#fifteen years of will they wont they... nah they wont

[thaliatimsh]

Fully hate (dont hate) that in the year of our lord 2023 i am thinking abt treavor/waverly again... sick in tha HEAD

[xxxg0ryygurlll13xxx]

something that has been bothering me a hell of a lot more than usual is ppl seem to never have time for me (sorry this is so incredibly long)

when i was a kid ofc ppl didnt either like for basketball games or band concerts my friends never went they said they never have time. but now on tuesday is my NAHS induction, i cant stress enough that this is only 15 mins, from 5-515. and no one can go....everyone ive invited except my parents are too busy, my best friend of 10 years, my bf, my only school friend, everyone. shes always busy tho and refuses to make time for anyone but herself even if she makes everyone else make time for her events, which i do go to. i think swingin 15 mins on a tuesday evening isnt that difficult. i mean my bf lives kinda far and my best friend has some kind of other event, and my school friend just never has time for anyone but herself. youd think id be used to ppl not going to my things (ive had many bday parties as a kid that turned out to just be me and maybe 2 other kids from school...) i wanna know why tho. why ppl never seem to make time for me. am i not important enough to just miss out on some studying? skip a school meeting? catch a ride from someone who lives closer? i mean it stings. it really does. to go to all of their events and important things and then when i have one important thing (most important thing thats happened to me in my 2 years so far of highschool) no one seems to make time for me. im grateful my parents are going ofc but still itd be nice to know other people like me as much. again i thought i was used to sort of being left out or forgotten about i mean it has happened my whole life but this this is so important and these people know that and they still wont go. i mean its 15 mins. FIFTEEN MINUTES OF THEIR TIME AND IVE GIVEN THEM HOURS AND HOURS. ive missed therapy appointment, dr appointments, family dinners, schoolwork for these people and they wont even give me 15 mins of their evening. i feel bad esentially being on my knees begging them to go so ive refused to ask again. i might ask my bf again and see if i can emphasize that its only 15 minutes. he doesnt have to stay for the whole art show which is till 7. he only has to sit in the auditorium for 15 mins and maybe hang out a bit in the lobby afterwards. thats all any of them have to do...maybe im the problem w this i mean the only common thread is me so maybe im just a shit person and unaware of it and thats why ppl never seem to want to hang out w me. i mean they know its so important to me but here they are not planning on going. it really burns to be the friend thats always forgotten about.

[gamerbearmira]

Mirabel mama au♤♡◇♧

Warning:swearing and small violence

Mirabel was ten. Her prima was crying and screaming. She threw her pillow and stormed to him but froze as she saw his tears. She picked him up and his cries turned ti whimpers immediately. She bounced him in her arms and he giggled and fell asleep. She placed him down and went to bed."What the hell?" Ever since that night pepa and felix just gave him to her. She matured quickly without realising it. She had learned to cook and made the milk bottles whilst holding the baby boy. She taught him to talk and walk, she toilet trained him and was his mother.

When she's fifteen

.mirabel was talking to antonio kn the living room when "mami why do you not have a boyfriend?" The family looked and isabella dropped her glass amkjng it shatter. Mirabel froze realising who he was talking to. She felt proud instead of wanting to tell him thays not her name as if she earned this title. "Cause mami doesn't need kne tontio, I've raised you since I was ten I think, just maybe jm good" she gave a playful wink and he giggled. "mirabel madrigal" pepa said as the cloud thundered. Mirabel glared at her "mijo go to your room hm?" She asked smiling. The boy ran off on parce. "WHAT THE F-" she cut pepa's shouting "DONT YOU DARE SHOUT AT ME!" Mirabel was surprisingly louder than pepa. Dolroes covered her ears and isabella gave her earplugs. She put them on. "I RAISED THAT BOY! I GAVE MY CHILDHOOD UP TO HIM!" Ber voice bellowed and pepa shrunk slightly "MIRABEL MADRIGAL WHO DO YOU THINK YOUR TALKJNG TO!?" felix yelled "MY AUNT AND UNCLE WHO DUMPED THEIR BABY ON A TEN YEAR OLD!" mirabel yelled, she was angry and wasn't calming. "WE WONT LET YOU FUCKINF YELL AT US!" pepa yelled." YOU LEFT HIM TO ME TO RAISE! I TAUGHT HIM TO TALK! I TAUGHT HIM TO WALK! I WAS THERE WHEN HE SAID MAMI! I WAS THERE WHEN HE MADE HIS FIRST FRIEND! I WAS THERE WHEN HE CRIED AT NIGHT! I AM HIS MOTHER! I RAISED HIM!" Mirabel yelled "YOU ARENT HIS MOTHER! I DIDNR SEE YOU GIVING BIRTH TK HIM!" Alma yelled as all the adults stood up. "BLOOD DOESNT MAKE A MOTHER! A FATHER! A BROTHER, SISTER OR A FUCKING AUNT! LOVE AND CARE GIVES YOU THAT! YOU EARN IT THROUGH LOSING SLEEP! GIVING YOUR WN TJME! YOUR OWN MONEY TO RAISING THEM! YOU HAVE TO BE THERE AND YOU CANT JSUT JOIN WHKEVER YOU WANT TO!" She yelled and her eyes glowed gold. "YOU LEFT HIM SO I TOOK THAT ROLE! I TOOK MOTHER, FATHER AND COUSIN! I RAISED HIM! I DEALT WITH THE BULLIES! THE FIGHTS!"mirabel yelled as it rained and thundered. Mirabek didn't care and this was the final blow that she was gonna deliver "you were never his mother or father" the thunder stopped as the rain hit the ground and drenched the fifteen yesr old. Her eyes went back to normal, the adults stared as she glared. She stood straight and looked them dead jn the eye. "You were someone who gave up what he needed." She tool a breath "you've missed out on raising an amazing young boy who has a bright future ahead of him and if he's raised right he'll make it better for others to" whe walked off. The rain was pouring. "I am still hid mother!"pepa raised her voice and mirabel glared at her. "You don't deserve to he called that, I'd be dissapoitnrd and disgusted to have you as a mother"

Nah cuz. Where tf were you when it came to Antonio 🤨 you can’t just choose when you wanna be parents dawg, it’s a full time thing 😭 like she has every right to yell at you, I would to 💀💀

[breanime]

Also requesting this with Nick: Person A mistakenly opening a package that came in the mail for Person B and it turns out that it was a gift that Person B was planning to give to Person A TY! 💜

You had been leaving for work early for a week now, and Nick’s detective brain was buzzing. Usually, he had to wake you up as your alarm blared to get you out of bed, and even that was met with complaining and whining. Now you were up and out the door while he was still getting ready, giving him a quick kiss before running out of the door. He didn’t want to ask you and risk you accusing him of treating you like a suspect, but…

…you were being suspicious.

“Mornin’, Mr. Amaro!” Ted, the desk clerk, greeted Nick warmly as he stepped out of the elevator. “How you been?”

“Good,” Nick answered back, smiling, “Did Y/N already leave?” He asked, knowing the answer was yes. “She left her scarf upstairs.”

“Yup,” Ted confirmed, nodding, “and she missed the mailman, too! She’d just checked your box before he pulled up.” He scratched his beard. “I was supposed to call her when the package came…”

“Nah, that’s alright, I got it,” Nick said, going over to the mailbox. He took out his key and opened it. He hadn’t known you were expecting something, and even if you were, it was… odd that you instructed Ted to call you about it. He grabbed the package and went back upstairs, assuring Ted that he’d let you know it had been delivered.

Once he was upstairs, he put the package on the table. His curiosity was definitely piqued. The box had your name on it, but you tended to order a lot of things for the apartment, so that didn’t mean the package was exclusively for you…. Nick pulled out his phone and dialed your number. He sighed when he got your voicemail.

“Hey, amor, you got a package. Ted said you wanted to know when it came in, so… It came in.” His eyes darted back to the package, just a foot away from where he stood. “I was gonna stop by the station to see if Liv needed me for anything, but now I think I’ll just work from home, so… See you later.” He hung up, turning his back to the package. He would not open it, no matter how curious he got.

Fifteen minutes later, Nick found himself standing in front of the package again. His eyes narrowed as he looked at it, wondering what it was that had you so excited. It hadn’t taken him too long to figure out that the package was the reason you’d been getting up early, hoping to run into the mailman. You weren’t ever that secretive, and it was making Nick nervous… Huffing to himself, he pulled his phone out and checked to see if you’d called him back. You hadn’t. Maybe you were busy, or maybe you hadn’t even listened to his message at all…

…Maybe he should open the package.

Nick sighed, disappointed in himself, as he reached for it. He had to know, so he opened it. He tore through the cardboard and lifted up the product inside.

His eyes widened. It was for him. He knew it was for him because he’d told you about it a million times, but he’d never thought you… You got it for him.

Nick lifted it up, a smile growing on his face as he stared. You’d gotten him exactly what he’d wanted. He was so happy, so surprised, so—

—fucked.

Clearly, you’d been planning this surprise for him for a while, and he’d ruined it. Cursing to himself, Nick placed it back on the table. He could try to repackage it, but that was like being deceitful on top of the deceit… Guilty, he took his phone out again.

“Hey, Nick,” you answered cheerfully. He could hear typing in the background.

“Hey… So… You’re not gonna be happy with me…” He started.

“Okay…”

“…but your package was delivered…”

“Oh, Nick…”

“…and I opened it.”

“Nick!”

“I know, I know,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry! I thought it was, I don’t know, I thought it might have been something for the apartment—”

You sighed, and Nick was sure you were pissed. But then you spoke. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah,” he answered, shaking his head, “I love it, baby.”

“Well,” he could hear your smile through the phone, “I thought you would… You ruined the surprise, Amaro!”

“I know, I know,” he sighed again, “just… Lemme make it up to you, hmm?”

“Yeah? How?”

“How about you leave work early,” he suggested with a smirk, “and I’ll show you how sorry I am and how much I appreciate you?”

You giggled, and Nick knew he got you. “Fine… I’ll be home in an hour. Try not to open anything else till I get there!”

“Yes ma’am…”

After that instance, you and Nick started a habit of opening each other’s mail, ruining plenty of Christmases and birthdays with lots of laughs and teasing. Even once you moved out of the apartment and into your first home together, you both kept up the tradition.

On your first-year anniversary in your home, you opened up a small package with Nick’s name on it, grinning as you did. You assumed it was something for the house—he was working on building you a she-shed in the backyard, but when you opened it…

…you found a beautiful ring with a note attached. Your eyes ran over the four words scrawled on the paper, tearing up as you stared at it. Will you marry me?

When you turned around, Nick was behind you, on one knee.

“You opened my package, amor?” He asked, smiling.

“Yes,” you said, eyes watery.

“Did you read the note?”

“Yes.”

Nick’s smile was like sunshine. “Will you marry me?”

You nodded, hands coming up to cover your mouth. “Yes!”

You ran into Nick’s arms, kissing him as you both fell to the floor. You loved your curious boyfriend, and you loved the tradition you’d started of opening packages. Getting mail became like a little adventure between the two of you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.  

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading!

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek  @charlylama @realduckvader @teacuplotus @whovianayesha  @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily  @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92  @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry  @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19  @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out  @witchygagirl

Nick Amaro/Miguel Galindo Taglist: @glimmerglittergirl @cococruz-mayansmc  

Nick Amaro Taglist: @mommakat32

[kinda-ooc-just-a-little]

L.O.V.E ME

Authors Note: This is a little fic for @just-some-friendlydrabs​ because her secret santa didn’t follow through what a little bitch. So I thought and wrote this up today for new years because new year kisses are so cliche but sweet. I don’t know how good it is, but i hope you enjoy it, you cutie!

This fic is based of the song L.O.V.E ME by Hayley Kiyoko, my lesbian goddess. Give it a quick listen below if you haven’t already!

 “I love her, but…”

“What the hell does that even mean?” You pondered in your head while trying to still your racing heart. Currently, you were attempting to relax on the couch in the ballroom of your agency that was hosting a new year’s party, everybody either dancing with their significant others or chatting on the side. Clutching your cup, you unsteadily took a sip while mulling over in your head a conversation you overheard between Shinji Nishiya and your current crush/like/love Yu Takeyama.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

You heard Nishiya say, with a mention of your name. You really didn’t want to snoop, but the way his tone was and the way he said your name made you feel like it was some important tea about you. And well, you can’t help but snoop when it comes to gossip. So, you stayed in the hallway adjacent to hall they were talking in, hiding behind the wall, trying to make as little sound as possible.

“Because! We’re both Pro-heroes! You know how the media would eat that crap up. They probably wont leave us alone for months.” You heard Takeyama sigh and groan. “And besides, we work together. Messing up our relationship would be… awkward.”

“But… don’t you like her?” Nishiya asked. “Wouldn’t it be worth the cons?”

“I mean. I love her, but… I don’t know if I would want her to be with me. She’s still so new, I don’t want to screw up her popularity points for the new year.”

You grit your teeth, groaning as you threw your back against the couch while massaging the steadily growing headache. How the hell could she say she loved you but doesn’t want you to be with her. Was she not listening all the times you flirted with her? Or told her you really didn’t care about the popularity polls? Does she not get that you would go through heaven and hell for her just to hear her call you hers?

You looked around to see the countdown to midnight was in its last couple of minutes. You searched the crowd to find Takeyama, hopefully to maybe talk to her and tell her how you felt, but she was nowhere to be found. You didn’t want to go on a mad dog search for her when midnight was already so close, and you knew she always had her phone on her and turned on.

Fuck it.

You pull out your phone to send her a text.

All I wanna do is bust a move

You got me begging, "Pretty, please"

I would throw away all of my revenue

If you swear you'd never leave

Takeyama sighed and ran her hand through her hair as she leaned against the wall right outside the ball room everyone was currently partying in. She would love to just barge in and laugh and joke with everyone like she usually does, but she knew you were in there and there would be no way she could stop herself from throwing herself on you. Especially now, trying to recover from the four shots she chugged down as soon as she saw you enter the building.

God, you were so pretty, even more so in the new year’s outfit you picked. As soon as you said hello to her, all she wanted to do was lean down and tilt your chin up and kiss you on your pretty lips. But she controlled herself. She didn’t even know how you felt about her so it wouldn’t be right to steal a kiss without permission. But god, did she dream about grabbing you by the hips and just stare into those gorgeous irises of yours.

Takeyama groaned and buried her head in her hands. Is it too late to be that douche bag male protagonist and just, power walk in the ball room and steal a kiss before it’s too late?

Ping!

“Who would be texting me now?” Takeyama whispered to herself as she pulled out her phone. Her heart fluttered when she saw your name on her screen. Quickly opening the text, she held her breath:

-Hey, sooooo…. I know it’s almost new years but I need to tell you that I really really really like you. Like, like you. Might even love you.

-And I don’t care about the popularity polls. I told you this while trying to flirt with you

-Sorry. I over heard you talking to nishiya

-So yeah

 So girl, don't tell me you love me if you don't really want me

I'm working through my issues, yeah, I'm gonna kiss you

In front of everybody that wants to be your honey

And if you have a problem, don't tell me you love me

You sighed as you closed your phone, too scared to even see if she read it yet. Getting up from your seat, you decided to go get another drink to distract yourself from the anxiety suddenly budding within you. Maybe you should have waited? Maybe talk to her about it after the new year? You mulled over what you just did as you quickly poured your drink, not wanting anyone to notice the unsteadiness of your hand.

“Shit. Things are really going to be awkward until we talk about this.” You thought.

You walked back to your seat, only to see it was taken by a couple making googly eyes at each other. Silently cursing at them, you made your way to the back of the ball room, opposite of the T.V. where everyone’s attention was. You lean against the wall to see the countdown in its last thirty seconds.

“What’s already done is done.” You think. “No sense in worrying about it now.” Taking a sip, the countdown was now at twenty seconds. “Maybe I can talk to her the next time I see her.” Fifteen seconds. “When will I see her though?” Ten seconds. “Hopefully not long.” Five seconds. “Maybe, I should-”

You were thrown out of your thoughts when you felt a hand on your cheek and another on your neck, pulling you toward your side, right into the lips of Yu Takeyama. You almost dropped your cup, but you were shocked and frozen in place. You didn’t even notice you stopped breathing. Her lips tasted like strawberries, no doubt the lip gloss she puts on damn near every day that made her lips look so kissable and made you want a taste. Now here you were, with her giving you a taste of her soft lips on yours.

She pulled away, her face as red as the Christmas hat that she wore to go along with her Christmas dress. “Damn she looks cute.” You thought. “Nah, she looks cute every day.”

Unbeknownst to you, she was thinking the same thing about you. “S-sorry.” She said. “I should have probably asked before I kissed you but, your text made it seem like… well…”

You said nothing as you wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her down into your lips, tasting strawberries again. She relaxed into your kiss, placing her hands on your hips, lightly gripping them. You both completely shut out the rest of the world, enjoying the feeling of finally holding each other. You hear her hum as you run a hand through her silky hair and you softly groaned as she ran her nails up and down your back, scratching lightly, making you arch your back into her.

You started to wonder if the kiss was making you dizzy or the heat of too many people in one room. Either way your head was spinning as you both slowly pull away, still holding onto each other.

Takeyama chuckled. “I’m guessing you didn’t mind it the first time?”

“Of course not. I’ve wanted this for a long time.” You said as you grinned at her. “Why the change in heart?”

“I just realized that losing you is much worse than you losing some stupid popularity contest.” She lowered her eyes and gently placed her forehead on yours. “Hope you don’t mind?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, relishing in her aura. “For you? I would have you kiss me in front of every camera.”

“Good. Because I noticed a lot of people in here chatting you up all night.” She started massaging her thumbs into your hips. “I wanted to let them know who you belong to.”

“Please that’s my line.” You said as you opened your eyes to meet hers. “Too many people want you. Didn’t think I had a chance.”

“I’ve always wanted you.” She glanced down to your lips and back to your eyes. “Only you.”

“Well, I’m here.” You inched forward slowly. “Only for you.”

You both closed your eyes, slowly reaching each other’s lips and-

“Excuse me! Are you both an item now?!”

You opened your eyes to flashes of cameras and reporters with recorders asking questions over each other. You glanced at Takeyama. All she gave you was a shrug and a grin as she captured your lips.

You smiled into the kiss, thinking you could get used to this.

  L-O-V-E me, let me be, be your company

H-E-L-L-O, let me know if you wanna go

L-O-V-E me, let me be, be your company

H-E-L-L-O, let me know if you wanna go

[lozza342]

OK everyone, I’m practically dying here. There is little to no content for IwaKin and I can’t keep this alive by myself. Help me hang in there, please!

I had a day off work today because I feel like death. I finished a big ol’ pwp IwaKin and you better enjoy it or I might actually die.

[NSFW] Starting NOW

Contains: Dom/sub themes, semi-public sex, deep-throating, cock rings, orgasm delay/denial, dry orgasm, light bondage, cock-warming, hair-pulling, breath play, implied humiliation kink and, of course, fluff.

They just like being daring. Also Kindaichi has the biggest praise kink ever, and might be a little bit of a masochist.

Businessman AU, because I like the idea of office sex and these two scream these roles. Please love them. I also added Ushijima as Iwaizumi’s boss, idk why but I love him also.

OH and if you do love them (or me, you can love me too if you want), send me an ask or private request! I do this for self-indulgence, but I can indulge others!

The screen blurred about a minute ago. He's staring at vague shapes of black lines on the monitor. His hands are stuck to the keyboard with sweat, unmoving.

"Kindaichi."

Snapped out of his trance, his head whips up to see his boss's one o'clock, and he makes a squeak of surprise. Really, he wants to bash his head on the desk, but he doesn't think it's appropriate in front of a man of significantly high rank in the company. "E-Evening, sir." He says, playing off the squeak.

It comes out more of a whisper than fully-formed words.

"Sore throat?"

"N-No, I-" Kindaichi's fingers curl, digging crescent-shaped into his palms. "I'm fine… Ha-" Gritting his teeth, Kindaichi takes a breath. "Iwaizumi-san isn't ba-ack yet."

The man in front of him frowns, extends a hand to Kindaichi’s face and in the moment, he can't even recoil from it.

The backs of his fingers are so cool, pressing against his sweaty forehead.

"You're burning up, do you need some water?" He asks, face contorting in concern. It's quite endearing to see that on Ushijima's face, but Kindaichi isn't able to think anything right now.

"No- No that- I'm OK, you don't have to do that," Kindaichi assures, hands up to placate him, "Thank you, but, uh, could you possibly… r-reschedule?"

Looking around to the office behind, as if Iwaizumi would pop out of nowhere, Ushijima hums. "When will he be back?"

"H-Half hour?"

Apparently not.

"M-Maybe quarter?" He corrects, eyes watering.

Better.

Ushijima makes a rumbling hum before nodding. "I'll come back in fifteen minutes." He says, turning and walking back out again.

Kindaichi keeps his composure for all of ten seconds while the door down the hall shuts behind Ushijima, before sagging into the chair and letting out a long, drawn-out moan.

Calloused fingers soothe his tense thighs in reward for what he just did, and Kindaichi lets his teary eyes close. Warm streaks of water drip down his cheeks as he lies back panting open-mouthed, uncaring if another person comes in.

Iwaizumi's tongue runs along the bottom edge of his cock ring. "You should get back to work, Kindaichi." Iwaizumi suggests, voice wrecked. Still, remarkably composed for someone just deep-throating him.

"Y-Yessir." Kindaichi moans, revelling in Iwaizumi's tongue a few moments more before Iwaizumi pulls back and leaves him with nothing.

Kindaichi knows when Iwaizumi 'suggests' something, it's best to follow it. So Kindaichi leans back forward, elbows on the desk, and begins typing. He can't quite remember where he left off, but in his immaculate record of keeping order, one slip-up couldn't hurt.

It would be Iwaizumi's fault if he double-booked, or agreed to something Iwaizumi wanted to avoid.

Like a meeting over lunch with Oikawa and Matsukawa.

Good afternoon both,

I can confirm he is free between twelve and two on Friday. I shall let him know you expect him at your office just after midday.

Kind Regards,

Kindaichi Yuutarou

PA to Iwaizumi Hajime

Well, it might be important…

The sound of typing seems to satisfy Iwaizumi, and he sinks back down on his cock. Expert tongue curling around his shaft and sucking silently. Kindaichi can't seem to understand why he enjoys it like this. At least the other way around, he's the one being pleasured.

Still, Kindaichi can't really complain, even as Iwaizumi bobs his head, sinks all the way down and swallows around him, as he's forced to come dry while his hips are held down. He tries to chase further orgasm, a satisfying one, body bucking violently as Iwaizumi continues teasing him, but it gets him nowhere.

Oversensitive, Kindaichi whines, bottom lip bitten while fingers remove his ring, then begin to pump him with purpose. Kindaichi slumps over his desk, head resting on crossed forearms.

"Hah-Hajime- Too- Too much-" He stutters between whimpers, but Iwaizumi pinches his thigh softly.

"We're at work, Kindaichi."

"S-Sorry, Iwaizumi-san." He corrects, earning him a tongue swiping over the head of his cock slowly but surely forced to harden in Iwaizumi's hold.

"You're doing well, Kindaichi. Would be a shame if someone else walked in though, don't you think?" Iwaizumi said with humour hidden beneath mocking.

Honestly, Kindaichi couldn't care less anymore. It's not like he's the one who started it. Iwaizumi would have all the explaining to do. Why he's casually sucking off his PA when he should be in a meeting with his own boss. "He'll be- twelve minutes."

"Too long…"

Kindaichi yips as his chair is pushed backwards, and quickly leans away from the desk to sit back in the chair, gripping the armrests. "What are you-"

Not even bothering to wipe his spit-shined lips, Iwaizumi leans up to catch Kindaichi's own, thrusting his tongue into his mouth like he's wont to do when he wants him to shut up.

And you bet Kindaichi obliges, words dissolving in his mouth as he lets Iwaizumi take it over, tasting thickness of sweat. Iwaizumi still holds him in his hand, deft fingers sliding through spit and precome just to hear the wanton noises in the back of his throat.

After the initial shock, Kindaichi slowly relaxes his muscles to fall limp in the chair, gasping and moaning between wet, messy kisses. Satisfied with the result, Iwaizumi pulls back. "Tell Ushijima I'm back."

"What-"

"Call him."

"I-Iwaizumi-san?" Kindaichi asks unsurely, biting his lip, timid gaze following the movement as Iwaizumi stands.

"Return me the favour. Meetings are dreadfully boring." Iwaizumi grumbles, almost petulant, "Especially with him."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kindaichi nods "O-OK…"

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, like he was expecting him to refuse, but grins all the same. "Ah, but better put this back on."

Kindaichi licks his lips, eyes wide and nodding like a car ornament when he spots the ring slung around Iwaizumi's middle finger. Maybe he's a little far gone, pressure in his cock maddening. Although he needs to come, the idea in his head is appealing.

However, when Kindaichi reaches for it, Iwaizumi pulls his hand away. "I can do it. You call Ushijima."

The metal is still warm where Iwaizumi teases it over his cooling skin, running the ridge from tip to base while he kneels back down to get closer. "Yessir." He says breathily, leaning forward to pick up his phone and speed dial Ushijima's number.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Even the mere sound of him saying his greeting makes Kindaichi jump, but it could also have been the way Iwaizumi sucked on the head of his cock, flicking his tongue over his urethra teasingly.

"Yes?" Kindaichi squeaked, until his entire body thrummed hot, face tingling. "Ah! S-Sorry, Ushijima-san," Iwaizumi was grinning around Kindaichi, trying not to laugh at his expense. "I- ah- just wanted to let you know, Iwaizumi-san is b-back now."

His teeth are gritted hard as Iwaizumi pulls off with a small pop, replacing his mouth with the cock ring and sliding it down in a fluid motion. Kindaichi tries not to make a noise, covering his mouth with his hand as tears drip over his cheeks.

Thank you, Kindaichi-kun. I'll be there in five minutes.

He hangs up without waiting for an answer, as is typical of Ushijima, and the clock is now ticking. Shakily, Kindaichi struggles putting the receiver down, smashing it into the phone awkwardly.

Kindaichi's heart doesn't need to go any faster, but it does, pounding rapidly against his ribcage so hard his chest aches, but he loves it. The adrenaline pumps through him and leaves his mind dizzy. "On his way?" Iwaizumi asks too casually as he pushes Kindaichi's chair out again and stands up.

"Y-Yeah, five minutes."

"Great." Iwaizumi says with a smile more devious than warm. "We should probably get you into my office, then."

"Yeah." Kindaichi agrees dumbly, though his limbs don't move. Iwaizumi takes it upon himself to grab his hand and pull him out of his chair. It accompanies a peeling sound, his sweaty skin off the leather, and Kindaichi grimaces.

"You wanna put something on?"

"N-Nah, let's just-"

Five minutes.

Ushijima is pretty - make that scarily - accurate with timing. Kindaichi's years as Iwaizumi's PA taught him that.

Among other things…

Kindaichi still somehow manages to trip over his own feet when Iwaizumi pulls him through into his office - conveniently just opposite his desk, through glass doors so he can communicate wordlessly when he's bored. If he's significantly bored, he'll summon Kindaichi with a 'come hither' motion, never failing to send a chill up his spine.

Iwaizumi steadies him with hands on his arms, soothing the skin there. "Careful, Kindaichi." He says in genuine concern, somehow completely unperturbed by Kindaichi's half-nakedness. "Stay here, I need to wash up." Before Kindaichi can even affirm, Iwaizumi pecks a kiss to his lips, fingers running through his hair where he pulls his head down. "I love you, by the way."

"I-" Kindaichi begins to say it back, but he can't quite get there when Iwaizumi presses a finger to his lips.

"I know, Yuutarou… I know. You don't have to tell me."

Kindaichi simply stares after him as Iwaizumi dips out to the washroom, the sound of soft breathing falling dull in the empty air. "I want to."

Maybe he's good at showing it, but he still wants to say it.

"I love you too, Hajime."

The ridiculousness of standing bare-ass in Iwaizumi's mostly see-through office doesn't get to him until he looks down to his feet curling toes nervously in the carpet and his raging cock stares back at him. Sighing, Kindaichi spins around once to take in the familiar office. It's a little dizzying in his endorphin-addled brain, but he always feels a little dizzy in here.

A shelf stacked high with books to where even Kindaichi struggles to reach, two low cushioned chairs around a small coffee table and then, of course, there's Iwaizumi's desk towards the back, in front of a single slim window running from ceiling to floor, semi-circular around his desk chair. His computer screens are on one side, leaving the rest free for paperwork (and Kindaichi, when Iwaizumi has to work late and gets pent up).

Three chairs surround the outside for small meetings, almost as high-end as Iwaizumi's own.

It's a cushy office. Sometimes Iwaizumi says he despises it, but Kindaichi knows he likes it in here.

"Hey, I got you a water." The sudden appearance of Iwaizumi makes him jump out of his skin, whipping his body around at the voice. "Woah, chill."

Chill. "You gave me a heart attack!"

Iwaizumi looks at him and chuckles uncontrollably. "Such a drama llama!" Iwaizumi scoffs, and they both stop dead.

"Hajim-ulf!"

Iwaizumi shoves a glass of water to Kindaichi's mouth roughly, face falling serious. "I never said that."

Taking the glass, Kindaichi giggles softly before turning his face serious also, flicking his eyes to avoid the glare Iwaizumi sends him for it. "Yessir." He says, and downs the water pretty quickly, not missing Iwaizumi's gaze on his Adam's apple.

The chair creaks when Iwaizumi sits down in it, hands quickly undoing his tie. "Come here." Iwaizumi's tone along with the motion of his fingers has Kindaichi complying instantly. Iwaizumi undoes Kindaichi's shirt buttons one by one and slides it off his shoulders with ghosting fingers, kicking it under the desk out of view. Kindaichi turned around when motioned to and placed his empty glass on the desk. "Precaution." Iwaizumi tugs his hands behind his back, and Kindaichi realises.

"Oh…"

"Yup." Iwaizumi says with a grin, tying Kindaichi's hands together with his tie, tightening it enough that Kindaichi wouldn't be able to break free. "I hate that tie anyway. Oikawa bought it for me."

A blush crept up Kindaichi's back and Iwaizumi kissed the flushed skin.

"You look beautiful today." Iwaizumi says softly, running his hands down over Kindaichi's hips and over his exposed ass. He teases a thumb near his entrance, but slides his hands down his thighs soon after.

Iwaizumi could probably watch Kindaichi all day - preferably naked - just… doing normal things. Like cooking and writing and handiwork. Muscles moving under tanned skin stretched taut. Yeah… That's a fantasy he'd gladly stay in forever.

This was fine for today.

All Kindaichi could hear was Iwaizumi's belt clinking as he unbuckled it, then the zip as he undid his trousers. "Turn around." He ordered, physically turning him around. "Keep your mouth on me, steady. Let me use it, and if you're good I'll give you a taste of my come."

"G-Got it." Kindaichi stuttered, flushing red.

"Good." Iwaizumi breathed, slipping his hand in his boxers and pulling his cock free. He already looks ready to blow, but still pushes Kindaichi to kneel beneath his desk with a rough hand in his hair. "All the way, now."

The back of Kindaichi's throat flares automatically at the familiar sting of his scalp, Iwaizumi’s hand pulling him to line up with Kindaichi’s mouth. When it’s where he wants it, he pulls him down to set a brutal pace.

Well, as soon as Ushijima gets there, he can't really do anything but subtle. This is his only chance to fuck his throat like he means it. And mean it he does, biting his lip hard to stop from moaning too loud. Grunts make it through every time the head hits the back of Kindaichi's throat, but they're muffled easily.

"Kindaichi…” Iwaizumi breathes, thrusting his hips in rhythm in his chair. The meeting at this point is of secondary importance. He hasn’t had chance to look through his notes yet. At least he’s very good at winging it. Hyper-aware of the wet sounds of Kindaichi’s mouth stretched around him, Iwaizumi wishes Ushijima would take his time every once in a while.

It’s only when he sees Ushijima step past the inside window of his office that he knows he’s out of time.

It doesn’t stop him pressing Kindaichi down and coming hard down his throat with no warning. Ushijima seems perplexed by the absence of Kindaichi at his desk, but soon turns to see Iwaizumi.

Kindaichi wants to swallow, wants to cough out the feeling of come sliding down his throat.His eyes sting with watery tears, and his hands struggle against Iwaizumi’s tie. Yet Iwaizumi’s hand doesn’t move, fingers curled tight in his hair. Then the sound of the office door opening hits his ears and dread settles in, piercing into his abdomen. It’s soon overtaken by thrill, though, as Iwaizumi’s hand softens to stroke his hair. He can almost hear Iwaizumi whispering “good boy” into his ear with the softness of the gesture, and even strokes his fingers over Kindaichi’s cheek.

“Good Afternoon, Ushijima.” Iwaizumi greets, like his softened cock isn’t currently surrounded by the wetness of a mouth, now comfortably fitted around half of his cock, wet lips fastened in a ring and tongue flat.

Kindaichi's so perfect, Iwaizumi can't focus on anything else even as he shakes Ushijima's hand with the one previously gripping his hair. He's entirely sure it's sweaty and greasy but Ushijima doesn't seem to pay it any mind as he sits opposite him.

Slowly regaining some rational thought, he gathers some paper together and subtly nudges the mouse of his computer to wake it up. Even though these meetings are regular, talking over stat reports and checking company figures they couldn't otherwise discuss efficiently over email, today Iwaizumi is more enthusiastic. With his post-orgasm energy, he settles easily into the meeting and is actually quite… comfortable.

Even as Kindaichi gets restless, mouth watering and lips uneasy, Iwaizumi only has to slide his hand under the desk once to adjust him, and pat his head in thanks before continuing.

For Kindaichi, it feels like hours, face streamed with drying tears and saliva. He's only about halfway down Iwaizumi's cock, and as it's slowly hardening again, Kindaichi can’t help but suckle. While he’d never stimulate Iwaizumi while he was oversensitive, like this he’s glad to help out. It goes against his earlier orders, but from the sounds of things, the meeting’s over.

If he gets punished for it, well, he gets punished.

It comes quicker than expected, when Iwaizumi shoves his desk chair forward without warning. Startled, Kindaichi pulls back in time not to have the thing shoved back down his throat, but a hand shoves him down afterwards anyway. He can feel Iwaizumi’s disappointment in the roughness of his tug back off.

“Would you like me to see you out?” Iwaizumi asks, pulling his chair from beneath the desk, hands shaking on the armrests as he pushes himself up.

“I can do that. Thank you, Iwaizumi.” Ushijima says and Iwaizumi sits back down, heart pounding in relief. Instead, he bows his head and hands over some of the notes. “I take it you sent Kindaichi-kun home? He looked unwell.”

Desperately keeping a straight face, Iwaizumi nodded. “He, uh, I think he had a sore throat… among other things…”

“He told me he didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi breathed with humour, “Well, he always tries to play things off as nothing. He doesn’t like to cause trouble.” Smiling fondly, he watches Ushijima nod, thankfully taking that at face value.

“It’s good that you keep an eye on him.”

Kindaichi blushes hard under the desk, unimaginably warm. It’s just the right side of claustrophobic that he's fairly comfortable, even if his arms ache and his knees hurt.

"After all, where would I be without him?" Iwaizumi says with a grin. "Not coming or going, that's for sure."

Ushijima laughs softly. It's a rare thing for him to do, and it leaves a warm spark in the office. Kindaichi's always found him so hard to read, he's never known if the guy even likes him half the time, so the revelation hits him hard. "I hope he feels better tomorrow."

"Me too! I have a busy schedule tomorrow… I think." Iwaizumi tosses in humorously. Ushijima's lips twitch, but other than that his expression doesn't change.

"I'll be taking my leave now." Ushijima says with a nod of his head, slipping the notes into his own pad and walking out.

Both Iwaizumi and Kindaichi breathe simultaneous sighs of relief, hearts beating too fast. Even a few seconds after he's gone, they stay unmoving.

"Do I have anything after this?" Iwaizumi asks, slumping back in his chair.

Biting his lip, Kindaichi closes his eyes and thinks. "You're taking me on a date tonight."

"What?" Iwaizumi asks, head dipping to catch Kindaichi's shadowed face under the desk. "Shit- Sorry I-!"

Straight face turning into a smirk, then into a grin before Kindaichi starts laughing, opening his eyes to look at Iwaizumi's horrified ones. "You didn't forget. I just decided."

His tone sounds self-satisfied, and clearly Iwaizumi can't let that slide, taking Kindaichi's shoulders and pulling him out from under the desk. "You don't decide shit." He says, though it's less composed. His giddiness is hard to hide from Kindaichi, sounding way too excited.

Oh, he'll definitely get his date.

Iwaizumi pushes his hips against the desk that rattles some at the force. "I take it I really don't have anything after this, then?"

"No sir."

"Good. Then no-one should be coming by." Iwaizumi confirms with a grin as he stands up to take off his belt, then peeling down the rest of his trousers and boxers to his ankles.

"It doesn't mean-" It doesn't erase the possibility that someone will come around.

Iwaizumi doesn't care, as is apparent when he cuts him off with a kiss, forcing him to bend down to accommodate when Iwaizumi sits back down again. The fingers of one hand soothe the back of his neck. The other touches cold metal to his skin there, slides something suspiciously flat and cool around it. When Iwaizumi lets him pull back, sliding his hand from around Kindaichi's neck down his chest, the metal hangs there.

"Iwaizumi-san…"

"Well, you did disobey me, didn't you?"

Kindaichi bites his lip, dropping his gaze and nodding guiltily.

"What's that?" Iwaizumi asks again, head tilted and lips in a frown.

"Yes sir. I disobeyed you."

The solemness of his response, his face of mess with dried tear tracks, his mussed and unruly hair, the contortion of his shoulders, the belt hung loose around him against flushed skin. It's truly the look of his greatest fantasy. Kindaichi Yuutarou is his fantasy. All his. "Then you don't mind if I put you in your place, do you?"

"No sir." Kindaichi says, licking his dry lips and vibrating in arousal. He knows he looks a mess, he knows he's flushed red all over. Even with his gaze low he knows Iwaizumi is studying him. He hopes he finds him adequate. At least, he feels degraded like this, he desires Iwaizumi's words to tell him that. Reassurance that he's enjoying it too.

Because Kindaichi is definitely enjoying it. He always enjoys doing his best for Iwaizumi.

No words come, not yet, just hands on his hips pulling him forward roughly after ample surveyance. Kindaichi stumbles forward into Iwaizumi, arms trying and failing to flail out to keep him steady. He makes a noise of discomfort as his face hits Iwaizumi's shoulder and knee bashes the chair.

"I know you're sorry, baby, but what boss would I be if I let you off?" Iwaizumi rumbles into his ear before pushing him back again. He knows Kindaichi doesn't mind being moved like a ragdoll, doesn't resist when Iwaizumi grabs hold of each end of the belt around his neck and threads the leather through the buckle to pull it tight. "Heh. Look at that, it suits you."

Kindaichi's entire body burns. The leather presses mildly uncomfortably against his Adam's apple, and every movement of the belt held in Iwaizumi's hand is felt against the sensitive skin on his neck. Hell, he can feel his heartbeat against the leather, harder the tighter Iwaizumi pulls.

"You wanna hold something, Yuutarou?" Iwaizumi asks, chest heaving with his breaths suddenly heavy. Never had he thought he'd see something this erotic. Right in front of him to touch, to feel, to do with as he pleased.

Kindaichi's gaze flicks to something on his desk. It's a stress ball that he bought for him not long after he started. Seeing he fidgeted a lot, Kindaichi had bought it and sheepishly handed it to him without a word one morning.

Honestly it was one of the moments Iwaizumi recognised as falling a little bit more in love with him for. 

Since they became close, he’s had Kindaichi to relieve his stress. Just by giving him a smile sometimes, or sticking his tongue out in bouts of playfulness through the window, even occasionally unintentionally distracting him in a meeting. He tends to gesticulate a lot when he’s on the phone, for example, and sometimes Iwaizumi can even hear his cheerful tone by the way his mouth moves.

And of course, more recently, he’s had this. Kindaichi like putty in his hands. A life-sized stress ball.

Iwaizumi’s happy to take the much less human, much less generous stress ball for use here, blushing at the memory as he places it gently in Kindaichi's hand. "Now take your punishment." The next movement is anything but gentle, curling the belt twice more around his hand and yanking Kindaichi forward. He’s careful not to get ahead of himself, assuring he doesn’t cut off Kindaichi’s air, searching Kindaichi’s wild eyes for any signs of unease.

When he sees none, he curves his free hand over Kindaichi’s side, to the curve of his back and down to his ass. Kindaichi’s lips tremble just in front of his face, desperate to touch his.

“If I hold you still, I want you to sit in my lap.” Iwaizumi says, keeping any emotion from his voice. Kindaichi nods an OK and Iwaizumi sets his strong hands on Kindaichi’s hips.

It’s a little awkward with no arms, but Kindaichi manages to keep his balance with Iwaizumi’s help to step through the spaces in the arm rests, then lower himself onto Iwaizumi’s lap facing him. He keeps the stress ball firm in his hand the entire time, fingers digging in as if it would help keep his balance.

“Good boy.” Iwaizumi says calmly, rubbing his hands over Kindaichi’s soft flanks. He edges him a little closer, their cocks close to touching. Conscious of the amount of time Kindaichi’s spent erect, he silently vows to make it as quick as possible. It’s not like they do this sort of thing all the time. Leaning over, he slides open the middle drawer of his desk - the most inconspicuous one - and rummages for the nondescript bottle of lube he keeps there.

He’s barely ever used this one, as opposed to the one he keeps in his bedside table. While they haven't moved in together yet, haven't even announced being together yet, Kindaichi sleeps over his more often than not nowadays. Iwaizumi doesn't like him having to catch a train every day, especially working late. It's much easier to drive him home to his and seduce him with good food and charming smiles.

He lathers the lube over his fingers and slides them over the crease of Kindaichi's ass, the man jolting at the cold. Iwaizumi doesn't take his eyes off of Kindaichi's, using his free hand to tilt Kindaichi's face to look at him whenever he looks away. Eventually, he doesn't try to dip away again, uneasily holding his gaze. "You're cute when you're embarrassed. I ever tell you that?"

Kindaichi blinks slowly, giving himself time away from the intensity of Iwaizumi's eyes before he has to look back into them. "N-No sir." He says, biting his lip when Iwaizumi's first finger breaches him.

"Ah, but you're always cute, Yuutarou."

The thighs on his tense as he thrusts in his finger, already teasing his walls, twisting and curling with purpose. Kindaichi shuts his eyes again, moaning quietly between them. Adding his second finger, slower, careful, Iwaizumi watches his face contort. In the light, the tear stains on his face reflect beautifully and Iwaizumi can't keep his eyes off of him.

Breaths ghost over Kindaichi's neck. The band around it moves a little, and the sound of strained leather lets him know Iwaizumi's holding it again. He tugs it slightly, tightening the loop around Kindaichi's neck and reducing his air flow. Small chaste kisses are littered over any stretch of skin they can, sending little tingles over his body while it undulates with the rhythm of fingers.

As hard and desperate as he is, Kindaichi feels great like this. He'd happily let himself be carried on this feeling forever. Being held on the brink by his lover, so deep in love and lust he can't imagine being apart right now.

Fingers slow and the body beneath Kindaichi shifts, readying itself.

"I love you, Yuutarou." Iwaizumi says in a breath, sliding his hands down over Kindaichi's upper thighs and heaving him up. In response, Kindaichi pushes up on shaking legs, alleviates the need for Iwaizumi's strength, only guidance as he positions him. One of his hands leaves, and Kindaichi opens his eyes to see Iwaizumi lining his cock up. "Sit."

Kindaichi obeys, steadily lowering himself to be seated entirely on his cock. It fills him completely and wholly, and they both moan in unison. So close, their hearts beat opposite each other in their chests, and even then, Iwaizumi pulls him closer with an arm around his lower back.

"Good boy." He says again, and Kindaichi blushes as his body responds, unconsciously shifting forward. His cock is pinned against Iwaizumi's shirt and he feels every fibre of it, fire where the buttons press flush against his sensitive skin.

He so badly needs to come, but the pressure around his neck increases as his body moves, so he wills himself to still. "Haj...ime." Kindaichi moans, and Iwaizumi kisses his chapped lips. Once. Twice.

Iwaizumi carefully thrusts upwards, leaving Kindaichi to bounce in his thighs. He's heavy, but Iwaizumi can take it. Neither of them are going to last long anyway. He continues a rhythm, capturing Kindaichi's mouth in a kiss when he can, swallowing one or two needy moans in the process. "You can ride me if you want. You're doing so well." He says softly, hand on Kindaichi's back rubbing a thumb up and down in encouragement until Kindaichi gathers the courage to move too.

It's easier like this. Iwaizumi can feel the tension inside Kindaichi from his thighs likely burning from the movement. It's great, and has him bucking harder to feel more, slap of skin echoing in the room. Kindaichi towers over him when he's heaving himself up, so Iwaizumi tightens his hold on the belt a little more, forcing him to stay lower.

Kindaichi's breathing is still shallow, still leaves him dizzy, and even when it cuts off entirely, he keeps going, earning him a hand running through his messy hair, pulling him down so his head rests on the top of Iwaizumi's chair. "You can… stop now." Iwaizumi heaves, kissing his wet cheek and letting him breathe again.

The air is thick hitting the back of Kindaichi's throat. He drinks it like it's water and sinks down onto Iwaizumi's shoulder, body flagging against him as his heart rapidly pumps oxygen back into his muscles. It's like he can feel it, his blood pressure slowly evening. It's like coming down from a high, and Kindaichi can't help but sob.

He wants to cling onto Iwaizumi, but his arms won't move. Nothing to do but moan, Kindaichi lets Iwaizumi take over again, hand stroking his hair.

"Shh, baby. You're OK." Iwaizumi soothes, teeth gritted as he thrusts up desperately. The sheer trust Kindaichi has in him is dizzying in itself, let alone the desperation to continue pleasing him. "You did so good."

More than made up for his intentional slip-up earlier.

That's why Iwaizumi slides his hand between them and grips Kindaichi's cock hard in his hand. 

Kindaichi wails into his shoulder, body jolting heavily at the sensation. Iwaizumi's fingers curl around him and begin pumping hard, thumb swiping over the head of his neglected cock with purpose each time, drawing him to shudder and moan. "Yuutarou. Come with me."

The heavy weight trembles in his lap, pitiful whines escaping at his neck.

"Need more incentive?"

The feeling now familiar, Kindaichi readies for his airflow to cut off, body kicking into hyperdrive. His pulse races against the leather, his breath catches and he can barely make a sound.

Iwaizumi's hand tightens around him, twists as Iwaizumi thrusts upwards and comes inside him with a shout, own head falling against Kindaichi's shoulder. Despite the lack of blood flow - or perhaps because of the lack of blood flow - Kindaichi comes too. It's powerful, and Kindaichi feels like he loses minutes in bliss, somewhere light and airy, where his lungs fill with nothing but Iwaizumi.

When Kindaichi stills against him with even breath, Iwaizumi slumps down, over his concern. "That was so fucking hot."

He gets no answer from Kindaichi for a few seconds, but when aftershocks rattle Kindaichi's body, he sighs. "Yeah."

Kindaichi wants to sleep, he's so drained and tired. Even uncomfortably sat on Iwaizumi's softened cock, this is where his wants to stay.

Except Iwaizumi has other plans. With soothing fingers, he slides the cock ring off. It's one swift, smooth motion to keep stimulation to a minimum. Kindaichi still lets a soft sob out at the pain it wrought. He lets go of the belt and slowly undoes that, too, noting the red lines where it's dug in.

He secretly hopes they don't fade too quickly.

Lastly, he undoes the binds of his tie around Kindaichi's wrists. As expected, it's stretched a little and crumpled beyond use, and when he brings Kindaichi's wrists in front of him where he can see, they're also red from pressure and rubbing.

"I'm gonna have to get you up." Iwaizumi says, and even with Kindaichi's protests, he gets the drowsy man to stand, then promptly spins them around and sits Kindaichi in his chair.

Kindaichi grimaces at the wet feeling in his ass, and that he's currently leaking said wetness onto Iwaizumi's expensive chair, but Iwaizumi doesn't seem to care as he pulls up his boxers and trousers and doing them up.

"I'm getting water for us both. Don't move."

"'m not gonna move." Kindaichi says tiredly, leaning forward to pick up the stress ball he'd been holding the entire time and moulding it much gentler in his hands.

When Iwaizumi leaves for the bathroom, Kindaichi sits up a little, runs fingers over his neck. His throat burns slightly, and it still feels weird to swallow, but it feels… nice. Almost like he still has the leather around him.

Kindaichi places the stress ball neatly back where it was last, and waits for Iwaizumi to come back, pushing through his door with his back, two glasses of water in hand. Placing one in front of Kindaichi, Iwaizumi slumps into one of the opposite chairs and puts his feet up on his desk, downing the water like it's his first beer of the night. "It's getting late. Do you still want that date?"

Kindaichi lazily fingers the ring of his glass, sipping the water carefully and savouring the way it cools and soothes his throat. "Could we…" Kindaichi pauses at the rumbling of his voice, taking a few more sips. "...Just go back to yours?"

Iwaizumi's face flushes at the way Kindaichi's voice sounds utterly wrecked, biting his bottom lip.

"I-Is that OK?"

OK?! "Yeah, yes! Let me get my coat." Iwaizumi says, jumping out of his chair into action.

"H-Hajime?" Kindaichi asks timidly, wringing his hands. "Could you get my clothes?"

Feeling his body flush in realisation Iwaizumi nods. "Sure thing, champ."

-

Neither of them expect anything after their exhausting day. In fact, while they made out multiple times over that evening and confessed their newfound favourite kinks, it simply ended with them curled around each other with promises of patience and trust. (Maybe a collar for Kindaichi.)

[starrysence]

do you super special, super serious swear? | ralbert

pairing: race/albert

genre: mostly fluff (a little bit of hurt/comfort)

warnings and things you might want to know just in case: swearing, theres a pretty bad panic attack scene, race cries a lot just a heads up, theres a breakup, albert’s heartbroken for a little while n so is race

other things: this is very LONG but i swear its adorable and worth the read 

×××

albert and race have been friends since even before they could remember. they've seen each other go through everything - race crying and screaming when he lost his first baby tooth; albert coming home seething with rage from his first fight with boys who thought it would be okay to pick on his friends; race going through his first break-up; and, most recently, albert getting extremely stoned the night before high school graduation and coming to the ceremony barely holding himself together.

one thing that's remained consistent throughout the years is their super special, super serious swear. what's that? well, let's take a look.

age five

albert dasilva sniffles as he sits on the rug in the corner of the classroom, absent-mindedly playing with some of the toys scattered across the floor. grandma told him he'd have lots of fun and make lots of friends his first day, but so far, that hasn't happened.

he gets startled when two small fingers snap directly in front of him, and he looks up with confusion and tears in his eyes, mumbling a small huh?

a boy about his age with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes with a smile even brighter returns his gaze, sitting down directly across from him. his grin grows wider and he holds his hand out to shake, like how their teacher had taught them to properly introduce themselves. following those same instructions, he says, "hi!! my name's anthony. what's your name?"

albert tries to recall the next phrase their teacher had demonstrated, and does his best. he shakes the boy’s hand and replies, "h-hi, anthony... my- um... i'm albert."

"nice to meet you, albert!"

albert feels the smallest hint of a smile grow on his face. "nice to meet you, too, anthony."

"do you wanna be friends? i wanna be friends so you can call me tony, 'cause all my friends call me tony."

albert smiles wider and nods. "i'd love to be friends."

anthony - no, tony, because they’re friends now - gasps. "if we're gonna be friends, we're gonna have to keep secrets. we have to invent a special secret promise so you know i wont tell your secrets and i know you won't tell mine!"

"w-wow... um.. okay..."

"gimme your hand."

"what?"

"gimme your hand, albie!"

"albie...?"

tony nods. "it's your nickname! you know how tony is my nickname? it's like a short version of your real name or something."

albert smiles softly,,, “my nickname. i... like that. it sounds nice.”

“yay!!” tony giggles and claps, and albert chuckles softly before giving his new friend his hand.

tony grins widely and adjusts the way albert has his hand outstretched, so that his palm is facing forward as if he’s about to receive a high-five. then he presses his palm flat to albert’s, laughing quietly at the small size difference of their hands, with albert’s being smaller. as he does this, he says, “okay, so when i do this... you sort of, um...”

not quite sure how to explain it, race laces his fingers through albert’s and squeezes his hand gently. “you do that. and if you put your hand on my hand, then i do that. okay?”

albert smiles and nods. “okay.”

age eight

“anthony,” tony’s mother speaks soothingly as she cleans the blood and dirt off and around the scrape on his knee. he sniffles and whimpers softly in response. when he flinches at the slightest touch on his thigh, she turns to albert, who’s looking at his best friend in concern.

“how did he fall, honey?”

albert turns to face elisa higgins, nervously fidgeting with the hems of his sleeves. “he was racin’ me from the bus stop to see who could get here the fastest but he tripped on the way...”

“it’s never happened before,” tony speaks up suddenly, wiping his tears away. “i race ‘im here every day, mama...”

“maybe some days you should just slow down, tonio,” elisa warns subtly, the only actual sign of a warning being the italian variation of his nickname.

“o-okay...”

elisa sighs softly and asks tony to show the hand he scraped so she can clean it up and bandage it, too. 

when doing so, he outstretches his other hand to albert, palm-up. albert looks at him strangely. 

“super special, super serious swear that you’ll always be there to pick me up when i fall, like ya did today,” tony says sternly as he locks eyes with albert.

albert chuckles as he presses his palm to his friend’s. “that’s what we’re naming it?”

“you got any better ideas, albie?” tony smiles slightly and intertwines their fingers.

“nah... you got me there,” albert grins and squeezes tony’s hand. “we should start callin’ you racetrack or somethin’, you know, ‘cause you like racin’ so much.”

“albert, that’s actually really genius,” elisa chuckles. albert grins proudly, and tony snorts.

“actually, i kinda like that... racetrack,” he says with a smile.

“racetrack it is!” albert exclaims triumphantly. 

 elisa smiles softly as the boys dissolve into a fit of laughter and snorts.

age thirteen

the all-too-familiar loud crackle of thunder rings outside the window, eliciting a broken sob from race as he wraps his arms around his knees and trembles on his side of the bed. it’s late at night - four in the morning, maybe - and albert’s asleep beside him, snoring loudly. while that’s usually the thing keeping race awake during their sleepovers, the sound seems faint tonight; distant, almost nonexistent compared to the ringing in his ears. 

the world is spinning around him, vision fading in and out of complete darkness as nausea builds up in his stomach. he’s positive that if he opens his mouth he’s going to vomit. but a cough comes out instead, evidently violent and loud enough to wake albert. he sits up and frowns.

“racer?”

race shakes his head, breaths coming out quick and short, getting concerningly more rapid.

“shit,” albert breathes. he turns to face race and grips his shoulders gently. “racer... tony. tonio, listen to me. can you hear me? can you look at me? look at me, please,” he requests softly. race drags his gaze up to meet albert’s, and shakily, he extends a hand. albert takes it and squeezes it, lacing his fingers through race’s.

“super special, super serious swear i’m here for you. i’ll always be here for you,” albert assures him. “breathe for me, tony? in for four, out for four. go slow. take your time. here, do it with me.”

albert begins inhaling slowly for four beats of silence, then lets go of the breath just as slowly for another four. he does it a few times before race manages to follow along with him, mimicking his actions carefully, tightening his grip on albert’s hand so much so that his knuckles turn white. albert winces slightly at the feeling, but adjusts quickly.

after a few minutes, race’s breathing begins to normalize, and his hold on his best friend’s hand loosens. his vision becomes less hazy and the awful feeling building up in his throat and stomach starts to fade. he closes his eyes for a few seconds before sighing slowly and blinking. 

“thank you, albie... i love you,” he whispers.

“i... yeah, you’re- you’re welcome, race.” albert smiles softly, ignoring the strange flutter-like feeling in his chest after hearing race say ‘i love you.’ he figures it’s just because it feels nice to hear anyone say that, so he shrugs it off as he helps his friend settle back into bed. 

age fourteen

it’s the summer before race and albert’s freshman year.

“holy shit,” race says as he falls back onto albert’s bed, staring at the ceiling. albert lies down next to race, propping his elbow up on the bed to rest his head on his hand.

“what?”

“we’re gonna be high schoolers, albo.”

“oh... yeah. crazy, huh?”

“crazy... scary,” race mumbles.

albert frowns. “why?”

“‘cause... high school’s gonna be different, albie. maybe you’re gonna get super popular and i won’t, because i’m just this skinny theater nerd who people are probably gonna pick on. and- and when you’re popular and i’m a freaking nobody, you’re gonna leave me and all our other friends are gonna follow you ‘cause you’re cool and i’m- i’m gonna be lonely...” race speaks faster and tears up as he gets more nervous, and albert sits up, prompting race to follow.

“tonio... breathe...” albert tells race. 

race sniffles and takes one deep breath, then two, then three.

“i’m sorry...”

“don’t be sorry...” albert smiles affectionately at race and holds his palm up. race’s eyes light up and he places his hand against albert’s, and albert entwines their fingers.

“i’m not going anywhere, high school or college or whatever,” he tells race confidently. “you’re stuck with me forever. i super special, super serious swear.”

race giggles. “oh, man, is that even grammatically correct?” 

“no, but that’s eight-year-old race’s fault.”

“fuck you.”

“love youuu.”

race smiles, brushing off the way his heart skips a beat when albert says that. “love you, too, albie.”

age fifteen - summer before sophomore year

“i have something to tell you,” they both say at the same time, and it’s followed by a chuckle from both of them.

albert smiles nervously. “it’s okay, i can wait. you go first.”

“i have a girlfriend, albie!” race exclaims, grinning.

albert feels his heart drop to his stomach and swallows, managing to keep his smile from faltering. “o-oh... wow, racer. that’s awesome. congrats!”

“her name’s sierra and, god, albie, she’s so amazing...” race smiles dreamily. he snaps out of his daze after a moment, though, and locks eyes with albert. “what did you wanna tell me?’

“i-i... well, i... i’m bi...” and you’re the reason i realised it, he wanted to add initially.  but he can’t do that now. “so, uh... yeah.”

race leans over and brings albert’s hand up, pressing their palms together. “it’s okay, albo... i’m pan. that was also something i wanted to tell you.”

albert laces their fingers together. “what’s this a promise for, tony?”

“it’s a super special, super serious swear, you uncultured swine,” race scoffs dramatically, making albert chuckle. “it’s a swear that we’ll always be there for each other. if anyone’s biphobic towards my best friend, they’re gonna have to catch these hands!”

“please never say that again,” albert groans, and race throws his head back in that laughter he loves to hear so much.

don’t think about that, albert, he scolds himself.

“but yeah,” he adds, “if anyone ever picks on you, i’ll deck ‘em!”

“you’re the best,” race chuckles, and albert smiles a genuine smile this time.

“so, you and sierra... how’d ya meet?”

“oh! well, we met in june when i went to that theater camp i’d been telling you about all year. we got really close really fast and at the end of camp i asked her out, and she said yes!! plus, it turns out she’s transferring to our school, so we can go to homecoming together in october! she’s so pretty and smart and funny and talented, albie. i think i really am in love...”

“you deserve it, race,” albert says softly. “you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

race grins and punches albert’s shoulder lightly. “what a fuckin’ sap.”

“you’re rubbing off on me, you cheesy fuck.”

“maybe that’s a good thing.”

“yeah,” albert laughs, hoping race doesn’t notice the waver in it. “maybe it is.”

age sixteen - sophomore year

when albert is wiping the sweat off his forehead after the homecoming game and heading to the parking lot to meet race, he doesn’t expect to find race already sitting cross-legged and hunched over on the hood of the beat-up pickup truck albert started driving only recently. as he gets closer, he hears sniffles and whimpers, and- oh, shit, is race crying? 

“racetrack?” albert asks, concern lacing his words.

“a-albie, i...” race swallows thickly and sobs, voice breaking. “she broke up with me, r-right before the dance...”

albert’s eyes widen. “why would she do that...?”

“she just- god, al, i really thought she was this amazing person, b-but the second this guy on your team asked her out, she dropped me like some piece of- of garbage and now she’s going out with him...” race sniffles and wipes his tears away frantically. “she was my first real kiss, albert... i- i can’t...”

“let’s bring you home, racer.”

“wh-what? albie, no, you- i- the dance-”

“there is no fucking way you’re going to this dance, race. you just had your fucking heart broken by this fucking girl who clearly didn’t realise how absolutely fucking lucky she was to have someone as amazing as you,” albert cuts race off, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. race hesitantly lifts his head to look at albert. “we’re gonna bring you home, okay? mrs. higgins told me she has, like, three new tubs of mint choco chip waiting for you in the fridge, and we can binge watch all of john mulaney’s specials together. you deserve to have this time to be upset, race, so you can move on for the better sooner.”

•••

race pauses the special - in the middle of the comeback kid, their favourite one - and turns to look at albert, who’s in the middle of eating a spoonful of his favourite flavour of ice cream: rocky road. race giggles at him, and he looks over, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“what?” he asks through a mouthful of ice cream.

“nothing... just... um... well, it’s kind of stupid...” race plays with the corner of the blanket they’re sharing, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

albert swallows the ice cream before speaking again. “race, a good ninety percent of what we say is more than just kind of stupid. what’s up?”

“well, um... i was wondering if, maybe, if- if neither of us have dates to prom next year, if we can go together?”

albert can’t help the grin that makes its way onto his face. maybe he’s a little upset that the boy he’s been crushing on for nearly three years now isn’t going to be his date to prom, but hey, he’ll take what he can get. “hell yeah, tony! wanna swear on it?”

“fuck yeah,” race responds, grinning brightly back at albert, whose heart leaps into his throat at the sight. damn you for being so pretty, he thinks as he puts his palm up against race’s and entangles their fingers.

“super special, super serious swear,” they say simultaneously, laughing. 

age seventeen

they’ve made it to their junior year prom! neither race nor albert end up with dates, so, as super specially, super seriously sworn, they end up going to prom together. not as dates, just as best friends.

race is out on the dance floor with some of their other friends, and albert’s chosen to hang back by the snack table, where jack and jojo approach him with friendly smiles. he smiles back and waves.

“how come you aren’t on the dance floor with race, al?” jojo asks.

albert chuckles and shrugs. “not a dancer.”

“no, you are. you’re just choosing to hang out here to you can shovel strawberries and shrimp into your tux to smuggle out of prom,” jack jokes, cackling. jojo giggles softly and punches jack’s arm faintly, rolling his eyes in a fond manner.

“awww, damn, jackie. you caught me,” albert states sarcastically, and they all laugh.

“no, but really, i swear you love food more than you love race,” jojo chuckles.

albert freezes, and the other boys frown.

“did i say something wrong, albert?” jojo asks, getting ready to apologise.

“no!” albert replies quickly, knowing jojo could stand there for hours apologising. he was too nice. “i just... um... you’re right, no. i do- i do love race.”

“shit, al,” jack says, eyes widening. “do you...?”

albert nods and smiles nervously. he and jack nearly jump out of their skin when jojo squeals and claps, jumping up and down. “albo, that’s so cute!” he exclaims excitedly.

“speak of the devil,” jack states, tilting his head and gesturing towards race, who’s approaching albert. he looks nervous, albert notes with confusion and a bit of concern.

“we’ll leave you two alone. we got dates to find for the slow dance anyway. it’s about to start,” jojo grins, grabbing jack’s arm and dragging him to who knows where.

“u-um, hey.” race says when he’s close enough for albert to be able to hear him over the loud conversations of everybody in the room. he looks up at albert and smiles a little, and albert feels his heart melt more than he thought possible.

“hey,” he replies softly, smiling down at his friend.

“they’re about to play the slow songs...” 

albert nods. “i know. jo just told me.”

“would you- um- would- would you, like...” race trails off and looks down, taking a few deep breaths before looking back up at albert. “do you wanna dance with- with me?” his voice quivers a little, and albert takes his hand and squeezes it quickly.

“i’d love that, race.”

race’s eyes widen in surprise. “really?”

“really.”

so, they’ve made their way to the dance floor. albert wraps an arm around race’s waist and race places a hand on albert’s shoulder. both unsure about what to do with their free hands, they press their palms together on instinct, laughing softly when they realise they’ve had the same idea. race laces his fingers through albert’s and albert smiles.

“this a promise?”

race locks eyes with him, smiles that same tiny smile albert loves so much, and he nods. “a promise we’ll always be together. a super special, super serious swear that we’ll always be together.”

“together?” albert echoes.

“together.” race nods once more.

albert leans down and captures race’s lips in a kiss, because god damn everything else, he can’t help himself. the kiss is full of four years of love, of yearning, of passion, and fear, and everything else albert has always felt either for race or because of him. and race kisses back, and albert nearly cries. he’sd thought about this before and he’s thought it would be amazing, but this is even further beyond anything he’s ever thought it’d feel like, because this? this is real and it’s happening right now and he can’t believe it. he loves his best friend and his best friend loves him back, and he’s kissing him back, and it’s all he can think about right now because right now all there is is race. race’s cheeks, race’s lips, race’s waist, race’s chest pressing up against albert as he’s tugged impossibly closer. 

when albert breaks away, he’s gasping for air, and so is race. the sound of cheers fill their ears as they realise that they just had their first kiss together at prom, in front of all their classmates and friends.

“i love you,” albert whispers.

race grins, heart beating a mile a minute at the new meaning those words bear now. “i love you, too, albie.”

age eighteen

race can tell something’s up the moment he sees albert in his chair in the auditorium the morning of their graduation ceremony. he’s on the verge of falling asleep; he can barely keep his eyes open. 

race sits down next to albert and taps him on the shoulder. albert jolts up, kicking the chair in front of him hard and swearing loudly at the pain that suddenly shoots through his foot.

“baby, are you okay?” race frowns, holding albert’s hand and running his thumb over his boyfriend’s knuckles gently.

“finch ‘n’ tommy got me high last night, racer...” albert groans, rubbing his temples.

“holy. fuck.” race snorts and bursts into laughter, causing albert to swat at him and whine. “god, al, even i’m not stupid enough to get high before my fucking high school graduation. you three are gonna regret this so much!”

“let’s just be grateful davey’s valedictorian,” albert sighs.

“yeah, partly ‘cause davey wasn’t dumb enough to get stoned before his last day as a high schooler.”

“shut up, asshole.”

race chuckles and shakes his head. “just don’t do anything dumb when you’re up there, okay? it’s only, like, a minute or less.”

“i’ll try for you.” albert smiles fondly and presses his palm to race’s, who laces his fingers through albert’s.

albert squeezes race’s hand and he grins a little bit. “what’s this one for, albie?”

“it’s for sticking together no matter what the future holds. and i know we made a promise like this a while ago, but i really need it now more than ever, race. i need you. i love you.”

tears glimmer in race’s eyes and he stares up at albert with nothing but pure adoration and love. “i love you, too... and we are gonna stick together no matter what, albie.”

they share a small kiss.

“i super special, super serious swear.”

•••

after the ceremony, elisa drives race and albert to the higgins household. their friends were throwing a party, but when albert was practically collapsing on the ground race decided it was time for him to rest.

“i’m very proud of you two, you know,” elisa says, looking into the rearview mirror with a smile. albert’s slouching low enough to be able to rest his head on race’s shoulder, and the boys both return her smile with the same warmth. “you’ve gotten into the same college, haven’t you?”

“nyu, baby!” race cheers. albert laughs and presses a kiss to race’s neck with minimal effort. 

“nyu,” he nods before falling asleep.

age twenty-three

“i can’t fucking believe you got crowd surfed,” albert shakes his head in disbelief as he and race walk home to their apartment. well, it was more of a stumble. they’d both gotten a little bit buzzed. it’s well past 2 a. m. and they’re headed back from the graduation party katherine threw at her house.

“yeah, well, i can’t believe you actually had the confidence to climb on top of the table and fucking serenade me, albert,” race counters.

“guess it just shows how strong my love for you is,” albert coos as he unlocks their apartment door after climbing up the small set of stairs. race pretends to gag, and albert laughs, kissing his nose.

•••

“i’m really tired,” albert whines. race chuckles and climbs into bed next to albert.

“go to sleep, then,” race snorts.

“need you for that,” albert mumbles tiredly, and the comedic mood melts away into a gentle, loving one as race smiles softly at the boy across from him. he moves closer and pecks albert’s lips.

“i love you.”

“love you, too...”

“forever and always, albie.”

“forever and always, tony.”

race grins and holds his hand out. albert chuckles and presses his palm to race’s, and race weaves his fingers through albert’s, and albert swears he’ll never be over the way their hands seem to fit together so perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle meant to click.

“super special, super serious swear,” albert murmurs, kissing race softly. race returns the kiss and squeezes albert’s hand. 

albert is the one to break the kiss, letting go of race’s hand to wrap an arm around him and pull him close. race tucks his face into the crook of albert’s neck and kisses there softly, drawing a drowsy smile from albert as they both drift into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

age twenty-five

race leans against albert, staring out at the sunset in front of them, loving the reflections of the beautifully multicoloured sky on the crystal clear ocean water. they’re standing up, having planned to leave roughly twenty minutes ago, but they got distracted by the scenery ahead, pausing to admire it.

“thank you for this, albie...” race says softly, lifting his head to look at albert and smiling. albert smiles back.

“eight years together. not a very specific or significant milestone, but i wanted to at least do a little something.”

“a little something?” race chuckles. “albert, we’ve gone hiking, had dinner in the mountains, crashed at the beach, and now i’m looking at the prettiest sunset i’ve ever seen. it’s been more than just a little something. it’s been everything.”

“you’re my everything.”

“sap.”

“you’re rubbing off on me,” albert looks down at race knowingly. race grins and kisses his cheek. 

“racer?”

“mmhm?”

“i have to ask you something.”

“so, ask it!” race giggles.

albert smiles nervously and lets go of race before getting down on one knee. he pulls out a small box, opens it to reveal a ring that race remembers him eyeing when they’d gone to the mall with katherine, jack, specs, romeo, and some of their other friends. he gasps softly, and albert chuckles quietly.

“i, um... i really don’t even know where to start, anthony. we were literally five years old when we met, and i didn’t ever think i’d be here, celebrating eight years of being your boyfriend. your fucking boyfriend. for eight years. eight of the most incredible years of my life, holding you, kissing you, pulling pranks with you, loving you. before that, i got to spend twelve years being your best friend. and for all twenty of those years, i’ve gotten to grow with you and i’ve gotten to catch every curveball life has thrown at me with you by my side. i want to spend the rest of my years loving you as hard as i can, not just as your boyfriend, but as your husband and your best friend. this is gonna be, like, the biggest super special, super serious swear we’ve ever made, but... i’m ready for it. so, anthony ‘racetrack’ higgins, will you marry me?”

“i-i...” race chokes on a sob of pure joy, and nods furiously. “albert... albie, i- i don’t even... yes... oh my god, albert, a million times yes!”

albert grins widely and slides the ring onto race’s finger, falling a little bit more in love with race when a giggle of nothing but absolute happiness escapes his mouth, and he stands up to press their palms together and lace their fingers together and this time, they both squeeze. this isn’t albert’s promise or race’s promise. this is their promise, and they plan on keeping it for the rest of their days.

age twenty-six

“racer!” albert calls. “did finch show you the wedding photos?”

“they’re already out?” race asks in surprise.

“digitally,” albert nods. “he’ll have the physical copy to us by the end of next week.”

“god, albie,” race breathes, falling back onto their bed like he did so many years ago at albert’s house before their first year of high school. “we’re husbands now. we have the same last name.”

“i know all of this, yes,” albert says teasingly. race scoffs and turns over to shove him lightly. albert cackles and leans over to kiss race quickly before unlocking his phone and opening up the email he got from finch. he opens the files and hands it over to race, whose eyes light up the moment they see the screen.

“we are so hot,” he says, and albert bursts into laughter. 

“i fucking love you, you idiot.”

“i love you, too, al.” race giggles and turns his head to kiss albert’s nose. he switches the phone off after going through all the photos and sets it on the nightstand beside him, turning to face albert properly. he holds his palm out and albert does what he has to do, and this time they both squeeze, too.

“anthony higgins-dasilva, i super special, super serious swear to keep loving you as much as i can and making you as happy as i can for the rest of my life,” albert whispers.

a tear of happiness slides down race’s cheek and he smiles lovingly at his husband. “i super special, super serious swear to always do the same, albert higgins-dasilva.”

they share a soft, slow kiss, taking all the time they need, because now they know they have each other, and they don’t need to go anywhere for a while.

×××

HSAUIDHFUHSUHS OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. ITS DONE. 14 PAGES IN GOOGLE DOCS. 4K+ WORDS. ALSHDLIFHDSALISDS. I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!!

-sanj 💕

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[the-firebird69]

Revelation 8:1-6 1 And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour. 2 And I saw the seven angels which stood before God; and to them were given seven trumpets. 3 And another angel came and stood at the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given unto him much incense, that he should offer [it] with the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. 4 And the smoke of the incense, [which came] with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before God out of the angel's hand. 5 And the angel took the censer, and filled it with fire of the altar, and cast [it] into the earth: and there were voices, and thunderings, and lightnings, and an earthquake. 6 And the seven angels which had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound.

https://2loud2oldmusic.com/2019/06/02/my-sunday-song-the-seventh-seal-by-van-halen/comment-page-1/

i sat for half an hour and nothing happened...that was drastic.  order went out.. waited and a half  hour means about fifteen years at times but here about five..and they stil say it is them and that is thier schedule.  we use it.

and they want thier ai to work and to be dave s. and we use it and no wont.  so nah. and they try harder to hit ours now

Thor Freya

and my husband cracked it i saw him do it

Hera

Olympus we saw Zues do it as well

[hahanoiwont]

Can you write some dragon Angus?

I sure fuckin’ can, buddy! Here’s some breakfast dragon Angus for the soul.

If anyone else wants to make a request, feel free to drop by my inbox!

Angus really likes working the the Bureau of Balance. They do a lot of really great things, like saving the world and trying at least moderately hard not to destroy entire cities (he remembers Phandolin now, but the Reclaimers still have nothing on his more violent, distant relatives). The moon was, of course, no icy mountain, but it was difficult for strangers to get to and much higher in the sky than Angus would be able to get a lair to otherwise.

Best of all, though, his lair was a veritable treasure trove, better than he had ever been able to collect before. He may not have an entire ancient palace like his grandfather (well, entire except for the silverware he’d been sent to fetch), but he had the current history of Faerun running beneath his wings. Angus is not a particularly fearsome dragon, but his hoard is something worth bragging about. And better than that, each part of it continues to come back to him.

He worries, of course, when the Reclaimers go off to retrieve relics. The smaller races are infinitely fragile and fierce as they are, they can’t protect themselves from everything. But each time, they come back hale and hearty with stories to be told and Angus can be a part of it! He’s right there over the stones of farspeech, helping them solve puzzles and dodge traps and making goofs with them. But his favorite part is what comes after.

Once the Reclaimers come back from Refuge, Angus is proud to show off the magic he’s been practicing. It comes easier to him than it would to the smaller folk, and Taako seems pleased, if exhausted by his date with death. But best of all, Taako makes so much food.

It’s the day after they’ve gotten back and Angus wakes up to a loud knock on the door and Taako’s voice saying, “Yo, Agnes, open up or I’m blowing your door up!”

Angus does very much enjoy having a door sectioning off his bedroom from the rest of his home, so he quickly rushes to let Taako in, still in his pajamas but thankfully also still in his humanoid form. Taako leans dramatically on the door frame, because Taako is a ridiculous elf.

“Thank the gods, I nearly died waiting there. You took forever, Ango, that could’ve been my whole lifetime. Six hundred years for you to open the door!” he whined, clutching his chest. Angus supposes dragons are wont to lose track of time for a couple decades, but he’s pretty sure Taako was waiting for a maximum of fifteen seconds.

“What can I help you with, sir?” he chirps, ready to start the day. Maybe a new magic lesson? Or a fun puzzle that needs solving?

What Taako’s got planned is even better, though.

“Gonna need a hand in the kitchen, little man,” he says. “Somethin’s up with your eyes, fix that shit first. Meet me in the suite in ten or I’m starting without you!”

And just like that he whirlwinds right back out, umbrella swaying jauntily. Angus rushes to the bathroom and sure enough, his eyes are a brighter silver than is normally achievable. He hastily reapplies his transformation and rushes to the Reclaimers’ suite with eight minutes to spare.

When he gets there, Taako is just arriving, and he groans to see Angus.

“The fuck, it is way too early to be this fast,” he greets, ruffling Angus’s hair. He doesn’t mention the eye thing even though to Angus’s knowledge, most humanoids don’t have changing eye colors, and certainly not structures. He does start banging around Magnus’s pots and pans, though.

“Fuckin’--ugh, what kind of shit is--what I wouldn’t give for a cast-iron pan, swear to god--have to do everything myself,” he mutters, setting a couple of tins and pans he hates the least on the table.

“What are we doing today, sir? Are we making something?” Angus asks, because he’s not gonna mention anything if Taako isn’t. Maybe later, when he’s had a chance to forget it a bit, assume it was a trick of the light.

“Yeah, we’re making a bomb-ass brunch is what we’re doing. Gonna feed those goobers, see if we can lure some others in with the smell,” Taako says absently, holding a pan in both hands and looking hard at it. It begins to turn black where he’s touching it, slowly.

“Sir? I thought you didn’t cook for people you want to not die?” Angus asks, because he would really like to know if Taako’s decided to assassinate the whole Bureau campus before it happens.

“Nah, turns out that whole thing was totally not my fault. Big misunderstanding. HR thing,” he mumbles. “‘sides, you guys are all about human cuisine, right? Thought you’d like to try making some.”

Angus looks intently at Taako, who looks intently at the pan he’s transmuting. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s said anything out of the ordinary, but...silver dragons are well-known for enjoying human and elven feasts. Several of Angus’s relatives will create special forms with elaborate backstories in order to go to a good enough party. Angus investigates.

“You guys?” he asks. Taako still isn’t paying him much attention, though he’s almost done with the pan.

“Yeah, you know,” he says vaguely. “Had a friend like you once. Good year.”

Is it possible that Taako had befriended a dragon before? Has he seen through Angus’s disguise already?

“Sir? What do you mean?” Angus presses. If Taako tells the Director...

Taako finishes with the pan and looks up. “Huh? Sorry, what was I saying?” he asks. He’s got that look on his face that he does sometimes, when he wanders off in the middle of a conversation or asks for someone who isn’t there. An expression very similar to the one he’d gotten after blowing Angus’s macaroons to pieces and carving three letters into the wall.

Was ‘Lup’ a dragon?

Angus whips out his notebook and writes knows dragon? for one year? Lup/forgot??? before Taako slaps it out of his hands.

“Hey, didn’t bring you here to be my shrink, little man. Why don’t you whip up a mage hand and start stirrin’, we’re on pancakes today.” Taako himself starts portioning out ingredients and intermittently hurling them at Angus, who frantically summons a mage hand to help guide them to a bowl.

“Sir, I think this would work better if you stopped throwing things!” he protests, but Taako laughs at him.

“Hell no, little dude, you gotta have fun with it! That’s what partner cooking is all about!” he chortles, and then throws an egg. Gently, but he still is throwing an egg and Angus’s face. He barely catches it. “Gimme some fire!”

And, well. Angus is not a creature of chaos, not like elves in general and Taako in particular are, but it’s very hard not to have a good time when someone like an older brother is guiding you through the delicacies of human cooking and making dumb jokes on the way. He explains each part of the recipe in his offhanded way, never assuming that Angus will know about all the various utensils used by little folk for food preparation, but not quite crossing the line into patronizing without a good goof to make up for it. And when Magnus comes out of his room, looking vague and forgetful, the two of them keep an eye on him while he enthusiastically stirs pancake mix (Taako insists he’s getting it gluey and gross, but Angus thinks he’s probably fussing), and it’s a good morning.

Yeah, the Bureau makes for a great hoard, but Angus think maybe the greatest treasure was love all along.

[itscookiebaby]

Fyi

Yeah you can say and believe in whatever you like which is cool and all, but we all know communism was sort of the worst right? Like this isnt some capitalist rich bullshit, im a first gen who’s mother and her entire half of the family literally ran from Ukraine when she was fifteen because it was still under the USSR rule. My mothers forty so that shit didnt happen ages ago.

I get that its funny to joke about, because i did the same, considering that the US has sorta gone to hell with the extreme capitalism, but soft reminder? Communism has gotten just as many if not more people killed and murdered. Innocents have been massacred. And freedom wise? That side of my family celebrates new years as a second christmas despite being jewish because thats how it had to be. USSR said "Nah, we wont let you celebrate what you believe in, but you can have new years” so everyone celebrated their own belief hidden as “chistmas” on new years because thats the only date they had without getting it taken away. Lets not even get started on homosexuality and race because something tells me i dont need to convince you how bad it was. And im not saying the US was any better, but its something to understand because oh gee, idk ita almost like we’re intelligent individuals with the ability to think critically.

The more ive learned the more angry i get when i see some edgy fresh teenager commenting that we should all be communists to free ourselves from capitalism, when my family had to travel through europe to escape that shit. Its not my job to educate you, but i also wont wait here and let you turn into that kid at my highschool that wore the communist logo every day because he genuinely beleived in it.

[angelia-dark]

Memoirs Of a Creepy Brother 2

Since these are just little one-shot clips, I wont link them, but I’m putting them all under the tag undertail memoirs, if you want to look up the collection.

Part 2: Don’t Take Candy From Strangers

The Recipe:  US Papyrus, drugging, Honeymustard

AO3 Link

In many ways, finding the way into this universe that was affectionately dubbed as 'Swap' was a huge blessing.  It had an air of quiet peace to it, the kind that made it so easy to let down your guard and let yourself BREATHE after years of suffocating under one's own self-preservation.  

That was how Sans felt now.  

He was reclining under a tree, enjoying the scent of pine and freshness without the sharp tang of blood and dust that would have permeated the air back in his own world.  He enjoyed coming here from time to time when he needed space from that murderous world of his...and, yes, space from his younger sibling.

Odd he would make that escape only to end up here, enjoying the peace with...his younger sibling.

Well, this Papyrus—'Stretch', as he liked to be called—was truly a 'swap' of a personality concerning his own brother's demeanor.  Where there were sharp angles and rigid posture on his brother, this Papyrus was all smoothness and relaxation.  Everything from his eyelights to his smile were soft and almost lazy, being in no hurry to do anything.

Sometimes Sans—affectionately dubbed 'Red' by this juxtaposed Papyrus—would just sit and stare and ponder over the differences between the two.  He would keep in mind of his brother, tall, regal, sharp in tone as well as appearance, as he looked on Stretch, who hardly even seemed to be related to his own Papyrus, let alone fundamentally be the same person. Where Papyrus had more bulk to his bones from training and the hellish conditions of their world, Stretch had a tad more height, in reference to his nickname.  He would take almost gliding strides as opposed to a purposeful march, move with carelessness and ease, and just seemed to go with the flow of anything that happened in his world.

And Red would find himself yearning for the same, really.  

It was why he came here...to taste a bit of that carefree spirit that was stifled in his own world.  As his own brother greatly disliked the world of 'Swap'—“Nothing but careless fools and shiftless dreamers!”—Red felt comfort in knowing he could come here and actively enjoy himself.

Especially if he had Stretch's company.

It wasn't that he PREFERRED Stretch over his brother...far from it.  But sometimes he just wanted to be near someone who resembled his brother without the constant aura of killing intent, even if it wasn't directed right at him.  It was just a break, he rationalized to himself.  A much-needed source of camaraderie and relaxation.

If only he didn't have a crush on the guy.

He almost didn't come today, he thought as he glanced over at his brother's double who was reclining back next to him; his hands flexed into the snow, trying not make it obvious.  He was terrible at that, he always had been.  He was never subtle about his attraction to his brother, something that Papyrus was always quick to point out and chastise.  What they did in their home was one thing, but displaying a weakness of that sort in public was just ASKING for a dusting.

But here, in THIS universe, Red had seen Monsters making out on a park bench without a care in the world. It was a dream come true for someone as touch-starved as he was.

…......LESS of a dream that he had to keep restraining himself from indulging in that starvation with Stretch.

He caught himself almost whimpering whenever Stretch got touchy with him; it was casual observance of him and and his own double—'Blue', he'd gone with, mostly to counteract his own nickname of 'Red'—that the brothers here were not afraid in the least to show physical affection.  Blue was a big fan of hugs and Stretch was more than receptive of them, although the taller Skeleton rather preferred an arm around the shoulder or something of that casual nature.  

Red desired such contact, of course he did...but having it come from someone who shared a similar soul aura with his own beloved brother, whom he loved more than life itself in ways brothers shouldn't...

...it was a recipe for disaster.

So he tried his hardest to keep his hands—and wandering thoughts—to himself.

Stretch's arm slinging around his shoulders reminded him that he was, in fact, there and not informed of Red's apparent need for self-control.  He felt himself tense up at the sudden intrusion of his personal space and instantly regretted it when Stretch glanced down at him.

“You alright down there, pal?” the tall Skeleton asked, taking note of Red's discomfort yet making no move to remove the source of it.  “You seem a little...high-strung.  More than usual.”

Red felt his cheekbones blush, squirming in place.  “'m fine,” he muttered, wishing he could disappear into his own jacket.  He could feel his touch-starvation whine and bay out for satisfaction, and was seriously considering giving in.  

By some miracle, he felt the arm being removed from around his shoulders as Stretch sat up and looked him over.  “...you hurt or somethin'?” Stretch asked, giving Red a critical look.  Red quickly shook his head, his hands playing with the open hems of his jacket.

“Nah, I'm not hurt,” he replied. “Just...”  Starved for affection and touch, associating you with my brother, in desperate need of a cuddle like you'd give Blue. “...stressed.”  Okay, well that wasn't a lie, at least.  

Stretch stared for a moment before nodding with a look of understanding.  “Stressed, huh?” he murmured, rummaging around in his pockets.  “I got just th' thing for stress, buddy.”  He gave a triumphant grin when he pulled out a handful of material and holding it out between them, among them being a small stack of papers, a lighter, and a baggie of dried leaves.

Red stared at them, feeling a jolt of longing and dread merge in a pool at the base of his soul.  He was no stranger to illicit substances back in his world; though the drug ring was dealt with much better in the Capitol, anyone could have anything they wanted in Snowdin, if they knew the right guy.  

And Red knew them all, names and phone numbers memorized by heart.  

That is, until Papyrus stepped in through the Guard and began cleansing Snowdin of its dependency on such substances, and Red was no exception.  It took a couple years, even cold-turkey, for him to finally stop craving something at the first twinge of stress.  It remained difficult considering anything could go down in Grillby's bar, so long as Papyrus wasn't around and disagreements were taken outside.  

Still, Red had been off this stuff for two years now, yet it was staring him in the face and making him recall the sweet, sweet caress of inebriation.  “Uhh...” he said oh-so intelligently.  “...I...shit, I've been off that stuff for awhile now, Stretch...”  He forced his eyelights down to his hands, feeling the craving for even just one hit drown out his starvation for touch.  

“But you know what it is, at least,” Stretch said, opening the bag and preparing it as he spoke. He rolled it up tight and flicked open his lighter, lighting the end of it.  “And trust me, this is hardly th' worst thing you can have here.  It's mild as hell, an' wears off after a couple of hours.” He took a drag before letting the smoke sift through is teeth, grinning as he held it out to Red.  

If Red's desire had a stomach, it would be growling right now.  He stared at the piece almost hungrily, his hands flexing into his jacket.  “....I....I can't...” he said, shifting where he sat.  “...Pap...I mean, Boss, he'd...”

“'Boss' ain't here right now, is he?” Stretch said, his voice having a mocking tilt at the word 'Boss', as he normally did when addressing his darker counterpart. “He can run his Snowdin th' way he wants, but he's got shit to say about this one.”  He held it out closer to Red.  “An' let's face it, you NEED a little unwinding.”

Red flicked his eyelights from the joint to Stretch's face, feeling his self-control fray at the indisputable logic.  It was true, he DID come here to relax and unwind and to just...not feel so BAD anymore.

Almost of its own accord, his hand reached up and took the piece, holding it for a long moment before bringing it to his teeth and taking a long drag.

Oh sweet, murderous gods, yes.

He kept the smoke inside for as long as he could muster before exhaling heavily, his body slumping.  “.....ffffffuck yeah,” he murmured, dropping his skull back against the tree trunk as he deftly lifted his hand to give the joint back to Stretch, who accepted it and took a drag of his own.

“That's what I'm talkin' about,” the taller Skeleton purred, giving Red a wide, lazy grin.  “You take it like a champ.”  He curled his arm around Red again.  “How ya feelin' now?”

Actually?  Red was feeling pre-tty good right now.  The tension left his bones and his head felt lighter than air, making him actually struggle to remember what he had ever been so stressed about in the first place.  He relaxed against Stretch's arm, sighing heavily.  “...wow...” he muttered, grinning.  “What was even in that stuff?”

Stretch's arm tightened around him. “The good shit, my other-brother,” he replied.  “Take another hit.”  Instead of handing the piece back over, he took a long drag, then leaned down, tipping Red's skull to his, and pressed his teeth to Red's, exhaling the smoke into Red's mouth.

About fifteen different emotions ran through Red's mind, and only two of them were pleasant; still, he couldn't help but breathe in the drug vapor, feeling his bones tingle pleasantly as it was absorbed into his magic.  He felt a shudder run up his spine before it was relaxed back down with the soporific effects, his mind clouding even more as he slumped against Stretch.

The taller Skeleton pressed in closer, and Red felt a soft tingle of magic against his teeth a brief moment before an orange ectoplasmic tongue ran over his sharpened edges, dipping into his mouth shallowly as though teasing him.  Red shuddered hard, feeling his magic pool into his mouth on reflex and giving something for Stretch to prod and play with.  His hands shakily took hold of Stretch's hoodie; to pull closer or push away, he didn't know.  He wasn't able to make up his mind, his rational thoughts hiding behind the haze of the drug, and he could only hold onto Stretch tighter to ground himself to SOMETHING.

Red's head dropped back, unable to properly hold it up anymore.  “Tha' wuzzn't normal shit...” he slurred, able to hone in on THAT fact quite easily.  He felt the world tip backwards, and felt the ground beneath him tilt—when had he laid down anyway?—as Stretch loomed over him, the taller Skeleton's eyelights gleaming almost deviously.  

“I told ya, Red,” he purred, sliding himself between Red's femurs, “it was th' good shit. You've been off it for too long...”  He pressed little kisses to Red's skull as he pressed his pelvis down to Red's.  “We can fix that for ya...”  

Red flushed darkly, groaning softly despite himself.  “W...wait....” he muttered, only to have his teeth captured in another kiss.  He parted his jaws to allow a tongue to pass through, his thoughts becoming distracted from the familiarity of it.

...Boss...

He could only think about his Boss, his brother, his lover...the heavy weight domineering over him as he submitted entirely under the younger's will.  Sharp hands that undressed him, clawed phalanges that scraped over his bones, teeth that drew marrow...all things that Red craved and took as much sick delight in as the Skeleton that inflicted it on him.

Red's vision was one big blur, only able to FEEL as his shorts were removed, his sweater tugged up over his ribs, a large hand palming at his quickly-congealing magic in his pelvis.  He moaned, squirming in the snow and parting his femurs wider in invitation.

Boss is in a good mood, he thought, his soul fluttering with a surge of thrill.  He loved it when his Boss was happy...relations between them was more drawn out, more focused on touch rather than just fucking.  His breath hitched, hips bucking up when he felt two long fingers push into the mound he had formed in his pelvis.  

***

Stretch licked his teeth, his eyelight almost burning as he watched Red writhing under him, the smaller Skeleton's red eyelights wide and bright, flickering with lust and haze from the drug.  

Fuck, that's hot, he thought, working his fingers faster into that tight mass of magic that Red had formed.  He didn't know that his special stash would have this much of an effect on the other Skeleton; maybe Red HAD been off the stuff for too long...

“Guhhh......ffffuck....Boss....!”

Red's voice had Stretch stilling his fingers.  'Boss'.  That goddamn edgelord version of himself that needed a good kick in the coccyx and a fist in the teeth.  The way that asshole looked at his brother sometimes like a piece of gum to chew and spit back out...despicable.

But obviously he was good enough of a lover for Red to be thinking about him at a time like this.  

Yeah, he could work with this.

Stretch nuzzled Red's skull, letting out a guttural growl that he immediately felt a reaction to.  Red clenched tightly around his fingers, bones taking on a hot red flush. Beautiful.  He used his other hand to undo his cargos and stroke at his tendril-like appendage, watching Red squirm and moan and getting more excited by the minute.

“B...Boss....please....!” Red whimpered, his hands reaching out to clutch into Stretch's hoodie. “Please please please fuck me please...!”

Well, he couldn't leave him waiting.

Red blinked open his eye sockets, sensing himself in familiar territory.  He sat up, rubbing his skull and seeing that he was in his own house in his own universe, on his own couch.  His head felt like helium in a lead ball, doing nothing for the migraine he had obviously developed during his time asleep.

He absently wondered how he got here. The last thing he remembered...or he THOUGHT he remembered...was Boss fucking him silly before—

“FINALLY, you're awake.”

Red looked up, seeing his brother glowering at him with a mug of steaming drink in his hand.  Boss stalked over, putting the mug down with more force than necessary on the coffee table.  “You got so lazy at that you slept through your return time!  I had to fetch you from that drug-addled asshole's dimension!”  He crossed his arms.  “Drink the damn coffee, Sans, we have work later.”  He turned on heel and stalked back in the kitchen.

Red picked up the mug, sipping it. Piping hot, with lots of milk that Boss always insisted on for 'stronger bones'.  He smiled, his face flushing as he thought of earlier, of the little little gestures being displayed now, evidence that Boss was still in his good mood.

Well, it wouldn’t do well to ruin it, would it?

“...heh...whatever you say, Boss...”

[theawkwardconfusedturtle96]

:D :D

New chapter of my fic is up! Hope y’all like it :) :)

July 4th, 2009 Las Vegas, Nevada

Kent’s first week in Vegas was a blur of company, clubbing and rough, but satisfying hockey. Pre-season training and conditioning had started on his very second day as an Ace, and even years of junior hockey couldn’t prepare him from the new, extremely high standard of NHL hockey.

And while Kent hadn’t had contact with Jack himself yet, a couple of days ago, Bob had texted him to tell him that Jack was now awake and responsive. Kent called immediately, asking whether Jack would be able to talk to him, but Bob said, his voice taking on a sad tone, “Son, I don’t think Jack’s ready for that. I’m sure he’ll call you soon. Until then, wait and let him take his time, okay?”.

After that, the conversation tended more towards Kent’s settling in and other such matters, but once he got off the phone, Kent collapsed into his new, fluffy couch, unsure whether to be relieved or upset. Right now, it seemed like a mix of both.

It took him everything he had just to keep up with everything and everyone at first, but by the end of the week he reckoned that he’d shown exactly why he deserved to be here as the first draft pick. He was wickedly fast, as someone of his height had to be to avoid being squashed into the boards by the behemoths that dominated most hockey teams, had superior puck-handling skills and by now had acquired an almost freakish awareness of exactly where his teammates needed him to be. It had certainly endeared him to the rest of the team. After the end of his first day of practice, Kent found himself befriended by the literal entirety of the team and both coaches, and his new phone was now filled with their numbers. This also translated to his social life, where the audience at his mini house parties had now grown from the initial heart of the team to least three quarters of the Aces roster, if not more. He went clubbing every alternate day, and while lots of places looked the other way, there was no shortage of people passing him drinks at any given time. And in the mornings, even if had drunk a little more than strictly advisable, his hangover was usually cured by being dragged to the nearby gym by a gaggle of teammates, mostly Lion, Dubs, Kuzzy, Swoops and Tay, who had now appointed themselves Kent’s BFF’s. Seriously, they now even had a group text and everything. It was a Thing™. But the reward for these exertions…the breakfasts. Kent thought he’d have to give up pretty much every single nice food he liked once he entered the NHL. But instead, almost every day after gym sessions, the gang tried out a different café or breakfast place, all with the most beautiful food, and Kent was living. He could almost feel like he wasn’t dead inside anymore, in fact.

It was during a breakfast like this on a seemingly ordinary Wednesday at what they’d now decided was their favourite place, a little nook called ‘The Egg and I’, which had absolute killer eggs benedict and a wide variety of overly sweet coffee and tea to keep Kent and Swoops happy when the conversation turned from gossip and shenanigans to something a bit more personal.

“So, Parse, we know it’s a special day for you today”, said Dubs, trading smirks with the other members of the little group sitting at the largest table.

Kent started a bit. He knew exactly what Dubs meant, but he didn’t exactly expect to do anything for it. He didn’t think that he’d have the time or the energy, even.

“Um………the fourth of July?”, said Kent nervously, playing nervously with the St Michael’s medal around his neck.

“No, you idiot, it’s your birthday”, said Taylor annoyedly, whacking Kent in the head with a long arm.

“Ouch, bro!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to be so hard”, Taylor said apologetically, petting him on the head.

“How do you even know?”, asked Kent.

“We asked Coach when it was”, said Lion sagely. “We figured it was soon, but we didn’t realise it was this soon”.

“You got anything planned, bro? Any babes you got a hot date with?”, drawled Swoops, shoving past both Taylor and Lion and elbowing Kent in the ribs.

“Haha nah, man, no babes for me. And my only plans for today involve watching some trashy TV show and getting some takeout, nothing special”, said Kent, shrugging.

“Oh come on, man, don’t be a bore!”, said Lion emphatically, slapping him on the back. “You’ve got to do something!”

“Oh alright! What do you idiots suggest?”

“Clubbing?”

“Nah, we already do that a lot.”

“House party?”

“We already do that a lot too.”

“Laser tag?”

“Ooh, maybe !”

“Bowling?”

“YES!”, said everyone at once. The whole café swivelled around super fast to look at them, but after an apologetic smile from Kent to the cute manager, who had befriended the group, the café once again dissolved into companionable chatter.

“So then it’s decided”, said Dubs. “But first, we all have to go and change clothes and all that shit at Kent’s place, we already have all our stuff with us.”

“Wait, why do we have to go to my place? You guys can’t change at your own places?”

“Bro. Parser. Just go with it”, said Kuzzy, messing Kent’s meticulously arranged cowlicks into a messy tangle, much to his chagrin.

“Just made the reservation for lunchtime to midnight, we really need to haul ass right now if we want to get there on time”, pointed out Kuzzy, putting his glasses and phone away.

“How the fuck did you get that done so quickly, man?”, said Kent, confused.

“Good time management and lots of connections”, said Kuzzy knowingly, winking at him and exchanging meaningful looks with everyone else.

“Bloody English major, always showing off your freaking vocab”, said Taylor affectionately, poking Kuzzy’s shoulder.

“Taytay, it’s really not my fault that you have the vocabulary skills of a teaspoon”, said Kuzzy wisely, poking Taylor in the eye as payback.

“Ow, man, what the fuck?”

“You deserved it, you cretin.”

“Alright alright, settle down, boys, we’re all adults here”, said Dubs authoritatively, breaking apart the brawling twenty-somethings before they started wrestling each other over the table as they were wont to do.

“Fine!”

“Oh, alright then, Dad.”

“Ok, guys”, said Kent in a tone that tried to be stern, “Let’s go now then, before we all fall asleep right here from a food coma”.

With everyone’s approval, Kent got up and paid, asking how the manager’s MBA was going while sneaking her a very generous tip, before catching up with the rest of the boys and briskly heading off to his place in a gaggle.

Luckily, Kent’s place was only about a ten to fifteen minute walk from the café. But on the way there, Kent noticed some truly odd behaviour from his teammates.

Swoops and Dubs kept texting the entire time there, and he knew for a fact it wasn’t the team group chat, because he would have gotten the notifications too. They were never this hooked to their phones.

And Kuzzy kept talking on the phone in Russian to people, really quietly, something he never did. Leo and Taylor were the only ones who seemed to be acting remotely normal, but even they kept walking a little too fast for normal purposes. This strange behaviour only intensified as the group got to Kent’s apartment block, with the rest of the gang falling back and whispering among themselves as Kent took them all up in the lift.

Despite being quite an intelligent person, Kent was still somewhat clueless, as most eighteen-almost- nineteen year old boys are.

And as Kent opened the door, he was greeted with a very large group of people all yelling different, but equally loud variations of ‘Happy birthday, Parse!’ from every single possible location in the immediate vicinity. As he closed the door, he took in the huge banner that said HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY, PARSE! in big, colourful block letters, the balloons and streamers, that seemed to inhabit almost single nook and cranny, and most of all, the fact that literally his entire team was now currently crammed into his living room, laughing, talking and beaming at him.

“You guys…how did you…when did you…oh my god!”, said Kent, shocked and surprised, but ridiculously happy all the same.

“We knew you weren’t going to do anything for it, so we decided to take the initiative”, said Dubs happily, hugging Kent to him.

“Where did the rest of those idiots go?”, asked Kent. “They just ran into the apartment and I can’t see them anywhere”.

“Oh, they’re around”, said Dubs knowingly, pointing him towards the large, glass dining table he’d bought to accommodate the influx of constant visitors he always had.

There, he saw Lion, Swoops, Kuzzy and Tay carrying an absolutely ginormous cake to the table. As he was shepherded towards it, he noticed, with much happiness and laughter, that it was a hockey rink with a number of little men, including Parse himself, in little black uniforms. He was about to ask how on earth they got this done, but before that, Lion, with a beer in hand somehow, loudly declared “It’s time for the birthday boy to cut his cake!!”

So he did, with everybody loudly (and somewhat drunkenly) singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and ‘He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ in the background, and finally being fed a piece by Dubs. It was tiramisu flavour, his absolute favourite and the one his stepdad had always bought him since he was little, and it was absolutely delicious.

It seemed that the excitement of the occasion went to his head, because about five minutes after that, overcome with feelings, nostalgia and the sheer stress of the last couple of weeks of his life, he burst into tears, having to cry into Dubs’ shoulder to avoid falling onto the floor in front of everyone.

“What’s wrong, tiny sunflower?”, asked Dubs in a concerned voice and using the special petname he had for Kent.

“It’s just all too much, y’know? It’s just…I never thought I would have all this. All of you guys, all these friendships, this, along with hockey…I’m just so grateful. What did I do to deserve all this?” said Kent, sobbing still, but slowly getting himself together.

“Parser, this is how this team operates”, explained Dubs soothingly. “We all have each other’s backs, no matter what. We do shit for each other. We help each other out with anything and everything. And we’ve seen what a good guy you are, don’t think we haven’t seen you befriending not only the entire team, the rink staff and the PR people and all the waitstaff and management of every single place we go to. I know that you go and volunteer at the ASPCA every Thursday. And even without all these things, with everything that’s been happening to you…you deserve this. You really, really do, little guy.”

Kent was pretty much speechless for the next ten minutes, before he was promptly installed with cake and alcohol by Lion.

After about half an hour, Kuzzy suddenly announced “Oh shit, guys, we need to get to the bowling alley in an hour. Hurry up, everyone, go home and change and shower and whatnot and we’ll all meet there. Chop chop, everyone.”

And within ten minutes, the entire apartment was cleaned up (somewhat), everybody apart from the six ‘musketeers’, as they were called were now on their way home, and within twenty minutes calls and texts started pouring onto everybody’s phones, telling them that they were at the place.

Two hours later, with everybody divided into four teams and with a lunch of nachos, chicken wings and beer in their bellies, the party was really picking up. Kent hadn’t been bowling in who knows how many years, so he was terrible at it, but he found that even when he was getting his ass handed to him by his very smug teammates, he didn’t even really mind. He was having too much fun too. Every joke was funny, every single gutter ball was laughed off and the amount of laughs and hi-fives being given gave off enough positive vibes to power a whole small city.

His team even ended up winning, by the sheer combined efforts of Swoops and Kuzzy, although the other teams came really close. As a reward, they got to choose the next activity, and Kent took advantage and suggested laser tag.

Very few people in the team had been before, only Kuzzy had, having gone occasionally with his friends back in college, so they all learnt at the same time and had even more fun. All their competitive hockey instincts came out in full force, and they all ended up being shockingly good at it. Kent’s team won, again, and although the rest of the team cried foul, nobody really minded since it was the birthday boy’s team. It was, to Kent, something he’d hardly ever seen. Healthy competition was new to him.

Exhausted, they waltzed into the kickass pizza place nearby and somehow managed to fit everyone in, and between them demolished at least twenty pizzas and forty pieces of garlic bread, along with truly criminal amounts of soft drink (drinking of alcohol had now been banned so everybody could sober up). Then, piling into cars, everybody slowly said goodbye, handed Kent presents (which he immediately placed in the boot of Dubs’ car) and left, with promises to see each other at afternoon practice tomorrow.

It was at least nine or ten when the gang finally got to crash at Kent’s place, and with presents piled up at one end of the living room, a blanket fort was constructed in the master bedroom, with the Fourth of July fireworks going off in the distance and a party playlist playing softly in the background.

Leaning softly against Kuzzy, Kent began to fall into sleep. Probably my best birthday ever, he thought.

I could definitely get used to this.

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9499595/chapters/23143806