#just gotta wait a few more days to get the ao3 invite for my new account and then ill be back for real. then youll see. then youll all see

[kindafooey]

yipee yipee yipee im done with the crazy thang

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 4: First Cookout

Sarah invites you to Joel's place to celebrate the last night she's in town. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut. Because obviously smut. It's these two, they fuck. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.8k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“And this is going to be your desk,” you smiled, excited but keeping your voice down. Sarah made a quiet squeal back at you. “See, I can see you from my desk so you can make faces at me while I’m dealing with the boring accounts people. I’m manifesting it, I swear I am.” 

“I’m seriously about to make a fucking moodboard if it’ll help,” she sat on the desk, her legs dangling over the edge. “I miss Austin. I didn’t think I’d miss it this much but I really do. Seattle was way more fun when you were there, now all I do is try to convince myself that my job is totally worth the 500 days of rain we get every year.”

You laughed.

“Something tells me it’s not quite that many.” 

“Feels like that many,” she rolled her eyes. “Now please. I need BBQ.” 

You shook your head and laughed before heading to the elevators to go to lunch with your best friend. 

Joel had texted you a warning with his usual good morning text that day. 

“Good morning, Beautiful,” he wrote. “Really miss feeling you right before I fall asleep. Please tell me you’re not busy tomorrow night. Heads up, expect Sarah to drop in on you today. I have to be at a site for a few hours and she mentioned stopping by your office. She’ll probably invite you to the cookout we’re having tonight - up to you if you want to come.” 

You frowned when you read it. “Up to you if you want to come.” What the fuck did that mean? 

“Miss feeling you too,” you added a heart emoji. “Only plans I have for tomorrow night involve you ripping my clothes off.” 

You rapped your nails against your phone, waiting to see if he’d text back before you started getting ready for the day but he didn’t. You sighed. He probably had to be on site early and couldn’t use his phone. 

“Goddammit,” you muttered, putting your face in your pillow and groaning. How were you supposed to navigate this? 

Did Joel want you to come but was trying to keep the pressure off? Did he not want you anywhere near him when Sarah was in town? 

Yes, he’d spent a fair bit of time fucking your brains out over the past few weeks but, in reality, he wasn’t anything to you. He was a guy you’d gone out with once, he wasn’t your boyfriend, he didn’t have to invite you over for anything let alone something that might make him feel uncomfortable because you were friends with his kid. Even though, to you, he felt like so much more than some guy you were fucking. So, so much more. 

And also your best friend’s dad. 

Because fate was a cruel, cruel thing. 

You checked your phone every few minutes as you got ready for work but the messages sat on delivered. You sighed and resisted the urge to text again and just kept checking your phone every few minutes in your office, too. 

“Wouldn’t argue with some help in the clothing removal department,” he wrote. “I’m going to want you naked fast. Requesting something with easy access so I can get inside you ASAP.” 

You smiled and shook your head a little. 

“Still warm enough for a sundress,” you sent a winky face emoji with that and briefly considered going to the bathroom to take a selfie that involved an unprofessional amount of cleavage. 

“Jesus Christ,” he sent back. “Pull me in a restroom wearing one of those and we’re not stopping at you humping my leg.” 

“Counting on it,” you wrote, smiling a little wider before deciding to just bite the bullet. “Did you want me to go tonight? If Sarah asks?” 

“What’s go you smiling so big?” 

You almost jumped out of your skin when you saw Sarah leaning against the doorframe to your office. 

“Good lord, girl, we gotta put a bell on you,” you smiled anyway, being sure to lock your phone before getting up to hug her. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dad had some client issue so I figure I’d come visit my bestie,” she gave you a squeeze before stepping back from you. “Plus I’m dying to see where I’m going to commute to every day once they finally let me come here.” 

Sarah picked the restaurant, a BBQ place that wasn’t far from your office and only offered wooden picnic tables sitting under a rusted metal awning for seating. 

“Oh this is going to be good shit,” you said, taking a deep breath, the smell of smoked meat heavy on the air. “I can tell.” 

“Knew you’d love this place,” she smiled. “Kind of surprised my dad hasn’t taken you here already, actually.” 

You froze for half a second before regaining your composure. 

“We’ve only gone out the one time since the first time we met up,” you shrugged. “Can’t exactly show me the entire city in that time.” 

The two of you got in line, the place starting to get crowded now that it was pushing noon. 

“I know,” she rolled her eyes. “I just really thought you guys would hit it off I guess.” 

Well you’d definitely done that. 

“Does it really bother you that I’m not hitting the town with your dad more?” You asked, teasing. 

“Kind of, actually,” she laughed. “You know those stupid TV episodes they do where the cast of one show goes on another show?” 

“The crossover ones?” You frowned.” 

“Right,” she nodded. The line moved and the two of you stepped forward. “This was like… my real life crossover episode and it just kinda flopped. Like my two favorite characters finally were in the same place and just didn’t have the chemistry for good TV.” 

Yeah, chemistry? Not your issue with Joel. 

“I’ll be sure to lodge your complaint with the writers,” you said dryly. “Tell them to get their shit together.” 

You talked Sarah into ordering the meats you didn’t so you could try at least a bite of everything and you were almost uncomfortably full when you dropped your final wet napkin on the butcher paper covered tray in front of you. 

“Oh, hey, meant to ask you before,” she said, polishing off her Dr. Pepper. “Did you have any plans tonight? My dad caved and is grilling out. My Uncle Tommy is coming over, his wife Maria, a few neighbors who have known me since I was in diapers and who can tell you every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done…” 

“I don’t think they can tell me about the time you got drunk at karaoke night and tried to take the mic from that guy who was making an ass of himself,” you smirked. 

Sarah groaned, throwing her head back and laughing.

“Oh my God, I forgot about that!”

You laughed, too, and took a second to check your phone to see if Joel had gotten back to you. 

He had. 

“Love for you to come,” he wrote. “Just going to be hell keeping my hands to myself all night. But would rather do that than not see you.” 

You smiled a little and put your phone down. 

“Yeah, I’ll come,” you said. “Just tell me what I can bring.” 

You were almost giddy by the time you got home. It’s not like you’d seen Joel every day since you’d met him but the option always felt like it was there. You’d only texted a bit since the phone sex Sunday and it felt like it had been eons since you’d gotten to touch him. You wondered if it would be weird if you gave him a hug when Sarah was there. You could get away with a hug, right? 

You pulled out a few outfit options, trying to find something that would make Joel want to check you out but not look like you were trying to get him to check you out. You pulled the shirts out and hung them on your floor length mirror so they were next to each other when you got an idea. 

You stripped out of your work clothes and changed into your favorite matching bra and panty set, standing in front of the mirror with the shirts still hanging on it, arranging yourself so you could see your body between the clothes. You took a picture. 

“Which shirt for tonight?” You typed, sending the picture to Joel. 

He responded while you were jumping into your jeans, the denim tight on your thighs and hips. 

“You’re cruel, you know that right?” He wrote. “I vote green. Feel like you’ll cause less trouble in the green.” 

The green was a little tamer, you supposed. The v-neck wasn’t quite as low, the eyelet lace softer and almost girlish. You smiled a little. 

“You’re right,” you wrote back. “Black it is.” 

Black was a wrap top, with a deeper v-neck, something that would highlight your curves even more. And give Joel easy access.

“You’re a menace,” he texted. 

“I know :)” 

You got dressed and stopped by HEB on your way over, picking up a dozen bottles of Shiner. You’d had to consciously toe the line of trying without trying too hard and you stomach was in knots as you walked up to his front door. What if your hair or your makeup or your shoes or the tightness of your jeans screamed “I’m fucking the man who lives in this house”? 

But you took a deep breath and rang the doorbell anyway. It didn’t take long for it Sarah to rip it open with a squeal, pulling you inside. 

“I’m so glad you came!” She said, jumping a little as she pulled away from you. “This is going to be so much fun, I promise. See, we’re going to do shit like this all the time when I move down here. We gotta manifest it, girl, I’m telling you. It’s even more fun when it’s summer and people want to swim because getting drunk in a pool that’s not open to every other idiot in your apartment complex is seriously the best pass time.” 

“I can only imagine,” you smiled. “And, I brought beer!” 

You held up the six packs just as Joel went rushing past, on his way to the kitchen. But he doubled back and stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked you up and down from over Sarah’s shoulder. You smirked just a little and he shook his head slightly, smiling. 

“Good to see you,” he said, stepping around Sarah for a somewhat awkward hug. He lowered his voice, his lips next to your ear, speaking so softly you could barely hear him. “Menace.” 

He stepped back and you smiled wider. 

“Good to see you, too.” 

Joel took the beers from your hands and his eyes lingered a little too long on your chest - not that you were arguing. 

“Come on,” Sarah slipped her hand into yours. “I want you to meet everybody!” 

She tugged you along behind her to the backyard, you giving Joel an apologetic smirk over your shoulder, people standing in little clusters around the pool. You spotted Joel’s brother immediately, the resemblance hard to miss. He was standing next to a beautiful woman with braids half way down her back, his arm around her waist. You smiled a little. You remembered dropping Sarah off at the airport when she flew down the year before for her uncle’s wedding. 

“Have fun!” You said, putting her duffle bag on her shoulder as your car sat with the emergency flashers on in the loading zone. 

“Yeah, this is going to be a disaster,” she said. “There’s no way they’re making it down the aisle. I haven’t met Maria but it’s Tommy. He’s jumped from woman to woman since before I was born, the day he settles down is the day hell freezes over.” 

When you picked her up again three days later, she had a different story. 

“So did they actually get hitched?” You asked as she flopped heavily into the passenger seat. 

“Holy shit, they did. She is the only woman on the planet who could actually get him to settle down,” she said. “And by some miracle, she wanted to. No accounting for taste with some people…” 

You laughed and headed to your favorite bar to hear all about it. You hadn’t really expected to ever really meet him except maybe in passing at Sarah’s wedding one day. Now you were meeting him in your - boyfriend’s? Fuck buddy’s? Who knows what’s? - backyard. 

“Tommy, Maria!” Sarah called as the two of you worked your way around the pool. “Got someone for you to meet, she’s new in town and in desperate need of social contacts.” 

She made the introductions and Tommy laughed when he heard your name. 

“The infamous best friend,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “She as bad an influence on you as she was on me?” 

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her eyes. 

“She talked me into grand larceny once,” Tommy said, pointing accusingly at Sarah with the beer bottle in his hand. 

“Did she now?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Oh yes,” he nodded, smiling cheekily. “She was seven and Joel said she couldn’t have all her Halloween candy on Halloween…” 

“A crime, really,” she smiled, grabbing Tommy’s beer and taking a drink before giving it back. 

“And she was so cute, these big eyes and her little princess costume and her hair going in about a million different directions…” 

“Yeah, Dad hadn’t figured out how to handle that yet,” she laughed a little. 

“I caved,” Tommy said. “I put up a valiant fight…” 

“You said yes immediately!” Sarah scoffed. “I barely even had to pout…” 

“She was a monster,” Tommy cut her off. “I was at her mercy, I swear!” 

“And then what happened?” Joel asked, joining your little circle with two beers in hand. He wordlessly pressed one into your palm. You smiled a little at him and he brushed his hand down your spine on his way to putting it in his back pocket. “C’mon, you two partners in crime, finish that story. What happened?” 

“Nothing that bad,” Tommy waved him off. 

“Yeah, it was fine,” Sarah said. “No lasting damage…” 

“For you two maybe,” Joel laughed. “I was the one who was up until 3 in the morning washing all her bedding and scrubbin’ the wall of her room because she projectile vomited three pounds of candy like she was starring in the damn Exorcist.” 

You laughed as Sarah and Tommy both tried to downplay it and Maria just lovingly patted her husband’s shoulder, rolling her eyes. While everyone was distracted, you snuck a look at Joel. Just a second to actually look at his face as he laughed and smiled with his family. It was a little unfair, how good looking he was. Somehow both rugged and soft, handsome and beautiful and you had to resist the urge to reach up and twist your fingers in his slightly unruly curls. You looked back at Sarah before anyone said anything and took a sip of beer. 

Sarah got sidetracked talking with Tommy and you took advantage of it, leaning in to whisper in Joel’s ear. 

“You’re really hot,” you said quietly. “Also, I got you a present, it’s in my purse.” 

“Oh really?” He raised his eyebrows, a devious look on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Not that exciting,” you said. 

“What are you two conspiring about?” Maria asked and you almost flinched as Tommy and Sarah turned their attention to you. 

“Just how to get this one to stop meddlin’,” Joel said smoothly, nodding to his daughter. 

“I do not meddle,” she replied. “I just nudge people in the right direction. Because I’m smarter than them.” 

You got along well with Joel’s brother and sister-in-law. Tommy seemed more like a big brother to Sarah than an uncle, which made sense when they talked about her childhood years. Tommy was six years younger than Joel, just 16 when Sarah came into the world. So while he adored his niece, he wasn’t exactly mature enough to be a parent-like figure. It sounded like he’d helped his brother out a lot but had been more of a friend to Sarah than anything else. 

You liked watching her and Joel with their friends and family, the easy familiarity of it all, the comfort of having history with people. It was something that was missing from your life. 

Sure, you liked your life. You liked it quite a bit, actually. You had a job you enjoyed that paid you good money, you’d lived in some interesting places - Seattle, three years in New York City, an internship in Chicago, even Washington D.C. for a bit - and you could do just about whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. That was the beauty of not having anything to tie you down. The cost just meant not having roots and, sometimes, that hurt. 

Joel disappeared inside at one point and, after taking quick stock of the backyard to make sure no one else was inside with him, you followed. You slipped into the entry and grabbed your purse, pulling out the bag of Fire Sour Patch Kids you’d seen in the candy aisle on your way to grab beer when you stopped at the store earlier that day. 

Joel was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for burger toppings and you climbed on the counter next to the cutting board. He looked up at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide his smile while he shook his head. 

“Meant what I said about you bein’ a menace,” he said, his eyes on the knife. “You’re torture. Beautiful torture but torture.” 

“We aim to please,” you smiled, holding out the candy. He frowned for a second, drying his hands on his jeans, before he laughed and took the bag. “Warned you it wasn’t exciting…” 

“This is great, Beautiful,” he leaned in and kissed you lightly, like it was an automatic thing, as though you did this in his kitchen all the time. “Been wantin’ to try these and then I never buy the damn things….” 

“I’ll help you eat them if they suck,” you smiled. “And you can help me eat them if they don’t.” 

He smiled again and moved in front of you, nudging your legs apart so he was standing between your thighs  and he leaned in and kissed you - really kissed you. His tongue dipped into your mouth, his hands sliding up your legs to your waist as he tugged you closer. You draped your arms over his shoulders and pressed yourself against him and savored his touch. Fuck, you’d missed this. It had only been a few days but it felt like an eternity of him being out of reach and it was almost reassuring to feel the way his hands fit against your body even after some time apart. 

“Fuck, you’re trouble,” he was breathless when he pulled away from you, his hands still on your body. “Just couldn’t wear the green, could ya?” 

“And miss out on this?” You teased, running your fingers through his hair. “Never.” 

Sarah sat between the two of you at dinner, the best spot for you and Joel to be in when you thought about it. Next to you was too much temptation, you’d end up touching each other and then not be able to help yourselves and that was bad. 

Across wasn’t great, either, as you’d discovered at dinner the other night. If you could just check each other out the whole night, that wasn’t the safe way to go. Not to mention the opportunities for playing footsie under the table. 

No no, you needed a better way to keep your hands to yourselves and Sarah was a great barrier for that - both literally and metaphorically - and you managed to get through the meal without any big slip ups. Something you were pretty damn proud of, if you did say so yourself. 

You excused yourself to the bathroom as things were in that easy after dinner conversation stage of the evening, everyone pleasantly full and a little drunk, Sarah laughing with a neighbor from down the street whose name you’d forgotten. But when you opened the bathroom door to head back outside, Joel was there, pushing you back into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Joel!” You hissed, his hands on your waist. 

“You really can’t expect me to wait when you show up lookin’ this damn good,” he growled, boosting you up so you were perched on the edge of the sink. “Everyone’s too busy to even notice we’re gone…” 

His mouth found your neck and your chest as he untied your top, his tongue and teeth ranging over your skin and you couldn’t help but moan at his attention, your body already feeling warm and wanting. Joel stepped back from you a he fully opened your shirt, revealing your body to him as though it were some wondrous thing, moaning as he did. 

“Fuck Beautiful,” his hands trailed up your exposed skin to cup your breasts through your bra. “Ain’t fair how one person can look this damn good…” 

“Had to pull you away from the grill somehow,” you smiled, tugging him back against you and kissing him. He kissed you back, getting more and more desperate as he did. He pulled your breasts free of their cups so he could suck at them and hold them in his large hands, moaning into you. Your hands ran down his body to find his cock hard in his jeans, feeling him through the fabric, desperately wishing you could just rip all his clothes off and get him inside you. 

“Think you can come from just your clit?” He asked, breathless, as he licked and sucked your neck. 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Think you can come from just my hand?” 

“It’d take less than that,” he panted as he opened your jeans and slid his hand inside as best he could, his finger finding your clit quickly. He ghosted over it with his finger, making you squirm and moan. “Fuck, Beautiful, you close already?” 

“Maybe,” you panted as he pressed a little harder against the sensitive nub. You reached down to pull out his cock to start jerking him off but he caught your hand. You whined a little. 

“Not yet,” he kissed back up to your mouth, holding his lips a fraction of an inch away from yours. “Lemme take care of you…” 

He kissed you then, his tongue slipping into you as his finger pressed into your clit. You groaned and rocked your hips on him and you felt him smile against your lips. He started rubbing you in slow, aching circles, adding a little pressure every time around, matching his kiss to the pace of his fingers. You moaned desperately against him and he picked up his pace, working you over until you were gasping into his mouth while you came from his fingers. 

“Fuck,” you panted as Joel slipped his hand from your pants. “How are you so goddamn good at that?” 

“You’re so pretty when you come it’s easy to remember what does it,” he replied, stepping back from you. You slid off the sink but, instead of fixing your bra and closing your shirt, you dropped to your knees and started unzipping his fly. “Baby…” 

“I can be quick,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you freed his cock. You never really got used to hot big he was - thick, heavy, long. But you’d be fine choking on him if it meant making him come. 

You started by licking his head and he let out a shuddering little moan and you smiled a little, lapping at the dripping pre-come at his slit like he was your favorite flavor of ice cream. Which, he kind of was. Heady and masculine and Joel, knowing that he was dripping because of you made you want him even more. 

Instead of taking the more gradual route, you took him into your mouth and throat all at once, having to swallow around the head of him as he pushed past your gag reflex. His hand flew to your head, fingers twisting in your hair and sinking into the thin layer of flesh over your skull. 

“Oh fuck,” he panted. “Oh my fucking god…..” 

You sucked him and moaned, the vibration of your vocal chords working the tip of him as it was lodged in your throat. You pressed your tongue against the thick vein that ran along the underside of him before you started pulling back, his grip on your head relaxing just enough to let you do it. You worked is cock up and down, sucking and licking and taking him into your mouth until you started to cough. He panted and moaned as you worked him until, eventually, he was clinging to the sink to stay upright. 

“Fuck, please Baby, I need to come,” he groaned. You smiled as much as you could when your mouth was full of his thick cock. “Lemme… can I…” 

You looked up at him, eyes wide, as you slid down him so he was buried in your mouth to the root and you hummed your approval. His hands immediately flew to your head and he started fucking into your mouth. You took it, swallowing past your gag reflex with each deep stroke. He didn’t last long, just a few pumps, before he was spilling into you, moaning quietly as he did. You swallowed it all, his cock so deep in your throat you could barely even taste him as he pumped his come into you. 

“Fuck,” he all but collapsed against the sink and you carefully slid his cock from your mouth and got up, wiping your mouth on the back of your wrist. You adjusted your bra and tied your shirt again. 

“Worth it?” You teased. 

“Jesus Christ woman,” he groaned. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

You smiled and kissed his cheek before you went to leave the bathroom but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back against him to kiss you deep and long. You tried to hide your surprise. Other guys you’d been with weren’t huge on kissing you after you went down on them. Joel didn’t seem to mind. But then, Joel just wasn’t like other men. You smiled as you pulled back from him and he laughed a little. 

“What?” You frowned. 

“We made a mess of your makeup,” he jerked his head toward the mirror, tucking his cock back in his pants as you checked your reflection. Your lipstick had smeared and you laughed a little, too. 

“Good thing I have more in my bag,” you said, grabbing a sheet of toilet paper and cleaning up what you could. “See you back out there?” 

“Once I remember how to walk again,” he teased. 

It was sheer luck that Maria came in to use the bathroom as you adjusted your lipstick in the entryway mirror and not a few minutes earlier and you popped a breath mint so you could think about something besides the fact that the last thing in your mouth had been Joel’s cock when you talked with Sarah. 

You left only about an hour later, giving Sarah a long hug as she walked you to your car. 

“I’ll be back again soon for Thanksgiving,” she smiled, squeezing you tight. “Just manifest with me!” 

“I’m manifesting so hard I might break something,” you smiled back, trying to ignore the knot of guilt in your stomach about hiding something so big from her. 

“And seriously,” she said, stepping back from you. “If you need a friend before I get down here…” 

“Call the whole Miller clan,” you smiled. “I got it.” 

“Good,” she said. “We’ll just make a Miller out of you yet.” 

You tried to ignore how your heart skipped a beat at the thought of that. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Joel came straight to your place after dropping Sarah off at the airport the next night. You answered the door in a sundress - as promised - expecting to go to dinner. 

Which, in hindsight, was foolish. 

“Fuck,” you said, looking Joel up and down. He had flowers. He was in a plain, dark t-shirt that was tight around his biceps, his jeans hanging just right on his hips. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Just get in here and let me fuck you,” you said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into your apartment. 

The flowers were quickly abandoned on the breakfast bar in your kitchen as you kissed him, tugging his shirt off and casting it aside before you dragged him to the bedroom. 

“We gotta eat at some point tonight, Baby,” he said between kisses as you shoved him down on the bed. 

“That’s fine,” you panted, stepping out of your panties and casting them aside. “We can do this twice.” 

“Fuck, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, lifting his hips so he could slide his pants down a little and sitting so his back was against your headboard. He started working his cock, already hard in the palm of his hand. You straddled him, the skirt of your dress hiding your dripping pussy and his leaking cock from view. He kept one hand on his cock but the other went to your hips as you lowered yourself toward him until your pussy brushed his thick head. “Oh shit, fuck Beautiful, I need… Fuck, need inside you, I need to be inside you…” 

“I know,” you breathed before sinking onto his cock with a shaking moan. His other hand flew to your waist, too, pulling you down on him so his whole length was sheathed within you. You panted for breath as your body adjusted to the intrusion. “I need you, too.” 

“Fuck,” his head fell back against the headboard. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good every time, s’like I belong in this pussy, like your pussy was made to take this cock.” 

“Made to ride this cock,” you moaned, starting to rise and fall over him with a satisfied groan. Joel somehow hit all the right angles inside you, the thickness of his shaft stretching you deliciously, his head finding the sensitive place deep inside you and pressing against it, making your pussy start to tighten around him. 

“Oh shit,” his grip on you got firmer, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of you. “Want you to come on this cock, Beautiful. Want you to use me to get yourself off, fuck, Baby, make yourself come on my cock…” 

You buried your face in his neck and breathed in his deep, clean, masculine scent and started riding him harder, adjusting your hips so your clit was leaving an obscene, messy streak of your slick up and down his bare stomach. You licked and sucked at his neck as you rode him, fucking down on him hard and fast and grinding your clit against him. As your body tightened, you sat up straighter, pressing your forehead to his own so you could see his face, the liquid heat in you centering around where he was inside you until you came with a desperate moan around him. 

“There we go,” he almost sounded like he was in pain he was so desperate. “Fuck, you come so fuckin’ pretty Baby, so goddamn pretty. Feel so good, coming on my cock, better than anything else, fuck Beautiful, I can’t…” 

Joel took control of your hips then, pumping you up and down his shaft and you tried to help as best you could as you rode out your orgasm. His hips fucked up into you hard and fast until he was emptying himself into you, moaning as he did. 

You collapsed on top of him, panting for breath and he went from holding your hips to wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to him. You stayed like that for a few minutes, your breaths synchronizing as you both came back down from our highs. 

“So,” you said, breathing not quite back to normal yet. “Dinner?” 

He laughed. 

“Dinner.” 

When you fell asleep in Joel’s arms that night, all naked and entwined with him, you were starting to think that you could get used to this. That you wanted to do this all the time, every day. Do all of life’s stupid little things with him, go grocery shopping with him and pay the water bill with him and deal with traffic jams with him. 

You just weren’t sure how to talk about that yet. 

But that was OK. You were getting there, you could tell. 

When Joel kissed you goodbye in the morning, he brushed your hair back from your forehead so he could kiss you there too. 

“Leaving already?” You mumbled. 

“‘Fraid so,” he said softly. “Need to get an early start at the job site. Can I see you tonight?” 

You just hummed in response. He frowned. 

“That’s a yes, I hope,” he said. You nodded and you opened your eyes just enough to see him smile broadly. “I’ll text you. Have a good day, Baby.” 

“You too,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

When you got up an hour later, there was a sticky note on your coffee maker, telling you to check your fridge. Inside was an iced latte from the coffee shop down the street and you smiled so big it was hard to do your makeup as you got ready to go. 

You were still on cloud nine when you were getting ready to take a client to lunch that afternoon, doing a last check of your makeup when you got a call from the reception desk downstairs. 

“Someone’s here for you,” the receptionist sounded skeptical. “I’m not letting him back without you.” 

“No problem,” you laughed. “We’re going off site for lunch, tell him I’ll be down in a minute.” 

You went to the lobby, looking for someone who at least vaguely resembled the headshot from your client’s website when you did a double take. 

The man sitting on the couch in reception smiled when he saw you and your heart sank into your stomach as he headed for you. 

“Hey Angel,” he smiled. 

You couldn’t smile back. 

“Shit.”  

Next Chapter

[uncaaj]

Fanfic - Old Dog, New Trick BONUS: The Confession (Bluey)

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This Bandit Bonus short is called "The Confession."

+++

Mort knocked three times on his best friend Maynard’s cabin door. It was a short walk from his house to here and for the first time in years of making the journey, he felt out of place. His stomach churned as he waited for the answer. He tried to grasp what confidence Bandit and Chilli gave to him earlier in the evening, but it had floated away like a piece of driftwood in the nearby lake.

Maynard opened the door, no emotion visible on his face. He was probably thinking how odd it was that a dog who could barge in any old time he wanted was taking the time to knock and wait to be invited in. “Well, well,” said Maynard, hand sliding down to his hip, “I was startin’ to wonder whether you’d gone missing.”

Mort felt like he was a teen coming home after curfew to face the music. “Look, mate…it’s late and all, but…I just gotta say this. I’ve been a dunderhead, and I can understand if you're miffed at me. But…I just wanna come in and explain some things if you’ll allow me to.”

There, he said it. Well, not it, but he still tensed his shoulders and braced for whatever would come.

Maynard smiled and placed a hand on Mort’s shoulder. “Like I’d deny you anything, you old fool. Come on, I’ll put the kettle on.”

A few minutes later, they were seated on the couch in Maynard’s slightly too cluttered living room, tea in hand and a late football match low on the TV. It all seemed like any other time between them, but it felt all too foreign to Mort due to his new revelation. Maynard meanwhile took a sip casually and turned to Mort without a thought as to what he was about to reveal.

“So what’s goin’ on, mate?” the wolfhound said, “you berate me, kiss me, then leave me high and dry all week. I mean, I’m sorry I was careless on the boat but it didn’t seem like a big deal to me.”

“Yeah, I get it,” said Mort, trying to ease himself with small talk. “First freshie I’ve ever seen on that lake. Who knows when they moved in?”

“Won’t do no good to my fishin’, I’ll tell ya that for free.”

Mort let out a chuckle. The levity and nonchalance Maynard treated the whole event would’ve got on his nerves that day, but now it was taking the weight off his shoulders. This old airhead was really something else. All the more reason he had to do this now.

Mort set his mug down on the coffee table and took a deep breath in. “So look,” he began, “I had to…think about some things after that. That croc was all sticks and scales but I…I dunno. I really thought it was gonna hurt ya.” Mort swallowed. “And I couldn’t bear that happenin’ to me best mate.”

Maynard set his own mug down and opened his mouth but Mort held a paw up. “Please,” he said, “I just gotta keep goin’ so I can get this straight.” He blinked at that last word and then cleared his throat, looking away and wringing his paws in his lap. “I suppose I’ve come to realize ‘cause of what happened that…you hold a really special place with me. I’ve called you my best mate all these years but even that wasn’t enough. You saved my life in the jungle. You helped me meet my wife and were there when me kids were born. I’d trust you with anything. You mean as much to me as…well, as she did.”

It was Maynard’s turn to blink. An old dog like him as special to his best mate as Mort’s wife. Was he?

Nah. He’d always dreamed of this day but had long since put it out of his mind as an impossibility. But somehow life always found a way to surprise him.

Mort looked Maynard in the eyes as what weighed him down since the lake was lifted from him, instilling a new confidence with what he was about to say next. “That’s why I acted like a drongo. I was scared, of what might happen to you and what I was about to learn about myself so late in me life.” Despite his unwavering voice, he felt himself glow red as all get out as he finally stood at the edge of confessing what had laid dormant in him for so long and had erupted so suddenly after a simple kiss. And what scared him now wasn’t if Maynard would be accepting, goodness knew he would, but that if he would reciprocate. It brought him back to the butterflies he felt when he confessed his feelings to his late wife, rose petals coming free due to his shaking hands around the bouquet.

“It don’t make it right and I’m sorry but…I love you, mate. I really, really do. And…if you’d do me the kindness of going steady with me, I’d be the happiest dog in the bloomin’ world.”

There. He did it. If nothing else, he could say that much. Now he just had to wait for Maynard’s reaction.

A swirl of emotions rattled the old wolfhound’s noggin, but he chose not to display them. For such an honorable declaration, one that would make him as well the happiest dog in the world, Maynard thought it was Mort’s turn to be wound up a bit for their little tiff. Perhaps it might help his friend, no, boyfriend now, relax even. Of course it might not.

Maynard shut his eyes, took a deep breath in, and stood up. “Well, I suppose I’ve got one thing to say to that.”

The pedestal Mort built for himself to do this came crumbling in an instant. “Y-yeah, mate?” Here we go.

“It’s about time.”

Mort opened his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he was squeezing them shut. “C-come again?”

Suddenly he was pounced on and both dogs fell onto the couch, laughing while wrapped up in each other’s arms. “I can’t believe it!” said Maynard, “me best mate in the whole world fancies blokes, and not just that, he fancies me! Yes, you old fogey, I wouldn’t wanna go steady with no one else but you!”

“Ya mean it?” Mort asked.

Maynard nodded. “Too right, you beauty!”

As they helped each other upright, their muzzles found their way to each other and Mort felt those butterflies in his stomach again. It had gone just like he hoped it would and better. He had taken to this newfound discovery like a freshie to water, and wouldn’t you know it, it was a piece of cake.

The logistics of who would live where and what sorts of things they would try with each other could be dealt with later. Mort would take this new relationship one step at a time and right now, surrounded by Maynard’s coat, felt pretty darn good in his book.

[angryschnauzer]

Pitching Tents

Summary: Ooof... *insert breathless spongebob meme here* Okay, so your co-stars Chris and Henry invite you along for a long weekend camping trip, and in the wilds of nature they let their inhibitions be set free.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader x Henry Cavill (MFM)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral Sex (female receiving), Oral Sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, threesome, spit roasts, fingering, grinding, handjobs, vaginal creampie, sloppy seconds, cockwarming, sex outdoors, anal sex, unprotected anal sex, anal creampie, anal sloppy seconds, degrading talk, zero inhibitions, no refractory period, aftercare, crack fic, utter filth, you. have. been. warned., and the worlds best camping table.

Only the finest free range, organic typos, allowed to run wild and free.

I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you will get an alert every time i post something new. Masterlist got too big for tumblr, so past works can also be found at angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3.

A/N: Don’t @ me yelling about RPF. This is utter fantasy. You know that, i know that. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. However i do feel i have included enough of each actor to satisfy both sets of fans. Enjoy the filth you dirty sluts.

Pitching Tents

Sitting in the dressing room having your makeup removed you laughed and joked with Chris and Henry, your co-stars. Finally you were prosthetic free and your FX makeup artist left, leaving you to listen as the two men chatted away;

“So all set for our camping trip this weekend Chris?” Henry asked as he wiped off fake blood from his cheek

“Can’t fucking wait Henry, three whole days of beers, fishing, and doing fuck all” Chris turned to you and smiled; “So, whata’ you doin this weekend?”

Sighing you took a sip of water;

“Probably just bingeing Netflix with a family sized bag of chocolate”

“Why don’t you come camping with us?” 

Henry suggested lightly, and at his suggestion your head snapped up;

“Really? I’ve never camped in my life! I’ll just cramp your style for your boys weekend. I’ve never even pitched a tent”

“Oh don’t worry, me and Hen have got all the equipment you could need for that” Chris assured you, but you missed the sly wink he shot to Henry.

-

The campsite was beautiful. On private land it was amazing what being one of Hollywoods biggest stars could get you into, and as Chris had pulled his truck over the gravel both you and Henry were impressed with the stunning location. You’d had little to do as they put the tent up, and as the sun had started to set the beers had been cracked open and the campfire glowed. Whether it was the fresh air, the beer, or the busy work schedule you all had, you were turning in just as the sun had fully set. Curling up underneath the pile of blankets and quilts that’d been thrown on the air mattress, you were quickly fast asleep before either of the men had climbed in beside you.

-

The bright morning sunlight shone in through the thin fabric of the tent waking you, and as you pulled yourself from sleep you smiled at the two men seemingly still fast asleep either side of you. As much as you wanted to stay in the warmth of the blankets you needed to pee, so carefully and silently you pulled yourself out of the cocoon and slipped a discarded flannel shirt on, unsure if it was Henry’s or Chris’s, either way it swamped you and covered your panties and cami you’d worn to sleep in.

As soon as they’d heard the zipper of the tent close Chris had cracked an eye open to glance at Henry, a smirk on his face as he was greeted with an identical grin.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Chris whispered

“Yeah, you’ve seen her eyeing each of us, i think she’ll be up for some fun”

“You ready?”

“Dude, i have woken up with the biggest morning wood” Henry grinned

“Me too… so how’re we gonna do this?”

“I’m thinking the sleepy roll and cuddlespoon method ”

“Yeah that’ll work” Chris paused as he heard your heavy footfalls approaching the tent, winking at Henry before the two of them feigned sleep.

With your teeth chattering from the chilly morning air you reluctantly pulled the flannel shirt off before silently sliding back under the blankets, shivering as your body attempted to warm up until suddenly a warm chest pressed to your back and a heavy arm was draped over your waist. Your eyes sprang open and breath caught in your throat as you processed Henry spooning behind you, quiet snores coming from his lips. Before you could think any more on what the man behind you was doing, Chris let out a sleepy sigh and rolled towards you, his face resting on your chest as his legs pressed against your own. With your lower limbs crushed between both mens you shifted a little, lifting one leg slightly only for Chris to hum in appreciation as his hand rested on your thigh and lifted your knee over his hip.

For just a few minutes as the shock and tension had subsided you relaxed into the warmth of being sandwiched between them, but as the temperature started to rise under the blankets you shifted and started to wriggle, and that’s when you felt the first one. The first nudge as Chris pressed himself to your core and you could feel what the internet had lost their collective minds for. A rush of breath left your body as you fought the dilemma between a friend unknowingly grinding against you with the feeling of just how good it felt. With just the thin cotton of your panties and his boxers separating your bodies, you screwed your eyes shut and ignored the guilty feelings for just a moment as Chris rubbed his impressive hard on the length of your slit. When one particular rub grazed against your clit you let out a gasp and without realising arched your back, pushing your ass into Henry and discovering he was having the same bodily issue Chris was. A sleepy murmur greeted you as Henry’s hot breath danced on your ear, before he pressed closer and you felt his fat dick rut into the crease of your ass.

Was either man aware of what the other was doing? Should you say something? As these thoughts plagued your mind they were interrupted as two pairs of lips started to find their way around your body, Henry softly kissing your neck as Chris hooked one finger into the neckline of your cami to allow him to gently suck a hardened nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck…”

Two sleepy ‘hmm’s replied, bodies starting to move in unison as they all sought friction, and when you felt Henry’s warm palm smooth over your thigh and ass you let out a groan as he dipped his hand between your legs from behind and his fingers found their way beneath the elastic of your underwear;

“Chris, she’s fucking soaked”

“Lemme feel…”

Suddenly another hand slid down your stomach and the front of your panties, an appreciative moan rumbling from the Bostonian’s chest as he used your slick juices to coat his finger before rubbing circles again your clit;

“So she is… that’s good, gonna need to be real wet for us Babe… Hen, how many fingers you got in her?”

“Two at the moment” the Brit said as he pumped those two thick digits into your velvet cavern; “She’s so fucking tight…”

“Give her another one, need to get her ready”

You felt Henry pull his hand out before adjusting his fingers, only to feel the delicious stretch and burn as he carefully inserted three of his thick digits into your tight entrance;

“You ready?” he asked Chris as he worked his fingers in and out of you, and with a fluid movement Henry had pulled his fingers from you and your panties down your thighs. Chris’s hands were on your hips, lifting you to straddle his waist before he pulled his boxers down and positioned his dripping cock at your entrance, waiting for you to take the final step.

With your fingers splayed against the hard plains of his chest you sank down on him, feeling the wide head of his cock split your walls apart, the stretch almost too much despite Henry’s fingers working you open just seconds before;

“Oh fuck… Chris…”

“That’s it Babe, ride me, let me feel you fuck yourself on my cock”

Letting your head fall back you closed your eyes as you started to ride Chris, lost in the moment until you heard the sound of Henry spitting on his hand. Looking over you saw how he had pushed the blankets back and was now fisting his angry red dick, watching you ride his friend. Whilst continuing to ride Chris you reached for Henry who wriggled close enough that you could wrap your hand around his hot shaft. He sat up and kissed you, his tongue pushing into your mouth and dancing against your own before he sat back with a contented sigh just as Chris started to fuck up into you;

“Feel so fucking good Babe”

“Chris… oh my god…”

“Gonna fill you up with my cum, wanna see it dripping out of you before it’s Henry’s turn”

At the mention of his name Henry grunted, licking his lips;

“Mmm sloppy seconds… gonna need it to fit me in that tight pussy”

As Chris’s thrusts started to get sloppy you rubbed at your clit, your orgasm washing over you before you felt Chris push his hips up and stutter, the twitching of his dick deep inside you prolonging your orgasm.

Only vaguely aware of Henry moving behind you, it was when his strong hands grasped your hips and lifted you off of Chris did you let out a squeal of surprise, before he set you down on your hands and knees and ran a thumb through your folds;

“Chris, you gotta see this”

With a groan Chris moved, looking at his thick white seed dripping from you before he settled back down beside you, arms behind his head. 

Henry pressed his hand to your shoulders, pushing you down as he settled behind you, swiping the bulbous crown of his fat dick through your come soaked lips. You felt that notch as he lined himself up, and with a grunt he slowly pushed into you. 

“Oh fuck…” Henry cursed; “From the way Chris fucked you i thought you’d be loose, but fucking hell you’re tight…”

You were panting with the overwhelming feeling of being stuffed full by Henry, your words punctuated by breaths;

“You’re… the… one… hung… like… a… fucking… horse… OH FUCKING HELL… SO GOOD”

Where Chris had length and an impressive curve, Henry had girth and a lot of it, the sucking sound of him plugging your pussy from behind filling the tent and audible over your yelps and moans. 

“Love it when a girl is loud” Henry grunted from behind you, his hips digging roughly into your his as he punctuated each smooth thrust with a hard and deep halt, before doing it again. In front of you Chris moved, swinging one leg over your shoulders until your face was inches from his crotch and you felt his knuckle underneath your chin;

“Open up Babe”

Looking up you took in the sight of Chris sitting in front of you, his chest patterned with tattoos and coarse hair, his stomach firm yet soft now he no longer had to push his body to the limits of dehydration for Marvel. His dick was hardening as he watched Henry defile your body, and as he cupped your chin he guided your mouth open, gasping as your tongue and lips sucked on the mushroom head. 

Just then Henry started to thrust in harder, his hips harsh as they snapped back and forth and you were reminded that even though he was 250lbs of solid muscle he had the grace of a ballet dancer with his agility. With each push it sent you forwards to take just a little more of Chris into your mouth, before both men were grunting as they spit roasted you like a spit roasted pig at a county fair.

Your senses were overwhelmed, from touch to taste to smell to sound, the atmosphere in the tent was overwhelming and your mind could barely process it through the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. Henry was pulling a fierce orgasm from you and fucking you straight through it, Chris getting close as he cupped his balls and with a groan unloaded thick streams of cum into your mouth. You swallowed what you could but there was so much some dripping down your chin with a steady trail of spit. 

As Chris slipped out of your mouth Henry also pulled out, his strong arms flipping you over until he was on top of you, his mouth catching your own for a fierce kiss, no doubt able to taste Chris on your tongue but he was unbothered by that as he speared your body again. He widened his stance, his legs wide on the mattress as he ground his length into you, and you were completely surrounded by him as his teeth found your neck and he found your pressure points;

“That’s is Darling, let me feel you fall apart for me… felt so good squeezing my cock just a few moments ago, you can do it again, you feel so good…” he praised you as his hips worked serpent like magic between your thighs, the slow grind and push of his pelvic bone against your clit making you roar as your orgasm coursed through your body. You were thankful that the peak of your orgasm had passed when Henry finally reached his peak as to watch the man come undone was a sight of beauty; head thrown back, his mouth open as he let out a groan-come-howl, and you felt the violent spurts of him filling your womb with his cum.

When he was finally spent he bent down and kissed you, tongues and teeth before with a groan he pulled out and rolled to your side;

“You were amazing Darling”

“She was… and is” Chris added as he rolled towards you a kissed you softly, his beard tickling your face and making you smile; “I don’t know about you guys but i’m fucking starving now”

-

Having claimed the flannel shirt you’d worn earlier, that was all you wore as you curled up in a camping chair as Chris lit a campfire and started to make breakfast. Henry approached holding a steaming mug of coffee for you which you eagerly took, your teeth chattering as you started to regret not putting more clothing on;

“Cold? Scoot up and sit on my lap, i’ll keep you warm”

Quickly standing you let Henry take a seat in the camping chair before you sat on his lap, his body like a furnace even though he was just in sweats and a t-shirt. Sitting sideways on him he had one strong arm around your back, the other casually resting on your bare thigh as your legs were swung over the other side of the chair. 

You sat and relished the warmth from his body, the three of you chatting about work when you felt Henry’s hand slide between your thighs. Glancing at his face his attention was trained on Chris, his poker face only cracking when you saw the corner of his mouth tug up in a tiny smirk, glancing at you as Chris turned away and cocking an eyebrow as his fingers found your slit. 

“Shh” he quietly whispered as he slid two fingers into your soaked channel as his thumb found your clit, before he nonchalantly returned to the conversation with Chris. Soon you were writhing on his lap and you could feel the insistent nudge of his cock hard against your ass, so when Chris disappeared to the truck to grab stuff from the chiller Henry grinned at you;

“I need to be inside you… quickly…”

You stood and he pulled his sweats down just enough so his angry red cock sprang free, pulling you to sit on his lap, your legs closed as you stood between his outstretched thighs, and you slid down onto him, spearing your narrow channel with his girth. Chris wandered back holding the supplies;

“Eggs? Breakfast sausage?”

You heard Henry snort back a peel of laughter, and Chris paused, frowning;

“What are you two up to?”

“Chris, she’s already getting her breakfast sausage…” Henry lifted the shirt you wore and you parted your thighs, showing Chris what he was missing. The unmistakable twitch inside Chris’s sweats told you he was growing hard, and as you started to bound on Henry’s lap Chris simply leant and sat on the edge of the small camping table, squeezing himself through the fabric as Henry thrust up into you.

You let your cries and gasps drift on the wind as Henry slid one hand down your front and rubbed firm circles on your clit, his other hand cupping your chin and turning your head so he could kiss you, his stubble brushing against your cheek. He started to grunt and you could feel your orgasm sparking like electricity coursing through your veins, you were now so cock hungry you were begging for him to fill you up with another load of his cum as your body milked him. 

With weary limbs you lay prone across Henry’s lap, a smile on your face as you glanced at Chris who’s eyes were dark with lust as his sweatpants were obscenely tented. Groaning as you pulled off of Henry, your legs wobbled as you closed the distance between you and Chris, kissing him fiercely as he held your body to his so you could feel his hardness pressing against your stomach;

“Betcha getting sore now…” he mused

“Kinda”

“Bend over the table, let me make you feel better…”

Stepping around the table you bent over it, pressing your chest to the smooth surface, grinning at Henry who was now sipping his coffee as he watched you and Chris with interest. 

You heard the click of a bottle lid just as Chris flipped the shirt you still wore up so your naked ass was exposed completely, the cool trickle of oil over your buttocks followed by his warm palms smoothing the cooking condiment into your skin like a goddess at a Greek temple. His thumbs ran over the swollen lips between your thighs and the deep timbre of his voice resonated through you;

“Look at that, so much cum dripping out of you, our little fuck slut”

He slid two fingers into your pussy, before pulling them out and tracing them over your asshole, the oil helping the way as he breached your body and you let out a groan as he slid in easily. Moving his hand he managed to get his other two fingers into your pussy, stuffing both your holes before he grabbed the oil with his other hand and poured more onto your asshole, lubricating you for the inevitable. 

You felt him pull his hand free and he quickly yanked his sweatpants down, the wide bulbous crown pressing against your oiled rose before with a grunt he pushed in and breached your body;

“So fucking good, gonna pump your ass full of cum then Henry can do the same… if he’s got another round in him” he shot a glance to Henry as did you, the Brit raising his coffee mug as he watched his friend plunder your asshole.

“Gonna finish my coffee, and if you’re not done by then Evans you’ll have missed your shot”

With the challenge set by Henry, Chris started to rail you hard, balls deep in your ass as the quiet sounds of nature seemed to come alive as it fed off the carnal energy in its presence, until finally with a scream you came, an intense anal orgasm making you squirt and cover Chris’s thighs, before with a guttural cry he pushed in balls deep and unloaded a thick stream of cum in your bowels. 

You lay prone on the table, your body seemingly on fire as your mind was high on serotonin, watching through heavy lidded eyes as Henry stood and came round to stand behind you beside Chris.

Sucking in a breath Chris carefully pulled out, and the two men watched as a thigh glob of cum slowly slid from your gaping hole. Henry rubbed his thumb over your stretched ring as he pulled his sweats down;

“Gonna enjoy this… don’t normally get to fuck a girls ass, but if she’s already lubed and cum soaked i can just about squeeze in”

The blunt tip of his dick breached your body, and even though Chris wasn’t small, your body had to stretch even more to allow Henry’s girth into your dark passageway;

“So good… doing so well Darling…” Henry muttered as he smoothed his hands over your cheeks; “Fuck this is tight… not gonna last long…”

His powerful hips started to thrust into you, the suction of your body pulling him back in as he railed your asshole with you bent over the small table. 

“C’mon Henry, fill that little slut up”

“Almost… fucking… there…” he replied through gritted teeth, before pushing forwards one last time, filling you with another load.

“Did you…”

“Nah, just getting to that…”

You were hanging on the precipice, your orgasm so close as Henry pulled out and flipped you over, getting to his knees as he buried his face in your pussy, sliding two fingers into each of your cum soaked holes as his wide tongue lapped at your clit and be brought you to one final mind blowing orgasm. 

With everyone completely fucked out and sated, Henry wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you off the table and settled you on his lap, your body and mind overloaded from being fucked so well for so long. You quietly snoozed on his chest as Chris served breakfast, both men eating quietly as you slumbered, before an hour later you finally roused enough with your rumbling stomach to eat some toast.

Finally as they were clearing up you stood and stretched your limbs, before you quietly shed the now rather soiled borrowed shirt, and as naked as the day you were born you slowly walked into the lake, the cool waters lapping at your skin, soothing your muscles and washing away the evidence of your sin filled morning. 

Floating and looking back at the two men as the finished up and started to undress, you smiled to yourself; for your first time camping it was certainly a trip to remember.

[tootiredmotel]

For @one-more-offbeat-anthem 's 1k follower celebration. The prompt was "sickfics" and I've never written a sickfic in my life so, naturally, I adapted a scene from one of my comfort movies (Fever Pitch, 2005). HUGE congrats on your milestone love!!!

read on ao3 or below (1.5k words)

Castiel should've known better than to listen to his brother regarding food. They have wildly different palates, and why he agreed to accompany Gabriel to lunch at some newly-opened new-age restaurant with barely any reviews, he'll never know. He wasn't thinking.

He could think even less that night, hunched over the toilet with food poisoning while his date knocked on his apartment door.

As soon as he could, Castiel scrambled to his feet and wobbled over to open it, his over-excitable golden retriever on his heels. Dean stood there in a nice leather jacket, all dapper and first-date-ready with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and it broke Castiel's heart to have to tell him:

"I'm sick."

He was sure it was evident in his eyes, death breath, hair sticking out in all directions from holding his head above the toilet, but he said it anyway.

"I'm really sick, I'm sorry. Come back tomorrow."

Castiel went to close the door, but Dean took a cautious step, bouquet forgotten at his side. "Sick how? You in pain? Do you need anything?"

"I just-" Castiel swallowed forcefully. "I ate at this new restaurant and-"

Just thinking about it made him run to the bathroom again, and he almost didn't make it on time. He barely registered Dean, still at the doorway, say something about Castiel (Cas, he called him) not needing to fake it if he didn't want to go out with him. A few seconds later, the door closed, and Castiel (still puking) thought that was that. He blew it with the handsome schoolteacher, all thanks to his brother's awful culinary taste.

His dog's wasn't so far behind. "Honey, please don't eat that," he reprimanded her, failing to shoo her out of the bathroom.

When he felt he was done, for the time being at least, he tried to stand. He was weak, and for a second he thought he might split his head open on the toilet seat, but then Dean was there, hands on his waist, helping him up. "I got you," said Dean, over and over again, and Castiel believed him.

Dean helped him to his bed where he tried to sit him down, but Castiel must've been weaker than he thought. He flopped backward, and then Dean cautiously lifted his head and placed a pillow underneath.

"Thank you."

"Got some more comfortable clothes? Something to sleep in?"

It's then Cas remembered he was already dressed for the date, slacks and a white button-up (probably grossly stained, he hated to think), and pointed Dean to a drawer.

A second later Dean was gently hoisting him back to his feet, strong hands at his sides, saying "Here, I'll help you change. Promise I won't look. Too much, I won't look too much."

And that actually made Castiel chuckle.

Dean unbuckled and took off his slacks first, replacing them with sweatpants. It was a slow, quiet process, and Dean only spoke up after he'd taken off Castiel's tie and shirt. "Alright, I gotta be honest, I'm looking. Sorry, Cas."

Cas couldn't help another chuckle. Dean was incredibly respectful through it all, careful not to touch any skin unless he had to, which was mostly to keep Cas from falling over. He slipped a t-shirt onto him and laid Cas back down on the bed, this time with his head where it was supposed to be. That's when things started to blur, when his head hit the pillow.

"I don't think there's anything left in there, but just in case..."

Cas, through hazy vision, noticed Dean putting his empty hamper next to the bed. He thanked him, repeatedly. Cas isn't sure how many times he said it, over and over again, thank you.

"Hey, no, you just get some rest," was the last thing Cas heard Dean say before he was out like a light.

Cas suspects he briefly regained consciousness three times during that night.

The first time, he's sure of. He felt a hand on his shoulder, slowly coaxing him awake. "Here," Dean said softly, placing a bottle of Gatorade with a straw in it on the nightstand. "Drink this if you can, alright? Get your strength back." Cas nodded and fell back asleep.

The second time was more questionable, and he only knows it was real because he saw the results of it in the morning. He slowly awoke on his own and saw Dean in his bathroom across from his bedroom door, wearing rubber gloves and scrubbing away at the toilet with a sponge. Cas tried to stop him, tell him no, please, you don't have to do that, really, but couldn't help sleep drag him back down before he could get the words out.

The third time is the most unbelievable. Borderline fantastical. If it was real, he might just have to marry this guy.

Cas thinks he saw Dean brushing Honey's teeth.

Out of everything that happened the night before, that is all he can think about as he steps out of the shower in the morning. He plans to call Dean, send a fruit basket to his school, invite him on the best date of his life to repay him for all he did, and ask him. It's going to sound ridiculous, did you brush my dog's teeth or did I hallucinate that, and Dean will probably turn down his invite. If not for the hell he went through that night, then for Cas being insane.

And then Cas finds Dean asleep on his couch, Honey snuggled into his side. And yeah, he's probably going to marry this guy. This schoolteacher who happened to pick him and his office as a field trip destination for his math kids. This adorable guy that came back later that same day, thanked him for getting through to the kids (which Cas didn't think he had, but he digresses), and then asked him out. This unbelievably sweet guy that Cas initially rejected, god knows why, but then called at his school and left a message for, Saturday at seven, here's my address, because he couldn't get him off his mind. This caring, thoughtful, heaven-sent guy who showed up with flowers, now in a vase on his dining table, found Cas with food poisoning and proceeded to take care of him, his dog, and his apartment the rest of the night.

Before Cas can think about marrying him again (which he was going to, the hopeless romantic), Honey startles and jumps off the couch, waking Dean. Cas doesn't move, just watches as Dean sits up, notices him, then sits up straighter.

"Hey! Hey, how you feeling?" Dean asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He put products in his hair for the date, Cas notices, because it's now stiffly and adorably messed up.

"Much better. I won't be entering any pie-eating contests any time soon, though."

"Too bad. That was my next date idea."

Cas smiles, the words next date making his heart flutter in his ribcage. His question pops back into his mind.

"Did you, um..." Don't ask about the dog, he'll think you're crazy. He decides to go with "Did you clean my bathroom last night?" even though he knows the answer.

"Me? No."

Well. Cas thought he knew the answer. Probably dreamed it too. But then who-

"The vomit elves came in," Dean continues. "Real cute. Little hats, miniature vomit bags, adorable. Efficient too."

Cas is stuck somewhere between smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and shaking his head while rolling his eyes. "Did the elves brush Honey's teeth too?"

"Oh no, that one was me."

And that has Cas laughing in earnest. At the sound of her name, Honey came bouncing back, settling next to Dean on the couch.

"Not letting the little bastards take credit for that one. This sweetheart loves me, and I earned that myself," Dean says, scratching Honey between her ears, enraptured.

"Dean, thank you." At that, Dean looks up. "Thank you. You could've just left, but you chose to stay. And you went above and beyond. Thank you."

Dean looks away and stands, trying to play it off with a wave of his hand. "Nah, it was nothing."

"It was everything," Cas says stepping forward, placing a beckoning hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean finally looks at him with a barely-there smile and a gaze that wants to escape, but he fights for it to stay on Castiel's face. Cas is glad he does, because he needs Dean to see, understand, how grateful he is.

"I uh... I got you these." Dean reaches for a paper bag on the coffee table, and that's when Cas takes his hand off his shoulder. "Some movies."

"Such as?"

"Mostly anime porn," Dean says, and Cas is doing it again, the chuckling/eye roll/head shake combo. "And some stuff I like to watch when I'm not doing great."

"Well, for me that would be documentaries."

"Wait." Dean blinks. "What? What did you say?"

"Documentaries. Preferably environmental, or perhaps historical in nature."

"No way, you're not gonna believe this," Dean says, a bit too much surprise on his face. "This is insane dude, check this out..."

He reaches into the bag, and Cas half believes he's about to pull out a copy of Disney's Earth. He's delighted to be wrong.

"Roadhouse."

Cas laughs again, and the beaming smile on Dean's face is what convinces him. He is definitely going to marry this guy.

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Bo Sinclair x Female Reader

THIS is a NONCON fic. Please don't read and then get shocked at what you read. You are reading this at your own risk! You cannot get shocked at the content here if you are sensitive to NONCON and read anyways. I am not responsible if you choose to still read this and it's upsetting. Also, there is Forced Breeding included! Read at your own risk.

When I get an AO3, I will be posting this there.

Underthecut - NSFW, NON-CON, Cheating -forced- Oral -Female receiving- Forced Breeding/Forced pregnancy, Degradation. Tagged as Dark Fic

Sinclair Brothers College AU Part 2 Part 1 is here!

Bo will never forget that morning. Never forgot your angelic face buried into his brother's chest, Vincent's face buried into the top of your head, nose nuzzled into your hair.

His voice had hurt for the three days after all the screaming he had done, his knuckles bruised for weeks after he and Vincent drew blows.

He could still hear your screaming, this shrill piercing scream for him to stop. To stop hurting him, to stop hurting Vincent.

Not one scream for him, his well-being.

Bo left the room with a bruised lip and ego.

The image of you comforting Vincent, rubbing his knuckles, kissing his cheek burned in his head. He replayed it over and over.

Bo couldn't get over how everyone seemed to approve of the whole ordeal.

That friend of yours had come running up to you, congratulating you on finally getting with Vincent. Even her tall British boyfriend paid a compliment.

His own friends even poked fun, how stupid he was not to see Vincent slowly making his moves. Vincent and you at the Dairy Queen, you at his art show, how both of you spent hours at the library.

How'd he miss all that?

Bo walked into his dorm, slamming the door behind him as he whipped off his hat, he frowned as he flopped onto the bed. back against the wall as he took in the room.

The large varnished bricks painted a light blue, years of new coats of paint chipping off in the corners. The yellow fluorescent light struggling to light up the room, no doubt the same light from when the dorm was built.

Bo took in his brother's side. Neat, save for a few books littered around, a few on his desk, three on the floor, two on the bed, and Y/n's cellphone.

Bo shot up, eagerly rushing over to Vincent's bed, hands immediately on your phone. He held it in his hands, smirking at the pink phone case with a bear's face on the back. He swiped his thumb over the screen, he grits his teeth at the image of you and Vincent on your home screen. Vincent held his arm around you as he kissed your cheek.

"Putz," he mumbled to himself, Bo's thumb lingered over your lock screen. He pressed in the four numbers, "Shit. She must have changed it." Bo looked up, going over what your new passcode could be. The old one was the date you and him started dating. Bo made sure it was that, and that way he had access to your phone whenever you were careless enough to leave it about.

Bo smiled as he knew what the passcode was. If his brother was anything like him, he'd be just as possessive, "Ding!" Bo tapped his foot in excitement as your phone opened up, he went right to your gallery, brows turned down in disgust.

Picture after picture of you and Vincent. Some tame, others, Bo whistled at the picture of you sucking off Vincent. He hated it, seeing your pretty little face lavish his brother's cock, but for Bo, it was easy just to picture his own in its place.

Another photo, you with your legs spread, hand over your mouth, embarrassed as your pussy was covered in Vincent's seed.

Bo groaned, "Little fuckin' whore." He pressed his feet into the ground, steadying himself. He was taken back to when he'd do the same to you, make you beg for his cum to coat your needy pussy. He licked his lips as he could hear your little whines and begs.

"Cum on my pussy, Bo." Fuck and you sounded so perfect.

"Cum on my pussy, Vinny." He cursed as your voice played over in his head. Hating how easily he could hear your sweet voice be so dirty for his brother.

Bo kept scrolling, his stomach churned, cock-stiffening as he scanned more and more pictures.

Videos, ranging from thirty seconds to two minutes in length. He pressed one, the image of you riding his brother played immediately.

"Oh, Vinny, your cocks making me feel so full." Bo groaned, he turned up the volume to hear the vulgar slaps of your ass against his brother's pelvis. "Oh, Fuck Vinny." Bo watched as you fell onto Vincent's chest as he lifted you, fucking up into you at a fast pace.

Bo watched till the end, his ears burning as your moans and whimpers wafted through the shitty phone speaker. He palmed his erection as he watched Vincent cum deep in you, his brother's disgusting grunts and growls had him snarling.

Bo's eyes remained on the screen. They widened as Vincent pulled out, carelessly spreading your legs open to the camera, both your face and Vincent are not visible, but your pussy was bared. He watches as his brother's seed leaked out of you, hearing Vincent mumbling at what a good little princess you are, how you were made to used, made to be a good little cum dump.

Bo shook, knuckles going white as he held the phone. Your whimpering approval of Vincent's words, how Vincent scooped his cum back up into you...

Bo snapped out of his anger as a text popped up,

-Hey, meet you at the library, I'll only be able to study briefly, I have a surprise shift at the hospital.-

Bo tapped it, immediately taken to your messages with Dan.

Everything between you and Dan was mundane. Study dates that often included Herbert and just random memes.

He exited out, looking over all the people you've been texting. Your texts with him deleted, he huffed as he continued. That girl dating the tall British guy. That weird Billy kid, Freddy, your mom, your boss, and Vincent.

He sat down on his bed as he went through the texts. Some of the texts were mundane, how are you, I'm good. I love you and can't wait to see you.

Bo froze, laughing to himself, leaning back onto the bed as he read the recent texts,

-Remember those awful cramps I've been having? My doctor said it was birth control. I'll be going off it for a few weeks and will be getting that Implanon thing.-

Bo checked the date, "Two weeks ago." he said to himself as he kept reading.

-So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month.-

-That's okay. We can keep it safe for now. One day though you'll be off that stuff ;)-

Bo shook his head, of course, his brother would be on that train of thought. Getting you pregnant. Watching your belly grow with babe.

Bo seethed, hand running down his front, cock pulsing at the image of you, begging for his cum, asking him to impregnate you. Your belly swelling with the Sinclair seed, his large hand rubbing over you, kissing your cheek, amazed at the changes in your body.

Your tits swelling, begging for Bo to ease the ache in them. Cock stiffening as he suckles on your tender tits.

Bo's attention was snapped back to reality as the door's handle justled. He quickly exited out of the texts, turned off the screen, and threw the phone on the bed, burying his face into his pillow, grunting as his cock angled into the bed painfully.

Vincent stepped in, sneering at his brother. "She forgot something, I won't be long." He mumbled, hand going for your phone.

"Y'her lap dog or some? She can't come get it herself?"

"I don't trust you alone with her." Vincent gave your phone a once over before grabbing a few books, "I'll be gone tonight, I work late, so you can invite that 'cute' girl from the bar." Vincent coughed as he finished his sentence.

"Yeah, yeah..." Bo eyed his brother, pulling his pillow closer into his face.

"You didn't touch this, did you?" Vincent waved the phone around, giving it a once over.

"Why would I touch her shit?"

Vincent shrugged his shoulders, "Bye," He opened the door, "Oh, and Lester is inviting us to a barbeque, he expects you to be there."

Bo flinched as his brother slammed the door. He sat up, freeing his cock, the images of you and Vincent still in his mind, the image of himself pushing Vincent away to replace Vincent's seed with his own...

"The library..." he said to himself, the image of you at the library, pushed over onto one of the corner desks, hidden away from everyone, his cock buried deep inside, pleading with him to cum inside.

Bo gripped the base of his cock, squeezing to let more of his precum drip out, watching as it fell along the side.

"That'd look a lot better in the place it belongs."

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

You and Vincent stood in front of the campus library, he ran his hands up and down your sides, pinching your ass when he dipped low.

"Vinny!" He playfully pinched his arm, kissing his cheek as you giggled.

"Can't help it, you're so cute." He kissed you again, tongue wrapping around yours, he pushed you closer into himself, your moan being suppressed by the kiss.

You reluctantly pulled away, "I gotta meet Dan. I need his help with my paper. Thanks for getting my phone."

Vincent nodded at you, kissing your cheek again, "I know, I don't want you near him, either."

You nod into his chest, inhaling his scent, linseed oil, and his farmer's market shampoo. You hum as he begins to sway you back and forth.

"I gotta go, see you tomorrow," He pulls away, hand rubbing over your cheek, his eye taking in your sad ones. "Be safe getting home."

"I will!" You shared a kiss goodbye as you excitedly entered the library.

You waved to norman at the front desk, he briefly looked up to give a small smile before returning to his large ornithology book on his desk.

You grinned and waved as you caught sight of Dan. He was in his scrubs with his Starbucks in his hand, smiling at you.

"I can help you for the next hour before I gotta go," He began as you sat in front of him, "Then I got my shift an-"

"Yes at the hospital, I know I know." You sat and opened your books, Dan grabbing one to flip through it, scanning for the important passage,

"Here, you'll want to start here, copy it, and then grab two more sources from the encyclopedias. Has to be from the books, not online."

You rubbed your temples, "Yeah, that's, a lot to take in."

Dan chuckled, "That's the advanced course for you."

You tapped your pencil on the paper of your books, "So, you hear about Brahms and his girl? The fight they had!"

Dan perked up, brown eyes filled with wonder.

The two of you immediately filled your time with gossip, the mention of Brahms's girlfriend and Billy was the only thing being studied.

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

Bo strolled up to the library, "Twenty minutes to closing..." He shrugged his shoulders as he entered.

He looks around, the lights dimmed, the desk lamps off, save for the few remaining students.

"Can I help you?" Bo snapped his head to the thin, pale man at the front desk.

"Ah, yeah, where are the books on, like art and stuff," Bo looked at the nameplate, "Norman." Bo fumbled with his hands in his pockets.

"In the back," Norman gestured his head behind him, "In section eight hundred to eight hundred and fifty. Don't be long, we are closing soon." Norman sneered as he shuffled the papers on his desk.

"Yeah, thanks." Bo shook his head, as he caught Norman giving him a once over.

Bo clenched his fists as he heard Norman mumble "I don't even think he can read."

He made his way around the library, ducking behind the rows when he thought he saw you, any girl that resembled you had his heart clench in shock.

"No, Vinny, I can't talk right now, text it to me instead." Bo froze, his feet heavy, your voice was curt, he heard you grunt, knowing you just hung up on his brother.

Bo followed the voice, finding you tucked away in the private study area, the tables up against the walls, the lights were severely dimmed, Bo wondered how in the hell you could see the paper in front of you.

He carefully watched his steps, inching slowly behind you, grateful you were distracted in the book, grateful you secluded yourself so far away from everyone else.

A wolfish grin spread over his face, standing over you, he leaned in, hands snaking over you, rushing to silence your mouth,

"Hey, Sweets, miss me?"

Your blood went cold, eyes bulged, you attempted to turn but Bo held firm.

"Miss me? Huh? Ah, maybe you need to look at me first." He whispered into your ear, placing a feather-light kiss.

You retched away, guttural noises being silenced as Bo put a hand around your neck.

"Ah, no no, c'mon now, that any way to react to me? C'mon sweets, you used to beg me, beg me not to leave you, cry whenever I missed a date, moan for my cock to make you come." He chuckled as you squirmed in his arms, the chuckle turning into a soft laugh as you reached for your phone.

"Grabbing your phone for me? How nice of you, Sweets!" Bo whipped you around, slamming you onto the table as he chucked away the books, thankful they didn't fall onto the floor.

You began kicking at Bo, the panic making your blood run hot, giving you a surge of strength.

You knew Bo, knew how much stronger he was, knew you couldn't fight him off. The look in his eyes as his body leaned forward onto yours, chuckling off your kicks.

"Ah, hey, calm down," Bo squeezed on your neck, kissing your cheek as you sputtered out a whine, choking as you gasped for air.

Bo grabbed your phone, your eyes burning as he easily tapped the four-digit code to open it, he went right to the gallery, opening up the video of you and Vincent, "Look at you," The video played, Bo held the phone to your face, forcing you to look, "Taking my brother's cum in your slutty little pussy. Fuck what a good whore you are."

He exited out of the video, going to your texts, "So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month." He read aloud as he shook his head, "tsk tsk, and I bet you are still fucking, even when it's not safe. I mean, if my brother's anything like me, he won't wanna wrap that shit up."

Tears pooled in your eyes, slowly falling along the sides into your hair. Your eyes pleading with him, 'don't do this, please.'

Bo huffed as he pulled down your skirt, panties coming along with it. He took in your pussy, licking his bottom lip as he caught a glance at your shaved pussy, thankful that his brother has the same taste as him. "You look so good, that pussy nice and clean for me, gonna look good with my seed spilling out."

"I'll let you breathe properly if you promise to be quiet, can you do that for me?" His baby blues stared into your eyes, you wanted to hurl as you saw a sick softness to them.

"I'll, b-be- go-good." You choked. You gasped in sweet relief as bo removed his large hand from your neck. Your phone in his hand was held to your face as you realized he was filming.

"You better open up these legs for me, little whore like you should be used to spreading her legs, hm? Taking my brother's cock while dating me. Well, you can have my cock again, and I'm gonna make sure you'll never fucking forget this. Like I'll never fuckin' forget waking up to you." Bo placed the phone down, propping it up against your books, "With cum dripping out your pussy in Vincent's arms."

You looked away as you heard Bo's belt clink his zipper coming undone, "I can easily scream,"

"Scream? ha, the place is practically empty at this point, who's gonna come as you scream? 'Norman' I can tell he's already too self-absorbed to care for another." Bo leaned down, his breath hot over your cunt.

"Please don't, Bo please, I'll do anything!"

His signature cocky grin spread over his lips, "Oh, you will, first, I get a taste of this," He plunged his tongue in, a soft moan as your taste hit his tongue, his eyes looking up at you, then to the phone.

You squirmed as your walls involuntarily pulsed around his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut, hips shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit.

"You taste so good, fuck better than I remember," He sucked hard, laughing as you whimpered. "See, little slutty body like your can't help but react."

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, Bo's large hand roaming your body, dipping under your shirt, sliding under your bra to squeeze your breast.

"Fuck it feels good too, remember how you used to beg me to suck on them?" He pinched your hardening nipple, "Look at the camera." He cooed.

He dipped two fingers into your heat, making you groan as he pressed down and sucked hard on your clit.

You breathed heavily through your nose, fighting the urge to let out a wanton moan. Tears flowed as your hips voluntarily bucked into Bo's face, his tongue sending wave after wave of euphoria through you that not even Vincent could manage.

Bo shook his head, a raspy moan muffled by the lewd noises your pussy made as he fingered you. He looked up, smirking into you, your pussy clenching around his fingers, how you covered your mouth to fight back the deep moan.

You ran your hand through Bo's brown hair, he moaned, taking the action as approval for his ministrations. You pushed on him, your airy moans muffled by your palm as you came. Bo stayed latched onto your clit, suckling and flicking it, tongue deep to your cunt to lap at you, groaning as it pulsed around his muscle.

Bo shot up, licking his lips of your cream, "Ah, see that, wanna taste?" You shook your head, mouth a no. He leaned in, one hand angling his cock while the other grabbed your neck.

His tongue wrapped around yours, muffling the whine as he slammed into you, his cock stretching you out, a slight burn mixed with pleasure.

Bo wasted no time, slamming hard into you, his cheeks pink as he groaned into the kiss, he lifted his head, "Ah, fuck, needy little pussy fuckin' missed me. Ah shit, I fuck." He grunted above you, his body pressing you into the table, "Fuck, it missed me, fuck it missed me."

You sobbed under him, your mind going to Vincent, trying to picture it was Vincent on top of you, it was you and Vincent making love in the library, not Bo. Not Bo sending waves of familiar pleasure through you, his cock stretching you out.

"Please, don't cum in me, Bo, please don't."

"Wah? cum in you? Sure, I can do that, after all, your little pussy was made for it." He sneered at you, a dark look flashed over him.

You punched at him, "I'll scream."

"You scream and that video gets sent to Vincent. Doesn't matter I'm hav-having m-my way with y-you." He stuttered between thrusts, "Just a video of you getting impregnated by his older brother. He won't want you."

You sobbed as tears spilled as you turned away from him, Vincent flashed in your mind. His smile, his light blue eyes, his hands holding yours.

Your body tensed as Bo's cock felt intoxicating, the familiar rhythm, his harsh kisses, mind being taken back to you on his bed, how he'd hiked your legs over his shoulders as he pushed them onto your chest, a cocky grin as he fucked you deep.

"Bo," You whimpered, "Please," you continued "Just not inside."

He slammed harder, groaning as you clenched around him, "Feels like it wants it inside. Don't lie to yourself, Sweets."

You couldn't, the tears fell, you whimpered Vincent's name, "Hurry, Bo."

Bo couldn't hold back, your sexy little body squirming under him, your pussy clenching around him, your spent leaking onto the table, your stifled moans. "Look at the camera as you cum, look as I cum in you," He turned your head towards the phone, tears freely falling Bo licked your cheek.

His breathing, his thrusts, his cock filling you so well, his raspy praise. You stared, "I'm sorry, Vincent." You scrunched your face as Bo positioned in and out, a low groan reverberated from his chest.

Bo laughed as he came, his seed painting your insides, coating your pink walls, picturing it shooting deep into your womb, his little swimmers getting to work.

You fought back the urge to barf, his cum filling you send a ripple of pleasure through you.

Bo hissed as his breathing slowed, the realization of your nails digging into his shoulders, came to his senses. He slowly pulled out, grabbing the phone, to capture his seed dripping out of your pussy.

He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing, a threat. He continued to film, "Ah, look at that, good little slut getting bred. Just like she was made too."

Bo brought the camera to your face, "Say, 'Hi, Vincent!' ha" he laughed as you kept your vision off him and the camera.

"it's okay, I know you're thinking of getting that plan B. But you'll be coming with me tonight, I'm gonna make sure my seed takes." Bo released your neck, thumb running over your lips as you coughed.

"Get dressed, we're gonna get a hotel, this is from over." He leaned in to kiss your cheek, "My good girl, mine again." He hugged you as he sent the video to his phone. He laughed as he felt you shake in his arms,

"I wonder what Vincent will do when he sees this, gosh I can only imagine." He hummed and swayed you back and forth, "You'll look great with my child in you, can't wait, ah you'll be so beautiful."

[lunar-wandering]

“this house is a frickin’ nightmare”

so i. decided to write something for the ‘Sitcom’ AU, which is basically just the concept that post-canon, everyone lives in the same house.... its Fun.

Word Count: 2.7k

Read on Ao3

-

"Monkey King, get down from the fridge."

"No."

This exchange is what drew MK's attention to the fact that something was happening in the kitchen.

In MK's opinion, it was far too early for something to be happening in the kitchen.

"Wukong, I swear, if you don't get down from there-"

"What- you gonna stab me? Pigsy, you know full well that method is ineffective."

"What is going on?" MK asked, entering the kitchen and, well, seeing exactly what he had expected; Wukong crouched on top of the fridge, staring down at Pigsy, who was glaring up at him.

Still though. Just because he'd expected to see it didn't explain why it was happening.

"Oh hey, kid." Wukong said, taking notice of him. "Everything's fine, you can go back to your room, breakfast will be ready soon."

"It would be done already if you hadn't burned it." Pigsy said, gesturing to the charred remains of what supposedly had been breakfast. "Seriously, can't you follow simple instructions?? Now we've gotta start all over."

"It's not my fault I'm a visual learner." Wukong said, his tail swinging back and forth.

"It was three steps-"

"What's going on?"

MK barely kept himself from startling at the new voice behind him, turning around to see a very tired looking Red Son.

"Breakfast burned." MK said, catching Red Son up on the situation. Red Son hummed in contemplation, walking into the kitchen, picking up a piece of the unrecognizable charred food, and, ignoring the other's growing horror, he ate it.

"...Tastes fine to me." He said, going so far as to grab and nibble on another piece as he turned and left, presumably heading back to his room. The remaining three watched him go in shocked silence.

"....This house is a frickin' nightmare." Wukong deadpanned. Pigsy nodded in agreement.

"Aptly put. Now get off of the fridge."

"No."

MK decided to go back to bed.

-

It was commonly known, within the household, that somehow, Tang and Wukong continuously managed to get out of doing their fair share of the chores. No one was quite sure how they did it, as the two of them kept coming up with new methods every day.

Today's method was..... interesting, to say the least.

Somehow, someway, they had managed to remove their names from the Chore Roulette Wheel, without leaving any trace that their names had ever even been there. Which was, in fact, rather impressive, considering that the roulette wheel was literally a giant wooden roulette wheel, built by Sandy, and there were no empty spaces were their names used to be, they were just. Gone.

To be honest, MK would've never noticed if Mei hadn't pointed it out.

Now, there was a house-wide search for the two chore-shirkers.

"Found 'em yet?" MK yelled down the stairs into the basement. A few seconds passed, then a unanimous call of "No!" came. MK sighed. If the Spider-gang couldn't find Tang and Wukong down there, then they probably weren't there. (.....Probably. Wukong did have a lot of tricks up his sleeves, and MK didn't put it pass his mentor to use them for something like this.)

That checked off the majority of the house.... which only left-

An enraged scream (courtesy of Mei) from upstairs confirmed what MK had concluded.

They were on the roof.

MK rushed to the stairs, running up them-

Only to pause as he heard a yelp, and a flash of gold fell past the window, followed by a loud thud. MK leaned on the windowsill to look outside, just in time to see Tang fall past it. Wukong, a few branches and grass in his fur from his rough landing, summoned his cloud to catch Tang, before zooming away.

As MK would later find out, in the haste to escape Mei's wrath, Tang had actually pushed Wukong off the roof. Wukong, in return, had unceremoniously dropped Tang on the ground the first chance he got.

Both of their names were back on the roulette wheel by the next morning.

....They still managed to get out of doing their chores though.

-

"Oh, hey Macaque." MK mumbled, tiredly rubbing his eyes, and Macaque, mid-way through stealing a snack out of the fridge, froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Uh.....hey, bud." He said, slowly closing the fridge door, glancing at MK, who was obviously very tired, then looking at the clock on the wall.

2:43 AM. Okay, he could work with this.

"What are you doing up so late?" Macaque asked, leaning casually against the fridge in an attempt to hide his nervousness. If MK had been more awake, he would've noticed and called him out on it, but as it was....

"Just woke up.... wanted to get a snack." MK said, and Macaque quickly opened a nearby cupboard.

"Here, have this." He said, putting a cookie in MK's hands, before grabbing him by the shoulders, turning him around, and gently shoving him back towards his room. "Now go back to bed."

"G'night, Macaque." MK said, nibbling on his cookie.

"Goodnight, MK." Macaque sighed, waiting until he heard MK's bedroom door click closed again before melting back into the shadows.

The next morning, MK thought he had dreamt the whole thing. After all, Macaque had vehemently denied the invitation to live in the house with everyone else, surely if he had changed his mind and started to live with them, someone would've noticed.

....Right?

-

"Monkey King?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you always sleep on the roof?" Red Son asked, "I mean, you do have a room after all, why don't you use it?"

"I just like watching the stars." Wukong said, reclining on his cloud. Suddenly, Mei and MK also appeared beside Red Son, with their arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

"You told me that beds were uncomfortable." Mei said.

"And you told me that you liked the breeze." MK added. Wukong's tail bristled a little, but he still didn't look over at them.

"Well, I mean, all of those are true." Wukong said, "Figured I would just... switch my answers up from time to time, keep things entertaining you know?"

"That doesn't explain why you slept out there in the pouring rain." Mei said, "In fact, the only time we've seen you sleep inside is when we have blanket fort night."

"...The rain was nice?" Wukong said, sounding uncertain. The trio narrowed their eyes.

"Is there something wrong with your room?" Red Son asked, and Wukong flinched.

"No." He said, finally sitting up and looking at them. "Really, my room's perfectly fine, I don't know where you're getting the idea that something's wrong-"

"You're doing that nervous smile again." MK said, and Wukong slammed a hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide what the trio had already seen.

There was a moment of silence, and in that moment, each member of the traffic light trio came to a shared conclusion.

No matter the cost, they would get into Wukong's room.

Almost as though they had actually planned it, the trio took off towards the staircase, ignoring Wukong's yells for them to stop. Hurriedly, Wukong summoned two clones, then rushed after the trio.

Red on got caught on the stairs, the clone grabbing hold of the edge of his coat and dragging him down. It wouldn't be able to hold him for long of course, his fire could quickly burn the clone away, but it would still manage to slow him down.

Mei was captured in the hallway, the clone pushing off the wall to tackle her, accidentally knocking her right into Yin and Jin's room, pining her to the ground as the twins yelped in shock.

...Which just left MK.

Having trained with the Monkey King, MK found himself easily dodging Wukong's attempts to catch him. Slightly out of breath, he skidded to a stop in front of Wukong's door, turned the knob, and opened it.

"I don't really see what the problem is, the room looks fine to me-" MK said, stepping into the room.

"Kid, wait-" Wukong started to say, but it was too late.

MK tripped, tumbling into the room, dispelling the illusion Wukong had carefully crafted and placed over it.

Wukong's room was a mess, to put things lightly. There was stuff everywhere- books, clothes, antiques, food, you named it, it was probably there. It was to the point where there was no place to sleep, the bed being covered in stuff. Which, well, that explained the whole 'sleeping on the roof' thing, but still.

Wukong nervously shifted from foot to foot in the doorway. Red Son and Mei, who had succeeded in freeing themselves, as well as Yin and Jin, who had gotten curious from all the commotion, stared over Wukong's shoulders, taking in the state of the room.

MK sat there for a moment, looking at the mess (and sure, MK's room was messy too, but this-), before slowly turning around to look at his mentor, a serious expression on his face.

"Wukong." MK said, and Wukong stiffened, his nervous smile growing wider at the sound of MK saying his name instead of his title.

"...Yeah?" Wukong said, chuckling nervously as MK's look darkened.

"...I'm getting Sandy."

"Wait, no no no-"

The rest of the day was spent cleaning up Wukong's room, sorting through the piles upon piles of stuff.

Wukong, in a bout of spite, still slept on the roof anyways.

-

Yin and Jin stared in shock at the scene in front of them.

Everyone in the house knew that Wukong and Tang adamantly avoided doing their share of the chores. (The roof-pushing incident was still fresh in everyone's minds, after all).

So that's why seeing Wukong doing the laundry was very out of place.

"...What are you two staring at?" Wukong asked, snapping the twins out of their shocked reverie.

"It's just....weird to see you doing the laundry, that's all." Yin said, and that-

Well, surprisingly enough, that made Wukong actually pause.

"It is?" He asked, slowly setting the laundry basket down on the ground, subtly nudging it under a nearby table so that it was now out of view.

"Well, I mean, with how you and Mr. Tang utilize every method possible to avoid doing the chores, we never thought we'd actually see you doing one." Jin said.

"...I see." Wukong said, quietly. "Well, in that case. You two saw nothing."

"Wha-"

Not giving them a chance to respond, Wukong flashed a peace sign, then vanished, leaving the twins to sputter in disbelief.

(Later, Macaque returned to the laundry room to pick up the clothes he'd left behind.)

-

Syntax paused as he stared at the sight before him.

"...What is this?" He ased, drawing the attention of the occupants in the living room.

"A braid train!" MK replied, and honestly, that's what it was. MK sat on the floor, braiding Bai He's hair, Bai He braiding Red Son's, who was braiding Mei's hair. Mei pulled one hand out of Spider Queen's hair to give Syntax a little wave before returning to braiding the queen's hair. Spider Queen gently weaved Huntsman's hair into a braid that looked above professional level. Huntsman was twisted at an odd angle in order to put some braids in Sandy's beard. And Sandy carefully created some tiny braids in Wukong's fur."

"I....see." Syntax said, holding up his phone and taking a quick picture before any of the braid train participants could notice.

"Do you wanna join?" MK asked, "You can either braid my hair or get yours braided by Monkey King. Your choice."

Syntax took a moment to think about it.

He ended up braiding MK's hair.

-

There was someone in the shower.

Now, usually, this wouldn't be such a mind-boggling thing, but-

All of the house's occupants stared at the bathroom door in trepidation.

"You sure Wukong didn't just accidentally leave the shower on again?" Princess Iron Fan asked, prompting some indignant sputtering from Wukong, who was sitting on Demon Bull King's shoulder. MK shook his head in the negative.

"No, I'm sure I heard someone moving in there." He said, crossing his arms.

"Why don't you or Monkey King just use your true sight and get this whole mystery over with?" Jin asked.

"Yeah, we've already been waiting for like, 20 minutes." Yin said.

"They're in the shower." MK said, "I'm not just gonna invade their privacy like that, regardless of who they are."

The shower turned off, and everyone turned to stare at the door again, in silence. There was some rustling around, and then the door opened.

Macaque. It was Macaque. Who, upon realizing that literally the entire household was standing in front of him, froze.

And then immediately tried to turn and run.

"Oh no you don't." Wukong said, jumping off of Demon Bull King's shoulder, and outright tackling the other monkey to the ground. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I live here?" Macaque said, sitting up and shoving Wukong off of him.

"You turned down the invitation to come and live with us though...." Wukong said, slowly standing back up. ".....How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" Everyone went into various states of shock.

"How could we not have noticed you?" MK asked.

"You- you did notice me though." Macaque said, "Like, we had a whole conversation in the kitchen at around 3 AM."

"You think I remember what happens at 3 am?!" MK said, holding his head in his hands, and Red Son comfortingly patted him on the back.

"What happens at 3 AM stays at 3 AM." Red Son said, sounding like he was saying some ancient wisdom despite the actual sentence being utter nonsense. Yin and Jin snapped their fingers as a look of realization appeared on their faces. 

"That's why we saw Wukong doing the laundry the other day." Yin said, "It was Macaque in disguise!"

"....Yeah, I figured you'd notice if I didn't do some chores, just to clean up after myself." Macaque sighed, and Pigsy turned to glare at Wukong and Tang.

"See? Even the ex-villain does more chores than you two." He said, and Wukong and Tang purposefully looked away, whistling innocently.

"Wait." Mei said, "If you've been here for two weeks, and we haven't seen you use any of the bedrooms... then where have you been sleeping?"

As it turned out, Macaque had been spending his nights in the storage closet, curled up in the darkest corner of the room with nothing other than a blanket and a small pillow. The others, of course, deemed this as unacceptable, and pretty much near shoved him into one of the leftover bed rooms.

...Which he didn't even end up using that night, as it ended up being a night where everyone ended up falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows strewn about everywhere.

The next morning, Macaque wasn't there when the others woke up, and there was a brief moment of panic over the monkey's whereabouts-

And then said monkey walked back into the room, using the shadows to help him carry some trays with breakfast on it.

He paused when he registered that everyone was staring at him.

"....What?" He asked, "I woke up first, that means I had breakfast duty, right?"

"I mean.....yeah." MK said, graciously accepting his plate of food. "But, to be honest. I kinda expected you to burn it like Monkey King did."

"Hey, I did that on purpose. For Red Son." Wukong said, "Cause, y'know. He likes charred food. Apparently."

"You did not do that on purpose and we all know it." Pigsy said, "You were just as unaware of Red Son's dietary habits as the rest of us."

"...I literally just woke up and I'm kinda feeling attacked." Red Son mumbled, sitting up. "Should I feel like I'm being attacked?"

"No, you're fine, we're just calling out Wukong again." Spider Queen whispered to him, and Red Son hummed before rolling back over, clearly intending on getting a few more minutes of rest despite the argument starting to occur in the room. Macaque, for his part, remained standing frozen, with MK standing beside him, nibbling at the food on his plate.

"....Should I be concerned about this?" Macaque asked, staring at the fight taking place. MK shrugged.

"Nah." He said, "This is just the same shit as always."

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there... 

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :) 

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One) 

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming.  It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good.  He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body.  He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him.  He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away.  He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.  

And then his alarm goes off.  

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock.  He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex.  Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college?  But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.  

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off.  He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed.  He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage.  They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things.  And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.  

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly.  The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age.  Maybe he should call a doctor.  He laughs to himself.  Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.  

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom.  In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes.  Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket.  Two seconds, it takes.  Is that really so hard?  

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again.  It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more.  Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed.  His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower.  It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in.  Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky.  He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it.  Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.  

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him.  Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart.  He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life.  Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down.  But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.  

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.  He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own.   Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand.  The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.  

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him.  He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed.  He’s been too pent up lately.  Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers).  Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time.  But those have faded away over the past year or so.  Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs.   “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite.  A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor.  Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy.  “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says.  Maybe it’s not.  It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable.  His husband is home -- he should be happy.  Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch.  They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people.  “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight.  But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent.  He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.  

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says.  “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks.  Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table.  Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.  

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag.  “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face.  He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though.  “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips.  “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer.  Shouldn’t be more than a week.”  

“Ah.”  

Sean taps his fingers on the table.  Blaine sips from his water bottle.  There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.  

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.  

“Great,” Blaine says.  “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”  

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him.  He feels like they should talk about something.  What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out?  Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went.  Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it.  Nothing really feels like a good conversation.  

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers.  “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk.  “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”  

Blaine laughs into his water.  “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”  

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement.  “Shame I missed that show.  If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug.  “I’ve got some errands to run.  Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”  

“We’ll see,” Sean says.  “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight.  There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine.  It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him.  He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo.  He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve.  He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class.  But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.  

He finishes off the sandwich without a word.  It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.  

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat.  He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope.  “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”  

Blaine takes it with interest.  He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni.  But something from McKinley?  That just seems weird.  It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion.  He has no idea what it could possibly be.  

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it.  “My old glee club teacher is retiring.  He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate.  Cute.”  

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table.  “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.  

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.  

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying.  “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing.  That is, unless you’d like me to go.”  

Blaine stares hard at the paper.  It’s not like he couldn’t go.  He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend.  In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem.  “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says.  “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers.  Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.  

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air.  There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.  Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while.  Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up.  The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race.  The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes.  “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again.  Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”  

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park.  Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip.  Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives.  She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly.  Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much.  Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs.  Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.  

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries.  She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news.  “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back.  The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.  

Santana nods.  “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct.  Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down.  With no bra.  She had on no bra.  I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases.  They begin to walk down their usual path.  They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.  

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues.  Blaine arches an eyebrow at her.  “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted.  Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me.  I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her.  And play with her tits.  I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman.  “Or, you know, find out her name.”  

Santana looks at him sharply.  He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions.  “Her name is Liz.  I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.  

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly.  “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you.  You’re trailing me by nearly a foot.  Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it.  He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day.  “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.”  He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.  

She gives him a concerned look.  “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits.  They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park.  “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking.  “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning.  I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks.  They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them.  “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”  

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated.  “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that.  She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park.  But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.  

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing.  She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns.  “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.  

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp.  “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy.  And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”  

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy.  He loves his job.  He loves his little apartment.  He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world.  He and Sean are…  “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?”  He begins to walk again.  He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana.  But she rolls with it.  

“He��s retiring?  Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh.  “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”  

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says.  “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail.  Who sends invitations through the mail these days?  Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks.  He’s been back and forth on the idea all day.  Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again?  Possibly?  Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely.  Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.  

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over.  “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations.  Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there.  Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college.  He does remember Funny Girl.  “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air.  “You keep in touch with everyone, right?  Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk.  “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .”  Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school.  At least on a regular basis.  For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.  

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says.  She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce.  It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head.  “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly.  Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”  

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says.  “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own.  He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.  

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues.  “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds.  “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”  

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life.  She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio.  Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.  

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina.  “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons.  What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to.  Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut.  You know she’s already taken a new lover ?  She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies.  I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers.  Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor.  Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again.  Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend.  He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods.  They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children.  Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.  

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world.  “Goddess among women.  We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.”  Santana laughs at her own comments.  “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively.  He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.  

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away.  “No,” she says simply.  “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”  

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.”  A fond smile climbs on her lips.  “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back.  I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent.  And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.”  She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects.  For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart.  Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students.  And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation.  Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.  

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs.  “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened.  But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt.  (God, he remembers all of Kurt.)  He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt.  There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel.  A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction.  And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.  

And yet he did.  

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like.  Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now.  But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name.  Funny how things can change.  Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it.  The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that.  Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise.  “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something.  But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile.  He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there.  He hasn’t thought about him so long.  But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way.  “I think we should do it.  Go back.  I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head.  “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.  

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other.  Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.  

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom.  They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping.  She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties.  They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs.  The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.  

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night.  He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.  

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow.  But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport.  Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him.  Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday.  He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.  

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there.  He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same.  The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points.  Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school.  It’s a bit surreal.  

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar.  Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake.  He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket.  He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.  

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm.  He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance.  God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice.  Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

[luna-moonpack]

Birthday Gift

Summary: It was Jazz's birthday- so they decided to celebrate but Prowl has a gift he wants to give him along with some friends.

Type: Smut

Requested by @canikostar99 on Ao3.

It was Jazz’s birthday and Jazz being Jazz, He decided to have a party. He invited everybot and reassured bots there would be low & high energon. Jazz was talking to Cliffjumper about missions they’ve had, Prowl was talking to Scrapper about stuff, “So what are you going to give Jazz for his b-day?” Scrapper asked curiously. Prowl was tipsy at this point but thought about it, He remembered Jazz had a size kink and they hadn’t been fragged for a while due to missions. “Well, I do have a gift in mind- If your team is willing to help of course,” Prowl spoke happily, Scrapper smiled “It depends on what the gift is,” Scrapper said simply.

*flashback*

Prowl collapsed beside Jazz venting heavily on their shared berth, “Not bad, Prowl.” Jazz chuckled as he vented heavily. “Not bad? I made you overload 3 times.” Prowl smirked confidently, and Jazz laughed before grabbing a tissue and cleaning each other up. “Hey, can I ask you something?” Jazz asked after a few moments of silence, “Yeah?” Prowl asked curiously as he felt Jazz clean up his regions. “Would you be okay if we did a gangbang? Not now. Just at some point.” Jazz asked Prowl, Prowl thought about it. “Sure, as long as they're clean and won’t go too rough on you.” Prowl said as he thought it’d be fun someday.

*flashback end*

 “Well, Uh…” Prowl hesitated for a second, “Jazz has been wanting to do a gangbang.” Prowl said clearly this caught Scrapper by surprise and he nearly choked on his energon. “Didn’t think you’d be so straightforward.” Scrapper coughed, “But I’ll talk to the others about it and I’ll text ya.” Scrapper said simply after clearing his throat. They talked a bit more before Jazz came stumbling over, “WHOO! This party is Lit! Thank Primus! Iḿ a party master!” Jazz whooed drunkenly as he put a shoulder on Prowl’s shoulder. Prowl chuckled softly, “Tomorrow tonight? For the gift? If you can.” Prowl asked, getting a nod from Scrapper causing a smile to grow on Prowl’s faceplate. “Alright, SweetSpark. Let’s get you home.” Prowl said as he held onto Jazz’s arm and got up, He quickly thanked everyone for coming to Jazz’s Birthday party. Prowl wrapped an arm around Jazz’s waist to support him more, They headed home.

Prowl opened the door while supporting Jazz's balance, He helped Jazz into the house. "We're home. It's time for you to catch some recharge.” Prowl said as he led Jazz to the berth and laid Jazz onto the berth. Prowl turned off the lights and laid down beside Jazz, they cuddled together and fell into recharge. They woke up after a few hours of recharge, They talked a bit waiting for a new mission/assignment. “Jazz, I have a surprise for you- after your mission and after my work,” Prowl spoke simply, “What type of surprise?” Jazz asked with his usual smirk. “A ‘fun’ type of surprise,” Prowl smirked and winked at Jazz before pulling him close by the hips, placing a kiss on his dermas. Jazz kissed back before his commlink notified him of his new mission, and he pulled away “Gotta blast.” Jazz said with a smirk before pulling away from Prowl and heading out the door. Jazz loved being held by the taller mech and his strong arms- he shook his helmet and continued to drive to his mission. Prowl smiled slightly before he pulled out his phone and began to text Scrapper.

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

P-‘Hey, Did you talk with your team?’

’They’re all down for a good night. We can do it at our shared place.’-S

P- ‘That’s perfect. We’ll see you at 8?’

‘Perfect! We’ll get everything set up! See ya.’-S

P- ‘see ya.’

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

Prowl put his phone away and received his mission, he quickly headed off to his mission. While on Prowl's mission, Scrapper would text Prowl some details from time to time while Prowl worked- he was used to multitasking. They discussed a safe word and talked about turn-ons and offs for everyone- thankfully they had things in common such as a size kink. Prowl pushed some cons that he caught into cells, filled out the reports he needed to do, and headed back home. Prowl's always home before Jazz, which gave him time to prepare stuff. Prowl went into Jazz's closet, he looked around before finding the chest. Prowl opened the chest to find Cybertronian vibrators/dildos, blindfolds, headphones, Fluffy handcuffs, and other toys. Prowl grabbed a few toys and sanitized them before placing them into a bag, He kept the blindfold out so he could use it on Jazz while heading over to Scrapper's place.

After a few hours- it was 7:30, Jazz arrived home and headed off to find Prowl. Jazz wandered into the berthroom, “Prowl?” Jazz called out looking around the room before seeing Prowl walk out of the washroom. “Hey, SweetSpark!” Prowl spoke as he placed down the bag and walked over to Jazz, hugging him. “Ready for your surprise? It’s not far from here.” Prowl asked, “Yeah!” Jazz said with a sly smirk. Prowl smiled, he grabbed the blindfold and put it over Jazz's optics. Prowl then took Jazz over to the Constructicons' place, "Okay, Don't take it off yet." Prowl said as he led him inside the house. "So, Jazz. Do you remember the time you asked for a gang bang?" Prowl asked in hopes he remembered, "Uh, Yeah. Why?" Jazz asked curiously before lifting the blindfold to see the Constructicons all together. "Well, I thought we could do it since it was your birthday." Prowl explained as he was pulled into a hug by the small mech. “Let’s get this party started!” Jazz said happily, Prowl smiled softly. They quickly went over things and made a safe word that worked for them all.

[*Smut begins*]

Prowl pulls Jazz into a deep yet passionate makeout while Scrapper hugs Jazz from behind, slightly crouching to apply kisses along with sucks on Jazz’s neck cables softly. Bonecrusher got behind Prowl kissing and sucking his neck cables, Scrapper started to nibble on his neck cable causing a small groan to come from Jazz as he separated from Prowl. Bonecrusher bit down Prowl's neck cables earning a groan from Prowl as He felt servos exploring his frame, Jazz smirked seeing servos going down his lover's frame. They were both charged due to what the constructicons' are doing. Jazz blushed feeling big servos slowly slid down his frame, Mixmaster walked over to Jazz and started to kiss him while his servos gripped Jazz's hips earning a muffled groan from the smaller mech. Hook began to kiss Prowl while rubbing the mech's sensitive chassis earning a groan from Prowl while Bonecrusher's servos had found their way to Prowl's panels. 

Jazz pulled away from the kiss and smirked, "Just frag me already." Jazz spoke. "Patience Jazz," Mixmaster spoke as their servos teasingly rubbed against Jazz's panels before Jazz opened them. Hook pulled away from the kiss and started to kiss and slightly nip Prowl's chassis, earning another groan, "be a good mech and open your panels." Bonecrusher spoke which was followed by a 'click' of Prowl's panels opening. Jazz was pushed onto a berth, Mixmaster got onto his knees admiring Jazz's valve. Mixmaster leaned in and started to lick his valve while using his bigger servos to hold Jazz's legs apart, Jazz was more charged seeing how big Mixmaster's servos were and feeling the pleasure from his valve being licked. Prowl was pushed onto another Berth, Bonecrusher lowered himself admiring Prowl's spike before taking it into his intake while hook climbs on top of Prowl kissing him and massaging his sensitive chassis earning groans from Prowl. 

Scrapper took Jazz's spike in his intake, his tongue wrapped around Jazz's spike earning groans and grunts from the small mech. Hook soon got off of Prowl and went to his valve. Hook licked his digits before he slipped two digits inside Prowl's valve earning a loud groan from the mech. The constructicons continued to eat out/Suck the small mechs below them, listening to the adorable noises they made. Bonecrusher bobbed his helm up and down Prowl's spike quicker while Hook thrust his digits in and out of Prowl's valve, Scrapper began to deepthroat Jazz's spike. Knots began to form in Jazz's & Prowl's tanks as they were being pleased by the Constructicons. Prowl looked down at the two mechs before a blindfold covered his optics.

 "Scrapper, told us everything," LongHaul spoke before grabbing headphones and putting them on Prowl. Jazz suddenly felt something, he saw Mixmaster biting on his tibulens leaving love bites there as he continued to thrust his digits in and out quicker. Jazz felt Mixmaster's digits brush up against the sensitive spot in his valve earning a louder groan from Jazz, Prowl was even more charged as he couldn't see what the mechs were doing. He suddenly felt Hook's digits brush up against the sensitive spot in his valve earning a louder groan from the mech as Bonecrusher wrapped his Glossa around Prowl's spike. They soon overload due to the constructicons' actions of pleasure. 

Bonecrusher swallows Prowl's overload while Hook pulls out his digits, lapping up Prowl's overload. Scrapper drank all Jazz's overload, Mixmaster licked the juices off his digits then Jazz's valve. The constructicons decided to switch their subs. Scrapper and Mixmaster wandered over to Prowl's soaking valve, Scrapper kissed Prowl's dermas before replacing his lips with his Spike. Mixmaster rubbed his spike against Prowl's valve sending shivers up Prowl's back strut, Prowl was completely at their mercy. Prowl opened his intake and Scrapper’s spike slipped in, Mixmaster slowly slipped his spike into Prowl’s valve earning a muffled moan. Hook slipped his spike inside Jazz’s Intake- Jazz enjoyed how big and girthy it was, and Bonecrusher slipped his spike inside Jazz’s valve earning a loud yet muffled groan. Scrapper started to thrust at a decent pace while Mixmaster thruster at a slow yet careful pace. Scavenger and Long Haul watched Jazz and Prowl get their valves pleased while jerking each other off. Jazz's spike twitched as it ached for attention which caused Long Haul and Scavenger to have an idea. 

Scavenger walked over to Jazz with a smirk, he rubbed Jazz's needy spike before climbing up Jazz and sliding their valve down Jazz's spike. Jazz's hips thruster up but was brought back down by Bonecrusher's servos gripping onto Jazz's sensitive hips. Long haul walked over to Prowl with a smirk, Prowl was at their mercy- they loved it. Long haul climbed on top of Prowl and slid his valve down Prowl's length. Prowl let out a muffled moan as his spike twitched inside Long Haul. Mixmaster picked up the pace slightly and Bonecrusher did the same, earning more moans from Jazz and Prowl.  Scrapper grunted as he felt the pleasure from the vibration due to Prowl's moans, Hook grabbed Jazz's helm and forced his spike deeper inside Jazz's throat causing Jazz to gag. Hook thrust his spike in and out of Jazz's intake, and Jazz's processor started to go blank as Hook continued to abuse Jazz's intake. Jazz feeling Hook's spike thrust in and out his intake was captivating, Scavenger watched as he slowly bounced up and down Jazz's spike. Prowl lets out muffled moans as Long haul bounced up and down while Mixmaster began to mercilessly thrust deep and hard inside Prowl's soaking valve, Mixmaster let out a small groan as he felt Prowl's inner walls squeeze his spike.

They all kept up their work and soon they all overloaded. Jazz gaged again and tried to cough but his intake was still full as he felt Hook's warm load slip down his throat. Jazz vented heavily yet happily, "We're not done yet. One more surprise." Scavenger said as Jazz filled their valve with transfluid. Prowl had drunk Scrapper's transfluid, Mixmaster had filled Prowl's valve with Transfluid while Prowl had done the same to Long Haul. Long Haul took off Prowl's Headphones so Prowl could hear, "Everyone good for this one last overload?" Scrapper asked. "Green." Everyone said as an answer, The constructions all combined and turned into Devastator. "Catapult position," Devastator ordered which Prowl and Jazz did without question, Devastator knelt down and slipped in a single massive digit inside each of Prowl and Jazz's valves. Devastator didn't move till Jazz and Prowl gave a nod to continue, Devastator pulled their digits leaving the tip of their finger in before thrusting them back in. Devastator's other digits rubbed their anterior nodes earning moans from Jazz and Prowl out of pure pleasure. Devastator trusted his digits in their valves at a slow and steady pace as he didn't want to hurt them but soon picked up the pace, Jazz watched as Devastator's massive digit thrust in and out of his small valve. Jazz's valve tightened around Devastator's digit causing him to thrust more inside Jazz, Prowl soon had an Idea. "Let me get on top of Jazz while you do your magic~" Prowl groaned which caused Devastator to pick up Prowl since he couldn't see and place him on top of Jazz. 

Jazz smiled at Prowl, "You're an amazing conjunx." Jazz praised as Devastator's digits continued to move in and out of them. "Anything for you, Sweetspark," Prowl spoke as he rubbed his spike against Jazz's- earning more moans, Devastator opened his panel and took his free servo, and began to stroke his spike while pleasing Jazz and Prowl together. After a few thrusts and strokes, Jazz came on Prowl's servo with him and they both came on Devastator's digits, and Devastator had overloaded on top of the two smaller mechs. Thankfully it wasn't too much as they'd be swimming in it, The constructicons had uncombined and taken Jazz and Prowl to go wash off. After washing off and Cleaning up, They all went on a giant berth and cuddled together. Jazz snuggled into Prowl, "Thank you for everything," Jazz mumbled, "Anything for you." Prowl spoke happily as the Constructicons had fallen into recharge with Jazz and Prowl following.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 31

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L  Warnings: Language, smoking weed, shitty parenting, mentions of death A/N: more of a filler but it helps establish stuff. *unbeta'd

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 31: Drowning on Dry Land

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The week before her flight back, Matthew’s parents invited her over for dinner.

Waiting to greet them at the door was Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin. Matthew’s father, a Half-Maj, was a Potioneer while his mother, an Old-Maj, was a Court Scribe. They wore large, kind smiles as Mrs. Gaplin pulled her into a tight, crushing hug.

After pleasantries, she and Matthew kicked off their shoes while his parents ushered them to the dining room.

“How are you darling? '' Mrs. Gaplin asked, floating plates in their direction as everyone began helping themselves to food. “Matt wouldn’t stop talking about you since we knew y’were coming.”

She side-eyed Matthew who groaned loudly. “Did not!”

“Sure thing,” she added, which caused Matthew to slump in his chair as his parents laughed at him.

It was a nice, charming evening; filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations. His parents continued to gloat about Mathew’s achievements that he hadn’t told her. It caused him to almost get up and run out of the room from embarrassment before moving to boast about Y/N. Even Mr. Gaplin asked her regarding her OWLs which pleasantly surprised her.

A few times, Mr. Gaplin pressed a few cheeky kisses to his wife’s face as Matthew made loud retching noises.

“Disgusting!”

Mr. Gaplin laughed. “Ya sixteen. Suck it up.”

“But you’re still my baby!” Mrs. Gaplin cooed, getting up to collect the plates.

Matthew tried to look insulted but she could see the small smile that threatened his lips as jealousy nipped at her toes.

The next few days were spent staying at the Gaplin household. Matthew’s parents insisted constantly that she should stay over so they could utilize the little time they had left before leaving. At first, the idea made her feel intrusive. Although, her mother hadn’t returned to the brownstone house, preferring to sleep in the on-call rooms at the Brooklyn Memorial Hospital. It quickly got lonely and boring before Y/N finally agreed. Besides, Mrs. and Mr. Gaplin were only around for breakfast and dinner - working for the day but never failed to return; always wearing larger smiles than the previous night.

They made her feel welcomed and warm - even taking her and Matthew to the local pictures. They included her in everything, even their trivia and board games after dinner.

It was quite the change compared to her family life.

Then an identical routine ensued. She would wake up, get ready for the day; spend hours with Matthew; then twilight fell as they stayed awake into the early hours of the morning.

The day before she was due to leave, she and Matthew ran up to his room after dinner. He went to lean on top of the small coffee table, rolling up a joint as she collected her possessions scattered around his room; not wanting to leave it for the last minute.

“Fancy some grass?” He asked in a poor British accent.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “But thanks love.”

Mathew’s smile turned bashful as he stood, turning on the radio in the background. She moved to open his window which was just above the roof of his shed as she stepped out with steady feet. Perching herself down on the blankets and pillows they hauled outside the night prior, she stared at the glowing city splayed in front. From the window, The Velvet Underground flowed softly.

Matthew proceeded to hop out, sauntering over as he threw a flirtatious wink.

“Brough this,” he said, tossing the camera he’d taken from her bag. She caught it as he nestled beside her and lit the joint; placed in his mouth. Billows of smoke clouded around them while she snapped a few photos of the view.

“Ya sure you gotta leave?” Matthew whined, embers of the end of the joint sparking with another huff. “Maybe you can smuggle me. Shove me into that trunk.”

She pulled the camera away from her face, inhaling the earthy, pungent scent. Her head felt a bit lightheaded from it. “A hardcore criminal at sixteen?”

Matthew was mildly amused until a troublesome look passed through his features. “Um — name something ya miss most about home.”

Home. What a funny word — place — feeling. Home was supposed to be something that made your heart glow, feel warm and happy — by that definition, a year ago home would’ve been her little house back in Toronto with the beautiful maple trees swaying in the backyard. Or home would’ve been Ilvermorny and its tall ivory walls. But now, London, or maybe just Hogwarts, had become her home. The scrolls around the Herbology greenhouse, the library, sneaking around past curfew; the Black Lake, Hogsmeade — Lily, James, Marlene, Dorcas, Remus, Regulus…

Unsure of what to say, she opted for, “You?”

Matthew rolled his eyes, bringing the joint to his lips. “Real charmer.” Then, smoke surrounded them. “But really.”

“Why?”

“C’mon! I need an answer! — I don’t know… say somethin’ like… lobstah.”

She chuckled. “Lobster? Really?”

“Or coffee from ya regular cafe.”

Deliberating it for a second, lips tugged up. “Coffee Crisp.”

He snorted. “A candy bar? Really?”

“Or Ketchup chips. Haven’t seen them in London yet.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

And then the silence returns but it makes Matthew shuffle in his spot. He blurted out, “Go — more brit insight.”

Y/N felt a bit hazy from the secondhand smoke. “More? You’ll get bored.”

“I won’t,” Matthew replied quickly, sounding oddly sincere. “Please, just… go on. Tell me everything.”

“Um… a friend of mine says crikey a lot. I think it just means to be mildly surprised? — They don’t say bloody or blimey as much as you’d think… Oh! Tea — they really drink that much tea. Also —”

Continuing, Matthew shut off again, going completely silent — not once speaking up or adding funny commentary; only staring at her, simply watching.

“Okay,” she turned to take the joint from his hand, “You're freaking me out. Spill, what's up?”

“S’nuthing.”

Whack!

“Jeez! Would ya stop wiv that! Gonna kill me…”

“Spill.”

“Fine! It’s just that…'' Matthew shifted, obscuring his face. Maybe if she didn’t feel so fuzzy, or if there wasn’t the smoke coming from the blunt or her small headache forming, she would’ve picked up on all the little signs. “It’s just —” he sighed, “I wanna hear ya talk — commit it to memory.”

“Obsessed with me? Not new.”

But that seemed to trouble him more. “It’s just… I don’t know if or when I’ll hear it again…” He looks up to the city in front. “Ya my… best friend. Could never forget ‘bout ya, but s’hard — keepin’ in touch.”

She pats him, encouraging and smiling. Her voice was hopeful, so much so that it made Matthew’s lip quirk up. “We’ll find each other. Always.” She said simply. “You and me, we’re like… salt and pepper. Soap and water — Hansel and Gretel!”

“Fuckin’ Dr. Seuss,” he smiled, that worried look fading away.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The warm summer breeze flowed around them, just as the sun peeked above the airport. Expanse, clear skies with blue mingled with deep purples and pinks shimmered against the metal from the building.

“Gonna miss ya,” Matthew muttered into the crown of her head. Her mother didn’t want him to come, but Y/N simply ignored that request as he came to send her off.

“Don’t get mushy on me now,” she joked but felt her throat become tight.

“Betta get goin’ — Doc’s lookin’ like she’s ‘bout to butcher me if ya don’t.”

She snickered, pushing Matthew’s shoulder as she picked up her bags, walking backwards while waving. “Write me!”

“Course I will! Until next time!”

“Till next time!”

Once the plane took off, awkwardness swelled among the two women. Not once had her mother said anything to her — not to apologize or see how she was doing — although they never really did talk much. Honestly, she half-expected her to leave her in New York with the Gaplins. Easy to dispose of her.

The next few days Y/N, poorly, attempted to fix her sleeping schedule. It was a miracle that she managed to get up before dinner as her head poked into the master bedroom.

She cleared her throat, feeling herself swaying in place. “Um — hi. I’m making dinner tonight.”

Her mother was dressed in a simple, yet sleek dress. She was bent over, putting on high heels as she looked up.

“The hospital is throwing a party for me — the surgery was a success.”

“That’s amazing! Er — will you be back for dinner though? It’s just that I leave soon and... two parties are better than one.”

She considered her for a long time, eyes mostly distracted by her hair slowly changing to a different colour.

“Sure. But I have to go now.”

“Right, sorry, have fun.”

Thudding down the stairs and the door clicking shut, she followed not too long after. Making her way to the kitchen, she picked up a dusty cooking book, blowing off the dust and cracked it open; flicking through the pages.

Deciding on the seemingly easy noodle dish, she rushed out of the house to the local grocery shop for ingredients. It would be the first time they would be spending any time together. It had to be perfect. But she overestimated that no matter how closely she stuck with the dishes’ instructions, the outcome was a disaster.

The noodles somehow were rock hard. The sauce she made looked grey and was chunky, similar to badly mixed concrete and it tasted horrid. At one point, even the stove exploded into flames as she had to grab her wand and use magic to extinguish the fire.

Potions... She could use a cauldron, use multiple ingredients, make some of the most complicated spells and even had tricks of her own to make the process easier but she couldn’t make a simple dish…

Her face screwed together as she glanced up to the clock; she was going to come home soon as the dinner she made was disastrous. She panicked, cleaning up everything in a rush and decided to order food.

Waiting patiently at the dinner table, her eyes fluttered up to the clock in anticipation. She felt giddy, a surge of excitement rattling throughout her bones at the prospect. Her mother wanted to spend time with her! And she should be home any minute.

But then a minute turned to two, then five, ten, twenty, thirty — then an hour ticked by.

And then another.

Y/N got up, her chair squeaking loudly. Losing all her appetite, she went to her room, sleeping in early.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 20th, 1976

Going through the potential NEWT courses she could take was the highlight of her day. The possibilities were endless.

Wanting to take Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations and most of all, Potions, left her excited for the school year.

But the more she thought about the upcoming school year or potential courses, she was left to contemplate what ther5 future entailed.

Was she ready to give up magic? Something that fundamentally altered her life and moulded her into what she was? Magic was her essence, something she developed and nurtured — but to put her life in danger…

Rethinking that word again: home… Was London her home? Was she willing to leave, move again to be safer? But practicing magic around the world these days for New-Majs was dangerous. Or the potential danger she would put her mother in if she continued with it?

But magic… Maybe home wasn’t necessarily a place — but rather something she carried. In all sense, magic made her heart glow, feel warm, safe and happy — it felt like what home was supposed to feel like. And the idea of being ripped away from it, forcing herself to live a normal, Muggle life…

Magic was home.

So die, but have what she cared and loved most was by her side or live a dull life without magic — ensuring her life would be miserable.

There was a clicking of shoes in the hallway that snapped her out of her thoughts. Her mother came walking by.

Lips smushed shut into a tight line, still annoyed from the other night but was determined to spend some time with one another.

“I was planning to go to Diagon Alley for the first time — to get my textbooks... '' She stood awkwardly. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I can’t,” she replied, so quickly that it had Y/N almost scoff in disbelief. “Work. But have fun.”

She sighed but still waved her off and said a small, ‘I love you, stay safe.’ Her mother only gave her a look, something unreadable and left without a word. With a heavy heart, she grabbed her purse filled with gold and left for Diagon Alley.

Passing through the Leaky Cauldron was an adventure in itself. The shabby, tiny pub was jammed with wizards and witches zipping by.

Diagon Alley was bustling with so much magic she could feel it pumping through her blood. Students were hypnotized by the shiny new Firebolt on display; others were giggling, running around with shopping bags while older witches and wizards took a scroll. Her head turned in every direction; walking into the Apothecary, a potions ingredients and book shop.

Emmeline was there. She gave a tight-lipped smile which she returned.

Emmeline by every definition was nice, extremely kind and neither girl ever had a problem with the other. James was the problem and Y/N would gladly stay out of their feud.

Passing clamouring students, she managed to get all her supplies but stopped in front of the potion ingredients. She took a few minutes, flicking through the Advance Potions textbook and grabbed everything listed needed for most of the potions.

She made her way around Diagon Alley, going through many shops. The shelves were stacked high to the ceiling with books and materials. She spent more time than necessary there but it was beautiful.

As she was paying for her Herbology textbook, a large boom! rumbled the ground. Y/N took her bags, ready to sprint to the Leaky Cauldron but the shouts caught everyone’s attention.

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” A crowd of witches and wizards shouted. Their wands were transformed into microphones as a few shot fireballs up in the air.

“What’s happening?” A woman asked an old wizard. He only shook his head, grabbing a copy of the Daily Prophet, handing it to the witch.

On the front page, there were moving photos of people protesting, similar to the wizards and witches currently shouting.

‘Protests Break out in Light of Muggleborns and Halfbloods Burned Alive

Voldemort and his followers have been attacking Muggleborn and ‘blood traitor' families with the usage of fire. By burning them alive, or their houses. They bonded the witch or wizard with magic, making it impossible to apparate or leave their houses. Their broken wands were found at the scene.

Since then, protests all around Britain and Scotland have broken out. The Ministry of Magic —’

“WE WILL NOT BURN WITH THEM!” The crowd chanted.

Rage filled every inch of her body as she stomped out of Diagon Alley.

If she wanted to stay in the magical world, she had to be the greatest at whatever she did, because if she wasn’t, someone of her status was never going to get anywhere.

Magic was home, and she wasn’t going to let them take it from her. She didn’t want to surrender. They weren’t going to take that away from her.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Immediately after Diagonal Alley, she began working; taking in her thoughts from earlier to heart.

Making sure to cover any windows from prying eyes, Y/N fiddle with first with new charms. Still unassured by her abilities in Charms, she considered taking another class before realizing all the different routes it led to. To become a Healer, Auror or Potioneer, she needed Charms.

Multiple charms backfired, causing them to ricochet off the walls, leaving a dent or chipping the wallpaper.

After trying out more than half the Charms in the book, there was one spell in particular that she attempted to cast many times, but without fail, was never able to properly cast it. Frustrated, her hand made a sharp flick and the spell spurted out instantly.

She tried again with the same hand gesture. To her astonishment, the charm produced easily. Quickly, she jotted down the note in her book.

Next, she glossed over her Transfigurations and Defense Against the Dark Arts book until her eyes caught onto the word: werewolf.

She learned briefly about werewolves, but that was in third year. And now that she knew a werewolf, it would be good to rehash it.

A werewolf, also known as a Lycanthrope, is a non-magical or magical being who transforms under the rising of the full moon. However, non-magical beings have a greater risk of dying rather than turning.

As the name suggests, werewolves are closely related to the non-magical animal, wolves. However, they have distinct characteristics that make them easily identifiable from wolves.

She flipped the page.

Wolfsbane flowers are poisonous to the non-magical world but it has been proven to have no effects on werewolves like they do on wolves. Werewolves are immune from the poison they emit and there are reports that Wolfsbane flowers help alleviate symptoms.

She underlined that section.

It’s a uniquely magical illness known to spread by saliva and blood. Werewolves are dangerous, blood-thirsty beasts — she flipped the page.

They cannot choose to transform and will no longer retain their human mind. Given the opportunity, they would slaughter their loved ones — flipped the page.

A mixture of powdered silver and dittany applied to bites help seal bite wounds. It’s also commonly put in liquid and digested in anticipation of full moons to help with the symptoms of transforming.

Y/N’s face scrunched as she continued to read.

There is no known cure Potion used to help treat lycanthropy.

She felt oddly intrusive knowing parts about Remus’ condition. But then questions arose. How were there no Potions of any kind there to help werewolves during their transformation?

Pushing the thought away, she turned to the cauldron, picking a potion to brew. They all were fairly easy, some she’d even done before just by playing around. But one potion that grabbed her attention was Draught of Living Death. Even at Ilvermorny, that potion was notoriously difficult.

Starting up the cauldron, she grabbed hold of the sopophorous bean. However, it kept jumping when she tried to cut it. She quickly resorted to another method, running down to her kitchen and grabbing the handheld garlic press, placing the bean inside, squishing it down as so much juice spurted out, even going all over her clothing.

The potion turned into the light lilac like suggested. But then as she stirred, her potion quickly became ruined as she restarted immediately.

Hours ticked by; several items in her room were Transfigured into cauldrons, as she poured the existing solution into the nine other cauldrons as she conducted her experiment.

Stirring counterclockwise was a sham, so she stirred clockwise. Nothing, the potion went bad. The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise and then clockwise, alternating between every stir. It showed promising progress before it turned a bright red after the seventh stir, bubbling over.

The next cauldron, she stirred counterclockwise, then clockwise after the seventh stir as the potion turned a pink pale. That’s what the book said would happen. She quickly cleared the rest of the cauldrons, pouring in the pink liquid just in case.

She continued to stir until it became a clear liquid. Surely, that was good enough but she could never be sure. After all, she didn’t know if this was what it was supposed to look like.

Deeply immersed, she hadn’t realized how late it got.

She laid on her bed, her light on as she read the scribbles on the margins of the books she'd penned. The textbook was outdated and everything she’s written down, there were easier ways to perform spells, create Potions and more. The other books must’ve been outdated too.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 22nd, 1976

Today, her attention was drawn to her Herbology textbook as she flipped right to the medicine section. Y/N had sneakily stolen a few of her mother’s medical journals as she scribbled down notes.

She flicked through the diagrams. Wizards and No-Majs were different when it came to their bodies and sickness, she knew that, but their anatomy was still the same.

An opera played in the background as she sat in front of the television. It filled the silence as her mother came from behind her, creeping her way closer to the door.

Y/N called out from where she sat. “Care to join me?”

“Can't, work.” She grunted out.

She placed the pen down, full attention drawn to her. “I only have a few days until school starts… you can’t spend some time?”

Her mom wasn’t looking at her, ostensibly staring at the floor, anywhere other than her face.

“It’s not that interesting, but um - I need help with medical terms and illnesses. You’re the best at that!”

“I can’t,” she said roughly. “Can't you see? You have to stop bothering me when I’m busy.” And then she left again, leaving her alone. Y/N would’ve been more bothered had she not been so focused on her studies.

There was a pattern.

In the Herbology textbook, in the werewolf section, there were a few ingredients used to help alleviate symptoms of Lycanthropy.

Dittany, Powered silver, Powdered Moonstone, Aconite…

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 26th, 1976

“Do you want to —” “Work.”

“But you always have work… can’t you take some time off?”

“You know it’s important to me. Why do you keep trying to limit that?”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

August 29th, 1976

She was partially through her Potions and Charms textbook. It was all she could fixate on.

Deciding to take a break, Y/N went to stretch, getting up to talk to her mom who again, was getting ready to leave. She opened the honey-coloured wood draw close to the door. She pulled out a set of keys, fixing her appearance in a nearby mirror.

She had already opened the door.

“Hey mom, I was thinking of getting lunch… Will you be back soon?”

But, there was faint muffling outside the door.

“Ready for our date?”

Y/N, desperate, seized hold of her wrist, pleading. “Please, I leave in a day.”

“I'll make it up to you,” mom replied, “I promise.” And then, the door clicked shut.

Again.

She stared at the door, trying to regulate what she was thinking.

What made them worthy of her time when their’s were limited.

Robotically, Y/N turned to walk to her room, her hip bumped into the drawer which hadn’t been fully closed. Her eyes flew to it, about to push it in as she caught a flash of white.

Yanking it open, she swore her heart could’ve shattered. White envelopes filled the draw; her familiar handwriting scribbled on top of each letter. She picked one up, twisting it over to the flap.

It was unopened.

She picked up another. Unopened.

Then another. Unopened.

Unopened.

All of them were unopened, sealed. Hardly tampered with and there was hardly a wrinkle.

Was there something wrong with her? Something so disgraceful that made her so disgusting that people kept forgetting - pushing her away? Like an insidious disease.

Was she truly that unloveable? That much of a nuisance? What made someone else so much more important than her?

It was too much to process but if she had to describe the feeling, it was like drowning on dry land.

Whatever home was, it shouldn’t feel like this: cold, lonely, sad.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary (+ a bit of history bc i didn’t realize how many ppl didn’t actually understand what I was talking about in other chaps):

Coffee Crisp = a very popular chocolate bar sold in Canada. It was a variation of a treat made by a company from the UK. It was briefly introduced to the UK in the 60s but was pulled back because people thought it was too similar to Kit Kat. From what I know, Coffee Crisp is not commonly found in England (I've never seen it in stores) but it’s sold in Scotland.

Candy bar = US term for chocolate bar / chocolate

Grass = during the 60s - 70s, the term 'grass' was very popular slang for weed in New York bc it featured in vogue.

And yes, the British do drink that much tea.

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[squiddybeifong]

Can I ask for the batsiblings reaction to Damian pacing so much he wore a hole in the floor? Doesn't have to be a fics, maybe headcanons?

Sorry for the rather long wait. Kinda wanted to make this a fic

Here's the floor pacing fic

On Ao3 here

--

Alfred hadn’t outwardly reacted to Damian’s obvious lie as to why he had paced the floorboards uneven, but the butler absolutely took action for amending the tripping hazard in the boy’s room. With the floor repairman on the line and a measuring tape in hand nothing was amiss, of course.

Dick had already kept him up-to-date with the gossip about the two Titan birds, so Alfred hadn’t been surprised whatsoever. His position in the family meant that he’d watched the awkward budding romances of most everyone who’d called the Manor home. Damian being frustrated at his feelings for a teammate was nothing compared to a (very grown) Bruce being moody after Selina rebuffed his kiss while ‘on the clock’ or Dick’s increasingly creative attempts at sneaking around with Kori before the ‘no dating metahumans or aliens’ rule had been lifted. Honestly, watching the pun-laden flirting that Steph ladled out to both Tim and Cass on a near daily basis was more awkward than his youngest ward taking his repressed emotions out on the floors.

Unfortunately for Damian, the butler arranged for the floor repairman to show up during the day. Most notably, the repairman arrived at exactly the specified 1:35 p.m., not wanting to be late when called upon to fix anything belonging to Bruce Wayne.

Why Robin had believed that (like everyone else in Gotham) this worker would be fashionably late, he didn’t know. What Damian did know was that he hadn’t heard Grayson open the door. Nor had he heard his brother head up with Alfred and the repairman into his room. And he especially didn’t hear as Alfred slyly mentioned that he believed Dick’s gossip was coming to a head, if the worn path in the floor meant anything.

No, Damian heard none of it. Not when he was busy brushing BatCow and making sure that every square inch of the barn was properly ventilated so she couldn’t possibly overheat in the approaching summer weather. So when the youngest Bat stalked into the Manor, he’d been all but ambushed.

It didn’t take a detective to realize why he’d been pacing so much. Even without Alfred’s confirmation, it was unlike Damian to avoid going back to the Titans early if he could help it. Batman hadn’t looked up when Robin had elected to stay another week when they were in the BatCave, but his siblings sure had. And while Bruce didn’t outwardly ponder about how intense things had to be for Damian to go out of his way to avoid a certain someone, this new information had Dick positively enchanted at the prospect of his baby brother being in love.

“I’m not in love with Raven,” Damian hissed out.

Jason snickered as he reclined in his seat, his face full of mirth at the flustered crack in Damian’s voice. Cass was sitting upside down with her legs resting on the couch’s back, her smile wide as she took in her youngest brother’s irritated, embarrassed body language (nevermind the barest hint of an actual blush on his face when vehemently denying any feelings he had towards his fellow Titan).

Babs’ smile was wide and cheerful as she pointed out, “Who said anything about Raven?” Duke perked up from his spot next to Cass, immediately adding on, “Yeah, Dami. We thought you were just falling for her?”

Steph snorted, “Falling over those footprints in the floor, more like it.”

Tim laughed behind his gulp of his coffee, sleepily (and loudly) drawling out to the blonde, “A Robin and his Raven. Guess you can say they’re a real pair of lovebirds, huh?”

Damian glared at them all, fighting the urge to pinch between his eyes. Why were all the Bats at the Manor? Shouldn’t they be on patrol instead of bothering him?

Jason clicked his tongue and rested his arms on the table. He met Dick’s gaze, saw the way his older brother’s eyes brightened up with mischief and scratched at the streak of white in his hair. Deciding that messing with Damian was by far the most fun he’d have in the Manor that morning, Jason asked, “So, Lil’ D… What’re you gonna get your girlfriend? Can’t come back empty handed.”

“She’s not my--”

Babs interrupted him, nudging Tim with her elbow, “Do not tell me he wasn’t planning on getting her anything.”

Steph lazily rested on the chair’s edge. The blonde leaned over to rest against Jason’s shoulder, her fist pressed to her face. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t likely she’d be much use for knowing how Raven would want to be wooed. She had heard of her but she had yet to actually meet Damian’s mystery crush, after all. She let out a hum, “What does Raven like? It’s gotta be something personal!”

Damian clicked his tongue as his siblings were suddenly oh so chatty at Spoiler’s suggestion, their unwanted ideas filling the room.

“What if he paints her something?”

“Doesn’t she like old books? Maybe one of those first editions that Alfred was thinking about donating last year?”

“Wait a sec-- Dick, isn’t she goth? B did get that set of obsidian jewelry at the last gala.”

“Hell, if we’re going that route I’m sure Selina has some nice rings somewhere--”

“Maybe something that isn’t stolen, Tim.”

“Just be honest with her.”

The room went quiet at Cass’ simple instruction. Still in her Orphan suit from her early morning patrols and reclining in her inverted spot on the couch, the brunette somehow kept a serious face as she stared at Damian upside down.

Seeing that no one was going to add-on to her suggestion, Cass blew some of her bangs out of her face and shrugged, “You like her for a reason.”

Brown eyes slyly glanced around the room, gratefully falling on Babs as she piped up, “Cass is right. I really don’t think Damian of all people would fall for someone who’s all about dating mind-games.”

Ignoring Damian’s exasperated lie of “I haven’t fallen for her!” in the background, Steph slumped down on the couch next to Duke. Her face was contemplative, “Then maybe we should invite her here?”

Dick let out an excited laugh the same time Tim clapped his hands and grinned at their resident computer whiz, “Babs could absolutely get her up to speed on patrolling Gotham for a bit, right?”

The redhead looked excited at the idea. Pushing her glasses further up her nose before they fell, Babs teasingly asked, “What is it about Gotham and bird-based superheroes?”

Duke shrugged, a hand cradling his chin in thought. “Not sure, but Dami obviously won’t confess if we’re not around to kick him into doing it.”

Jason clicked his tongue at the possibility of the youngest Bat listening to them and raised a brow Dick’s way, “Any chance at all that she’ll make the first move?”

Irritated at the topic, Damian turned on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. Ignoring the chorus of “C’mon, Dami” behind him (and planning on fighting Todd later for the childish boos that the antihero was aiming at his back), Robin set about grabbing some snacks for his pets when he heard two sets of footsteps approach.

He bit back a groan as Dick practically skipped into the room, Cass on his heels. “What now?”

Nightwing let out a laugh at his brother’s sneer, “You do know that we’re only trying to help, right?” He took a few pears from the fridge and handed them to Damian, knowing that they were BatCow’s favorite. Hearing as Cass opened the cabinet doors to find where the rawhide bones and cat treats were stored, Dick pressed on, “I know she already knows me but it might be easier introducing everyone as a segue into talking to her about other things…”

Cass let out a quiet snort at his suggestion. She shook her head and offered a better idea, “Alfred first.”

Dick tilted his head, nodding in agreement a moment later. He ignored the violent way Damian was cutting up the pears and said, “That’ll probably be for the best. Living with the Titans is one thing; we gotta ease her into our particular brand of madness.”

Tossing aside the stems and peeled off stickers, Damian sulked, “None of this is necessary.”

Cass hid her smile with her hand. Dick hummed out, “You don’t want your girlfriend to meet your family?”

“She won’t be my--” Damian couldn’t say the potential title just yet. He clicked his tongue, “Just because you all think I have feelings for her doesn’t mean she’ll reciprocate.”

The older two visibly paused at his words.

Her head tilting in concern, brown eyes studied Robin for a moment. Damian glared at Cass but she ignored him. Dick leaned against the wall, the worried furrow in his brow betraying his nonchalant stance. He spoke out the obvious, “Do you really think she’s not interested?”

“She thinks I’ve been avoiding her--”

Cass shrugged, “You have.”

Damian continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “--so I doubt any feelings she may have towards me are positive right now.”

Dick let out a hum, “You didn’t answer the question.”

Ophan’s suit somehow didn’t shine in the kitchen’s fluorescent light as she crossed her arms, “Yes or no?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as he thought over all the moments he and Raven had shared, the comfortable quiet pauses between crimefighting, training, and avoiding their teammates’ noise. She never seemed to dislike his company, but she was stoic enough that he could never tell if her heart leaped into her throat whenever she noticed that they were alone.

He suppressed a jump as Cass entered his personal space.

Olive eyes were reluctant as she poked his cheek. “You’re not stupid,” She figured it was progress when he didn’t try to swat her hand away, but she couldn’t keep the beam off her face at the boy’s blush. A hint of smugness crept into her voice, “So she is?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked to the Manor’s main entrance, knowing that in half a week’s time the entire structure would be full of lights, flowers and who knew what else B’s planners would bring. A spring gala with flowers and enough hidden corners for a pair to get lost in the crowd.

In other terms: the perfect setting for a first date.

She met Dick’s gaze and grinned at the knowing look on his face. His hair nearly fell out of its bun as he let out a whoop, wrapping an arm around Damian. Thoughts of finding Raven a gala-ready dress (and maybe a matching suit) in mind, Dick couldn’t keep the excitement out of his movements.

Ignoring the aggravated yet cautiously hopeful way Damian shrugged off his brother’s arm, Cass clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Only one way to find out.”

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). see if there are any patterns. choose your favorite opening line. then tag some of your favorite authors!

Thanks for the tag @anna-hawk!! Honestly these ones always get me anxious because I always read them as like, first line of my last 20 WIPs for some reason and I’m like “WHY YOU GOTTA CALL ME OUT LIKE THAT?!” But then I always re-read and it says last 20 stories in general so, to Ao3 we go! 

1. Stiles stared up blearily, the area he was in completely unfamiliar and horrendously disorienting. (Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire)

2. He didn’t like this. (Five Times Derek Walked in on Stiles in the Shower and the One Time He was Invited)

3. One of these days, he was really going to have to have a chat with the residents of the household about their security. (Google Doc: TILADH)

4. Derek stared out the loft window, watching the snow fall in fat flakes to coat the world outside in white. (His Beautiful Tornado) 

5. He wondered what it must be like to be human. (The One Who Hears)

6. It was with both a sense of accomplishment and terror that he set the final box down in the far corner of the open space. (Can You Feel A Whole New Part of Your World?)

7. He didn’t remember the first time he died. (By Any Other Name (I Will Always Feel the Same))

8. Stiles liked to think he was a nice guy. (Five Times Stiles Woke Up In Derek’s Bed Unexpectedly, And the One Time It Was On Purpose)

9. A door slammed loudly through a large empty house, a figure standing unmoving in the entrance. (It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real)

10. Soulmates were the absolute worst thing to ever have happened to the human race. (No Time Like the Future)

11. Derek was staring at him. (Behind Locked Doors)  

12. No matter what anyone said, it wasn’t weird. (When the Universe Comes Knocking (It’s Polite to Open the Door)) 

13. The alarm was loud and shrill when it went off, the same as every morning at this ungodly hour, forcing him back to consciousness far sooner than he’d like, and back to work much faster than he wished. (Puzzle Pieces) 

14. Stiles Stilinski chewed absently on the drawstring of his hoodie, eyes on his phone while he walked slowly down the street back towards his Jeep. (Set a Song for Me) 

15. Derek had just climbed into the Camaro to head home after a long day at work when his phone rang. (Wait, you’re serious?) 

16. Stiles didn’t often wake up first. (Well this is awkward...) 

17. “Please?” (Boo) 

18. Stiles stared intently at Derek while his Alpha paced in front of the pack, arms crossed and inspecting each one in turn to make sure they had nothing further to add. (No one needs to know) 

19. “We’re gonna be late,” Derek informed Stiles, watching him wander around the loft while he collected various items he thought they would need. (Hey, have you see the—? Oh.) 

20. It had been a really long day. (Tell me a secret) 

So I usually open on a statement lol. I feel like I knew that already. I also know I tend to try and open with an air of the reader not knowing whose POV it is right at the first line. It makes it more fun if you have a few paragraphs to be like “Derek? Stiles? No, it’s Derek. Wait, is it Stiles?” WHO KNOWS? Well, me. And you, after like, 4 sentences, BUT STILL! It is four sentences of ~suspense~ :D 

As for my fav, probably 13 to be honest. Only because I feel that in my bones since I too dread the wretched sound of my alarm clock because it means it’s time to wake up and deal with stupid people for 8+ hours and I have no patience for that. 

Thanks for the tag! This was fun :) 

[scuttling]

Interview

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 1,729 Tags: SFW, Pre-relationship, First meetings Summary: Aaron finally gets the greenlight to hire a new agent. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 0-6 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) A/N: Sophie and Reid are partners, because I love them! Link to AO3 or read below!

It takes two months for Hotch to convince Section Chief Strauss to open a requisition for a new member in the BAU. There was a lot of paperwork to be filled out, including detailed explanations as to why he felt the team needed another profiler. He thought it was obvious: for all they do work together as a cohesive unit, Morgan and Elle were technically partners, and when she left, Prentiss took her place. Reid doesn’t have a partner, which makes him feel like a third wheel, sometimes.

(He won’t admit to it, but Hotch notices things. It’s kind of his job.)

Needless to say, the position becomes available, but it takes another couple of months—and several interviews—for Hotch to find the right person to fill it.

Agent Cortes comes highly recommended by the Intelligence Section’s unit chief, someone he worked on a case with in his early days at the BAU; she is young, just 29, but she is more than qualified, and the referring agent is someone whose opinion he respects, so he’s hopeful.

Gideon sits in on the interview because he respects his opinion, too, although Hotch will make the final decision.

Cortes is Latina, petite and polite, with a firm handshake, a warm smile, and dark, striking eyes. Gideon looks at her with somewhat passive interest (something only Gideon can pull off) as they go over the highlights of her resume.

“You have bachelor's degrees in Psychology and Sociology, and master’s degrees in Behavioral Science and Criminology, all from the University of Chicago. How did you manage all of that, at your age?” Hotch asks, wondering if maybe she is gifted like Reid.

“A lot of hard work,” she replies, and it’s an answer he likes. “I graduated high school, enrolled in a dual major program and completed the bachelors’ at 22. Then I was hired onto the Chicago Police Department, and I worked there and got my Criminology degree at the same time. The Behavioral Science degree came after; I began it in person, and they let me finish online when I moved here to join the FBI.”

“What interested you about behavioral science?”

“I grew up in a city that was rich with diversity, but I still noticed that certain people were susceptible to falling into certain patterns, and became curious about why we as people do the things we do. I was already interested in criminal justice, so it seemed a natural path to take.” He nods, jots down a couple of notes before looking back up.

“Tell us about your time with the Chicago Police Department.”

“I went through training while finishing my Criminology degree, worked a beat for about six months before being assigned to the Intelligence Unit; my sergeant found value in the way I was able to get people talking, and a large part of my work was with criminal informants. I worked in Intelligence for three and a half years, and for the last two I was on the Tactical Response Team as well.”

“Tactical Response—that’s SWAT?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you end up in SWAT?” Gideon asks, speaking up for the first time; she looks over at him for the first time, as well. “I mean no offense, you’re clearly more than capable, you’re just… small.” She gives him a brief smile.

“Well, there was a hostage situation, the team leader determined that we could get a vantage point from an air duct... and I was the only one who fit.”

“You don’t seem resentful of that,” Hotch notices, a bit surprised. It’s not an origin sorry everyone would be proud of. Her eyes turn back to him.

“I find it’s more important what you do with your time somewhere than how you got there. I contributed to many successful responses over the course of two years that had nothing to do with my size.” It is a great answer, and he holds back a smile of his own, simply nods.

“So you left Chicago to join the bureau; did you have your sights set on any department in particular?”

“I was torn between Language Analysis and Intelligence and ended up somewhere in the middle.”

“Intelligence because of your background, why Language Analysis?” Gideon asks.

“I speak 6: English, Spanish, and Italian as my native languages, plus Russian, French, and German. I have an ear for them.”

“Impressive,” Gideon says, nodding, lips pressed together. Cortes smiles, modest.

“It’s helpful; more than 30% of the population of Chicago speaks a language other than English at home.” Hotch does crack a smile at that, because the statistic reminds him of Reid.

“How would you describe your current role with Intelligence?”

“The official title is Intelligence Liaison. I’m part of a team that travels domestically and internationally, to law enforcement or government agencies, to debrief them on threats we’ve identified, or potential threat activity, and to help them formulate offensive countermeasures.” There is a lot of experience there that would translate well to the BAU, that much is clear. If anything, she may be overqualified, but they would never turn down the help.

“What’s the most frustrating part of your job?” It’s a question he always throws in, because true frustrations—and how one handles them—can say a lot about a person.

“When they don’t listen and people die. I do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen often.” He looks up from the form to the woman, who, in that moment, shows the things she’s seen all over her face. They’re gone from one blink to the next, and he breaks eye contact to choose his next question. No follow up needed there.

“It sounds like you have experience interacting with law enforcement, which is important here at the BAU. We can’t work on a case unless we are invited by the agency with jurisdiction, so maintaining healthy relationships is vital. We have a communications liaison who deals directly with police departments, sheriff’s stations, FBI field offices, and the media, but knowing how to handle them is a big part of the job.” It’s not a question as much as a confirmation, and she nods.

“I’m confident in my ability to interact with other law enforcement in a direct but respectful way. It’s something I’ve done a lot of as Intelligence Liaison.” He has one final question, and though he’s already more than pleased with the interview, the answer will make or break his decision.

“Why the BAU?”

“Curiosity is what got me interested in behavioral science, but it’s empathy that makes me interested in the BAU. My current work helps to save lives, but it’s all very large scale, and it can be detached, cold. I can be detached and impartial when I need to be, but I can’t deny it would feel like a better use of my skill set to make a more tangible difference.” He agrees, can already tell that she would thrive in the environment of their unit, and it’s just the kind of answer he’s looking for; he takes a few more notes, glances over at Gideon for input.

“Anything else you’d like to ask?”

“I think we’ve covered it,” he says, and he stands abruptly, which makes Agent Cortes stand as well. Hotch follows suit. “Nice to meet you. He’ll be in touch,” Gideon adds, shaking her hand briefly and leaving the room. She is left looking a little lost, and Hotch steps around the desk.

“I apologize for him, he’s a little…”

“Capricious?” she offers with a smile, and he laughs lightly.

“That’s accurate, actually. Please don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t. I’ve heard a lot about him, so he kind of lives up to my expectations.” She tilts her head, looking curious. “You don’t, though. Unit Chief Roberts told me you would be stoic; I expected someone much more aloof, but you’re actually rather warm.” He is a bit surprised by her directness, even more so that she would find him... warm.

“I doubt that my colleagues would agree with your assessment,” he says, thinking of the number of less than kind words used to describe him in the past. She just smiles again.

“I guess you really do need me on your team, then.”

He finds it hard not to agree.

“There are a few more things we’ll need from you, such as a psychological evaluation, recent performance reviews, a physical. I’ll be in touch with Agent Roberts, and then you, if we determine you are the right fit. I’ll see you out,” he adds, gesturing to the door, and she follows. The team, who was not yet in the bullpen when she arrived, looks on, curious, as they head to the glass double doors.

“Thank you for the opportunity to interview. I hope to hear from you soon,” she says with another firm handshake, and he nods.

“We’ll be in touch. It’s a pleasure to have made your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Agent Hotchner.” She gets onto the elevator, and he heads back to the bullpen, stops specifically at Reid’s desk, though everyone is nearby.

“Congratulations, Reid: you’ve officially got a partner.” Reid smiles, looking pleased.

“Who is she?”

“Special Agent Sophia Cortes. She currently works for Intelligence. Bachelors’ in Psychology and Sociology, Masters’ in Criminology and Behavioral Sciences. Fluent in six languages. Got her start at Chicago PD like you, Morgan—Intelligence there too. And SWAT.”

“SWAT?” Morgan echoes, impressed. “She’s gotta be 5’2” out of those heels.”

“She’s got glowing reviews from her superiors there, and from her unit chief: he called her resilient, determined, empathetic, a team player. She’s good at communicating with law enforcement, victims, even unsubs. The BAU is the right place for her. We’ll just be waiting on paperwork to make it official.” He crosses his arms, leans back against the filing cabinet. “I’d have introduced you, but she doesn’t know she’s being offered the job just yet.”

“She must have made quite an impression on you for you to decide on the spot,” Prentiss says, and he nods his head in agreement.

“I think she’ll fit in well. I saw a little bit of each of you in her, and she’s very…” He tries to think of one word to sum up the woman he just interviewed, and decides with a half-smile: “warm.”

[qlala]

Is it cheating to submit a fic request for the pride post you just made? I neeeed the whole thing (I'm on my laptop, but insert the big gay eyes emoji)

fjskdgjslg "big gay eyes emoji" you know what? just for you. just for you i have written this. i'll clean it up and upload to ao3 later but for now: have 2.7k of len dragging a sunburnt, tipsy, and glitter-covered barry back to his apartment, and happy pride!

Len wasn’t the type to begrudge anyone a good time, especially when the good time involved loud music, leather harnesses, and throwing water bottles at cops. Central City’s annual pride parade came as close as it got to challenging that attitude; families, fellow queers, and queens descended on the city waving more flags than the United Nations after a hurricane, all decked out in color combinations that Len hadn’t been able to keep straight since the ‘80s. 

The end result was the kind of crowds that could make a grown man feel claustrophobic in the middle of a city block, and that was without the visible haze of alcohol wafting off the whole event. 

But what the parade lacked in personal space, it made up for with one very important commodity: unattended wallets. 

The flock of sunburnt twinks in denim cut-offs made Len’s job almost too easy—a hand on a sweat-slicked lower back, a flash of blue eyes, and most of them wouldn’t have noticed their wallets going missing if Len had dangled their IDs in front of their faces afterwards. (While there were plenty of women dressed in just as little clothing whom Len certainly wouldn’t have minded getting within robbing distance of, he’d found queer women as a group to be less enthusiastic about uninvited touching and more enthusiastic about wallet chains, even when three sheets to the wind off of canned rosé.)   

He’d taught a dozen visiting suburbanites the importance of not keeping valuables in their back pockets by the time he spotted a familiar profile in the crowd. 

His usual red getup wasn’t much more modest than some of the outfits Len had already seen, but even knowing the shape of that body didn’t prepare Len for seeing Barry Allen stripped to the waist, bright-eyed and flushed and shimmering all over with a fine dusting of glitter. Len noted, on auto-pilot, that it didn’t seem like he’d put any of the glitter there himself; he was standing dangerously close to a drag queen throwing handfuls of the stuff on anyone who got within arm’s reach of her. It set the sun refracting off every dip and plane of muscle across Barry’s chest and stomach. Barry’s hair, already wild and dark at the roots with sweat, was full of it.   

Len’s feet were carrying him closer before he gave himself permission to move. Barry managed to drag Len into his orbit at the best of times; visibly tipsy and dripping sweat, Len would’ve had better luck resisting the turning of the earth. 

Up close, Len could take that Barry had lost his shirt somewhat recently; the slight touch of pink spanning his shoulders and chest had nothing on the serious flush across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He had a spray of new freckles as well. They were barely distinguishable under the haze of glitter stuck to his skin, but Len noticed them at once, the change unmistakable on an otherwise unchanging face (not a scar to be seen, even after three years of running into burning buildings and jumping in front of bullets; Len was equal parts frustrated and relieved).   

It looked like someone had painted a few strokes of color across one of his cheeks at some point, but it was smudged to hell and back. The back of one of Barry’s hands was stained a tell-tale matching purple, and Len could only guess at what it had been at the start of the day. 

He stepped into Barry’s space as easily as he had the rest, taking care to keep Barry between him and the source of the glitter, and hesitated for the briefest moment with his hand above Barry’s spine. He’d never touched Barry like this, skin to skin; the gloves had never come off between them, metaphorically or literally. Kept things neat. 

Nothing about Barry was neat right now. He turned even before Len touched him, and the movement brought Len’s hand into contact with his side instead. It took everything in Len not to pull it back in a flinch, and he met Barry’s curious glance with a tightly-controlled smirk. 

He’d expected Barry to step back, maybe add a bit of blush to those already-pink cheeks. Instead, Barry’s eyes took a belated second to focus, and then he gave Len a face-splitting grin. 

“Snart!” 

That time, Len did have to pull backwards to avoid Barry dragging him in for a hug. To think he’d been concerned about a hand. 

Barry didn’t seem the least bit put out, smiling loose and easy like Len hadn’t iced him to the door of a bank vault the last time they’d seen each other. He hadn’t taken Barry for such a cheerful drunk—he seemed inclined toward melodrama on a good day—but Len would take it over any of the alternatives. 

“Barry. Fancy seeing you here. And so much of you, at that.” He let his gaze slide down his bare chest and stomach, pulse ticking up at the warm brown of his nipples and the sharp vee of his hipbones that invited his gaze further down. 

“You’re overdressed,” Barry disagreed. He wasn’t quite slurring, but there was a careful deliberation in his tone that told Len it was a near thing. He took a step closer and peered at Len, suspicion evident in those pale green eyes.   “And… sober.”

“I’m not here to score. Perks include keeping my shirt on.” 

For the briefest second, Barry looked almost disappointed. But it was gone in a blink, confusion taking over. He glanced down at himself, puzzled. Then his expression cleared, and he looked up with another easy-going smile.  “I got hot.” His gaze dropped again, to Len this time, and he licked his lips. “Aren’t you… you gotta be hot in all that.” 

Len was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and thin jacket, and it hadn’t hit eighty degrees all week. But he wasn’t in the mood to argue with drunk logic. And besides, another scan of the nearby revelers had made something unpleasant begin to scratch insistently at the inside of Len’s chest, and he tapped Barry under the chin with one knuckle to bring his attention back up. 

The contact startled both of them—Len’s control had slipped, something he could not afford to happen around Barry Allen—but Len recovered first. “Where’s the rest of your team of do-gooders?” 

“Lost ‘em.” Judging by the return of Barry’s crooked grin, it was an accomplishment, not a concern. “Cisco said the shot was too strong, but I didn’t wanna go. He’s the d…” He faltered, brows pulling together as he frowned. “S’the designed. Designinated, superhero, anyway. Shh!” 

He shot a pointer finger toward Len in a movement that Len clocked, alarmingly, as intending to be pressed to his lips, as if he were the one who’d been chatting about Vibe’s secret identity. Len had three years of dealing with the Flash to thank for being able to catch Barry’s wrist in time to stop him, and he glared at him for the attempt. 

But Barry only gave him a crinkle-eyed smile and twisted his hand in Len’s grip to clasp his wrist back. “S’so good to see you here. I didn’t think…” 

“Don’t tell me you had me pegged for straight.” 

Barry made a frankly insulting noise halfway between a scoff and a hiccup and tilted Len a condescending look. 

“Speedster, remember?” he asked, far too loudly, even for a crowd currently screaming along to a pop song that’d been bad enough the first time Len’d heard it in 2000. “I see it when you...” He let go of Len’s wrist to make a gesture with two fingers, parting them in a V and sweeping them up and down Len’s body, the muscles in his forearm shifting distractingly under Len’s hand. God, the kid had to be a hundred degrees. “When you check me out. In the suit.” 

Len smirked. “It’s cute you thought I was being subtle.” 

“You’re cute,” Barry muttered, childish and sulky, and Len took it for the compliment it wasn’t. 

“You had a point, Barry.” 

Barry still looked displeased with him, but his brow was furrowed again when he met his gaze. This close, it was impossible to ignore that Barry had an inch or so on him. “About what?” 

“You didn’t think…?” Len prompted him. 

Barry stared at him blankly, and Len rolled his eyes and let go of his wrist. 

“Get out of the sun, Barry,” he said. “Find a park bench. Wait for your little friends to come find you. Shouldn’t be hard—you’re as red as your suit.” 

Barry either ignored his last comment or didn’t hear it. “Iris is here somewhere,” he said, possibly to himself. “She’s…” He twirled his finger absently beside his head. “Curly, today. And… bikini.” 

Len strongly considered abandoning Barry to his sunburn to go find out for himself. But Barry was beginning to sway a bit, and a man closer to Len’s age than Barry’s was giving Barry’s toned back a speculative look from a few feet away, and Len gave in to the unsettled feeling gnawing at his ribcage. He refused to call it worry. It was annoyance—or, at the very least, the feeling was annoying him, which was close enough.   

“As much a sight for sore eyes as that would be,” he said, allowing a magnanimousness he didn’t feel to color his tone, “I doubt Miss West ran away from her group and got heatstroke. Unlike some people” 

Barry didn’t look the least bit chastened, lips curving up mischievously in a way that drew another couple interested looks. Len needed to get them both out of the crowd before he started breaking noses.

“Tell you what. Give Cisco a call, tell him you went home. My bike’s on Kingsbridge, away from the parade route.” 

Barry’s smirk sharpened. “Trying to get me out of here, Snart? I thought you weren’t here to score.” 

Len gave him a flat look, ignoring the decidedly interested way his body was reacting to Barry’s tone. 

“You can barely stand.” 

Barry’s eyes glittered at the challenge, and Len realized his mistake. 

“Barry—” 

He hadn’t even finished biting out the second syllable when the world spun out from under him, the noise and the heat and the press of the crowd swallowed up in a hair-raising charge of yellow lightning. Exactly two and a half seconds passed in a blur of movement, just long enough for Len to realize Barry was supporting the back of his head with one too-warm hand. Then the world came skidding to a stop around them. Barry’s momentum carried them both forward several feet even after their new surroundings materialized, and they very nearly went straight through a window again before Barry seemed to remember how to stop. 

Len considered pushing him out the window anyway for the stunt. True, he’d been itching to get another taste of that feeling, the ozone snap-drag of Barry’s power like a live wire under his hands, but he’d rather have waited until Barry could pass a breathalizer. 

He realized Barry still had an arm around him and shoved him off. It did nothing to dim Barry’s self-satisfied grin, and Len had to look away or risk giving into the interested once-over Barry was skimming over his body again. 

“Pretty sure the point of a designated driver is not doing that.” 

Barry followed him when he took a step back. Len made a calculated decision, decided the risk of touching Barry again was worth it, and pressed his fingers to the middle of Barry’s chest—right where the Flash insignia would be on his suit, his brain offered unhelpfully—and pushed him backwards, hard. 

Barry unbalanced and wheeled back a step. Then the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch, and he toppled, satisfyingly, back onto the dark leather cushions. 

It was a nice couch. The whole apartment was nice, actually. Len could’ve drawn a perimeter of possible locations based on Barry’s speed and how long it had taken them to reach it if he hadn’t already known the address. 

“Sit,” he said. And then, with a smirk: “Stay.” 

Barry rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to ask nicer than that if you wanna boss me around in bed.”

The way he threw it out there, easy as anything, almost made Len miss a step as he turned away. He wasn’t going to lay a hand on Barry, not when he was drunk on sunlight and skin and whatever concoction Cisco had apparently cooked up for him. But hearing him say it, like they’d already gotten all of the messy parts out of the way—it set off warning bells in Len’s head, flashing past all the possible off-ramps he would’ve taken if Barry had ever tried to have the conversation in a more linear fashion. 

“You’re drunk,” Len said, which was a coward’s answer, and behind him, Barry made a vague noise of agreement. 

“Probably,” he acknowledged. “You could stick around ‘til I’m not.” 

Christ. Len didn’t trust himself to look at Barry again, not when he knew he’d find him sprawled out and shedding glitter all over what had looked like a very expensive couch. “Stay,” he repeated, and went off to find the kitchen. 

By the time he got back with two glasses of water, the problem had solved itself; Barry was out cold on the couch, his painting cheek pressed to the throw pillow he’d curled himself half-around. He was shivering faintly in the air conditioning, all cooled sweat and goosebumps, and Len resigned himself to the now-familiar impulse to help him that stirred in his chest. He put one of the glasses down on the table and, not trusting his hands, knocked his knee into one of Barry’s where it was bent close to the edge of the couch. 

Barry buried his face into the pillow with a noise of displeasure, and Len said his name again. 

“Last warning,” Len said. “Ten seconds, you find out if I put on steel-toed boots today.” 

Barry groaned, and if the sound hadn’t made Len’s pulse skip, the easy shift of muscles in Barry’s arm as he pushed himself up to sitting again would’ve done the trick. 

“Water,” Len said, unnecessarily, as he passed him the glass. 

Barry took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were something personally offensive to him, and took a single, polite sip before putting it down beside the other with no small amount of distaste. Then he glanced between the glasses, and up at Len, a dirty spark already lighting behind his eyes again. 

“Don’t get your hopes up. They’re both for you.” 

Barry let out a breath with audible annoyance and dropped back against the couch cushions to glare at him. 

Len felt a modicum of sanity return to him. This, at least, was familiar ground: Barry, frustrated, asking for too much, too soon. True, it had always been about the hero business until now, but Len knew a pattern when he saw one. Give Barry an inch, and he always took a mile. 

Len gave Barry one last, appraising look. He looked ridiculous, all self-righteousness and bare skin. There was only one break in the otherwise even coat of glitter, there on Barry’s side: faint, but unmistakable, the outline of Len’s hand on his waist. The feeling in Len’s chest coalesced into something pleased and possessive. He met Barry’s glare with a slow curl of his lips, then gave him an inch.  

“Call me when you’re sober, Barry,” he said, letting his voice slip into the Cold drawl just to watch Barry’s eyes go dark. “And you can show me how well you sit up and beg.” 

He could see the impatience radiating off of Barry’s frame, the effort it was taking him to stay on the couch instead of closing the space between them. 

“Call your friends,” he reminded him. “Enough people got a look at your face today without the CCPD splashing it on every milk carton, too.”

In the elevator, Len reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thin black wallet he’d liberated from Barry during their sprint across the city. Two and a half seconds: child’s play. A little extra incentive for Barry to track him down in the morning, not that Len thought he needed it. He flipped it open, noted the deer-in-the-headlights picture of Barry on his driver’s license with amusement, and then thumbed open the bill compartment. 

Len smirked. Barry wouldn’t miss a few dollars; he owed him for the dry-cleaning it was gonna take to get the glitter out of his jacket, anyway. 

[twomanyideas]

The Grill Next Door

A collaboration by @mdelpin​​​​ and @oryu404​​​​

Gratsu Week 2021 Prompt(s): Impress, Smile, Smokey Pairing: Gray x Natsu

AO3

Summary: Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck.

But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly.

0-0 Summer was arguably the worst time to be moving. Who in their right mind would want to spend all day inside unpacking boxes when it was 90 degrees outside? Definitely not Natsu, and yet here he was, dragging another box full of stuff up the stairs in his new home. He was grateful for his friends, who had been there when he’d gotten the key and helped him clean the house, paint some walls, and install the larger pieces of furniture. But now that there was only the smaller clutter left, he was on his own, and he was missing out on all the summer fun. His friends were all enjoying themselves without him; spending their free time at the beach or the pool, barbecuing in their yards, raiding the ice cream parlor… “Soon…” Natsu sighed to himself. Soon, he could join them again. He just had a few more boxes filled with necessary items to go.

He’d already unpacked the ones filled with kitchen utensils and Happy’s stuff. All that was left were his toiletries and a few clothes. He’d sort through the rest of his crap bit by bit, one or two boxes every night until he was done. That way, he could still get the most out of the vacation days he'd pulled out for moving. He opened the box he’d brought upstairs with him and groaned; of course, he’d grabbed the wrong one. Instead of towels and shower products, he was looking at some of the housewarming gifts he’d gotten. A key hanger from Lucy, because he was always losing his keys. A baking set from Erza, which Natsu had to admit was the most optimistic gift he’d ever gotten, and a cute houseplant from Wendy, carefully wrapped up in brown paper, with wet paper towels to keep the soil moist.

There were a few more small gifts, but Natsu’s attention was drawn to the flat package at the bottom. More specifically, to the image that was on it, giving away what was inside: a bright pink flamingo kiddie pool. “So you can have a pool in your backyard!” Sting had grinned when Natsu unwrapped the gift. It was obviously a gag gift, and at the time, Natsu had seen the humor in it. He’d even joked that he’d call Sting for a pool party once he was all settled in, but right now, it only fueled his longing to do something fun. Actually… Screw unpacking, he’d do that later. One look through the window, at the bright blue sky and the burning sun, was all it took to finalize his decision. He picked up the box and took it downstairs again, quickly watering the plant before it could die in the summer heat, and putting it on a windowsill. Leaving the rest of the box’s contents for now, he took out the inflatable pool and started digging through one of the other boxes in search of his swim trunks.

He’d done enough for today. He was going to sit in his backyard and enjoy his stupid pool, damn it. Once he’d changed into his swimwear, he applied a thin layer of sunblock he’d found during his search for a towel. He went outside with the pool under his arm, sticking his foot out when he slipped through the sliding door to keep Happy from sneaking outside.

“Sorry buddy, you can’t go out yet,” he apologized, knowing that it was for the best.

They'd only moved in a few days ago, and Happy needed to get used to his new home. If he were to run away, he'd get lost trying to find his way back to their old apartment, and the last thing Natsu wanted was to end up like Rogue, who had spent all night frantically searching for Frosch when he had just moved in with Sting and failed to shut the front door behind him fast enough. Still, Natsu couldn’t help but feel guilty at the sight of Happy pawing at him from behind the glass. Maybe he could get him a cat leash tomorrow, so he could at least explore the backyard safely. One thing was for sure, he’d definitely give him some of his favorite fish treats to make up for a few hours of sitting alone inside. With that in mind, he smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air and the delicious smell that came along with it. It was one of his favorites, and he instantly recognized it. One of his neighbors was grilling in his backyard. Too curious for his own good, Natsu followed the scent. His nose told him it was coming from the house to his left, from the backyard that was only separated from his by a tall wooden fence. Tall, but not tall enough to keep Natsu away. He was just able to peek over the top if he stood on his tippy toes.

He wanted to get an idea of who was living next to him, that’s all. Okay, and maybe he wanted to live through them a little as they indulged in one of his all-time favorite summer activities. \

Natsu had to repress a loud snort when he caught his first glimpse of his neighbor. The guy was dressed in only a pair of black boxers, his fair skin slick and shiny from the thick layer of sunblock he had applied. His back had white streaks and missed spots all over it from where he hadn’t been able to distribute it evenly, and some of the lotion was sticking to the dark hairs on his neck. But the absolute worst thing of all was that he obviously had no idea how to use a barbeque properly. “You know, your food is going to cook more evenly and taste a lot better if you close the lid,” Natsu suggested, bursting out in laughter when the guy jumped and almost dropped his tongs. “Idiot!” He whirled around and glared at Natsu, waving the tongs in the air as he stomped closer. Damn! This guy was actually pretty cute when he was mad.

"I almost burned myself. What were you thinking?!"

"That you weren't doing those ribs the justice they deserve," Natsu retorted, frustration rising within him once he managed to tear his eyes away from his half-naked neighbor and focus back on the grill. All that delicious aroma-filled smoke that would've added so much flavor to that gorgeous meat was getting away!

It was a fucking crime.

"Pay attention to what you were doing, you jackass! You gotta flip them over!"

The guy quickly returned to his grill to tend to his ribs, cursing as he fumbled with the tongs while trying to keep a safe distance between the searing heat of the barbecue and his own bare ribs.

"Man, you really suck at this," Natsu couldn't resist pointing out.

"Oh, and I suppose _you _could do better?"

In all honesty, Natsu was a terrible cook. He lacked the ability to multitask in the kitchen, always made an enormous mess, and often combined ingredients that his friends insisted should never be combined.

However, cooking and grilling were two completely different things to him. His dad had taught him how to cook meat on an open fire or a makeshift grill during camping trips since he was little, and he had it down to a fine art by now.

"You're damn right I can," he scoffed, taking the question as a challenge and being kind enough to climb over the fence and invite himself to his neighbor's backyard so he could show him how it was done.

"What are you doing?!"

"Saving your meat, of course! Move over."

Too stunned by what was happening, the guy didn't protest when Natsu snatched away the tongs. He just watched with his mouth open as Natsu flipped the ribs and set the grate to a higher level, making sure they'd cook slower. And much to Natsu’s amusement, it wasn't just the grill he was staring at.

Satisfied with his intervention, Natsu closed the lid and stepped back. "There, that should do it!" he grinned, putting the tongs down on a plate on the nearby table so he could hold out his hand in greeting. "I'm Natsu, by the way. I just moved here last Wednesday."

"... Gray," his neighbor replied, frowning warily but still accepting Natsu's hand and shaking it briefly. "Do you always stick your nose into other people's business like that?"

“Just wait, you’ll be thanking me soon enough.” Natsu said, amused by his neighbor's grumpy tone. “Anyway, you should be fine as long as you leave the lid closed for about an hour.”

“An hour?” Gray complained, “I thought grilling was supposed to be faster.”

“I mean, do you want fast, or do you want good?” Natsu drawled suggestively. He wasn’t sure if it was the beautiful weather or just the high he felt from having had a hot guy so obviously checking him out because normally he wasn’t much of a flirt, but he felt the urge to test the waters. “Cause I could show you both.”

Gray surprised him by laughing heartily at his innuendo. “There is seriously nothing subtle about you, is there?”

“Nope.” Natsu agreed and laughed along. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ll leave you to your grilling, gotta go set up my pool.”

He climbed the fence to get back into his yard, hearing Gray yell behind him. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Just use the gate next time.”

“But then, how could I show you my best asset?” Natsu retorted once he was safely over, chuckling as Gray muttered something he couldn’t quite make out. He wasn’t too worried, though. After all Gray had said next time.

0-0

Gray looked back at the grill, already tempted to open the lid and check on the ribs. What was he supposed to do for an hour? He’d mowed the grass earlier, and he didn’t feel comfortable staying inside while the grill was going.

The sun felt overly hot on his skin and he found shelter under a tree in his backyard. Playing on his phone had netted him ten minutes of entertainment and two group conversations he wasn’t all that interested in.

Maybe Natsu did know what he was talking about because the smell of the ribs cooking was making his mouth water in ravenous anticipation. Thinking about his new neighbor brought a smile to his face, especially since he heard odd noises coming from the other side of the fence. Didn’t he say something about a pool?

With all this time to kill, maybe he should go return the favor and see what he was up to.

With that in mind, Gray walked over to the fence and peered over it, unable to hold back a snort when he saw Natsu sitting on the ground and puffing air into a pink flamingo-shaped pool.

"Wow, I guess you really are full of hot air."

Natsu looked up at him, flashing that grin Gray was quickly developing a weak spot for. "So you think I'm hot?"

Yes, he sure as hell did, but he wasn’t about to give Natsu the satisfaction of saying so. At least... not yet.

“I think you’re having an awfully hard time blowing, which is… disappointing.”

"Huh. Never had any complaints before." Natsu shrugged, returning his attention to blowing air into the flamingo.

“Why don’t you let me show you how it’s done?” Gray said, feeling confident.

God knows he’d blown up a ton of these things for his brother’s kid. He’d quickly learned there was a little trick to it. You had to squeeze the valve as you blew into it or the air wouldn’t get in properly. Clearly, his hot dumbass of a neighbor didn't get that.

“You want to show me how well you blow?” Natsu tilted his head, looking amused by Gray’s suggestion. “How can I say no to that?”

Gray let himself into Natsu’s backyard, using the gate that connected their properties, like a normal person, and grabbed the pool away from Natsu. Using his trick, he quickly filled both rings of the pool.

“Color me impressed.” Natsu whistled in appreciation once Gray set the pool down on the grass. He filled it with water from the hose, which he oh so charmingly put between his legs, giggling to himself as he swung it around.

How the guy could go from flirting to acting like a five-year-old within the blink of an eye was beyond Gray, but he had to admit that it was oddly endearing.

Natsu jumped in with both feet as soon as the pool was filled, watching with glee as water sloshed out onto the grass from his efforts. He sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him, and immediately propped his arms around the pool’s rim.

“That feels so much better!” Natsu moaned happily.

Now that Natsu was inside it, Gray couldn't help but notice that the pool could fit two people, albeit a little snugly considering their size. And though normally he wouldn't be caught dead in one of these things- especially a pink flamingo one- it was a very hot day, and Natsu’s yard was a lot shadier than his.

"You want in?" Natsu asked, his lips stretching into a mischievous smile.

Gray’s eyes were drawn to the slightly pointy canines, finding them incredibly sexy, and he immediately wondered what kissing that mouth would feel like as Natsu patted the empty spot next to him invitingly.

What had gotten into him? He’d just met the guy, knew next to nothing about him, yet here he was acting like a hormone driven teenager. It wasn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t deny the chemistry that sizzled between them, so palpable he could almost touch it.

Besides, what was wrong with having a little fun? It was summer, and he had been in a bit of a dry spell for months.

That thought decided him.

“I suppose I could join you for a bit.”

He had just stepped one foot inside the pool when, to his surprise, Natsu stopped him. “Hang on a minute. I didn’t say you could come in. I only asked if you wanted to.”

“If you want in-” Natsu winked at him. “It’s gonna cost ya.”

“Cost me?” Gray sputtered in protest. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. I will be more than happy to share my pool with you on this incredibly hot day, but only if you share some of those ribs with me.”

Gray had already been planning on doing that, but it was infinitely more fun to make Natsu work for it.

“I don’t know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, which only netted him greasy fingers from the sunblock he’d slathered on earlier. “It seems to me like you’re getting the better end of the deal here. This is just a kiddie pool after all.”

“Alright, you drive a hard bargain, but I can respect that. How about this then? I’ll throw in some of my world famous special sauce.”

“World famous?” Gray scoffed, “It’s probably just something you picked up at the grocery store, but… okay, I’ll bite.”

“You promise?” Natsu gave him a cheeky smirk, one that ignited a need in Gray to get in that damn pool right the hell now and show him what he intended to do.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Gray said. “Just don’t complain if it ends up being more than you bargained for.”

Gray was so determined to get in there that he completely forgot he was already partly in the pool, and tripped over the edge when he tried to step in. He caught himself with his hands but still ended up splashing Natsu, not to mention had the wind yanked out of his sails.

He looked up to see the damage. The water had darkened Natsu’s pink hair and flattened it against his face, softening his features and somehow making the bastard look even more attractive. Gray watched in rapt fascination as a drop of water traveled from Natsu’s cheek, joining others on its way down his neck and over his chest until rejoining the rest of the water at waist level.

“You’re right,” Natsu laughed loudly, slicking his hair back and away from his face. “That was definitely more than I bargained for. Nice entrance, by the way.”

Gray was utterly mortified, and he scrambled to sit down, desperately trying to come up with a witty comeback, but before he could say a word, Natsu had already splashed him. 

“There you go. No need to make that face. It’s a pool. We were going to get wet, eventually.” Natsu shrugged, his expression gradually changing to distaste as he looked at the water.

“Dude, what did you use for sunblock, SPF lard?”

“I burn easily!” Gray protested, smoothing out the bits of sunblock he could see on his skin.

“Yeah? Then maybe you should actually get it on all of your skin. Turn around.”

“It’s hard to reach back there! Besides, you just want an excuse to get your hands on me,” he argued, but did as he was told anyway, turning his back to Natsu.

“Yeah, that’s the idea. Are you complaining?”

Gray pouted but remained silent.

“That’s what I thought.”

It was hard to miss the smug tone in his voice.

Natsu’s hands spread the globs of lotion evenly across his back, occasionally stopping to knead on one of his muscles and then concentrating on his shoulders. Gray closed his eyes, biting his lip so as not to let on how much he was enjoying it. If this was what he got in exchange for some barbecued ribs, he'd love to know what other types of food Natsu liked.

“There you go.” Natsu said, giving his shoulders one last squeeze. “You can turn around now. It should be safe for you to walk in daylight again.”

Gray turned just in time to see Natsu lean back into his previous position.

“Are you implying I'm some sort of vampire? Cause I’m not the one with the pointy teeth.”

“No, but you are the one who offered to bite me.”

“True.” Gray laughed, and not wanting to lose the mood, he made his move, adjusting from a sitting position to a half straddle. He leaned in, close enough that he could feel the slight puff of Natsu’s breaths on his face as he murmured, “I can still make that happen.”

“You talk too much.” Natsu said just as quietly, peering into his eyes for a split second before closing his eyes and bridging the distance between them.

Gray hadn’t expected Natsu’s body to feel so warm against his, especially considering they were both wet from the pool water, and he instinctively pulled him closer. As arousing as the kiss was, and Natsu sucking on his tongue was definitely doing things to him, he realized he had no urge to push for more.

That should have been his first warning.

But he wasn’t really thinking about anything. His world had narrowed down to sensations. The torrid heat of Natsu’s mouth, the sharp sting of teeth nibbling on his lips, and the tingling pleasure of his hair being tugged, coupled with the sounds they were both making. Needy moans that would have embarrassed him if Natsu hadn’t sounded the same.

Gray liked it all a little too much. Already, the thought of separating filled him with a sense of dread. And perhaps that should have been his second warning.

He was busy running his hands up and down Natsu’s back when he felt him let go of his hair. His hands trailed down to his chest, but no lower, and he pulled away, leaving Gray to chase after him. Confused and more than a little disappointed, Gray opened his eyes. Natsu sat perfectly still, his eyes slightly widening as he sniffed the air. “THE RIBS!!!” Oh crap! He’d forgotten all about the ribs!

“Go open the lid,” Natsu urged, scrambling to get up and out of the pool. “I’ll be there in a few minutes with the sauce.”

Gray watched Natsu enter his house and then hurried over to his yard. The food smelled even better than before and when he opened the lid and poked the ribs with the tongs; he saw they were indeed done, the meat tender and ready to fall off the bone. Rather than stand around waiting awkwardly, he grabbed two beers from his fridge along with plates, napkins and utensils to bring outside.

He opened the sliding door that led to his backyard and found Natsu brushing sauce onto the ribs from an unmarked blue bottle. There was a content smile on his face as he worked away, and Gray felt a flutter in his stomach at the sight.

Shit!

He’d never been one for one-night stands, so why had he thought he’d just be able to go along this time? Because Natsu was hot and seemed willing?

Gray wanted to know more about him, but he wasn’t sure if Natsu felt the same way or if this was just a game he liked to play. What would happen if he played along to its inevitable conclusion? Would that be the end of it? The two of them- probably awkwardly- moving on as just neighbors who happened to have hooked up?

Was it wrong of him to want more?

Natsu looked up then, waving at him and gesturing him over. His smile widened when he noticed the beer bottles Gray was holding.

“Ooh, beer wasn’t part of the deal! I must have kissed you real good!” Natsu teased, accepting the bottle and easing some of the uncertainty Gray had felt about whether things would turn awkward after their make-out session in the pool.

“You’ll notice this is only domestic beer, so I wouldn’t get too full of myself if I were you.” Gray retorted, still playing along.

“Meh, beer is beer, and it goes great with ribs.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

The back and forth was nice, but Gray was itching to ask what was really on his mind.

Can I keep you? Or will you run off after the next pretty face that strikes your fancy?

The lid of the barbecue closed again, and Natsu walked over. “They should be ready in about five more minutes.”

He clinked bottles with him and took a swig. Gray followed suit and decided to just go for it. He’d rather know what to expect than hope for something that wasn’t meant to be.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he blurted out, sounding a bit more eager than he would have liked.

“Sure, shoot.”

Natsu gave no sign he knew what was coming, or at least that’s what his relaxed posture seemed to broadcast.

“Do you do this kind of thing often?”

“Moving? God, no, I hate it with a passion. Might as well bury me here cause I’m never doing it again.”

“No,” Gray frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Natsu mock sighed, “I’m just trying to think of an answer that won’t go to your head.”

“What?” Gray didn’t know what to make of that answer. Was he trying to find a way to let him down gently?

“No, I don’t do this type of thing often.” Natsu admitted, meeting Gray’s eyes and holding his gaze. “Look, you’re hot and turned out to be fun to mess with, so I figured there was no harm in seeing where that led. But I’m not expecting anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Gray wanted to ask if that meant that he’d like to date, but to his chagrin, all that came out of his mouth was, “You think I’m hot?”

“See?” Natsu said, sounding amused. “What’d I tell you? Right to your head!”

He put his beer bottle down on the table and traded it in for the tongs and the plates before hurrying back to the grill to check on their food. Satisfied, he turned it off and heaped a large serving of ribs onto each plate.

Gray followed him to the table, only then noticing the sliced watermelon Natsu must have brought with him from his house. He bit into one to buy himself some time to organize his thoughts.

Next to him, Natsu had already begun to dig in, messily devouring the ribs, stopping only long enough to take a sip from his beer. Gray shrugged and did the same. It wasn’t like his table manners were anything to write home about, either. The moment the meat from the ribs touched his tongue, his taste buds were assaulted with flavor. Sweet, salty, spicy… all blending together in perfect harmony. It was by far the best ribs Gray had ever tasted. He could hardly believe they’d come off his grill. He glanced at Natsu admiringly. Not that he noticed, focused as he was on his plate.

“So, what other things can you make?”

Natsu looked up at his question. There was a glob of sauce at the corner of his mouth, driving Gray all sorts of crazy with the urge to kiss it off him, but he held strong.

For now.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this is it. I can’t cook worth a damn.”

“That’s too bad.” Gray tried but failed to suppress a smile. “Guess I’ll just have to show you all the best places to eat around here, then. You busy tomorrow night?”

Natsu shook his head, breaking into a smile so blinding it wiped every single thought out of Gray’s head. Save one.

"Nope, I'm all yours," Natsu answered after what looked like a brief moment of contemplation.

Gray sure as hell liked the sound of that.

“There’s just one thing…”

Natsu tilted his head and scrunched up his nose in silent question, which was just perfect.

“You’ve got a little something there,” Gray said, leaning in and licking the sauce off before claiming Natsu’s lips hungrily.

The kiss tasted like sauce and beer, but most of all, it tasted like more. And more was definitely bound to follow soon, tomorrow night, and many more days after.

Gray could feel it.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH9

This is the first new chapter! Every last bit of it has never been read before (except by me and my betas)! What nefarious schemes will Adrien and Chloe try? Find out below!

Previous    First      Next      AO3

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Chapter 9: Emperor’s New Clothes

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Adrien asked as Chloe adjusted her wig. He peeked over the railing to the courtyard below with a frown. All of their classmates were gathered, enjoying their break—completely unsuspecting of what was about to commence.

“Of course it’ll work. These people are idiots who will believe anything.” Chloe snapped her compact shut and tossed it into her purse. “If they had any sort of intelligence, they would have seen right through Lila by now.”

“Yeah, but what if they-” Chloe pressed a finger to his lips.

“Just leave this to me, Adrikins. Being mean isn’t exactly your area of expertise.” She patted his cheek. “Little Miss Lie-la is about to be exposed. Now get into position!”

Adrien swallowed hard before climbing down the stairs to stand by the science lab door. Even though he agreed to help Chloe get back at Lila, he wasn’t entirely ready to deal with the guilt that came with it. Lila was a menace, and her lies needed to stop—that much Adrien could agree with, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his skin crawl.

To justify going through with it, he reminded himself why he’d agreed to help in the first place. Marinette didn’t deserve to be pushed away from her friends, and freeing them from Lila’s grasp would help her move on. This was for Marinette, and on those terms only, he could accept it.

“Hello, everyone! It’s me, your favorite superheroine, Ladybug!” Chloe called into the courtyard as she descended the stairs, and every head turned to face her.

“Is that Ladybug?”

“It is Ladybug!”

“Is there an akuma?”

Adrien hung back with a wince as a crowd gathered around her. This was for Marinette. Lila needed to be stopped. He agreed to this.

“Yo, Ladybug, what are you doing here?” Nino asked.

Chloe placed a hand on her hip. “Oh, I was just in the neighborhood being a super amazing superheroine and protecting Paris from akumas, and I thought I’d stop in and visit my bff. So where exactly is Lila Rossi?” Chloe pressed a hand over her eyes and scanned the courtyard.

“She’s over here!” Alya waved. Despite Lila’s best efforts to shrink behind Alya, her new bestie wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to talk to Ladybug.

“Ah, there you are, my bff. It’s been so long since we’ve last seen each other. You remember? That time I saved your life, and we became instant bffs?” Chloe crossed her fingers. “You haven’t returned my calls, so I was starting to get worried.”

“Lila’s been out of the country until recently, and she’s been super busy catching up on school ever since she got back,” Alya explained. She patted Lila’s shoulder with a beam, and Lila offered a sheepish grin in return.

“Uh, yeah…” Lila’s face blanched.

They had her cornered. This was actually working! Maybe Adrien wouldn’t have to get involved after all.

“Oh, right, you went to Achu to visit Prince Ali. Funny though, I talked to Prince Ali yesterday—his assistant wanted to make sure that Paris was safe for his upcoming visit, so naturally they called me—I asked him how your visit went, and he didn’t remember inviting you to come to his palace.” Chloe cupped her cheek in one hand. “How weird is that?”

“Wait, what?” Everyone turned to look at Lila who stiffened, and a smirk curled on Chloe’s lips.

“But you were gone for over a month, Lila. I thought you said Prince Ali invited you to come stay with him,” Rose said. She hugged her scrapbook full of Prince Ali magazine clippings to her chest.

“He did!”

“But Ladybug just said he didn’t.” Alix crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well, she must be mistaken,” Lila said. “I’m your friend. Why would I lie to you?”

“Ladybug is a superhero. She’d never lie to us either.”

“What’s the truth then?”

“Yeah, Lila, tell us the truth.” Chloe egged. “Or perhaps you’d prefer to hear it from someone else? I’ve got a pretty killer witness. Adrikins, be a dear and come over here.”

Adrien hesitated, heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t go through with this. Even though Lila deserved it, he couldn’t bring himself to call her out like this in front of everyone. There had to be another way.

“Wait a second, Adrikins?” Alya’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think we have to wonder who’s telling the truth, do we, Chloe?”

“What? I’m not Chloe! She has way better hair than I, Ladybug, do. Plus she’s way funnier, prettier, smarter, and hey!” She spun around as Kim ripped off her wig.

“Ugh, we should have known,” Alya said. “You’re just upset because Lila beat you for class rep. Honestly, Chloe, grow up!”

“Yeah, Chloe, this is super lame.”

“Why do you always gotta pick on people?”

“You just can’t stand that someone’s getting more attention than you.”

Chloe shot Adrien a cutting glare as if to say, “Get out here and do your part,” but Adrien shot her an apologetic wince before ducking into the science lab.

“What are you doing? You can still stop that girl,” Plagg said when Adrien pulled his shirt aside.

“I panicked. I don’t want it to go down like this,” Adrien said. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I just can’t do it.”

“So you’re just going to let her keep using everyone?” Plagg asked.

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “Transform me!”

“Nice try, Chloe, but Lila won fair and square,” Nino said when Chat Noir landed in the courtyard.

Chloe blew a piece of hair from her face grumpily. “You all are so stupid if you actually believe anything she says. Even Dupain-Cheng realized she was a liar. I don’t want to be your class representative anyway. You’re all so lame.”

“The only liar here is you, Ladybug,” Alix said, and Kim waved her black wig over her head tauntingly.

“Lila is a liar! Ask Adrien. He can tell you!” Chloe’s cheeks flushed an angry red.

“Dude, leave Adrien alone.” Nino groaned, shaking his head. “Just admit you’re jealous, so we can all go home.”

“I’m really sorry if I’ve upset you, Chloe. If you want, I can talk to Mlle. Bustier about letting you be the class rep instead if it means so much to you. I don’t want us to fight,” Lila said humbly.

“Liar!” Chloe stomped her foot.

“I’m not lying! I promise,” Lila said. She held up her right hand for emphasis.

“Oh really?” Every head turned around as Chat Noir laid his staff across his shoulders.

“Yo, it’s Chat Noir! Like for real this time!”

“What are you doing here, Chat Noir?” Alya pulled out her phone to record.

“I heard that m’lady was making a house call, so I thought I’d come by and make sure everything was in order.” He cast a smirk in Chloe’s direction. “But it looks like someone just wanted to play dress-up.”

Goading Chloe probably wasn’t his smartest move, seeing as she was absolutely going to kill Adrien for chickening out, but he needed everyone on his side. Taking cheap shots at Chloe was always an instant crowd-pleaser.

“So, since you’re so honest, is there anything you’d like to share with the class?” he asked Lila. “Now would be a good time to get anything that your friends don’t know about you off your chest.”

She didn’t seem deterred by his presence at all, eyes glinting with amusement. Chat Noir bristled, grip tightening on his staff. Lila held no remorse for any of her actions, and she’d cling to her lies until the very end. Chat Noir bit his tongue hard as she turned to everyone else and plastered on a pout.

“There is something I want to tell all of you…” She clasped her hands over her heart. “I’ve been hesitant because I know you all have mixed feelings, but I think Marinette is behind all of this.”

“What?” Chat Noir and Chloe said in unison.

“Why do you say that, Lila?” Alya asked.

“Well, the other day on my way home I saw Chloe going to Marinette’s house, and now she’s here calling me a liar just like Marinette used to do,” Lila said, letting her face fall into her hands. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve to be treated this way.”

Everyone crowded closer to her offering their sympathy as alligator tears rolled down her cheeks, and a host of cutting glares aimed at Chloe. They should have planned for something like this. Lila always bent the truth to suit herself.

Rage boiled in Chat’s core, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to tackle Lila to the ground. How could anyone be so despicable?  

“Hang on,” he said firmly, forcing his shoulders to relax. “I’ve met Marinette a few times, and she doesn’t seem like that type of girl.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure that’s true either, Lila,” Alix spoke up. “I mean, Chloe and Marinette hate each other. Chloe would rather die than set foot in her house.”

Alya pursed her lips and turned to Chloe. “Is it true? Did you go to Marinette’s house?”

Chloe averted her gaze, crossing her arms over her chest. “I did go to see Dupain-Cheng at her tiny, disgusting hovel, but…she refused to help me—stupid little goody-two-shoes,” Chloe said. She met Alya’s gaze head-on and squared her jaw. “But with friends like you, I’m starting to see why she left. She was nothing but nice to you losers, and yet you’d so easily believe that she’d help me get back at someone. You’re all so pathetic.”

“The only pathetic one here is you, Chloe. Lila’s never done anything. None of us have! We’re sick and tired of putting up with your crud,” Nathaniel said, and several classmates echoed their agreement.

“Whatever. I don’t want to be your class representative anyway if you’re all too stupid to tell the difference between a diamond and a lump of coal.” Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder, hips swaying as she stalked to the locker room.

Chat Noir almost chased after her, but his staff beeped with a message from Ladybug. There was an akuma across town. Chloe was going to have to wait.

♪♫♪ Broken Pieces Shine ♪♫♪

Marinette chewed her pencil, tilting her head to examine her designs from different angles. Clara’s deadline was still several weeks away, but she already had tons of ideas. Would Clara like a tasteful pantsuit or a flowing gown? Which one said ‘award-winner?’ Maybe if she added a sash or changed up the neckline…

The lunchroom bustled several simultaneous conversations, condensed into a uniform hum in Marinette’s ears while she worked. She was vaguely aware of her friends at the table with her, but when Macy leaned in to get a closer look at what she was working on, she still jumped.

“Ooo, are those for you-know-who?” she asked.

“Shh!” Marinette covered her sketchbook and glanced around to ensure no one had overheard. “Yes, but they’re not final. I’m just playing around with some ideas.”

“I like them,” Macy said. “Look at this one, Eliott. Eliott?”

He was unusually quiet that day, but Marinette had been too enthralled in her own work to notice. His nose was buried in a booklet, seemingly as engrossed in it as Marinette had been with her designs. He only looked up when Macy stuck her hand in front of his face.

“What?” He blinked.

“Marinette is designing top-secret things, and she needs opinions,” Macy said.

“Can’t you ask Martin?” he asked.

Macy gave him an incredulous look. “Martin left 10 minutes ago to go work with his group on their science project. Weren’t you listening?” She scolded. Though in Eliott’s defense, Marinette hadn’t noticed either.

“Oh, sorry. Guess I was distracted.” He closed the cover but marked the page with his finger. “So what do you need?”

Macy shook her head, taking a bite of her cake. “You two are such space cadets today.”

“What are you studying, Eliott?” Marinette asked. She tilted her head to get a better look at the cover.

“I’m in a community play, and we have rehearsal tonight,” he said nonchalantly.

“Wow, that’s so awesome! What part did you get?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special…” Eliott sat back with a smirk and shrugged.

“He’s being modest. He’s playing one of the leads, and he’s super excited about it. He memorized his lines in like 3 days, but he always reads over the script again before rehearsals.” Macy finished her cake and stood up. “I’m gonna get another drink. Help Marinette with her designs!”

“Fine, but can you get me a slice of that cake, please?” Eliott requested. He pressed his palms together with a smile. Macy rolled her eyes but headed for the dessert stand anyway.

“So, you got a lead role. What play are you guys doing?” Marinette asked, and Eliott tossed her the script.

Miraculous! The Battle of Heroes’ Day

“Oh, so it’s about Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Marinette said with as much casualty as she could muster. “Wait, if you’re playing a lead role then that means…”

“You guessed it, m’lady.” He winked.

Marinette bit back a laugh. The director definitely cast the right person. Put Eliott in a blond wig, and even she’d believe he was Chat Noir.

“That’s so awesome! When is it opening? I’d love to come watch.” She passed back the script, and he found his page again.

“Not for a couple more weeks, but if you want, I can see about getting you into one of our dress rehearsals soon,” he offered.

“Really? Yeah, I’d love to.”

Macy returned with Eliott’s slice of cake, but not before Gabrielle locked on target. “Did you save any cake for the rest of us? No wonder your uniform looks so tight these days.”

When Macy froze, Marinette turned to Gabrielle with a glare. “She got it for Eliott because some people don’t spend all of their time thinking about themselves.”

“I think about other people all the time,” Gabrielle said with a wicked grin. “I’ve actually been feeling sorry for Macy after Simon rejected her three weeks ago. If only she were prettier, then maybe Eliott would be more than just a friend.”

“Eliott and I aren’t like that.” Macy shot back.

“Clearly,” Gabrielle said with a grunt. “Tell me, Eliott. Have you ever thought about dating Macy?”

“Well, no, but-”

Gabrielle threw her head back with a laugh, and Macy’s cheeks flushed a deep red. She stormed from the cafeteria, tears bubbling in her eyes. Gabrielle watched her go with a triumphant smirk that made Marinette’s blood boil.

“You should go after her,” Marinette said to Eliott.

“Trust me, she doesn’t want to see me after that.” He shrugged and returned to his script.

“How can you say that? She’s your best friend, and best friends should always be there for each other no matter what!” Marinette slammed her palm on the table, but when Eliott refused to look at her, her jaw clenched. “You’re wrong. I think you’re the exact person Macy wants to see right now.” She didn’t wait for his reply before gathering her sketchbook and chasing after Macy.

The halls were empty and quiet, the chorus of chatter from the cafeteria fading as Marinette raced down the stairs. Macy was nowhere in sight, and Marinette didn’t know where to begin looking for her. After a week, Marinette was still learning her way around—not to mention still learning her new friends.

If it were Alya, Marinette knew exactly where to look, which treat from the bakery would always cheer her up, and as a last resort, where she was ticklish. She didn’t have those ins with Macy yet.

Eliott would know.

Eliott… How could he sit by while his friend was upset? Didn’t he care about her at all? If they really were best friends, then why didn’t he stand up for her and believe her when she said she was hurt? It was so obvious that Gabrielle just wanted attention. How could he let her come between them? Why did he let her walk away? Shouldn’t he chase after his best friend and make sure she was okay? Isn’t that what friends were supposed to do?

Marinette leaned against a row of lockers, shoulders heaving and tears stinging her eyes. Wasn’t she a good friend? Didn’t she always take care of everyone? So why would they turn their backs on her? How could they leave her all alone?

“What’s wrong, Marinette?” Tikki poked her head out of Marinette’s blazer.

Marinette sat on the floor with a sigh, resting her head against the lockers. “It just gets so hard,” she whispered. “Always being there for everyone. Being the one to fix everything for everyone. Sometimes I just wonder… who will be there to fix me when I need it?”

“You’ve got me,” Tikki said. She floated up to nuzzle Marinette’s cheek. “And your parents, Master Fu, Adrien.”

Marinette smiled at that, petting Tikki’s bulbous head with one finger. “Thanks, Tikki. I needed a friend.”

Screams echoed up the hall, and Marinette jumped to her feet. Shaking off the last of her doubts, she slapped her cheeks and took a deep breath. She wasn’t alone, and she would make sure her friends never were either.

“That sounded like it came from the cafeteria. I think it’s safe to say we know where Macy is,” Marinette said. “Transform me!”

Terrified teens with crooked teeth and unibrows rushed past as Ladybug entered the cafeteria. All around the room, her classmates cowered from the akuma zeroing in on Gabrielle in the center. Macy had become the perfect porcelain doll carrying a mirror in her hands—no doubt where the akuma was hiding.

Ladybug hooked her yoyo around Gabrielle’s shoulders and tugged her to safety, even if she deserved whatever punishment Macy was about to give her.  “Get somewhere safe,” she ordered.

“Duh,” Gabrielle said. Ever the gracious one.

“You’re welcome.” Ladybug rolled her eyes as Gabrielle raced off.

With Gabrielle out of the way, the akuma settled for Thomas. She held her mirror in front of him, and his handsome face broke out in angry red zits. The misshapen students fleeing the cafeteria all made sense. Gabrielle told Macy she wasn’t attractive, so now she was making everyone else look the part instead.

“You shouldn’t have let her get away, Ladybug. I think everyone here would like to know what she’s ashamed of,” the akuma said.

While that much might have been true, Ladybug wasn’t in the business of agreeing with one of Hawkmoth’s villains. “Revenge is never the answer, Macy. You’re better than this. Let me help you.”

“I’m not Macy anymore. My name is Mirror-Mirror!” she shouted. Her glassy eyes bore all of her pain, the real Macy screaming inside. “If you want to help me, then give me your Miraculous!”

Ladybug dodged her strike, flipping backward onto a table. Mirror-Mirror wasted no time charging in again and again, the destructive force of her anguish taking its toll on the cafeteria. It was impossible to get a hit in edgewise without seeing herself in the mirror, and Chat Noir hadn’t turned up yet.

“Kitty, I’m battling an akuma, and I really need your help! Where are you?” Ladybug spoke into her yoyo phone. Looks like she’d have to navigate this one on her own. “Lucky Charm!”

A slingshot seemed straight forward enough, but what could she use as ammo? Nothing stood out, and in her moment of distraction, she barely dodged a flying table. Her lucky charm skittered across the floor as she stumbled into her landing, and Mirror-Mirror closed in.

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, what darkest fears hide in us all?”

“No!” Ladybug tried to shield her face, but it was too late. Her eyes locked with her reflection, and she sank to her knees, all of the fight leaving her body.

What was happening? Everyone else got pimples or big feet, so why couldn’t she move? If Macy’s mirror made everyone unattractive, then why? Why did she feel so…helpless?

What darkest fears hide in us all?

Of course! Her mirror didn’t just make people unattractive. It turned them into the thing they’re most ashamed of—the parts of themselves they hid from the world. And what was Ladybug ashamed of? Failing? Perhaps. Having her identity exposed? Probably.

But as Mirror-Mirror reached for her earrings, their eyes locked, and she saw what she truly feared. The mirror didn’t take her powers. It took her will to fight. More than anything she wanted to save Macy. To save Alya. Her friends. Everyone. But her legs refused to move.

Ladybug’s greatest fear wasn’t losing. It was being powerless to help the people she loved most.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered, head falling.

Mirror-Mirror’s fingers closed around her earrings, but before she could remove them, Chat Noir’s staff struck her side, sending her flying into the wall.

“Ladybug!” He rushed to her side. “Sorry it took so long, m’lady. Are you alright?”

“No.” She shook her head.

Chat Noir cast a nervous glance at Mirror-Mirror as she stood up. “Come on. We’ve gotta move.”

“I can’t,” Ladybug repeated.

“Are you hurt?” Chat Noir bent one of her knees. “M’lady? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t save her, Chat Noir.”

He searched her expression before scooping her up and leaping out of the way of another attack. He set her down gently and brandished his staff. Would he leave her one day too? What if she couldn’t protect him either?

No. That was ridiculous. Chat Noir would always have her back.

You thought Alya would have your back too. Look how that turned out.

That was different. Lila was manipulating her.

Who’s to say a villain couldn’t do the same to Chat Noir? He could turn his back on you.

He wouldn’t.

But he could.

Ladybug squeezed her eyes shut, pushing against the darkness clouding her mind. Ever since she became Ladybug, she’d always relied on her head to get through tough situations. Now even her own thoughts were working against her. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Macy needed her help. She needed to save her friends.

Mirror-Mirror kicked Chat Noir in the gut, spreading him on his back. His staff rolled into Ladybug’s feet as Mirror-Mirror closed in. She needed to help him, but her legs wouldn’t budge. Her lucky charm was only a few yards away. If she moved now, she could reach it before Mirror-Mirror changed Chat Noir too.

But what was the point? Even if she did reach it in time, she still hadn’t figured out what to do with it. This battle was over.

“Hey, Macy!”  Eliott stood in the doorway, shoulders squared and head high. His hands were balled into tight fists to hide how they shook as he approached.

Ladybug assumed he ran away after getting zapped just like everyone else, but he looked completely normal. She hadn’t seen him since she left to find Macy, so he should have been in the cafeteria when Mirror-Mirror first attacked. Had he gone to look for Macy after all?

Mirror-Mirror abandoned Chat Noir, freeing him to rush to Ladybug’s side. He retrieved her lucky charm on the way and placed it in her hands. “Come on, Ladybug. Think.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you earlier,” Eliott said, and when she raised her mirror, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Go ahead if it will make you feel better, but it’s not going to do you any good.”

When Eliott remained unchanged, she lowered the mirror with a growl. “Why isn’t it working?”

“Because I’m already the thing I’m most ashamed of,” Eliott said. “I was a bad friend to you, and that hurts me more than anything else ever could. Marinette was right. Friends should never turn their backs on one another, and that’s why I’m never going to abandon you again.”

“LB.” Chat Noir placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here. What do you need?”

Eliott hadn’t abandoned Macy, and Chat Noir wasn’t abandoning her. Not all friendships were destined to fail. So long as she held onto her faith in the people she loved, everything would be alright.

Ladybug turned the slingshot over in her hands. If she combined it with Chat Noir’s staff… She loaded the slingshot and aimed for the pillar diagonally across from them. The staff ricocheted off the wall, soaring right into the mirror. The glass shattered, and a black butterfly fluttered out.

Chat Noir pulled her to her feet, and she captured the akuma with one swipe of her yoyo. She took a deep breath as Miraculous Ladybug returned everything to normal, the last traces of her insecurities fading. When Chat Noir offered her a fist, she stretched up to hug his neck instead—he didn’t complain.

As Hawkmoth’s magic faded, Macy collapsed forward into Eliott’s arms. “What happened?” she groaned.

“You were akumatized, but I’ve got you,” he said gently.

Students filed back into the cafeteria, cheering for another victory over Hawkmoth. Gabrielle stood at the back of the crowd, arms crossed over her chest, and Eliott eyed her with a frown.

“I know I should have stood up for you, but Gabrielle didn’t let me finish,” he said. “You’re not just a friend to me, Macy. You’re my family, so of course I’ve never thought of you that way.” When Gabrielle rolled her eyes, he continued, “I think this has shown us that we all have things about ourselves that we don’t like, and just because I’ve never seen you that way doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re really beautiful, Mace.”

Macy hugged his neck, prompting more cheers from their classmates. Ladybug and Chat Noir used the noise as cover to slip silently out the door.

♪♫♪ Stall Me ♪♫♪

The day was over when Adrien made it back to school. Most of the students had already gone home, and he believed Chloe had too until he rounded the corner to his locker. He was going to have to face her eventually, though he hoped to delay it a while longer.

She didn’t say anything, but he knew that look all too well. Arms crossed, hip cocked, lips pursed. It was the same look she gave her butler when he took too long to bring her sushi, and Adrien lowered his head like a puppy awaiting a scolding.

“Chloe, I-”

“Oh, now you want to speak.” She quirked a brow.

“I’m sorry!”

“What happened?” She demanded. “I needed your help, and you didn’t have my back. We could have exposed her!”

He averted his gaze. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?”

“It just didn’t feel right. I panicked.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Next time I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Next time? No one in this school is going to believe anything we say about her now because you chickened out!” She jabbed his chest with her finger. “I hope your conscience is happy. You made me look ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Maybe I should leave like Dupain-Cheng.”

“Chloe-”

“No! No more excuses. If you really want to stop Lila, then call me when you’re actually ready to do something,” Chloe said. With a flip of her ponytail, she shoved past him.

Adrien leaned against his locker with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. Mirror-Mirror didn’t have to show him what he was ashamed of—he already knew. He was a coward, and now everything was ruined.