making their way to his apartment, god Spencer wasn’t lying.. Emily could feel eyes on her but couldn’t pin point where they came from but they managed to make goosebumps arise from her. That night there was no love letter at his door. This was either the start of a psychotic break or you backing down. Morgan was stationed at the location they assumed the photographs were taken, assuming you’d come back. Emily spent the night at spencers place and left during the early hours of the morning to make it all the more convincing. After she left Spencer did his morning routine like usual, a shower, setting the coffee pot, changing, grabbing his satchel and heading out but he was stopped by a piece of paper that was stuck between the front door and the frame, falling onto the ground. The note was different, it seemed messy and rushed. It read “Im still here” a shiver ran down his spine. His gut told him to just get on the subway and go to work and develop his highly intelligent team but his brain told him to take matters into his own hands. He stormed out of his building and made his way onto the sidewalk hoping to be able catch you before you got too far. He had the profile now all he needed to do was find you and he knew just how to do that. He stormed into the subway station proceeding to walk a little faster than usual. He felt eyes on him and immediately he turned around and met your eyes by sheer luck. He kept his eyes on you and you stayed frozen in place looking away from his gaze but not moving an inch.. could it be you? He knew morgan always trusted his gut and maybe it was time he did the same. As he started approaching you your eyes went wide and you sped walked away. You fit the profile, the only thing they didn’t mention was how attractive you were. He caught up to you quickly having the advantage of long legs “hey” he puts a hand on your shoulder giving you goosebumps “im meeting my girlfriend for coffee but I dont know which track to take.. do you think you could help me?” he give you a nice smile that you return but he notices your demeanor going cold at the word girlfriend.

“yeah totally! where are you meeting?” your fists are clenched at your sides, this was almost too easy “Virginia coffee house” he says simply “you’re gonna want to take the 53, it should get here in about 10 minutes.. that’s actually where im heading too” he smiles a little wider “I don’t suppose you mind waiting with me then?” you nod “not at all!…” you fidget with your fingers “actually im gonna go to the restroom” you turn to rush off with him hot on your heels, he wont forgive himself if he lets you get away.. he has to trust his gut when it’s screaming right at him he needs to know more. He follows you into the bathroom at the station which is thankfully empty and locks the door behind him “Spencer what are you doing?” you say and quickly realize your mistake as his expression falters “I never said my name was spencer..” your eyes widen as you start to back up into the sink “sorry I- my brains all scattered” you try to play it off with a laugh but hes not laughing. He starts to get closer and closer to you as you continue to step back “heres what I think and feel free to correct me if im wrong, but just know ill know if you’re lying, I study human behavior for living but of course you already knew that” your backed up completely into the sink and have nowhere to run as he continues to get closer until he finally towers over you face inches apart “I think you’re my little groupie.. I think you watched me get off and took pictures to touch yourself too.. I think you leave love letters at my door.. I think you’re jealous of my fake girlfriend and I think..” he whisper the next words right into your ear “you’re desperate for me” he hates to admit it but some animalistic part of him just wants to take you right there in the bathroom and make you scream his name to humiliate you just as you did to him. You’d proudfully admit that his accusations made your panties soaking wet, having to squeeze your thighs together for any friction.

Just then a loud knock at the door interrupts you both breaking away “whys the door locked?” you hear through the door “you’re right” you say before speeding off and disappearing into the crowd as soon as the lady at the door gets it open. Spencer rushes out ignoring the strange looks he gets but ultimately looses you. He lets out an exasperated sigh and with that hes on his way to work.

Coming back to an empty apartment was never fun but he couldn’t shake his head off with what happened just a few hours prior in that bathroom. He starts palming himself through his trousers and groans wishing it was you. He unbuttons his jeans and pull out his dick, stroking it as it fill the room with the wet sounds of his precum smearing all over his shaft “fuck” he sits at his desk and there he sees you. You’re on the balcony of the building across the street. The complex next to the one morgan was previously situated at the day prior. Camara leaning next to you, phone in one hand as your other hand starts to glide down your abdomen between your thighs successfully getting a whimper out of Spencer.. hes never been this exposed. He hears his phone ring and you mouth at him to answer it and he obeys. You let out breathy whines as you start to circle your clit matching the pace of the hand wrapped around his dick. His eyes are open staring straight at you, he dosent want to miss a single second of this. His own morality not even bothering him anymore, not when he feels this good and has this view. “Fuck” He stands up from his seat and walk closer to the window, he starts to glide his hand faster even teasing himself by running his finger through his slit “mmm” he knows you can hear him but he cant hold back his sounds god hes never felt this good under his own touch, he thinks it’s pathetic he has to imagine its your even though you’re only a few feet away. “faster” he demands. His ty is loosened but his shirt is still on and how you wish you could just see all of him, you insert 2 fingers into yourself struggling because theyre not long enough to give you as much pleasure as you need, you lean over the edge and hold on to the railing of the balcony giving spencer a better peek at your tits “you’re fucking c- crazy” he says with heavy pants inbetween every word “me? im not the one stroking my dick to my “stalker” god you hated that word but you heard him refer to you as that before, he lets out a deep growl “yeah well im not the stalker” the call is filled with whines and moans from both ends, you start nearing your climax “im gonna- hah-“ your words are cut off by your loud whimpers “aww cmon baby- you can write someone whos never even seen you heartfelt love letters but cant- ah finish- mm your own sentence” hes teasing but in reality hes in the same position as you “fuck- you” his open mouth turns into a smirk “bet youd like that” thats it, something in you snaps and your practically screaming and writhing in place as Spencer delivers his final pumps to his cock before he’s leaking cum onto his own chest with heavy whines as he tries to catch his breath with his eyes closed.

When he finally opens them to see you shock is evident in his face when you’re already gone and the line is left ringing. He buttons his pants and runs to his front door trying to catch you but instead his eyes land on another envelope. He opens it expecting it to be another love letter and pictures of him jacking it only to be met with photographs of YOU touching yourself, your mouth dropped open, hand on your pussy, only showing the bottom half of your face, the note attached reads “you have my phone number now.. id appreciate going on a date with you before you turn me in - your dearest Y/N” god this was going to be fun.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Zephrit coffee shop AU ??? Anyone ???

"New costumer for you, 'Frit."

Ifrit looks up from the coffee he's making, shooting Ivy a suspicious look.

"Why aren't you taking their order ?"

Ivy holds out a pack of cigarette, waving it in the air as he unties his apron. His smirk immediately makes the hair at the back of Ifrit's neck stand.

"Smoke break. I'll be back soon, don't miss me too much !"

"Since when do you smoke-"

Too late, Ivy already disappeared behind the "employees only" door with an omnious cackle. Sighing as dread fills his nervous system, Ifrit straightens up, calls out the name scrawled in Ivy's barely legible handwritting on the cup, wincing when the girl who takes the latte from his hands corrects his pronounciation.

She visibly softens and waves it off the second she catches sight of his apologetic smile. Ivy calls it "their best publicity", that sparkling grin that never leaves people indifferent.

Once that's done, Ifrit saunters back toward the counter.

"Hi, what can I get you-"

He falters, blood rushing to his cheeks in an instant, words dying in his throat. There, leaning on a cane covered in stickers, hair held back in intricated braids tied together, wearing black slacks and a dress shirt to match it, is a familiar face, grey eyes widening in amused surprise when they meet Ifrit's.

The sight of this person makes phantom hands roam all over Ifrit's body, and oh, what a mistake it is to throw a quick glance at their lips - now Ifrit can recall their taste, the feeling of them on his. Fuck fuck fuck. Ifrit knows this person.

"Ifrit," they chuckle, and the man in question has no idea if they just read his nametag or remember the short, hurried conversation they had before getting each other off in a bar's dingy bathroom. Last night. Because Ifrit has the worst karma ever known to mankind.

Though he certainly hasn't forgotten the person's name.

"...Zephyr."

They hum, tilting their head, eyes crinkling in the corner. The first two buttons of their shirt are open, their sleeves rolled up to accomodate the pleasant weather, and Ifrit has to advert his eyes lest his thought take a lustful turn.

"Fancy seeing you here," Zephyr lilts, voice wrapping around Ifrit's brain just like it did last night, except today he doesn't even have the booze to blame for the way his knees immediately go a little weak at that.

"I...well, I work here," Ifrit blurts out, wincing the second the words are out of his mouth. Great. Where is his easy charm when he needs it ? Just like yesterday night, all of it vanishes once faced by Zephyr.

Leaning their forearms against the counter and lowering their voice to a teasing croon, smirk tucked in the corner of their mouth, they chuckle.

"I trust you got home safely last night then."

Oh Ifrit was not ready for such an easy acknowledgement of what happened the night before. In such a smooth voice too, shit Ifrit already misses feeling their skin on his. He's so fucked.

"Uh- I- yeah, Ivy drove me home."

Ivy. The little shit was there yesterday too, saw Ifrit excuse himself at Zephyr's arm...well, his newly developped smoking habits make sense now, at least.

Zephyr is smiling, but it's not mocking, more like endeared. Ifrit clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

"I- uhm. Your order ?"

Stringing words together in a coeherent sentence has never been more difficult.

"Caramel macchiato, please. And, I suppose, your number would be nice, since I forgot to ask yesterday."

Ifrit resists the sudden urge to run around and jump with excitement. He's sure his smile threatens to rip his face in half with how wide it has become.

"That I can do. Be right back."

He rushes toward the back room under Zephyr's amused stare, letting the door fall shut behind him before he let out a strangled little noise of pure delight and allows himself to jump once or twice. Then he grabs a pen - there were some near the cups on the counter, but Ifrit really needed a moment to collect himself - and saunters back out, scribbling his number on an old receipe while starting the coffee machine. He checks twice to ensure he hasn't made any mistakes and the numbers are all neatly written, before handing it to Zephyr with a cheeky grin.

Their fingers overlap, purposefully if Zephyr's smirk is anything to go by, Ifrit's heart skipping a bit.

"Something on my face ?" they tease at Ifrit's blatant staring.

"Hard to keep my eyes in check with the outrageous knowledge that your forearms are bare," he hums in answer, pointedly checking Zephyr out. "Formal clothes suit you,"

They raise an eyebrow, cheeks tinged pink too, now.

"That so ? Should have known you'd like it. You have a thing for authority, don't you ?"

Ifrit nearly chokes on air, the memory of that same voice curling around the words "good boy" right in his ear making him feel dizzy.

He remembers the coffee just in time, using it as an excuse to turn away, hopefully hidding the worse of his blush. And if he draws a little heart while drizzling caramel in the cup, well, that's his problem.

Zephyr swipes their thumb across the back of Ifrit's hand when they take the cup handed to them, which has him holding back a honest-to-god squeal.

"Thank you, Ifrit. Expect a text from me, I'm not busy today," Zephyr smiles as they take their order to a nearby table.

Ifrit needs to scream, and is also wondering how he'll go through his shift feeling those grey eyes weight on his back.

"What the fuck are you doing, man ?"

Ivy's voice interrupts Ifrit's musing ; apparently he's been back from his break for a little while, now staring at Ifrit like he just said something incredibly stupid.

"What ?"

Ivy rolls his eyes, grabs Ifrit by the shoulders, and shakes him none-too-gently.

"They just told you they weren't busy, dumbass. Go sit with them ! Pebble came in early, he's in the back room, he'll cover for you, go !"

Ifrit catches a glimpse of a purple bruise on Ivy's neck then, half-hidden by his hair, which makes him snort.

"Came in early, mmh ? You ran into him during your...smoke break, V ?"

Ivy glares at him, pratically shoving him toward Zephyr's table.

"Shut up you cunt, go get 'em instead of pestering me."

Ifrit's still laughing when he drops in the seat facing Zephyr, stomach flipping under their intense stare.

He's never felt more alive.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Coffee and Stitches - Part Two

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: None just an insane amount of fluff

Word Count: 8.4k

Author's Note: PART TWO LETS GO

Enjoy~

You’ve fallen into a nice rhythm with him. Working your shifts, handing Shouta a new sample or two, experimenting with more drinks. He does end up taking you up on your offer to sleep upstairs, and he brings his sleeping bag along with an overnight bag and spare clothing for himself. It’s only a few nights, and he makes sure to always clean up after himself and always makes some kind of meal for you afterward as some kind of payback. He’s sweet, and kind, and he may be blunt most of the time but he’s fun to be around. More than a few times you’d caught him stifling a laugh at some of the dumb jokes you’d make, and you’d call him out on it just to make him admit you’re funny. He’s helped you brainstorm a few of the things you’d need to change around the cafe for winter time, and you’ve spent a whole lot of time together after his patrols just sitting at a table and talking about nothing over whatever warm drink tickles your fancy as the weather gets colder.

You learn alot about him, his favorite things to eat and drink, his favorite things to do in his free time of which he has very little. He likes cats, but doesn’t have the time to take care of one like they should be cared for, nor the time for any pet really. You learn he developed his very own fighting style with that scarf of his and it took him six years to fully master it, the calluses and scars on his hands are a testament to that fact. He doesn’t drive anywhere, doesn’t usually need to when he can swing around and run across rooftops most of the time, but he does have a license to drive as well as an old car he rarely uses but manages to maintain well enough. You also learn he’s a ruthless but also merciful teacher. He’ll ‘flunk’ any of the students that can’t meet the standards for his course, but re-enroll them in a different course so they still have the opportunities that come with attending UA. He’s kind in that way, where he’ll witness a student’s limits and shift the course of their schooling to reflect their strengths and weaknesses. There are so many layers to this man that you’d never known, but the more you talk the more you want to uncover.

It was nice, the push and pull of your nightly interactions. Even on your off days you’d make sure to be down in the cafe, just to greet him as usual and meet him after a patrol for a cozy conversation. More often than not, he’s leaving as the sun rises, and the morning shift is getting used to having him around as a regular. You’ve grown a lot closer to him, and it warms you much like a drink when you think about the man. Today as you fall asleep, your mind drifts back to the hero. You’ve got it bad, huh? You’ve got to keep this thing in check. 

The low buzz of your phone is what wakes you up. Only half-awake, you probe around beneath your pillow and locate the damned thing, answering it without reading the caller ID. 

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The deep, tired, monotone voice on the other end jolts you wide awake. It’s Shouta.

“No! No, it’s fine, hi!” You sit up in bed, slinging your feet over the side to get your brain working at full speed.

“Hi.” It takes a moment for it to click in your brain that he sounds amused. You try not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Hi. Um, what’s up? You calling for any specific reason?” A hum sounds on the other side, and a small ruckus is unfolding in the background.

“Yes, actually. You’re off tonight, correct?” Well, today is…Friday? Which means you’re going to be off tonight and Monday night. Another overnight worker would be covering for you those days, since they have another job this is their secondary income so it works out for the both of you.

“Yup, I’m off tonight and Monday night, why?” You can hear some more commotion, maybe two other voices? It’s hard to tell exactly what they’re saying. He clears his throat.

“Actually I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place tonight for dinner.” Tonight? For dinner? What in the world brought this on? And what could you say but yes?

“Oh, sure! What time should I be there?”

“How does 7 o’clock sound?” That’s in…4 hours?

“That sounds nice. I’ll see you then?” Whatever was happening in the background had calmed down, silence filling the line as you wait for a response.

“Seven it is then. I’ll text you the address. See you later.” He ends the call there, and your heart begins to race in your chest. Did this qualify as a date? You weren’t prepared for this. The first thing you do is text Rika, the only three words that would get her attention.

Date tonight. Help.

You hadn’t realized she worked today, and that her shift ended about three minutes ago, so when your door burst open and Rika shouted as she ran down the hall you were startled to say the least. Finally reaching your room, she runs over and grabs your shoulders, shaking you just a little too hard.

“Tell me it’s a date with Eraser.” All you can do is nod. She nearly shrieks.

“Okay, okay, we need to get you dolled up. I’m thinking a bodycon dress, sensible stilettos, bold but cute makeup. Hair! What are we going to do for your hair?” You grab her shoulders this time effectively shutting her up.

“Rika, it’s only a small dinner at his place. We aren’t going out anywhere. He’s making dinner.” You can almost see the gears turning in her head, the outfit ideas flying around in her brain.

“Bet. Sit still, I’ve got this.” You do just that, letting her raid your closet and throw a few combinations in specific piles on the bed. All of them are a good balance between casual meeting and dinner date. The last thing you want to do is make it seem like you want this to be a real date, because if this is meant to be some kind of ‘thank you’ dinner it would be embarrassing to look like you expected something romantically involved. She’s still buzzing around, digging through the little makeup you’ve got and putting together something sensible. You catch the lacy pair of underwear and matching bra she tosses at you with a frown.

“What the hell are these for?”

“Duh, for when he’s undressing you! You can’t go in without a matching set.” 

“Oh shut the fuck up! This may not even be a romantic date! And even then this would be the first and we definitely won’t be getting anywhere near that stage yet!” You grab a normal pair of underwear and hop in the shower, using the new citrus scented body scrub you’d gotten not too long ago. It would pair well with the raspberry lotion you’ve got, and that scent combo would be subtle enough to not overpower whatever meal he had planned. When you’re out Rika has an outfit laid out for you, and you must say she’s nailed your style perfectly. The layers are perfect for the cooler weather, and the jacket can come off once you’re inside. 

“Now, makeup. Sit.” You’re planted in your desk chair while she fiddles around. Mascara, very subtle eyeliner, a hint of blush and sparkly clear lip gloss. She touches up your brows lightly and once she’s done she sweeps your hair into a casual updo, all the while you apply the lotion to your body. When you’re all done and dressed, it’s 6pm. According to the gps, it should only take fifteen minutes to get to his apartment complex by car. You’ve got 45 minutes to kill, and you figured you’d stop by the liquor store and pick up a bottle of champagne. Rika agrees.

“Come on, we’ll take my car.” You eye her suspiciously.

“Your car? Are you going to take me to his apartment?” 

“Well duh, I’m not gonna let you drive! You’re not planning on staying over, so you should be out of there by what, ten? I can pick you up, easy peasy.” Somehow, you feel like this could be a setup, but you don’t voice that opinion. 

“Fine, I guess you can help pick the champagne.” With that you head out. The store has a much larger variety of champagne than you’d anticipated, but between the two of you the choice was narrowed to a white champagne that should pair with pretty much anything. By the time you actually get to the complex, you’re fifteen minutes early, and you text Shouta that you’d arrived. He sends you the floor number and the apartment number, and Rika sends you off with a ‘good luck!’. Shouta buzzes you in at the door, and once you’re inside you take in the decor. It’s higher end than you’re used to, but you supposed that’s the kind of thing a hero’s salary can get. Then again, it’s definitely not the fanciest in the world, so Shouta choosing to live here makes sense. He didn’t really strike you as the luxurious type anyways. The carpet in the lobby is kept insanely clean for how dark it is, the navy blue still very bright instead of dull and gray like one would expect. There’s a reception desk where you fill out your name and the room number you’re visiting, and the woman points you in the direction of the elevators with a smile.

The elevators are all chrome, the ceiling a smooth mirror that you gaze at your reflection in. You haven’t looked or felt this pretty in a while, you’d never really had a reason to get dressed up at all. The button for his floor is pressed, and the soft ding notifies you of your arrival. It’s easy to find his apartment, the rooms numbered clearly and boldly on plaques outside the doors. When you arrive, you knock, and wait patiently. The door opens and you’re met with the wonderful aroma of Italian food. Tomato sauce, cheese, oregano and all kinds of spices. Shouta stands before you in a black button-down and comfortable slacks, thank heavens you aren’t overdressed, his sleeves are rolled up above his elbows and the top few buttons of that shirt are left undone. His hair is brushed back into a low ponytail, the scruff that’s normally on his face has been cleaned up. Not clean shaven, but neat. It looks good.

When you’re done looking him over, you look up into his eyes only to see as he gives you a once-over. His eyes almost burn a path down your body, and when he finally meets your gaze he blinks and smiles sheepishly.

“Hi. Sorry, come in. I’m just finishing up. I hope you like chicken parmesan.” You giggle, stepping past him and placing your shoes on the mat beside the door.

“Hi yourself. Thank you for having me, I do like a good chicken parm.” The door is shut and you hand him the bottle you’d brought with you.

“I didn’t know what you were making, so I went with a mild option.” He takes it and sets it on the counter, and once you’ve taken your jacket off and hung it on the coat rack, he holds a hand out for you to take. It’s easy to place your hand in his, easier still to let him lead you around the corner away from the kitchen into a small dining room. The lights are dimmed just a little, a small round dining table with forks and spoons set for two, spaces left for plates to go. 

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way. I didn’t get to tell you earlier.” Heat rises to your face, the compliment making you fluster. He pulls out your chair and pushes it in as you sit, ever the gentleman.

“Thank you, Shouta. You look good too. I like what you did with your stubble. It’s nice.” You could have sworn his own cheeks warmed just a little. 

“Thanks. It was a friend’s idea.” You beam at him and his honesty.

“Well your friend has good taste.” He smiles back, then disappears into the kitchen. He called you beautiful! If Rika were here she’d be screaming right about now, you’re sure. The aromas from the kitchen are wafting through the air, your stomach gurgling just the smallest bit. You hadn’t eaten yet, considering you’d woken up and immediately started getting ready. So you were ready to eat, especially something that smelled so good. Shouta called out that he was coming around the corner with something hot, so you remained where you were and allowed him to set two small bowls of what looked like some kind of soup on the table, then disappear again and come back with two plates of the chicken parm. Once again he goes and returns with two glasses of champagne and two glasses of water. He takes his seat across from you, then clears his throat.

“So, this is no five-course meal, but I like to think my cooking is good enough for a date. So, french onion soup and chicken parmesan. I’ve also got some tossed salad if you’d prefer, but I didn’t know for sure.” A large grin spreads across your face, he’s just so cute and sweet.

“It’s wonderful, Shouta. Thank you. I’m excited to try it all, it smells amazing.” His own smile matches yours, and you dig into your soup. It really does smell good, and after cooling the spoon you can’t help but hum at the flavors. It’s perfectly seasoned, not overly salty, and the onions are caramelized perfectly.

“Shouta, this is amazing. My god, how long did this all take you?” He swallows down his own spoonful before answering.

“I started the tomato sauce and soup broth just before I called you. In hindsight, I probably should have waited until you’d actually said yes to the date before starting the cooking.” In all of that, the one thing your brain stays hooked on is the date part. 

“So, this is a date then?” When your eyes meet his, he seems cautious. 

“I’d very much like for it to be, if you’re alright with that.” You beam at him.

“I’d love that, Shouta.” Relief floods his features, and he takes the time to savor another bite of his soup. You do the same.

“I’m glad. As much as I enjoy our late night talks in your cafe, I’ve been meaning to spend time with you outside of work. In a more personal setting.” 

“I can only imagine, with what little free time you do have, that it can’t have been easy to find a time for this. Weekdays surely wouldn’t have worked.” He nods.

“I got lucky today. School let out early for both students and teachers, so I was able to get everything set up and prepare a meal like this.” It is a wonderful meal. He’s quite the home chef, though you’re not all that surprised after he’d made you so many meals at your place on a whim. The conversation is light and ventures around to all kinds of things. Your soup is finished off and the chicken parm is just as delicious, the sauce deep and savory with just a hint of sweet. You both sip at the champagne, but the water is the first to go. You ask him more about his life outside of work, what kind of things he’d like to do if he had the time, what kinds of places he’d like to visit given the chance. He’d love to see Greece, and the mountains of Machu Picchu. You’re surprised to find you both share an interest in ancient civilizations. You love the architecture and art, and he loves learning the bits of culture we can pick out from the ruins. The conversation continues long after your meals have finished, the both of you deep diving into the ancient civilizations you’d been obsessed with. You make sure to help him clean up the kitchen, not taking no for an answer, and you talk through the cleanup about random things. 

It’s domestic, and sweet, and makes your chest bloom with warmth. 

“Thank you for coming. I had a lot of fun tonight.” You grin up at him from where you stand near the door, your shoes not yet on your feet. Somewhere in your mind you want to delay having to leave, even just a little bit.

“I had fun too, thank you for inviting me. I hope maybe we can do something like this again?” His smile is infectious.

“Absolutely.” Your phone buzzes then, Rika texting you to say she’s waiting out front. Which means, unfortunately, it’s time to go. As much as you really don’t want to leave, you turn to Shouta.

“Well my ride’s here. I’ll see you tomorrow night?” 

“You can count on it.” It takes you just a moment for you to work up the courage to do what your mind is begging you to do, turning back to him after getting your shoes on. You motion for him to lean in close, and when he does you place your hand on his jaw and leave a soft kiss on his cheek. Your blood is pounding in your ears as you do it, the adrenaline making your heart race uncontrollably. He’s stunlocked, blinking down at you as you stare back up at him. You don’t know what you’re expecting, hell you aren’t expecting anything at all really, ready to turn and leave with a grin plastered on your face for the rest of the night. You’re surprised when his hand comes up to cup your cheek and he leaves an equally gentle kiss on your temple. It makes your face warm even further, the heat crawling up from your chest as you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“Good night.” He’s grinning while he says it, opening the door for you to step through.

“Good night.” You grin right back, and once the door closes you’re practically skipping all the way down the hall to the elevator. This is going to make your entire week, you’re sure. This was one of the best nights you’ve had in a long time. You leap into Rika’s car, and she can just tell from the look on your face that you’ve had a very good night. 

“So it was a real date then?” You nod, not quite ready to speak. If you tried you might just talk until you turn blue, forgetting to breathe altogether in your splurge of words. She laughs, beginning the drive back to the cafe. You can’t seem to stop smiling, and Rika definitely doesn’t let you get away with it.

“Must have been a wonderful date to make you this smiley. What happened?” You shake your head, not wanting to distract her while driving.

“I’ll tell you when we get to the cafe. You have some time to spare right?”

“For you, always. Especially when your love life is involved. It’s been years since you’ve been interested in anyone, let alone gone on any kind of date.” You roll your eyes, but she’s right. It’s been a very long time since you’d been romantically involved with anybody. Your life as of late has been consumed with the cafe, between opening a few years ago and scheduling and finances and insurance…It’s been a lot. You just haven’t had the time for romance, not that you ever cared all that much to put yourself out there. You can’t count the number of times Rika has begged you to make a profile on a dating app. Every time you’d refuse.

“Good. I’ll gush about it all once we’re inside.” The look she shoots you is pure surprise.

“Gush? Oh I’m sleeping over tonight.” Your grin only widens. It isn’t long before you’re parking and you almost sprint up to the apartment. It’s much easier to strip out of your outfit than it was to get into it, and the both of you get comfortable on the futon couch with a mountain of pillows, and she immediately drills you for the details. What he cooked, what he wore, what he said and what you talked about. After all her questions were out, all that was left for you to gush and gush about were all the little things that made you giggle and smile and the things that made you swoon. Like the way he kept his sleeves rolled up to expose his arms, the way his dress shirt and slacks fit his body so well, the way he’d swept his hair back.  You detail almost every moment, all the things you’d talked about over dinner and then some. 

“Rika, when I tell you this man is going to be the death of me.” She squeals, rolling over so she’s on her back.

“I’m so happy for you girl omg.” You grab her arm, not forgetting the one detail that is sure to have her screaming.

“I haven’t even told you the best part.” Her gasp is loud, and she rolls back over to face you, her eyes boring into your own. She’s intent on hearing this.

“I kissed him on the cheek before I left-” She squeaks, but you shoot her a look to wait for the rest, “and he looked shocked at first but then he kissed me back.” Unable to contain it any longer, she plants her face in a pillow and squeals, her feet kicking the bed behind her. The memory makes you giddy, and you hold your pillow close to your chest.

“I know. I mean, it was just on the forehead but the way he held my face. I swear I had little hearts in my eyes. If I didn’t know better I’d say I was in a sappy romance movie.” You talk until you pass out, the both of you so tired after hours of talking about the date. It’s almost noon when you wake up, Rika snoring beside you. She probably didn't have a shift today, so your late night date talk wouldn’t pose a problem to her sleep. Already wide awake, you busy yourself with little chores around the house. Tidying up the bathroom, maintaining the kitchen, sweeping the corners of the house where dust tends to collect. Nothing too huge, your weekly deep cleaning comes every Monday since you’re off. Rika wakes up then, diving through your fridge for anything decent to munch on. She groans when she doesn’t find anything she wants.

“You know the cafe is just a staircase away, right?” In her tired morning haze, she’d forgotten she gets free food in the cafe. She disappears down the stairs and you finish up whatever you were doing. Coffee wouldn’t hurt, you’ve been feeling like having something with white chocolate in it. The door opens and shuts, and you call out from where you’re buried in the closet to return your cleaning supplies to their proper homes.

“So what did you get?” The closet door closes easily, and you dust off your clothes as you hear the answer.

“Mac and cheese, I think.” That wasn’t Rika’s voice. You whirl, meeting Shouta face to face as he stands mere feet from you.

“Shouta! Hi!” His smirk is sly and teasing, and you can’t help the way you bite your bottom lip to hide your bright grin.

“Hi. You forgot this last night.” He holds up your jacket in his hand, and you take it graciously.

“Oh my gosh I didn’t even realize. Thank you for bringing it, but you were coming in tonight weren’t you?” He nods.

“So why not just bring it to me then? I’d have been down there.” The faintest tint of pink appears on his cheeks, and he can’t look you in the eyes.

“It’s kind of a selfish reason. If I’m being honest here I just wanted to see you again.” You do grin then, not bothering to hide it anymore. He’s just too cute. In the silence you can’t help but giggle at the bashful expression on his face. 

“Yeah, yeah laugh it up.” You go to hang your coat up in your room, still giggling out of joy.

“I’m sorry, I’m just very happy at the moment. A handsome pro-hero I’d just gone on an amazing date with not even 12 hours prior is now in my apartment, admitting that he’d gone out of his way just to see me. I could pinch myself.” With him still in the hallway you can’t see the blush on his cheeks.

“Handsome?” At the shock in his voice you whip around, stomping out to the hall, and you’re sure you’re looking at him like he’d grown another head.

“Uh, yeah. You may not be the most popular pro out there, and a plethora of girls swoon over that oversized red chicken, but there are so many women and men that find you hot.” He hums, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck and the tiniest bit of pink crawls up his neck onto his face.

“I figured someone was bound to, being a pro means putting yourself out into the public eye.” You nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, and one of those people is me. Like I said, you’re hot.” His other hand comes up to cover his face entirely. You’re sure he’s beet red under there and your grin is mischievous, the opportunity you’ve just been handed is irresistible.

“Are you…flustered, Eraserhead?” He peeks from between his fingers, a small ‘no’ muffled behind his palm. Obviously, you don’t buy it, so you push more buttons. Tilting your head sweetly, clasping your hands behind your back, swaying your hips just that tiny bit as you step into his space. 

“You are. A pro hero like you, flustered by something as simple as a woman calling you hot?” You lean way up into his face, which is still covered by a hand. His eyes widen just a fraction, and he barely leans away from you. Still you push, reaching a hand up to rest on his chest, toying with the collar of his shirt.

“You’re just too cute.” Suddenly his demeanor changes, the hand on his face dropping to rest on your hand, still on his chest. The other comes to land on the small of your back, trapping your other hand beneath it, and he tugs you close to lean over you. The change is so sudden you can’t help but arch the tiniest bit away from his face, which is mere inches from your own. Blood rushes in your ears, heart pounding in your chest at the dynamic switch. Now you’re the one flustered. He’s just so handsome and he’s right there, and you’re stuck in his hold. His eyes bore into your own, piercing and heavy and dark.

“You’ve got to be careful which games you play. You’ll get yourself in trouble.” The heat in your face feels like an inferno, your chest heaving as tension settles in the air between you. His hands are hot where they rest on your own, the skin contact and close proximity sends a tremor into your fingertips. You’re nervous. You’re anxious. You want to kiss him so bad.

“Shaking? Already?” He leans closer, your noses nearly touching and you swallow to help alleviate the dryness in your throat.

“I haven’t even done anything yet…”

“Okay, I definitely should have given you guys more time alone.” Shouta’s hands are off you in an instant, the both of you putting as much space between you in the confines of the hallway. Rika’s settling onto the couch holding a bowl of something hot, steam rising off the surface, and the grin on her face looks like the cat that got the cream. Her bowl is placed on the coffee table, and she faces you once again.

“However, after seeing what I’d just seen, I’m glad I interrupted when I did. You kids need to learn to keep it in your pants when there are guests around.” Shouta coughs at that comment with a mumbled apology. You only roll your eyes. The both of you walk toward the door, and you’re ready to see him off when he stops and turns to you.

“Actually, I’d also come for another reason.” He drops his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxing.

“In a couple weeks it’s going to be cold enough for the ice rink down the street to open up. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for some ice skating?” This time your grin is wide, joy leaking into your face.

“I’d love to, Shouta. Friday again?” He nods.

“Friday evening, in two weeks. 5 pm.” 

“I’ll be there.” The corners of his mouth tug out just a little, a smile pulling at his cheeks. He seems pleased.

“Good. It’s a date.” A date. A second date, with Shouta Aizawa. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to jump up and throw your arms around him. What in the world has this man done to you? He’s gone much faster than you’d like, disappearing down the stairs, and the instant the door is shut Rika’s comments begin.

“So how close were you to seeing him naked?” 

“Rika!” She throws her hands in the air.

“What?! It’s a valid question!” 

“No, it isn’t. Now eat before your food gets cold.” Her eyes roll, but she drops the subject. The next two weeks are spent as usual, plus the added anticipation of your upcoming date. Every time Shouta walks in the door you’re beaming, and you’ve noticed that slowly his smiles have become more frequent, however small they may be. You dare to think it’s because he gets to see you. You’ve already got your outfit planned out, a good mix between warmth and fall protection, and cute enough for a date. It gets much colder in the span of two weeks, snow beginning to fall regularly. Shouta’s hero getup didn’t seem to change all that much with the weather, but when you asked him about it he’d explained it’s almost an identical suit, just more insulated and a tad thicker and heavier. That made sense, he wouldn’t want to compromise the suit’s capabilities, but he’s also probably not very cold while sprinting across rooftops anyways. Now, as you wait ever so patiently for Shouta to walk in on Thursday night, your nerves are buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. You get to go on another date with this man that sends butterflies through your entire body. Mentally you kick yourself, being so giddy over a man so quickly has never ended well.

“You’re distracted tonight.” His voice makes you jump, the erasure hero standing directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. Huh. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Oh, yeah I guess I am. Sorry, I’m just excited for tomorrow.” His small smile makes heat burst in your chest. You’ll never get sick of that, even if it isn’t a full smile.

“Me too. I get to spend more time with a pretty lady.” That makes you grin way too hard, and you reflexively look down to hide that fact. The way he makes you so bashful is baffling, he’s somehow turned you into a lovesick school girl staring at her crush for the first time. 

“What, you get to call me hot and I can’t call you pretty?” A giggle bubbles up in your throat at the indignation in his tone and you gaze back up at him.

“I never said that. I like when you tell me I’m pretty.” His expression can only be described as smug.

“Then I guess I should say it more often.” Leaning over the counter, you let your elbows hold your weight and prop your chin in one hand.

“Not too often. You’ll give me a big head.” He reaches toward you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The action makes you blush but you don’t move away from his hand, even as his hand finds its way to cup your cheek.

“I don’t think so. I know how to appreciate beauty without spoiling her rotten.” You have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep the beaming grin from splitting across your face, but there isn’t much you can do about the flare of heat that washes over your entire body. His words are sending so many happy emotions flooding through your brain. Far too quickly for your liking, he pulls away completely, turning and walking to the door.

“I’ll be back after my patrol.” He calls over his shoulder. You don’t try to respond, he’s already out the door and swinging onto a rooftop as a light snow comes down. Now, with the space to breathe, you allow yourself to quietly celebrate the last few minutes. Nerves buzzing, cheeks hurting, face warm and all you can do is wrap your arms tight around yourself in a tight hug to keep from screaming out loud. The cafe remains empty for the most part until Shouta returns, albeit a little later than usual, and you greet him with a grin and a wave.

“So how’d it go?” His shoulders roll in a lazy shrug.

“Nothing crazy. I’m guessing it wasn’t much different here.” You nod.

“Yup. But it’s alright, I had something to look forward to.” One dark eyebrow lifts, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” You sigh, put on a dreamy smile, gaze up toward the ceiling as if there were a cloud playing your thoughts like a movie floating there.

“Just this handsome pro-hero. He’s a regular, always comes in before and after his patrols. I can’t lie, I always look forward to seeing him, you know?” He nods, playing along.

“I do know. I’ve got a cute cafe owner I like visiting all the time. On my really dead patrol nights I bide my time waiting to go back and see her.” There’s no point trying to hide your beaming smile, not when his matches. A laugh is shared between you, the cafe feeling just that little bit cozier in the cold weather. You stare at each other for a long while, the silence of the cafe stretching between you. His hair is damp from the snowflakes that had melted when he walked in, his cheeks not as red as they were in the cold air outside. You take in his face, the sharp angles of his stubbled jaw, his piercing eyes and the designer bags beneath them, his lips that you’d love to be kissing right about now. He really is such a handsome man. A handsome, tired man.

“Do you need to sleep here tonight? You came back late.” His hum is low and smooth, vibrating through your chest.

“I guess I did. Got held up with a punk at the end of my patrol route. I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” 

“Go on up. You should still have spare clothes up there.” He nods, then heads up the staircase. He knows the drill, if he needs a shower he’ll take a quick one before settling into the futon for a much needed nap. You really don’t know how he does it, living off naps and very little full rest. It’s a miracle he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion half the time. The rest of your shift is dead, and when the three covering the morning come in you let them take over. It’s easy to stay quiet as you make your way up the stairs, living here for a few years means you’d already memorized everything that makes noise. Shouta’s passed out, wrapped up in his sleeping bag. He didn’t even pull the couch into a bed, just hopped into his yellow cocoon and knocked out. You have to fight the urge to stuff a small pillow beneath his head and cover him with a blanket. He’ll have set an alarm for himself, so you disappear into the bathroom for a nice hot shower before settling into bed. You’re asleep the moment your head hits your pillow. Shouta is gone when you wake up, but that’s to be expected. He didn’t make anything this time, but that’s never been expected if you’re being honest. Rika texts you, saying she’d be up in a couple hours after her shift finishes, and you get busy with a light lunch for the both of you. When she bursts through the door the first thing she asks is if you’re ready for tonight.

“Yeah I am. I’ve been excited and waiting for this date ever since he’d asked.” Her shit-eating grin is not lost on you.

“I bet. What do you think he’d do if I locked you out of your apartment?” You stab your chopsticks at her face, shooting her a look that could kill.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole. The last thing I want to do is inconvenience him with a surprise sleepover he wasn’t prepared for.” If her smile before was mischievous, this one was downright evil.

“I don’t think he'll be inconvenienced by that, considering you almost got dicked down in the hallway two weeks ago.” Your jaw drops, a loud gasp leaving your mouth. The flames that creep onto your face is a mix between embarrassment and annoyance, and she’s laughing at you.

“Shut the fuck up about that already! You haven’t stopped talking about that for two whole weeks.” She’s clutching her stomach, doubled over the counter, cackling hysterically. It takes about two full minutes for her to calm down and wipe the tears from her eyes. What kind of best friend is she anyways?

“Yeah and I won’t stop talking about it until you actually get laid. You’re too pent up, gotta let loose, especially when you’re so against one night stands and hookups.”

“And rightfully so. Strangers are dangerous, especially when quirks are involved. Nuh uh, I’m not taking that kind of a chance.” She sighs, dramatically, and her shoulders sag then shrug.

“Yeah I know. You’re the only reason I’ve actually given those up, your paranoia is rubbing off on me.” Good. She needed to be more careful, one of her hookups a year back was making you nervous with how often he’d turn up looking for her. You still don’t know how he found where she worked. She’s blocked him and made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with him, and he’s been out of sight, out of mind ever since. And since that incident she’s done exactly what you have, sworn off hookups and one night stands.

“Anyway, wanna see my outfit?” You spend the next twenty minutes getting dressed and having a mini fashion show with your skating outfit. Rika’s as supportive as ever, hyping you up and making inappropriately suggestive comments to make you laugh. Once you’re completely ready you take off, deciding it’d be nice to just walk to the rink since it’s only a few blocks down. A text is sent to Shouta alerting him that you’d arrived, but you soon see that you didn’t need to send it at all since he’s waiting for you at the entrance. He’s on his phone, leaning against a wall, and you assume he gets the text because his head shoots up and his eyes dart around until they land on you. You wave when he spots you, he waves back, and you get a good look at him as you approach. He’s got thick dark jeans on, snow boots that are probably waterproof, and a deep maroon puffer jacket over what looks like a thick turtleneck. There’s a fluffy gray scarf around his neck, matching gloves on his hands, and his hair is loose over his shoulders. He looks warm.

“Hi.” You smile at his simple greeting.

“Hi yourself. You look cozy.” He hums, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

“It’s cold.” You almost laugh at him. Almost. He can see you stifling your giggle and drags a gloved hand down his face.

“Yeah yeah I know. Come on, we gotta go get our skates.” It only takes you a moment, and you decide to grab his hand as you walk through the open gates. If he’s surprised by the action he doesn’t show it, his grip tightening around yours as you grab your respective sizes from the clerk at the counter. Your bag is deposited in a locker, and you’re on a bench pulling the skates on your feet. He’s done lacing his own long before you are.

“Do you need any help?” Yeah, you might.

“Honestly I haven’t gone ice skating since I was a kid.” He hums, then tugs one of your legs over his lap to lace up the skates.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.” It takes a couple do-overs, but once you’ve got both laced up comfortably you’re wobbling toward the gate on the rink. You’re nervous, it’s been many years since you’d done this and muscle memory isn’t going to be enough to keep you upright on the ice. 

“We can stay on the wall if you’d like.” You nod, a shaky ‘okay’ leaving your mouth. He steps on the ice first, easily transitioning. He must have done this often to be so smooth on the ice, but also he’s a pro hero. You have a much harder time getting into the rink, one hand gripping the wall and the other squeezing Shouta’s hand for dear life.

“You’re alright. Try not to be so stiff, keep your knees bent. There you go.” It’s definitely not easy, but it’s fun. Shouta gives you little tips, and whether you take them or not he encourages you to keep moving. It gets marginally easier to move comfortably across the slick ice, your legs beginning to actually move the way you want them to. And now more comfortable on the ice, you allow yourself to bask in Shouta’s presence. He’s so strong where he holds you upright, but oh so gentle when he pulls you along with him. His smile is lazy and sweet, and you can’t help the way your cheeks start to hurt with how much you’ve been smiling yourself. For a moment you have to wonder what kind of saint you’d been in your past life to deserve such a kind man to want to date you. Even if this doesn’t end in a full relationship, and even if you end up falling apart completely, you can live happily knowing that at least for right now, you’re happy with someone like him to share moments like these.

The sun sets while you’re focused on your feet, the dark bringing cold with it. Even though you feel like you’ve been running for an hour you’re freezing before long, and Shouta’s not far behind you. It’s easier getting off the ice than it was getting on, and your aching feet are relieved when the skates are yanked off and your comfortable shoes are back on. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you’re already starting to feel the ache in your thighs and core.

“Are you hungry?” You nod, take his hand when he stands and offers it to you. He makes it easy to fall into step beside him, talking about nothing and everything as you make your way down the street. There’s a food truck you hadn’t spotted before that sells heaping bowls of ramen, and you find a popup table to get comfortable at as you dig into your steaming bowls. It’s a perfect little meal, filling your bellies and warming you from the inside out. 

“Thank you for tonight, Shouta.” He tilts his head, setting his chopsticks in the empty ramen bowl.

“So you had fun?” Your nod is quick and strong, a smirk growing on your face.

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” He matches your little smirk.

“That’s a pretty cheesy thing for you to say.” You shrug.

“Cheesy, but true. I really do enjoy all the time I get with you, even if it’s just for a few minutes before your patrol.” 

“Well it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.” For a minute you both sit there, smiling at each other like lovesick idiots. Shouta decides to break the little streak by taking your trash and disposing of it, then offering you a hand which you easily take. You take off back toward the rink, and Shouta offers to take you home since he’d driven there. Being as physically tired as you are, you accept. His car is exactly as he’d described, an older model, but he’s kept it well. It’s clean inside, and there’s an air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror that smells of linen and clean laundry. It’s a short drive, less than five minutes, and he insists on walking you to your door.

“So I guess this is good night?” You hate that tonight has to end. You want to stay in his orbit forever, want to stare into his eyes until you drown in them. He hums, reaching to grab your hands from where he stands one step below you. Heat flares over your skin when he brings your hands to his mouth and presses sweet kisses to your knuckles.

“I’m sure I could find a way to stay a little longer. I don’t have a patrol tonight, so I’ve got nowhere better to be.” It’s all too easy to lean in close, close enough that you can lie your forehead on his and breathe in each other’s air. 

“Shouta?” His eyes meet yours.

“Yes?” You bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders, toying with the scarf that sits on his neck.

“Can I kiss you?” Being so direct isn’t really your style, but you can’t take it anymore. A deep breath makes his chest heave, and his laugh is short and relieved.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” That’s all you need to hear, really, and your lips are on his. Hungry, insistent, you kiss him until you can’t breathe and then keep kissing him some more. He’s no different, large strong hands wrapping around your waist to keep you from separating. Your hands grip his scarf like a vice, using the material to tug him somehow closer. Your body temperature skyrockets, heat blooming through your limbs as your heart pounds heavy in your chest, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the heat when you’re finally kissing Shouta. This is heaven on earth. If you could, you’d kiss him forever. The moment doesn’t last long enough for you, but you both need to breathe, so you’re left holding each other and basking in the afterglow of your first real kiss. He’s the first to break the silence.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” You laugh at him then, at how close you were to saying something almost identical.

“Yeah? How long of a while, if I may ask?” 

“It’s a little embarrassing, but that first night I’d fallen asleep in the beanbag downstairs. I don’t know why but when you woke me up I got the sudden urge to kiss you. The rest is history.” Another laugh escapes you.

“I was going to say something about not knowing me very well, but that would make me a hypocrite.” His head tilts, a smirk pulling his mouth.

“And why is that?” Your face heats up, and you can’t look him in the eyes.

“That same night I got some very domestic thoughts of you sleeping in my bed.” His smile is bright and sweet, and he buries his head in your neck much like a cat would. You won’t say that out loud, though. Having to pull away from him annoys you, having to separate at a time like this is incredibly inconvenient, but you’ve got to unlock your door to invite him in. Though, you do keep one hand clasped firmly in his. It's a flurry of clothing as you strip down to your thinnest layers, the heat in the apartment making all your snow gear unbearably hot, and once again you’re inconvenienced by the fact that you want to get comfortable in some pajamas before dragging him to cuddle on the couch. He still had a pair of sweats he kept here so he’d changed as well. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” He hums into your hair, holding you tight to his chest where you lay atop him. 

“So this is one of your domestic thoughts?” You can only nod into his chest. You don’t think he’d appreciate knowing there were a few very brief not-so-domestic thoughts. For now, you’re going to keep those to yourself.

“Shouta? Can I be honest with you?” One of his hands scratch up and down your clothed back as he hums and waits. 

“It feels like I’ve known you for years. We’ve been talking almost every day for just over a month but it feels like it’s been longer.”

“I know what you mean. Though the first night I’d come here was probably about five months ago, so we have technically known each other for nearly half a year.” The memory makes you smile. He’d been injured, sure, but it was your first interaction. Things tend to look better in hindsight.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Silence falls then, and you press your ear to his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat. It’s solid, and strong, and his fingers on your back are lulling you to sleep. You can’t open your eyes for long, and what you do see is blurred by exhaustion. As much as you want to fight it just to stay awake with Shouta for a little longer, you can’t, and you slip right into a wonderful dream your brain can’t be bothered to remember.

[sionisjaune]

Roommate au and pregnancy fic for princess cake but make it het and make Jenson the girl byeeeee

[Trope mash up prompt list] Remind me to tell you about the butch lesbian high school cool girl Jenson I was developing for an AU a while back.... N E WAY here you go!

Jenson finds herself sitting on the toilet, a drugstore pregnancy test in her hand and her panties on the floor around her ankles after she skips her period and clues into the fact that she never, ever skips her period. She stares fixedly at the little oval on the test stick, waiting for one or two lines to resolve. 

“Can you hurry up in there?” says Nico, pounding on the door. Their shitty flat only has the one bathroom, and Nico probably wants to get in to fetch his expensive hair products and spend half an hour in the mirror artfully fucking up his hair in a manner that is reminiscent of the style he sports when Jenson wakes up with a hangover and rolls onto her side to find Nico in her bed. 

“Fuck off,” says Jenson, squinting at the stick. Can it take any longer?

Nico pounds on the door again. “I need to piss,” he whines. Jenson buries her head in the hand not holding the test stick. She doesn’t know why she sleeps with him. Repeatedly. Her brain reminds her that it’s probably because he’s utterly shameless in bed and lets her tie him up and slap him around and generally seems to get off on Jenson emasculating him. 

“Just—one second,” Jenson says. She deposits the pregnancy test on the sink and pulls her panties up her hips, flushing the toilet. She washes her hands in the sink, scrutinizing her reflection in the vanity. The mascara she couldn’t be arsed to wash off last night is smeared around her eyes, making her look like a rather freckly racoon. She towels off her hands and unlocks the door for Nico, who is standing immediately outside of the washroom with his hand poised to knock on the door again, a white button down with the wrong buttons fastened slipping off his shoulders and a pair of skin-tight boxer briefs riding high on his thighs. 

“Fucking finally,” says Nico, rolling his eyes. He shoulders past Jenson, and Jenson swears she catches a whiff of a candy-scented perfume off the collar of his shirt. He went out with his friends last night, who are far weirder and less affable than Jenson’s friends. 

He slams the door behind him while Jenson pads through the flat to plop on the couch, tucking her legs under her. She listens to the toilet flush and the sink run. The door creaks open again, and Nico exits the washroom, rubbing a hand through his hair. 

“JB,” he says, hesitating. He’s clutching something in his hand. Oh shit, Jenson thinks. She watches him raise the pregnancy test Jenson forgot on the sink with a panicked look on his pouty face. “What’s this?”

[cxrdycxps]

Habit • Chapter One

Habit Masterlist • Ellie Masterlist • Next Part

☢️ Drug Use • Slurs • Canon Typical Violence • AFAB reader • she/her pronouns • no use of y/n ☢️

Ellie had gotten into the habit of visiting Shimmer every morning before whatever rotation she was on. She’d spend an hour or so with the horse, mucking out her stall and giving her a brush.

This routine made sure that she’d walk by Joel’s house around the time he’d be waking up. It was a pure coincidence that this happened.

For the last three mornings Joel had been out on his porch with a cup of coffee before Ellie would walk by. This was a new development.

As were you.

It was well known Joel would sell his kidney for a half of a bag of coffee beans. He didn’t share coffee, not even with his brother. So Ellie had to wonder what on earth you’d done to earn the steaming cup in your hand, three mornings in a row, sitting by Joel’s side.

You were new to Jackson, arriving on the back of Tommy’s horse half starved and scared out of your mind. The doctors couldn’t tell if you were unable to speak because of a physical or a mental reason, but no one had heard you utter a word.

That was until you had started hanging around Joel. However that had happened.

“Heard they’ve been staying with Joel at night.” Dina muttered on the fourth day Ellie had found the pair on the porch, the pair of them sitting with Jesse. Dina had followed Ellie’s line of sight to where Joel and you had joined Tommy and Maria. “Think they’re sleeping together?”

“Dina, what the fuck? You think Joel is fucking someone our age?” Jesse asked in shock and Ellie’s nose scrunched up in disgust.

Who cared? Who gave a fuck if Joel just fucking collected people to care about only to lie to them?

Ellie cared. Ellie had to warn you. He’d only let you down in the end. And then he’d lie to your fucking pretty little face about it.

So she put a plan in place. Joel had an overnight patrol coming up with Tommy. You’d be alone in his house. It was the perfect opportunity to warn you what he would do.

Instead of ambush you at night Ellie left her house twenty minutes early and paused outside Joel’s house. You were already on the porch, steaming cup in hand and staring off into space. You only snapped to focus when Ellie cleared her throat.

“Hey, I’m Ellie, I uh-“ Ellie paused when you rose from your seat and casted her the dirtiest look Ellie had ever seen. You scoffed, making your way inside and slamming the door. Hard.

Ellie stood at the garden gate, her mouth wide open in shock. The look of hate in your eyes had surprised her so much she didn’t know how to react.

She wasn’t sure if she was mad or embarrassed. She settled on a little of both as her cheeks flamed and her fists clenched. How dare you look at her like that? You were the one fucking a lying, old man. You weren’t the one who had Joel and then lost him.

Ellie made her way to the stables and attempted to make sense of it all in her head. You didn’t even know her! How could you feel so strongly about her?

Unless Joel had told you something. Maybe he had spun the story in his favor. Maybe he was mad Ellie didn’t appreciate him ruining a chance of a normal future for the whole world just for her stupid brain.

He had obviously made Ellie out to be the villain in his story. The ungrateful bitch who wouldn’t talk to her savior.

Ellie had worked herself into a right rage by the time she had finished brushing down Shimmer. Which was just in time for Tommy and Joel to ride in and dismount.

“Hey Ellie.” Tommy yawned through her name, rubbing a hand down his face. “How are you doing?”

“Fucking fine.” Ellie told him through gritted teeth, watching Joel remove the saddle from his horse. “Your new fucking girlfriend is a grade A bitch, Joel.”

Joel looked up in surprise but Ellie didn’t care. She left the stable almost at a run because the anger was leaving and making room for more embarrassment. Had Joel really found a match in someone who hated Ellie?

Did he hate her for how she reacted? Was there any other way she could’ve reacted? So many people had died for her immunity. Obviously she wouldn’t be happy that Joel had taken that decision from her.

“Ellie!” She didn’t turn at the sound of her name. “Now hold on. I’m talking to you, Ellie.”

“Well don’t. Go back to that bitch on the porch. Don’t talk to me ever again.” Joel stopped in his tracks when Ellie did, still keeping his distance. “Share your stupid coffee with her and sit on your stupid porch swing. And tell her all your old man fucking stories. Tell everything to that bitch.”

“Ellie, you don’t understand.” Joel sighed and Ellie scoffed. She’d heard that before. She never understood according to Joel.

“Yeah. Keep telling me that. I get it, I’m too fucking dumb for Joel Miller logic.” Ellie laughed bitterly. “Guess that’s why you wouldn’t let them have my brain. You were afraid there wouldn’t be one.”

“Ellie, come on now.” Joel sighed and Ellie only shook her head. She turned on her heel and walked away. She didn’t have to put up with that shit.

///

“So tell me again. You guys broke up because you liked his family too much?” Ellie asked Dina, brushing elbows with her by the bar.

“No. But that’s part of it. I feel like we’re only together because I like his family so much. It’s like I wanted to find a family any way I could.” Dina told Ellie and hey, as an orphan, it made sense.

“Hey Seth, can I get two more please?” Ellie ordered before turning back to Dina. “So what are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know. It’s like, I want to find someone new, get out of this rut I’ve been stuck in. But I don’t want to hurt Jesse like that.” Dina sighed, her hand over her face as Seth placed two glasses in front of them both.

“Jesse is a big boy. You’ve gotta look out for yourself.” Ellie nudged her with her shoulder and Dina dropped her hand, looking up at Ellie. “Go out there and take whatever it is you’re looking for.”

“You mean that?” Dina asked and Ellie nodded, taking a sip of her drink. She wasn’t paying attention until Dina reached up and pulled her into a kiss.

Ellie reared back and blinked at Dina until the sound of Seth cursing caught her attention. “Fucking dykes.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ellie asked, turning to face the bar man. “Say it again.”

“I didn’t say nothing.” Seth scoffed and Ellie shook her head.

“Yes you fucking did, now say it again before I come across that bar and beat you fucking stupid.” Ellie slammed her hand on the bar, watching as Seth leaned towards her.

“I called you both fucking Dykes.” A hand shot between Ellie and Dina, hitting Seth with an audible thud. Joel grabbed Seth by his collar and Ellie sighed.

“I don’t need your fucking protection Joel. Jesus.” Ellie left the bar, forgetting all about Dina in her anger.

“Youre so fucking cruel, you know that?” Ellie turned her head quick enough that she heard a pop and stared at you where you were stood with a cigarette between your lips.

After a second the smell hit and Ellie realised not a cigarette, a joint. She rolled her eyes, annoyed on top of everything else, that you had managed to find weed when no one else could since Eugene died.

“Cruel?” Ellie asked and you rolled your eyes. “You think I’m cruel?”

“I don’t think it. I know it. He fucking puts himself out on the line for you over and over again and this is how you treat him?” You scoffed, flicking the end of the joint away. “You’re an ungrateful bitch.”

“Oh fuck off. Just cause he’s fucking you doesn’t mean anything.” Ellie snapped. “You don’t have a clue what happened.”

“You’re a fucking idiot. He was standing up for you and your little girlfriend.” You sighed and shook your head. “You still don’t have a clue.”

“And you think you do?” Ellie asked, stepping closer. You only rolled your eyes and matched her, stepping closer until you were chest to chest. “You think you have a fucking clue what I’ve been through? Dina isn’t my fucking girlfriend and Joel isn’t my fucking dad so he can stop pretending.”

“Cruel.”

Ellie wanted to punch you in the face. She wanted to make you hurt in all the ways you and Joel had hurt her. Ellie wanted to smack you around like you deserved.

She’s not quite sure why she kissed you instead.

///

Someone was knocking at the door. Someone else was groaning. Ellie’s eyes flew open.

“Oh shit, fuck.”

Ellie didn’t have clothes on. She had a pile of clothes on the floor but she had no clothes on. Jesse was knocking on the door. She was late. For patrol.

She kissed Dina.

She yelled at Joel.

Another groan made her wince and she looked over her shoulder to find you with a sheet around your waist and no clothes on as far as Ellie could see.

Another knock.

“Cmon Ellie. We’re already late and we’ve got infected up north. Joel and Tommy headed out early.”

[thepixelelf]

Even If

genres: zombie apocalypse au, angst, loss pairing: reader x scoups words: 1.2k warnings: descriptions of injury, death, wound infection, and permanent scarring. notes: as with most of my fics, this story does not have a full plot! it is a snippet of a world!!

On a typical scouting, Jeonghan and Chan find more trouble than they initially thought.

Sometime during the aftermonths, Jeonghan developed a keen eye for the living.

He doesn’t like to think about when he gained this inexplicable ability. The infection would have reached his brain in mere minutes if not for the quick thinking of his friends. Now, a good chunk of his left cheek is gone, the remaining scar tissue stretched taut over his cheekbone. And with that, his left eye is glazed over with a milky white. Too exact of a match to the moon-eyed to classify it as anything else.

Before his incident, the group had wondered how the moon-eyed could find them so often, even in the dark. Jeonghan, though, now half moon-eyed, understands.

The living have this certain… glow. He can’t explain it when the younger ones ask, because he doesn’t quite get it himself. It’s not that he really sees a glow. He just knows it’s there, in all of them.

And distinctly missing in the moon-eyed.

It’s his one solace, he thinks sometimes as he stares at the ceiling above his cot when he can’t fall asleep. (He never can these days.) Though he was bitten, and though he is partly… them… When he lifts his hand above his head, the glow is warm around his fingers. At least those, his hands, are human. Alive.

His eye is part of the reason he is always a part of the scouting group when they split up. He can tell if any wanderers are human and need help, or a high-functioning moon-eyed. The other reason is that he’s the oldest, and the idea of any of the boys going out without him to protect them brings a disgusting bile to the back of Jeonghan’s throat.

“Jeonghan,” Chan calls out, tearing Jeonghan’s eyes from the skyline ahead. Normally, Chan stays at the base, the closest thing the group has to a healer along with Mingyu, but he came out today claiming that if he didn’t, he’d go completely stir crazy. His concerned, almost scared tone makes Jeonghan regret letting him outside already.

Following his gaze, Jeonghan looks out to the right of their intended path.

“Is that guy…?”

Two bodies are tangled together on the grass, and usually, Jeonghan would chalk that up to some moon-eyed accidentally getting stuck to each other and unable to walk. The person underneath, however, has the glow.

Jeonghan looks at Chan. Neither of them have to speak. They just run.

There became a certain hopelessness in the aftermonths. Jeonghan himself almost succumbed to it, but the boys managed to pull him out.

Everyone, no matter how hopeless it may seem, deserves a chance at life. Especially in a world like this.

Jeonghan tears the moon-eyed off the human, and while Chan jumps in to apply aid to them, he throws it to the ground as far away as he can. He flips it over, hands moving quickly and practiced to force its arms behind its back in the hopes that he can press them close together, then shove all his weight on them to dislocate the shoulders. A moon-eyed with no functioning arms is a little easier to fend off.

But— Jeonghan’s hands pause. Its arms are already behind its back, bound with layers and layers of torn, dirty fabric. The same fabric is wrapped behind its head, gagging it. Jeonghan realizes that the screaming is not coming from the moon-eyed, which only grunts and struggles under him, and he instinctively puts his hand on the back of its head and shoves its face into the grass.

The screaming gets louder, gruff and guttural, and that’s when Jeonghan looks behind him at the human, whom Chan is desperately holding down by straddling his torso and gripping both of his wrists in each hand. The screaming isn’t garbled, moon-eyed nonsense, it’s—

“Get your fucking hands off them,” the man yells, eyes burning as he glares fire straight into Jeonghan. He attempts to throw Chan off, but the boy has grown stronger in the aftermonths. “You hurt them and I swear to god I will kill you. I will tear you apart!”

His glow is unmistakable, but also…

He doesn’t have a scratch on him.

After all — Jeonghan turns again to look at the moon-eyed under him — what damage can a bound and gagged moon-eyed do?

He lets go of his hand, and he lifts his weight off the moon-eyed right when the enraged human finally heaves Chan off him. The man scrambles up and over to the moon-eyed, shoving Jeonghan out of the way in the process, and drops to his knees at its side.

“Are you okay, baby?” he almost whispers as he sits the moon-eyed up, but Jeonghan hears him loud and clear. His hands gently cradle its face, as if it were delicate. “Are you hurt?”

Your blank, milky white eyes do nothing but stare forward. No response comes, nor does anything even close to recognition show on your face. To Jeonghan, you are as good as dead.

“Jeonghan,” Chan says softly, putting a hesitant hand on Jeonghan’s forearm. His eyes stay on the man and the moon-eyed, which he keeps coddling despite your lack of reaction. “What do we do…?”

Chan is one of those positive types. He wants to save everyone, and he’s a large part of the reason Jeonghan does now, too.

Jeonghan looks down at Chan’s hand on his arm. With his fucked up cheek and one glazed-over eye, he could be just like any other empty-headed, soulless moon-eyed to anyone who sees him. But Chan, he is okay with touching Jeonghan. He even asks to hold his hand sometimes when he can’t sleep. If Chan can care about his half zombified leader…

The man in front of them, shedding tears for the moon-eyed in his arms, is broken.

There’s something wrong with this, all of this, but Jeonghan clears his throat. “What’s your name?”

Hesitantly, the man turns to look up at him and Chan. “Seungcheol,” he says, voice hoarse. No doubt from the shortage of water in the area combined with his shouting.

Jeonghan crosses his arms. “I’m Jeonghan.” He tilts his head to his left. “This is Chan. Do you have a place to stay?”

Seungcheol’s arms wrap protectively tighter around you, and he furrows his brows at the two. “I’m not leaving them.”

“Never said you had to,” Jeonghan says, which prompts Chan’s jaw to drop before he clicks it back shut. Everyone deserves a chance. Everyone deserves a chance. It’s easier to repeat those words in his head than actually see to it. Jeonghan pushes the words out. “I’m sure we could…” He looks at the moon-eyed once more, and its eyes feel too much like a mirror. He swallows his fears. “...figure something out.”

Though a long moment passes in silence, Seungcheol eventually nods. “Did you hear that, baby?” he says to the moon-eyed, as if it can hear him. “We’re finally gonna have a home again.”

Jeonghan looks away, and he just starts walking in the direction of the base. He only glances back once, and he notices for the first time that rope is knotted in a sloppy, makeshift harness around the moon-eyed’s body. Seungcheol pulls it along by a leash.

Fuck.

What the hell did he just agree to?

[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants Chapter 2: Waylaid

Series:  All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 827

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: sexual innuendo, infidelity

My other stuff: Master List.

Drake Walker was nothing if not predictable.

Every morning started with a protein shake, followed by a five-mile run. He worked out regularly in the gym with the rest of his unit, but on his days off he could be found poolside.

Swimming was good cardio and a nice way to change up his workout routine.

He pulled himself out of the water and headed for his towel.

“Looking good there, Walker.”

He froze, towel in one hand, water still dripping from his body. He’d know that voice anywhere. Struggling for composure, he forced his body to move. He toweled off quickly as he turned toward her. “Hey, Brooks. What are you doing out here in the middle of a workday?”

“Relaxing. I decided I needed a little me time, so I took it.”

His eyebrow arched as he tried to figure out why she was giving him a pass for the use of her maiden name. She usually reminded him promptly and imperiously that her name was Rys now.

As if he could forget that detail.

She held up a glass of iced tea with an inviting smile. “Want some?”

Shivers cascaded down his spine at the teasing lilt in her tone. His mouth went dry as he fought against every instinct that he had not to let his eyes wander over her body. He cleared his throat and glanced away before nodding. “Sure.”

“Well, come on then, sit.” She patted the outdoor chaise lounge next to her.

He sat down gingerly as he checked her out surreptitiously from his peripheral vision.

She was still just as beautiful as she had been all those years ago when he’d walked into that bar in New York. He had made his play for her during the engagement tour.

She had fucked him on a pool table and then gotten engaged to his best friend without so much as a conversation in between.

Riley gave him a scintillating smile as she handed him his own glass. Iced tea was a drink she had brought to the palace with her from America. Not that he was any stranger to it, being half Texan.

All of which begged the question, why did she have two glasses? He glanced around the pool area but saw no one else present. Was she waiting for someone? But if so, why offer the second glass to him?

Pushing his nerves, and his questions aside, he reached for the glass, his fingers brushing against hers, sending an electric jolt sparking through him. He dropped his eyes away from her as he muttered a barely audible, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she purred. “And what do I get in exchange?”

His head snapped up, his eyes frantically searching her face for clues about this new development.

Was she flirting with him?

The thought sent a thrill of excitement racing through him, chased by a wave of pure terror.

His feelings for her had never changed, but her feelings had always been, and remained, a complete mystery to him.

She was never rude to him. She was always polite. Quite often friendly. But never flirty. Not since that night in Paris.

Had that night meant anything to her? Or did she view it as a meaningless fling? He didn’t know, and he’d never asked.

His heart was pounding in his chest like a jackrabbit on Red Bull as he sat the untouched glass on the table next to him and then leaned toward her. “What do you want?”

She leaned forward as well, closing what little distance was left between them. Her head tipped back to peer up at him with a sparkle in her eyes that he had seen once before. His gaze dipped to her lips as her tongue darted out to moisten them, then darted back to her eyes as she whispered, “What if I said…. you?”

 A million questions exploded through his brain. He knew he should ask why, or at least why now. It would be prudent to inquire what exactly she meant by him. His body? His heart? For an hour? Forever?

So many questions tumbled through him, but none of them found their way to the tip of his tongue.

The heat in her eyes gave the most immediate answers he needed. She wanted him, physically, right now.

Drake Walker was nothing if not predictable and perhaps the most predictable thing about him was his loyalty to Liam Rys. Which made his next move almost unthinkable, but the deepest desire of his heart was being dangled in front of him and he was taking it.

He was afraid any undue conversation might kill the unexpected opportunity that had just inexplicably opened up in front of him. Pushing his emotions deep down inside, something he was an expert at, he returned her seductive smile with one of his own as he stood and offered her his hand. “I’d say, what are we waiting for?”