#like yeah it does sound like it was mixed in a makeshift studio

[dulcevenganzaa]

me, yesterday listening to bullets for the 6th time in a row: how does it keep getting better and better?

[kiridarling]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄

d.kaminari and h.sero | f!reader + corruption + weed/shotguning + praise + threesome + more! minors dni!

— 3.6k words

"I knew I wanted you the second I saw you."

Denki’s addicted to the pre-concert high.

His veins hum with a song that has yet to start, fingers drumming some mixed beat on the body of his electric guitar as he assumes his place on the dark stage. The theater’s dead silent, the room suspended in a titilating anticipation—and the steady rhythm Denki's heart dissapates into chaos when the faint crack of Eijirou's drumsticks bounce off the walls, and the click in his earpiece begins.

Eijirou hits the kick drum once. Twice. Then his hands fly across the set in a flurry, the rolling beat echoing into the packed arena and spurring the crowd to explode, fans flying to their feet to render their vocal cords for the night.

As the other instruments fill the blank space, Denki's hand grips the back of his guitar's neck, on hold for his solo, and by the time the electric blond steps up to the mic, pavlov's theory has already kicked in overdrive.

"Who’s ready to feel good tonight?”

“Dude, I’m on fucking fire!” Denki vibrates, nearly glowing in comparison to his bandmates as they sift through a flurry of fans at a meet and greet. It always seems like Denki and Eijirou are the only ones with energy after a good show—but what can he say? Being on stage lights him up like a live wire.

"You said that last concert, buddy," Hanta snorts, before his a fan ran sacks his attention by shoving a tiara into his hairline.

"And? My point still stan—" Denki cuts himself off with a gasp as a bra slings across his face, followed by a burst of pain when the metal hits him in the cheek. He peels the lacy thing off with an eye on the audience and an eyebrow raised in question, unsure of what to do with the undergarment (other than put it on) until someone screams:

“Sign it!”

Denki shrugs and pops the Sharpie cap with his teeth to sign the crest of both cups before flinging it back into the audience—he can only pray it pinpoints its rightful owner before the meet and greet ends.

Katsuki clicks his tongue (because he hates these events) and as the next round of fans lineup in front of their table, Eijirou stretches like this is a sport, saying, “Guess it’s go-time.”

"Go-time is when we perform," Katsuki grumbles in the seat to Denki’s right. "Go-time is when we're in the studio makin' a goddamn album, not meeting crazy fuckin' fans—no, I’m not gonna marry you, you obsessed fuckin—“

“Oh, you're just salty you're not popular with the ladies~“ Denki gushes, wiggling his eyebrows, and a fan hands him a canvas the size of his upper body. “Un—oh wow, did you make this for me—Unlike me, of course.”

"Okay, pretty boy." Hanta rolls his eyes, before signing a phone case and returning it to an overzealous fan. With a hand covering his mouth, he whispers, “Can you believe this guy? So full of himself, I swear.”

The fan giggles and Hanta meets the blushing cheeks with a satisfied smirk. Denki huffs from the disrespect, crossing both arms over his chest. “Full of myself? It’s not my fault I’m sexy—*an autograph? Of course!"

Katsuki chuckles, scratching under his chin with ink blue fingertips, "Call yourself sexy one more fuckin’ time and I'm projectile vomiti—no, I'm not signing your tits, give me a goddamn paper or somethin—"

"What?” Denki scoffs, chest collapsing with the disbelief that one could make such a lie. “I'm literally the definition of I'm sexy and I kno—"

"Um, excuse me?"

His gesticulations freeze at the passive voice, arms stretched wide and to the sky, and Denki knows he has to look absolutely ridiculous as he blinks down at the next person in-line; who's stood with bambi eyes and such a sweet smile the electric blond thinks it might make him sick.

"I-I'm your biggest fan! Could you—um, please sign this for me?"

She comes alive, shoving a poster into his chest with pink cheeks and shifty irises. Out of all the bras, all the breasts he's been asked to sign today, and here you are, with your pocket-sized poster and your lamb countenance. Denki beams.

"Of course, Sweetness! What's your name?"

"[Y/N]!" you say, giggling, and it's so. Cute. Denki opens the Sharpie and struggles to focus on signing instead of your gorgeous fucking face.

"Anything specific you'd like me to say?"

And he knows there's a rule—there always are when it comes to these things, and it's simple: don't fuck the fans. As tempting as it is, don't invite them back to your hotel room because there are too many uncertainties, and if something leaks to the press that’s possibly career ending, that’s it. So, Denki holds his tongue. For the future of himself and the band.

"Uhm, just write what you want! I...I think I'd like it best if it was authentic and came straight from you, so."

Fuck. Of course she does.

And maybe Denki just can't help it when he leans down to speak, perhaps a little lower, "You want something more authentic, cutie?"

You light up like a kid on Christmas, gasping, "Yes please Mr. Kaminari!"

So eager, too.

"Awe, you can call me Denki if you'd like," he coos, and you nod so quickly he starts to worry about whiplash. "Meet me out back, in the alley behind the venue if you wanna get to know me better. Sound like a deal?”

"O-Okay!" You nod, and when he returns your sign you grip it tight between both hands. "I'll um, see you soon Mr. Kami—I mean, D-Denki!"

You flush from the mix up and bow in apology, and Denki knows he's made the right choice when you light up, indicating you have no idea what he meant at all.

"Row row row your boat, gently down the stream," you hum, sniffling. You’re unsure if your nose is running, it's too frozen to tell, and it has you patting to confirm it’s presence. With your hands stuffed in your pockets and a jacket wrapped tight around your body, you'd think you'd be warm, but no.

The alley is dark. It's dank enough that you can smell it and you're positive what you're dancing in is vomit, but none the matter—today, you met your favorite band. Literally the people you'd die for.

"Merrily, merrily," kicking the loose rocks in the gravel every which way, you enjoy the sound of them scattering against the surrounding brick walls. "Merrily, merrily..."

"Life is but a dream," a voice finishes, a yelp rips from your throat and you jump twenty feet in alarm. But you’d know that voice anywhere; Denki chuckles at your reaction and it has you recoiling with timidity, unprepared for the surprised audience. "You have a lovely voice, Cutie. You should use it more often."

"I..." but you're not exactly sure what to say to that, knowing Denki's heard so many professional voices in his career to last a lifetime, and yet yours is lovely. "T-Thank you."

Denki watches your reaction with a hum and a smile, his visible breath escaping between the slit of his lips and into the cool air.

"Of course, Cutie."

Another voice sighs, shattering the friction that fills your gut when Denki gives you that look. You're not sure what to call it, but it makes you shiver, and that's enough to make you to run and hide.

"...Denki, who's this?"

"Um," the blond places his frozen hands in his pockets and swivels his head around to Hanta, guilty written all over his face. "A fan?"

Hanta sighs again, head tilting to the right in exhausperation, “Denki—"

"I know, I know," the electric blond sighs, waving him off. "But it's fine as long as we don't get caught, right?"

Hanta's black hair threatens to fall into his face so he combs through it, and you try not to drool at the sight of his bicep flexing. "Yeah, until we get caught."

A honk blares and it has you shrieking, to reveal a parked tour bus in the alley once the lights flicker on. Denki points the car keys at the vehicle and the doors swing open. "Awe c'mon, don't be a sour puss. It's a one-time thing, alright?"

Hanta's eyes narrow into slits.

"Seriously, dude! I'm a man of my word! On God."

The noirette's shoulders sag, but he waltzes around both of you to get on the bus. Over his shoulder, he warns, "Denki I swear to fucking god—"

"I'll be careful, I'll be careful~" he singsongs, hopping onto the stairs after the pianist. When Denki notices not you're not moving, he stills at the top step. "You coming, [Y/N]?"

"O-Oh, am I um, am I allowed?" You ask, biting your cheek at the thought of what Hanta just said as you peer around the electric blond’s body. Denki snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, you're allowed," he exits the bus, only to tug you on via your collar. "Now c'mon! Let's have some fun, yeah?"

"Okay!"

Denki steers you through the bus and into a space that looks a bit like a living room, with a couch, tv, and a makeshift kitchen in the corner. Following Denki to the kitchen, you look around.

"Where are Kirishima and Bakugou?"

"Out drinking," Denki tosses, flicking open a RedBull. You wonder if this is always the post-concert routine. Hanta fiddles in with something on the couch, but he still has yet to look you in the eyes tonight, even when you ask him:

"What are you doing?"

It seems he didn't realize you’ve relocated from the kitchen to the couch next to him from the noirette nearly jumps. The green stuff in his fingers crumbles, and you scrunch your nose at the smell.

"It stinks," you add. Denki snorts, jumping onto the cushion to your right. There isn’t a whole lot of room and his addition causes your shoulders to slush between the two of them, but it’s strangely comfortable.

"It's weed," he explains like it's obvious. "You smoke, Cutie?"

"Obviously not," you and Hanta say at the same time. You turn his way, and for the first time that night, Hanta looks you in the eyes—and it's a smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners, but there's...something else. Something else hidden behind the thinnest veil that makes you cower, if ever so slightly.

Something feral.

Denki, unaware of the crushing grip your hand has around your thigh, huffs, and tosses the energy drink down his gullet, "It was a genuine question! Geez."

"What are you doing?" You ask again, and the electric blond whimpers from being ignored.

"Rolling a joint," he utters, lifting the paper to his lips to lick the length. You watch, semi-disgusted, as Hanta finally folds over the last bit of paper around the crest of the joint, gluing it together.

"Know what a joint is?" The noirette implores.

"Yeah," you breathe, shifting at the new closeness Denki provides when you feel his chest against your back. "My roommate smokes, so."

Hanta taps it on a tray, or what Denki describes as "packing it down," before twisting the tip and tossing it back onto the tray in conclusion. Denki cheers.

"Aha! The joint-rolling master has blessed us! Everyone say thank you, joint-rolling master."

"Thank you, joint-rolling master!" You giggle when Hanta's face turns a ruddy red. He reaches over to pop Denki upside the head. Denki gasps, before lunging to return the favor, and you squeal from being jostled between two men.

"Okay," when Denki returns to his seat he's panting and so is the noirette. He picks the joint off the tray and though there isn't much room, turns so he's facing you, your legs smushed against his body indian style. "You ready, Cutie?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," you huff, swinging your arms in preparation despite the lack of space. Just in case.

Hanta snorts, holding the joint to your lips, and Denki raises the lighter and raises it to the end until it's hot enough to burn on its own.

“Now suck."

You do, cheeks puffing, and you blow the smoke straight in Denki's face. It's...a lot.

"Not quite," Hanta chuckles, and flips you via the waist so you're facing him. Denki whines from the change but finds solace in hooking his chin over your shoulder. "Suck, and then inhale. Act like it's a big breath—you gotta hold it in your lungs for a sec."

"Okay," you assert with a nod, eyes burning with a new determination. When Hanta holds it to your lips, you suck and inhale, and start coughing your throat raw, in a flurry of smoke and tears, eyes watering and nose burning. You scramble for water, but by the time you get some, the only thing that's left to soothe is a sore throat.

"Here," Denki offers, grabbing the joint before flipping you his way again. "Take smaller hits, like this."

Denki's mouth wraps around the tip and smoke pours from his lips so smoothly you're determined to do the same. With a raised eyebrow, he passes it back to you, and though it takes a moment, you try again.

The back of your throat tingles but the glide is much smoother, and you find that it doesn't burn on your next exhale. So you do it again. And again. And agai—

"Okay," Hanta picks the joint from your fingers with a click of his tongue, before taking a hit himself. You frown, making grabby hands.

"Hey, wai—"

"Nu-uh," he tuts, pushing you down by your forehead. "You'll feel it soon enough, trust me."

You whine, crossing your arms over your chest. Hanta gives you nothing but a raised eyebrow as he takes another hit, and you're convinced it's to taunt you. "I'm not eve—"

But then the world blurs, a bit, and your legs hum in a way they haven't before; it's warm and it's nice, and it has you blinking down at your hands in bewilderment. Whoa.

"And there she goes," Denki announces, and somehow seized the joint from the noirette when you weren't looking. Your mouth drops to say something, but all you can produce is a light giggle before it melts into a guffaw that only comes straight from the gut, your hands trying to soothe your cramping belly. Tears come to your eyes fairly easily, and when Hanta asks if you're okay he sounds like he's underwater, and that's enough to send you flying through another fit of laughs.

"I—y-yeah, I'm just—just fine," you snort behind a hand, chest spasming as you finally gather yourself enough to calm down. "I'm good. Mhm."

"Yep. Totally fine," Hanta says, but something in his tone suggests he doesn't believe you at all.

You nod, biting your bottom lip to avoid another laugh attack with your hands bunching the bottom of your shirt for extra purchase. Hanta narrows his eyes while taking another hit, so you sock him in the shoulder with a huff. "Stop looking at me like that."

The noirette snorts, "Like what?"

"Like..." you start strong, but falter under his eyes. "Like you want to eat me."

Hanta hums at the comment but says nothing, and you're not sure if your mind fabricated the quick look he gives the electric blond sat behind you. Denki speaks first.

"Do you know what shotgunning is, [Y/N]?"

You frown, "Like a shotgun?"

"So no," Hanta answers for you.

"Here," Denki offers, turning you again. Plucking the nub of a joint from the noirette, he takes a big hit before picking your face up by the jaw and hovering your lips over yours. You're not sure what to do, but once your lips connect, smoke fills your lungs, and you don't exhale until Denki pulls away. You blink, a little dazed.

You just kissed Denki Kaminari.

"Feel good?" He asks, never leaving your personal space. You nod, and he grins. "Wanna do it again?"

Your hands fist his shirt, teeth tearing the inside of your cheek due to the amount of embarrassment this question encourages. "I wan—can we do it again but without the um...without the smoke?"

Denki's hands find your hips and it's hard for him to contain a sly smirk, biting his lips to move in on his prey.

"I knew I waned you the second I saw you."

Denki's lips feel much better when he puts a little weight into the kiss, pinning you between him and the noirette. You're not exactly sure what you're doing but he takes the lead, titling his head and kissing harder, rougher, so your lips are pink and swollen by the time he pulls away.

"A-Another," you whimper, tightening your grip around his tee.

Denki hums in contemplation, picking your head up by your chin. "Ask nicely, Cutie."

Flushing deeper, your eyes dart to the coffee table.

“Another, please."

"Good girl," Denki coos, and he's propping you up against Hanta's chest. You shiver at the comment, finding purchase on Hanta's thighs as Denki kisses you on the lips again. "Wanna feel even better?"

"Yes," you nod vehemently. "Yes please."

Denki hums at that, climbing down your body as his hands glide from your waist to the band of your pants. You frown, "What—What are you doing?"

"Eating you out, Cutie," the electric blond says, hands freezing once his thumbs dip under your waistband. "That okay?"

"Oh okay," you breathe, relaxing against Hanta's chest. "Y-Yeah, that's fine."

Denki rips your pants off at that, tossing them towards the corner of the room and ultimately, to a place you'll probably never find them. Pushing your panties to the side, he licks his lips at the sight of your pussy, and flicks your clit with a smirk. You jump.

"H-Hey, that's not—"

He flattens his tongue against your slit and chuckles when you shudder, and after tossing both of your legs over his shoulders. You're not sure what he does after that though, because Hanta picks your face up by the chin and presses his lips to yours.

Denki slides a finger inside and you squeal against Hanta's chapped lips. You hear the electric blond moan, readjusting himself between your thighs, before you finally peel your lips off the noirette's, chest having from lack of oxygen.

"Such a pretty pussy, Baby," Denki gushes before his warm lips fold around your clit and he sucks, humming in surprise when you buck against his mouth. Hanta hooks his chin around your shoulder with a second joint dangling between his lips—and where it came from is beyond you.

Once he exhales, the joint finds its way between your lips and he instructs you to inhale, and the head rush afterwards has you digging your head into his chest.

"You're so wet, holy shit," Denki pulls away, lips strawberry pink and glossed with slick as he trades his both for his thumb and inserting another finger. It crooks just right and that's enough to make your hips buck, nails carving crescents in Hanta's thighs.

“T-There,” you whimper, wiggling your hips again, and Denki grins, thumb pressing into your clit. Your thighs quiver with the strain it takes to hold them back and Hanta’s calloused hands skip to your waist after dropping the burning joint off in the tray.

“Pull his hair,” the noirette commands, but you hesitate, hands glued to his thighs. Hanta sighs, reaching over you to tug for himself.

“Mph—fuck!” Denki’s eyelids flutter as he moans into your pussy with a new passion, his hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you in place. You gasp at his reaction, fingers scrambling under Hanta’s own to thread through his electric blond hair.

“Move your hips—grind against his face, c’mon,” Hanta’s grip tightens around your waist as he offers the suggestion, and you whimper with a nod before your bucking into Denki’s mouth without abandon. As the noirette trails butterfly kisses up the column of your neck, the coil in your gut snaps, and you barely have time to squeak out a warning before you’re flooding Denki’s mouth.

“Good girl...ride it out—there you go,” Hanta coos, biting your ear. You shiver as Denki pulls away with a final (and obscene) slurp, grinning like he didn’t just shatter you to pieces with nothing but his tongue and fingers.

Denki’s lips are on yours in a blink—you moan, legs still buzzing from the afterglow as you weakly grope for the small hairs on the back of his neck.

“Taste good, don’t ya?” He says with a click of a tongue after pulling away.

“I guess so,” you flush, the humiliation from so shamelessly digging your heels into Denki’s back finally settling in. Hanta reaches under your arm for Denki’s chin.

“What? Want a taste too?” The electric blond giggles, wiggling his eyebrows. Hanta snorts.

“If you could be so kind.”

Denki hums at that, placing a hand on your inner thigh for balance as he slams his lips on the noirette’s for the first time that night. He dives straight for the kill, tongue and teeth and everything, and Denki moas when Hanta’s teeth sink into his bottom lip; you find that you like it a lot.

Though eventually you tired of watching, and press the heel of your hand on Hanta’s hard cock through the fabric of his jeans. The pianist hisses, and you grin—you’ve got their attention now.

“Whoa Sweetheart, what are y—“

“I...I want more,” you assert despite the tremor in your voice. Hanta raises an eyebrow in question which has you pressing harder in hopes he’ll cave just as easily as before. Just in case, you add, “Please.”

Denki redirects your attention by squishing your cheeks until you’re looking him in the eyes. With dark eyes, he says, “You sure you want more, Cutie?”

You nod despite the restriction, “Wanna...wanna get to know you better.”

You watch Denki’s pupils dialate at that, and he can’t even hold back a groan when he says:

“Gods, Baby. We’re going to ruin you.”

unpopular opinion: bakugou's the bassist and kirishima's the drummer. fight me.

not me projecting 12yo sun's fantasy of getting railed in the tour bus by 5sos um—

[fruitcoops]

Cake Off

Happy birthday, Finn O'Hara! Here's to hoping all your wishes come true <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Marlene waved to the camera as she wove a small whisk into her bun; behind her, five young men sat in front of a well-lit industrial kitchen. “Hello, Lions, and welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon, and we’re here today to celebrate someone we all love very much.”

“Some more than others,” Leo corrected.

“Today is Finn O’Hara’s 25thbirthday,” Marlene continued. “And my gift to him was letting him pick what our next video was going to be. Being the agent of chaos we know and love, he chose to force his friends to make him birthday cakes. Cap, Knutty, I know you two are feeling pretty confident about this. Tremzy, Kasey, and Loops, how are we feeling today?”

Logan’s expression was rather pained. “Can I apologize in advance?”

“I have…a history with ovens,” Kasey said carefully. “Kind of like Britain’s history with the rest of the world, except I’m the rest of the world and the oven wins nine times out of ten.”

“I don’t bake,” Remus sighed. “This is going to be an adventure. Can I leave if I already got him a present?”

“Nope!” Marlene chirped. “To your stations, everyone!”

The five of them trooped to the countertops, which had been covered with a colorful assortment of baking supplies; Logan’s smile grew even more nervous. “Is there a guidebook, or something?”

Marlene ruffled his hair as she passed. “Where’s the fun in that? You have two hours to make a unique birthday cake. On your marks—”

Kasey went pale. “Wait—”

“—get set—”

“Marlene, please,” Remus begged.

“—go!”

“Oh my god,” Logan muttered. “Uh, I don’t have a recipe.”

Marlene’s grin was wicked. “That’s the extra bonus fun.”

Leo paused from where he was measuring flour into a sifter and raised his hand. “Finn’s not actually tasting everyone’s cakes, right? ‘Cause making him sick on his birthday seems a bit mean.”

“He only has to try one bite of each,” Marlene assured him as she stopped by Sirius’ station, where he was gathering his ingredients in a line. “Cap, what are you making today?”

“Vanilla with chocolate frosting. I know the recipe by heart, but I only make it when I’m stressed.” A furrow appeared between his brows before he straightened up and raised his voice. “Hey, someone stress me out!”

“Playoffs!” Kasey shouted from across the room. All five men immediately hurried to knock on the wooden cabinets.

“Thanks!” Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and Kasey winked.

“And somebody won’t be sleeping tonight,” Remus muttered, flicking sugar at Kasey. “Thanks, Bliz.”

Logan was still bracing himself against the countertop when Marlene arrived at his table. “How’re you feeling, Tremz? I see you haven’t chosen any ingredients.”

“There’s a very fine line between making your boyfriend a birthday cake and poisoning him,” Logan said after a moment. “And I think I’m about to find out where it is.”

“What are you making?”

“I don’t know yet. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Fair enough,” Marlene laughed as she moved on. “Leo?”

“I’m gonna make a lemon cake,” he said with a proud smile as he mixed the dry ingredients. “And it’s going to be delicious.”

“Do you bake at home very often? You sound confident.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “For special occasions, yeah. I vaguely know what I’m doing, so I feel pretty good.”

“How do you think Logan’s cake will turn out?”

Leo paused and glanced up. A beat of silence passed before he bit his lower lip. “I think it’s a really good thing that Finn has two boyfriends that are making him cakes.”

“Rude,” Logan grumbled as he dumped another cupful of flour into a bowl to Sirius’ obvious horror. He stuck his tongue out. “Don’t give me that look, Cap, this cake is going to be fucking amazing.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and turned back to his own batter. “If you say so.”

Logan stood on his toes and poured the next cup directly over Sirius’ head in a poof of white. The studio went silent. With a cough, a bit of flour puffed from Sirius’ mouth. “Cap?” Kasey ventured.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.” He slowly took a towel off the oven door and wiped his face with it, then whipped around and snapped it at Logan’s thigh—it connected with a sharp sound, followed by a yelp as Logan shoved Leo in front of him as a makeshift shield. “You can’t hide behind him forever!”

“Remember, you only have two hours!” Marlene called as she dodged a patch of flour on the floor. Sirius scowled and put the towel back down on the counter; Logan backed away to his station with a suspicious glare. “Loops, how are you?”

“I’m minding my own business,” he said innocently. “Staying in my lane. Paying no attention to the idiots behind the curtain, if you will.”

“Impressive. What are you making for our wonderful Harzy?”

“Spite cake.”

“What?”

“Spite cake,” he repeated with a shadow of a smile. “It’s carrot cake, but with no special ingredient of love or appreciation, because he knows how much I hate baking and he’s been making fun of me over text all morning.”

Leo frowned. “Weren’t you two bonding over how much you hate carrot cake when we went to lunch yesterday?”

“Hence the name,” Remus said as he pulled a cheese grater out of the lineup.

“And last, but certainly not least, Kasey.” Marlene leaned against the edge of his table. “How’s it going over here?”

“So far, so good.” He eyed his batter and poked one of the lumps with a fork. “Does this look ready to you?”

“Seems a bit wet, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Do people put milk in cake batter?” On the other end of the kitchen, Sirius and Leo shared a look.

Marlene patted his arm. “Good luck, Bliz.”

The camera cut for a moment—when it returned, the three bakers on the far end seemed to be even more flustered than before. “You have one hour left!” someone off-screen announced.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Logan held his spatula up. The batter remained stuck to it in a doughy lump. “Is this supposed to happen?”

Leo’s eyes flickered between Sirius, who was clearly shocked into silence, and Logan, who was growing more distressed by the second. “Sure, honey.”

“Baby, it looks like jello,” Remus called as he shook his mixing bowl with a nervous glance to Sirius. “Why does it look like jello?”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered as he crossed the room; the second he looked over Remus’ shoulder, his eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“I don’t know.”

“You put flour in, right?”

“Hey, no helping!” Kasey protested, swatting Sirius on the shoulder with an oven mitt. “We all fail on our own merit here. Tremy’s making concrete, Loops has jello, and I’ve got soup, so you and Knutty can fuck off back to your perfect batter and let us suffer in peace!”

“Jesus, Bliz, did you put water in that?”

“No! I put butter and milk in!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“One hour left!” Marlene shouted.

“Fuck it, it’s good enough.” Remus grabbed the nearest cake pan and dumped his batter in, then put it in the oven. He turned the heat on and faced the camera guiltily. “Harzy, I know this was meant to spite you, it really was just meant to be a carrot cake. Not…that.”

Logan sprinkled a handful of chocolate sprinkled into his mixing bowl. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he singsonged. “But I know I’m doing it poorly!”

“Oh my god,” Remus said suddenly as he licked some of his batter off his finger. “Oh my—oh my god.”

Kasey looked up from pouring his batter into a pan in mild alarm. “What?”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible. Here, try it.”

Kasey put his cake in the oven before swiping a bit off and tasting it. His whole face scrunched. “What?”

“I know,” Remus laughed, passing the spatula to Logan. “It’s like getting punched with a cinnamon stick.”

“I can feel it in my nose,” Logan coughed. “Here, try mine.”

Leo regarded them with a healthy amount of disbelief. “Why are you all tasting it if you know it’s bad?”

“Because Marlene needs workable content.”

“Do it for the vine.”

“Because I’m a dumbass, rookie.” Kasey lifted the spatula up. “Cap, your fiancé made toxic sludge in cake form. Want some?”

Sirius hesitated, then sighed and headed over. Leo threw his hands in that air. “You, too?”

“What else am I supposed to—” Sirius faltered with a harsh exhale and braced his hands against the counter, licking his lips. “How many eggs did you put in that?”

“Four? Five?”

“How much cinnamon?”

“A teaspoon?”

Sirius took a fortifying breath through his nose. “Teaspoon or tablespoon?”

“Tablespoon,” Kasey answered for him. “Definitely a tablespoon. Try mine.”

“You two are never allowed in a kitchen again,” Sirius said, though he swiped his finger along the inside of Kasey’s bowl and tasted his batter with a grimace. “Ugh. It’s just melted butter.”

“How did you make it taste like salty butter and nothing else?” Logan asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Well, Tremzy, I put salt and butter in it.”

Leo’s phone timer went off and he opened the oven door; four faces turned toward him in shock as he pulled a golden cake out and checked the center with a toothpick. Logan closed his eyes and bent closer, taking a deep inhale. “I wish the viewers could smell this, because it’s heaven.”

“Can it be my birthday instead?” Kasey asked. “Please?”

“Get back, you hyenas!” Leo whacked him lightly on the hand with a spoon when he reached out to poke the cake. “That oven was 350 degrees!”

Sirius glanced up at the camera. “That’s 177 degrees, for all you smart people out there.”

“Boo, Celsius.” Remus kissed his cheek. “You smell like sugar.”

“How much time do you all have left on your cakes?” Marlene asked from her perch next to the sink.

Logan, Remus, and Kasey shared a look before Logan turned back to her. “I don’t know?”

“You can’t answer that with another question,” she laughed.

“Ten minutes,” he guessed.

“Whenever it starts to smell good,” Remus said. “Though I doubt that’s going to happen.”

Kasey cocked his head and scanned Leo’s cake for a second. “When it starts looking like that.”

“It won’t,” Leo informed him.

“Damn, Knutty, okay.”

Marlene shook her head. “We’re going to cut filming until everyone’s cakes are out of the oven, but in the meantime we’ve got some special messages for our favorite redhead.”

A banner reading Happy Birthday, Finn! appeared on the screen with a burst of confetti before the usual studio replaced it, with its white walls and folding chairs. Dumo crossed one leg over the other with a soft smile. “One thing I admire about Finn is his tenacity. When he wants something, he’ll go for it with his whole heart.”

“I love his humor,” Leo said in the next short video. He was smiling as well, and had a faint blush on his freckled cheeks. “And the way he makes breakfast in the mornings. All the little things he does to make the people he loves happy. And he really does love with his whole heart. There’s no holding back with him.”

“Finn?” Sirius thought for a moment. “He’s a good person. I know that might sound lame, but he’s one of those people that you meet that always makes you feel happy, and confident, and supported. Anyone who meets him should count themselves lucky.”

Logan’s face was filled with nothing but affection. “I love his patience and his kindness. Whether that was helping me work on my English in college, or making the rookies feel welcome, or even the way he talks to complete strangers when they ask for directions on the street. Everything about him is kind.”

“Ah, jeez.” Remus bit his lower lip. “I think—I think what I admire most about Finn is that he never lets anyone else define who he is. He’s comfortable in himself and makes everyone around him feel safe. It’s sappy, but it’s true. He’s one of my best friends and I’m grateful for him every day.”

“He’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met,” James said. “Both on and off the ice. He will be there to support his friends in any capacity and I think we all need to be a little more like Finn that way.”

“Great player.” Arthur nodded. “Great player, and an even better teammate. I can put O’Hara anywhere on the ice and he’ll throw everything he’s got into doing his best. I can’t think of a single Lion who doesn’t love being on the same shift as him.”

Talker grinned, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head. “Finn just loves hockey. He takes it seriously, of course, but he loves being out there with us and I’m always happy when we’re on a line together. He goes out there every night and has a blast. I admire a lot about him, but especially that.”

“It’s hard to pick one specific thing that I admire about him,” Kasey said, shifting in his chair. “He’s Finn. He’s annoying as all hell, and I love him for it. I’m not sure. Can I make a list?”

“Harzy is very cool,” Olli laughed. “Very cool and very fun to be around. He has a quick wit and truly cares about all of us.”

Kuny raised his eyebrows. “What I like about Harzy? Oh, everything. Everything. He is good friend, good teammate, always there when we need him. Good for Tremzy and Knutty, too. He would turn red like fire engine if he heard me. Don’t tell him I say that.”

The video changed to a wide view of the whole team as they waved to the camera. “Happy birthday, Harzy!” they chorused. “Bitch ass moves!”

The kitchen was much cleaner when the video resumed; all the cooking supplies had been taken away, leaving five hockey players with their cakes in front of them. Leo’s cake was a bit lopsided, though the yellow frosting was cheerful and even—next to him, Logan’s cake looked more like a squished loaf of bread. Sirius’ was plain and elegant, while Kasey’s frosting was still dripping as the camera zoomed in on it.

“Wow,” Finn said after a moment of silence from his seat at the main table, where five slices of cake had been placed on small plates with a label for each name. “Just…wow.”

“You can start with whichever one you want,” Marlene told him.

“I think I’ll save Cap and Leo’s for last. Uh, Kase, what happened here?”

Kasey sighed. “I wish I knew.”

Finn gave it a wary look, then took a bite; his chewing slowed to a stop almost immediately and Logan’s shoulders started to shake from his suppressed laughter. “You know it’s burnt on the outside and not cooked on the inside, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just checking.” With great effort, he swallowed. “Why is it wet?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, man.”

Finn took the next plate, then paused. “Re, I love you, but…”

Remus shook his head. “I know.”

“I’m genuinely afraid to try this.”

“You should be.”

The second it touched his tongue, Finn started laughing. “Jesus, it’s a straight shot of cinnamon. Why is it crunchy?”

“It’s carrot cake!”

“You know I hate carrot cake!”

“Look, I gave it my best shot. It really wasn’t supposed to do…” He gestured at the plate. “That.”

“Lo, baby, please tell me yours is better than the last two.”

Logan thought for a moment. “It was made with love and that’s all that matters.”

Finn took a deep breath before taking a bite. A range of emotions washed over his face—pleasant surprise, then confusion, then horror, and finally disbelief. “I…what?”

“I don’t even know.”

He swallowed, then ate another bite. “Oh, bad idea. This—are there chocolate chips in here? And almonds?”

“Yeah. You like those, right?”

“Usually, yes. It’s kind of got the texture of fruitcake, but—” Finn broke off and picked the slice up, giving it a shake. Not even a crumb fell out of place, and the rest of the boys burst out laughing. “Lo. Logan. Light of my life, what the fuck?”

“Happy birthday?”

“This is the best birthday present ever. Alright, Cap, your turn.” He took a piece of Sirius’ cake and nodded. “Yep, that’s cake.”

Sirius blinked at him. “And?”

Finn shrugged. “It’s cake. Classic flavors, good texture. I like it. Definitely tastes like a cake you would make.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s calling you basic,” Kasey said, patting Sirius’ shoulder sympathetically. “But hey, at least yours was cooked all the way.”

“And now for boyfriend number two,” Finn continued.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Boyfriend number two.”

“Oh, that’s so good,” Finn groaned around a mouthful of cake. His eyebrows pitched. “I love it.”

“What about it?” Marlene prompted.

“For starters, it’s cooked all the way through. The lemon is freakin’ amazing, and the frosting isn’t melting off the sides or anything. I can’t even taste everyone else’s anymore. It’s a helluva cake. Happy birthday to me. Will you make this every day?”

“No,” Leo said, though there was a pleased flush on his face. “But maybe on the weekend.”

Finn scraped the last of the crumbs off his plate. “Alright, everyone, come get a piece of this magic. Thank you for doing this, by the way. I know three of you hate baking.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan admitted as he settled himself on one of Finn’s thighs with a slice of his own and kissed his temple. “Sorry for almost poisoning you. Oh, that is tasty.”

“I love you anyway. I think Loops and Bliz were actually the closest to doing that, so you’re all good.” Finn raised his eyebrows and craned his neck over Logan’s shoulder. “Speaking of…”

“Lasagna or chicken piccata?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of his moment of distraction by stealing a bite off his plate and received a playful glare in response, though it was soothed by a kiss on his cheek.

“Lasagna, please.”

“Does Friday work?”

Finn gave him a thumbs-up. “Sorry, Harzy,” Kasey said as he carefully got the last bits of frosting off his fork. “I have no marketable skills to apologize with. You don’t want me anywhere near a stove or an oven.”

A gleam lit in Finn’s eye. “Will you get in all your pads and play chicken with Knutty and I?”

“For the twentieth time—”

“It’s my birthday,” he wheedled, pouting his lower lip out with the Bambi eyes turned to full blast.

Kasey sighed. “Fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Thanks for joining us for our birthday celebration,” Marlene said with a smile. “The best estimations of these recipes are linked on our website, with a few tweaks to make sure none of your loved ones get food poisoning this August. Have a great day, Lions!”

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Praise Kink [M] [Request]

WARNING!: The following piece of work contains smut.

Praise Kink: When someone, typically a submissive, gets off on being praised. "Good boy" or “good girl” or being told they're beautiful, well-behaved, etc

 Seokjin:

This was one of the last places you though Jin would ever let you do this, under a desk in one of the studios, the door left unlocked so that any moment someone could walk right in and see this happening right before them. His left hand held your hair in a makeshift ponytail while the other was resting in his mouth trying to subdue the moans he was emitting.

"Oh shit, just like that, such a good girl." He grunted, as soon as you heard the words your head began to bob faster and your cheeks hollowed out so you could take more of his length into your mouth.

"Ah, fuck- does my baby like being told how well she's doing?" He hummed looking at you, you were staring up at him with pleading eyes. Begging to be told you were working him just the way he liked. He moaned out seeing the way you stared at him, you looked so innocent and cute it was irresistible to him.

"You are such a good girl," He cooed thrusting his hips a little, hitting the back of your throat, you gagged a little but you didn't care. You wanted to keep hearing the praises fall from his lips, making him feel so good he couldn't help but compliment you.

"Anyone could walk in right now but you don't care do you, princess? You just want to please me?" He pulled you off his length wanting to hear it from you, a string of saliva mixed with his precum connected your lips to his throbbing cock.

"Mmm," You whined in displeasure as he took you away from the thing you loved doing the most. You didn't care when or where you were as long as you could take Jin's length into your mouth you'd be happy, you were sure you could get off on that alone without being touched.

"Answer the question," He ran his lip along your lip and you whimpered out wanting nothing more than to take him back into your mouth,

"Yes! I want to please you now will you let me?!" He smirked and you resumed your work, pumping him slowly in your hand before making small licks on the slit of his cock,

"Ahh-Shit baby no teasing, I thought you liked being a good girl." There was a knock at the door so you took him into your mouth and he pushed the chair further under the desk so you were concealed.

"Come in," The door opened but you didn't care who was there, you continued to work your mouth around Jin feeling him twitch as you took him from your mouth and licked the underside right up to the tip. You took just his tip back into your mouth and began to swirl your tongue around it, sucking and switching between slow licks and fast ones while pumping the rest of him in your hand.

"Yeah, s-sounds good. I'll c-call her up later," You smirked as Jin bucked his hips and you knew what that meant, you took him back into your mouth once again, hollowing your cheeks out and cupping his balls.

"Yeah just feeling a little sick," Namjoon was taking too long to get out of the room but you didn't care, Jin was close to cumming and weather he did it or not in front of Namjoon didn't matter to you.

"You're sweating dude, maybe we should get you to a doctor?" You licked once more and that was all it took for Jin to release into your mouth, spurts hitting the back of your throat as he told Namjoon he was fine. As soon as the door closed you crawled out from under the desk to show Jin that his seed was still in your mouth, you wanted him to watch you swallow every last drop.

"Good girl," He whispered watching as you swallowed and then started to lick him clean.

"Always such a good girl." He mumbled rolling his head back in ecstasy as he could feel himself getting hard once again from the small licks you were giving him.

Yoongi:

The night hadn't meant to end like this, you were meant to come back to your shared apartment with Yoongi and have a nice chill night but instead, he'd decided since you wanted to act up you should be punished for it.

"Be a good girl and tell me what you did wrong?" You were bent of the desk in your bedroom while he stood behind you, your dress was hiked up to your midsection and you were biting down on your lip.

"Not answering will only make it worse," You hissed as his hand came into contact with your bare ass,

"I-I flirted with Jungkook in front of you." Another slap across your ass cheek and you gripped onto the table closing your eyes tightly as he then began rubbing the skin he'd slapped before.

"And?" You looked over your shoulder at him and he smirked at you,

"What else did you do tonight baby girl?" His hand slapped your ass for now answering him and your hips bucked against the desk he had you bent over.

"I went out without panties and Taehyung saw me." Another spank across the ass followed by another and you whimpered after every single one of them.

"Good girl, taking your punishment really well babe." You nodded at him and he smiled at you kissing your neck and telling you to wait there for him. This had been something new in your relationship, he wanted to try something new in the bedroom and you loved it.

"Here," He squirted something into his hand and then the cold substance came into contact with your skin, you hummed in relief as it had already started to soothe the burning sensation on your skin.

"You okay? Do you want a hot bath?" You shook your head as you stood up from your bent position, he took the rest of your dress off and pulled you in the direction of the bed, he laid you down and then got in beside you rubbing your lower back as he kissed your forehead. Another thing he'd been doing recently after spanking you, it was praise and aftercare and it was one of the best things to come from the spankings.

"You did wonderfully, I wasn't too harsh was I?" You shook your head but it wasn't good enough for Yoongi, he needed real answers from you. He had to know you were okay with everything, communication was key.

"Use your words baby,"

"It's fine Yoongi, I'm okay." You whispered, he brought your head closer to him and kissed you softly.

"Such a good girl," He whispered kissing your lips while drawing invisible patterns into your naked skin, you hummed - too tired to form actual words anymore. He left another kiss on your lips and waited for you to fall asleep in his arms while he continued praising you the entire time.

Hoseok:

It wasn't something you'd done before, well a couple of times but you would always give up because your thighs would burn or you couldn't bring yourself to climax this way.

"You're doing so well baby," You whimpered hearing the positive affirmation come from Hoseok's mouth as you rode him, your hands falling onto his bare chest as you tried to keep yourself steady. His hands were resting on your waist holding you in place while you slowly rose up and down on his length taking him into the deepest parts of you and moaning loudly. He grunted feeling you clench around him, he knew how much you adored being praised even if you wouldn't admit it to him so he continued to do so.

"F-Fuck Hobi, my thighs." You whimpered feeling them start to burn and cramp whenever you rose up, he smirked up at you.

"I know baby, but you're doing so good. Such a good girl for me," The words were like a confidence booster and all of a sudden the pain in your legs was gone, you were swirling your hips a little more whenever you came back down onto him and he chuckled.

"You like that? Being called my good little girl?" Your nails dug into his skin as you continued to ride him, nodding your head to his question instead of answering. Words were lost in your brain fog as you could feel yourself getting closer to your release, you were clenching around him and he threw his head back against the pillow breathing heavily through gritted teeth.

"You gonna cum?" You nodded again and he chuckled loving how lost you got whenever you got close to coming for him, one of his hands left your hip and he began drawing circles against your ever sensitive clit. Your legs and arms began to shake as you continued riding him, your hips not being able to make it the full way up, just small and quick bobs as you felt yourself getting closer.

"I-I can't." You panted, hands gripping onto his waist silently pleading for him to take over but he wouldn't,

"You can do this baby, come on." He thurst up a little and you whined out, continuing to ride him to match the buck of his hips.

"That's it...Good girl," He grunted as you clenched around him, one last rub of his thumb and you came undone around him, shaking as you came around his cock and screamed out his name. Your orgasm rolled his on and he released inside of you hissing as he continued to buck into you throughout his high.

"Good girl." He whispered as you fell down onto his chest, both of you panting heavily as you came down from your highs.

Namjoon:

You'd told Namjoon about your kink a couple of nights ago and now he was really trying to make it work inside of the bedroom, it was turning him on at the thought of it.

"Oh fuck, look at you baby. Taking me so well," You giggled at the sudden praise he was giving you, you were on all fours on the bed but your back was arched so deeply your chest was touching the sheets. Namjoon ran the tip of his aching cock over your folds,

"Need you," You whimpered looking over your shoulder at him as he continued to tease you with his cock,

"Need me again baby? We've only just finished." You hissed as he dipped his tip in only to pull away so he could watch you clench around nothing. You'd already fucked twice that night but you were desperately needy and nothing could fix that need except Namjoon.

"Please," You begged him and he slowly eased himself into you knowing he wouldn't last long thanks to the two orgasms he'd already had that night.

"Shit baby, you're so warm and tight." Your hands dug into the sheets as he slowly pulled out of you only to slam back inside hitting your hilt with ease. His free hand reached down and pulled your hair so your back was against his chest, he was hitting all of the deeper angles he hadn't that night,

"Such a needy little girl aren't you?" You nodded moaning desperately as you felt him slowly pumping in and out of you, it wasn't enough. You needed more of him and at a faster pace.

"Please, need more." Were the only words you could form, your head was still smashed from the four orgasms you'd had that night and he chuckled moving his hand from your hair to your neck and gripping just a little, just enough to cut off a little of your breathing.

"You're taking this so well baby, you're such a good girl for me aren't you?" You nodded again and he chuckled pushing you down roughly against the mattress and ramming into you from behind. It felt like the world was spinning as he continued to plough into you from behind, the sound of slapping skin and whimpers filled the air,

"You better cum soon little one- ugh fuck - I can't last long-" You moaned out his name as you felt him twitching inside of you, your eyes rolling back as you felt the familiar feeling of your approaching orgasm coming.

"C-Close." You whimpered and he smirked at you continuing to fuck you into the mattress as hard as he could,

"Good girl, cum for daddy." That was all it took. As though your orgasms were voice-controlled by him it ripped through you and you cried out his name as you felt him release inside of you.

"Agh-Fuck." He continued thrusting and holding you close to him until he finally came down from his high.

Jimin:

The boys were right across the way, if you made one sound it would be game over and they would know what you and Jimin were up to. But you were desperate for him to be inside of you and you had been all week, hiding your relationship seemed like a bad idea right now. His hand was over your mouth to stop any moans from slipping out, your left leg was wrapped around his waist while the other helped you stand against the countertop.

"Doing so well baby, so quiet for me." Your eyes rolled back as he reached the deepest parts of you, you whimpered lowly under his hand as you felt yourself clenching around him.

"You want the boys to notice me fucking you? Keep quiet." He smirked sucking on your neck while thrusting up into you. It was his idea to bring you on tour with him and the boys, he promised he could keep himself to himself and yet here he was fucking you in the hotel room bathroom while the boys waited outside thinking he was just having a shower.

"You like that? I can feel you clenching, you want them to walk in and see me taking you like this." He pulled out of you and pushed you against the counter, bending you over and slamming back into you. You let out a cry and prayed that the running water covered it up,

"Good girl, fuck I can feel you tightening whenever I hit your spot, you like this?" You nodded and looked up at him in the mirror, reaching around for something to grab onto as you felt your fast approaching high. The pit in your stomach was growing and you were desperate for a release, he'd barely touched you all week.

"P-Please Jimin." You begged him staring into his eyes through the mirror, he smirked as you and began thrusting faster, holding onto your hips so tight it was sure to leave a mark for people to see.

"Cum for me babe, be a good little girl." You clenched around him some more and the pit grew larger and larger with each pounding of his hips.

"F-Fuck! Jimin! I-I'm cumming!" Your moans were way too loud to be masked by the running water but by now neither of you cared about that, your high was washing over you and you giggled as you came around him.

"Shit baby," He groaned filling you up as you cried out over and over again that you were cumming, he pulled out and you whined as you felt his cum drip down your leg and onto the floor. He stared at you with his mouth agape,

"You've never moaned like that before," You smirked at him before dropping to your knees and cleaning him off, but he wasn't going soft. If anything he was getting ready for another round. The thought alone of you screaming about cumming sent him wild all over again, he wanted you to cry out his name like that, have everyone know who was ruining you.

"Have fun you two! We'll see you at lunch." Jin yelled through the door and you smirked around Jimin's length as you bobbed your head.

"Such a good little girl," He moaned running his hands through your hair and thrust into your throat.

Taehyung:

The movie was boring, it was dragging on for what felt like hours but you were doing this because it was something that Taehyung had been wanting to see. You laid your head on his shoulder and placed your hand on his thigh - something completely normal. But you noticed Taehyung shift in his seat and you smirked to yourself, you hadn't been having sex all week because of some silly bet you had on with one another. The first one to engage in sex lost and had to buy dinner for the other, looking on it now it felt fine to pay for dinner. You slowly traced invisible patterns on his thigh until your hand-worked your way up to his crotch and he sucked a breath in,

"What are you doing?" He whispered looking around you, you were on the back row with no one around it wasn't a big deal.

"I'm bored," You whispered back to him palming him through his jeans and smirking as he began to grow beneath your touch,

"Watch your movie baby," You said to him as you slowly took your hand away from his crotch and began to unbutton his jeans, slipping your hand in was easy and he moaned lowly as your hand came into contact with his length. He'd needed this all week but he wasn't going to be the first one to lose. You pulled his trousers down a little more so his length was free from them and then you leant down, slowly licking the tip because you knew he hated how slow you always were with him.

"Be a good girl and take it," You shushed him before licking from the base to the tip making him grunt and roll his head back against the seat, once his head was back you unexpectedly took him all into your mouth at once and began bobbing your head, trying not to gag around his thickness.

"Shit, that's it...That's it good girl," He whimpered above you hands falling onto the back of your head to keep you at a steady pace. You moaned around him and he grunted bucking his hips up so he could hit the back of your throat, it was turning you on more and more by the second. You needed him badly. You pulled off and looked at him,

"Need you."

"Here?!" You looked at the movie that was still playing,

"You can still watch it," You sat on his lap moving your panties to the side so he could slip right into you and he groaned feeling you sink down onto him.

"Ugh fuck," He grunted as he felt you making fast pulsating moves on him,

"Good girl, such a good girl for me." You giggled at the compliments he was giving you and he thrust up into you completely forgetting the movie was even playing.

Jungkook:

Jungkook's fingers were thrusting in and out of you at an unruly pace and you were biting so hard on your straw you were sure it was putting a hole in it.

"Y/n? You okay?" Jimin asked looking at you, your brows were furrowed together as you stared at a napkin, you were trying to fight off the oncoming orgasm that Jungkook was trying to get out of you and you nodded not trusting your voice.

"She's being very good, she's been trying this new studying technique. She's doing it now."  He began to give Jimin some bullshit story while he continued to finger fuck you like no one else was in the room. You leant back against the chair and bit down on your lip, your hands clutching onto his wrist to try and stop him from doing this.

"You want a drink Y/n?" Jimin asked noticing your empty glass,

"Same a-again." Your voice cracked and he left the table so you and Jungkook were alone,

"You better be a good girl and cum before he comes back or I'm gonna keep this up all night." You slowly started to buck your hips to help him reach deeper and he smirked at you.

"Good girl, look at you riding my fingers even though we're in public. My dirty girl." You smiled at him in a spaced-out state.

"Be a good girl, he's coming back over here." His thumb began rubbing your clit and you moaned out a little into your hand moving your head so it was leaning on his shoulder.

"Fuck, I'm cumming." Your hips bucked off the seat as you clenched and came around his fingers, biting on his shoulder as you suppressed the moans you wanted to cry out. Your legs began shaking so Jungkook pulled out his fingers and nonchalantly brought them to his mouth and licked them clean. The whole scene had you whimpering and wanting more of him,

"I feel sick, we should go home." You said as Jimin came back to the table, he looked a little worried.

"You are sweating a little, you should head back. Make sure she gets some rest Jungkook." Jungkook nodded along with Jimin and you got up from the table, hugging and kiss Jimin goodbye before heading out towards Jungkook's car. You both knew you weren't going to make it home, he'd drive off and find somewhere quiet for you both to park up.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @fan-ati--c​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[second-hand-heaven]

Can We (Re)Unite?

TimKon Musician AU

Ao3

Summary: It’s been six months since interstellar indie rock group The Titans broke up, and Tim and Kon haven’t spoken since. Out of the blue, Tim get’s an invite to a solo gig Kon’s doing in Gotham.

There he is. His cheekbones glitter under the stage lights. Tim’s heart skips a beat, then another. Kon is up on stage, front and centre, right where he belongs. Tim aches that he’s not up there beside him.

Tim stares blankly at the screen.

It’s three in the morning and his laptop is emitting the only light in his apartment. He's got a studio session early tomorrow, plus another meeting with his new label at noon. He should be asleep, but he can't stop staring at the email.

The Cave proudly presents

Kon Kent

In an intimate, live show, Friday 10pm.

Tickets at the door, $10 admission…

He pays no attention to the rest of flyer, just stares at his name. Kon is in town. Kon is doing a show. Kon invited him to his show. He checks the details of the email itself. It's not part of a mailing list, it's only been sent to him.

It's not computing.

He should ignore it. He shouldn't go. What would be the point, anyway? It's only going to hurt, seeing Kon up on stage without him.

He's been miserable since The Titans split. He can admit that. He misses Kon. He won't admit that, not even to Steph. She still knows. Damn her. But more than whatever Tim had hoped they could be, he and Conner were friends. Were. They haven’t spoken since the band broke up. Six months and not a word. And now, an invite to a show? What does it mean? Does Kon just want to rub his success in Tim’s face? No, he’s not the type. So why?

He stares at the email until his alarm goes off at 6.15am.

. . .

“Nice place,” Steph snorts, and Tim isn't sure if she's joking or not. Sure, the bar is a little shabbier than some of the places he'd played in the last year or two, but it's certainly not the worst. He’s not sure why he decided to come, but having Steph and Cass with him makes him feel a little braver.

“You guys go save a table, I'll grab some drinks?” Tim offers.

Cass nods, linking her arm through her girlfriend’s before they disappear through the growing crowd.

The carpet is sticky beneath his feet. Must be a good venue, Tim thinks as he heads for the bar.

It takes longer than he thought to order drinks, with half a dozen people blocking his way, asking for an autograph. He manages to slip away without drawing too big a crowd, drinks in hand.

When he finds Cass and Steph again, they’ve commandeered a table right at the front of the stage. Tim’s gut coils. Cass winks at him as he approaches, and he knows it was her doing. Damn her. He’ll ask Bruce for a new sister, that will teach her.

He hands them their drinks and takes a seat next to Cass.

The guitar begins, then the lighting. A figure, draped in a leather jacket, takes centre stage. There he is. His cheekbones glitter under the stage lights. Tim's heart skips a beat. Kon’s up on stage, front and centre, right where he belongs. Tim aches that he's not up there beside him.

“How we doing tonight?” he asks the crowd, his signature grin wide. He's met with a chorus of cheers. He makes eye contact with Tim for a moment, but he looks away so quickly that Tim thinks he must have imagined it. Kon turns to his backing band, starting the set with a “one, two.”

He starts with a fan-favourite Titan’s song. Tim can pick every flaw in the bassline. The rest of the set is a mix of Titan’s stuff, Kon’s own work, and the odd cover. Kon’s energy is electric, exciting the whole room.

And then, the final song. “Here's a little something I wrote especially for tonight's show,” Conner says in a stage whisper. The crowd cheers and the guitar slowly fades in.

It's good, Tim has to admit. There's an edge to it that has him nodding his head along with it. And then he makes the mistake of listening to the words. It hits him like a freight train. Is it… is it him? It can't be. But what if...? No. There's no point hoping for the impossible.

The song begins to wind down. Kon moves to the front of the stage, and if Tim didn’t know better, he’d say Kon was looking right at him.

“I know he'll be here tonight.”

There's no mistaking it, Kon's looking right at him. Waiting. But Tim can't move, can't say anything. He's not even sure he's breathing. He just watches the heavy rise and fall of Conner's chest.

Kon's smile turns self-deprecating, but no less pretty. He shakes his head and looks out, past Tim to the gathered crowd. “Thank you everybody! Good night!” He waves, blowing a kiss that sails over Tim's head, and hastily walks off stage.

Tim only peels his eyes of the stage when Cass nudges his shoulder. Steph stares at him expectantly. “I said,” she repeats, “what the hell was that about?”

Tim blinks. “I have no idea.” And it's the truth.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Talk to him, you idiot. Now’s your chance.”

His chance to set things right with Conner. If nothing else, he can get some closure. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t take it.

Tim shoulders his way into the tiny backstage area. “Kon?” he calls out, half hoping the singer had already left.

Just his luck, he spots Kon's figure leaning against a doorway. “Conner?”

Conner's shoulders jump at the sound of his name. He spins, a little unbalanced, to face Tim. “Tim! Uhh hi?” He ushers Tim into what looks like Conner's makeshift changeroom.

“Hi yourself. That was some show tonight.”

Kon looks down at him, eyes wide at the praise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tim nods, trying and failing to think of something to say.

“It feels weird being up on stage alone.”

Tim frowns. “You weren't alone.”

“That's not what I mean, Tim,” and he looks at Tim with such an earnest gaze, just like when he was on stage, that Tim can't formulate a coherent thought. “What did you think?”

“Of the new song? Not bad. Could do with some more bass, I think. Maybe a better bass guitarist too.” This is familiar territory, playful flirting they can both brush off later. He knows he shouldn’t, knows they need to talk, but it’s just easy to pretend that everything's okay right now.

“You know any good bass players?” Tim’s not the only one to fall into old habits.

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug, “but I hear he's a dick to work with.”

Kon's grin widens. “It's a good thing I know my way around a-”

“Kon!” Steph barges in, wrapping Kon in a tight a hug. “That was great!”

“Thank you,” he smiles, “it’s good to see you two again.” He holds out an arm for Cass, who surprisingly takes it and leans in to embrace Kon. Kon's face turns white. Did Cass say something to him? Tim feels himself pale.

Cass releases him, face neutral as ever. She moves to Steph's side, linking arms with her again. It's so good to see her so comfortable being tactile with Steph in public.

“Just wanted to see you before we left.” Steph says to Kon before she turns to Tim. “Cass and I are heading home, you coming with or... ?” There's something else in her tone that throws Tim for a loop. It's not her usual teasing about his hopeless crush, but something more concerned.

Tim glances at Kon. They need to talk, and now is as good a time as ever. “I'll find my own way.”

She kisses his cheek. “Be safe.”

He waves as she and Cass leave. Tim glances over at Kon, who looks like he's about to pass out. “You okay there, Kon?”

“Yep.” He nods tightly.  

Tim's eyes narrow. “What did she say to you?”

“Said I needed to talk to you. And since I don't play guitar much, she says I won't be needing any fingers. Something like that.”

“Big sisters are like that,” Tim shrugs, trying to act nonplussed. Internally he's freaking. Confrontation makes his skin itch.

“Umm,” Kon says, rubbing at the back of his neck, “did- did you mean what you said?”

Deflect deflect deflect. “About the bass? Yeah. With a few tweaks, it could be epic.”

But Conner’s not in the mood for games. “Tim.”

Tim sighs, steeling himself. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. I need the truth.” They both do.

The truth. “I hated it. I hated seeing you up there without me.”  The truth Tim's been trying to ignore for the last six months. It's time to face the music, so to speak. “The truth is, I miss you. It was the right call to break up the band, I stand by that. But I miss you. I didn't think...” he takes a shaky breath. “I didn't think we'd end up like this.”

This. Alone. Not speaking, not seeing each other every day. No phone calls, no jam sessions, no closure.

“I thought it was me. I thought I did something, said something wrong. I thought that’s why you wanted the split, because you couldn’t stand to work with me anymore.”

What? No. How could he think that?

“It wasn't your fault. We all wanted different things.” Tim wanted Kon, plain and simple. But he couldn't, wouldn't try. Not while the bad was together. Tim wouldn't jeopardise that. And then the band split, and he thought, maybe, they could have had a chance. He should have known better. But now, with the way Kon is looking at him, maybe...

“And now what do you want?”

You.

He thinks of Kon up on stage, solo, and he knows what he wants, where he wants to be. He wants it so badly his chest aches. His eyes sting with unshed tears. It hurts, but he needs to get the words out, even if it kills him. He can’t keep pretending he’s okay, that he’s whole. He knows where he belongs. “I want to be by your side.” His voice cracks on the final sound.

Conner reaches out for him, and it’s too much. Tim just shatters. He's pulled against Kon's firm chest, his head tucked beneath Kon's chin. Broad arms wrap around him, just like Kon's voice, soothing him with sweet-sounding words that Tim can't understand. Kon holds him there, holds him steady as sobs wrack Tim’s body. And Kon holds him there, until his tears subside and his breathing evens out again.

In Conner's embrace, he feels whole again. Fuck, he missed this. He pulls back, just enough to look up at Kon’s face. “I missed you.” He tries to say more, but the lump in his throat catches any stray words before he can say them.

Tim watches Kon’s Adam’s apple bob. “I missed you too. Listen, that song tonight?” He waits for Tim’s nod. “It was you. It was always you.”

Kon's looking at him with the same sincerity from the end of the show. Impossible. And yet…

“Conner? Please tell me you want this. Us.” This time, he won’t let Kon walk away. Not without trying. “I want to be with you.”

Conner leans down, closing the gap between them, answering Tim with a kiss.

They pull apart, a soft smile on Kon’s lips. “Okay.”

Tim links his fingers with Conner’s. “Let’s get out of here.”

. . .

Tim’s laptop is the only light in his apartment. He's staring at the screen, the little notification number glowing red. Two new messages from Steph: a link to some gossip news site, and an assortment of thumbs up, winking, eggplant, and water emojis. He opens the link, and is met with slightly blurry images of him leaving the club earlier that night, his hand held in Conner’s.

‘Titans to return? Rockers Tim Drake and Kon Kent were seen sneaking out together after Kent's solo gig…’

The body next to him stirs. “Tim?”

“I’m here,” he says without turning, his eyes glued to the screen.

Kon rests his chin on Tim’s shoulder. “What’s this?”

He angles the screen so Conner can see it better. “Seems someone caught us leaving together.”

“Is that an issue?” Kon asks, wrapping his arms around Tim’s waist. “I know how much you like your privacy.”

It’s true. His mentor taught him the importance of keeping the personal out of the spotlight. But Tim’s not afraid. Not if he has got Conner at his side. “It’s okay. They pretty much gal-pal’ed us, anyway.”

Conner presses butterfly kisses down Tim’s neck. “We can’t have that now, can we?” he murmurs against Tim’s skin, before he bites down at the juncture of Tim’s shoulder. Tim’s laptop shuts. He sucks at the spot, alternating between biting and laving over the sore spot with his tongue.

“Maybe a little higher,” Tim says, tightly. “Have to make sure they can’t miss it.”

He feels Kon’s smile against his skin. “I can do that.”

FIN

[5ketchupsos]

The Pyramid- Chapter 3

Requested- Yes

Anon- I was wondering if you can do a smutty fanfic involving Luke and Ashton with a girl, any name will do.  Their daddy af, so it’s a smut full of bdsm, chocking kink, daddy kink, etc.

Pairing- Ashton irwin & Luke Hemmings & Sierra Larson

Words- 5407

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Sierra was in her element.  It was her turn to dominate her boys.  That was another great thing about both of them.  They loved being both dominant and submissive and they weren't shy about mixing it up.  She turned on Ashton first for no real reason other than that she'd missed him.  Luke moved aside as she stood up.  Ashton looked a tad worried as she shuffled him backwards across the room, her stiff nipples pressed to his chest.  When his back was firmly against his bedroom door she gave him a coy smile and her hands lifted.  One wrapped round his neck causing his eyes to turn to narrow, coal black slits.  The other gently worked its way down his body, her fingers tracing every indent across his six pack.  He tried to move and she tightened her grip on his neck and he stiffened.

"God," he groaned as she let her fingers dance along the top of his pubes.

"Here's how it's going to go," she informed them both, letting go of Ashton and turning to face Luke.

He was chilling in the armchair beside Ashton's bed, silently enjoying the show.

"Ashton's gonna fuck me against this door until I come again and not a second longer."

They were both watching her with the most lustful expressions on their handsome faces.  Ashton clenched his jaw and Luke bit down on his lip.

"When I'm done were gonna move to the bed.  Ashton can finish what he started."

She threw her head over her shoulder and looked at him.

"Doggy Style."

She saw his Adam's Apple bulge as he swallowed loudly.  It was no secret that Ashton was an ass guy.  Luke on the other hand was a boobs guy and that suited her perfectly.

She crossed the room to him and leaned over with her hands on the arm rests of the chair.  Her nipples brushed the light hair on Luke's chest and he sighed audibly.

"And while Ashton does that I'm gonna use my tongue to please you," she informed him.

His hands landed on hers and gripped tightly.

She tugged hers out from under his and walked backwards away from him shaking her head. Then she turned to Ashton before she had one final thought and looked back at Luke.

"Oh and baby? You don't get to touch yourself while Ashton pleases me," she grinned smugly.

She walked backwards again until her ass pressed up against Ashton's balls.

"Take your hair down and come here," she added to Luke.

He stood up and kept his eyes on her as he let his hair down from his bun.  She licked her lips, holding back the moan she wanted to let loose.  God he looked so good with his hair like that.  Ashton's hands found her hips and she could tell he was getting impatient.

"Sit on the bed," she demanded of Luke, "I'll get to you in a minute."

"Can't wait princess," he chuckled.

Ashton apparently couldn't wait any longer and Sierra happily relinquished a bit of her control as he spun her around and lifted her off her feet.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and linked her ankles together.  She was still wearing her stiletto heels and Ashton growled as they dug in to his back.

His face nuzzled in to the crook of her neck and she felt him line himself up at her entrance.

"Just day when baby girl," he murmured.

She was desperate for him.  She wanted that thick bulge inside her, hitting her in places only it could reach but she could hear the frustration in Ashton's voice and she wanted to tease him as him and Luke had done to her.

"Not yet baby."

She lifted her eyes up to watch Luke from over Ashton's shoulder.  He ran a hand through his messy curls and smiled at her.  God the two of them would be the death of her.  She kept her attention on Luke as she said "now."

Ashton slammed in to her with one fluid movement .  His hands were on her ass as he thrust furiously, knocking her haphazardly against the door.  She ran her nails down his back and felt him grown throatily in to her neck.  Luke was watching her face, watching her reaction as she watched him.  She could see his length twitch every couple of seconds and she smirked in content when he dropped his hands to either side of his thighs and gripped the sheets. She could tell he wanted to touch himself but she slowly shook her head.

Ashton grunted loudly as he pounded in to her.  The tip of his length was grazing against her g-spot and the top of his v-line rubbed against her clitoris, his hairs tickling it.

She rolled her eyes back as he lifted one of her hands above her head and licked fingers with her. He squeezed her palm roughly, a clear sign that he was close and trying to hold back.

She was close too. So precariously close and she loved it.  She craved that release again. She locked eyes with Luke again.

"Come," he mouthed.

It was her undoing.  Her core tightened around Ashton's erection as her free hand clawed at his back then went limp.  An indescribable sensation rushed through her body, exiting at her core and she could barely make a sound.  She was completely overcome by the feeling.  Luke appeared to be very chuffed with himself and Ashton was thumping the door in an attempt to hold himself back.  She knew it wouldn't be long before he came once they returned to the bed.

She gently pushed him back and lowered herself to her feet.  Her legs were like jelly and she stumbled a little.  Ashton caught her and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed where he deposited her on all fours in the centre,  her head above Luke's stiffness.  He climbed behind her and didn't bother to wait for permission before sliding in to her. He didn't hold back now and she winked at Luke then lowered her head, taking him in her mouth.

"Fuck," Luke hissed, his hands scrabbling at the sheets.

She took him as far back as she could manage while Ashton pushed as far in to her as he could reach.  She wanted them to come together.  All three of them.  It happened on a rare occasion but Ashton was already so close and she could feel herself building again.

Luke twisted her hair and gripped it, taking control as he used the makeshift bun to bob her head up and down on his length, occasionally lifting his hips to meet her mouth.

Ashton began to shudder and the jerky moves brought her climax closer.  She forced Luke to the back of her throat and heard him breathe in between clenched teeth.

"Shit I'm close," Ashton moaned.

"Me too," Luke surprised her by adding, "I've been waiting for this all day."

"I've been waiting two weeks you impatient- ugh.  Oh god yes!"

With that Ashton let loose inside her and she clenched around him her own euphoria erupting.  Luke took a second longer and she kept sucking him off even as she orgasmed.  He tugged her hair hard as he finally let go, his warm liquid sliding down her throat.  And then he fell back against the pillows as Ashton staggered back, pulling out of her.  She rolled over in to her back,  Ashton's cum dribbling down her thighs.  She couldn't remember a time she had ever felt this satisfied.  Ashton joined them on the bed, leaning back against the headrest.

"Damn," he whispered.

"Yeah," Luke agreed.

"Hmm," she mumbled starting to feel sleepy.

One of them was tiring enough but both of them was exhausting.

"No you don't," Luke scolded her as he caught her eyes start to shut, "you haven't had food yet."

He was always like this afterwards.  She nearly always started to dose off and he would always stop her and insist she eat something before she sleep.  In this case he was perfectly justified.  She hadn't had anything to eat since one o'clock.  She glanced at Ashton's alarm clock.  It was now nearly 9pm.

"Fine but I want pizza," she insisted as she sat up and looked at her boys.

"So healthy," Ashton rolled his eyes.

She glared at him and he held his hands up in surrender.

"Fine.  Pizza it is.  I'll order it but we're eating in the kitchen like civilised beings," he insisted.

Sierra looked at Luke and giggled.

"The boss is home," Luke teased.

"Just go and take a shower," Ashton sighed, punching his friend in the arm.

"Both of you," He added looking at her.

The giggled and got to their feet, headed for Ashton's ensuite.

"Not together," Ashton groaned, "honestly you're bloody sex addicts you two. Sierra go ahead and Luke for fucks sake man you can wash up in your own room."

Luke poked his tongue out at Ashton but followed his orders and left the room.

"Hurry up," Ashton smiled at her.

She was stood in the doorway to the bathroom watching him.

"I'm enjoying the view," she pouted.

He laughed.

"Go and shower.  The view will be here later.  Luke's right.  You need food.  You've probably had more coffee than meals today."

She mimicked Luke and stuck her tongue out at him before sashaying in to the ensuite and shutting the door.  She didn't lock it. Part of her hoped he would join her even though she knew he wouldn't.  Not just now.

He had showered when she returned, using her bathroom and he smelled like her lavender shower gel. A scent she certainly didn't mind on him.  She dried herself then exited his room naked just as Luke stepped in to the hall.

"Oh is it a naked pizza party?" He teased.

She simply brushed past him and in to her room.  She pulled on a pair of pyjamas and tied her damp hair back then made her way down to the kitchen.  They were waiting for her, sat at the booth by the window.

"Pizza's ordered," Ashton told her.

"Good," she smiled sliding in beside Luke.

She felt less tired now that she had washed.

"So how was Australia? How's your mum and Lauren and Harry? Did you see your friends?"

"Whoa slow down babe," Ashton laughed.

"Australia was good.  Cold.  My mum is great.  She joined a book club.  They meet every week.  Lauren is her usual bossy self and Harry has taken up swimming."

He said the last bit with pride. He'd once been a competitive swimmer.

"Maybe your Mum will get to the olympics after all," Sierra replied, "and how was the studio? Get much done?"

"Laid down a couple of tracks," Luke answered this time, "Michael got naked as usual and Calum managed to lock himself in the bathroom for half an hour."

"What?! How?!" She laughed.

"God knows.  The guys an idiot," Ashton giggled fondly.

She'd missed that giggle of his.  That little high pitched laugh.  It was like music to her ears.

"So what did you two get up to while I was gone? Besides the obvious," Ashton queried.

"Well let's see," she thought back, "I tried to teach Luke how to make pancakes and he managed to make a disgusting eggy soup."

Both boys laughed and she continued.

"Luke nearly bought a new car but I stopped him in time.  Michael and Calum came over for a movie night and the three of them didn't shut up all the way through it.  Oh and I drew up the design for my first tattoo."

"Nice," Ashton mused, "you'll need to show me it later."

He leaned forward on the table and rested his chin in his hands.

"So the first press trip is in five days."

"Don't remind me," she whinged.

"It's just for a week this time babe.  Then we'll both be home but we want you to stay here.  Not at the apartment."

"Why?"

She wasn't keen on the idea of staying in this huge house by herself. The housekeeper lived in but she barely saw her.

"Security is better here," Ashton explained.

"Security? Why would I need security?"

"Look Sierra it's not up for discussion okay? This is the first time we've both left you alone and we just want to make sure you're safe."

"I would be safe at my apartment."

Luke narrowed his eyes and she flopped back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her bottom lip out.

"Fine," she gave in, "but what am I supposed to do here by myself?"

"Bake, shop, watch that movie that Luke and Calum and Mike ruined," Ashton suggested and she giggled at the last one.

The door buzzed and Ashton got up to answer it.

She leaned her head on Luke's shoulder.

"Security.  The life of dating rockstars," she mused.

"We'll go over it all with you but it's for your safety S.  Remember the mall?"

She did remember.  Vividly.  Some nights she woke up covered in sweat at the memory of it.

They had both had the day off over her birthday and they wanted to take her out.  She picked the juice bar at the mall so she could get her favourite non alcoholic pina colada.  From the second they left the car it was bedlam.  Fans were everywhere and they were pushing and shoving against the three of them violently.  She lost her grip on both their hands and found herself surrounded by fans.  Out of the blue one of them had reached out and suddenly punched her square in the jaw.

If it had been mad before then it was wild now.  Ashton and Luke pushed their way back to her, the mall Security was called and the fan was charged with assault.  They never made it to the juice bar.

It wasn't so much the assault that scared her but how completely defenceless she felt in that crowd when she lost her grip on the boys.

After that they had hired her a self defence teacher, and a personal trainer who taught her kick boxing and karate.  She'd become pretty good at it but she still didn't want a repeat of that incident.

Ashton returned with the pizza and placed it on the table.  He got himself a knife and fork and plate.  He was about to offer the same to Sierra and Luke but they had already tucked in with their hands.

"I'm living with savages," he joked.

"Who the fuck eats pizza with a knife and fork?" She teased him.

He pulled a face at her and grabbed a slice.

They chatted more over the pizza, discussing what the last two weeks had been like then Ashton cleared everything away.

Luke glanced between his girlfriend and his friend then stood up.  Sierra got up and let him past.

"I'm going to go and chill on my laptop," Luke said, " I'll see you guys in the morning."

Ashton nodded not taking his eyes off Sierra.

"Goodnight babe," Sierra cooed, kissing Luke gently on the cheek.

He smiled and left the room and Sierra sat back down opposite Ashton.

"Finally I have you to myself," he smirked, reaching out and taking her hand across the table.

She couldn't help but glance down at his hands.  Those long fingers were so alluring.  When she looked up again his head was titled to the side, watching her with a curious expression.

"You're really tanned," she blurted out.

Ashton laughed.

"Yeah and you look pale.  I guess you didn't get out much in this weather?"

He gestured to the rain soaked windows beside them. She shook her head.

"It's meant to be warmer tomorrow," he explained.

"Are we really taking about the weather?" She giggled.

"Apparently so," he mused, "although I'd rather not be talking at all."

She flushed a little and bit her lip.

"Are you ever satisfied?" She teased him.

"Not when it comes to you, princess," he admitted.

Sierra had zero problems with that.  She could spend the whole day in naked bliss with either of her boys and still want more. She never tired of their naked bodies creating magic together.

She smiled as Ashton leaned further across the table and lifted one of his hands to her cheek.  His lips hovered just in front of hers for a second.  She could smell the pepperoni pizza on his breath. Then he gripped the back of her head and crushed her lips to his.

It was a forceful kiss.  Dominant and ever so slightly possessive.  She groaned in to his mouth, her tongue tangling with his.  When he pulled away she whispered "no" and he laughed lightly.

He stood up and exited the booth, extending his large palm to her.  Sierra took his hand and allowed him to lead her out the kitchen, up the stairs and back to his room.  They passed Luke's room on route and the door was open. Luke glanced up from his laptop and chuckled knowingly.

"Have fun," he called after them.

"Oh we will," Ashton assured him before pushing her in to his room and shutting the door.

She watched as he made his way to the bed.  At the end of it he took his t-shirt off and removed his jogging bottoms that he wore as loungewear. Now he was in just his boxers and her heart was already skipping along much quicker, her palms sweating and her breathing ragged.

He turned back to face her.

"Come here," he ordered, curling his index finger in a beckoning motion.

Sierra obeyed and slowly crossed the room to him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and she ran her hands across his muscular shoulders and down to his pecs.  She was still in her pyjamas.  A tank top with a pair of shorts.  It may have been rotten weather lately but it was still very warm.

She leaned down, her nose aligned with his and her lips quivering just in front of his.  She waited.  Part of her wanted to go fast but with Ashton she always waited for him to make the first move.  It was always much more satisfying that way.

Luke was quick.  Sex with him alone was fumbled and messy and extremely unplanned.  Kind of wild but very erotic.

Ashton was slow. He took his time pleasuring her and teasing her until her body was spent.

Both were good and when they got together, like earlier that evening, it was a tantalizing mix of both.

She didn't have to wait too long. Ashton caved and brought his lips to hers with a franticness that didn't happen often with him. His massive hands lifted up and gripped her face, pulling it as close to his as possible.  Then they lowered to her waist and hoisted her up, sitting her on his laps with her legs astride.

The kiss grew deeper and more longing. She could feel him growing under her ass. His length searching for release from his boxers.  She ground down on him and emitted a moan from his plump lips.

He pulled away for a second and looked at her.

"God I missed you."

She shrieked as he suddenly spun them around and trapped her beneath him on the bed.  He rolled his hips, pressing himself against her core and she gasped in arousal but it was when he took her hands and pinned them above her head that she really fell apart.  His strong jaw nudged hers aside and he left a trail of sloppy kisses down the side of her neck.

Ashton shifted his grip on her hands to her wrists and held them both in one hand, the other slithered up her top and found her left breast.  He pinched her nipple and she jolted slightly.  He scoffed at her.

"You are far too easy princess," he mused.

She scowled down at him.  He ignored her and she lifted her legs and dug her heels in to his upper back.

He laughed at her response and sat up, batting her legs away.

"Those two orgasms I gave you before not enough?" He taunted.

She shook her head.

"At least you're honest," Ashton chuckled.

Then his expression turned serious.

"I've waited two weeks to have you two myself.  I'm going to take my time and if you want a third orgasm  then you are going to stay perfectly still while I play with you a bit."

Sierra licked her lips.

"Now does daddy have to tie you up or will you stay still?"

"I'll stay still," she promised even though she knew that would be damn near impossible.

This was the Ashton she knew.  The one who loved to tease her before he pleased her.  The boy who took his sweet time, stretching out the pleasure for as long as possible just so he could keep watching her body react to him.

She arched her back as Ashton tugged her top up and let it rest over her eyes, stealing her sight.

He whistled looking down at her and she giggled.

"That's not staying still," he warned her, his voice stern now.

She bit her lip and forced all her energy in to staying extremely still.

"Now where's that whip I had earlier?" He mused and it took all her might not to wriggle at the thought.

She felt his weight shift off the bed and heard him fumble around in the room.  He didn't return to the bed and it suddenly became very quiet.

Then without warning she felt the end of the rider crop in between her breasts.  Damn was he about to tease her with this? She knew he wouldn't whip her.  Not without warning and never without checking the code word.  Ashton was strict about that.  Her safety always mattered the most to him.

The leather padding of the whip was dragged down her body, just barely touching her skin, tickling her and making it harder to stay still.  She whimpered and tried her damn hardest to think of something else, something to distract herself so she wouldn't suddenly jerk at the touch.

Ashton was breathing heavily and she could picture his face, filled with a carnal lust as he watched her body.

"You look so sexy like this."

She smiled to herself.  She loved hearing him compliment her.

"So fucking sexy," he emphasised.

Then.

"You want me to continue or do you want something more kinky?"

She gulped.

"Kinky," she replied.

"Remember the safe word?" He checked.

"Code red," she replied.

"Okay you asked for this."

She shrieked loudly as the crop lifted then came smacking down on her right nipple.  There was a slight sting then a tingling sensation that made her long to arch her back. Before the sensation died away he lifted the crop again and struck her other nipple this time.

This time she reacted naturally and her back curved off the bed.

"Stay still," Ashton growled.

"Sorry, daddy," she replied, slightly smugly.

She heard the rush of breath through his teeth.

"Are you trying to wind me up? Did Luke and I not teach you anything earlier? You call me that only when you are told to.  Got it?"

She gasped as the crop slapped down on her belly button this time.  The pleasure rippled down her lower stomach and in to her core.  She clenched her jaw, trying to stay still.  He yanked her top off, finally letting her see him and the sight of him nearly nude with a riding crop in his hand was so appetizing.

"Turn over, on to your front and lift your ass up," Ashton demanded.

She rolled her eyes as she turned over.  He couldn't get enough of her ass could he?

She still had her pyjama shorts on and he came round behind her to the foot of the bed, grabbed her ankles and dragged her down the duvet until she was close enough for him to remove them.  Then before she'd even heard them hit the floor he struck her ass.  Not with the whip this time but with his hand.  And then he struck her again.  This time he squeezed her cheek as his hand collided with it.  And then he moved to the other cheek and spanked it three times one after the other before catching her by surprise and slipping a finger between her thighs and inside her core.

She couldn't stay still this time and she cried out as her pelvis moved back to devour his finger.

"Are you disobeying me again?" Ashton asked, his tone dangerously angry.

She gulped.

"No," she lied.

"Hmm So first you don't follow orders and then you lie to me about not following orders.  Stand up."

She gasped as he gripped the back of her neck and used it to pull her to her feet, her backside pressed firm against his front.  Then he changed his act, behaving more gently.

"Can you feel me princess? Can you feel how hard I am for you?"

She nodded slowly.

"Do you want to taste me?"

She nodded again, breathless.

"You're so wet.  Did I do that baby? Did I make you soaking for me?"

"Yes."

Then his voice lowered to a mere whisper and he pressed his lips to her ear, kissing it gently before he spoke.

"I want to taste you too.  I want to lie on the bed while you ride my face until your coming down my chin."

She swallowed. Why was he so filthy? Why was she so turned on by it?

"Come on," he urged, taking her hand and stepping away from her.

He turned her to face him and kissed her passionately then he moved her aside and got on the bed, lying down.

"You gonna ride daddy's face princess? Ride it until I can barely breathe and you're screaming my name so even Luke can hear you in his room?"

He held a hand out to her again and she took it, nodding her head.  Ashton helped her climb on to the bed and sit with her thighs on either side of his head, pressed against his ears.  Then he raised his hands and clumsily found her waist, gripping it he shoved her down until her core was practically crushing his face.

"Ah!" Sierra cried out.

Ashton kept his grip on her waist and used his strength to wriggle her body, forcing her to grind down on his face.  He moaned up against her sex and his length twitched despite already being rock solid.

She followed his guide and started to rub herself off on his face.  His tongue lapped between her southern lips and his nose rubbed against her clit.  The stubble around his mouth offered excellent friction.  As she moved she leaned forward a little and brought her mouth down around his erection so they were in the sixty nine position.  One of Ashton's favorites.

He groaned audibly against her dampness.  A deep, guttural groan that vibrated against her. She bobbed her head, taking in as much of him as she could as one hand held him steady and the other massaged his balls in her palm.

This was how she liked her boys, completely sprawled out so she could watch their every reaction to her.  Not that doggy style wasn't fun too.  Ashton's toned legs tensed like they usually did when his high was rising.

She screamed his name as he inserted his long tongue in to her and she circled her hips, feeling that friction from his tongue, his nose and his stubble. She already felt close and then Ashton wrapped his arms right round her and pulled her closer to him so she was almost suffocating him with her core just as he removed his tongue from inside her and tilted his head back slightly to lick her sweet spot.  It was enough to make her fall apart and she came with jerking motions, her pleasure flowing across his mouth.  He lifted her up a second later so he could speak.

"I'm gonna stand now," he told her, "you can get on your knees and finish me."

She nodded, still pulsing slightly.  Her body felt like she had no control over it. She was weak but she moved off the bed and let Ashton stand before sinking to her knees.  He looked down at her and his head rolled back as she took him in her mouth again.  He lifted his arms above his head, holding the wooden roof of the four poster bed, arm muscles bulging.  She forced him back as far as she could while picking up the pace and Ashton showed his appreciation by moaning, louder and louder every second until his legs tightened and began to shake and his length shuddered in her mouth.

"Fuck!"

He stifled his yell by removing a hand from the top of the bed and biting his fist as he let loose in her mouth and allowed his cum to dribble down her throat.

"Holy shit," he mumbled, flopping back on the bed.

She stood up and climbed on beside him.  For a second she just watched his chest rise and drop rapidly then he pulled her down in to a hug.

"Damn it's good to be home," he chuckled.

"Hmm," She murmured, rubbing her finger tips across the hairs on his chest.

"I just wish you weren't leaving again in five days," she admitted.

He held her tighter.

"Me too babe but it will be over soon.  And besides we have five days.  The sun is meant to come back tomorrow so we can laze in the pool and drink beer on the loungers," he offered.

"Watch you and Luke play basketball in your trunks," she added.

He laughed.

"Come on.  Let's get some sleep. I'll get Lucinda to make us crepes in the morning."

He moved under the duvet and beckoned for her to join. She did without hesitation then he switched off the light and darkness engulfed them.

[welllpthisishappening]

It’s a Funny Old Game (2/2)

Killian's not sure why he agreed to this. Well, no, that's not true. He does. Because Henry asked. And, well, maybe they're some kind of family now.

Emma's not sure why she hasn't said anything. Well, no, that's not true. She does. Because she's not supposed to. And, well, things were pretty good already.

Or: A quasi Out of the Frying Pan sequel with soccer.

AN: There’s an actual soccer game in this part of the soccer fic I was never planning on actually writing. Soccer and fluff and feelz. As always, I cannot say enough about @distant-rose & @laurnorder who rationalized all of these feelz and we’re like...uh, yeah, obviously you should write the thing. They’re the best. 

Also on Ao3 if you’re looking there. 

“This is, easily, the coolest thing we’ve ever done.” “You’re not actually doing anything,” Emma pointed out, glancing at David who, appeared, to be ignoring her completely.

Mary Margaret shook her head, hitching her arm under Leo’s legs and babbling something that might have been words before turning back towards Emma. “Don’t pop this bubble for him,” she said. “He thinks he’s going to get out on the field. He’s going to collect dirt or something.”

“What?” “Yeah, yeah, Mom, we’re going to get dirt,” Henry yelled, bobbing on his toes. He didn’t trip, but he did stumble over the words a bit, voice picking up and excitement obvious in every letter and Emma had been right – he made a jersey.

Or he’d done some jersey-type surgery on one of the several dozen jerseys he owned – getting rid of the name patch on the back and writing out Jones and that, certainly,  didn’t do several different things to Emma’s entire body and her ability to not cry in public places.

David probably would have laughed at her.

Well, no, he was too busy plotting how to sneak onto the field at Yankee Stadium and, apparently, steal dirt.

Will would have laughed at her.

Will helped Henry and Roland make a sign at the bar the night before.

“I don’t understand this dirt thing at all,” Belle muttered, doing her best to avoid Roland’s feet when she fell in step next to Will. He was hanging over Will’s shoulder, face flushed from the blood that had rushed to the top of his head and Regina didn’t even look surprised by any of this.

Emma wasn’t really either – a year after Killian had moved downtown and they’d all kind of mixed and mingled and it was some kind of family in a big, emotional way that was underlined and bolded and, maybe, had fireworks going off behind it.

At least that’s how Emma kept thinking about it. And nearly proclaiming in the middle of the kitchen at the Jolly with flour smeared across her jeans.

God, what an idiot. That wasn’t...not yet, at least. Not technically.

So Killian helped Henry with his homework and made dinner when he wasn’t running service at the Jolly and they liked to spend Sundays on the couch with video game controllers in hand and he’d almost gotten good at killing zombies.

They were comfortable and domestic and Emma was so goddamn lucky it, sometimes, made her head spin if she thought about it for too long.

She usually didn’t have time to think about it for too long – far too busy with a filming schedule that always seemed to require another appearance in studio and another cookbook and she really needed to start thinking about more recipes, but she’d been focused on a few other things for the last two weeks.

Ariel would call it distracted, you’re distracted and had, several times, but Emma didn’t have time for that either and she’d nearly forgotten the orange slices before.

“Uncle David wants to steal dirt from Yankee Stadium,” Henry explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because Derek Jeter touched it.” “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Emma muttered. Henry actually turned to gape at her, eyes wide with disbelief and sports-based offense and she couldn’t actually wave her hands, laden down with orange slices and stress-fueled bake goods because she hadn’t thought of a single recipe yet.

“Yes it does,” David argued. “This is the house that Jeter built, after all.” “Oh my God.” Mary Margaret mumbled something else against Leo’s head that sounded suspiciously like your father is insane and David rolled his eyes. “I thought this was the house that Ruth built,” Robin said reasonably and they had to be close to their seats.

Ruby and Regina had joined forces a few days before – each personally offended that the massive and extended family of Killian Jones wasn’t immediately offered half a dozen rows of seats for a charity soccer game and the combined weight of their fury probably caused several Yankee Stadium ticket agents to cry.

“No, didn’t you hear?” Will asked, making a face when Roland moved on his shoulder. “This is the house that Jones built. We’ve been guaranteed, at least, forty-seven goals.” “See, you’re acting like this doesn’t matter to you,” Emma said. “But you were the one trying to ask Killian about strategy three nights ago.” “How do you know that?” “I have ears? And eyes?” Will made a face, pressing his head against Roland’s shoulder when the kid started laughing and Regina tried to tug his own makeshift Jones jersey down when it rode up his back. “How’d the last run through go yesterday afternoon? Cap didn’t want to talk about it when he got in for service.” “And you don’t think that was some kind of sign?”

Will opened his mouth to say something else, but Robin mumbled shut up, Scarlet and that was the end of that conversation.

Emma did her best to smile – certain it was going to be fine and good and it was a charity game for God’s sake. No one expected them actually play well.

But Killian was Killian and, by extension, Emma was Emma and Henry had brought, like, a dozen friends because there was so much goddamn room in their several designated aisles and it felt like some kind of terrifying ocean of teenage-expectations.

“He just wants to impress you and Henry,” Robin muttered, knocking his shoulder familiarly against Emma’s once they made their way into the seats and they were only a few feet behind the benches. “Mostly Henry, I think.”

There was a waiter. They had their own in-aisle waiter. Ruby had definitely made someone cry.

“Yeah, I know,”  Emma said. “He could do that by waking up in the morning, though.” “That was actually pretty romantic.” “It felt weird when I was saying it.” Robin laughed softly, tapping his fingers on the armrest next to him and the Stadium looked completely different. Not that Emma had ever actually been to a baseball game, but she imagined there wasn’t usually a whole other field on top of the field when the Yankees played.

“Does it look especially soccer?” she asked and she saw Robin smile out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m not sure if I know what that question means, but the proper term is football pitch and, yes, it does look like a proper match.” “That was almost oppressively British.”

“Old habits. You know, Ruby and Gina forced him to film a promo thing yesterday. It was part for the network and part the team and it’s up on both sites. That might have been why he was attacking the vegetables during service last night.”

“Oh,” Emma mumbled, a wholly underwhelming response and maybe her eyes and ears weren’t working nearly as well as she thought they had been.

“Ruby didn’t show you?” Emma shook her head, something churning in the pit of her stomach that felt like a mix of nerves and anxiety and the hope that Killian didn’t actually break any bones because they’d already done the whole soccer injury thing with Henry six months ago and she wasn’t sure if she could go through that again.

“Should she have?” Emma asked and Robin made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

Henry and Roland were already cheering – at the grounds crew – and that sign wasn’t going to make it to kickoff, already slightly wrinkled by wind and they probably should have made two so there was no issue over sharing.

“Depends on your response, I guess,” Robin replied, leaning to his side to tug his phone out of his pocket. “For the record, A sent the link to me last night with just, like, twenty-seven exclamation points and the promise that it would mean something to you.” Emma narrowed her eyes. “And she didn’t think it would make sense to just, you know, send it to me?” “You know, A. She lives for this back-room drama and I’m fairly positive she was terrified of what Killian would do if he found out she was the reason you got your hands on that video.” “And you’re cool with that kind of lingering threat?” “Eh,” Robin shrugged. “My kid is obsessed with him. He was the best man at my wedding. I’m fairly confident he won’t actually try to push me in front of the downtown-6 later.” “We drove up here. Your wife has questionably strong connections with town-car companies.”

Robin beamed. “Exactly. Here,” he added, pushing the phone into Emma’s palm and the video had already started playing.

Emma tugged her hair over her shoulder, trying to shake away that one strand that seemed determined to stay in her eyes and he must have just finished practicing because his hair wasn’t quite set and there was a sheen to his face that might have actually been the most attractive thing she’d ever seen in her entire life.

God.

She could feel Robin’s stare on the side of her head – watching and waiting for some kind of visible reaction and the whole lot of them had probably seen this stupid video. Mary Margaret kept shifting in her seat.

She’d totally seen that stupid video.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Killian said, answering a question from an off-camera reporter. “Who do I think is going to be the best on the field? Well, if you want to get technical, the correct term is pitch.” He flashed a smile at the camera, eyebrows doing something that should be illegal in every country in the entire world. “But, uh, honestly,” he continued, tugging on that piece of hair that curled just behind his ear. “Me? Is that the wrong answer?” The invisible reporter laughed – or that might have just been Emma and she barely even noticed when the waiter started passing out drinks and food and there was alcohol in her other hand before she realized someone had actually ordered anything.

It was probably Ruby.

She had a tendency to just...take over.

“Em,” she shouted, pushing up slightly in her chair. “Em! What if you did a section on better stadium food? Like, you know, hot dogs and hamburgers and, oh man, steal Killian’s hamburger recipe. We’ll sell a million copies.” “I don’t think she’s listening to you,” David muttered, taking an exaggerated bite of what actually appeared to be a corndog.

Emma glanced up, grimacing at the food in her brother’s hand. “Are you guys talking?” she asked. “And what the hell is that?” “Delicious.” “I don’t think that’s a type of food, technically,” Mary Margaret pointed out. She twisted in her chair, careful to keep Leo Henry as still as possible and fished through the bag at her feet, tugging out a plastic container of what Emma immediately knew was squash.

And Cheerios.

“M’s, are you mixing vegetables and cereal?” Emma asked, gaze flitting between Robin’s phone and her sister-in-law and having an actual, coherent conversation was proving rather difficult when Killian kept smiling at the camera.

“He’s got very specific tastes,” she explained. “He likes gourd-type vegetables and...one specific type of vaguely disgusting cereal.” “It really is horrible if they’re not doused in sugar isn't they?” Mary Margaret shrugged. “At least it’s not all squash all the time. It was Killian’s idea, actually.” “Wait, what?” “Yeah, when was that David? A week ago?” David mumbled, a mouth full of corndog and a drink in his hand and Emma tried not to actually do damage to her eyes when she rolled them. “Anyway,” Mary Margaret said. “Whenever we were at the Jolly last. He said something about grains and it might actually go pretty well with the squash and, you know, I tried it the other day and it’s not really that bad.” Emma blinked, the noise from the video dulling in her ears and it kind of felt like she’d sunk through the very padded, very fancy chairs they’d been allotted. “You ate your own kid’s food?”

“Is that weird? What if it tasted awful?” “He’s a baby. I don’t think he’ll remember.” Mary Margaret didn’t say anything and Leo Henry made a decidedly one-year-old noise, grabbing a handful of Cheerios and stuffing them in his face with the same grace and tact his father had in the next seat over.

Emma shook her head, but that was mostly so she knew it was still connected to her body and she hadn’t just floated into the atmosphere, buoyed by feelings and emotions and she really couldn’t cope with the convergence of all of this at once.

Yeah, well, like I said, it’s a good cause and I’ve got a kid...I mean, I’ve got...it’s a good cause.

Robin chuckled when Emma’s eyes widened, threatening to fall out of her face and possibly onto the field and that would probably scar Henry for life or something.

“Wait,” she stammered, not sure who she was talking to, but Ruby was still half-standing in her chair and she had that look on her face. “Did he…” “Yup,” Will shouted a few seats away, popping his mouth on the word and Emma could barely hear it over the sound of her pulse beating in her ears.

“See,” Robin mumbled. “This is why he didn’t want really want you to see the video. Scroll back for two seconds and you can actually see the tips of his ears go red.” Emma let out a shaky laugh, body falling forward with the force of her exhale or sigh or, maybe, just a complete swoon , but she did as instructed and Robin wasn’t lying. The words were out of Killian’s mouth and she could tell the exact moment he realized what he’d said.

He looked like he froze for half a second, blinking just a bit quicker and his tongue pressed against the corner of his mouth. The off-camera reporter asked another question and Killian nearly jumped to attention, spine straightening and shoulders shifting and Emma wondered if it’d be really weird if she just leapt onto the field – the pitch, whatever – and started making out with her boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah,” Killian continued on the video. “You know, it’s easy to kind of get sidetracked with stuff we think is important, but this kind of throws everything all back into pretty stark focus. These kids are going through stuff we could never really understand and if I can run around for a couple hours, at Yankee Stadium no less, than, yeah sign me up. Plus, I’ve been promised orange slices later.” Emma was fairly certain she was still cognizant and conscious, but Robin and Ruby seemed to be having some kind of silent conversation over her head and Mary Margaret was mumbling something against Leo Henry’s head that sounded suspiciously like Aunt Emma is making weird faces, that’s right.

Henry and Roland were still yelling.

It made more sense now – the players were coming out for warmups.

Oh, well, shit.

He hadn’t actually put his uniform on at home – There are rules, Swan, you have to get dressed in the locker room or it’s bad luck – and, in some theoretic vision, Emma knew he’d have to wear a uniform and even what the uniform looked like , but even her most detailed expectations failed to match up with what had actually just arrived along the first base line of Yankee Stadium.

“You alright there, Em?” Ruby asked and even Mary Margaret laughed.

Emma shook her head – not sure if she was answering or just trying to ignore her very loud, vaguely hysterical friends – but she barely had time to even consider a sarcastic response before Killian was jogging their direction and damn , that was cheating.

“Hey,” he said, coming up just short of the wall and his smile probably could have powered the entire borough when he saw Roland and Henry in front of him.

Roland tried to climb over the concrete and the rolled up tarp towards Killian, but Henry grabbed him around the waist immediately – and then nearly let him fall when he noticed the number on Killian’s back.

“You ok, kid?” Emma asked, but Henry didn’t answer her. He stared at Killian, matching flushes on each of their faces, and Emma was never going to hear anything except her over-excited heartbeat.

“Good number,” Henry muttered and Killian managed to smile even wider.

“Yeah, I figured it’d be good luck or something. I mean Rol expects me to score, what was it, mate? Forty-seven goals?” “Forty-eight,” Roland shouted.

Killian hummed in agreement, eyes flashing towards Emma. She was breathing through her mouth. And she didn’t remember when she stood up. “Hi, Swan,” he grinned, all easy confidence and certainty and blue eyes that seemed to actually match the blue in his goddamn uniform.

This was some kind of joke.

It had to be.

She was absolutely dreaming all of this.

“Hi,” Emma said, but it came out a bit breathless and Ruby was going to injure her spleen with the force of her cackle. “Oh my God, Ruby, shut up.” “No, no, I get it,” Ruby laughed.

Emma couldn’t actually press her hands to her cheeks – certain they’d probably be scalding with the force of her embarrassment – holding, as she was, four Tupperware containers of baked goods and goddamn orange slices.

Killian waved his hand towards Ruby and she didn’t actually stop laughing, but she sat back down and started making faces at Leo Henry. “You look a little distracted, love,” Killian muttered, moving in front of her and resting his arms on the wall.

“Shouldn’t you be warming up?” Emma asked. “Stretching or...kicking something?” “Are you interested in watching me stretch?” “Oh my God, you’re worse than Ruby is.” “I’m going to try not to take offense to that, Swan. And, strictly speaking, yeah, I probably should be, but I don’t think I can actually get penalized for anything.” “Yellow card.” “That was good.” “I do occasionally listen.” Killian eyes brightened or just got bluer or maybe Emma had really lost her mind. She should eat some orange slices. Up her metabolism. Or something. That didn’t even make any sense.

“True,” Killian said, resting his chin on his palm. “And sometimes you are noticeably distracted, Swan.” “And sometimes you stumble over interviews in promo videos.” She was an idiot.

Robin might have actually sighed next to her and Will mumbled something under his breath that sounded like jeez, Emma, now he’s going to be thinking that all game and Killian might have actually scraped his elbow trying to move his hands off the concrete.

“Huh,” he muttered, running his hand through his hair and rocking back on his heels. “Locksley or Scarlet?” “I’m pleading the fifth. That’s how that works, right, David?”

“Absolutely,” David promised, clearly not listening to a single word Emma had asked, far too busy detailing the dirt plan with Henry again.

Emma sighed. “They want to steal dirt,” she explained and one side of Killian’s mouth twitched. “Something about Derek Jeter and not Derek Jeter and who’s that guy Henry’s obsessed with?” “Aaron Judge,” Henry and Killian answered immediately.

“Right, right,” Emma muttered, taking a deep breath and piling her small Tupperware collection in front of her. She leaned forward, tugging on the front of Killian’s jersey – he was wearing a jersey, God – and she was fairly positive his whole body seemed to sag forward, fingers wrapped around her wrist.

This was the last place they should be having this conversation.

Or the last place they should be having this conversation if Emma could actually formulate a coherent sentence, but that jersey was distracting and he was distracting and she couldn’t help but wonder why nothing had happened in the last two weeks.

She was kind of frustrated it hadn't happened in the last two weeks.

Although, she should probably buy Ariel some kind of gift. For not telling or talking and everyone knew everything about everyone in that restaurant and it was some kind of miracle that someone hadn’t just told Emma what the plan was.

She’d just...stumbled into it? Well, no, that wasn’t really true either. She’d gotten back from filming two weeks ago and Henry had clearly already been home – backpack dropped just inside the door and one shoe left in the middle of the hallway and she’d just meant to move the goddamn fucking sneaker.

She hadn’t really meant to ruin everything.

Or potentially ruin everything if they ever acknowledged what everything was.

Her head hurt.

And Emma hadn’t even opened the box.

She’d been too busy trying not to pass out in her kid’s room when she was fairly certain said kid was three blocks uptown at her boyfriend’s restaurant.

But now boyfriend seemed a bit juvenile and they’d been living together for a year and Killian had said I’ve got a kid on an actual, official interview.

That went on the network site. And probably got e-mail blasted to the kinds of people who got e-mail blasts from the network.

God, why hadn’t he actually asked yet?

“Swan,” Killian said, squeezing his fingers and she nearly dislocated her entire vertebrae snapping her head back up. “You went all glossy there, love. Are you ok? Do you need an orange slice?” “Maybe,” Emma admitted. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it suddenly felt like her lungs were going to explode. “You’re totally right, this is totally distracting.” Killian twisted his eyebrows – any sense of pre-game, pre-match , nerves almost visibly falling away as soon as Emma mumbled out the words and the compliment and Henry was staring at them like he was expecting something to happen.

She was an idiot.

The box was sitting behind his soccer cleats. It might still be there.

Henry totally knew.

“They weren’t actually supposed to show you,” Killian mumbled, leaning forward again and for half a second Emma thought he was going to kiss her. But there were cameras everywhere and a small army of soccer-playing teenagers and he really should go stretch.

Will would never let him hear the end of it if he strained something.

“Yeah, I believe that was mentioned,” Emma said. She grimaced slightly when her elbow bumped against the wall, but she moved her fingers anyway, tracing over the back of Killian’s neck and down his arm and he actually looked like he shivered. “It was a good video, though. Even with the stammering.” “That so?” “Why would I lie about that?” “I honestly have no idea. I hadn’t really gotten that far in the stages of worrying.”

“What exactly are the stages of worrying?” Killian clicked his tongue, teeth tugging on his lower lip when Emma’s nails scratched through the bottom of his hair. A camera shutter went off somewhere. “Realization,” he started. “A quick and sudden determination to fix it as quickly as possible. Avoiding the issue completely. Threatening your friends with metaphorical pink slips if they even so much as breathed a word of said worry to you and, uh, stress baking.” “That’s it?” Emma asked. “And you were all the way to just before stress baking?” “I had practice. And a dinner service. I didn’t really have time to get to stress baking.” “Naturally.” Killian laughed under his breath, leaning his head back against Emma’s fingers and someone called for him from the field. Pitch.  “I think they actually expect me to play soccer,” he muttered, ignoring Roland’s not-so-quiet screech when he used the wrong word. “Football, football, football,”  Killian corrected quickly. “Deep breaths, mate.”

“You’ve got to go score, Uncle Killian,” Roland yelled and it sounded like more of a demand than whoever was actually coaching that team.

“He should probably be in charge,” Emma muttered, working another smile out of Killian and that felt like scoring eighty-seven goals and forty-six penalty kicks and scoring in soccer was, apparently, very limited.

Football.

God.  

“Between him and Henry I have been taught every way Wayne Rooney and David Villa has ever scored, so it’s almost like I’ve been double-coached,” he said. “I’m fairly positive my MVP trophy has already been personalized.”

“Awfully confident all of a sudden.” “Yeah, well, you brought orange slices.” “And baked,” Emma added. “Don’t forget the baking.” “Does it count if I cleaned up the frosting disaster at the end?” Emma shook her head deftly and both Ruby and Mary Margaret were going to choke or pass out and David should probably hold Leo Henry if that happened.

“No,” she said, something in the pit of her stomach fluttering like she was fifteen and flirting with the captain of the football team. Actual football. Not whatever it was they were doing. “And it wasn’t really a disaster,” Emma continued. “More like a debacle. At worst. It just, you know, kind of flew everywhere when the bowl fell. The cleanup doesn’t award you any points or goals or whatever.” “Rough crowd.” “Compliment the baked goods later and then we’ll talk.” Someone yelled Jones from the other side of the field and Emma was fairly positive she’d heard that voice on her TV screen and there were more photographers there than she expected. They should probably stop flirting on the sidelines.

She couldn't seem to stop flirting on the sidelines.

“It seems I have a game to play,” Killian muttered, rolling his eyes as soon as the exasperated sound came a few seats away. “Match. I know. I know it’s a match.”

“Go play, Lieutenant,” Emma said, but her hand had found its way to the front of his jersey again and he couldn’t actually walk away when she was holding onto him like there was a magnet there.

His eyes flashed at the rank and Emma tried to smile like she was a teenager and there there weren’t actual teenagers a few feet away or a photographer trying to get them all to pose.

“For The Daily News, ” he explained and Emma’s head snapped towards Ruby out of instinct.

“Put it in the cookbook with your stadium series section,” she shrugged.

Killian furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Emma said quickly, but Killian didn’t look impressed. “Also, Ruby, you’re an awful producer.” Ruby sounded like she growled and the photographer looked a bit intimidated, shifting back and forth on his feet until Regina seized control of the situation and told anyone who wasn’t part of the group that they had to get out of frame since they didn't’ have parental permission to put their picture in New York City tabloids.

“Thanks,” the photographer said a few moments later, still glancing warily at Ruby who looked like she was considering all the ways to get copies of his photo without actually paying him.

Killian turned back towards Emma – and she was going to say something, really, she was. It was going to be motivational or inspirational or something straight out of an 80s movie, but she didn’t get a chance.

He kissed her.

In front of the cameras and the teenagers and what felt like the entire goddamn world.

Emma leaned forward, arms moving around his neck and the wall pushed painfully into her stomach, but she barely even noticed when Killian did that thing where he seemed to try and breathe her in.

Or maybe just pushed his hand into her hair.

“Distracting,” Emma mumbled, resting her forehead against his and she couldn’t actually see his mouth, but she knew he was smiling.

“For luck,” Killian said.

He didn’t need it.

And Emma wasn’t really surprised – he’d never really needed it, no matter what he thought, and he looked so goddamn good in that stupid uniform, she’d probably steal it. Or something. She had no idea if he had to give it back.

He scored.

Twenty-two minutes left on the clock – or, as both Henry and Roland and a small fleet of teenagers were quick to point out the 68th minute – the ball landing on his feet and in the back of the net in a blink. Emma wasn’t sure what kind of noise she actually made, a scream or shout or whatever kind of noise a person would make when they found a ring box behind her kid’s soccer cleats two weeks ago and then watched a video with her boyfriend mumbling over future-type qualifiers.

And then, she was fairly certain, she nearly passed out.

She almost didn’t hear it. She was too busy screaming and jumping and she should have been better prepared for Killian in a soccer uniform.

But she wasn’t and Emma certainly wasn’t prepared for the kid on Henry’s other side – a defender on the travel team he’d played for that summer named Ben or Bill or something.

“Henry, Henry! Did your dad just score?” “Yeah, he did,” Henry shouted back, jumping in tandem with Roland and the sign was a bent-up mess by the 68th minute of play. “Did you see that shot? He totally wrecked that defender!”

Emma stumbled slightly, an impressive feat considering she hadn’t actually taken a step, and she nearly took out the orange slices before Robin dropped a knowing hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“Deep breaths,” he muttered. “Just focus on that piece of gum stuck to the wall.” “That’s disgusting,” Emma grumbled.

Robin laughed softly, but he didn’t move his hand and Emma knew Will was staring at her too. “You should probably tell him,” Robin added. “You know at some point. Not now, obviously.” “I think he’s a little busy now.” “That’s what I’m saying, but, you know, eventually. And then live happily ever after or something.” Emma nodded slowly, lips moving in response, but she wasn’t sure she actually said anything.

They won the game.

It’s a match, Mom, we’ve been over this.

They won the game.

Ruby stared at a security guard until he opened up a gate to the field and Regina glared at every groundskeeper who even dared to look their direction, marching them towards the media scrum just outside the box.

That was good, Mom! You’re totally a respectable fan now.

Emma let that slide, trying to shift the Tupperware containers on her hip and Killian was already surrounded by reporters and more photographers, answering questions with his hand stuffed in his hair and his left arm twisted behind his back.

“You good?” Mary Margaret asked, appearing at Emma’s side and holding her hands out expectantly. Emma blinked in confusion, lips parting slightly and Mary Margaret didn’t miss a beat, just grabbed two of the containers without a word. “That’s not an answer,” she pointed out.

“I’m not sure I understand the question,” Emma admitted.

“That kid. And the yelling. And the video.” Emma considered her answer for a moment, but it was almost blatantly obvious and maybe she should just ask him.

No, that’s not how this worked.

She was fairly positive that’s not how it worked. She’d never...done any of this before.

“Yeah,” Emma said, snapping the word out when she realized she hadn’t actually answered Mary Margaret. “I am. Is that weird?” “Emma, you just asked me if it was weird that you were happy.” “That’s probably weird, right?” “Absolutely.”

“I really should have been better prepared for how good he looks in that uniform too,” Emma said and Mary Margaret’s laugh probably alerted several birds and fairies of an impending happily ever after.

Mary Margaret nodded in agreement. “It’s not a bad look.” Emma smiled, shaking her hair over her shoulders and the rest of the team had, finally, noticed the baked goods and orange slices, descending on her and Mary Margaret quickly, a mess of hands and elbows, all determined to get sustenance after the match.

Emma did her best to hold onto the containers in her hands, could hear Killian trying to work his way out of the interview, but there were more questions and the entire stadium seemed to freeze when someone asked him about how your wife made food for the team.

“That’s just bad prep,” Mary Margaret mumbled and the metaphorical birds paused mid-flight.

David looked like he was trying to figure out a way to actually arrest the journalist, but Emma shook her head again, twisting back towards a suddenly paler-than-normal Killian.

She shrugged.

And that wasn’t really the most romantic response, but no one had really asked the question.

There weren’t any questions in the Jolly later that night either – the not-so-secret celebratory dinner Ariel had planned with food that would have been better if Killian was cooking it, a fact he was quick to point out as soon as the new sous chef was back in the kitchen.

They ate it anyway and Killian helped Will mix drinks, grinning at Emma every time his eyes met hers. It was almost enough to distract all over again.

The alcohol helped.

They took more pictures – Killian’s participation trophy featuring prominently in all of them and Ruby tried to bring up the cookbook no less than eight different times.

Emma drank some more and Killian snuck into his own kitchen to make her onion rings, wrapping one arm around her waist to drop the plate in front of her at the bar and leave kisses on her neck.

Roland fell asleep draped over Killian eventually, body twisted in some sort of improbable way and he whined when Robin tried to pry his hands away from the shirt he had gripped in his fists. Mary Margaret took a picture of that as well. There weren’t any questions on the three-block walk downtown, Henry weaving just a bit until Emma wrapped her arm around his shoulder and he didn’t even argue when she pulled him against her side.

He was half asleep by the time they got into the apartment, toeing out of his sneakers and leaving them directly in front of the door. Killian tossed his keys on the table, rolling his shoulders slightly and Emma didn’t even try to get her jacket on the actual hook.

It was domestic. It was nice. She was happy. The metaphorical birds were chirping at nearly eleven o’clock at night.

“Hey, teeth,” Emma said, miming a toothbrush with her finger when Henry started to clomp down the hallway.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “Night, Mom. Night, Dad. That was a crazy good goal before.” Emma’s... something cracked when she snapped back towards Killian, his eyes dangerously wide and jaw nearly on the floor and she wasn’t sure he was breathing. The bathroom door slammed shut and Killian jumped, blinking quickly like he was trying to get everything into focus.

Emma moved slowly, reaching a hand out cautiously.

He didn’t flinch when her hand landed on his arm.

“Did he…” Killian started, shaking his head in response to a question he hadn’t actually finished. “He’s tired. Something about the sun and draining energy and he’s just talking in tongues.” Her heart expanded and then exploded and the birds were singing some kind of love song medley in the middle of the apartment. “I’m fairly positive he was still speaking English,” Emma said and Killian let out a shaky laugh. “And that’s not the first time that’s happened today, so I don’t think you get to blame the sun.” “What?” “Some kid. I have no idea what his name is. Red hair, freckles all over his cheeks. Plays defense?”

“Brandon.” “Wait, really?” Killian nodded. “I am one-hundred percent positive that kid’s name is Brandon. He’s got a peanut allergy. Don’t ask me what his last name is though, I have no idea.”

“I mean, I thought his name was Ben, so you’re definitely winning on that front.”

“Was his name an important part of the story?” Killian asked, some of the surprise leaving his voice and he didn’t look quite as tense, one hand falling to Emma’s waist.

“Nah, that was just part of the set-up,” Emma muttered. “You scored and he told Henry his dad scored and there was no argument, just another string of adjectives to describe your goal. So, again, not the first time that’s happened today. Or the first time people have made sweeping assumptions about your family qualifiers.” “I thought your brother was going to kill that journalist.” Emma winced and this conversation was not going the way she expected it. That was kind of a trend...for her life.

Huh.

“Would it really be so bad?” she asked, practically shouting the question in the otherwise empty living room. She could hear the sink still running in the bathroom.

Killian furrowed his eyebrows, his hand stilling on her side and her shirt had rumpled slightly under his fingers. “Your brother killing a journalist at Yankee Stadium?” he asked. “It’d probably make it difficult for him to get dirt.” “I think Scarlet stole some for him.” “That doesn’t surprise me at all.” “That’s not really what I was talking about.” “You don’t say.”

Emma rolled her eyes and maybe she was the one who’d been drained by the sun because she actually stuck her tongue out, pushing slightly on Killian’s chest to try and get him towards the couch. He took the hint quickly, backing up and dropping into the corner, tugging her down with him until she was flush against his side with her legs perpendicular over his.

“What’s this really about, Swan?” he asked, brushing his fingers through the ends of her hair. “And when were you going to tell me about the cookbook?” “Probably when you weren’t freaking out about a charity soccer game.” Killian opened his mouth, but she snapped her jaw in frustration and the smirk that settled on his face was absolutely cheating. “I know it’s a match. I understand the terminology.” “You’re bouncing all around this conversation, love.” “That’s because you’re not telling me about interview revelations.” Killian sighed, resting his head on her shoulder and his arm tightened around her waist. “I didn’t...we’ve only kind of talked about it,” he mumbled. “Even if I’ve been thinking it for awhile.”

“How long is awhile? Exactly?” “Weeks. Months. Since the very beginning.” She needed to stop holding her breath without realizing it. She was probably doing permanent damage to her lungs. Or her brain. Her brain needed oxygen, right?

That made sense.

“I didn’t even help with Henry’s jersey,” Emma said. “He did that himself and asked Ruby to make sure there were tickets for his friends and he drew all the letters on the sign so Rol could color them in. This is...he’s thinking it too. Obviously.” “Obviously,” Killian echoed, a note of disbelief in his voice that didn’t belong there.

Emma took a deep breath, trying to draw on some kind of conversational and emotional courage she’d only recently discovered she had. “Would it help,” she started, choosing her words carefully, “if I mentioned that I’d also been thinking about it? In the affirmative?” Killian pulled his head up slowly, staring at her like he couldn't quite believe she was there or talking and Emma tried not to bite her lip too tightly. “The affirmative?” “You need to stop just repeating what I’m saying.” “That’s because I’m very confused.”

“I’m just saying...that if there were questions or, you know, whatever. My answer would be...yes.” “Yes,” Killian said, dragging the word out until it sounded long enough to be a keynote speech at the United Nations. “And I’m asking what, exactly?”

“Are we having the same conversation right now? I’m not sure that we are.” Killian shrugged, one of his shoulders brushing up against Emma’s in the process and he really did look confused. And just a bit nervous. “You would make a terrible pirate, you know,” Emma continued. “Hiding treasure in blatantly obvious places.”

Killian blanched, lips pressed together tightly and Emma was momentarily distracted by how ridiculously blue his eyes were before he was kissing her or she was kissing him and it didn’t really matter because they appeared to, finally, be on the same conversational page.

Emma didn’t remember swinging her leg over his hip, just that he groaned when she moved against him and they should probably stop doing this with a fourteen-year-old kid who regarded them both as parental authorities down the hallway. “Ah, gross,” Henry sighed, leaning against the wall with his arms cross and his feet crossed at the ankle and he’d learned both of those things from Killian. “You figure it out yet, Mom?” Emma nodded, her back not appreciating the twist she’d put it in when she tried to glance over her shoulder. “It’s your fault, you know. If you hadn’t left your sneakers everywhere, I never would have found it.” Henry scrunched his nose – and he’d gotten that from her. “Oh. Sorry.” Killian sighed, but he didn’t actually seem frustrated, he looked like he was bordering close to ecstatic and Emma understood the feeling. “You could still help, you know,” he said, nodding back towards the hallway and he didn’t have to say another word before Henry was sprinting towards his room and the box that was, apparently, still sitting behind his soccer cleats.

“He helped me pick it out,” Killian muttered and Emma’s stomach leapt into her throat and her heart did something absolutely impossible and she’d probably never stop smiling.

“He’d make a better pirate than you,” she said.

“I hope so.”

“Here, here, here, here,” Henry cried, sliding into the couch when his socks didn’t provide the necessary traction to stop immediately. “What happens now? Shouldn’t there be candles or something? There are always candles in the movies.”

“I don’t think we even own candles,” Emma said and Henry deflated immediately.

“For real?” “We’ve got to have candles somewhere, right?” Killian asked. Emma shook her head. “You should have candles, love. If we’re going to do this, we should do it the right way.” Emma was still smiling. And still sitting on top of Killian. “I really don’t need candles.”

“This wasn’t exactly the plan. At least let me get up, Swan. We’ve got to follow one of the rules.”

She made a face that absolutely did not belong in that current situation and Henry was jumping up and down again, the box still clutched tightly in his hands. Killian took a deep breath when Emma moved, running his fingers through his hair and resting his left hand on Henry’s shoulder.

“Thanks, kid,” he muttered, turning back towards Emma and she couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t really mind.

Killian grinned at her – any trace of smirk or joke forgotten as soon as his thumb flipped open the top of the box and Emma sat up straighter, pressing her heels into the ground like that would prove this was actually happening.

He got down on one knee.

“I’ve been hiding this behind soccer cleats for the last three weeks, so you’re already painfully aware that I didn’t really have much of a plan,” Killian started. “But this is...you are all I want, Swan. All of this. Us and this apartment and this life and charity soccer games and cookbooks and ridiculous filming schedules. I want that. Indefinitely and forever and side by side. No matter what.” He glanced over his shoulder at Henry, beaming and still jumping and Emma didn’t remember when she started to cry. “So, Emma Swan,” Killian said. “Will you marry me?”

She must have nodded and something in her brain told her to move, leaping off the couch and nearly knocking Killian off balance, but his arms caught her and Henry groaned when they started kissing again.

“Mom, Mom! You’ve got to put the ring on,” he shouted, phone out and shutter clicking and Emma did as instructed.

Killian kissed her again and then kissed her knuckles and her cheeks and her eyelids and if they never moved off the living room floor, Emma wouldn’t have minded.

They made hot chocolate and Henry fell asleep on the couch, his head on the arm and legs splayed out over both Emma and Killian. She was close to falling asleep herself, lulled into rest by Killian’s fingers tracing across her arm and the dim light reflecting off her ring.

“You never actually answered the question,” Killian said suddenly, mumbling the words into Emma’s hair. “If you want to get technical.”

“What?” “I asked you to marry me and you never actually answered. Just attack kissed me on the floor.” “Was that not an answer?” Emma asked, not quite able to hold back her laughter. “No.” “Ah, well, I thought that would be kind of obvious when I said yes before you even asked.” “You’re evading on purpose, Swan.” “I absolutely am,” she agreed, burrowing her face against him.

“An answer, Emma.” She’d probably tease him about the slightly desperate edge to his voice at some point, but they had the rest of their lives for that.

They had the rest of their lives for that.

“Yes,” Emma breathed and the word seem to settle in the very middle of her or maybe on her left ring finger.

She was never going to stop smiling.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just like this.” They fell asleep on the couch and made pancakes the next morning with peanut butter chips and cinnamon in their coffee and Mary Margaret screamed when Emma called her.

[oneletterwrites]

Company Mix Up

Summary: Thomas adores cartoons and his dream to work with a company that produces such magic is a reality. Sadly, one branch of the studio is failing and no one can figure out why. He volunteers himself to check on the building and get to the bottom of the problem.

Pairing: Eventual Prinxiety, Logicality, lots of platonic love between them all.

Part 1 | Part 3 |

He spent some time wondering around before heading down a level to where he thinks his destination is. There’s a soft smell of flowers and Thomas ends up smiling to himself at the simple thing. He knocks softly on the door, not having to be kept waiting long. Patton breaks out into a brilliant smile at seeing him.

“Mr. Sanders!” He cheers waving his hands about as if he doesn’t know where to put them, he ends up clasping them tightly and smushing them to his chest. Thomas smiles at him gently.

“You can call me Thomas if you like,” He offers. Patton bites his lips and practically shakes in his spot. It makes Thomas wonder how much interaction Patton actually gets if just a simple act of kindness can bring him to such happiness.

“I was about to head out and get something for lunch, would you like to join me?” Thomas is not prepared for the small high pitched scream that exits Patton’s mouth. He’s also not prepared for the animator to throw himself at Thomas in a death crushing hug.

“Yes, let me save my things,” Patton says with a wild look in his eyes. Thomas catches his breath as Patton saves and closes down some of the programs he had been using. He’s still shaking when he closes his work space door to look at Thomas expectantly. 

“Where would you like to go? I’m still a little unfamiliar with the area.” Patton takes the chance to link his arm with Thomas and drag him out of the building. He’s rambling a mile a minute it’s hard to keep track of what he’s actually saying. Only when they are sitting in a little hole in the wall cafe does Patton take a breath.

“I just- I’m so excited to be spending time with you!” Patton coos as soon as he finishes swallowing a large bite of sandwich. His smile is close to blinding. Thomas hasn’t actually said much yet, just smiling at the fact Patton is talking so much. Talking like he never is able to.

“I’m excited to get to know you too,” He says and Patton’s whole being shakes, a soft giggle escaping him.

“It’s so nice to be out of that room and be with someone!” Patton keeps talking. His words catch Thomas off guard. The words of the guide who introduced them comes back to him.

“Do you talk to a lot of the others?” Thomas asks him. For one of the first times, Patton deflates from his bubbly attitude. He fiddles with his fingers and the smile on his face isn’t as bright.

“They don’t really.. really like to?” Patton laughs but there’s no real humor in it. His smile falls quickly. The silence that comes between them turns awkward. When Patton tries to blow past his feelings to try and make it seems he’s not upset does Thomas speak.

“Would you rather be somewhere where you can talk to people?” He asks softly. Patton sighs dreamily and nods his head with an easy smile on his face. Soft little laughs escape him as he gets lost in his thoughts.

“Wouldn’t that be nice though? To spend so much time with people instead in my little animation room?” Patton looks to him with a sparkle in his eyes and Thomas can’t help but smile back at him. He knows how the animators work, they tend to work on a section each and then put it all together. It can be very solitary. The lack of contact seems to be getting to Patton more than most.

“How did you end up here?” Thomas asks him then. Patton hums and finally starts eating again which unknowingly makes Thomas feel better. Instead of giving an answer, Patton shrugs with his mouth full but smiles anyway. He may say something but it’s muffled by his food. Thomas takes a bite of his own.

“I’m just here!” Patton says once his mouth is empty. Thomas opens his mouth to maybe say something but only a laugh comes out. He and Patton end their lunch in a laughing fit.

He makes sure to walk Patton back to his desk, taking the time to relax and spend some extra time talking to him. His eyes scan the little office, spying a small puppy themed pad of paper in the corner. Patton is busy going off about something he doesn’t notice Thomas picking up the pad and smiling at the list of things to do for the office to make the others smile.

“I will see you tomorrow Patton,” Thomas says and Patton looks like he genuinely believes that. They share a smile and a wave and Thomas is on his way. There’s a plan in his mind he’s just unsure if it will work. He heads towards HR to see if their files will help him with anything. They may not but there’s only one way to find out.

He carefully enters the HR department knowing that last time he nearly scared one of the employees half to death. He peeks around corners till he finds the HR representative. They have thick headphones over their head, nodding their head softly to the beat of the music they are listening to. Music that their computer screen shows is playing, open to a creation site

Quietly Thomas leans from around their cubicle to see what they are working on since their computer is being used. His eyes widen at seeing them doodling on a piece of sketch paper. The character they made is simple, a little silly, but adorable all the same. Thomas smiles to himself and knocks on the cubicle wall.

They don’t hear him right away but Thomas knocks again so the wall shakes just a little bit to get their attention. They rip their headphones off, scandalized they got caught.

“Uhm,” They say. Thomas waves and Virgil scrambles to hide his things, opening up his computer to a more proper site and trying to make it look like he had been doing something work related.

“Relax! I’m not here to get you in trouble,” Thomas tries to reassure them but they just stare at him without believing him. When he steps forward, Virgil rolls back in his chair. So Thomas stops moving.

“I just came by to pick up a few files if you can help me?” He tries to be peaceful. Virgil stares at him for a little while longer then clears his throat awkwardly.

“Uh yeah, I can, I guess,” He says though he doesn’t sound happy about it. Thomas rattles off the names and Virgil pulls up their files for him.

“What were you drawing?” Thomas asks and once again Virgil jerks to stare at him. Thomas shuffles his feet now feeling awkward too.

“None of your business,” Virgil snaps at him, handing him the files forcefully then cringing, regretting his tone.

“Hey I didn’t mean to-” Thomas cuts himself off, not exactly sure what he didn’t mean to do. Virgil glares at him with his hand twitching his pencil back and forth.

“I just, wanted to ask you something,” He manages to say and panic clearly flashes across Virgil’s face. He swallows hard but says nothing so Thomas takes the chance to continue talking.

“How did you end up in HR? You don’t seem to like people,” He asks as nicely as he can. Virgil grimaces and rubs at the back of his neck but the tense look in his shoulders drop. It makes Thomas relax too knowing Virgil isn’t on edge around him, at least for now.

“I don’t know, I just, got here, somehow,” He explains though it does little to do that. He shrugs his shoulders and looks at Thomas with a not-so-smile on his face. Thomas smiles at him and thanks him for the files.

“You art is really good,” He says before he fully leaves. Virgil shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“Thanks,” He mumbles and Thomas is pretty proud of the fact he gets at least a shy hand lift goodbye when he finally leaves Virgil to his ‘working’. He goes to his makeshift office and puts Patton’s note next to Roman’s and Logan’s. With as much detail as he can remember he also writes down a description of Virgil’s character to add to the pile.

Thomas paces, taps his fingers to his chin and the desk and anything, running his hands through his hair trying to figure out what he’s trying to put together. The files are not much help, just telling him what he already knows. Roman is wild and unorganized, Logan is strict and too organized. Patton gets distracted by others and tends to not work and Virgil wish others would leave him alone to work though his job involves other people. 

He sighs and flops down to the desk. He has a plan, he just hopes it will work. He calls someone in the building and reserves a conference room for a few weeks. This project is going to take some time. He just hopes it works.

[itsfinancethings]

Let’s face it: Many of us are going to be working from home for a long time, especially as cases of COVID-19 continue to spike across the country. That means we’re going to be making video calls for a lot longer—so why not figure out how to look and sound as good as possible in them?

Here are some tips for clearer video, fuller audio, and better connections between your friends or coworkers, along with suggestions from a professional filmmaker.

Lighting, lighting, lighting!

Even if you’re using the dinky camera on your laptop, the right lighting setup will make you look a lot better. No, you don’t need a studio-quality setup costing hundreds of dollars—you just need to make sure you light sources are positioned the right way.

Sitting with your back to a window, for instance, will leave you underexposed or your background blown out, neither of which look very pleasant. But you shouldn’t sit directly in front of a window, either. Instead, sit at an angle for a nice Rembrandt-style look.

If your work-from-home setup doesn’t allow a ton of flexibility in terms of where you’re sitting in relation to a window, you could add a “fill light,” either pointed at your face or at a wall, “bouncing” the light to get a softer, more diffused look.

Anything from a directional lamp to an LED panel can add extra lighting to your setup, but the more control you have over the color temperature of your light, the better. Daylight produces a blue, cooler light compared to your warm, amber reading lamp; mixing the two light temperatures will produce some unpleasantly funky results. Many LED light panels or ring lights have built-in color adjustment settings, letting you go from cooler light in the day to warmer lights in the evening.

If you really want to go all out, adding a backlight can illuminate your hair and shoulders, separating you from your background in a pleasing way.

“It’s a matter of preference,” says Adam Lisagor, founder of video production company Sandwich, which makes commercials and other videos for companies like Slack, Starbucks, and Etsy, among others. “Some people would really prefer that every shadow is filled in…but I think, personally, I find a portrait more interesting if there’s some shadowing and shape to it.”

“There’s shadows in life, you know,” he adds.

Get a better webcam…

But even a better lighting setup can only take you so far if your webcam sucks—and chances are, it does. With everything from your smartphone to your laptop to your TV upping the resolution to ridiculous levels, that 720p camera you’ve probably got embedded in your expensive laptop—looking at you, Apple—just won’t cut it anymore. Aside from the low resolution making you look like a news broadcaster from 2002, the poor autofocus and depth of field will do little to separate you from the environment, making it just as easy to focus on you as it is to check out the artwork on your wall, along with the unread books on your shelf.

Upgrading your camera to an external webcam is the easiest way to improve your video call quality without breaking the bank. Cameras like the Logitech Brio 4K not only support high-definition video calls and HDR, but also double as an authentication tool on computers that use Microsoft’s Windows Hello facial recognition technology.

…Or use your DSLR

If webcams aren’t enough, you might want to upgrade to an actual camera. Like, an actual digital camera. With the use of what’s called a capture card, you can send the video signal from your DSLR or mirrorless camera to your computer, turning it into the most expensive webcam you’ll ever own.

While this setup isn’t cheap (capture cards start at around $100), the image you’ll get from using a DSLR with an appropriate lens is hard to beat, and will add the ability to tweak your image’s white balance, depth of field, and other settings so you look your best. Some camera makers have even started releasing software that turns cameras into webcams without a capture card.

Turn your smartphone into an quick and dirty webcam

If you don’t already own a standalone camera and don’t want to shell out big bucks for one, your smartphone will work in a pinch—and could be even more useful than your laptop’s built-in camera. Not only can your smartphone autofocus on you instantly, it can also perform real-time white balance and color correction adjustments, perfect for people with darker skin tones.

Apps like EpocCam will turn your smartphone into a makeshift webcam, using your phone’s superior imaging sensors to make you look more in focus and color-corrected. EpocCam works over Wi-Fi or via a direct USB connection, combined with an app on your Windows or Mac computer. It’s dead simple to set up and tweak, and can take advantage of the multiple camera lenses on your phone. From there, all you’ve gotta do is mount it at eye level, easy when using a clip-on mount with an articulated arm.

Get a dedicated microphone

While you’re upgrading your work-from-home setup, you should probably invest in a way to improve your audio, too. Either a headset microphone or an actual dedicated microphone will boost your audio fidelity, help eliminate background noise, and approximate the feeling of actually hearing someone speak to you in the same room. Putting your mic on a stand or desk-mounted arm will get it closer to your mouth and help alleviate any shaking or other noises, should you decide to make a point during the call by inadvertently slamming your fist (or head) on the table.

But even a great microphone can’t keep your conference call free from the sounds of screaming kids. That’s where noise cancelling software comes in. Apps like Noise Blocker and NoiseGator can cut down on background noise, making you easier to understand despite the world around you.

Lisagor uses Krisp, a noise cancellation tool that works with hundreds of apps to intelligently remove background noise like barking dogs, cacophonous kids, noisy air conditioners, or anything else that isn’t you talking. “If you sound better, it almost tricks the mind into thinking that your image looks better,” he says.

Wired is better than wireless

Your video calls are, as you’re surely now aware, affected by your internet connection. Wireless connections are fast, but when real-time reactions are helpful (during conversations or competitive gaming), the faster the connection, the better. That’s why it’s always recommended to eschew wireless connections when participating in video calls and go as wired as possible. For laptops, that might mean purchasing an external hub with Ethernet connectivity so you can plug in to your modem or router. On a desktop, it might simply mean connecting an Ethernet cable to the built-in port.

“Better” is better than perfect

Other protips involve more expensive gear: to make it look to other people like you’re actually looking into their eyes rather than down or up at your camera, for instance, Lisagor recommends a teleprompter accessory designed for tablets like the iPad. You can use the iPad as a secondary display showing the faces of your attendees, and stare directly into the camera at the same time. Of course, that puts you on uneven footing with your attendees, who probably can’t look directly at the camera and screen at the same time. That discrepancy might make your calls feel even more awkward.

While you might feel the urge to look your best on camera, if you’re fretting about getting everything just right, you might be going overboard. In fact, looking too good on camera might make you the odd one out, especially if you’re just logging on to celebrate happy hour with some friends. While video conferencing has been around for decades, it’s still in its infancy. Not everyone has a studio-quality setup, which might make it uncomfortable.

“Read the room,” says Lisagor, who engages in weekly video calls with co-hosts of his comedy podcast, California King. “You almost have to adjust your own capture fidelity based on the fidelity of those around you. If you need to be more presentational and need to impress then yeah, try to step it up a notch, but it’s the little changes that can make a difference.”

[itsyumiyacchi]

How to make an inexpensive, initial home studio setup

TToday, most kids have been using their laptop speakers, expensive fashion headphones or straight garbage ones to mix their stuff. They might solve the problem on not being able to hear your stuff properly but eventually you’ll need to kick it up a notch if you want to get your music praised by friends, peers and strangers alike. Let’s try setting your studio to less than $750 USD (maybe less than 500). It’s not really about the money but to put your ideas into sound tracks in a quick and seamless way. You don’t need to buy all in one go but it certainly lowers a lot of the costs. If you’re used to work with MacOS then build yourself a “makeshift-MAC”, you’ll be able to work with ease with a quarter of the price. 1.- Base Computer First, dont go saying that you’re gonna produce music on your PC, they’ll try to sell you the most expensive stuff right away (I’ve seen peers snatching gaming laptops right away failing to see the whole panorama and not getting everything they need) Start by this setup, it will net you a nice quad-core processor, with 8GB RAM, dual storage (SSD for the system and HDD for tracks/samples/stuff) plus it has a decent gFX card to play some games from time to time: https://pcpartpicker.com/list/B2wCqk What about laptops? Laptops have A LOT of latency so they’re not really recommended to record anything unless you have a extremely good soundcard. 

2.- Audio Appliances Your sound source should come from at least two or three sources. I know you’re pointing to some KRKs or some Yamahas HS series to mix but reading Marc Mozart’s “Your Mix Sucks” i’ve figured out that the best thing out there won’t really do. To give your mix a realistic spin, i suggest snatching a set of old speakers and some mixing headphones. Speakers. - Tivoli Audio: Expensive ass Hipster Kitchen Radio, if you’re willing to spend cash on a “mom’s radio” then snatch a clone (these are always floating around the web or in retail stores) -  Auratone Clones: Yeah, you could buy one OR make your own (which is the longest route you could pick to get one). Behritones are cute. - Old Hi-Fi stereo sound sets: Check flea markets, online sites and some other places, you might be surprised on what you can find. Avoid Speakers with the “BASS BOOST”, “SUPER BASS”, “EXTRA BASS” tags, or anything “Ghetto Blaster” kind of type. You should recognize for the big ass label placed into most of them. It should be under $50 getting one of those. Headphones - AKG K44: Not pricey and under $50 Pros: Great price, compfy, clear sounding. Cons: You won’t be getting much more of them - Sennheiser HD180: Less pricey than the K44 Pros: Cheap and tasty, available EVERYWHERE Cons: Borderline “Consumer product”-”Mixing headphones” - TAKSTAR HD2000: Basically some Beyerdynamic DT880 with like a 1/5th of the price. My personal choice. Pros: Built-in acoustic shell, better design, long cable, gold plated plugs. Cons: Not available easlily, can be ordered from China though. Avoid headphones from: BOSE (Expensive dungs), Beats/Skullcandy/Plantronics (we all know where those go), any pair under a dollar (seriously, no), Koss (good soudning but too consumer oriented. i reccomend it for a “third opinion” pair) Divide your mixing time between those two into: Kitchen Radio 60%, Headphones 40%. If you have a third source that is better than the mixing headphones, then take 10% from the headphones, if not then take 20% from kitchen radio.

Sound Card: - Internal Sound Cards: These are hit or miss, but Creative can make some good stuff now and then. - Focusrite 2i2: Does the job, low latency but it breaks easily. Buy only if you’re gonna use it at home. The studio kit doesn’t really solve the microphone and headphone issue tho. - PreSonus AudioBox: Not as good as the Focusrite 2i2 but the studio kit compensates for it. Now my weapon of choice it’s the TASCAM US600 Mk.I. It’s the same price as the Focusrite 2i2 but with 6 inputs and 4 outputs, so it’s great for getting in all my audio setup and even has a spare headphone pair to listen to the stuff with a friend/client, it has much less latency but the aren’t as available as they were a couple years ago. The Mark II has a bit more latency and the fabrication materials aren’t as good as the Mk.I. I’ll get later into isolation details. That’s a whole other box of apples. For now, go snatch yourself a studio.