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fantastic-rambles · 10 months

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Fandom: Durarara!!

Characters: Izaya Orihara, Shizuo Heiwajima, Others (mentioned)

Warnings: Smut, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex (?), Handjobs, Anal Sex, Language, Mild Violence, Mild Verbal Abuse

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: While Izaya and Shizuo have come to an uneasy understanding with a change in their relationship, it's difficult to say whether they get along better. Especially when neither of them is willing to put a name to what they have now. [Written for Shizaya Week 2023 | Day 1: Denial/easier when I hated you @shizayasweek]

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Izaya… lies. A hell of a lot.

Of course, Shizuo already knows that. Has known it ever since the first time he met the smarmy little prick. Sure, it took him a little while to figure out that someone was behind all the tough guys who kept jumping him after school when all he wanted was to live a peaceful life, but once he had, it hadn't taken too long to put the pieces together.

No, the flea lies as easily as he breathes. Easier, maybe: it seems like the only time he ever tells the truth is if someone pays him to, and even then, he's misleading as fuck. It's like he likes watching people ruin their lives. Or ruining them for them.

As Izaya continues to chat away cheerfully on one of his cellphones, Shizuo leans back on his stiff, showroom-new couch, a cigarette slowly burning its way down to his fingers. It's still hard to believe that he's sitting here and not trying to snap Izaya's skinny neck. Really, he'd be doing the world a favor if he did: who knows what poor schmuck is on the other end of the line, about to do something he can’t take back? In Shizuo's line of work, most of the people he runs into are complete scum, and they deserve every bit of their debts, but the people Izaya fucks over aren't like that. Mostly. Probably. The ones he knows, at least: what could someone like Akane-chan have done to deserve being messed with? Mikado-kun, too. He seems like a pretty good kid, better than he and Izaya were when they were his age, at least.

Honestly, he doesn't know all that much about what Izaya does, beyond that he sticks his nose where it doesn't belong and then sells what he finds to the highest bidder. Or the one who will be most "entertaining," whatever the fuck that means.

The other man had barely even looked at him when he’d arrived, only setting down a too-fancy crystal ashtray on the coffee table without pausing his conversation. When he’d tried picking it up, he found that it was nice and heavy: with his strength, he could probably take off Izaya’s head in one swing with it. Put them both out of their misery. There are already two butts in it—Shizuo smokes way too much when he’s here—and a third is on its way to join them… and the louse is still on the phone.

Grunting, Shizuo takes one last drag of his cigarette before sending it to join its companions and standing up. Izaya looks at him then, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he takes a step away from his plate glass windows, putting more space between himself and Shizuo.

"Ah, Shiki-san, I might need to call you back later," Izaya says, his eyes fixed on Shizuo as he takes a step back for every step the other man takes, maintaining their distance. Whoever he's talking to—Shiki-san, whoever that is—says something that makes him smile, the corners of his red eyes crinkling up. It pisses Shizuo off: not only has the flea been ignoring him for so long, but he's been talking to and being entertained by someone else. He knows it's jealousy, and it's ugly, especially since it reminds him of all the deadbeats who are convinced that the girls at the soap shops are in love with them.

What he and Izaya have isn't love, though. But it's not hate, either.

Really, things were easier when they did hate each other. Or they thought they did. It made things simple: whenever Izaya showed his face around Shizuo, he tried to smash it in. Now…

“Yes, I understand. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you. Then, until next time…”

Shizuo’s legs tense before he springs across the room, closing most of the distance between them in one go. Maybe Izaya was ready for it, or maybe it’s just instinctive by this point, but the flea nimbly dodges out of the way as he snaps his phone closed, turning a scowl toward Shizuo.

“Really, you have no manners, Shizu-chan. I was working. You know, the thing that responsible adults do?”

“Responsible,” Shizuo snorts in derision. “Like you have any idea what that means.”

“Better than a brute whose property damages can’t possibly be covered by his salary. Tanaka-san’s just your sugar daddy at this point: have you realized that yet? And here I was, letting you take up space and fill this place with your disgusting smoke, but you can’t even be a halfway considerate guest.”

Shizuo feels a brief flash of guilt: yeah, he knows that Tom’s still looking out for him, just like he did when they were in middle school. Even though Tom often reassures him that he’s being paid fairly for the work he does… he also doesn’t get his paycheck docked for property damages. And really, with Vorona around, Shizuo’s not all that sure that they even need him anymore. Sure, people underestimate her a lot more than him, since she’s a kinda weak-looking girl, but she can take care of herself without taking down half a building.

But that's immediately followed by a flash of anger. Sure, Izaya's tricked him plenty of times before, but he's starting to understand the parasite a bit better. He always knows exactly what to say to get people to do the things he wants them to, and he's used that on Shizuo more times than he can count.

So with a scowl, he dashes toward Izaya, undeterred. A gleaming blade suddenly appears in Izaya's hand, and Shizuo's shoots out to wrap around a pale, slender wrist, slamming it against the wall to force him to drop it.

"Brute," Izaya snaps acidly, but Shizuo stops him from saying anything else by covering his lips with his own. Izaya's body is stiff with tension, and Shizuo knows better than to try to actually kiss him—the last time he did, the louse had nearly bitten off his tongue—but his free hand reaches down to slip a thumb under the waistband of Izaya's pants. He tugs at them, pulling the louse closer to him before the black denim tears. Izaya's anger is nearly palpable as he starts to struggle, but he doesn't have a chance against Shizuo's superior strength.

The hardest part of catching the flea had always been chasing him down: just like his namesake, he was small and quick and annoying. Once you got a good grip on him, though…

He grabs Izaya's other hand as it punches him in the cheek, forcing it above his head so he can hold both of Izaya's wrists with one large hand while his knee insinuates itself between Izaya's legs, rubbing against his crotch. He feels Izaya's hissed intake of breath, hot and furious, but his body is far more honest. He's already starting to harden under Shizuo's clumsy touch, the heat of his skin burning through the cloth separating them.

But as he starts to fumble with his own belt, he has to tilt his head back as a slim leg cuts into the space between them, the heel landing perfectly where his chin just was. Really, Izaya's flexibility and athleticism could be almost admirable, if it wasn't always directed at Shizuo. Or toward running away from him. As it is, Shizuo grunts as he twists the other man around, adjusting his grip to pin him back against the wall, facing it so it'll be harder for him to kick.

Unfortunately, that does mean that Izaya can talk again, and he's spitting bile at Shizuo, who ignores it as he tugs his own pants open and frees himself.

"Shut up," he growls, pressing their bodies together. "Or I'll fuck you just like this."

He wouldn't. Even if it's Izaya, he doesn't deserve that: Shizuo doesn't have a very wide frame of reference, but he does know that he's pretty big, and he can hurt someone badly if they're not ready for him. But he hopes that Izaya won't call his bluff.

Whatever the case, the louse does shut up, though he's as tense as ever. To try to help him relax, Shizuo reaches around to start to stroke his dick, only to find slitted red eyes glaring at him.

"I don't need a monster touching me. Just finish what you clearly came here to do, then get out."

Shizuo clicks his tongue at Izaya's stubbornness, but he starts jerking himself off instead, quick and rough. It's not about pleasure, but rather getting off… though he doesn't want to keep Izaya hanging, either. Still, he has been a bit pent up lately, so it doesn’t take long until he’s coming in his hand, and then he starts to apply it to the brunet, rubbing it into him to provide at least some slickness to his too-tight hole. Even though they've done this a few times already, every time, it's like this.

Resilient. That's the word. Izaya's resilient, biting his lower lip to try to mute the small noises that catch in his throat as Shizuo stretches him out. The blond has three thick fingers in him, his come already starting to dry, when he decides that it's probably enough. Taking his own heavy cock in hand, he guides it to the twitching hole, carefully easing inside while Izaya hisses through his teeth.

It's still tight, an edge of just too much friction that it's probably not comfortable for either of them. But that works for them, too. With Izaya’s arms still pinned above his head, Shizuo grabs his deceptively slender waist with another hand, holding him in place as he presses the rest of the way in with a grunt. Izaya's breathing is growing shallower in a way that it never did when Shizuo was chasing after him, and Shizuo leans forward to bite the back of his neck, hard enough to make the flea squirm and tighten around him.

"Shiz… Shizu-chan," Izaya protests breathlessly, that infuriating nickname spurring Shizuo to snap his hips forward. The louse cries out, sounding almost pained, but Shizuo doesn't give him a chance to recover, rutting into him and drawing more short, sharp noises out of Izaya while he grunts and growls. If the other man wants a monster, then Shizuo will give it to him.

Even when Izaya cries out again, tightening around him while his hips twitch, Shizuo continues to saw into him, chasing his own pleasure. As wet heat pools in the pit of his stomach, he shoves the flea against the wall, feeling Izaya's body shudder and clench around him, coaxing him onwards.

Then, finally, he begins to come, too, spurting deep inside Izaya with a visceral snarl as the other man begins to shake again with a muffled groan. Both of their gasping breaths fill the silence as Shizuo leans against the wall, letting it hold both of them upright as he rests his head beside Izaya's. A dark flush slashes across the flea's cheeks, and his lips are reddened from where he must have been biting them to try to keep quiet. He's almost beautiful, his pitch-black hair a stark contrast with his pale skin… like some fucked-up, poisonous Snow White.

Shizuo wants to kiss him again. But he doesn't.

Because the person Izaya lies to the most is himself.

#shizayaweek2023 #durarara #durarara!!#drrr #drrr!!#fan fic #fanfic #izaya orihara #orihara izaya #shizuo heiwajima #heiwajima shizuo #mine

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kingdomoftyto · 2 years

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So there’s this Chinese light novel I’ve been reading for the past few weeks and my partner and I are obsessed and the fandom for it is criminally tiny so please read CARD ROOM and suffer with us... please

First off, ignore the synopsis on the translator’s website; it’s terrible and useless. What the story is ACTUALLY about is a quiet, intellectual young man, Xiao Lou, dying in an accident and waking up in the “Card World”, a game-like reality where he has to complete a series of challenges to win the chance to return to life.

The type of challenge varies by the card suit assigned to each “room”. Hearts rooms are murder mysteries, Diamonds are puzzles and labyrinths, Spades are survival challenges, and Clubs usually deal with gambling and direct competition. Xiao Lou happens to be a professor of forensic science, so his skillset and reasoning ability make the first few Hearts and Diamonds rooms a breeze, but he’s also a bit of a frail nerd who’s less good at fighting off monsters and assassins in the survival-based Spades rooms.

Enter Yu Hanjiang, stoic policeman and acquaintance of Xiao Lou’s before both of them happened to die in separate accidents on the same day. Yu Hanjiang isn’t as quick-witted as Xiao Lou when it comes to puzzles, but his reasoning abilities are strong due to his experience with investigating criminals, and when it comes to combat and survival he’s a fearless one-man army. He’s tough and heroic and most importantly has both a powerful sense of duty and desire to defend the innocent.

They team up.

They fall in love.

It’s really, really cute.

Along the way, Xiao Lou and Yu Hanjiang recruit several other teammates who are all equally quirky and great. Even the ones you don’t think you’ll care that much about will end up feeling like irreplaceable parts of the family by the end--and they really DO all end up as one big tight-knit family. Gentle Xiao Lou and reliable Yu Hanjiang are the hyper-competent glue that binds this ragtag group of people together in their shared goal of leaving the Card World and living peaceful lives back in the real world.

If you aren’t yet convinced and/or don’t mind some spoilers, check behind the cut for me gushing about a few of the fun tropes that come into play and also a couple of brief content warnings

I had a ton of stuff spoiled for me before I decided to give it a read but seeing it all happen in its proper context is so fulfilling and great that frankly it didn’t ruin the experience at all. With that said, in no particular order, this light novel contains such classic tropes as:

slow-burn mutual pining

overcomplicated magic/skills system

overprotectiveness

historical AU (yes, AUs within a story. it’s fine. keep up.)

BEDSHARING

no really there’s copious bedsharing both before and after they get together and it’s my favorite thing. they’re so dumb.

FAKE MARRIED ARC

oblivious teammates (except one dude who is also queer and spends the entire novel just kind of smirking in the background)

space travel AU

merfolk AU

crossdressing (only sort of played for a joke. mostly it’s... heartwarming? eventually. it’s hard to explain lol)

everybody playing Werewolf. just straight-up the hidden-role party game Werewolf.

hurt/comfort

mouth-to-mouth CPR followed by lots of angsty internal debate over whether that was too close to a kiss and ghnjadsghas they’re so STUPID

TELEPATHIC COMMUNICATION

honestly just a bunch of really wonderful, kind, compassionate characters who love each other and make me feel good to read about :)

And finally, a few quick content warnings/disclaimers. This is not an exhaustive list:

LOTS of blood and violence!! The very first Hearts room involves murder and dismemberment and it pretty much keeps going downhill from there. Some of the deaths in this get pretty brutal and twisted. Gunshots, poison, immolation, and even graphic parasitic infections happen frequently. Also, main characters are not exempt from major injuries and illness.

Paranoia and distrust are really prominent elements, especially later in the novel, as some villainous characters regularly try to impersonate members of the team. (However, Xiao Lou and Yu Hanjiang have a very strong bond and never lose trust in each other.)

Yu Hanjiang is very much a classic hero cop archetype, solving some of his problems with violence and always being praised for his skills at intimidation and interrogation, etc. It’s not really any different from what you’d expect to see in a typical American police procedural, but I wanted to be up front about it.

There’s a secondary pairing that gets very, very slowly built up in the background that involves two men with an age gap of about ~10 years. It’s... definitely a little weird, and doubly so because there’s also a wealth gap involved, but they are both adults by the time there’s any real attempt of getting together, so it... could be worse?

This novel is from China and, while there’s not a lot of overt nationalism or anything particularly uncomfortable in that regard, there are a handful of cultural differences that did still take me off guard. For instance, I guess all people convicted of murder are automatically sentenced to death in China, so that’s... uh, interesting! None of the characters have any reason to think this is weird and in fact treat it as totally normal and ethical.

#Card Room #light novel rec #Xiao Lou and Yu Hanjiang basically spend the entire novel proudly pointing at the other like''Look at how brilliant and cool my husband is''#and They're Right.#...anyway yeah when I say ''the fandom is small'' I mean there are currently four (4) fics on AO3 lol rip

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writtenonreceipts · 2 years

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Oooooo I just finished Heir of Fire. Took me forever (this week has been chaos) but I did it!! And oh my goodness. So. Many. Thoughts.

I’ve really liked the first two, but this one was just different. Could it be because I finally got to meet Rowan…? 🫢 Goodness, what a guy. But the story he shared with Aelin just about ripped my heart out 🥲

On the witches: I won’t lie I’m a little confused on their society/politics/whatever you call it? But I’m curious to see where it goes. What are your thoughts on Manon? So far, my opinion on her is kinda Meh. I want to like her because she seems like a badass but I just wasn’t able to get super into her storyline. Maybe that will change over the next few books.

Oh my lands, so much of Aelin’s journey was heart wrenching yet wildly inspiring. The EMOTIONS I FELT during the Get Up scene were out of hand. like I sat there for an hour probably, occasionally rereading it but mostly staring off into space.

AND ROWAN

Holy wow. At first I thought “he’s a jerk?! Why does everybody love him?” But now I have been enlightened. He is a “tough on you for your own good” kinda person, but he’s also so gentle and it made me melt.

Okay so I’ve luckily avoided most spoilers for ToG but I do know almost for sure that Aelin + Rowan are endgame, and lemme tell you sis: they’re now one of my favorites. I love that they slowly established a strong friendship built on trust; it felt a lot more realistic and was more pleasant to read (also they’re just hilarious together)

Lastly (I’m sorry this is so long) the ending had me feeling so many things. To start: Sorscha. I FELT SO BAD!! At the beginning I genuinely thought she was working with the king against Dorian and I didn’t like her one bit, THE ENDING MADE ME FEEL SO GUILTY!!! And now everything’s gone wrong because it’s a scientific law that no book in the middle of a series can have a happy ending. But at least Fleetfoot is okay 🥲

Okay, thank you so much for reading this thousand page essay of my chaotic mind. I’m so sorry. You have so much patience and I appreciate it 😅 I hope your week is going well my friend! 💕💕

Heir of Fire is a turning point in the series and where we see the bigger threads of the over arching plot come into play. That's why so many people love it. And I enjoyed it a lot too here in my last reread (the first two though are my favs of the series ngl). But yeah, there is something different about this book and is why I try and encourage people to read on to this one.

Because yes, Aelin's journey in this book is intense and indepth. Unlike any of her other books. In my opinion Aelin's healing arc within this book is top tier for Sarah. I love seeing her at rock bottom and how she comes up from that with those around her. And a lot of that has to do with Rowan.

And yeah...I did not like him. It took me a long time to warm up to him. Even after my first read of the series. I just was not attached to him. Fanfic helped with that though, haha! But he has a really great arc.

But the witches!!! First time reading, I loved them, second time, cool story. This last time--I did not like them. I just...idk. I feel like there was something missing from their build-up as a whole. Manon herself is interesting and I think we saw a lot of cool character set up and development with her, but over all, she isn't my favorite. I know there are so many in the fandom that love her and the witches as a whole. And I think their story line has its merits and is/was interesting to explore though. I feel like...well. it's not important. nvmnd.

but yeah, haha. this series bring out a lot of thoughts. haha. no worries at all. i love it.

#throne of glass #tog #asks #thegloweringcastle

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honestlyfrance · 3 years

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SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

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#onlysambucky #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #france: fic rec #fic rec #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

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cuddlesslut · 3 years

Text

Memories

Part three to Home

Suna x fem reader

Atsumu x fem reader

Tags: still angst, light fluff, just a lot of Suna simping.

AN// let me know if you want me to continue the story.

Part Two: Silence

Part Four: Chance Encounters

You were the most beautiful girl Suna had ever seen. When he saw you that first day of school it was like the clouds in his normally dreary day parted and he could feel the sun. You weren’t in the same class much to his dismay. That didn’t stop the middle blocker from searching for your face in the crowds of the halls or the cafeteria. Though it was rare he stilled catch some glimpses. In those moments a war waged in his mind part of him wanted to go introduce himself, he wanted to know your name. To just be around you. But another side of his brain forbid that. Stating that he was fine were he was he would just interrupt your day. What would he even say to you. Hi I’m Suna I’ve been watching you since the first and even though I know next to nothing about you I can’t get you out of my head..... yeah no. He’d just sit back and wait for opportunity to knock. Suna curses himself for his laziness. He can’t describe how his heart stop the day his friend brought you to practice and introduce you as his girlfriend.

Though he kept his composure he felt as though the air was stolen from his lungs. This is the closesest he had ever to been to you and it was overwhelming to say the least. You stood there at Atsumu’s side smiling and greeting the team memebers and when your attention drew to Suna he realized his favorite thing about you was your eyes. You beautiful (e/c) eyes shown with so much light and happiness. When you smiled you smiled with your eyes, always getting this cute little crinkle. He shook his head at these feelings. You were taken and by one of his friends no less.

From that moment on you presence was always close by joining the boys for lunch or stopping by practice with little snacks you had made the team. Suna almost resents how easy he gets along with you. How simple it is to fall into a banter with you. He hates how calming it is when you’d sit next to him and laugh as you showed him some meme. He wanted to be annoyed with you ever time you’d put your foot down and insist he let you wrap his finger after a bad block. But he couldn’t you were just such a caring person. He’d try and give you some petty insults, maybe if he caused a rift between the two of you he’d feel better, maybe then if there was more space between you he’d feel less guilty for always being enraptured by you. But you’d always snap back with something just as clever or petty. You could go toe to toe in trading insults but both of you knew neither of you meant it. You’d always break out into that breathtaking smile after a few rounds of back and forth. He realized soon that he’d much rather keep you in his life as a friend even if he could never have you because at least he’d still see that smile. At least as your best friend he’d still see your eyes shine bright and he could take a small pleasure in knowing he brought some of that happiness.

“You need to calm down,” Suna turned to see Osamu taking the seat on the bench next to him.

Suna's hands run through his hair gripping the roots in frustration as he let out a yell.

“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm, she could be hurt or missing, and that ass is just sitting there! Two weeks! Lord knows what could have happened by now.” Hes shaking part of him wants to go back up and give Atsumu a few more licks but he knows no good will come from it.

“YN is a grown woman and she’s smart and strong and you know damn well she’d bitch you out right now for thinking she couldn’t handle herself,” the former ace chuckled.

“I’d much rather her here bitching cause at least then she’d be here,” he groaned rubbing his hand down his legs trying to let out some of his nerves. “Did you know?” He asked the grey haired twin.

Samu gave his quick glare of offense. “Absolutely not believe me if I’d known I would have been the one to deck him , you just beat me to it.”

“The last i heard from her was her birthday, maybe if I’d had stopped by and brought the Onigiri myself I could have been there for her,” he sighs.

“We’ll find her don’t worry,” his friend pats his back, “and then you can finally confess,”he smiles.

“I’m that obvious huh,” he sighed.

Samu let a loud laugh “ OH PLEASE we all knew, well maybe not YN she can be kinda blind ya’know,”

Suna shook his head laughing. He has to see you.

They returned home today from nationals. The loss to Karasuno was really starting to sink in now that was Suna was home sitting in his room alone the house quiet. He laid there berating himself for balls he failed to block. If I had just done better maybe my team would still be playing. Maybe - he was disrupted from his thoughts by the chime of the door bell. His parents were out of town this weekend. They had assumed like many Inarizaki would still be out in Tokyo fighting for first place. It was fine though Suna was used to being alone. But that just confused him more as he made his way to the door. Who could possibly be here. All he can say is he’d never except to open the door and see you standing there. Like always you stole his breath away.

“What yer not gunna let me in,” you teased “and to think I brought you snacks!” He just realized now she was carrying a grocery bag that looked pretty heavy.

“Give me that ya Dummy,” he said taking away the snacks, he stepped to the side allowing her entry.

“I figured you were hungry, but try to save me some,” she giggled. Suna just rolled his eyes as she took a seat on his couch.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned taking his seat beside her making sure to leave a respectable distance. Though he wants nothing more than to hold you close. He dismisses the thought as he rummages threw the goodies waiting for your response. He smiles seeing the package of milk bread you bought. He took it out and tossed it to you knowing it was your favorite. You smile and give a slight nod as a thank you.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone after the game, I know your probably thinking a whole bunch of nonsense right now aren’t ya?” She looked at him with a solem but knowing look. He cursed how well you knew him. Seeing as he had been doing just that before your arrival. His heart squeezed at the thought of you wanting to comfort him. It almost gives him a slight hope. What about Atsumu, he lost that game too.

“Why aren’t you with you boyfriend, he’s probably taking it harder than me,” he asks knowing he might ruin this little fantasy he has here with you. He sees a sad look cross your face at the mention of the setter. It’s not a look Suna wants to keep seeing.

“You’re right about that, Tsmu’s having a tough go of it,” she gave a soft smile. “But he said he didn’t want my pity and asked I leave,” Suna could see your eyes get a little glassy thinking back to the conversation.

“He’s an Ass.” The middle blocker states plainly.

“He’s just got a lot of emotions right now and wants his space, it’s okay.” But Suna can see your hurt. He knows it wont do any good to keep talking about it.

“His loss, now I get all of the snacks,” pulling out a bag of chips. “Want to watch a movie?”

That’s how the evening went the both of you curled up on the couch Suna had brought down some pillows and blankets and he wouldn’t lie he loved seeing you wrapped in his comforter. You went on and on about this anime you started and you nearly died when he agreed to let you show it to him, pumping your fist in the air going off about your favorite character and how he’s totally going to love him. Suna looks over at you and your wearing the biggest smile eyes wide with joy. This is will always be his favorite moment he thinks.

He’s right that moment still sticks out in his mind. He has plenty of great memories but that one right there is his favorite. He’s been thinking back on a lot of his memories of you lately.

It’s been seven months since your birthday and no one in your former circle new anything about where you were. You hadn’t talked to anyone. Your number was no longer in service and all of you socials have gone silent.

After a couple of days of looking for you Suna was ready to go to the Police and report you missing, ready to call every hospital and pray you are safe. At this point that’s all that matters to him. He can’t bare to think about anything bad happening to you but it’s hard to keep his mind out of the dark place. Osamu was the one to stop him. Luckily they had gotten in touch with their former captain and while Kita was sorry to hear about the situation and very disappointed in his junior for his actions. Every one was upset with Atsumu for his actions. Kita was gladly willing to help in the search. Still being in their home town he was able to pay your parents a quick visit. And while he was happy he could inform them both that your parents had heard from you the other day so your fine. That was all your parents could tell him, stating that you had requested to keep your privacy not wanting to talk to anyone. So while they knew the biggest detail they still knew nothing.

It hurt Suna the most. How could you just cut him off like that. You were the most important person to him how could you not know that. He fretted. He knows your hurting but why did you have to cut all of them off most importantly him. Part of him was so incredibly angry how could you not even say goodbye to him. Did his friendship really mean that little to you. But another part of him understood that he couldn’t possibly know what you are going through. All he knew is how much he missed your smiling eyes. He would give everything to see you again.

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#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq #haikyuu angst #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu suna #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu angst #atsumu x female reader #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna rintarou #atsumu miya #suna angst #atsumu is an ass #suna is a simp

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mangolover · 3 years

Text

Creature of The Dark part 3 (Theodorus van Gogh x reader)

Find part one here

Find part two here

Title: Creature of The Dark (part 3)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire / Ikevamp / Ikevam

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x gn! reader, Vincent van Gogh x gn! reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst, comfort

Warnings: nightmares, not eating properly, mentions of losing job, mentions of being homeless, argument, dark thoughts, mentions of a unhealthy relationship (lack of comunication), depression(?), swearing, shouting, breaking glass, breaking porcelain, humilation, betrayal, snow, mentions of time

Spoilers: Theo’s route

Word Count: 2600+ (six pages...)

Description: He broke yet another promise and you cut ties with the whole mansion, trying to live on your own in city. Losing your job and getting kicked out, you didn’t know where else to go but to the art gallery.

Part 2: Going to the gallery was a bad idea and you become aware of that after the same mistakes got repeated and sparked an argument. Now you are sitting on a bench in the park, feeling hopeless until a faimilliar figure comes to your aid.

Part 3: You secretly came back to the mansion with the help of the Vincent, and as much as he helped you, it all came crashing down when you were discovered by Theodorus. Now all that’s left is to finally find the shadow in the darkness.

This has some first person perspective, but it’s mostly 2nd perspective.

Dark thoughts are going to be present throughout whole series, so proceed with caution.

Only nightmares are explored a bit deeper, everything else is pretty much just mentioned, but if anything is triggering to you, please skip this one.

Also, when somthing is writen like this ('example'), it's from the suitor's point of view or their thoughts, not reader's.

I am making this in multiple parts, temptation won this time.

Enjoy!

Pointing to the place on bench next to you, he asks “may I sit here?“ And you just nod while scooping away, wanting to give him as much space as possible. “Thank you, Y/n!”

Vincent was always a reliable friend and a sense of comfort would wash over you whenever you saw his angelic smile. He and Theo were like hell and heaven, polar opposites. However, you were glad to have someone like Vincent to call your friend. ‘Or is he your friend anymore?’

“How have you been?” you looked up at Vincent who was staring I front of him, his hands placed on his lap and you mirrored his actions, straightening your posture and averting your gaze before answering.

“I’ve been good. I found a job and a place to stay. But I think it’s time to go back to my own time” you tried to sound as casual as possible, hoping you hid your emotions well, just like Theo always did.

“And how are you doing now?” but Vincent could see through a mask even as good as Theo’s.

“I…” you considered your next words, “I could be doing better. Some obstacles came along the way, but don’t worry! It’ll be better soon!” you turned towards him and gave him a strained smile, not knowing who you are trying to fool exactly. You were lying to both of you, but that was for the best.

Vincent turned to look at you with a worried expression. He was suspicious because you stayed there last night and now you didn’t even go ‘home’. “How about we go pick something to eat? For old time’s sake.”

You were about to refuse before Vincent gave you a dazzling smile and extended his hand out to you, “I’m not taking no for an answer, Y/n.” That was the end of the story as you took his hand and Vincent took you to get something to eat in a nearby café that was surprisingly still open.

Once you were seated and ordered your food and drink of choice, after Vincent insisted it was his treat, you fell into a somewhat comfortable silence. There was still tension in the air, no doubt, but it was better than when you were with Theo.

“I’m sorry for leaving without a proper explanation to all of you except Comte” you broke the silence with a voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s alright” to your surprise Vincent didn’t sound mad, his voice and face were full of understanding. “We were worried when even Comte couldn’t find you but considering how Theo was acting when you left and today’s situation, I understand.”

You let a smile grace your features, “thank you Vincent.”

“But please, don’t disappear on us again. The mansion is not the same without you” he looked sincerely sad. “Do you have a place to stay the night?” his voice was low and warm.

“O-of course! I told you I found a place to stay” you are sure your stutter sold you out.

Vincent didn’t even need to say anything, he just gave you a stern look and you lowered the gaze, embarrassment painting your face. “I don’t…”

“You can always come back to the mansion; I’m sure Comte would understand.”

“That is not an option. I left and cut contact with everyone” you let out a sigh. “Why do you even want to have anything with me?” Vincent looked at you in surprise. (‘Just how much have you suffered this 4 months Y/n?’)

“Because you are my friend. And we all care about you.” His reasoning was simple, but you couldn’t understand it. ‘Just why?’

“I don’t think going back to the mansion is a good idea” Vincent was ready to hear you out, always a shoulder to lean on. “Arthur will be there and he might be upset with me because Theo is his best friend. And I left Sebastian when he needed me the most. Isaac just started opening up to me and then I left. And Mozart will be annoyed by all the commotion.” You dreaded to tell who you feared to see the most, “and Theo will be there and I doubt it’s a good idea for us to see each other again.”

Vincent went quiet for a moment before speaking again, seemingly trying to work out the best solution. “The door doesn’t open for at least two more weeks. And I can’t let you sleep outside, so how about for at least tonight stay in the mansion?”

You felt uneasiness even if you knew Vincent just wanted the best for you. “I could sneak you in and you can stay in my room so others won’t notice you.”

Even if he knew that explaining why he was sneaking someone into his room last night was going to be tough and that he’s going to have to lie, he was ready to do anything for you.

“Do you promise I am not bothering?” you wanted to make sure he is one hundred precent sure about what he’s offering. Vincent nodded firmly just as your food came to your table and you both dug in, for once in so long you didn’t feel so alone.

Once you were both done eating and Vincent settled the bill, you made your way outside. Snow started falling outside and both you and Vincent enjoyed the view of the first now of a year for a bit. The snowflakes danced around the sky and landed everywhere, one of them landed on the tip of your nose which made Vincent laugh.

To him you looked like an ethereal angel in that moment. He understood why Theo had fallen for you, but to him you will never be more than a friend or a sister that he so desperately wants to protect from this cruel world, no matter the price.

Eventually, you fetched a carriage and started to make your way deep into the woods where Comte’s residence stood tall and hidden from the eyes of common folk. The long ride continued into the night, to which you were grateful as it gave you a bit more of a cover. Now all you needed was to be sneaky and you could go unspotted. Vincent draped his coat over your shoulders to conceal you even more. Wrapping his hand around your wrist, he guided you into the mansion and into his room, checking that the path was always clear of any other residents.

Everything was going smoothly until he opened the door of his room and saw Arthur down the hall, quickly he pushed you into the room and shut the door behind you signaling you to keep quiet and all you two could hear was a whistle and a quiet chuckle as Arthur’s footsteps faded away.

“That was close” Vincent let out a breath he had been holding before smiling at you.

“I’m sorry Vincent,” you were feeling embarrassed and guilty, “knowing Arthur, everyone will know you sneaked someone in the next morning and Theo will not let you off the hook so easily.”

Vincent gazed at you for a bit before bopping the tip of your nose and letting out a giggle. “I told you it was alright, now go get settled for the sofa. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You can’t be serious Vincent. I was ready to sleep outside on a bench, even the floor is perfectly fine for me.”

In the end, you two agreed that he can sleep on the floor, but he gets the blanket and the pillow from the sofa. He turned out the lights and you stared through the big window in his room. The moon cast its light and illuminated everything. ‘Maybe this was why Vincent became a painter? So he could etch the images like this onto the canvas, marking them for all eternity.’ Sleep won’t be coming to you anytime soon, but you just hoped nightmares won’t chase you once again.

However, your hope was all in vain.

Nightmares of losing Theo to L’Académie. Him yelling at you while you are shaking in the corner, his fangs out making him look like a monster. Each time you opened your eyes from one nightmare, another one came as soon as you closed them again. The last one was everyone you knew, even your own self laughing at you as you were freezing, telling you it’s your fault for burning bridges and trying to act like you’ve got it all together. You woke up with tears in your eyes and you gasped as you woke up, you started hyperventilating and it must’ve woken up Vincent because he was crouching next to you in a flash, one hand holding yours and other on your back, rubbing in soothing motion.

“That’s right, just deep breaths Y/n, it was just a nightmare” he probably had experience when Theo had nightmares when they were kids. “I’m here okay, just relax.” Your breathing got regular in a few minutes before you flung your arms around Vincent and sobbed in his shoulder. He only pulled you closer in his embrace and let you cry it out. You were under a lot of stress and it was normal for you to break at one point. At least he was there to be your rock.

“Do you want me to go get you something?” he asked you in a soft voice once you got a hold of yourself.

“No, thank you, I don’t need anything.” You smiled at his kindness. “Thank you for helping me calm down.”

“Always Y/n, that’s what friends are for” the warmest smile was on his lips.

“Could…” you were embarrassed to ask him, but maybe that would help you finally get some peaceful sleep. “could you sleep with me on the sofa? You don’t need to if you’re uncomfortable, you’ve already done so much-“

“Scoot over” he picked up the blanket and the pillow. Covering you with the blanket, he wrapped his arm around you and leaned into your back. “Sweet dreams, Y/n.”

“Thank you, Vincent, sleep well!”

This time you had a dreamless sleep, but you were grateful Vincent made sure you were comfortable, even if it’s only for one night. Now the pressing question was, what to do in the morning? It will be harder to leave and what if Arthur recognized you? He was extremely smart individual. You let out a sigh as you woke up when the sun has already started climbing the sky. ‘Damn it! I missed my chance to slip unnoticed!’ But what to do now? You hoped Vincent had any idea, but he wasn’t here?

If anyone walks in, you are doomed. Even worse if they see you laying on his sofa. You were Theo’s old lover, not his brother’s. As you stood in the middle of the room panicking, regretting every choice that got you to this point, the door started opening and you froze on the spot. ‘Come on God, kill me now so I don’t have to suffer any longer.’ However, to your surprise it was just Vincent, bringing you breakfast.

“You startled me” you let yourself relax a bit when Vincent closed the door behind him.

“Arthur asked about ‘the mysterious person that went into my room last night’.” Oh no… “I asked him not to tell anyone and that nothing happened.” Knowing Arthur, Theo already knows and is just trying to process everything.

“I-“

“Don’t even think about apologizing. It’s okay” it’s like he read your mind. “I also asked Comte about the door and about you.” He handed you the breakfast and you gladly accepted it.

“He told me that if any of us has seen you, we can bring you back to the mansion if you ever need anything. Our home is always going to be your home too.” You carefully mulled over Comte’s alleged words in your mind. Still, there were 9 more vampires who probably didn’t want anything to do with you. “I haven’t seen Theo, though.”

Once again you felt like you hit a dead end. Only this time, there was a wall behind you and you had nowhere to go. Whatever you choose, it’s not going to end well. But you know you are going to have to confront either the residents or Theo once he barges into Vincent’s room.

Maybe it’s better if you go and thank Comte before leaving, new day’s a new chance after all, right?

“Could we go see Comte?” you were ready for rejection, but to your surprise Vincent beamed with happiness. (‘That’s it Y/n, baby steps.’) “I want to thank him for everything and apologize for coming unannounced.”

“Sure, but first finish your breakfast” he sat down on the sofa, looking relaxed as ever. “You need to regain your strength.”

You wanted to answer, but your mouth was full and you didn’t want to accidentally spit some food onto the angelic painter that got you this far. Vincent laughed as you struggled to swallow and reply.

“You are going to choke if you don’t eat it properly!” Vincent scolded you.

“Sor-“ however you were cut off by door slamming open and Theo and Arthur barging in.

You jumped out of surprise, the plate in your hands fell out of your hands, porcelain shattering into million pieces, just like your heart. The color was drained out of your face as if you saw a ghost. A lump came to your throat and restricted your breathing, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, a cold sweat coated your body.

Vincent jumped as well, a deeply rooted panic only getting worse when he realized just who has come unannounced. His younger boer and his author friend. The same shock could be seen on Theo’s face, eyes darting between you and Vincent. What is he thinking? ‘Does he think me and Vincent slept together? Or worse, does he feel betrayed? And what about Arthur? Vincent can hold Theo off, but I have no chance against the two of them.’

Even if the old clock kept on tickling, the precious time getting lost like sand in wind, it seemed as if everything stopped. No one moved a muscle anymore. Breathing stopped. Even Arthur was speechless, his emotions finally out in the open, he seemed confused, almost hurt. ‘But that’s just your mind playing tricks on you, right Y/n?’

Theo finally broke the trance and Vincent instinctively took a step back towards you, trying to shield you from their eyes.

“What?” is all Theo muttered, however. It seemed like he wasn’t even mad, just utterly confused, betrayed. “What’s the meaning of this? Boer what is Y/n doing in your room?!” He raised his voice and you flinched. But neither you nor Vincent found the voice to explain just what’s happening. Letting out a sigh and casting his glance down, Theo walked away, his pace fast, his strides long and his nails cutting into his palms. The commotion brought Leonardo and Sebastian to Vincent’s room and you felt like you might pass out. Your worst nightmares came to life and now Vincent needs to pay the price as well.

One casted glance from Vincent over his shoulder was however all you needed to find the strength and courage to run past the stunned vampires and the butler, following into the direction Theo went.

You don’t have a plan; you almost never did. However, all you know is that Theo needs to understand and that silence won’t bring you two anywhere. You followed him out of the mansion and into the woods.

There are shadows in the dark, you finally remember that and you are ready to show that to your lover as well, it’s now or never.

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feysandfeels · 3 years

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Sometimes I think of the trigger Lucien must have gotten when he saw Feyre die and Tamlin holding her crying. He probably made a parallel about what happened to him and Jesminda. I believe that's why he didn't help Feyre so hard in relation to Tamlin in the second book, because Tamlin got the opportunity he didn't get.

Of course there's every part of Tamlin being his High Lord and he owes him allegiance, but I believe his trauma has been addressed.

Of course, that's not an excuse, but I can't stop thinking about it.

Hiya Sugar, I know you asked me this like three weeks ago, sorry I'm just getting around to it.

So this mainly has two sides to understand first is what was happening to Lucien. Here we need to take into account his history of abuse at the hands of his family and Tamlin. The second is clearly how Feyre understood the situation from her own place of enunciation. Still I think this is one of those discussions in the fandom where you should tread lightly because I don't think either side is entirely wrong to feel what they felt and every argument has a well crafted response that is enlightening.

Lucien.

I think by this point denying that Lucien is a victim of abusive relationships that showcased their abuse not only physically but mentally and emotionally is just irresponsable and willful blindness. Lucien's family dynamic speaks of a toxic environment if I ever saw one. The Jesminda's death at the hands of his brothers and father is something that has left a scar as visible as the one across his eye. This is an experience that molds how he interacts with other people as friends, as romantic partners, and also how he understands romantic relationships that he is not involved in (Feyre and T*mlin).

From this angle, yes, UtM was extremely triggering for him because yet again he was placed in a situation where the loved one is killed and the other person "can't do much" about it (the quotation thingies are because T*mlin was being useless af here and he should have done more than just beg, Lucien's situation he was magically and physically restrained). He understands T*mlin's nightmares better than almost anyone, and as he told Feyre, T*mlin will never not hear the sound of her neck breaking. I do believe that if T*mlin had talked about this with Lucien, he might have dealt with the whole thing better.

We can't also ignore that Lucien carries a lot of guilt regarding Jesminda. He couldn't save her and seeing his friend die in a similar manner must have brought up his own traumas so its understandable that his full on attention might not have been spent towards understanding what Feyre was going through. We all are dealing with things and it's fair when you don't have the mental space to see what is happening to those around you, even when you are as observant as Lucien is. If your mind is not seeing, it doesn't matter if your golden eye sees it all. This guilt of not being there for the ones he loves (in any capacity) is also shown in WAR when he realizes better what happened to Feyre and he says something about being the villain in her story. As much of an Elucien fan that I am I do think that part of his reasoning for going to fetch the army was to make amends with Feyre. He felt guilty for not being there for her friend. (Yes he had a lot more to address on his plate, there's no doubt of that). In a way I do think he recognized that he could have done more.

On top of this we add that Lucien's relationship with T*mlin is based on a partly on the loyalty earned from saving him from his brothers. I think that it is not for nothing that in ACOSF Eris says that he's the one that sent word to T*mlin about what was happening to Lucien, which implies the existence of a friendship that predates the murder of Jesminda. This means that along with that loyalty there must be some old fashion good hearted feelings that nourish what we see as the friendship these two have. What I mean is that probably Lucien's vision of T*mlin is the friend he used to be way back when and the loyalty for offering a "home".

We don't know when exactly T*mlin started being abusive towards Lucien, but at least we can all agree that during ACOMAF he was. It wouldn't also be a stretch to think that in the pre-acotar days there might have been incidents of physical abuse, but so far we don't know for sure. There is a missing piece of information that we don't have yet because Lucien was more feisty during UtM when his life was at risk, than he was during MAF... this tells us a lot of how T*mlin was handling things with him.

There's also something to be said with how Lucien understood abuse. It's a heavy possibility that he perceived abuse like he saw it in the AC. He had a naturalized version of what abuse is, that for him w abuse looked like and felt like what he lived in the AC, so what he experienced with T*mlin pre-acotar did not seem to him as abuse (even when it was). And after Amarantha he began to understand the multiple faces of abuse and thus started to being afraid of T*mlin. Lucien could have also been dealing with the realization that a centuries old relationship had be tainted with abusive behaviors.

I do think that Lucien thought that he tried as hard as he could with the tools he had. But that does not mean that he shouldn't have done more. The problem is that Lucien didn't know he could. Like if he had fought with Tamlin for Feyre's sake where would he go then? Feyre had the option to go to the Night Court, Lucien did not. I like to believe that if he had known the truth about the NC before and had him and Feyre talked about it they would have said fuck you Tamlin, bye, black is the new spring. But he did not know. So he stayed on the comfortable zone of pushing but not jeopardizing his "home". You can hardly blame him for how he played the game when he did not know he was playing with one hand tied to his back.

I will not excuse though when he tried to grab her against her will during the woods. I understand that he was scared and desperate, but I still think that it was not right.

Feyre.

When I stand from a Feyre point of view there are two things that speak to me above all others. First she died for Tamlin and she bargained her life for his court -Lucien included- so I understand the she expected him to push and fight hard for her too. I know there's a quote about her recognizing that T*mlin had fought for her but that she had fought harder for him, and I think that can also suit her relationship with Lucien to an extend. I'm not saying that Lucien is like T*mlin, because no, not at all, not even in the least; but I do think she would have liked for her friend to fight for her well being like she fought for his during UtM.

Second it is hard to be see your friends still be friends with your abuser. Yes Feyre doesn't know all the variables that affect their relationship, the toxic loyalty that T*mlin saving Lucien created, the genuine friendship that was there before her and before Jesminda... but I understand the pain to see your friend not draw the lines for your sake.

This offers a beautiful arc for Lucien in the sense that only recently there has been a movement of "tell me if I'm friends with your abuser", and this awakening is a reality that a lot of people are facing. Is hard to untangle yourself from a person you have known for x amount of time, because you are trying to see the abusive person in the face you related to kindness or something not abusive. Again, we don't know how their relationship was pre-Feyre, perhaps Tamlin had been nothing but a sugary cupcake with Lucien and it's hard to associate that version of his friend to the version he is post Amarantha, the version that will physically abuse them; perhaps T*mlin had always been an ass but "the good outweighed those few instances of abusive behavior". What I'm trying to say is that sometimes it is hard to make a clean cut when the abuser turns out to be the person who saved you (from an even worse abuser but like you get what I mean).

I will not do him the disservice to say that he might not have connected the dots and thought that T*mlin's behavior was abusive towards Feyre. Even if he was just understanding how abuse can look like and even if he was reliving Jesminda's death I do think he could see that T*mlin's behavior was abusive towards Feyre (here I am making the distinction between reliving the trauma of having his love murdered and him recognizing abuse). Lucien is clever and intelligent. I think he did see what was happening, but that implied also a massive shift of reality for him that he was not prepared to see and did not have the tools to deal with, he was also struggling there.

Final thoughts.

I think Feyre is not wrong to feel a tad of distaste against Lucien through ACOMAF. Speaking from a personal experience it is quite sad and tough to see people who you conceived as friends not stand up to you when you are suffering at the hand of your S.O who happens to be their friend. It sucks a lot because you truly feel alone and you feel that at the end of the day they did not take care of you at the expense of taking care or helping or remaining on the good graces of your abuser.

But I think that simply condemning Lucien's actions during MAF without understanding the complicated history of abuse he has, is irresponsable. You are of course allowed to say that he is not fave and that it left a bad taste in your mouth, that's fair, but to condemn him the way I've seen this fandom do without an ounce of empathy or critical reading is just baffling (which to be quite frankly is also something I saw everybody after ACOSF with Rhysand, they condemned his actions without truly taking five second to understand the historical context of them).

Characters are allowed to make mistakes and are allowed to fall short in any given situation, because we as living creatures sometimes fall short in life. What's important to me is that Lucien is learning and when Feyre returned to the SC in WAR we could all see that he changed his approached towards the situation and was there for her. And also you will pry this off my hands but the fact that he is invited to their Solstice celebrations speaks of the state of their relationship right now, they are understanding of what the other is going through and I do think they are making amends and creating a friendship that acknowledges the mistakes they have both made towards the other one.

Yeah this was a long ramble.

Again, apologies it took me so long to answer

Long live Lucien and Feyre. I can't wait for them to grow closer.

#Lucien Vanserra #Feyre Archeron #ACOMAF #ACOWAR #ACOSF #FeysandfeelsAsk #mistakes will be corrected when I inevitably publish this and see them

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.

Genocide, basically.

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs!

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

#supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #dc comics #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #kara zor el #comic thoughts #comic opinions #just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things #I think thus far I've included every title page?#still #will try to be better about that going forward

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Pairing: Steven/Connie

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.6K~

Summary: In which Connie’s subconscious, innocent touch helps Steven realize just how nice the sensation of gentle fingertips gliding across the surface of one’s gem can be. (Just a bunch of teen romance fluff, + first kiss)

This is set like... a few weeks before Steven leaves Beach City. I imagine he’s been recovering from what happened in I Am My Monster for at least 6 months by this point.

His days aren’t always great- there’s a lot of ups and downs- but thankfully, today is a markedly pleasant one.

_____

His house is still for once. Impossibly so. No Diamond business, no new arrivals to Earth, no disgruntled Gems kicking down his front door. No more battles, beyond his own internal ones. Admittedly, a part of him is happy for the peace and quiet. He’s appreciative of the way all his family and friends rallied around him in support months back after... erm- after his breakdown, but every guy needs some space eventually.

‘Some space’ never has to mean alone, of course.

Steven sneaks a doe-eyed glance at the girl flopped next to him on the living room couch, her mind lost in the pages of her own fantasy world. It’s a new series, something about a human accidentally falling into the world of the fae. (It’s only been like, half an hour, and she’s almost a hundred pages in already!) A pliable smile teases his lips as he watches her eyes flicker back and forth, digesting each passage with a voracious hunger. Sighing in content, he turns his attention back to his own book, externally making as if he’s busy exploring the world of fiction to hide the sappy fact that instead he’s been thinking about her all along. Honestly? He adores quiet days like these. Even if they’re not doing anything special, it’s just nice to get to spend time alone together. It’s a comfortable together.

Connie shifts, instinctively curling closer, her free arm slung against his side. With a soft hum of content he leans into her welcomed embrace, trying his best (and— caught in her innocently bewitching presence— failing abysmally) to focus on the wandering lines of text.

Everything is peaceful.

No hard knocks, no frenzied phone calls, no family disruptions. The domestic warp hasn’t even activated once this whole lazy afternoon. In recent days, he’s pretty sure that’s a record.

At long last, his house is still... and yet in a flash, his hormone riddled teenage mind— ever foolish— is everything but.

Because Connie’s touch is tickling him.

It’s subconscious, almost imperceptible at first. At some point her free hand has roved so that it’s no longer pressed against his side, but against his midriff— which is currently exposed, his shirt bunched up at the waist from all his slouching. Teasingly, her fingertips dance upon the facets of his gem with the pinpoint expertise of a prima ballerina, encoding an endless rhythm directly into the sum of his being, the feather-light contact sending vibrations almost too faint to notice coursing through his hard light veins. But not too faint for him. Not now, not while host to this kind of silence. Not when the girl draped on the couch next to him unknowingly commands every shard of his attention with the slightest twitch of her index finger.

It’s taking all his willpower not to squirm at this ticklish contact right now. It’s so... weird when other people touch his gem. It’s certainly not something he’s used to.

(Steven promptly buries the memory of the last time someone touched it, refusing to let old terrors tarnish an otherwise pleasurable encounter. He can feel the pink threatening to rise in his cheeks, that instinctual rush of panic he’s grown so numb to over the past months rearing its ugly head. It’s so, so hard to wrestle away from its thrall sometimes, but thankfully his therapist has been teaching him ways to mitigate these sorta reactions. His eyes clamp shut as he breathes deep through his nose and focuses on the tangible, on what he knows: the plump, lumpy cushions of the couch under him, the slight scent of garlic and cumin in the air from the lunch he cooked a few hours ago, the rhythmic crashing of waves outside the house. The warmth of his best friend by his side—)

Tap, taptaptap, tap, taptaptap...

His cheeks bloom a human red as her lulling rhythm continues.

Like he said, it’s obviously subconscious. It has to be, right? It would certainly make sense. From his observations, Connie’s always been a tactile thinker. It’s part of what made her such a quick study in sword fighting. Whenever her mind is alight, those beautiful neurons firing back and forth like a firework display, her body is in motion. Sometimes it’s her foot, tapping impatiently into the dirt as she parses through memory to find the precise words to say. Or it’s like how she memorizes facts for tests easier if she’s jogging, listening to audio recordings of the test materials she made herself. And then there’s times like now, when Connie is reading. When her fingers tap and glide with an almost impish touch across the diamond gemstone in his belly’s center as her eyes— by all appearances entirely disconnected from both her hand’s motion and his reaction— skim effortlessly across the unfolding tale on her page. Her hands... oh, those hands... calloused, warm, digits lithe and curious in their movement. They’re always shifting, always tapping, always twitching to some identifiable rhythm. Is this just another example of her sway towards more kinetic-based thinking? Or... is it something else? A silent yearning that extends its roots from the heart into object reality, innocently unaware of the power of its call?

Stars, Steven thinks, mustering with all his strength to ignore his burning face, so maybe I’ve been thinking a little too much about her lately...

Eventually, it all becomes a bit too overwhelming to handle. If this continues in silence any longer, well... well, heck. He doesn’t even want to imagine what embarrassing things could happen. Mustering up all his courage, he flips his book shut and drops it on the cushion beside him.

“Um, Connie? By the way? That’s kinda ticklish,” he squeaks out, voice high and reedy.

Upon his words, she notices where her fingers are subconsciously tapping and immediately pulls her hand away, her cheeks flushing dark. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she says, quickly tossing her book aside and shifting upright on the couch. “I didn’t mean to goose ya’! I wasn’t even thinking abo—“

“No, it’s okay!” he interjects with an open hand. “I’m fine, really, I am. I- it’s not like, uh- It isn’t like a bother, and- well, it just—“

Burning up with such a ferocity that he’s about one impulsive decision away from high tailing it out of this fraught social situation and dunking his glowing pink head right into the Atlantic, he forces himself to hush before he says something super stupid and humiliating in front of his best friend in the whole world that he’ll regret and replay in his dreams forever and ever for the rest of his days.

Okay, Steven, stop running your mouth like a lovesick fool for one second and think. How can you say this in a way that doesn’t sound entirely stupid and/or weird?

Watching him closely, curiosity written across every vibrant feature, Connie inclines her head ever so slight, a subtle, wordless gesture— one only a Jam Bud could understand— for him to keep going.

The phantom sensation of her fingers tapping against crystal rushes through his nerves like the physical analogue to a bad ear worm. He reaches up to itch at the side of his neck, unable to fully stifle his nervous laughter.

“Honestly, it uh- it actually felt pretty nice?”

“What, me touching your gem?”

“Yeah,” he manages to croak out, voice cracking like it hadn’t since he was freshly fifteen.

She isn’t able to fully stifle her giggle at this, pressing her hand tight to her mouth far too late.

His heart nearly plummets at the sound of her teasing laughter, the constant thrumming of his hard light veins steadily quickening as a flood of energy pulses just below the surface. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, he knew it was far too much after every other recent misstep he’s made in their relationship! Why couldn’t he have just kept his trap shut?

“Aw, geeze,” he says, voice thick and his every muscle ready to bolt, “this is so embarrassing—“

“No, no! I shouldn’t have laughed, it’s okay!” she jumps in, pressing her hand to his shoulder to help ground him “It’s just bodies, Steven. It’s not weird. It’s just how skin-to-skin contact works. It’s supposed to feel good, because we’re meant to be social creatures, y’know?”

He hums softly in agreement, taking the offered moment to ease himself down from brink of panic. He focuses intently on the weight of her hand, resting feather-light against him. It’s a small gesture, but a powerful one. More than anything, more than words alone could say, it’s a promise. A reaffirmation, moment by moment. I’m here. We’re here. It’s a truth even the sobering reality of shared trauma can’t hope to erase: that even when the going’s tough, they have each other.

Connie brushes a stray stand of hair behind her ear then, shifting on the couch. Perhaps out of a sum of bashfulness, her eyes drift, not quite able to meet his.

“I- it’s silly, but I guess I never considered that you could even feel sensation through your gem,” she admits.

“Really? But you’ve had a gem before. Well, shared a gem,” he corrects himself, though in the end it’s all semantics.

“Well, sure, but when we’re Stevonnie, they don’t tend to think about stuff like that, because you’re used to it, and I’ve never thought about it. It’s simply... normal for them, I guess.”

“Hahah, yeah. It’s always been that way for me,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I never crawled like a normal kid, d’ya know? Dad says I always used to move around by scooting on my butt. When I tried crawling my gem would scrape against the floor, and apparently? I hated it.”

She laughs for real this time, (with him, not at him), her voice ringing true and beautiful and clear like a bell. His heart swells with joy.

And then...

Connie’s lithe fingers reach towards his midsection, hesitantly at first, before— in careful consideration of boundaries— pausing in their voyage entirely.

Her eyes lock with his, her shy expression wholly giving up the chase on what her request will be before she ever shifts her tongue to ask in words. “Is it okay if-?”

“Always,” he says, gently leading her hand under the hem of his shirt and towards the gemstone at his core.

He can’t help his sharp inhale when he feels her fingertips dance across his facets once more. Even when he knows what’s coming, knows to expect this contact, it’s funny. Not funny in a ‘haha’ way, funny in an ‘I’m not used to this’ way. After all, he’s never exactly made a habit of touching his own gem beyond periodic cleaning, and (almost) no one else has ever had a purpose to. It’s for this reason that a small traumatized segment of his mind still can’t help but spiral in panic about the mere concept of any external being brushing against this treasure, this tangible half of his very essence. Given the nightmares he’s been through, he’d have every right to deny her touch. But with Connie... beyond everything else, allowing her in this way is the greatest show of vulnerability he knows how to give.

It’s his proof to her that in this moment, he trusts her implicitly, without question.

Gracefully, she traces her finger around the edge of his gem, lines each individual facet in turn. It’s ticklish at first, much like before, but as she grows more confident in her gentle exploration he finds himself relaxing under her touch. He feels warm, a faint buzz of content flooding his system through his hard light veins. With her, he feels safe.

“It really is beautiful, you know that?” she says, a peaceful expression settling across her features. “Your gem.”

“Nah, you’re beautiful...” he murmurs bashfully, cheeks flushing.

“So are you,” she replies in swift measure, eyes soft with endless adoration.

His fluttering heart extends its gossamer wings and soars. If it weren’t for her nestled at his side, lithe fingers running across each facet in even measure, her tactile presence tethering him like an anchor to this present reality, he’s pretty sure he’d have floated halfway to the ceiling by now.

Daringly, his gaze locks with hers. He swears his heart’s beating its own drum solo within his chest, but this time it’s not because of fear, not at all.

It’s the feeling of freedom.

His fingers loop around a stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of her eyes. That seems to happen a lot, he’s noticed. As delicate as he can manage, he hooks it back over her ear.

“Can I...?” he whispers, his warm breath brushing against her lips.

She replies in wordless affirmation, leaning forward to close the narrow gap between them. Hooded eyes drift shut. Her hand still rests on his gem as they finally move to cross that final barrier, that fuzzy, oft indistinguishable line drawn between childhood sweethearts and could-be couple, and kiss.

Well, attempt to, anyways.

To be fair, despite his schmaltzy roots, Steven only has movies and books to pull from as an example.

Their noses bump against each other’s at first. Both giggling, they tilt their heads to compensate and then mash their lips together, reveling in every ridiculous moment of their joint inexperience. It’s definitely sloppy, and he doesn’t have a clue where he’s supposed to put his hands or how long is too long, or how he’s supposed to move his mouth against hers, or— stars, did he even remember to brush his teeth this morning?? He sure hopes so— but because it’s with Connie all of that doesn’t matter. It’s perfect in every way.

“OoooOOOoo, looks like loverboy’s finally gettin’ some!”

He and Connie startle at the interruption, pulling apart from each other with equally flushed faces to match eyes with their surprise visitor.

It’s Amethyst, leaning against the kitchen table with a downright roguish smirk, probably thinking she’s the funniest Gem that’s ever emerged. Of course, who else would it be? (Though, which entrance did she come in from? When did she sneak past them? Were they really so involved with each other that they just... failed to notice??)

“Crude,” he says, brows creased with faint annoyance.

In return, she cups her cheeks and serves him the most ridiculous, schmaltzy expression she can muster. “Sap!”

Connie stifles a laugh at her exaggerated antics, but on his side he can’t help but be salty that her interruption yanked the two of them away from the blissful throes of blossoming teenage romance.

“Oh, get outta here, you,” he chimes back, and playfully tosses one of the couch’s pillow straight towards her face. “Shoo!”

The quartz Gem catches it out of midair and grins, no stranger to tests of reflex these days. Adopting a fake posh voice, she fires back her retort. “Your wish is my command, Sir Sappington...”

Tucking the pillow under her arm, she turns on her heels and skips up and over the warp pad’s platform, stalking towards her room with a victorious air. She doesn’t even try to mask her lovingly teasing snickers as the door splits in two at her command and she crosses the barrier into the temple’s dimension warping interior. The last they hear from her before the passageway shuts is an overly triumphant ‘whoop.’ Steven can’t help but raise a scandalized brow at this. What, were the Gems hosting a betting pool about him and Connie, or something?

But thankfully, in time, the beach house grows peaceful again. They’re alone together, and together they’re content.

“Geeze, sorry about that,” he says bashfully, scratching at the nape of his neck. “You know how Amethyst is, heh heh.”

Connie smirks with loving, mischievous intent, comfortably cuddling up against his shoulder. “She’s kinda right, though...”

“About?”

“You can be pretty sappy sometimes,” she says fondly, and tilts her head so she can smooch his cheek. “Just one of the many reasons I love you.”

____

Notes:

So, given that I’ve also written a fic wherein Steven wakes up feeling a hand against his gem and has a panic attack, a word of explanation with my headcanons-

Ultimately, I imagine there’s a very stark difference between a trusted individual like Connie touching his gem when he’s fully alert and it’s just them, alone, safe... and him waking up and being groggy enough to not immediately realize who it is next to him.

In the end though, I just hope Steven would be able to reclaim a once-terrifying experience (someone else touching his gem) as something that is also able to be loving and comforting when it’s done with consent.

#su #su future #steven universe #connie maheswaran #connverse #su fanfiction #steven/connie #amethyst #my writing stuff

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op-peccatori · 4 years

Text

Ruffled Feathers (nsfw) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5900

Summary: You’re aware that you're dating a man who doesn't lose his cool easily; it's a trait you've come to appreciate about him. However, that doesn't stop you from trying to ruffle his feathers every chance you get. What happens when your latest attempt at poking does wake the bear?

a/n: *looks at all my WIPs* ok time to write another Victor thirstfic!! I actually dreamt of the smut part and had a tough time writing everything that comes before lol. I'm gonna have to come back and edit this properly

(tags under the cut)

Tags/Warnings: explicit content and explicit dialogue, PWP, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), spanking, somewhat rough and dom Victor, MC pushing buttons

Thursday

The soft pitter-patter of rain falls across the courtyard, bringing the hint of a chill with it.

You run through the hallways, cursing your lack of foresight; you didn’t think to bring an umbrella. Victor and Goldman are dropping in on the set, and you want to be the one to welcome them. After all, it's not every day that your boyfriend finds the time to come meet you. You try to calm the rapid fluttering in your stomach–you're going to leave for a work trip in the morning, and you're going to be tied up on set until late in the night. He's just trying to get a little more time with you, just as you requested.

As a set of all too familiar shoulders come into view, you fight the urge to speed up and slow to a walk instead, unable to help the widening of your smile as you meet his eyes. His severe expression softens minutely, his mouth perking up as he meets you halfway, a strange tension buzzing between you both as you waver between options, each more formal than the previous. Throwing yourself into his arms like you want to is out of the question; there's no need to add fuel to the fire. You know people are curious about the nature of your relationship, and whether or not it goes beyond professional.

You settle for beaming up at him, waving at Goldman when he pops out from behind him. "I'm glad to see you both!" You're also grateful when Goldman takes Victor's umbrella and hurries ahead, under the pretence of wanting to inform the director of their arrival himself. He leaves you both smiling at each other as you follow at a much slower pace.

"How are you?" he asks quietly. His expressions slips into something fonder as you sigh loudly.

"Tired. Hungry. Borderline homicidal," you answer honestly. "What about you?" "It was a smooth day. I brought you some food, I thought we could eat together."

Once again, you fight the urge to hug him. Instead, with a quick glance around, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. His hand is warm under your touch, and you wish you could just wrap yourself around him and bask in his warmth. The way his shirt stretches over his chest doesn’t help matters in the slightest, and you wonder if he’d left the jacket behind on purpose.

"That would be lovely, Victor." You pause when you realize there's a sudden stillness in the air, one you're more than familiar with. Fingers curve around your jaw and with your heart kicking into gear, you look up in time to see him leaning in, slotting your lips together firmly. As his arm slides around your waist, affection morphs into a hot liquid that pools in your abdomen. With the rain frozen still behind you, you press up against him, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your hands coming to rest over his chest. It's relief, it's like putting warm socks on after a shower, and you just want to sink into him. The want that has been creeping around in your body finally settles down.

A sound of a complaint leaves your lips when he pulls away, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "Now, how about you show me around?"

After that kiss, all you really want to do is find an empty room. But it also reminds you of what you've been toying with in your head all day, so you agree with a smile only slightly dazed. Victor smiles back, unaware of the devious ideas you've been playing with, and takes a small step away. Well, it can't be helped. You won't get to be alone with Victor for another week, and chances like this one are too rare to pass up.

With a kernel of regret in your heart, you lead your oblivious boyfriend further into the building.

Monday

All chatter in the room ceases as he walks in, some of the occupants scurrying out of the room and some greeting him meekly. You watch quietly as Goldman leaves your side and hurries to his, informing him of all the meetings scheduled for the day.

You watch, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, and wait. Your patience is rewarded when he glances your way: the slightest of pauses in his stride, a twitch of his mouth, the softening of his eyes. It's taken a considerable amount of time for you to become familiar with the minute changes in his expression; it took a lot of testing, a lot of risks, and you hoard this knowledge jealously. He says something to Goldman while still looking at you before he walks through the doors to his office.

Goldman relaxes slightly and walks back over to sit at his desk. "You've got fifteen minutes. He's such a generous man, isn't he? You're a lucky girl!"

'Or he knows I didn't get enough sleep last night and need this cup.' Goldman eyes the little smile on your face suspiciously. "Actually, never mind."

"Well, actually, Goldman," you begin with a sweet smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"No."

"You don't even know what it is."

"With the kind of face you're making? I don't want to know."

"Oh, c'mon! It's just a little favour. And it's for Victor too!" you cajole softly, and he slumps slightly. "I just wanted to know his schedule for Thursday."

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" he asks confusedly, adjusting his glasses nervously.

You roll your eyes. "Then it wouldn't be much of a surprise would it?"

"Hmm. And it's something he'll like?" You feel a stab of guilt at how sincere he looks, but it's not like you're planning something terrible. It's just something new, that's all.

"Oh, trust me. He'll like it," you say, unable to help the little smirk that curls along your mouth. You're not sure what Goldman interprets from that, because he looks a little nauseous.

"Right. I regret asking," he sighs. "Well, he's got a few calls and meetings scheduled in the morning, but he does have some time after 5."

"Perfect."

Thursday

And so, having ensured you have some space to yourself, you invited Victor for a short visit to the set. You're filming a fantasy show here, and tomorrow you'll be off to visit other potential shoot locations. You weren't expecting Goldman to tag along, but you figure he's more or less part of the gang now, and knows better than to interrupt your time with his boss–mostly because he would rather not know what you're doing. You've done most of your work, and with Anna stopping by, you're not exactly required to stick around to supervise. With a quick meal, you begin the tour.

You're careful as you lead Victor to different parts of the building. It's an older building on the outskirts of the city, and the lighting leaves much to be desired. But the stonework is beautiful, as are the paintings hanging in the halls. You can't tell if the house had actual floorplans because the rooms and staircases seem to have been constructed at random places. You pass by the windows, admiring the plants in the courtyard that are bright in the soft rain, and as you walk to a quieter part of the building, you reach for his hand, curling your fingers around his firmly. Stepping into your favourite part of this odd little mansion, you show him the room you stop by every time you feel the urge to cry or rage.

There are mirrors of various shapes and sizes on all four walls, and the first time you had come in here you had been so dizzy you'd nearly missed a window in the corner. You had dragged an armchair in here, positioning it in front of the window that had its own private little view of the courtyard. As you declare the room as your spot, an excited skip in your step, Victor eyes you speculatively.

"You sounded a little haggard when we spoke yesterday," he begins, glancing at the door as you step closer and wrap your arms around him. "Yet, you seem almost cheerful now."

"Ah, well," you laugh nervously, a sliver of triumph slithering through you. You turn your head until you can see your reflection in few of the mirrors, the way Victor’s hand slips down to cup your ass before he seems to catch himself and bring it back to safer territory. "Yesterday was pretty rough. But, well. I have my ways of cheering myself up."

"Pancakes?"

'Well, that too.' You smile into his shirt, inhaling the subtle tones of his cologne. The familiar scent relaxes something in you, nearly making regret your plans of breaking this peaceful atmosphere. "Not quite."

He doesn't respond, merely waiting for you to come out with it. Your pulse quickens as you peer up at him sheepishly, hoping the expression isn't too exaggerated. "Well, I was so tense, you know. I needed something to take the edge off. So...you remember that voice note you once sent me?"

You wait for it to click, and you know the exact moment it does, the slight parting of his lips giving him away. "Yes."

"It helped me take care of things."

"Take care of things," he repeats, his hands flexing where they rest on your back.

"Uh, yeah. It's quite effective, I really have to thank you for that! Never fails to bring me to-"

"How often do you...use it?" he cuts you off, hands tightening their grip on you. You blink at his strained tone, adopting a look of slight confusion.

"...often enough. Is there a problem?" You pat yourself on the back for how concerned you manage to sound, snapping to attention when Victor scowls at you.

"Not a problem. But...why don't you just call me?"

"Sometimes I just wake up wanting you." You shrug casually and try to take a measured step away from him, but he doesn't let you, pulling you close to brush his lips over the tender spot underneath your ear.

"Then next time, call me," he murmurs, pressing soft yet insistent kisses down your neck as if trying to emphasise on how much he means it.

"Victor-" you try to protest, hoping dearly that your smile doesn't break free.

"I don't care. This is my job. Call me."

With cheeks warming at his stern tone, you laugh and begin to walk out of the room. "Fine, I'll try. But it won't be possible all the time, you know."

"Why not?" he asks, following you with a deep frown crinkling his forehead.

"Well, I'm going away tomorrow, and who knows what schedule will be like?" You do. "And I can't always disturb you."

A hand curls around your arm, pulling you back into the room just as you exit it. You crash against him when he drags you back towards him, his arms tight around you and keeping you in his hold. You're half expecting the way he kisses you, the way his tongue curls around yours demandingly, the moan it draws from you. Fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you in place for him to plunder your mouth greedily–but then it turns softer than you would like it to. His eyes are clear of any irritation when he pulls back, the dark hints of desire swept away quickly.

"I guess I can understand that. But I hope you know I'm always here to take care of anything you need," he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. You nod dumbly, not having expected him to be so agreeable.

"So, is this you giving me permission to finger myself to your voice anytime I want?" you joke weakly. His fingers dig into your skin for a moment, almost painfully, but his expression is still clear when you look at him again.

"You don't need my permission. Again, I do hope you'll make use of your willing boyfriend more often, hm?" he teases you lightly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You're rendered speechless by his inaction. He isn't tempted in the slightest, and you're not sure if you should be offended. No dragging you in front of the mirrors, demanding you to show him exactly how you touch yourself. He leads you out of the room, completely unruffled.

As you both head back to check on the crew, one last thought occurs to you. The final card. You pull your phone out quickly, opening Victor's chat and tapping the icon for attaching images.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” you begin, watching everyone run around as they pack up, and then you hit send. “It happened yesterday too, in the afternoon.”

Victor stops in his tracks as his phone vibrates. “But you were here yesterday afternoon.” He's still distracted by your words as he checks his messages, and you assume that's why he doesn't realize what he's looking at right away. You barely catch the way his breath hitches in his throat and his fingers tighten around the device, his fixed on the screen.

“Mhm. I was just so tense.” You study him as several emotions flit through his eyes in quick succession, and then his expression smooths out into something carefully measured and blank as he puts his phone back in his pocket, giving you a tight smile.

“Glad I could help.”

You feel like screaming, and not in the way you wanted to. Your grand plans of making Victor snap, lose control and take you in a shadowed corner of the building have turned to dust. Not even a picture of you, reflected in several mirrors with your hand up your skirt, could do it. And you'd wasted so much time on experimenting with the angles too. The aesthetic! Not even a compliment? You watch sullenly as the director comes up to him, drawing him into a chat easily.

‘I mean, I tried,’ you think resignedly, and go help with pack up. 'What does a girl have to do to get some dick around here?' Your shoulders remain slumped with disappointment throughout the process of wrapping up, and it's only when everyone's trickling out that the first seeds of doubt begin to bloom. The sky has cleared up and the fresh smell of rain still lingers in the air when you turn to the director.

"I'll see you in the morning?"

Jason nearly trembles with the force of what looks like excitement. "Actually, ___!Oh, we're so lucky–we don't have to go!"

"What do you mean? We still need to finalize the next location," you ask with no small amount of confusion. You've already packed.

"Yes, but I was just talking to Victor, and I think we’ve found the perfect location! We can go next week, he said he'll take care of it."

"He will?" you ask numbly, turning to the man in question who has just stepped up to stand next to you.

"Yes! I'll text you the details. I'm so glad you invited him. Thank you!" He takes your hands in his and shakes them enthusiastically, contrasting greatly with the sinking sensation in your gut. "What a great man!"

You watch mutely as he turns to Victor, who waves off the other man's praises with a small smile. A hand settles briefly on your shoulder, and you turn around to see Anna grinning at you. "Need a ride back home?"

"Yeah, actually-" you pause and look back over your shoulder, your eyes locking with a pair reminiscent of wild storms. "Uh, I think Victor's going to take me home."

"Oh?" Anna asks just as a hand settles on your lower back.

"Yes. Don't worry, I'll get her home in one piece," Victor assures her, an odd twinkle in his eye as Anna laughs in response.

"Oh, you two! Alright, have a good night."

You wish everyone else a good night, aware of the curious eyes boring into your backs as you both walk away. Your heart thumps loudly as you wait for him to say something, but Victor only makes idle chit-chat as he drives. How you feel about the filming, the cast, the predicted responses. He's at complete ease. It's when you're back in the main city, and you've relaxed into your seat. that he chooses to ask you something different.

"I was wondering if you'd like to stay over tonight. Now that you're free tomorrow, I mean." His tone remains casual, his eyes staying on the road as you perk up. "We haven't gotten much time together this month."

"Oh?"

"I baked something new yesterday, it would be nice if you could try it too," he tells you.

"Yeah, I think that's perfect!" you acquiesce at once, the prospect of getting to eat food cooked by him convincing you easily. Hopefully, after you've gotten to taste other things. "I've really missed you."

"Mm, I know." He flashes you a quick smile. "My babygirl's been misbehaving too. I think I need to make time for a quick lesson, no?"

For a moment, you think you've misheard. Your stomach tightens, and there are no words you can come up with in response, so you remain quiet. Even as he pulls up to his building and anticipation begins to pump through you like a slow drug, you think you could've imagined his words. There's an almost placid look on his face as you both enter the elevator, while you're sure you look like a nervous wreck. You shouldn't be anxious, you're getting exactly what you wanted. You've been feeling so needy it's pathetic, and Victor's going to take care of it.

Except, it didn't go according to plan, did it? You messed with him, but you had planned for him to have enough time and space to cool down while you were away. You hadn't expected him to derail the whole plan so easily.

His phone rings as he opens the door to his penthouse, and he takes the call. Thinking it must be important for him to answer right away, you take this chance to try and sneak away.

"Oh, ___?" You halt right away, but you can't bring yourself to see his expression. He's pressing the phone to his chest in an attempt to muffle his words. He drags a knuckle across the soft skin of your cheek, before a finger under your chin tilts your head up until you can look at him; he looks amused by your nervous demeanour. "Go freshen up. I want you in the living room in twenty minutes."

"O-okay." You're a little embarrassed by the high pitch of your voice, and as you hurry to his bathroom your mind races through the possibilities. An apology would have to be made, but it wouldn't be enough for him to let you off the hook. At this point, you can only appeal to the soft spot he has for you. With that thought in mind, you rush to his closet.

You clean up as well as you can within your time limit, braiding your hair back quickly, your face clear of any makeup. As you walk back into the living room, you see Victor sitting on the sofa, tapping away at his phone. Stopping by the kitchen to get you both some water, you remain silent as you come to a stop beside him and wait.

When he finally turns his phone off and leans back, you rush to get the words out. "Um, Victor, I-I'm really sorry about earlier today...I didn't mean to make you angry.”

He studies you from underneath thick lashes, stretching his neck and taking in the way the hem of his shirt falls to the middle of your thighs and the way your fingers play with it in a well-crafted picture of remorse. "I'm not angry."

"What?" you watch as he sips his water calmly.

"I'm not angry," he repeats, even though you think the dark look in his eyes says otherwise. "I understand why you did what you did."

"You do?" You curse your inability to form full sentences.

"Like I said, we've both been busy this month," he gestures for you to take a seat next to him. "You must've been frustrated."

Relief washes over you at the understanding in his voice. "I-yeah. I'm sorry. I should've just told you." He simply nods, stroking your cheek tenderly. Just as you begin to smile, his hand cups your jaw tightly, preventing any more words from leaving your lips. His grip his firm enough for your cheeks to feel squished, your lips forced into a pout. Your heart skips and drops as the tranquil curtain of his expression falls away, leaving behind something much more austere.

"Yes, you should have. I'm not angry about you touching yourself to the sound of my voice," he says, the gentleness in his tone slowly transitioning into fierceness. "I'm glad I could help." He leans into your space, his gaze locked on you, your eyes widening with panic. "What I don't appreciate is you trying to play games with me. And touching yourself in public? Where someone could have seen?"

You try to shake your head, somehow trying to convey the fact that you had been careful.

"The very thought of it..." he exhales forcefully and releases your jaw, leaning back a bit. "Now, come."

You're not completely sure he means what you think, and the thought of it sends fear and excitement racing through you. You hadn't expected things to take this turn, for him to have seen through your games so easily and taken steps to ensure you couldn't see them through. As he pats his thigh, you crawl over his lap, positioning yourself carefully until you're lying across it. He runs a hand over your back, caressing the back of your head lovingly as you try not to tremble.

"No need to be nervous. You've told me yourself–I'm a good teacher." His tone remains calm as his hand wanders over your body, sliding down the length of your spine to stroke your thighs before pulling the shirt up and dragging your underwear down roughly, baring your ass to him. Nimble fingers stroke and squeeze the plump flesh of your rear, and your breath begins to grow heavy. "Did you really think you could get away with it?"

His hand comes down on your skin in an open-handed blow, not too hard, and you jolt more from the surprise than the sting. You manage to bite back a whimper, and the way Victor's hand massages the skin feels like approval. His hand is warm, and the other settles over the back of your neck, as you rest your head over hands that clutch at the cushion.

"Tell me what you did wrong." Another slap, this time on the other cheek.

"I-I played games." You yelp at the hard smack delivered over the top of your thigh, right where it meets your ass. Your cheeks feel uncomfortably hot–both the sets.

"I know you can do better than that," he coaxes, his tone wicked. You whimper softly as he massages the stinging skin, squirming on his lap until his hand squeezes with a warning.

"I tried t-to tease you," you whisper, and he hums in approval.

"Yes, you were a filthy girl today. Tormenting me with thoughts of coming just by listening to an old voice not. And that picture," he growls. You expect the strong smack this time, your eyes brimming with tears as you try to breathe steadily. "And what should you have done instead?"

"I should've been honest." You hasten to continue when he pinches your prickling skin. "I should've told you how...how badly I needed it."

A smack, and the tears spillover. "Needed what?"

"Y-your cock, sir." It slips out automatically, and you know he likes it when he spends more time soothing your flesh.

"And the picture? Touching yourself where anyone could have walked in?" Smack. "All because you were hungry for my cock. All you had to do was ask." Smack.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I thought you w-would like it." You part your legs as his hand ventures further down; you wince when you hear him click his tongue and feel him yank at your underwear hard enough to tear it in half. In a rare show of mercy, two of his fingers probe your entrance, although you're immensely embarrassed when you realize how wet you are.

He sighs loudly, sounding disappointed. "Here I am, trying to teach you something, and look at you. You're dripping." If you hadn't known him as well as you do, you wouldn't have been able to detect the pleased edge to his voice. "Answer me honestly. If I hadn't put a stop to your misbehaviour, would you have continued while you were away?"

You freeze in place, blinking through the blurriness as you remember the videos you had planned to film while you were beyond his reach. A gentle pinch of your clit has you moaning, scrambling to get hold of your thoughts, which becomes more difficult when his finger pushes into you.

"I want an answer."

"Y-yes, sir. I was going to..." He continues to slide his finger in and out, rubbing along your walls firmly.

"More pictures?"

"Yes...and videos," you whimper. He only hums thoughtfully, pulling his finger out, and in the next second, he delivers a loud smack on your throbbing cunt.

You can only sob as your mind blanks, trembling in earnest as you struggle to breathe. "I-I'm sorry, sir. Please...I'll be good, I-I promise."

"Shh," he slides two fingers along your heat, rubbing gently. "What do you want?"

"Please...please make me come," you beg, squeezing your walls tightly. The drag of his fingers over your slit is slow, achingly slow, but you don't dare move.

"Alright. Mouth?" The thought of his tongue on you nearly makes you come right there, but you manage to remember what you had been aiming for earlier.

"Could I...could you..." you stumble over your words, frustrating yourself more, but the hand now stroking the stinging flesh of your rear is patient. "Please fuck me. Please. Please."

"Hmm. We'll see." He manoeuvres your body until you're curing into his chest and you feel as if you could pass out from the force of your relief–until he continues. "But first, get on your knees."

You know your face is set in disbelief and despair as you lock eyes with him, but he just gazes back steadily. You know it's better to go along with what he says and be rewarded. You've had enough of the punishment, and you'll do whatever it takes to get to the goal. With his help, you're soon kneeling between his legs, grateful for the plush rug cushioning your knees. Victor continues to look at you expectantly, prompting you to unbuckle his belt as swiftly as you can. Before you can unzip him, he stops you.

"Not yet."

Uncertain of what he means, you remove your hand from his crotch. His fingers slide into your hair, tightening until you feel the sting, and pull you forward until your nose brushes against the soft fabric of his pants. You can feel the way it strains against the restricting cloth, and it makes your mouth water. You mouth at his clothed erection and he loosens his grip on your hair, content to watch you trace his bulge with your lips for a long moment.

"Now."

You scramble to obey, unzipping him with shaky fingers and pulling his pants down along with his boxer briefs, eyes fixed on the way his cock bounces, it's head glistening temptingly. You can't help the hungry kisses you plant along his muscled thighs, barely refraining from sinking your teeth into the firm skin. Resting your chin on his knee, you peer up at him for the next order.

Victor inhales sharply, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Good girl. Suck." The first taste of him on your tongue is salty, and you suck on his tip softly, pleased at the soft groan he lets you hear. "Deeper. Don't use your hands." You take his cock in until it hits the back of your throat, trying to relax your jaw around it. As you begin to bob your head up and down, his hips begin to thrust shallowly. Your fingers dig into your thighs, fighting the urge to touch him, and you keep a smooth pace.

Until a hard thrust has you choking on his length, over and over again.

"See, that's the problem, babygirl," he growls, cupping the back of your head as his cock hits the back of your throat painfully. "If you insist on acting like a disobedient slut, then I'm going to have to treat you like one."

You're unsure if you're really crying or if your eyes are just watering from the force of his thrusts–not that it really matters. He stills when he's deep in your mouth, watching you struggle to breathe and keep your mouth open. "You have to show me you deserve to have my cock in you."

He pulls out of your mouth, his fingers pumping his length urgently as you cough pitifully. "Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out."

His words are a hot jolt in your core, and you obey him immediately, with your eyes still watery and your jaw still aching. Your walls squeeze around nothing as he comes on your tongue, and despite your attempts at catching all of it, some dribbles down your chin and cheek. And still, you wait.

"Swallow." You do so, wiping the rest off your skin as best you can and licking it off your fingers. Every bit of it seems worth it when you see the glazed look in Victor's eyes, and the little smile curving his lips up as he watches you lick enthusiastically.

He pulls you back onto his lap, holding you close and rubbing your back gently as you accept the glass of water he hands you, taking only a small sip before slumping into his chest. You stay there for a while, your ear pressed against the skin over his heart, and you feel it gradually slow down from its quick thumping.

You gather the remnants of your resolve and tug at his shirt. "Sir–pease fuck me." You feel him pause against you, and then shake as he begins to laugh.

"Ah, you're so greedy, sweetheart. You want my cock that badly?" he teases, as if he doesn't already know how desperate you are.

"Yes. Please."

"And what if I don't want to give it to you?"

You know you're way past feeling any embarrassment when tears pool in your eyes, the depth of your need endless and the prospect of it remaining unanswered terrifying. "Please, please, I'll be good, I'll do anything." Thumbs sweep away the tears sliding down your cheeks, and you feel his lips on your forehead.

"Don't worry, I was just teasing," he assures you, his previously rough tone taking on a soothing note. "I could never leave my babygirl in such a state. You've more than earned it." He helps you slide your knees apart until they rest on either side of his hips, kissing you softly the whole time. As he pushes through your swollen lips, sliding into the hilt with little resistance, you think you could stay like this for the rest of your life, keeping his cock inside you and his arms around you. He pulls you to rest against him, adjusting himself until he's able to begin thrusting with progressively stronger thrusts. "Is this what you wanted?"

You moan nearly incoherently, nodding fervently. His hands cup your ass, and the nexus between the pleasure from him fucking you and the pain from the stinging skin of your ass makes your eyes roll back into your head. He uses the grip on your cheeks to bounce you on his cock, syncing the motion with his thrusts. "A-all I wanted..."

"It's yours. All you have to do..." he presses his face into your hair, driving his hips up into yours relentlessly. "...is ask." He keeps you in place with one arm, and then there are fingers rubbing tight circles into your clit and beginning the start of your end, as you begin to shatter into pieces. You forget everything but the heat pumping into you, working you through the daze, warm arms and soft lips slowly putting you back together. You barely register the deep groaning he's unable to suppress as his pace kicks up to rush to the finish line, as you press lazy kisses up his throat.

"Could I ask for one more thing?" Your voice is barely a whisper, and your lips brush against his earlobe, teeth scraping against the tender skin as he gasps. "Sir?"

"Anything," he rasps out, the flush on his cheeks spreading down to his chest. "Anything."

"Could you come in me?" you murmur. "Just...fill me up. Till the last drop. Please?"

You can't help but smile at the curse that leaves his mouth, and the bruising kiss he pulls you into as he fulfils your request, his thick seed filling you in quick, hot spurts. Neither of you pulls away even once he grows soft within you, losing yourselves in the meeting of your mouths until you can’t keep your head up and let it fall onto his shoulder.

“I’ve got you. You did so well, sweetheart,” Victor murmurs into your hair as you smile sleepily. “Let’s get some lotion on this cute butt, hmm?”

The laugh you’re startled into turns into pained croaks as your throat protests the action.

“And some tea, I see. Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?” He carries you to the bedroom carefully, holding you close as if in possession of priceless jewels. You spread out over his bed on your stomach, letting your body melt into the sheets. A pleased sound leaves your lips when you feel him rub the cool lotion into your abused skin.

You’re not aware of how much time has passed when you’re startled awake, and look up to see Victor smiling apologetically at you from his seat at the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You crawl forward towards him, letting him pull you up so you can curl into a ball between his legs. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, the cotton fabric soft and soothing on your skin. “I made you some tea.”

The first sip is painful, but within a few more you’re able to swallow with some relief. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if you feel up to eating something.”

“Mm.” With the taste of honey on your tongue, you nuzzle his neck as he pulls a blanket over you. His arms are warm and reassuring around your tired body. “I wanted to have sex in the mirror room.”

“I know.”

“Mean.”

“I’m not that easy, darling,” he says imperiously, soft lips brushing your temple. “If you want me to drop my pants in public, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc li zeyan

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iwaxpoetic · 3 years

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fic: like you’d get your knuckles bloody (betty/archie, riverdale)

fandom: riverdale pairing: archie andrews/betty cooper, barchie There were so many choices that felt so small at the time. It seemed as if she blinked while getting a refill of her milkshake at Pop’s and woke up in a forest, covered in her boyfriend’s blood. She had been so many Betties between them - in a bunker, at the farm, chasing down a masked killer, in a black wig, holding Chuck Clayton’s head under water —

Standing beneath her porch light, her heart in her throat while Archie Andrews said, “I can’t give you the answer that you want.”

Was that the end of the beginning or the beginning of the end?--

Betty Cooper, before-and-after.

Her sense of narrative structure made her wish it was as easy as a before-and-after.

There was such clarity in a defining moment, in being able to spot the time when everything changed. There was a Cheryl before and after Jason died; a Jughead before and after he slipped on the Serpent jacket; the Breakfast at Tiffany’s Veronica before she turned In Cold Blood.

There was no clean before-and-after for Betty Cooper. There were so many choices that felt so small at the time. It seemed as if she blinked while getting a refill of her milkshake at Pop’s and woke up in a forest, covered in her boyfriend’s blood. She had been so many Betties between then - in a bunker, at the farm, chasing down a masked killer, in a black wig, holding Chuck Clayton’s head under water —

Standing beneath her porch light, her heart in her throat while Archie Andrews said, “I can’t give you the answer that you want.”

Was that the end of the beginning or the beginning of the end?

——

The old Betty, wherever she began and ended, was characterized by her discipline.

Every day, she suited up in her prim cardigans and slick ponytail, ready for another day as the dutiful daughter, the doting sister, the star student. She could handle any pop quiz, any turbulence in the Cooper household, any pressing deadlines at the Blue and Gold. When the pressure got to be too much, she would clench her fists and breathe through it.

And every night, she looked out her bedroom window at what she really wanted. Second floor, second window from the back, calling to her like a lighthouse. Archie’s window was lit up at all hours of the day and night, whether he was strumming his guitar or dozing off with a movie on. It was her nightlight. She fell asleep to its comforting glow, knowing their time would come one day.

She had to be disciplined, because she was hungry. Sometimes it scared her, how strongly she felt. There was a bottomless pit of want inside of her and she tiptoed around it, testing the edges but never letting herself fall in. Betty didn’t want to be the kind of person who was dragged around by her id. She wanted to be the person that other people thought she was. Sometimes that meant sleepless nights helping Polly learn her cheer routine, piling more volunteer hours on top of her already packed schedule, turning the other cheek to another Blossom insult.

Season five Betty Draper, Cheryl had once called her, as if she knew the half of it.

——

Betty had never thought Archie would love her in the exact way that she loved him.

She knew that love took different shapes in each container. She could see the way her mother and father fit together, pushing and pulling but ultimately a team, making each other better - a real laugh, in retrospect. One of her favorite memories was being eight years old, when Alice had just broken a big story. The pride lit her up from the inside and Hal’s beaming face reflected it right back. But she had also watched from next door as the Andrews fell apart. Fred and Mary lost something that seemed sweet and steady and kind, and then Fred puttered around that big house alone.

She thought about what that love might feel like, when it finally came.

Archie was all sweetness. Being his girlfriend would mean never walking to school alone, sporting his letterman jacket at games, and dancing together at prom. It would be afternoons working on a jalopy in the garage and nights cuddling together on the sofa. He would write songs about her and she would proofread his college essays and they would move to New York together after graduation.

It would be an awful lot like being his friend had been since they turned 13 and their parents had put a moratorium on sleepovers, except that she would get to touch the abs that had been taunting her. The heart that beat under those defined pectoral muscles was pure gold and it was an even better prize.

Something murkier lay beneath the surface for Betty. Sometimes she wondered if she loved him or if she coveted him. She wanted to know every thought in his head, every dream in his heart. Long before the school hallways had started to echo with Archie got hot!, she had been daydreaming about ways to get his hands on her. There were no dibs on a person, but she saw him first and had seen only him since.

Betty had never thought that Archie would burn for her, but she basked in his steady glow. Archie lived closer to the surface - he wore his heart on his sleeve and an easy smile on his face. That was one of the things she loved about him. They would be so happy together, but his devotion would never match hers.

It wasn’t until she was standing at the edge of a shallow grave, looking down at his terrified, resolved face with a shovel in her hand and a gun to her head, that she realized they may have misjudged each other.

——

A dam had broken in Betty Cooper earlier that fall.

It could have been one thing or any number of things — Veronica Lodge sweeping into town, Polly’s mysterious disappearance, Jason Blossom’s body washing up in Sweetwater River. It was an unusually active September, especially by Riverdale’s sleepy standards.

For Betty, it felt like the foundation had been cracking. With one firm tap, it was gone.

You are so perfect. I’ve never been good enough for you, I’ll never be good enough for you.

The careful balancing of what she should want versus what she did want is what had kept her in check for all these years. No one else seemed to have the same qualms. Betty couldn’t imagine Cheryl or Veronica denying themselves a thing. In fact, she knew they wouldn’t. Veronica had talked a big game about turning over a new leaf, but after less than a week in Riverdale, Veronica had seven minutes in a closet and Betty had a box of Magnolia cupcakes.

Only Betty had the discipline to decide to be something and then become it. It had gotten harder for her to see how that was a good thing.

— —

Jughead’s interest in Betty was both a balm and a sting.

Boys had never been interested in her. She wasn’t sure if it was because word of her strict parents preceded her or because her crush on Archie was so obvious that it was not worth getting their hopes up. Whatever the reason, she had made it sixteen years without being asked to the drive-in, having a note slipped in her locker, or having rocks thrown at her window by someone who wanted to date her. She did all those things with her best friend and had become aware that it was not the same.

Until Jughead crawled through her window and gave her her first real kiss, she didn’t realize exactly how different it was.

Being on the other side of the equation was a revelation. It was amazing to think that there was someone who liked her more than anyone else, who thought about her when she wasn’t around, who wanted to kiss her and hold her hand and maybe more one day. Jughead was a good person - he was cute and smart, with a wicked sense of humor that tickled at the dark side she kept such a lid on - but what made him special is that he thought she was special. Betty had never come first to anyone before and she dove into intimacy with the same enthusiasm and determination that she put into any task.

But it was her way to acknowledge the cloud even while she focused on the silver lining. Besides her, Jughead was Archie’s best friend in the world. If other boys had avoided her due to some unspoken claim, surely he would find her to be even further off limits. If Jughead liked her, it was because Archie never would.

Somehow it was more devastating than the rejection itself. A dramatic showdown in formalwear still fit with the narrative that she had imagined for Archie-and-Betty. Power couples faced obstacles. Even after homecoming, even after Melody, even after Veronica, a part of her still though she should be patient. It was the utter lack of drama in her courtship with Jughead that made it real. There was nothing to be dramatic about.

She made her peace with it, first with her nails dug into her palms but then genuinely. The pieces of her heart felt like they were rearranging. Jughead had burst his way in and made his home right in the center. The part that housed her feelings for Archie was smaller, but the scars had made the walls thick and tough.

She would always love him and now she knew what shape it would take. She felt lucky to have enough love in her life that she could feel the difference.

It took a few months, but Betty started to think Jughead might be her soulmate. They both felt a personal obligation to clean up Riverdale’s seedy underbelly, loved books and old movies, and, most importantly, they hated the same things about her. On his lips, “perfect” was scornful. After all of those years pursuing perfection, she wasn’t too fond of it herself.

——

People gave you a wide berth in the aftermath of a showdown with a killer.

Betty was distracted and distant in the weeks following the altercation with Joseph Svenson. People around town stared and whispered even more than usual, but they looked at her with pity and awe in their eyes. Even her mother and Jughead gave her space, assuming that she was reeling after weeks of cat-and-mouse.

When she was alone, Betty didn’t think about Joseph Svenson at all. She thought about Archie Andrews.

It wasn’t about the kiss, although it was hardly the one she had scripted for them long ago. She thought about the way that he had grabbed her hand as she put the pieces together and started to spiral, the only thing tethering her to this earth. She thought about how instantly he had responded to Get in the coffin or I’ll shoot her in the head right now.

To be willing to die for someone was the kind of sweeping statement of love and dedication that was easy to say because it was so unlikely to be tested. It was reserved for the most important people in your life, the ones that you would do anything to protect. When she was in danger, Archie hadn’t batted an eye. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was him lowering himself into a coffin for her. She had been looking at that face for years and years, had known it when it had a beaming smile of mismatched baby teeth, had admired its changing angles. His jaw was clenched but his eyes were as warm as ever when the lid closed over him.

It was unbelievable to think that only weeks ago, kisses and milkshakes had made her feel special. It wasn’t fair to hold up a high school romance against the ultimate sacrifice, but the tectonic plates of her life had shifted again. It was a secret humming under her skin. It was heady to know that there was someone in the world who would do anything for you.

In a way, the showdown with the Black Hood was the most romantic night of her life. That was Riverdale for you.

— —

Betty stopped thinking about Hal Cooper almost as soon as he was locked away. She had spent so much time pouring over the Black Hood and puzzling over her family secrets that when she tried to align the man with the father, none of the pieces fit quite right anymore. After the loss of Hal and Polly, the Cooper family structure coalesced neatly around Betty and Alice as if it had always just been them.

Compartmentalizing and moving on was another discipline that Betty excelled at. Most of the time, anyway.

She thought about Fred Andrews all the time. The lights were out in Archie’s room for the first time that she could remember, but she knew that he was home. The loss was unspeakable, so she never tried.

— —

Even for someone good at compartmentalizing, it could be hard for Betty to separate the way she felt about Veronica from how she felt about Veronica Lodge.

The simple truth is that they were friends because Veronica had decided they were friends. Betty had been skeptical but a little bit flattered. She had written Veronica off at first, sure that she would move on and nestle in at Cheryl's side like two rich bitch peas in a pod, but she had persisted.

No one had ever wanted to be her friend that desperately. Despite what her frilly pink sweaters might imply, she had never been much of a girl’s girl. Her only real friends were Archie and Kevin. That had always been more than enough for her, but there was something to be said for having Veronica in her corner.

But the only person better at compartmentalizing than Betty was Veronica Lodge. Veronica could claim that she was destined to be Betty’s best friend while snatching her lifelong crush out from under her. She could disavow her family’s shady business dealings, then join Lodge Industries and keep quiet about their plans for the Southside. She could love Archie, then sit by while her father destroys his life.

Betty had been tap dancing around questions of morality for a while. One did not get to make too many principled stances when their boyfriend was a gang leader who once partially skinned a woman, and she tried not to throw too many stones from inside a house where she had once blackmailed Cheryl Blossom into testifying on behalf of FP Jones. As she started to shed more and more of her Nice Girl persona, Betty thought she had become more understanding of all the gray in the world.

In a sweltering court room after Labor Day weekend, Betty had found the thing she could never forgive. She watched stupid - noble, self-sacrificing, stupid - Archie jump at a plea deal for a crime he had not committed, all to spare them another trial. Veronica had cried and dropped her head into her hands, but Betty could still see flickers of her in Hiram Lodge’s satisfied smile.

Betty held her friend as she cried and clamped down on her latest intrusive thought - none of this would be happening if it weren’t for you. From learning to read to wrestling him from Ms. Grundy’s clutches, there had never been a problem Betty could not solve for Archie until he crossed Hiram’s path. There was nothing Betty wouldn't do for Archie, but there was nothing she could do for him now, so she averted her teary eyes and tried not to let in the darkness that always seemed so close to the surface now.

Meeting Veronica Lodge was the worst thing that had ever happened to any of them.

— —

When Betty used to dream of Archie as the leading man in every romance, she had imagined kissing him with a frequency that made her blush to think about even now.

She had been inexperienced and was not even sure what she was longing for. In her mind’s eye, she saw him in everything - the foot pop at the end of The Princess Diaries, the foggy window in Titanic, on the dock in The Notebook - hell, even Spiderman dangling upside down in the rain. It was a collage of images that she could not quite attach a sensation to, but it made her blood run a bit hotter.

When Betty tried to flesh out her fantasies, she relied on a few tangible things she did know - the smell of his cologne, which she had picked out; his increasingly hard biceps, flexing under her fingers when they linked arms on the way to school; the way his hair felt when she playfully ruffled it; the slow drag of his fingers across her back and stomach, when he was winding up to tickle her.

It was almost like an out of body experience when she flung the microphone to the ground. Betty was somewhere else in the garage as she and Archie sang, circling the microphone, their traded glances growing less playful and more searching, until he swung the guitar behind his back and reached for her.

The touch of his hand was like it had always been, the tether that held her to earth and made sure she didn’t miss a thing. Betty had never been more present. After all those years of patience and restraint, she couldn’t get close enough.

— —

There was no clear before-and-after for Archie Andrews.

He had come a long way from being the boy-next-door. He had been the star football player and the sensitive musician. He had been groomed by his music teacher and apprenticed at the foot of a mobster. He had started a youth center for the underprivileged and shattered his hand pulling Cheryl Blossom out of a frozen river. It felt like a lifetime ago that it had just been Betty and Archie in a booth at Pop’s, but Betty didn’t feel like he had changed at all. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the same person staring back at her that she always had.

When there was such a bone-deep understanding, how could she ever feel like he was different? With every step he took, she was right there too.

It dawned on Betty that maybe her before-and-after had happened long before she started looking for it. There was a Betty Cooper before she loved Archie Andrews and she had been living in the after since she was 11 years old.

She flipped through her diaries, years and years of little choices. Her next one felt big.

#fanfic #archie andrews/betty cooper #barchie #archie/betty #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #betty-centric

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currantlee · 3 years

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Language: English Rating: General Audiences (G) / P12 Warnings: - Fandom: Kingdom Hearts Series: Another 358 Days (Ao3, Tumblr) Genre: Songfic, Romance Characters: Roxas, Xion, Naminé (mentioned), Riku (mentioned), Isa (mentioned) Relationships: RokuShi (Roxas/Xion), Namiku (Riku/Naminé, if you squint) Words: 5,416 Chapter: 1/1 Beta: @theeeveetamer Notes: This is one of my favorite fanfics I’ve written so far, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. The midsummer part, most importantly the custom Xion mentions, is heavily inspired by actual Swedish midsummer customs. Written for RokuShi Week / RokuShi Day 2021 Other Platforms: -

Midsummer was the biggest holiday in Twilight Town, rivalled only by Christmas. However, the way the citizens celebrated was completely different. Christmas was something celebrated in private with one’s family, but Midsummer was celebrated in public with the entire town, akin to a big festival. There was music and dancing, there were lots of food stalls with some of the best this world had to offer, there were competitions in sack racing and tug-of-war… The blur of laughter, chatter and music was audible even on top of the clocktower.

Roxas smiled as he took another bit off his seasalt ice cream. It was wonderful, but he had needed a break. Celebrating for almost three days in a row was incredibly exhausting.

It was a great end for his first year as a normal person though. Well, not quite, it was still a full week until then. They had agreed to not celebrate, since the anniversary of them finally getting their own bodies was also the anniversary of the Second Keyblade War. So much pain had happened on that day and in the immediate aftermath.

It really was a shame they had missed Twilight Town’s Midsummer celebration last year though. Sora had been too busy preparing for the Keyblade War to stop by, and neither Roxas nor Xion knew about the holiday anyway. He couldn’t believe they had been oblivious to it for so long, considering how much time they had spent there as Nobodies. Even Axel apparently hadn’t been aware it was a thing until recently.

Summer in Twilight Town by itself was wonderful. The sunsets looked even brighter than they usually did because there were less clouds in the sky, and it was warm enough to not wear a jacket and exchange the long pants in favor of shorts. But Midsummer? That was an entire league of its own, and even though it was exhausting, Roxas absolutely loved it, just as much as he loved his home.

He’d always hoped for a normal life, but now that he had one it wasn’t perfect, or even as normal as the one he had dreamed of. There was always something that reminded him on his origins, whether it was his therapy sessions, Terra, Aqua and Ven or Riku asking for their help regarding some Keybearer duties or the simple fact that he had a cable port on his left wrist.

But… That was okay. He was incredibly grateful for this second chance one way or another. Besides, it was not like he could change where he came from anyways. Why waste time and energy on it? He liked his life as it was – actually, he liked it even better than the one he’d dreamed of.

There was only one thing that bothered him recently.

It had started when he had been sick with an upset stomach. Xion had blamed herself because she thought she was absorbing his strength again, going as far as trying to leave Twilight Town in the assumption that he would only become better when she did that. It hurt to see her that way, loathing herself with guilt for something that wasn’t her fault at all.

Luckily, he had been able to stop her from doing that, and she had settled on taking care of him instead. She had even managed to brew tea for him, a thought that made Roxas smile to this day, because if there was anything Xion was truly awful at, it was cooking. Something always went wrong even when she attempted something really simple, not that anyone would fault her for it. She still tried her best.

It had taken her several tries, but the tea she had given him had definitely been one of the best Roxas had ever had in his short life. Maybe because it was from her.

He had probably said and done quite a few stupid things over the course of the afternoon they had spent together, since had been so incredibly tired. Roxas’ cheeks heated up slightly. Xion really meant a lot to him. This feeling was one of the most real things he had ever experienced. He wanted someone to feel about him that way – more specifically, he wanted her to feel that way about him.

He had known her for almost as long as he existed, and he couldn’t really remember a time without her. She had been what caused him to think of himself as an individual for the first time, and they had been through a lot together in general. Axel said things like that deepened the bonds between people, and whether he was right about that or not, one thing was for sure: Xion was Roxas’ best friend in a way that Axel could never be.

Roxas didn’t want to lose what he currently had, and especially not the people he cared for. Naminé, Axel and by some extension Ven were the closest thing to a family he had, even though Ven wasn’t around as much. Roxas couldn’t imagine living without them anymore, just as much as he couldn’t imagine living without the friends he had made over the past year.

Losing Sora had already been tough enough. Roxas had gotten a lot better at handling his emotions, but he was sure that handling another loss would be tough, even if it was Isa. But losing Xion again… The thought of it alone was unbearable and his eyes even got a bit watery when he thought about what he would do without her.

She was special to him, Roxas had known that for a long time. He had never thought much more about it though, not until recently, when he had upset his stomach. What was that feeling he held for her, and her alone?

Could it possibly be… Love?

He had asked Axel about it when that question first crossed his mind, but for once his friend didn’t have an answer. ‘That’s something you’ll have to find out yourself, Roxas,’ was what he had said.

Roxas sighed. Maybe he should talk to Xion about it…

“Hello Roxas!”

Wow. That really was perfect timing… He smiled.

“Hey Xion.” He motioned to the space beside him. “Do you want to take a seat?”

She nodded and sat down next to him.

Maybe this was a good time to address what he had just been thinking about. On one hand, the clocktower felt like a personal place, and they were alone today. On the other hand – even though people rarely came up here, which was one of the reasons why this had been their preferred meeting place back in their Organization days, it was still a public space.

Even though Xion had gotten a lot better at dealing with emotions as well and her color changes provided a good aid at determining her feelings, she was still a lot worse at it than Roxas himself was. She still couldn’t even name what she was feeling most of the time. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by any means, especially because knowing Xion, she wouldn’t be able to tell him that he was making her feel that way. Sure, she’d get green freckles at some point, but by that point, she would already have to feel really uncomfortable – and even then, she could still try and suppress the freckles because she didn’t want to upset him. Roxas didn’t want to take it that far under any circumstances.

Besides… How did one even start something like this? Surely saying something like ‘Hey Xion, can we talk about my feelings for you? I’m kind of confused’ wasn’t the best way to go…

“Say, have you heard about that custom that if you place seven different kinds of flowers under your pillow tonight you’ll dream of the person you’ll marry?”

Roxas nodded. Olette had been going on about it for days. “It sounds just like another midsummer superstition to me though.”

Xion shrugged. “Well, Naminé seems to be absolutely convinced it works.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t dream of Riku then,” Roxas said with a light chuckle and finished the last bit of his ice cream.

“You still don’t like him him, do you?”

Well, his relationship with Riku was admittedly a difficult one.

On one hand, Riku was Sora’s best friend. They had grown up together, almost like brothers since Sora’s mother had often looked after Riku when they were younger. Roxas did feel somewhat sorry for Riku due to his rather complicated family issues, or what he knew about them, but on the other hand… He still couldn’t forget what Riku had done to him.

Roxas understood how Riku felt about Sora. After all, he felt similar about Naminé. If she were to fall asleep for a year, Roxas knew he would do just about anything in order to help her wake up again too, even if that meant asking Riku to kiss her.

But taking someone else’s existence away? Ruining a life? It had been so unfair, and Roxas couldn’t help but hate Riku for it, despite how kind he was to Naminé (and really all of them) and everything he had learned about him over the past year. Again, Roxas wasn’t very good at forgiving.

He sighed. “Let’s just say it’s complicated.”

Xion nodded, but didn’t say anything. Roxas was grateful for that, he wasn’t really in the mood for talking about his complicated relationship with Riku, or Isa for that matter. Maybe someday, he could find it in his heart to forgive them both – but not today. Especially since there was something else he wanted to discuss with her…

“I still can’t believe that we’ve been living like this for a year now.” There went his chance at doing so. She had already settled on a new subject. If he could just think of something “No one threatening to turn us into Dusks, no daily missions… Just Axel, Isa, Naminé, you and me…”

“Is something bothering you, Xixi?” He couldn’t hold it back anymore. This tone was so off for her.

Xion shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, really,” she said. “But recently, I've been confused by my feelings for you.”

He didn’t see why it should… Wait! “You too?”

“What do you mean by…” She stopped, and her eyes widened a bit. “Roxas… Don’t tell me you’re feeling weird about me too.”

He sighed and nodded. “I do, as a matter of fact.”

Xion bit her lip. “How… How do you feel?”

Roxas shrugged. “It’s… Well. It’s something different than I feel for the others, I think…”

“Does this mean we can’t be friends anymore?”

Oh no. He hadn’t meant to upset her. Hastily, Roxas shook his head. “No, of course it doesn’t!”, he assured her. “I’m just saying that you’re special to me, Xion, that’s all.”

“Special…”, she whispered, lifting her head, but still not looking at him. Instead, her gaze wandered to the sun on the horizon. She obviously needed some time, so he decided to say nothing and turned to watch the eternal sunset as well, in order to give her some privacy.

Twilight Town’s sun wandered across the horizon, it just never really rose, at least not during the day. It did change with the seasons however, in winter it was a bit lower than in summer.

During daytime, the sun would wander across all four points of the compass. When it was in the North, it marked a new date for the citizens of Twilight Town. When it was in the east, the colors of the sky changed to softer pastels, and it was usually when Roxas, Xion and Naminé would get up to go to school. When it was in the South, they would usually have lunch, and on Wednesdays it was when lessons were over. And getting closer to the west, the sky would gradually fade into the bright reds, and eventually purples when it neared the North.

Currently, it was somewhere between South and West, and the sky was colored in warm, glowing pinks and oranges. On this day, they were even brighter than usual. Maybe because midsummer was the day when Twilight Town got closest to an actual sunrise, the day with the greatest amount of light. Starting tomorrow, it would only ever get darker until around Christmas, hence why the day was so special to the citizens.

“You’re special to me too, Roxas.”

Huh? He turned to Xion, surprised by her speaking up all of a sudden. She was smiling at him, and his heart jumped. He was special to her too. He was special to her too!

… But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel that she was… Something still wasn’t quite right. “Xion?”

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s just… I just wish I could tell you how.”

“Hey.” Xion’s hand was resting on the floor between them, and Roxas placed his on hers. When she didn’t pull away, he squeezed it lightly, in an attempt to reassure her somewhat. “Knowing that is enough for me Xixi.” Sure, he would like to know what this feeling of his was, but simply knowing that he was special to her too made him incredibly happy.

“But it isn’t enough for me.”

That was something else.

Xion sighed. “I want you to know how I feel about you,” she continued while purple freckles appeared on her skin. “But I just… I lack the words to describe it, as usual.”

She sounded so incredibly frustrated that it hurt, especially because he had no idea how to help her with this, or at the very least, cheer her up a little bit. “Maybe there is another way than words,” he tried anyways, even though that probably wasn’t any help either.

Xion drew her hand away and reached into her pocket, but clearly hesitated. Did he say something wrong?

“There might be another way,” she said quietly. It was almost a whisper. “But… You won’t like it.”

This admittedly made him a bit nervous – but he didn’t care. Showing him how she felt about him somehow was clearly important to her. It didn’t matter whether he would like the alternative for words or not, as long as it helped to make her wish come true. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. “What is it?”

Xion took a breath, then she pulled her hand out of her pocket. She was holding a red cable with two equally shaped plugs on both ends. They were flat and fairly narrow, and the metal part was just a bit shorter than the plug of Roxas’ headphones. He swallowed at the sight of it – he knew this particular cable and what it meant, even without Xion saying it.

“We could try to sync.”

The issue with that was not that he didn’t know whether it was safe or not – Even had actually tried this out together with Xion and Naminé not too long ago. The issue wasn’t even that Roxas had never attempted a sync himself before.

It was just that he was incredibly scared of getting a cable plugged into his wrist. Even thinking about it gave him chills.

Sure, doing it enabled him to do some cool stuff, like not having to pick up his gummiphone every time he wanted to switch songs when listening to music, but being connected to some sort of computer always made him feel like a Nobody again.

Even had once explained that human bodies, which Replica bodies emulated, worked in cycles, or rhythms, out of which the heart was only the most obvious one. They changed frequently in relation to physical activity and environmental factors, but also in response to emotions – and reverse. If the rhythms were influenced by an external factor, like music (probably the reason why music had been a taboo in the Organization), emotions could be influenced as well. Even called it the physio-psychological correlation.

Machines had rhythms too, but contrary to the many harmonious rhythms of a human body, which created a flow, theirs were a completely synchronized pulse.

Whenever some kind of data was transferred between a computer and a Replica body, some kind of synchronization was needed to establish a connection. While his body emulated human rhythms most of the time, it could also sustain itself on a machine rhythm, at least temporarily. But doing so had an effect on his emotions – it made him apathetic, like the machine was actively suppressing his emotions. Like he was back to zombie stage again.

That was why he preferred to avoid using his port as much as possible.

He knew Xion wasn’t a computer, even though she, like him, was technically a human-machine-hybrid. She probably had a flow as well, as opposed to a machine’s pulse, so it wouldn’t feel the same, but still… And what if their bodies jumped into “machine mode” in order to sync?

Roxas sighed. He was about to say “no” – but he couldn’t, because it was Xion who asked this of him. Xion, who wanted him to know how she felt about him so badly. How could he say “no”?

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Roxas, you know you don’t have to do this for me…”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m going to do it anyways.”

“Roxas…” The look on her face made his heart beat faster. “Thank you.”

Xion was beaming, and for a moment, it was like she was the sun. He even felt a lot warmer than before. Whatever was coming – this alone made it worth it.

“Do you want to go first?”, Xion asked kindly as she handed him one end of the dual cable.

Roxas sighed. He knew she was trying to make it a little easier for him, but nothing would ever change the fact that he hated sticking a cable into his wrist. Nonetheless, he reached for the end of the cable she offered him – but he hesitated taking it. The thought of pushing a cable into his wrist gave Roxas chills, but actually doing it made him feel sick to his stomach. He knew it wasn’t the same but…

His hand trembled. He couldn’t do this.

“I’m sorry, Xion.”

She shook her head. “It’s alright, Roxas. I know you hate this.” She lowered her head. “I think I’m the one who has to apologize to be honest. I shouldn’t have asked this of you…”

She shouldn’t apologize, Roxas thought. It wasn’t her fault after all. He had held out hope that he could do this for her, only to disappoint. If anything, it was his fault. Why couldn’t she just be mad at him for this?

“Don’t apologize, Xion.”

He couldn’t leave it like this. He just couldn’t. This was important to her. But to do it, they had to get that cable into his wrist somehow. And if he couldn’t do it himself…

Roxas stretched out his left arm towards her. His hand was shaking, but he didn’t care. Anything to make this possible – for her. “Can…” He swallowed. The words felt like they got stuck in this throat.

“Can you do it for me, Xixi?”

It came out as a whisper, so quiet that he almost wasn’t able to understand what he was saying himself.

But Xion heard him anyways. She looked at him in surprise. “Roxas… Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Roxas was used to other people doing it for him, ever since the first time shortly after the hospital situation. Even had been the one to do it and while he had been rather careful, it had taken Roxas completely by surprise, since no one had bothered to tell him what the weird thing on his wrist was for in the first place.

After that, he had never really been able to shove the cable into his own wrist, unlike the other two. Even Naminé didn’t bat an eye when she did it, although he knew she didn’t like the feeling of being connected to a computer either. So at least he wasn’t alone with that. Sheesh, he would never understand how Xion didn’t mind that aspect of their existence, and even enjoyed it at times!

Roxas flinched when she finally took his hand.

He realized Xion had never done this for him before, which was kind of funny since he usually needed help with it, either because his arm was shaking too much or he outright couldn’t do it by himself like now…

He gasped when he felt her gently rubbing her thumb across his hand.

Roxas had expected a firm grip on his wrist and her just getting over with it, simply and plainly like everyone else did. But Xion…

“You’re tense,” she murmured as she ran her other hand up his arm, brushing his skin with her fingertips.

To his surprise, Roxas found himself relaxing a bit, even as she slipped his wristband up his arm. It hid his port underneath, and Roxas never took it off unless he had to wash it (he had a few spares), and he wore a different, water-resistant one for showering. They all did.

The port itself was pretty unspectacular. If one didn’t look closely, they might even have overlooked it. It was really just a slight bump on his skin, with a hole that faced into the direction of his palm. Still, Roxas didn’t like seeing it – and yet, he couldn’t look away whenever it was not covered…

“Look at me, Roxas.”

… except for when he looked at Xion. He could always look at her, even when she wasn’t looking at him like now.

“What color are my freckles?”

“Uh…” He swallowed. “They’re blue.”

Out of all her colors, blue was the most mysterious one. By now, he had been able to figure out the meaning of each one he had seen on her, except this one. Blue seemed to appear completely by chance.

“Can you tell me which kind of blue?”

That would be more difficult. He was pretty sure Naminé could have instantly named the exact hue, but Roxas wasn’t good or even interested in that stuff too much. So he just tried describing it instead.

“It’s a vibrant one, but not too…” What was the word again?

“Saturated?”, he guessed. “I don’t know, Xion, it’s hard to describe…”

“Can you try it anyways?”, she asked.

Roxas nodded. “It isn’t a bright blue,” he continued. “I think it has a certain… Depth to it?” That sounded incredibly stupid… “It’s actually a really nice color, pleasant to look at…”

“Okay, that’s enough for me.” She looked at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Xi-…” He felt her pulling his wristband down again, gently and carefully, and when he looked at his wrist once more, he could see the cable poking out from underneath. Now he understood what she had been doing – and it had worked. Roxas hadn’t felt a thing.

A grateful smile washed over his face. “Thank you, Xion. For distracting me.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, Roxas. For agreeing to this.”

How could he not? This seemed so important to her…

“Ready?”

Xion had taken the other end of the cable, and looked ready to put it into her port. For a short moment, Roxas was about to panic once more, but he tried to keep it down. For her.

He swallowed and nodded. “Ready.”

“Alright.”

Roxas took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he braced himself for the unknown.

His eyelids twitched.

Being connected to each other felt a lot different than being connected to a machine. Sure, there was this sudden awareness of the many different rhythms his bodies usually worked in and the flow created by this, but he couldn’t feel a steady, rhythmic pulse on the other end. Instead, Xion had her own unique flow, one that felt much calmer than his own, despite how unpredictable it seemed at the very same time.

Roxas would have liked it, if he wasn’t so terribly aware of how his own flow was heavily affected by his nervousness, and how it could theoretically affect her as well. They were connected after all. Even if it didn’t happen by accident, Roxas was well aware that they needed to establish some harmony between their flows for Xion’s idea to work, which meant…

Xion lightly touched his fingertips. “It’s okay if you don’t want to continue,” she whispered. “We can stop.”

Roxas shook his head. “I just don’t want to affect you, Xion.”

“Let me worry about that part,” she said, and Roxas could have sworn she smiled, despite not seeing it because his eyes were still closed. “Just try to relax, okay?”

He trusted her. “Okay.”

With that worry out of the way, he tried to focus on the connection, on her flow over his own. It felt pleasant – and warm, which surprised him a bit, because he hadn’t thought it could feel that way. Even though he knew that this could change at any given time, especially with him on the other end of the connection, it made him feel a bit calmer. He distantly wondered how his own flow felt like to her for a second.

Until both flows just… Dissolved.

One by one, his individual rhythms seemed to dissect themselves from his flow, dissolving it entirely in the process. There was no longer a messy flow, there was a multitude of rhythms now, more or less harmonious with each other, and every single one rather fast compared to Xion’s calmer ones.

This was overwhelming. It was too much.

Roxas pressed his eyelids together more tightly. He wanted to scream… No, he just wanted it to stop. But who knew what would happen if he just cut off the connection now…

In an attempt to distract himself, Roxas started to hum a little tune.

It was nothing he had ever heard before, completely improvised. That way, he had to focus on matching the individual notes rather than simply repeating something he already knew. He did this often when he tried to calm himself down.

To his surprise, Xion joined in after a few notes. Roxas almost stopped humming himself. Xion almost never hummed, let alone even sang. While she did have a wonderful voice in his opinion, she just didn’t like using it very much, and Roxas respected that. She didn’t have to if she didn’t want to.

But now she did, and Roxas loved every single second of it, especially since he got to hum and create a tune alongside her. They stringed it together, note after note, and while Roxas provided the melody and Xion the accompaniment in the beginning, he soon found that he couldn’t quite tell which was which anymore. What had started as an improvised tune soon evolved into a harmonious overture, by no means perfect, but pleasant to listen to.

Suddenly, there was a new flow between them.

Their rhythms weren’t completely synchronized, but harmonious in a way that allowed them to melt into each other, while still being individuals – a bit like the music they created.

By now, he could not just feel her flow on the other end of the connection. He could feel her entire being, like they were becoming one for as long as this connection lasted. Despite that, Roxas still felt like himself, and he knew Xion did as well. He… He even liked being connected to her like this. Even if it meant shoving a cable into his wrist… Actually, he could get used to that, if it meant they could do this more often.

Xion was amazed how that little bit of humming had helped Roxas to calm down and form this connection. She definitely wasn’t going to become an enthusiastic singer, but she didn’t regret using her voice this time, just like Roxas didn’t regret letting himself in for this experiment. They both enjoyed the connection.

He reached for her hand by moving his own forward a bit, so their palms were touching. The touch was like a question, asking whether she was feeling the same.

Xion gently laced their fingers together. His hand was so warm, and the touch prickled a bit on her skin due to excitement.

Xion’s feelings were different from Roxas’, but they felt just as strong. She didn’t have the urge to protect as much as he did, and the metaphorical butterflies in her stomach were something Roxas had never experienced at all. He knew the warmth that came alongside them however, as well as the feeling of being about to overflow.

It was something Xion felt for no one else, a deep-running connection that went far beyond the current harmony of their bodily rhythms. Far deeper than it was reasonable. She didn’t care about that however, all she wanted… Actually, she didn’t want anything right now. Just having Roxas here with her, alive and well, was more than enough for her. He was more than enough for her.

He had his flaws, by all means, just like she did. Neither of them were perfect, and maybe they weren’t even perfect for each other, but neither of them cared. Who they were and what they saw in each other – they didn’t want to change any of that.

Their only wish was to stay with each other like this.

Xion opened her eyes and smiled. “So…” She sounded quiet, almost reverent. “This is… Love?”

Roxas still didn’t know for sure. But was there really a way to know for sure at the end of the day?

He shrugged. “Does it really matter?”, he asked. “All I know is that…” How was he supposed to say this? There wasn’t really a description… It was something just between the two, and nobody else. It was real – a reminder that they were real too. Nothing could ever change that. Roxas gave up. There was no reason to not say it like that.

“I think I love you, Xion.”

In that moment, the butterflies of light in Xion’s stomach were finally released for good. They had waited too long for the right time to fly, and now it was finally there. It was like an explosion of emotion, strong enough to even invoke physical feelings – the complete opposite to the empty void that had been their existence as Nobodies. They went everywhere, brightening up their surroundings as they filled it with all the colors they were made of. Roxas felt like a few of them brushed his skin.

Xion brought her free hand to his cheek. She only touched him lightly with her fingertips, as if she were asking a question, and Roxas answered it by leaning into it. Not too much, but enough to feel her palm too.

“Roxas…” He knew what she was going to say, but nothing could replace the feeling of hearing it from her with his own ears.

“I love you too.”

And with that, the music evolved into a symphony.

A tear dripped on Xion’s fingertip, and Roxas realized that he was crying. And Xion – a few tears ran down her cheeks as well. They were both overflowing now.

Roxas sighed in bliss and leaned his forehead against hers. He didn’t want this moment to end, but since everything eventually did, he wanted to relish in it as much as he could. “Can I kiss you?”

He knew her answer already, thanks to the ongoing connection between them, but hearing it from her just felt so much better.

Xion smiled, and he could swear her blue freckles had gotten more intense. Now he finally knew what they meant. “I was just about to ask the same.”

Love is free, free is love Love is living, living love Love is needing to be loved – John Lennon, Love

#RXWeek2021 #RokuShi Day #Kingdom Hearts #KH Fanfiction #RokuShi #Roxas #Xion #Fandom #Fanwork #Fanfiction #RokuShi Week #RokuShi Week 2021 #RokuShi Day 2021 #Currantlee writing #Currantlee completed #Currantlee completed Story #Currantlee completed KH Fanfic

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Up in the Clouds

Fandom: The PowerPuff Girls

Pairing: Blossick (Brick and Blossom aka Reds)

I have been on a hype for the Reds lately and i have almost forgotten how much i love my og otp. This fic is kinda of all over and messy but its cute and i like it. A little out of character but i have a soft spot for the hc that the boys grew up and soon they all became closer, so the most unoriginal idea ever.

Hope you enjoy! I should prob right for the other pairings too lol.

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“For this assignment, you will be given an emotion at random and must write AND present about.” The class groaned as she handed out the papers. “You can look at it however you want. Whether its stating things that occur during emotion or what you personally feel, be creative. You’ll present at the end of the month.”

Brick took the papers and passed them back to the next student as the teacher came by and dropped a folded piece of paper on his desk.

“Also there will be no changes. You get what you get.” She stated and he rolled his eyes as he opened the small piece.

Love.

His hands crumbled the paper in his fist and he knew it would be pathetic to try and get someone to change. He could do this. All he needed to do was make up some sappy shit and piss on about it. He thought about talking about platonic love or family love. How even though his brothers made him want to smash their faces into walls until their blood flows down his hand, he still cared about them. It felt more like he was obligated too anyways.

“I got happiness, which is pretty vague. Hey Blossom? Which one did you get?” A fellow student, he thinks is named Alicia asked the pink puff.

“Oh I got sorrow.” She responded and everyone had gone into discussions about their ideas and assignments.

A guy turned to Brick to ask about his but he was already out the door as the bell rang.

The cafe welcomed him as the small bell chimed. His head had been a mess after the assignment was made and although he had seven drafts planned out, none of them seemed to work. He even asked Boomer about it and as he went into detail about a blue eyed, pig tailed super hero, Brick was already regretting asking him.

He ordered at the counter, just a simple soda and a crepe and turned to find a seat. He saw an empty table pressed against the wall to his left but as he turned to the right he saw another table. Occupied with a pink eyed, bow wearing superhero.

He was already at the table before he registered what was happening. She seemed to be alone and he took her by surprise as she looked up.

“Oh, Hi Brick.” She said and he gestured to the seat and she scooted a book out of the way before he plopped down.

“What are you doing here, its like eight o’clock on a school night.” He noticed that the sun was dying down.

She shrugged and pointed to her milkshake. “I had a craving, plus I have a late start period for school so I came here to clear my head. Plus Bubbles was being especially loud on the phone.” he already knew that she was referring to her and Boomer. They had been talking nonstop and not even a lamp thrown at his head would shut him up.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him and he mimicked the shrug and pointed to his crepe.

“Cravings. And needed some space, this English assignment is kicking my ass.” He didn’t know why he admitted to that and he saw her eyes perk up.

“The emotion one?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

That took him by surprise. She was the one who was always raving with emotion, this should be a breeze.

“What did you get?” She asked him. His eyes traveled to his plate were warm chocolate and fresh strawberries collided.

“Strawberry.”

She let out a small laugh and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“I meant for the project.”

oh.

He felt incredibly dumb at that moment and she bubbled out another laugh. That small sound was actually pleasant to hear and for some reason, he wanted to hear it again and again.

“Oh. Um I got love.” He didn’t know why he felt slightly embarrassed and he picked up his drink to chugged it down as she held a puzzling expression.

“Hmm that is a tough one. There’s all types of love.”

“That’s what i was thinking. Well, what about you?”

“Sorrow.”

“Well that’s easy, just pick something sad.”

She said nothing for a moment and instead went to her milkshake, which he noticed was also strawberry, not that it mattered.

“I don’t think its thats simple. Jeremy got sad and I got sorrow so i need to make sure it doesn’t sound similar.”

“But they are similar.”

“Well yes but-”

“Just talk about a loss you had as a superhero. What it feels like to not be able to save the day or something.” He was met with another round of silence.

Her eyes traveled outside the window. the sun was now in its sunset glow and the sky had become a mixture of purple and pink as it faded out the blue. From the cafe you could see the lines of the city skyscrapers blending into the sky. It was quiet on this side of town and he wondered what it would be like to float onto those clouds, careless and free.

And so they did. After she finished her milkshake and he his soda, he posed that they traveled to where only they could go. Why? He didn’t know and neither did she.

Her legs dangled off the cloud that hovered just above the ocean. Some would be afraid that they would fall through but they had used their powers to keep them up.

The cool air blew against their faces and he felt like he could breath better than on the ground.

“Have you ever been in love?” She asked out of the blue, her eyes were focused on the small waves rolling onto to the shore.

“No.” A simple answer that he wasn’t to sure of. he should of been certain. he didn’t know what love, a romantic connection felt like. He had dated girls before, all throughout middle and high school but never once did those words cross his mind.

“Me either.” She responded and he turned towards her.

It was almost as if he couldn’t breath. A swell inside his chest had taken hold and he wondered why she looked so...beautiful against the light. the soft glow of the sun setting made her hair more vibrant and her baby pink eyes sparkle. He wanted to scream at himself for thinking like that but when she turned and caught his eyes, he watched the blush spread slowly on her fair skin and that protest had been silenced.

They held each others gaze. He was right, he had never been in love before, but if he had then he would need a new word for what was happening to him now. His memory fled back to every girl he had ever dated and some how, somewhere, she was there in the background. During their fights or even civil conversations, she was the only one to catch his attention.

They had grown up together, viciously of course but after spending his adolescent wanted to rip her head off, he just wanted to pull her close. He never believed in fate or soulmates or what not but sometimes, even as a stupid kid, he wondered if that pink counterpart of a girl was actually made for him.

“Thats a shame.” He whispered and he leaned closer as she did the same.

“For the both of us.” But they barely beard her words as their lips connected.

Her lips were soft as the cloud they were on. The taste of strawberry was on her lips and her hands wrapped around his neck as his got lost in her long ginger locks. They had spent all their time avoiding each other when they both knew that they would always return to each other.

Every break up was about her. The girl getting mad at how he stared at her or made time to study but not for them. he didn’t realize it until now but that hatred he carried at the start of his creation had melted away slowly like an icicle at the end of winter.

They pulled away and it felt colder than it was before. Her eyes still locked to his. Pink and Red. Just like the sunset and sky. Just like the glow of a bright raging fire. Just like them.

it felt like eons had passed before she looked towards the city. That vibrant sunset was long gone as the sky had turned a deep black and was now painted with stars.

“i should go.” She said but it sounded forced as if she was saying she didn’t want to.

He nodded and they agreed that it was best to part separate since she lived on the other side. He helped her stand up, their feet sinking into the cloud and she turned to him with a soft smile. “Have a nice night Brick.” And soon the dark sky had a flash of pink that disappeared quickly under the stars.

Bricks mind was lost and he tapped his pencil to his desk quietly. the presentations had started for the week and so far happiness, anger, fear and sorrow were up. His mind finally came back to focus towards the end of Blossoms piece and he had cursed himself for barely hearing the first half.

“Its empty and cold, like an unforgiving stare. It haunts you in your dreams and leaves you feeling numb. It lingers and when you think that the pain and suffering is done, it washes over you again, taking and taking until the only sensation left is a hollow shell.

My sisters and I have felt this on multiple occasions. When you can’t save everyone and feel the pity and sadness within the air. But joy and laughter can bring the sadness to a end. The sorrowfulness lasts longer than you think. And it makes you believe that nothing matters anymore.” Blossom finished the last of her piece. Her eyes, along with others in the class had glazed over and she was sure her teacher had been brought to tears at her story and ending.

The applause from the class surrounded the room and she took a small bow before returning to her seat.

Maybe after class they could talk.

The bell sounded through the class and Blossom made her way out of the class. Another school day over.

“Hey.” She turned to see Brick. The students around them were bush trying to leave and get out quickly before a line at the parking lot formed.

“Hey” She returned softly and it dawned on them that they really didn’t know what was between them.

That night a few weeks ago had not be forgotten but was placed high up on a shelf, they almost forgot about it, almost. Its not like they were avoiding each other, no, school and work had overcome both of their lives, mostly hers of course.

“So do you maybe wanna go-” He started but the red pair was interrupted with a flash of blue between them.

“Hey Blossom! Hi Brick.” Bubbles smiled brightly. “Oh Bloss just to let ya know tonight is Sister Showdown.” Her smile held a evil glare and she turned and exited school.

“What the hell is Sister Showdown?” He asked and Blossom blew up her bangs.

“Its a competition thing between Bubbles and Buttercup. Last time one was held, we had to replace our roof so I’d rather not be there.” The hallways were no empty and it was just them. “So what were you saying?”

They ended up at the cafe for the third time that week. Every milkshake and crepe was finished with a trip to the clouds as they watched the sun set. They never spoke about what they were or the emotions, just enjoyed each others company and maybe left the night with a kiss or two.

They talked about anything and everything, sometimes just sitting quietly and counting the waves.

Her sisters would asked where shes been and she had the same studying excuse before humming to herself and falling asleep with a smile at her lips.

His brothers would hound on him, teasing him and slapping him until he would throw them off and the subject would be dropped, but they never missed the fact that he was in a better mood.

It was their secret. The clouds and them. He found it easier and easier to write his paper after watching endless movies, though in the back of his mind, the two main love interest were always replaced with a pair of redheads. Pink and red.

The end of the presentation days came and of course Brick was the last to go.

“That’s the thing about love. You think you know yourself as the days go by, that you recognize every moment as what they are. Love can’t blind you if you’re always aware. It won’t bother you as you keep it in line, making sure that you don’t slip up as you keep reminding yourself there’s no point.” He looked up and was met with a wide pair of eyes.

Pink. Bright pink.

“And then you jolt awake. It hits you faster than the speed of light and soon you are falling. Your lungs squeeze tight as you gasp for air and only when you admit to yourself is when you can breath. Love will force you to look at all the positives. It forces that other person onto a silver platter and a podium that is so small, only they can stand on it. They might not think they are perfect but your mind becomes numb and blind to the heart, its the only explanation. That’s the thing about love, right when you think you’ve fallen, you hit the ground.”

He hadn’t even looked at his paper as his eyes were still lined with hers. The applause in the room shook him to his core as he broke the gaze held with the fiery redheaded girl.

“And when you never think love will come towards you, you might find that its been there all along.”

He couldn’t tell you what the teacher said as he returned to his seat and his mouth was parted open slightly as it dawned on him what he had just done.

He wrote that for the assignment. Based off of shitty romance novels and movies. But in the end, it had been for her.

Always her.

She found him high up in the clouds that night. They hadn’t spoken since and every word he said had ran through his mind.

Their shoulders touched as she sat next to him. Both their eyes focused on the waves below. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it felt natural and good. Although the quiet night was peaceful, he was ridged and frozen in place.

Even with his blank expression, she could tell his mind was racing. He was choosing his words and mapping out the thoughts and scenarios one by one. And she was doing that too but there were times where planning and perfection weren’t always the best plans.

He turned towards her, his mouth open as if he were ready to speak but she had already decided that he had said enough. The next thing he knew, her lips were connected with his.

Its soft and sweet. Delicate but fragile. His eyes had closed and his hand gently rested on her cheek as she leaned into his touch. He could hear her heartbeat thumping at a fast pace and knew his was just the same. A small sound escaped her lips as he tilted his head and soon her arms were around his shoulders as they fell deeper into each other. She could feel the smirk on his lips as they pulled away.

Both breathing heavily for air as their foreheads rested against one another.

“Did-did you mean what you said.” She whispered and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Everything you said?”

He rested the urge to not pull her back into another breathtaking kiss but instead raised an eyebrow. “What if it wasn’t about you?” He teased but they both knew the truth. They couldn’t lie anymore, not to each other at least.

She smirked as she placed down between them before meeting his eyes. That motion alone had him spiraling as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing his. “Then I guess it would be a shame to say that I’ve fallen.”

“It would be a shame for the both of us.” He kissed her. “But I’ve been on the ground for a long time.”

“Good.”

---

I hope you liked it!!!

#blossom x brick #blossick #blossick fanfic #powerpuff girls #ppg x rrb #ppg #rrb #ppg fanfic #thewritingstar #reds #blossom ppg #brick rrb

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