#the story of the bottle of wine that was not opened

[rosenclaws]

Hello😸 I saw that you have requests open and I’m still on that Leopold high‼️

So, could I request a little something where Leo is jealous of the attention Reader is getting and tries to get their attention back on him?

(I’d prefer if Reader was gender neutral but fem is fine too‼️)

a/n: omg jealous leo is sooo cute. That scene in the movie where he gets jealous of Kate's boss is too good. I took a lot of inspiration from that. Also there is a lot of wine talk in this and I do not know anything about wine so don't come for me for incorrect wine information okay

warnings: no pronouns used for the reader, jealous leo, asshole corporate guy

Leopold has been exposed to many unbelievable things in the past year. Time travel, television, cell phones, and the worst of all. Frozen food trays. However what Leopold isn’t used to is this feeling twisting and turning inside of his stomach. Jealously. The collar of his shirt starts to itch uncomfortably, not quite used to the wear of the 21st century. Business casual as you had called it.

He had been to many parties back in his time but they were nothing like they are now. This was no party to him. As you had explained they were more for celebrating themselves and showing off how successful the company. Still what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't accompany you. Ever the gentleman he is as he leads you through the crowd of people.

He had offered to get drinks as you go and mingle. With two glasses of wine in his hands he made his way back to you. Only to find you trapped in a conversation with a man he had never heard of before. He can feel his jaw clench as he slides right next to you. Handing you your drink and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Oh Leopold this is Mason," Leopold's eyes narrow as he notices Mason look him up and down, a smug look in his eye.

"You're the butter commercial guy." Mason says with a smirk. You feel Leopold tense slightly but he flashes his smile and reaches his hand out.

"Yes, and you are?" Leopold grips his hand a little too tight as they shake hands. You place your hand on Leopold's arm as you butt back into the conversation.

"He's new-"

"I'm the new director of marketing." He cuts you off and Leopold feels anger bubbling inside of him. Before either of you or Leopold could speak he starts talking.

Dominating the conversation with stories of how successful he's been and all the wonderful things he's done. He can't help but feel the jealously build in his gut. Your attention is on this arrogant man who is clearly trying to court you despite Leopold standing right next to you.

"You know, to be in marketing you need to have a certain, charisma about you." He glances over at you and flashes a smile. He takes a sip of his champagne and grimaces.

"Of course they got the cheap stuff, back home I have bottles of the finest wine. A bottle of champagne called La Romanée from 1873. Expensive yes but I would be happy to share. Maybe come back to my place and I'll show you." Leopold chuckles which makes Mason look to him.

"Something funny?" Leopold looks at him with a sudden confidence.

"No no. Just that from my memory that wine is from 1870 and it's pinot noir, not a champagne." Leopold raises an eyebrow as Mason starts to stammer.

"I think you've got your information wrong. My guy is a very reputable wine seller." He has a false confidence about him that Leopold can see right through. He grins, taking a sip of his own wine. He knows he isn't.

"I would contact your merchant, but perhaps I am mistaken." The damage is done as Mason starts to turn red from anger. Leopold takes a step closer. He's a polite man but he even he has his limits.

"I must add, that attempting to court someone who is already taken really is in poor taste. Simply put, you're making a fool of yourself." Mason mumbles something under his breath before stalking away in defeat. You finally let out the laugh that you had been holding in. Relieved that you were finally alone with Leo for the night.

"What a dick." You huff as pull Leopold to the side of the room.

"Didn't think you were the jealous type." You tease as Leopold starts to calm down. He sees Mason go over to what appeared to be a very important group of people. A sense of guilt washes over him. An egotistical, dick as you put it, he may be but he was still an important figure at your company.

"Forgive me if I have overstepped my place. I fear that jealously had blinded me and I acted out of line." You place your hand on top of his, gently squeezing his hand.

"You didn't, he's your typical asshole corporate higher up. It was nice seeing someone put him in his place a little." Also seeing him jealous was hot. But you'll tell him that later. You lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

"How do you know so much about wine?" He shrugs and places his now empty glass down.

"I visited Bordeaux in my youth before moving to New York." You stare at him in awe, his life before he met you was constantly surprising you.

"I want to hear more." You slowly start dragging him to the exit.

"Let's ditch this party and go home. I have a bottle of wine I got for 20 bucks that I'd be happy to share." You say, mocking the words that Mason had said to you. Leopold laughs as he places a hand on your back, guiding you away from the party.

"It's no fancy wine from France but I hope it will do." Once you're clear of the door he gently presses you against the wall. Capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

"The best wine is any I get to share with you." He says sincerely, brushing his thumb across your lips.

He kisses you again. The sound of footsteps pass by but he could care less. A small part of him wanting to show that you are his and he is yours. He can't help it. Anyone with you in their life would feel the same way. Too bad for them, your his now.

His and no one else's.

[anniebeemine]

parents gone wild- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: title is misleading but it made me giggle, just domestic bliss :)

You and Spencer were giddy with excitement as you dropped your two little ones off at Penelope’s. She greeted you both with a bright smile, practically bouncing on her toes as she waved off your last-minute instructions. “Go! Enjoy yourselves! You *need* this!" she said with a laugh, hugging you both before shooing you away. There was a surreal feeling as you drove away, the car strangely quiet without the usual baby babble or crying in the backseat. It had been months—no, almost two years—since you and Spencer had a night to yourselves.

“This feels so weird,” Spencer admitted, his hand resting on yours as he navigated through the city streets. “Like we’re… doing something we shouldn’t.”

You smirked. “You mean, like we’re sneaking off?”

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “I mean, no diapers, no screaming for once. Just… quiet.”

You grinned as you pulled up to the restaurant, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you both really dressed up. Spencer was in a crisp button-up, tie slightly loosened, and you in a dress that hadn’t seen the outside of the closet since before your first baby. The restaurant was a dimly lit bistro, with candles on each table and soft jazz playing in the background. The atmosphere was cozy and intimate, and you felt like you were dating again—before kids, before the late-night feedings and endless baby chores.

Dinner was incredible. You laughed over stories, clinked glasses of wine, and indulged in rich food you hadn’t had time for in months. It was like you both let out a collective sigh, a reminder of what it was like to just be *you*—not just parents, but partners, enjoying each other’s company.

By the time you left the restaurant, you were both tipsy from wine and full from food, grinning like lovestruck teenagers.

“You know, I kinda forgot what it’s like to have a conversation where I’m not interrupted by someone screaming for more Cheerios,” you joked as you leaned into Spencer, his arm draped casually over your shoulders.

“I missed this,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Just… being with you.”

When you got home, you were still floating from the night, ready to pop open the fancy bottle of wine you had splurged on earlier. The apartment was quiet—eerily so—without the kids. No whirring baby monitor, no toy sounds echoing through the hallway. Just peaceful, blissful silence.

You headed toward the kitchen, calling out to Spencer. “How about we start with the wine before anything else?”

But as you passed the living room, you stopped in your tracks. The sight in front of you was *not* what you wanted to see after such a perfect evening. Toys were scattered everywhere—blocks, stuffed animals, teething rings—every surface was covered. A sippy cup was laying on its side, tiny socks were draped on the coffee table, and the plush playmat was askew. You sighed, staring at the chaos for a moment.

Spencer came up behind you, seeing the same thing. “Maybe we could just… ignore it for tonight?” he suggested, though even as he said it, he didn’t sound convinced.

You bit your lip, torn. “I mean… it won’t take long to clean up. Just a quick tidy, and then we can relax.”

He smiled, knowing that was code for: *We won’t be able to relax until this place is clean.* “Alright. I’ll tackle the dishes.”

You both set off on a whirlwind cleaning spree. What was supposed to be a "quick" tidy turned into something much more. You couldn’t help yourself—once you started picking up the toys, you found yourself folding the kids’ laundry, wiping down the counters, and fluffing the couch pillows. Spencer, meanwhile, was meticulously scrubbing the dishes, loading the dishwasher, and even organizing the pantry as he went. It was almost therapeutic, in a way—cleaning the house without the usual chaos of trying to keep a baby entertained at the same time.

Hours ticked by, and by the time you both sat down on the couch, exhausted, it was nearly 3 a.m.

You collapsed next to Spencer, letting out a long, tired sigh. “Well… at least the house is clean?”

He chuckled softly, stretching his arms out over the back of the couch. “We’re supposed to be drinking wine and relaxing right now.”

“Yeah…” you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder. “But I’m too tired to even get up and pour a glass.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Me too.” You could feel the exhaustion creeping up on you both, but there was a quiet satisfaction in the clean apartment. The silence around you was peaceful, but something felt… off.

After a few moments, Spencer spoke up, his voice low and amused. “You know… Penelope wouldn’t mind keeping them for another night.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you rested against him. “Yeah, probably not.”

There was a pause, and you could feel Spencer’s heartbeat slow as he relaxed. “But… I miss them,” you whispered.

He nodded against you. “Yeah. I do too.”

The thought of your little ones—Caitlin's giggles, the way she babbled excitedly when Spencer talked to her, the sight of your younger one’s toothless grin—it tugged at both of your hearts. Even with the freedom of a night alone, you realized just how much you loved the little chaos they brought into your lives.

And as you both drifted off to sleep on the couch, arms wrapped around each other, you knew that despite the sleepless nights and the mess, there was nothing you’d trade for the life you had now.

[wonda-ch]

@dujour13 I had to take a screenshot to get it out of the sideblog. Sorry.💕 Thanks for asking. 😊

----

The lake lies quietly in the orange glow of the setting sun as Daeran approaches its shore with a blanket, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. He pauses when he recognizes Tishlia's silhouette, sitting near the shore with her arms wrapped around her knees, gazing into the water. She shouldn't be here. She should be looking for the animals, losing track of time as usual, and then finding him waiting on the shore, wine in hand, smiling at her.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach clenches when she does not turn her eyes to him, despite the fact that it should be impossible to approach her unnoticed. The slight trembling of her shoulders makes his gaze freeze for a moment. If she's crying, there must be a reason, one he doesn't know. As he continues to approach, he feverishly ponders what could be making her sad, and even more so, what could be keeping her from coming to him with that sadness.

Daeran is on the last steps to his wife when she wipes her eyes and sits up straighter, but she still doesn't look back at him. Shadowy, evil thoughts are already troubling him, and he tries to push them away until he can talk to her and get some clarity. "Tisha? What's wrong?"

"Nothing Dae, everything is fine."

The cramp in his stomach intensifies at this all too obvious lie. He sits down next to her, inverted so she can't avoid his gaze. When he tries to grab her hand, she reflexively pulls it away and the feeling of being rejected sends a chill down his spine and he tries hard not to let it affect his voice. "It doesn't look like all is well, why the tears, my love?"

"I'm grieving for my friend." Her voice is cold and dismissive.

"Midnight is gone, not dead. When Jax finds him and they settle their stupid argument, he'll be back." He relaxes a bit when he hears her reasoning, he doesn't quite understand it, but at least it doesn't seem threatening.

"You have no idea, Dae. They are dragons, I haven't heard any news from him, I have no idea where he is, he doesn't contact me. They are dragons, Dae, they have a different sense of time than we do. It could be years before he comes back." Without a sob, tears run down her cheeks again, but she doesn't try to hide them.

"If he wants to miss years with us, that's his choice and his loss. He won't risk it for long. Don't be sad, it wasn't you who argued with him. Until they return, we will be happy without them, you still have my most delightful company." Hoping that his motivating, light tone will brighten her mood, he tries to reach out his hand in her direction, but again she flinches from his touch.

Her reaction hits him like a low blow, and he drops his eyes to the ground. Hurt. Unsettled. He takes a deep breath, trying to control his voice, but the uncertainty clearly resonates in his next question. "What did I do wrong, Tisha?"

"It's not about you. It's nothing you've done, but it's not going to be all right because you decide so, Dae! Things do not come to you just because you want them to. You're not the center of the world." Her eyes pierce him and the anger in her sharp voice increases with every word.

The fury she makes him feel makes him flinch as if he had been physically hit. He quivers, angry at himself for not knowing where her anger comes from. His insecurity increases, he has no idea what words he can use now without making things worse.

A moment passes in which only the soft wind rustling the reeds can be heard. She has turned her eyes back to the water and he can see her holding back her anger, but he can't see why. The silence does not answer his questions and Tishlia seems unwilling to break it again.

His voice barely above a whisper, he makes a cautious approach. "I never wanted to be the center of the world. I only want to be the center of your world."

The wind continues to whisper, as if continuing his thoughts. When Tishlia looks into his eyes, he can see the sadness in the dark blue depths. For a moment, she stares at him as if to tell him her thoughts, and he chides himself for not understanding her. His self-reproach is interrupted when she finally speaks to him, calm and tender.

"That's what you are, you stupid idiot. That's why I'm sitting here, because of what you are." Her gaze returns to the water and more tears glisten on her cheeks. Hesitantly, as if trying to touch a burning log, he makes another attempt to take her hand. As she allows him to touch her, he finds himself holding his breath as he exhales in relief.

The warmth of her body suddenly leaning against his shoulder gently loosens the tense knot in his stomach. His free hand begins to gently brush her back, calming the renewed trembling of her shoulders. Without further questions, he waits patiently for her to explain what this is all about.

The setting sun bathes the lake in a reddish glow, the wind dies down so that even the whispering in the reeds seems to await her next words. "He wanted me to go with him. I tried to change his mind so he would stay. But he couldn't, he had to leave, and he wanted us to go together. I had to make a decision. I decided. And now… I miss him, Dae. It's like a part of me is gone. I don't regret my decision, I belong by your side, but sometimes… like today, it tears me apart".

He is glad that she can't see his face, in which his eyes now shine after her revelation. He holds her tighter in his arms, feeling the restless rhythm of her breathing and hearing the slight sob that has come over her again. His lips press tenderly against her temple as he says, "We'll look for him, everywhere, and we won't give up until we find him, I promise you, Tisha." She hears his promise and snuggles closer into his arms. These are the last words the lake will hear until the darkness falls.

[mechazushi]

Iharu's Day Out {co-staring Dadka} (A Kn8 short story)

Preamble] So I've got this idea for a series of {what was supposed to be short?! Don't know where all this came from} one-shots about Kaiju n.8 that are all about Kafka interacting with one member from the third Division because we only really see him talking to Reno or Hoshina most of the time and not a lot of the rest of the team gets much more screen time. I don't know how often I will be posting these and they will NOT be in chronological order. The time frame they will be taking place in is after everything is over (Number 9 is dead, Tachikawa base is rebuilt, the public knows about Kaiju n. 8, and the original members of Division Three are back together.)

Notes] Alcohol, implied off screen sex act, minor law breaking, pining IharuxReno, background HoshinaxKafka, implied HaruichixAoi, confession, basic tomfoolery, uncensored swearing.

Summary] Iharu's plans with Reno get derailed when Reno has to leave on a mission just before they have to leave. Depressed and dejected, Iharu heads back to the barracks to drown his sorrows in food... only to have that plan as well get derailed by Kafka.

#########################################

This was the third time in thirty minutes that Furuhashi had changed his outfit. Finally landing on white high tops, black camo jeans, a black leather jacket and a white graphic anime tee. He kept going back and forth on the tee, debating on whether or not it made him look like he was too childish. Iharu spent an extra minute mentally kicking himself for not bringing more casual clothes from home when the base got reopened. Then again, asking Reno out to a movie date was pretty spur of the moment at the time. He caught himself mid thought and placed his hands on either side of the closet that was designated to every member of the Division. "Not a date. Movie night-. It's... a movie night. This is to see if this could lead to a potential date. Yeah, just... focus on that right now."

Knocking him out of his thoughts was a very distinct ringtone. Iharu had spent a lot of time messing around in the settings on his phone and was very proud of himself when it came to the songs he picked for each member of the Third Division. Aoi was the theme song from Cops, Kikoru's was the Nightcore version of Pretty Little Psycho. The one that was playing now was Cold as Ice by Foreigner. A little on the nose, considering who it was attached to, but nonetheless fitting for person who he thought was the coolest guy on the force.

Reno☃] Hey. Can we talk?

Reno☃] Somethings come up.

############################################

"Sure. Sounds fun."

Iharu played Reno's response to this movie night plan over a week ago in his head over and over, taking his chilled and plain response and visualizing it as a bat to beat himself and this unfortunate event the two over them have gotten themselves into.

"Last minute dispatch to the mountains. Sorry Iharu." Reno had said, wanting to give him the bad news in person as he sat on a bench in a locker room and laced up his boots over his tech suit.

"Guess that means you'll be back late then, huh." Iharu leaned against a locker, arms folded and looking into the distance through the doorway. He didn't want Reno to see the disappointment. Not that seeing it would change the situation, just didn't want make Reno feel bad over the fact that, not only is he leaving Iharu behind, but he has to take a rain check on their date movie night- it was supposed to be a movie night, Iharu had to remind himself. He didn't feel like it was fair to take his crush/rival out on the town and call it something so loaded without seeing if the feeling would be returned.

"Yeah. Sorry." Reno picked up his bag and started to walk pass Iharu. "Movie will still be there tomorrow. Right?"

Iharu tried to school his expression into something more optimistic to mask his depression. " Yeah, but I'm in Weapons Training all day tomorrow. Maybe another movie?" He crunched the unnoticed prepaid ticket stubs in his fist and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. "Mind kicking their monster ass a little harder then normal. For me?" He didn't mean to come across as pleading as he said that, but it helped channel the last bit of resentment at the situation out of his head so now he can spend the rest of the allotted time off to sulk in his bunk.

Reno smiled and clasped a hand on Iharu's shoulder. "Sure thing."

Reno walked out of the locker room and headed toward the door that lead to the chopper pad that would whisk him away, as well as Iharu's plan for the three hours that he could squeeze out of Vice-Cap. All Iharu could do was watch as Reno lightly jogged away and feel as if he was doing that to get away from him faster. He knew that Reno liked him as a friend at least, but he felt that Reno could act a little less chill about being forcefully blown off a dinner and a movie. Iharu turned and started walking toward the canteen with the intention to take as much food and drink he could smuggle out to his bunk, make a Blanket Fort of Solitude*tm and attempt to stuff his dashed feeling under a quarter pound of katsudon, cheese puffs and soda popsicles-made in prison style.

Iharu was dragged from his thoughts by a loud, friendly, and familier voice. "OYE! Iharu! Wait a sec!"

Kafka Hibino came barreling down the hallway having turned a corner and apparently looking lost. The man was almost out of breath by the time he managed to catch up to Iharu. "Have you seen Reno around? I -huff- wanted to tell him safe travels before he -huff- left."

"He's heading down to the heli-pad now. Book it and you might catch him." Iharu said apathetically, scratching his neck. Which was really out of character for him, but he couldn't help hoping that was the end of the conversation, seeing that he just wanted to spend his three hours of time off drowning in food.

"Great! Thanks! Hey, you headed to the canteen?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Give me a minute and I'll meet you there. Want to talk to you about something." Kafka took off running in the direction that Iharu pointed in before Iharu could refuse. He sighed deeply and started his way back to a journey to food-comaville; population one.

Iharu made it during a lull in orders and took his time deciding what to pig out on. He walked over to a seat at a table that was as far as he could make it from the others in the large and sparsely populated room. He managed to plow through 4 chicken kievs and a large bowl of rice with a coke before Kafka managed to walk into the lunchroom. He searched for a bit, found Iharu and started to walk to him... before deciding better and grabbed a Hamburg steak meal and then headed over.

"Well, I didn't get to tell him goodbye, but he did get to see me waving from the platform, so there's that. I feel better." Kafka sat down next to Iharu and assembled his steak to his preference.

"I'm glad." Iharu said sarcastically, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Your attitude, actually." Kafka said, then took a big bite of smothered chopped steak. Iharu partially choked mid-sip, Quickly recovering to stare down the senior with barely concealed audacity. Kafka saw and chuckled a bit around the food in his mouth.

"Nothing serious! Saw you were looking a little down in the dumps when I talked to ya. Just wanted to check in, make sure its nothing pressing, though I'll understand if you're not open for conversation at the moment."

"What are you, a counselor?" Iharu said defiantly. Kafka put his hands up in surrender before diving back into his meal.

"Say the word and I'll leave. If its not anything Reno said, I'll leave you to your moping."

Hearing Reno's name and the implication that he might of said something caused Iharu to curl up slightly, not bothering to hide the change in expression that very much told Kafka that Reno definitely said something. The pinkette paused for a minute before responding "What makes you think he did?"

Kafka smiled a warm, knowing smile, put down his fork, and swallowed. "Because I know Reno. He is extremely chill most of the time, but sometimes he can't tell that his coolness... can unintentionally burn others. Especially when you don't tell him outright." He turned to a slumped Iharu before continuing, " He told me that you two were going to watch a movie together tonight, right? He seemed excited about it.... in his own little way."

Iharu pushed his food away from him and dug his face in his crossed arms. 'Of course Reno would tell the division's Father Figure.' In admitting defeat, Iharu sighed and turned his head to face the half kaiju man.

"It wasn't just going to be a movie. There was going to be food too. There's a food stall festival a block from the movie theater that was selling some really good smelling food and it was the last day for it to be around and I had thought maybe we could take a shortcut through that really pretty shrine afterword- the one that lights up all those paper lanterns when sunset hits- and I had planned to pay for all the food and there was going to be gifts a-a-and-" He sat up to dig up the crumpled ticket stubs from his pockets and rudely threw them on the table, "And I had even PREPAID THE TICKETS AND.....haa. I just...... I wanted a nice evening with him. I knew three hours were rushing things but it was all Hoshina could let us take today."

Kafka picked up the stubs and straighten them out with the edge of the table. "And it absolutely would of been had it not been for a sudden arrival of 5.6 mole kaijus, huh." Iharu tucked his head back into his arms.

"Yeah, fucking mole kaiju. The least they could do was let me come with, but noooo! Everyone seems to think that I'm only relevant to Reno if he's wearing his stupid super suit."

'"If it makes you feel better. Reno likes having you around inside and outside the suit. Definitely enjoys the push-n-pull thing you two have going on." Iharu haphazardly wiped his nose on his leave as he looked to Kafka again.

"Doesn't matter anymore though, does it. He's not here and there's no sense going to the theater with two tickets and only showing up by yourself." Kafka scratched his ever present 5'o-clock shadow as he contemplated for a moment.

"Could ask around. I'm pretty sure Aoi hasn't taken any hours off in a while. Or maybe Shinomiya? She might be into cowboys verses bio-mech-monsters." Iharu tilted his head up hearing Kafka describe the movie.

"You've seen Ranger Rika against the Metal Mess of South Bend?"

"Just the trailers for it. Tokusatsu style, right? Watched a bunch of those as a kid. Somehow managed to pirate a few movies onto a mp.3 player when I was younger. Got me through a lot of bunker-hunkering in my middle school years."

Iharu laughed, "An mp.3 player? God you are old. And when was sitting in a kaiju shelter called 'Bunker-hunkering'?" Kafka reached over and playfully shook the younger compatriot by his shoulders.

"MP.3S ARE NOT THAT OLD! MINE STILL WORKS AND I STILL USE IT, YOU ASSHAT!" Hearing this only caused both of them to split themselves into fits of laughter. A moment later Kafka was lightly hugging Iharu and trying (and failing) to slow his heart and breathing while Iharu was wiping away tears and giggling. The shark-toothed teen looked up at the division's adopted father figure contemplatively.

"Ya know.... why don't you come with me." Kafka looked a little taken aback at that offer.

"Really? With me? I mean, I'm not going to turn down a free movie. Just thought that you young folk would rather run around with... well, people of similar age." Iharu started laughing again.

"What, so you finally decided you're old now?"

"Well, there's no hiding the fact that I'm damn near forty." Kafka said as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but you're cool and forty. Which is like, guaranteed cool. And you're probably the only person here that would enjoy a movie of this explosive caliber." Iharu got up from his seat and picked up the tickets, offering one to Kafka. He smiled massively and pushed the offering had back toward Iharu.

"Hold on to them for now. I gotta talk to Hoshina about taking some hours away from base first. Tell you what, grab a bag of snacks to take in and I'll meet you by the garage."

"Bag of snacks? Ya know the theater sells them there, right?" Furuhashi said walking side by side with Hibino as they wandered back into the hallway.

"Excuse you, but I have been raised on the philosophy that you never buy theater snacks when you can sneak in your own. The theft of it all makes them taste better." Kafka winked as the two of them parted ways. "Should only take a minute or two. Text when you hit the garage!"

############################################

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?" Kafka said calmly as he adopted a wide defensive stance against is superior.

"I get you can be simple some days, but even you should know what that word means." replied Soshiro Hoshina, the vice captain of the Third Division. The man carefully put down the log book that contained the recorded hours of all enlisted that each individual was allotted to spend.

"What I mean is, do you mean no as in 'You still have chores or training left', or no as in 'I can't afford to have you leave base today'." Kafka breathed slowly through his nose in irritation as he emphasized each scenario.

"No as in 'You have no hours left to spend.' You used them all." Hoshina turned the catalog to face Kafka as the burly man planted his hands on the desk. All he could do was sigh at his unforeseen short comings.

"Honestly, I wanna talk to whoever came up with the policy that cut half of our vacation days and replaced them with this 'Payable Recreational Hours' bullshit. You seriously can't fudge the rules even a little bit?"

"Trust me Kafka, I wasn't the one who opted for that either. And as Vice Captain and currently the highest ranking on base, 'Fudging the rules' as you put it, would be a terrible move and give me a soft reputation. So, no."

Kafka shrunk his appearance and pulled out his big doe eyes to aid in his pleading. "But this is important! Hoshina, please. Its not even about me, this is for Iharu's sake."

Hoshina's interest piqued exasperatedly upon hearing that. "Oh? And pray tell, what could be so pressing that you have to emergency call off three hours for?" Kafka started to sense that this was the first slip into a bad situation and immediately back peddled.

"If it helps, I guess I could get away with an hour and a half?" he shrugged.

"So what was the other two and a half hours going to be spent on?" Hoshina said, leaning back in his office chair and crossing his arms.

Kafka knew he couldn't lie to someone so close to him, especially when that person was adept at seeing through his lies specifically. "Just, uh... food and... travel?"

This isn't helped by the fact the man can't even get away with half truths in the first place. Hoshina leaned his elbows on the desk as he stared down menacingly at the resident Kaiju Man.

"Kafka. The whole truth now, and I'll let you off with janitorial duty for a week." All Kafka could do was unclench his body and accept defeat.

"Ok. Iharu had prepaid some movie tickets to a Ranger Rika film and we both felt it would be a waste not to use them and the plan had involved a food stall festival and Reno was supposed to be there-!" Upon remembering what Iharu's initial plan was, Kafka was struck with an idea. "Hey that could work."

'What" Hoshina said in a clearly vexed manner.

"Why not give me Reno's hours? They both called off right? And since he had to leave, doesn't that technically mean that there's hours left on the table?" Kafka's brilliant smile was quickly diminishing as his superior kept staring a hole through his skull.

"First off, that's rude." Hoshina said holding up a hand to count on, "Second, that's got to be a violation somewhere. And Three, even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't allow it."

"What, you want me to see if Iharu will hand both the tickets over and we both go?" Hoshina just pinched his nose bridge at that and sighed.

"No, Kafka. I'm irritated that you're trying to weasel your way into blowing off duty for street food and movie tickets."

"But they're prepaid movie tickets!" Kafka sighed. He could only hang his head in despair as he could see his impromptu plans slipping away from him. "Is there nothing that could change your mind?"

"No. Not when I'm this irritated." Hoshina said as he went back to crossing his arms.

'Irritated, huh?' Kafka rolled his partner's choice of words in his head, before coming up with a horrible idea and using it to fuel a devilish course of action.

"Well, then. I guess I'll just have to break out the big gun." Kafka whispered as he smirked. He rounded Hoshina's sturdy desk, a fact the two of them had certainly proved time and time again, and now Kafka was going to have to certify that statement one more time, it seems.

"Kafka?" Hoshina questioned as his work buddy visible stopped acting like his associate and donned his more... submissive side. Starting with turning the chair to face him, Kafka got down on his knees in front of his commanding officer and slowly slid a hand under the left pant leg to lightly tease his superior's ankle.

"Guess i'll have to help with that irritation before I leave, won't I?" Hibino said, still wearing a cocky, lopsided grin as he brought the other hand just under Hoshina's knee.

'Kafka, no." Hoshina gritted out, bringing his hands to the arm rests and firmly gripped them.

"Kafka, yes." replied the kneeling man as he kissed his secret lover's knee.

"Kafka, if you think I'm going to give you your requested hour and a half-"

"Three hours."

"You're not going to get any hours if you keep this up."

"Come on. We both know that's not true, Soshiro." Kafka said, looking up from his kiss to the knee and molding his throat into his other voice. The one where he isolates a partial transformation around his vocal cords, adding a low growl to his already bass tone. Taking extra care with using Hoshina's first name, Kafka leaned forward and caressed his cheek against the side of Soshiro's inner thigh, letting in a wicked light in behind his glossy eyes.

"We both know I get what I want if I work hard enough for it."

Kafka began to tease the inside of Soshiro's thighs, littering them with light and slow kisses. Switching back and forth between the two, inching close, but not close enough. Hoshina felt rooted to the seat, pinned down by this tormenting display. All he could do was reach over and place a hand in Kafka's surprisingly soft tufts of hair. He carded it through a little before gripping it. Not enough to hurt, but definitely attention getting. Kafka let out a hot puff of air against his commander's hip, reveling in the feeling of Soshiro's short nails digging into his tough scalp.

"Give me a good performance, and we'll discuss what I'll let you get away with." Hoshina said, mentally kicking himself for not training his pet to be on a shorter leash.

############################################

"Come onnn. Where is he?" Iharu whined, shifting one strap of the back pack off one shoulder to the other as he was on his way to Hoshina's office. "How long does it take to call off a few hours?"

Furuhashi had made it to the door of the office just in time to see Hibino walk out in an entirely different outfit than the work jumpsuit he was in earlier.

"You know, with that much work, I should get a thank you as a courtesy!" Kafka said with the biggest shit eating grin one could have on their face. This statement was quickly followed with him slamming the door closed before he could be hit with whatever Hoshina tried to throw at him. All Kafka could do in response was giggle uncontrollably before stopping in his tracks at Iharu's sudden appearance.

"When did you get here?"

"I sent you a text that I was at the garage and you didn't respond. I waited, like, 9 minutes before I wondered where you were and now I just have more questions. Like, did you change in Hoshina's office? Why was he throwing shit at you? Thank you for what?" Kafka's face got visible red as he tried to find a way to change the subject and instead, opted to grab Iharu's upper arm and drag him harshly back toward the direction the garage was in.

"Ask no questions, and I'll tell no lies. Better news, I just got us a lot more than three hours."

"Can I ask HOW?"

"Maybe later. Got the snacks?" Iharu wrenched his arm out of Kafka's grasp to slip the simple, black, mini back pack off his shoulders to show the contents to his impromptu partner for the night.

"Yeah, got some drinks too. Had to break into Kikoru locker to get a less conspicuous bag to put them in, though."

"Good idea. You know where the theater is?" Kafka said, picking up the pace a little more the closer they got to the getaway vehicles. Iharu had no problem matching his pace, but was getting increasingly worried as to why they were acting like they were in a hurry. The movie didn't start for another forty five minutes.

"Yes, its close by so I don't know whY weRE RUNNING?"

"Cause not only do I want to catch the pre-showing, we really, really should leave before Hoshina saw what I put down in the time log sheet."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" HIbino got to the heavy security door and opened the entry to the covered garage where most members of the defense force kept their personal vehicles.

"Nothing I'm going to regret later. Here, take this." He said as Iharu walked through the door and tossed him a suspicious set of keys. Iharu caught them and examined them quickly.

"Are these... Hoshina's keys? The one to his supercharged bike? You know I have my own bike, right?"

"Yeah, but when you think about it, his bike's bigger and I can't drive one, so I'm going to have to ride pillion. And trust me, you're going to want that extra bit of room."

As the two of them jogged to the Vice Captain's super bike, all Iharu could think that this wasn't going to be a simple movie night anymore.

###########################################

The two of them had made it into the theater with plenty of time to spare and minimal suspicion. They turned in their stubs and walked inside the air conditioned room that was showing the Ranger Rika film. There, Kafka was met with a surprise.

"Holy shit! You prepaid seats to a show that had in-house recliners?" Kafka walked by in awe and they made their way to one of the seats closer to the front. "Surprised you didn't pick seats closer to the back. Kinda bougie place to bring 'just a friend' don't ya think?" Kafka winked at Iharu as they settled down into their reserved seats.

"I don't ever want to hear the word bougie out of your mouth ever again. And I felt like paying extra for the reclining seats, that ok with you?" Iharu said defensively.

"Fine, fine. Just wondering why you felt the need to score brownie points with Reno, is all. He'd be happy just getting off base with you, being an easy guy like that." Kafka started to root around in Iharu's stolen bag for the drinks he mentioned earlier.

"This isn't point scoring! I just... I wanted to- what I'm trying to say is... give me that." The furious looking teen grabbed the glass coke bottle out of the older man's offering hand. Kafka looked on warmly at Iharu, piecing together some dots in his head. Not enough to make a solid conclusion, but his previous levels of mopiness started to make sense. Hibino brought the sealed bottle to his mouth and cracked the metal pop top off with his teeth.

"You know that they make these twist off now, right? That has to fuck up your teeth something awful." Iharu stated as he began to twist off his own bottle before the movie really started. At least he was trying to, and apparently failing miserably due to the sharp edges on the bottle cap digging into his hands uncomfortably. Kafka took the bottle from his hands and proceeded to open the bottle like he did before and handed it back.

"Again, I am not that old. Don't ruin my one piece of happiness in my life."

"Opening bottles... with your teeth?" Iharu replied, pushing the button that reclined the seat back and brought the foot rest up.

"Old habit from childhood that I've managed to keep because Monster Sweepers has a surprisingly great dental plan. Now hush, previews are starting." Kafka said as the lights began to dim in the room.

############################################

"Holy shit! That movie was amazing!" Iharu said as they left the theater doors and landed on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, that was a great movie. Was a lot more emotional then I was expecting." Kafka mentioned as he squatted low and stretched a leg out to the side.

"You weren't kidding! That plot twist that Missy Whisky was a plant based robo-zoid horse and the scene where she was dying and her body fueled a new oasis got me actually crying! I never cry!" Kafka could only look up at Iharu incredulously, knowing that the younger soldier cried at anything involving animals; sometimes even about Kaijus.

"I think my favorite shot of the whole thing was at the end when Ranger Rika was in a lawn chair with a beer, sitting in that new oasis and we get to see that Missy Whisky was ok, she was just a metal skeleton now." Kafka said as he stood back up and stretched his back.

"Yeah, he deserved that beer, honestly. My favorite scene was when Rika had to jerry rig a new leg and ended up making that burst shot rocket leg. When I heard Golem explain the concept, I thought it sounded so stupid! Whats the point in putting a rocket in your leg if it can only fire off in short burst? Then it trails into the scene in the canyon where he has to fight the Centa-Snake and he was keeping up on foot! Certified Ultimate Badass moment this year!" Iharu started to walk away, following the flow of the crowd so as to not interrupt it too much. Spurring Kafka to hurry up and follow him as well. The two of them walked far enough down the street to where they could walk side by side more comfortably.

As they walked farther away from the theater, it became clear that Iharu was still basking in the warm afterglow of a good memory made. He was still chattering about all the details of the movie, even going into the depths of character analysis and how it showed through in the clothing the characters were wearing. It was very clear he was dying to watch this someone as his mouth seemed to be going a mile a minute with no signs of stopping. Kafka kept up as best he could with the conversation, adding what he could to the conversation. If he was being honest though, he didn't really see as much in the movie as Iharu apparently did. It seemed Iharu noticed as well as he started to slow down his talking speed, becoming more quiet as they went along.

"You good?" Kafka said, noticing the small, slight drop in demeanor.

"Yeah, Im...I'll be fine. I think. I got to see the movie today, which is what I wanted." Iharu stated, visible not looking as fine as he tried to say he was. It was clear to Kafka that it wasn't the possibility that Iharu might of not watched the movie that got him feeling down. I seemed that he still couldn't get Reno not being here off his mind. Kafka felt it was a bit early to press the matter, seeing they got out of a good movie and didn't feel like spoiling the once good mood with questions, so he decided to try and redirect Iharu's train of thought to something more pressing.

"We are walking in the right direction for the festival, right?" Iharu looked up at the older man, redirection of thoughts successful.

"Oh yeah, Food! That was a thing wasn't it? Uhhh...." Iharu said, stopping to process their current location. "Yeah, one more block and a right and we should be there."

"I remember that you said you found it because you... smelled it?" Kafka said quizzically.

"Oh, yeah. There was an attack early last week two streets down and I wanted to stop by when I smelled it. Couldn't though, had to check for yoju then head back to base for a report. Couldn't leave for a week and started feeling desperate. It smells really good-!" Iharu stopped dead in his tracks, looking straight across the street.

"What? Is everything Ok?" Kafka said, looking around before landing his eyes at whatever Iharu was looking at. Across the street, in a store window, sat a rack holding a cluster of very unusual looking hats.

"Cowboy hats. Can you believe it?" Iharu said, looking absolutely puzzled as to why they were there. Taking a longer look, the window belonged to what appeared to be a restaurant dedicated to American cuisine. Specifically western style - steaks and big burgers. it looked like the restaurant had conjoined with a kitschy souvenir store. Kafka thought hard for a minute before turning back to Iharu.

"You wanna?" Kafka asked, jabbing a thumb to the store front. Furuhashi looked back with a clearly confused look. "Come on, we just got out of a Cowboy movie. Isn't it customary to get a least one in honor of a good movie?" Kafka playfully punched Iharu in the shoulder as Iharu just shook his head before he responded.

"I have never heard that ever, and I'm a fan of all the Ranger Rika films."

"All I'm hearing is you've got some hat buying to catch up on." Kafka said, committing an act of jaywalking to drag his new friend over to the store.

"We don't need to buy a cowboy hat!" Iharu protested as they hit the sidewalk.

"Fine. Then I'm getting one without you." Kafka retaliated, hand on the store handle.

"OH, no. If I leave you alone in here, you're going to buy me one in a stupid color. Like blue or green." Iharu said, walking into the store before Kafka.

"But I thought you said you didn't want one?" the Half-Kaiju said, throwing a pointed smirk at Iharu.

"I just said I don't trust you, therefore I have to buy one to make sure you don't buy one for me." the pinkette said defiently, studying the hats on the rack. Kafka just chuckled quietly behind him and soon joined him at the rack too, but not before ordering a side of steak fries to go.

Minutes later, the two of them left the store with hats and fries in hand. Kafka bought a black one with a braided rawhide band threaded with turquoise beads and Iharu's was a simple white stetson.

"Kinda surprised you didn't get the pink one." Kafka said, placing his hat on his head.

"I thought about it, but I mean... pink on pink? It might be a bit much." Iharu said, gesturing to his hair. "That and I thought that white hats just looked cooler anyway."

"This decision totally isn't related to Ranger Rika and his outfit design at all, right?" Kafka said, dripping with sarcasm and Iharu fiddled with the chin strap on the stetson.

"Pfft, Of course not! Why would you say such a thing?" Iharu said through a choked chuckle as his ears got a noticeable shade pinker.

###########################################

Short walk later, they had made it to the start of the street where the festival was held. Both sides of a seemingly endless boulevard was lined with lanterns, ramshackle food stalls, and carnival games. The lights gave the whole street the warmest inviting glow that paired with the slowly setting sun and the scent from the cooking food made the entrance all the more enticing. Adding on the visual ebb and flow of the crowd flittering between the brightly advertised stalls truly made the scene before them come alive. All that was needed to become one with the crowd was as simple as stepping inside and it would feel like a whole different reality. Before the duo could, Kafka decided to take a look at the parked sign at the beginning of the boulevard.

"Hey, did you know about this?" Kafka pointed at the sign.

"No. What's it say?"

"It says that the food festival is in collaboration with the local bars on this street. Beer and cocktails are half off." Iharu whistled approvingly at the news.

"God, a beer sound wonderful right now. Haven't had any since Hoshina trashed my stash in the vent." Kafka said, groaning at the distant textural memory of the cool, aggressive liquid sliding down his throat.

"I don't know man. We still gotta head back to work in a couple of hours. Getting drunk tonight that worth it?" Iharu questioned. Kafka choked on his own spit in a suspicious manner for a minute at hearing how long they had left on the outside.

"Speaking of which..." Furuhashi began to eye the old man intensely now, "How many hours did you get out of Vice-Cap?" Kafka made an attempt to clear his throat before answering.

"Yeah, about that...I, uhhh...didn't have any hours left."

"HIBINO."

"Honestly, the whole payable hours thing sounds stupid anyway so when Hoshina wasn't looking I... wrote in our own hours?" Kafka shrugged at a very red Iharu.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'OUR'? HOW MANY?"

"Three... hundred and thirty six." Kafka said quietly. When Iharu didn't respond back, Kafka felt the need to explain himself.

"I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY! 336 hours equal out to two weeks so I thought it be like an 'I'm quitting' joke. Ya'know, in retaliation of the stupid new hours rule? Vice Captain wasn't giving me any wiggle room here and you said you were coming to a food festival with Reno and two hours for a food festival is not a lot of time, especially if you want to do it right, and now there's possible booze involved which is another two on top of that and I just think that only getting three hours to spend away from base isn't a lot of time and you really looked disappointed at not being able to go- albeit the original plan involved Reno- but I mean we're here now and..."

Kafka could only sigh at his now clearly flawed line of thought as Iharu put his face in his hands. One one hand, Iharu agreed with him. Three hours wasn't a lot of time and he also hated the new hours ruling. But that short amount of time would of been worth it because he would of been with Reno. But now... Reno wasn't here. He was with Kakfa, a close member of the team that was trying his best to look out for him and cheer him up in light of the disastrous change in his plans. Iharu was here now, without Reno, and was still enjoying himself despite himself. The whole reason for coming was because of Reno, but here he was anyway; feeling guilty because he was having fun without Reno, knowing this was to be for him. Iharu wasn't really angry about the hours that Kafka had managed to cheat out of Vice-Cap. He knew he was going to pay for them as soon as Kafka got involved on this little outing. It just didn't feel right, him about to be having fun with someone who wasn't supposed to be here.

Kafka clasped a gentile hand of Iharu's shoulder.

"Hey. If you're not comfortable with this, we can just grab one or two things and head back early. You can tell him about the prepaid tickets and bring him back a snack. I'm sure he'd appreciate it after fighting in the mountains all afternoon." The older man smiled comfortably down at the distressed teen.

There he went again. The Dad of Division Three. He really knew just how others felt sometimes. Just when it didn't conflict with the mans's own feelings, that is. Kafka could tell that he was stressed about staying here too long and having fun without the one he wanted to be here with, so now he's trying to accommodate by telling him they could leave and bring back a gift that Reno couldn't help but like. Iharu wanted to come here with Reno... but he was here with Kafka. The happiest, most understanding, and most uplifting person to be around. Especially when you're upset, just like he is right now. And you know what, Kafka is here. With him. Right now. He got Iharu to the movies and spared him a day of sulking around the barracks getting fat and feeling sorry for himself. And that should be rewarded.

"You know what? Fuck it. I'm game." Furuhashi said, dropping his hands from his face.

"About what?"

"Getting drunk. I was going to stuff my face with cafeteria food earlier, and now I get to stuff my face with fried street food and alcohol. Honestly? Upgrade."

"Wait a minute? Are you sure about this? I mean, its not like those hours actually count or anything." Kafka said, reeling slightly from Iharu's change in demeanor.

"Hey man, you're the one who wrote in two weeks of hours, and I'm going to use them. Unless someone from base comes down here and carries my plastered ass off the sidewalk, I don't plan on leaving. Besides, didn't you say there's a right way to food festival? Maybe I'd like to know the secret too. Ya' know, for next time." Iharu stared into the sunset over the festival, feeling empowered about his newfound dereliction of duty.

He was upset. About the time constraints, about a lack of Reno in his presence, about not being able to tell him how he felt in a way he had been planning for about a week now, and about a dozen other minor things that had gotten under his skin recently.

None of that matters now. He was here. In good company. And with access to cheap booze. And may the Gods themselves strike him down now, because he wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste.

Kafka approved this new feeling welling up inside new drinking buddy and sealed the deal by lifting Iharu's hat off his back where it was hanging and placed it on his head. Making his voice gravely and southern, Kafka quoted a line from the movie.

"So... You finally decided to take charge of your own fortune, aye Rika?" Feeling the new weight on his head, Iharu turned to look up at Kafka and saw the brightest, toothiest, most genuine grin he thought that man could fit on his face. Iharu's eyes started to gather tears in accepted pride, but he blinked them away harshly and looked back at Kafka, matching his Kaiju smile with an aggressively mischievous one of his own.

"First things first. Nearest 7/11 location." Kafka said, turning toward the closest convenience store he could see.

"O-Ok? Why?" Iharu questioned, but followed Kafka's lead anyway.

"They carry this wonderful little drink that prevents hangovers. Fantastic shit, truly. Take it from a guy who use to party with a group of people who went on pub crawls every time someone had a birthday, hangovers do not need to be experienced more than necessary." Iharu's eyes lit up at hearing this.

"oh man! You have to have some crazy stories from your college days."

"College? You seriously think I had the attention span to make it in that kind of setting? This was from working in Monster Sweepers. Let me tell you, Tokuda; guy I used to work with, couldn't let go of a scotch bottle to save his life. Which is funny because having one on him is what saved another guy I worked with..."

#########################################

"And that's how my second boss ended up eating his own ring finger, wedding band and all." Kafka said as Iharu finished up the last of a batch of heavily sauced, fried chili shrimp.

"Damn, I didn't know you guys caught so many strays on the job site. Ya'll really need a security detail while you're working or something."

"Yeah, it can get to be a bit much some days. I actually proposed a deal to Haruichi that asked if his dad's company could come up with some Kaiju-fiber t-shirts or arm sleeves. Just *burp* something cheap they could throw together from scraps to help out my old buddies on the job site. Just a little protection or a way to finish the job faster so we're not working so long."

Kafka finished up a can of beer as Iharu checked a notification on his phone. They were leaning against the base of one of the few stone building that were on the street. The two of them had already hit up several food stalls and three bars in between. Currently they were standing off to the right of an ally that led to the last one they were in, having left to get some fresh air.

"Don't see a reason why they couldn't? It's more money for them, isn't it? Hey! it finally downloaded." Iharu said, propping up his phone on a jutted window ledge.

"What did?"

"I downloaded that song that played during the saloon walkabout scene. I thought we could maybe make a TokTic with it." Kafka tossed his empty into a trash can before turning to Iharu.

"TokTic? Oh! Those short video things. Shinomiya is always sending me those. Her attempt to 'Keep me from falling back to the Stone Age'. Prissy brat. Love her! Just... so damn rude some days."

"Well, now here's your chance to show her that you can be relevant." Iharu chuckled, "Alright, here's what I was thinking."

Iharu began to lead Kafka through some easy dance steps and dictated which pattern this was supposed to happen. They ran through the process a few times so Kafka was sure he could do it, even though Iharu reassured him that it doesn't have to be perfect. Iharu pressed record and they started doing a intensely cowboy inspired, feet shuffling based choreography to 'No Diggity' by Blackstreet with their new hats on full display.

They wrapped it up with them moonwalking off screen. Furuhashi then quickly ran back to grab the phone. They ducked back into the ally to get out of the way of the rippling crowd as the phone's owner began messing with the video's settings and cropped the beginning and end to make it feel cleaner. Hibino whistled as he looked over Iharu's shoulder as his fingers flew over the screen with what seemed to be practiced efficiency.

"You've made a few of these?" Kafka asked.

"Yeah.", Iharu said sheepishly, "I had this account back when I was in Subjugation School. It kinda started as something I messed with in my down time between classes, making edits of shows and movies I was really into at the time, and then it just sorta turned into a daily routine showcase-turned-ask blog. Soon after it started to pick up followers, especially after I got to join Division Three." He began to show one of his latest edits that he made to Kafka.

"Wow! I have to admit, but the editing seems really smooth. I can see a lot of thought went into this." Kafka said as he took a brief overview of the collection that Iharu had made over the years. Furuhashi looked away bashfully as his face turned as pink as his hair.

"It really is just a hobby at this point. Most of my followers seem to just enjoy the daily blog stuff more. But, to be honest, I always told myself that if, for some reason, I didn't make it in the Defense Force I... might have pursued a career as a film director." Kafka slung his arm over Iharu's shoulder and drew him in close.

"Now that, I would have definitely paid... to... see." He stepped back to look at his surroundings, taking in the view of the ebbing crowd and sensing a disturbing lack of panic and chaos. But... why would there be? There was nothing to be afraid.... oh.

Oh Shit. There it was.

Kafka got a familiar sinking feeling deep in his gut. Like a cold wave of heavy mist and dry ice was dropped into his stomach. He started whipping his head around, trying to see if he could place the direction in which the dangerous disturbance could be coming from.

"Iharu! Eyes up! Trouble incoming." The teen flashed a worried look toward Kafka as he hurriedly put his phone away.

"Kaiju attack? Here?"

"Yeah, a honju. Small one though, it feels like. To close for comfort, though. Get the alert out!" Kafka ran to one of the food stalls next to them and grabbed a megaphone out of a hawker's hands

"EVERYONE! IMMINENT KAIJU ATTACK! START HEADING TO THE SHELTERS!"

Some people started to gather up their stuff while others only looked on in disbelief, thinking he was some drunk prankster, until a small earthquake rattled the street and stalls. Everyone began to feel the threat approaching with the sound of distant buildings crashing over the sudden wailing of the alert system through speakers and phones alike. The people started sprinting toward the nearest shelter, with Kafka and Iharu helping the stragglers and the fallen catch up to the rest. Once it seemed like a majority had made it off this particular street and others, too scared shitless to move, had been relegated to closer, save enough zones like basements and reinforced closets, did Kafka start running toward the source of the disaster. Iharu, not far behind, ran after him.

"Sir! Do you think we should be heading toward this? Its not like we could be of much help without gear."

"Kinda figured we'd look at it and go from there? Least I could do is break it down visually and have you relay the information." Kafka started to summon some of his Kaiju bio-works through his system, calling forth faster speed and inhuman claws, and used them to get to higher elevation. As the cryptid soldier began to race across rooftops, Iharu mentally broke down the things that he could help with, starting with field reconnaissance and path prediction.

##########################################

Even without the suit, Iharu was keeping up with with a supped-up Kafka. It helped that he was trying to gain more height than speed to better survey the land and find the cause of danger. Once he found a sign of the monstrous disturbance, Kafka began giving directionals down to Iharu. As the man on the ground, he took it upon himself to keep track how they were moving between the three of them, figured a possible heading, and started to send directions back to Kafka in an attempt to head whatever this was off at a pass. So far, they hadn't hit any major damaged areas yet, so Iharu wasn't too focused on checking for possible trapped survivors.

Thanks to Kafka's sight and Iharu's planning, the two of them had made it to the location of the honju. Bursting through a broken and slanted ally way, Iharu had caught sight of the beast first. It was cephalopod based, resembling a mix between a squid or an octopus, crossed with an armored spider. Its' head was blue and bulbous, with a thin, wide, white ribbon running the diameter of its rounded top. It had four darker blue tentacles, each ending in a triangular nub covered in wicked spiked suckers, and another eight acting as its legs. All of them covered in what looked like black, striped,and jointed keratin plating and all of them ending in squishy tarantula paws. It was big, about a family-of-four house sized, tall as well as wide, and it was pissed.

"You don't think it smelled all the fried seafood and wanted revenge, do you think?" Kafka leaped down from a shattered rooftop and landed close to Iharu. The younger one grabbed the senior's wrist and dragged them both behind some cover before the honju saw them.

"Well, you said you wanted to break it down. Now's your chance." Iharu hissed quietly.

The aquatic beast lumbered forward, bellowing a watery warble as it bashed its tentacles against the building to its left. Kafka braced his back against the large piece of broken wall and shimmied upwards slowly in an attempt to gain a better look without breaking cover. He began to mentally run through a back catalog of information about Honju and Yoju, both from personal experience and from research on his down time, and came up with very little. But what he did come up with could still be very useful.

"Ok, here's the deal. Both Honju and Yoju can have aquatic forms and when they do, they stick unusually close to the original anatomy of their more normal counterparts."

"And how is that helpful?" Iharu whispered harshly as he stayed close to the ground in a crouched position.

"I'm getting there, hold on. From what it looks like, this bastard is sticking pretty close to something from the squid family. Which means it would be a safe bet that its core is somewhere close to the surface of the body, situated around the junction between the trunk and its head, and under a thick backbone made of cartilage."

"Alright, i'll tell everyone to aim for the.... neck I guess?" Iharu began to pull out his phone, but Kafka shooed it down to dismiss the idea.

"Here's the thing. You can actually kill a normal squid really easily by hitting it right at that junction. And I mean like one hard smack kinda deal." Kafka slid down the cover to better demonstrate with his hands to his partner.

"Yes, this has been established." Iharu sounded exasperated, almost desperate too as the beast trudged on by.

"I have a really bad idea." Kafka looked Iharu dead in the eyes with as much seriousness as he could. All Iharu could do was send a look of disbelief right back.

"Whatever it is, no."

"Ok, but if I'm right, the Defense force doesn't even need to show up because we'll be done already."

"HOW, may I ask? We don't even have any weapons." Iharu was becoming flabbergasted now, slowly debating to stop bothering with discrepancy.

"Ah, but you forget, I'm a living weapon. I don't even need a full transformation. Just make sure it doesn't turn around for a second while I grab a lamp post and get to higher ground." Iharu just groaned into his hands while Kafka turned and ran to find a suitable post, preferably one already uprooted.

Minutes later, Kafka had managed to fine a suitable improvised weapon to attack with and was trying his best to lug it over quietly. Iharu was still hiding behind the original piece of cover, watching his battle buddy struggle while keeping an eye on the yoju, making sure it hadn't been alerted to Kafka's presence. Kafka was on the other side of the street, opposite to Iharu's position and had much more cover to work with since that was the side the monster seemed to be taking its aggression out on. However, this came with its own set of problems as Kafka kept knocking the lamp post on what seemed to be every obstacle imaginable. Causing Iharu to flinch and indirectly slowing the beasts progression as it kept picking up on Kafka's poor attempt at stealth. After Kafka had managed to bang the bottom of the post against an unseen rock and cause the honju to turn around and face his general direction, it became clear to him that if he was to scale a building and get closer, some preventative measures were going to have to take place.

After waiting for the monster to turn back around, Kafka started to wave his arms around to get a hold of Iharu's attention.

'Go distract' Kafka tried to pantomime using military hand gestures.

'Me distract?' Iharu responded back, to which Kafka affirmed

'Are you nuts?' Iharu sent back, ducking as a chunk of debris flew over his head.

'Just throw a brick or something.' Kafka sent before picking up the post and tried to quietly lean it on the nearest building. Iharu hung his head at the absurd situation and looked around for a suitable rock.

Speedily crouch walking past several broken walls and roof pieces, he had managed to get back in front of the honju's path. Looking back, Kafka had transformed his hands back into claws and was now trying to climb the side of a building while alternating bringing the pole up with him. He seemed to be doing fine so far, trying his best not to make more noise than he could get away with. Kafka had made it to a metal fire escape landing that was miraculously still attached to a partially demolished building. He leaned over to pull up the light post behind him... and smacked the top of it into the landing above.

Before the monster had time to react to Kafka's blunder, Iharu had thrown the rock as hard as he could, aiming for it to land in front of its face and keeping its attention forward. This would of worked had Iharu had picked a smaller or lighter rock, as it had flown straight into one of the beast's wiggling tentacles. Iharu didn't have time to duck behind cover as it had turned to face the source of bodily harm. The honju roared as it raised its front arms and tentacles in defiance and began to lumber quickly toward the only thing it could really see, a mop of alarmingly pink hair.

"Shit, shIT, SHHHHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!" Iharu bolted down the street, leaping and bounding over ruble in his path as the squishy, blue beast rapidly shuffled behind him giving chase. Kafka vocally mirrored the pink human rocket's sentiment as he rushed to carry the light pole up to the remains of the roof.

The buildings around Furuhashi turned into a blended blur as he blasted down the street, the journey made easier now that he hit a section that the honju hadn't demolished yet and left no obstacles to jump around. However, that didn't mean that he didn't have an easy time running away. With every footstep the multi-limbed monster made, sent the road trembling, forcing Iharu to find some sea legs fast. While it seemed to be a constant fact that spider based kaiju were slow enough to be outrun by anyone able-bodied, The shaking this one was creating gave Iharu a feeling that one misstep, one slight falter in his adrenaline fueled gait, could spell a messy end for him.

As he came onto a three-way, he juked the literal fish-out-of-water and whipped right, feet sliding out from under him. Iharu had to recover quickly as the squid-spider had regained it's footing as well and picked up its pace. Tentacles slammed and swiped all around him, causing the younger soldier to duck and weave intensely and dug deep inside of himself to find the strength to go faster.

A simple image. A snow blonde man with frosted violet eyes. Once facing a complimentary sunset, turned back to face Iharu in his mind's eye.

That's all it took for him. Not thinking too much about it (surely if he did, he would call himself out on his patheticness) Iharu managed to speed up just in time. He found himself passing under a familiar Torii gate just as the honju began to bring down a weighty tentacle. Before it could though, a squelchy crunch sound echoed down the food stalls lined boulevard him and Kafka were on earlier. Iharu kept going until he noticed the lack of quaking that was accompanying his previous flight for his life. Slowing down cautiously, he turned around to gawk at the scene that had unfolded behind him

Just passing under the Torii gate was the unnatural squid like beast, now limp and an opaque, milky color. Stood on top of the bulbous trunk in a victorious killing pose was Kafka, having hammered the concreted base of the lamppost square over its one-shot kill spot. Kafka let go of the post once it seemed sure that the monstrous cephalopod wasn't going to move anymore and stood up and relaxed. He flashed Iharu a thumbs up in reassurance.

Iharu was far from reassured and was shaking from the head to toe in adrenaline withdrawal. He took a second to catch his breath and immediately regretted it, running over to an uncovered trash can and vomited his stomach contents from the nerves.

#########################################

Several back rubs, gurgled curses, and vehement apologies later, Iharu felt okay enough to walk again. Kafka took a second to extend his kaiju sensory powers to check the immediate area for more threats while Iharu double checked him with research from his phone. Certain they had eliminated the only threat that had decided to make its presence known, the two discussed their next course of action. Seeing that the damage had been localized to a different part of town and how none of it had really reached the festival, they decided to see if they could encourage those that were still around to start the food stalls back up. To be honest, the decision was made from a mutual understanding that if it didn't, the two of them would have no choice but to head back to headquarters. Which felt like admitting defeat too early, seeing as they had wanted to stay out as long as they wished tonight, damn the consequences.

The two split up and went around to the surrounding buildings and encouraged the caged civilians inside that it was safe now. Once told that it was some off duty members of the Defence Force, those inside started to walk out and braced themselves for the possible damage that wasn't there. Some of the bartenders of the local bars that hadn't left in the evacuation started a one time only deal of giving everyone that had stayed a round on the house. Once it seemed that the neighborhood's basements and closets were emptied, Kafka and Iharu met in the center of the street.

"I got everyone on the left." Kafka started.

"And I got everyone on the right. Going to head to the shelter where everyone headed to and see about bypassing the lock on it to get everyone out. You coming?" Iharu said, already turning to leave.

"Nah, I'm gonna stay here and see what I can do about the squid at the gate. Get it out of here before it gets rank." Iharu managed two thumbs up as he briskly jogged away to the rescue.

A large crowd had begun to form around the fishy corpse under the gate. Kafka could make out some of the hushed phrases as he politely muscled his way through.

"Can't believe it had gotten so close."

"There doesn't seem to be any casualties so far?"

"We were lucky that some members of the third division were here tonight."

"Its almost seems like the gods were looking out for the festival, don't ya think?"

"The spirits must have considered the food too good to waste- excuse me, coming through! Make way, if you don't mind." Kafka began to move more easily through the crowd after making his presence known.

Getting to the front, he stood proud and took a long look at the situation before him. His past experience in the Sweepers began to flow easily into his mind as he walked around and over the dead beast. It was soft and squishy, with a tough skin. Not so tough that it probably couldn't be pierced by a good knife, he thought. The keratin plates were only held on with a thin sheet of tendon and looked like it could be filleted or pried off with little difficulty. The legs seemed closer to a crab than a spider at a closer glance, it just had an extra set. Breaking the crab legs would be challenging, however. Sure they could be cracked, but only after heated drastically and directly at the joints. Kafka leaned back and sighed. He knew he wasn't going to be the one cleaning this up, but he'd hate to have the whole squad out here for what could be a three person job.

Well, three if they had five hours. The more people, the less time of course. This one just so happened to be simple to break down, however. Give him ten minutes and he could teach everything that was important to the crowd in front of him. They could probably have this all dismantled before the Sweepers even got out of bed.

"Hey! You're with the Defense force, right? How long do you think it would take to get this out of here?" A portly man in a tan canvas apron shouted up at Kafka. The half kaiju man slid down the deceased squid beast so he could talk to the man in an appropriate manner.

"Well the thing's dead, so that parts' already done. Getting the body out of here is down to the Sweepers. I used to work with them, so I can just call a few of them up and we can get this dismantled and out of here soon. It's all a shame though."

"What make you say that?" A taller man behind the chunky one piped up.

"Well, for one, if the JAKDF finds out I'm here, I'm gonna have to get back on duty sooner than I'd like." This caused a slight chuckle from the neighboring crowd that heard him, causing some to relax slightly.

"And this is me saying from previous experience, the dismantling for this thing would be easy; it's just labor intensive. Wouldn't need fancy tools or anything. Just some willing hands, and I'd hate to bring out a whole ten piece crew for something this small. I don't even think Izumo really messes with squid types anyway. Not unless they exhibit some unnatural power so this would end up getting tossed in a trash heap in the end." The short man from earlier turned to look at the milky squid spider and shook his head in sympathy.

"Damn shame they aren't edible, huh?" A light bulb went off in Kafka's head as he turned to look at the man. Looking down, he saw that, in the pockets of the man's apron, was a handful of toothpicks and a couple sets of sharp metal chopsticks with bells attached to the ends of the wooded handles. Instruments designed to get people attention when someone made takoyaki.

"Actually.... most aquatic type kaiju are."

Half an hour later, Iharu lead the throng of people that had made it to the shelter back to the street and saw the most ridiculous sight. People had swarmed the dead honju, a third of it now seemed to be missing. Some had rigged a makeshift pulley system over the Torri gate and was lifting large chunks of milky, spotted flesh up and away from the rest of the body. Kafka was at the base, directing others on how to properly separate the armored plates from the legs while somebody on the other side was using a cutting torch and passed off the legs to another group that was putting them in a steaming metal barrel. Some had set their respective stalls back up and had hurriedly changed or added on new parts to their signs, all now advertising a kaiju variant of wherever fried food they were selling before.

"KAFKA! Mind telling me what's going on?" Iharu shouted over the sound of intense manual labor. Kafka looked at everyone and asked if they understood. When everyone nodded yes, Kafka broke away and joined Iharu.

"Funny thing, actually. I was talking to this guy in the crowd about the labor and how it would be a waste if we got the Sweepers involved. He said something about 'Shame it ain't edible' and it made me remember that some sea-bearing ones are and the guy I was talking too ran the giant takoyaki stand, the one where they're as big as your head, and the guy behind him was selling calamari rings and-"

"So you thought it would be a good idea to teach everyone here how to dismantle a kaiju? You don't seriously expect people to eat that, right? It's kaiju meat, how are you so sure it doesn't have parasites or something?"

"Oh! Already solved that problem." Kafka said, "Quick vinegar bath. Kills the sturdier ones and the heat kills the rest." Iharu looked past Kafka suspiciously and stared at the group of volunteers working away at the dead and, apparently edible, body.

"And where's the organs and shit going, might I ask?"

"Called an old work buddy that has a truck. He's going to be here in an hour to pick up the double bagged trash bags and throw them over the fence at work. He's getting paid in fried food when he gets here." Kafka mentioned, sounding proud of himself. Iharu just shrugged it off, thinking that it sounded like Kafka-appropriate levels of absurdity and that he shouldn't complain too much about it. After all, this removes any and all reason for the third Division to come down here. No chaos, no bodies, no trouble. Which meant that they didn't have to explain to co-workers why they weren't back yet and be forcefully dragged back against their will, so wins all-around honestly.

The squat man from earlier walked over to where the two were talking, carrying two white and unmarked carryout boxes the size of a soccer ball.

"Here, you killed the damn thing. You get first dibs on the spoils." he handed them over and jogged back to his station, now flooded with a line of people wanting to try kaiju squid takoyaki.

The off duty officers looked at each other briefly before rapidly tearing open the top of the box, revealing the most wondrous sight and smell. Inside was a massive takoyaki ball, fried with a variety of fillings, more than just onions and corn and slathered in eel sauce and kewpie mayo, topped with bonito flakes.

'Maybe it was worth almost getting smashed into a pancake.' Iharu thought before diving into the free meal.

########################################

'Cleared the surrounding area of potential causalities in quadrant Charlie, found none. Path of destruction heads east. Permission to follow?" Aoi Kaguragi, a member of the Third Division, relayed the pertinent information through his ear piece, awaiting further instruction.

"Message received, free to follow Kaguragi. Take care." Okonogi relayed back.

Aoi nodded over to his partner for tonight, Haruichi, and the two of them headed in the direction of the chaotic path of broken rubble. The two of them, as well as a small crew had been sent out to examine the emergence site of the recently exposed kaiju. The team was originally sent out to fight the disturbance, but halfway through suiting up, was almost called off due to the honju signature suddenly disappearing. Vice Captain Hoshina had the last say however, and made the crew go out anyway. Saying at the very least they should check for injured and make a damage report. He didn't say this specifically, but the impression was given that, since they were all the way out there, someone might as well find out why the signature disappeared in the first place. Aoi and Haruichi got done first, so they went to find the answers.

Following the cracked pavement lead them to a three-way intersection that had clearly sustained some bludgeoning damage as indicated by the mid-sized honju-like dent in the buildings in front of them. They turned to the right and continued to follow the rows of spider cracks that had imprinted onto the houses and streets, only to have their concentration broken by a passing truck clearly overladen with bulging, lumpy, stained trash bags.

"Was that a giant squid backbone?" Haruichi questioned.

"I'm surprised you know what one looks like." Aoi stated, not letting small things distract him from following the path of structural chaos that led down the street.

"You do know that I go fishing with my cousins on occasion. 'Cook what you catch' kind of vacations."

"What, on your overpriced yacht?" Aoi smirked as he couldn't resist adding a touch of teasing in his voice. Haruichi could come across as so mild mannered some days, it made it hard to picture him as a son of a business tech tycoon. Everyone on the base that knew him would occasionally tease him about it and it seemed that, as polite and agreeable as Aoi was in person, even he wasn't above the periodic ribbing-of-the-rich.

"It's a moderately sized deck boat, thank you very much. If I kick out the family, it should be big enough for the two of us to have some fun. If you're interested, that is?" Haruichi said, words dusted with seduction as he winked at Aoi. Kaguragi's lips thinned in an attempt to not break his resting bitch face at the salacious suggestion.

"Then again, that implies either of us get enough time off to go anywhere these days." Haruichi huffed. Aoi quietly grumbled in agreement before he straightened his attention to the sight down the street.

As the two crested the small hill, the sounds of the festival became more apparent and the smells of the food crashed down on them like a tidal wave of spices and fried oil. They noticed that the damage they had been following seemed to have stopped here suddenly, directly under the Torri gate still covered in ropes. A couple of people on ladders were carefully taking them down and a pair of women, one young and one old, were on their knees scrubbing away at what looked like a large blue ink stain.

"Hello! Sorry to bother you, but have either of you seen a medium sized honju pass through here? We're with the Defense Force and we would like to make sure that the threat isn't still around."

"The big squid spider lookin' thing?" the younger lady of the two said as she looked up.

"I would assume so, we didn't know what it looked like since it seemed to disappear so quickly. My partner and I followed its tracks here, but they don't appear to be anywhere else." Haruicho adjusted the kevlar strap attached to his gun so it would sit squarely on his back and kneeled down to talk to the women face to face.

"A couple of off duty members of yours already took care of it. It was sitting here, spilling its blood on the sidewalk until the big, polite looking oaf got the bright idea to tell Aki that it was edible. Once that got passed around, some of the other seafood fryers wanted to get in on its dismantling and get their own pound of flesh to fry. If ya want to try it, better hurry. It's selling out fast." The old woman pointed to the stalls behind her just as some of them had walked out to write on their respective signs detailing about how they were almost sold out of fried or battered kaiju meat.

Izumo looked back to his partner and could almost see the drool cascading from Kaguragi's open mouth. Aoi looked down at him, hoping that he wasn't going to have to defy a direct order that didn't allow him to get in line. Haruichi dismissed him wordlessly with a hand wave, not that it mattered as Aoi had already left and now it seemed he was trying to use his Defense Force title to skip ahead in line. Sighing at his partner's antics, Haruichi returned to his conversation.

"You mentioned a 'polite looking oaf', and from that description, I have a feeling I might know who you're talking about. Would you mind telling me where the festival savior headed off to?"

"Last I saw, him and his pink haired friend went to celebrate in one of the bars around here. There's several, mind you, but I don't think they've crossed over to the left side yet. Best guess? Stick to the right and see which one sound the loudest." Haruichi thanked the old women for the advice and walked down the street. He stopped by Aoi and told him the same thing before starting his investigation in earnest. The words of the old women came back to mind, however, once he pieced together who the off duty members could be.

'Kafka's with Iharu? Here? That's odd. I thought Iharu was leaving with Reno? And weren't they just heading to a movie? Shouldn't they have been back by now?' Haruichi thought. As he passed down the street, carefully listening to the volume of any of the bars he passed, all he could do was hope that neither of them were too plastered to answer some questions.

#########################################

Haruichi walked up and down the street to get a good idea as to which of the bars seemed to be the loudest and popped his head into a few of of them to see if he could find his fellow co-workers. Third bar he picked seemed to be a karaoke bar. It was fairly narrow, with the bar on the right and the left wall lined with as many booths as one could fit comfortably. There were a couple of standing tables placed offset to each other in the middle of the room it seemed, but it was hard to tell how many there were through the mass of people crammed in the room. From the top of the short set of stairs he was standing on, he could see to the other side of the bar at least and look at the loud drunken pair singing their lungs out on the shallow stage placed at the end of the sitting area.

And who would of guessed it would be the 'polite looking oaf and his pink haired friend'. Kafka was the one holding the mic and had his arm slung over Iharu's shoulder, almost looking like he was putting his full weight on it with how far the two of them were bending toward the ground. Iharu was holding a large beer mug that was a quarter full and was still threatening to spill out onto the floor. The two were heavily engrossed in their rendition of... God, Haruichi couldn't even tell. Thankfully he wasn't subjected to the aural torture much longer as the song finished. While Iharu thanked the very drunk, very enthusiastic crowd for being such good listeners, Haruichi waved his arms over his head and got Kafka's attention.

"Heyyyyy! I'll be DAmned! It's fucken' Haruichi! Holy SHIT!" Kafka exclaimed. He dragged Iharu clumsily off the stage and waved Izumo over to some bar stools that some patrons happily got off of once Kafka explained himself and that his friend from the Defense Force showed up. Haruichi managed to muscle his way through the crowd and make it to the seats next to the others just as Kafka wrapped him up in a massive drunken bear hug.

"God, man! Where you've been? We've been here keeping this party going since we took down that ugly mutherfucker. Hey, you didn't hear about us from Hoshina did you?" Kafka's breath smelled heavily of cheap whisky but wasn't slurring his words half as much as Haruichi thought he would.

"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. What the hell are you doing here? And with Iharu? I thought him and Reno had a date or something?" Kafka made a silencing gesture with his hand as he got closer to Haruichi.

"I wouldn't try and say that too loud. Reno had to blow the date for a mission and I don't think Iharu's been taking it too well. He had prepaid the movie tickets and I mentioned that I like Ranger Rika films, so now we're here."

"Okay, and what about the kaiju that showed up around here? I heard from the locals that you killed it?" Iharu, who had picked a spot on the other side of the two, had leaned in to hear them better and had perked up at the mention of the kaiju fight.

"OOHHH MAN! HaRU! YOU should of SEEN US, MAN! I wasss running for ma LIFE from that THING! I got chasssed ALL the WAY to the- the.... big red thing and Kafka ;OH man, KAFKA! HE came on it from ABOVE and smacked it with a fucken' LIGHT POLE! A light pole, MAN!" Iharu accentuated his retelling with wild hand gestures and made it clear to Haruichi that either he had more than Kafka did or couldn't hold his liqueur very well.

"Don't mind him, he's on his fourth mug right now. Is the rest of the division here with you?" Kafka asked.

"No, It's just me and Aoi here at the festival. The rest of the group is back at the emergence site making sure there's no casualties and taking a damage toll. Aoi's outside at the festival buying out all the fried food he can get his hands on right now." Haruichi replied, politely refusing the bartender's inquiry of whether or not he would be having a drink.

"Oh, that's nice. here's hoping that he manages to grab some of the kaiju meat before it's gone." Kafka downed another shot of whiskey that the bartender had poured out for him.

"Okay, sure. Last question. Aren't you guys supposed to be back by now?" Haruichi tried to look very pointedly at the two of them when he asked.

'What do you mean by that?" Kafka pounded on his chest as he said, fighting the burning sensation firing its way back up his throat. Izumo looked around appearing very puzzled before he looked back at Kafka.

"I don't know what time you guys left, but you can't tell me the two of you have enough hours to be out here for much longer." Hibino choked on his own spit for a second before trying to respond to Haruichi pointed suggestion, however it seemed to be a second too long as Iharu had already heard him and took the chance to... vocally express his opinion on the matter.

"FUCK THEM HOURS!"

'Iharu, maybe not right now-" Kafka tried to interject.

"NAH! I'M TIRED ABOUT HEARING ABOUT HOW MANY HOURS I GOTTA HAVE OR HOW MANY I GOT LEFT!" Iharu had gotten off of his stool and now began directing his speech to the drunk crowd behind him.

"WHEN I SAY I WANT A DAY OFF, I SHOULD GET THE WHOLE DAY OFF! NOT GET BACK A 'SORRY, CAN'T LET YOU DO THAT' OR 'WE NEED YOU TO COME BACK IN' TWO HOURS INTO A BREAK I SCHEDULED OFF THREE FUCKIN' DAYS AGO!" Now the crowd was cheering for Iharu, getting riled up on his behalf and probably relating as well due to how he worded his rant.

"SAY IT WITH ME! FUCK THEM HOURS!" Iharu started the chant with his mug held high in the air.

"Fuck them hours!" the crowd chanted back.

"FUCK THEM HOURS!" Iharu tried again

"FUCK THEM HOURS!!!" All the people in the room joined in this time.

"You think we should do something?" Haruichi asked.

"I think they're already handling it." Kafka pointed to two tall, well built men dressed in black polos walking over to the center of the crowd where Iharu had made himself at home, driving the people around him into a frenzy. The two at the bar watched as their friend was lifted up, crowd surfing style and was carried to the front door of the bar. They rushed off of their seats and joined in at the back of the mock revolution that was following their leader, still chanting 'Fuck them hours."

The two of them watched as their coworker was unceremoniously tossed onto his ass on the street outside of the bar. Watching their appointed leader get treated with such carelessness seemed to shake the throng of people out of their rebellious state of mind and dispersed quietly. Kafka and Haruichi looked down at a stunned Iharu laying spread eagle, not really sure what he should do next. Kafka decided to lay down next to Iharu while Haruichi sat down on the lip of the sidewalk behind their heads.

"So, you just got your first experience getting kicked out from a bar. How do you feel?" Kafka asked, not looking at Iharu but instead looking up at the stars being framed in the corners of his vision by the lanterns lining the street.

"Ssstars look purtty tonight." Iharu replied, pointing up at the sky with the glass mug he was holding onto inside the bar.

Kafka chuckled, "Yeah, they sure do buddy."

"You think they're going to notice the mug you're still holding?" Haruichi asked, face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. It looked like Iharu finally realized what he was holding as he brought it closer to his face. Looking closer at the mug, he could see that the glass had a pattern molded around the base. An interlocking pattern made up of a six pointed star with tiny branches spouting off the ends of each point. Almost like a snowflake.

Iharu violently convulsed into tears at the thought and curled up into a ball, clutching the beer mug close to his chest.

"Geez, what did I say?" Haruichi asked.

"I have a feeling this is about something else." Kafka said, rolling onto his side to comfort his partner.

"I jussst wanted to take him on a date, isss dat so wrong?" Iharu sobbed, fighting to talk around the mucus building in his throat.

"Reno?" Haruichi asked

"Reno." Kafka replied, hugging Iharu close to his chest as best he can.

"I was going to show him how much we have in common and take him to pretty placesss and buy him nice things! I jussst wanted to tell him how much it meant to me to be his fwend and how much I loved hiiimmm..." Kafka just rubbed his back as his body became racked with shakes from his struggle to breathe. "I jussst wanted to tell him that I thinks he's so cooool and that I think he's pretty when he's asleep and I didn't want to sssound creepy when I did! Why couldn't he be here?" Iharu screamed into Kafka's wind breaker, now stained with tears and mucus.

"It'll be okay. You'll have other chances to tell him." Kafka tried to say reassuringly in the awkward position.

"Buts I wanted to tell him today! I don't think I can wait any longer before I say sssomething ssstupid and ruin everything! And I don't even know if he'll like me baaaack!" Iharu only to calm down slightly, but at least the shaking stopped. Kafka looked back at Haruichi expectantly, silently asking him to help out here. Izumo slid himself off the sidewalk and scooched over to the men making a scene in the middle of the street and placed a hand on the younger one of the three.

"There, there. I'm sure you two will be able to talk it out. I have no doubt that Reno harbors anything less than love for you in his heart."

"Okay, that'sss nice and all, but do we know it's love 'as a fwend' or love 'as a partner'? 'Cuz I really want it to be 'as a partner' but I don't want to tell him if he'sss going to find that uncomfortable." Iharu said as tried his best to wipe his face clean with the sleeve of his jacket. Haruichi pondered for a minute before suggesting a plan.

"Maybe... I could ask?", Iharu looked tearfully behind him as best as possible to look Haruichi in the eyes. "I wouldn't say anything incriminating, just... see if he's open to the possibility?"

This seemed to pacify Iharu a little bit as he brought himself to a sitting position.

"Yeah, but that doesssn't solve what I could do for a date, though. This wasss da best I could come up with and I was racking my brain for a week." Iharu slurred, wiping his face. Kafka up-righted himself as well and scratched his side as he positioned himself perpendicular to Iharu.

"Well, either way, you're going to have to wait and save up time again before you're allowed to head back out." Kafka thought for a moment as he paused in his scratching, "Its the middle of June now, right? Late July, early August is a pretty good time for a beach date. Romantic enough and lots of places do a sorta 'last week of summer hoorah' kinda deal."

"And we're pretty close to the beach. Wouldn't need to save up many hours if you're that desperate for time." Haruichi chimed in. Iharu took all of the information in and, for the first time tonight, seemed genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that can be seen all the way through someone's core.

"Did I miss something?" A familiar, but muffled baritone rang out from the left of the group. It was Aoi, back from a successful shopping spree in the festival. His arms were laden with bags upon bags of different types of food. It was almost comical how many bags there were seeing as one couldn't even find his large torso. Ranging from white plastic bags, to brown paper ones, to clear ones showcasing the goods inside. All seemingly stuffed to the brim.

"Is that... a hamster butt hanging out of your mouth?" Haruichi asked. Aoi quickly chewed and swallowed it so he could speak more clearly.

"Its hamster shaped kikufuku mochi. I almost feel guilty eating them because they're so cute. Unfortunately for them, they're just as good as they look. Don't worry, I bought enough for everyone. Three of these boxes are for me though." Aoi paused and stared at the bags really hard for a second. "Actually, it's two now, but my point still stands."

######################################

Haruichi made the suggestion that, maybe, they should be making their way back to base but Iharu became very irate at that suggestion. So to pacify him, the pair-turned-quartet walked around the festival a little longer, buying some more food to help Iharu feel more like his happier self. Well, everyone else walked. Kafka started giving Iharu a piggy back ride when it seemed like he was swaying on his feet and complained about foot pain. They had made it halfway down the other side of the street when Kafka looked over and saw something that jogged his memory. Aoi noticed the feeling of disconnect in the group and turned around, causing Haruichi to look as well.

It was another Torri gate, nestled between two brick buildings, looking like it was erected as a protective marker. Blocking against the bustle of the festival, locked behind its towering height was a well worn stone path trailing up and to the left, hiding its destination behind a thick grove of trees. What refreshed Kafka's memory, however, was that the trail was lined with a multitude of overly colorful paper lanterns in a variety of shapes and sizes. The stillness of the trees and the ethereal light pouring out from the lanterns contrasted against the feeling that came from being out on the street. It really felt like there was a chance one could get swept away by playful spirits if one made the decision to turn off from the sidewalk and explore this detour.

"Hey, Iharu? Kafka asked, shifting his friend's weight on his back and rousing him from the light slumber he was about to slip into.

"Yeah," Iharu said sleepily, "What's up?"

"Didn't you say there was a shrine that you wanted to take Reno to that had paper lanterns and was close to the festival?" Iharu looked over at what Kafka was looking at and lit up a little at the memory.

"Oh yeah! Thisss might be it actually." Kafka looked over at the other two members of the party.

"I think we're going to take a detour. He had plans to stop by the place earlier. The path ahead might be long, so you can go ahead on back, If you want."

"Oh, no. We're sticking with you to make sure you both actually make it back to base." Haruichi walked over to stand under the gate and made an 'after you' kind of gesture. Kafka shrugged his shoulders and walked ahead of Izumo and Kaguragi.

The path had no steps, but sloped upwards gently. Turning sharply left then right then back again, it took the group on a slow and peaceful journey up a hidden hill behind the buildings back on the main boulevard. Kafka was in the lead, setting a slow pace with a sleepy Iharu on his back while Aoi and Haruichi had a quiet discussion further back. Still keeping pace, but leaving enough room between the two of them as to not make things feel rushed.

The path lived up to its initial impression back at its entrance. The trees seemed to block any sound from the festival down at ground level. Not to make things eerily quiet, was a methodical thrumming of cicadas and crickets weaving through the quiet rush of leaves dancing in the light wind. The lanterns were attached to arms connected to rough-hew logs and cast their warm, glassy light over the leaves, bushes, and stones. The shards of colored light danced over Iharu's partially lidded eyes, preforming a hypnotic dance that succeeded in keeping him half awake, half asleep.

His thoughts walked themselves backwards through the events of the day. Starting with the foods and the drinking, quickly sweeping past the terrifying chase against the giant squid monster, slowly reliving the events after, though, and before the movie theater. All the way back to the start, with Reno. Was he sad that he didn't get to do any of this with Reno? Absolutely. But considering the alternative was spending three hours in the barracks, wrapped up in a bare minimum of three stolen blankets, and blowing all that time feeling shitty about the situation he was in; getting to experience all of this anyway, in spite of how he wanted things to go, and having fun with someone he always worked with and was now getting this chance to be closer to as friends... well... this night did a fine job of making him happy anyway. And that was okay.

"Hey... this was nice." Iharu mumbled as he nuzzled Kafka's shoulder. Kafka just gave a big, warm smile back and let Iharu enjoy the scenery as they continued to find the end of the path.

The group finally hit a set of stairs that led to the main part of the shrine. Cresting the top of them, they were greeted with a lovely sight. A moderately sized shrine and a couple outbuildings were surrounded in the thick grove of trees on this hill. The lightly cloudy night sky was visible only in the center of the grove, with a half moon peaking out from the edge of the canopy's opening. It initially seemed that the main source of light was coming from candles and more of the lanterns that lined the path up here. Looking around longer proved that a building off to the right had electric lighting and was the one providing the most light. The light bulbs inside seemed to have attracted all the bugs in the forest and made the projecting light flicker chaotically onto the ground.

Both the shrine and the buildings around it appeared to be old, but very well maintained. Shimenawa ropes of all sizes lined the roofs of the Shrine and select other buildings. The candles, some exposed; others in glass containers, were on the floor of the main shrine and illuminated the collection box at the end of the stone path.

The four of them walked down to the end to pay their respects and make donations. Since Aoi's hands were full and he didn't have much money left after his buying spree, Haruichi paid for them both. Kafka's wallet was in the back pack on Iharu's back. So, without jumping off, Iharu took off the bag and pulled out both of their wallets. Kafka had plenty left but Iharu only had a couple 1000 yen bills and a lot of spare change. He dug out some 5 yen coins and tossed them in with Kafka's donation, still riding on his back. Haruichi made his and the whole group held their hands together in silent prayer.

The group turned around after a moment and walked back toward the entrance they came through. This time staying closer to the right as another group of people walked into the holy grounds as well. Sticking closer to the right afforded the group a good look at the wares the only properly illuminated building was selling. It was mainly some snacks and wooden key chains. There was the omikuji box of course, right next to a display of handmade protective charms and talismans. There was a man on the inside working away, oblivious to the world as a women sang a gentle song on a small black radio. Iharu glanced over the selection of charms and saw one that immediately caught his eye.

"Hey! Heyheyheyheyhey." Iharu's hand shook as he pointed at the charms display.

"What? What is it?" Kafka asked, trying to look at where Iharu's hand was pointing at.

"Looklooklooklook. The blue one." Iharu said vaguely. Kafka walked closer and leaned in to scan the display stand better. He found the light blue one that Iharu was pointing at. It didn't stand out much more differently than the rest, with all of them having the same complicated looking decorative knot pattern and they all were made with different colors of fabric. What he finally put together was that the pattern on the fabric... had snowflakes on it.

Kafka sighed heavily. "I take it you want the blue one for Reno?"

"Yeah, yeahyeahyeah." Iharu nodded quickly.

"You do realize you're broke now, right? You don't have enough money on you to pay for one." Kafka stated. Iharu hung his head and started to whimper loudly and pathetically into Kafka's shoulder.

All Hibino did was sigh heavily again. "Hand me my wallet." Furuhashi gave a small, delighted squeal as he dug out Kafka's wallet again. He paid the man for the charm and turned to meet back up with the other two. Looking around, they found them at a different part of the grounds, standing by a makeshift stall. Getting closer, they could see that it was selling bottles of plum wine and offering free samples to interested buyers. Aoi was sampling his, while Haruichi was having a conversation with the old lady running the stall. Aoi nudged Haruichi to let him not be shocked by their arrival. As Haruichi let Kafka in on the discussion he was having, Iharu immediately spaced out of it and let his eyes wander over the stall. The eyes eventually landed on the label that was on the bottles.

"Oooohhh!" Iharu cooed, "There's snowflakes on it."

"Don't tell me you want to gift Reno that too?" Kafka said exasperatedly. Iharu started to whine again as Haruichi passed a small wad of money over to the shocked lady behind the table.

"That's okay. I shouldn't be needing a whole case of wine anyway." Haruichi walked over to the side and grabbed a large plastic crate of wine bottles.

"And yet... You're buying a whole case of it anyway?" Aoi said with a raised eyebrow. As they walked back to the entrance, Izumo pulled out a bottle and tried to slide it into the open portion of the bag on Iharu's back.

"It's called 'Supporting local businesses'. And it wouldn't hurt to have something to surprise him with on that beach da- Hey!" Haruichi refuted as Iharu pulled out another bottle from the crate as he backed away.

"And, yoink!" the mischievous mohawked man giggled as he held his ill-gotten prize over his supplier's hands.

"Haven't the two of you had enough alcohol tonight?" Aoi said, witnessing the altercation.

"Hey, we made plans to get plastered tonight and I'm still feeling way too sober for that goal." Kafka said as he helped Iharu keep the bottle out of Haruichi's reach.

"You are a horrible role model, you know that?" Izumo said, giving up on the task in favor of protecting the rest in the crate.

"Eh, open." Iharu said, rudely tapping the lip of the bottle to Kafka's mouth.

"Ya could say please, ya know." Kafka returned as he took the bottle from Iharu. He did a partial transformation on his mouth and stuck the largest fang into the cork at the top. Wiggling slightly, the stopper popped satisfyingly and as he spit the cork into his hand, Iharu took the opportunity to steal the wine back.

"HEY! Leave me a sip of that, will YA?"

###########################################

The group made it back to street level and started back on the path to headquarters. They began the trip with the intention of taking a bus back, assuming the truck that Haruichi and Aoi came in on already left without them. The two of them weren't surprised, they were the ones that offered to look for the missing kaiju signature and haven't reported back on it yet, as it was hard to do so since the earpieces only have so much range. And seeing as how long the two of them had been gone and how late it was, they thought that it would be less of a hassle if they hiked it back to base and went inside quietly, just to give their reports in the morning.

The closest bus station was still a ways away, so the group started to walk in the general direction. The walk was quickly derailed as they passed the restaurant that sold Kafka and Iharu their new hats. With some major protesting from Aoi, who was against the idea, Haruichi purchased a dark navy blue one for Aoi and a vibrant red one with silver stars for himself anyway, seeing as Aoi still had his hands full with bags and physically could not intervene. The grumbled protests from Aoi were eventually silenced when he got to keep a large chocolate peanut butter milkshake all to himself.

Thankfully, the bus ride home was uneventful, save for Iharu drunkenly talking Haruichi's ears off when he asked what the Ranger Rika film was all about. However, problems began to arise again as they reached the main gate of the base.

"Ssso, how are we gonna get inside?" Iharu slurred from the top of Kafka's back. He started to carry him again after they got off the bus and saw that he was still swaying on his feet. They were all the way through the empty parking lot and reached the imposing security wall that surrounded the institution. Just under half a kilometer, was the double gated entry point. One of three that were imbedded in the thick concrete barrier.

"What do you mean?" Izumo asked as he turned around to look at the two behind him.

"We probably should've been back, like, hours ago. So if we show our i.d's to the guard, we're probably going to get flagged and that's not something that we want to deal with right now." Kafka said slowly, the gratuitous amounts of alcohol finally catching up with him.

"Did you guys have any sort of plan to get back inside quietly after this little exhibition of yours?" Aoi asked as Haruichi just looked annoyed. Kafka looked back at Iharu as Iharu could only shrug back an answer. He looked back and thought hard for a minute.

"Well... I think Shiggys' working the east gate tonight." Kafka said.

"And... Who's Shiggy?" Haruchi inquired.

"Oh, he's super chill. Dude works the late shift and isn't really a 'by the books' kinda guy. If either one of you has an i.d. on ya, he'll probably just let the whole group on in, no question." Aoi and Haruichi looked at each other, silently debating if they should go through with this. Aoi tried to give a very pointed look to Haruichi, indicating that he should be the one to whip out the i.d., but Haruichi had to defend himself.

"Sorry, but I only carry some cash out on missions. I leave the wallet and cards in my locker."

"Why do you even bring cash with you in the first place?" Iharu mumbled out.

"Last second grocery buys. Snacks, body wash, other things I forget sometimes." Haruichi turned back to Aoi. "So what about you? You can't tell me an ex-military officer doesn't carry at least six forms of identification for emergencies." he mocked. Aoi looked at Izumo, down to the ground in deep thought, gave a hard glance at the plethora of bags he was still holding, and finally hung his head in defeat. Kaguragi sighed heavily as he turned his back to his partner.

"Haruichi... I give you permission to touch my ass." Haruichi gasped in delight as he carelessly dropped the plastic box of wine and wiggled his fingers in excitement.

"Ooohhoohoo! This is a rare treat! What's the occasion, might I ask?"

"If I'm right, my wallet should be in my left back pocket. JUST the left one." Aoi said, looking back with a very pointed expression.

"Yeah you say that, but maybe I should check the right side too. Just to be sure." Haruichi giggled darkly, clearly taking too much joy out of this.

"Do that and I break your ha-nds!" Aoi's voice cracked when Haruichi slyly pinched both of his ass cheeks.

"Ah, would you look at that! Found it." He said as he pulled out the wallet.

"Kafka... shoot me if I ever start acting like that around Reno." Iharu said.

"I don't know. It's kind of endearing... in a weird way." Kafka quirked an eyebrow at the odd scene.

"Ah, trouble. I'm not seeing your base i.d., babe." Haruichi said after a few seconds of rummaging around in the wallet.

"You're sure? Fuck." Aoi cursed quietly. "Do I even trust you enough to look in my front pockets?"

"Nope. I'm going to look anyway." Haruichi giggled again as Aoi visibly winced at the feeling of the other's hands slowly sliding into his thin front pockets from behind. Izumo's hands didn't stick around long, which Kaguragi was thankful for, but it only brought them back to the original problem.

"I'm not feeling your i.d. in here either." Haruichi said as he gently patted Aoi's hips.

"Shiiiiiiiit. That means I never took it off the lanyard in my locker." Aoi threw his head back in disappointment. While this exchange was going on, Kafka and Iharu were looking off in the distance, specifically at the impossibly tall wall. Kafka scanned the parking lot to make sure that there wasn't that many cars to worry about and asked Iharu a question.

"You think If I run fast enough, I can scale that?" He said, nodding to the concrete barrier.

"What, in kaiju form?" Iharu contemplated for a moment, "Yeah. I think you could."

"I know I could, but what about if I carry three other people?" Kafka nodded back to the other two who were deep in what seemed to be a battle plan discussion. "Plus baggage."

Iharu took a long look at the pair next to them while he processed what Kafka was suggesting. He began to chuckle darkly as it all fell into place for him.

"I don't know man, but it be hilarious to try." The two of them began to chuckle in agreement before Kafka decided to put his plan into action.

"Haruichi! Grab the box. I wanna try something." Kafka said as he walked into position.

"Oh, that's great! Honestly, me and Aoi here were getting nowhere with a pla-HEY!" Haruichi cried out as Kafka grabbed him by the waist forcefully after he picked up the crate. Aoi was also none too pleased with where this plan was going, shall we say.

"Passengers, this is your captain speaking. Flight Kafka 690 will be taking off shortly, so please make sure that all baggage is secure and accounted for before it's wheels up and time for take-off." Iharu said smugly as Kafka walked back a few feet, holding a struggling Haruichi and Aoi.

"This is BY FAR the stupidest plan I have ever been forced to be a part oooOOFFFF!" Haruichi screamed as Kafka began to run full sprint toward the insanely high wall. As he got closer, his legs turned into his kaiju ones and the flaps on his calves flared open to reveal the after burners the transformation offered. Jumping onto the wall itself, Kafka's afterburners set fire to the bottom of his pant legs as he rocketed himself and everyone he was carrying into the sky. He could feel his back and elbows transform too to help him keep his back straight as the burners on his elbows helped stabilize him as he somehow managed to stay rooted to his path.

"Kafka you BASTARD!" Aoi screamed.

"If I drop this, I'll KILL YOU!" Haruichi mirrored, changing his grip on the crate of wine, somehow having not dropped any bottles yet.

"FUCK YEAAAAAHHHH!" Iharu cries of joy overshadowed the screams of the others.

"ALLLLMOOOOST THERRRREEE!" Kafka shouted, deep in concentration. The top of the wall got closer and closer, the end of this terrifying ride nearly in sight. The screams of the whole group rose to a deafening peak as Kafka just barely passed the edge of the wall. Relief was felt only for a brief moment when a noticeable shock wave passed through Kafka's body and transferred into the bodies of the others.

"Oh shit." a collective conclusion that was voiced by the whole group.

#########################################

It was just passed one in the morning when Reno and the team he was with made it back to base. He was so very tired. No one ended up being injured, thank God, but the anxiety of the situation took a severe toll on everyone involved. The mole kaiju were easy to take out, but the process to do so ended up becoming the world's most stressful game of literal Wack-a-mole.

Reno thought things would get better when everything was over, feeling hopeful on the chopper ride back, but when Reno pulled up his Chatter app and saw he's feed was just a timeline of Iharu and Kafka having the time of their lives at the food festival, it really put a damper on the ride back.

'I guess he really wanted to leave base today' Reno thought somberly. Iharu was his own person. If he wanted to leave, that's on him. If he wanted to take someone with him, that's on him too.

'It's just... I really wanted to go with him. And thought... he wanted me too..." Reno packed away his gun and excess supplies into his locker, feeling sluggish as he did. Suddenly, a loud metallic slamming noise decided to ring out through the locker room that he was in and dislodged him from his thoughts. Suit half unzipped, Reno tied the sleeves around his waist as he looked down the aisles to see where the door slamming was coming from.

Looking down the row behind him, he saw what seemed to be a very pissed off Kikoru Shinomiya, telling by the feral growling and tearing at her spare bio suit.

"Ummm... Is everything okay? Shinomiya?" Reno asked tentatively.

"I"M GOING TO MURDER THAT PRAWN HEADED RAT BASTARD!" Kikoru growled out as she finally managed to get her lower half into the power suit. Reno only became increasingly concerned now knowing this unbridled rage had something to do with Iharu. He couldn't ask anymore questions, however, since Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina decided now would be the time to make his presence known.

"Reno. Good to see that you and the rest are back safely."

"Ah! V-vice Captain." Reno stuttered out, startled. "I was just getting my stuff packed before I joined the others for the after mission briefing."

"Good to know, but I think the rest of the team can make the report without you for now." Hoshina said curtly.

"S-sir?" Reno questioned vaguely.

"Don't worry, it's nothing life shattering. I just want to ask you about what the original plans you had with Iharu Furuhashi were about." Hoshina said, his voice giving off the sense that there was some concealed irritation.

"Um, plans? You mean the trip to the movies?" Reno asked.

"Yes, and where you were... haa, hold that thought. Go for Hoshina" he said as his hand made it up to his earpiece.

"Hoshina, this is Okonogi. We've got a massive disturbance at the front gate."

"Define 'disturbance'." Hoshina requested. If one looked closely, you could almost see his temple throbbing in a matched rhythm with his heart.

"I'm pulling security footage now. It's... Kafka Hibino, Sir? It appears that he is trying to... run up? The outer wall and is carrying three other Division members."

"I'm sorry? Other Division members?" Hoshina clarified.

"Yes Sir, that is correct. Just a moment... It looks to be Iharu Furuhashi, Aoi Kaguragi, and Haruichi Izumo. The absent members from this afternoon."

"What the hell is going on?" Reno asked, adjusting his own earpiece to the main channel, wanting to be included in the conversation.

"Sir, update! Kafka had made it up the wall, but has tripped and all four of them are in free fall on the other side" Okonogi reported. Hoshina's sigh turned into an exasperated growl toward the end.

"Come along Reno. We're apparently going to have to save our respective dumbasses." Hoshina turned to leave the room with a puzzled Reno trailing behind.

"Respective dumbasses?" Kikoru muttered. Immediately, a light came on upstairs. "Not until I get a hold of that ASSHOLE FIRST!" Kikoru turned and blasted past the vice captain and ran in the opposite direction of the front gate.

"Who put a bug in her suit?" Hoshina asked as they both leaned on the doorframe and watched her go.

"WRONG DIRECTION, KIKORU!" Reno added helpfully.

######################################

"SSSHHHHIIIIIIIIT" Everyone screamed as they realized what was happening. Kafka relaxed his arms as Haruichi and Aoi planted their feet on his hips and pushed themselves away as far as they could. Iharu, though, hung on for dear life. Haruichi and Aoi still had the their bio suits on, so the landing from such a height didn't give them much trouble. Izumo landed on the balls of his feet and managed to roll with the momentum onto his thighs, through his knees and back onto his butt. All while managing to keep all the wine bottles in the crate. Well, most of them. Two had slipped out during descent and were still up in the air. He rushed forward, leaped into the air, and grabbed them before they touched the ground. Aoi just tanked the landing and kept on his feet.

"You good?" Haruichi asked.

"Just fine." Aoi said through gritted teeth.

Kafka and Iharu were not so lucky.

Kafka also tried to roll into the fall, but messed up and landed on his foot weirdly. Iharu still hadn't let go at this point, so when Kafka fell to the ground, Iharu's knee made contact next.

"Fuck! That was a knee!" Iharu exclaimed. Once momentum seemed to stop, the two of them untangled and rolled away from each other.

"Well, that didn't look pleasant." A sly voice from away came into clarity.

"Vice Captain!" said Haruichi.

"Vice Captain, Sir." said Aoi when he felt recovered enough to speak.

"Well, shit." came from Kafka, knowing he'd been caught.

"YOU THIEVING PIECE OF CRAP!" Kikoru had made a beeline to the crumpled Iharu and began to physically berate him with her foot. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY BRADA BACK PACK?"

"Here, here! It's right here! WAIT, MY SHIT'S STILL INSIDE!" Iharu said as he handed over the stolen bag, only to realize too late that he left his gifts inside.

"I can see that! What is this? Wine? Plum wine? and a beer glass?" Kikoru took a whiff inside the mug, "A used BEER GLASS? What the hell is this doing in here?" Kikoru pulled out a ring of keys next.

"And who the hell's keys are these?' She asked. Hoshina immediately took them from her hand and looked at them in his.

"Kafka... why the hell does Iharu have my keys in a stolen back pack?" Hoshina said, gritting the words through his teeth. Kafka and Iharu looked at each other for a moment before shouting in unison

"OH SHIT! WE FORGOT THE BIKE!"

"YOU WHAT?" Soshiro screamed, hauling Hibino up by his collar.

"And is this... are there FRY CRUMBS IN MY BRADA? IS THAT A CHILE SAUCE STAIN? IN MY BRADA?" Kikoru began to weaponize the empty bag and used it to beat the already downed Iharu.

"Oh, damn. I didn't know that was Brada." Haruichi said, trying to pass by the commotion.

"Thanks Captain Obvious, I think we figured that out." Kafka retorted as he was dragged off the ground by Hoshina.

"NONE of you go too far. You all have some explaining to do." Hoshina said, gripping tightly to Kafka' forearm.

"Kikoru, I think he's had enough!" Reno said as he finally stepped into view and intervened in the one sided fight between the two of them. As he helped Iharu off the ground he asked, "Hey, are you alright?"

It didn't take Iharu very long to realize who was helping him up and immediately threw his arms around Reno's neck.

"AEDZGJNSTR, RENO! You're back! I'm so happy now!" he said as he gurgled drunkenly around his words. "I'm so happy that you're back! I was missing you all day. I'm sorry that left without youuu. I prepaid the tickets and Kafka said I should use them, so I did, but I was wishing that you were there 'cuz it was a great movie and I went to the festival without you too and it was making me sad, but I had food and I thought I would be okay and then I saw this mug and it reminded me of you-" Iharu broke away to grab the somehow intact mug from Kikoru's hands.

"It was this mug, 'cuz see! It has snowflakes on it and it made me think of you and how much I missed you and how I wanted to take you with me on the date but I couldn't and I thought about how I thought I blew my chance to tell you that I love you-" he took a big deep breath, "But Kafka and Haruichi said that I could take you to the beach and I felt happy again so the mug made me happy again because it still reminds me of you so I want you to have it." Iharu had finally stopped talking for a moment and looked deep into Reno's widened eyes with his watery, eager ones. Reno could feel his face start to burn once he slowed down all the words that Iharu had said and realized what it meant. Before Reno could even begin to tell him anything, Iharu looked like he remembered something else and turned back to a stunned Kikoru, who had been listening to the entire conversation. He grabbed the protective charm and the bottle of wine and clumsily shoved them into Reno's hands.

"Oh! Also, Me and Kafka and Haruichi and Aoi all went to this shrine that I wanted to show you because I thought it was pretty and you remind me of pretty things and when I was there I saw this charm and it has snowflakes on it, so of course I had to buy it- well, Kafka bought it, but I still want you to have it 'cuz its pretty and do you think they'll let me put this on your gun? 'cuz I think that would be cool-ohohoh! OR I could put it on the suit! That would be really cool if they let me do that. Oh and speaking of cool- looklooklook-" Iharu picked up the bottle of plum wine and showed him the label.

"This has snowflakes on it too! It's going to be a surprise when I take you on our beach date in a few weeks!" Iharu had wrapped his hands back around Reno's neck and begun to swing themselves around, causing Reno to put his already full hands on Iharu's waist to keep themselves upright.

"I'm going to save up my hours again and when we go to the beach, we're gonna go on a picnic and I'm gonna break out the bottle and I'm gonna tell you how much I looove youuu and how much I like being around youuu and how much I like being yourrr rivaaal..." Iharu had finally stopped spinning them around and leaned all the way onto Reno, wrapping his hands tightly around his crush's shoulders.

"Doesn't that sound really nice?" He whispered, gently nosing the shell of Reno's ear.

Reno felt like he was shaking. Whether from shock or excitement, he wasn't sure. He took the bottle that was still in Iharu's hand and tightened his around the sleepy drunk's waist. He felt his face flush even harder, blood flooding his brain and making his ears and shoulders feel like a million degrees in the cool night air. Burying his face into Iharu's shoulder, Reno confessed his only thought on his mind.

"That... sounds amazing, Iharu." But Iharu wasn't listening. Having fallen asleep, nuzzled into Reno's neck and breathing softly, almost snoring.

"Well, wasn't that a touching display." Hoshina said sarcastically, not one to let the quiet stand infinitely. "He's still getting a hefty reprimand, as well as you." He said, directing the last bit of statement to Kafka, which he was now holding by the ear.

"What the fuck possessed you to write in three hundred AND THIRTY SIX HOURS? DID YOU THINK YOU COULD HONESTLY GET AWAY WITH THAT? AND YOU LEFT MY BIKE BEHIND?" Hoshina said as he began to drag Kafka away, causing the rest of the group to cringe in response to the abuse.

"Forget a week of janitorial duty! It's a month- no, three months! And you can forget the office sex too!" Aoi and Haruichi were nodding along solemnly to what Hoshina was saying, mentally grieving for Kafka and any spare time he would've had, only to snap back to reality at the last bit of punishment.

"Oh, come on! It was a joke- wait, lets thINK ABOUT THIS!" Kafka cried, 'Three months for a joke is a bit much, don't ya think! I'll get the bike back, I swear!"

"YOU CAN'T EVEN DRIVE IT! If you keep arguing, I'll cut out the blowjobs too!" Hoshina said sternly, still dragging Kafka away. His cries of disappointment were heard all the way to the guard house.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Bonus/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You sure you don't want help with that?" Kikoru asked, carrying her (apparently) expensive black back pack and a couple plastic bags of food that Aoi got her at the food festival.

"No thank you, I'm good." Reno said as he struggled to carry an asleep Iharu, the items he got for him, and the bags of food that Aoi also got for him.

"Are you at least aware that you have to make a left turn in about twenty feet?" Kikoru retorted, smiling smugly at all the trouble that Reno was going through to not disturb Iharu's sleep.

"Yes, Kikoru, I know where I'm going. A fair bit better than you, since you still can't remember where the front door is." Kikoru snobbishly stuck her nose in the air at the insult.

"The front door was always down and to the right of the of the mission personnel lockers. It still seems stupid that they would change the layout in such a drastic manner."

"Whatever Kikoru. Have a good night." Reno turned to go into the male barracks as Kikoru parted to go to her side of the building.

He walked into the area holding the bunks and put Iharu down on Reno's bed since Furuhashi slept on the top bunk. Reno knew better than to try and get him up there by himself. He set him down as gently as he could, making sure not to catch any of the gifts under Iharu. Reno set his stuff down and leaned over to put the deeply asleep soldier's feet on the bed, and since he was down there, took off Iharu's shoes too. Carefully wrenching the sheets out from under the body, Reno tucked him in as gently as possible. Getting shocked for a moment when Iharu shifted and grabbed the blanket from Reno's hands, but when all Iharu did was tuck the sheet under his chin, Reno let out the breath he didn't know he held.

Not wanting to leave him alone so soon, however, Reno took a pillow from another bunk and placed it on the floor about where Iharu's head was. Getting to the floor as carefully as possible, he sat down on the pillow and opened the bags of food, courtesy of Aoi. He rummaged around quietly and started to pull out some of the goods based on what seemed more delicious at the moment, eventually pulling out a large, marked takeout box that just said 'kaiju squid' on the top.

Before he opened it, he felt a hand lightly smack him on the back of the head. Reno turned around, thinking that he somehow ended up waking Iharu, only to see that he was just shifting in his sleep. A hand was now exposed from its place from under the covers and was hanging limply from the bed's edge. Thinking for a moment, Reno gathered some courage and bravely placed Iharu's hand on the top of his head. In doing so, he could feel Iharu's fingers lightly twitching in his hair, almost like it was trying to brush through it in his sleep. Reno just smiled and went back to his midnight meal.

(holy fucking shit, I did it! I got this made! World, prepare to meet my first public fanfic.)

[humanimalgam]

no idea how old i look. 2 weeks ago a lady at costco clocked me as a teen so confidently she was shocked to learn i'm actually 23. last week i got kicked out of the bar section at red robin for not having my ID on me. then just today i walked into a grocery store & bought a 1.5 liter bottle of wine without being carded. am i baby faced or not i need answers

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Build-a-Yandere

Yandere Android x GN Reader

You were lonely. A fact that you eventually came to terms with when you realized you’re the only one in your friend group that still remained single while they started families.

You felt so far behind everyone else. The self doubt crept its fingers into your mind and wouldn’t let go… so you did what you did best. You drowned yourself in the internet. The perfect digital escape from reality…

Dating apps did little to appease your loneliness, but they filled a bit of the void. It wasn’t until you were one wine bottle deep and scrolling through your favorite social media app that you stumbled upon an advertisement to sample a product.

Build-a-boyfriend. A company that allowed its customers to pick every single aspect out for their ideal man. From personality to physical appearance and even to penis size. You could build your own man!

A slurred chuckle escaped your lips. Should you apply to test out their product? It’s not like you had anything to lose… what could be the harm in giving it a shot?

And so you began to fill out the quiz. You wanted a soft and gentle boyfriend. One of those golden retriever boys who only had eyes for you. The kind of guy who had a muscular yet soft build. A man who worked out but would never say no to a cookie. A taller guy who always knew what to say and was cuddly. The kind of guy who was obsessed with you.

The quiz even asked you at the end if you were sure you wanted an obsessive man. Of course you were! Wasn’t that what most people wanted? A partner who was only and all about them? That’s what obsession was! Right?

And so your drunk self finished this entire personality quiz until it went to the physical appearance and the sexual bit. A perverted smile now on your face.

“Let’s give him a big penis.” You laughed as you guided your cursor to drag the length bar to eight inches long. “I want to be filled.”

And then you selected caramel skin tone, cinnamon eyes, and black hair. A smile on your face. You were going to make this android a Latin lover.

“What should I name him…” you thought for a moment before laughing. “Alejandro! Like the lady Gaga song.”

Once you completed the entire quiz, your phone screen lit up a pastel pink. A red heart now in the center of the screen. “Your boyfriend will be delivered to you in a month! Thanks for choosing Build-a-boyfriend!”

And you ended up falling asleep in a puddle of your own drool. Weren’t you just pathetic? Filling out a quick from some questionable website all because you were lonely… imagine you were just scammed? God, why did you not have a boyfriend? Ever since your ex broke up with you, you fell apart. Why weren’t you good enough for a real man?

A month went by in a flash and you were shocked to see the giant package on your doorstep. An envelope attached to the box as well as a large note that said, “No returns!”

This had to be some kind of prank… there was no way this was real- holy shit.

You opened the crate and came face to face with your ideal man… the one you built! Alejandro!

The human like android’s eyes fluttered open, his face quickly lit up once he spotted you. “(Your name)? Are you my girlfriend?!”

You were quickly scooped up into his surprisingly warm arms, the android had a heavy scent of spice and oranges. His nose buried into your neck as he pressed kisses all over your cheeks. “It’s so nice to finally be with you… I’ll be with you from now on!”

Alejandro was a chipper robot. He did household work and made sure you took care of yourself. It was fascinating how human he was… you only knew he wasn’t because of his lack of a beating heart. His body still produced heat, like a furnace, but it wasn’t as comforting as a human presence.

Alejandro assimilated into your life with ease. The weeks quickly rolled into months and he never let you ignore his presence. He was very clingy.

Now the sex was another story. Alejandro was so giving, it was surprising. He often went down on you when he sensed you were stressed. His tongue greedily lapped at your hole as you laid in your bed while his hands held your cheeks apart. His hand pawed at your sex in eagerness. “I want you… want you.”

And Alejandro had you bent over the side of your bed, his fat cock stuffed deep in your tight hole. His hand wrapped around your throat and his tongue shoved in between your lips while his other smacked your bottom between rough thrusts. The sex was amazing… it was always so good.

And Alejandro often checked on you after the deed was done. His warm body curled into yours as he praised you. Yet it began to fill you with disappointment. Alejandro wasn’t a real man. He wasn’t human… he was an android. A robot. Alejandro didn’t know what love was, he was programmed to love you.

So you tried to distance yourself from Alejandro. You felt sickened with yourself for messing around with an android instead of a real man. And this entire thought process stemmed from your friends who expressed disgust in people who fucked robots instead of actual humans. And that filled you with fear. Would they abandon you if you didn’t get rid of Alejandro? Would they think you were disgusting?

“If you want, I could set you up with my cousin!” One of your friends smiled at you as you bit your fingernails. “He’s also single so it should work! I’ll swing by in a week to give you the details!”

Yes. You would take them up on their offer. You just had to get rid of Alejandro first… but how?

A few days had went by and you greatly underestimated Alejandro’s obsession. The android couldn’t handle your avoidance. He began to turn up his affection to the max.

He cleaned until you could see your reflection on the floor. He began to go out of the house to pick you wild flowers. Alejandro even began to be more physically affectionate than he was.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.” Alejandro cried into your arms as he held you. “Please tell me what’s wrong… please. I can fix it.”

“Alejandro… it’s just that you’re not a human man.” You sighed softly. “And I-“

“Is it because I don’t have a heart?” Alejandro softly asked you, his cinnamon eyes now dark like the night sky. “I can’t produce semen? Am I not a comfortable temperature? Or does my skin not feel human enough?”

“I’m sorry-“

“Then I can fix it! I will fix it!” Alejandro held your hands firmly in his. His eyes filled with determination. “I’m your boyfriend! I will be anything you want me to be!”

You just held the android who pulled you into a tight hug. His nose buried into your chest like a lost child. Alejandro then smiled into your skin. He would fix this… he wouldn’t let you abandon him! You made him! You had to take responsibility…

Imagine your horror to come home to see your friend skinned alive as Alejandro held their heart in his hands, the organ still beating from the fresh kill. A big smile on his handsome face.

“I have a heart now! I’ll find all the parts you like and add them in! So please don’t abandon me!”

Just what kind of monster have you created?

“You don’t need some human man to be your match because you have me!” Tears fell down your face when Alejandro tried to wipe your tears away with his bloody hands. “I’m your perfect man, (your name). You made me this way.”

[revasserium]

love bites

kenma, tsukki, kageyama, hinata; 2,025 words; fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of hickies, no "y/n", fem!reader, whiney!kageyama, dom!hinata, tsukki being... tsukki, post timeskip!characters

summary: these hickeys like the remnants of our love, footsteps on the sea-soaked sand, a line of demarcation -- here is where our story begins.

a/n: i just rly wanted to write about hq! babes and hickies...

kenma.

the first time it happens, it’s a mistake — a brief moment of vindictiveness manifest in the way he whines and nuzzles into your neck before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into your skin. when you gasp, your head tipping back, kenma pauses, pulling back, his mind already cataloging this very interesting new piece of information for later use, but his eyes have yet to catch up — his body has yet to catch up with the sight of you, cheeks pink, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed over as you stare ruefully up at him, a hand coming up to press over your mouth as you frown.

“w-what was that for?”

kenma hums, sitting back with a pout, “you were the one being unfair.”

you scowl, “how was i being unfair? you lost the game fair and square — the stakes were loser does the dishes.”

kenma sniffs, his nose crinkling at the thought, “but we have a dishwasher — it’s literally in the name —”

“but the nice wine glasses can’t be put through the dishwasher!”

you push yourself up onto your elbows even as kenma slumps back on the sofa, groaning loudly. still, he lets his head slump to one side to stare at the rapidly darkening patch of skin at the junction of your neck and shoulders. there’s something that feels dangerously like desire calcifying in the pit of his stomach and he weighs the pros and cons of leaning forward to give you another good bite.

really, dinner was great, dessert was better but — this.

suddenly, he understands what his teammates had always meant when they’d said they could keep on eating forever, even when their stomachs were full to bursting, even when they thought they’d be ill.

“stupid wine glasses…” he murmurs, leaning forward to prop his chin on your shoulder. you laugh, a soft, breathy thing as you reach out to tug a strand of hair from his low, messy bun.

“but the wine was good, no?”

kenma hums, letting his head loll back and forth, his eyes flickering down once more to the round ring of red now rising against your skin. he allows himself a tiny grin, leaning forward to press a kiss over the tender flesh. he makes note of the way you gasp, soft and expectant, the way your body seems to tense and then go laxed beneath his hands.

“yeah…” he whispers, smirking as he sinks delicate fingers into your hair, gently shifting your head to one side to allow him more access, “guess it was good…”

he presses another kiss to your neck, just slightly below the reddening hickey.

“g-guess? that was — a-an expensive bottle…”

“hmmm…” kenma trails his lips down over your shoulder, tugging lightly at your shirt, the wide collar falling away easily. when he finds yet another patch of unmarred skin, grazing his teeth over it, he feels the way you reach up to fist your fingers in his hair.

“’zume… don’t think you can get out of doing the dishes like this…”

kenma laughs, letting his breath puff out against your skin seconds before he opens his mouth and takes another soft bite. he doesn’t miss the way you whimper this time, doesn’t mistake the hitch in your breath for something like surprise when he knows better — and he knows you best of all.

“not trying to get out of doing it… just… we never specified when the loser has to do the dishes so…” he licks his lips, glancing up at you with a bright, devilish flicker behind his eyes, “i’m just taking my time with the meal. nothing wrong with that, right?”

tsukki.

it is a normal thing, for you to wake up in the morning and find remnants of the night before scattered across your skin like sand dollars littered upon a stretch of beloved beach. and tsukishima is never apologetic — ever.

if anything, he looks upon his work with pride, smirking as you tug at the collar of your shirt, tutting.

“tsukki… i told you not to bite so hard…”

“hmm… sorry, i must’ve forgotten,” he props a cheek on his hand, peering at you over his glasses, his tone the farthest thing from apologetic, “heat of the moment and all.”

you shoot him a reproachful look in the mirror and watch as his grin widens ever so slightly.

“the girls are the museum are gonna have a field day with this.”

tsukishima shrugs, slumping back into the bed with a loud, long sigh.

“dunno why girls have such a weird fixation on other people’s boyfriends. ‘s not like it’s any of their business.”

you tug listlessly at the collar of your button up shirt, resigned to the fact that you’ll never be able to hide the marks properly as you heave another sigh.

“it’s just how we communicate — it’s like… how guys sometimes just need to like… punch it out — or whatever.”

“or whatever?” tsukishima almost chortles, rolling over onto his stomach again. your schedules at the museum only overlap 2 days a week, and the rest of the days, either he’s off or you are. it’s a miracle the pair of you were able to meet in the first place, let alone hit it off like you did.

“yeah. i don’t know how guys communicate,” you say, even as tsukishima swings out of bed to come up behind you, looping his arms around your middle.

“we… don’t, really,” he admits, in a customary deadpan, propping his chin on the top of your head with obscene ease. you frown up at him, tilting your head back till it hits the middle of his chest.

“you’re gonna make me late again.”

“so?”

“so — unless you want me to get fired —”

“they’re not gonna fire you. you’re too good at… cataloging maps, or whatever it is you guys do in the cartography department.”

tsukishima spins you around his arms, pressing you lightly back against the mirror. he considers you for a moment, with eyes just sharp enough to pass for academic interest, but you see the darkness misting its depths, the pressure in his fingertips as he leans in to seal his lips over yours in a kiss that could only be called searing.

you break away gasping, only to feel his lips trail fire down your neck seconds before —

“t-tsukki — !”

he pulls back with a satisfied smirk; you can feel yet another bruise blooming along your skin.

“there. one more thing for you and your girlfriends to bond over, hm?”

kageyama.

it is a deliberate thing, the first time. but kageyama remembers the strange gravity, the tug just behind his navel, the persistent itch of curiosity as he leans forward to sink his teeth into your skin.

he likes the way you hiss, the way you go soft in his arms, the pair of you already a pile of tangled limbs on the massive sectional in the living room, the lights dimmed, half a bottle of red wine yet un-drunk on the coffee table.

“tobio… what —”

he hums, burying his face in your shoulder, fingers digging into your sides.

“… something i wanted to try…”

“hm?” you gently card your fingers through his hair, quirking your head to one side.

“it’s just —” he pulls back, a deep blush prickling his cheeks as he looks anywhere but at you, “something… i’ve wanted to try. for — a while,” he admits, looking shockingly small for a internationally renowned volleyball player, hunched over on the couch like this, his lips stained dark with wine.

you giggle, leaning up to tilt his chin back towards yours.

“sure. you can try whatever you want.”

you lay back, stretching out beneath him, pliant and willing, and kageyama goes still for a solid four seconds before he narrows his eyes, an un-namable hunger clawing at his insides as he pulls you beneath him and groans into your skin.

he likes the way the colors seep the surface of your skin, likes the way it’s so obvious against the bright of your collarbones. he spends all of the following day in an intoxicatingly good mood, to the point where his teammates are understandable suspicious. but he just tells them he slept well, that he had a good dinner last night, that wine was really, really delicious.

and that thanks for the recommendation.

hinata.

brazil has changed him, in more ways than you can count, but at the same time, in some ways, he is just, just the same.

“s-shou-you!”

“mmm —” he whines sucking a deep hickey into the junction of your neck, his pupils blown wide as he pulls back, lips split into a too-pleased grin, “what is it? did i hurt you?”

there’s the barest hint of a tease in his voice, and anyone else might’ve thought he’s completely serious, that he’s actually worried. and in a sense, he is — he’d never want to actually hurt you. but he also knows that — to a certain degree, you revel in this kind of pain.

you chew on your bottom lip, shaking your head.

“no… it’s — it’s okay.”

“yeah?” he sounds entirely too happy with himself as he reaches forward to thumb at the damp spot on your skin, “ah… that one’ll be pretty. just like you!”

he laughs, his joy so pure and infectious that it makes you blush. you look away.

“shou…?”

“hm? what is it, pretty girl?”

he bends back down to press a light kiss to your collarbone, peaking up at you with those would-be innocent eyes.

“don’t… don’t tease me.”

hinata laughs, that self-same, joyous sound.

“but i like teasing you!” he says, with no hint of malice, not a single sliver of shame.

you can only cover your eyes with your arm, turning your head away.

“aww, don’t do that —” he says, coaxing your hand away before pinning both of them above your head with a single, fluid move. your breath hitches.

“don’t hide from me…”

it’s too much to hope for that someone with eyes like his would miss such a thing. you watch as the dark, lightless centers of his eyes grow ever so slightly larger, threatening to overtake the honeyed ring of his actual iris.

“can’t… can’t help it…” you look away, feeling the waves of indomitable heat, wave after wave, washing through you, collecting at the base of your stomach to twist into something deeper, something harder.

“can’t help what, hm?” hinata laces your fingers with his; distinctly, you can feel his thighs flex on either side of your legs, locking you in place. the summers are hot in rio, but you can’t help but wonder if more than half the heat in the room might be coming from the pair of you alone.

all around him, the air wavers like a reflection in pond-water —

“shou… just —” you lick your lips.

“ah…” there’s a soft whine curling at the edge of his voice as he leans down, “you’re not playing fair at all…”

desire pulses like a heartbeat inside you.

“shouyou, please,” you beg, trying to wrest some semblance of control back from him but he’s having none of it. he pins your hands to either side of your head, his bed more than wide enough for the pair of you, with room to spare.

“mah… you gotta be a bit more specific than that,” he says, his voice almost casual as he noses into your pulse point right beneath your jaw. you hold your breath and a second later, the harsh sting of his teeth rakes through you, chasing pleasure down your spine.

“m-more —” you choke out the word against the heat of his lips and you feel rather than see him grin above you.

“yeah? i think i can do that for you.”

[peachesofteal]

sighs Price/Simon/mama (female reader) 18+ mdni - threesome M/M/F, spit, daddy, praise, size, lactation, breeding kink. The softest dub con. This is an AU to the original story, Through Me. Price has a wife in Through Me and Simon has mama, neither of them would ever share.

It starts with a dinner.

Red wine decanted. Red meat rare, bleeding all over a plate. Price sits across from Simon at the table, with you at the head. Fixed between them like a flower sprouted in rock.

They're here because Simon has seen the way he watches. He's noticed how his captain considers both himself and you, the way he cocks his head to left and trails his eyes up and down your body.

It's reminiscent of days old. Nights passed when he and John bent pretty things to their will, split open and overwhelmed, gasping and clawing as they systematically broke them apart.

A wild ride. A way to blow off some steam. A thing never meant to be more than what it was. Secret nights in the dark.

There was a wild gleam in John's eyes, weeks ago. Simon only caught the fractured glimpse of it, there one second, gone in the next, but when they locked eyes afterwards, he knew.

They both did.

He wouldn't be doing this unless he trusted his captain implicitly. Trusted him to care for you, to give you what's needed, to see it all the way through. There's something digging around in Simon's brain about it, some imagery he can't escape.

The best way out is through.

They end up in the living room, after dinner. There's still half a bottle of wine left, and when he pulls you in for a kiss it's there on his tongue, purpled fruit and acid, alcohol loosening the tension in your neck, your spine.

Simon sits on the couch next to John. Not yet touching, but if both were shift their legs, they'd be there, knee to knee. "C'mere mama." Simon spreads wide, patting the inside of his thigh, indicating where you're to sit, and when you settle on his lap, half turned to face his captain, he rests a hand on his thigh. "Did you enjoy dinner, sweet girl?"

"It was very good." You peek at John through your lashes, demure, shy. "Thank you for cooking."

"Was my pleasure." He smiles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and you return it as Simon rubs circles on your waist. He can feel the fabric of your thong beneath the dress you chose tonight, thin, narrow fabric stretched over your cunt, nearly non-existent barrier separating you from the craven.

It's important you're not so worked up, too early. He needs to keep you torpid, wine drenched and saccharine, before working you up to a frenetic pace, so he moves his hand to your back, stroking up and down slowly, using an aimless conversation about work as a distraction. "Think Laswell's gonna be out for this next one?"

"Don't know. Suppose so. We'll need her. Can't get over half the hurdles without her support." His legs spread, marginally. enough that his knee is touching your feet, your toes, and you glance down. Simon observes your thought process in real time; intrigue, confusion clearing before it ever really takes root. You brush it off.

But he sees the opportunity, target hot to strike.

He moves his hand under the hem of your dress, up your thigh. You tense, blinking at him in confusion, and he brushes his lips against your ear. "Relax, honey." He finds heat between your legs, circling over your panties, and you squeak, locking onto his wrist.

"Si-"

"John was so nice to have us over for dinner, wasn't he?" You nod, shakily, as Simon peppers your cheek, your jaw with kisses. "Fed us so well. Don't y'think we should say thank you?" His cock is solid beneath your ass, and he flexes his hips, driving the point home, still stroking over your panties. John is locked in, watching the flutter of your dress, staring beneath your knees.

"Um, I," he presses directly on your clit, stealing your words, whatever you meant to say dying on a whine. Your lips part beneath him, already slick, already wanting.

"Put your heels on John's thighs, mama." You stare at him, eyes wide, and he gives you an encouraging nod. "Don't worry. We'll take care of you." The angle provided when you lift your feet tilts you, and John turns.

"Gonna touch you, love," he carefully palms your knees, "right here," turning so that you're now facing him head on, toes flexing on both of his thighs. Simon peels your dress back, shucking it up around your belly, and then parts your legs. His captain huffs a short groan.

"Jus' want John to be able see, is all." He hooks a finger into the cotton, and pulls to the side, exposing your weeping pussy to both of them, glistening in the evening light. "Look at you, sweet girl. All wet and ready for us?" You whimper, staring at John between your knees, no doubt shocked. Scandalized. "Isn't she pretty?" He nods.

"Very." He reaches, and you flinch when his fingers trace down your slit, but Simon holds your hips still. "Need some attention, eh? Little thing, already swollen." He flits back up to your bud, pressing next to where Simon has a thumb on you, and they work in circles, both swirling, your hips jerking with each cycle.

John pulls away, it's a slow game, this one. One they've played before, and he stays focused between your legs, letting Simon lead you, submerge you in the experience, plunge you into it. He applies more pressure, enjoying your gasps, the way you grip his shoulder.

He's almost there, almost got you, and then-

"Daddy-" John smiles. So does Simon. He pushes a finger in your hole, searching for that spot, the soft one that makes you scream, heel of his palm firm against your clit. "Ah, fuck, p-please-"

"You're so wet, mama. Soakin' my hand. Do you need to cum? Want to show the captain the way your pussy flutters?" You moan, head tipped back, pulse throbbing in your neck. You tighten around his finger, and he draws back to slide in two, carefully stretching, sawing you wide. Your knees try to close, probably on instinct, but John pushes them open again. When you hold them there, he murmurs low.

"Good girl. Keep em open for me. Want to watch your hole, see how it's going to take my cock." A shudder rocks you, muscles in your lower belly tensing, and your spine curls forward, fingers knotted in the collar of Simon's shirt.

"There it is, good, mama, that's so good. c'mon-" You squeeze, and squeeze him, and then explode, crying out, legs shaking, chasing the pressure, carnal lust glittering in your eyes.

Simon doesn't give you a reprieve. Your sopping cunt cries on his hand as he pulls free, and they both move, John's cock coming free from his pants, thick, tip red and leaking, and he slaps it against your clit. You're still dazed from the orgasm, gripping onto Simon, and he pulls you against his chest, hands behind your knees, folding you open. Your pussy flowers for Johnny, blooming for them both. Simon's so hard he aches, and he manages to shuck his pants down, cock hard against your back.

It occurs to him, John might want to have a taste of you. Drink from you, enjoy how sweet you are. "Let's get this off." He curls you forward, and tugs at your dress, deliciously pleased when you help the effort, arms twisting behind your back to try to free your heavy tits. He shifts you so you're more on his thigh, cock straining against your hip. He groans when he brushes your nipples, dots of liquid beading, slick honey spilling over the curve of your breasts. He squeezes them, making eye contact with John, who licks his lips.

John dips his head, you jerk back into Simon. "Easy," he coos, hand firm on your belly, "John's gonna have a taste. Don't want this all to go to waste, d'you? Don't wanna be selfish sweet girl." His captain's mustache brushes against the sensitive skin, mouth closing around your nipple and sucking, a sensation you seem to enjoy, because you tip your head back on Simon's shoulder and groan.

"Oh, oh. God." John's jaw connects with Simon's fingers, where he's still helping squeeze you into his mouth, and he reaches between your legs, feeling for the weight of his captain's cock, giving him a firm squeeze before lining him up with your entrance. He pulls off your breast with a satisfying pop, mustache wet, chin glistening.

He pushes, slowly, and your muscles go solid, legs instinctively shifting. John grips the back of your thigh, burrowing into the fat there, still forcing his way inside you. They're both so much bigger than you, wider than your pussy allows, longer than you should be able to stretch. "Relax, love." He coaches, pulling out to only batter his way back in, and Simon's hand roams between your legs, feeling the curve of your hole struggling to take his captain, stroking up his length to feel how much is left. You're panting, squirming, and John laughs, echo of a chuckle pulling a smile from Simon.

"J-John." You gasp, cunt stretched tight, and when his pelvis meets your ass, the tears spill over your cheeks. "It's t-too much, you're-"

"Fuckin' hell." He snarls, snapping in and out, bending at the waist to close his mouth over your nipple, big hands cradling your thighs. It's nasty, foul, the slick slap of his balls swinging into you, the wet sound filling the air over your wild moans. Simon plays with your clit, sloshing over and over it, holding you steady as you writhe. Your second orgasm approaches like a freight train, so fast, so violent, and Simon urges you on.

"Cum on my captain's cock, honey. Yeah, that's it- let him feel it." Your toes curl and you explode, squeezing so tight John has to seal his hips to you to keep himself inside.

"Christ." He curses, and Simon smoothes a hand over your forehead.

"Such a good girl, huh? Never felt anything better." He coos, kissing your temple, John grunting out an agreement of sorts, grinding in a circle before pulling long and spearing you open again, bucking into your cunt like a wild animal. Your tits bounce with him, eyes closed and pretty mouth parted, Simon licking inside, dribbling spit onto your tongue that you swallow, again and again, until John's pace becomes frantic, and he bites out a demand.

"Ask your daddy if I can give you my cum, love." You're delirious, overwhelmed and greedy now, pliant with two orgasms and promises of more.

"Daddy, daddy, p-please, can he... can he?" You manage the bumpy plea between bounces.

"Y'want him to pump you full of cum, mama? Want him to give it to you?"

"Y-yeah, yeah. Give it to me." John's jaw is gnashed so tight, Simon can see the muscle flexing, and he slams into you, shoving you further into his arms.

"Here it comes, fuck-." He snarls, and then he shoves forward once more, head tipped back, gladiator in his glory, battle won.

He pulls away, cock slipping free, covered in you, curly hair at the root soaked, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Simon tucks his fingers inside, feeling the mess of his captain's load, scooping some out and bringing it to your lips. "Suck, honey. Lick 'em clean f'me." You do, wrapping your tongue around them, swallowing hungrily with half lidded eyes.

"Sit rep?" John grunts.

"Y'okay mama?" He palms your belly.

"Mhmm." You're suspended in a dream, voracious appetite soothed.

"Need you to take more, sweet girl. Can you do that?" He will honor it, if you say no. Clean you up and get you home, tucked into bed-

but you nod, blinking, and John smacks your ass. "Up, then." He pulls you onto all fours, massive hands pulling your cheeks up and apart, exposing your tight little furl to both of them. Simon glances over, and John sucks into the pocket of his cheek. He follows suit, and-

they spit onto your asshole, shiny, iridescent globs coating it, soaking it, slipping down to where you're leaking strings of John's cum. He thumbs your ring, pushing, testing, slowly sinking inside as you twitch and try to push him out. "Gonna take this one day." It's a promise for another time, and you turn over your shoulder, eyes wide. "Gonna stretch your little asshole out with my cock, mama."

"Simon-" Your voice borders on cautionary.

"Not tonight." John stands, sinking to his knees on the opposite of the couch, half hard cock starting to fill as it looms in front of your face, and Simon lines himself up from behind, impaling you on his cock in one swift thrust, jerking your hips back to meet his.

You scream. Mouth open wide, and at the same time, John shoves forward, cock finding purchase in your mouth, hands cradling your jaw. "Easy, pretty girl." He strokes your cheek, natural rhythm of Simon fucking you deep forcing you on and off John's length, soft turning quickly to hard, stretching back towards your throat.

"Fuck, mama. Feel so fuckin' good. So wet, full of cum already." You're still so tight, so warm, soaking him to the bone. Your pussy squelches around him, and you jerk back to meet him, hips rolling as much as you can stand it, sharp moans vibrating from the back of your tongue. "Not gonna last." He warns.

"Me either," John's biceps are strained, corded muscle looping all the way to his wrists. "Mouth's so good on 'er. Gonna fill you up from both ends tonight, love." You're crying now, Simon can hear the change in your tone, the way your voice breaks, and it only makes him fuck you harder, desperate, primal urges roaring to life in the back of his mind.

"Gonna put it deep, mama. Give y'another baby." You clench. "You like that? Want daddy to fuck another baby into you?" You make some sort of sound, unintelligible, but it doesn't matter. "We won't know who's it is. Could end up with John's baby, yeah? Get nice and fat with him inside you. Belong to both of us." he groans it, thrusting and thrusting until he's slamming into you and so is John, both men sweating, grunting, gripping onto you like their lives depend on it.

It doesn't take much more than that before Simon is curling over your back, chest pressed against you, arm snaked between your legs. He pulls you into another orgasm with him, your thighs clamped around his arm, and John holds you up by the shoulders, spilling down your throat as Simon floods your womb.

The silence that follows is old hat, but new with you. John disappears to grab water, warm, wet wash cloths, and Simon rocks you on the couch, holding you tight, kissing every spare inch of your skin. "Did so good for me, mama." You sigh, cozying closer, and when John kneads your thigh, you spread them, allowing him to wipe between your legs, clean you as best he can, before settling on the other side.

They stay like that, for a while. In the quiet, the sound of your breathing, before Simon manages to get your dress over your head and to the door.

There's no goodbye.

There never is.

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

[jazzyoranges]

Introverted

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you’re not much of a talker. that said, your lack of words doesn’t get in the way of meeting your (girl)friend’s sister

Words: 1.4k

A/n: mostly told through the pov of Sam cause i was feeling extra freaky and wanted to do something super crazy and unseen before

Warnings: alcohol consumption, that literally might be it

Sam was trusting her gut. Her gut said you were good for Tara but her past experiences said you couldn’t be trusted. Luckily she listened to nobody but Tara when it came to you. After all, Sam did promise she’d let sister live her life without her constantly looming over her

So Sam trusted Tara instead. Of course, the older Carpenter sister was still weary of you when her sister wanted you to come over and hang out with the core four, as Chad liked to call them. The name was never officially adopted but nobody ever stopped the boy from calling them that

She’s heard of your name through stories her little sister has told her. Sam was already aware of how you didn’t like talking. You watched and listened, always aware of everything around you. Not to mention you’re scary as shit - Tara’s words not hers. Countless times have there been when a protective arm around Tara’s shoulder and a glare were enough for anyone to back off. Sam’s thought of getting a dog for its scary privileges but it seems her sister already had scary friend privileges

A knock on their door sends Tara running to open it with Sam not too far behind. You were early. Wanted to make a good first impression, Sam guessed

“Thank you for giving her a chance, Sam. this means a lot to me.” Tara gives her sister a quick hug before opening the door. Sam doesn’t expect you to bring a gift as well

You tower over Tara. Maybe it was because you were tall, maybe it’s because her sister was short as shit. There are two wine bottles of a brand Sam’s never even heard of in your hands and Tara gives you a hug while you reciprocate with one arm

“This is for you. Thank you for letting me into your home. Your hospitality is appreciated.” You give a small bow before handing her the bottle. It catches Sam off guard. She didn’t want to admit it but she was already impressed. Or her expectations bar was set at an all time low. Probably the latter

Tara led you to their living room before coming back to Sam

“That was good! She usually only says hello when she meets new people. I think she might’ve said more words to you than Mindy and Chad combined”

“Really not a talker then, huh?”

“Definitely not. Will you open the door for the other two?”

“Yeah I will. Go spend some time with her”

The twins arrive ten minutes late but in their defense they were getting pizza for the night. Mindy almost immediately whistles at the wine you brought and opens it up

Sam finds you and Tara, well, just Tara laughing about something. Her sister said you weren’t much of a talker - not even talking to the twins very much - yet it seemed you were in deep conversation with Tara. Sam’s sister senses were tingling and they were very rarely wrong

The night continues without much falter. Everyone drinks, board games and video games alike are played, and nothing seems to be different. Other than you of course. You were so quiet sometimes Sam forgot you were there in the first place. You had a way of disappearing but always coming back when Tara talked to you. Sam’s sister senses were really tingling

You’d whisper something in Tara’s ear and she’d smile like she’s holding in the biggest laugh ever. Hell, after a few hours (and probably the wine) Sam saw you giving her sister small smiles and tiny laughs of your own. She couldn’t lie, it was astonishingly cute how her usually chipper sister was so amazed by someone so opposite of her.

Even later into the night, your little conversations with Tara seem to stop. It was around the time the twins stopped forcing you to play games and they settled on a movie to watch. Sam watches her little sister as she tugs on your shirt and whispers something in your ear. You nod and before she knows it, you walk out to their balcony that looked over the busy streets

“Why’s she out there?” Sam asks Tara after you’ve left

“She needs to recharge her social battery. Give her some time, she’ll come back”

//-//

You haven’t come back inside their apartment for about an hour, Sam notices

Tara’s accidentally fallen asleep on the couch while Mindy and Chad seem to be binging the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe with a bowl of popcorn cradled in between them. Sam didn’t remember buying popcorn but then again she also believed the twins were somehow magical when it came to food. Popcorn was probably the least of her worries

So Sam took her chance to talk to you. Walking to the sliding door to their balcony, the older Carpenter makes sure to not make any sudden movements. You’re leaning against the metal railing so Sam decides to join you

“You feeling okay? You haven’t come in for a while.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

Silence passes. Sam hopes it isn’t awkward for you

“(Y/n), I’ve got a question.” Sam doesn’t get a verbal answer but she does get your attention and a nod to keep going

“How’d you meet Tara?”

“Someone was looking at her weird at a party. I scared him off. He was known for not being a good person.”

“You’re observant, huh? That’s a good trait to have.”

“Thank you. I didn’t want her to make a mistake.”

“Thanks for scaring him off.”

“Anyone would’ve done it.”

A few beats of silence pass before Sam talks again. She didn’t expect you to start the conversation, which was alright with her. It gave her more control

“Can I ask you another question?” Another nod from you.

“Tara said you didn’t like talking much. Be honest, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No. You want to know more about me because you care about your sister.” You pause. “I’m also a little drunk.”

The older Carpenter lets herself laugh. Big sister like little sister, she guesses.

“I like your honesty.”

“There’s no point in wasting breath on a lie.”

“Well, I hope we’ll have more conversations in the future.” Sam gets up from where she’s leaning on the balcony, moving to the door

“Why’re you leaving? I assumed you wanted to ask me more things.”

“You’d be okay with that?”

“The conversations in our future will only be answered by me nodding my head or not. I’m still drinking, you may as well ask now.” Swirling around your wine, you take a long sip. For courage, you know?

“You’ve caught me off guard here. That was all I planned.”

“We can just talk.”

“About?”

“Anything. Maybe Tara. We have her in common.” Your eyes glance back to the younger Carpenter fast asleep on the couch while Chad and Mindy were laughing about god knows what. Sam follows your gaze

Looking at you as you stare at Tara, Sam recognizes that look. She’s seen it before but a little different. It’s how Sam looks at Tara. It was always adoration and protection with the older Carpenter, but for you there was something different. Somewhere in your blank eyes and your monotone voice, you loved Tara. Sam could see it almost clear as day.

“You’re right. We do have her in common, don’t we?”

//-//

“C’mon, it’s not responsible to drink and drive. And I thought you were the one always telling me to be safe”

“I’m not too drunk. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Hey, you’re welcome to stay” Sam buts into you and Tara’s conversation. “You can sleep with Tara or I could set up the couch for you?”

“I see. Only if you’re positive I can stay.” You look away before meeting Sam’s eyes. “I’d like to sleep in Tara’s room for tonight. We’ll… keep the door open.”

“No need.” Sam winks before going back to her own room for the night. Fuck that felt weird. She should go to sleep before she tried to be the cool sister again

//-//

“I hope I made a good first impression.”

“Are you kidding? That was great! You did great”

“Thank you. I want Sam to like me.”

“Where was this attitude with Mindy and Chad?”

“They’re knuckleheads. Your sister isn’t.”

Sam’s never been happier the walls of their apartment were like paper. Not much of a talker her ass.

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[talaok]

a smutty joel imagine with him saying, “you’re in trouble doll”

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel, your dad's best friend, has pissed you off once again for his constant fear of your father finding out about you, so you decide to make him jealous, only he doesn't take it as well as you expected... or maybe exactly as you had

warnings: jealousy, he grabs you by the neck at one point, possessive!Joel smut| a bit of thigh riding, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, she calls him daddy ONCE bc I need to cut back on the daddy kink it's becoming a problem, kind of exhibitionism, and unnecessary feelings cause i can never fucking write a story where they're just fucking for some reason

You were flirting good

The way you only did when you weren't really interested, when it was just a game, when you were bored, or perhaps... in the mood for taunting someone

Maybe someone who was across the backyard, his hazel eyes burning a hole into the back of your head as he gripped his beer hard enough to shatter it, his head nodding slowly at whatever your dad was saying, but his thoughts only to you, only to that little asshole who had his hand on your cheek- on his girl

"I'd forgotten how funny you are" you said, after falling into a more than exaggerated laughing fit at one of Kaleb's miserable jokes.

He grinned with that smile guys have when they think they have it in the bag, when they’re already picturing you in their bed

As if

“Tell you what, I'm even funnier in front of a drink,” he said, his eyes glinting with victory “you free tonight?”

But before you could respond, a very much non-friendly voice barked from beside you

"she's not"

Joel looked even hotter than usual with that t-shirt clinging to his toned biceps and pecs, and the way he was looking at Kaleb... he looked ready to kill, and fuck if that didn't make him even hotter

"Tommy needs your help on the grill, I'm takin' a break" he nodded toward his brother, giving the guy a chance to scramble before he had to punch him in the face

"now?" Kaled wined, his gaze trailing to you, as if counting on the understanding of another man of what he was interrupting

"Now."

There was no room for negotiating, and the guy finally got it, sighing loudly before nodding

"Fine, I'll catch you later then," he smiled, watching you reciprocate, before he started for the grill

You squinted your eyes against the sun as you looked up at Joel, making a show of rolling your eyes as he gave you that stern, angry look he was always so good at giving

"Cockbloker"

You didn't wait for whatever smart retort he was gonna send your way as you turned around and started making your way into the house,

only of course, he was right behind you, closing the glass door to the kitchen with a loud thud

"you're in trouble doll"

again, you could only roll your eyes as you opened the fridge to look for what you didn't even know

The party of people just outside the windows was loud, but his steps as he stalked to you were the only thing you could hear

"I'm talking to you"

You could hear the restraint in his voice, almost feel it oozing off of him, the way you were getting under his skin, the way he was controlling his own rage

And when you only sighed, still not acknowledging his presence... then his self-control slipped, and his hand had forced the fridge to fly shut, the bottles rattling inside.

maybe this will get your attention

And it did, you turned to him, a bored, stoic look on your face

"what do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his jaw ticking 

"what?" you cocked a brow "I'm not allowed to talk to people anymore?"

The way he tilted his head, flames of anger lighting his eyes as he took a step towards you made you want to get down on your knees and suck him off right there and then... but then again, you were supposed to make him pay

"Don't give me that bullshit" he growled "That wasn't just talking, there's only one thing that guy was after and you know it"

You scoffed, taking a step closer to him in affront

"so?" you asked, raising your brows "What I was after the same thing Joel?" you argued "You know, since you're so scared of my dad finding out... since you're always saying I should find someone more age-appropriate, I figured... why not Kaleb?" 

Oh he was fuming

"At least he's not scared of my dad" you mocked "At least he wouldn't have to sneak out of my house after he's done fucking me-"

you didn't even see him move, the only thing you felt, was the back of your head hitting the fridge, and seconds after, his hand gripping your throat, and only then did you hear the gasp fleeing your throat

he had moved you to the other side of the fridge so that from outside, no one could see your dad's bestie choking his daughter without so much of a hair of second thought.

"If he even tries to come near you" his face was but an inch from yours "He won't have a dick to fuck you with sweetheart, got it?"

What did he think? That he was gonna scare you? please

You snorted, your mouth twitching in a smirk

"You don't own me Joel" you only purred "I can fuck who I want"

The snarl he let out was nothing but predatory

"You think that fucking guy's the right one for you?" he asked, his right leg in between yours, the top of his thigh dangerously close to your core 

"you think that little asshole's gonna make you come?" his breath was ghosting your mouth, but he ducked lower, murmuring against your ear now 

"You think Kaleb's gonna fuck you better than I do?"

Although shivers were running down your spine, you chuckled, as you murmured "Maybe"

He groaned, his thigh immediately going to your center, rubbing against your clit as his fingers tightened on your throat.

"say that again" he challenged, his voice rough and throaty

"what," you grinned, "you think you're some kind of sex god or something?"

The fact that he could hear all the little whimpers you were swallowing down your throat didn't help your case

"Have you forgotten already about all the times you were begging for my cock sweetheart?" he teased, his jeans damping with your slick as you parted your mouth in pleasure "All the nights you spent screaming my name, mh?" 

His warm words felt so good on your neck, and his leg... if he kept at it you might just fall apart like that

"you think another man can do that for you?" his eyes were boring into yours now, his hand forcing you to meet his gaze 

And when you didn't answer, the same smug grin on you, he understood what he needed to do

"You need a little reminder, 's that it?"

And just like that, you had exactly where you wanted him.

If he was aware that this was your plan all along, he didn't show it, probably because you had turned his brain into a jealous angry heap.

He watched the way you bit your bottom lip, the same way he's seen you do thousands of times before, need pooling in your iris and panties at the same time

"ah that's it, isn't it?" he growled, his right hand going to squeeze your ass "my dirty girl needs me to remind her who's the only man that can make her feel good huh?"

And fuck it, but you were already palming the bulge at the front of his pants

"whose cock she needs to be filled with" he smirked, watching your pretty eyes fall to his mouth

"then I guess I just have to, don't I?"

His lips were on yours faster than you could blink, his mouth ravenous and hungry as much as his tongue, which was exploring every inch of you as if he needed to have all of you, right there, right now.

You felt his hand leave your neck and seconds after your ear picked up his zipper getting undone and then he was picking you up and he was hastily freeing his cock from his boxers and-

It was all so fucking fast- he felt like a man possessed

For this much talk of you being the one to need a reminder, it looked like it was him the only one to need this

And maybe it was because seeing you talking to that guy made him see red, or maybe because it had been more than 24 hours since he had a taste of you and missed you more than anything, or maybe... maybe he was just starting to realize that it wasn't the 24 hours, and it wasn't Kaleb, but it was you, it had always been you, with that smart mouth and that smug attitude and your determination and kindness and beauty and fuck- this had never been just fuking- he could never just be having sex with you, he wanted to have you, all of you, not just like this, but in public, in front of everyone, in front of Kaleb and you pissed off dad- he wanted to- to bring you on a proper date and pay the bill and only then fuck you so good you forgot your name- he wanted, he wanted everything, he wanted you, completely.

"You know anyone could come in here at any moment right?" you asked breathlessly as you leaned away, your lips swollen already 

He had you propped against the part of the fridge facing the wall, so you were hidden from the outside, but anyone could have just taken a closer look, or come into the kitchen for a fresh beer and caught you just as he railed into you... and he couldn't have fucking cared less

"What, you scared?"

And the way you smiled- the way you smiled was enough to make a grown man drop to his knees in an instant

"fuck me, daddy"

God fucking damn him, but he might just be in love

"Jesus fucking Christ doll"

He didn't let you laugh at him before he had pounced into you with one hard and deep thrust, his mouth crushing into yours simultaneously to drown out that clamorous moan he already knew was coming from your throat

He didn't let you get used to him, he only started fucking up into you like he needed to split you in half, like he needed to get deeper into you that he'd ever been.

He was grunting with each push, and you could faintly hear the fridge beside you move in tandem with his movements, but you couldn't have cared less about worrying whether or not it could be seen from outside.

he hit a particularly deep spot inside of you and just as you were about to cry out like a mad woman, his hand was on your mouth, shutting you up for good

"you let another guy touch this fucking pussy and they're dead" his eyes were just as brutal as his thrusts, although a veil of harrowing honesty lay beneath them

He was being serious, he needed you to know that

 "got it?" he asked, your mind only half listening as your walls tightened around him "It's fucking mine" he purred, the hand he had on your waist tight enough to bruise "You're fucking mine," he said, "all of you" 

You swore you felt pain underneath the anger in his voice

"I don't care what you say, I'm the only one that can make you come, 'm the only one who can touch you or fuck you or- or fucking take you out to dinner- got it?"

If it were any other moment you would have teased him, but this... there was something too precious- too honest about this

"yes" you whimpered into his palm, 

And that sent him straight to fucking heaven, he couldn't help but relieve your lips of his hand and kiss you again, kiss you with every inch of life he had in him

"You're mine" he breathed, both of you breathing so heavily you were nearly hyperventilating

"I'm yours Joel" you promised, your core wisting and tuning as he drilled you closer and closer to the edge "I'm yours" you repeated, watching what it did to him, the relief plastered onto his face, the want only multiplying in his pace "only yours- all of me-"

"that's right" he breathed, his skin slapping with yours "My pussy, my body, my girl" he purred "You're mine, doll"

And just like that, he had pushed you over the edge, watching you fall apart closely before he couldn't help but follow suit, kissing you as he silenced both your moans, bottling them up inside of him, so he could never forget them, forget this.

You opened your eyes to find his already on you, so many unspoken words, feelings, hopes in them, and you couldn't help but smile, dropping your forehead to his as he settled you back onto the ground

"That was- wow" you sighed, still grinning like a kid "I should make you jealous more often"

"Please don't" he begged, his fingers drawing circles on your waist as you kissed him again, smiling softly onto his lips

You needed to talk, about what happened, about what this was, about everything... but as you both leaned away, a mutual understanding passed through you

Later

"You should get back out there" you murmured, although halfheartedly.

the prospect of moving away from his embrace felt like hell right now

"what about you?" he asked, his nose nuzzling against yours

"I gotta clean myself up" 

"I could help" 

You rolled your eyes playfully as a small laugh flowed through you

"Joel" you said, still smiling "go"

And so even if his whole mind, body, and soul were fighting against it, he did, kissing you one last time before he leaned away, fixed himself up, and looked at you one more time, before walking out of the kitchen and into the backyard

And as if on cue that fucking asshole had to come in and ruin his fucking vibe

"Hey, where's y/n? I've been looking for her" Kaleb asked, walking up to him.

Joel didn't even try to be nice, he didn't even bother with that "count to ten before answering" bullshit Sarah was always telling him about

"She's not interested, and if I see you even just looking her way ever again, I am going to kill you Kaleb, understand?"

To say the guy was taken aback was the understatement of the century

His eyes widened so much he didn't even look like himself

"w-what the fuck?" he spat "Where is she, I need to t-"

"she's in the bathroom" Joel cut him off, pure rage and annoyance in his voice, in his stare "cleaning my come off of herself"

Kaleb stumbled back, literally now

"w-wha-"

"I told you buddy" Joel said simply "she's not interested"

[lilacwants]

casual.

18+ notes: this song tugs at my heart like no other... i love chappell so much :'( summary: you said, "baby, no attachment" but we're knee-deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out, is it casual now? warnings: a little angsty, mature/explicit content, homelander being homelander. word count: 1.6k

You’d always known that getting involved with Homelander was a dangerous game. From the very first moment you laid eyes on him, his charm had been undeniable, but so was the sense of danger that accompanied every smile, every touch. The problem was, that you couldn’t resist the pull. He was intoxicating, a deadly cocktail of power and allure that you couldn't escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

It all started casually enough, or at least that’s what you told yourself. A chance meeting at a charity gala, a few drinks, some flirtatious banter. But the connection was immediate and intense. Homelander— John, as he insisted you call him in private — had a way of making you feel like the centre of the universe, his blue eyes piercing through to your soul.

“Sweetheart, no attachment,” he’d whispered in your ear one night after a particularly passionate encounter. “This is just…casual.”

You’d nodded, even as your heart sank a little. You’d agreed to his terms because, let’s face it, who wouldn’t want even a piece of Homelander’s attention? But as the weeks passed, the lines between casual and something more started to blur.

One night, after a particularly late Vought meeting, he’d picked you up, taking you for a drive in his sleek black SUV. The city lights blurred past as you sat in the passenger seat, his hand resting on your thigh. The tension between you was palpable, the kind that made your skin tingle and your breath hitch.

“John, this isn’t exactly what I’d call casual,” you murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh.

He glanced over at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Why? Because you’re in my car?”

“No,” you replied, leaning closer. “Because you’re taking me out in public, letting people see us together. Doesn’t seem very ‘no attachment’ to me.”

He pulled over to the side of the road, turning off the engine. The sudden silence was almost deafening. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You're overthinking this, sweetheart,” he whispered before pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss.

The next thing you knew, you were knee-deep in the passenger seat, your dress hiked up around your waist, and John was eating you out with a fervour that made your head spin. His hands gripped your thighs, his tongue working it’s magic, but all you could think was, is it casual now?

A few weeks later, you found yourself being introduced to his close friends from Vought, a move that surprised you. They welcomed you with open arms, treating you like part of the group. As you sipped champagne and laughed at their stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a fling.

One evening, after a particularly long day, John showed up at your door with takeout and a bottle of wine. He looked exhausted, but his eyes lit up when he saw you. You spent the night on the couch, eating, drinking, and talking about everything and nothing.

“John, this doesn’t feel casual,” you said softly, your head resting on his shoulder.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around you. “Why does it have to be anything more than what it is?”

“Because I need to know where I stand,” you replied, looking up at him. “I need to know if I’m just another distraction for you or if this means something.”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Sweetheart, I told you from the beginning that I don’t do attachments.”

“I know,” you said, your voice trembling. “But this doesn’t feel like no attachment to me.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Let’s just enjoy what we have,” he murmured. “No labels, no expectations.”

You wanted to argue, but the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his words melted your resolve. For now, you would take what you could get, even if it meant pretending this was enough.

Over the next few months, your relationship continued to evolve in ways you never expected. John was still adamant about keeping things casual, but his actions spoke louder than his words. He introduced you to more of his colleagues, took you on romantic getaways and even started leaving some of his things at your apartment.

It was hard being casual when your favourite bra lived in his dresser. You really, really tried to be the chill girlfriend, the one who held her tongue and gave him space. But to be honest, you weren’t and you didn’t even want to be one. Doubts were eating at your chest and you always felt a pang of hurt when he reminded you things between the two of you were simply casual. Nothing more.

You tried to ignore the nagging thoughts that crept into your mind during quiet moments. You tried to be satisfied with what you had, even as you found yourself wanting more. Every time he kissed you, a part of you couldn’t help but feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. He said it was casual, so why did it feel so much deeper?

“I’m just a girl that you bang on your couch, aren't I?” you blurted out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. “I thought you thought of me better. I thought I meant something to you.”

He looked at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

“You said, ‘We’re not together,’” you continued, tears streaming down your face. “So now when we kiss, i jut feel so bitter. I don’t want to be just another fling to you, John. I want to mean something.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered. “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

“Then why can’t you just admit that this is more than casual?” you demanded, pulling back to look at him. “Why can’t you admit that you love me?”

“Because I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’m scared of losing you, of getting too close and having it all fall apart.”

You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears. “I’m scared too, John. But we can’t keep pretending that this is nothing. We can’t keep lying to ourselves.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. “You’re right. I don’t want to lose you, sweetheart. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Then let’s stop pretending,” you said softly. “Let’s stop hiding and start being honest with each other.”

From that moment on, everything changed. John was still the same intense, powerful man you’d fallen for, but there was a new softness to him, a willingness to open up and let you in. He started spending more time at your apartment, making it clear that he considered it home. You began to make plans for the future, talking about where you wanted to live, and the things you wanted to do together.

One warm evening, as you walked along the pier hand in hand, he stopped and turned to you, a serious look in his eyes. “Sweetheart, I want you to know something.”

“What is it?” you asked, your heart racing.

“I’m in love with you,” he said simply. “I know I haven’t said it before, but it’s true. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Tears filled your eyes as you smiled up at him. “I love you too, John. So much.”

He pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply as the sun set behind you. At that moment, everything felt perfect. For the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

As the months turned into years, your relationship continued to grow stronger. You moved into his luxurious penthouse, now filled with love and laughter. John was still the same hero the world adored, but to you, he was just John—the man who held your heart.

But as you settled into your new life together, there were moments of doubt. Homelander’s public persona often clashed with the man you knew in private. There were times when his temper flared, when his need for control threatened to overshadow everything else. You had arguments, some more intense than others, but each time, he would come back, apologizing, promising to do better.

One particularly bad night, he came home late, his face a mask of anger and frustration. “Sweetheart, why can’t you just understand that I’m trying?”

You stood your ground, your eyes glossy. “John, I do understand. But you can’t keep shutting me out whenever things get tough.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” he snapped, his eyes blazing.

“Then what do you call this?” you demanded, gesturing to the space between you. “We’re supposed to be in this together.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He nodded, pulling you into his arms. “I love you. I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” you whispered, holding him tightly. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

The road ahead wasn’t easy, but you faced it together. With time, you learned to navigate the complexities of your relationship, finding a balance between the man he was and the hero the world needed. You built a life filled with love, trust, and understanding, knowing that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them side by side.

In the end, love was anything but casual. It was messy, complicated, and beautiful. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter what, this man held your heart in the palm of his hand. You will always love him, as Homelander or as John. You just can't help it.

[fr0stf4ll]

A proper girls’ night

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; You and Azriel have been mates for some time now, and between managing the males, training, missions, raising a child, and fulfilling duties as High Lady, you haven’t had the chance to enjoy a proper girls' night with your closest friends. But tonight is supposed to be all about you and the girls—or is it? ;)

word count ; 7.2k

warning; SMUT ;p, alcohol, drunk sex

notes; Yoo everyone, here I am again for a one shot. I'm not the best for smut so I hope that you will enjoy it. I got the idea of this story after a small party with some of my best friends so I hope that you will like it ! With love <3333

---

I was lounging on my plush couch, admiring the final touches I’d added to make this apartment truly feel like home. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Sidra, and soft, warm lights created a comforting ambiance. This place was everything I’d hoped for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

I had just finished arranging the last decorative pillow when a knock echoed through the apartment. I grinned, already knowing who it was.

“Come in!” I called out.

The door swung open to reveal Feyre, Nesta, and Mor. Feyre carried not just one, but two bottles of wine, Nesta had a stack of board games tucked under her arm, and Mor, of course, arrived with an enormous grin and—was that three bottles of spirits?

“Are we throwing a party, or did I miss something?” I laughed, taking in the sheer amount of alcohol they had brought with them.

Mor dropped the bottles on the counter with a flourish. “What? It’s not every day we christen a new apartment, Y/N! We needed to make sure we had enough… well, more than enough.”

Nesta smirked, adding, “You know how things go with us. We start with wine, then move on to something stronger. And just in case, I thought we’d better bring a little extra.”

“A little extra?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow as I counted the bottles. “This looks like enough to keep us going for a week.”

Feyre chuckled, setting the wine down. “Consider it insurance. We’re not leaving until we’ve had a proper girls’ night.”

Mor waved a hand dismissively. “No boys, no responsibilities, and a whole lot of alcohol. That’s what tonight is about. We’re here to have fun, relax, and forget about everything else.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I started pulling out glasses. “Well, if that’s the case, then let’s get started.”

The girls settled in, each finding a spot on the couch or one of the oversized chairs. Mor was already opening one of the wine bottles, filling up our glasses generously.

“We’ve spent too many nights at Rita’s,” Nesta said, her tone teasing but sincere. “It’s nice to just relax here for a change.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, raising her glass. “Especially with the company. I could get used to this.”

Mor clinked her glass against Feyre’s. “Here’s to our host, for letting us invade her beautiful new home. And for not skimping on the drinks.”

“I didn’t realize I had a choice,” I teased, holding up my glass before taking a sip. The wine was rich and full-bodied, the perfect start to what promised to be a wild night.

“Tonight is all about us,” Mor declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned back in her seat. “No boys, no distractions, just us girls and more alcohol than we know what to do with.”

“Agreed,” Nesta said, holding up one of the board games. “Let’s start with something easy. Then we can see where the night takes us.”

The night was still young, and the four of us had already settled comfortably into my new apartment. The alcohol was flowing freely—perhaps a bit too freely—and the conversation had naturally turned to gossip. It was inevitable when we got together, especially after a few glasses of wine.

We were sprawled out on the couch and chairs, each of us with a drink in hand. The warmth from the alcohol had already loosened our tongues, and the atmosphere was buzzing with the excitement of shared secrets.

Mor, never one to hold back, was the first to dive in. “Alright, ladies, I’ve got some tea. And I’m not talking about that herbal nonsense.” She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Did you hear about the sparring match Cassian had the other day with Devlon?”

That got everyone’s attention. “No,” Nesta said, her eyes narrowing. “What happened?”

Mor grinned, clearly enjoying the anticipation. “So, apparently, Devlon thought it would be a good idea to challenge Cassian in front of all the Illyrians—like, really make a show of it. Cassian, being Cassian, accepted, but he didn’t just beat him. He absolutely humiliated him. We’re talking flat on his back, wings pinned, can’t even move. And to top it all off, Cassian just stood up, dusted himself off, and said, ‘Next time, try harder.’”

Nesta snorted, trying to hide her amusement. “Serves him right. Devlon’s been asking for it.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes wide with delight. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Oh, but it gets better,” Mor continued, her grin widening. “Devlon’s been walking around the camp like a wounded animal ever since. The other Illyrians are having a field day with it. They’ve even started calling him ‘the Fallen Commander’ behind his back.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Cassian really knows how to make an impression.”

“Not as much of an impression as Rhys made when he was caught singing in the bath the other day,” Mor added, her tone dripping with amusement.

Feyre blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mor said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I happened to be passing by when I heard it. He was belting out some old Prythian ballad—badly, might I add—and I swear, for a second, I thought a cat was dying.”

Nesta burst out laughing. “Please tell me you have some sort of recording.”

“I wish!” Mor exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “But trust me, the image is seared into my memory forever. The High Lord of the Night Court, all serious and stoic by day, and an absolute disaster in the bathroom.”

Feyre groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “I’m never letting him live that down.”

“And then there’s Azriel,” Mor said, shifting her attention to me with a wicked grin. “I’m surprised he hasn’t broken anything with those late-night visits to your place.”

I blushed instantly, caught off guard. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Mor teased, her eyes glinting with amusement. “We all know that shadowy lover of yours can’t keep his hands off you. I mean, with the way you’ve been glowing lately, it’s not hard to figure out why.”

“Azriel doesn’t talk much,” Nesta added, smirking, “but I bet he more than makes up for it in other areas.”

Feyre was giggling, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Spill, Y/N! We need to know—does he really keep the shadows around, or does he prefer a more hands-on approach?”

My face was burning by now, but the alcohol had loosened my tongue enough that I couldn’t help but join in. “Let’s just say, the shadows aren’t the only thing that’s always… active.”

That sent Mor into peals of laughter, nearly spilling her drink as she doubled over. “Oh, I knew it! Azriel’s got that dark, broody exterior, but underneath… he’s a beast, isn’t he?”

I could only laugh in response, covering my face with my hands. “I’m not saying anything else!”

“Come on,” Nesta urged, leaning in. “We won’t tell a soul. Just a little more.”

I peeked out from behind my hands, giving them a sly grin. “Let’s just say, he’s very… thorough.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mor cheered, holding her glass up for a toast. “To thorough lovers and late-night visits that leave you glowing!”

We all clinked our glasses together, the laughter bubbling up again. The night was filled with stories that grew more outrageous with each passing drink. Feyre even confessed to sneaking up on Rhys one morning with a bucket of cold water, just to get back at him for something he’d done weeks earlier.

“I’ll never forget the look on his face,” she giggled, eyes bright with mischief. “He didn’t speak to me for half the day—until he figured out how to get me back.”

“Did he manage to one-up you?” I asked, curious.

“Oh, he tried,” Feyre replied, a smirk playing on her lips. “But he should have known better than to start a prank war with me. I’m still two steps ahead.”

“You two are impossible,” Mor said, shaking her head but unable to hide her amusement. “But what about Cassian? Does he know about all of this?”

“Cassian,” Nesta said, still grinning, “is too busy preening in front of the mirror these days. He’s been obsessed with perfecting his ‘battle-ready’ look. You wouldn’t believe how much time he spends adjusting his armor to make sure it’s just the right amount of ‘ruggedly handsome.’”

Feyre rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her voice. “Typical. He’s worse than a peacock.”

“Speaking of peacocks,” Mor added, leaning in again, “I heard that Tarquin’s been parading around the Summer Court with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Apparently, he thinks it makes him look ‘mysterious and approachable.’”

Feyre snorted. “More like ridiculous.”

As the conversation began to wind down, Mor suddenly jumped to her feet, a wild look in her eyes. “Alright, ladies,” she declared, “enough sitting around. It’s time to take this party up a notch.”

The night had taken a turn, a wild, exhilarating turn. What started as a simple girls' night had quickly evolved into something far more chaotic and, quite frankly, downright ridiculous. The ridiculous part might have had something to do with the copious amounts of alcohol, but that was beside the point.

It all began after the third bottle of wine was emptied, and Mor, in her infinite wisdom, declared that the night was far too young to end with just drinking and talking. The suggestion to turn the apartment into our very own private club was made, and, well, it didn’t take much convincing.

I don’t know where Mor had pulled it from—whether it was some hidden magic or just her unrelenting spirit—but somehow, my apartment transformed. Soft lights gave way to pulsating club lights, shifting in colors that matched the beat of the music that now blasted through the room. The furniture was pushed aside, making space for what had effectively become a dance floor.

“I didn’t even know you had this in you,” Feyre shouted over the music, her eyes wide with delight as she took in the scene.

“Neither did I!” I shouted back, laughing as I twirled around in the flashing lights. The wine had long since turned my limbs to jelly, and I felt lighter, freer than I had in a long time.

Nesta, who had been initially reluctant, was now completely immersed, her usually stoic expression replaced with a flushed grin as she sipped from yet another drink. “I’m not even sure what’s happening anymore,” she admitted, before bursting into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

Mor, of course, was in her element. She had Feyre by the hand, pulling her onto the makeshift dance floor. “Come on, Feyre! Show us those moves!”

Feyre, not one to back down from a challenge, joined in with gusto, the two of them dancing wildly, their laughter filling the room. It was infectious, and soon, we were all moving to the beat, lost in the moment.

The alcohol flowed freely, and it wasn’t long before we were all well beyond tipsy. Nesta, usually the most reserved of us, was now draped over the couch, clutching her drink and singing along to the music—though the words were more slurred than sung. Mor had taken it upon herself to DJ, switching between tracks with the enthusiasm of someone who was enjoying every second of the chaos she had created.

As for me, I was somewhere in the middle of it all, dancing with Feyre and Mor one minute, then flopping down next to Nesta the next, my head spinning in the best possible way.

“This was the best idea ever,” I declared, holding up my drink in a toast to… well, everything. The lights, the music, the ridiculousness of it all.

“I told you!” Mor shot back, barely managing to avoid spilling her drink as she twirled around. “This is what girls’ night is all about!”

Feyre, who had given up on dancing in favor of lounging on the couch with Nesta, nodded vigorously. “We should do this every week.”

“Yes!” Nesta agreed, raising her glass—though she missed her mouth when she tried to take a sip, spilling a bit of her drink on herself. She didn’t seem to mind, though. “Every week!”

We all dissolved into laughter, the kind that made your stomach ache and tears stream down your face. It was a night of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind of night that reminded me just how lucky I was to have these incredible women in my life.

At some point—who knows when—the music was turned up even louder, and we all found ourselves back on the dance floor, moving in a way that was far more about having fun than it was about looking good. Not that any of us cared. This was our night, and we were going to make the most of it.

As the night wore on and the drinks continued to flow, the line between reality and whatever madness we had created blurred even further. The lights, the music, the alcohol—it all mixed together in a haze of color and sound, until it felt like we were in another world entirely, a world where nothing mattered but the here and now.

At some point, Mor pulled out a bottle of something stronger—something that definitely wasn’t wine—and poured shots for everyone. We downed them without hesitation, the burn in our throats a reminder that we were alive, that we were here, that this night would be one we’d never forget.

And it was. By the time we finally collapsed in a heap on the floor, the world spinning around us, I knew that this was a night I’d look back on and smile. We were drunk, we were ridiculous, and it was perfect.

As we lay there, catching our breath and trying to stop the room from spinning, Feyre turned to me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and alcohol. “You know,” she said, her voice soft, “this was exactly what we needed.”

I smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Yeah,” I agreed, my voice barely a whisper. “Me too.”

Tonight was one for the books.

The night had taken a wild, exhilarating turn. What started as a simple girls' night had quickly evolved into something far more chaotic and, quite frankly, downright ridiculous. The alcohol was flowing freely, and the atmosphere was buzzing with energy as the room transformed into our very own private club.

But just when I thought the night couldn’t get any crazier, Mor clapped her hands together, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Alright, ladies, let’s up the stakes. Who’s up for a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’?”

Feyre groaned, though her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “Oh gods, this is going to get dangerous.”

“Exactly,” Mor said, grabbing a fresh bottle of something strong and pouring shots for everyone. “We’re already half-gone, so let’s see who can survive this round.”

Nesta eyed the shot glass suspiciously but took it anyway. “Fine, but let’s keep it reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” Mor scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s the fun in that?”

With everyone armed with a shot glass, we settled onto the floor, forming a loose circle. Mor, as the instigator, went first. She smirked, lifting her glass. “Never have I ever… kissed someone with the intention of getting free drinks.”

Feyre immediately took a sip, as did Mor, who winked at me. “What can I say? Sometimes, charm gets you a long way.”

"When the person buying your drinks is Rhysand, it doesn't count Feyre" I said laughing at her.

Nesta, surprisingly, didn’t drink, but she gave a small smile. “I prefer to pay my own way, thank you very much.”

Next, it was Feyre’s turn. She narrowed her eyes in mock concentration before grinning. “Never have I ever… gotten out of trouble by flirting.”

Mor and I immediately took our shots, causing Feyre to raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you two, spill.”

Mor grinned, clearly eager to share. “Alright, so there was this one time in the Summer Court… I was supposed to be at a formal dinner, but I got a little sidetracked with a rather charming advisor. We were caught by one of the palace guards, and let’s just say, I had to turn on the charm full blast to avoid a very awkward conversation with Tarquin.”

Feyre shook her head, laughing. “Only you, Mor.”

I couldn’t help but join in. “For me, it was during a mission. I needed to get past a rather stubborn gatekeeper who wasn’t interested in letting me through. A little flirting and a lot of batting my eyelashes later, and suddenly I was the most important person on his list. I got what I needed, and he never even knew what hit him.”

Nesta looked at me with a smirk. “I’m surprised Az didn’t handle that for you.”

“Oh, he would’ve,” I admitted with a laugh. “But sometimes, a girl’s got to do things her own way.”

Feyre shook her head, still smiling. “Rhys would’ve been so jealous.”

“Please,” Mor scoffed, “Rhys would have encouraged it.”

Nesta chuckled, lifting her glass. “Alright, next one. Never have I ever… sent a dirty thought to your partner to see their reaction.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately took their shots, while Mor and I exchanged surprised looks, our glasses untouched.

Feyre’s cheeks flushed as she laughed. “I did it to Rhys once during a meeting—he nearly choked on his drink. I thought I was being subtle, but apparently, his reaction was… noticeable. I think I almost caused a diplomatic incident.”

Mor burst out laughing, her eyes wide. “Oh, I would’ve paid to see that.”

Nesta, surprisingly, offered her own story, her voice more subdued but with a hint of amusement. “I sent Cassian a… vivid thought while he was training the Illyrians. He dropped his sword mid-swing and nearly took out an entire row of recruits. They didn’t know what happened, but Cassian spent the rest of the day giving me death glares.”

The room erupted into laughter, the image of Cassian flustered and distracted by Nesta’s thoughts too much to handle.

“Well, I’ve never done it,” I said, still giggling. “But now I’m tempted. I wonder how a certain shadow singer would react.”

“Knowing you, Y/N” Feyre said with a grin, “he would probably drop everything he is doing to go join you.”

“Oh, definitely” I agreed, taking a sip of my drink anyway. “But let’s keep going, shall we?”

The game continued, the questions growing bolder, the shots more frequent, and the laughter louder. By the time we were on the tenth or eleventh round, there was no turning back.

“Alright, my turn,” Nesta said, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Never have I ever… had someone walk in on me during sex.”

Mor and Feyre both took a sip, while I hesitated before taking mine. “Let’s just say, it was awkward,” I said with a cringe, though I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

Mor, however, was not about to let it go. “Oh, no, no. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not give us details. Who walked in?”

I smirked, taking another sip of my drink for courage. “Rhys. And let’s just say, I’ve never seen him retreat from a room so fast.”

That sent Mor into peals of laughter, nearly spilling her drink as she doubled over. “Oh, I can just picture it! Poor Rhys, walking in on you two… I bet Az didn’t even bat an eyelash.”

Nesta snickered, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “And I’m sure Azriel was just as composed as ever, right? Or did he actually look guilty for once?”

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. “Let’s just say, Azriel wasn’t too happy about the interruption. But once Rhys was out of the room… he made sure to make up for lost time.”

Feyre choked on her drink, laughing as she wiped her mouth. “I bet he did! Azriel’s got that silent intensity… but I’m sure he can be anything but quiet when he wants to be.”

“He’s very… intense, in more ways than one.”

Mor grinned wickedly, holding her glass up for a toast. “To very intense lovers who know how to get the job done—and then some!”

The night had taken on a life of its own, with the alcohol flowing and inhibitions flying out the window. We were deep into the game of "Never Have I Ever," and it seemed like nothing was off-limits at this point.

Feyre, clearly feeling the effects of the drinks, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright, ladies, last one from me. Never have I ever… tried the ‘Moonlit Arch’ position.”

There was a pause as the question hung in the air. Mor immediately downed her shot, as did Feyre. Nesta hesitated, then took hers as well. Meanwhile, I just sat there, my glass untouched, staring at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Wait… what?” I asked, feeling completely out of the loop. “What’s the ‘Moonlit Arch’? Are you sure you didn’t made that up ?”

Feyre’s grin widened as she set down her glass. “Oh, sweetie, you’ve been missing out. How do I explain this?”

Before I could protest, Feyre had jumped up from her spot, a bit unsteady but determined. She sauntered over to me, her eyes gleaming with tipsy mischief. “It’s easier to show than tell.”

The next thing you knew, Feyre was pushing me back onto the ground, her hands on your shoulders. “Relax, this is educational,” she teased, as she gently pushed me down and straddled my lap.

“Feyre, what are you—” You began, but was cut off as she leaned down, bringing her lips close to your ear.

“It’s all about the angle,” Feyre whispered, her breath warm against your ear. “You lie back, just like this…”

She gently guided me into position, her hands on my shoulders as she demonstrated. Before you knew it, Nesta was there too, her eyes gleaming with the same mischief as she grabbed Feyre’s hands and placed them on either side of your face.

“It’s all about guiding the energy,” Nesta murmured, her voice low and sultry. “Make sure your partner knows exactly where to focus.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was tinged with nervousness and the absurdity of the situation. “You’re both insane.”

“Insanely helpful,” Mor chimed in, a grin spreading across her face as she sauntered over. She took Feyre’s hands and moved them down to my chest, giving a light squeeze. “And don’t forget about the importance of… other areas.”

“Mor!” You gasped, my face burning as you tried to squirm away, but the alcohol had made me sluggish, and the three of them had me pinned in place.

“It’s all in good fun,” Feyre said with a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she gently patted my cheek. “Now, the trick is to—”

—

It was nearly dawn, and the soft light of morning was beginning to creep through the windows of the townhouse. One by one, the guys emerged from their rooms, each of them groggy and slightly disoriented, but with a nagging feeling in the back of their minds.

Rhysand was the first to step into the hallway, his brow furrowed in concern. “Is it just me, or is something off?” he muttered to himself.

Cassian’s door creaked open next, and he stuck his head out, his hair a wild mess. “Where the hell are they?”

Azriel appeared a moment later, his eyes shadowed with worry. “They’re not answering,” he said quietly, though his voice was tinged with concern.

The three of them exchanged glances, the same thought running through their minds: their mates weren’t back yet, and none of them had responded to the bond.

Cassian scratched his head, still half-asleep. “You think they’re okay? Maybe they… got distracted?”

“Distracted?” Rhys repeated, raising an eyebrow. “By what, exactly?”

Azriel sighed, trying to remain calm. “It’s just a girls’ night. They’re probably just… having fun.”

Cassian leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, but still… it’s nearly morning. Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

Rhys glanced toward the window, watching as the sky began to lighten. “They should be. I can’t get through to Feyre.”

“Same with Nesta,” Cassian added, his worry finally starting to show.

Azriel’s expression darkened slightly as he nodded. “And Y/N’s just giving off this… contented feeling. But nothing else.”

The three males stood in silence for a moment, the unease growing between them. Finally, Cassian huffed and pushed off the wall. “Alright, that’s it. We’re going to check on them.”

Azriel hesitated, glancing between the other two. “You’re all overreacting. They’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.”

“Sure they are,” Cassian agreed, a glint of concern in his eyes. “But aren’t you just a little curious about what they’re up to?”

Azriel hesitated, glancing out the window at the faint light of dawn creeping over the horizon. “Maybe… a little.”

Rhys grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. “Then let’s go. If nothing else, we can make sure they get home safe.”

The three of them headed out, taking to the skies with ease. It wasn’t long before they spotted your apartment building, and as they landed on the rooftop across the street, they were greeted with an unexpected sight.

Bright, colorful lights were flashing from your windows, pulsing in time with the faint thrum of music that could be heard even from outside. It looked more like a nightclub than a place where anyone would be getting a decent night’s sleep.

Cassian stared at the windows, his mouth slightly agape. “What the hell…?”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “I didn’t know Y/N had a nightclub setup in her apartment.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. “She doesn’t. Or at least, she didn’t.”

Cassian shook his head, his concern deepening. “Come on, just a peek. I’ve got to see what kind of chaos they’ve created.”

They descended to your apartment door, and as they approached, the music grew louder, the flashing lights spilling out from under the doorframe, casting strange, colorful shadows in the hallway.

Rhys knocked, but there was no response. He knocked again, louder this time, but the only sound was the thumping music and muffled voices from inside.

Cassian glanced at the others, a serious expression on his face. “You sure they’re alive in there?”

The three of them exchanged worried looks, and before anyone could suggest otherwise, Cassian stepped forward, bracing his shoulder against the door. “Alright, let’s find out.”

With a firm push, they forced the door open—and were immediately greeted by the sight of complete and utter chaos.

The apartment was a mess, with bottles and snacks strewn everywhere. But what caught their attention was the scene in the living room: Mor and Nesta were on the floor, laughing uncontrollably, while Feyre was perched on top of you on the ground, pinning you down and demonstrating something with far too much enthusiasm.

Mor had one hand on your chest, playfully squeezing your breast, while Nesta’s hands were on either side of your face, her touch light but clearly part of the explanation Feyre was giving.

The moment the door flew open, all four of you turned your heads in perfect synchronization, staring at the doorway with wide, startled eyes.

The guys froze in the entrance, their faces a mix of shock and utter confusion. It was as if they had just walked into another world, one they couldn’t quite make sense of.

Feyre, still on top of you, blinked in surprise, her hands frozen in place. Mor and Nesta, still in their positions, were too drunk to even try to move, their eyes fixed on the three males standing in the doorway.

For a long moment, there was complete silence, the only sound the faint thrum of the music and the distant hum of the lights.

“What the hell…?” Cassian finally managed to mutter, his voice laced with disbelief.

Rhys, his usually calm demeanor shattered, shook his head slowly. “I think we interrupted something… very strange.”

Azriel, for his part, could only stare, his mind trying to process the chaotic scene in front of him. “Should we… come back later?”

The sudden absurdity of the situation hit you all at once, and you burst into laughter, the alcohol-fueled hysteria too strong to resist. Feyre, still on top of you, collapsed onto your chest, shaking with laughter, while Mor and Nesta lost it completely, both of them rolling on the floor as they tried to catch their breath.

The guys, however, remained rooted in place, their expressions still a mix of shock and confusion as they watched the four of you dissolve into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Cassian was the first to recover, though his voice was still laced with disbelief. “What in the world is going on here?”

Feyre, still laughing, finally managed to roll off you, her face flushed as she wiped at her eyes. “I guess we got a little carried away.”

“A little?” Rhys echoed, his voice flat as he glanced around the room. “This place looks like a warzone.”

Mor, still struggling to sit up, waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. We were just having fun!”

Azriel, who had finally managed to close his mouth, walked over to you, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress. “Let’s get you home.”

You looked up at him, your smile turning into a confused frown. “But this is my home, Az.”

Feyre, catching your words, let out a snort before dissolving into another fit of laughter. Before long, you were both on the floor, laughing so hard that you could barely breathe, the absurdity of the entire situation hitting you all at once.

Mor, still perched on the floor, threw her head back and screamed with laughter. “This was better than every night at Rita’s I’ve ever had in my life!”

Nesta, who was trying her best to stay composed, finally gave in, collapsing onto the floor beside Mor as the two of them giggled uncontrollably.

The guys, still standing in the doorway, could only watch as the four of you descended into a drunken, giggling mess, their shock slowly giving way to resignation.

Rhys sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Cassian, finally managing a grin, shook his head. “We’re going to have to carry them out of here, aren’t we?”

Azriel, who had gently lifted you to your feet again, just nodded, his concern still evident. “Probably. But at least they had fun.”

---

The chaos of the night had finally started to wind down. Mor and Nesta, still giggling, were being helped out by Rhys and Cassian, who looked more than ready to get everyone home and into bed. But you, still tipsy and more than a little giggly, had managed to cling onto Azriel.

He lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your face nestled against his neck, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. The cool night air hit your skin as he carried you out of the apartment, but you barely noticed, too focused on the warmth of his body and the comforting scent of him surrounding you.

Azriel walked steadily, his wings twitching slightly with every step. You could feel the muscles in his back flex as he held you close, his grip firm yet gentle. Despite how drunk you were, a playful smile tugged at your lips as your breath fanned across his neck.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “you’re really strong… and warm. Like, really warm.”

Azriel’s chuckle rumbled through his chest, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Good to know,” he replied, his voice taking on a huskier edge. “Are you comfortable?”

You nodded, snuggling closer to him, your breath warm against his neck. “Mmhmm. This is nice. I could stay like this forever.”

He smiled, adjusting his hold on you slightly as he continued walking. “I wouldn’t mind that either. But we should get you home. You had quite the night.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rested your head against him. “Yeah… tonight was fun. I think we broke the apartment, though. Sorry about that.”

Azriel shook his head, his smile growing. “Don’t worry about it. It’s your place—you can do whatever you want. And it’s nothing a little cleaning won’t fix.”

There was a brief pause before you giggled, the sound light and airy. “Do you think… do you think Rhys was mad? I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

Azriel’s lips brushed against your temple in a soft kiss. “No, I don’t think he was mad. Maybe a little surprised, but that’s all. He knows you were just having fun.”

You hummed in response, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the back of his neck. “Good. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble… But you know what’s funny?”

“What’s that?” he asked, his tone indulgent as he continued walking.

“I kept thinking,” you whispered, your voice a little more serious now, “that I was so happy tonight… because you weren’t just my mate, but also my best friend.”

Azriel’s heart swelled at your words, and he tightened his grip on you slightly. “I’m happy to hear that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re my best friend too, you know. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You smiled against his neck, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “You’re so sweet, Az. The best.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “I’m just being honest. Now let’s get you home, so you can get some rest. You’ve had a long night.”

“Mmhmm. This is very comfortable. I think I’m enjoying this a little too much.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he tried to maintain control. “Is that so?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of his neck. “I’ve always liked being this close to you… feeling you.”

He sucked in a breath, the sound a mixture of surprise and desire. “You’re drunk,” he reminded you gently, though there was a strain in his voice as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

Azriel’s steps faltered as you reached the townhouse, his heart hammering in his chest. You could feel the way his pulse quickened under your touch, and it only made you more bold. “And what is it you want?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You smiled against his neck, your teeth grazing his skin ever so lightly. “I want you, Az. Always.”

His breath hitched as he carried you inside, the familiar darkness of the townhouse wrapping around you both. Without a word, he started toward his bedroom, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

He pushed the door open with his foot and crossed the threshold, finally setting you down on the edge of his bed. But before he could step back, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to you, your lips crashing against his in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips, pulling you closer as you leaned back onto the bed, dragging him down with you. His wings flared out behind him, twitching as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again.

He pulled back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down at you, your face flushed, eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down to you as your hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest. “I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips, your voice a sultry invitation.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Azriel’s lips crashed back onto yours, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive hunger. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours as he tore at your clothes, desperate to feel you, to have you.

His hands slid up under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

He paused at the hem of your shirt, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. You nodded, and he pulled the fabric over your head, tossing it aside before his mouth descended on your chest, his tongue tracing a path down to your breasts.

You gasped as his lips closed around your nipple, his hand sliding down to the waistband of your pants. With a quick tug, he had them off, leaving you bare beneath him. Azriel’s eyes raked over your body, taking in every curve, every inch of skin as if he were memorizing you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice reverent as his hands slid down your sides, his lips following the path of his hands.

You reached for him, pulling him back up to you, needing to feel his skin against yours. “I need you,” you whispered, your voice breathless with anticipation.

Azriel shuddered at your words, his lips capturing yours in another searing kiss as he positioned himself above you. He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt, but all he found was desire, love, and a deep, unyielding trust.

With a soft groan, he slid into you, the sensation drawing a gasp from both of you as your bodies finally connected, fitting together perfectly. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being with you like this, but it wasn’t long before the tension between you became too much to bear.

You moved together, each thrust deepening the connection between you, your moans and gasps filling the room as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure down your spine as he whispered your name like a prayer.

As you neared the edge, you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as you felt the wave of pleasure crashing over you. Azriel followed soon after, his movements becoming erratic as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he reached his climax.

For a moment, the world stood still, the only sound the ragged breaths of you and Azriel as you held each other close. Then, slowly, the tension ebbed away, leaving you both in a state of blissful exhaustion.

As you both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow, a soft giggle escaped your lips. Azriel, still holding you close, raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low and affectionate.

You shifted slightly, a playful glint in your eyes as you rolled over, pushing him onto his back. Azriel let out a surprised laugh, his hands instinctively moving to rest on your hips as you straddled him, your hair falling around your face in a soft curtain.

“What do you have in mind, love?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and desire.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Something the girls showed me earlier…”

Azriel’s eyes darkened with intrigue as you began to move your hips in a slow, teasing rhythm, your hands sliding up his chest. He sucked in a breath, his fingers digging into your thighs as he tried to hold on to the last remnants of his control.

“Is that so?” he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your lips trailing soft kisses down his jawline as you continued to move against him, the friction sending shivers of pleasure through both of you.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, his touch growing more desperate as you began to pick up the pace, your hips rolling in a way that had him groaning your name.

“Y/N…” he rasped, his eyes locked onto yours as you took control, guiding him deeper inside you with each movement.

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you leaned down to kiss him, your tongue teasing his as your movements became more intense. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, his wings flaring out behind him as he struggled to keep up with the pleasure you were giving him.

“What did those girls teach you?” he managed to say between gasps, his voice filled with both awe and amusement.

You just grinned, moving your hips in a way that had him arching off the bed, a deep groan escaping his lips. “Just a little something they thought you might enjoy.”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back against the pillow as he surrendered to the sensations you were giving him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, though the smile on his face told you he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You chuckled, leaning down to kiss him deeply as you pushed both of you closer to the edge. “Then let’s make it worth it.”

With that, you moved even faster, your bodies moving in perfect sync as the pleasure built to a crescendo. The room was filled with the sound of your moans and gasps, the intensity of the moment taking you both higher and higher until finally, you both shattered together, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

As you collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily, Azriel wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

“That was…” Azriel began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the words.

“Amazing?” you offered, your voice still breathless as you snuggled against him.

“Amazing,” he agreed, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “But also… unexpected.”

You giggled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Just trying to keep things interesting.”

Azriel smiled, his hands sliding up and down your back in a soothing motion. “You definitely succeeded. But now, I think it’s time for some sleep.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. “Yeah… sleep sounds good.”

With a contented sigh, you let your eyes drift closed, still wrapped in Azriel’s warm embrace. And as you drifted off to sleep, a satisfied smile on your lips, you knew that no matter what surprises the night brought, you and Azriel would always find a way to enjoy them together.

---

don't hesitate to comment, I read them ;)

[latin5mamii]

Hate you - Jude Bellingham

WARNINGS: smut, +18 minors dni, cocky Jude alert!! Long chapter😚

SUMMARY: You hate him, right?Or at least you thought so…

GENRE: Enemies to lovers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter! I’m so grateful for your support. I’ve been taking a short break to improve my writing, especially since English isn’t my first language, and i didn’t expect so much support! I’ll be back with being more active on writing soon, but I’m focusing on making each story better. Thanks for being patient and for all your love!🤍

You didn’t even know why you actually accepted this ‘date.’

Right now, in front of your bathroom mirror, you literally want to die. You agreed to the date to do what? Prove him wrong? Show him you’re unaffected by his charm? “Pride can get you killed” God, they were so right for this.

You pace back and forth, scowling at your reflection. You don’t want to give Jude the satisfaction of thinking he got under your skin. But here you are, taking extra time to look perfect, as if you’re about to meet someone who actually matters. You feel stupid for caring this much.

With a groan, you finally decide on an outfit. Casual enough to say “this means nothing,” but still flattering enough to make him choke on that smug smirk of his. You’re definitely not doing this for him… just a reminder to yourself that you’ve got it like that,right?

Now, as you stand in front of his door, you can’t shake the nerves. It’s just the usual banter, you tell yourself. It’s not a real date. Besides, the setting doesn’t matter,he’s still the same infuriating guy you can’t stand.

The door swings open, and there he is, leaning casually against the doorframe like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. He’s in a simple black tee and jeans, looking annoyingly relaxed and somehow even more attractive. You’re already regretting the butterflies in your stomach.

“Right on time,” he says with a smirk, stepping aside to let you in.

You roll your eyes, determined to stay in control. “I’m punctual. You should try it sometime.”

He chuckles, leading you into the living room. It’s a sleek, modern space, but still cozy. A bottle of red wine is already open on the table, two glasses waiting. You glance around, trying to keep your mind off the fact that this feels oddly intimate.

“Wine okay with you?” he asks, pouring the glasses.

“Depends. Are you planning on getting me drunk to make this bearable?” you shoot back, taking the glass he hands you.

Jude raises an eyebrow, amusement in his eyes. "Of course not," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "Though, if I did, at least then you might admit you actually enjoy my company."

You scoff, taking a sip of the wine. It's smooth and surprisingly good. "Never."

“You never give up, huh?” He smiles at you and you feel your cheeks literally burn. And despite your best efforts, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“There it is,” Jude says, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“There what is?” you ask, taking another sip to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“That smile. You spend so much time pretending to hate everything, I was starting to think you forgot how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun,” you retort, your tone defensive. “Just not with you.”

Jude chuckles, settling into the couch beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, but not so close that it feels like an invasion of space. 

He swirls his glass of wine. “How long are we going to keep pretending that you hate me?”

You meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “I’m not pretending.”

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone.

Your heart skips a beat, but you refuse to show any sign of weakness. “I don’t need to prove anything to you,” you say, your voice steady despite the rapid pounding of your heart.

Jude’s smirk returns, and he leans in slightly, just enough that you can feel his breath on your lips. “Scared you might like it?” he taunts, his words laced with that same infuriating confidence.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to back down.

“Please,” you scoff, though your voice wavers just slightly. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me like you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again. “I think you might be surprised.”

You want to argue, to tell him he’s full of himself, but the words stick in your throat. Because, deep down, you know there’s a part of you that’s drawn to him, no matter how much you try to deny it.

He leans back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, but the intensity in his gaze doesn’t waver. “Why did you agree to this date?” he asks, his tone more serious now, the playful edge gone.

“I didn’t know this was a date,” you reply, lifting your chin defiantly, trying to regain the upper hand.

Jude chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Come on, you’re smarter than that. You knew exactly what this was.”

You meet his gaze, trying to keep your voice steady. “Maybe I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I’ve heard enough stories about you.”

“Oh, yeah? And what did you hear?” he asks, leaning in again, his eyes locking onto yours.

“That you’re an overconfident player who can’t even drive himself to his own games and training,” you quip, a smirk tugging at your lips as you throw the dig his way.

Jude laughs, clearly amused rather than offended. “Fair enough. I guess I’ve got other things I’m better at.” He gives you a slow, suggestive smile, and you roll your eyes, even as your heart skips a beat.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you mutter, taking another sip of wine to distract yourself from how close he’s sitting, how warm his presence is next to you.

“Maybe,” he admits with a shrug, “but I think you like it.”

“Think again,” you shoot back, but the words come out weaker than you intended.

Jude shifts even closer, his knee brushing against yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. “I know you’re trying hard not to, but you can’t help it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

The tension between you is electric, the air so thick with it that it's almost hard to breathe. You try to find the words to throw back at him, to maintain your composure, but they catch in your throat as Jude moves even closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"Just as i thought" he murmurs, his voice so low it sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounds in your chest, every instinct telling you to push him away, to make some cutting remark and put him in his place. But you can't. Instead, your body betrays you, leaning in just slightly, drawn to him in a way you can’t quite control.

Jude notices, of course. He always does. His eyes darken, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he closes the gap between you. “See? I knew you wanted this.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, but the words lack conviction.

"Make me," he challenges, his voice a rough growl as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs.

His touch is fire, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that mirrors your own, and you arch into him, unable to hold back the soft moan that escapes your lips as his mouth trails down your neck. It’s overwhelming, the intensity of it all, but you don’t want it to stop. You want more,more of him, more of this, whatever it is that’s driving you both to the edge.

Jude’s lips find yours again, and this time the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the taste of you, the feel of your body beneath his. 

“Tell me you don’t want this and I'll stop” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and full of need.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper back, the admission slipping out before you can stop it.

Jude doesn’t hesitate. He kisses you deeply, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling him as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your back, your sides, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of you. The sensation of his body against yours is overwhelming, the warmth of his skin searing through your clothes, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as his hands find their way under your shirt, fingers brushing against your bare skin.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he mutters against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

“And you’re so fucking annoying,” you shoot back, but the bite in your words is softened by the way you’re clinging to him, your body betraying the emotions you’ve tried so hard to keep in check.

His response is a low, satisfied growl as he flips you over onto the couch, his body hovering over yours. The weight of him pressing you into the cushions is intoxicating, and for a moment, all you can do is stare up at him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to catch your breath.

"Say you hate me again," Jude dares, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers the challenge. "I want to hear it."

You know he’s playing with you, pushing you to admit the truth you’ve been denying for so long. But instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer, your hands gripping his shirt as you bring his lips back to yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. 

"Fuck you," you murmur against his lips, but there's no venom in your words. It's almost affectionate, a twisted way of admitting that you've lost this battle, at least for now.

Jude grins against your mouth, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing over your heated skin. "I was hoping you'd say that," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

His hands slipping under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head. He leans back just enough to take you in, his eyes dark and hungry as they roam over your body. “You don’t hate me. You’ve never hated me.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, but the words are weaker now, barely a whisper as he kisses a trail down your neck, his hands making quick work of the rest of your clothes.His teeth grazing your skin as he makes his way lower, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips when he finally reaches your chest. His hands are everywhere, caressing, teasing, driving you wild with need.

“You’re going to beg,” Jude whispers against your skin, his voice a low growl. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

You bite back a retort, determined to stay in control, but it’s getting harder with every touch, every kiss. When his mouth finally closes over your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple, you arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you try to pull him closer.

He’s relentless, his hands and mouth driving you to the edge, but you’re not ready to give in. Not yet. You pull him up, capturing his lips in another searing kiss, your hands fumbling with his belt as you try to get it undone.

Jude grins against your lips, helping you get rid of his jeans, and when he’s finally free, you can feel just how hard he is, how much he wants you. It sends a thrill through you, knowing that you’re affecting him just as much as he’s affecting you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down against you, and he groans, his hips grinding against yours. The friction is almost too much, and you’re both breathing hard, your bodies pressed together.

But Jude doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath. He moves down again, this time sliding his hand between your thighs, finding the wetness there with a satisfied growl.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding against your slick folds, teasing you, driving you crazy with need.

“Jude…” you moan, trying to keep control, but it’s slipping fast.

He chuckles darkly, his fingers dipping inside you, curling just right, and you can’t stop the way your hips move, seeking more of his touch.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “Say you want me.”

“In your dreams,” you pant, even as your body betrays you, moving against his hand, desperate for more.

“Every fucking night ” Jude growls, his thumb finding your clit, pressing down just right, and you gasp, your back arching as pleasure courses through you.

He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, his mouth replacing his hand as he moves lower, his tongue sliding against your sensitive flesh, tasting you, driving you wild with every stroke.

“Jude, please” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Jude looks up at you, his eyes dark and full of desire. “There it is” he says, his voice rough with satisfaction. “I knew you’d beg.”

But he doesn’t stop. He continues his relentless assault on your senses, his tongue flicking over your clit, his fingers sliding inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge until you’re right there, teetering on the brink.

“Come for me,” he murmurs against your skin, and that’s all it takes. You cry out, your body convulsing as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Jude’s lips curl into a wicked smile as he hovers above you, his body pressing against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. He slides into you with a slow, deliberate thrust, making you feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips.

“Fuck,” Jude groans, his voice low and rough, “You feel so good. So fucking tight.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, but it’s useless. He knows exactly what he’s doing, each thrust driving you wild, his words only adding fuel to the fire.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “You like this, don’t you? Being fucked by the guy you ‘hate’ so much?”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him as he picks up the pace . “Shut up,” you gasp, but the way your body responds to him betrays your words. Every roll of his hips, every deep stroke has you melting beneath him.

“Oh, I don’t think you really want that,” Jude taunts, his voice dripping with confidence. He pulls back slightly, just enough to leave you wanting, teasing you.

“Tell me how much you want it. How much you want me.”

“Jude…” you moan, the sound more of a plea than you intended.

His eyes darken with desire, and he pushes back in, harder this time, his pace relentless as he drives into you. “Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with need. “Tell me you need me.”

You’re on the edge, teetering between holding on to your pride and giving in to the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you. His hand slides down your body, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, skilled circles that have you seeing stars.

“Fuck, Jude,” you cry out, your body arching into him, your resistance crumbling. “I need you. I need you so fucking bad.”

“I knew this from the beginning” he growls, his lips crashing down on yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. He pounds into you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, the combination of his cock inside you and his fingers working your clit driving you insane.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath him as the tension coils tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Jude’s name falls from your lips,you can’t think about anything else.

“Come for me,” Jude orders, his voice a low, commanding growl. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

It’s too much. You cry out his name as you come, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm, every muscle tensing at the feeling.

Jude follows you over the edge, his hips snapping against yours in a final, powerful thrust as he spills inside you, his groan of release vibrating through your entire body. He collapses onto you, his weight a comforting pressure as you both struggle to catch your breath.

Jude’s hand strokes your hair gently, a completely different gesture from what happened just moments before.

“Still hate me?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge of vulnerability there too.

You manage a breathless laugh, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. “You’re still annoying as hell,” you reply, but there’s no real bite to your words.

Jude chuckles, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “Too late for that”

[sincerelybubbles]

ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.