#Curry Kids T-Shirt

[farlydatau]

[peachsukii]

Blast Off

『♡』  fem!reader  x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ aged to 21 | friends to lovers ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

summary: your favorite metal band is in town, the same one you used to listen to with bakugo back in high school, and you decide to go to the show together! after a long week, a night out in Shibuya is exactly what you need. tags & warnings: brief violence, cursing | friends to lovers, pining, protective bakugo, fluff, first kiss a/n: bakugo would be such a fun person to go to a show with when he’s the one interested! otherwise he’d rather stay home lol ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,714 ꒱

“Yo, you ready yet, dumbass?” Bakugo shouts from your living room, impatiently tapping his foot as he’s waiting for you to finish touching up your makeup in the bathroom.

“Just a sec, Kat!” you call back as you’re leaning over the sink, cleaning up the corner of your eyeliner with a wet cloth.

“Y’don’t even need makeup, dammit!” he retorts, a backhanded compliment to get your ass moving. “Ya probably won’t even -,”

His words die in his throat as you emerge from the hallway and enter the living room.

Woah. She looks fuckin' gorgeous.

You catch him staring as you’re clipping in a pair of earrings. “What? Too much?”

He scoffs as he sneakily checks you out a second time. “Nah, you look great.”

You smile and wink at him. “Thanks, Kat. Right back at ya.”

“If some slimy fucker creeps on you, I’ll punch his lights out.”

You can’t help but snort as his comment.

The outfit you chose to wear fit the scene of the band you were seeing, one of your favorite metal bands that you two would listen to back in high school. It wasn’t too over the top, at least you didn’t think so. An all black ensemble - a thin long sleeve mesh top under your band t-shirt, tucked lazily into a pleather mini-skirt and a pair of tinted sheer tights hugging your legs. Your hair was pulled into a ponytail, a few stray pieces of hair framing your face alongside your bangs.

Bakugo wasn’t as dressed up as you were, donning a simple grey t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans with rips in the thighs and black boots. A stack of his favorite bracelets hung on his wrist and a pair of black studs adorned his ears.

“Figure out where you wanna eat?” you ask as you’re looking for your boots in the hallway closet.

“The curry place by the station. We can hop on the train into the city afterwards.”

Boots in hand, you return to the living in room and plop next to him on the couch.

“Those things could squash a damn kid,” Bakugo jokes, pointing to the platforms of your boots as you’re lacing them on your feet.

“They’re literally the same kind you wear on patrol!”

“And you’re still shorter than me with those fuckers on.”

You punch him in the arm, maybe a little too hard, to be playful. “I don’t need to be your height to kick your ass!”

“Ow, shit! Watch it, those hands are fuckin’ deadly!” he scolds, rubbing the reddening mark on his bicep.

“My bad,” you chuckle, patting him on the shoulder as an apology. “Let’s get outta here.”

-

“Hand it over,” Bakugo orders as you pick up the check from the table, flexing his palm toward you.

“Huh? I told you -,” you start to remind him until he cuts you off mid-explanation.

“Just ‘cause I heard ya doesn’t mean shit. Give it.” He snatches the paper and booklet with one hand while fishing his wallet out of his pocket with the other. “Stop bein’ a brat and let me pay for your damn dinner.”

“I’m not being a brat! I was just trying to treat you to dinner for once,” you say defensively.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I let you buy the tickets.”

Bakugo consistently paid whenever the two of you would grab food. It didn’t matter what it was - coffee before work, snacks from the convenience store, lunch outings, dinners in the city - he’d shove you aside and take your card, or be the one to order so you don’t have the chance to hand your card over. The few times you did get to pay for him, he immediately sent you the money back. It’s been a consistent staple in your friendship since Junior year of high school.

While leaving the curry shop, you see the train approaching at the station.

“Shit, Kat. That’s the train we need to catch to make it on time!” you utter in a panic as you grab his wrist. “C’mon!”

_

You arrive at the venue an hour before the show starts, giving you both enough time to get inside, grab drinks and find a perfect spot as planned.

Once inside, the two of you make your way over to the bar while the crowd was light.

“Are you at least gonna let me buy you a drink?” You tease, elbowing Bakugo in the arm.

He sighs dramatically, the tell-tale sign that he’s no longer going to fight you on it. “You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous.”

Beers in hand, you both head to the general admission area of the venue and situate yourselves near the back - not too squished between loads of people but close enough to see the stage.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” you beam, leaning against him as a token of thanks.

He throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. “Of course. Woulda been mad if ya didn’t ask me to come see the band we had on repeat together through all those study sessions and sparring matches.”

The lights begin to dim and the crowd cheers as the band takes the stage. He lets you take a step back and shift next to him, but keeps his arm around your shoulder. The two of you cheer in unison and hold up your beers for the band as they set up for their first song.

_

The show has been a goddamn blast! The two of you have been singing and dancing together the whole time, screaming every single lyric. Bakugo loves watching you throw your hands up and yell along with the crowd, having the time of your life and not letting anyone get in your way. It’s infectious - his grin not wavering the entire show.

“We have one more song for the night!” The lead singer announces into the mic. “It’s a special one - thanks for coming out!”

The song they begin to play is one of their slower numbers, one that you know Bakugo adored. You watched as his eyes lit up under the spotlights, taking in the moment as the band progressed through the song. You loop your arm with his, rocking back and forth in unison with the rest of the crowd.

Bakugo removes his arm from your hold to spin you around to face him, pulling you close and holding you to his chest. He gently sways with you in his arms as you embrace him, mimicking a slow dance. You can hear his heartbeat thrumming in his chest alongside the subtle vibrations of him humming to the song. Your eyes flutter closed, absorbing every ounce of love in this moment between the two of you. His hold encased you in a sense of security that you didn’t find with anyone else.

Once the song ends, the band is saying their goodbyes to the crowd as he releases his hold on you.

“I didn’t think they were gonna play that tonight,” you say, smiling up at him. “Guess we gotta buy t-shirts now!”

Bakugo laughs, shaking his head. “Matching ones?”

“It’s either that or we buy one and I constantly steal it from you.”

We?

Bakugo smirked at the suggestion.

“You steal my shit all the time, ya brat,” he teases, pinching your cheek. “I’ll buy two. Which one do y’want?”

“You pick, you have better taste than I do. I’m gonna run to the bathroom before we head out,” you say as you pat him on the shoulder before skipping off to the bathroom. He heads over to the merch table to stand in line for your t-shirts.

It’s been a good 20 minutes since you wandered off. Bakugo meanders over to the bathrooms, the t-shirts he bought for you both draped over his shoulder. He’s poking around, searching for you in the crowd as he spots your ponytail in a sea of others.

You’re talking with some guy that he doesn’t recognize. The guy slithers into your personal bubble as Bakugo stalks up behind you.

“C’mon doll, you’re fine as hell. Don't you -"

"Beat it, jackass. She's obviously not interested," Bakugo interrupts, stepping to your side.

He scoffs and takes a step back from you. "And who the hell are you?"

"Her boyfriend. Now fuck off."

Your cheeks flare at his comment - did he mean that? Or was that just to get this guy off your back?

You turn to leave as the guy slaps your ass - hard. "Have fun with this loser."

Bakugo doesn't even have time to react before your fist crashes into this guy's jaw, clocking him so hard that he stumbles to the floor. The commotion causes one of the security guards to scurry in your direction, beckoning for you to come over to him.

"Shit, we gotta go!" you yell, interlocking your fingers with Bakugo's as you bolt through the crowd and away from the guard before getting caught.

The two of you manage to escape, rushing out of the venue's exit door and into the busy Shibuya streets. You don't stop running until you round a corner and duck into an alley way, hiding from any potential security that could have tailed you and letting go of his hand.

Out of breath, you lean on to the wall and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

"S-shit, sorry Kat, didn't mean to thrash you around like that."

He takes a second before deciding to box you up against the wall with his frame, catching you off guard. "I'm not complain'."

"Boyfriend, huh? Was that your way of asking me out?" you joke, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt.

Bakugo snickers as he's shutting his eyes, lowering his face to level with your own before your lips meet. The kiss is brief, but enough to get his point across.

"I bought matching band shirts with ya, who the fuck else would I do that shit with?"

You giggle, pulling him back in for another kiss - longer and sweeter than the previous one.

This isn't where you thought the night would end, but you're over the moon.

bakugo just couldn't resist confessing after watching you beat some dude's ass in one punch ;)

Divider by : @/saradika

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Who's Counting?

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Smut +18)

Summary: Part 2 to So It Goes, but could be read as a standalone. Spencer and reader have been dating consistently for a couple of months, after finally admitting feelings for each other at a night in a bar. Other things, like their sexual experience were admitted as well. Reader, after plenty of lunches and dates with Spencer is ready to take that step with Spencer…if he’ll ever make the move.

Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving) fingering, penetrative sex with protection

Note: I’ve been kind of off lately with writing consistently, but for some reason I had a lot of inspiration when writing this one. So I hope you like it. I’m really happy with it!

Word Count: 7K

After seventeen more shared lunches, three actual dates, and many nights with Spencer even sleeping over at my place. It took nearly everything in me to convince him to sleep in the same bed as me. Spencer, it seemed, was hellbent on taking it slow. It was hard to take things slow, especially when the man I’m taking things slow with, just happened to be the prettiest man I’ve ever seen. 

On our eighteenth shared lunch, Spencer sat next to me on the dark green upholstered chair in his office. I loved his office. It was quaint with mismatched furniture and probably hundreds of books all over the place. He had framed pictures of his former co-workers/basically brother’s and sister’s kids on his desk. It smelled like coffee and grapefruit air freshener. And I loved it. 

I brought leftover chicken curry over rice for us to split. Spencer, like always, provided the coffee. Dating a man with an impeccable memory proved useful when he always remembered my coffee order after hearing me place an order for it once. 

“Coffee with a splash of oat milk and cinnamon,” Spencer said. He placed the drink before me on the desk as I handed him his lunch portion, “Oh, and I bought you some Hershey’s chocolate syrup in the mini-fridge,” he told me. Spencer smiled as he looked down at his plate, clearly proud of himself for the small gesture. It was small, admittedly, but it’s also one of the nicest things a man’s done for me. 

“Did you really go out and get me chocolate syrup because I mentioned it fleetingly?” I proposed. I licked the back of my spoon and handed Spencer a napkin from my lunch bag. 

“You like your coffee a very particular way,” Spencer said with a shrug, “I want to make you happy, Y/N. Even if it’s something small like making sure you’re never too cold or having coffee the way you like,” 

“Even if you explain the logistics of it, Spence. I’m still going to think it’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me,” I confessed. Spencer looked away pointedly; somehow he’s the one that got embarrassed about this whole thing. 

“Well you’re going to have to get used to it,” he replied. Spencer took a bite of the chicken, probably nearly burning his mouth of the molten sauce, “Because I’m gonna do it a lot,” he said with his mouth full, “Make you happy that is,” 

We never really talked about an ‘us’ before. For the last couple of weeks, Spencer and I’ve certainly acted like a couple. We continued our daily lunches from before that night in the bar, but began to hang out more outside of work. After the night when he finally slept in my bed, I went out and bought pajama pants and tee shirts for him. So he wouldn’t have to sleep in his clothes again. Just like Spencer wanted to make me happy, I wanted to make him happy too. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s really not sexy,” I said, nudging Spencer on the shoulder.

He rolled his eyes, some of the sauce rested on the corner of his mouth. “Pfft. You find me devilishly handsome, freakishly sexy, and deliciously…” 

“Annoying?” I interrupted, soaking up some of his curry on his plate. I smiled at Spencer’s hesitant glee. 

“Nope. You find me sexy. I’m a profiler. I can tell.” Spencer quipped. He smiled with a mixture of mirth and coyish charm. Our knees touched under the table. My knees were bare and he was covered in his long gray dress pants. I felt the friction start at my kneecap and it jolted straight toward my lower stomach. 

“Then why won’t you have sex with me.” I said. It came out more frustrated and rather angry than I intended. “I-I mean. It’s just….it’s been like a bunch of dates and my couch literally has an indent from you sleeping on it. And I mean, you clearly know that I’m attracted to you and I’m like pretty sure you’re attracted to me, but it’s just…” 

Spencer's fingers reached up to my chin and tilted it up so I would be forced to look at him in the eyes. His gaze practically melted my insides. It was like that friction I felt turned into something like magma. His eyes bore into me and threatened him back with a gaze of my own. 

“You’re very wrong if you doubt for a moment my attraction to you, honey. I just want you to know that’s not the thing I’m after. Sex with you is going to be amazing. But sex with you isn’t all that I want from you. It’s simply an added bonus.” 

This man will truly be the death of me. But at least that death will be at the hands of multiple orgasms and intellectual conversation. 

I choked as Spencer’s fingertips left my chin. He returned his hands to his lap and looked back at me. Our eyes met again and I offered him a soft smile. “You already make me happy, by the way. Happier than I’ve been in a very long time.” 

Spencer’s eyes shifted from my eyes to where our hands almost touched. The table was cool against my palm, which seemed to sweat at the very thought of being brushed up against Spencer’s hand. Neither of us dared to make a move, waiting in the thick silence for the other to break the spell laid before us. It’s tense, the space between us. His brown eyes, once blazing in the bar that night, were soft with concern and worry. I’m smart enough, albeit a little naive when it came to romance, that the look in Spencer’s eyes was enough to warn me of what was to come. 

“I’m glad.” Spencer admitted. His eyes wandered around the room before finally they landed on my eyes yet again. It was like we were two magnets, made up of opposing poles, unable to stay apart for too long. Somehow we always ended up colliding in an unbreakable way. And I couldn’t say I disliked those of being bound by the law of physics to Spencer. 

“I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore.” I ventured, setting down my fork to look at Spencer dead on. His eyes were the window to his soul and I, in that moment, read exactly what he was doing. “I really really really really like you Spencer. You’re so charming and handsome. And seem to actually like me? I don’t get that often. So when I do get it, it’s really something to me. What I’m trying to say,” I paused, eyes searching Spencer’s face for flashes of disagreement, “is that I’m ready?” 

“For?” Spencer teased playfully, knowing exactly what I wanted. He shifted in his seat, eyes shooting back and forth from my eyes to my lips. He was going to make me say it out loud. 

Again.

“You know what I mean.” I whispered, my voice hushed even though we were completely alone. Though know one was in the room I felt a wave of unease rush through me at the thought of this conversation getting out. Spencer’s hands gripped me and a pressure from my shoulders seemed to release at his touch. I thought that I should be worried about how affected I am by him. I was completely enamored in the way he talked, the way he carried himself, the way he held my hand and bought me my favorite books. 

“I think I do.” Spencer said, his eyes were like liquid sugar and they melted my resolve. They completely washed away anything that held me back. Looking at Spencer, with our knees touching, it was hard to think straight. I felt the fire build in me. It was like warm embers burning deep inside of me. It threatened to swallow me whole and I was tempted enough by Spencer’s fiery eyes to just give into it. 

So it goes, I thought. 

“I think you do,” I repeated. I slotted Spencer’s hand into mine and squeezed. My heart leapt when he squeezed back, a silent sign that we were on the same page. I’ve never been on the same page as someone before. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but sitting there with Spencer with my knees pressed against his and his eyes burning into my skin, I think that I’d like to feel it again. 

***

Spencer, as it turned out, was quite romantic. And, as it also turned out, I quite liked being on the receiving end of being romanced by him. It’s not to say I didn’t do my fair share of romantic gestures for him. There was a never ending supply of gently used books and homemade sweets made especially for Spencer nearly every time I saw him, which quickly became every day. I loved our lunches, but something told me I was going to love the entire weekend with Spencer alone even more. 

He rested his hand against my thigh as I drove up the winding Virginia country roads. Spencer, I learned, hated driving, but was an excellent co-pilot. In his spare time, he memorized maps so he would know exactly where he was. If I already didn’t find him incredibly endearing and adorable, I would have fallen head-over-heels for him right then and there. 

“It’s not much further.” Spencer said. He didn’t even look down at the map that rested on his lap. He gestured with one hand, showcasing his excitement. The other laid gently on my thigh. I could feel the warmth from his hand, yet when his palm touched my skin I felt goosebumps crop up.

“I always forget how beautiful it is up here,” I commented, turning on the blinker. 

“I think you’re trying to manipulate me into saying that you’re beautiful too,” Spencer teased. His eyes were dark in the lack of light, but I swore I saw the color I’ve been searching for in them.

“Why,” I asked, “is it working?” I offered him a toothy smile, unafraid of showing off my crooked teeth. It seemed so innocuous, smiling fully, smiling carelessly, but I couldn’t remember a time I did. 

“Of course it is.” Spencer said, blushing crimson as I chuckled. His thumbs brushed against my leg, reminding me of what was to come. I pulled into the driveway, the little cabin that Spencer found online even more charming in person than on the computer. 

“Jeez, I can’t believe you insisted on renting this cabin for our weekend. I would’ve totally been fine with us going Dutch at the crappy Sonic and boning in the back of your Volvo.” I joked, leaning over the console and kissing Spencer on the cheek. 

He reciprocated, moving his face towards mine so our lips slotted together. Spencer's hands cupped my head, keeping steady against him. We kissed plenty of times in between the nineteen lunch dates and the countless times he crashed on my couch. Sometimes those kisses were sweet, as if my lips could break if he placed too much pressure on them. And other times the kisses were fervent and rushed, as if he couldn’t bear to not be close to me. 

Yet this kiss found itself lying somewhere in between. 

“Could you please just enjoy me being nice to you.” Spencer said with exasperation. His sigh made me giggle against his lips. And he swallowed it with another kiss. “And though this cabin is fancy, the hot tub is entirely for my benefit.” 

“Oh please you say that like I don’t want to see you walk around with nothing on, Spencer Reid,” I scoffed, “You are aware that women are just as much of sexual creatures as men are.” 

I gleefully watched as Spencer’s cheeks tinged a bright pink and then his eyes narrowed into my face. He studied me like he was looking at me for the first time. His thumb brushed against my cheeks, my chin, my bottom lip, and then it gently rubbed against my cheekbone. 

“I am aware.” His hand had snaked down to my neck, bringing me closer and closer to his lips. “Very aware, Y/N.” 

*** 

I slipped my swimsuit over one of the towel bars, letting it dry overnight. Spencer came up behind me, his hands seeking the warmth underneath my sweatshirt. They felt big against my waist and his thumb dragged against my hip. It was the parts of myself that hardly saw daylight, that were never touched, never kissed or caressed. 

“I told you that the hot tub was worth it.” Spencer whispered in my ear. I turned around to face him. My back was pressed against the counter. I didn’t realize I craved domesticity with Spencer until seeing his bottle of aftershave and my tube of moisturizer coupled on the counter. It was that simple little detail that sent shockwaves of something I couldn’t quite pinpoint up my spine and out my fingertips. 

“I did enjoy it. It’s another reason why I got to convert you to the Kindle. You can read with the peace of knowing you’re not hurting your book if it gets wet.” 

Spencer grunted, as if using an eReader was an affront to humanity. “I would rather eat a book than to read it on an electronic device. Besides, we both know why you prefer your Kinder.” 

“Kindle,” I corrected, “And why do I prefer my Kindle?” I continued, staring at a fixed point as Spencer’s lips dipped below my earlobe, kissing a patch of skin that he found to be particularly sensitive. 

“The books you read on there aren’t the kind of books that you’d want people to know you’re reading.” He replied, continued to pepper kissing against my neck and I gripped his gray tee shirt for some sort of grounding. “But I could tell,” he whispered, nipping my neck, “what sort of book you were reading. You do this thing with your lips. You wet them, part them, and then you let out this little breath. It’s adorable. And those eyes of yours, Y/N. They dart around like you’re going to get caught. You hide it well, but not from me.” 

“Spencer,” I panted, my fingers clawing at his shirt, begging for him to take it off and toss me on the creaky bed, “Please. It’s been forever since we’ve…..”

I didn’t know what it’s been since or even what we were. All I know is that whatever it is could break my heart or bring me back to life. Spencer’s hands gathered the fabric of my sweatshirt at my waist. His forehead dipped against mine and I swore I heard him curse something that sounded like my name. 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Spencer asked, his voice husky with a potent mixture of want and need and desire, “This is your first time and I want to make sure you’re into this. You’re perfect and I want you to know that–” 

I cut him off with a kiss. Somehow, I jumped up so my butt rested on the counter and I braced my hands on either side of Spencer’s head as I crashed my lips against his. Instinctively, his hands creeped up to cradle my face, holding me like I was something precious, something sweet, something fragile. 

“I don’t break,” I choked out in between breaths and kisses, “So don’t be afraid to fuck me, Spencer.” I cursed, wrapping my legs around his waist as a way to tell him just how much I desired him. 

Spencer, finally, gave into me. He moved us from the cramped bathroom, holding up my weight as he entered the bedroom. I was tossed against the bed, ricocheting against the hard, springy mattress. He hovered over me, his eyes scanning my face, focusing on my eyes, my nose, my lips before kissing my forehead. It wasn’t the searing kiss against my lip I imagined it would be. It was sweet. Endearing even. 

He motions for me to sit up, taking the opportunity to remove my sweatshirt. Spencer kissed along the column of my neck, smirking against my skin at my responsive squeals and squirms. He used his other hand to take up home against my waist, fiddling with the waistband of my shorts. I watched as he glared at me in the living room when I came out wearing sleep shorts that could hardly be defined as shorts. Now, he traced the ruffle hem with a delicate attention that could only be defined as analytic.  

“Spence.” his name came tumbling from my lips before I could stop myself. It was halfway in between a plea and a prayer. His hands, long and lithe, gripped my thighs as he spread me apart, “Please hurry, Spencer.” 

“Oh sweetheart, I plan on taking my time with you. We’re going to figure out exactly what you like. And then some.” He said, sounding too much like a diabolical scientist for my liking. 

I licked my lips and then parted them and then let out a little breath. 

And then I felt my cheeks burn as Spencer’s knowing chuckle reached my ears. “I told you. You have a very obvious tell. I told you it was adorable.” He said in a hushed tone. “So fucking adorable.” 

“I would probably be even more adorable without my shorts on,” I quipped, grinning like I was pleased with myself. 

Spencer scoffed, running a hand up and down my leg until he reached the ruffled hem of my shorts. His fingers dipped underneath them, feeling my soft, untouched skin. “You mean this pathetic excuse for shorts? This tiny piece of fabric made with the premise of driving me fucking insane?” He cursed, his hand returned from underneath my shorts. This time he rested it against the waistband. “Where did you buy these?” He asked. 

“Target? I think? Like last summer. But there’s just sleep shorts. You can get them, like, anywhere.” He nodded, still staring at where his hand rested on my bare stomach. 

“So you’re not overly attached to this particular pair of shorts?” 

I shook my head, confusing coloring my face. But then I felt a ripping and noticed how Spencer’s face contorted with effort. In his hands he held scraps of fabric that used to be my shorts. 

“You did not just rip my shorts?!” I faux shouted, but it turned into laughter. “What was that, Spence?” I dragged him up by his shirt to yet again, kiss him. “My god, you’re such a dork.” 

“I thought you’d find it hot,” Spencer whispered sheepishly. His lips grazed across my lips, burning into my skin as he spoke. “But I’ll admit, it’s a bit out of character.” 

“Yes,” I nodded, still laughing, “It was hot, but out of character.” I knotted my fingers into his hair, brushing my lips against his face, searching for any bit of him to kiss. I felt him against my hip, the removal of the thin layer of shorts did little to hide his arousal from him, but it did make this feel all the more real. 

Spencer must have been able to read my mind, because his fingers bore into my waist and he ground down against me, sending that familiar friction down my lower belly and out through my toes. “Oh god, fuck.” I cursed, licking my lips as Spencer’s teeth nibbled against my collarbone. 

“More in character?” He teased, his tongue tracing against the dip in my neck. He smiled into it, unraveling me in one fell swoop. 

“Yes, yes,” I groaned, my hips thrusting upward to match his motions. “Are we…going to? Can we?” I panted into his mouth, so far gone that I could hardly care for the desperation that was laced in my voice. 

“Yes, Y/N.” Spencer cooed, his voice soft as he sank lower and lower down the bed. He stopped when his face was in line with my knees and kissed my rough kneecaps. “God, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to taste you. Can I? Can I taste you, Y/N?” 

“Yes, but I thought we were going to, you know…” I said, my voice trailing off with embarrassment. With Spencer I never felt as if I was this blundering late bloomer with a glaring V-card in her late twenties. But with that gorgeous man practically begging to eat me out, I felt completely lost. 

“We are.” Spencer clarified. “But penetrative sex sometimes isn’t enough for women to reach their climax. And considering this is your first time, I want you to be as relaxed as possible. So starting off with an orgasm, or two, usually helps with that.” 

Oh. 

“Cool.” I said, totally uncool. Spencer smiles, his fingers breaching apart my thighs as I give him the nod of approval. “You’re the expert on this I guess. I mean, at least before me. Not that you don’t know what you’re doing—” 

I stopped in my tracks when Spencer’s nimble fingers pulled down my underwear. His face is eye level with my center, that aches for his touch. He placed gentle kisses along the insides of my thighs. It’s like we’re a Rube Goldberg machine. His kisses, his nips, his wandering fingertips elicit a chain reaction of my drunken moans, my teeth biting my bottom lip, my hands grabbing fistfuls of bedding. Spencer’s agonizingly slow pace threatens to be the actual death of me. He teases me, his tongue darting closer and closer to my center. 

It has to be forever before he finally licks a straight line up my center. With careful trepidation tongue breaches my folds, unearthing a whole other universe of pleasure against my entire being. He pins my hips down, demanding my full attention and focus. 

“Was that alright?” Spencer asked, his breath shocking my core unnervingly. “Did you like that, sweetheart?” 

I knew by the tone of his voice that Spencer was teasing me. And I liked it. I knotted my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to my core. His tongue swirled around my clit and I squirmed against his face. I whined into my fist, attempting to stifle my whimpers. 

“Don’t you dare,” Spencer ordered, snaking a hand that clutched around my wrist and brought it to my side. “I brought you to the woods for a reason, Y/N. There’s no one around. You can be as loud as you need to be, sweet girl.” 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” I whined, allowing the pleasure to envelope me in a warm embrace. “I feel so good, so good, Spence. Can-can you put a finger in? Please?” 

Spencer sneered at the question in my voice. Like there was a chance in hell that he’d deny my request. He slipped a finger into me and I instinctively tightened around him. Spencer’s voice shook with pleasure as he sung a string of swear words. 

“Take your bra off, sweetheart.” Spencer pleaded. “Touch your nipples for me. It’s an erogenous zone for women. Your pleasure will be intensified.” Scrambling to follow his instructions, I tossed my bra to the floor and watched a stunned Spencer stare at me. 

“Oh baby,” Spencer whispered, “You’re stunning. I could spend forever just staring at you.” He continued. “Do you like it when I have a finger buried inside this pretty pussy?” 

Spencer’s palm brushed against my clit as his finger pumped in and out. I couldn’t respond to his question, yet I believe that my pathetic, desperate moans answered sufficiently. He licked his lips, parted them, and then let out a little breath. I smiled. 

“You’re turned on.” I cooed, though it took all the strength in the world for me to string together the words to complete the sentence, “You did the thing.” 

“Yes, I’m turned on, Y/N. Jesus, is the sky blue. You’re just too beautiful for your own good. Look at you.” He brought his lips to my core again, his tongue entering me as his finger continued to draw out moan after whimper. 

“I think you like being full, baby.” Spencer assessed. “Would you like me to try another finger? Hmm? See how full you can be?” He asked, his eyes burned into my skin. It was like he was already replaying the memories of tonight in that amazing, brilliant brain of his. He watched me with a tenderness that I didn’t feel worthy enough to be viewed with. 

He slipped another finger into my center, filling me to the brim. I squirmed against his palm, the friction from the movement electrifying my clit as I whimpered into the crook of Spencer’s neck. He toyed with my nipples, alternating between quick, sharp touches and wet, soft kisses that drove me half insane and half drunk with need. 

“I–I think I’m close, Spencer.” I plead, as if I’m making a deal with the devil himself, when in reality I’m on the brink of Heaven being ushered over by my very own guardian angel. 

“I know you are, sweetheart. I can tell. Your heart rate is speeding up and you’re so tight around my fingers. I can feel you throbbing around me, baby. Just a little bit more. And you’ll come all over my face? Huh? For me. Get you nice and relaxed for my cock.” 

His crude words were a stark contrast to the gentle, yet firm way he coaxed her climax. Spencer’s steadfast way he guided her was evident through the bead of sweat that gathered against his brow. He studied her with deep concentration as she rode out her high. 

“That’s my girl.” Spencer praised. “That was so good, baby. How did that feel? We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to. It’s at your pace. Whatever you want, Y/N. At whatever speed you want.” 

God, if I hadn’t fallen in love with him already, I would’ve crashed from a skyscraper from that moment alone. 

“That was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” I panted, dragging Spencer up to my lips for a kiss. I tasted my arousal on his lips, something that I never thought would be hot, but somehow with Spencer it was. He grinned with a self-satisfied smirk that told me he would want to do what he just did again and again till he either got bored of it or died doing it. “But I need you. Naked. Like yesterday.” 

Spencer chuckled. It vibrated through me. The sound of his laughter was enough to bring me back to life. I watched him, with my legs that felt like jelly, lift his gray cotton tee shirt and reveal his stomach and shoulders. It would take me several hands to count how many times I’ve hugged Spencer. He told me, in the beginning, that he was apprehensive of physical touch. But he, somehow, didn’t feel that way around me. I think it was because he felt safe with me. Whatever we shared, whether it was love or respect or a mutual sort of appreciation of each other, the one thing that ran constant was this sense of safety. Together, we lived without fear of judgment and ridicule. 

So when I saw Spencer without his shirt on for the first time, it wasn’t like I didn’t know what to expect. I could feel his body when I hugged him, when we laid on the couch together and he pretended to fall asleep so he could spend the night cramped on my small sofa for the sole purpose of being able to make me breakfast in the morning. I knew where his body was soft, where it was lean and lithe, where he felt so strong he could break me in two without really trying, where he felt gentle. 

Yet there was very little that could have prepared me for how Spencer looked without a shirt on. His hair was damp and I could smell my lavender soap that he stole. It clung to his neck and spread out in soft, brown waves. He wore gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. My eyes were directed to the slight V that formed and the trail of hair that most definitely led to somewhere I wanted to discover, to claim as my own, to plant my flag on…

“The way you’re staring at me,” Spencer started, “It’s very dangerous.” He said, his voice lower than usual as he watched me. My knees were clamped together as I rubbed my thighs, desperate for the slightest bit of friction. I decided that I no longer wanted to wait for either Spencer’s permission or his advice because it certainly seemed that he got off making wait and it was probably time to take matters in my own hands anyway. 

I crawled to the edge of the bed, pulling Spencer forward by the drawstring of his sweatpants. Kissing along his stomach, I listened gleefully as his bodily responses to my ministrations. With an encouraging hand, he gently rubbed his thumb over my bare shoulder blade as my fingers reached his waistband. 

“May I?” I asked, suddenly understanding why he found consent so sexy. I wanted to hear him beg for me. “May I take off your pants, Spencer?” I asked again, biting my lip in a ridiculously sexy way that would have been funny if either of us wasn’t so turned on to realize it. 

“Yes,” Spencer sputtered out, as if his tongue was getting in the way of his speech. He bit his lip as my fingers reached into his sweatpants to reveal that he decided to forego underwear. “Holy shit, Y/N.” 

“I–I don’t know what I’m doing with that.” I confessed, as Spencer’s sweatpants fell to the floor in a heap. “It’s a little intimidating.” 

Spencer’s hand brushed my hair out of my face, “It’s okay. I’m so turned on that I’m not even going to need much. But I’ll show you, honey.” He reached down to hold my hand against his and then brought it to his erection. “There,” he said, the strain in his voice apparent. “Just like that. You can move your hand back and forth. Or…ah, that. Yes, that.” 

I brushed my thumb over the head of Spencer’s erection, watching with a small bit of pride as his face twisted in pleasure. He, however, had enough strength to reconnect our lips. His hand crawled up the back of my head and pulled me towards him. I continued to drag my hand up and down his hardness as he moaned into my mouth. My name sounded like a cursed prayer or a sacred swear against his lips. 

“I’m not gonna last, sweetheart. Your hand is too much as it is. I don’t think I’ll take it any much longer.” He pleaded against the expanse of my throat. Spencer left a collection of hickies as he let out a string of curses while I scrambled for the condoms I packed.  

Finally, I found them. I said a silent prayer to whatever deity out there that was okay with premarital intercourse for providing me with the forethought of splurging for the 24 pack of condoms. I tossed Spencer one, watching as he tore it open and rolled it onto his leaking erection with precision. 

“I’m ready for this, Spencer. Believe me, but I’m still just nervous. I know it doesn’t really mean anything. But it’s just…it’s silly. I know. But–” 

He interrupted me, hushing my fears with a kiss. “I’m not going anywhere after this happens, Y/N. I want to see you like this, all splayed out for me, so sexy and needy. I want to see you with toothpaste stains on your ratty college tee shirts and ridiculously tiny sleep shorts. I want to see you at work and have to pretend that I don’t know that you have these freckles under your left knee that look like Orion. I like you a lot. So much that I’m more than half sure that I’m already fully in love with you.” 

His fingers selfishly dug into my skin, marking me as his with greed and desire. I danced my fingers around his torso. If I could kiss every inch of him, I would with ease. I would’ve worshiped him sooner, knowing what he was hiding underneath his gray suits and striped sweater vests. With the way his eyes lit up as he gazed at my face, my neck, my chest, and then lower and lower, I actually felt myself fall in love with him.

It was with the ease of a well oiled machine’s gears falling into place that I fell in love with him. It was with the simplicity, yet wonder of a sunrise that I fell in love with him. It was with the joy of listening to him ramble about some arbitrary scientific topic that I didn’t know the first thing about that I fell in love with. 

“You’re a wonder, Spencer Reid.” 

He tsked, the vibrations tickled my shoulder as he kissed me over and over. I hummed in response as my hands snaked around his waist, wanting him as close to me as possible. Spencer caressed my breasts, pulling a pebbled nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. His lightly calloused fingertips provided a delicious friction that caused me to cry out in pleasure. My hands found their home in Spencer’s hair, tugging his lips closer to mine. Just kissing him brought me to a state of pure bliss, I wasn’t entirely sure how I would handle what was to come. 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Spencer asked, desiring my consent yet again. “You don’t have to do this just to please me. I’m entirely happy to have just done what we’ve done. I have a suspicion that eating you out is my favorite part.” 

I laughed with my head thrown back. It exposed my neck and Spencer took the opportunity to kiss and nibble along a rather sensitive patch of skin. I giggled and Spencer smiled, clearly pleased by my happiness in the situation. 

“I mean we could just do that again.” He offered with a shrug. I kissed him, bringing his head even with mine as I pulled both of us flush against the mattress. 

“I’m ready, Spencer.” I panted, wrapping my legs around his waist and rutting against him. I cried out at the friction, my will and resolve hanging on by a thread. He leaned down to whisper into my ear as he held himself steadily above me. 

“You’re ready?” 

“I’m ready. Don’t make me beg. It’s not cute, Spencer.” I puffed with a touch of annoyance, which Spencer found rather hilarious. 

“On the contrary,” Spencer observed, his eyes scanning my naked form, “I think you’re adorable when you beg. But if we’re being honest, I think I’m the one that’s desperate for you. For this. For us to be something.” 

“Fine. It’s cute when you do it.” I commented, brushing my fingers through Spencer’s hair as he smiled at me. “So you’re going to show me how to do this, right? Because I’m kind of lost by now.” 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Spencer said, his hands slipping down to my thighs and cupping underneath my knees. He spread me apart, kissing the soft skin of my inner thighs with an intense concentration. “I got you.” 

I gulped and licked my lips as Spencer breathed against my torso. “Why are you the one that seems nervous?” I asked, half joking, half serious. 

“You’re just too gorgeous for me. There’s so many things I want to do with you. But just looking at you is enough to drive me insane. You’re perfect. The most beautiful, funny, kind, wonderful, exciting girl I know. And you’re letting me….do this with you. Fuck, it almost makes me want to believe in miracles.” 

Spencer, lost in his passionate ramble, nearly lost it when I rutted my hips against him. I decided he needed me to show him my desire for him, rather than continue to talk about it, as he was hellbent on showing me. He whispered praises for me, for my body, for my mind and our future as he kissed along my lower belly. 

I nodded, the pressure that built in my belly was almost too much for me to bear. I cried out as I felt Spencer’s thumb rub tight, close circles around my clit. He positioned the head of cock against my core, teasing me as I whimpered against his shoulder. 

“Fuck…how doesn’t this already feel so good.” Spencer cursed, holding himself above me. He wrapped my leg around his hip as if the motion could lock us together perfectly. “I’m going to let you get adjusted. Remember, anytime you need me to stop just tell me.” 

“God, I’ll strangle you if you stop.” I panted, closing my eyes as Spencer’s cock inched deeper and deeper inside of me. I dug my hands into his shoulder, sure that I would leave bruises against his freckle speckled skin. 

“Kinky. I didn’t think you would’ve had it in you. Then again. I’ve seen your Kindle history.” He teased, his hand gripped my leg as he tightened his hold on me. 

“Enough about the lumberjack.” I panted with exasperation, much to Spencer’s enjoyment. He giggled against my collarbone as I concentrated on my breathing. I felt him fill me up, until he was fully buried inside of me. His talented, thin fingers continued to wreak havoc on my nerves. 

“I doubt he could make you feel this good, baby.” Spencer cooed, lifting my leg to increase the depth of how far he was buried inside of me. He opened his mouth in pleasure, desperate himself for the sacred bodily contact that existed between the pair of us. I yelped, the pressure that boiled in my lower belly burned with a fiery passion that was unfamiliar. 

“God, no. Fuck no.” I cursed, capturing Spencer’s lips in a toothy kiss. I felt the creases of his bottom lip against my tongue as I bit down. Spencer thrusted in and out of me, my folds dripping with heady pleasure. His thumb and index finger flicked and rubbed against my swollen clit as my cries cascaded around the room. 

His one hand remained at my leg, hoisting me up closer and closer to where our bodies met as one. He gripped my flesh with greed, as if he already knew I belonged to him, body and soul. Spencer’s nimble fingers speed up his ministrations against my clit as I clenched around his cock. He smiled, kissing me as he praised me for taking him so damn well. 

“That’s it. Fuck you’re so pretty with my cock buried inside of you, darling.” He sputtered, his one climax approaching as he edged me to the brink of pleasure only to rip the carpet out from underneath my feet. “You’re adorable if you think I’m going to let you go this easily. We’ve got the whole weekend for soft and sweet, Y/N. But right now, I want you to come around my cock so hard you see white. Can’t you do that for me, babe? Come for me.” 

His tongue traced my bottom lip, tasting me as he chanted my name over and over. His voice was husky with desire and I could smell my lavender shampoo as his hair tickled my nose and chin. 

Virginity is made up. It isn’t anything, really. And it went against every moral fiber of being to admit it, but as Spencer’s fingers worked against me and how his hips thrusted against my pelvic bone I knew that I belonged to him.

Yet it would make me a fool to not admit that he didn’t belong to me in the same way. I wrapped my leg tighter around his bottom, forcing our lower halves closer as we teetered oh so close to the edge. I felt hazy, as the lavender shampoo wafted over me, I begged to stay in it with Spencer. The lavender, the haze, the sound of his stifled moans as I clenched around him in a wanton desperation was all too much, yet it beckoned me forward.

“Come for me, Y/N.” Spencer urged, “Just like before, just like you do when it’s your fingers buried inside this pussy, wishing it was my cock.”  He mumbled the encouragement across my sweat-stained skin as I approached my climax. I felt my second orgasm approach as Spencer rested his forehead against mine, kissing my nose as his hip movements continued. I clutched his face, desperate for more kisses, for more skin touching skin, for more Spencer. 

“Spencer.” I panted, my orgasm causing my muscles to contract and release around Spencer’s pulsing erection. I felt him swallow a moan as he laced his fingers together with mine and kissed my knuckles. 

“Fuck.” 

He cursed. His lips dipped the hollow part of my throat. Spencer’s hips gave one, then two, and then three more sloppy thrusts as his cocked leaked into the condom. I felt a warmth that I had never felt before spread from my lower belly. A flush followed as Spencer’s fingertips traced against my breasts, causing my nipples to stand alert and pebbled. 

“That was perfect.” I whispered. I kissed Spencer’s shoulder and clung to him in the haze that settled between us. “It was different than I expected. I guess when you’ve waited so long you build it up in your head. But then I waited even longer after that. So, it was better than I ever could’ve imagined. So thank you.” I flushed, my cheeks ablaze under Spencer’s intelligent gaze. 

He continued to rub my nipple in between his index finger and thumb. I gave him the side eye, as if my single glance could read what he was thinking.

“Did you know that it’s possible for some women to have orgasms from nipple stimulation alone?” 

“We have the entire weekend, you know? Besides, I’d feel bad. You only came once and I had like two and a half.” 

“Pfft,” Spencer scoffed, “Who’s counting. Besides, I would much rather watch you come on my face or come from me playing with your nipples than me coming any day.”  

I rolled my eyes and kissed Spencer on the forehead. “You’re an anomaly, you know that, babe? Why not after we eat? I’m starving. Sex makes me hungry I guess.”

I hissed as Spencer pulled out. It took a second to get adjusted to the sensation of him not being deep inside of me. But there was something that told me I wouldn’t have to wait very long. 

“Studies show that we burn calories during sexual intercourse. A twenty-four minute session is said to have males burn 101 calories, while females burn 69 calories. And given that our session lasted quite a bit longer than twenty-four minutes, it’s safe to suggest that you’ve burned enough calories that it necessitates energy consumption in the form of food,” Spencer rambled, “Which makes me remember. You need to use the bathroom. UTIs and all.” He shuddered. 

“Yes, Doctor.” I giggled as I slid past him on the bed. His hand, big against my upper arm, clawed at my skin. “After the snack can we try something where you just wear jeans and suspenders? I mean you did bring me into the middle of the woods. We’re literally surrounded by nothing, but lumber. Why not put my wild imagination to good use?” 

—

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@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @foxy-eva @radiant-reid @reid-ingandweeping @smurphyse @reidsaurora

[defbotboy]

Hidden Markings

“Take off your shirt.” You slammed the door to Getou’s room and stood blocking the way to the entrance with your hands on your hips.

He was used to this by now.

Sighing, he looks at you warily and says, “Don’t barge into random people’s rooms demanding to see them shirtless Y/N. Weird rumours will start.”

“Shut up. I saw the tattoo peeking out when you reached for the curry at the table. I haven’t seen this before. You got a new tattoo and didn’t even tell me!”

“You little pervert. Peeking down shirts. I’m telling your mom.”

He hides a smile. You’ve always been a little weirdo since you both were small. He didn’t really mind it much anymore. It was…entertaining. You were amusing. That’s all. He tried to convince himself. Nothing more than a fascination with a weird little person who keeps trying to make him take his shirt off. He just also wished you’d try other strategies to get him out of his clothes. There is a much more effective way.

“If you tell my mom I’ll tell her it was you who took me to get my ears pierced. She’s still mad about it you know,” you say as you inch towards Getou. Hands outstretched and tugging at the hem of his black t-shirt.

How could he get a new tattoo and not tell you. Has going to college changed him? Does he not want to hang around highschool kiddies anymore, you wondered.

It made you feel smaller in his life. You had known each other since you were kids. He was a year older and your neighbour. You both had gotten close when your ever busy parents used to drop you off at his house when they were working and needed someone to take care of you.

Getou has his back turned away from you and was fiddling with the tiny clay cat on his tabletop (a childhood gift from you on his birthday) and was wondering how a cat could look so hideous for what was not the first time when he felt you sliding his t-shirt up.

Quickly swatting your hands away, he turns and raises a cheeky eyebrow. It’s really not that he minds you doing this, he just likes seeing you lose your mind after not being allowed to do something.

You also looked delectable when you were pouting and he wouldn’t miss out on a chance to see it after being away from home for so long because of college.

As he predicted, a most beautiful cross between a scowl and a pout takes over your features and he resists the urge to reach over and squish your face in his hand.

Instead he grins and says, “Aren’t you eighteen now? You can get a tattoo legally speaking you know. That way you can just peek down your own shirt with minimal risk for a sexual harassment suit.”

You snort.

“What does turning eighteen have anything to do with it? It was perfectly legal for me to get piercings and my mom still flipped out when I got them. If I get a tattoo she just might disown me.”

You inch closer to Getou once more, hands outstretched comically. He reaches out and traps them between his own and twists them so that you’re now trapped between his chest and arms with your hands still bound by his.

You look up to see him grinning down and you roll your eyes. All attempts to leave the hold is useless as you thrash around. His arms envelop you firmly but it almost upsets you how you seem to not mind it. You need to get out of it before you start losing your mind for real. There are thoughts in territories you’ve strictly barred yourself from entering that are now emerging once again as you feel his warmth spread through you.

You look up at him once more. You lower your voice and say, “Getou.”

He stops grinning at the tone of your voice and looks down. You look serious. He wonders if you can hear his heart thudding against his chest. You motion him to bring his face down. He does.

You twist yourself in the little space he’s allowed you and reach on your tiptoes to meet the shell of his ear.

Your breath burns his ears and you can see it turning red. You smile and whisper, “If you don’t let me go now, I’ll use the forbidden move and knee you straight in your dick.”

You felt his grip slacken and grinned triumphantly. But it was a hasty victory celebration.

His grip loosened and his hands came to rest on your waist from behind.

Your face was now on fire.

“Wha-“

Getou threw you onto his bed and you felt your head slam into the soft mattress.

“You asshole,” you spat out in between giggling. Throwing a pillow at him, you got yourself up on your elbows.

He was laughing now, you had the overwhelming urge to reach over and throw yourself over him again.

Behave yourself, you admonish yourself and bite your lower lip in protest against the myriad of sinful thoughts occupying you.

Did he get broader? You don’t remember his shoulders looking that…

The hold on your lower lip tightened. Getou seems to be transfixed by it.

Something inside him snaps when he sees the look in your eyes as you take him in with your lower lip caught between your teeth. He wants to take your lips between his too.

He places one knee on the bed and leans forward. You don’t stop him as he reaches his hand towards your lips and slowly traces it with his long callused fingers. Your eyes shut and Getou takes that as permission.

He leans and softly, as if still testing the water, presses his lips against yours. You lift your arms and bring it to his shoulders, running one hand through the back of his hair and letting the other rest on his back.

He breaks away. You reluctantly open your eyes. It feels embarrassing to meet his hot gaze.

So, you turn away from it. Choosing to run your hand underneath his t-shirt. You can see the lines of his tattoo begin near the back of his neck and you lightly scratch at it with your nail. He was a work of art.

Getou makes a strangled noise at your actions. Your heart drops when he stops your hand.

Does he not like it when I touch him?

He sees the look on your face and he leans in once again and kisses you reassuringly. Breaking away he says, “Relax. I only stopped to fulfill your freaky fantasies.”

You can feel the heat spread down to your neck as he grins at you wickedly.

And he does what you asked of him. He takes his shirt off.

[dustbon]

All hail Cinder, the Curry champion! The kid can't feel his tongue, but got a cool t-shirt. Haha, worth it :D

✅ Learn food stall recipes: 23/27

Chinese | Vietnamese | Mexican | Japanese | Moroccan | Filipino | Indian

✅ Visit all festivals: 3/5

Romance festival | Humor and Hijinks | Flea Market | Spice Festival | Geek Con

[litepowee]

ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

synopsis: coming home to malewife Aki <33

a/n: this is a little drabble for my dear friend @izunias and my entry to the weekly event for @public-safety-network ALSO biggest thank you to Zell (@brujaovermoxy) for being my beta reader <33

✧ comments/reblogs are super duper appreciated ✧

The Hayakawa residence is unusually quiet as you walk up the steps to the door. You roll out your shoulder as the door clicks open; walking into the entry hall with a faint smell of curry, cigarettes and the sounds of soft humming. “Oi, Meowy. C’mon now, don’t be sittin’ right behind me.” His voice is soft but carries throughout the small apartment.

Meowy mews in response as if responding to Aki. Quietly you hang your coat off, sliding into your slippers. Aki stands in the kitchen with his back turned to the entrance hall, a hand on his hip and a lit cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. You couldn’t help but stand back and admire his back muscles moving against his shirt, or how his biceps slightly flex as he goes to prop the cigarette between his fingers, inhaling deeply. 

Padding lightly across the wooden floors, you wrap your arms around his waist. “What’re you cooking? It smells good.” Words coming out muffled as you press yourself against his back, “Oh, hey. Sorry I didn’t hear you come in.”

Aki tries to twist around to face you, but your determined grip keeps him in place. He lets out a chuckle, snubbing the cigarette as he lets your hands roam his waist, grazing your hands over his hips. 

“S’ all good, I wasn’t trying to make a lot of noise to begin with. Where is Denji and Power?” You said while glancing over to the small living room where the two would usually be laying around playing with Meowy. “Ah, yeah, you noticed how quiet it is? They went out to the balcony but knowing them they probably jumped up to the roof.” He mumbled, trying to focus on making dinner as your hands roamed his chest.

The vibrations of your humming chilled across his back as you buried your nose in his neck. You can feel stray hairs tickling your face, “Dinner smells good, but y’know, a certain someone else is looking quite delicious.” Snickering as you pull away to fully admire Aki, adorned in a gray apron, with a tight white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his hair splayed out brushing his shoulders. 

You playfully squint your eyes at him as he turns to fully look at you. As he opens his mouth to question your odd stare, you quickly close the space between you two, “Aki, is that a gray hair?” Your hand reaches up to comb through his dark blue, almost black hair as he quickly retracts back, bumping into the counter. Following his steps you close the space again, pressing your chest into his. 

God, he hopes you can’t hear his heartbeat from here.

“Just kidding!” An eruption of giggles falls from your lips as you stare up at him through your lashes as he desperately tries to avoid your focused gaze. “I knew you were kidding, dumbass.”, finally meets your eyes, admiring the soft smile you held. His hands traced up the side of your hips squeezing softly, mimicking your earlier movements. 

“Welcome home, my love.” He whispers before leaning down to connect his soft lips with yours.

“Oi humans!” 

“Hey hey!” 

Pulling yourself out of Aki’s space, you turn to the source of the voices. Power and Denji are standing in the entrance of the balcony, Power holding Meowy close to her chest. In unison they shout, “Not in front of the food!”, with looks of mock disgust on their faces. You laugh as Aki rolls his eyes at their antics, you press another kiss to his cheek as Denji runs over to separate you two, with Power following close behind with Meowy. 

✧ comments/reblogs are super duper appreciated ✧

tags: @tokyometronetwork @public-safety-network

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[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Nice ask! Do you have any frivolous lone star headcanons? (ie, something that doesn’t matter to the plot and maybe there’s no real evidence for but you believe it anyway)

Hello! Thank you for this very nice ass(k) 🍑

I do!!

Paul lived with Owen and TK for the first couple months when he moved down to Austin. That’s why he’s got such a close easy-going relationship with TK and why he’s not phased by any of Owen’s idiosyncrasies.

Paul is a diehard Michigan football fan. This is because his father went to University of Michigan, and would drive 3.5 hours from Chicago to Ann Arbor for every home game. When Paul was a kid, his dad would bring him to games sometimes. He has very fond memories of those long drives with his dad, listening to music and chatting. If they won his dad would stop at a roadside diner and get him a blackberry milkshake. (He would if they lost too, but then they’d also split a piece of pie). He and TK drove over to Houston on Monday to watch them win the National Championship. On the way home they stopped for pie and blackberry milkshakes, and Paul told TK stories about games his dad took him to.

TK loves spicy food. Carlos was teasing in that pho scene in S3. He grew up eating all kinds of international cuisines in NYC, he loves chicken feet with his dim sum, and habanero hot sauce on his tacos and jerk chicken and egusi with scotch bonnet.

Paul & Carlos have eaten at all the West African restaurants in Austin, and they are on first-name basis with all the staff at this point.

Paul has been trying to recreate/perfect his grandma’s goat curry for years, and Carlos is his most eager taste tester.

In episode 3, after the police station scene & Carlos’s chat with Michelle, he’s still hesitant to reach out to TK. But then they have that scene where the woman falls on the car. And TK is so sweet, talking to her and rubbing her arm. I always kinda headcanon that Carlos saw him being all sweet with her and he was like “damn, okay worth it to put myself on the line for another shot with him.”

TK learned to drive when he moved to Austin, and he’s a very good driver, but he doesn’t particularly enjoy it. He’d much rather catch a ride or even take public transportation or walk if it’s not too hot. Carlos, on the other hand, spent a lot of money on his car and he does like to drive. So he’s usually the driver. But! He knows TK’s a good driver, and absolutely lets him drive the Camaro.

TK & Marjan have a ritual where they meet for pie & coffee at a diner in East Austin whenever one of them has had a tough day and they need someone to talk to, or even just to sit and be sad with. They have an unspoken pact that, no matter what they’re doing, if one of them calls or texts with a pie emergency they drop everything and show up for pie.

TK is a music nerd. He grew up immersed in the NYC indie music scene, he’s seen LCD Soundsystem play like 20 times, Gwyn took him to see Prince when he was 12, he’s got an extensive vinyl collection and also a box of old band T-shirts in Owen’s garage. Also he could wire any speaker system.

Paul’s sister has visited several times since we first met her. The Catan crew has adopted her, she thinks TK and Carlos are really weird but she loves them. She’s obsessed with Marjan and Nancy.

Paul has an extensive record collection ranging from 70s afrobeats to disco to classic rock n roll.

Marjan’s father was diagnosed with a rare, treatable but incurable cancer a couple years ago. When she found out she was devastated, and TK insisted on flying to Miami with her and staying with her family for a while to help out. One night he tried to make Andea’s chili relleno, because it always make him feel better when he’s sad, but he destroyed Marjan’s mom’s kitchen. He called Carlos out of desperation, and Carlos laughed and told him to toss everything and then ordered them all his favorite comfort foods to be delivered to the house. Carlos and Marjan now regularly make “fold in the cheese” jokes when TK cooks. Which is often!

Sorry this was very long!

🍋<3

[happyinjection]

♠️♥️High Card Short Story 2 “A Perfect Day for Vijay’s Curry” (1/2)♦️♣️

An appetizing scent arising from the other room filled the air as Finn clocked in at work. Inside, the enigmatic Vijay stood in an apron.

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1531833299622014976?s=20&t=Tbp-YxbArYCzZFHe56-QRw

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

Still buzzed from excess adrenaline from last night’s mission, I woke up too early in the morning, so I left for work at Old Maid branch office ahead of my regular schedule. Although there were no customers on holidays such as today, I was supposed to be doing some paperwork. Nevertheless, I planned on lazing around on the couch until opening hours, but once I stepped into the showroom, I found that the air was permeated with a savory scent which instantly sent my stomach growling.

“Oh, what’s this!?!? It smells amazing!”

At the back of the office, there existed a kitchen space. I took off and tossed my suit jacket on the couch before bursting through the door.

“Jii-chan! I haven’t had my breakfast—”

“I’m not Bernard-san, Finn.”

A man with a purplish, medium length hair stood in kitchen, wearing an apron. Since the collar of his white dress shirt had been deprived of a necktie and was let hanging loose, his collarbones clearly stood out.

“What are you doing?”

--Vijay Kumar Singh, another member of High Card. It seemed that he joined High Card on the recommendation of the president before I did.

“As you can see, I am cooking. We’re not expecting any clients today, so I’m preparing lunch for everyone.”

Accordingly, Vijay slowly stirred the pot using a ladle. I took a peek.

“Wow, it’s curry! Hey, hey, can I try a sip?”

“It has not finished boiling, so no, not yet.”

Right before my eyes, with his sleeves rolled up, Vijay moved to hold something up against my mouth. In his hand was a golden brown, crepe-like bread.

“Open up.”

“Back off, I’m not a kid, y’know.”

“It’s your breakfast. Please have a taste.”

His deep black eyes gazed at me. This man was someone whose emotions were hardly apparent on his face.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and his silence put me under a strange pressure. Reluctantly, I took a bite out of the bread and popped it in.

“...Tasty!”

“That’s good to hear.”

I thought he might be smiling, but his expression was still difficult to read.

“What’s this? It’s sticky and delicious!”

“It’s a kind of roti called chapati. In where I originally came from, it’s a common dish.”

“I don’t really get what you’re saying, but it tastes good anyway. May I ask for another bite... or better yet, another piece?”

“Sure, but you won’t have anything left for lunch.”

“Isn’t it possible to cut out a part of Leo’s share? He’s just a kid, afterall.”

“That won’t do. Growing children should eat a lot. This was supposed to be my breakfast, but, here you go. I’ll just bake some more.”

“Say, is there anything I can eat it with?”

“There’s some chicken, but... I’m saving them for lunch. Please make do with these in the meantime. It’s the garnish.”

A small plate of chopped tomatoes and onions was brought out.

“Blech, don’t want them. I hate veggies.”

As soon as I spoke, Vijay glared at me with large, round eyes. “Y-you don’t like veggies? Are you out of your mind?”

His entire body shook to the point it interfered with his stirring, which caused the ladle to clash against the pot, resulting in a loud noise. He looked as though he was furious.

“I-I mean, I just can’t bring myself to enjoy them.”

“All kinds of of veggies?!?! Not even a single one?!”

“Well, I’ve never really thought about it that far, but, you’ve got the general idea...”

“For goodness’ sake...... Chris is supposed to be your mentor, right? Then has he taught you anything at all...?”

“My eating habits have nothing to do with work! Besides, it is Chris himself, who devours a lot of sweets, you should be more concerned about!”

“Since it’s closely related to his powers, there’s nothing we can do about his diet. But you are an entirely different case. You simply choose to not eat them.”

It got me wondering. “Speaking of powers, you have the ability to talk to plants, don’t you?”

Come to think of it, have Vijay and I spoken to each other in private before, just the two of us? He wasn’t a man of many words. He was in charge of the systems at the branch office, but he also helped out with administrative and clerical work whenever Bernard was short-staffed. In short, he was our go-to guy at the office. At the same time, he appeared to be doing some sort of research at uni. He was an intellectual, so he was completely out of my league.

“As a matter of fact, I can’t establish a clear conversation with them. I can only communicate a little.”

I didn’t actually understand what he meant, but I couldn’t be bothered with technicalities. Though, it was all coming together.

“I see! So that’s why you sometimes mumble at your desk! With the plants on your desk, you’re—”

“Justin, isn’t it.”

“Huh? Who’s that?”

“That’s him. He was the one on my desk today. You also have a name, don’t you, Finn?”

“…..Do the plants on your desk change regularly?”

“By the same logic, don’t you also notice when people enter and leave the office?”

For the longest time, I’ve always thought that we were a little out of sync, but when it came to one-on-one conversation such as this, the discrepancy between us couldn’t be any more obvious.

“But, our powers are only activated during ‘play’.” Meanwhile, you talk to… Justin and the others all the time. So is that also a part of your powers?”

“Alright, here we go. This should match your taste.” He moved the scrambled eggs that he had been frying from the pan to a plate in one fluid motion.

“We’re not done talking here, y’know.”

“Please eat it while it’s hot. As per my homeland’s cooking style, I used a lot of butter. Don’t you want to have a try?”

“No yeah, I do. My mouth waters from the sight alone.”

“Here’s some tomatoes as a side dish.”

“None of that!”

Suddenly, I heard noises coming from the showroom.

“Someone else has clocked in, it seems. Finish your food quickly and then get back to work. Have you sorted out that insurance policy that Wendy asked?”

“Dang, I haven’t—! It was nice talking to you~”

Snatching my plate of makeshift breakfast, I stumbled away in haste.

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL notes: I’m in no way a professional translator so if you find any mistakes, please do not hesitate to inform me right away. I love the High Card gang and I found it very unfortunate that while it is meant to be a multimedia project, I can’t seem to find the translated versions of any materials (beside the anime) anywhere (if this is against copyright, I will take it down). Hopefully this small TL would help international viewers gain better understanding of HC universe and characters. The author of these SS himself said that he hoped fans would have their “so that’s what it is!” moments when they watch the anime after reading his short stories. So with that in mind, let’s enjoy High Card together~

[pin-crusher2000]

Character files 010: Hunter Trevor

Kid Sparta is a young superhero who is the son of Wonder Women. (That’s it lol)

Appearance: a young white man with short black hair & blue eyes.

Outfit: a boy version of the Wonder Woman outfit. (with long sleeves & long pants) he also wears a black t-shirt with a yellow wonder women logo on it with a red capitalized B right underneath it, & leather jacket & jeans.

Personality: kind, laidback, funny, courageous, smart.

Powers: same as his mother, “cousin,” & aunts, he has super strength, durability, & speed, he also has the power of the gods to help him in combat. (See Robert Longs file for more details)

Trivia/FunFact

He loves dinosaurs, the T-Rex is his favorite.

He likes planes, wants to join the Air Force when he gets older, just like his dad Steve Trevor.

He’s best friends with Arthur Curry Jr.

His favorite movie is 300.

(Greek) History dork.

[zaunseye]

mun comforts

Comfort food: chicken congee, tinola, corn chowder, pork schnitzel, japanese curry 

Comfort drink(s): chai latte, coffee, diet coke

Comfort movie(s): Robocop (1987), Aliens, Hook, Atlantis: the Lost Empire, Treasure Planet, Highlander, Mortal Kombat (1995)

Comfort show(s): Arcane, Kitchen Nightmares, Hotel Hell, youtube essays

Comfort clothing: leggings, joggers, t-shirts, hoodies, loungewear

Comfort song(s): You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - the Offspring, Bloom - Pogo, Dirty Little Animals - BONES UK

Comfort book(s): Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia (problematic i know don't @ me), Annihilation, Any sort of Shel Silverstein poetry.

Comfort game(s): Sims 3 & 4, FFXIV, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Age Inquisition, Destiny 2, Until Dawn, Mass Effect, Batman: Arkham Asylum, Stardew Valley. Subnautica, Torchlight 2, SMITE

tagged by :: @gnarledbite (ty!) tagging :: whoever wants to do this! -- tag me!

[queuebird]

11. that neighbour

2 for 1 deal. Both: G, Hannibal, Will & Hannibal, 100 words

For day 11 of Domaystic 2022

The neighbor keeps coming over.

“Hello?” Will says to the empty space where Hannibal was.

“Crispy mushrooms soaking in kari curry and coconut milk, with blistered green beans, ajaad pickles, and charred cherry tomatoes,” Hannibal responds from Will’s dining room, setting the dish on the table and pulling off the plastic covering with flourish. 

“I just woke up, Dr. Lecter.” 

“In time for dinner.” Hannibal settles into his usual place and looks expectantly at Will.

Will looks down at his tattered boxers and T-shirt with the hole in the armpit, then over at Hannibal’s plaid-paisley three-piece ensemble.

He sighs.

“Fine.”

OR, IF YOU PREFER:

“Well it looks like a spoon or something fell in there, deep enough that it’s impossible to get out from above,” Will tells Hannibal’s kitchen sink. “I’ll need to open it up inside the cabinet.”

“I see,” Hannibal says.

Will sits back on the floor, scrubbing an arm across his forehead. His sleeves are rolled up and there is a damp of sweat in his hair.

“Are you sure you want me to be doing this? I mean, you could call an actual professional and not, um,” he gestures toward himself, “the kid next door.”

“I prefer you,” Hannibal says.

[farlydatau]

Curry 30 Vintage Basketball T-Shirt | Gift For Kids Golden State Warriors Fans | NBA Youth Grunge Shirt | Steph Chef Curry Kiddy Graphic Tee

[amchara]

Effortless Ch. 5: Confessions, Driving Tests and Glamour

One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven (completed fic) 

(Completed fic at Ao3, posting to tumblr with a few minor edits)

Summary: After moving to England to live with Tessa and Jem, Kit ends up attending a local sixth form college alongside his Shadowhunter training.

Featuring- a charming but slightly broken Kit, typical teen drama, mundane friendships, pop culture references, Carstairs-Gray family moments, a rotating cast of our favourite Shadowhunters as guest tutors and of course, some unacknowledged pining for one Ty Blackthorn.

Wordcount: 4,219 words for this chapter

Rating: Teen, cw this chapter: Kit/OC

CHAPTER FIVE: CONFESSIONS, DRIVING TESTS AND GLAMOUR

October-December 2014

After the trip to London and despite the fact he hated he was doing it, Kit couldn’t help but linger close by when Jem collected the daily post. If Ty was going to get in touch, it would be via letter, he predicted, remembering his missive to Annabel. But as the weeks passed, and nothing appeared, Mark’s advice echoed in his head, alongside Ellie’s. Kit started putting the feelings that had spilled out from his brief encounter with Ty, back into the careful, protected place in his heart. For the most part.

And he set about opening up his heart again, like he had been advised. It was good timing too -  while the previous year he had been the strange American transfer kid - Kit was definitely noticing different glances coming his way in his second year as he passed through Altofts’ halls. 

He practised various smiles, winks and flirting with the girls and the occasional boy, noting the response. Testing out the waters, as it were. He usually struck out but less often than he thought he would. He ignored the unwanted voice in his head that sounded like his dad, approvingly telling him that marks always fell for a pretty face.

--

It was fascinating, Kit thought, that such small touches could elicit so many responses. He nibbled again at Eamonn’s earlobe, feeling the other boy jerk slightly with pleasure, and Kit smiled, planning his next move. He shifted across so he had a better vantage point, and looked down at the other boy, his shaggy brown hair spread across Kit’s pillow, and his lips red and puffy from where they had been kissing beforehand.

Eamonn sighed and Kit could feel his lips brush across Kit’s collarbone.

“Your body is seriously-” he trailed his fingers feather-light down Kit’s bare chest. Kit shivered with anticipation.

“I work out,” Kit said, modestly. But secretly, he was thrilled. Although he did kind of wish Eamonn could see his Marks- Kit thought they looked pretty cool against his still summer-tanned skin.

Eamonn laughed. “Yeah, I know you and Ade have the gym in his back garden. But somehow, the god of gains decided to bless you with much more fortune than most lads.”

“Are you complaining?” Kit said, in a teasing tone.

“Never,” said Eamonn solemnly. “In fact, I intend to pay tribute right now.” He slid his hand down further, and Kit could feel him starting to undo the button on Kit’s jeans, pushing the zipper down.

Suddenly Kit froze. He could hear Tessa coming down the hall. He pushed Eamonn’s hands away and rolled off the bed, Eamonn looking at him quizzically. Seconds later, he could hear a light knock.

Kit quickly threw on his t-shirt and cracked open the door. “Hi Tessa,” he said, trying to mostly keep Eamonn hidden from her view. While both Tessa and Jem knew he was seeing Eamonn, there was still a difference between seeing him and them getting too much of an idea.

“Neither Jem or I feel like cooking tonight so I’m planning to get some takeout. What would you fancy- fish and chips or curry?”

“Fish and chips,” he said quickly, and started to close the door. Tessa blocked him. ‘Don’t be rude,” she chided, a small smile on her face. “What does Eamonn want?”

“He’s good with fish and chips too,” Kit said. “Thanks!” He gave her a bright smile and closed the door.

“Now, where were we…” he said, crossing the clothes-covered floor back to the bed.

But Eamonn was sitting up, a distant look on his face and Kit knew the mood had been broken.

“Sorry about that,” Kit said. He came around and knelt on the floor in front of Eamonn. He slipped his shirt off again and gave his best Herondale smile, turning up the wattage and hoping it would be enough to distract the other boy.

“How did you even hear her coming?” Eamonn asked. “It was almost like you anticipated it.”

Kit considered how he could answer that question. Answers about angel blood giving him better hearing, and ancient demon-hunter training were unlikely to be met with seriousness.

He shrugged. “I just- did. I have a younger sister, remember?” He didn’t know when he had started to refer to Mina exclusively as his sister, but there it was. “You start to develop a sort of sixth sense about when other people are about…”

Eamonn studied him. “Okay,” he said, finally. “It’s not anything like… you know, you’re ashamed of us being- doing things? Or like- ashamed of me?”

Kit let out a short laugh. “Ashamed? Why?”

A red flush spread across Eamonn’s pale skin. “Oh, I don’t know- it’s just- you- I made passes all last year at you, and it took until about a month ago to get you to notice me. And then- we were at my place last week, and you kept knocking into things and it seemed a bit awkward at the end.”

Kit remembered the fantastic session they had had after football practice on Wednesday at Eamonn’s. Well… maybe there had been a few small teething problems.

“I mean, you have a single bed and we’re both not exactly small guys,” Kit told him. “Plus- that poster of Ronaldo kept staring down at me, and it freaked me out.”

“And then you ran out on my dad in the kitchen in the end,” Eamonn said, crossing his arms. Kit stared at him. Eamonn’s dad was a soft-soften Irish man who had nodded cheerfully at Kit and had asked him if he had watched the Chelsea-Arsenal game. All Kit could really do was nod, as he didn’t really follow enough football to comment on and so he had made his escape at the first opportunity.

“I guess it’s also like-” Eamonn flushed even more red. “You live here-” he gestured at Kit’s room and Kit saw it again for the first time in a while, through the eyes of Eamonn, beyond his mess of clothes and tangle of electronics, the heavy but well-made antique furniture and wooden beams and crafted windows. And he thought to the echoing, airy white hallways and the empty bedrooms all around him, and remembered how he had felt when he first arrived at Cirenworth.

And it clicked. Eamonn lived in a small, two-up, two-down mid-terrace house in Totnes.

Kit moved from the floor and sat down beside Eamonn on the bed. “Hey,” he said softly- drawing Eamonn’s arms down, and getting him to face Kit.

“No- absolutely not,” Kit said fiercely, once he had got Eamonn to meet his eyes. “Not one fucking iota am I ashamed.” He shook his head. “Look- I’m a bit more… private about doing stuff but that’s also ‘cause I…” he tried to think about a good way to explain his childhood, about trying to make himself as small as possible and not cause trouble for his father. And still tried not to cause trouble for Jem and Tessa.

“I also grew up with just my dad but mine was…” he tried to think of a good way to explain Johnny Rook. “We didn’t have- we lived in a bungalow, in a rough neighbourhood of L.A. and we didn’t always have much money. My dad was busy with his own stuff and I had to just do my own thing and keep out of his way, y’know?” He didn’t know if Eamonn would.

“And then my dad died and I came here to live with Tessa and Jem and it’s so different from what I grew up with but ummm, they’re great- so much, and they really, really don’t care about us- like, they like you.” He made sure to stress that point to Eamonn. “Any weirdness is completely on my end- I am sometimes a bit of a mental case. But I’m not ashamed. Of you. Or of us.”

He stopped talking. He could see Eamonn scanning his face, and he held himself still, hoping that the half-explanation would work. A small smile blossomed on Eamonn’s face and Kit could feel a smile mirroring on his own.

“You are a strange one,” Eamonn told him but he moved his hands out of his pockets and he started to lean forward. “But I admit it, I’ll take the apology and ignore the rest.”

“Plus, I have a fucking awesome body,” Kit reminded him, as he let Eamonn pull him down onto the bed.

“And so modest too…”

--

With Kit’s love life sorted, he turned his attention to other important pursuits, like finally getting his full driver’s license.

“How long do you think you’ll be?” Tessa asked. She dropped him off in front of the driving school entrance, the windshield wipers whipping the torrential October rain away.

“Not long at all,” Kit assured her. He had been practicing all summer and he was ready.

Less than an hour later, he texted her.

“Oh Kit,” she said, clearly reading the disappointment on his face after he had climbed in the passenger side.

Kit covered his face with his hands in frustration. “One major and two minors,” he said, shaking his head.

“I don’t understand what that means… but you’ll get it next time, love,” she told him, her voice sympathetic. “How soon can you rebook?”

--

Jem looked at Kit, his face expressing the same bewilderment that Kit felt. “I don’t understand? You’ve handled so many situations while we were practising- including that one with the bull…”

“British driving instructors are savage,” Kit said. “Three minors this time. Involving incorrect use of the handbrake.” He shook his head sadly.

--

Kit entered the film room at Cirenworth, carrying a bowl of popcorn, turning to where Ade and Ellie were sitting. Given how quickly they sprang apart, he thought they had probably been ‘snogging’ before he arrived.

He raised one arm up. “Finally, I have returned victorious and have in my hot little hands, one full British driving license.”

They both gave him golf claps and Kit sketched a shallow bow. “Congratulations,” Ade said. “How many times in the end?”

“Six.”

Ellie snorted with laughter, and Kit reached for some popcorn and threw it at her, which she dodged like the seasoned pro she was.

--

Jem and Tessa were fairly chill about Kit taking their second car - a Ford Civic - out whenever he felt like it, and Kit revelled in it. Mostly it was used to visit friends but occasionally there were trips further afield.

It was a clear, cold late autumn night and Kit was shivering in a narrow alleyway outside the Exeter nightclub as Ellie tried to light a cigarette. She looked over at him. “Are you cold, L.A. boy?” she said, finally getting her lighter to catch. The flame lit up her face in the dim light, illuminating her blue eyes and corresponding blue-green locks.

“It’s November,” Kit pointed out. He was wearing, like her, a skin-tight sleeveless shirt. Unlike Ellie, he was not wearing a mini-skirt but a pair of tight jeans. And eyeliner, which Ellie assured him would make him look older, given they were relying on fake IDs as they were still underage. He wasn't sure it made a difference but he had to admit, he liked the look.

“So?” She exhaled, letting the smoke drift towards the darkness behind them. The effect was ruined by her coughing.

Kit shook his head.

“What was that in there?” Ellie asked. “You were suddenly like a bloodhound catching a scent- you already have a boyfri-”

“Eamonn’s not my boyfriend,” Kit warned her.

Ellie waved her arms, tossing away her cigarette butt. “Okay- fine. We can discuss your relationship status later. But you just disappeared like-”

“We’re not attached at the hip, Ellie,” Kit said, trying to shut her down. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He had seen two, good-looking men watching him at the bar, and while maybe it would normally be flattering... the bottom of Kit’s stomach had dropped out when one of the men had turned and Kit had caught a glimpse of the tips of his ears, which were delicately pointed. Fae.

So naturally, Kit had bolted- he was out on his own with Ellie and he didn’t have any weapons with him, except his Herondale dagger, in his bag, which he had checked into the coatroom, so he was totally justified in leaving. But Ellie had followed him out of the fire exit and...

There was a noise in the alleyway, and Kit whirled around. He felt for the small pouch at the side of his jeans, and he pulled out his witchlight, trying to see in the far corners.

“Whoa, you are jumpy tonight,” Ellie said, coming up behind him. “Did you take something? Someone slip you something?”

“Nope,” Kit told her, scanning the tops of the rubbish bins at the back and then turning to face her. It seemed like the coast was clear but he was not in a mood to wait around to get jumped.

“Ooookay,” Ellie said, unconvinced. She pulled at his hands, peering up and trying to check his pupils, he suspected.

“Look- I’m fine- I’m just not in the mood to dance anymore,” Kit told her, giving her the favourite 'cross my heart gesture'. “I’ll just wait out in the car.”

Ellie pulled a face. “Ahhh, piss.” She shook her head. “It’s no fun to dance alone. Fine- we’ll come back another weekend. Let me just get my coat.” Her eyes darted down to Kit’s witchlight.

“Cool torch,” she said, and then she narrowed her eyes. “Does it have some of those weird runes on it…?”

Kit quickly pushed it back into his pocket. “No, it’s just something I picked up in an antique store.” His skin prickled, not only from the cold and he could swear he could feel eyes watching him from somewhere. He tried to discreetly herd Ellie back towards the door.

“You are acting sketchy as hell,” she informed him but she followed him back inside.

--

This time, he knew he couldn’t not let Tessa and Jem know. “And did you observe any sigils that might indicate if they were of the Unseelie or Seelie Court?” Jem asked again for a second time, his knuckles white on the back of the chair. Tessa stood against the fridge, her hands wrapped around a big mug of tea, and her grey eyes grave as she listened to him explain the situation.

Kit sighed. “No- again, it was mostly dark but I swear they were watching me.”

“It could be a coincidence…” Tessa mused, pushing back a long strand of brown hair behind her ear. “The Fae are fond of dancing and they do frequent mundane night clubs.”

“Yeah, but-” Kit knew he’d have to come clean about his side trip. “Look- don’t be mad, okay? But when I was in London, I briefly went to the Shadow Market- I didn’t go inside,” he said hastily, watching the floor, not wanting to see their reactions. “But Hypatia was there, and she warned me off- said there were whispers from the courts, looking for the Lost Herondale.”

He looked up, tentatively. “I’m sorry-.”

Jem shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Kit,” he said, his voice calm and kind. “What matters is keeping you safe.” He exchanged a glance with Tessa, and they seemed to be communicating silently.

“I’ll call Catarina,” Tessa said, setting down her tea. “She and Ragnor said recently they’ve found a glamour that should be stronger than the one we’re currently using.” She looked over at Kit. “You should head up to bed- we’ll hopefully have a better idea in the morning what we can do.”

Kit felt miserable as he crept up the stairs. He couldn’t immediately sleep- was he always going to be looking over his shoulder for faerie assassins? That had been the fate of his mom, and many of his ancestors. He pulled out his witchlight, the light winking on and off under his fingers, letting memories of a beach in L.A. and a certain boy with eyes the colour of the moon offer distraction.

When Kit came down to breakfast the next morning there were two guests sitting at the table, a pretty blue-skinned woman with shockingly-bright white hair and kind, electric-blue eyes... and Shade.

Or Ragnor Fell, as Kit now knew his name was.

Kit paused in the doorway, feeling hesitant. He knew they were some of Tessa’s closest friends but did they have to stare so much?

“Hi,” he said, pulling out a plate and piling it high with some of Jem’s perfectly-made bacon, and toasted himself a crumpet. Considering the ongoing silence from the table, he shrugged internally, and sat down across from them. He started eating.

“Good lord, what do they put in English bacon?” Shade- Ragnor’s voice was still ornery but kind. He had placed one of his green hands over Catarina’s. “You’re certainly not the skinny boy I met in the London Shadow Market a couple years ago.”

Kit shrugged. “I grew.”

Catarina still looked like she had seen a ghost. “Hi Kit-” she said. “I’m Catarina.” She looked him up and down, and suddenly smiled. “Apologies for staring but you- you reminded me of someone when you came in.”

“Another Herondale?” Kit asked. Given warlocks were long-lived, he imagined probably Catarina had met one or several of his ancestors.... or- a memory swam to the surface of Tessa and Jem explaining who had rescued his ancestor after the Clave had passed judgment. "You're- you rescued, you're the reason why I exist! I mean... like from way way back," he said. "You rescued him."

“Yes, another Herondale,” Catarina confirmed. Kit thought she was blinking back tears. "Ephraim. Perhaps today isn't the best time but I'd like to tell you about him, someday."

“Yeah, I'd like that," Kit said, giving her a smile. He was definitely up for learning more about his family.

The pitter patter of tiny feet clattered into the kitchen, and Mina ran into the kitchen, stopping in front of the table. She heaved herself into Kit’s lap, and from that vantage point, she gave Catarina a smile and Ragnor a suspicious look. Ragnor returned it with one of his own.

Tessa appeared in the doorway, and she noticed Kit. “Oh good, you’re up. We should start soon, as Ragnor and Catarina have to head back to the Scholomance this afternoon.”

--

“So, explain again how this is going to work?” Kit asked, feeling slightly nervous as the three warlocks each took up positions at the corners of the triangle that he was standing in the middle of.

Tessa gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s a confounding spell. It hasn’t been used for almost a century but according to Spiral Labyrinth research, it was successfully performed by warlocks to protect several Faerie consorts who escaped the Unseelie’s King’s court after they fell out of his favour.”

“Very powerful glamour,” Ragnor said, gruffly. “It’ll keep attention diverted from you. Anyone who is Fae will find their attention wandering- they’ll see a blank space, even if you’re right under their nose.” He flicked through the pages of a tattered spellbook. “At least, that’s the claim.”

“And what about others- other Shadowhunters, or Downworlders, or mundanes?” Kit asked. Was he about to become a shadow of a person, unable to interact with the world?

“They’ll still be able to see you,” Catarina reassured him. She raised her arms, and the warlocks began the spell.

--

Kit had excused himself afterwards, escaping upstairs to the recently-restored Sky Room, an open room at the front of the house, with two circular skylights and a large bay window that showcased the beautiful countryside and hills that led up to Cirenworth's long, winding drive. He had shivered as he felt the ghostly magic settle around him, but otherwise, he didn’t feel any different. Except the unsettling feeling of walls closing in on him felt too real. Maybe he needed to go for a run - but wait - was that even safe anymore? He took a deep breath and started to turn- and watched as Ragnor slipped into the room. Too late.

Kit lifted his chin, as he nodded in the green-hued warlock’s direction. “I just needed a bit of-”

Ragnor held up a hand. “No need to explain.” His black eyes took in Kit. “It’s hardly a cure-all but it should last until-”

“Until what?” Kit asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Until the Fae find another way to find me? Until I’m ready? Ready for what- I’m training for Shadowhunting but I doubt those skills will keep me alive against whatever the Fae have planned. And despite Tessa and I throwing the entire kitchen sink at it, we’re no closer to finding out how my powers work.”

He looked over at Ragnor. “Although, apparently that was you.” He remembered the rumour that had been spread around post-battle.

Ragnor studied him. “No, you’re right- that won’t necessarily keep you alive,” he said.

Kit snorted. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re bad at comfort?”

“Plenty, including you, a couple years ago,” Ragnor said. “Let me finish though- as I was saying, that won’t necessarily keep you alive on your own, but it will allow you to finish your training, and maybe even find the key to your power. But that also won’t be enough. You’ll need to surround yourself with allies- with people you can trust. Then, maybe you’ll have a chance.” He tilted his head, considering Kit. “People like Tiberius Blackthorn.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear but he and I are no longer on speaking terms,” Kit said, blinking at the sudden mention of Ty.

“I am aware of the ill-fated attempt to raise his sister, even after I did everything to dissuade you,” Ragnor said, a grim note entering his voice. “But I have been at the Scholomance now for a couple years, and I am aware of the most promising students. Tiberius is aware of his past errors and he’s come a long way since then. If you’re looking for my advice - find him, as well as others you can trust,” he said.

“I’ll think about it,” Kit said after a moment, reluctant. “Except I’m not allowed to tell people about the First Heir stuff, don’t you know- I’m supposed to be hiding.”

“Oh, I suspect that will soon be ending,” Ragnor said, as footsteps echoed down the hall and they could hear Jem, Tessa and Catarina approaching. “The hiding, I mean.”

--

Despite Kit - alongside Jem and Tessa - acting extra cautious following Catarina and Ragnor’s visit, it was almost surreal how normal the period leading up to Christmas felt. Kit went to college, did his homework, made out with Eamonn, hung out with Ellie, Ade and other friends, and fit in his training with Jem, as if there were no other issues. It almost felt like a bad dream, the threat of the Fae. But Kit couldn’t help but remember Ragnor’s prediction about the hiding.

Kit was holding Mina’s hand as they wandered among the Christmas market stalls in Newton Abbot, Tessa and Jem trailing beside them.

“Kitty- chocco,” Mina tugged at the chocolate hearts, and Kit bent down to grab one. He paid the vendor and opened the package, passing one to her. “Don’t give her too many,” Tessa warned. “Or she won’t eat dinner.”

Kit winked at Mina. “Only one more, okay Min?” He slipped her two and she immediately foiled the ruse by running off and showing Jem her treasures. He’d have to work on her subterfuge skills, Kit thought.

Tessa moved up beside him. “How would you feel about a Christmas outside of Devon this year?” she asked. “Jace and Clary sent a fire message - they’re having Magnus, Alec and the kids at the Institute this year and asked if we’d like to join them.”

“Yeah- of course!” Kit didn’t even have to think about it. He’d barely been to New York before- only briefly with Jem to the Shadow Market. He was also curious and keen to visit an actual working Institute - especially one run by Jace and Clary.

“Great, I’ll let them know,” Tessa said, tucking her long scarf further into her peacoat.

“Actually- Tessa...” He started to broach a topic he had been considering. “I’ll go on one condition- I want to tell them about the First Heir. About it being me.”

Tessa stared at him, and he could see both love and worry warring on her face.

“I think that’s a good idea, Kit,” Jem’s soft voice was behind him, but he swiftly moved into Kit’s view, Mina cuddling into his shoulder. “There’s only so much we three can do. You should have friends who know- and can help.”

Tessa slowly nodded. “You’re right,” she said finally. “We’ll tell only Alec, Magnus, Jace and Clary though- it’s still best if it's kept within a small circle.”

“That works,” Kit said. “Oh- and one more thing.”

Tessa looked at him with trepidation.

“We can’t leave before the 19th. Ellie’s play opens that night, and as it’s her first leading role, if I miss it - forget Faerie assassins- she won’t let live past the night,” Kit said, grinning.

[ellemany]

Yokye Week #4 - Lost and Found / Normal Life AU

Words: +400 (non-edited)

It had been a really long day. 

The water supply was defected by the morning, so Yoru couldn't take his daily shower. The traffic in the city was terrible and he got late for his work. Some kid spilled soda on his Rick and Morty t-shirt and he entered the office embarrassed as ever. His boss scolded and humiliated him in front of everyone, making him do twice of his usual work. He even had to bring some of it home. To make his day even better, he lost his wallet somewhere.

All that he wanted by now was to lay on his sofa and watch the newest episode of The Boys, eating his Curry Cup Noodles.

Then the bell rang. Yoru cursed in Japanese the bastard who was disturbing his night.

Probably was the owner of his apartment, saying something stupid as always.

-I swear… - He said out loud, walking to the door. - If you complain again about the price of the tomatoes I will… - He opened the door and gave up on talking.

 It was the most beautiful redhead girl he ever saw. Amazing green eyes and constellation-freckles spread by her face, neck and… Wow what boobs. God bless whoever created the cleavage blouses.

-Hi… - She smiled awkwardly, that Yoru didn't notice since his gaze was on her chest. - I think this is yours. - She showed him his wallet. Yoru took a moment to take his eyes out of her body and look at the object. - I found this morning in the hall.

 Yoru opened his lips, receiving the wallet. She had an aussie accent.

-Thanks… - He looked at her again, tilting his head to the side.

-Don't worry. It sucks to lose it… - She smiled a little and, noticing her smile, Yoru melted.

 "Don't screw this, trash." He thought with himself.

 - You're… -He cleaned his throat, supporting his body on the door.- Visiting someone? I never saw you before.

 - I'm your neighbor. I live with my brother next door. - She pointed to the apartment of the most hateful neighbor that Yoru ever had. Yoru and Breach hated each other in the time that their gaze met. - I get out early and come back late. That's why we never met. My brother was the one that recognized you… - The girl seemed to talk more, but she gave up, snuggiring. - And I… Kind of wanted to meet you anyway. I'm Skye.

 Skye… Yeah, Yoru went from hell to sky(e) with her mere presence. The name fits well.

-I'm Yoru… 

 Some time after this meeting, he realized that he never imagined he could be so happy for losing a wallet. And she never thought that it would be her own luck to find someone else's wallet.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

+ Bônus¹: I really love the Normal Life Aus since my babies deserve some normal problems instead playing with dead as a job. In this Au, Yoru works as a graphic designer and Skye is a vet. ^^

Breach... Well, Skye never asked how he managed to have money and he never told her so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

+Bônus²: Yes, they're in the future, but The Boys still exists. It's actually a remake/sequel with Cameron Crovetti as Homelander >.<

Thx for reading (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

[ivyandink]

At this spice festival, Elliot insisted that Levi try to Spicy Curry Challenge with him. Naturally, he did this as an excuse to gloat about his own status as champion.

Levi did not follow in his father’s footsteps with that one. Eli decided to flex on the kid by changing into his Curry Champion t-shirt.

Nice.

[udretlnea]

A Slice of that Kingdom Life

@kingdomofdelulus

1/2/3 (here) /4

Words: 1.6k

The gorgeously built and beautiful town square was filled with citizens; people from all over who were invited to visit or just regular citizens walked around with vigor. In front of an arts and crafts store, a street performer was playing on a saxophone for tips. The doors opened and a blonde man and kid walked out carrying full bags in each hand. So far it was a nice day. The sun was out and the temperature was fair.

The man sighed. “Did you buy everything you needed Prince? I’d hate to return there again on the off chance you suddenly remember one last thing just when we get back home.”

The child beside him shook his head. “Uh-uh. I got all the decorations I need here.” 

He shows off the bags in his hands like some show-and-tell project. Kaveh nods. “That’s good. By the way, what do you want to eat for lunch? It’s nearing midday and the breakfast was light. Are you craving anything in particular?”

Without missing a beat, Prince opens his mouth. “Curry!”

Kaveh couldn’t help the small smile that formed. “Alright. Curry it is. I think we should still have some ingredients left…”

“And if we don’t, I can always just use this!” Prince reached behind his back and pulled out a fairly long green colored staff. Inserted into the slot at its top was an orange block with flashing lights. “Noraa’s magic staff is always a godsend. Wachaa!”

Kaveh watched Prince wave it around like a stick. Some bystanders catch on and smile; a few of them hide their laughs behind their hands. Kaveh rolls his shoulders and walks a little faster. Prince notices this and does the same. It’s a nice sight to behold. For anyone that didn’t know, they’d just see a man and his son spending time together; the idea crosses Kaveh’s mind and he feels his ears turn hot. At least Alhaitham isn’t here to see me like this.

When they get back to the tower, the sun is just past its zenith. Kaveh takes a moment to drop the bags, reach for the key in his back pocket, and unlocks the door. Immediately, Prince rushes in with enough excitement that it’s palpable. The blonde architect deposits the bags on the living room table then heads to the kitchen. He finds a metallic looking briefcase lying face-up on the counter.

Kaveh opens his mouth with a request spilling out. “Mehrak, could you grab the cookbook from the top shelf?”

The briefcase-actually a droid-boots up soundlessly and sounds out several beeps. Then it floats away and up to the shelf where it uses a tractor beam to get the book. Kaveh wasn’t idle while this was happening; he grabbed an apron and tied it around himself. He began taking out general cooking equipment he’d expected for curry. Kaveh was not a great chef, but he knew his way around a kitchen at least.

Soon, the house is filled with the scent of spices as Kaveh makes a delicious looking bowl of Curry Shrimp. He sets it down in the middle of the dining table just as Prince enters; the kid is wearing more casual clothing like brown overalls and a yellow-t shirt. He doesn’t say a word as he walks past Kaveh. Several seconds later he comes back with two sets of plates and utensils. Prince puts them on opposite sides; he goes back in and comes out with a bowl of steaming rice.

Kaveh notices this out of the corner of his eye. I wonder who taught him how to be self-sufficient. Probably Noraa. I’ll ask him about it once he’s back from…what did he call it again? Festival something?

Prince’s cries for attention snap him out of it. Kaveh decides to save it for later. Right now it is chow time. Mehrak flies back to the counter and goes into standby mode. As both dig in with a healthy appetite, Prince actually moans in pleasure.

“‘Dish ish really good!” he says with a full mouth. Small chunks of rice and shrimp fly out. Kaveh cringes in disgust, promptly wiping them up with a napkin. 

“Prince, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Kaveh says with a tone. 

“Yes mom…” Prince says almost cheekily.

Kaveh makes a noise of uncomfortableness. “Don-don’t call me that!”

The kid merely chuckles, but Kaveh doesn’t say anything else. Lunch is soon over and Kaveh is busy washing dishes. Prince wipes the table and sweeps the floor methodically. 

Before long, they’re in the living room wiling away with Kaveh reading a random book he picked up. Prince had dumped the contents of the bags and organized them in piles; Kaveh’s eyes picked this up and he couldn't help but stare. The kid wastes no time in his task. He starts drawing shapes on sheets of colored paper, then cuts them out with scissors; next he pokes eye holes into them (he’s making masks Kaveh realizes) and draws on miscellaneous shapes.

In ten minutes he’s exhausted half of the art supplies and created two dozen stacks. 

Internally, Kaveh is slightly impressed. Prince’s efficiency is something to behold especially since he remembers the kid’s supposed to be ten.

Prince silently makes a third stack. He reaches for several bundles of yarn to tear them free from their packaging. Then he takes one end in one hand and a mask in the other to insert a string into the eyeholes. Prince does this for the rest of the first pile before moving onto the next. This time he uses a different colored string.

By the time Prince is done he’s made three banners of masks. After he lays them on the table, he disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a small box of milk. He took a long sip from the cardboard straw. For some reason, Kaveh is reminded of when he’d go the Lambad’s Tavern for a drink or two after working hard for so long.

Kaveh chooses the moment Prince sits beside him to open his mouth. “Hey Prince, if you don’t mind me asking what are those for?”

The kid looks over to him with a neutral expression. “‘S for a tradition back home. Ya wanna hear it?”

“Sure,” he replies easily. Prince is startled judging by how his eyes widen; he hadn’t expected Kaveh to say yes, but he quickly recovers. 

“Uh-okay. Well, since you asked, brace yourself because I’m gonna info dump on ya,” says Prince as he sits up. Kaveh puts the book to the side. “Okay general disclaimer: I was only half-listening to Noraa when he was telling it to me so I don’t remember it perfectly. I can at least give you enough to understand. Ready?”

Kaveh nods. Prince faces the architect with a serious expression that looks almost out of place for a child. “A long time ago, the first Creator opened a portal to the multiverse…”

Something inside Kaveh suddenly snaps to attention and he feels himself hyperfixate on Prince’s words. “...and made a long journey across the stars. He was a curious being and couldn’t be in all places at once, so he made a brilliant move and split himself in two. And then those halves split themselves, and those halves did it until there were enough. Finally, they aaalll went their separate ways, but only after promising to meet and catch up with each other.”

Prince pauses to take a sip from his milk box. “So, years pass. They all integrate themselves into different societies, experience different cultures, and some get into misadventures. It was great! And then the day to reunite arrived. For a week, everyone would prepare a celebration to commemorate this special day; over the course of it, new masks would arrive every day until everyone was accounted for. They’d gather around a food table filled with delicious and tasty dishes, say a couple things, and then dig in.”

Kaveh rested a cheek on his knuckles, slowly absorbing the info like water to a sponge. “Everyone would share stories, photos of wonderful sights, or maybe even a potential life-partner. Happy times. And then, there’d be games, competitions, sparring matches and…uh…um…” 

Prince scratches the back of his head. “I forgot the last one. It was too boring.”

Kaveh notices he’s flagging so he throws him a bone. “It’s alright, continue.”

“Right, uh, and then once everything’s said and done they’d leave again to continue traveling. The End.” Prince does some jazz hands. He looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “It all sounded so magical to me. Everyone is just coming together like a family to celebrate living. It sounds sappy, but I don’t care. I want my…my own happiness, and I think that the festival is just what I’m looking for.”

Kaveh points to the banner of masks on the table. “So…is that why you made those?”

Prince nods. “You don’t know this, but I’m not old enough to go yet. The adults made a stupid rule recently saying only sixteen years and older can attend. Which sucks because big bro was the one in charge of decorating this year…”

The blonde kid scowls. Kaveh can sense his disappointment, but at the same time realizes something. So Noraa wanted me to take care of Prince while he was away. “That’s rough. I’m sorry you can’t attend it kid. I imagine it looks as amazing as you told it to me.”

Prince just sighs tiredly. He gets off the couch and stretches. “Somehow I’m feeling sleepy. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Oh, sure,” says Kaveh. He goes with Prince, despite the latter’s protests, and tucks him in gently. The architect quietly closes the door. As he goes back, feels his head full from the info Prince told him so he doesn’t feel like reading. Instead, Kaveh sits on the couch, hands in his lap; he processes what he’s learned just now. 

His eyes fluttered for a few seconds. And then, sweet sleep.