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mackenzielovee · 2 years

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ambivalence blurb: 17 - rafe cameron

a/n: i actually love this a lot and i hope you guys do too <3 it's been a minute since i wrote a pre-series thing and it was a lot of fun. enjoy & let me know what you think!! xoxo

Warnings: swearing, shameless pining

series masterlist

Rafe Cameron saw you on his seventeenth birthday. It was purely coincidental, although if you'd asked him, he'd have told you there's no possible way he could've stayed away from you on such a day.

Personally, he didn't give a damn about his birthday. He even kind of hoped the day would pass him by, not stopping or giving him any attention from people he didn't care about. There was only one birthday wish he wanted, one that he was almost entirely sure he wouldn't receive.

He'd escaped from Tannyhill when Rose wasn't looking, too busy preparing herself and the girls for his birthday dinner. They'd planned to leave in an hour, so Rafe took this opportunity to get a moment to himself.

He lazily walked down to the beach, wondering the entire way how seventeen is supposed to feel. Is it supposed to be so suffocating, loving someone the way he does? Is it supposed to take up every inch of his brain constantly, reminding him in the middle of his Geometry test how she smells, the sound of her laughter filling the dining room, the way the taper candles on the table add a certain hint to something behind her eyes?

He thinks about his friend, Banks, in school. He's a month and a half older than Rafe. Briefly, Rafe wonders if Banks has ever felt this way. Maybe it's just something men don't discuss; but the idea of keeping these feelings inside any longer makes Rafe feel so nauseous, he has half a mind to cancel his own birthday dinner.

As he walks along the beach, he kicks the sand with his Vans every so often to watch it fly. Just as his foot makes contact with the sand, he hears that same laugh. The one that haunts him when he's about to fall asleep at night, the one that puts his entire body at ease when he hears it beside him at the dinner table once a week. The sand sprays out in front of him, and the second it settles, he sees you up ahead.

You're with Topper, who Rafe envys. Topper and Rafe had formed an unlikely friendship two years ago, when they were forced to play golf together with their fathers, but wound up spending the entire time making fun of them.

Today, Topper, Rafe, and Kelce had played golf in celebration of Rafe's birthday. Topper had brought you up on the sixth hole, claiming that you'd spent the previous weekend at the beach with a few girls from your class and got a really bad sunburn on your chest. Rafe recalls this quickly as he stares at you, wondering if that's why he'd come to the same beach now.

It's cloudy today, which tells him that's probably why you're here. You're sitting on a beach towel across from Topper, both of you exchanging a cup of ice cream. You roll your eyes at something he said, then laugh anyway. Rafe bites the inside of his cheek to hide a smile, and with a wipe of his palms against his pants, he starts over.

"Dude!" Topper cheers, hopping up to stand when he spots Rafe, "Yo! What's going on?"

Rafe's eyes move from Topper to you, watching as you set the ice cream down on the towel and then hesitantly stand up, too.

"Hey," Rafe says when he looks back to Topper, "I just needed some air. Rose is being a little suffocating."

"Yeah? How's, uh, how's Sarah?" Topper asks.

Rafe watches as Topper anxiously scratches the back of his neck, a way Rafe relieves his own stress when he asks about you. He connects the dots quickly, but doesn't give it away. Topper's been made aware of Rafe's feelings for you; having caught Rafe's cheeks turn a certain shade of crimson when you'd mumbled out a 'hi' to him in passing.

"She's good," Rafe shrugs.

"Mhm, good," Topper nods awkwardly, then glances over to you and smiles, "Hey, Y/N, you remember that it's Rafe's birthday today, right?"

You'd celebrated many birthdays with Rafe over the years; your families combining a party for Rafe and Scott, whose birthdays were only about a month apart. Despite this yearly occurrence, you'd never bothered to commit his birthday to memory.

You look to Rafe, taking in his messy hair from the wind and the way the collar of his polo is slightly scrunched up. You resist the urge to reach up and fix it, instead offering him an easy smile, the smile you reserve for everyone on their birthday. It's warm and welcoming, and he basks in it.

"Happy Birthday, Rafe."

A grin spreads across his lips, the words flooding through his body, up to his brain, and resonating in a specific, permanent place there. Those words would be on repeat every birthday for the rest of his life, he's sure. After a second, he realizes he has to respond, so he licks his lips and nods.

"Thank you," he says sheepishly. In his head, he urges his cheeks to remain their natural color.

"Hey, I have an idea," Topper speaks up, cutting through the same air Rafe's attempting to breathe in under your stare, "Why don't we go get you some birthday ice cream? Ours is melted."

Rafe hates the way Topper says 'our' in reference to you and Topper, but he lets it go when you give him an encouraging smile. It tells him that you'd be happy to take the walk, happy to celebrate his birthday with him, even if only for a few minutes.

"That sounds great," Rafe agrees.

Topper smiles and intentionally glues himself to the side of you that's furthest from Rafe, ensuring that Rafe will be able to walk beside you. Rafe tucks his hands into his pockets as you all begin to walk, watching as you reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first, neither of you speak to the other. Topper throws his head back discreetly, wondering if he's gonna have to lay it all out on the line for both of you, as well. He also wonders how he became friends with such oblivious individuals.

"So," you speak, relieving Topper of his thoughts, "What are you doing for your birthday?"

Topper leans back as he walks, catching Rafe's eye behind you and raising his eyebrows suggestively. Rafe narrows his eyes at him, then coughs and looks over at you.

"We're going to dinner," he tells you.

You just nod, focusing on your steps. Rafe immediately jumps into his overthinking; do you wonder who we is? Would you think he's seeing someone who he's going to dinner with? He curses himself for being so vague, even by accident.

"Um," he speaks again before he can help it, "My family, I mean. My sisters, and Rose, and my dad. We're all going to dinner."

You let out a low laugh, "Yeah, I kind of figured."

Rafe's face flushes as he looks down at the ground, watching the sand get crushed under his steps. He racks his brain of things to say, ways to fill the silence, unable to come up with anything that would make you feel even remotely close to the way he does.

"How's your sunburn?"

You furrow your eyebrows and looks over at him, a look of confusion and something bordering on aversion lining your otherwise perfect features. You glance down at your covered chest, no hint of a sunburn peaking out of your sweater.

"How did you know I have a sunburn?" you question.

He frowns, "Um, Topper told me."

You turn your head and give Topper a look, one Rafe can't see. Topper just shrugs, not seemingly concerned by your furrowed brows.

"Came up in conversation," he shrugs again.

"What conversation could have brought up a sunburn directly above my breasts?" you ask Topper.

Rafe chokes on his own spit at the mention of your breasts, turning his head to cough a few times as he tries to stop thinking about you in the low cut dress you'd worn to dinner last Thursday.

"Kelce was there," Topper explains, as if that would be all the context you need.

Rafe's surprised when this response seems to satisfy your curiosity, which makes him wonder if you like the idea of Kelce Smith talking about your breasts.

Topper's short explanation tells you everything you know, as Kelce had been relentless with you in a teasing way every time he sees you. He's always flirting with you, always telling you how good you look. But, when you'd asked Topper if he meant it, if he had feelings, Topper admitted that Kelce just does it to entertain himself. He'd assured you that there were no feelings involved, which made you exhale in relief.

He'd also mentioned that Kelce also may be trying to get laid, which you chose to ignore and still do.

You quickly glance at Rafe, who seems a little anxious. You wonder if that's what being seventeen feels like; the anxiety of adulthood settling on the horizon and haunting your last year of freedom. When you realize you didn't answer his initial question, you duck your head back down to the sand and speak.

"It's getting better," you say, then add, "My sunburn."

When you look back up at him, he's smiling widely. Every hint of his anxiety has seemed to melt away, and you have no idea why.

"Peeling?" he questions, scrunching his nose slightly.

"Ew, no," you protest, defensively crossing your arms over your chest.

"It's natural," he laughs, and it comes out easily, "It's not embarrassing."

"Maybe," Topper cuts in, giving Rafe his wide eyes, "She doesn't want to discuss her boob sunburn with you, Cameron."

The look Topper's giving him is telling Rafe to move on, talk about something real, important, genuine. Not some sunburn that will disappear from your body just as quickly as you’ll forget about spending this time with Rafe.

Rafe coughs to fill the silence that falls upon the three of you. When you see the ice cream shop appear, you relax your shoulders as the anticipation of getting another scoop of your favorite builds.

When you reach the establishment, you notice how there's a bit of a crowd inside. Rafe expertly notes the way you draw back, only slightly, and makes a mental note of it. Topper glances inside too, then turns his head and looks at you.

"Wanna wait? I'll get yours for you," he offers.

You give him a shy smile; the fact that he's not only offering but also not giving away why you don't want to to go in making your heart melt. Nodding, you reach for your bag hanging off your shoulder, but Topper stops you by placing a hand on your wrist.

"Stop, I got it. Just wait here, okay?" he says.

"Thanks, Top," you say, offering up yet another smile.

He nods, then pats Rafe on the back to lead him inside the joint. Rafe processes what he's just seen, the exchange between the two of you. Topper paying for your ice cream? Rafe considers this, telling himself that if anyone should be paying for your ice cream, it should be him. It would be the best birthday present he'd ever get.

He turns to Topper and opens his mouth, ready to object to the payment plan and demand to buy yours, when Topper speaks without noticing Rafe was about to.

"She doesn't do crowds," Topper explains absently, eyeing the ice cream flavors in front of him.

I know, Rafe wants to say. She's my girl and I know her better than anyone.

"I get that," Rafe replies.

He doesn't need to look at the flavors. He already knows which one he'll be having.

The boys return with ice cream quicker than you'd expected. Topper hands you your container with a generous scoop, a napkin hugging the outside of the cup.

Topper had ultimately insisted on paying for all of the ice cream, because it's Rafe's birthday and the ice cream run had been Topper's idea in the first place. Rafe gives in just to keep the line moving, watching Topper swipe his card. His heart behaves as if Topper's buying you a diamond ring, not a four dollar ice cream.

As the three of you walk back, Rafe continues to steal glances at you as you greedily scoop your ice cream into your mouth, humming when each bite hits your tongue. It makes him smile, which in turn means he takes another bite of his dessert, because he doesn't want either of you to see.

Topper grows distracted by the pelicans picking apart something further down the beach, and Rafe takes his opportunity to speak quietly to you.

"Sorry about earlier," he says, "Y'know, the whole boob sunburn thing."

You let out a small, dry laugh, "It's fine. I'm used to that type of thing from Kelce, anyway."

Rafe's not sure what exactly that means, but he decided that if he overthinks it, he might ramble like an idiot. You give him a small smile, then take another bite of your ice cream. He does the same, letting your smile calm his nerves.

"So, Cameron," Topper cuts in, "What time's this big birthday dinner?"

Rafe shrugs, stabbing his spoon into his half-melted scoop, "Seven."

"It's quarter-till, bro."

Rafe looks down at his watch, the band still slightly big even being as tight as it will go. Ward promises he'll bulk up a bit soon and that will change; that every Cameron man should have a Rolex strapped to his wrist.

"Shit," Rafe mutters, "I should-"

When he looks up at you, at how the sunset bouncing off your face seems to be making your skin glow, he momentarily forgets how to use words. When your lips turn up into a shy smile, he forgets all about the time, all about Topper standing one foot away. It's just you, standing there with the glow of the sunset and your favorite ice cream, that makes him realize this is a birthday he will never, ever forget.

"Dude, you're gonna be late to your own birthday dinner," Topper says from behind you.

Rafe swallows hard, finally tearing his eyes away from yours to look at Topper.

"Yeah," Rafe finally says when he works up the courage to speak, "Yeah, I should go. Thank you both for the ice cream."

"You're welcome," Topper speaks first, "Sorry I beat you on the course today."

Rafe smiles and shakes his head, "It's cool."

"Happy Birthday, man," Topper offers Rafe his hand.

Rafe shakes it and then looks to you, his eyes automatically melting in admiration. You, however, mistake his admiration for expectation. Awkwardly, you step forward with your arms open, silently offering up a birthday hug.

Rafe's jaw drops when your arms wrap around him, your scent so close he begins to exhale quickly just so he can continue to breathe it in. He drapes one arm around you just for a moment, a big part of him concerned that he'll press you so firmly to him that he'll never let go if he puts both arms around you.

When you pull back, you give him yet another small smile.

"Happy Birthday," you say quietly.

He smiles and just barely nods his head.

"Thanks, Y/N."

Just for a moment, he feels as if he might die when you step back, planting yourself beside Topper. A voice in his head tells him to skip dinner, to just ask if he can hang out for a while and spend the rest of the night drinking you in the way he's only been able to on Thursdays. Instead, when he sees the expectant smile you give Topper, the anticipation in your eyes to continue whatever private conversation you two had been in the middle of when Rafe had approached, he backs off.

"See you guys," he gives a short wave.

When he turns his back and takes a few steps away, you turn to Topper with a hand on your hip.

"Was the hug weird?" you ask.

"It was a nice gesture," he says weakly.

"Topper."

"Yeah, it was weird," Topper admits, "But, I think it probably made his birthday."

You roll your eyes at that, picking up another scoop of ice cream and shoving it in your mouth, letting it muffle out your next words.

"Yeah fucking right."

Rafe's halfway home when he realizes he's still carrying his ice cream. Collectively, he'd taken three bites from it, having not gotten a flavor in his top five, hell, his top twenty favorites. But when he looks down at it, he just smiles, because it reminds him of you and the way you'd hugged him on his seventeenth birthday. His ice cream matched yours perfectly, in a way he'd wished his heart would, too.

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s-brant · 3 years

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Cherry Bowl (3/8)

(gif: @kiekiecarrera) (PART TWO) (PART FOUR) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: When Kie cancels their plans together, Y/N asks JJ on a date to the Cherry Bowl Drive-In. Unsure of how to navigate his first ever date, JJ seeks out advice. Unfortunately, the night doesn’t go as planned, and both parties are left shaken by miscommunication.

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Smut, public sex/exhibitionism, sexual choking, angst, depictions of mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, and implied/referenced abuse.

A/N: Welcome back to Tokens! Slight trouble in paradise is brewing for these two lovers, so buckle up and read because it’s gonna be a rollercoster for a little while after what happens in this chapter. I hope you all like it, and if you did, feedback is very appreciated. Have fun!

"I'm just saying that oatmeal raisin is superior to chocolate chip, why is that such an egregious crime, Kie?"

The lunch room is filled to the brim with students going to town on questionably cooked frozen foods, soggy tater tots, and sugary drinks from the vending machines despite the Obama-era posters on the walls advocating for healthier school lunches that never seemed to make their way to Kildare County High. The extent of their healthy lunches extended to a serving of overcooked canned green beans served with the worst slice of doughy pizza known to human kind, so it was sort of contradictory.

Y/N sits across the table from Pope and JJ, the latter of which being the one who launched into a full-fledged debate with Kiara about which type of cookie was better.

The clear cling wrap sits, unfolded, on the table with one of her stickers neatly placed on the back of it. As consolation for his epic loss yesterday at the beach, she paid an extra .75 cents to get him it when she arrived first to their shared lunch period—one of only two class periods they have together, the other being gym. He was still in line when she peeled a surfboard sticker off of her sheet and placed it at the center of the wrapped up cookie as if to remind him of her triumph over him in the waves.

"Thanks, hot stuff," he said, voice somewhat quieter despite the fact that hardly anyone was in the cafeteria with them. Then his smile dropped into an deadpan expression as soon as he saw her choice of sticker and looked back up at her. "You're never gonna let me live that one down, are you?"

"Never in a million years. I'll be gloating about it until I'm elderly."

"That's my girl."

The sound of the constant chatter surrounding them from at least two hundred other people drowns out the memories of yesterday that threaten to haunt her when she watches him debate with Kie. The mere recollection of their night in the back of the van has her reaching to pull the collar of her cropped tee up to assure that the hickeys remain hidden on instinct, and he catches the action out of the corner of his eye. It has him fighting a smile.

Kie quips, "Maybe on another planet, but, here, I think we can all agree chocolate chip is better, right Y/N?"

Y/N's eyes widen around a forkful of mushy "green beans" at the sound of her name being said bringing her from the depths of her memories.

Usually, she's quick to jump in and give her two cents on whatever stupid back and forth they're all having, but her mind was elsewhere. Unbeknownst to Kie and Pope, she was mentally reliving every second of getting fucked in the van last night, so her attention to detail when it comes to the Chocolate Chip vs Oatmeal Raisin case isn't all too sharp.

"Uhhh," she stops for a second, looking at the half eaten chocolate chip cookie in Kie's hand, "If I say chocolate chip is better, can I get a piece of it?"

Kie's face lights up at her words, and she's already pulling off a generous chunk of the baked good to hand off to her. The sound of a certain someone whose lap Y/N's legs are outstretched onto from beneath the table scoffing distracts her from the first bite.

"I know you prefer oatmeal raisin, you traitor," JJ says.

Their brunette friend's brows scrunch.

"Why is she a traitor?"

They try to keep from making any faces or giving anything away, but Y/N has to stifle the sound of her choking on her mouthful of cookie at the question. You'd think one of them came out and asked if they were dating or something with how she reacts, and she feels JJ squeeze her ankle in a non-verbal way of telling her to hold it together. It was her idea in the first place, yet he's a lot smoother with keeping it under the radar.

Under it all, the aspect of keeping it a secret does unnerve him to a degree. He doesn't think he'd be brave enough to communicate it, especially not when their relationship remains undefined, but the darker side of his mind wonders...

He shrugs, saying, "Cause we were friends first. Duh. Other than John B, I've known her the longest."

None of them stop to acknowledge the identical aches in their hearts at the mentioning of his name. They skip right over it like it never happened. After the funeral a few days ago, they've filled their quota on mushy-gushy sad talk for the next week and a half.

The real reason is something far more complicated than him having a claim staked on her loyalty through having the longest friendship. It's something tied up in days of slowly getting pulled into one another's worlds like the tug of gravity itself, in how he has to refrain from slipping his arm around her waist in the hallway or kissing her goodbye after a sleepover at the Chateau. But until she gives him the go-ahead, he won't let it slip to anyone.

Pope speaks up from beside him, "You literally met her twenty minutes before we did."

"Still counts. Technically, I did meet her first, so her betraying Team Oatmeal Raisin is enough to be tried for treason in Pogue Court."

"Pogue Court isn't a thing."

He crosses his arms after he pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"It is now. You can be tried for treason for breaking the rules. Rule number one is that all Pogues have to admit oatmeal raisin is superior."

He's about to ball up the cling wrap to throw away later when the surfboard sticker catches his attention again. It's the same color as his board, which he'd like to think is a result of her being an evil mastermind that went out to get this sticker sheet for the sole purpose of teasing him, but he's the one who got her the sheet as a gift for her birthday, so he knows it was pure coincidence.

Last second, he peels the sticker away from the cling wrap and looks down to place it over the top of her yellow converse that were once a vibrant, paler color when Big John got them for her, but have since turned into an ugly mustard/dirt-dusted color they heckle her over.

"What are the other rules?" Y/N asks.

One of the hands holding onto where her feet are casually planted in his lap, something that they've done long enough that their friends won't see it as anything odd, slides down to caress the stretch of skin beneath the frayed hem of her dark jeans. Something she didn't know about him before whatever it is they have together started was that he constantly needs to be touching her. She can't say she doesn't love it though.

Pope answers, "The oatmeal raisin rule is not official"—a pointed glance at JJ—"But I'd assume the rest of the rules of Pogue Court would be no lying and no macking."

"So, basically you two break almost every rule except the oatmeal raisin one, and I lie," JJ says and turns to look at her, "How does it feel to be better than everyone, Y/N?"

"Pretty good, not gonna lie."

He keeps caressing little circles and tracing up and down her skin beneath the flared out pant leg of her jeans while he swipes his phone off of the table top without attracting the attention of their friends, who continue on to a new topic. She isn't too focused on what it is. She only picks up that it has something to do with a class they're in that's more advanced that hers, so she promptly checks out of the conversation.

Ever since John B died, she hasn't been performing too well in school. She tries, truly tries, but her mind outright refuses to absorb any of the information. When she reads her assigned reading, she hovers over the same paragraphs over and over until she shuts the book in a huff and hides it in her backpack again. Losing someone you love has a surprising amount of side effects.

Her phone buzzing in her hand brings her away from the impending cloud of doom that often accompanies any thoughts of John B, and when she taps in her passcode, her brother's birthday, a message bubble appears with a banner displaying JJ's contact name.

JJ (Derogatory) ur a good liar. prob could've fooled me if i weren't the one macking on u

Their eyes meet for a second across the table, then he watches her thumbs move to type a response.

Kief Princess Little do they know I break every rule now that I've switched sides on the cookie debate. Kinda impressive ngl.

JJ (Derogatory) triple threat, baby

JJ (Derogatory) thanks for the cookie btw

She smiles to herself, so wrapped up in their own world that she doesn't notice everyone in the room starting to pack up their stuff in anticipation of the bell that is due to ring any second now.

Kief Princess Had to repay you for last night somehow ;)

When she glances up to see his reaction, she watches his chest rise with a particularly large inhale, and he chews on the inside of his lip in thought.

JJ (Derogatory) strategically bringing up last night so i'm turned on in physics? ur an evil mastermind

Kief Princess I try.

Kief Princess Apparently whooping your sorry ass at surfing isn't the only thing I'm good at.

She hears him scoff.

JJ (Derogatory) first of all, ouch. second, u barely beat me

Kief Princess I'm happy to challenge you to a rematch. I have plans with Kie tonight, so I can't till this weekend. All it'll prove is that I am the rightful winner, but we knew that already.

JJ (Derogatory) what r the stakes this time

Kief Princess No sexual favors. If you beat me (fat chance) I'll formally rejoin team oatmeal raisin.

JJ (Derogatory) :( sex makes it more fun but i still accept those conditions

JJ (Derogatory) team oatmeal raisin needs u, even if ur a traitor

Kief Princess Why bet sexual favors if you're just gonna fuck me after anyway?

JJ (Derogatory) good point

The sound of the bell ringing echoes through the cafeteria, and they both pop their heads up from their phone screens to see everyone, including Pope and Kie, already packed up and raising from their seats to scurry off in the direction of their next classes. Meanwhile, their stuff is all bestrewn across the table, particularly JJ's belongings.

The sight of Kie walking away makes Y/N ask after her, "We're still on for tonight, right?

She stops with Pope's hand interwoven in hers. The look on her face when she turns would make you think she got caught doing something she wasn't meant to. Something like forgetting about the plans they made last week to watch Fear Street together. The Cherry Bowl Drive-In is premiering the first two movies as a double feature for the horror movie buffs of Kildare, so they decided to get tickets. Kiara shares a fondness of horror movies with her. Since gory movies make the boys squirm, though JJ pretends they don't, it's their own thing.

"Actually, Pope and I were gonna go to the beach. I'm sorry."

JJ knows she's more upset about it than she lets on, but Y/N simply gives the pair a smile that doesn't reach the eyes.

The sound of JJ behind her makes them laugh on their way out, diffusing the minor tension lingering in the air from the awkward encounter, "Use protection!"

After their friends offer them a goodbye, they gather their stuff quite leisurely, not really caring about being late.

It's something they've talked about before here or there: her feelings surrounding Kiara and Pope's sudden relationship. It's not as if she harbors any ill feelings for them, she doesn't, but the ripple effects of their pairing on the group, and more importantly the girls' own friendship, couldn't be clearer from her perspective. Between the missed hangouts, forgotten plans, and the convenient way she never seems to have time to hang out with her and JJ unless Pope is there too, it's been building up for a month now.

What makes it sting the most is how close her and Kie used to be. They didn't hit it off immediately the way she and JJ did as children until her thirteenth birthday when no one she invited showed up to the party Big John helped her set up in the yard of the Chateau.

She was the one who rallied the boys together to walk to ask their school friends from the year above to come hang out for an hour or two, promising a slice of the wonky-looking but delicious strawberry cake her and John B spent the morning crafting together. She can remember the sound of their high-pitched laughs and the cloud of flour that hung in the kitchen when they high-fived over the finished product like it was yesterday. In her heart, it was yesterday.

That night was when she fell in love with her friends, and that was when she first knew Kiara was her best friend. They wove friendship bracelets on each other that night and wore them for years until they withered away. No one had ever done something like that for her before. Not even JJ.

"You okay?"

Feeling his hand on her arm, slipping down to take her hand for a moment in the seclusion of the empty cafeteria, makes her glance up at him with a distinct sorrow washed over her features.

You know what? Screw this. Why should she be torn up over Kie and let it ruin her excitement for the double feature tonight? There's no way in hell she's letting her best friend ditching her for her boyfriend get in the way of her plans.

"Do you wanna go on a date tonight?" she asks him abruptly, then adds, "To the Cherry Bowl with me instead of Kie?"

The question sparks a pause in his mind, a halt of hesitation in which he worries about her avoiding having to answer what he asked, but he attempts to play it cool and not fuss over her outwardly. There have been times where being treated like that has made her feel suffocated, so he doesn't want to risk it. When she's ready, she'll talk about it, and if she takes too long and buries her feelings, then he'll intervene. For now, he tries to keep his face neutral despite the frown tempting his lips at her disappointment.

JJ looks around once more before throwing his arm around her shoulder to walk her out.

"You bet your ass I do."

What is a person supposed to act like on their first date that's not actually a date cause everything between them is the same, but kinda is a date because they called it one? If you ever find out, please find JJ and tell him because he has no clue.

Pope wasn't too much help in the Instagram group chat he made for it seeing as his and Kie's relationship is too fresh, John B isn't even alive, so he's out of service for advice unless there's Ouija Board he can borrow, and, thankfully, Kiara was his savior.

Their phones began blowing up as soon as he reached his class after lunch period ended. He couldn't under any circumstances let it be known that this mystery girl he had a date with was their friend, but thankfully Y/N already had the alibi of going to the Drive-In alone. All he had to do was make up a fake date scenario and get basic advice.

danknugstickiestickies added kiara-c and popeheyward to the groupchat

danknugstickiestickies named the group HELP ME

danknugstickiestickies i have a date with this chick i met on the beach when i was out with y/n last week. i need ur advice

His phone screen lit up with the notification that both of his friends were typing, signified with the three dot symbol bouncing in the bottom left corner as he thought it through. They couldn't possibly figure it out, right? They'd been careful, he'd been respectful of her wishes, and they'd been too busy together to notice anything new with them. He figured it would work. It was a risk, sure, but it was worth it to him. He didn't want to fuck this up with her.

Knowing her, she probably wouldn’t even treat it differently than any of their other hang outs. It's not like they haven't been romantic or sexual with each other. They've done everything but go out on an actual date, so why was he nervous?

kiara-c ummmm

popeheyward Yeah, I'm gonna need you to ELABORATE!!

kiara-c did hell freeze over? since when does jj maybank go out on dates??

danknugstickiestickies renamed the group hell froze over

kiara-c very funny, I'm laughing so hard 😐

popeheyward Do we know her?

danknugstickiestickies don't think u do. she moved here last week and hasn't enrolled in school yet. her name's steph

popeheyward What about Y/N though?

kiara-c ^^

JJ's chest muscles tightened with the question prompting a rush of anxiety that made his breathing feel slightly harder. He glanced up at his Physics teacher, who was essentially dozing off behind his desk with his hand in a bag of chips and an educational video on the projector as an excuse to not teach, and looked back down at his phone without the added stress of possibly getting his phone confiscated.

Pope's message might as well have been a sucker punch. Forget butterflies, he set a wasp’s nest loose inside of his stomach to tie it into knots and flip it every which way. His neglected textbook served as a prop for his phone to lean on as he set it down to think.

Did they know? As far as he was aware, they were getting away with it. No evidence, concrete or circumstantial, was there to prove it. At least the stress of the situation killed any chance of him being turned on by her reminder of last night in their messages. This shit was boner repellant of the highest degree.

He played stupid. Better to let them volunteer whatever information they had before he went in saying anything incriminating that they didn't already know. If anything would sour the experience of their first date, it would be him accidentally making their strange in-between relationship public behind her back.

danknugstickiestickies ?? what do u mean

Three dots bounced in the bottom left corner of his slightly cracked phone screen.

popeheyward ...

kiara-c I mean, you don't see it?

danknugstickiestickies see what

popeheyward I guess we were wrong, but all of us always thought you two had some feelings going on.

"You don't say?" JJ murmured sarcastically to himself under his breath. "Never crossed my mind, Pope."

danknugstickiestickies bro that's jb's little sister

kiara-c so?

danknugstickiestickies forbidden fruit? making john b roll over in his grave? do those ring a bell or am i speaking in tongues

He was already a proficient liar in real life, but, fuck, it was easy in text messages. There's no chance at deciphering facial expression or tone, just a plain message with no room to budge. Thank God he didn't do this in person with them. He could've survived, but it wouldn't have been as quick and painless as the group chat was.

kiara-c jeez, sorry

Pope didn't voice it, but he noticed something.

He looked up from his phone and stared off at the wall in thought in his AP European History class. It piqued his interest that JJ simply said she was off limits, forbidden fruit as he put it, but did not outright deny having feelings for her. In fact, he didn't even address the question. He made excuses for why he shouldn't have feelings for her, but he never said he didn't have feelings for her.

Kie did not notice. Not because she wasn't smart enough to either, but because she was too busy hiding her phone behind her backpack to think too deeply about it. Her teacher was one of those teachers that would flip shit if they saw a cell phone turned off and faced down on the desk, let alone being used by a student during a lesson.

In his classroom across the hallway, JJ bounced his leg up and down beneath his desk in an absentminded urge to release the built up energy the anxiety produced in an over abundance.

popeheyward Our bad then. Even John B thought y'all were sus lmao.

Since when was that a known fact? Could he tell? Did he talk to Pope about him and Y/N before he died? Either way, it wasn't the time to pry about it.

kiara-c yeah you guys honestly could've fooled me if you wanted to

danknugstickiestickies well thank u, glad ur invested in our friendship but

danknugstickiestickies please help, i have no fucking clue how to act on a date and this girl is too cool for me to screw this up

That was when they finally dropped the interrogation session and started offering up tips. The best ones came from Kie, which made sense to him since women are more likely to know what other women like than two dudes who share one collective brain cell and never had real relationships.

Rule One: Be ready to pick her up five minutes early.

He wasn't ready to pick her up five minutes early. His bike broke down by the time he made it halfway down his street, so he had to push it back up the road and into the yard before setting off on foot to reach the Chateau quickly enough. And by quickly enough, it means he got there five minutes late, not early.

Rule Two: Compliment her after you get in the car.

She tossed him the keys to the Twinkie from across the hood, not giving him the chance to open the door for her, and it wasn't until they were setting off down the road that he remembered the next piece of advice he was given.

Side-eyeing her in his peripheral vision, he tried to find something to compliment her on specifically rather than the general compliments about her being pretty that she never fully believes when he says them. He was intending to say something about the skirt she had on, but when he chanced a glance over at her, she caught him and asked—

"What is it?"

Sent into panic mode, JJ blurted out instead, "I like your shoes."

He could've bashed his face against the steering wheel twenty times right then and there at the utter absence of reaction on her part for the next few uncomfortable seconds. It wasn't that it was a bad compliment. She appreciates any compliments at all...but her shoes were hidden from his view. Not to mention, they were the dirty, mustard yellow converse that the Pogues bash on a daily basis.

She laughed, lifting her leg to expose the sneaker on her right foot, and asked, "These? Dude, you roast me for these all the time. You and John B said they look like Big Bird shit on them."

The skin on the apples of his cheeks scorched hot with embarrassment, and he was never so glad that the overhead lights in the van were burnt out until that moment. He would've died on the spot if she saw him blush like that, face flushed pinker than sunburn. All he could do to save himself was murmur something about the color growing on him and keep driving in the direction of the theater with his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel he fantasized about banging his face into.

Rule Three: Insist on picking up the check.

In this case, it meant insist on buying the popcorn and drinks, and he miraculously managed to drop his wallet somewhere along the way when he ran over to the Chateau, so when he stepped up to the makeshift concession stand with her standing at his side, he felt around for his wallet in his jeans to no avail.

His thoughts echoed back to him, You gotta be fucking kidding me. Seriously? Is this actually happening right now?

"JJ, it's honestly fine," she said softly as he leaned over to search back of the Twinkie for the wallet. "We can look for it on your street right now if you want. It has your ID and stuff, you don't want a stranger to have that. We don't need to stay—"

It took all of his control to not shout it in reaction when he said, "No way. You've been waiting for this, and Kie ditched you, so I ain't ditching you too. We're staying."

His wallet could go kick rocks.

He came too far to be dragged down by the old leathery piece of shit anyway. Would he go out and search for it tirelessly the second the date ended? Hell yeah, that fucker had twenty dollars and his debit card in it, but he couldn't bear the thought of abandoning her or ruining her anticipated movie night by taking her out to search the streets with their phone flashlights for a wallet they might not find. He'd wait till the movies ended, take her home, then haul ass around the Cut searching for it after.

Thankfully, he found a couple bucks crumbled up in his front pocket while she scavenged for coins in the glove compartment, and they came up with enough to buy a water bottle and small popcorn to share together.

Rule Four: Don't have sex on the first date.

And it may sound easy enough to not act like a complete Neanderthal for the length of two movies, but the girl makes it pretty damn difficult if he's to say so himself.

That's what led him here, laying in the back of the sideways-parked Twinkie in the farthest corner of the outdoor theater with her practically on top of him. In any other instance, he wouldn't be opposed in the slightest, but with the cursed fourth rule in mind, he isn't too thrilled with the feeling of her hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

It isn't even meant to be sexual. They're constantly touching one another this way. She'll even slip her hands up under his shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin or when he asks her if she can get an itch on a part of his back he can't reach, but for some reason his brain is short circuiting right now.

The thing is, when Kie and Pope said he shouldn't do it on the first date, they meant it for his and Steph's made up circumstances, not his and Y/N's full-blown relationship without labels. When you've had sex with someone as many times as they have with each other, the hesitancy on the "first date" is nonexistent. It doesn't matter. But JJ, trying to follow the advice given to him to the letter for the sake of being the date she deserves, doesn't think about it that way.

It shouldn't be this nerve-wracking. They've been best friends since they were children, they've been flirting since they found out what basic attraction was in the first place, and they've been forming this relationship ever since John B died. Why can't he relax? Why is this so different compared to how easy it felt between them yesterday on the beach or today at lunch?

Rule Five: Be yourself.

It takes him another few moments of laying here with her before he realizes quite abruptly what went wrong in a quick flash of a thought that brings the fifth rule back to him. The problem wasn't the bike, or the weird compliment about her Big Bird sneakers, or the lost wallet.

The problem is him. The problem is that he's trying way too hard to make this something it isn't. The part about them that he adores so dearly is how they never have to try when they're together. With any other girl or guy, they'd have to fake something or act a certain way, yet when they're together, they can simply exist and everything is runs smoothly. That's not to say they don't disagree or bump heads, they do, but short of those outlier moments, it's easier than anything else they do in life.

His eyes flicker away from the screen for the first time since the movie began, which, by the way, is gruesome enough at times that he had to divert his eyes to prevent himself from seeing it happen. They land on where she lays, completely content with the night in spite of its mishaps, with her head propped up on the pillows they brought from the Chateau.

He wonders if she can tell he's acting differently. Surely she must notice. She's the type of person that typically never misses a thing, perfect for the gold hunt they went on in the summer with picking up the clues and helping her brother unravel the mystery, so maybe she noticed how flustered this date has him. Does it bother her? Does he bother her?

With a confirming glance back up at the movie to see nothing important happening, he can't fight the urge to speak anymore.

"Can I tell you something?"

His voice appearing through the darkness of the shut off van after spending the past half hour in complete silence makes her jolt at first before realizing who it was. Though she loves horror movies, she can't claim to not be affected by them. The night she falls asleep after watching one, she often finds herself compelled to turn a light on and keep her feet from dangling off the edge of the bed. It's worth the fear, though.

When she turns to look at JJ, there's a warm smile on her face. She's cuddled into his side with a hand placed casually atop his thigh, caressing with no purpose or intent, and her movement halts when the light from the movie on the projector allows her to see the expression on his face.

Anxiety has become an increasingly significant presence in his life with the recent events in mind; John B and Sarah, the four-hundred million dollars they lost out on, and dodging his father whenever he sneaks home to switch out the backpack of clothes and personal belongings he keeps at the Routledge house.

It manifests itself in jittery nerves, stomach pains, shortness of breath, and, at worst, panic attacks striking either at random or in response to a specific trigger. It's one of the few things he still tries to hide from her, and she tries not to push him too hard with opening up about it.

She abandons the movie for the time being and rolls onto her side to face him, upper body propped up on her elbow as she examines his face with downturned features.

"Of course," she says.

The words left unsaid are, "You can tell me anything. Whenever you need someone to listen, or to talk to about shit, you can tell me." He's heard her say it enough that he doesn't need to hear it now to know it's true.

There's a pause, then—

"I feel like I fucked this entire date up," he starts to ramble and cuts her off before she can think about saying what she wants to, "and I know it's okay to you. You have way too high of a tolerance for my bullshit, and I've been trying so hard to make this perfect, but all that did was screw it up."

She's left quiet for a second, taking it all in.

Maybe if he hadn't been so anxious about it, he would've realized what was wrong with his bike when he rode it home from school, or he would've noticed his wallet fall out of his pocket. The point is, he wishes he hadn't let the label attached to this freak him out so much. He isn't sure why it does, but it does.

But she doesn't do what he expects. She isn't drowning him in reassurances and, "It's okay's" because she knows he doesn't care for them much. When he, the most stubborn person she knows, apologizes for something he did, he doesn't want it to turn into the person accepting the apology coddling him.

Y/N sighs.

"Is that why you've been acting so different all night? I scared you with the whole ‘date’ thing, didn't I? It doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be."

What she doesn't know is that he wants it to be a date. He wants it to be a date so badly, he risked Pope and Kie finding them out for the sake of getting some proper advice on it, and now he's caught up in the same game of tug and war in his mind that always occurs when he wants to tell her the truth about his feelings for her.

Part of him doesn't understand why he doesn't outright say it. With every other girl he once showed interest in, he had no issues in letting them know he wanted them, but this is different. This isn't simply wanting someone, he thinks he's fallen for her. But whenever he says he's gonna grow a pair and tell her after all this time, he chokes. Involuntarily, he's reminded of his parents. Other than his friends saying it platonically, the only people to tell him they loved him were them, and with how they treated him, he sure as hell doesn't think that is love.

From his dad's brutal physical abuse to his mom's abandonment, he's too timid to tell her he loves her because of what could happen if she loves him back. Everyone else that has said that to him has either hurt him, died like John B did, or abandoned him.

He won't let that happen with him and Y/N. What they have, albeit undefined and codependent, is safe. It's the only thing he has left. Maybe it isn't right, and maybe he should open up about it to communicate the correct way, but somewhere in the misshapen logic of his mind, he correlates love to abandonment. And he doesn't want that to happen with her.

There are two sides of him at battle inside his mind. One side, the side that wants to do right by their relationship and actually communicate his feelings for once in his life, wants him to tell her everything. The other side, the side that responds based on the history of his past, wants him to hide it all.

"Will you be mad at me if we don't call it a date?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

The heavy sensation inside of JJ's chest nears a point of vitriolic violence against him as he starts to realize what he's doing to her, clearly letting her down, but he can't stop himself. Like a passive witness watching himself from outside of his body, the instantaneous trauma response to the sudden confrontation of his true feelings for her guides his actions without his permission. It shuts down any protest he has.

The sound of the movie fills the gap of silence between them the entire time. It’s a variety of bloodcurdling screams and disgusting sounds that would've made him gag if he weren't as distracted.

They can make out each other's faces through the darkness, but barely. It takes a flash of bright color from the film or a nearby car's lights turning on for them to fully see one another. Without the other knowing, they both put masks of calm and collected coolness on their faces despite the feelings raging beneath the surface—more so on his part than hers.

"Maybe," he says, pausing, "we should just keep things the way they've been."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, a soul-crushing amount of disappointment weighs her down. She said it was fine if he doesn't want it to be a date—and it is, she would never hold it against him—but that doesn't mean it can't hurt her. Things have been going so well, she almost thought...If tonight went well, she was thinking about no longer keeping it a secret, but if he said he wants things to stay the same, then maybe he isn't as ready for it as she is?

Meanwhile, JJ is on another page entirely.

She's embarrassed of being with you, a familiar voice in the back of his head croons. She's gonna leave just like everyone else does. If she doesn't even wanna tell your friends, why should you pretend you're dating?

The internal comments are the type that cause him to physically grimace when he's alone. Intrusive thoughts are just that: intrusive.

Sneaking into the guarded sanctuary of a person's mind, they set out to convince them the opposite of their reality. The only thing is, where most people's minds are guarded sanctuaries with walls of impregnable defense, his mind is the equivalent of a fortress blown to smithereens. The castle walls lay in rubble, the guards no where to be seen, and the path for these thoughts to slip past and straight to the vulnerability of his mind is left wide open.

In the privacy of his room, these thoughts attack him the most at night when he tries to fall asleep—when things get too quiet. With nobody around, when they get this bad there's nothing he can do except break down. It builds from the mere anxiety of attempting to force the thoughts away to full-blown panic attack mode. The more he resists them, the more aggressive they become. He'll gasp for air with tears streaming down his face, hitting his head with the heel of his hand as if that'd do something to stop his relentless mind.

But he can't afford to react in front of her, so the extent of his reaction is a subtle twitch of his face that she cannot see in the momentary darkness before the movie switches to another scene a second later. In a way, it does make the thoughts go away to have her here preventing him from spiraling alone. Having to focus on her keeps his mind away for moments at a time until the thoughts ease their grip on him.

When she hasn't answered for a while, he asks, terrified that he did something bad, "Are we good?"

The question seems to wake her up, snapping her out of the lonely direction her thoughts went into when he "rejected" her. It takes every bit of common sense she has left to force herself to understand that this doesn't mean he doesn't want her. He does, and not calling this a date doesn't mean they won't be together in the way they have been since John B's death, but she isn't perfect. She gets as unsure and insecure as he does.

As if the cloud of doom was lifted off of her, she makes her face lighten where she lays on her side next to him. Seeing this expression makes his chest feel less heavy, and he could let out a sigh of relief at the realization that he didn't break her heart and stomp on it. He should've known. Y/N is the sweetest person he knows, so she never would've flipped shit over him not wanting to label this as a date. That's not how she is.

And he's partly right. It isn't how she is. She would never hold it against him if he didn't want something further with her since she got herself into this position by pursuing him with his reputation with girls in mind, but she can't ignore it. Whether she wants it to or not, it had its affect on her as soon as he said it.

She leans in to kiss him, their lips meeting in the middle with the faint taste of popcorn salt mingling at the soft peck.

When she pulls away, she brushes the hair back from his face and says, "Don't worry. Nothing can change how I feel about you."

She has no clue what it feels like to hear that from her.

Despite the turmoil they unknowingly share beneath the surface due to this conversation, he could cry hearing her say it. It doesn't feel real to him that she feels the same way he does about her, because nothing could change how he feels about her either. That’s why he manages to work up the courage to repeat it back to her, and, for now, this is the closest he's physically capable of coming to telling her the truth.

"Ditto," he says.

It isn't what she wanted, but it's close enough, and if she dwells on this any longer, she might start getting too emotional and let the urge to tear up become too strong. Why does she have to be this sensitive? It's no secret that it's remarkably easy to make her cry, but this is insane to her. When all of this began with him, she didn't give a shit about him not wanting a label. She understood him, and she understood that he doesn't do this kind of thing, so why has it changed? Why doesn't she want to keep it a secret anymore? Why does she want this to be a date when she knows he doesn't want it to be?

Pulled by an invisible string back to him to silence her mind, she leans in to kiss him again with a hand cupping the back of his neck to guide him the rest of the way to her.

It shouldn't be laced with any sexual intention. She should be kissing him simply because she wants to, and, in a way, she is. Their kisses and touches are never lacking the motivation that is their underlying connection and mutual feelings for one another, but this is not the same. As he kisses her back with as much confidence and passion as always, she is reeling from the conversation that reminded her too much of a breakup.

It takes another minute of this for the kiss to heat up, their breathing becoming shallower in the moments they part to inhale, and she is undeniably the one instigating when she officially crosses the line between casual and sexual by crawling onto his lap. It's not hard for him to pick up on when their innocent moments take a turn. She's easy to read in that regard, and this has happened a multitude of times with them, so the shift of a mini make out session turning into something more is nothing out of the ordinary for them.

If he knew how shaken she is on the inside, he'd never want this. And the same would go for her if she knew what he was thinking before this. Neither of them wants to admit what they're feeling.

With her legs seated on either side of his hips, she kisses him like it's the last time she'll ever get the opportunity to. Her hands wander wherever they can, pulling at his shirt and feeling him up as his hands guide her hips to move against his in a steady grinding that she has no issue partaking in. It's an eagerness he hasn't seen from her in weeks. She's never un-excited when it comes to being physical with him either, but this is another level. The last time a girl was all over him like this, it was desperate touron at a party a few months ago.

In the span of time it takes her to glance over her shoulder to see if anyone could see them and reach to pull her skirt up until it bunches around her hips—no one can see them, by the way, since they got here late and were forced to cram the van into the back corner of the lot with no street lights illuminating the path—his brows raise at her presumptuous behavior. Not that he's one to complain, however, seeing as he's typically the one doing what she is.

Their next kiss clashes their teeth hard enough to make them wince, but he loves it. It makes him smirk into her parted mouth, alive with both the feeling her reassurance provided and the fuzzy-headed high that often finds him when they're together in this way. Incomparable to past flings or the high related to any drugs, she is the peak of everything to him. It's no contest.

His chest stutters against hers with a bout of amused laughter, asking within a brief pause in what feels like the most JJ thing he's said this awkward night, "Two for two in the Twinkie. What's gotten into you?"

Y/N's hand dips between where their bodies move together to unclasp the closed buckle of his belt in one smooth motion that has it falling apart with a clinking noise.

Her features are set with a look that tells him she means business. Whatever it is that sparked this, he wonders how the fuck to make it happen again another time. She's begged for it before, but never taken control so dominantly, and he can't deny what the role reversal does to him. The evidence is obvious in the distinct hardness she feels pressing up against the hand undoing his jeans.

"I was hoping it'd be you," she says, voice breathless and airy from the constant contact in a way that makes it ten times hotter for him.

If there were any chance of him not being in the mood prior to this, which wasn't the case anyway, it's gone now. He never wants to hear her say she doesn't deliberately try to tease him ever again.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

JJ surges forward to capture her mouth with his, this time with no intention of pulling away to breathe or speak again. No, he'll let himself get lightheaded and dizzy if it means he can stay with her for as long as possible.

With the circumstances of it all, them being visible to someone if they happened to pass by the open door of the van, they move at a pace quicker than usual. She's immediately helping him shimmy his jeans and underwear far enough down his hips to free his dick from the confines of his clothes, making him sigh out a breath of relief when her hand brushes against him in the process.

There's no opportunity to slow down, it has exploded into a full-throttle speed race that neither of them can halt.

His hand blindly flies out beside him to grope the floor of the van for the set of keys he tossed carelessly to the side once the movie started, eyes shut in the midst of the hot, messy kiss they share. His fingers find the fabric of one of the blankets they brought in case they got cold, then drifts again and lands on her Big Bird sneakers until he feels the sharp metal of her keys meet his calloused palm.

After the events of last summer, she bought a switch blade to keep on her key ring alongside the keys to the van, HMS Pogue, and Chateau. She may not like violence or weapons, seeing as she was a skeptic of JJ keeping the gun alongside her friends, but she saw it necessary. Between Rafe, Topper, and Kelce, how could she leave the safety of her and her friends up to chance knowing what some of the kooks did to them not long ago? What happened to Pope on the golf course alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

Right now, though, the knife flips out from the pressure of his thumb pushing the button to release it. He holds it out away from her at first to assure it doesn't nick her in the process, then uses his other hand to tug the side of her panties that hugs her hip far out enough to press the sharp side of the blade onto the inside of it.

She can hardly believe what she's watching as JJ cuts the delicate maroon underthings from her body as if he were doing something so normal, like it's something he's done before. Her forehead is pressed against his, her mouth parted both in shock and in a need to pant for oxygen, and she watches the knife ruin her favorite panties. The stitches come apart with a satisfying ripping noise that can hardly be heard over the sound of people reacting to the movie in the background.

Other customers of the Cherry Bowl Drive-In are too glued to the screen as a beloved character is chased down, reacting in shouts when she's seized by the killer and shoved onto the table of an industrial bread slicer, so they remain wholly unnoticed.

The lace, now ripped in half, dangles on the tip of the knife when he lifts it away from her, tosses it aside, and presses the button once more to retract the blade. It clatters to the floor, but is in no way forgotten with them resuming in a desperation to keep going until they both satisfy the need clawing at them from the inside. But her sense of need is different from his, and even with the fresh memory of him with the switch blade in mind, she's still somewhere else the whole time.

Her mind is faraway, muted through layers of sadness, anger, and disappointment as he reaches between them to line himself up to her entrance. The sensation of him running his cock, hard and messy with a few drops of precome, through her dripping pussy to coat it in her slick arousal is enough to make her moan pathetically. Yet when he's about to guide himself inside of her, she stops him.

"Wait, wait, wait," she breathes out rapidly, heart pounding so hard she can feel herself pulsating between her thighs, "Condom."

They were so antsy to get to it, they almost forgot.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, and his eyes flicker from where they were trained between their bodies to glance back and forth around the van before it hits him. "I lost my wallet..."

But right when he thinks their public rendezvous in the back of the Drive-In is over due to his unfortunate mistake, she shakes her head and slips away from her perch astride his lap to crawl over to her bag.

She fumbles with the old tote bag and plunges her arm in to sift through the hodge podge of things that are purely Y/N in nature—stickers, glitter pens, a half-eaten bag of candy, etc—for the square foil package she decided to toss in before she left just in case. She usually doesn't keep them on her because he never fails to have one, but, thankfully, she had the random instinct to bring it tonight.

The only thing to bring her out of her cloudy, malevolent storm of feelings when she settles back onto his lap with the condom wrapper ripped open for him is him saying, "So you planned this, huh?" with his mouth tipped in a familiar self-satisfied grin.

She didn't plan it. In fact, she threw herself at him the second she sensed him withdrawing from her and can't stop herself despite the fact that she constantly feels two seconds away from letting a tear slip down her cheek. If that counts as "planning it", then sure.

"Maybe so," she answers, cool, calm, and collected—the antithesis of the truth.

They usually don't lie to each other.

They're thrown right back into it without any other hiccups once he rolls the condom on, and he takes in a shaky breath at her hand wrapping around him to align their bodies up. Before she can do anything, though, he takes chance to swipe the blanket he found a moment ago and wrap it around her back to keep her covered in case they get caught.

Y/N sinks down onto his cock with her lip caught between her teeth to stifle the sound that threatens to escape. JJ, on the other hand, doesn't bother concealing the sound of the groan he makes at the sensation of having her wrapped around him like this. The tension in her entire body from the anticipation and the looming threat of being seen by someone has her squeezing him so tightly, he can't help but be a little louder than he should.

Her soft palm slaps over his mouth with enough pressure to force his groan to quiet itself, and she watches his pretty blue eyes widen in reaction to the dominant action. Who is this girl and what has she done with his sweet, submissive Y/N? Don't get him wrong, he is very turned on by it, but it's unlike her to take the lead this way. He can't figure it out.

"What's wrong, angel?" she asks in a whisper into his ear, her hand over his mouth and her hips starting to slowly rock against him, "Watch the movie."

Once the words leave her mouth, she drops her hand, just in case he wants to stop and can't say anything because she had his mouth covered, and JJ is pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven.

He doesn't watch the movie, not at all, because he's too busy watching her. For someone losing their mind internally, she does not let it show, nor does she let it distract her from what's happening. If anything, the distraction in this situation is the sex, not what's going on inside of her head.

There's a moment of adjustment and going as slowly and gently as possible while waiting for the dull pressure of feeling him inside of her to fade away, but, for the most part, she doesn't waste any time. As soon as she feels comfortable enough with the ache between her thighs giving way to a spark of pleasure when she grinds her clit down on his pubic bone, she starts to ride him at a better pace than the initial slow movements of her hips.

She raises herself up and takes him again inch by inch, enjoying the sense of fullness she gets from having to fit him in spite of the slight discomfort at first, and she could swear that he'll leave bruises in the shape of his handprints with how tightly he clutches her hips. It's all he can do to prevent himself from moaning or saying something, ever the vocal lover she's come to know.

Unless his mouth is preoccupied like it was on the beach yesterday afternoon, JJ is usually impossible to shut up, especially in this context. With him always whispering dirty things to her, whether it be praises, pet names, or plans on what he wants to do to her, she has come to find it breathtakingly hot. He could likely get away with saying something if he wanted to, but he isn't sure he wants to risk it. If he opens his mouth to spew something filthy to her, he won't trust himself not to make a louder, different kind of noise that won't fit in the with background audio the other moviegoers are listening to.

The wet sound of their bodies colliding that fills the space of the van is drowned out by the loud and violent sequence occurring on the screen far ahead of them, and hearing it makes her bounce herself on him a little harder. She's fueled on by it all, and, strangely, what happened before she practically pounced on him is the main contributor.

Similarly to the nature of his intrusive thoughts, the harder she resists the memory of how it felt when he told her he didn't want this to be a date, the more forceful it is in its return. Her eyes trail down to watch where they connect with her forehead pressed to his, then she's thrown back into the feeling of helpless disappointment and insecurity. His head tips back against the window with his bottom lip dropped open and his brows furrowed just enough to create a crease on his forehead, and she's bombarded with the look of relief on his face when he realized he didn't have to be tied down to her with a label.

It makes her want to get rougher, harder, and she doesn't even care if it'll make her sore later on. She presses herself down so far every time she slides down on his cock, her teeth draw blood on her lip with how hard she must bite it to remain quiet. The pain of her hipbones rubbing against his doesn't even matter to either of them at this point. They're both too lost in the pleasure that has begun to take control of them to care about something as minuscule as that, or the burn in her thighs from the repetitive physical strain.

She grabs his wrist and brings his hand between them, flattening hers overtop of it and pressing down on the base of her abdomen in the midst of the increasingly feverish thrusts.

"Feel you here," she murmurs to him through a quiet moan, hoping he can hear it over the movie, and pushes down on his hand for emphasis. And if the way he reacts by cursing under his breath tells her anything, it's that he picked up on it. "JJ..."

He reaches out to grab her by the throat with his free hand and tug her forward to kiss him, as if something inside of him snapped in response to her doing that. The motions of her jolting up and down throws the already messy and uncoordinated kiss off-kilter, but they don't mind. It has them separating every time she lifts up, producing this heady little head rush from from them breathing in each other's air without actually letting their mouths meet in the middle.

Though they're trying their hardest not to alert anyone outside of what's happening, it didn't occur to him until now, when his eyes catch John B's old bandana swinging back and forth where it's secured around the rear view mirror.

They're worried about moaning while the entire fucking Twinkie is rocking with their movements. Well, at least it makes good use of the corny sticker he gifted John B last year as a gag gift. He tried to peel it off after JJ snuck it onto the side window to no avail. So, now Y/N is stuck with a sticker on her car reading, "If the van's a-rockin', come on in, we like orgies," rather than the more common phrase.

It almost makes him start laughing, and he prays no one takes that shit seriously, 'cause he is never intent on sharing this breathtaking girl. Ever.

Y/N isn't anywhere near laughing like he is, in fact, she's finding it difficult to keep herself together. She feels her eyes sting with the promise of tears, and she's never felt so pathetic before. Is she seriously about to cry during sex? Is she really that girl that is so ill-equipped to handle rejection, she can't get through it without tears?

She won't cry. Perhaps if he sees how glossy her eyes have become in a rare moment of good lighting, she can blame it on the hand around her throat putting pressure on the sides of her neck.

The worst part about her being near to crying is the timing of it.

The emotion of what she feels mentally mixes with the swirling, building sensation she feels in the pit of her stomach that tells her she's close to going over the edge, and it's so overwhelming. Was she imagining that their friendship had changed? More importantly, is this all she'll ever be to him? Sex is the only thing she's sure of with him, it's the only thing that doesn't require deeper emotions, and when the ground beneath their fragile relationship felt shaky...

He can feel her starting to unravel, and he knows that he'll come before she does if he doesn't do anything now, so he decides to take control.

JJ pulls the hand he had resting on her abdomen away as though he were burned by it, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her body against his and using the hand around her neck for leverage to thrust up into her, effectively reducing her to a teary-eyed, moaning mess atop him. They both stopped caring about making noise the second he began to fuck her like this.

She cries out in ecstasy at the sudden change in pace and depth that has him hitting all the right places. Every time he thrusts up into her, just as rough as she wished for, the tip of his cock nudges into that perfect spot inside of her that makes her incapable of silencing her moans. This time, it's JJ that puts his hand over her mouth, letting the one he had around her neck move away to keep her from alerting everyone around them of what's happening.

There's nothing she can do to stop her climax as it barrels through her in its initial sweeping wave of bliss to contrast the venomous doubts in her mind. She's never felt such conflicting, yet powerful feelings before—the intensity of the physical pleasure that makes her whine into the palm of his hand, then the part of her mind replaying every word he said in their conversation before this.

Her body is rigid and tense through it all, squeezing down around his cock with the involuntary spasms of her orgasm, and he can't help himself anymore. All it takes are a few more frantic thrusts for him to bury himself inside of her one last time and spill into the condom, uncovering her mouth so he can drown out his own groans into a kiss.

Their skin sticks to their clothes on the inside with sweat from the exertion of their actions, and he can feel her stomach tremble where it presses up against his with each undulation of her hips that meet his as he rides it out.

But even with the added distraction of the sex, she can't rid herself of the feeling that started plaguing her as soon as things went awry. That was why he was acting weird all night. He must have been so worried about her thinking this was anything more than their typical hangouts that he couldn't bring himself to act normally.

She forces herself to look happy when they pull away from the kiss, panting, and JJ, unaware of what she's been thinking, doesn't notice the small deception.

Tag list: @gabiatthedisco

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx s2 #uh oh trouble in paradise #anyway that smut #kinda wanna get railed by JJ in the back of the van #don’t we all?

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rivalsforlife · 3 years

Text

AA7 Speculation Post: One Year Later

here we go again.

A year and a day ago, I made a speculation post about if/when we’d ever be seeing AA7. Obviously, my claim that AA7 would be announced in September 2020 did not turn out to be true, but later that year we did get a leaked calendar containing information on the new ports for Chronicles, and also plans for a new aa7, which I summarized in this post.

Now that we have Chronicles we can verify that the leaks contained legitimate information (as if a statement from Capcom saying they were hacked wasn’t legitimate enough). So that leaves us with one key question: is AA7 still happening? If so, when can we expect it? As well, what other information from the leaked calendar can we consider, especially with early sales data on Chronicles? In addition, what are the implications of this new survey on Chronicles from Capcom?

All of that will be discussed under the cut so that this doesn’t take up too much space.

Revisiting The Calendar

Once again, here is a rough translation of the calendar that was present in the leaks:

As a note, in this post, I’ll be referring to our new games as “Chronicles” to prevent this from being blocked by people avoiding spoilers.

So: this original calendar, generated before the pandemic, had Chronicles releasing in Q1 of FY2021 - and it’s also important to note that in Japan, each fiscal year starts in April 1st, so FY2021 is actually April-June 2021. This shows that Chronicles was pushed back about a quarter from their expected release date. However, Chronicles was a port of already existing games, therefore somewhat less work was needed on them - upscaling models and textures, adding in some new features like autoplay and story mode, and of course, the English translation and voicework were needed, which is still a lot of course, but less compared to development on an entirely new game. In addition to that, the pandemic hit AA7 in its early development stage, assuming this schedule was still being followed by the time the pandemic hit. That could cause more delays than expected.

So the original plan was for AA7 to be released in Q3 of 2021, which corresponds to October-December, aligning with the 20th anniversary of the series in October. While it’s a desirable goal, it’s quite likely the pandemic pushed it back at least a quarter, if not more, if not cancelled it entirely. ... haha.

We’ll only know the fate of AA7 for certain when it’s announced. Which it is possible it may never be. However, I have two theories for, if AA7 is getting an announcement, when it will be:

1) Sometime during September 2021, either in the leadup to or during Tokyo Game Show this year. These are for the same reasons as I outlined in my initial speculation post. It’s a popular time for Ace Attorney game announcements, after all. TGS, according to what I can find, will be held online this year from September 30th to October 3rd. If Capcom announces AA7 earlier in September through Famitsu, like they did with AA6 for example, then we can expect to get some information during TGS...

2) Sometime during a 20th Anniversary Event, possibly in October 2021. I’m assuming AA is planning something for the 20th anniversary - Chronicles wasn’t really marketed as a 20th anniversary release, for instance. If they can’t release a new game for the 20th anniversary (which at this rate, seems unlikely, as we’re about two months out from that with no word about it) then an announcement would be just as good at generating hype for it.

Naturally, if we reach this time next year with absolutely no news on AA7, it’s probably safe to say it’s been cancelled or at least delayed so severely that anything we currently know about it isn’t worth much.

There’s one more point of interest on the calendar: reconsidering the porting of 456. I feel that this depends heavily on how well the Chronicles ports are doing; if it’s not financially viable to keep porting games, then why bother? So, let’s take a look at that.

The Success of Chronicles

As I write this, it’s about two and a half weeks since the release of Chronicles worldwide. So... how did the games do? It’s a bit hard to tell, especially as I am not a game marketer and don’t know the expectations for Chronicles. What is obvious is that, if Chronicles does much better than expected, porting 456 and possibly even the investigations games seems likely. (If Chronicles, indeed, does especially well in the West, than a porting of the investigations games and localization of investigations 2 after ten years could very well be possible.) If Chronicles does absolutely terribly, it damages the chances of porting, and possibly of continuing the series. If it does terribly especially in the West, where the games are essentially new, it could damage the chances of any new games being localized at all.

So, a lot is riding on this, and I don’t know enough to tell how well it did. Here’s what I have found, however:

Nintendo Enthusiast reports on Famitsu sales of Switch games, and overall thinks it’s not doing so great. Chronicles ranks third on the list of Switch sales in its first week, with 14,460 units sold, over 4000 less than NEO: The World Ends With You, which was released on July 27th. Keep in mind that Chronicles was released in Japan on July 29th, which is two days later, and that these are only Japanese sales (where they’ve had Chronicles for years on both mobile and 3DS) and only Switch sales, where NEO:TWEWY is currently only available on Switch and PS4 (Chronicles has the additional platform of Steam, where there could be many more sales). In the next week, Chronicles ranked 22 overall, with NEO:TWEWY at 23, though of course they’re still a little less than 4000 units behind NEO:TWEWY overall. Slightly closing the gap, I guess.

How about overseas data, then? ... It’s hard to tell. I can find this report from gamespot which discusses the top 20 games sold in the US in July, and Chronicles is not on the list, while NEO:TWEWY is at 16. However, they don’t give any number for the units sold, and it seems that they aren’t considering digital sales for a lot of them, so it’s hard to tell how much of a hit that is.

However, let’s go back to Japanese sales for a bit, and look at the 2019 Trilogy re-release for a comparison against Chronicles. Allegedly, combined Switch and PS4 sales in the first week of the trilogy’s release only amounted to about 8000 units, a little more than half that of Chronicles’ Switch sales. It’s also important to note that the 2019 trilogy ended up being the only ace attorney game to sell over a million copies. Ace Attorney is not a big series; I’m sure Capcom takes this into account when considering sales data, especially for ports. If Chronicles does end up doing better than the trilogy overall, it’s definitely looking good for ports and especially so for Chronicles.

However, there’s more to this than just sales data.

The Survey

Capcom now has a user survey for Chronicles, which you can answer even if you’re partway through the first game. I believe it’s only open until September 30 2021, so if you think you can finish the game before then, I’d recommend filling it out once you’re done so that you can give the best feedback.

It asks you a bunch of questions like what platform you bought it on, why you bought it, your expectations, and all sorts of detailed questions on the various mechanics, difficulty and enjoyment of the trials and investigations, satisfaction of visuals, plot, characters, music, and even free response sections for what you liked and disliked about the game. It’s a very detailed survey that’s pretty long but I think is worth filling out. At the end they ask you to fill out some demographic questions (such as age, gender (male, female, other), country, what kind of things you like to spend money on, and what kind of games you like, what platforms you have to play games on). But what’s possibly the most interesting question is this:

“If a new [Chronicles] game is released in the future, do you think you would buy it?”

This means that, depending on the answers to the survey, they could very well decide to work on a third game to Chronicles.

This has huge implications for the future of the series. I’ll probably make a separate post on plot-related stuff later, but for now... let’s talk about logistics.

In my initial AA7 speculation post I said I highly doubted that they would ever make another Chronicles game. I also said that they probably never would be localized, so, guess who’s a clown now.

Right now the AA series is in a bit of a dry period, with no new games having been released in the last four years. As well, with Yamazaki (the director of the investigations games and AA5/6) having left Capcom, the next director of the mainline games is completely unknown. As described in this video, the main reason Chronicles ever came about was because Capcom went ahead with mainline AA5 before Takumi could come back from the Layton crossover. Now, since 2017, we don’t really know what Takumi is working on. It’s possible he’s gone back to mainline to work on AA7 (though of course, there is absolutely no evidence suggesting that he has, so definitely don’t take that as any sort of confirmation).

However, if we do get a Chronicles 3, it’s quite likely Takumi would return to work on that, as he directed the previous two games. In addition, if Chronicles ends up being such a success to completely eclipse mainline (from what I’ve heard, though I have no serious proof, Resolve is considered as highly rated as T&T by many Japanese fans) then the series could permanently go down the road of writing more Chronicles games, leaving mainline stagnant (which, let’s be real, it’s already stagnating). The success of that is uncertain considering how neatly our current Chronicles duology wraps up, but... we’ll have to see how things unfold in the future.

For now, I highly recommend filling out the survey to give your input to the series’ future directions. Maybe mention that you want localized investigations 2 somewhere in the free response section because uhh I forgot to do it in mine. do that for me.

TL;DR

Main takeaways from this post are:

- I personally expect an AA7 announcement either during TGS or a 20th anniversary event

- If Chronicles does extremely well, then 456 ports are likely to happen, and I personally speculate investigations ports (along with localized investigations 2) will as well.

- Fill out this Chronicles survey before September 30th to give your input on the games and possibly the future direction of the series. I recommend completing the games before you do, but if you think you won’t before September 30th, you can fill it out at any time.

- We Very Well May Get Another Chronicles Game. Who saw that coming. Not me.

Thanks if you read through all of this, let’s hope September/October doesn’t leave me looking like a fool again.

#aa7 speculation #my posts #ace attorney

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shelobussy · 3 years

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I know you talk abou st*cky in the interracial ships stuff, but can we talk about st*ny? Iron husbands is literally right there, but I also always sees Rhodey as Tonys moral support only. And ik Tony is very shippable with most characters, but the fact his ship is Rhodey is one of the lowest ships in ao3 (ironstrange, winteriron and god forbid stark*r all had more fics in ao3).. It's pretty telling this side also has racism problems...

I'll go ahead and answer this here, but letting y'all know that I do have a marvel sideblog if you want to hit me up there (@themarvelarchives).

Hey, I'm going to ramble for a good minute.

So after I posted my very incoherent, controversial take on St*cky vs SamBucky, there were a ton of ppl who came onto anon saying that St*cky shippers were racist. I think I only answered a few, but y'all were pretty insistent on it. I personally have not observed that St*cky shippers are so I'm not calling anyone out on that side of the fandom for that.

I also did not call out anyone on this side of the fandom bc that's not what my meta was about. I think I mentioned maybe once or twice in the whole post that there was underlying racist in the fandom, but since you asked, we can talk about it here.

Covert Bigotry In Fandom Spaces.

To understand what's going on in the MCU, we have to first look at what I call "woke-queer" fandom.

So "Woke-Queer" Spaces is the phenomenon where certain fandom members like to call ppl out on their bigotry, while covertly harboring their own queerphobia/racism/etc. An example of this that we're all familiar with is TERFS and how they like to claim that they are progressive and woke, while also claiming that trans women are fake and trans men are sexist.

How this translates to fandom, however, is the hypocrisy that is cancellation and callout culture.

For example, Supernatural in particular is a fandom that likes to call out the writers on their homophobia and racism, and yet, somehow, the fandom is chalk full of homophobia and racism. If you want to read more about this, here is a truly excellent article from the perspective of a queer woman of color.

Moving on, I've also talked in a previous meta post, on the internalized acephobia that exploded in 2019 after Good Omens was released. Rather than reiterate everything I said in that post, I'll just leave it at this: the controversy in the Good Omens fandom can be summed up by the fact that queer audiences are claiming that Ineffable Husbands is the wrong kind of queer. The hypocrisy oozes off the screen, doesn't it?

A final way this viably translates to fandom, is in how the Doctor Who fandom evolved over time.

So Steven Moffat takes over as head writer and showrunner in 2010. It's a new series, a new Doctor, a new Tardis, and new branding. He steps up the action, changes the color grating, and raises the stakes. Women are sexier, the Doctor is smarter (and more of an asshole, but that's another meta post), and every companion comes with their own impossible mystery that makes them Special™.

Series 5-10 got tons of woke points for having lesbian characters, an episode where the Doctor is homoerotic with James Corden, and an underlying trans narrative with the Master's reincarnation. What a lot of people forget, however, is that his series was incredibly sexiest, incredibly lesbian/biphobic, and basically turned the Doctor into everyone's fantasy sex-object.

This, unfortunately, brought out the worst of the fandom. There was RTD Era vs Moffat Era wars exploding in certain corners, TenxRose shippers vs ElevenxRiver shippers.

What does this have to do with covert racism in fandom cultures though?

Hnnngng ok, so back in RTD era's we get Martha Jones, the Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show. Except for the fact, of course, that she is written to be in love with the doctor. She's a brilliant character--smart, sassy, flawed, funny, flirtatious--and her entire plotline is reduced down to a school-girl crush on a white man.

She doesn't do well with fans, they scrap her after one season.

We move on to Donna Noble (The Other Actual Best Companion On The Entire Show) and RTD's era ends with them scraping her too and regenerating David Tennant's Doctor.

It will be five more series (not seasons, SERIES) until Doctor Who will have another black companion--who gets extra points for being gay--only to fall victim to "bury your gays" at the end of the season (but not really bc no one stays dead on Doctor Who).

The fandom's reception of Martha Jones was historically bad. The comparisons to her predecessor, Rose Tyler, were rampant and everyone was finding a reason to hate her.

The fandom's reception to Bill Potts was also historically bad, as everyone was screaming that she was being written for more "woke points" and that they wanted Clara back.

Fandom has a historically bad reputation of being problematic and, I would argue, the majority of it has to do with these toxic undertones of bigotry that slip under the radar. "Woke-queer" spaces, as I call them, are these instances above where spaces that claim to be inclusive of gender/orientation/race are covertly bigoted.

Marvel and Cancelling

Now is an excellent time to talk about the MCU.

Anthony Mackie (Sam Wilson) has recently come under a lot of criticism from fandom members for shutting down shipper speculation.

"The idea of two guys being friends and loving each other in 2021 is a problem because of the exploitation of homosexuality. [...] something as pure and beautiful as homosexuality has been exploited by people who are trying to rationalize themselves."

I can't find the rest of the quote, but Mackie goes on further to say that it was important to him to portray "a sensitive, masculine figure" without insinuating that there was romance involved.

Woke culture lost it's shit. Everyone was suddenly claiming that Mackie was calling them exploitative for shipping a gay ship as a queer audience, which could not have been further from the case.

Mackie actually makes some very excellent points in that sensitivity is not gay/queer. Woke culture loves to rag on Toxic Masculinity, but the minute someone plays a character who is loving and sensitive with no queer narrative in mind, they are immediately canceled.

What Am I On About

Okay, let's actually address what your ask was about, Nonnie. You pointed out--rather truthfully--that it is unfair to call-out racism on one side of the fandom, while ignoring it on the other side.

Well, I've gone back through my St*cky vs. SamBucky analysis (which is incoherent at best, I apologize for that) and I see maybe once instance where I called out fandom members for being racist. Here's what I had to say about racism:

"[...] Iron Husbands is a rarepair, probably because it’s an interracial ship."

"[there is] nothing wrong with shipping two white men, but it does become a problem when you ignore/bash POC/interracial ships to the determinant of your own white ship."

And then there was the post you brought up where I addressed interracial ships in the fandom. That one is probably more relevant to this topic, to be honest, as I actually addressed fandom racism there. I assume that your reason for bringing up Stony is because it's a ship that is more relevant to my side of the fandom, HOWEVER, the reason I highlighted Stucky instead was because I was comparing the fact that they've both been around the same amount of time and are relationships that feature the protagonist and their best friend.

You brought up St*ny in the ask, however, so I'm going to talk about St*ny for a minute.

As someone who never has nor will ship St*ny, it never even occurred to me that some of the problem behind the Iron Husbands tag being so small is because everyone ships the white, boring ship. You brought up a very valid point, but because I was never in that part of the fandom, I can't really speak to any possible underlying racism there, besides what I've already said above.

I would be interested in hearing a St*ony shipper or ex-St*ony shippers thought on this, but sadly I don't know any. If you have any more thoughts regarding this, Nonnie, pls drop back into my inbox.

You do make some excellent points in this ask though, and I would like to talk about racism on my side of the fandom.

So back to Mackie and his Twitter cancellation. Notice that Disney made him address the rumors and not his co-star, Sebastian Stan. Anthony Mackie is put on blast and made to answer fan demands and receives backlash, while Sebastian Stan gets to fly under the rader. This is not, by the way, a criticism of Stan, but instead of the blatant racism Disney has been displaying over the past few years.

How this ties in with the rest of my post has to do with my "woke-queer" spaces bit. The outcry across the MCU fandom over Mackie was swift and unforgiving. He was cancelled on charges of homophobia and bigotry--all the while these same fans turn a blind eye to any queer interpretation of other interracial ships and discourse in their own fandom.

The racism that I'm speaking about, of course, is an almost passive racism. Of course if you don't ship a specific ship for reasons other than their race, it's perfectly fine. It's okay not to ship Iron Husbands or SamBucky or any other interracial fandom ships. However, the distinct lack of shippers in the fandom IS telling because there are people who would ship that exact ship if not for the fact that one of men is black.

I don't have much more to say about this except to thank you for bringing it up and for listening to my long rambling post.

(Feel free to bug me about Tony Stark, MCU ships, MCU Meta and anything you want to talk me about on this blog and @themarvelarchives.)

#this got long sorry #iron husbands #sambucky #james rhodes #tony stark #sam wilson #anthony mackie #doctor who #moffat critical #my meta #ash does meta #ash does fandom #marvel #mcu #fandom critical #fandom criticism #long post

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being-luminous · 3 years

Note

🙀 prompts?! how about harry keeps doing things to get tom’s attention/regard , praise kink

🥺 thank you! i love your writing!

Thanks for the prompt, anon! This one is also under a read more. It's not as long as the first fill, but it's just as much pwp

Contains: praise kink, oral, a bit of crying, tom being smitten, pet names

The first time it happens—or, rather, the first time Tom notices—he doesn’t understand what it means.

“I’m impressed, Harry,” he says, turning the newly acquired book over in his hands. He’s been searching for a copy for months now, yet somehow Harry managed to beat him to it. “This must have been difficult to find.”

“A bit,” Harry says, and there’s something in his voice that makes Tom look, that makes him pay attention.

Harry's face is flushed, deep red blooming over his cheeks, practically glowing. He barely manages to hold Tom’s gaze before he turns his head, and Tom is struck suddenly by the picture he makes—eyes lowered, soot-dark lashes fanning over his cheeks, bottom lip held between his teeth.

Curious, he thinks.

And then he turns his attention back to the book in his hands, and the moment is forgotten.

(Later, he’ll think long and hard about the way Harry presented this gift to him—the eagerness in his expression as he handed it over, then the pleasure at his praise.

But not yet.)

The most curious thing is—he keeps noticing.

First, the grin that steals across Harry’s face whenever Tom thanks him (the one that makes Tom thank him more often just to see it), shy and pleased all at once. Then, the way he leans ever so closer whenever Tom speaks a word of praise, like a flower seeking the sun. And the flush on his skin—over his cheeks, down his neck. The way he tucks his hands beneath his arms as he leans in, like he’s holding himself back from…from something, though Tom couldn’t say what.

The heat in his gaze before he turns away.

The way he keeps doing these things to earn Tom’s praise, even when Tom doesn’t ask him to.

Slowly, so slowly he’s embarrassed to admit it, after, Tom puts the pieces together.

Then he begins to plan.

When he’s finally ready, he lures Harry to his flat late one evening with a fabricated plea for help. If he remembers correctly (and he always does), Harry will need to cancel whatever puerile plans he made with those…roommates of his in order to come over, but Tom isn’t worried. Harry will choose him as he always does, and when they’re done, he’ll stay.

He has to.

When he spies Harry walking up the pavement, he has to force himself not to express the giddy rush that floods his chest. The door to the street shuts behind him, and Tom begins his count; each second stretches into an excruciating eternity. When the door to his flat swings open without a knock—Harry was given his spare key months ago—Tom waits with bated breath as his…friend (for now) makes his way from the entryway to the bedroom where he waits. Eventually, he pokes his head through the doorway.

The way his face lights up when he catches sight of Tom where he’s braced against one of the bedposts, ever pleased to see him, is gratifying.

“Tom,” he says in greeting, trotting closer when Tom holds out a hand to him. He takes it, not at all hesitating even though they’ve never been the tactile sort. “How are you?”

“Well enough,” Tom says, and anticipation churns in his gut, threatening to leave him breathless and weak at the knees. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

Harry’s head tilts. A grin pulls at his plush lips. “Go ahead.”

And Tom is certain of Harry’s response, he is. Still, he feels something like fear boil over him when he asks, voice even, “Would you suck my cock?”

It takes a moment for Harry to register the words. When he does, his breath catches and his lips part. His eyes go wide and dark. A surprised flush blooms over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. In his mind’s eye, Tom sees that same flush streaked white with his come, and he sways, almost knocked off his feet by the force of his own arousal.

He didn’t expect it to affect him so.

Finally, Harry recovers enough to speak. “Is this a joke?” he asks, voice faint.

“Not at all,” Tom tells him, and this time he doesn’t quite manage the even tone he aims for.

“So…” Harry stops, wets his bottom lip with his tongue. His gaze darts around the room, like he’s afraid someone will catch them. “Right now?”

Tom inclines his head. “If you would.”

For a long moment, Harry only looks at him, like he’s waiting for Tom to laugh at him, to take it back. Then, hand still held in Tom’s, he sinks to his knees.

“Good, Harry,” Tom says, relief flooding through him, though he’ll never admit to any doubt.

He uses his free hand to palm Harry’s cheek, thumb brushing against his lips, which part so sweetly for him. He presses in, touches the pad of his thumb against his teeth, then over his tongue as he uses his hold to tilt Harry’s head back, to make Harry look at him.

The flush on his cheeks is bolder now.

His eyes are ink-dark in the light of the lone lamp in the corner of the room. They look wet, Tom thinks, and he wonders if Harry will cry when he has his cock down his throat.

He wonders if Harry will choke on it.

“Take my cock out,” he says, gentle because he can afford to be. “Use your hands.”

And Harry does.

He wraps his strong, well-formed hands around Tom’s cock, and Tom lets out a pleased sigh, grinning when Harry swallows thickly, when he sways closer.

“Well done, Harry,” he says. “Now, put your mouth on me.”

And Harry does.

He licks a line of heat up his shaft, one hand cradling his balls as the other curls around the base. When he reaches the head, he sucks it into his mouth, tonguing at his slit, and Tom hisses, his hips jerking forward. He feels his cockhead bump against the roof of Harry’s mouth, and Harry just takes it, moaning as he forces Tom’s cock even deeper.

Inch by agonizing inch, his cock sinks into the wet heat of Harry’s mouth.

He curls his hands in Harry’s hair, close to his skull, feels the vibration of Harry’s whimpered moans at each sharp tug.

“Merlin, Harry,” he says, panting. “You’re so—“ He grits his teeth, hips jerking again, and Harry’s hand around the base of his cock is replaced with his mouth.

He’s never felt anything like it, he thinks as he stares down at the ring of Harry’s lips, the obscene stretch of them around him. The memories of past sexual partners fizzle away, pressed from his head by the feel of Harry’s tongue massaging his shaft, by the wet sounds his throat makes on each thrust.

Heat coils low in his belly, pressure building higher with each slick press into Harry’s mouth, and he knows he’ll come too soon if he doesn’t stop.

Pulling Harry off his cock is quite possibly the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“You’re so good to me,” he says when Harry whines, sucking like he could keep it inside him if he just tried hard enough. “Just—give me a minute, darling, and you can have it again.”

He doesn’t even mind the pet name that slips from his lips, too busy watching the way Harry melts at the sound of it. Harry sighs, nuzzling at his hip, and Tom shivers when his hair brushes against his cock.

“Tom,” Harry says against his skin, voice wrecked, pleading.

“Hush, darling,” Tom says. He rubs his thumb through the tears on Harry’s cheek, uses his hand in Harry’s hair to pull him closer, to pull him down again, until he can feel every gasping breath against his balls. “I know. You’re doing so well.”

His toes curl against the floor when he feels Harry nuzzle his cock, then further down, feels his tongue on his balls before he begins to suckle them gently into his mouth.

He grinds into the feeling, smearing precome over Harry’s face with every rock of his hips.

“You’re so good, Harry,” he says, breathless, head knocked back against the bedpost and his eyes clenched shut. If he looks at him, he’ll come. “So perfect for me.”

He feels Harry sigh against his skin, pressing impossibly closer, and he shudders, wraps a hand tight around the base of his cock. He’ll come soon, he knows, and he wants to do it buried in Harry’s throat, claiming him from the inside out.

“Can you take me in your mouth again?” he asks.

Harry moans, and it sounds like yes.

“I know you can,” Tom says, gasping. “Of course you can, because you’re perfect, darling.” He tugs Harry’s head back, takes his cock in hand and touches it to his lips, holds him still as he feeds his cock back into his mouth. “You take me so well.”

And Harry is a vision at his feet.

Flushed face wet with saliva and tears and precome. Eyes wide and dark. Hair in disarray. Chest having on each breath.

Lips stretched wide around his cock.

“I’d keep you here forever,” Tom says as Harry’s tongue curls around his shaft, as the wet heat of his mouth, of his throat, takes him deeper. “On your knees. So sweet for me, so open.”

Harry’s throat clenches as he swallows, and Tom’s hips jerk forward.

The sound of Harry choking around him is better than any symphony.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, only barely hearing his own voice. He doesn’t care about the words spilling out of his mouth. All he cares about is the slick press of Harry’s tongue, the squeeze of his throat as he fucks into his mouth. “You’d live for it.”

Harry bobs his head, meeting his every thrust, trying to suck him back in every time he pulls away. He gets a hand on his balls again, and then it’s over. He’s coming. His release tears a moan from his throat, leaves him breathless and blind to all but Harry’s mouth on him, all but the blessed, terrible relief of it.

With a bitten off curse, he curls forward over Harry’s kneeling form as he forces his head down one last time, feels the press of Harry's nose against his pelvis as he grinds into his throat.

When it’s over—when he’s recovered as much as he can—he feels the flutter of Harry’s throat around him as he tries to cough.

A foamy mix of come and spit is leaking out the corner of his mouth, and Tom gently wipes it away with his thumb as he slowly—so slowly he could die—pulls Harry off of him. The cool air against his spit-slick cock makes him curse, and he tugs Harry back to him, lets him lick his cock clean and warm again until it all becomes too much, and he has to hold Harry’s face to his hip instead.

If he moves, he thinks he might fall.

“You’ve done that before,” Tom says eventually, one hand petting at Harry’s hair as he leans his head back against the bedpost.

Against his hip, Harry nods, and he feels the press of teeth on his skin as he grins.

He wonders why he never knew, then discards the thought as unimportant. It doesn’t matter who came before him; what matters is that there will never be another.

“So,” Harry says eventually, and Tom feels another sick jolt of arousal at the scrape of his fucked-out voice, at the wet spot he can see on the front of Harry’s trousers where he came untouched. “How’d I do?”

For a long moment, Tom can only stare down at him, reeling at the thought that Harry doesn’t know, doesn’t realize how thoroughly he’d ruined Tom with just one act. Then he catches the wicked glint in his eyes, the grin tugging at his lips, and he huffs a laugh, sinking down to the floor so he can tug Harry into his lap and press a bruising kiss to his already bruised lips.

When he pulls back, Harry’s grins has softened into a new look, one Tom hasn’t seen before.

He decides he wants to see more of it.

“You were exquisite, darling,” he says, peppering more kisses to his cheek, his temple, the bridge of his nose, and the sound of Harry’s laughter is enough to light a fire in his chest. He cradles Harry’s face between his hands, kisses him once more, achingly chaste. “You were perfect.”

#tomarry #pwp #prompt fill #this one might also end up on ao3 #thanks for the prompt!! it was v fun #also sorry if this wasn't at all the direction you wanted it to go aksldjfl #my fic

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Had to Give In (Couldn't Give Up) (Gottrosenali) - Writworm42, Fromthenorthernskies

A/N: Here it is, folks. Perhaps THE most iconic Franco-Anglo collab since the hit 2007 movie-I-haven't-seen Bon Cop/Bad Cop. This was incredibly fun to write, and Emerald and I had a blast bringing this fic together. We really hope you guys like it!!

Of course, it wouldn't be what it is at all without our lovely beta Holtzmanns, who single-handedly removed 43728497 commas for us. Your patience is legendary and appreciated, friend <3 <3 <3

Title from I Don't Do Drugs by Doja Cat ft Ariana Grande.

SYNOPSIS: A bad flight and surprise plans convince Denali that his birthday probably isn't going to be very happy; that is, until Mik and Rosé step in to give him the best present he could ask for.

Saying that the plane ride from Chicago to New York had been rough was, in Denali’s opinion, probably one of the biggest understatements someone could make. What was supposed to have been an hour and a half gravol-induced nap had turned into a six-hour nightmare, all thanks to an unexpected rainstorm that had turned up out of nowhere, delayed their flight, cancelled it, delayed the new one, then kept them grounded in the plane itself for an extra hour. Add a thousand gate changes, and by the time the crew had actually let them off at Kennedy, Denali had been regretting not going ham at the duty-free liquor counter back at O’Hare.

But it was all worth it when he walked into the passenger pickup area and saw Mik and Rosé waiting for him with wide smiles, birthday balloons, and lavishly-decorated WELCOME HOME signs.

He broke into the biggest grin of them all, outshining even the ones of his boyfriends, finally free after all the hurdles of the day. His pace picked up, but Denali didn’t even have time to fall into a comfortable fast walk before Mik jumped right into his arms, giggling. Denali wobbled on his feet for a moment, even though he had expected Mik to do exactly that, but he wouldn’t have changed it for anything. He was back with them, after such a long time, and for his birthday, too — nothing could top that, he was certain of it.

“Come on, let him go, he must be tired after all that happened today,” admonished Rosé, and Denali saw Mik pout but finally slide off, still refusing to let go of his hand. He didn’t mind at all, especially when Rosé gathered his long-lost forgotten luggage on one hand, and started to pick up all the things they had brought to welcome him.

He still found himself dragging down Rosé a bit, getting a soft kiss at last after his stupid stressful day. Denali also let a whiny Mik claim one as well, trying his best to keep it pretty tame since they were still in the middle of a big airport with lots of people moving past them. “I hope you two haven’t planned the biggest party of the year for tonight, because I’m exhausted,” started Denali with a chuckle, which quickly died down when he saw the sheepish looks his boyfriends shared. “Okay, what can I expect?”

“Let’s just say we might have gone a bit overboard with inviting people,” admitted Mik, rubbing the base of his neck with his free hand.

“In our defense, we didn’t know you were going to be stuck on a plane for six-ish hours.”

He barely kept in a sigh, even though Rosé was right. As they fell into their Uber, Denali was still stuck in his mind. He had wanted nothing more than to have his boyfriends for himself all evening and night; they could go celebrate his birthday with their friends in the next few days. After all, he was supposed to stay for almost a week, so what was the hurry?

That, and Denali had clearly underestimated how horny he was for them, now that he was stuck in the middle, pressed against them firmly. He knew they didn’t have too long to stay in the car, more or less thirty minutes, but it was plenty enough for him to feel the heat of them nearby — it was plenty enough time for him to go crazy with how Rosé’s hand was lingering on his thigh, and how Mik was all cuddled to him on the side, his warm breath hitting his neck.

It was a fact that didn’t slip past Mik, ever-observant as long as sex was potentially involved.

“Don’t worry, gorge,” the youngest’s whisper was low and teasing in Denali’s ear as he drawled, “Just a few hours, and then we’ll be back home to give you your real present.”

It was less reassuring than Denali was sure Mik meant to be, but at least Rosé hadn’t seemed to have heard them - if he had, Denali knew for a fact that he would have amped up his teasing by now, and Denali wasn’t sure he could survive that without damaging his Uber rating.

Luckily, they stopped briefly at Rosé’s apartment to put away Denali’s suitcase, and Denali couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he kicked his shoes off, the ache in his feet soothed by the familiar feeling of Rosé’s hardwood floors under them as he headed for the bedroom. Rosé and Mik both followed, and for a moment, Denali almost thought that he’d get a little relief — a cuddle maybe, a quick handjob if he was lucky. After all, they still had about half an hour before they’d have to head out for dinner. And things actually did look like they were coming up for Denali when Rosé told him to lie down with a quick kiss on the lips, both his boyfriends allowing him to rest as they put his clothes away for him.

Unfortunately, that was as far as it went; the minute his body melted into the mattress, Denali’s eyes couldn’t help but fall closed, and he was out like a light.

When he woke up again, Rosé and Mik were laid on either side of him, the former tracing lazy patterns on his arm as the latter spooned him from behind, holding him snugly as he nuzzled into Denali’s neck.

“Did you have a good nap, baby?” Rosé’s voice was soft, his smile gentle, and despite the way Denali was kicking himself for the missed opportunity, he couldn't help but nod as he let out a yawn.

“Do we have any time left before dinner?” The thought came to him as the sleep left his brain, unfogging his mind and making him painfully aware of where he was, what his boyfriends were doing. What else they might be able to do to him, if they had any time left.

But Rosé shook his head sadly, sitting up and gesturing for Mik and Denali to do the same. “We’re already late,” he sighed. “Sorry, baby, but we have to go, the others have been waiting for a while.”

Sure enough, when Denali checked his phone, their group chat was full of messages from Kandy, Jan, Lagoona, Joey, Kahmora, Utica, Olivia, and Symone demanding to know where they were, if they were alive, and if they could go ahead and start getting drunk without them.

Figures.

“Trust me, this hurts us as much as it hurts you, gorge,” Mik teased as he helped Denali up and off the bed. “You wanna change before we go, by the way? I mean, it’s your night, so you can go in stained sweats if you want, but the restaurant isn’t exactly a McDonalds…”

“He’s trying to tell you it’s fancy,” Rosé cut in, tossing Denali a button-up and neat pair of slacks. “Come on, get changed, I’ll call us a cab.”

Denali didn’t know what he’d expected, but in retrospect, he really should have guessed it was going to go this way. They had barely arrived, and he had barely taken a seat between his two grinning boyfriends when he felt not one, but two hands brushing against his clothes underneath the table. He was ready to bet all the money in the world that Mik had spilled the beans about how antsy he had been in the car earlier — because that was usually how they worked, even if he was usually the one plotting with either of his lovers instead. This was wildly different, and just thinking about it wasn’t helping him in any way.

Denali turned his head just in time to catch Rosé watching him with amusement, his typical smirk clearly playing on his lips, especially as his hand squeezed his upper thigh more firmly. He barely stopped a squeak from leaving his throat at this, and he knew with certainty that Rosé had caught on — and that usually meant he would be relentless. Denali didn’t know how long they were supposed to stay here, but it would be hellish at best. It couldn’t be any other way, not when he felt Mik’s lean fingers slide right under his button-up.

And he was expected to stay calm and keep on with everyone wishing him happy birthday and giving him gifts? Yeah, Denali wasn’t too convinced about that one. He wasn’t sure he could will his body to stay rooted to his chair, instead of ignoring the very public setting they were in and pouncing on the two of them.

Which is exactly why he escaped towards the bathroom the second he had his chance - their friends had been distracting his boyfriends while they took pity on him for a moment to let him eat without having their hands on him all the way through. It may have been the best of all sufferings, but Denali wasn’t equipped to deal with it right now, not until they took care of the mess they created.

Denali looked at his reddened cheeks in the mirror, knowing it wasn’t only because of the drinks he had downed so far this evening. He could only hope that their friends hadn’t noticed too much of this. He was well aware of the reputation they had amongst their friends circle, one that they could barely keep their hands to themselves whenever they were together, as duos or all three of them.

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing. You okay, baby?”

“I told you, he was gone for way too long,” replied Mik with a wicked glint shining in his ocean eyes, locking the door behind him.

“As if you two didn’t plan to get me here,” Denali snorted in response, but he couldn’t say he was mad, not when his lovers were walking towards him, grabbing his wrists and pulling him in to close the distance between them all.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it,” Rosé chuckled, reaching up to cradle Denali’s chin in his hand, swiping his thumb gently over Denali’s bottom lip and smirking when he swallowed hard.

“So what, my big birthday present is a romantic bathroom blowie?” Denali tried to make his voice sound sarcastic, but the waver in it betrayed that he was rapidly falling under his boyfriends’ spell, especially when Mik’s hand snaked around to grab his ass.

“Don’t be ridiculous, gorge,” Mik got up on his toes to bite at Denali’s earlobe, tugging it with his teeth as his grip on the other man’s ass got a little firmer. “We’re much meaner than that, aren’t we, Rosie?”

Rosé simply hummed, dropping his hand from Denali’s face down to his belt, undoing it swiftly and plunging a hand into his pants to palm Denali’s cock through his underwear.

“What’re you--”

“ Shh ,” Rosé cut off Denali’s question with a finger on his lips before his other hand slipped below the band of Denali’s underwear. “Why don’t we give you a little temporary relief, huh?”

“Just enough to get you through dinner,” Mik added, winking, and Denali swallowed hard, but melted into his boyfriends’ touches, unable to resist anymore.

—

As it turned out, Denali and his lovers had two very different definitions of ‘temporary relief.’ They edged him mercilessly for the next few minutes, and he came back to the table harder than he’d been when he left, struggling to act natural as he used Mik and Rosé as shields walking in front of him to hide his erection from his friends. Not that they didn’t all know exactly what had gone down; in fact, with the smug bemusement on their faces as he took his seat again, he wouldn’t be surprised if Rosé or Mik outright bragged about it before coming to torment him.

“Just think about how much better everything’ll be after we get home, baby,” Rosé comforted Denali with a wink and a hand tracing up his thigh as they took their seats again, and as much as Denali wanted to pout at the statement, his heartbeat quickened, and he found himself distracted for the rest of their outing. Luckily, his friends took pity on him after dessert was finally finished, all of them just-so-happening to decide they were ‘too tired’ to go to the club and that they should head home for the night. And not a moment too soon, either; Denali swore that Rosé wasn’t even finished telling the cab driver where to go before Mik was loosening Denali’s belt once again.

“When we get home, it’s gonna be all about you, angel,” maintaining at least a modicum of decency, Rosé slipped his hand into Denali’s pants without undoing them completely, Denali’s dick straining against the fabric of his underwear as Rosé got him worked up with deft, teasing fingers. “Anything you want, we’ll give to you.”

“That’s right, it’s your turn to use us ,” Mik threw Denali’s often-used plea back on him with a nip to his neck, smirking against Denali’s skin when the older man whimpered at the sensation.

“Just a few minutes longer, baby boy,” Rosé promised. “Can you be good for us until then?”

Denali was too far gone to do anything but hiss out a needy yes.

—

He wasn't too sure how he managed to get inside Rosé’s apartment without begging them pitifully to take care of the mess they’d created and entertained all night long.

But still, they at least made it all inside, the door duly closed and locked behind them. It was better than some of the times they’d fallen into a passionate embrace right in the middle of the hallways or in the elevator; Denali was sure they had traumatized at least half their neighbors in their respective cities.

He stopped thinking altogether when Rosé firmly pushed him against the door, and Denali felt the sheer need to wipe off his stupid smirk from his face. His wrists were pushed down, restraining his movements and he whined, trying to fight against the hold to no avail.

"Come on, what happened to giving me what I want?"

Rosé merely chuckled, gently deepening one of the marks they had left earlier in the bathroom. Denali bared his neck more, letting his boyfriend do whatever he wanted.

"Baby, I said we'd give you whatever you want, but I know this is what you want, isn't it? Don't you want to use us and guide us in whatever way you want, but only after you're turned on enough?"

Denali hated how right Rosé was, and clashed their mouths together to avoid answering. He was deeply pleased by the soft groan he got in response, finally freeing his wrists while Rosé was distracted.

But that didn't last — while they had both moved a bit farther away from their front door, still kissing, Denali felt soft hands take hold of his wrists again, a warm body pressing itself on his back. Even through his button-up, Denali could feel the heat of bare skin against his spine, shivering and breaking the kiss to turn his head over his shoulder.

He had been wondering where his other boyfriend had gone, and now he had his answer, as Denali saw the mischievousness play in Mik's darkened ocean eyes. "Whatever you want, baby," he murmured softly, relaxing his hold after a moment to let Denali decide what he wanted to do next.

Denali turned around fully, fascinated by how the youngest had taken his time away to remove most of his clothes already, his hands touching his chest almost reverently. Denali felt Rosé push himself against his back, effectively taking Mik’s previous place, and mouthed at his throat.

He sighed contently, bringing Mik closer to him, but raised an eyebrow when he felt something hard push against his thigh. "Baby, did you get all ready for little old me? Bold of you to assume that's what I'd want," Denali snarked with a breathless laugh, feeling Rosé’s hands unbuttoning his shirt with dexterity.

"It's not bold if I know that's what you want in the end, even if you play hard to get," retorted Mik simply, his hands dropping to help Rosé finish undressing their lover.

Denali has seen Mik wearing a strap-on a countless number of times at this point, witnessed firsthand the change in confidence and demeanor simply having the harness fastened onto the younger man’s hips could bring. How Mik’s jaw became set and the mischievous twinkle always in his eyes turned up just an inkling more, and how the planes of his abdomen always framed whatever cock he was wearing in a way that was so tantalizing, Denali almost couldn’t take it. But it didn’t matter how often Mik’s strap brought Denali to his knees; each time was like the first, and tonight was no exception.

“D’you like my new toy, angel?” Mik cooed, stroking along the shaft of the dick waiting between his legs.

It was one Denali felt like he’d seen before, but didn’t remember Mik having - long and thick, with more ridges and a steeper curve than most of the toys Mik had in his collection. In fact, it wasn’t the kind of strap-on Mik usually went for at all. So then…

The memory clicked in Denali’s mind suddenly, his breath catching in his throat as he thought back to about a month ago, remembering just where he’d seen Mik’s new cock before.

Michelada: bbies SOS im dying for a new dick

Michelada: help me pick?

The texts had been followed by three links, different sex stores that were usually their go-tos for toys. Denali remembered perusing each site leisurely, trying to imagine what Mik would look like with each dildo he saw, until finally reaching one that he just couldn’t move on from, one that had looked absolutely perfect and that he’d just known Mik had to have.

One which, perhaps not so coincidentally, was now right in front of him, close enough to touch. And before he could stop himself, he found himself doing just that, reaching forward to wrap his hand around it, feel over its ridges and imagine what they’ll feel like inside of him--

“No,” Rosé slapped Denali’s hand away, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “What’s the rule, baby boy?”

“Come on ,” Denali groaned impatiently, unhappy with having been cockblocked for the umpteenth time tonight. “Isn’t this supposed to be my gift? Just let me--”

“Gifts can be taken away, sweetheart,” Rosé reminded Denali with a low growl, his grip around the younger queen’s waist tightening. “When you want something, what do you have to do?”

As if to hammer in his point, Rosé wrapped his other hand to rest on Denali’s throat, and Denali swore he could hear Rosé’s breath hitch when he swallowed hard against the older man’s palm.

“Please, Mik, please can I touch your cock?”

Mik smiled, taking Denali’s hand and bringing it to his lips to plant a chaste kiss on it before looking back up at Denali. “Wouldn’t you rather put something other than your hand on it, doll?”

Denali’s eyes widened at the suggestion, and before Mik or Rosé could say anything else, he found himself dropping to his knees, grabbing the toy to hold it steady as he licked his lips. “Whatever you say, daddy .”

Seeing Mik shiver at the title was worth every bit of teasing, and Denali couldn’t help but feel a flash of amusement as he finally wrapped his tongue around the head of Mik’s strap.

Denali suddenly remembered how much he enjoyed doing this when he felt his boyfriend’s hips twitch lightly underneath his fingertips, which were resting on Mik's lower body. Nothing but pleasure shot through his veins at feeling his knees press harshly to the cold floor; Mik's hand pulling on his dark hair the more he took him in; and seeing Rosé palming himself from the corner of his eyes.

He wanted a lot of things from them for his birthday, but right now he didn't want to be anywhere else. He didn't want to do anything other than please his youngest boyfriend while their lover watched them, absolutely enraptured. Rosé seemed on the edge of acting up, barely holding back, and Denali didn't want him to.

Rosé had been right earlier, not that he would admit it out loud. Denali wanted to get riled up until he couldn't think of anything else, and only then have the permission to use them without breaking any rules.

He wanted Rosé to make him beg and Denali knew exactly how to handle it so it would happen. "Daddy," he whined, "wanna feel you too…"

Rosé hummed, coming closer to them and ruffled Mik's hair softly, pulling him forward to bite down on his bottom lip. Denali revelled in the groan that Rosé got from their lover, tilting his head in curiosity when he saw the oldest whisper something in Mik's ear. Denali wasn't too sure of what the other two had talked about, but the mirth he witnessed shining in both their eyes as they turned to him was enough. He stayed still, knowing better than to disobey them so clearly.

He’d only let himself be pulled up to his feet when Rosé grabbed his hand, winked, and dragged them both towards his bedroom. Denali didn't know what he was in for, but he trusted them. He knew he'd have a good time, as long as they were all together, the three of them.

—

Denali was eager to know just how far he could stretch the lines of their rules for the sake of being a birthday boy, and that's exactly what he tried — he escaped Rosé's firm hold on his waist to push an unsuspecting Mik down the large bed, watching his ocean eyes widen. Denali knew he needed to take advantage of their position while he still had the upper hand, and shrugged off his button-up and pants in the same breath. He wasn’t surprised to have Mik’s full attention, gaze riveted on how Denali’s dick fully strained against his underwear, picture completed with the wet spot already there. It wasn't surprising with how teasing his boyfriends had been all damn evening, edging him without any care.

Denali let one thigh slide over, effectively straddling a dazed Mik and watching him intently. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosé come closer, a warning playing on his traits, and Denali channeled all his inner strength to turn around. He wiggled his finger in what he hoped was a threatening way.

"Stop," Denali said in a rough, low voice. He was pleased to see Rosé freeze, and continued with a smirk, "Sit. Let me have my fun."

As his boyfriend did what he wished, Denali added on to it, "Y'know what? Why don't you take off your clothes, too, you're a bit overdressed between us three."

Even if Rosé’s hazel eyes narrowed dangerously, he still did what was asked of him, and Denali almost got off on that power alone. "Come here," he mumbled, just as awestruck as Mik had been watching him earlier.

To have Rosé so pliant now clearly meant that he would pay for it eventually, but he didn't mind — he barely got to play with them like this, usually more at ease with being at the entire mercy of their whims.

But it was his birthday, and he could still feel the hot shiver running down his spine when Mik had said Denali could use them. Even if his body wanted to get pushed between them as they ravaged him until the night ended, his mind still wanted to enjoy this rare opportunity.

Obsidian and hazel eyes met like a storm, and eventually, Denali won the stare-down, bringing his free hand to push Rosé down his bed too, the older man going willingly. Their eyes never broke contact, and Denali felt the same need to touch him, make him scream his name endlessly, in whichever way he could.

He had all the power now, both of his lovers down under him, with Denali straddling one and loosely pressing the other one down into the mattress. They were watching him with such love and trust, Denali knew all these weeks away were worth it in the end — just so he could be with them. His heart fluttered when Rosé covered his hand with his own warm one, and when Mik gently stroked along his thick thighs.

Now Denali just needed to get to work, having them both waiting eagerly for his next move.

“I think you should go get the lube," he leaned down until his nose was inches away from Mik’s, the urge to kiss him only spurred on by the way Mik was clearly thinking the same thing. The younger queen was angling his face up, slowly and hesitantly craning to try and close the distance between himself and Denali. But Denali wouldn’t let him, stopping him instead with a hand on his throat, a gentle reminder of the task at hand.

“Earn it,” he challenged, and it was both the right and wrong move.

A fire lit up in Mik’s eyes, and he could feel Rosé shift under his hand. He barely had to process it all--Rosé’s hand on his wrist, Mik’s hands on his shoulders, firm pushes and pulls flipping their positions entirely to pin Denali down again.

“Isn’t he cute, Rosie?” Mik chuckled as he began to work his hands over Denali’s body again, trusting Rosé to pin Denali’s wrists down firmly as he continued to tease him. “He still thinks he’s in charge.”

“Silly thing,” Rosé clicked his tongue, though his smile stayed affectionate as he leaned down to nip at Denali’s jaw. “I said we’d spoil you, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’re the boss here.”

“Please—“

“So bad with manners today,” Rosé cut off Denali's would-be protest with another bite to his jaw, a little harder this time. “Please what, baby boy?”

“Please, daddy, please fuck me, open me up for you, fuck, it’s been so long…”

“Good boy.”

With that, Mik slid away to grab lube and a condom, leaving Rosé alone to attend to Denali.

“What do you need from me?” Rosé landed one more soft bite over Denali’s pulse-point before continuing to travel along the line of his neck, kissing and sucking and teasing with little kitten-licks as Denali squirmed underneath him, savouring each and every sensation.

“Your mouth, daddy, please,” he panted breathlessly as Rosé moved to his collarbone, then down over his chest. “Need you on me.”

“You wanna fuck my face, baby?” Rosé raised his head to look up at Denali, but his teasing didn’t stop; he brought a hand to one of Denali’s nipples, tracing over it with his thumb as Denali nodded resolutely. The tension hardly lasted though; as if right on cue, Mik crawled back onto the bed, eyebrows knit in equal parts curiosity and amusement.

“Who’s fucking whose face now?”

"Well, I think Nali wants me to go down on him and use me, but I'm not sure if he’s earned it," chuckled Rosé, letting one of his hands still roam along Denali's upper chest, teasing the base of his throat. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think… and only because it's his birthday, we can entertain some of his demands. Maybe. If he remembers some manners," smirked Mik, sitting cross-legged and watching them.

"Please, I'll be good, I promise," Denali whined pitifully, trying to get back their attention to him. He watched as his boyfriends traded a gaze, and shivered helplessly underneath it.

"Okay, baby — you'll get my mouth, but if I see you trying to fuck it before you get permission, you can be damn sure it's the only thing you're gonna get tonight, birthday or not," Rosé said in a rough, stern voice. "Do you understand?" he asked, starting his descent, hazel eyes focused on Denali's face.

"Yes, daddy, I do," Denali barely managed to get out, as Rosé had started to trail his lips along his aching dick.

He bit down on his tongue, trying to avoid giving them the satisfaction of seeing how far gone he already was, especially after having them rile him up all evening. He took in a large gulp of air, willing his hips to stay down and not buck wildly, knowing Mik would easily call him out from his position. His ocean eyes were focused on them, trailing down from Denali's face to how Rosé was working him — and he knew his boyfriend. He knew Mik was enjoying the show more than he let on; Denali could see it in the tightening of his jaw and the way his fingers flexed on his own thighs.

Almost against his will, Denali let out a loud moan as he caught Mik's eyes at the same time that Rosé firmly took his cock inside his wet mouth, instantly hollowing his cheeks. He felt his hips twitch, and grasped at the blankets to avoid the temptation of guiding Rosé himself. He needed to be good if he wanted to have his rewards, after all.

"Rosie, fuck , don't stop, please, please," he blurted out, and he caught the mischievousness clear in his lover’s eyes.

Denali was sure Rosé would have been smirking if he could have, without a doubt pleased with himself. Conscient that he had slipped earlier, his self-control waning by the minute, Denali turned to Mik with dazed eyes. "Daddy, please, please , can I just guide him? I'm so close and I've been so good, please!"

He watched as Mik came closer to him, dragging his chin upwards, his fingertips lingering gently along his jaw. His boyfriend seemed deep in thought for a second, but he finally nodded after seeing his clear desperation. "You've been good, baby boy; ask him if he still wants to, but you can."

Denali was about to actually ask Rosé when his boyfriend only took Denali’s hands and brought them to his own head and shoulder, winking. Denali groaned as he felt a stronger suck, and he harshly pulled on Rosé strands of hair, his nails scraping along his scalp. His hips canted up, so close as he was, and when Denali felt Rosé's throat relax around his length, he moaned hoarsely. His head fell back on the pillows, and his back arched, absolutely drained. Denali was left a panting mess as Mik slowly stroked along his forearm. Rosé, on the other hand, was watching him with amusement, making a whole show of wiping off his mouth.

“How do you feel, gorgeous?” Rosé came up beside Denali, kissing him gently on the cheek as the other man tried to catch his breath. It was a good question, given just how much Denali was feeling in that moment--spent, happy, relieved, excited. Calm.

“Like I’m ready for more,” he finally said, unable to help the wry smile that curled at the corners of his mouth, and he could tell by the way both his boyfriends hummed in satisfaction that that was exactly what they were hoping to hear.

“Was hoping you’d say that,” Mik winked as he popped open the bottle of lube, squirting some onto his fingers to coat them. “Now scoot up the bed a little and open your legs.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Denali shivered as slick fingers started to circle his hole, then sighed contentedly when Mik finally eased his fingertips in, leaning down to kiss the discomfort away. He’d missed the warmth of Mik’s tongue against his, along with the soft moans he always let out into his mouth. He felt Rosé’s eyes lingering as he watched them make out, his fingers stroking through Denali’s hair to get him to relax even more.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Mik pushed in a little farther, pumping in and out smoothly while he watched Denali’s face for any signs of discomfort.

But Denali was fine; in fact, he was more than fine. He felt amazing, each rock of Mik’s hand and crook of his fingers sending pleasure that’s almost electric coursing through Denali’s body. But the best part of it all, the sexiest thing Mik was doing?

“You look so pretty like this, baby,” Mik’s eyes shone with love, his voice almost reverent as he scissored his fingers, smiling when Denali let out a mewl. “Taking my fingers so well, so good for me. I love seeing you like this, Nali. Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

God, was that feeling ever mutual.

But Denali was known to be hasty, sometimes even too much for his own good — he wanted more, so much more. He had waited all night for it and yes , coming once already had helped, but not so much when there was something so tantalizing and new he couldn't wait to experience. Denali knew he was supposed to let Mik tease him and play by their rules, but he was struggling to let it play out without doing something. Rosé was far from helping his restraint, too, when he was watching them so intently and letting both his fingertips and his lips roam along their bodies wherever he could reach.

And then Mik crooked his fingers just right, making him whimper loudly, his back arching and hands trying to hold himself steady on his shoulders. "Please," he started, but finished on a breathless moan, as Mik pushed back harsher, and Rosé’s hand brushed against his cock.

"What do you think, Rosie, is he ready for this?"

Denali watched as his two boyfriends eyed each other, seemingly pondering on their next action — if they wanted to take pity on him or make him beg even more. Denali really hoped it would be the first one, because he remembered how Mik’s dick had felt earlier, on his hand and in his mouth. He felt it push against his inner thigh, causing him to tremble lightly. He wanted, no, needed to have him inside, making him see stars as he'd clench around him—

"Look at him, baby. I think he'll snap if we don't give him something soon," smirked Rosé, turning Mik's face to kiss him too, but they didn't have time to deepen it as Denali whined pitifully to get their attention back.

"So needy," cooed Mik, pulling back his fingers finally, kissing the frown off Denali when he suddenly felt empty. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"If you don't fuck me with the dick that I've thought about ever since you fucking bought it in the next thirty seconds, I will never let you touch me again," Denali threatened, hissing in warning when he heard the warm chuckle of Rosé next to him. The older one seemed quite skeptical of what he had said, too. "Don't try me," Denali warned once more, whacking at Rosé's forearm. "Else I'll extend this to you too."

"You're the worst out of us, Nali. Your love language is literally touch. You wouldn't make it," teased Rosé, with that typical smugness.

"Yeah? Wanna see me try it, starting now?!"

However, his threat fell short when he saw Mik hover above him once more, eyes sparkling with mischievousness. "I don't think you wanna start now, this is just starting to get interesting," he advised, his warm hands moving thick thighs farther apart, and Denali lost his breath for a moment. His heart was hammering in his chest with anticipation of Mik's next move.

But it wasn’t Mik who acted first - rather, Rosé reached out to graze his hand down the planes of Denali’s abdomen, fingers scratching down Denali’s stomach and stopping at his pubic bone and lingering there.

“One more time, baby,” he whispered, winking over to Mik before looking down and locking eyes with Denali again. “Be polite, take back your little threat, then we’ll make you feel good.”

There was no way around it; if Denali wanted to be taken care of, he’d have to swallow his pride and do what he was told.

“Touch me. Please ,” he whispered hoarsely, finally giving in to what he’s wanted this entire time. “Touch me. Use me. Ruin me.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth he felt the air in the room change, becoming just a little lighter.

“Let me know if I’m going too fast,” Mik’s voice was gentle, his lips soft and fingers light as he stroked Denali’s cheek, gave him one last kiss. They all knew it was just a gesture--Denali liked it rough, after all, the whole world knew that now--but it was one that meant a lot to Denali just the same.

“Don’t hold back,” he half-ordered, half-pled, and apparently it was all the permission both Mik and Rosé needed.

Denali let out a shaky sigh of relief as Mik finally eased his way in, each ridge and curve of the strap making him shiver as Mik pushed deeper. Meanwhile, Rosé’s hand continued its way down Denali’s body, finally sliding home between his legs to wrap his fingers around Denali’s already-aching cock.

“My, my,” Rosé teased when Denali bucked into the feeling of his lover’s hand on his shaft, only to gasp when Mik began to thrust into him experimentally. “Already excited, are we? Look, Mik, he’s already half-hard again!”

Denali blushed fiercely when Mik looked up and broke into a grin, the sight of his boyfriend’s semi spurring on the rhythm of his thrusts. It was too much, especially when Rosé started to stroke up and down his dick, Mik snapping his hips a little harder to go a little deeper. Denali tried to shy away, tried to hide his face in his hands so that his lovers wouldn't see, but of course neither of them were willing to make it that easy.

“No baby, no being shy,” Mik bit down hard at the juncture of Denali’s neck. “Rosie, make sure he doesn’t get too bashful, yeah?”

It was entirely too easy. Rosé didn’t even break his rhythm stroking Denali’s dick as he grabbed his wrists and brought them up over his head, pinning them down firmly and making it impossible for Denali to wriggle free.

“There we go,” Mik timed his kiss with another thrust and giggled when Denali moaned, trying to squirm for more. “So pretty like this, all blushy and helpless. Doesn’t that feel so much better, angel?”

Denali opened his mouth to answer but Mik picked up speed again, changing his angle slightly, and he found himself lost for words, unable to do anything but mewl as Mik hit up against his spot at a relentless pace.

Stuck between Rosé holding his wrists tightly while he continued stroking him without any trouble even if he squirmed around and Mik still hovering above him and smiling wickedly as he kept his rhythm steady, he wasn't too sure he could last long. Denali could feel the strength of the grasp the youngest had on his hips, knowing that if he kept it up, it would eventually bruise — not that he minded. He enjoyed it. Denali enjoyed it when they left the gentleness behind for a moment, only to rough him up.

He fought vainly against Rosé's hold on his wrist and only got a hum in return, nails digging into his skin. His chest heaved and he arched his back when both his boyfriends decided to go all out at the same time - Rosé twisting his hand just right on his length, lingering on the head to tease him more, and Mik thrusting harshly, his head falling into his neck to moan right against his ear.

"Please," Denali keened, the high-pitched sound resonating against the walls of the otherwise silent apartment.

"Are you gonna come already? Oh baby no, no, that won't do," cooed Rosé, slowing his movements much to the dismay of Denali. He looked desperately at his boyfriend, pleading silently for his cause, but he knew Rosé wouldn't relent, not right now.

"You can hold on a bit longer, no? We just started," Mik smirked, punctuating his statement with a deeper snap of his hips and Denali's head fell back to his pillow. "It will feel better if you let us build it up. Can you do that, baby boy?"

Denali inhaled sharply, trying to recenter himself and not focus entirely on them making him feel so good, on the pleasure building up, but even if he had already come once, the entire night had been enough to rile him up for a good while still.

"Yes, daddy," he answered breathlessly, and he saw the appreciation shine in both his lovers' eyes.

Mik slowed his movements enough for it to feel only teasing inside him, just short of brushing against his spot everytime, and it was driving him absolutely crazy. Added to how he couldn't move his arms, and the lazy strokes of Rosé’s hand against his dick, he just wanted to disobey for once and come now, not later like they wanted.

Denali also knew how it would please them to watch him go wild, trying to keep from misbehaving the best he could. He turned to the only solution he could think of: talking and telling them how he felt, and hopefully it would be enough to distract them from their quest of leading him right into pure madness.

"You feel so good, both of you. Don't want you to ever stop making me feel like this," he started with a hoarse voice, already seeing the effect of it on them. "You’re driving me absolutely insane, please…"

“Tell us just a couple more things,” Mik winked, not breaking his stride, and Denali swallowed hard, waiting to hear whatever idea the youngest had come up with.

“Who’s a pretty boy?”

Fuck. So they were playing this game—not only giving Denali praise but making him praise himself, adding just that touch of humiliation that always put him right on the edge. It was downright cruel, but he was too far gone to fight now. So instead, he played along.

“I am,” he whimpered, earning some faster thrusts and a few flicks of Rosé’s thumb over the head of his cock.

“And who makes the cutest sounds when he’s close?” Rosé followed up, grin positively evil as he quickened his pace a little, making Denali cry out at the overwhelming feeling.

“I do!”

“And who do you belong to, baby, who’re the only ones who can make you feel like this?” Mik was returning to his previous pace now, a fact that was so relieving, Denali almost forgot to answer.

“You, daddy, you and Rosé, only you two make me feel this good, you make me crazy, God, please let me come please—“

“Tell us what you are, sweetheart,” Mik leaned down to whisper in Denali’s ear, his voice taking on a soothing tone when Denali sobbed in response.

“I’m—I—“

Another flick of Rosé’s wrist, a change in Mik’s angle, and Denali couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I’m a good boy, your good boy, please daddy, I need to come so bad, please— oh, oh, fuck, fuck—“

Rosé and Mik must have known he was at his limit, because they didn't ask anymore of him. They just kissed him and praised him and finally, finally told him he could come. Rosé’s hand was painted white with come as Mik continued to fuck Denali through his orgasm, milking out every bit of pleasure they could possibly give him. And by the time he could finally see straight again he didn’t care how tired he was, or how sore, or how much his lovers had tormented him. He was happy and sated, high on pleasure, and he wouldn’t take the feeling back for the world.

He was ready to call it a night, especially after the hectic start of his day, but somehow Denali knew his boyfriends wouldn't stay restless for that long. He just wasn't too sure if he could handle having them all over him for the third time in such a short period, no matter how much he wanted to please them. He felt pleasantly sore all over, and he knew he'd have trouble moving in the next few minutes.

Denali was about to tell Mik and Rosé just that when he heard the rustling of the sheets on the bed, followed quickly by heavy breathing and soft groans. He opened blurry eyes, turning his head towards the side of the mattress.

He was only half surprised to see Rosé hovering above Mik, with the oldest keeping his wrists firmly pinned above his head. Unlike him before, Mik wasn't even trying to squirm underneath their boyfriend, merely trying to kiss him instead, whining when Rosé moved away slightly.

Denali's eyes widened when he caught the free hand of Rosé moving down to Mik's hips, already untying the strap with practiced ease and smirking while doing so. Denali already knew what would happen — he had witnessed it happen so often before with different variations maybe, but it still stayed the same: his boyfriends taking care of each other after he was left fully sated.

He loved to watch them play together and seeing it unfold in front of his curious eyes. They traded roles so easily according to their moods, often without even a need to actually ask out loud. Denali was always eager to know what would happen and this time wasn't an exception.

He had just started to come down to earth, slowly moving himself to sit against the headboard, now with an even better view of his lovers kissing fervently. Rosé was already making a mess out of Mik, and Denali could hear him moan, even if it was slightly muffled.

Denali's dark eyes followed the way Rosé’s arm flexed, relentless with his pacing; he watched as the oldest broke the kiss to tease Mik’s burning skin. When Rosé firmly bit down on his pulse point, Denali could hear Mik pant, finally putting some struggle to the grasp Rosé had on his wrists.

Rosé tutted gently at this, slowing his movements enough to have Mik complain, but Denali figured Rosé was already riled up enough by having taken care of him with Mik earlier, and Rosé promptly picked up back his former speed. From the wicked glint in his eyes, Denali knew Rosé wouldn't stop there and make Mik come just like this, and he sat up straighter against the headboard more than ready to watch them. He wasn't going to miss a single second of it if he had his way.

Denali could feel his body reacting to all he was seeing and hearing, and he hesitantly trailed a hand down his chest, not quite ready to have direct stimulation but also wanting to bank on the warmth he still felt lingering in his lower stomach. And it only increased when Rosé turned a hungry look towards him, licking his lips as he cocked his head towards the youngest.

“Go wild.”

Denali didn’t need to be told twice. They worked in a smooth motion, Denali taking Rosé’s place without so much as a moment gone to waste, kneeling over Mik and boxing him in.

“Can I go down on you?” Denali took his time kissing over Mik’s body, voice full of hope as he whispered the question against his skin. Mik swallowed hard in response, and Denali could practically hear the younger man’s throat as he nodded.

“Need to be opened up, but want your tongue first…”

“Why not both?” Denali winked, and Mik rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.

“Just fuck me already,” he shook his head, still laughing a little.

Denali didn’t have it in him to deny his baby any longer. He began kissing his way down Mik’s body, taking time to explore the places he knew made Mik go wild. And of course it worked—by the time Denali finally made his way to the apex of Mik’s thighs he was nothing but a puddle beneath him, squirming and sighing and very clearly putting effort into keeping his arms on the bed, not grabbing at Denali and pulling his hair like Denali knew he wanted.

“Spread your legs a little wider, angel.”

Denali looked up with wide eyes to see Rosé hovering beside them, hand stroking along his cock as he watched the sight in front of him. With a wink, he tossed Denali their bottle of lube before sitting back on his heels, still stroking himself and waiting.

“I’m not going to deprive you,” Rosé shrugged. “Play with him as much as you’d like, darling. He’ll let us know when he’s ready for me.”

“Please,” Mik added breathlessly, and Denali decided right then and there that he couldn’t wait anymore. He coated his fingers in lube and turned his attention back to Mik, finally setting to work.

Up until then, Denali hadn’t realized just how much he’d taken eating Mik out for granted. How much he’d missed the taste of his boyfriend on his tongue, missed feeling the twitch of his thighs and the buck of his hips under his ministrations. How he’d missed the way Mik’s little sighs and moans clued Denali into exactly what he was feeling as he circled his entrance with wet fingers, easing inside of him slowly and pulling out whimpers that were music to Denali’s ears. He could do this forever, he really could--but he knew that right now, he needed to control himself. Rosé was watching and waiting for Denali’s permission to take over, and Denali wanted nothing more than to see the older man make their boyfriend come undone.

Then again, taking his time meant torture for both of the other men, and after all the shit they’d pulled this evening, didn’t they deserve it?

So he kept going relentlessly, pulling out every move he knew and even trying out some new stuff, until both his boyfriends looked like they were right on the edge of losing control.

Perfect. He had them right where he wanted them — and while he kind of wanted to continue riling them up just for the sheer pettiness of it. For how they had acted all day, Denali also wanted to see them have their moment.

He pulled himself away abruptly, watching with a smirk as his boyfriend helplessly tried to bring him back but to no avail. Denali had already moved back to his original place, easily trading his position with an overly eager Rosé, who had never seemed more ready before. He let one of his hands trail softly along the length of the older one’s arm, their eyes meeting for a few seconds. They shared everything in that simple gaze to be enough that words were unnecessary, but Denali still needed to push through in the near silence of the room, apart from heavy breathing and soft rustling of the sheets. “Take care of him.”

Denali broke into a small grin when he heard the chuckle his boyfriend let out. “You know I always do, but is he really ready?”

“Yes I am, now come on,” Mik loudly whined, grabbing Rosé’s body closer to his own. “And don’t say I’m impatient, just do something!”

Denali watched amusement unfold on Rosé’s expression but he still kept quiet, probably only because he was just as close to losing all his self-control. Denali was well aware that otherwise, Rosé would have just held back to see how much he could get away with before actually fucking him. While neither of them were the best at denying what Mik wanted, both in bed or not, Rosé usually had a better handle on it — especially if the youngest was acting up a bit.

Denali was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a hand squeeze his leg, and he caught smoldering blue eyes watching him. He held his gaze, not wavering when blunt nails dug almost painfully into his skin. Denali only dared to move his eyes away when Mik himself broke their stare down, taking the whole scene in for the first time.

It didn’t matter that he had seen similar scenes so many times before. Something was always fascinating in witnessing his two lovers move so fluidly together, both of them grunting and moaning and whispering sweet nothings at each other between kisses — only for them to enjoy; only for him to see it. Denali watched with rapt attention as one of Rosé’s hands clutched the wrinkled up sheets near Mik’s face, while the other held on to one of his thighs. He was pretty certain that it would come to bruise on his pale skin, but it wasn’t something that bothered any of them.

He watched as one of Mik’s legs hooked around Rosé’s hip, wordlessly encouraging him to continue his actions, as if he would even dare to stop like that. They both were way past the stage of teasing, having taken it out mostly on him before. Denali could see it in how Rosé’s thrusts were already wild and uncontrolled, paces away from the way Mik had controlled his own when Denali had been in his place. He could see it in the thin layer of sweat shining on both their bodies, with how they were both shaking. He could see it in how Mik’s back was arching off the bed, his nails dragging along his leg, only making him more involved in what was happening in front of him — not that Denali wasn’t already with how he was biting down on his already bruised bottom lip, dark eyes focused on them and a hand lazily touching himself.

He had been more or less trying to keep silent and not distract them from their time together, but it was difficult with the kind of show they were putting on for him. Every moan dragged out longer and sounded louder. They purposely exaggerated the deep rocking of their hips so he could clearly see what was happening. It was almost a blessing that Denali had already come twice in a row because otherwise, it would have been a problem. He was more than happy to just give himself a bit of pleasure without any pressure of coming again.

Denali barely caught the rough, low voice of Rosé saying he was close, and his eyes fell to a bright eyed and deeply flustered Mik, knowing without him saying anything that it wouldn’t take that long for him to come either. Not that he needed the indication, with how the indents of his boyfriend’s nails were littered around his leg. Denali was sure he had avoided a few scratches on Rosé’s shoulders and back because of it.

And then he got an idea, a wicked one, and smirked.

“You think you two can come just like this? No, I’m not done watching you yet — it’s still my birthday gift, yeah?”

Denali had to give it to Rosé, he did slow down once his brain caught his words, even if he groaned in displeasure at his intervention. Mik, on the other hand…

“I hate you,” the youngest grumbled, still letting his leg fall off for a second, his head falling back to the pillow now that Rosé was only slowly and shallowly pushing into him. Denali laughed at his misery and shrugged.

“What happened to the ‘we just started’ from earlier? Doesn't that apply to you two as well?”

“Come on, you’re evil,” retorted Rosé, huffing through both annoyance and the strength he needed to keep from bucking wildly as he had been doing before.

“Keep it up and you’re not coming,” he warned in a sickly sweet tone.

“You don’t make the rules —”

“It’s my birthday, I kinda do,” Denali argued, “you two had fun torturing me, so let me do it, too. I’m not that evil, I’m gonna let you come… eventually.”

While neither Mik nor Rosé looked particularly happy about the situation, they didn’t fight Denali any further. He suspected that they couldn’t, not while distracted like this. Their self-inflicted teasing was getting to them both, and Denali felt a spark of smug satisfaction as he watched both of them get closer and closer to cracking. Mik’s cheeks had practically set ablaze with effort and his hips twitched just the slightest bit, clearly unable to lie still completely. That was okay; Denali would give him that at least. After all, the clear effort the younger man was making was surprisingly cute. The fact that he wasn’t quite able to be good, and was unable to control himself completely was even better. Couple that with Rosé’s panting breaths, little whines of need just barely audible underneath that, and it was almost enough to get Denali going again too.

“You both look so precious like this,” he teased a little further as he let his hand wander down slowly between his own legs, beginning to play with himself lazily. “All needy and desperate. Bet it doesn’t feel so good when you’re on the receiving end of it, huh?”

“You like it and you know it,” Rosé retorted, but Mik’s whimper at the taunt betrayed that maybe, just maybe, Denali’s boyfriends were enjoying it just as much.

“Oh, I’m having fun, that’s for sure,” he grinned. “Tell you what, Mik, baby, you’re getting pretty vocal--tell me how you feel, and maybe I’ll let Rosé go a little faster, yeah? It’s only fair, after all.”

He knew he was going to get it the next time they did this, that neither Rosé nor Mik would forget the kind of shit he’d pulled tonight. But he could worry about that tomorrow. Right now, he was set on just enjoying the way Mik was struggling to find his words.

“What, you don’t want more?” he prodded again, grin widening. “Aw, how disappointing. I guess you really can come this way. Okay, Rosie, looks like you’re stuck like this--”

“No, please, fuck , feels so good, but I need more, please, Nali, let me have more?”

Denali couldn’t tell what was hotter--the desperation in Mik’s voice, or the way Rosé looked caught between betrayal and a plea of his own as he looked from Mik back up to Denali, checking for his next move.

“Good boy,” Denali hummed. “Alright, you can fuck for real now. But ,” he added, chest swelling with giddy excitement as he warned, “You both still need to ask to come, and if you don’t come together, then whichever of you would wind up coming last won’t be coming tonight.”

It was a false threat, in reality; Denali planned on pretending to take mercy, to enjoy hearing one of them grovel before he revealed the ruse, if it came to that. But he wasn’t going to let them know that. And in any case, the idea of them coming together?

He couldn’t help but stroke himself a little faster at the thought.

Denali didn't have to wait long to see them fall into action, Rosé instantly picked up back the speed he had from before, while Mik pulled at his hair, getting him closer, almost sobbing in relief. Rosé hummed appreciatively, leaning down even more to capture Mik's little whimpers into his mouth.

Denali let his eyes focus on his two lovers, knowing how close they still were, even when he had interrupted them for a moment. His hand brushed against the head of his cock as he picked up speed, and Denali moaned hoarsely, getting a look from Rosé, and a whimper of his name by Mik.

Denali didn't know if he was going to come once more just by watching them, but he didn't mind. It was enjoyable, and there was almost nothing more satisfying than to witness his two lovers fall off the edge.

He almost lost it himself when Rosé brought a hand down on their boyfriend’s hip, squeezing his bruised inner thigh and making him moan — and Denali might not have had the best point of view with how Mik's raised thigh was hiding it, but he knew what Rosé was doing, and it was more than enough. Especially when the sheer idea of it was mixed up with the high-pitched sounds Mik was letting out now. Denali felt a shiver running down his spine, his chest heaving. Hearing them taking pleasure was always making him crazy, and tonight was no exception. His hips canted up into his tight fist, and he fought to keep his eyes open to watch the scene in front of him unfold until the end.

Denali heard Mik’s scream first, but in his defense, Rosé's moan resonated only a few seconds after, and he stopped stroking himself instantly to the sound, wanting to take it all in without distraction. Vaguely, in the back of his mind, a voice told him they’d disobeyed, hadn’t asked like he’d told them to, but right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was too satisfying to see them both in such pleasure, enjoying each other, enjoying him watching. He didn’t want it any other way.

Both Mik and Rosé were panting loudly, and Mik had his eyes firmly shut, an arm now flung across his eyes as he tried catching his breath under the strength of the orgasm. Rosé on the other hand had more or less no more strength left in his body, falling halfway on top of their boyfriend.

Denali got closer to them, gently stroking along Rosé's spine, the older one arching his back to get more of his touch. He leaned down to push back a few strands of dark hair from Mik's forehead, his boyfriend mumbling something he couldn't pick up. He dropped his body on the bed, staying slightly up on his elbow and waiting for them to come back down fully.

“Hi,” he turned a soft smile towards Mik, who was the first to look up again, the fuzzy, sated bliss in his eyes making Denali’s heart warm.

“ Fuck, that was good, ” Mik let out a breathy laugh in response, wiping the sweat from his brow as a tired smile broke onto his face.

“You definitely put me through the works, I’ll say that,” Denali teased, stooping down to give the younger man a kiss.

“I think you still aren’t done, though.”

Denali and Mik both turn to Rosé, who in the time since Denali had shifted his focus away had pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking them both up and down with a bemused twinkle in his eye. And for a second, Denali isn’t really sure what he means, until he looks down and--

Oh .

“Huh,” Mik looks down at Denali’s semi, eyes wide with half-shock, half-satisfaction at what he and Rosé had done to their boyfriend. “I gotta say, I knew you were pent up, but three times? I’m impressed.”

Denali blushed fiercely, the heat in his face only intensifying when Mik and Rosé both tittered at his reaction.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” Rosé teased, scooting closer and running a hand up Denali’s thigh. “It’s okay. Here, I know you’re tired--let us take care of you one last time, then we can relax, yeah? How does that sound?”

Denali weighed his options for a moment, but shook his head, unable to stifle a yawn as he did. The truth of the matter was, he already knew he’d be sore tomorrow, especially after everything he’d been through today. He didn’t need to add a broken dick on top of that, since he knew how relentless his boyfriends could be. He’d need to be in tip-top shape for the next week, otherwise he’d never survive.

Besides, there was a part of him that kind of felt like he didn’t actually need anything more, no matter how much his boner tried to say to the contrary. He’d been lavished with attention all evening, every need met for him, and even watching his boyfriends just now--sure, it turned him on, but his satisfaction with the display had gone beyond that. Because it wasn’t just sexy seeing Rosé and Mik fuck, it was also just plain nice for lack of a better word. Hearing Mik’s moans, seeing Rosé’s hips buck in such a wild, yet measured way--it filled Denali with a sense of contentment that was second to none. After all, there was nothing better than seeing Mik and Rosé happy, engaged with and enjoying each other as they played together. In Denali’s mind, that was the real treat of seeing them fuck, so really, did he even need anything else?

“I’m good,” he shrugged, moving up the bed to lie back against the pillow and making grabby-hands at both his boyfriends. “Now c’mere and cuddle me, will you?”

Rosé and Mik both obliged happily without another word.

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #gottmik #rosé #denali foxx #denali x gottmik x rosé #smut #canon compliant #poly #trans character #writworm42 #fromthenorthernskies #tw daddy kink

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marshunter06 · 3 years

Text

Fuck Off, Excuse Me! Part 3

Cause this is apparently gonna be a thing now... Part 1 and Part 2 can be found here! Keep in mind the chapters are short and idk where I’m going with this. Also it’s not edited and updates will be random since irl is kicking my butt right now

Last class of the day and it’s history, which means she’ll have to make it through an hour with her soulmate. Given that she’s the class president, her teacher asks Courtney to show him the ropes and get him caught up with the rest of the class. She’s way ahead of the material, it only makes sense for her to help him out, she couldn’t even argue her way out of this. Besides, she has no reason to shy away from another responsibility when she’s not supposed to know this guy.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me Princess.”

“Just stay on your best behavior, neither of us want anything to do with each other, let’s just agree to stay out of each other’s way.”

“Who said I didn’t want anything to do with you, especially since we’re…”

“Shhhh! Do not finish that sentence!”

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid people will get the wrong idea?”

“We don’t know each other, maybe it’s a mistake.”

He rolls his sleeve down enough so that she can see her name inked on his skin, for her sake he does keep quiet, but a part of him hates that she wants to hide their bond. The hurt in his eyes is a dead giveaway, she looks away, a profound sadness sinks into her heart. Is this how he feels? Can soulmates feel each other’s pain? When she gets home, she’s determined to look up every piece of information about the soulmate phenomenon.

“You can’t even believe the truth when it’s right in your face. I can’t be the only one trying here.”

“All you’ve done is get on my nerves the entire day!”

“... I don’t need to explain myself to you. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

His ice blue eyes harden, as he turns to their assignment that they should’ve been working on. The moment he looks away, she feels the burning sensation on her arm again, though not as intense. She’s certain he must feel it too, but he doesn’t meet her gaze for the rest of class. She barely manages to finish the worksheet before the bell rings releasing them from school. Her heart is heavy as she gathers her belongings as they continue to avoid eye contact. It’s a bit awkward when they both have to head towards the parking lot to get to their cars. The sound of the revving of a motorcycle snaps her out of her thoughts. She smiles when she sees those familiar green eyes belonging to the one other person she tolerates at this school.

“Surprised to see you get out of class on time. Doesn’t Miss Class President have a club to attend to?”

“Well Mr. Vice President, it would do you well to remember that student council had to cancel this week’s meeting.”

“That’s why you’re the president.”

She laughs when he winks at her, the moment is short lived when she feels an angry presence behind her. Duncan is fuming, she immediately wants to explain herself, but then she remembers they’re not speaking. This is further proof that they do not know each other. She can tell he’s ready to cause a scene, making claim over her when he has no right, she meets his glare with a defiant stare.

“Who the fuck...”

“You will not speak to him this way. Trent’s been here longer than you have.”

“So he’s the reason why you won’t…”

“Don’t pretend you know anything about me. We just met Duncan, so don’t push it.”

“You know why I’m acting like this.”

“And I don’t care. This doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re not even giving this a chance.”

“Why should I?”

“Because…”

“Court? Is he…”

She lets out a sigh, it’s bad enough that Bridgette found out, now Trent knows too. She can feel a headache coming on, rubbing her temples, she decides to exit the conversation. All she wants is to go home and forget any of this happened. Concerned, Duncan reaches over to touch her, she gently pushes him away not ready to make up yet.

“Can we do this another time? I can’t think straight right now.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“Thanks, Cate will be happy to see you.”

Duncan wants to protest, he doesn’t like seeing her so close to another guy, especially when they seem to know each other so well. Soulmate or not, there are those who will still try and compete to win the heart of the one they desire. She doesn’t even give a backwards glance as she hops on the back of Trent’s motorcycle, riding away from the guy who’s supposed to be her other half.

#duncney #couldn’t resist including the Trentney brotp #FOEM!

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s R&S - Six out of Seventeen (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (“十七分之六”) will not be released in EN or any server as it’s one of the cancelled R&S which came with the Dream Heart Lake gacha event!🍒

This is a full translation, so you can follow along with the narrator if you want to!

Summary: Victor has been persistent in one thing for seventeen years. The part he lets other people know about is simply six out of seventeen.

Other cancelled Victor R&S:

> flashback

> paradise on earth

> so-called disparity

[ Chapter 1 ]

The first time he recognised his powerlessness was during that failed escape.

The second time was the sense of loss when his mother passed away.

The third time was when he faced the boundless sea of faces, at his wit’s end.

Victor will not say that he searched unceasingly for the girl for seventeen years.

It’s akin to how people talk about being secretly in love: Although they might say “I’ve harboured a crush on him/her for so many years”, “I’ve continued following him/her on social media all these years”, ultimately, they will not delay the things they have to do.

To Victor, “finding the girl” had a similar concept.

He will not enumerate how many hours and minutes he spent on this matter of “finding the girl”. One, there was no point in doing so. Two, he was slightly worried - what if he discovered that the problem which had been entrenched in his heart for such a long time was actually very trivial... what would he do then?

However--

It’s akin to how people talk about being secretly in love: Although he had no idea how the other party looked like now, the palpitations from back then, and the blurred face in his dreams always motivated him to press onward. Exactly because he couldn’t set it down, it turned into a permanent, clear moonlight in his heart.

To Victor, “finding the girl” remained the same as always - this matter was on track, even after he established his business.

After all, Victor was only eleven years old when the incident happened. As a young student, his abilities were limited. At the time, all he could do after school was check in on places the girl would often visit, but his investigations didn’t go smoothly. On one hand, his understanding of the girl was already extremely limited. On other other hand, the inside story of what happened during the orphanage incident was undisclosed.

He could have received some measure of support from his parents if he asked. But after going through the kidnapping, Victor understood that it would be better if fewer people knew about his superpower.

He wasn’t afraid his parents wouldn’t believe him. It was just that he was afraid his parents may get “implicated” in his personal secret. What if they ended up like the girl...

This was the reason why teenage Victor chose to delay the matter of “finding the girl” - not give up, but delay it.

At that age, Victor already understood the importance of preparation. In the years ahead, he was a good student in the eyes of teachers, a good student who looked as though he was perpetually in a bad mood, taciturn, and a bit heavy-hearted.

Even till he graduated from high school, none of his schoolmates knew about the kidnapping Victor experienced in childhood, and nobody knew that he had been continuously collecting materials related to back then. However, his roommates all knew that a girl’s name would occasionally surface when he talked in his sleep.

It’s thanks to this that nobody ever spread rumours about the girl. At an age where everybody loved to joke at another’s expense, nobody ever used Victor as a joke.

[ Chapter 2 ]

The first year Victor entered university was also the time social networking gained traction.

The reason why his business could develop at such a rapid pace was to a large extent attributed to social networking, which gave rise to the theory of Six Degrees of Separation.

Unfortunately, the social networking which helped Victor establish his business was unable to provide much assistance in “that matter”.

It wasn’t that Victor didn’t search for posts pertaining to the orphanage incident, but the content was mostly meant to attract attention.

Some who were steeped in fantasy said that the orphanage incident back then was the result of vampires causing trouble, and the orphans discovered in it were actually sustenance reserves for the vampires. Some who were more realistic made an analysis and claimed that it was a relatively large-scale child trafficking situation. Some who were inclined towards sci-fi asserted that it was an attack launched by aliens who had plans to take the children back to their planet to conduct experiments...

While Victor felt disappointed by such results, they were within his expectations. After all, the official materials which were disclosed back then were already limited to begin with, and the other children who were involved were too young, and lacked as clear a memory as he did - after being rescued, they had high fevers and may have even thought everything was simply a dream.

To Victor, all these arguments confirmed his deductions: He couldn’t use layman methods to find her.

As such, Victor hired a private investigator in the year he graduated from university.

Contrary to popular belief, private investigators existed among the people in the city.

It’s just that they generally had a different identity, and it was difficult to find them without a recommendation from someone else. Victor managed to locate this private investigator from a recommendation by one of his men. At that point, LFG had already established itself to a certain level. When the detective, whose surname is Bao, heard from the middleman that LFG’s Victor was looking for him, his first reaction was -

“CEO Victor, we have to make something clear. If this has to do with a company-related scheme, I don’t wade in such muddy waters.”

“Teacher Bao.” Addressing him as “teacher” was part of his upbringing and etiquette. However, the sentence which followed after was far from polite. “Do you know about the kidnapping incident which occurred in the orphanage eleven years ago?

He asked the other party to investigate the truth of what happened back then, along with an open reason - as a victim of the incident, he had the right to know.

“CEO Victor, telling me about this right after we just met... does this count as you having trust in me?”

“CEO Liang recommended you, and I trust him.”

Without saying anything else, Victor and Detective Bao agreed on a quarterly report, and then sent him out politely.

On the night of the conversation, the old detective received a payment much higher than the agreed remuneration. Only then did he believe that the guy he saw in the afternoon was truly what CEO Liang called an “awe-inspiring business elite”.

And he experienced the shrewdness of this “business elite” when he presented his first report three months later.

[ Chapter 3 ]

That day, Old Bao gave a voluminous speech spanning a full hour, thinking Victor would give one or two phrases of praise. Even a nod would have sufficed. However, he didn’t expect that after listening to the report, all Victor did was to move his fingers.

Victor’s slender fingers curled inwards, and he pointed towards a box in the corner.

“CEO Victor, this is?”

Ever since he withdrew from the media, Old Bao had not experienced many great storms. But he would never forget the answer Victor gave him. He said it lightly, but it could cause the listener to vomit three litres of blood.

“You’ve passed the test.”

It turns out that the box contained all the materials Victor collected over the years - some official and some not. 90% of the content was mentioned in Old Bao’s report - and that was what Victor based his “you’ve passed the test” on.

Because most of his clients were introduced by friends, goodwill was a guarantee provided by the middleman, which was why most of the transactions could be settled during the first meeting. But for someone like Victor...

It was the first time Old Bao met such a person.

So, he had been busying himself for nothing over the past three months? This report was basically just a test for him set up by Victor?

There was a particular moment when Old Bao really wanted to walk straight out the door. But for some inexplicable reason, this idea was throttled to death at the cradle.

Perhaps it was curiously. Perhaps it was the gut instinct of a detective--

He wanted to know what exactly Victor wanted to search for - to the extent that he didn’t hesitate to waste three months’ worth of time.

Thus, on such a foundation, their partnership commenced.

If it was because of curiosity at the beginning, a moment of impulse was what prevented Old Bao from rejecting this business. If he were to persevere, he had to find a motivation to tide him through long-term. After all, Old Bao would sometimes ask himself:

Why did he make the “humiliating” decision to provide his services to Victor? Purely out of curiosity? That was enough to cause him to throw his pride away? Isn’t his time also time?

Fortunately, every time Old Bao questioned his life, remuneration would be funnelled into his bank account, helping him find a new direction in his lost state.

Apart from this, having a new understanding of Victor was also another reason why Old Bai eventually made steady progress.

If he were to label Victor at the very beginning, it would be “taciturn”, “stern”, “proud and formidable”. After the first report, a few more labels would be added - “shrewd”, “meticulous” and “deserving to be called an elite”. However, as they interacted for a longer time...

Most of these were torn down by Old Bao himself.

After working with him for a year, he deduced that Victor’s patience and temper were actually much better than what he expressed on his face. Even though there was little progress in his investigation most of the time, he didn’t receive the severe criticism he expected, and the agreed-upon remuneration didn’t diminish because of it.

Faced with one after another of disappointing reports, Victor’s response would just be a few words, in keeping with his style -

Definite and decisive, resolute and persistent.

[ Chapter 4 ]

Sometimes, an inner struggle would surface in Old Bao’s mind: Could Victor have known that the girl was actually no longer on this earth, and his way of searching for a needle in a haystack was a form of coping? If that was the case, he’d just have to cooperate with Victor in acting out this charade, and he’d be able to earn a lot of money.

No, no, you can’t lack a conscience, especially as a detective. Since I’ve already accepted his money, I should carry out his work properly.

After three years of working with him, Old Bao felt as though he had waded into far muddier and complicated waters than a company-related scheme - clues to finding the girl were cut a few times. But as he dived further into the orphanage incident, a few questions started to be brought to the surface:

If the girl simply died in the accident, why was it that apart from her death certificate, most of her information had gone missing? If the kidnapping at the orphanage was just a simple incident, why did most of the people related to it vanish?

The overly conscious effort to cover up the matter could instead prove a few truths. For instance, there were huge stakes behind the orphanage kidnapping. For instance... that girl could still be alive, just that she had gone incognito and has had a change in identity.

After six years of working together, Old Bao finally fiound a key piece of information.

At the same time, he also understood the necessity of the test back then. When Victor told Old Bao his true objective, it was essentially entrusting his biggest secret into the hands of a stranger.

Old Bao examined himself. If he were in Victor’s position, he wouldn’t have been able to do it better than Victor did.

Old Bao suddenly understood why CEO Liang, who had only worked with Victor a few times, was so full of praise for Victor back then.

Since he had found important information, following the clues would be a quick task. Old Bao knew that their employer-employee relationship would not continue for much longer. With regards to this, he had mixed feelings.

One one hand, he felt as though a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. After being troubled by this issue for so long, there was finally a clue. On the other hand... he was reluctant to let go - after all, it had been a full six years.

He didn’t know whether he’d be able to meet someone as remarkable and talented as Victor in the future.

Such an appreciation transcended gender and age. It was a natural inclination humans have towards good things.

At the same time, he also hoped that Victor’s future could be smooth-sailing, and that he wouldn’t need to look for people like him to resolve troublesome matters.

This was a sincere blessing from a member of the older generation to a member of the younger generation.

As Old Bao tackled with this secret inner struggle, it was truly “speaking of the devil”. His phone screen lit up, and he received a new message, the contents containing only eight words:

“Investigate HBS. We will talk in detail tomorrow.”

“This person, he’s really...”

Without even looking at the sender, Old Bao already knew who this message was from. He felt an uncontrollable smile inch up his lips. Old Bao shook his head resignedly, and he didn’t know if he was mocking himself or feeling rueful. He continued.

“Really... very contradictory.”

Other cancelled R&S: here

Lucien’s cancelled R&S (by other user): here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc victor #cncancelled #after translating three r&s consecutively I came to the conclusion that #it doesn't matter how young or old you are #male or female #nobody can resist Victor's charm

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blueluneacy · 5 years

Note

Hello!! I’d like to request “Don’t ever fucking forget that you’re mine.” with TA Jotaro( I didn’t know I needed him as a TA until I came across your blog and now I’m hooked 🥵). Thanks and have an amazing day!

I combined these two, I hope you don’t mind. In my defense, this got to over 2k words, so maybe that makes up for it, haha. Anyways, yeah, TA Jotaro is for those who like older men but aren’t looking for the commitment of being Jolyne’s step parent, and that’s the tea. Also, yandere because that’s all I’ve been writing with these requests. This is sort of a follow up from my last TA Jotaro from the other prompt list. Hope you guys enjoy it!Warnings are: not sfw, slight breathplay, yandere, dubcon, possessive behaviors

Maybe trying to switch your section wasn’t the best idea, but you couldn’t help it. He just freaked you out too much with his confession last time, you shuddered at the thought of having to enter that lab room again to see his smug face. So, you went to your Academic Advisor, begging for some way to change lab sections. You might see Jotaro in lecture, but there was nothing he could do there, nothing to point you out.

“But I don’t understand. You seem to be doing fine in the class, and you’re halfway through the semester. What exactly is the problem?” Your advisor asked you, and you shifted in your seat. God, this was uncomfortable.

“I… Don’t get along with my lab partner.” It was a simple lie, you thought, but your advisor wasn’t impressed. They leaned closer.

“Can’t you talk to the TA or the professor to change it? Or are you trying to file a harassment complaint?” They asked, and you immediately went into panic mode. The last thing you wanted was to see your friend get into trouble. You had considered filing something against Jotaro, but you mulled it over and decided that absolutely no one would believe you. After all, you were some lowly biology student with an average grade and Jotaro was a straight A student in the doctorate program. Sure, he was rough and kept to himself, but if anything, that would make your complaint even more unbelievable. Not to mention, you feared what he might do if he found out about your complaint…

“N-No, he’s fine, I just… Really want to switch, okay? P-Please, I’ll take anything!” You pleaded, and your advisor just sighed.

“Well, with your schedule, we can put you in another lab section at the same time just across the hall, but that’s all I can do for you.” They told you, and you swallowed. What if Jotaro caught you going into that lab? What would you do?“I… Is there really no way we can move something else around to-” You tried to tell your advisor, but they cut you off.

“Look, you clearly have something going on you don’t want to talk about. I’ll move you to another lab if you want, just this once. I’m not supposed to do this without a formal complaint.” They told you, and you relented, nodding a bit.

“Alright, I’ll change your schedule and email your teacher. It’ll take a bit to go through, so you’ll have to go to your old lab one more time. If you want this canceled, you’ll have to come to me by Friday.” She told you, and you gasped. Just one more lab, and you could be free, or at least, less anxious. It wasn’t the best, but it would make you feel better about going to class. If only you had realized that the email to your professor would be forwarded to the person you were trying to avoid.

You got to lab the next day, and it seemed to go off without a hitch. Jotaro didn’t even speak to you at all. You got your lab data easiest, even sitting and doing the questions in your handbook after you finished collecting your data.

“Hey, (y/n). I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for a meeting. I didn’t realize this lab would take so long, could you please clean up for me?” You turned to see you lab partner, practically in a begging stance. You looked around to see about 70 percent of the class still here. Ah well, it was still safe enough.

“Yeah, sure thing! Go ahead, I’ll be done here soon!” You told him, and he sighed in relief. So, you were left alone. You moved to cleaning and sat back down with your questions, thinking they wouldn’t take that long. They really didn’t, in a way. You just underestimated how long everyone else would take. You had fallen into a focused trance, not even realizing how quickly the class was becoming empty.

“Hey. (y/n).” You looked over to your TA, only to see you two were alone. You swallowed, grabbing your book bag and throwing your stuff in. Maybe if you booked it, you could get away from whatever horrible confrontation you were about to endure.

“Hey. Don’t be like that, come and sit down.” Jotaro told you, his voice forceful. You swallowed, moving over to his desk with shaky steps. You sat down, but Jotaro didn’t even bother with any sort of pleasantries, standing over you as he immediately went to what was bothering him.

“I got forwarded a certain email from your Academic Advisor.” You felt your blood turn cold. God, why didn’t you think of that? You should’ve just scheduled a makeup lab, but then you would have to deal with Jotaro again, and you couldn’t help but start shaking.

“I-I… Jotaro, I just… T-This isn’t professional-” You tried to find some sort of excuse, but Jotaro just scoffed, leaning in closer. He bent down to get closer to your eye level, leaving you to just sink in your chair as he got closer.

“Funny to think I would allow you out of my sight.” Jotaro just told you matter of factly, and you opened your mouth to try and say something, anything in return, only for Jotaro to lean in and kiss you roughly, shoving his tongue into your mouth and leaving you whimpering. You squirmed slightly, only Jotaro to scoop you just from that chair, turning and pinning you again his desk. He pulled away, moving to leave bites and bruises on your neck.

“J-Jotaro, please…” You whimpered, and you heard a rumble from his chest as he squeezed your hips, starting to grind against you. You gasped slightly, squirming a bit more.

“That’s it… I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll forget about this little escape plan you’ve got going through your head.” He told you, reaching under your shirt to play with your nipple. You whined a bit and squirmed, trying to get out of Jotaro’s hold. Your head felt foggy as you battled between wanting to escape and wanting more. You couldn’t deny the simple pleasure being under Jotaro gave you, and you felt all the more ashamed for it. You felt yourself relaxing slightly under Jotaro’s touch, causing a small smirk to cross his face.

“Do you like that? Do you like when tease you like this?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You whimpered and looked away, hoping to hide some of your shame. Jotaro growled and pulled on your nipple, causing you to let out a small, high pitched squeak.

“Answer me when I ask you a question.” He warned you, and you were ready to babble out anything just to avoid whatever awful things Jotaro was considering.

“Y-Yes, I… I like it Jotaro…” You whimpered, and he just smiled, pushing up against you. You could feel his erection straining through his pants, and you just swallowed. “Good… So tell me, why did you want to leave?” He asked, pressing small kisses against your jawline.“Why would you want to give up what made you feel good?” His wandering hand left your chest and traveled lower, tugging at the hem of your pants. He wanted a reply, you could tell. But formulating a response was proving to be difficult.

“I… I um… I just thought that… That since you’re my teacher, I…” You mumbled, trailing off. Luckily, Jotaro seemed to get the hint.

“You didn’t want the trouble of teacher student relations?” He asked, and you nodded quickly. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but who cared. It might get Jotaro off you, even. He sighed and pulled away slightly, looking over your shaking form with those cold blue eyes. It was like the cold indifference in them never left, even when he claimed he loved you. Maybe it was all a game to him. You couldn’t really be sure.

“Probably the smart thing to do, in reality. It would save a lot of strife.” He told you, and you immediately perked up. God, this was working? Thank god.

“Y-Yes, exactly! Oh, Jotaro, thank you for understanding, I thought that you would be mad, I’m so glad-” You were cut off by Jotaro grabbing your throat, and you squeaked, immediately clawing at his hand. He wasn’t squeezing you tight or blocking your airway, but it was a definite warning. If you know what’s good for you, Shut. Up.

“Mad? Oh, I’m fucking furious, darling. To go behind my back like that…” He squeezed slightly, and you just gasped, looking up at Jotaro with wide eyes. For a moment, you were nervous for your life. A few tears fell from your eyes, and he paused for a moment, letting go of your neck to wipe away your tears with his thumb.

“Well… You didn’t know any better. I’ll have to teach you to know better.” Jotaro told you simply, and before you could even ask what he meant by that, he was pulling at your zipper, trying to remove your pants. You squeaked and squirmed a bit, Jotaro letting out a small growl.

“Fucking hold still. I’m trying not to rip them. Or do you want to walk back to your dorm exposed?” He asked, and you gulped, trying to slow your squirming. Nothing you did was going to stop Jotaro now. You gasped as he finally got your pants off, haphazardly throwing them to the side. You gasped at the cold of the lab room you could now feel on your legs and tried to curl up, embarrassed by how exposed you were. Jotaro just let out a hum, spreading your legs gently. You looked up at him and let out a small mewl as Jotaro started to feel you through your underwear. As shameful as it was, it was hard to hide that you were just as turned on by this whole affair. You made a note to see a counselor later to examine where the hell this was coming from. Either way, Jotaro seemed pleased with your reaction, toying with you as you moaned and mewled at his touch.

“Hm. Seems that you’re just as ready as I am.” He told you, letting go of you only to move to his own trousers, pulling them off easily. When it came to his underwear, well. You gasped when you saw him, swallowing a bit. He was huge, and you felt yourself pulling away slightly as Jotaro pumped himself a few times, groaning slightly.

“J-Jotaro, I don’t think it’ll fit…” You told him, and he just sighed, pulling you closer and spreading your legs as wide as they would go.

“Fuck, we’ll make sure it fits, don’t worry.” Jotaro said, lining up with your entrance and grabbing onto you tight, leaning against you as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You cried out at the sting of the stretch, still squirming a bit.

“Fuck… You’re so tight…” Jotaro groaned. His body begged him to pound into you, but he kept still, trying to let you get used to him inside of you. You whined slightly, taking deep breaths as the sting slowly faded away, leaving you feeling full. You never realized how empty you felt inside until Jotaro filled you up, nor did you expect the pleasure to seep into you when he started to gently rock his hips.

“Is this okay?” He asked, and you looked up at Jotaro not to see coldness, but such eyes of adoration. You gasped, feeling the heat in your belly start to coil.

“Y-Yes, it feels good…” You replied. Why were you admitting it? That could only bring you more strife later, and yet, you didn’t care much about that now, only moaning out as Jotaro started to speed up his thrusts into you.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing around me… And you were trying to run away from this?” He asked, giving a particularly hard thrust into you, leaving you to moan loudly. He chuckled slightly, keeping up the rough thrusts.

“That’s it. Moan for me, tell me exactly how I make you feel.” Jotaro growled, leaning in to mark up your neck, and you wrapped your arms around him to try and pull him closer.

“F-Feels so good, Jotaro! P-Please, fill me up! Fuck me, please!” You cried out, clawing at Jotaro as you squeezed around him, trying to milk his cock of all you could. Jotaro actually gasped at that, grabbing your hips tighter and pounding into you as hard as you could. You only moaned, feeling your own release approaching as Jotaro fucked you in earnest. You felt a hand move to your chest, playing with you again, and you just groaned, all you could think about was how good it all felt.

“J… Jotaro… I’m close, I’m sooo close, please…” You gasped out, your voice like a little squeak under a wave of Jotaro’s growl and grunts. He still somehow heard you, and actually… Slowed down? You whined and squirmed, already questioning why on earth he would stop and even more, begging for him to continue. But, he just hushed you, thinking for a moment.

“Now then, is it too late for you to come back to my class, or will you be across the hall?” He asked, almost bored, and you just gasped.

“W-Why does it matter? I thought that it would be safer if I wasn’t your student…” You told him, still squirming slightly, but Jotaro grabbed you tightly, keeping you still.

“You’re not leaving my class. Understand? Now, is there time to fix this?” He asked, and you whimpered a bit.

“Y-Yes… They said it would be confirmed over the weekend… I had to go by Friday if I wanted it changed…” You told him, shaking again.

“Wonderful, so…” He leaned in close to your ear, his voice husky as he spoke to you. “You’ll have it fixed later. Right?” He asked, and you would’ve thought his voice so innocent in his request if the grip on your hips didn’t tighten the way they did. You gulped. Even if it was a lie, it would be impossible to say no to him in this situation. You looked away, not wanting to look him in the eye while you said it.

“… Yes Jotaro. I’ll talk to them later and have it fixed…” You mumbled, but it was enough for Jotaro, who just took the signal to pound into you like before, leaving you surprised but your body oh so please. It didn’t take long for Jotaro to build you up to the point you were at before, and you just cried out and moaned.

“Ah, Jotaro, please! Please, let me cum, please!” You begged, and Jotaro groaned, nearing his own metaphorical edge at your words.

“Fuck, do it, baby. Cum for me. God, you’re all mine. Don’t ever fucking forget that you’re mine.” He growled, and you just babbled out in reply, not even listening to the words that were coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, Jotaro, all yours! Only yours! F-Fuck, Jotaro-” You cried out, finally feeling that wave of absolute euphoria have over you as you cried out Jotaro’s name. Jotaro kept fucking you all the while, his thrusts becoming sloppy until he finally came as well, releasing deep inside of you. You could barely make out what he was saying all the while.

“Mine, mine, mine, mine, fuck, mine…” He groaned, both of you collapsing slightly after the deed was done. The only noise in the room was your panting and a sloppy kiss Jotaro gave you, which you gratefully returned. When he finally pulled out, you could feel his cum slip out slightly and you shuddered, the emptiness feeling all that much more lonely.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before I take you over there.” Jotaro told you, pulling his own clothing back on. You were still a bit too hazy to quite understand what he meant, looking over at him with half lidded eyes. Really, what you’d like most is to sleep.“Where are we going?” You asked in such a cute breathy tone, and Jotaro could swear he just fell in love with you all over again, not that he’d show it.

“To your advisor. We need to get your mistake fixed.” He told you, and you just gasped.

“Can’t we do it later? I’m sleepy…” You complained slightly, knowing damn well you wouldn’t be able to walk straight after the pounding Jotaro gave you, but he just sighed, shaking his head.

“Good grief. Don’t you listen? I already told you.” He leaned in close, giving you a kiss on your forehead that felt like the same cold Jotaro always radiated.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

#jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jjba/reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo/reader #jotaro x reader #jotaro/reader #my writing #mine #writing #yandere x reader #yandere/reader #not sfw #Anonymous

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love-toxin · 4 years

Text

Holi-day 3; unwrapped.

a/n: holiday countdown day 3. denki’s poor darling can’t afford the perfect present for him...well, what they think is the perfect present. possessiveness, stalking implications, established relationship, college u.a au, jealousy, toxic relationships.

word count: 1.5k

“Aw, c’mon..”

It was exactly what you were praying wouldn’t happen, yet you had expected just as much.

Thumbing the price tag in your hand, you sighed as you mulled it over, but in the end you had to place it back on the shelf and walk away. It was such a terribly familiar feeling--after weeks of searching, listening in, and scouting online, you had finally found what your boyfriend wanted so badly: the newest model from his favourite brand of headphones. They had about a dozen new features; a built in microphone, a rechargeable detached battery, excellent noise-cancelling, and a list of others that was so long you couldn’t hope to try and remember them all, and Denki’s old pair was so old and well-used that it seemed to be the perfect present for him.

And then you saw the price.

You wanted to bang your own head against a wall, absolutely baffled at how you hadn’t realized just how expensive they were going to be. They were totally out of your price range, and even with the extra bonus you’d gotten from work, you were still a struggling student with bills and loans to pay off.

Shifting the strap of your bag, you made your way through the busy crowd of fellow shoppers, your shoulders weighed down with disappointment. You were certainly used to not being able to afford certain things, but this just felt like another kind of failure altogether. But, taking a moment to pause, you straightened out your posture and gently smacked your cheeks to bring yourself back to earth--even if it was disheartening, you still needed to get a gift for your boyfriend. And surely, with so many shops sprawling ahead of you, there had to be something you could-

“..What are you doing here alone, kitten?”

You let out an embarrassingly loud shriek, whipping around at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder--but when you turned to face your attacker, you were met with a pair of bright eyes, and a mouthful of pearly white teeth, in a smile that mocked your own fright.

“De..Denki! Don’t scare me like that…”

Though you huffed at him, he only chuckled in that carefree way of his, leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek as he pulled you in by your jacket. If there were two things he did that you ever found a bit strange, it was how unashamed he was of public affection, and the odd way he seemed to pick you right out of a crowd. Even with a thousand people in this area alone, he was always able to sniff you out like a dog to a spoonful of peanut butter.

“Aw, were you scared, kitty-cat? Don’t worry, your hero’s here to protect you!”

At this point, he was getting handsy enough that you felt the need to pull him off to the side, the noise a bit quieter off to the edge of the wide corridor. Sometimes he just couldn’t contain himself, and the last thing you needed was to have someone spying in on your private little love affairs...

“You looked so disappointed, baby...did something happen?”

Denki’s good spirits disappeared quickly though, his arm around your waist to keep you close, and concern filling his eyes at the low way you were carrying yourself. But you couldn’t help it, either--it just felt like you had yet to claim a victory today.

“...Nobody hit on you, right? Did someone touch you? Was that why you got scared?”

His voice got quiet. You knew you needed to cut in soon, else he let his mind run amok--there was no telling what train his brain would hop on, if left to his own thoughts. Especially with how downright possessive he could often be over you.

“No, Denki, I promise. It’s nothing, really. C’mon, I still have some shopping to do, so let’s go together!”

You kissed him on the lips, swiftly taking his hand in yours and turning to trot off to the next store--but you felt some resistance, and looking back, you saw that Denki hadn’t moved from his spot.

He didn’t look upset anymore. Behind those eyes was anger, seething and dormant--but not for very long.

“Give me his name, honey. And afterwards, I promise, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“What? Denki...you’ve got the wrong idea. I think you’re overreacting-”

You tried to feign ignorance, but it was futile when he tugged you back, forcing you to stumble right into his arms, and feel the suffocating squeeze of his bone-crushing hug. He was always in high spirits, almost disarmingly so, and it had only gotten more intense on the outside when you started dating. Your boyfriend was always bubbly, giddy, and doted on you at every given opportunity, to the point that his friends felt the need to groan whenever he started babbling on about you and how perfect you were, simply because it was usually the third or fourth time he had done so in the day.

But you had learned that when the opposite happened, when his eyes would go dark or he no longer had that lilt to his voice, that it meant something was seriously wrong. And if he wasn’t calmed down, then someone was going to end up hurt, whether they were guilty of his falsely-perceived crimes or not.

“Overreacting? I’m your boyfriend. Someone put their hands on you, I can smell it. And I’m going to find who it was and tear their-”

“Okay, fine! I was just upset because I couldn’t afford the present you wanted!”

He gave you a blank look, and you felt the shame creep up and burn the back of your throat. But you couldn’t stop now, so it didn’t matter much anymore. You already hated when he got like this, when he would start up on one of his tangents and not stop, no matter what you said--so there was little else you could do but just spill the whole truth.

“I wanted to get you those headphones you were obsessed with, and I finally found them in one of the stores...but it was way too pricey, and I couldn’t afford it, and-”

“You did that for me?”

His grip had loosened, and you twisted around until you broke away from it, brow furrowed at the way he so easily got your heart to melt. You never knew if he really meant to do it, or if it just happened naturally--but he had a way of totally bringing your guard down and making you bear your heart to him, no matter what.

“Of course I did. I love you, and I wanted to see you get all happy and excited when you opened it. But now I feel even worse about it, so just forget it, okay?”

You sighed even deeper this time, and crossed your arms over your chest--and even though he was suddenly all over you again, kissing you and touching your waist despite any onlookers passing by, you still tried to keep up appearances, even though you had already forgiven him for being so nosy.

“Oh, honey...I love you too, I love you so much. I’m sorry I made you upset...why don’t I make it up to you, though? I’ll give you my card, and maybe you can pop back in for a couple minutes…”

Suddenly he was nudging his credit card into your hand, and you didn’t think much of it for the moment--but when you realized what he was implying, you nearly sputtered at the notion. Denki often had some less than bright ideas, but this certainly was one of the most ridiculous.

“...Denki, you want to pay for your own gift? You already know what it is, so why bother-”

He cut you off with a kiss, though this one was much deeper, his tongue swiping across your lower lip before he bit down on it rather possessively. With his hand on your hip, it was easy to pin you to his chest, and show off a little bit to the bystanders around you--when you were making love, you would never forget the subtle way he would murmur ‘mine’ into your skin, before he would sink his teeth into every inch and leave marks that practically screamed his name.

“I won’t know anything if I don’t see it. I’m just letting you borrow it, for whatever my adorable kitty might want..”

He blew a puff of warm air into your ear, chuckling in a much darker way as you squirmed and writhed in his arms, before finally breaking away and turning your blushing cheeks so you wouldn’t face him. Little did you realize, he just loved when you were playing hard to get...especially when he already knew you were his, as he whispered into your ear just one more time.

“...Maybe you can pick out some new outfits for tonight, too...don’t bother keeping the receipts, though. I don’t think I’m gonna wait until Christmas to tear through them, and get the present I’ve really been waiting for.”

#yandere denki kaminari #yandere denki x reader #yandere kaminari x reader #yandere denki kaminari x reader #yandere chargebolt x reader #yandere bnha #yandere oneshot #love-toxin holiday countdown #love-toxin #1k

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barryslightningrod · 4 years

Note

How about a Drabble on Iris pranking Barry with a You can’t kiss me challenge. Barry has no idea and is trying to kiss Iris but can’t and just when she thinks she’s winning he tricks her into kissing him. 😁🤷🏾‍♀️

It’s not exactly a prank, but I hope you like!

“Stop thinking about him,” Wally commands, interrupting Iris’s pleasant thoughts.

“Hmmm?” Iris breaks out of her trance. “Thinking about who?”

“Your husband,” Wally rebukes. “Don’t play stupid.”

“Who says I was thinking about Barry?” Iris retaliates, but the giggle his name prompts betrays her.

“Let’s see...” Wally makes a show of contemplation, though he gestures to the whole avocados she was supposed to slice to make guacamole for the movie night she and Barry were hosting at their loft. “I left to get you chips, ice, paper plates, AND made a pit stop at Big Belly for fuel and you’re still standing there, staring ahead and daydreaming.”

“You’re a speedster, Wally, you don’t experience time like I do.”

“…I’ve been back for fifteen minutes, in YOUR time,” he clarifies.

“Oh fine!” Iris confesses. “So what if I was thinking about Barry?” She giggles again, unable to help it.

Wally sighs deeply and leans against the kitchen island to face her pointedly.

“I guess it’s my job to tell you this, being your brother and all.”

“Tell me what?” Iris probes.

“Iris,” he starts, “You and Barry-are insufferable.”

“What?!” Iris exclaims, offended by this statement. “What do you mean?”

“You’re insufferable!” he repeats. “You’re always touching, and holding hands, and kissing…”

“And?” Iris questions. “That’s supposed to be a bad thing?”

“It is when you subject the rest of us to it ALL THE TIME!”

“The rest of us?!” Iris quizzes.

“Look, we get it, you’re still in the Honeymoon Phase and all that, but you guys literally forget when others are in the room with you!” Wally says desperately. “Why do you think no one’s been coming around to hang out with you two as much?”

“Because…they want to respect that we’re still newlyweds?” Iris tries. “And give us more time to ourselves?”

“I can assure you that nobody thinks you guys need anymore time alone together,” Wally chuckles darkly to himself before straightening up. “Look, it took a lot of convincing on my part to get Cisco, Caitlin, and Linda to agree to come today. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to come!”

Iris considers her brother’s words with newfound concern. Suddenly, she views many of their friends’ last minute cancellations on plans they had made together over the last few weeks in a different light.

“Are you serious?” she worries aloud. “What should I do?”

“Don’t do anything!” Wally insists desperately, taking Iris by her shoulders. “You and Barry, literally just don’t do anything besides be the good hosts and entertainers you are-without the PDA. Okay?”

“Okay,” Iris nods with determination, more to herself than to him. “Okay yeah, we can do that.”

“Maybe you can,” Wally mutters as he lets go of her, “But Barry…”

A little over an hour later, the kitchen island is adorned with bowls of snacks (including the delayed guacamole), boxes of pizza, and bottles of beer, surrounded by Cisco, Caitlin, and Linda helping themselves.

Iris watches them nervously from the living room, twiddling her thumbs.

“You’ll do great, Sis,” Wally assures her, elbowing her playfully.

Her subsequent smile disappears promptly when the door swings open and Barry strolls in, grinning broadly, a box in his hands.

“Hi Guys!” he greets, kicking his shoes off. “Thanks for waiting up on me, I had some tests I had to finish running at the precinct.”

“Hey, Barry,” everyone waves back lazily, preoccupied with their plates.

Iris glances at Wally who nods at her encouragingly. She straightens up and strides over to Barry.

The beam that her husband breaks into when he sees her is so sweet that her heart swells in her chest, but her resolve remains.

“Well hello there, Mrs. West-Allen,” Barry croons, bending down to kiss her-

Iris distracts him by swiftly taking the box out of his hands, leaving him mid-pucker.

“What’s this?” she asks, turning away toward the kitchen before she gives herself a chance to cave in to him.

Wally stifles a laugh at the confusion Barry wears, certain that was probably the first time since their wedding that he’d come home without kissing Iris.

“Uhh, I thought I’d stop at that new bakery you like a few blocks down and pick up some brownies for dessert…” Barry replies, still noticeably taken aback by what had ensued.

“Awww, thank you, Hon-Barry,” Iris stops herself.

Cisco lowers the bottle of beer from his lips, narrowed eyes shifting between Barry and Iris. Linda stops chewing her pizza crust. Caitlin raises her brows.

This is unnoticed by Iris whose attention remains on Barry, his face dumbfounded. She’s suddenly anxious she’s hurting his feelings.

“Let me fix you a plate?” she offers, hoping to convey that she isn’t mad at him.

“Yeah, okay,” Barry manages, scratching his head.

Iris loads his plate with plenty of pizza slices and piles of chips, knowing his metabolism called for it and wanting him to feel cared for. She hands him the plate of food which he accepts gingerly, smiling broadly at her in gratitude before he tries his chance at another kiss. Iris realizes too late what his intentions are, and panicking, dodges him for a second time to make her way to the living room.

Barry actually drops his plate in shock at being rejected twice, his food tumbling toward the floor, saved only by Wally’s quick motions.

“You alright there, Bear?” Wally asks innocently, biting back his urge to burst into laughter at what he had caused. He punches his brother-in-law lightly to shake him out of his stupor, as his gaze is fixed on Iris, now busying herself with adjusting the sound settings on the TV.

“I’m-fine,” Barry stutters, eyes unable to leave his wife.

“Relax, my man,” Wally placates, taking advantage of Barry’s astonished expression to stuff a slice of pizza in his mouth.

“Shall we start?” Iris announces with forced cheer, clapping her hands together, looking around at everyone but Barry.

The tension in the air isn’t lost on Caitlin, Cisco, and Linda who slowly slide off their bar stools and head to the living room, Cisco taking a little bit longer to ensure he had absolutely chugged down every last bit of his beer. Barry abandons his food (and hunger) to follow suit with Wally chortling behind him.

Iris plops on the couch, eager to diffuse the uneasiness by proceeding to the actual reason everyone was here: the movie. Barry cautiously joins her. The awkward shuffling around the room isn’t lost on Iris, and she can discern that her guests are unsure about where to sit. Wally jumps into the large armchair that he’s claimed ever since his sister and Barry moved into the loft. Cisco and Caitlin each take a recliner seat while Linda settles on the floor.

“Linda,” Iris voices with concern, “Why don’t you come sit by us?”

Linda looks visibly uncomfortable at the suggestion before flashing a quick smile. “Oh don’t worry about me, I’m totally fine where I am.”

Iris frowns. “But Barry and I have so much room-“

“And I’m sure you’re going to need it!” Cisco coughs not quite so discreetly.

It dawns on Iris why nobody wants to sit next to them the same time Barry casually slides his arm around her shoulder and leans over in another attempt at a kiss-

She stands abruptly, causing Barry to topple over.

“Linda, sit on the couch with Barry,” Iris insists. “I’ll sit on the floor.”

Wally almost considers using his phone to snap a quick photo of the resulting shock on everyone’s faces at this, just so he could later analyze it to determine whose expression was the funniest. After all, no one would notice that he’d managed to take a picture except Barry, and even he might not take heed considering he’s recovering from his own shock.

“Are-are you sure?” Linda stammers.

“Not another word,” Iris states, stretching across the floor and pointing the remote at the television screen, aiming to start the movie as soon as possible to distract from the events that had just occurred.

About halfway through, Iris needs to use the bathroom, a consequence of her coffee addiction that she’s no stranger to. She rolls over and clumsily stands to leave the room, not wanting to interrupt the showing. She figures she’d try to make up for all the times she was oblivious to how excessively affectionate she and Barry had been. The least she could do after subjecting her friends to that over and over again is not request that they pause the film for her.

Truth be told, she’s grateful for the little break. Not only was the guilt at avoiding Barry weighing on her, preventing her from authentically letting loose and relaxing all evening, she was also tired by the effort it took to resist him. How could she feel such an ache to kiss, touch, and be next to him in under an hour? Atop the toilet, she ponders the meaning of this and muses that perhaps she and Barry are truly clingy and insufferable.

Iris finishes and washes her hands, bracing to once more pretend she isn’t deeply affected by being forced to dismiss Barry-

The last thing she expects at opening the door is for Barry to stumble into the bathroom, seize her face, and kiss her so fiercely that she actually trips backward against the sink. She manages to find her footing enough to reciprocate his enthusiasm, her arms coming around to circle him and anchor herself.

Neither of them seem to want to surface and only finally do so when they absolutely have to for air.

“Thank God,” Barry huffs, his arms refusing to let go of her.

“You can say that again,” Iris pants, relieved beyond measure at having closed the distance between the two of them.

“What-what was up with that?” Barry exclaims. “You’ve been steering clear of me all night. Are you mad at me?"

Iris strokes his face. “Oh, Baby-not even close. I’m so sorry, I can explain-“

“You know what? I don’t even wanna hear it,” Barry grins. “Just kiss me right now, it’s been ages.”

And kiss him she does, keenly and happily, his lips and his proximity coaxing her to relax at last.

“Ahem.”

The two of them break apart to discover Wally, Linda, Caitlin, and Cisco piled at the doorframe, wearing nearly identical expressions of exasperation.

“Oh-did we interrupt?” Cisco sasses.

“Just like how you two interrupted our movie?” Caitlin quips.

Linda sighs: “I knew once he asked us to pause it that he wasn’t going to come back…”

“Really guys?” Wally gripes. “You couldn’t last an hour?”

“Hey, no one is stopping you from watching your movie,” Iris shoots back.

“Yeah, so in the spirit of the good hosts that we are, be our guests,” Barry cackles.

With a laugh, Barry and Iris slam the bathroom door shut and spend the rest of the night accounting for their lost hour together.

#westallen #hopethroughtheanchor #westallen fanfiction #my writing #asks #the flash

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forget-me-nights · 3 years

Note

the truman show? or over the moon?

Thank you for asking in return!

The truman show:

Tbh one of the last scenes, where he steps out of the dome. But not bc he steps out of it, while that is amazing too obviously, but bc it really shows the difference between love and obsession.

You see, all of the viewers and the workers for this whole project love him deeply: They want the best for him, even if it means their favourite tv show, that has been by their side for 30 years ( so for some their whole life,), will be cancelled. Cause they understand that stepping out of the dome and finding his love is the best for him. So they are glued to their screens, hoping he makes the right decision FOR HIMSELF and when he does THEY CHEER for him.

The creator on the other hand ? He doesn't love him?!? He is obsessed with him. Truman is his favourite play thing, who basically just told him to go fuck himself, "you're never gonna play with me again." So he throws a fit, he is angry. He says he loves him and wants what's best for him but he only wants was best for HIMSELF , not for Truman.

Over the moon

Also one of the last scenes actually you see I like well written endings and turns. The scene where Fei Fei enters Chang'e's sadness chamber (?) And they both help one another.

First of all the advice itself it immaculate. 10/10 would listen again. Secondly I love how they're both in the same situation but out of wildly different reasons. How both are still in grief and unable to recognize the new love or that there can even BE a new love. What I especially love about this scene (or this movie) is, it shows different kinds of love:

Mother -daugter

Father-daughter

Kid-pet/companion

Parents -daughter

Sister-brother

Wife-husband

Queen- queendom

Love for the past but in the end also for the future ahead.

This scene discusses so many different kinds of love in such a simple and loving and most of all natural way, Cause that's exactly what it is: natural. And a lot of people forget that there is more than romantic love or at least that it can fulfill you just as much. That finding and having romantic love isn't your end all be all and I think that's takes a lot of pressure off of us. Cause some don't want a romantic companion, or maybe it's just not a priority or it just hasn't happend yet but that doesnt mean you're alone or lonely and unfulfilled!

It's just such a great message, one I think I and a lot of others really needed to hear and see. Cause it CAN be that simple. You can find fulfilment and noones else can tell you what that looks like for you. And it doesnt mean you have to forget about your past, in fact you shouldn't do that but it doesn't have to drag you down. Moving on doesn't mean erasing your or someone elses history or existence. It is a hard but freeing thing to do, for both sides in fact.

That's technically another scene but it ties together: them both moving on frees Fei Feis mother ( the crane) and Chang'e's love. Basically while you should allow yourself to grief you should also allow yourself to move on and that moving on can look how ever you want it to look like (doesn't have to be another lover).

Another thing I really liked about this particular scene was that both basically (almost word for word) gave each other the same speech about moving on. Like while you logical KNOW how to do it, it doesnt always mean you have emotional understood it as well.

Her dad HAD tried to make her understand all of this but he had already lost her faith in that regard. She already deemed him "unworthy" of giving her advice because he is long past that kind of pain, seemingly never having been in the same pain cause "if he did feel the same pain how could he have possibly just moved on?"

So this showcases very well how firstly one puts different rules upon oneself. How we easily give away advice and kind words but the moment we try to tell the same advice to ourselves, we put up walls, claiming we don't deserve it or it's not that easy cause... etc.

Secondly that some things NEED to be said out loud and by someone else, especially by someone we deem worthy enough, someone we belive truly understands our current situation. And sometimes we need others to allow us to feel a certain way, to give us 'permission' to let us fall into our emotions but also to crawl back out, which is why it's so important to talk and let others in.

Of course these are the things that I took away from these scenes and movies. I'm sure there are a hundred different things to focus on or take away ! If anyone wants to sent me another movie I'd love to do that again!

#the truman show #over the moon

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iwillgetridofyourangerforyou · 4 years

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The Good Doctor Kuseno

More questions than answers Possible Spoilers ahead!!

@gofancyninjaworld has a few excellent posts about this already please read them if you’re interested. These posts are well researched and provide a different perspective than my own. I recommend that everyone consume different perspectives to help inform and diversify their own. I also reference a few of them in my post here.

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/612670463398772736/when-cancel-isnt-an-option

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/612685729355759616/what-about-if-the-mad-cyborg-was-created-by

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/190986677872/the-nysh-forward-the-following-meta-has-been

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/187738207032/so-conflicts-of-interest-with-whowhat-else#notes

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/184129389540/how-to-grow-old-and-stay-mad

What do we actually know about the good doctor?

As Fancy Ninja noted:

He claims to have been chasing ‘that cyborg’ for longer than Genos has been.

He used to be angry over some injustice.

He’s not afraid to take up arms in person.

He’s a skilled scientist/engineer, specifically he “likes to dabble with mechanical engineering”

He’s deeply invested in Genos. Seemingly in both the literal and figurative sense.

Additionally and significantly, He’s not a monster.

Why is 6 important? I mean, if Garou teaches us anything it’s that the lines between Human, hero, and monster are not as clear as we may have initially assumed. And yet, Monsters truly exist in this universe and their existence is significant. (It's also notable here that we have seen a few instances where monsters appeared as the humans they were before they consumed monster cells only to reveal their identity later, but for the moment this seems to be unlikely of Kuseno.) One of the possible interpretations of this fact is that despite his past anger and continued obsession with hunting this cyborg he still has something within him that keeps him human. I’m not sure exactly what that is in this case because if I’m honest, I’m not super certain what makes humanity human in general, in OPM or otherwise. Aside from that, we know fairly little about the good doctor. We know almost nothing about his past.

What he tells us:

“When I and Genos first met, we didn’t have a single ally. It was as if the pair of us were lost and alone fumbling in the darkness… I dived into research with all I could, trying to come up with some way to fight back at the forces of evil... and yet our troubles were just beginning, because me and my boy-”

vs THis:

What does Kuseno have to gain from all his tireless effort into Genos?

Despite my reservations about Dr. Kuseno I’d be remiss to fail to admire his work on Genos. Kuseno has done an incredible job with Genos’ upgrades. The aesthetic and humanizing touches he’s given Genos are so, and I cannot emphasize this enough, important. He has a human looking face and hair. Kuseno has even been aging Genos appropriately over time, he can even eat food normally. (And we all know he’s been keeping Geno damn hot in the process) The things that he’s done to humanize Genos is sincerely one of the most compelling arguments that Dr. Kuseno is a truly good bean. But he’s not off the hook yet.

When he says that seeing Genos reminded him of his youth when he was righteous and feared nothing always charging in without thought of consequences and I have to wonder, what consequences did Dr. Kuseno experience in his life that changed him? If he’s experienced so much in his life why is he still walking the path of vengeance and promoting that path for Genos? Even if he’s not promoting the path for Genos but merely ‘supporting’ Genos on his path wouldn’t you think someone who was so similar in their youth know better than to fuel a revenge mission? But I’m not particularly apt to believe Dr. Kuseno is merely going along with ‘pushy’ Genos. He definitely has his own motives here and we’re not very clear what those are yet. For this I recommend reading Ninja’s conflicts of interest post to get some different perspectives on his varied motives. One possibility is that he’s effectively living through Genos. There is a scene in Season 2 of the anime where Dr. Kuseno is standing in a beam of light talking about his quest for justice in his youth and Genos stands under Kuseno obscured in shadow. That image made me shudder. Now the care and attention Kuseno gives Genos feels much creepier, like a doll to be dressed up and played with. I hope that’s not the case.

Who is this Dr. Kuseno and what is his relationship with Genos? Fatherly? Or Patronizing? And what are the ethics and implications of allowing Genos such extreme body modifications.

I love a found family as much as the next person, but I find it slightly suspicious that a doctor that just happens to be an expert in cybernetics arrives in time to save Genos’ life after his village was destroyed by a CYBORG. So, we’ve learned that Kuseno was chasing the mad cyborg before Genos was so maybe that explains the convenient meeting but that makes me wonder, when and how did the Cyborg’s trail go so cold that neither Kuseno or Genos seem to know where it is at the moment (or maybe Kuseno knows something more about this and is hiding it from Genos)? We’ve also since learned that even though cybernetic components are relatively commonplace in this world modifications over 30% are extremely rare. ‘Enhancements’ as extensive as Genos’ are almost unheard of and extremely risky, including a risk of madness. How did Dr. Kuseno become such an excellent doctor of cybernetics? I couldn’t have just been overnight? Learning takes trial and error and mistakes. God knows Genos has given that man more than enough trial and error for a lifetime but what about before Genos?

Ninja noted that in all of the lab frames Dr. Kuseno stands a fair distance away from Genos. I immediately think of the anime Dororo from 2019 and the way Jukai handles Hyakkimaru, who is likely not less dangerous than Genos in context. Jukai is genuinely fatherly and close, only teaching Hyakkimaru to fight once it became clear the boy would not walk a different path. In the lab Kuseno is cold and distant and the atmosphere is draped in shadow. The contrast between Dr. Kuseno’s behavior toward Genos in public verses in the lab is notable. I don’t really know what specifically to note about it, except that it reinforces for me that the two men barely know each other, which is disturbing given that Genos has known Dr. Kuseno probably longer than he’s known anyone and Kuseno was effectively Genos’ guardian. How much does Genos really know about the man who holds his life in his hands if Genos didn’t even know Dr. Kuseno had a battle suit? What else is Kuseno hiding or omitting? At the same time Dr. Kuseno notes seeing a new side of Genos at Saitama’s apartment. Does Dr. Kuseno know Genos as well as he thinks he does when he says things like “you remind me of myself in my youth.” ?

Genos believes he isn’t good enough and never will be good enough. Intentionally or unintentionally Dr. Kuseno feeds into this insecurity. Does that mean he’s responsible for Genos’ insecurities? No. But it is a piece of the troubling looking puzzle connecting the two of them. Unfortunately, when Genos goes to see Kuseno it’s often in defeat so he didn’t get much meaningful encouragement from the doctor. Even in victory, after G4, Dr. Kuseno doesn’t give Genos much encouragement. “There are still areas where we can improve you” even after getting a completely new upgrade neither Dr. Kuseno nor Genos seem to be satisfied. We consistently see Kuseno chiding Genos for being reckless and begging him to be more careful and to stay alive at the very least. Perhaps Kuseno is more concerned about losing his investment than the psychological health of his charge? Kuseno is more of a scientist than anything else and it's difficult to fault him for his excellent skills but can you imagine how actually damaging it is for a growing human to literally be a never fished project in the eyes of the person who should be loving you unconditionally. We all need to grow and change constantly, but there is a difference between acknowledging a person’s strengths and weaknesses and only acknowledging (in any meaningful way) a person’s failures. It’s a habit Genos has made for himself but unfortunately, even if not intentionally, Dr. Kuseno may have helped build that habit. Ever since Genos’ family died everything in his life seems to be reinforcing the ‘not good enough’ narrative. Not good enough to save his family, not strong enough to protect anyone. Every victory is shallow and meaningless in his mind because his eyes were set only on the final goal of defeating Mad Cyborg. Which is, likely as not, unattainable.

Genos may see Saitama as his mentor but he is dependent on Kuseno for his growth making Kuseno far more practically his ‘mentor’. There is an important part of a typical hero’s journey story when a hero must move past the teaching of their mentor and grow on their own. This is a fundamentally important stage to help the hero see that they are ‘good enough’ they have the tools they need to succeed. Sometimes this transition is painful, think back to Iroh refusing to speak to Zuko while they were in the fire nation or when Jukai refused to help Hyakkimaru anymore. Both Zuko and Hyakkimaru were angry and devastated, but it was in the end a vital part of their progress. I fear a mentor who is either not willing or not able to allow them to surpass them.

Whether through compliance or malice the system created by the relationship between Genos and Dr. Kuseno is one where Genos relies heavily on Dr. Kuseno. If Genos is compromised he could put Dr. Kuseno at risk but the battle suit indicates that Dr. Kuseno may be more prepared to deal with risk than an average scientist. But if Dr. Kuseno is compromised that could put Genos in an early grave. Regardless of the scientists intentions Dr. Kuseno is holding Genos back. Since Genos’ latest upgrade in the anime we’ve learned that Genos used to have safety restrictions on his parts but when we first meet Genos he is about to self-destruct his own core. So what were the safety restrictions for? The practically seem more about preserving an investment than protecting the human being. Garou’s story seems to indicate there is an important part of the path for one to push their limiter is possibly to get to the brink of death itself (probably not the only way) but possibly Genos’ safety restrictions have been holding him well below his limiter for ages. Maybe he can’t break his limiter because of his cybernetic body but I honestly don’t think it’s so cut and dry. (Also I find it sad and notable that when Genos is about to self-destruct he apologizes to Dr. Kuseno for letting him down. Genos wants to live badly, but he’s so deeply self-destructive just the tip of the iceberg of emotional issues Genos is battling. When he apologizes to Dr. K, even though he’s the one who would lose his life! It’s like he’s so afraid of failing the Dr.’s expectations again he’d rather die.) Genos needs to be able to repair himself. I’m desperately afraid that the practicality of complete cybernetic repair will render Genos dependent on someone forever.

We already know that Genos would do anything to get stronger but what has ‘doing anything’ looked like for him? What does it mean for him? I don’t really know how you can take one look at this guy and deny he’s already made painful sacrifices to get stronger. It looks like he’s willing to sacrifice his dignity, youth, life, respect, independence, joy, all sensual pleasures, and much much more for his goal to be stronger. That goal servers a purpose and that purpose was given to him by Dr. Kuseno when his village was destroyed ‘defeat Mad Cyborg’. But what will his goal for ultimate strength be without the purpose that will almost definitely be taken away from him. Even if it isn’t and he accomplishes it what will he do then? Will the sacrifices be worth it in the end? Will he be able to rebuild a new purpose and a new life for himself?

#genos #opm #meta #one punch man #Forgive me I don't know how to make links look nice on tumblr rn #dr kuseno #kuseno #saitama #demon cyborg #cyborgs #How and why did he recognize the parts that Genos brought him #What does this mean?#“Somehow or other I ended up supporting Genos?#And yet Genos directly attributes his survival from the Mad Cyborg to the good doctor?#Before the doctor mentions that he’s been tracking the Mad Cyborg longer than Genos #and inquires how Genos’ search is going?#Is Dr. Kuseno is responsible for the creation of the Mad Cyborg?#Does Dr. Kuseno actively puts Genos at risk to gather useful data?#Was Mad Cyborg was destroyed already?#and does Kuseno know this?#Is he hiding that information from Genos to keep Genos hungry and desperate?#making him easier to manipulate.#If Dr. Kuseno and Bofoi are rivals and genos could be dangerously caught between them in the future?#I did a lot of research for this post because it’s a really dicy topic I have a lot of conflicting views about #I also have a bag full of internalized resentment I'm working through so please don’t look in there.#one punch man webcomic

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backtothestart02 · 4 years

Text

It Started with a Blizzard - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Sequel to Blizzard in July (I just liked that as a two-shot too much to continue it with another chap). Commissioned by @jennlee44.

Enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 1 -

Not a fleck of snow in the air or on the ground since take-off, the plane ride was smooth and comfortable for all the passengers. It improved the mood of even the grumpiest passenger, who had been perturbed by last night’s blizzard delaying flights. That probably would’ve been Iris had she not run into Barry – and spent the night with him. That had a way of slowing things down and even being grateful for a delayed plane ride to a meeting she didn’t really want to go to anyway.

Barry, on the other hand, was still trying to process how lucky his night had turned out to be. Of course, he was sad to have missed his mother’s birthday party, but he’d texted her to explain his delay, and she’d understood. He would stop by his parents’ house first thing after the plane landed.

But Iris…

Well, Iris was a complication he wasn’t quite sure what to do with.

He didn’t want her out of his sight. That much was certain. He’d told her he thought what they had would definitely go somewhere, and he’d meant it, but once they landed, reality outside the blizzard, outside the airport and the hotel room, and hell, out of the bed, was very uncertain.

He didn’t know if Iris lived in Central City. He guessed she didn’t if she was flying there. He didn’t live in Central City either, but he planned to stay the week at his parents’ place, since he hadn’t seen them in a while.

What happened once they both got their luggage from the baggage claim and exited the airport doors?

He hadn’t even asked what the situation was with her meeting. There had to still be one if she had gotten on the same plane as him, right?

He was overthinking, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. His dream girl had unexpectedly been at the airport the same time as him, in the same place, in front of the same gate, planning to go on the same plane, and – once drunk, had dragged him into a bathroom and made love to him.

Made love?

Okay, maybe that time it had been the booze talking. But when they reached their hotel room and landed on the bed together, and oh, yeah – when he halted the sex to tell her he had a crush on her in high school and she said she’d had a crush on him too – that had to be more than a hot fuck driven by drunkenness in the middle of a blizzard.

Barry probably wouldn’t have had any hope at all for a future with Iris in it if she hadn’t so wistfully asked if they had one. Now he was determined they would. He just didn’t know all the details, and that worried him.

A yawn from Iris interrupted his thoughts just as the pilot interrupted the silent atmosphere to announce they’d be arriving soon in Central City.

“Ohh, I hate this part.” Iris frowned, covering her ears.

He had to smile at how adorably worried she looked.

“Why’s that?”

She turned to look at him.

“Do you have some gum?”

He laughed lightly but dug around in his pocket.

“I think so, yeah.” He handed her a stick. “Your ears pop going down?”

She nodded with a shudder. “Terribly. It’s the one thing I hate about riding in planes.”

“Thankfully, I don’t have that problem.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you gloating?”

He laughed again, then quickly silenced himself.

“Of course not.”

She looked at him suspiciously, not believing him one bit, then stripped the gum of its foil and stuck it into her mouth, chewing immediately and madly, lowering her head between her knees and covering her ears tightly as the plane started to lower.

Barry almost chuckled once more, but her soft moan when the pain hit her eardrums made him sympathize, and he rubbed her back gently until the plane came to a stop on the runway, slowly finding its way to the appropriate gate.

“Better?” he asked when she came up to look out her window.

“I will be,” she said. “Still can’t hear very well, but I’m sure that’ll go away as the day goes on.”

He smiled. “I’m sure too.”

They waited for the pilot’s go ahead for everyone to get off the plane, and then were painfully reminded of the fact that they’d chosen to sit in almost the back row.

Iris groaned, but Barry took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“I don’t regret sitting next to you,” he said.

Iris’ heart leapt in her chest.

“I don’t regret sitting next to you either.”

She leaned towards him, nuzzled his face, then kissed his lips, sighing contently.

A grumpy old man in the sole seat behind them groaned in disgust, which made them lift their heads, but they decided not to let it bother them, continuing to kiss until the row a few ahead of them had been emptied.

“Come on,” Barry said. “Let’s get our things.”

He took her hand, intertwined their fingers, and led her down the aisle after they’d retrieved their carry-on bags.

Iris took a breath of air after they’d emptied the long passageway ramp leading from the plane to the gate and sighed in relief.

“Oh, my God, we’re free.”

Barry laughed.

“Do you need to call anybody or should we head to the baggage claim?”

Her eyes widened at his words.

“That’s actually…a good idea. I texted my boss to tell him I wouldn’t be able to make it yesterday, and he never responded. I hope I’m not fired.”

Barry frowned. “You still came on the flight even though it was just one meeting?”

“Oh, it’s not. Didn’t I mention that? It’s a convention. All day meetings for the whole weekend. Yesterday was just one meeting because it was the check-in day.”

“Oh.” His eyes lit up. She’d be in town for a few days. Busy mostly, but she’d still be nearby. That was hopeful. “Well, go ahead and call then. I have to call my mom anyway.”

“Okay.”

Iris pulled her phone out of her pocket, bit her bottom lip, and waited for her boss to pick up her call.

“Please don’t fire me. Please…please…please…”

…

Barry hung up the phone, pleased that his last-minute plan to bring Iris along with him to his parents’ house was a raving success – at least with his parents. He still had Iris to convince, but he had a good feeling about it. They’d met her before and liked her and knew of his borderline obsessive crush on her. His mother, Nora, was practically ecstatic on the other end when he told her how they’d run into each other. Though he neglected to inform her that they shared the same hotel room or got drunk together, let alone anything else. He’d need to tell Iris an amended story that wasn’t quite so scandalous but was still believable.

Nora Allen was sweetly innocent and oblivious to all things he didn’t tell her. His father, on the other hand, could see right through him and would probably pin him down later, demanding he tell him what really happened. That would be awkward, as it tended to be, but he would endure it if it meant spending a little more time with who he hoped he could call his girlfriend in the near future.

“Barry!”

He was too stuck in his own head to hear him the first time she called out to him, but he turned just in time to see her running towards him and calling his name multiple times as he did. His lips quirked at the corner, seeing her so silly, so joyful, and directing that energy at him. He almost fell over when she used her weight to lunge up and hug and kiss him.

“Long-awaited reunion?” An older woman nearby asked.

“We saw each other five minutes ago,” Barry shared, which made Iris’ face fill with heat, but she was still smiling.

The older woman’s counterpart slipped his arm around her waist and guided her away.

“Let’s leave the lovebirds be,” he chuckled, muttering something about their luggage and transportation that neither Barry nor Iris paid much attention to.

“What is it?” Barry asked, holding her close, his smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

“I’m not fired!” Iris said excitedly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss him again. “Oh, my God. I thought I was going to be, and now I’m not.”

“What happened?” he asked between kisses.

“My boss was sick, so they cancelled the meeting. They sent an e-mail notifying me, but it ended up in my spam folder somehow. They’ve rescheduled it for a few hours from now. Isn’t that great news?!” She squealed, and Barry couldn’t help but laugh; though a part of him felt unsettled, since a few hours from now didn’t give him much time with her. He hid his minor disappointment well though.

“That is great news.” He chuckled. “Is there anything you need to do before you get there?” he asked.

She bit her bottom lip, thinking.

“Well, I definitely have to shower and change clothes. I can do that at the hotel, though.”

“Or,” Barry hedged, introducing the topic daringly.

She blinked. “Or, what?”

“You could come with me to my parents’ house and get ready there. We could spend the afternoon together, and I could pick you up after your meeting…we could do ice cream or something.”

He noticed the exact moment she pulled away from him emotionally and worried he’d ruined everything.

“Your parents’ house, huh?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah… They’re real sweet people. I’m sure they’d love having you.”

“I’m sure they are really nice, but…Barry.” She lowered her voice. “Isn’t that a bit soon? We haven’t even been on a date yet.”

“Yet,” he said, with a grin, deciding to focus on the positive. “I like the sound of that.”

Iris rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Focus, Barry.” She hit him playfully.

He sighed, then pulled her close.

“Look, okay, I know this feels a lot like ‘meeting the parents’.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, worry in her voice.

“But it’s not really,” he said.

“How?”

“They’ve met you before,” he said cheerfully.

“When?” she demanded.

“In high school,” he said. “You came over a few times. We were friends, remember?”

“Yes, but Barry, that was 10 years ago. They probably don’t even remem-”

“I just called them. They definitely do.”

Heat flooded her cheeks again.

“Do they remember me as your friend or your crush?”

Barry turned a bright pink.

“Does it matter?” he squeaked.

“Kinda,” she offered. “I don’t know…maybe not. I just…don’t want to spend the whole time with your parents knowingly looking at me, wondering if we…did anything.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “My mom is a saint. She won’t suspect a thing.”

“And your dad?” Barry paused. “What about your dad, Barry?”

“My dad won’t…be a problem…for you.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Just…trust me, okay? We don’t have to spend the whole time there, but I have to stop by to say Happy Birthday to my mom properly. We’ll have to do a little small talk since you’ll be with me, but then we can go, I promise.”

She sighed.

“I have to be at that meeting at 1 o’clock, Barry.”

“You will be.”

“That means getting to the hotel before then to get things arranged. And I can’t eat lunch, because they’ll serve it at the meeting.”

“No lunch. Got it.”

“And promise you won’t embarrass me.”

“I promise. You have my word.”

She looked at him suspiciously, and then finally relented.

“All right. Let’s go meet your mom and dad.”

He took her hands, bent his head to kiss her lips again, and smiled mischievously when they parted.

“What?” she asked, barely suppressing a giggle.

“Well, we have to get our luggage first.”

She hit him playfully again, and he laughed, recoiling out of reach before wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her off the ground for a few steps.

“Come on.” He gestured his head towards the long walkway. “It’s this way.”

She shook her head at him, but quickly caught up, sneaking her hand into his as they made their way to the baggage claim.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #it started with a blizzard #chapter 1 #for jennlee44 #fic commission

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