#She would later be mortified she actually had the guts to do that and would not want to be found out

[shiocreator]

I just think they would have a neat dynamic, both are unhinged in their own rights and need more friends

[xxsabitoxx]

Experience

Kishibe x Fem! Reader

Warnings: large age gap (reader is in her 20s but it’s unspecified) and Kishibe is 50, car sex, hand job, degrading, praising, smoking

A/N: this was meant to be a short 1-1.5k Drabble but it turned into a mini smut instead (my brain is weird so some of y’all may still consider this a Drabble or you may consider it a full fic… idk man) anywho here he is :)

Word count: 2.6k

“You… you can’t be serious, oneechan.” Denji was staring at you with an udon noodle hanging between his lips. You chuckled at Denji’s constant use of calling you “big sis” — Aki had reprimanded him forever ago about using formalities with you. You had told him senpai was far too much and that calling you oneechan was fine. Still, it made you chuckle that it was the only nickname he ever stuck too with no bribery needed. Aki still used the gum tactic to get Power and Denji to use the correct terms while addressing him.

“I am serious.” The smile never left your face, watching as Denji slurped his noodle the rest of the way. “But why? He’s so old! Hell he’s over half your age! Ain’t he like 50 or something? And you’re like 20-something? I doubt he can even get his dick hard!” You rolled your eyes, laughter bubbling in your chest as Denji’s clear shock at your crush on his mentor. You’d known Kishibe since you joined public safety a few years prior, having worked alongside Aki when it came to training under the man’s brutal regime.

“Oh I doubt that. Kishibe is a man of experience, he probably has over 30 years worth with women.” Denji still couldn’t see how that would appeal to you, if anything he thought it should be a turn off. “That’s 30 years of use. You’ll probably catch a disease.” At that you couldn’t help but snort, putting your cigarette to your lips and inhaling. “Just think about it for a second, Denji. Wouldn't you want a woman that knows what she’s doing? One that would know how to take care of you?”

“I mean yeah, but maybe a woman that’s only a couple years older than me. You’re going after a man that was well into adulthood by the time you were born.” You shook your head, finding it rather funny that Denji was seemingly peeved by this. “That’s real bold coming from you, Denji-kun.” The blonde quirked his eyebrow, eyeing you suspiciously as he went in for yet another helping. “You and your crush on Makima? The fact that she seems to reciprocate your advances? Kinda a similar situation… but mine is legal.”

You shrugged your shoulders, blowing the smoke you had inhaled. “Yah, whatever… go for your creepy old man then.” He stuck his tongue out as you rolled your eyes, a victorious smile still present on your lips. “No really…” he drawled softly “he’s right there.” You froze, head whipping around to the direction Denji had motioned to. Sure enough, Kishibe was sitting at the bar, a glass of whisky in front of him… typical. You turned back to Denji, utterly mortified. “You don’t think he heard us, do you?” The blonde shrugged, a shit eating grin creeping up his face.

“Denji!” You whisper yelled this time, face growing warm. “Huh?” He spoke a little louder than necessary “I don’t think he heard? What’s the big deal anyways? Ain’t you want him to know? So you can like…actually do something about ya crush?” He drawled loudly, enough to draw a few wandering eyes to your table. “N-not the point! Shut up!” You were snuffing out your cigarettes on the underside of the table seconds later, ready to make a quick escape before Kishibe could even notice you there.

The problem being, you knew your old mentor fairly well. It was more than likely that he was already aware of your presence. Not only that but you were nearly positive he’d probably heard you and Denji talking about him. You wouldn’t be able to escape him unless you put a conscious effort into sneaking out of here. Even then, he’d find a way to corner you and ask you what the hell was going on. “Eh, whatever oneechan… at least I have the guts to go for the people I like.” Now you knew you were done for.

If Denji was going to make this a game of confidence, you’d have to do your “big sister” duties and simply one up him. “You’re a pain in my ass.” You scoffed, watching the grin return to the blonde’s face as you pushed your chair out. “You can thank me later.” Was all he said, returning to his udon as you made your way to the bar. “Captain Kishibe.” You fought to keep your voice steady. Kishibe turned to look at you, the usual stoic expression on his face.

“Come to talk to the creepy old man sitting alone at the bar?” He chimed softly, watching your face morph into embarrassment as he confirmed your biggest fear. He heard everything you and Denji had said. “Blame blondey over there for that nickname. Guessing that if you heard what Denji had to say you also heard what I had to say.” Your arms clasped behind your back, fidgeting with your fingers nervously as you waited for him to speak.

Kishibe swirled his glass around, watching the amber liquid slosh before he brought it to his lips and downed the rest. “Oh, I did. Not that I’m shocked… you’re far more transparent with your emotions than you think you are, y/n.” You could have melted on the spot, seeped straight into the floorboards and disappeared forever. Instead, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, willing yourself to grow some confidence and test the waters. It didn’t seem he was necessarily shutting you down just yet.

“Well… I guess this was a pretty lame ass way of saying I have a thing for my old mentor.” Kishibe leaned back, eyes shutting briefly as he inhaled through his nose. “You’re just looking for someone to show you a good time. Tell me, have you ever actually enjoyed any of the men you’ve slept with?” His eyes opened and he turned to face you fully now, tapping the wooden top of the bar twice to signal that he was ready to pay his tab. “Truthfully, no.” A breathy chuckle left him, one that sent shivers down your spine.

“I see. I guess that would make it my duty, Hmm? Your old mentor has to show you the ropes… show you the good from the bad. A private lesson, if you would.” You didn’t quite know how to react, your brain working in overdrive to try and process the words he had just spoken. “S-so you’re saying you’ll…” you flinched at your own stutter, watching Kishibe eye you carefully. “That I’ll show you how a man properly satisfies a lady? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Sugar.” Your heart jumped at the nickname.

You found it hard to speak, instead you kept your mouth shut and watched your old mentor pay his tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. “I paid for the fool’s meal as well as yours, he’ll get home on his own just fine. Let’s go.” Kishibe was heading towards the door, you waited till he was facing away to shoot Denji a look. The blonde seemed a bit awestruck that you were already leaving with him, you just shrugged as you left. You’d probably have to apologize the next time you saw him.

Before you knew it you were slipping into the passenger side of Kishibe’s car, thanking him softly for opening and closing the door for you. He slipped on the other side a moment later, turning the key so the engine roared to life. “I didn’t think you were the car type.” You commented softly, eyes scanning the amount of gadgets that littered the dashboard. The car’s interior was all black leather, that was at least something you expected from him.

“I’m not but the holiday bonus was nice and I needed an upgrade anyways.” He cracked his window, lighting up a cigarette before pulling out of the restaurant’s small lot and out into the bustling street. You didn’t expect him to be nervous, nor did you expect him to be awkward about the situation. Yet you were practically squirming in your seat, hoping he’d show some sort of nervousness to help you feel less inexperienced.

His cigarette hung half hazardously from his lips, one hand on the wheel while the other came down to rest on your thigh. You nearly choked on your own saliva, heat pooling in your gut at the simple action. “Amuse me, would you? What’s the best thing a guy has done for you, Hmm?” Smoke puffed out around his cigarette, eyes locked on the road as he waited for your response. “Offer to walk me home.” You admitted sheepishly, not quite sure how he’d react to such a lame response. It was true your taste in men hadn’t really benefited you in any way up until now.

He let out a gruff laugh, slowing down as he pulled up to a red light and plucked the cigarette from his lips. “That’s it? Seriously? Where the hell are you finding these bummy men?” You weren’t sure why his clear annoyance affected you the way it did, but you found yourself struggling to not press your thighs together. A small effort to relieve some of the ache, you knew if you moved your legs even a little he’d feel it. Then again, he was driving you back to his apartment to fuck you… would it really matter? “No need to be tense.” He murmured softly, hand squeezing your thigh.

“…’m not tense.” A stupid lie but it made him chuckle so you couldn’t really be mad at it. “Let me help you relax.” The cigarette was back between his lips, hand on the wheel as the light turned green. Kishibe pushed on your thigh, silently asking you to spread them. It took your brain a few seconds to properly respond, spreading them just enough that he could fit his hand between them. “Atta girl…” smoke puffed out around his lips once again, filling your nose in an almost intoxicating way. You were a bit shocked by the praise, nearly letting a whimper slip out.

The man you knew as your mentor was certainly not the same as the man sitting beside you. Then again you doubted he would ever woo the amount of women he did with his mentor attitude. Kishibe’s hand gingerly crept up your thigh before dipping between to cup your panty covered cunt. You mentally thanked yourself for wearing a skirt, giving the man in the driver's seat easy access to where you wanted him the most. He could feel your warmth radiating through the thin material, on top of that he could tell you were already wet.

Kishibe exhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain focused on the road even though he’d really like to look over and gauge your reaction. Truthfully, he had been waiting patiently for quite some time now for you to be the one to make the first move. He wasn’t lying when he said you were transparent with your emotions, but even then he didn’t want to risk creating awkward situations. He was getting old after all, a fifty year old man going for a woman in her twenties would certainly look terrible on his part if the other party didn’t reciprocate.

Maybe he was just a creepy old pervert for thinking that way.

Regardless, it was starting to get hard to ignore the persistent stiffness between his own legs. You’re breathing had hitched, suddenly dizzied by the fact that his hands were already on you. Two fingers pressed against the wetmark on your panties, drawing a sigh from your lips as he rubbed the material softly. “You’re more excited than you let on.” it was an off hand comment, one that had your fingers gripping the door handle to keep yourself grounded. Kishibe’s fingers slid along your slit, settling over your pulsing clit.

“You’ve said no man has ever satisfied you… I take it because he didn’t know where this was…” he pressed down, sending a shock of pleasure through you. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, slowly he began rubbing tentative circles, making sure you keep his fingers on the cloth of your panties. He wouldn’t let you feel his bare fingers just yet. More smoke puffed out, filling the car briefly before being sucked out the window. “I asked you a question, sugar.” you turned to look at him, face warm as his fingers continued to pleasure you. “T-that would be right…”

“Every woman is different, is this good for you?” you knew he was referring to his current action. “Y-yeah but…” you reached for his hand, placing yours over his as you guided him to a faster tempo. Kishibe took the reins again instantly, chuckling softly as you let out a soft moan. “Hmm, that better?” it was low, enough you send shivers through you as your hips jerked into his hand. “Need more…” you couldn’t quite figure out what specifically you needed, you just knew you needed more of him. “I know.” was all he said, fingers working you up continuously as he drove.

Part of you had to wonder if he was even driving you to his apartment at this point. It felt like you were going in circles around the city as he got you off in his front seat. Before you knew it, you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. “S-shit…” you clenched around nothing, the tension in your gut had appeared a lot quicker than usual. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he teased softly, fingers picking up speed ever so slightly. You mumbled out some sort of ‘yes’, gasping softly as the tension continued to build.

Maybe it was the combination of everything, Kishibe, his hand, the fact that he was doing this almost absentmindedly while driving through the city, everything was edging you on. “Then cum for me. Show me how much of a little slut you are. I mean really, you’re going to cum from me rubbing you through your panties. You’ll ruin them.” You whined at his words, the tension building so intensely that you were certain you’d fall apart. “Atta girl…cum for me” encouraged again, rolling to a stop at yet another red light.

He looked over at you know, the sudden motion causing you to turn to look at him. “C’mon… no need to hold back.” he sneered, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. You felt your lower lip tremble, head turning to look back at the road as your orgasm crashed down over you. Breathless gasps escaped your lips, hand shooting down to hold Kishibe’s wrist as he continued to work you through your ogasm. “…ough… enough…” you squeaked, overstimulation taking over as the light turned green.

He only slowed because of the light turning green, hand never retracting from where it was between your legs. “Here we are.” He commented offhand, pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building. You blinked, the throb already returning. “Hope you’re not worn out… I haven’t even gotten to show you a proper good time.” He pulled into a numbered space, shifting into park and plucking the nearly gone cigarette from his lips. You watched him put it out on an ashtray in his cup holder, turning the car off a moment later.

“Well?” You shivered as his hand pulled away, making you want to chase after him. “Y-yeah…I’m not worn out. Hell, after your training it’s hard to ever get worn out these days…captain.” You teased softly, not knowing where the confidence came from. A smile actually tugged at his lips, hand reaching for the door handle and pushing it open. “I’ll remember that, sugar.” For some reason, you felt as if you had just dug your own grave.

[adarkandmagicalforest]

An Irritation Ch 6

pairing: Otto Hightower/Original Female Character (Aella Targaryen, twin to Daemon)

warnings: cockwarming but make it hurt/comfort, smut, mood swings, unsexy lashing out

next: Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

Aemma was a few months younger than Aella was, but it was difficult to tell - after the multiple pregnancies, both failed and not, had taken it's toll on the Queen, making her much slower and more strained than her sister by-law as she'd attempted to waddle away from the shocking seen. The princess though easily hurried after the Queen, the Hand only three steps behind her after he'd realized she hadn't kicked him away without reason.

"Aemma!" Aella called after the other woman once she realized with relief that she wasn't headed back to the dinner to immediately oust her to Viserys and the rest of the family.

But the Queen didn't acknowledge the call - she didn't say anything nor did she stop walking until they reached an open terrace where she immediately went to lean against the railing.

"Your Grace - " Otto attempted once they paused, his rasp touched with something tense.

Which became considerably worse when Aemma whirled on them, her eyes flashing as she threw her hand out at them in exasperation, her only word being, "No." 

"Sister, let me - " Aella 

"No." Aemma repeated firmly.

The Queen was a softer type of woman. She was not as Alysanne had been, who had given orders to men as confidently as Jaehaerys has, serving as a ruling Queen like that of the Conquerors. But it seemed as if Aemma had just been shocked into such a role, as her words now contained some hidden steel. It took several minutes for her to actually begin addressing them with more than just 'no.' And she began with Aella.

"You despise him." 

The princess wasn't sure what she could say to that. So she remained quiet.

But that seemed to suit Aemma fine, because she turned to the Hand then.

"And you. I've heard you rant about her and Daemon a hundred different times in a hundred different ways... Viserys says you once wanted them exiled to Dorne." 

Aella couldn't help it. She scoffed, glancing at Otto with her lips curled with bemusement. "Dorne?" She asked wryly.

The Queen immediately held a hand out, a wordless instruction to stop. Then, her eyes widened, and her small hand turned to a fist which she shook. "Daemon is going to kill him."

Aella swallowed. "He will not know." She replied.

"He will." Aemma said, making her guts churn uncomfortably. "If I tell Viserys he will tell Daemon, he will. And then - oh gods, he's going to kill you, Otto, and then he will force us to eat your body. I don't want to eat you - Aella I cannot eat him, what if he is gamy? I could not keep it down, and it would make me a cannibal! Oh - oh, but what if I do, what if the babe makes me begin to crave it, forcing me into a man-eating cannibal?!" The Queen exclaimed, looking more and more mortified the longer she spoke about this so called future she had just imagined.

"Perhaps we should discuss this at a - " Otto's words were stiff and disjointed, and he was standing as if a lance had been stuck down the back of his doublet. "At a later date." He completed the sentence dryly, his eyes looking between them with wariness.

"No, no, I cannot - " Aemma muttered in distress.

And then the sound of footsteps came, clicking against the stone of the terrace.

But to their luck, it was only little Rhaenyra, peering up at them from behind the loose curtains.

"What're you all doing out here?" She asked, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Nothing hatchling." Aella assured immediately, taking care to remain flippant. "We were just planning your nameday celebration." 

Rhaenyra's little blonde brows bobbed up her forehead before narrowing them, unimpressed at the lie. "I want a lemon cake the size of Cannibal then. Also, Father's wondering where you've gone." 

The Queen nodded her agreement and told her that they'd return promptly. It was only then did her niece left them did she look cautiously to the Aemma, whose alarm seemed to have subsided, at least for now. 

"Aemma?" She said slowly, now that the air had grown tenser with the other woman's silence.

"I'll say nothing." Her sister by-law finally said, reaching her hands down to press against her belly, round with child. "In fact - I never saw this. Any of it. I never saw either of you." She decided, turning to face the two of them with a decision in her expression. She rose one dainty hand, pointing it at them. "I'm going to the privy now - and when I return, none of us will ever speak of this again." 

"Yes, Your Grace." Otto replied, coarse and grave. He seemed to still be affected, he would not even look at her. He hadn't looked at her once since they had been seen.

Aella rubbed her palms together, attempting to stop the crawling chill from coming up over her arms. When her sister by-law looked at her, she found that couldn't quite speak yet, so she nodded instead, earnestly meeting Aemma's eye, hoping beyond reason that this would well and truly 'never be spoken of again'.

The two of them seemed to both be glued in place while Aemma left the terrace. They were there in silence, dead silence, as the flickering candles grew lower and the evening sky darker. Dinner would be done with soon.

And then, after several mountainous heartbeats rattled from within her ribcage, her dry lips parting as she forced herself to speak - speak anything. "Shall we continue where we left, Otto?" Was what came out.

The Hand though, did not appear in the mood for these words. In fact, this seemed to spark something in him, but not one for pleasure. He was incandescent now, and his very breath seemed to exude distaste.

She heard his steps but could not look at him. She only saw him vaguely, the shape of him and the color of his trousers.

"Have you lost your mind?" That voice demanded coldly.

Aella did not blanch. She did not. The princess took a half step forward, without thinking, to prove as such - but Otto took a large step away, as if revolted.

"Do you know what we have done?" He doubled down, low and deep. The evening was a spring one, but winter still whispered in the air. "What has just happened? Do you not understand the gravity that has taken its hold, what we both might face if Her Grace decides to speak of this?" With every word, he appeared to shake, though his words were quiet in his seething. But her throat had closed up, like a hand had reached up from her stomach and clenched down on it tight. So she stood there. His steps came back, but this time she wanted to back away.

"Our affair - this sin. This mistake could cost more than just your reputation, but my life could very well be forfeit! But a princess with the blood of the dragon could never hope to know such a thing, could she?" 

And then he turned away. He left her there. 

Her whole body seemed to be made of wood now. Wooden arms and wooden legs. A wooden head and wooden feet. If only she was on fire. She would be warmed then.

Aella was unsure of how long she was left alone - it must have only been minutes, because footsteps, short ones, from leather boots, came from her right. She could not see.

She thought maybe it would've been Viserys - he had been looking for them.

But it was not her brother's voice she heard.

"Was my Father horribly cruel to you, Princess?" Gwayne Hightower inquired, a hesitant smile in his voice.

Aella turned to look at him, reminding herself that she was not made of wood, no matter how her head felt on a dowel on her neck. 

"No more than usual, ser." She replied stiffly.

The knight bobbed his head shortly in a nod, straightening his back as he approached her boldly, stopping only a foot away from her. He wanted to touch her. He'd been eager to touch her from their first encounter, when he'd dropped to his knees and placed his tongue between her legs. "I'm sorry, anyway. He can be - well I'm sure you know. You've lived with him almost longer than I have."

"True." The princess said. She reached a cold hand up to her ivory hair. It felt too long. It clung to the back of her neck in a way that felt so uncomfortable. 

"So - What did he say?" Gwayne asked nosily, his voice nothing alike his Lord Fathers. He was boyish and arrogant and could be very obnoxious. She'd never be able to stand being married to him.

"How much he didn't want me to marry you." Aella half-lied softly. She needed - Daemon, Mother, Father - 

He touched her arm without leave, his hand encompassing her bicep lightly with his bare, warm hand. "Do not listen to him, Princess. I will marry who I decide. And if the King commands it, who is he to refuse your hand?" The lad then smirked - smirked? Could it be a smirk if his teeth were showing?

Gwayne's fingers gently squeezed her arm, one he meant to be comforting perhaps. It wasn't - but there was heat in his touch, and that was enough for her to slowly ask:

"Would you escort me back to my chambers, ser?"

/~/

The moment Otto stepped within the Tower, he knew he could not stay.

That most horrid flurry of emotions, violent and whirling and alarming had ruled him from the moment they had been caught until he'd seen the inside of his chamberdoor. It was once his boots touched the stone did the fury seemed to drop like a stone, as if expelled.

Lashing out at Aella had been - unworthy of him. 

He had been shaken after being caught. It had been lingering on the back of his mind, should they be seen it would have been a maid or serving girl. Easily paid or dismissed, he'd thought. But when it had been the Queen - 

Looking upon the encounter, Otto felt a deep rooted shame. Upon return to the memory he could now recognize Aella's increasing decline. She'd been merely uncomfortable at dinner, but once they had been seen? Every moment that passed drove her deeper and deeper within herself, her gaze stony and unseeing, just as she'd been when he'd found her resting on the Iron Throne. And he'd lashed out, snapped at her. She'd even stepped to him and he'd moved away... He'd called her a sin.

She enjoyed his fury most days. Aella would take pleasure in rising it up, toying and infuriating him with the simplest of smirks to her lips.

But this had not been that fury this had been wrong. He'd actions were poor and unseemly and they shamed him.

Otto turned back.

He went back to the terrace he'd left her in, not knowing if she would still be there. She was not. If she had been, he was certain he would not have been able to recover from the sight.

But it was empty, and the dining hall as well. 

So her chambers, he'd thought, swiftly turning away and ignoring the chirping of a maid whom he'd nearly bowed over with his quick turn. It had taken the good part of the day and evening to pull her from her reverie that day on the Throne. Her fires were burning low, she'd said. Then blood, she'd wanted. Otto had no idea of what to give her, how to soothe this strange melancholy that had cast itself over his lover. 

So he'd set the fires larger and he'd sat with her. For hours until the fires brought her back.

Aella's chambers were further away from the rest of the royal families - hers and Daemon's both. But with the strides he was taking, it did not take him long to reach her doors, not when the staff and maids, upon seeing the way he was storming through, were ducking out of his way. 

He didn't knock. It was unlocked.

The Hand took large steps inside and sent his eyes gazing across every surface, looking for that spot of pale hair and ivory skin. He found her - but Aella was not there alone. 

His son was seated there with her, touching her. Gwayne's lips were against her neck while his hands were pushed up her loosened silk shift, groping her pert breasts while she sat there still, her eyes closed. But Otto knew without knowing what was behind them. Because she was unnaturally placed. She was pale. She was doing nothing more than silently allowing his son to do as he wished. Her fire was not low, it was gone. He had extinguished her, he had wounded her and this was the result.

Otto's hand grasped the back of his son's neck harder than he'd intended. And he'd thrown him down on the floor harder too, than he'd meant to. 

Though the sound had been satisfying. 

"What - " He said dangerously to his boy, staring down at him as if he could vanish him from the very room with look alone. "Do you think you are doing?" 

"Father." Gwayne gasped, clearly shocked. His clothes were in a disarray and his pupils blown. "I was - "

"I will not hear of it." Otto stated, stepping over him to prevent him from getting up onto his feet. His son tried to back away, extremely unsettled, clearly looking for some words he could find that would prevent him from being punished. "You will go. Now. Leave this room or I will summon a white cloak myself to serve your discipline of taking such advantage of the princess' virtue." 

The color drained from Gwayne's face - his mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. He might've thought to claim her hand, or her virtue, it mattered not to his Lord Father. He would leave this room with nothing but his damaged senses if he had any of his own. So he slunked back - though he had, with his final motion, sent one last pleading look at the princess just as the door of her chambers closed behind him. 

Otto locked it. Tightly. 

And he returned to her.

"Why did you do that?" Aella's voice was dull. 

So he hurried. He removed his doublet swiftly and did what he could to remove his boots before he knelt before her. It was times such as these that he was reminded of how small she was. Often Aella took up such a large space in his mind, a larger than life figure whose every breath and action took hold of him and kept his attention hostage. But she was a small girl. She stood shorter than most, teetering between Queen Aemma and the Princess Rhaenyra in height, making her appear all the more delicate when compared to her brothers. And especially to himself.

In their encounters he was able to take her in his arms and pin her wherever pleased them, against a bed yes, but also against stone walls, pillars and just from the his own force keeping her up. But even then she had never seemed small. 

Not like now.

Otto was face to face with her even on his knee, which was helpful in this moment as he reached a gentle hand to cup her pale cheek, leaning down and pressing his forehead against hers, not allowing her to refuse.

"You're not answering me." Aella complained, squirming. He held her regardless.

"Because it is not worth answering." He replied. He knew what she needed in this moment was physicality. He'd thought it queer in the beginning, but he appreciated it all the more now. It made more sense to him as their encounters increased. When her mood swung low, heavy like a pendulum, she needed touch, sexual, intimate or sensual. The heat, the grounding sensation of another focused her attention, it brought her back down from wherever it had taken her.

"Damn all, Otto I needed - " The princess twisted in his grip, trying to push herself free, but he didn't allow it. 

"I know what you need." Otto promised her gently. His hand raked up from her cheek then up through her pale blonde hair, letting his fingers lightly scratch along her scalp until she shivered. "But first you must listen - no, Aella listen to me!" Her restarted squirming stopped once as she withered beneath his snap. 

His guilt resurfaced in earnest then, and it forced his hand.

Near all Targaryens were born with the purple eyes of Old Valyria. And Aellas, he found, were especially beautiful. A shade between violet and lilac, made more startling under the gleam of candlelight or when flashing with her own fire. But now, he found that as they looked upon him now, soft and vulnerable in a way he rarely ever saw in her -

They caused a strong wash of tenderness to bloom within him. And he was not able, or willing, to shake himself free of it. 

"I must offer you my deepest apologies." Otto said to her. Her lashes fluttered slightly and her eyes finally met his properly. A lovely purple to plain brown. He leaned closer, brushing the bridge of his long nose brushed along her smaller one. The tip of her nose was cool. There was no fire burning in her chambers. "It was wrong of me to say such things to you. The dire circumstances were ours both, and to suggest you were not affected by the same consequences was unfeeling and unfair to you. I apologize, sincerely, Aella." 

His princess swallowed. She did not prefer her intimacies to be spoken allowed, but that was no matter to him. He needed to speak aloud his regrets, and needed her to listen and understand it.

So it wasn't until Aella nodded shortly did he do as she needed.

Otto took her by her waist, lifting her into his arms as he took her place on her featherbed. He wasn't hard, and he was certain she wasn't wet, but he would do what he could. He pulled up her silks, reaching his hand between her thighs. She wasn't even damp, but he patiently began petting her anyway, rubbing the pads of his fingers in circles around her pussy.

In his arms, she rocked and lowered her forehead to rest against his shoulder. He kissed her when she did, first her cheek and then along her jaw while his hand slowly moved. Romantic touches, things she normally would never abide. But she let them now, as she held to him weakly. 

Soon, only once he felt his fingers moving more easily against her as she dampened from the attention, did his cock properly begin to stir, growing to half-mast, but enough for his purposes. He dragged his hand lower, grinding his palm against her until her breathing had hitched in his ear and he knew his princess was prepared enough.

"Up now, Aella." Otto commanded softly of her, his free hand lowering to his lap as he freed himself from his trousers, pumping it idly. His lover did, rising up further onto her knees, placing her weight onto his shoulders as she did, not yet wishing to remove herself from his neck. He did not mind it.

He positioned himself against her, the sensation of pleasure of the sensitive tip rubbing along her wet core enough to make him fully stand at attention for Aella who immediately began to sink herself upon him. She did so not not as prepared as she should have been, but she would not allow such a thing to hold her back. Every inch of himself was claimed, from every part of his cock to his flesh and bone and what remained to his thoughts as he was once again forced to fight against the rapture that was being inside of her - 'riding a dragon,' she'd once said to him with a wry smile, nude and glorious to behold. 

But now was the time for her physical comforts, not his own pleasure. But the half smothered, "Seven," that escaped him could not be helped. 

Only once Otto was kept tight and warmly inside of her, did Aella relax even slightly. Once inside of her she slackened, settling into his lap as her hands slowly moved up his head to then wrap around his shoulders in a closer embrace. 

His hands rose up as she clung to him, running them beneath he shift and along the delicate curve of her back, letting his own heat warm her as he stroked her, petted her. He'd seen her do much the same to the wild dragon she rode, the connection of dragon and rider ran deep, perhaps even deeper than he suspected. Targaryens were otherworldly - closer to Gods than man. This he'd resented, often, even during the time of Jaehaerys, back when the old King rode Vermithor. 

All of the greatest Targaryens rode dragons. First Aegon and the Black Dread, Visenya and Vhagar, Rhaenys and Meraxes. Every child knew this, the stories of the dragon riders who began it all. But Cannibal, vicious creature it was to all who could ever hope to approach, had been nested in Dragonstone even before the settling of the Conquerors. And he belonged to Aella. A wild dragon, older than the conquest.

And he liked to be petted. As she liked to be petted. 

Otto pressed his fingers deeper against her back, allowing his claws to roam up and down her back as she absorbed his warmth and affection.

He enjoyed her fighting. He enjoyed her arguments, her snips and digs and the way her voice became so silky when it dropped into High Valyrian. 

But her in his arms, vulnerable - this was a cherished thing.

Otto shifted. His cock, warm inside of her, was going to grow soft soon without more friction. So he rocked very slowly, just enough to keep himself hard while he warmed her. He did not count how long he held her. There was just her quiet, her flame not even flickering - and then, minutes, ten, twenty, however many later, did she speak.

"Do you believe me a sin, Otto?" She asked, only a hair above a whisper. Her head had risen up from his shoulder, parting only far away enough so she might meet his eye.

"You could never be a sin." He promised, his words deep and full of truth.

Aella's arms slackened slightly then from around his shoulders, and soon her hips were beginning to move on their own, slow and purposeful. 

Otto slipped his hand between them, pressing his fingers there against her pleasure, just firmly enough that her rosy lips parted.

Her rocking began growing steadier, sturdier as she held onto his body to arch herself in the way she liked best. But her grip was still uneasy, her fires not yet aflame, and her needs were still difficult to grasp at.

"Otto - I need," Aella muttered, her breathing deeper and more frustrated as she was now becoming wet, truly wet on his cock.

His arms wrapped around her, his hand reaching up and cradling the back of her head as he turned them, letting her lay back upon her bedding as he recaptured her lips. Their kisses were often full of clashing teeth and battles for dominance, but he would not accept that here. Here he tasted her, her kiss sweet and tart in equal measure as she accepted him, her legs drawing up and pulling against his hips. But the Hand paused in his capture and looked down upon his lover, his hand drawing down over her body, his eyes trailing over the motion until he was able to devour the sight of where her pussy kept him wetted and warm inside - and then her face, stunning especially when drawn in frustration and pleasure...

He could do nothing else but make love to her. 

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

hi angel! i see your requests are open and if you’re up for it, i’d love to request an older!sinclair sister w our lover boy eddie? :) some angst for character development LOL and fluff? ♥️♥️♥️ thank u pookie

Mistakes were made but atleast we fixed them, sort of…

Eddie Munson x Fem!OlderSinclaire reader

[a/n] sorry this took longer than I’d hoped, I really tried to make it a balance between angst and fluff so I hope I did your request justice! Feel free to send more asks in the future, I’ve never written for Sinclair reader before this so it was definitely new to me, but I had fun! <3

Valen-Cries masterlist available here!

Request a Valen-Cries fic here!

Eddie had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, practically joined at the hip, so much so that it was uncommon to see you apart, until recently. With the cracks of your steadily crumbling friendship beginning to show, questions naturally arose from both your parents and peers. 

What you refused to tell anyone was the real reason behind this break, constantly spewing excuse after excuse when anyone broached the topic. It was unlikely anyone would hear what actually went down, with Eddie probably far too embarrassed to explain that you, his best friend was in love with him, and you mortified for even thinking he could feel the same.

In fact just thinking about it months later, your cheeks still burned with a mixture of hurt and rage, picturing the night you’d all but spilled your guts while he sat there half heartedly shrugging at your confession like you meant nothing to him at all. 

Poor Lucas had attempted to console you but was met with a cold pillow to the face the moment he entered your bedroom, quickly deciding it wasn’t worth possibly losing his head over some ‘girl drama’, or so he thought. However, it was also just your luck that the following morning he’d not only told Mike and Dustin but the entire Hellfire group, Eddie included.

For a while after the whole debacle you’d tried to remain just best friends with Eddie, truly believing that if he wasn’t interested in you romantically you could still salvage the friendship although, that proved more difficult than ever.

Which led you to now where you were stuck between the awkward and depressing limbo of wanting more but trying desperately to get over you know who, in an effort to go back to how it was before, if that was even possible. 

Poking around at the food in front of you as your family chatted happily about their day, zoning in and out of conversation had become the new norm. The numbness taking over once more until Lucas had let it slip that Eddie had a date with none other than Chrissy Cunningham, Hawkin’s princess. 

Of course he did, you’d thought. The bitterness beginning to take over as you thought of the numerous reasons Eddie would never be attracted to you and how you’d ruined everything. Excusing yourself from the table and going straight to bed, not that you’d be getting any sleep.

If only you’d kept your stupid mouth shut.

You weren’t sure how long had passed until the faint knock of the door echoed through the room, followed by the creak of the worn down door. “Hey y/n, I was thinking we could have a spa night this weekend if you’re up for it? You know how mom used to do when we were younger?” Erica shifted somewhat nervously. It was clear she didn’t want to anger you, with your mood changing faster than the wether nowadays, likely confused how the once close family dynamic had become to distant. 

Guilt weighed heavy against your chest, the urge to decline and simply wallow, outweighing a possibly fun and equally horrendous sister night. Desperate to think of an excuse but deciding to agree anyway for her sake. It wasn’t like you had anything planned either way, with Lucas and your parents going on date. 

The bonus was she might actually succeed with killing you this time, if her cooking was the still as you remembered.

—- 

Eddie knew it was wrong as soon as the thought entered his head, he just couldn’t understand how you could tolerate let alone be in love with him. Hell he’d be lying if he tried to deny the feelings he felt, yet he still choose to play the fool. He hadn’t anticipated the fallout would be quite this bad, with you avoiding him for the most part or pretending for his sake the confession was in the past and to be forgotten, and his conflicted feelings making him temperamental, for lack of a better word he well and truly was fucked.

How was he supposed to rely on you to protect his heart if he couldn’t do the same for you? So used to being the other person in any given situation, this was all new. Hell he’d have studied for this moment if it meant he’d have an answer with how to move forward, alas that wasn’t coming anytime soon.

Trudging up to the van like usual unaware that someone was following him until the crinkle of a snack wrapper sounded from behind, stopping him in his tracks.

 “Sinclair I know you’re there” Eddie had called before turning around to meet the sheepish grin on Lucas’ face.

“How did you know it was me?” The boy had sighed, munching away on his favourite snack bar which coincidentally was also yours. 

“Well apart from the obnoxiously loud noise you made opening that.” He’d pointed at the half eaten food “I also happen to know there y/n’s favourite and they’re the most annoying thing ever, especially when trying to plan a campaign.”

“Well anyway I need you to come to my house tomorrow evening.” Ignoring Eddie and continuing “and before you ask she’s not going to be home so don’t worry about that, she’s got a date.” He trailed off, watching something in the distance

“I wasn’t worried but okay…” Eddie muttered watching as Lucas suddenly ran off shouting at what he assumed to be the others to wait up for him

—-

Getting into your pyjamas and heading downstairs to see what chaos Erica was cooking up, literally, you hadn’t expected to be met with the person you’d been trying to forget, or at least just for one evening. 

“What are you doing here?” Looking around the otherwise empty kitchen confused “you’re supposed to be on a date?” You questioned

“No you’re supposed to be on a date.” Eddie echoed back as the sound of chairs dragging against the hardwood floor grew closer. 

“Neither of you are on a date but you are locked in, so sort whatever it is going on between you out now!” Your younger siblings shouted, clearly having planned tonight.

“By the way I know you both love each other so just admit it already.” Erica added, earning a thump before it grew quiet again. 

Unsure of how to comprehend her words, you simply pulled up a chair and sat down. You definitely weren’t going to start the conversation, hurt enough over the first time you’d talked argued about ‘this’.

“Look I’m just going to get straight to the point. I lied.” Eddie started, pulling up a chair near you and sitting “I do love-” the hesitation was enough to send you reeling, the urge to simply run, scratching away at your insides. 

“Fuck” he was pacing now “I’ve never said these words to anyone but I love you.” Breathing out without hesitation this time. “I know I’ve been shit at showing it and I don’t expect you to forgive me for lying and hurting you but when I heard you were going on a date something changed.” Now still and silent once again as he got down and looked at you for real this time.

“I lied because I thought you could do better than me. I mean I’m still in high school, barley passing and you’re in college with your whole life ahead of you. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hold you back, you know that.” 

“Eddie what the hell?!” You weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or cry at how dense he could be, you’d probably end up doing both “I don’t care about that shit, we’ve been friends for years and you didn’t think to at least talk to me about this?”

“You know I love you and you let me think you were basically disgusted at me?” Pausing as you pondered on your next words. “Don’t answer that.” 

Where words failed, actions came into hand. Leaning over and pressing your lips against his, savouring the faint taste of mint and tobacco that lingered, while cupping his cheeks between your hands. Now that you’d started you weren’t sure you could stop, understanding now what it means to be intoxicated by someone. 

Gasping for breath between kisses and hands grabbing at each other while the room grew hotter until you were startled by a bang.

“Hey! We’re still here you know.” Lucas shouted “also I’m still mad that you like him” It was now Erica’s turn to slap him playfully, prompting a spat between the two over who’d genius plan this was. Honestly you couldn’t care less now that you had Eddie back.

Little did you know that it was thanks to both Lucas and Erica meddling for this Valentine’s miracle. Although, that was an argument for another day. Erica insisting she knew was the head of operation Valentines.

[stardewremixed]

💃 Flower Dance Headcanon 💃

🌻 Haley 🌻

Actually studied classical dance and ballet as a child. As a teen, she had the lead in Swan Lake. She could have been a professional dancer and even attended a prestigious dance academy.

Haley is secretly insecure about her dancing abilities, which led her to practice until her feet bled. She was told she didn't have the "ideal body type" and she was crushed. Only Emily knows the truth. So every year when she is "crowned" the Flower Queen, she feels affirmed that she is still graceful and capable.

Bonus: Also, if you ask her to dance and she says "Ew, no," this is a gut reaction. First of all, did you bathe? Do you smell like farm? It isn't too much to ask that you clean up and wear something other than muddy overalls to the dance. Even if it's in the woods.

And second, once she was paired with a dancer who dropped her, and she dislocated her knee. It was mortifying. She was on crutches for most of the summer. And when she's stuck at home, she's whiny. Emily can attest. Especially if she can't wander and take her nature shots. Or suntan on the beach. Or attend other festivals. Haley wants more than anything to be included.

She feels guilty about how she rejected you later, but this girls' got standards. Will you get an apology? Probably not. Not because she's as stuck up as everyone thinks she is, but because she is genuinely ashamed of her behavior sometimes. To fit in with the popular crowd, she often was mean to others to "keep up appearances." It is a nasty habit she is trying to break in adulthood.

To dance with Haley, you need to avoid embarrassing her, or wobbling under her weight, because she almost became a pro. Alex can actually do lifts, which is why she typically practices with him and feels safe. If she saw you dance at the Saloon, she might watch you with genuine enthusiasm (if you're good). Then she would require you to practice a routine with her religiously before the Flower Dance.

[melishade]

Number 5?

This ask game

Peaceful Timeline. Optimus and Megatron having a much needed discussion about where they stand in all this.

Ymir couldn't help but notice how tired Optimus looked. It scared her. Every time she would ask about it, Optimus would insist that he was fine. But she's noticed how he's missing a step and how his eyes flicker. He's become so distracted that he's lost focus of Maria, quite a few times. She's a year old now, and she just learned how to walk. The toddler was running around everywhere now that she had the power to. She just didn't want Optimus to get sick. If he did, she had no way of knowing how to take care of him. She loved him too much; she couldn't lose her father.

She finished planting the last of the potatoes in the garden before standing up and wiping the dirt on her dress. She glanced over and saw that Megatron was watching Maria in holoform. He was talking to her like she could actually speak back to him, and actually demonstrating how the toddler needed to stand up quickly and keep her balance. Ymir was impressed to see that Maria was following along, using her hands to support her weight as she stood onto her feet. Ymir walked over to Megatron as Maria was able to stand up fully. The toddler's attention was now on her mother's, and she toddled over to her as fast as she could. Ymir kneeled down and scooped Maria up in her arms before hugging her tightly.

"We were in the middle of a lesson," Megatron remarked.

Ymir replied by simply pointing at Optimus' alt mode parked in front of the cabin.

"What of it?" Megatron asked.

Ymir made a gesture with one hand, resting it on the side of her head to show that Optimus was tired.

"So you've noticed too," Megatron said, "Energon deficiency. He's been neglecting to take his proper rations."

Ymir was mortified at the statement, quickly pointing to Optimus, pleading with her eyes to get him to do something.

"Calm down. I will handle it," Megatron declared before turning to Maria, "You and I will continue our lesson later."

Maria gave a small wave goodbye with her tiny hand, making the former warlord smile a little. He then walked over to the Prime's alt mode before knocking on the door. "Prime, you better not be offline."

"Megatron, I am tired. Please let me rest," Optimus requested.

"You're tired because you've been neglecting to take your energon rations," Megatron reminded, "I found the ship and it is not that far from here. Come with me and fuel properly."

"Megatron, I just need to rest," Optimus insisted.

"That's not what Ymir thinks." Megatron pointed behind him, and Optimus turned his side view mirror to see Ymir's pleading expression. It made Optimus feel guilty, and it forced him to rev his engines and drive slowly in the direction of the ship they found. Megatron turned to Ymir and gave her a thumbs up, causing Ymir to mouth 'thank you'. Megatron felt his gut churn at that, but in a good way, before deactivating his holoform.

===========

Optimus knew that he couldn't burn off too much energy, so he started walking through the forest to the ship. His internal systems were screaming at him, but he ignored it as he trekked his way through the forest. Optimus gasped as he slipped onto some mud, but Megatron quickly reached him in bipedal form and caught him before he hit the ground. Optimus grunted in surprise as Megatron put one arm over his shoulder and supported the Prime as they continued walking.

"You know, for someone who's been so passionate about giving up the Primacy, you still act like a self-sacrificial idiot," Megatron scolded.

"I do not need a lecture from you," Optimus warned.

"Ymir worries about you," Megatron reminded, "This whole time, you've been protecting her, and your making her worry about your health. You know that I'm here, right? I've been providing more than enough support for you to actually take a break."

Optimus was quiet at that. "It has been over a kilocycle, yet you still remain by my side and on this world."

Megatron stared ahead as the two stepped over an over-grown root.

"Why?" Optimus asked, "Why have you stayed for so long?"

"...I don't know," Megatron answered.

"Is it because of me?" Optimus asked, but he felt like he knew the answer already. He should, considering their history.

"...initially," Megatron relented.

"...was it forgiveness or my death you wanted?" Optimus demanded.

"I didn't know what I wanted," Megatron answered cholerically, "You were gone when I left Cybertron. Then I found myself here and saw evidence that you were alive. You've been the only constant in my life Prime. I just knew that I had to find you."

Optimus saw a bitter expression forming in Megatron's optics. "It was the only thing that kept me alive those past seven orbital cycles: seeing you again. What I wanted after...didn't seem to matter."

Optimus felt a little guilty, but he still wanted more answers. "Is helping me some elaborate hoax into lowering my guard so you could ruin my chances at happiness?"

"By the Allspark, Optimus, you're just full of spite," Megatron sighed.

"I have reason to be," Optimus declared.

"I went out of my way to save Maria," Megatron reminded, "I'm helping out with the other humans."

"For what?!" Optimus yanked his arm out of Megatron's grasp and stumbled backwards into a tree.

"Optimus-,"

"It just...does not make sense," Optimus confessed, "Why are you willing to change your ways now? After four million years, why are you making actual stride towards change? Why did it have to cost us everything in order for you to realize the truth?"

"Optimus, I..." Megatron couldn't form the right words. How could he? He wasn't even sure what happened. One minute he was under Unicron's control, the next he's teaching a human how to properly stand. He had no idea what caused this change.

"I don't know," Megatron confessed, "Again, I hunted you down because you were my only constant in life. Maybe I did want your forgiveness, or maybe I am trying to make amends. But now that's nothing more than an afterthought. I worried now about planting potatoes, killing geese, and making sure Ymir and Maria are alright. I'm worrying about humans because maybe, I'm just as exhausted as you are about this war, and I don't want anything to do with it anymore!"

Megatron sighed as he leaned against another tree trunk. "This is the most content I've ever been. I don't want that to be disrupted because you're too self-sacrificing as always."

"...then where do we stand?" Optimus couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know," Megatron answered, "I feel like it would depend on how important those two humans are to us that we can put our differences aside."

Optimus stared at the ground. "Megatron...I do not know if I can forgive you."

Megatron closed his optics at that.

"Your actions, your crimes, they were all so heinous," Optimus continued, "I feel as though I am still expecting the worst to happen, and that this is all a hallucination, or a cruel dream."

"A cruel dream?" Megatron questioned.

"To have you by my side again," Optimus elaborated.

Megatron felt his spark ache with guilt. "I've been terrible to you, haven't I? So much so that I still make you question where I stand now?"

"You said that you were not sure yourself," Optimus retorted.

"I'm still not," Megatron admitted as he walked over to the Prime, "I do not know what comes next. I'm going to have to accept that you'll never forgive me, but..." Megatron extended his servo, "Can I ask for your trust, Optimus Prime?"

Optimus stared at the servo in his vision. His trust? To give freely? Optimus wouldn't have been this fearful if it was anyone else, but he couldn't entirely decide if it was a good or bad thing. Optimus vented, recalling the memories of Ymir trusting him completely and even asking him for help. She had trusted Megatron completely, and not once did he harm her. Maybe...maybe there was actual hope for the both of them in the long run. Optimus took his servo, and Megatron placed the Prime's arm over his shoulder as the two made their way to the ship.

"Megatron...thank you for all of your help," Optimus told him.

Megatron almost paused in his step and did his best to keep his composure. "You're welcome, Optimus."

(Okay, dialogue prompts that I have left are: 4,6, 8, 10,14,15,17-18, 20-21,26, 28,32, 34-36,38,41, 43,46. I'm about 3/5 done with this thing.)

[loneamaryllis]

Saving Snape, Chapter 12 bonus

The chocolate had an odd taste.

That was Harrie's first thought. Her second thought was, oh shit, it actually tastes like Amortentia, down to the delicious Snape scent. Her third thought was that she really liked Hutton. Liked? No, no. She loved him. Yes, she was sure of it. She loved Hutton. And she had to tell him, right now.

It was around six o'clock. He was probably in his office. She closed her eyes, visualizing the space, and... ah, she was there.

There was a surprised gasp from Hutton. Eyes wide, he looked at her as if he couldn't believe she was here. But she was. She had to be close to him, it was only natural.

"Harrie?" he said. "How did you—"

"I love you."

His eyes grew wider. She approached him, climbing directly onto his desk, sending the papers he was marking flying to the floor. He got up in a flash, backing away from her. Oh, he was quick. That was nice. Always a good quality in a mate.

"No, you don't," he said.

"Yes, I do."

She tried to get closer to him, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, keeping her at arm's length.

"Harrie, listen. You've been drugged. It's Amortentia, whatever you're feeling isn't real."

She thought about it.

"No," she said. "I'm pretty sure I love you. Do you love me? Please, love me."

"Hold on," he said, taking his wand out.

He cast his Patronus, his very pretty owl that Harrie liked too. Off it went, fluttering away on his great silver wings.

"Oh," she said, sad to see the animal go. "Where did you send him?"

"To Snape."

"Oh. I like Snape too."

She didn't love Snape, but she liked spending time with him. Oh, wait. Didn't they have a date later tonight? She would have to cancel. Or maybe Hutton could come, and they'd do a three-way date. But no, that wouldn't work. They didn't like each other. Unless...

There was a crack outside the door. Then Snape walked in. He looked very unhappy.

"Snape!" she said, smiling at him. "I found a solution for our date!"

"Date?" Hutton said.

"Potter," Snape said, in a sort of soft, careful voice, as if she was sick or injured, "why don't we all go the infirmary? Hutton is heading there anyway."

"Yes, I have to go there," Hutton said.

"Okay," Harrie said. "Let's go."

She grabbed Hutton's and tugged him along. He sent a weird look at Snape. Maybe he did like him? It would make things easier.

"Can I hold your hand too?" she asked Snape.

"Do you want to?" he said, looking confused.

"Maybe she got a very light dose," Hutton said.

"The dosage doesn't matter with Amortentia," Snape said, and while he was looking at Hutton, Harrie snatched his hand and held it tight.

"The solution for our date," she said, squeezing both men's hands, "is a threesome."

She got one startled look (Snape), and one horrified stare (Hutton).

"To the infirmary," Snape said firmly.

"Oh, right," Harrie said. "There are beds there. But I don't think we can all fit on one..."

They reached the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey greeted them with a smile, and then, noticing that Harrie was holding hands with Hutton and Snape, said, "Amortentia, I assume?".

Then they made her sit on a bed, and Madam Pomfrey cast some spells on her, and Hutton wanted her to drink a purple potion. So she drank the potion to make him happy. The taste was awful. It burned in her mouth, down her throat, like it was fire, cleansing her from...

Oh.

Oh, shit.

"Fucking hell," she said, blushing in mortified horror, before her body reacted with a spasm, and she found herself vomiting her guts out into the bucket Madam Pomfrey had placed on the bed.

"Vomiting is normal," Snape said in a professional tone. "As was your behavior when under the influence of the drug. None of it reflects who you are."

A threesome. She had suggested a fucking threesome.

"Wasn't me," she said morosely. "Got it. Please forget everything I said."

"Already done," Hutton replied.

"As soon as I'm done murdering whoever dosed you," Snape said, with absolute seriousness.

Harrie smiled weakly. She wanted to forget everything about the unfortunate event, except for one thing: how it had felt to hold Snape's hand. Yes, that, she wanted to remember. And she wouldn't mind doing it again.

[sebstanns]

Boobies

Summary- Things change between you and Steve when he accidentally walks in on you half naked. Fluff/smut, friends to lovers.

Warnings- 18+ for sexual content. Lil' bit of thigh riding, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, swearing.

"Steeeeve!" You screech, your arms automatically covering your naked chest.

"Oh shit." He mumbles, holding onto the half open door, still staring.

"STEVE!" You yell.

"God, sorry!" He finally turns his back. "Your mom said it was OK to come up."

"Well it wasn't! I'll meet you in the car." You tell him, shortly.

"Yeah, sure, OK." He stutters, flustered, closing the door.

You're actually MORTIFIED, your friend Steve seeing you half naked like that. Hastily pulling on your bra and shirt, your whole body feels like it's on fire with embarrassment. Not only was Steve your friend, you'd had a crush on him for years. It had been bad enough recently, having to listen to him bemoan his love life - after Nancy he'd gone aimlessly from girl to girl, looking for something you knew you could give him. And now he'd be comparing you to all the others, the discarded ones. Dammit.

Steve sat in the car, in shock. He kept replaying the scene as he waited for you, how soft you looked and .... touchable. It wasn't as if he'd never seen boobs before, he'd seen LOTS of boobs, all shapes and sizes. But these were different, they were attached to you, his kind and funny friend, who patiently listened to his romantic woes after yet another date crashed and burned. He had actually come close to asking you out a few times over the years, always backing out at the last minute, convinced it would ruin your friendship. That you knew him too well to like him like THAT.

But now, all Steve could think about was touching you, filling his hands and mouth with your pliable flesh....his cock twitches in his jeans and he jumps as you throw yourself into the passenger seat, red faced.

"Let's go." You murmur, looking straight ahead.

-

A couple of days later you're at Family Video, picking something to watch with your mom. You had exploded at her for letting Steve in that day, and now you had calmed down, were at pains to make it up to her.

"What's the deal with you and Steve?" Robin whispers urgently, suddenly appearing next to you.

"What?" You swallow, picking up a random movie and pretending to study the back of the case. "What do you mean?"

"You're barely speaking. It was the same the other night, at the movies." She hisses, going through the motions of straightening the shelf.

"We were watching the movie." You shrug, picking up something starring Richard Gere- a guaranteed mother pleaser.

"And afterwards, when we went for ice cream, it was like you were scared to look at each other or something." Robin continues.

Yeah, you had to admit, it had been awkward. Usually you and Steve would sit together, sharing snacks and making comments about the film, but you had positioned yourself so that Robin was between you. It can't have been much fun for her.

You sigh and turn to her. "He walked in on me getting changed, when he was picking me up to go to the movies."

Robin laughs, causing Steve to look over, frowning, from the counter.

"Robin!"

"Sorry but, it all becomes clear now." She chuckles.

"It does?" You're lost.

"Exactly how much did he see?" She probes, looking disconcertingly delighted.

You gesture vaguely to your chest and Robin nods.

"I get it. Dumbstruck by your tatas."

"Tatas, Robin? Seriously?"

"Maybe he liked what he saw." She says slyly.

"What?"

"He's probably just thinking about getting his hands on them."

"My....tatas? " You swallow, glancing over at Steve. He's leaning over the counter, chatting with a pretty girl and she's laughing at one of his stupid jokes. Jealousy twists in your gut like so many times before.

"Yeah, I mean he's obviously got a thing for you." Robin says, matter of factly.

"No." You scoff, your face burning. "As if!"

"It's true. That's why he's so jealous of your crush on Michael J Fox."

"Really?" You cast your mind back to all the times you had a tiny inkling that there might be the remotest chance in hell that Steve had feelings for you and you had dismissed it. Sometimes you caught him looking at you but you had thought he was just spacing, off in Harrington world. Could it be TRUE ?!

"And I've seen you looking at his butt." Robin says, winking conspiratorially.

"I'll go for this." You announce, handing over the Richard Gere movie. "My mom's bound to love it."

"Nice subject change." Robin deadpans, rolling her eyes.

-

The next weekend, Steve invites you over to his house for a movie night, his parents are gone as usual so he has the place to himself. Robin is also invited but she can't make it, (subtle!) off doing her own thing with Vickie.

Since your conversation with Robin you had noticed Steve looking at you more often, looking away and blushing when he's caught. It makes your heart (and everything else) ache.

On Friday evening he picks you up from the library and you swing by Family Video for snacks and a couple of free rentals. Just being near him makes your heart beat faster now, you can feel something has changed between you.

Now you're in the Harrington's den, curled up on the luxurious sofa while Steve sits in an armchair next to you. He's wearing one of your favourite shirts, a striped polo - it hugs his biceps just right, and shows off his delectable neck. Every time you glance over you have to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to calm the throbbing in your cunt.

"I can't believe you made me watch Teen Wolf again." He sighs, as the credits roll.

"You know how I feel about MJF." You say, lightly, reaching to the coffee table for the popcorn.

"I don't even know why you like him." Steve grumbles. "He's so short, you're probably taller than him."

"He's cute." You shrug, smiling to yourself. "Now it's your turn. Please not Fast Times again!"

Steve produces a tape from behind the armchair. "Ta da! Fright Night!" He announces, raising his eyebrows.

"Steve, you know I don't do horror. I get nightmares." You remind him, clutching a cushion.

"It'll be fine. It's a comedy. The guy just HAPPENS to be a vampire." He says, crouching next to the tape player.

"OK." You murmur, unsure.

"If you get scared you can come and sit on my lap, ok?" He chuckles, glancing at you.

The offer hangs in the air for a minute, and you're not sure if he's really joking.

"Deal." You reply, softly.

-

Thankfully, the movie IS funny, which takes your mind off the more gory parts.

Steve grins at you when you laugh. "See, not scary."

It's almost like old times, except you're constantly thinking of ways to get closer to him. Should you pretend to be scared so he'll comfort you? Jesus, what have you become??

When the inevitable sex scene comes up, you watch with interest as Steve shifts in his seat and clears his throat, red faced.

The well-endowed woman on-screen takes her top off and he scoffs, flustered. "They're fake."

He flicks a look at your chest and swallows. Oh.

"Hey Steve," You say playfully, feeling bold. "My face is up here."

Steve stiffens in his seat, blinking. "Oh God I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's OK." You say softly. "Are her's nicer than mine?"

He almost chokes on his popcorn. "What?"

"You heard me." You smile, untucking your shirt from your denim skirt. "Would you like a closer look? For comparisons sake?"

Steve's mouth falls open slightly as he stares at you. "Seriously?"

You nod and pat the space on the couch next to you, your tummy doing somersaults of anticipation. "Come here."

He almost trips as he rounds the coffee table, and then pauses. "Wait, is this a prank? Is this something you and Robin cooked up? Is she behind the couch, right now?"

"No Steve." You laugh. "It's not a prank."

"Just checking." He sits down, eyes fixed on your hands as you unbutton your shirt, revealing the bra beneath.

Feeling more and more brazen, you open your shirt, letting it slip off your shoulder. "Well, are mine nicer?"

He tilts his head and then nods. "Yep." He croaks. "They're....nicer."

"You can touch me if you want."

Tentatively he places his hand on your breast and squeezes gently, making a noise in the back of his throat. "Fuck."

It feels so good to have his hand on you, the heat of his palm searing through the lacy material. You lean forward to kiss him and he suddenly leans back, a panicked expression on his face.

"No no no! Not again Harrington." He mumbles, jumping up. He starts pacing the room.

Shame and embarrassment bloom in your guts, and you draw your shirt back over your chest, folding your arms.

"What are you doing?" Steve asks, running a hand through his hair.

"I thought it's what you wanted." You say quietly, not looking at him.

"It is, believe me. It took all my strength not to just dive on top of you just now." He swallows.

"Well then?" You ask, plaintively.

"Do you really think it's a good idea? If we do...something, it'll change everything."

"It's already changed, Steve. I'm tired of just being your friend." You blurt. SHIIIIT.

"Really?" He asks, eyebrows knitted together. "I thought, well, you think I'm an idiot, right?"

"So? That's why I...." You sigh. May as well come clean all the way. "Remember, a couple of summers ago when I was a counsellor at that dumb camp?"

Steve chuckles coldly and folds his arms. "Oh yeah."

"I lost my virginity to that dickhead swimming instructor Adam? It was horrible."

"Ha!" He crows. "I knew it!"

"Yeah, I may have lied when I told you about it. It wasn't good or romantic, actually it hurt. But least it was mercifully brief." You admit.

"He hurt you?" Steve says, anger flashing in his dark eyes.

"Not intentionally. He just didn't care." You shrug. "And all I could think about was you. How I had wanted you to be my first."

In fact you had cried off activities for the rest of the day citing a stomach upset, and stayed in bed feeling sorry for yourself. You knew you were just another notch on Adam's bedpost, but part of you had just wanted to get your first time over with. Still, you couldn't help thinking about Steve, imagining for the thousandth time how it would have been with him.

When you returned to Hawkins, you made up a romantic midnight lakeside liaison, making Adam sound like an expert in the art of virginity taking. The reality of an uncomfortable bunk bed and thoughtless execution stayed with you. Steve had grinned and given you a high-five.

"Oh." His face softens and he sits next to you again. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"Because its embarrassing. You were so caught up with Nancy...." You trail off, helplessly.

"Honestly, when you told me about that asshole I was jealous." Steve says, half smiling at the memory.

"You were?"

"I'd always thought I'd be your first too. You deserve to be fuc- I mean - treated - right." He reaches over and moves a strand of hair behind your ear.

"So what now?" You ask, heart hammering at his closeness.

Steve touches your face and kisses you gently, his other hand sliding under your shirt. "Do you still want to?" He murmurs.

You nod, already drunk from his touch. "Yeah."

-

You're on Steve's lap, thighs splayed over his, skirt rucked up over your hips. His hand is between your legs and he's rubbing your pussy through your panties, the thin material growing damper by the second.

"I can't believe this is happening." Steve murmurs, kissing your neck.

"Me neither." You gasp, squirming against his fingers as you pull his shirt over his head.

You run your hands over him, stroking his chest and arms, dropping kisses onto his shoulders. You've thought about this so many times, late at night when you couldn't sleep, touching yourself and wishing it was Steve.

Suddenly he takes his hand away from your aching cunt and you want to cry, you need more, you need to be full of him.

He removes your bra so stealthily you almost don't notice, pushing your breasts together and kissing them. When he takes a nipple into his mouth you start grinding on his leg, desperate for some relief.

Steve takes the hint and returns a hand to your pussy, fingers inside your panties now, thumbing your swollen clit.

"Did Adam make you feel like this?" He asks, lowly, sliding two fingers into you. "Make you this wet?"

"No." You whimper, as he curls his fingers. "Fuck, Steve!"

He chuckles, dirtily. "Are you ready for my cock? Because I'm about to burst here."

You undo his belt and let down his zipper, Steve sighs with relief and takes his cock out. Your mouth starts to water at the sight of it, so hard and leaking at the tip. Tentatively you touch him, stroking the length and swiping your thumb over the head.

Steve shifts you on his lap, pulling your panties down impatiently, his eyes almost black with desire. You kiss him softly, feeling such tenderness towards him, wanting to give him everything.

He lines his cock up at your entrance, and moves into you slowly, groaning as your velvety walls hug him. While you appreciate his gentleness, at this point you just want him to fuck your brains out.

"Steve, I'm not a virgin, you don't have to be so- aaahhh!" You mouth drops open as he snaps his hips and fucks up into you, filling you with one thrust.

"You OK?" He gasps.

"Yeah....feels good." You swallow, gripping his shoulder for leverage.

He slides his hand into your hair and pulls you down for a kiss as he moves inside you. You moan into his mouth and rock your hips to meet his thrusts, placing a hand on his sweaty chest.

This was worlds away from what had transpired with Adam, you're not even sure that was sex. There was only his smug expression afterwards and the blood on the bunk bed blanket that was testament to what had occurred that afternoon.

"Fuck, why didn't we do this sooner?" Steve gasps, flush-faced, hands on your hips.

"Because you're an idiot." You sigh affectionately, stroking his hair and kissing him.

He bends his head to nuzzle at your breasts again, and you feel the first spark of an orgasm in your belly.

"Steve." You whine, your hand moving down to rub your clit. He brushes your hand away and takes over, his fingers moving in tight circles.

"Yeah thats it." He breathes. "Cum on my cock sweetheart."

You bury your face in his shoulder as your orgasm rolls through you, holding onto him and moaning against his hot neck.

"Aw fuuuck ..." Steve groans, and you feel him stiffen and throb deep inside your cunt.

You don't want to move. You don't want it to be over yet.

Steve lets out a breathless chuckle, you feel it rumbling through his chest.

"What?" You murmur, exhausted all of a sudden. You could fall asleep right here.

"We forgot about the movie."

You turn your head and see the tape has ejected itself from the player, the TV screen blank.

"Oops."

[vquacki]

Drunken High

Drunken High

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, barney the love dinosaur, MINORS DNI

Note : (This was requested!) can't say I ever experienced being high before but i've seen it.  I'd rather not speak about the drunk part tho hehe, jokes jokes. So for getting high, I'm not sure if it's accurate to actually experiencing it. 

Second fic of the day tho. Sorry if this isn't what you expected anon, :( i really tried my best so i apologize if you didn't like. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

R I N D O U 

He sat criss crossed, constantly eyeing the clock as it got later by every passing second. It had been four hours since you last texted the man, notifying him you’d be dining with some work colleagues. Staying out late to celebrate your promotion.

He should be congratulating you. Don't get him wrong, he was. He was blissful that his girl got a promotion, no worries in his mind regarding that fact. 

Except, It made his stomach churn when you told him you'd be out, late. 

He was mortified, fidgeting as he thought about hundreds of scenarios where bad situations could ensue. Imagine, dating an executive in the number one gang in japan. Millions of threats all around you, that could happen at any calling time. 

Even so he trusted his gut feeling, you were perfectly capable of handling all affairs by yourself. However he waited anyway, staying up awaiting your presence. He had to confirm it with his own two eyes, he didn't need his hooligans spying on you to tell him. 

He wanted to see for himself.  

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a loud bang on the door, followed by the entrance being slammed open. 

“Rindou~ fu-fuck” You hiccuped, your clothes were crinckled against your body. Heels thrown onto the floor, the bag that was once wrapped tightly around your shoulder clunking upon hitting the hard wood floor. 

“Y/N? Did you drink-” his question was answered instantly when he got a whiff of your strong stench. 

“Rin- hic, Rindou, why are you looking at me like that?” your drunken state asked, frail body leaning against the wall, using the pillar as a support beam for your wobbly legs. 

“You fuc- hic, fucking crossed eyes barney!” You scowled, index finger pointing at the purple-nette. 

“Who the fuck you looking at like that?” You repeatedly slapped the wall, trying to provoke an answer out of your boyfriend. 

He had half the mind to throw you out, regretting the thoughts that crossed his mind minutes before you entered your shared home. 

“The fuck you say to m-” he stopped himself with a cough, slapping a hand onto his chest. Easing the lump down his throat. ‘She's just drunk, she doesn't mean it.’

Pushing past your unworldly remarks he made his way closer to you, hand grabbing onto yours. 

“Y/N~ Let’s go get you changed yeah?” He cooed, the babying voice made him want to puke. Even when you were sober, he would never. He means it, never in his damn life baby voice anyone, but this was the only way to calm you. Spoken from past experience of course. 

He was about to lead you away when you gagged, his immediate reaction being, 

“Mm nope! I-” He slapped a hand over your mouth, he was surprised at his own actions. Watching your teary eyes, fighting back the urge to barf all over the moped ground. 

“Okay baby, let’s go to the bathroom now” he faked a smile, holding you up by your arms. Pushing past obstacles to the restroom located in the hallway. Kicking open the door, gently placing you at the foot of the toilet bowl. 

Caressing your hair, pulling the fallen strands back. Letting you release your dinner along with your breakfast all into the lavatory. 

“I'm never letting you drink again” Rindou grumbled, pinching the tip of his nose to prevent the smell of your liquid stinking up the room.  

He stayed quiet, allowing you to peacefully do the rest of your business. Gesturing him a thumbs up, signaling you were done with your barf fest, you were hauled onto your feet. Dragged to the huge counter, a lavash sink sitting in the middle practically calling out your name. 

“Close your eyes,” Rindou instructed, following his order. You felt a hand grip your nape, bending you over to the faucet. You flinched when a cold liquid splashed you face, 

“Eguh? Rin~ I don't wanna bath” You whined, wiggling under his tight grasp. 

“Huh? This isn't a bath Y/N, i'm cleaning your nasty barf off your face” Rindou sighed, he loved taking care of you, despite not showing it. He absolutely adores you, in spite of that, he’d rather see you all sobered up. 

Quickly drying you off, he changed you. Sliding you into a set of pajamas before tucking you in. He wasn't going to hop into bed just yet, he had a pile of spilled barf next to the toilet calling his name. 

For fuck sake you couldn’t even aim your puke properly. 

“Wai- I want a goodnight kiss” You pouted, hands crossed over the blanket neatly folded over your chest. 

“You're not a kid Y/N” He seethed, lazy eyes watching you start to throw a fit. 

“I want a kiss!”

“Fine fine” Rindou grumbled, quickly leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“You missed-”

“I'm not kissing your mouth.”

R A N 

He was tired, in spite of that, he wanted your heat surrounding him when he slept. He desired that reassurance. 

He was slouched on your island stool, fingers drumming against his knee. His boring eyes stared holes into the door that was destined to open any second now. Or that was what he was hoping. He didn't like it, this anxious tipsy eating him up bit by bit. 

He was desperate, holding back the impulse to get up to search for you. 

Light knocks on the door echoed through the empty home, he hastily hopped off the seat. Peering through the peephole before swinging open the door, revealing your disheveled silhouette. 

“Look who decided to come home?” Ran’s pleasant front revolting his insides. The heavy burden lifted off his shoulder when he saw you. Safe, in one piece before him.  

“Mm, Hi Ran” Your eyes were red, inflamed from your previous high.

“Doll?” he raised a brow, crouching to sniff the air beside you. The familiar scent nuzzling his nostrils, the strong order leaving his nose hairs stiff. 

“Now why did you smoke today?” Ran frowned playfully, stepping aside to leave room for you to enter your condo. hand on his hip, eyes trailing your distressed figure.

“Rough day,” You giggled back, setting your belonging aside. Plopping down onto the couch, head placed on the arm rest while your legs sprawled off the sofa. 

“My poor dolly~ can I do anything to make it better?” Ran sat down in the empty spacing, hooking his long arm around your legs, pulling them onto his lap. Massaging the aching burn that resonated in your heels. 

“Can you pamper me Ran~” You were starting to feel more fuzzy, propping a hand atop your flushed forehead.

“Aww this is why I tell you not to do these things, you can't take it can you?” He teased, knowing fully that the sentence would  irritate you. 

“Excuse me? I can take it!” You argued, sitting up. Passively taking your feet off his lap. 

“Actually I don't even need your help!” you huffed,

“I was just kidding darling” He laughed, swinging an arm over your slugged shoulders. You were too cute to not tease, he had in on the fun. 

“I'm tired of your teasing!” you hissed.

“And I'm tired in general, ya know how long I waited for you?” He soothed your back, rubbing small circles.

“What- I didn't tell you to stay up for me” You protested. 

“So why don't we sleep now~”  Ran disregarded your claim, pulling you by your shoulder on to his chest. Falling back until his back hit the couch cushion. Your nose was squished against his crewneck, inhaling his intoxicating scent before cuddling into his touch. Now this was it, feeling your warmth as he slowly drifted off to sleep. 

S A N Z U 

He was pacing the house waiting for you, heavy steps vibrating throughout the house. It was late, precisely 3 in the morning. The wait was antagonizing, how could he not be worried? 

“ZuZuZu!” Your yell muffled through the thick wooden door, hands repeatedly slapping the doorbell. The ringing sound echoing throughout the house. 

“Sweetcheeks, I thought you'd never make it back” Sanzu grinned down at you. 

“Haru, what ar-are you t-talking about '' you slurred, stumbling into your home. Unfastened shoes falling off your feet, making way to your bedroom to rid of your skin tight outfit. 

“You have fun princess?” Sanzu followed behind you, hands behind his back. 

“Yeah! Hic- so much booze it could drown me” You giggled, hands stretching out to show Sanzu the amount of booze you had pictured in your head.

“Oh really?” He played along, furthering your rambling spout. 

“Yeah! But I think the bartender double charged me” You pouted, slithering out of your tight attire, you thought you'd melt if you stood out in the humid air any longer. You didn't know it if it was the alcohol in your system or if it was just genuinely hot. 

“Slick fucker” You grumbled, slipping into your comfy pjs.

“What bar? I'll have a chat with him” Sanzu spoke, his blue orbs not leaving your frame for even a split second.

“It’s whatever, the shit was good , and that's all th-that hic- matters” You laughed, almost collapsing until a pink-nette grabbed you, encasing you in his arms.

“Be careful, so drunk you can't stand?” he smirked, only receiving a small smile from you. That was all you could manage, changing before resting into your boyfriend. 

He was still quite annoyed at you, making him wait. Wasting his precious beauty sleep, but that could wait. He smiled, looking down at you. Your makeup still on your face, even after all the chaotic drinking and dancing you had that night. 

Being the nice boyfriend he is, feebly placing your snoring body onto the king sized bed. Taking some napkins, with the bottles he always saw you using over to the bed. Gently wiping the products off you. 

He was thrilled to see the look on your face when you looked in the mirror, very proud of himself. He just couldn't wait for the praise that would definitely leave your mouth the following morning. 

[imaslutforcuddles]

Antsy

Eddie Munson x Reader 

Summary: Your someone who has always had mental issues, you just got into Hawkins high. You promised yourself you wouldn’t use drugs as a coping skill, but that promise died a long time ago. You go looking for a dealer and find Eddie. Eddie may be a ‘heartless’ dealer but he knows when someone’s hurting.

Warnings: swearing, depression, mention of self harm, self hatred, sensitive topics, mention of drugs, smoking, hurt people connecting through trauma.

A/N: AND DONE. I’m sorry this took way to damn long to finish and post, I’m a little sick at the moment so I haven’t been able to make this a priority but I’m glad to say; here she is....  This is a bit based off the song Antsy by UPSHAL. The reader is new, but you can imagine them as any age. I made this a mainly platonic blurb between reader and Eddie but you can take it anyway you want. I’m willing to make a part two if people want one.

I went to the doctor, asked him for pills He told me to try just simply breathing

Your first year in Hawkins high, and you were absolutely mortified. With shaking hands you opened the cafeteria doors, you cursed under your breath for forgetting to grab your medication on the way to school.

Walking around you noticed how ‘normal’ this school was, how there were groups on every table and they all seamed to like the same things. That made you want to puke, labels always made you anxious. You started walking back towards the exit doors, all the people grossing your guts, when your eyes were caught with another bright pair of brown ones. The kid smiled brightly patting the seat next to him, showing you that you were welcome to sit with him and his friends. You moved forward when a jock stopped in front of you, “Are you sure you want to sit with those freaks?” You smiled weakly as your throat clenched. Your inside jumped when you felt a hand land on your shoulder, “Hey Jason how about you walk off and talk to your girlfriend instead of other girls.” A boy said from behind you, holding onto the hand on your shoulder you moved your head up and down. “Yeah pretty sure she would love for you to be loyal.” 

The blond boy walked off with a huff, you turned around to see who got you out of that awkward situation. Realizing his hand was still connected to you, you slapped it away. “Don’t touch me again dingus.” He laughed bouncing his brown curly hair he raised his hands up in defense, “Damn girl, your breath is too hot don’t burn me!”

My stomach's in knots and I'm physically ill

You groaned a little and reached down to your stomach, causing the boy to frown.

But I'm sure it's not what I've been taking

“Please don’t worry about me,” you smiled up at the senior. “I just haven’t had my daily weed dose.” You smiled and laughed as his face went blank, “Wait actually?” He asked, you grinned and took a deep breath to calm down. “Yeah it helps with my nerve, I’m not a druggie I swear.” You said holding your arms up in defense.

The world is on fire I'm so fucking tired And equally wired, so

He grinned and asked, “Do you need any cause’ I can hook you up later?” You looked at him wide eyed, “Fuck yes I do.” “Alright meet me outside after school.” 

Am I to blame for my sick, frantic brain When toxic shit tastes just like candy?                                                              And love might be lit But I'm scared of what it might demand of me

The whole day had gone by painfully slow, and you couldn’t wait to get your hands on a joint of some kind. You head full of hate towards yourself was just to much to bear these days. The excessive cutting wasn’t a good reliever either because the excuse of a ‘cat’ scratching you was getting to annoying to repeat daily. Apparently people paid more attention than you had thought, and it was giving you a fucking migraine. At first you were skeptical about taking weed everyday because drugs had been so bad in your family history, but after a while it became to hard to just pass on. The high would get rid of any bad thoughts, you would just float in pure bliss. The edibles were really tasty too, one time when you were younger you had gone to the ER due to overdosing on edibles, thinking they were candy. 

You had tried to hide the pain in love at one point, but it was a complete blow-out. The person had used you for their own personal reasons and dumped you when it became an inconvenience for their schedule. Trust was something that was hard to come by for you, so when you finally had given it away and it was torn it two. That hole just stitched itself back up, stronger than ever before. Your too afraid to live in the love, and you instead trust the high and sweet, sweet, release the weed gives you.

Sure it creates more pent up anger and hurt and it will definitely wear off on how fast you were abusing it, but hey, at least it helped? Right?

No wonder I’m antsy.

Walking over to the table where Munson had promised to meet you came faster that you had originally thought, because before you knew it, you were sitting on the cold wood of the drug dealers dealing spot. You had kept your head down low, making sure to just keep your focus toward the ground incase anyone passed by. Sitting down on the bench was honestly quite nice to what you had thought it was going to feel like. You planned sitting on a soggy prickly harsh bench, but this one felt like a smoother build. 

As you only paid attention to the wood beneath you, the boy made his way to you. He reached his hand out tapping your shoulder causing you to jump straight up, “GOD DAMNIT.” Your screech caught Eddie off guard causing him to jump a little himself, you turned your head to look at him. Your face was red with anger and your body was full of adrenaline.

The world is on fire, I'm so fucking tired

You ranted to him for the next five minutes about how he can never touch you again unless he wants his fingers broken off his hand, when you just honestly wanted to cry. The second you stopped to take a breath, tears started falling. The stress of the whole day just overwhelmed you too much. Your face had stayed hard though, the tears slowly forming and rolling down your face gave away your mental state.

Yeah, it's no wonder I'm antsy

Eddie’s face went from an annoyed smile, to a worried frown. He stood up from his spot on the other side of the table thinking he should get up to reassure you, but remembered how much the touching effected you comfortability. So, instead he sat back down. “Hey, hey, don’t cry okay I’m here for you okay?” You shook your head acknowledging his words. Eddie smiled and settled in his seat a little, “Okay, take some deep breath’s with me. In.. out.” You turned your head over to his, glaring at him. “It’s just a few tears Munson, I’m not a fucking child I know how to breath.”

Although you had just cussed him out a bit, he just smiled and looked at you with pure adoration. You snorted, “Okay enough staring bro can you just let me pay, get the shit and leave?” He snapped out of whatever the hell he was in before and grabbed his drug box, the second his eyes came to yours they were full of serious hardness. “Fine, but you have to promise to become an addict or some shit.” Your face froze, “A fucking addict! Is that what you think of me? You think I’d stoop that fucking low.” His face retorted, “No, I never said that. I’ve seen what drugs can do, and I know that it doesn’t matter the type of person you are. The shit can fuck you up if you don’t pay attention. So be fucking careful with the shit okay?” 

And he said, "I love you, " I said, "No, thank you" Got too many issues and to-do's and nothing's to get to

You frowned, “Look Eddie, I’m not in the right mindset to have anyone care too much about me, alright? So whatever the hell is going in here,” You waved your hand around the two of you in a circle, “Isn’t going to fucking flow. Got it?” 

He shifted In his seat a bit and cleared his throat, “I don’t know what you think I feel but I don’t like you like that. I just care about you, It’s hard not to.” You grinned, “Okay Munson, sure dude I care about you too.” You looked around while he took out the drugs he thought you might need, “Here,” He said passing you some pre-rolled joints and edibles, “This is all your getting from me alright? Use them wisely.” You groaned and rolled your eye’s taking out your wallet, he huffed a little and pushed your wallet-holding hand back. “Don’t worry about it, It’s fine.” You smirked, “Better for me lover boy.”

Am I to blame for my sick, frantic brain? When toxic shit tastes just like candy

As he was getting up to leave you stopped him, grabbing his arm and pulling him a little closer than you meant to. “About what happened earlier, don’t worry okay?” He nodded and then left.

And I'd run back home except politics broke up my family No wonder I'm antsy.

______________________

[shotorozu]

hullo, hope ur having a great day. Do you know that thing where people’s girlfriend shows their boyfriend how a tampon works? Like they demonstrate using a bottle and show their boyfriends, can I have that for the big three? ty and godbless 😚

how it works

character(s) : midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki

legend : [Y/N = your name] quirk not specific, i used they/them pronouns but Y/N has a 🐱

headcanon type : crack (literally one mildy dirty joke from bakugou but that’s it)

note(s) : anon specified that they meant the main three in another message so,, do not be confused with that part. uhh i don’t use tampons either so how they worked really confused me 💀

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

to start off with this post, i’d say you’d have to show him. like— he’s not the type to straight up ask you how a tampon works

but he is kinda curious so..

he lives with his mom, and only his mom. so it’s not like periods are a totally foreign subject to him. BUT HIS MOM DIDN’T SHOW HIM HOW TAMPONS WORK

and he didn’t have any female friends, or any girlfriends before you so.. yeah.

moving on, he’ll get all red and flustered when you first ask him-

“izuku, do you know how tampons work?” it was wrong of you to ask him while he was STUDYING

“t-tampons??” he’ll immediately drop his pen, the blood rushing to his cheeks immediately.

but, because izuku is quite CURIOUS, he’ll say yes. he probably wouldn’t have gotten the guts to ask you upfront anyway

you prepare a clear reusable cup, and you’d fill it with water as you get ready the tampon

“ok, so this is how it works.”

you say that as a warning, just before you plung the tampon into the water

and izuku’s there, nodding— waiting for you to demonstrate to him how it works he sounded really excited NJWJDWJ

anyways, you dip the tampon into the water— and izuku’s eyes widen like saucers when he sees it EXPAND

holding it up, you show him what it looks like, the size of the tampon expanding twice it’s size in a matter of seconds.

“o-oh.” izuku lets out, startled.

he’ll start glancing back and forth between the wall, and the soaked material— clearly flustered, and also unsure what he’s looking at.

“does it really get that big?” he asks in a whisper like tone, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him

and you just nod, amused by izuku’s face— which is literally like this 😳

needless to say, he has a lot of respect for you. especially if you can use tampons so casually

but at least he knows how it works, but this will probably keep him awake at night for a bit

out of all of the characters in this list, he’s the most mortified (in a way) it’s almost amusing.

todoroki shouto

shouto will just straight up ask you himself.

pure definition of shower thoughts. he thinks a lot in the shower (thus why he’s kind of a conspiracy theorist.)

so he probably thought of that during the shower— and he didn’t really wanna ask just any of his girl classmates.

yeah, he has a sister. but all she ever did was disappear for a few days once a month,

he obviously has his mother too, he wasn’t exactly close to her either because he was isolated from his mom, and even his own siblings

but then he remembers he has you, his s/o so..

he immediately rushing towards you, entering your room in his usual manner, asking you how it works (with his blunt nature of course)

and you’re just like 🤠❓❓ “..why do you wanna know”

shouto just tilts his head, “i thought of it during the shower.” his curiosity quite raw “and.. i have no one else to ask.”

and you can tell he means well so.. you kiss his cheek and stand up “alright! follow me.”

fastforward, you sit on the counter as you fill a clear glass with water, while you prepare the tampon

“you ready, shou?” again, you say that as if you were warning him— but he only nods, watching attentively to see what would happen.

you dip the tampon in the cup, and it immediately absorbs the water— expanding by a lot

the color in shouto’s face drains, and he’s just there like 😦 “woah.”

“it expanded by a lot.”

“yeah, it does that.”

“can you feel it when it expands?” shouto asks, holding the string to check how heavy it is

and unlike the other two in this list, he’s brave enough to actually hold the string, not disgusted whatsoever

“hm.. i don’t know? it feels normal.” you shrug, opting to just look at shouto’s reaction

“i see.” he nods, “thanks, Y/N.” he kisses your cheek, before hoisting you off the counter

he’s glad he knows but.. he has a lot of respect for you if you can wear one every month.

homeboy just thought it just stayed like that the entire time

out of all of the boys, he’s more chill— seeing that for the first time. but he’ll probably ask if you want to use pads out of concern NWNSNSJZ

bakugou katsuki

no.

nope.

he does not want to know.

it probably came across his mind a couple of times before, but as of now? he’s not curious. not in the slightest

it’s not like he thinks periods and tampons are gross. he respects you for dealing with that shit— but he’s just not curious.

on the contrary, you still ask him if he wants to know how tampons work.

in this case, you use pads— but you already know it expands to that size already.

“kats, are you curious as to how tampons work?” you ask him one day, when you guys are just relaxing in your room

he turns his head slowly, looking at you in the eye “... no.”

“why though??”

“don’t you just plug ‘em in, and then take it out?” katsuki rolls his eyes as if it was that simple

“it’s not that simple though,”

“i still don’t wanna know.” katsuki insists, voice gruff “actually.. why are you asking me? don’t ‘cha use pads or some shit?”

he’s right but you choose to ignore him

“so you wanna die one day, knowing you don’t know how tampons work?” you tease, grinning at him

he only rolls his eyes. he doesn’t really want to know, but again— he can’t really resist you anyway

so he finally says yes. “fineee. but make it quick.”

moments later, you’re in the bathroom, filling a clear cup with water. katsuki just stands by the door way, watching you prepare the items

for dramatic effect, you added red food coloring, which earned a scoff from your boyfriend “what’s the food coloring for?”

“dramatic effect. and also accuracy.” bakugou only grimaces

you tell him to go closer, moments before you show him “okay. you’re about to see how this works.”

“just get on with it,” he says, feigning impatience— but you know he’s actually watching

you dip it in, and katsuki had to do a literal double take— watching how a small cylinder turned into a weird.. red floppy sponge

bakugou’s standing there, a hand on his hip like 🤨 “what am i even looking at?” his ears cringe at the sound of it dripping back into the cup

and your face is just 😟 huh BECAUSE YOU USE PADS AJDJWJSJ

“i.. don’t know??” you laugh at his reaction, and he honestly doesn’t wanna hold it even though he knows it’s just water with food coloring

“it was literally a cylinder a second ago.” he comments outloud, brows furrowed and face contorted in utter confusion.

“i know right?” you comment in amusement, “i mean.. i knew how it works but i never saw this in person.”

“ah yeah, it’s because you use diapers.”

katsuki teases. you know he’s just joking, but you still glare at him like 👺

and he just holds his hands up in resignation “sorry.”

in short, it was quite weird to see it expand in real time. but at least bakugou katsuki knows how tampons work.

“but i’m still bigger.” katsuki kisses your temple, before turning around and exiting the bathroom— going back to your bed.

you’re appalled.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[darwin-xf]

Love is a Verb

His dick knew things.

In general, thinking with your little head not your big one got a bad rap.

But for him? The opposite seemed to apply.

Of course he’d been mortified when he sprung to life in her hand the night before, with Scully in full on doctor mode, acting so clinical and detached. While he was so very very exposed.

A wave of anger arose in the wake of his humiliation. At her. Which wasn’t fair. She was doing him a favor, after all. Examining him, because they were stuck in a crap motel in the middle of nowhere Florida, the day after a hurricane, flights snafued, roads clogged with debris. And him with a sea monster bite on his neck and an angry itchy red rash on his dick to match. She was caring for him, just like she always did. Even though neither one of them was exactly comfortable about the prospect.

But now, considering what that moment of vulnerability had led to, he was glad it happened. And hardly surprised.

And when his big head has been muddled and confused on a night a few weeks before? His dick had shown the way forward. When a different woman had laid her hands on him, slipped her tongue into his mouth.

He didn’t want her. He felt like a block of wood as she kissed him and touched him. And yet he let it happen. His mind filled with a fuzzy gray static as she whispered to him how she needed him, how she’d never stopped loving him, until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. She opened his pants and he let her, hungry for something she was offering. He would think a lot about that later.

But then his dick was in her mouth. And she worked it, employed all her little tricks. And still it stayed soft.

Until, giving up, she stood. She crossed the room and poured herself a scotch. He tucked his junk in his pants and zipped up. Not even embarrassed.

“You love her,” Diana said, her back to him.

He nodded. “I do.”

“But Fox,” she said, closing the distance between them, sitting down next to him, “She doesn’t know you like I do. There’s so much I want to give you...”

She launched into the pitch he’d heard from her before. Since she returned, she’d been whispering to him whenever she could get him alone, offering him access. “There are so many things we can accomplish together, Fox. Why would you want to keep toiling in the dark when you can shape the future of the human race? You’ve more than earned your seat at the table. And your voice is needed there...”

Though he never really felt engaged in these conversations, his big head listened to what Diana had to say.

But the little one was more persuasive. Not to mention more persistent. The truth was, Scully had been the only one able to get him off for months. Though of course she hadn’t touched him.

His extensive collection of salacious videotapes these days stayed tucked in their hiding places, moldering in their cases. The magazines delivered to his door each month, Penthouse and Hustler and Escort and Razzle and Club, remained stacked on his entryway table, their spines uncracked, their pages unperused. Most with the black no-see-um wrapper still intact.

A fact Scully discovered while visiting his apartment a few weeks before. She turned up on the late side one evening, work on her mind, files in her hand, her body tucked dutifully away in some dark suit.

“Oh that,” he said when she placed her palm on the towering cache of smut, popped an eyebrow in his direction. She had spent enough time in his space to understand that this was a departure from his usual behavior, where his porn was concerned. Whereby he’d rip the covers off the mags as soon as they arrived and leaf through them, looking for anything particularly good. He’d turn down the corners of memorable pages then leave them piled haphazardly around his place: on end tables, under the fishtank, next to his bed.

The explanation was not something he was prepared to share. So he thought fast, and invented something on the fly that seemed remotely plausible. “Yeah, the boys tell me that those are going to be collector's items soon. Print is dead, Scully. Everyone making the switch from atoms to bits and bytes. Paper’s so pulpy and inefficient. I have a book on it somewhere...” He riffled through his bookshelf, glad to escape her excruciating gaze. He plucked out a book and handed her a copy of Being Digital by Nicholas Negroponte. “He’s a smart guy. You should check it out.”

His effort to distract her was in vain. She put the book aside without glancing at the cover and continued to silently cross-examine him. He pretended to be interested in another book he’d pulled at random, but the moment stretched on uncomfortably. "I thought I could get more for them if they remained in pristine condition,” he said as he paged through the book he wasn’t reading. For all he knew he was holding it upside down. “You know how people keep their Star Wars toys in the boxes with the cellophane on?”

She shrugged, unconvinced. But she moved on, willing to let it go. Her stacked heels clacked obnoxiously against his hardwood floors as she slowly made her way into his living room.

He doubted she wanted to know the real reason. Though he was pretty sure he could turn the tables on her if he blurted it out. It would serve her right for the way she roamed around his apartment and let her eyes light on his stuff, storing her little data points in that mind, trying to figure him out. But maybe one day the tea leaves of his pitiable life she seemed so eager to read would finally speak to her. Maybe it would occur to her what was actually going on.

Which was that every time he touched himself, he imagined it was her hand. And he would try to switch things over, open one of his skin mags— his trusty strategy for years when it came to getting his thoughts off his partner and back where they belonged —but it wasn’t working anymore.

He’d listlessly page through the glossies, looking for a promising spread, land on some blowjob scene and eyeball it for a while. But when he got down to business it, was her mouth on him, warm and receptive, her eyes on his face, his hands in her coppery hair. He’d smolder for a while, thinking of her lips, her strong small hands, and always her eyes, then feverishly work himself up. And the magazine, forgotten, would slip away onto the floor.

On the bright side, his inappropriate intrusive fixation on his FBI partner was saving him two hundred bucks a month he used to spend on phone sex. The last time he dialed in he couldn’t even get it up. So he spilled his guts to one of his regular providers, droning on for forty-five minutes about how he had it bad for his partner, all the things she did that made him crazy, the reasons he couldn’t tell her. Realizing even therapy would be cheaper, and feeling like a terrible cliché, he’d quit calling those numbers.

His videos were his last line of defense. Their absorbing input had always been able to capture his attention, so he’d try one of those. It might work for a few minutes, but the real action was behind his eyes. In his mind it was her heels digging in to the small of his back as he plunged into her tight little cunt. She’d be beneath him hot and panting, open her mouth to moan and he’d stuff his fingers in, slide them wetly against her tongue. Soon he’d be picking up the pace... The television would blare fruitlessly in the background, rife with bad dialogue and silicone silo tits and oh babys. The money shot would come and go, unseen by him, and the screen would fade to black.

The reason porn had quit working was simple: in his fantasies, she always comes too. Usually more than once. He’d start slow, imagine he was taking his time kissing his way down her body. That could take a while. Then he’d tease her, rubbing the fat head of his cock up and down her slit. When she begged him to, he’d slip inside her and slam his hips forward. He’d hold there, bottomed out, and kiss her sweet mouth. Then he’d slide it in and out, looking into her eyes, feeling every inch of her.

Soon he’d need to fuck her harder, faster. He’d reach down to tease her clit until she was thrashing and pleading. Then she’d say his name, and her face would change, and she’d come on his dick. He’d watch her ride it out, humming with pleasure as her warm wet circles broke against him and travelled up his body in waves. Till his nuts and his gut and his heart and his throat and his brain were replete with her. Finally he’d come, imagining he was cradled by her hips and rocking, buried deep inside her, spilling his secrets into her ear.

In his dirty busy mind he’d already had her so many places and ways: in showers and motel beds, in cars and elevators, bent over his desk at work, the door unlocked, her skirt bunched around her waist, her drugstore pantyhose dangling from her ankle. Quick or slow or sweet or mean, acrobatic or missionary, rough or tender. Or both. God. Even boring. Just the two of them in his bed, nose to nose under the covers, whispering and giggling and whiling away a Sunday morning.

And the most pathetic and woebegone detail? Sometimes his fantasies contained no sex at all. He wanted to watch a movie with her feet parked in his lap. He wanted to shop for groceries with her and hold her hand on the walk home. To spend a weekend with her on the Vinyard and show her his old high school. He wanted to rub her back when she was sad and play footsie with her under the table during boring budget meetings. He wanted to gather her close and kiss her eyelids and hold her in his arms as she fell asleep. To watch her to rise naked from his bed and pull on his clothes she’d just stripped from his body. On red eye flights he wanted to leave the arm rest up and snuggle with her under those dingy felt blankets. To read to her while she soaked in the tub and find the nooks and hollows of her body where she was ticklish. He wanted to make her giggle, make her laugh, make her cry happy tears. He wanted to make her wet just with his voice. To lay in bed and watch while she got dressed for church. He wanted to kiss her in front of her idiot brother, maybe even slip her a tasteful amount of tongue. To shower with her before work, to soap her up and shampoo her hair. He wanted to stock his fridge with an assortment of her gross non-dairy yogurts.

Scully. Before she’d even descended into his office and introduced herself, he assumed she was a plant. Or a dupe, a patsy. Why else would a promising and talented young agent be conscripted to his lonely, disrespected division? Most likely she’d already agreed to keep tabs on him, to cast his work in a negative light. And even if she hadn’t, he was certain she’d be manipulated, using the lever of her obvious ambition, into doing so. He also suspected, since she’d spent most of her time thus far in the FBI in the lab or the classroom, that she was a house cat. The kind of agent who might hold romantic notions about working in the field, but who would soon balk at the grueling, unpredictable hours, the endless travel, the physical grind. And blanch at the dangers. It’s no kind of life for anybody who wants a life.

By the time their flight touched down in Oregon on that first case, he knew for sure that she was fun to spar with. And all kinds of smart. And even sort of cute. And while it can obviously be helpful to have a partner if things go sideways, he remembers hoping that didn’t happen to them before she washed out and retreated back to the lab. Because he suspected this itty bitty pathologist with zero field experience and impractical footwear? Would be more likely to become a liability than properly cover his flank.

After they’d worked a half dozen cases together, it was fair to say he’d reconsidered the hasty assumptions he’d made about Scully. Which is to say she surprised him at every turn. Except on the couple of occasions when she’d astonished him, leaving him flat-footed and slack-jawed in her wake. Against all odds, he had himself a partner. Which is not to say he fully trusted her. Not yet. And he doubted she’d hang around much longer.

But still. He’d learned that she was game. Skeptical and rational, but up for anything. She never complained about bad food or lumpy beds. And courageous, staring down firearms pushed in her face without blinking. She was fearless and cagy, and could take a punch or dish one out. And in the next moment she could soften, to connect with a suspect or a victim, to care for a child, or for him. She believed deeply in what she was doing. When he bumbled into trouble, which he seemed to have a knack for, she more than had his back. Yet when she’d sided with him and blew off her buddies from the Academy? It wasn’t loyalty to him she was demonstrating, but to the victims. To the truth. Above all, Scully was honest.

In some ways, he knew her so well. Yet all these years later there was there were aspects to her he could only guess at. Scully, he’d come to understand, was a deeply private person. Didn’t give pieces of herself away in idle conversation, like most people do. The fact that he was a trained and skilled profiler didn’t seem to help. In his fevered mind he’d become preoccupied with the things he didn’t know about her. Like how, exactly, does she like to be touched? He thought about that a lot. Is she a morning sex person? (God he hoped so.) Is she loud in bed? Or more quiet and intense? A little repressed, or wild and uninhibited? He could imagine it either way. Is she bossy? Submissive? A little of both? What does she taste like? Does she talk dirty? Will she like it when he does? (Because he definitely does.) How would he tease her? What are her kinks? Does she like it rough? And if he wanted to go down on her for hours, would she be okay with that?

So, yeah. He loved her.

That switch had been flicked for him on a steamy summer evening, a moment when he’d been staring down the real possibility of losing her. She walked away. He followed her, flew out his door like he’d been shot out of a cannon. Stormed up to her where she’d turned to face him in his hallway. Fists clenched, voice raised, he was in full on fighting mode. But he wasn’t fighting her. He was fighting to keep her. So instead of telling her off, as his body language suggested he might, he told her what she meant to him. How he needed her. Things he hadn’t even realized before they came out of his mouth. But all of it the truth.

She’d been girded and resolute, her body rigid and self-contained. But then she broke, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, she softened and stepped into his embrace. He looked in her impossibly blue eyes glinting with tears and realized with dreadful certainty that, Christ, he was going to kiss his partner. More than that, if she let him, he was going to pick her up and carry her back through the door of his apartment and lay her down and fuck her.

That plan had been derailed, but the urge for him remained. And not long after, he gathered his courage and, with all the earnestness he could muster, he’d looked her in the eyes and confessed.

So he’d told her that he loved her. But had he shown her?

That was a thorny question, and it made him uncomfortable to consider it. Because he had to admit that for the most part, he hadn’t.

It was strange, but once his feelings for Scully had shifted, his behavior toward her had become less loving. For one thing, he didn’t let her in on that fact that she’d become the only featured player in his secret late-nite fantasy theatre. But more than that, he found himself especially irritable with her. Dismissive. Self-centered. Sometimes even cold.

When he was looking for an excuse to be angry with her, he told himself a story that she’d rejected him. Because, oh brother. But he’d seen her eyes go wide for an instant, felt her animal panic. She’d pored over his hospital chart and had to know he wasn’t high. So he’d concluded that she didn’t want him. Didn’t love him.

And Fowley’d chosen that inopportune moment to skip back over the pond and make a play for his ass. And though he had no interest in rekindling that relationship, just having her around reminded him of all the reasons it just might be a bad idea to get tangled up sexually with your partner.

More than that, even though he knew that Scully felt insecure because of Diana for several legitimate reasons, he hadn’t bothered to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about. When Diana called him and invited him downstairs for lunch, he’d go. Mostly to be near his files, and to mine the trashcans for cases when her back was turned. But he’d steal away from the bullpen, not tell Scully where he was off to, or why. He let her twist in the wind, wondering who Diana was to him and what her reappearance meant for their partnership.

It would make sense that once you’ve discovered the person you love, the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your days (not even to mention nights), the person who is, quite possibly, it for you? That you would try to make that happen. To lock that down. And yet he seemed to be doing everything but.

Even after she’d been shot by Ritter, and he’d almost lost her again.

And why was that? How to explain this puzzling behavior.

Maybe she didn’t want him, and he was just protecting himself.

The thing was, when he was being honest, he knew that wasn’t true. When he’d been about to kiss her in his hallway, she’d looked confused at first. And then concerned, with real fear flashing in her eyes. But by the time his lips were hovering over hers? They were on the same page. She’d gone molten in his arms, and her mouth awaited his, wet and ready. His body remembered how she’d opened to him, with her sweet breath and her fingers on his neck. He knew in his bones how that encounter would have ended, if not for that stupid fucking bee. Recalled it every chance he got.

As a psychologist, looking at the situation objectively? He’d have to conclude that he was engaging in some epic self-sabotage. Yup.

That night in her apartment when Diana had made her intentions clear, he’d agreed like some kind of docile sheep to join her. To scrum up with the other chosen few at El Rico Air Force Base as Armageddon loomed and save himself at the expense of the rest of humanity. And Scully, even though he wasn’t by her side where he belonged, was still fighting. For him, For them. For the truth. For the future.

And to repay her for her steadfast faith in him and devotion to their work? He was flirting with the one thing that could tear them apart. With inflicting a betrayal that could send her packing for good.

They’d dodged a bullet that night. More than that, they’d gotten their files back, and were free to resume their work. And by any measure he should have felt relieved. But he woke the next morning with a hangover worse than any he’d ever gotten from liquor. He looked in the mirror to shave and realized he couldn’t even meet his own gaze. He was ashamed. And he had to admit that he’d been seduced by Diana after all. Not into bed, but into complacency.

Needing some time and space to think things through, he called Skinner and redeemed a few vacation days. He threw some clothes in a bag and set out driving, not sure of his destination.

On the road, heading north, armed with this new clarity, he mulled things over. How was he going to feel, he wondered, when he succeeded and chased her away? That seemed to be his end game, after all. He knew what he’d do. He’d track her down to wherever she’d absconded to and interrupt her as she attempted to reboot her life. Then, looking desperate and half mad, he’d profess his love.

But it would be too late. She would conclude, quite logically, that he only wanted her when she was leaving. And even if she loved him like he hoped she might, she would not settle for that. Not Scully. And it would be selfish of him to ask her to.

It hit him then, with complete and utter clarity, that he had no idea how to love someone. He’d had bad models and a dearth of life experience in that arena. He knew how he felt. But love is a verb. It’s about what you do. She had taught him that.

He was good with the grand gestures, sure. Tracking her down at the bottom of the world and fishing her out of an enormous alien vessel, for example. Then breathing life back into her and hauling her to the surface while sidestepping rabid lizard monsters who swiped at them with razor-edged claws? Check.

But she needed more. For him to find mundane ways to express his care and concern, perhaps. To show her how much she mattered to him. How much he valued her and all the ways she contributed to their work. To his life. She needed to see that he put her first. She deserved these things. She had earned them. And he knew wouldn’t let him glimpse her secret self, let him know her like he desperately wanted to, until he gave them to her.

He wasn’t sure he could do it. But he knew he had to try.

He decided to start right away. He’d been thinking of her all morning, of course. About celebrating their return by pressing her her against a wall in their office and pushing into her, fucking her breathless and senseless before lunch, to be exact. But he hadn’t thought of her at all, he realized. Not really.

Scully. She’d be there right now, in the basement waiting for him, their first day back where they belonged. Wondering where he could be with half the morning gone. Bewildered as to what might be keeping him from reclaiming his precious turf. Maybe she already talked to Skinner and knew he was taking a few days off. Maybe she’d be worried. Or pissed. Or worse, wondering if he was enjoying a morning lounging in bed with a treacherous leggy brunette.

At the next rest stop, he pulled off and powered up his cell phone. He was relieved to see that he'd missed a call from her. She hadn’t given up on him yet.

Rather than listen to her message, he dialed her back. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey Mulder,” she said.

“Hey Scully,” he said. “Are you in the office?”

“I am,” she said. “Where I thought for sure you would be. Skinner told me you were on vacation. What’s going on?” Her voice was brittle. Defensive.

“I will be, Scully. I’ll meet you there. And soon. But I need to take care of a few things first.”

“Okay,” she said thoughtfully. “What kinds of things?”

“I, ah, I need to get my head straight before coming back. I’ve been mixed up. About some stuff.”

“I see,” she said.

They were both quiet for long seconds.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Me?” The question surprised her. “I’m good. Enjoying the quiet. Working on expense reports. Glad to be out of the bullpen.”

“You sure? You were popular, Scully. I think Agent Kargoll was working up the nerve to ask you out.” Mulder would glare at him as he brought her a donut on a little plate in the mornings. He’d leave it on the corner of the desk if she wasn’t in yet, like an offering to the high priestess.

“Yep,” she said. “I noticed that too. Reassigned in the nick of time...”

“I did my best to scare him off...”

“He was persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“He seemed like a nice enough guy. You could do worse than landing a boyfriend who arrives bearing gifts every morning...”

“I could do better, too.”

“No doubt,” he said. “What would be better than that?”

“Hmm. Why do you ask?”

“Research,” he said.

“Research,” she repeated. “Okay. Let’s see. The bearing gifts is ok. But maybe someone with some sense of what I actually like?”

“Let me jot that down,” he said. She snorted a little laugh. Which warmed him all the way through. “It’s true, Scully, you’re not a big fan of donuts. I benefitted from his crush on you more than you did.”

“I tried to wait until he had his back turned before handing those off to you...”

“You’re very kind,” he said.

Just then a truck blew by on the highway, laying on the booming brake, rocking his car.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I, ah, hit the road this morning. Just to think. Just to drive. But I suppose I’m heading home. To see my mother for a few days.”

“Everything okay?” she asked. He heard the concern in her voice, the fear that she’d be needing to tend to him trepanned and shocky, bail him out of jail. The usual.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or it will be. I really think it will be.”

“Allright Mulder,” she said after a long beat. “I’ll be holding down the fort. Drive safe. And keep in touch.”

“I will. And save me some of that paperwork, Scully.”

She laughed and hung up.

He had, in fact, visited his mother. She was glad to see him, and he stayed a few days, helped her out with some chores around the house. Got on a ladder and plucked the muck and leaves from the gutters, shifted some dusty furniture from the basement to the curb.

And he absorbed the silences of that house, his mother’s sadness, the way every possession, every exchange seemed steeped in a deep, abiding misery.

He remembered his mother different. Laughing, for example. Playing bridge with her friends, toying with her strand of pearls as she leaned in to gossip. Teasing him with a glint of joy in her eyes. Before Samantha had been taken.

It had broken her. Broken all of them. Now she ghosted around her own home, tending to her roses, watching television. Always alone. He lived much the same way. This was all that was left.

All because his father had been unable to protect them from the men he worked with, no matter how noble his intentions. The same men he had been tempted by Fowley to join up with, if he was telling the truth. Now they were reduced to ash. He had no idea what remained, but he knew he and Scully would find out.

By the time he climbed in his car to come home, he was committed to not making his father’s mistake. And to living differently. Less stubbornly solitary. To inviting some goodness into his life, no matter how strange it felt.

And last night, when it was actually happening, when he was wrapped up in bed with Scully in real life, it had been so vivid, so peculiar. As he rolled his naked frame against hers, time slowed down. In his head he heard the seconds ticking away distorted by doppler effect, whomp whomp. Felt his stiff prick slide against her buttery thigh, painfully slow. Pressed his ear to her chest. Imagined the steady squeeze and release of her heart beneath her breastbone. Heard the whoosh of her blood through her veins.

Looked up at her flushed face, this beautiful untamable breakable beast.

And he loved her.

He’d told her so.

Now he needed to show her.

Thanks for reading. Check it out at Ao3 This fic stands alone, but is also chapter 10 of Bedside Manner

[damnlance]

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

-

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

[datleggy]

Albert Plots aka coda to 4x02

One of Bucks house rules is: don't barge into my room unannounced.

It only becomes a house rule, of course, after Albert inadvertently interrupts his therapy session as he's mid sentence. 

"Oh crap, sorry sorry, I didn't realize--I mean, I thought--sorry." Albert finishes lamely, cringing at his own intrusion.

Buck practically chucks his tablet across his bed, face down, in his surprise. “Dude, knock.” 

Albert shrugs, grimacing apologetically. “You don’t have a door though?” 

Buck sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Just...announce yourself next time, ok? Like, yell ‘I’m coming up’ or whatever.” 

Albert nods. “Sorry.” he mutters again. 

Buck decides the kid looks contrite enough that he can brush the whole thing off--it’s not like he overheard anything. “It’s ok, don’t worry, we’re good. What’s up? You needed something?” 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to order pizza but um,” Chimneys little brother pauses and scratches the back of his head. “Are you ok?” 

Buck gulps. “Uh, yeah, I--why wouldn’t I be?” Well shit, Buck thinks, maybe he did overhear a tidbit or two, after all... 

“Well,” Albert purses his lips to one side. “What you said just now, about hiding your feelings? Sorry, I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop--I was hungry and didn’t think before running up here. But um, listen, if you ever need an ear or a shoulder,” he shrugs delicately. “You’ve been there for me before a few times now. I like to think we’re good friends, so I want you to know you can always count on me to be there if you need someone. That’s all.” 

Buck would be touched if he weren’t also kind of mortified over having been caught spilling his guts to Dr. Copeland. Albert must see that, because he immediately moves to change the subject. “So, pizza?” 

“Yup,” Buck clears his throat. “Sal’s is the best joint in the area, their menu’s on the fridge, call and order whatever you want. I’ll umm, I’ll join you in a little bit.” 

"Ok." Albert scurries off quickly enough and Buck feels a little bad for not being more reassuring that he's not upset with him. But it's hard; being vulnerable, that is.

********

An hour later dinner is silent and just a tiny bit awkward between the two men.

It's only after a couple of beers that Buck loosens up enough to blurt out, "I'm in love with Eddie."

Albert blinks up at him in surprise. "Oh shit." His face breaks out into a happy grin. "Dude, that's awesome! I always thought you two would be good together. Actually, I gotta admit, I thought you two were dating when we first met at that bar. So it makes sense." Albert's voice trails off upon realizing how red Buck's face has gone. "Wait, did you not--you know? Know?" Albert's eyes grow wide.

Buck shrugs. "I kinda always knew? But I mean, the Eddie thing is..." He groans, "How am I supposed to tell my best friend I'm in love with him? It would ruin everything."

Albert shakes his head adamantly. "No way man, you said it yourself, Eddie's your best friend, your feelings for him wouldn't 'ruin' anything. Even if by some crazy chance he doesn't feel the same way it's not like he'd stop being friends with you."

Buck rubs a hand up his shoulder and bites on his bottom lip. "But what if that's exactly what happens? I don't wanna hide my feelings anymore, from anyone, but I don't think I can take that risk--it's too big, I could lose too much."

Albert has seen the way Eddie looks at Buck when he thinks no one is else is paying attention. “Look man, I’m not exactly the observant type--Howie can tell you that--but even I can see Eddie’s heart eyes when he’s looking in your direction.” 

Buck groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I just don’t wanna mess up what we have.” he looks up, his expression sullen. “We’ve got a good thing going.” he shrugs. “If I confess my feelings there’s a chance--” he sighs, hanging his head. “I can’t do it.” 

Albert reaches over and squeezes his shoulder in support. Suddenly an idea strikes him. “Hey,” he jumps up. “What if I could prove to you that Eddie’s just as into you as you are, into him? Would you say something then?” 

Buck lifts his head to look Albert in the eye, “How would you go about doing that?” 

Albert waves him off. “You don’t gotta worry about that part. Just trust me.” 

Buck raises a brow, dubious. “Ok, but you need to promise you won’t say anything about my feelings to Eddie--or to anyone, for that matter. Not even Chimney can know.” 

“I swear, not a word!” 

*********

Albert strikes over the weekend, during a friendly game of basketball with the 118. Albert had originally only been intending to play one on one with Chim, like usual, but had convinced him to invite everyone at the station, too, last minute. 

“Buck’s on my team!” Albert declares, before anyone can even truly get settled. 

Chim glares at Albert. “Oh yeah, call dibs on our tallest guy.” 

Albert shrugs, throwing an arm around Buck and pulling him close. “And let’s not forget the most handsome.” he winks at Buck with the subtlety of a fire engine racing across town. 

Chim raises a questioning brow at his brother but otherwise doesn’t comment. “Uh huh. Anyway, then I want Eddie on my team.” 

Eddie steps up beside Chim, giving Buck a look. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?” 

Buck scoffs. “I have the power of youth on my side, thanks.” he says, pointing to Albert. 

Bobby clears his throat. “This is starting to feel a lot like a middle school gym class, where I’m picked last for teams.” 

Hen bumps his fist in camaraderie. “Preach, Cap.” 

“Hen, I call Hen!” Chimney immediately announces, practically dragging his best friend over to his side. 

“Good, cause I was gonna pick Captain Nash anyway.” Albert sticks his tongue out. 

Buck grins when Bobby walks over to stand beside him. His parents never let him play sports when he was a kid--he had to forge their signatures for whatever ‘dangerous’ activity he wanted to participate in, and so he and his dad had never gotten to toss the ball around in the backyard the way most of his friends had, growing up. 

Being on the same team with Bobby now kind of feels like that. Not that he’d say it out loud. He’s way too old for that stuff now. Not to mention the fact that now he has to focus on both the game and on whatever Albert is plotting with him and Eddie. 

Buck sighs. He should’ve kept his big mouth shut. 

The game starts out friendly enough, some playful jabs thrown here and there, but Buck can tell Albert and Chimney are out for blood, knocking elbows and teasing the other when they miss a shot. Though, he concedes, they are siblings, and well, he and Maddie, even at this age, can still get a little overly zealous when competing with one another. So he’s not too worried. 

They take a break about half way through the game, sweaty and tired from running around so much, when Albert starts to speak. “Man, I can’t wait for that double date next Friday.” 

Chim glances up at him from the bench, where he’s rehydrating. “You’re going on a date? First I’ve heard.” 

Albert nods. “Yup. With Buck and these two really cool chicks I met at the coffee shop a couple of weeks ago.” 

Eddie furrows his brows. “Did you say Friday?” 

Albert nods, knowing exactly where this is going. 

Eddie turns to Buck, who’s trying his best to telepathically communicate with Albert to cut it out before he strangles the kid. “Uh, Friday’s game night.” he says, his tone slightly accusatory. 

Bobby’s eyes dart between the two men curiously. Hen presses her lips together. “Game night?” 

Eddie nods. “Every Friday we get together at my place and do a game night. Christopher looks forward to ‘em every week.” 

Albert cuts in before Buck can say anything. “Wow, you two sound like a married couple with a kid.” he teases. “But I mean, what’s the big deal, missing one game night? Buck could meet the love of his life Friday night. Isn’t that a little more important?” 

Eddie makes a face none of the crew can really read. “Guess you’re right.” he agrees reluctantly, picking up the ball and passing it to Chimney just a tad on the rough side. “Break’s over, let’s get back to it, yeah?” He steps out into the court without looking back, his shoulders set rigidly. 

Albert grins at Buck, whispering as the others head to the court as well, “It’s working!” 

“He looks like he wants to kill someone.” Buck half whispers back, eyes wide. “Your plan sucks.” 

“Shh, you’ll be thanking me later, now c’mon, let’s go!” Albert runs into the court and takes his position at the front, between Buck and Bobby. 

Buck can’t help but focus entirely on Eddie’s sour mood during the game, which is probably why he doesn’t notice the uneven asphalt as he goes to catch Bobby’s toss until it’s too late. He loses his footing and goes down hard. 

Buck’s back and side hit the pole connected to the basketball net and the damn thing actually shakes with the force of the collision. Bobby is on him instantly, helping him up and asking if he’s alright. Buck tries to say he’s fine, but the moment he’s standing he bends over, wrapping an arm around himself, wincing in pain. “Hurts.” he admits. 

Eddie sprints across the ball court to help Bobby get Buck to the benches where he can sit and they can see what’s going on. Hen lifts his shirt and grimaces tightly at the humongous ugly bruise already forming against his back and part of his chest. “Jesus, Buck.” she feels around that area. 

Buck gasps at the onslaught of pain and tries his best not to flinch away from her. 

“Definitely some bruised ribs, Buck,” Hen tells him sympathetically, pulling down his shirt as gently as she can. “Possibly fractured. I would definitely get this checked out in the ER, in case they’re broken. They’ll need to do an x-ray and a CT just to rule it out.” 

Buck groans. “Can’t I just ice it?” 

“C’mon,” Bobby shakes his head, helping Buck get up. “I’m taking you--” 

Eddie interrupts, his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I can go. Christopher’s at a sleepover today, so I’m free anyway.” he volunteers. 

Buck is in too much pain to argue with either of them, and ends up in the front passenger seat of Eddie’s truck. Bobby makes Eddie promise to text the team updates. 

**********

Eddie fills out Bucks form so he can hold an ice pack to his side while they wait in the ER. Once he’s done he hands it to the nurse at the front desk and sits down next to Buck. “How ya’ feeling?” 

Buck knows there isn’t a point to lying, not when he needed to lean the majority of his weight on the other man from the car to the waiting room, after all. “Like the whole left side of me got hit by a car.” 

“Here, gimme that, I’ll hold it for you.” Eddie takes the ice pack and places it gently against his side, grimacing when Buck cringes. “Hurt a lot?” 

“Only when I breath.” Buck jokes, though it’s not too far from the truth. “You know you don’t have to stay here with me, I can call an Uber to drive me home. The place is packed, we’re probably gonna be waiting for hours.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m not leaving you, so this had better be your first and last attempt at getting me to go.” 

Buck sighs. “Fine.” 

“Good.” Eddie clears his throat. “So...” 

Buck turns his eyes towards him. “So?” 

“You’re really not coming to game night Friday?” 

Buck looks away. He doesn’t want to lie to Eddie, but how crazy would he look if he told him Albert made all that up--in order to admit the truth he’d also have to confess his feelings for his best friend, and there’s just no way in hell that’s happening. “Yeah,” he says instead, “Sorry, I was planning on telling you later today, it just kinda slipped my mind.” 

Eddie hums, pursing his lips. “No it’s cool, Albert’s right. She might be the one.” he says, though it’s said dryly. 

Buck looks up at him from underneath his long lashes, curiously. “And uh, if she is?” 

“Then,” Eddie shrugs, “Good for you.” 

Buck nods. 

An uncomfortable silence falls upon the two men and it’s another half hour of awkwardness before Eddie picks up the conversation again. 

“You know what,” he starts, turning to Buck, “I lied. Not good for you.” 

Buck blinks at the bluntness. “What?” 

“I don’t want you to go on that date. And I don’t want to cancel game night. I know it’s selfish and I’m being kind of psycho right now, but I think I’m jealous?” Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, as though he hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. Like the words simply spilled forth without his brains permission. 

“You’re jealous? Of...what?” Buck doesn’t dare to hope this is what he thinks it is. 

Eddie groans, putting down the ice pack for a moment and turning his chair completely to the side so he can face Buck fully. “I know I said Christopher looks forward to game nights, and he does, but so do I. I look forward to spending time with the two of you together and I get excited when our shifts line up on certain weeks and I’m getting tired of saying goodnight and watching you walk to your Jeep, all because I’m too much of a coward to just say--” Eddie stops himself, his chest aching, the words caught in his throat. 

“I’m in love with you.” Buck blurts out. 

“You--” Eddie stammers. “You are?” he asks in disbelief. 

Buck gulps, his cheeks heating up. “For a while now, I think. I just...hadn’t realized until recently.” Dr. Copeland had been a huge part of figuring that out. 

“Christ,” Eddie doesn’t waste a second more. He takes Bucks face in his hands and brings their foreheads together right then and there. “Can I...?” 

Buck nods, their lips brushing slightly with the motion. “Please.” 

Eddie kisses him, softly, tentatively, before pulling away just a bit. “I love you.” he confesses breathlessly. 

Buck thinks his heart might actually burst out of his chest. 

Man, Albert is never gonna let him hear the end of this. 

.

[tenacityreturns]

aokaga fic alert: meeting aomine’s parents!

plot: kagami is a nervous wreck as he meets aomine’s parents for the first time now that they’re dating. word count: 4730 notes: sfw, based on my own hcs, and in this au kagami lives with nijimura. it is in the same universe where nijihimu become a thing, which is every universe imo. anyway. enoy! 

“will your dad know if i have a criminal record?” kagami asked worriedly, twisting his hands together.

“what?” aomine’s cool demeanour switched to understandable surprise, “you have a criminal record?”

“i said if i had one.”

“well, do you?”

“i don’t think so? uh, at least, not in japan. but don’t cops have that... sixth sense?”

“that’s only in movies. calm down.”

“i am calm!” that was a shout.

“calm down more.”

the redhead shoved his hands under his armpits to stop them from fidgeting. his frown was just a mask to stop just anyone from knowing that this was the most stressful trip he’d had to make in a long time. meeting aomine’s parents for the first time, picture that! ugh! kagami almost didn’t want to, actually! he wanted to turn on his heels and flee. he’d never met a boyfriend’s parents before! he’d never had a boyfriend, either, so that made sense. god, the knots in his gut only got worse the closer they got!

“didn’t you hear me?” aomine bumped his elbow into kagami’s side, “i said chill. do you think i’d bring you over if it wasn’t gonna be fine?”

“i introduced you to my dad,” he defended quietly, arms dropping to his sides. yeah, that had gone badly. a lot of are you sure?s and it’s just a phase, you’ll get through its. it made him sick to think about.

“your dad loves me, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

“daiki---”

“taaaaiga,” aomine draped his arm around kagami’s shoulders. oh god, they’re coming up to his house! “it’s cool. they’re cool.”

“what if i say something stupid and upset your mom?”

“then i’ll kick your ass,” then he shakes kagami’s shoulders, “kidding. you won’t upset her.”

“are you sure?”

“oh yeah.”

here they were, at his driveway. every muscle in kagami’s shoulders, arms, and back were tense. they should just get it over with, or not go in at all! this pause was no good. aomine, for fuck’s sake, why didn’t you know where your keys were?

then the door opened. kagami instantly smelt teriyaki burgers. frozen in place, he had to be dragged inside and, after removing shoes, he was pulled unexpectedly up the stairs. he’d already been over here, but always when aomine’s parents were out. he knew which door was the bathroom, which one was aomine’s bedroom. which one was the master bedroom. the kitchen smells must have meant that someone was in the kitchen, but thank god nobody saw them go up the stairs! kagami was mortified thinking about it, as if the two were not tumbling giants making massive amounts of noise wherever they went.

it was safer in aomine’s room. kagami dropped his bag on the floor, but that was as far as he got before he was pulled in for a hug. ah, that was better. he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be able to breathe.

“don’t tell my dad that you don’t have a criminal record,” aomine said before kissing kagami’s cheek. “just don’t mention it at all. until i ask later, when you have to.”

“i don’t think i have one. would i know?” kagami’s arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist, but he hadn’t fully relaxed yet. not even when aomine kissed his other cheek. “i’ve never been arrested properly.”

“you need to stop thinking about this,” aomine’s brows knitted gently together. they stared at each other in silence for another, long moment. it was pretty obvious that kagami was still fretting over this. aomine pinched kagami’s cheek. “i said stop.” but the pout made the pinching stop and nuzzling begin. “my mom’s seen us play together. she saw the vorpal swords match.”

“she did?”

“yep.”

“what did she think?”

aomine cracked a smile. “she didn’t, she doesn’t know anything about basketball.”

“oh.”

“dad does, though.”

“oh,” someone explain how this made kagami’s stomach drop? even though he knew he was great at basketball?

“he saw you in basketball monthly. ah, it’s kinda cool to be able to point out my boyfriend in a magazine.”

“you’ve had whole pages in it before---”

“who cares?”

“didn’t you just say---”

“let’s go out after dinner,” aomine was quick to interrupt, kissing kagami’s cheekbone. “i’ll beat you mercilessly at a one-on-one, and humble you for that magazine comment.”

“humble me,” kagami repeated in a grumble. aomine’s hands travelled to survey muscular shoulders and, as luck had it, they had relaxed considerably. “i’ll show you.”

“yeah,” aomine smiled as he moved away, “that you’re a basketball head through and through. come on, they’re waiting for us downstairs.”

kagami’s brow furrowed again and though they had detangled from the embrace, he was still within reach for aomine to push his thumb upwards against the rugged red brows. “bah!” kagami batted him away, but looked a little more relaxed yet. he was still tense, but that was fair enough given the occasion.

aomine led kagami downstairs by the hand until last minute. each step made his knees feel weaker and weaker, and by the time they had reached the living room, kagami’s hands felt shaky again. he tried to focus on the lovely smell of food, tried to focus on the warm light lamps lit before sunset gave the room. it made the place seem so homely. all the brick-a-brack around him made it feel homely, just as kagami imagined a house should. photos of aomine when he was young, photos of them all together. it should have helped, but it just made him more concerned. what if they hated him? what if they hated them? what if they were passive aggressive and unsupportive and doubted every word kagami had to say, just like his own father? his eyes watched the floor as it passed underfoot, in case it should give way into the black abyss he suspected his mind would fall into if he wasn’t very careful.

and there, when kagami raised his eyes, was mr aomine! he had been sat in an armchair with a newspaper, but stood to greet him. he was a tall man, fit for his age, with greying hair and blue eyes. he looked so stern at first, but his face wrinkled into a smile as he held his hand out to shake.

“it’s good to finally meet you,” he said warmly. kagami didn’t know what else to do but to shake his hand. he didn’t know what to say. “you’ve been giving daiki a run for his money, i hear?”

“uh,” what did that mean? kagami’s face heated up. oh, basketball! duh. fuck. “yes, sir.”

“steady,” daiki stepped over the coffee table to settle into the couch nearby. “i can still beat him.”

“i mean, it’s good to meet you too, sir. thank you for having me, sir.”

“alright, alright,” mr aomine patted kagami on the shoulder and nearly gave him a heart attack! “sit down, i want you to tell me what learning basketball is like in america.”

“oh?” kagami walked carefully around the coffee table to sit on the other side of the couch to his boyfriend. see? look at this respectful distance. please like him, mr aomine!

mr aomine sat back down in his own chair. “you were coached by a wnba player?”

“you know a lot...” kagami thought aloud, sending an amused half-smile across the couch. daiki had the bottom of his face hidden inside the neckline of his sweater, looking away. somehow that made him feel a little better. kagami wanted to hear everything daiki said about him now! he turned back to mr aomine with more confidence as he talked about alex and how she’d come over recently to visit.

after a few minutes, mrs aomine walked through from another door with an apron on. her blue, braided hair tied into a ponytail, and her casual jeans + sweater outfit made her seem a lot less scary than whatever kagami had envisioned. she was tall too, but not quite as tall as her son or husband, with darker skin than daiki. she stood with her hands on her hips and stared at him. maybe she was just waiting for mr aomine to finish talking, but what was the point? respectfully, of course, kagami was now very much distracted and alarmed! her gaze softened and drifted to her son. kagami’s returned to mr aomine as he talked about a trip he’d taken in his youth to california. he realised now that he had mentioned all the babes, and kagami didn’t know how the hell to react! so he didn’t. he heard daiki say dad, with a laugh, and followed along with an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“hello,” finally, mrs aomine found a moment to speak. she smiled and kagami noted that daiki got his smile from her. “nice to meet you, kagami!”

“nice to meet you too, ma’am!”

“if you’re bored of talking about basketball, i could use a helping hand in the kitchen.”

“bored?” both kagami and daiki repeated in varied levels of amusement. kagami had only muttered it as he stood, seeing no choice in the matter, but daiki snorted. he moved his legs to make it easier for kagami to step through. kagami sent him a look which said aren’t you coming too? and daiki settled deeper into the couch. betrayal!

“you looked more intense on tv,” mrs aomine announced thoughtfully as kagami came to stand in-front of her.

he rubbed the back of his neck. “sorry, but i’m not playing basketball right now. --- ma’am.”

“ah, true... let’s see if you’re more intense with a knife in your hand.”

it was a joke, he was pretty sure, so he smiled, but all he was thinking about was that time kuroko had stood in his kitchen holding a knife in low-lighting and never looked more threatening in his life. he followed mrs aomine silently out of the living room, through the hall, and into the kitchen.

“oh, i have to show you something,” she cooed, gesturing to the counter. she didn’t explain any further so it was up to the great detective, kagami taiga, to decipher her mysterious comment.

he saw a fruit bowl, a cookie jar, and a chopping board with spring onions waiting to be tended to. he saw a magazine ( not sports related so he didn’t look twice ), and a framed picture, and a flower he didn’t know the name of sitting in a crudely painted pot. panicking and unable to find what he was supposed to be seeing, he bit his finger. mrs aomine didn’t say anything, but she did decide to nudge the picture frame. ah. okay, he looked again.

it was a picture of the vorpal swords team after their win. everyone looked triumphant and happy, including daiki. kagami was there, of course, and it made him feel fuzzy knowing that they had a picture of him in their house. did dad have any pictures of him at all on display? he smiled wide.

“it was a good game,” he said. “and really cool to play as a team with him. i know it meant a lot to kuroko.”

she brought a bowl out of the fridge as he spoke, and set it on the side as she did. “nice to see him enjoy himself so much. i was on the edge of my seat! but i didn’t ask you through here to talk about any particular game. daiki says you like cooking?”

"yes, ma’am.” it was a moment of genius on his part, but he added with a nervous smile: “but nothing’s as good as your teriyaki burgers, according to him.”

“ah! one-nil to me, then?” mrs aomine returned to the door, unhooking an apron from its home on the other side. “would you like to help me with the salad? you don’t have to, of course.”

“i don’t mind,” kagami met her halfway to receive his apron and made sure to thank her for it, then went to the sink to wash his hands once he’d put it on. he still felt deathly nervous, more so than before any game, but there was something grounding about being in a kitchen.

mrs aomine handed him the vegetables to wash first and foremost, setting up two chopping boards behind him as he worked. kagami was completely blank on what to talk about. it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t even spoken to anyone’s mother in ages! he was out of practice! she set about sharpening a knife meanwhile - the sound had confused him at first until clarified by a glance over his shoulder. she didn’t see him look, and just as well, because the sight really scared him! what if he said something wrong and she simply cut his head off?!

he didn’t stop thinking about that imagery until she’d given him the freshly sharpened blade. she moved calmly as she started breaking off the leaves from the lettuce. if he got passed his stupid nerves, she had only made jokes thus far, and made an effort to make conversation with him! she was nice. and she was just a person, at the end of the day. yes, she was a very important person, but she knew of him as her son’s boyfriend and she didn’t 1) hate him, 2) mistrust him, 3) show any kind of negative feelings towards him at all. kagami inhaled deeply, then exhaled, and focused on the task at hand.

“how do you want them?” he asked, referring to the bright red tomatoes sitting before him.

she hummed. she and daiki both did this a lot, like they had to make a noise to prove that whatever they were about to say was carefully considered. this wasn’t a criticism, it was just that he’d never thought about it before. it was kind of funny to see that daiki had absorbed his mother’s mannerism. “halved, then thin slices. what do you think?”

“okay,” he shrugged before he could decide whether that was rude, so he added a belated: “ma’am.”

chopping calmed him down quickly. the carefully practiced movements drummed a familiar beat, almost like a basketball bouncing between his hand and the floor. wasn’t the sound of a knife against a wooden chopping board so satisfying? the tomatoes sliced effortlessly with his sharp knife, too, so he was able to do it neatly and easily.

“who taught you how to cook, then?” she asked.

“nobody. i used to watch a lot of cooking tv shows so i kind of... learned from that. when i was older, alex helped me out. she was my wnba coach.”

“oho, i see. basketball is really ingrained in your life, isn’t it? that’s nice. i always thought it would be nice if daiki showed an interest in cooking, but when he’s got people around him who cooks for him, i don’t think he sees the point.”

and the lack of people around kagami growing up to cook for him provided the perfect excuse for him to learn. they were opposites. still, he smiled. “freeloader.” a shot of panic and his smile died, instead replaced by bright red cheeks. “uh, i’m joking of course! i don’t mind cooking for him, and i don’t think his other friends would either? i mean, he eats everything, so it’s not exactly hard.”

mrs aomine laughed, bringing her hand first to hide her grin, then placing it on his arm. “i know you were joking, please don’t worry so much. anyway, as you cut the peppers, you can tell me about any of your other hobbies.”

kagami’s bottom lip pulled downwards, grimacing.

“cut the peppers, then. it’s nice you like basketball so much, like i said. i imagine if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t have become so close with daiki.” she busied herself with the salad leaves again. “tell me, has anyone ever told you that they’d quit because you were too good?”

“yeah,” he replied quietly. “and i get called a monster sometimes, just like him.”

“he gets called a monster?”

oops. “yeah, out there during a game. it’s just annoying for me, i guess i don’t know how he takes it, but can you blame ‘em when you triple their score? like it ain’t disheartening when you’re trying to have fun, and the opponent just gives up.” he realises he just did a lot of talking, and added for politeness’ sake: “ma’am.”

“hmm,” she waved her knife with a flick of her wrist, “it’s hard on both sides, then.”

“i’m lucky i found opponents who force me to exceed my limits,” he felt like he was doing damage control, because mrs aomine hadn’t looked the same as before she knew about the monster thing. 

“again, that’s true for both sides, i think. it’s kuroko tetsuya who is on your team, is that right?”

“yeah. we play similarly to how daiki and kuroko used to play in middle school.”

“i’m amazed he’s kept up with everyone for this long,” she lifted the chopping board she’d been using to scrape the lettuce into a salad bowl, then grabbed the tomatoes and peppers. “he’s an important player in his own way, hm?”

undeniably. kagami wholeheartedly agreed with that statement, though there was something troubling in the way that she’d said it. like she didn’t entirely believe it herself. “kuroko’s basketball is different to anything i’ve ever seen before, sure, but i wouldn’t have got this far without him.”

mrs aomine’s big smile was unnerving, like she was up to something. but she didn’t say anything, and kagami didn’t push it. he hoped he hadn’t upset her by disagreeing. luckily, daiki sauntered into the room at this point and he would be able to tell if his mother absolutely hated kagami! and he’d make some kind of sign about it too, right? 

daiki made a beeline for the fridge, disappearing behind its silver doors momentarily. there was a chalkboard shopping list magnet on this door, and at the very top, in daiki’s handwriting, was:

more banana milk >:)

which kagami wasn’t sure he felt surprised about. maybe the little frowny face threw him off a little, but wasn’t it cute as hell, too? sure enough, when daiki shut the fridge, he was holding a carton.

“how’s it going in here?” he asked, leaning next to the chalkboard.

kagami didn’t know how it was going, actually, please could someone tell him? he stayed silent, despite mrs aomine looking at him with an expectant smile.

“oh, i think it’s fine,” she replied, “we were just talking about basketball.”

“mmm,” daiki smirked, “he does that.”

“don’t say that like you didn’t suggest going out to play a one-on-one after this!” kagami was embarrassed by that, for some reason! shut up, daiki, he’s trying to impress your mom!

“obviously. i like basketball, what are you trying to say?” why was daiki all embarrassed suddenly! shut up, idiot!

mrs aomine laughed ( a warm, maternal sound that kagami wasn’t used to. it made him bristle. did she definitely hate him? was he too stupid for her son? ). “i was just trying to get to know him, dai. buzz off and help your father set the table, why don’t you?”

buzz off? how come it had sounded so friendly when she said it? seriously, the more they hung out, the more kagami was seeing that daiki was just a teenaged boy version of his mother. kinda cute!

“i wanna hear if he says something nice about me, though,” daiki cooed on his way out.

“fat chance of that happening, pal,” kagami said before he could catch up with his words. it was easier to forgive himself for the brash language when aomine’s mother had just told him to buzz off.

and she hadn’t minded. they talked for the fifteen minutes until dinner was ready and while kagami still felt like he was being interrogated, she had an inescapably open, welcoming presence to her. his replies were awkward at the best of times, but it became less laboured over time. kagami was no conversationalist with anyone, after all. he wouldn’t be true to himself if he forced it.

she asked him about school. he told her that he tried his best, but basketball was where his heart was and it was kind of hard to concentrate on history when all he wanted to do was practise. she asked him about his team dynamics and was happy to hear that they were all friends. she knew what touou’s team had been like before, or maybe what they were still like. kagami was a little surprised that daiki hung out with a few of them outside of practise, but he supposed daiki had mentioned it. kagami just hadn’t connected the dots. she wanted to know if he was friends with momoi, and he said he kind of had to be if he wanted to hang out with aomine. he’d said it in a light-hearted, joking kind of way but his mouth was awkwardly tight and he hadn’t looked over.

she asked about how he felt about the other generation of miracles. for the first time meeting someone, she sure knew the questions to ask! he liked them, anyway. kagami liked them all just fine. some of them were more annoying than others ( and ordinarily to anyone who asked, aomine was definitely among the more annoying than others category, but he decided to miss that little dig given the audience bias ).

and then she told him about herself and the family briefly, as if an afterthought. she had met her husband in high-school. weird thought, meeting the love of your life so early on. kagami knew better than to even glance down the rabbit hole of wondering if aomine daiki was the one. he could freak out about all of that later. instead, when she had said that, kagami revealed that his parents had been college sweethearts-- if that’s a thing? she didn’t ask about his parents. daiki must have briefed her about that can of worms. mrs aomine’s life-long best friend was momoi’s mother. they all used to go on holidays together. kagami realised that he’d never gone on a proper holiday with his dad. he’d gone with him to work destinations, but never spent time together.

the interrogation was intense and by the time kagami was sitting at the table, he was too socially exhausted to get worked up about manners. he wasn’t rude or anything, but he temporarily forgot about the dream he’d had a few nights ago when daiki’s parents kicked him out of the house for eating too much food.

“did you show him the picture of the vorpal swords?” mr aomine spoke first, in-between mouthfuls of food.

“dad,”

“i did,” she smiled. both teenagers cringed and focused on their dinner.

“that was a good game. seeing you beat those americans was so satisfying-- no offence. do you count yourself as american, kagami?”

“uh,” he shrugged a shoulder, thinking about it honestly. his eyes averted. did he? “when i’m over here, i’m the american guy, then when i’m in the states, i’m the japanese guy, i guess.”

“that’s fair enough. your english must be good, huh?”

“it’s okay,”

“you should tutor daiki. i know if his grades get too low he won’t be able to stay in the club, we can’t let that happen! then what?”

“dad,” daiki implored, “stop talking.”

“i’m giving you date suggestions,”

kagami perished on the spot. he choked on his burger and had to accept the glass of still lemonade handed to him by mrs aomine as she patted his shoulder. not really helpful, but thanks for the gesture!

“so,” she began, “you live with dai’s old captain? how did that happen?”

once recovered, which was when she had posed her question, kagami cleared his throat and replied. he could tell she was trying to change the subject and he was very grateful for it. “so, he’s friends,” he side-eyed daiki briefly, “with my brother, tatsuya, who he met in america too. then nijimura came here and tatsuya introduced us.”

“and you get along?”

“yeah, he’s alright,” but kagami’s expression had brightened considerably and it was clear that his words were an understatement. nijimura was one of his best friends.

“himuro tatsuya, right?” mr aomine asked, and kagami nodded. “i didn’t know he was your brother. you don’t look much alike, sorry to say it.”

“we’re not blood related,” kagami was unphased by the statement, “did you say you met him?”

“yes!” mrs aomine grinned, “he’s a lovely boy! older than you, i think?” kagami nodded, “yes, he’s been around here before, anyway. did you know he was kagami’s brother, dai?”

“obviously,” he replied without any venom, “he hung around nijimura and kagami a lot so i tagged along. they’re both pretty good at basketball too.”

“pretty good like nijimura can’t keep up with you,” kagami rolled his eyes, then remembered - biased audience! he salvaged himself ( not that aomine’s parents had been offended by the comment like kagami believed ) by saying that he liked playing as the four of them because he had to push himself to keep up. mrs aomine would say that she was glad that daiki had found someone who liked the challenge, mr aomine said that it gets lonely at the top.

it gets lonely at the top. he said philosophically. he scratched his chin as he’d said it. kagami looked at him quizzically. but i’m glad he’s got you.

daiki pulled his hood up and tied the strings so that his face was encased in fabric. he groaned. he didn’t get to see the way that kagami smiled. the pure, raw happiness of feeling truly validated and appreciated. he wouldn’t let himself consider the contrast between the kagami / aomine household. not right now. this moment was special. it was not to be tainted. kagami turned to look at daiki and saw him come out of his shell reluctantly. the hood was untied, eyes checking the surroundings to ascertain if the embarrassing father had disappeared. he had not. he had started talking about a hiking holiday he saw advertised. this man never stopped talking, but it wasn’t annoying. it was chatter. it felt familiar, even though it shouldn’t have done. 

mrs aomine put her hand on kagami’s shoulder again and asked if he liked hiking. he didn’t know, he’d never tried it. well a hiking holiday was a good way to find out, she said. the way she spoke sounded like an invitation to come along with them. he didn’t get his hopes up until daiki said that kagami was a surfer, then she said oh, we can go on a beach trip and you can teach us! we’re a very... sea-loving family. we like to rent a place sometimes-- oh, you should definitely come with us, dear! let’s go this summer.

what had kagami ever been afraid of? by the end of the evening, he was too tired to play basketball, and his mind was too full of everything they had all said. but he shook mr aomine’s hand before he left, and mrs aomine kissed his cheek! so neither hated him! daiki walked him to the train station. they hugged goodbye as the train approached.

“your parents don’t hate me, right?” he asked quietly.

“no,” daiki smiled, fixing kagami’s fringe as it blew in the breeze. “we all love you. now get your ass on that train and text me when you get home.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” kagami pulled away and called over his shoulder as he dashed for the doors. “tell them i had a great time, please!”

“okay, okay. bye taiga.”

“bye, daiki.”

i love you went unsaid, but it showed in their soft smiles. the doors closed, kagami kept his eyes on daiki until he was out of sight. he had had his fair share of embarrassing moments tonight, times when he wished he hadn’t said what he had, but overall, he was happy. and unless they were really good liars, it felt like they were happy with him, too. we all love you. kagami nestled into the corner of the standing area and texted nijimura about how it went. he was glad to have someone to talk to about it. he felt overall so happy.