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freebooter4ever · 4 years

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oh god I cant believe I wrote this at eight am on a saturday, no editing, just pure fluff?/crack fic, I apologize profusely to this fandom.

Inspired by @persipneiwrites Apartment AU photos and my own college experiences. Warnings: nudity.

Eugene is lying in bed reading after a long gruelling day of grading papers for the freshman biology class he TA's, when he hears the signature squeak of his living room window being slid open. One of the many perks of living in a ground floor apartment along an alley. The guy who rented the place before Eugene - one of his frat brothers - had already installed bars over the windows after some thief snuck in and stole the dude's nintendo console one night.

Predictably though, even heavy duty metal bars can't keep out the force of nature known as Snafu.

Eugene doesn't know how Snafu gets the bars open, or how he closes them seamlessly again afterwards, and with a name like "situation normal all fucked up", Eugene kinda doesn't want to ask.

Eugene hears a loud clank outside his bedroom door as Snafu accidentally runs into the radiator. The boy may be good at breaking in, but he is not good at doing it undetected.

"Keep the heat off tonight, Snaf," Eugene calls through the door, not wanting to get out of his warm bed, "I've been too sick to pick up any extra shifts this week."

He hears Snafu huff loudly in response - a sound that might be a yes but also might be a no.

Eugene sighs, sets his book down, turns his light off, and resigns himself to having to ask his parents for rent money again. He's not going to press the issue with Snafu though. He knows it must get cold on his couch, especially in the winter months. And as far as Eugene can tell, Snafu doesn't have any parents to even ask for help, so it's the least Eugene can do.

Plus he kind of sleeps better knowing his best friend is only a few feet away.

Or at least usually he does. Tonight, just as he is drifting off to sleep, his bedroom door opens and a skinny wrist pokes through, slaps a white sheet of paper onto the door, and then slams it shut again.

"What the fuck?" Eugene fumbles for the light, feeling groggy.

It takes him a minute but finally, with a click, he can read the sign: "Sleeping NAKED tonight!!! Open door at own risk!"

"What the fuck?" Eugene mumbles. He gets out of bed and pads over to the door to make sure the sign says what he thinks it says.

"What the fuck!" he repeats, a little louder this time, "Snafu, you can't trap me in my own room!"

He receives no answer but he also didn't expect any.

"Snafu, if I have to use the restroom in the night I'm doing it, clothes or no clothes!" Eugene protests. He still doesn't open the door though.

Again, no response.

"This isn't the kind of trick you can pull in a one bedroom apartment," Eugene continues. His glorified "living room" is little more than a square of carpet with a couch on one end and a 90's era TV shaped like Hello Kitty's head and roughly the size of a small dog on the other (a parting gift from Sid after he transferred to their home state college and left). The living room connects to the "kitchen" by a thin hallway that doubles as a "dining room" and behind the kitchen is the lone bathroom. So obviously, if Eugene needs to pee, he will be opening his door and crossing the living room to do it.

With a resigned sigh, Eugene goes back to bed and hopes the friday night beer he drank before settling down with his book will wait till morning.

It doesn't.

Eugene tries. He tries hard. The first time he wakes up with pressure against his bladder he rolls over and finds a sleeping position on his back comfortable enough that he can just ignore it. The second time he wakes up he gets out of bed, walks to the door, puts his hand on the knob, and then chickens out and retreats under his covers. He lies there, trying to think about anything other than rushing water.

See, the problem is he happens to like Snafu. A little more than is appropriate for a friendship. Or maybe a lot more, he hasn't had a chance to test his theory out. Walking through his living room and getting even a peripheral view of naked Snafu laying on his couch would qualify as way too much testing of this theory.

And Eugene only moved into the apartment three months ago so blindfolding himself and trying to find the bathroom by memory and feel is out of the question.

Eugene is reduced to knocking quietly on his own bedroom door.

"Snafu?" he stage whispers, "Snafu, are you awake? I need to pee."

No answer.

Eugene groans and bumps his forehead against the grainy wood door.

Maybe he could use blinders - like a horse.

He grabs one of the folders with the biology tests stuffed into it, and holds it at eye level. Carefully, he opens the door, and keeps the folder rotated so it's between him and the couch. He quietly creeps across the creaky floor, one step at a time, eyespointed determinedly straight ahead, and breathes a sigh of relief when he reaches the kitchen. Finally safe, he drops the hand with the folder to his side, and is about to squeeze through the narrow gap between the oven and the kitchen table to get to the bathroom, when he hears the toilet flush.

In Eugene's defense, after twelve hours straight of grading (he always procrastinates worse on this than he ever did in his own school work), his brain is dead enough that it's a minor miracle he can even stand upright. He has no mental capacity or fast reflexes left to bring his hand holding the folder back up to eye level in time.

But he knows, as if in slow motion, exactly what is coming for him when Snafu opens the bathroom door and rounds the corner.

Snafu seems equally surprised. He stands there, framed by the opening from the kitchen to the bathroom/closet that calls itself a doorway but in fact resembles a narrow nook. The doorway is the exact same width as Snafu's shoulders, Eugene notices, and makes him look skinny, and maybe a little taller. It also leaves Eugene's eyes with very little else to go except up and...down.

The sign on the door was apparently not an idle threat.

Snafu doesn't say anything. He just stares, wide eyed, like a deer, or a cat caught sitting in the sun.

Sitting naked in the sun.

Eugene drops his folder. It falls awkwardly and fans out all the pages into a jumble. If Eugene's brain was firing on all cylinders he might recall the annoyingly large number of students who neglected to staple their pages together. Pages shuffled into a mix that will take hours to sort with concentrated careful reading. But funny how that issue seems so minor now.

"You're staring, Gene," Snafu says in that slow drawl of his. Him being the first to recover from the shock.

Eugene snaps his eyes back to Snafu's face and is confronted by a mischievous smirk there.

Eugene does not return the smile.

"I still need to pee," he says, eloquently.

Snafu does not stand aside. Or at least he does, but he refuses to leave the doorway and standing aside in such a small space means there is very little room for Eugene to scoot past. So little room that they brush up against each other, chest to chest, when he does.

Snafu is still smirking.

Eugene thinks he is going to die, but not before he relieves the screaming pressure in his bladder, which he does, while desperately hoping Snafu goes back to bed and sleeps facing in towards the couch cushions.

The couch is empty when Eugene returns. But, mysteriously, the sign on his bedroom door has moved to the opposite side, loudly proclaiming its warning to anyone trying to enter the room this time, rather than leave it. His bedroom door, which is now closed, when he knows he deliberately left it open for a quick escape after using the restroom.

"Fuck," Eugene mutters, knocking his head against the door. Snafu is sleeping in his bed - naked - and enjoying his soft pillows, and, foam mattress topper, and down comforter, and the stuffed animal Eugene hides whenever Snafu comes over but Snafu always manages to find.

Meanwhile Eugene is left with a choice: lumpy couch, or painfully stiff carpeted floor.

Either way he has no blankets.

Though he does notice the radiator is turned on to max and it's almost pleasantly warm in the apartment.

He vaguely wonders if Snafu's behavior qualifies as stepping over the line of friendship, or if since Snafu is not the one afflicted with conflicted feelings, this is just something bros do. Eugene knows he's going to be awake the rest of the night trying to come up with a less awkward way of asking Roe if Snafu ever sleeps naked when he crashes at Roe's place, or if this is a special quirk reserved for Eugene's enjoyment alone.

#sledgefu #bad germs

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nemo1230 · 4 years

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A thing or two about vulnerability

Richie had lived many years, 41, to be precise, and he hadn't known a thing about vulnerability. Such thing was a complete stranger to him.

But now, lying in a bed together with the love of his life, he let his thoughts wander. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking over to Eddie, who was still asleep. And finally some things made sense to him. It wasn't that he hadn't felt like this before per se, after all he had pinned after Eddie for the better half of his teenage years, but right now, the feeling wasn't tainted with repression and internalized hate. It was free and transparent.

Vulnerability in its essence is one of the greatest dangers and weapons of humanity. In vulnerability there's always a sense of duality, and while being vulnerable you agree to both sides, whether deliberately or not.

It can be peace and misery, a curse and it's cure, all at once. You place your heart and soul in the palms of another person, giving the person the liberty to do whatever they want with them, even breaking them. You just trust them enough that they won't. A trust like that is something that can either crush you in pieces or mend you.

A trust like that is strength, despite what many might believe, Richie realized. It's bulletproof, wholly and irreversibly indestructible down to the very core; it protects you, because it allows you to find a home in another person. A home that's beyond material values is a small salvation of its own; it's safety and security, it's pure, unadulterated love that vividly pierces trough you, providing you with strength unlike any other.

That is, if the love is mutual of course. To misplace trust like that can cause such heartache that can shake the very ground you stand on, to make it crumble beneath you, taking you with it. It's a huge risk, but Richie has always been a risk taker, and oh, how easy it was to take this one. After around 8 years spent pinning and 27 not remembering, that is of course.

To love and to be loved like that was something that Richie never consider to be possible for him, yet here it was, right in front of him, in a form of this small, hyperactive hypochondriac 41 year-old who calls him an idiot on daily basis. With him, he finally felt at home, with him all the misplaced pieces suddenly fell into place.

Richie looked at Eddie, eyes running over every feature of his, watched how the sunlight from the window created a soft glow and delicate shadows on his face and it finally hit him; the fact that he could just do this now. He could love Eddie, as a man, and as a human, with nothing stopping him.

Eddie sighed and shifted in his sleep, turning his face to the side, his hair falling on his face. Richie reached over and pushed the escaping lock of hair behind his ear, then gently run his knuckles over his cheek.

Eddie was snoring not so quietly and a little drool was coming out of his mouth and he hadn't taken a shower yesterday because he had had a quite tiring day at work, and oh dear god and all heavens above, he looked so stunning Richie could cry.

He had picked up the habit of just simply watching Eddie. He liked watching him do simple, mundane things, like reading a book or cooking, or anything really. While there was a certain thrill of doing new things with Eddie of course, there now was newfound enjoyment in simplicity. Maybe he was really getting old, but he found that just being with Eddie was enough. Or maybe it was the fact that he had come so close to losing Eddie, that now he really was relishing that he was alive, breathing.

"Fucking creep." Eddie's voice echoed trough Richie's thoughts, making him snap out of it. He looked down and noticed Eddie's vivid, sparkling eyes looking at him.

"Well, good morning to you too, spaghetti-man, " Richie said, a smile already forming on his face.

Even just woken up, sleep mussed Eddie was able to direct a death glare Richie's way. ''I swear to god, if you don’t stop calling me that, dude.''

Richie raised one eyebrow. "And how is calling me dude any better? As if we're two straight dudes, complaining about our wives, watching sports, ya know, living our best heterosexual lives. If you need to be reminded, we fucked yesterday. That's not very 'dude' of us.''

Eddie signed, sat up in the bed and run his hand trough his hair. Then he turned to Richie, who was watching him with a grin on his face. ''You know what, you're right, I just realized that I am, in fact, a heterosexual man, sorry, dude,'' he said, making sure to emphasize the word 'dude', ''I gotta go back to my wife, I don't think she'll be very happy if she finds out that I have once again stayed the night at some attractive mans house.''

Richie snorted and sat up too. "Hmm, and how often exactly do you stay at the houses of these attractive men?" He slowly put his hand over Eddie's chest, gently running his hand over the big scar that now decorated Eddies front and back. Eddie was still quite insecure about it, so Richie never stopped reminding him how beautiful he was and that a scar like that could never change that.

Goosebumps rose on Eddie's skin and he shivered. He put his hand over Richie's and laced their fingers. "Every night." He whispered, then leaned forward and softly kissed Richie, to which Richie was quick to respond. Kissing Eddie was something that he never got tired of.

When Eddie pulled back slightly, Richie spoke again, changing his voice to sound more like a professional doctor. ''Well, Mr. Kaspbrak, I sure do have some new for you. I have to diagnose you with Richie Tozier-sexuality. This includes being incredibly attracted to dudes with dad bods and terrible personal hygiene. '' He announced, matter-of-factly, counting the things he listed on his fingers for emphasis.

Eddie pulled back a bit more, just enough to fix Richie with a pointed look. ''Is there any cure to this horrible disease? '' His voice was serious, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

''Yeah, I recommend getting under the covers with me immediately, that should help you quite alright. '' Richie declared, while pointing at the blankets on their bed.

Eddie raised one eyebrow and tilted his head. ''Are you always this flirty with your patients? ''

''Yeah, actually. I am flirty with every single one of my patients, which include, hmm let me check, '' He then pretended to check an invisible list of patients that he apparently has, and then continued, ''Eddie Kaspbrak. Yeah, that would be all. ''

Eddie smirked, leaning forward, and slowly running his thumb over Richie's lower lip. ''How very unprofessional of you, doctor. ''

Richie had no idea how they always could go from stupid jokes like that, to heavy flirting like this. But he wasn't about to complain, rather the opposite.

Richie already felt his cheeks reddening. ''Will I get punished for it? '' He whispered, pressing so close to Eddie that they were breathing the same air.

''Oh, most certainly. '' Came the reply, which Richie felt more on his lips rather then heard. Then Eddie pulled back, Richie chasing after him, and while still having that suggestive smirk, calmly said, ''Go do the dishes, babe. ''

Richie gasped and scrunched up his face in disappointment. ''Bro, really?!''

Eddie only snorted and tilted his head. ''And who's being a straight dude now, huh?'' He laughed, so open and happy, that Richie couldn't help but to swoon at, after all this time all he still could think was - 'cute cute cute'.

''Well, shit you caught me, all the internalized homophobia that I've felt my whole life has been fake and I actually do like boobs!''

Eddie signed, laid back down on his back and sprayed out his hands. He looked at Richie, pressing his lips in a thin line and then smiling sadly. ''I fucking hate this. It's fucking bullshit. That we had to go through that. ''

Richie joined him, snuggling up close to Eddie, laying his head on his chest. ''Yeah. It sucked ass, but I am happy now though. You make me so happy, Eds.'' He took Eddies hand and started playing with his fingers. A stupid joke about sucking ass was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. He has used humor to hide his true feelings for his whole life, but being with Eddie made him realize that maybe, sometimes it was good to just feel.

Being this close to another person was still a challenge to him. Living a life mostly all by himself, never letting anyone close left it's impact after all. He had built walls upon walls, but with Eddie there beside him, he could feel them slowly crumbling.

''You make me so happy too, Rich.'' He kissed the top of Richie's head, took a deep breath and whispered, ''I love you.''

Richie tried his best to still his beating heart and blushing cheeks. This wasn’t the first time they’ve told these words to each other, but every time they still made Richie's breath get stuck in his throat, and his heart skip a beat. ''I love you too, Eds, I love you too. ''

Then Richie looked up, into Eddie's eyes and saw that he too was still affected by words like that. He smiled, open and bright, and Eddie smiled back, just the same, his eyes full of fondness and unmistakable, undeniable love.

And Eddie looking at him like that made him realize that perhaps being in love really was an endless free fall. You trip over the edge at that's it, no ground to reach, just you falling deeper and deeper and deeper. And he never wanted to stop.

Now he could say that he knew a thing or two about vulnerability, and honestly, it's a pretty fucking good feeling.

#reddie #reddie fic #eddie kaspbrak x richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #IT movie #it chapter two #it 2019 #nemo writes

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bl-danmei-yaoi · 5 years

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Lan Xichen’s Guide on How to Confess

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19986748

#1: Do a meta-analysis on all relevant resource material on confessing #2: Do not use mainstream roses #3: Avoid cockblocks (aka Xue Yang) *IMPORTANT #4: NEVER GIVE UP **IMPORTANT

“Wangji… How did you confess to Wei Wuxian?” Lan Xichen randomly asks his younger brother one day.

“…” Lan Wangji does not say a word but by the 1% reddening of the tips of his ears, Lan Xichen could tell that Lan Wangji is embarrassed.

“Ahahaha… Big bro! Do you think Lan Zhan will ever confess? Of course, it was me who did!” Wei Wuxian laughs, popping out of nowhere.

“Ah… Then how did you confess to Wangji?” Lan Xichen asks Wei Wuxian.

“Of course, I- Mmmp!!!” Before Wei Wuxian could answer, Lan Wangji had covered his mouth with his hands, ears reddening obviously now. Flailing around his arms, Wei Wuxian tries to escape Lan Wangji’s grasps.

“Why does big brother want to know?” Lan Wangji asks, not wanting to let Wei Wuxian tell his brother about their confession scene.

This time, it is Lan Xichen’s cheeks that flush pink. Scratching the back of his ear nervously, Lan Xichen admits, “There’s someone I want to confess to…”

“Ah!” Wei Wuxian finally manages to break free. “Big bro! You finally have worldly desires! Who is this special person who managed to finally move the heart of the world’s most eligible bachelor?”

“I… I will introduce him to you all when he agrees to my confession…” Lan Xichen replies, uncharacteristically shy. “But I kind of need help confessing…”

“Well then, I don’t think referencing my confession will do you any good, big bro. It kind of depends on the situation. You see, Lan Zhan and I are schoolmates and we were already friends. But you’re the CEO of the country’s largest corporation and I don’t know who the other is and how well you know each other. But regardless, you need a confession befitting your status as a rich CEO.” Wei Wuxian replies, a sly smile appearing briefly on his face. Only Lan Wangji who knows Wei Wuxian very well notices.

“Wei Ying…” Lan Wangji warns. Although he would usually indulge in Wei Wuxian’s mischief, this concerned his actual blood-related brother after all.

Understanding Lan Wangji’s concern, Wei Wuxian pats Lan Wangji’s back to tell him not to worry. “Of course, since I myself don’t understand your situation, I have a few books you can reference. I’ll send you the links!”

When Lan Xichen clicks on the links to find books titled “The Overbearing President Falls in Love with Me”, “The Overbearing President’s Runaway Wife”, “The Overbearing President’s Little Pampered Wife”, and other similarly titled books, he is a little hesitant. However, deciding to make every possible effort, Lan Xichen reads the books anyway.

After reading all the books, Lan Xichen uses an Excel Spreadsheet to make a meta-analysis of all the books. Looking through his analysis, Lan Xichen feels conflicted. The most common method in the books is also very cringey, while the least common is the most acceptable. Moreover, the latter is also very plain and boring. Thinking about the soft and gentle smile and deep dimples, Lan Xichen decides to go with the latter. Because even if that failed, Lan Xichen is sure that he will not be repulsed by the other.

The next day, Lan Xichen buys a single red rose and goes to the production location of Meng Yao’s latest drama.

“Ah! Mr Lan! Welcome!” The director happily walks up to greet Lan Xichen. After all, Lan Xichen is the drama’s biggest investor.

Lan Xichen gives a nod in response. “Where is Meng Yao?”

“Ah… It is not yet his time for filming so Meng Yao is in his waiting room. Let me bring you there!” The director answers enthusiastically, secretly thinking that Lan Xichen must be Meng Yao’s “sponsor”. In the entertainment industry, it is not uncommon for celebrities to find themselves “sponsors” or “sugar daddies” who would give them better opportunities in return for their “time”.

Of course, it is not only the director who thought that Lan Xichen is Meng Yao’s “sponsor”. The other actors that are on scene also thought so. Immediately, many of these actors became sour with jealousy. Lan Xichen is not only very wealthy, but also young and handsome. Unlike most “sponsors” who were old and slimy, Lan Xichen is very desirable. However, despite many attempts to climb into Lan Xichen’s bed, no one has ever succeeded. Hence, they became very salty, thinking that Meng Yao actually succeeded in climbing Lan Xichen’s bed.

Oblivious to what is happening outside, Meng Yao was chatting with his best frenemy, Xue Yang, when Lan Xichen enters the waiting room. Lan Xichen did not expect anyone else other than Meng Yao to be there. Nonetheless, he gathers up his courage, presenting Meng Yao with the rose.

“Ah Yao… I like y-“ Before Lan Xichen can confess, he is interrupted.

“Ah! What’s this? Just a normal red rose? And only one? Sigh… So mainstream… What a lack of sincerity!” Xue Yang drawls as he snatches the rose out of Lan Xichen’s hands. Sniffing the rose, Xue Yang adds, “Bah… Smells terrible too.”

Not waiting for Meng Yao to reject him, Lan Xichen immediately bows his head and apologises. “I… I will do better! Give me another chance! Wait for me!”

With that, Lan Xichen leaves. Sighing, Meng Yao turns to give Xue Yang a deadpan stare. This is why Xue Yang is his frenemy and not his friend.

“What?! Come on, shorty. Just a normal rose? And you’re going to accept it? It’s the most stereotypical and standard flower for confessing. And it’s not even 99 roses! Just one! And he’s supposedly the most eligible bachelor! I’m doing this for your own good. You deserve much better.” Xue Yang defends.

Rolling his eyes, Meng Yao grabs the rose out of Xue Yang’s hands. He knows that Xue Yang just found enjoyment in watching Lan Xichen awkward attempts to chase him. Smelling the rose, Meng Yao smiles happily, heart beating fast in his chest.

Xue Yang watches as his friend’s cheeks redden, shaking his head and sighing. Honestly, both of them know that Meng Yao also enjoyed Lan Xichen’s awkward wooing. While Xue Yang’s enjoyment came from pure amusement, Meng Yao’s enjoyment came from the feeling of being loved. Being brought up by a single mom who died early, Meng Yao had grown up lacking love. And so, despite Lan Xichen’s awkward actions, Meng Yao could sense the love and it made him happy. Hence, Meng Yao did not want to accept Lan Xichen so quickly. He is also afraid that once they start dating, Lan Xichen would spend less time and effort on him, or that Lan Xichen’s feelings for him will slowly disappear. Because that was what happened to Meng Yao’s mother, Meng Shi.

Meng Shi had easily agreed to his father, Jin Guangshan’s confession. But Jin Guangshan is a jerk with a perfect façade. Meng Shi had fallen for Jin Guangshan’s façade, thinking that this was a chivalrous loving gentleman. However, Jin Guangshan is a jerk who likes playing around, quickly losing interest in Meng Shi who he had chased with ease. If Jin Guangshan could abandon the pregnant Meng Shi so easily, Meng Yao is afraid that he would make the same mistake as Meng Shi in trusting a lie. Hence, Meng Yao decides to wait out to see Lan Xichen’s sincerity. And even if Lan Xichen ever gets tired of him, Meng Yao feels like at least he has the memories of being loved and wooed.

That night, when Lan Xichen returned from the filming location, he began to evaluate where he went wrong. Firstly, from Xue Yang’s reminder, Lan Xichen decides that normal red roses are too mainstream. Next, he needed to ensure that there is no source of interruption. However, Lan Xichen is rather confused. Giving flowers was the least common method of confessing from his meta-analysis of the books, so why is it considered mainstream? Deciding to ask Wei Wuxian for help, Lan Xichen learns from Wei Wuxian that flowers were mainstream for ordinary people. Rich and powerful CEOs had different standards, so purely giving flowers was not common. After all, flowers did not show off their wealth, power and ability to care for and protect their significant other.

However, looking at the other possible options, Lan Xichen feels like he has no hope. The other methods seem a bit too wild and out of his own character. Some are against his own morals and probably illegal too, such as such using drugs or alcohol. Others seemed to be humiliating rather than confessing to the other, like offering to be their “sponsor”. Meng Yao is strong, smart and hard-working, and definitely would not accept short-cuts like getting a “sponsor”. Then, there are biologically impossible methods, such as getting the other pregnant. Lan Xichen’s brain went dead for a long while when he was first introduced to the idea of mpreg. Shaking his head at all these less “mainstream” methods, Lan Xichen decides that mainstream was better than hurting his world views.

A week later, Lan Xichen plans for a romantic dinner at a restaurant that had a contract with his company, convincing Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to help by playing the ambient music there. Of course, Lan Xichen does not forget to reserve the entire restaurant. Not only was this because it is “expected of a CEO to show off his wealth”, but also because Meng Yao is a celebrity and it would not be good if they are caught by fans or the paparazzi.

Communicating with Meng Yao’s manager, Lan Xichen comes to the filming location as Meng Yao end his work for the day. Seeing that Meng Yao is alone, Lan Xichen quickly invites the other out for dinner.

Seeing Lan Xichen’s look of anticipation, Meng Yao agrees. Fist bumping himself in his mind, Lan Xichen beams brightly, thinking that he’s at least succeeded 20%. But just then, he hears the same dreaded languid voice popping out of nowhere.

“Aiyah… I’m also very hungry…” Xue Yang complains, swinging and arm over Meng Yao’s back. “Mr Lan, you won’t mind if I join y’all?”

For once in his life, Lan Xichen feels like cussing. However, his upbringing makes Lan Xichen smile and generously agree.

“What would you like to eat?” Lan Xichen asks, passing Meng Yao the menu when they reach the restaurant.

“Oooh… Look at all the dessert!” Xue Yang says, not allowing Meng Yao to respond. “Aye… Look at this crème caramel pudding, shorty! It looks just like you!”

Although Lan Xichen did not want to agree with this cockblocker, he could not help but agree with that observation. For a brief moment, Lan Xichen wonders if Meng Yao would taste as soft and sweet as the pudding. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Lan Xichen returns to a reality where Xue Yang takes every opportunity to stop him from talking to Meng Yao.

At the end of the day, Lan Xichen can only comfort himself by eating a crème caramel pudding for dessert, wishing that he had the person rather than the dessert.

After this failed attempt, Lan Xichen feels lost. He isn’t sure what other options he should choose. Having personally seen the main cause of Lan Xichen’s failure, Wei Wuxian suggests writing a confession letter. Although it is very not “CEO-like”, at least it is less likely to be hindered by Xue Yang. However, Lan Xichen does not know what to write in the letter, other than “I like you, please go out with me”. However, before Lan Xichen could slowly evaluate what to write, he gets busy with work as a problem comes up. And so, for the next whole month, Meng Yao does not see or hear from Lan Xichen.

“Come on, shorty. Lighten up! It’s just a guy, no need to get down. His sincerity is only like that. Get rejected twice and he’s already given up. There’s no point getting upset over a jerk.” Xue Yang comforts a sad Meng Yao. Meng Yao had thought that he was prepared. In the first week of no contact, Meng Yao was still confident that Lan Xichen was preparing for another confession. In the second week, his confidence had dwindled, but he also felt like it was expected. In the third week, Meng Yao had already given up. By as the month passed, Meng Yao was suddenly hit by disappointment. After all, he really liked Lan Xichen. Even though they did not know each other for a long time, Meng Yao felt like his future is linked with the other, just as their past is. Even though it is crazy and illogical, Meng Yao feels like there’s a red string of fate tying them together, a promise from another life that allowed their encounter in this life. It was one of the reasons why Meng Yao believed that Lan Xichen will continue to chase him even after being interrupted from confessing a couple of times.

And so, when Lan Xichen did not appear again in his life for a month, Meng Yao felt betrayed. Shaking his head, Meng Yao thinks that he is a fool, just like his mother. Men are just large pig trotters that cannot be trusted.

“Don’t worry, shorty. If he comes to the filming wrap-up dinner tonight, I’ll punch him for you.” Xue Yang promises, causing Meng Yao to roll his eyes. Nonetheless, it comforts Meng Yao. At least, he still had a friend.

However, when they get to the restaurant for the wrap-up dinner, they do not see Lan Xichen. Disappointed, Meng Yao uncharacteristically indulges in the alcohol, accepting whenever the other investors of the drama offered him drinks. Given Meng Yao’s beauty and disposition, he should not be drinking so much in such a place, because there are many investors who would force themselves on the celebrities, and Meng Yao was like a lamb surrounded by a group of wolves. However, Meng Yao is feeling desolate, and he also trusted Xue Yang. Before Xue Yang was adopted by the Xiao family, they both stayed in a foster home together. And even after Xue Yang was adopted, they still stayed in close contact. Although not as powerful as the Lan family, the Xiao family is still one of the most influential families, allowing Xue Yang to be wilful in the entertainment industry. And as Xue Yang’s close friends, most people know not to mess with Meng Yao too. Especially not directly.

Of course, there are always people who are crafty and not afraid to die. When Meng Yao drunkenly goes to the toilet, one of the investors follow along, attempting to take advantage of Meng Yao’s drunkenness. The investor came from a wealthy family as well, and he did not believe that the Xiao family will go against his family just for an adopted son’s friend.

“Hehe… Little Meng Yao. Do you think that brat Xue Yang can save you?” The slimy investor mocks as he raises an arm to trap Meng Yao against the wall.

Meng Yao narrows his eyes, anger seeping out those normally gentle large doe eyes. “Get the fuck off me, you filthy pig.”

The insult makes the investor grin. “Hahahaha. Feisty little vixen. Always acting so sweet and innocent when you’re actually a filthy slut. You can seduce any man with just a look. Everyone thinks you’re a pure flower when I’m sure you’ve already slept with a thousand man. Instead of serving that brat Xue Yang, why don’t you come warm my bed instead? Xue Yang is only a child, but I am a man. I can definitely satisfy you better.”

Meng Yao wants to puke. Normally, Meng Yao would smile and try to talk his way out without offending anyone. Learning to please the people around him was how Meng Yao learned to survive in this harsh world. Although others will mock him for being a yes man and people pleaser, at least it is limited to only these insults. At least, it allowed him to have so-called “friends” who would talk to him and involve him in their activities. Before Meng Yao learned how to survive in this world, he had been bullied in school, the target for everyone’s pranks and frustrations. All because he had a single mom, then, because he was an orphan. They would call him nasty things, such as a bearer of ill-luck that was so terrible that his father did not want him and that caused his mother to die. And because he did not have parents who would call the school and protect him, the teachers did not care, some even joining in picking on him. And so, Meng Yao had to learn to survive by being a people pleaser. If you stroked their ego, they were less likely to insult you and be more willing to accept you. After all, by keeping Meng Yao around, they got someone who would routinely raise their self-confidence.

However, at this point in time, not only is Meng Yao drunk, but he is also angry because of Lan Xichen’s disappearance. Seeing the slimy investor in front of him, Meng Yao only feels like the other is a perfect outlet for his frustrations. Throwing a fist, Meng Yao punches the slimy investor’s nose. And despite his small frame, Meng Yao had a lot of strength in those arms, having learnt martial arts to protect himself in times of emergency. Shocked by Meng Yao’s punch, the investor clutches his nose, feeling blood under his palms.

“You want to do this the hard way? Fine! Don’t regret this!” The investor shouts, enraged. Meng Yao tries to escape the other’s clutches, but the alcohol made it difficult for him to fight. The only reason why he managed to punch the other the first time was because the other was not prepared. The investor grabbed Meng Yao’s chin, forcing Meng Yao’s head up to look him in the eye before leaning in to force a kiss. Meng Yao feels like his bones were cracking under that hand, struggling futilely. Being unable to escape, Meng Yao desperately clenches his mouth tight. And since he closed his eyes, he did not see as the slimy investor is pulled off him and thrown into another wall.

Opening his eyes in confusion at the loss of the pressure on his chin, Meng Yao sees a familiar person with an unfamiliar look of fury. Meng Yao stares entranced as Lan Xichen repeatedly punches the slimy investor, his drunken haze preventing him from thinking. It is only when he notices that the investor has stopped moving that Meng Yao snaps out of his trance, running forward to stop Lan Xichen from beating up the other man any more.

“Let me beat him! This filthy bastard! I’ll kill him!” Lan Xichen shouts angrily, struggling to free his hand from Meng Yao without hurting the latter.

“Enough! Any more and he’s really going to die!” Meng Yao exclaims.

“Good,” Lan Xichen replies calmly, voice cold and unfeeling. Lan Xichen is going to use his other, non-dominant hand when he hears Meng Yao groaning in discomfort. “Ah Yao! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Shaking his head, Meng Yao rushes into the toilet, puking into the toilet bowl. Lan Xichen follows behind, helping Meng Yao comb his hair away from his face and gently patting his back to soothe him. After puking the contents of his stomach out, Meng Yao leans tiredly against the cubicle wall, staring scornfully at Lan Xichen.

Seeing Meng Yao’s eyes filled with anger and disappointment, Lan Xichen gets anxious. But seeing Lan Xichen’s flustered expression, Meng Yao softens, quietly whispering, “I’ve been waiting…”

“I… I’m sorry… There was a problem at work and I wanted to make sure I’ve prepared to make my next confession before we met so…” Lan Xichen tries to explain.

“So you’re ready to confess now?” Meng Yao asks, eyes brightening in anticipation.

“Yeah… I rushed down here after finishing up my work. And I also wrote you a letter in case your friend interrupts again… And… I also bought you peonies… Because they mean completeness, wealth, auspiciousness and happiness, and these are what I want to give to you.” Lan Xichen says, voice serious.

Meng Yao feels his heart skip a beat. Completeness, wealth, auspiciousness and happiness… These are all the things that Meng Yao wants. The feeling of emptiness and loneliness following his mother’s death, the tireless days of working nonstop for money, the insults of being a bearer of ill-luck, and the pain and sadness of struggling through life alone… All of that seemed to disappear with Lan Xichen’s words, causing tears to fill Meng Yao’s eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” Lan Xichen asks worriedly when he sees Meng Yao start to cry.

Shaking his head furiously, Meng Yao sniffles, forcing himself not to cry. “So where are these flowers and the letter?”

“Ah! I dropped them when I saw you being cornered…” Lan Xichen suddenly recalls, anxiously standing up to find the said items.

Seeing Lan Xichen’s response, Meng Yao laughs happily. Pulling Lan Xichen’s hand to stop him from leaving, Meng Yao says, “I like you… Please go out with me.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes widen comically at Meng Yao’s confession, quickly squatting back down to stare into Meng Yao’s eyes, trying to ensure that he understood correctly. Smiling deeply, Meng Yao wraps his hands around Lan Xichen’s neck, meeting the other’s gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” Lan Xichen asks excitedly.

“If you don’t mind the taste of puke,” Meng Yao laughs. Meng Yao did not expect it, but Lan Xichen leans in to kiss him anyway. After a long make-out session, Lan Xichen finally lets go of Meng Yao’s lips, both panting hard for air. Meng Yao’s face is flushed a deep red, both from the lack of air and from embarrassment. “Now you’re just going to remember that our first kiss tastes like puke!”

“That’s not true. Ah Yao is sweet.” Lan Xichen grins mischievously, watching with delight as Meng Yao’s cheeks deepen in colour. Shyly avoiding Lan Xichen’s eyes, Meng Yao pushes the other way, making to stand up.

“Well then, all I tasted was puke so let me go wash out my mouth!” Meng Yao complains softly. But when Meng Yao walks out of the cubicle, he sees Xue Yang watching them with amusement, Lan Xichen’s letter and flowers in hand. Lan Xichen also catches sight of Xue Yang, immediately wondering if the other has some kind of sensor for whenever he confesses to Meng Yao. At the very least, Lan Xichen is grateful that Xue Yang did not cockblock him again this time.

“Congrats, shorty. I dealt with that unconscious filth outside by the way.” Xue Yang grins.

“Thank you,” Lan Xichen replies sincerely, taking the letter and flowers from Xue Yang.

“You look like a freshly cooked prawn by the way,” Xue Yang turns to tell Meng Yao, mirth seeping through his voice.

“Fuck off!” Meng Yao shouts, turning the tap on so as to drown out Xue Yang’s voice.

“And you, if you ever hurt that little shorty, I’ll kill you and your entire family.” Xue Yang warns Lan Xichen quietly, eyes sharp and serious. Lan Xichen nods gravely, swearing to Xue Yang.

He will protect and love Meng Yao forever, and will never once doubt or betray Meng Yao. Lan Xichen swore this with his life.

#xiyao #fanfic #XiYaoWeek2019

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thesecretfandom · 6 years

Text

Wanderlust: Lock and Key -- Bughead (Chapter 8)

Word Count: 3,290

Rated: E

A/N: The last time I posted a chapter was December last year. So sorry for the long time coming... but here is the next chapter for your enjoyment. (Read on AO3)

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

The sunset was casting a scarlet glow across the busy halls of the Dublin airport when they finally dragged their luggage from baggage claim to the bus stop outside. Betty sat on her luggage, Jughead next to her with his arm slung over her shoulders.

Reggie was fidgety, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk as they waited. "All I have to say is thank fuck everything is finally in English. It was getting exhausting moving through a billion different languages."

"It was only seven languages, Reg." Jughead rolled his eyes. "And most stuff was in English anyway."

"Whatever, bro. It was exhausting."

"This bus stop is exhausting." Cheryl complained. "My feet are killing me."

"And whose fault is that?" Betty countered. "You're the one who insists on wearing heels to the airport."

"I didn't expect so much walking! I was supposed to be sitting the whole time." Cheryl yanked her heels off her feet and pulled her feet up onto the bench.

Sighs swept out of the lips of her comrades.

"So sue me!" She grumbled.

A large, double-decker bus came grinding to a halt in front of the crowd of people waiting on the sidewalk. By the time they came to the entrance of their hostel, an old brick building, the sun had fully set and moon was glowing brightly through the streets.

The lobby was loud, filled with raucous laughter from the back of the room where a bar was surrounded by a group of young men. Their pints half empty in front of them, one man tumbled off the back of a barstool.

"My kind of people." Reggie smirked. "Archie, be a dear and bring my stuff to the room. I'm about to get my drink on."

"Hey, wait a second…" Archie started, but Reggie was already gone. He sat right in the thick of the crowded bar, taking the seat that had been vacated by the drunk Irishman. Archie looked at his friends and set down his luggage. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

Jughead reached out an arm to grab his shoulder before Archie could follow Reggie to the bar. "Not so fast, Arch. Could you at least be bothered to help us with the bags?"

Archie sighed, but with a kiss on his cheek at the corner of his lips from Veronica he was quick to grab both of his bags and one of Reggie's. A narrow stairway led them up to their room, where three bunks circled the room. Archie dropped his bags and turned back to the door.

"Wait up, Archiekins." Veronica quickly stepped out of her leggings and into a mini skirt. Next on were her high heels and a swipe of dark burgundy lipstick and she was at Archie's side, clinging to his arm. "You guys coming, or what?"

"Count me in." Cheryl was already reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. "Reggie gets especially frisky when he has a few pints in him."

"Remember we're sharing a room tonight…" Jughead said, but it was in vain because they were already out the door. "That can't be good."

Jughead flinched when Betty snuck up behind him, slipping her cold fingers beneath his T-shirt. He turned, his arms instinctually winding around her shoulders. He squeezed her tight, letting his lips fall to her forehead. Betty seemed to have something else in mind when she let her fingers trail down to his hipbone and under the waist of his boxers.

"Betts, you know how hard it is for me to deny you…" Jughead sighed when Betty's lips moved against his jaw.

"And why, pray tell, would you be denying me?" Her fingers fiddled with the button on his jeans.

Jughead squirmed when Betty pushed his pants halfway down his ass, but he didn't push her away. Instead, he tugged on her sweater and pulled it over her head. Betty flipped the deadbolt on the door before returning to him.

"We don't have the room to ourselves…" Even as he said this, Betty was kicking off her shoes and pulling Jughead toward their bunk. He threw his T-shirt on the floor behind him, shedding his own shoes and jeans before crawling over his beautiful girlfriend in the small bed. "They could come back at any minute."

Betty raked her fingers through Jughead's hair and pulled his lips to hers. "It's only eight o'clock…" She spoke between nipping at Jughead's neck. "Reggie already had half a pint down before we got up here… Archie's probably caught up by now… They won't be back for a few hours… two in the morning at the earliest…"

"Okay, okay…" Jughead bit his lip. "You've convinced me. Now, let's get you out of the rest of these damn clothes."

Betty squealed when Jughead attacked her neck. He nibbled on the soft spot behind her ear and then down her shoulder while Betty yanked her jeans down. Jughead paid no mind to the new skin being revealed to him, instead his lips ravaging her chest. Betty reached behind and unhooked her bra, revealing Jughead's favorite part of her body.

"Juggie…" Her breath hitched when his teeth brushed lightly over her nipple. "I want…"

Jughead suddenly pushed his hand under her panties and let his lips completely encase the nipple he had once been nibbling on. Betty fisted her fingers against the white sheets as Jughead thrust two fingers past her folds.

"You're wet, Betts." She could feel his smirk on her skin.

Betty grazed her fingers up his back and bit her lip as the pleasure began to wash over her. "Great observation, Sherlock. What are you gonna do about it?"

"You want me to tell you what I'm going to do, or do you want me to show you?"

Betty sighed as Jughead pushed another finger into her. "Tell me first… then do it."

Jughead dragged his lips away from her breast, up her body, until his hot breath brushed against her ear.

"I'm going to flip you over and fuck you from behind." Betty shivered when Jughead nibbled on her earlobe. "You'll be fighting to keep quiet when I slap your ass, leaving a sore spot in the morning."

She groaned at his promises, his fingers still moving inside her as she became more desperate for him. His words sent shivers up her skin. She wanted more, no… she needed more.

"Jug…" Betty breathed. "I want you now."

"Oh, but I had so much more to tell you." Jughead pulled back, his eyes locking on hers before moving his lips back to hers. "I wanted to talk about your mouth, and my fingers… your thighs and your stomach and-"

Betty slipped off her panties while Jughead spoke and reached her hands to his boxers. His words stopped suddenly when Betty slid her hand over his hard on.

"I just want you to fuck me now…"

Jughead pulled his fingers slowly out of her and stuck them between his lips, sucking them clean. When he was satisfied, Jughead roughly gripped her hips and flipped Betty onto her stomach. Betty pulled her knees up, under her body so her ass was raised in the air.

Jughead couldn't keep his hands off of her. As soon as he'd discarded his boxers on the floor, his hands were back on her hips. One hand traveled higher, while the other ventured to her ass. His dick was pressed against her center, and he moved a hand to guide himself in.

"Ohhh…" Betty sighed when he was fully inside of her, thrusting in slow, short movements.

As promised, Jughead lifted a hand and brought it down on her ass. Betty squealed, but was still too quiet to satisfy him. He slapped her ass again, harder this time, and Betty yelped out loud.

"Juggie…" Betty moaned. "The walls are paper thin."

"Then you better find a way to keep quiet." Jughead kept on with his goal to drive Betty wild.

Betty bit down on the pillow when Jughead brought his hand down one more time and proceeded to rub softly and soothe her reddened skin.

"More, Jug… I want faster and harder."

"As you wish."

Jughead's chest pressed against her back as he thrust his hips, thighs slapping against her ass. He moved faster and faster, until Betty could no longer hide her moans in the pillow. Jughead was just as loud, attempting to hide his own voice in Betty's shoulder.

Betty's hands moved behind her to thread her fingers through Jughead's hair, holding his lips against her skin. He let one hand snake around her body until his fingers found her clit. Betty pulled hard on his hair when Jughead began to rub the sensitive nerves, bring her close to the edge.

"Hold on, Betts… just hold on."

"I can't." Her voice came out strained, her orgasm getting closer. Betty bit down on the pillow as Jughead chased his high.

She couldn't hold off any longer, and Betty came around Jughead's cock. He was close behind, and fell with his full body weight on top of her when his orgasm finally rocked through him. As their orgasms completed their course through the two young lover's bodies, Betty pulled Jughead's lips to hers.

"I love you, Juggie." A soft breath escaped her lips when Jughead pulled out and curled up next to her.

"I love you more…"

"Debatable." Betty teased as she rolled onto her back. "Mm… I could use a shower."

"Mind if I join?" Jughead slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side.

"Haven't had enough of me yet?" Betty reached up to push a strand of hair out of his eyes.

Jughead grinned. "Totally platonic shower… no funny business. Purely for the sake of conserving water."

Betty giggled at his explanation. "You don't have to lie, Juggie. You can just say you want to have sex in the shower."

"Well, now you're just making assumptions. Of course… you're not wrong, but I think I'd rather wait to do that when we're not sharing a shower with twenty other people."

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

"Betty, can we just leave without them?" Jughead was hanging off the top bunk, where they ended up sleeping after the sheets on the lower bunk were mussed from their activity the night before. "They didn't come home until five o'clock."

Betty was standing by the sink in their room, adjusting her ponytail in the mirror. Jughead new that she was just pretending to be getting ready because her hair had been perfectly pulled back for twenty minutes now. She swiped her lip gloss across her already pink lips for the third time.

"This was supposed to be a friends trip, Jug. After all the romance of Paris, we should all be hanging out together."

"It's not my fault they insist on staying up all night, every night."

"Well, what do you have in mind, then?" Betty sauntered over to the bed, where Jughead had his chin propped on his arm. She twirled her fingers through his hair and waited for his response. He hadn't once mentioned what he wanted to see in Dublin. Betty had already made it clear that she wanted to see St. Stephen's Green, but on the condition that her friends… all of them, be there to see it with her.

"I have something in mind that I don't think the other's will miss too much." Jughead paused. He already knew she'd be thoroughly fascinated with what he was going to suggest. "Kilmainham Gaol."

"Something about the way you said that… makes me think you pronounced it wrong." Betty smirked.

"That's beside the point." Jughead rolled to the edge of the bed where he could climb down the ladder. "What matters is that it's the most famous prison in Dublin and number one on Trip Advisor's list of best things to do in Dublin."

"You know how I love a good list from Trip Advisor." Betty replied. Jughead snaked an arm around Betty's waist as he led them out of the room. "And prison's have always intrigued me."

"Why do you think I brought it up? It's terribly romantic."

The sun was just peeking through the clouds when they stepped onto the cobblestone street. Two hands intertwined as a cool breeze swept past, the tip of Betty's ponytail flying out behind them. The nearest bus stop was a short two blocks away, with their final destination only a fifteen minute ride.

As they approached the old prison, the sidewalk became increasingly more crowded. Betty tucked herself into Jughead's side as he pulled her along the route that he'd memorized that morning. A short lineup of tourists were in a queue outside the prison, but Betty and Jughead were able to move through the queue quickly and into the stone building.

"Eugh," Betty grumbled. She put a hand over her nose. "It smells rank in here."

"Ah, nothing like the sweet smell of death in the morning." Jughead teased.

"People died here?" Betty asked, while Jughead simply nodded. "That makes it so much more romantic."

"Betty Cooper, you are an easy woman to please."

Betty only shrugged as a response and intertwined her fingers with Jughead's as they moved deeper into the building. They approached a wide open space, a long room with a curve along the far wall. All around the perimeter, towering three floors above them, were wrought iron bars keeping the ghosts of former prisoners locked inside their cages.

At the very center of the room was a long staircase, leading to the top floor. Betty pried her hand away from Jughead's, and stepped lightly up the metal stairs. A metallic clang rang out beneath her feet, and without even turning, she knew Jughead had raised his camera. She began to turn when she heard…

Click.

Jughead winked when she turned and caught his eye. Betty waved him forward, begging him to join her at the completion of their tour. Eventually, after Betty had reached the end of the staircase, Jughead followed her.

"There's really not much to see here, huh?" Betty said when Jughead had rejoined her at her side.

"It's a prison, I suppose cells are all they have." He shrugged. "I am starving though. Can we get lunch?"

"I know you, Jug." Betty laughed, looping her arm in his. "'Can we get lunch?' usually means you need to eat in the next thirty minutes or death is imminent."

Jughead laughed and pressed a kiss to her head. Betty knew he meant it to be sweet, and it was, but he always managed to leave a wet spot when he kissed her head. She wiped the invisible mark away with the back of her hand, feigning disgust as they stepped back out onto the street.

Betty had been to one or two Irish Pubs in her time, but never to a genuine pub in the heart of Dublin. It was dark inside, with old electric sconces casting an eerie glow over the wooden booths. Jughead sidled up to the bar and Betty leaned up against the sticky counter next to him.

"What classic Irish cuisine are we going for today?" Betty asked when Jughead pulled up a small menu.

"I say we start with drinks?" Jughead replied, eyeing the shelves of booze lined up against a mirror behind the bar.

"Okay, just this once… I'll have a Jameson and Coke." She said to the bartender.

Jughead raised an eyebrow at her with a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Never pegged you for a whiskey drinker."

"I'm not, but as they say, when in… Dublin."

"I'll have the same." Jughead said. "Why don't you go find us a seat? I'll order the food."

"Pick something delicious." Betty planted a big, wet kiss on his cheek before finding a dark corner booth.

Jughead found Betty with her shoes off and feet curled up beneath her. The forest green leather seats were cracked in spots, but cushioned and comfortable nonetheless. He set one glass in front of her and took a swig of the brown drink in his own.

"Try it…" Jughead goaded, pushing the drink into Betty's hands. She lifted it to her nose and took a whiff. Just as she did so, her nose scrunched up in the most adorable way.

"This smells awful."

"Just a sip… come on." As a way of invitation, Jughead took another drink.

She pulled the drink to her lips so quickly, it was like she was afraid she'd change her mind. Her throat bobbed and lips puckered as she swallowed the drink. Tears sprang to her eyes and she violently shoved the glass toward Jughead.

"Mm, no. You drink it, I'll get something else."

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

Two hours later Betty held tight to Jughead's arm as they made their way to Dublin Castle. What had started as one Cosmopolitan turned into three and now it seemed that the cobblestones were moving like waves beneath her feet. Jughead was stone sober, having had only two drinks with his lunch.

They approached the castle from the river, the sun already beginning to set behind the castle. Jughead snatched a map while they waited at the ticket booth. He flipped through the pamphlet, pointing to areas on the map that he found particularly interesting. His hand slipped around her back and lingered at her waist as they moved to the upper yard, a courtyard surrounded by the walls of the castle.

"Be my muse?" Jughead asked. He positioned Betty under an arch leading further into the castle. "Now don't look right at the camera but just above me." Jughead crouched slightly. Click. "Perfect."

"You do love to take advantage of me." Betty teased.

"My angel, my muse, my love. The camera has eyes only for you, my dear."

Betty rolled her eyes at his profession, but her cheeks flamed up pink regardless. "I hate you… but I love you."

"That's the test of true love, Betts."

Betty sidled up to his side again, pressing a kiss to his cheek before allowing his arm to circle her torso again. "So we passed the test?"

"We passed the test." He smiled and leaned in to fully kiss her lips before they finally stepped inside the castle.

Jughead reluctantly tucked his camera away as they entered a no photography area, but it seemed that the art within was much too precious for his camera anyway. No piece of art could quite compare to light that haloed Betty's body as the sun dipped below the horizon. She walked ahead of him, sinking to her knees in the grass outside the castle.

"So I guess Dublin is a wrap then?" Jughead said as he sat next to Betty.

"I think you're forgetting we have one more day."

"Do we have anything planned tomorrow?"

"I'm forcing everyone to go to St. Stephen's Green tomorrow afternoon." Betty leaned into his embrace as they watched the sun dip lower. "But I think we need to plan to be hungover tomorrow morning."

"Why's that?"

"Well.. I may have told the others we'd go on a pub crawl with them tonight."

"Seriously?"

"Remember, this started as a friends trip and just became something… more. The least we can do is spend one fun night with our friends. It'll be fun Jughead, trust me."

"It would be more fun if we didn't have to share a room with those bozos."

"Just hold on, Jug. Remember, we get a private room once we get to Alnwick."

"Can't wait." He kissed her again. He never wanted to part from her. As she held tight to his waist while they waited for their bus, he hoped she would never let go.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next chapter will be very special to me because it takes place in two different cities that I have visited and loved. I will speak more about Alnwick and my time spent there when I post the next chapter.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #bughead au #riverdale #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale au #wanderlust fic #edit #bughead smut

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bluering8 · 6 years

Text

TNG S01

I’m done with TNG S01! I’ve gotta watch some other stuff before I launch into S02, so have a quick round-up of my Very Important opinions on various characters/episodes:

Data - I love Data!! Holy shit do I love Data!! He is precious to me and perfect in every way and I want to hollow him out and wear his skin like a suit. That... possibly sounds creepier than I meant? Look, he’s my perfect wish-fulfilment character, okay. He’s earnest and awkward and he never quite Gets It, but he wants to Get It so badly, and he tries so hard, and whenever he talks people are constantly cutting him off partway through because they’ve decided he’s saying too much or saying it wrong, and he sort of... exemplifies what has been my perspective of the Autistic Experience. And despite all that, he has a career he enjoys and friends who care about him and I want to be him so much that it kind of hurts.

Also, Data has feelings. I will fight anyone to the death on this issue, I sincerely can’t see how anyone could look at Data and not come to the conclusion that he has feelings. Data has so many feelings! He might not have feelings the way humans have feelings, but he unmistakably has his own opinions and his own way of relating to the world. It’s heartbreaking that he doesn’t recognise the value of his own experiences in favour of desperately trying to live up to some arbitrary “correct” way of existing.

Deanna Troi - I hate Troi. I do not want to hate Troi, because empaths are way cooler than they usually get credit for, but she’s so fucking annoying. All she ever does is say things which were already completely fucking obvious. She’s a walking violation of show-don’t-tell and every time she opens her mouth I groan because I know whatever she’s about to say is going to ruin my enjoyment of a scene. About the nicest thing I can say about her is that she’s still a better character then Wesley, being merely irritating rather than universe-warpingly terrible.

Jean-Luc Picard - Picard’s such a dad, holy shit. I never noticed this when I watched TNG before, but now I’m picking up on it as, like, the major facet of his personality. I mean, he also drinks Earl Grey and LARPs as a detective and discusses philosophy with aliens, but mostly he’s just Space Dad now and forever. Somehow I also forgot the LARPing as a detective part of his character? Picard’s just a huge fucking nerd isn’t he.

Q - I have very mixed feelings about Q. On the one hand I always love arrogant, capricious, petulant trickster gods, especially when they have Q’s flair for the theatrical, but on the other hand I think when it comes to Q I maybe love him more in concept than in execution? I spend a lot of time thinking about trickster-god entities and how a nigh-omnipotent creature unbound by linear time and the laws of physics might relate to the universe, and Q’s a very mundane example of the character type. On the gripping hand, Q’s super fun and whenever he shows up I know I’m in for a good time. I strongly suspect that if I were a Q I would also spend an obnoxious amount of time trolling Picard. He’s just so delightfully trollable!

Tasha Yar - Yar falls into a lot of tropes which I absolutely hate, but despite that I kind of... love her anyway?? I just don’t get enough masculine female characters to not love them even when they have rape-y backstories and secret desires to be more feminine and Issues feat. their emotional vulnerabilities, I guess. She was kind of frustrating at first because she kept randomly attacking people, but in the later episodes she seemed to mellow out a lot and started acting the way I’d expect of a security chief, ie 101% willing to solve problems with violence but no longer functioning on a hairtrigger. I’m sad that she died, I would’ve loved to see what she could have grown into as the show developed.

Also she was bros with Worf! Somehow I completely forgot about that, but I love it. This is an extra layer of tragedy in her death, Yar&Worf is a delightful friendship and if it’d had space to develop I sincerely believe it could have toppled Data&Geordi as my most beloved Trek brotp. This is what fanfiction is for, I suppose.

Wesley Crusher - I know it’s kind of Trek cliché to loathe Wesley but boy do I ever loathe Wesley!! The funny thing is that I actually liked him for the first two or three episodes: he was a bright and enthusiastic kid who was transparently desperate for Picard to be his father figure (and Picard was transparently disinterested in being his father figure, which is hilarious), but then he was allowed on the bridge despite not being part of Starfleet or even an acting-cadet at the time, and then the action paused in the middle of an episode so Picard could get lectured on how Wesley is the bestest most wonderfulest, and then... you get the point.

I’m not here to shit on wish-fulfilment characters (I mean, that’d be hypocritical as fuck considering my feelings about Data), I’m here to shit on wish-fulfilment characters who are so devoted to wish-fulfilment that they stop functioning adequately as a character. The universe warps itself into a pretzel so that Wesley can be the bestest most wonderfulest and it really really pisses me off.

S01E01E02 Encounter at Farpoint - You know, for a nigh-omnipotent weird space being, Q is amazingly fucking dumb. Like, who agrees to judge people based on a test without realising that if you tell people you’re testing them they’ll go out of their way to be on their best behaviour? You’re not gonna be getting any kind of reliable data here, Q.

S01E07 Lonely Among Us - What the fuck was this episode, I mean seriously. Okay, so we open with two groups of diplomats who super super hate each other and the Enterprise has to transport them to a meeting, so you’d assume that the episode would revolve around dealing with the conflict between the two groups right? Except no, that’s like the d-plot, the a-plot is there’s a weird space thing and the b-plot is Data has a crush on Sherlock Holmes. The c-plot is Wesley does his homework. And then the episode ends with the news that one group of diplomats has cooked and eaten a member of the other group and Picard’s like “lmao I don’t give a shit, Riker you deal with this I’m gonna go take a nap.” What the fuck, basically.

In other news, spacefuture meat is all cruelty-free synthesised magic apparently. I wonder if vegetarians still exist? Other than vulcans, I guess. I don’t know enough about the philosophy behind not shoving delicious chunks of animal corpse into your face to work out the answer here.

S01E08 Justice - I talked about this episode already and honestly that’s all you really need to know. People try to talk to Picard about Wesley’s impending death and Picard immediately changes the topic to talking about the weird space thing, rinse and repeat.

Anyway I was recently reading about a guy who was transporting prisoners when some of the prisoners escaped. The punishment for letting prisoners escape was death, so he released the rest of the prisoners then ran off to be an outlaw because it wasn’t like they could kill him any more then they were already going to. Then he became Emperor! Anyway the moral of the story is that Light Yagami is a moron escalating punishments are important and if someone knows you’re gonna kill them for something they did then they have basically no reason not to go and do a bunch of other crimes also.

S01E10 Hide and Q - Hey, quick quiz: you encounter a nigh-omnipotent entity who has previously mocked your species for being savage and violent. Said entity dumps you on a planet with a bunch of weird monsters. Do you: a) attempt to communicate with these monsters in the hopes of reaching a peaceful solution, or b) savagely resort to violence by shooting them with your space guns? If you picked option b, then congratulations! You are the crew of the Enterprise. This technically wasn’t the point of the episode, but come on! Step up your mind-game game, Q.

Also Picard yells at Q for constantly changing his costume and it’s like, Picard, dude, you’re aware the thing you’re yelling at isn’t actually Q? Q isn’t a human with superpowers, he’s an incomprehensible entity who occasionally puppets around a meatsack so you can have something convenient to yell at. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from Greek mythology and also Lovecraft, it’s that you super super do not want to see the incomprehensible entity’s true form.

S01E13 Datalore - I LOVE DATA AND I LOVE HIS HORRIBLE BROTHER!! but also, fuck Wesley. I hate Wesley. He’s immediately suspicious of Lore-as-Data purely on the basis of he sees “Data” doing Lore’s facial tic despite the fact that at the beginning of the episode he walked in on Data attempting to mimic sneezing, and despite the fact that there are several other characters with much better reasons to find Lore-as-Data suspicious.

Actually, you know what my dream rewrite for this episode would be? Someone becoming suspicious of Lore-as-Data, not because they think he’s Lore, but because they think he’s Data. The crew had previously been discussing whether or not they could trust Data now that he’d found links outside of Starfleet, so having that issue play out onscreen would’ve been fantastic. (Especially if it influenced their behaviour towards Data and Lore tried to take advantage of that as a “your friends are dicks, betray them and join me” kind of thing. I’m Here(tm) 24/7 for manipulation and corruption, my dude.)

S01E17 When the Bough Breaks - You know, this entire episode could’ve been solved with cloning. I mean actually it couldn’t, but the problem they thought they were having could’ve been solved with cloning. Ask the Enterprise for some unfucked genetic material and you can make your own kids! As many kids as you want!! More than six kids because seriously I don’t know what you were expecting to achieve with that, that’s not enough people to keep your planet alive.

S01E19 Coming of Age - This episode is an excellent example of What’s Wrong With Wesley. Wesley does an exam, and he loses some points in order to help another person with the exam, and at the end he’s told the other person passed but he didn’t, and the other person’s like “oh but that only happened because Wesley lost points by helping me!!”, because Wesley is so bestest most wonderfulest that the only reason he fails is because he sacrificed himself to help someone else to succeed. There’s a vague attempt at suggesting “oh, but there were other reasons Wesley failed!!” but like, fuck you, you don’t get to show me nothing but Wesley succeeding and then attempt to salvage this mess by telling me there were other factors at play, especially not when there’s so much attention devoted to Wesley helping the other person.

S01E22 Symbiosis - Everyone spends this episode focusing on the wrong thing. See, the Brekkians are selling medicine to the Ornarans, except actually it’s not medicine it’s addictive drugs, and this is bad because... drugs are bad? Don’t do drugs kids!! Why are you all focusing on the part where there are drugs and not the part where the Brekkians are lying shitbags taking relentless advantage of the Ornarans so that they can live like parasite kings in a capitalist hellscape castle?

“Golly gosh I sure can’t understand why anyone would voluntarily become dependent on a drug!!” says FUCKING WESLEY, THE WORST CHARACTER, completely missing the part where the drug actually is medicine and the Ornarans are entirely unaware that they no longer have the plague the drug is medicine for and thus believe that they have literally no other choice than to take the drug if they want to live. There is nothing “voluntary” about this at all, Wesley you absolute fuckwad!! Somebody shove this kid into a locker already.

S01E23 Skin of Evil - There are no pockets in Starfleet uniforms so everyone spends this episode wandering around with stuff awkwardly glued to their sides and it’s terrible and hilarious. I’m pretty sure this is true of other episodes but this is the one where I found it really really noticeable and couldn’t stop laughing.

...this episode was just obnoxiously funny in general actually, Goo Man is trying so hard to be super evil and scary and grimdark but nobody really gives a fuck about it, he’s more just like majorly inconvenient and kind of irritating than he is actually threatening at any point. “You don’t understand! I don’t serve evil, I am evil!!” the Goo Man wails. Picard categorically does not give any kind of a shit in response.

tl;dr: Data is precious and perfect and every time he’s onscreen I start weeping. YOU’RE DOING GREAT, DATA! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!

#star trek #star trek tng

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5 Superhero Movies That Are Only Worth It For One Scene

Bad superhero films are a treasure. Not only does one make you disappointed with Hollywood for creating a bad movie, but it also makes you doubly frustrated because they’re messing up something that you know is good in comic book form. However, we shouldn’t write off a bad superhero movie immediately. Upon closer examination, these terrible films can contain little glimpses of promise — little glimpses that make you say “This might be a secret masterpiece.” Or at least, “This doesn’t suck every poop.”

Batman & Robin — The Criminal Property Locker

In the annals of bad superhero films, Batman & Robin stands alone. It isn’t a “Well, maybe it’s not THAT bad” film like Superman Returns or Spider-Man 3. It isn’t a “I’ll forget the plot of this before I even leave the theater” film like X-Men: The Last Stand or Daredevil. It isn’t a “That’s a damn shame” film like Superman IV: The Quest For Peace or Robocop 2. And it isn’t a “If there is a God, they wouldn’t let this happen” film like Catwoman or Spawn. Instead, it’s a film that somehow gets both more amazingly terrible and more inexplicably enjoyable with time. I hate it and I love it in equal measure, and years after I’m dead, researchers will discover my skeleton clinging to a VHS copy of it, like Quasimodo and Esmeralda at the end of Hunchback Of Notre Dame.

But the movie does have one extremely cool split second. Now, there is a well-known Easter egg in Batman & Robin: When Bane and Poison Ivy are breaking Mr. Freeze out of Arkham Asylum, you get a glimpse of the “Criminal Property Locker.” And in the locker are the costumes of the Riddler and Two-Face from Batman Forever. That’s kind of neat — though since Two-Face died by falling into a spiky underwater pit, it does imply that some poor Arkham intern had to dry-clean and sew his fucking suit back together.

Warner Bros.