#it’s after midnight somewhere

[melancholyfleurs]

something so deeply erotic about laying in between someone’s legs after you’ve gone down and licking your fingers off to taste every last drop in between little kisses to their trembling thighs, hips and tummy… yeah

[kurokoros]

somewhere after midnight (s.h.)

Rated: M

Words: 1.2K

Pairing: shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

Summary: You agree to watch Eri for your older brother Shouta while he's out of the country on a mission. He forgets to tell you about the hot young man—Shinsou Hitoshi—currently living in his basement. Life is full of surprises.

AN: this is a late birthday gift for @southsidewrites <3 part one proper should be posted sometime in the next week, I just really wanted to include this brief scene from Shouta's POV.

Warnings: naked encounters, sorry you're an Aizawa now but blood relation isn't mentioned, part two and three will lean towards smut

Chapters: Prologue | Part One | Part Two| Part Three

Shouta knows he isn’t being subtle as he checks his phone again.

There are dozens of case files spread across the coffee table in front of him. Folders are stacked on top of each other, piled annoyingly high. He’s supposed to be reviewing a series of criminal profiles with varying degrees of redacted text, but by the fifth document he could already feel a headache building behind his eyes. At least, that’s the excuse he’s been giving himself as to why his attention keeps slipping back to his phone, face-up on the table and partly wedged under a folder as thick as his arm.

From the right angle, he can see the newest notification that pops up each time the muffled vibration from his phone cuts through the silence. Even he can tell he’s been a little too interested in the random notifications. Usually, he doesn’t pay any attention to social media, and he has a special ringtone for any messages on the Hero Network, so he’s never been in the habit of checking his messages like a teenager. If he was a student, he would have scolded himself by now.

What’s worse is that he knows that Hizashi has been pretending not to stare at him for the better part of an hour. He’s been sly about it, glancing over the top of his book whenever the phone vibrates and trying to catch a glimpse at whatever notification has popped up, but not sly enough that Shouta hasn’t noticed his increased interest and the stupid smirk on his face that he’s trying to hide.

As if on cue, the phone vibrates again, rattling the folder on top of it. Instinctively, Shouta leans forward to get a better look at the screen. In a bid to seem less suspicious, he grabs his coffee mug off the table and takes a slow drink as he glances at the notification lighting up his phone. It’s from Fwitter.

When did he even set up Fwitter notifications?

On the other side of the coffee table, Hizashi snorts.

Shouta stares over the rim of his mug with what he hopes is the unimpressed glare that usually makes his students shut their mouth before they can shove their foot in it. Unfortunately, Hizashi isn’t one of his students.

“It’s barely been twelve hours,” Hizashi reminds him suddenly. “I bet they’re having an awesome time together, and nothing bad has happened.”

He sets his mug down a little too hard. Coffee sloshes over the rim and drips down the side. “I know,” he grinds out from between his teeth, silently cursing Hizashi for his phrasing. Why would he say it like that? “I’m not worried.”

“I’m just saying. It’s perfectly normal to be nervous about leaving Eri for an extended period of time. This is the first time you’ve been gone for more than forty-eight hours since the adoption went through, right? And just because your sister is totally awesome and will do a fantastic job babysitting, that doesn’t mean you aren’t—”

“I’m not worried,” he says, cutting off Hizashi’s attempt to psychoanalyze him. So what if he’s been keeping an eye on his notifications just in case his sister has a question, or Eri calls because she’s had a nightmare? He’s not paranoid, he’s just being vigilant. He’s a pro hero. It’s his job.

“Sure.”

His phone lights up with another notification, but he forces himself not to look at it. “I’m not.”

“Okay.” The corner of Hizashi’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Stop that.”

“I’m not even—”

The phone vibrates suddenly. The stack of paperwork on top of it shakes. Instinctively, Shouta glances at the notification that pops up.

It’s not Fwitter this time.

He barely registers that the little icon next to the notification is the one for his personal messages before the phone is in his hand and he’s swiping to open the text. He scans it quickly, deflating when he sees that it’s nothing important.

According to his sisters, he’s mastered wearing a distinctly apathetic expression, but it must’ve cracked slightly in his haste to grab his phone, because Hizashi puts his book down and leans across the table. “Something wrong?” he asks, craning his head to see the text.

Shouta exits the app and closes his phone before the other man can see anything. “No,” he says as he places it face-down on the coffee table. “It’s just Mindjack.”

“Oh, right! He’s covering your patrol route this week! Anything interesting happen tonight?”

He only bothered to give the report a cursory glance, but it wasn’t long by any means. Hitoshi isn’t exactly known for having long-winded reports, but he is thorough. “If you think a couple of drunks picking a fight in an alley is interesting, sure.”

Hizashi hums. He shifts in his seat, probably reaching for his book again, but pauses. Shouta glances at him and though he notices the funny look on Hizashi’s face, he turns back to the files he’s supposed to be reviewing.

“Speaking of Hitoshi,” starts Hizashi, who waits for Shouta to look at him before he continues, “did you remember to tell your sister about him?”

Shouta freezes in his seat, hand hovering over his coffee mug. He’s pretty sure his eyes widen almost comically as he thinks back to the conversation he had with his sister earlier today. It was brief. He didn’t have a lot of time before he left her with Eri and hopped on the plane for this mission. Did he tell her about Hitoshi? He mentioned studying, bedtime, feeding the cats, emergency contacts…

“Shit.”

With a groan, he leans his head back against the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. He hasn’t had enough coffee yet to deal with this.

“You didn’t tell her?”

He cracks open one eye to glare at Hizashi, who’s staring back at him in obvious bewilderment. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Hizashi’s voice pitches up an octave, making Shouta wince. “She’s going to freak out if she sees some strange man come out of the basement!”

Glancing at his phone, he mulls over his options, considering the time difference and the likelihood of his sister answering the phone. “I’ll call her in the morning,” he decides. Hizashi opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but Shouta cuts him off. “It’s late there. She’s probably already asleep. Besides, chances are they won’t even run into each other. They’ll be fine until tomorrow.”

It’s less than an hour later when Shouta’s phone starts to ring. At some point, he forced himself to stop looking at it every thirty seconds, and he lost track of it beneath all of the files. It takes a moment of shoving folders aside, and by the time he digs his phone out from beneath the mess of papers spread across the table, he’s missed not one, but two calls.

The phone starts vibrating with a third immediately.

It’s his sister.

He sighs. “Shit.”

[chiropteracupola]

"...but the stairs are grand underfoot."

[yume-fanfare]

but when you think about it, there has already been a situation where tori and tsukasa, who have always been together since they were children, suddenly diverted paths and grew apart from each other. and what happened then? tsukasa pushed aside everything he had ever known and followed after tori

[californiaquail]

was hanging out with someone today and she was talking about how she would shoot the hawks and eagles if they went after her indoor/outdoor cat and i had to struggle to keep a straight face. there is an EASY fucking solution to this problem that doesn't involve killing federally protected wildlife OR your poor damn cat. who got in a fight last night and left fur all over the place.

[playername-player-of-games]

hi!!! i'm exploring this concept by @phosphorus-noodles !!! (there will be. another installment. perhaps. idk. i love this idea it's never going to leave my brain sjdfklsdfj)

//

"Are you alright?"

Joel startles, whipping his head around to find- "Lizzie!"

Her smile is as warm as her hand- she slips it into his and gives it a squeeze.

"Now Joel," she says, suddenly serious, "the Mother Tree isn't going to eat you."

Joel sputters. "Wha- I know that!"

"Then why are you looking at her like she is?"

"I'm not," he insists, turning back- his eyes wander up the trunk, all the way to the branches above. He traces winding pathways, tries to commit to memory the way light filters through green leaves and purple petals. His hands are itching to paint.

Or- he squeezes Lizzie's hand before letting go and scratches at his wrist- maybe his hands are just plain itchy.

He sighs. "What do you know about metamorphosis, Lizzie?"

"Oh!" her ear fins perk up- she's the only girl in Mezalea with fins instead of antenna- "that's how Mezaleans get their wings!"

"Right," Joel answers, scratching his other wrist now, "do you know the signs of an oncoming chrysalis?"

"Sickness," Lizzie answers. She steps lightly around him so that they're face to face. She takes his hands in both of hers, "itchiness."

He's shaking. He hadn't noticed.

"Yours is soon?"

He nods- a simple, shaky, jerk of his head, but a nod nonetheless.

She smiles, warm and bright as the sun catching light on the waves of the ocean, "why are you scared of it?"

"S-scared? Who said I was scared?"

"It's written all over your face, Joel."

He swallows, staring down at their hands. His wrists feel like they're on fire- an unfortunate side effect of silk growing in.

"I'm a little scared," he admits, and she lets him go- he's back to scratching. "I'm not- I'm not ready to disappear, Lizzie."

"Who says you're going to disappear?"

"That's how it works," he nods to the cave entrance- it's down the path that leads down to the Mother Tree's roots, "you go down there, and you pick a cocoon, and then you're just- you're alone in the dark for a week and a half."

"You won't be alone," Lizzie answers.

He pauses. "I won't?"

She puts her hands on her hips. "I'm coming with you."

He shakes his head, "you can't. I'm the-I'm the prince, they won't let you."

"Well, I'm your Lizzie," she answers, matter-of-factly, "so they'll have to let me."

He doesn't know how to answer- she looks so determined, he can't help but believe her.

"Okay," he whispers.

"You'll be fine," she says again, then turns him around so he's no longer facing the Mother Tree. She loops her arm around his and starts walking them along the trodden path back to the Matral Palace, "you'll sleep for a week and a half, and you won't miss anything because I won't do anything fun without my Joel around."

He laughs, letting his shoulders drop, "thank you, Lizzie."

[mikimeiko]

Midnight Mass | Miniseries (2021), Mike Flanagan

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[jellogram]

Imagine a train but each person has their own compartment and can control where their compartment goes and you could let them drive on the roads so they're not confined to the tracks and then each person could go wherever they wanted and leave whenever they wanted and after your day was done the compartment was just waiting for you and you could drive it home yourself

[alrightpoppins]

so.. dr stanton is athena right? …right??

[copper-skulls]

thanks to @casting-horsepiss I am aware that it is casting rain birthday week *checks clock* NOW HERE so have a drawing of ammy.

read casting rain. experience angry fish mom. cry, probably. it's worth it i promise

[born-to-lose]

I want to strangle this DJ for playing Reckless Love at an 80s party (not 80s inspired or glam in general, whole ass actual 80s along with ZZ Top, Cinderella etc)

[myownprivatcidaho]

whats tough about like. Having Chemistry and spending time with someone at the start of the spring semester is that valentines day is coming up and its like a make or break point with what you may or may not Be and you have to question what direction things are headed in and its a pressure just Not present in the fall semester idk. idk

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

At this question, Dorian let out a little laugh as he flashed Emily a charming smile, saying laxly, "Oh, don't you worry about that, my dear friend-if there's one thing I can say I've inherited from my parents (and can feel proud about), it's the ability to multitask in even the smallest windows of time!"

Last-minute party plans? Juggling them with planning the wedding of the century? No problem: The Gracey's had a number of contacts that could and would drop everything in order to put together a quick little shindig that would appear as if it had been planned down to the most minute detail. Caterers, decorators, musicians, entertainers, all of them would jump to the Gracey's aid, in order to make their party the most magnificent and memorable, as well as never let on to the guests that it was more or less a last-minute idea.

Still, as lavish as it would no doubt be, it would also be no doubt very stuffy, very boring-in some ways, it'd be less about celebrating the happy couple and more about keeping up appearances to the neighbors, but that was nothing new to Dorian-he too felt it could still be a last hurrah before their departure, a celebration within a celebration, right under his family's noses!

And who better to invite to such an occasion than his very bestest friend...

[grassbreads]

Up way late at night due to reasons and killed a bug in my kitchen that was either an extremely small cockroach or an upsettingly roachlike moth and it’s fucking haunting me

[mechawolfie]

I made two more dragons w the intent of coloring them however I realize that will be A Task and will take 1 bajillion years so. here are the initial sketches until then