#I started lies of p as well but it feels…..Slow and I cannot get past the first boss

[biblicalhimbos]

I’ve started playing Steelrising and I adore it

#I started lies of p as well but it feels…..Slow and I cannot get past the first boss #I’m liking steelrising a lot and I’m able to actually beat the bosses after a few tries #I’m still Bad don’t get me wrong

[twistnet]

nsfw alphabet [ chibs telford ]

WARNINGS ─ gn!reader, smut [ oral sex, cum, kinks, masturbation ]

DISCLAIMER ─ if you are under the age of 18, do not read [ nsfw content under cut ] 

a = aftercare [ what they’re like after sex ]

is one to light a cigarette the minute the act is done, patiently waiting you come down from your high and maybe, gain some feeling back in your legs again. his hands is coaxing you to even your breathing as he pulls you to rest against his chest

once he’s stamped out his cigarette, he’s pulling on a pair of briefs and walking to the washroom to get you cleaned up. if a bath and a change of sheets is needed, he’ll get that together for you and get the bedroom all squared away until you’re ready to join him once again

b = body part [ their favorite body part of theirs, and also their partner’s ]

his gentleman side would say that his favorite body part on his partner is their mind and tongue. nothing sexual about it, but he loves to hear you speak your mind, take control of the area you are in and take no shit from anyone

now, his more non-gentlemen side would say he’s a sucker for chests [ boobies or not ]. he loves laying his head there and listening to your heartbeat but also loves pressing his face right into your sternum. getting to bit and lick and mark every inch of the skin

on himself, he would say his hands. years of garage work, motorcycles, and other things have roughed them up quite a bit and he gets a small spark of joy when he gets to run his clast finger tips down any part of your exposed skin

c = cum [ anything to do with cum basically…i’m a disgusting person ]

going back to the above, on your chest. getting to paint you with his cum gets him hard all over again, and is not embarrassed to groan at the sight. oh, but you happen to swipe up some of the cum on your finger and pop it in your mouth? you might have just killed him

on the flip side, he does like cumming inside you, but likes to ask before doing so. but if given permission, loves watching it drip out of your hole. and might push some of it back in with a loving smile

d = dirty secret [ pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs ]

playing the game that you don’t know each other at a club party, and him taking you to his dorm for a little fun time. has never said anything, but has thought about it often

e = experience [ how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing? ]

with a previous wife and plenty of croweaters that he’s had his way with in the past, there is no denying this man has gotten around. he might try the first time to use what he’s used on croweaters before, but quickly finds that you might tick a different way and has to relearn basically everything. but don’t worry, he’ll make sure to get plenty of practice in

f = favorite position [ this goes without saying ]

missionary. standard & reverse cowgirl. doggy-style. spooning. 

g = goofy [ are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc ]

while he tends to be serious most of the time, he finds that if he can’t laugh something off like you getting a cramp midway through, or he fumbles while trying to get into a position, then the relationship won’t last

h = hair [ how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc ]

has truly given up on keeping groomed. use to in younger years make everything nice and clean, but has since stopped as he just doesn't want to do it anymore and regrowth is a bitch. now, he does trim so it doesn’t get too long

i = intimacy [ how are they during the moment, romantic aspect… ]

very affectionate in a private setting. pulls you in close and loves to just be able to touch you and have you surround him in anyway possible. whispering sweets words in gaelic, holding your face in his hands. that kind of thing

j = jack off [ masturbation headcanon ]

never really used his hand to get himself off, as there was always a croweater nearby to help him out and be his companion for the night. since he has started a relationship with you, he might do it more to keep himself faithful while on runs. he doesn’t do anything with the croweaters on runs, even though it’s always been something the married men have always done, he’s not one to partake

k = kink [ one or more of their kinks ]

tit-fucking ─ going back to his fascinations with chests, having the ability to run his cock against your sternum turns him on so fucking much. sometimes, he’ll do in unprompted, but sometimes, you pat your chest and he’ll quickly get into position

stockings ─ any color, any detail is fine with him. they look so pretty against your skin and are so soft. will literally buy you one in ever color. they stay on while everything else comes off.

l = location [ favorite places to do the do ]

his/ your home or in his dorm at the clubhouse. both are safe places for him and there is less room for interruptions and he can focus he’s sole attention on you

m = motivation [ what turns them on, gets them going ]

a strong confidence paired with a mouth that has no problem telling someone off or letting people know what you think. you sitting or riding with him on his bike -- also wearing his helmet. kicking ass against some of his brothers -- winning a drinking game, a round of pool, or darts. jeans that seem to hug all of your curves. leather attire of any kind. you speaking gaelic

n = no [ something they wouldn’t do, turn offs ]

sharing you with someone ─ he’s seen some of his brother indulge in something like this and  has always felt funny about it. plus, the man has a major jealous streak when prompted and that just doesn’t mix well

degradation & abuse ─ this was after having seen it during one of the porn shoots and he had to step away, not truly understanding how someone could do that to another human in a vulnerable situation

o = oral [ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc ]

oral for him is split 50/50. in his eyes, it’s only fair if you suck him off that he return the favor.

receiving ─ he’s coaching you through it, even if you know how to do it. he loves talking to you, lightly pulling your hair away from your face or affectionately caressing your cheek or jaw. he lets you do what you want, and isn’t going to dictate what you can and cannot do. as this is just as much for him as it is for you

giving  ─ okay, so maybe i lied about the 50/50 split. to a degree. once this man gets to return the favor, it’s hard to pull him away after the first orgasm. he will continue to build you up for another one and won’t come up for breath until you’ve cum at least three times

p = pace [ are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc. ]

depends on the mood and can range from a rough fucking or soft lovemaking.

he isn’t fast per say, most of his thrusts are quite calculated in the sense that he knows what spots make you weak at the knees or make your spine tingle. so, while the thrusts are powerful, there is no speed to them as he doesn’t want you to come undone too quickly

soft lovemaking on the other hand is just like the above, but the power behind the thrusts is toned down. it’s still there, but it’s not as rough. he takes his time,  either letting you ride him or spooning you. this pace happens to get you to completion much later, but it is so worth it

q = quickie [ their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc. ]

yes, yes, and yes. quickies are frequented quite heavily in your relationship, as sometimes, that is the only way the two of you can blow of some steam. a quickie will happen before runs or when you sneak off during parties to hurry back like you weren’t gone for 20 minutes

but don’t get it confused, this man would always rather have a nice, quiet session with you over a quickie any day.

r = risk [ are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc. ]

isn’t one to take risks without thinking through or talking about them first. sure, he likes that you are open enough to come and talk to him about what you would like to do in the bedroom, but would like to make sure that everyone is on the same page

s = stamina [ how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last… ]

two rounds max. and that goes for whatever mood and pace the two of you happen to be in. chibs doesn’t want to overexert himself or you, as sometimes just one session is enough to knock you out for the evening. 

now, this isn’t going to impact the amount of orgasms he’s going to pull from you over the course of the night. no one ever asked how long the sessions were going to last, just how many you are able to do

t = toy [ do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves? ]

was never one to use toys on partners, and had never thought for himself.

if you own toys for personal use and would like to incorporate them into the bedroom, he has no problem using them to aid in getting you off. however, he will draw the line at using them for himself, as it’s not really his thing

u = unfair [ how much do they like to tease ]

teasing is his specialty, but this man makes timed and deliberate strikes that will have to melting in his hand within a few hours. but don’t let it fool you, as he can wait for as long as he needs and he definitely isn’t going to be the one to crack 

so, if you want to push through your conversation with your friends and pretend he hasn’t been feeling you up this past hour, you go ahead. you’ll break eventually

v = volume [ how loud they are, what sound they make ]

no very loud would in comes to moans of pleasure, as they are usually quite muffled to some degree -- as he’s either muffling them into your skin as he presses kisses or is doing it more so under his breath

on the flip side, he isn’t quite when speaking to you. the amount of filth and sin that leaves his mouth as he slides into you over and over again is almost too much to handle. especially when it’s paired with his thick accent, that also, seemingly gets deeper the more settles into you

w = wild card [ get a random headcanon for the character of your choice ]

roleplay, specifically one where he can use the premise of him being a biker and you either taking on an authority figure or someone who’s seen in a more innocence light. bringing his kutte into the mix, or his bike is super appealing to him and anything the two of you can do with that is okay in his book

x = x-ray [ let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words ]

six inches. thick and slightly veiny from bottom to tip. curves slightly when erect.

y = yearning [ how high is their sex drive? ]

despite his age, he has a medium to high sex drive. this all depends on what is currently going on and how he’s feeling. 

his sex drive is medium when he’s doing day to day things. being ready as almost a drop of a hat if you are wanting to initiate something with him during some down time or at a club party. it might take just a little convincing, however, you seem to have him wrapped around your finger and he has a hard time resisting you.

his sex drive is high when he’s very frustrated -- i.e. with happenings involving the club, or when he’s been while on a run for some time. however, he is a patient man and isn’t one to pull you away mid conversation with someone just to throw you into the bed and have his way with you. he will let you come to him and from there, will go as many rounds as the two of you will allow

z = zzz [ how quickly they fall asleep afterward ]

as his finishes off his cigarette, and the post-orgasm high has settled, he pulls you in close. letting you rest against his chest as finger tips run along your spine with practiced ease. it’s his way of showing you a small hint of affection without doing too much if that’s not what you are in the mood for

at this moment, he is fully relaxed and slowly starts to draft off. there is really no telling if he falls asleep first, or if you do, but he’ll fall asleep if he wants to. but not without making sure you are well taken care of before doing so

#soa #soa fx #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fx #soa x reader #soa imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #chibs telford #chibs telford imagine #chibs telford x reader #n*fw alphabet #all genders welcome #twistnet #twistnet works 2021

[toosicktoocare]

prompt: “jaskier kinda letting it slip that he was some super low self worth? i kinda got that vibe from him. maybe he’s drunk or delirious or something and geralts kinda confused on what to do but Tries His Best. thank u in advance :p”

Wow, my heart.

There’s relief that coats Jaskier’s eyes like a rising sun that’s fought against a long night when he and Geralt step out of a dense forest to see a small village framing the edge of the woods, and Geralt finds his eyes wandering to Jaskier’s through the bard’s soft profile. A hint of a smile creeps at his lips, not even close to holding a candle to Jaskier’s wide, toothy grin, but enough for him to mirror Jaskier’s mood, if even just a fraction.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes out, whipping a beaming gaze toward the Witcher. “Do you know what this means?”

“You’ll stop complaining about how the ground isn’t meant to be slept on by such a delicate ass?”

“No, that’s-- I never said my ass was delicate!” Jaskier’s shift in tone, from glee to exaggerated annoyance, brings out a huff of a laugh from Geralt.

“You’re absurd, Geralt, you know that?”

Geralt tilts his head, eyes narrow and slightly devious, and he doesn’t miss the way Jaskier’s cheeks grow impossibly red.

“This means,” Jaskier stresses, drawing out his words as he waves his hands toward the village. “We, my friend, can partake in the finest ale this world has to offer!”

“The finest ale,” Geralt repeats slowly. He hardly thinks this small, quaint village will house ale to exceed worldly expectations, but Jaskier’s excitement has him following the bard into the tavern, stopping briefly to tie Roach to a post by the local in and ensure she’s comfortable.

The tavern is lively when he makes it in, and Jaskier already has a large mug of ice cold ale at his table. It’s half empty, and Jaskier’s strumming loudly on his lute. Geralt nods toward the bar keep, and a moment later, he has his own mug of ale. It’s bitter, cold on his lips but hot in his chest, and he can’t help but sigh deeply around the rim of the mug.

“Oi, bard, what new adventures do you have to share of the old Witcher?”

Jaskier takes a long swing of his ale, and Geralt cocks a brow his way when the bard locks wide eyes to his tired ones.

“Geralt,” Jaskier slurs out loudly, and Geralt takes brief, mental note to Jaskier’s incredibly low tolerance to alcohol.

“Geralt of Rivia! Can I tell them about the fleders? I want to tell them about the fleders!”

Geralt only grunts in response. It’s hardly an exciting story, but Jaskier will put his fib of a spin on it. He offers a curt nod, taking another swig of his ale, and Jaskier leaps from his seat.

“Fly, fleders, fly,” Jaskier sings. “Fly high, and try, but you cannot hide from the Witcher’s eye!”

Geralt thinks back to that day, and his heart beat quickens, for just a single, brief moment. There’s so much in this world that could crush the lively bard, and he doesn’t... he won’t... Sighing, he takes another sip of his ale, watching with an arched brow as the bar keep places another at Jaskier’s table.

“The sword he swings is broad and steel, designed by magic, designed to kill!”

Geralt spends longer than he would like to admit considering how “steel” and “kill” don’t particularly rhyme, and he can’t quite grasp how Jaskier can make it work, but the bard does, effortlessly, even in his apparent drunken state, and Geralt drops his chin into his palm, denying another ale in favor of keeping a clear mind as Jaskier drifts down a sea of alcohol.

For two hours, Jaskier drinks and sings, and the tavern eats him up like fresh, warm bread that’s just been pulled from a wood stove. Geralt keeps a careful eye on each, drunken civilian, and twice, he stiffens in his seat when a man and a woman get too close for comfort to the drunk bard.

“Jaskier,” he finally interrupts after a third man makes an unsettling pass at the bard. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier draws out the name, emphasizing ever consonant despite the general slur of his tone. “I’m just getting started--”

“--you’re done,” Geralt repeats, and maybe it’s malicious, but he puts an orderly sense of power behind his tone that has Jaskier nodding with a dramatic frown.

“Well,” Jaskier shouts, waving his arms about and craning his neck toward everyone as Geralt shoves him out with a hand on his back. “I bid you all a fond farewell!”

Rain has picked up when the two exit the tavern, and Jaskier takes three steps before he trips over his own feet. Geralt tries to reach him in time, but he’s a hair too slow. Jaskier lands face first into a puddle of mud, and Geralt’s at his side in an instant, chasing the flick of concern that nudges at his heart.

“Jaskier, are you...”

His words fall flat at Jaskier’s loud, drunken laughter that rings out across the quiet town.

“How clumsy of me!”

Geralt grunts, sighing deeply as he yanks Jaskier to his feet, pulling him into the inn. He pays more for a room with a tub, wishing to combat Jaskier’s poor mood that will come with morning while the bard is still too far gone on eight mugs of ale.

The inn keeper prepares the bath when Geralt slides a few extra coins her way, and soon enough he’s nudging Jaskier into their shared room for the night.

“Get in,” he tells Jaskier, and Jaskier shouts, face going impossibly red.

“Geralt of Rivia! Turn yourself around while I undress!”

Geralt has a brief thought to encourage this argument, pointing out the few times Jaskier’s seen him naked, but he only grunts, too tired to play along with Jaskier’s antics, and turns on his heel until he’s facing the window.

He watches the rain sliding down the window pane, and upon a closer look, he can faintly make out Jaskier’s reflection behind him. The bard is stumbling, struggling to free himself of his pants, and twice, he almost falls headfirst into the large tub. Geralt huffs out a quiet laugh, turning only when Jaskier finally calls out to him.

“This might be the best bath I’ve ever had,” Jaskier starts. “I think it’s the best bath in the world.”

“Are you always this generous toward the world when drunk?”

“Geralt,” Jaskier huffs out, lips pulling into a pout that Geralt stares at with narrow eyes as he takes a seat against the wall under the window, one knee drawn to his chest while the other leg is stretched out in front of him, toe close enough to brush against the wooden tub.

“You need to learn to appreciate the finer things in life!”

“I don’t need to view the world in light under a drunken haze,” Geralt grunts out, and Jaskier sighs and tilts his head back until he’s staring at the ceiling. Geralt’s eyes follow the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump against the deep sigh. He frowns, tilting his head.

“You’re probably right.” Jaskier rolls his head until he meets Geralt’s eyes. “But you have to admit, it’s fun.”

“What’s fun?”

“Pretending.”

“Pretending.” Geralt repeats, drawing out the word slowly, tone shifting up slightly in quiet question.

“Pretending that you’re better than what you are.”

Geralt’s muscles stiffen at Jaskier’s words, and his brows furrow.

“It’s fun to forget for a moment that your true worth merely amounts to songs that ring out of hyperbolic lies.”

A burst of burning pain blooms like fire across Geralt’s chest. Jaskier’s words stab like a sword pushing past his rib cage to his heart, and for just a brief moment, he imagines pulling Jaskier into his arms as if to shelter the bard from harmful thoughts, but his muscles protest the idea, too stiff against a weight of heavy shock.

“Jaskier,” he breathes out, tone reflecting the pain that coats his eyes, and Jaskier pulls his gaze back to the ceiling.

“You’re a Witcher, Geralt. You’re a legend, and I’m just... small in comparison to your stories.”

Geralt’s muscles move before his mind does, and he moves with them, allowing instinct to push forward for his mind is flitting into unfamiliar territory. He slowly crawls the small distance until he’s inches from Jaskier, and while he normally likes to smirk at Jaskier’s flushing cheeks, he ignores the glow of red this time in favor of placing a rough palm to Jaskier’s damp arm.

“You aren’t small. You tell my stories.”

“I lie.”

“You paint a picture--”

“--a picture that lies--”

“--a picture that encourages imagination,” Geralt presses, determined to win this argument. His fingers tighten slightly on Jaskier’s arm. “You have a gift, Jaskier, and you use it to bring light to an otherwise dark world.”

There are things he could say, that he could alter, that Jaskier brings light to his dark world, but Jaskier’s already tearing up, eyes welling with large tears that threaten to slip down his flushing face, and Geralt gives the bard’s arm a tight squeeze.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Geralt.”

Grunting, Geralt gets to his feet and turns sharply on his heel until he’s facing the bed. He can feel an unfamiliar creep of heat starting toward his cheeks.

“You’ve come a long way from describing my talent as a pie without filling,” Jaskier presses with a few sniffs, and Geralt risks a quick look over his shoulder.

“Yes, well, I’m going to sleep. I’m sure I’ll be up half the night with you making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.”

Jaskier scoffs, though there’s no heat behind it. “Will you allow me to join you when I finish?”

Grunting, Geralt slips his shoes off near the foot of the bed. “Only if you bring a good attitude.”

#the witcher #netflix the witcher #my writing #my witcher writing #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #jaskalt #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #drunk jaskier #emotional whump #yall it's weird writing in geralt's perspective for once #he's difficult to write i'll tell you that

[themoonlitsojourner]

Chapter 7: Uncertainty and Exploration

Through starry nights and music lessons, Wanda and Vision rediscover themselves. And begin to discover each other.

Despite the early hour and the fog clouding her brain since she found herself alone in this world, Wanda knows immediately who waits outside her room. Taking a deep breath, she prays for the energy to face this day. She opens the door.

“Good morning.” Her attempt at a smile barely counts, but at least it’s friendly. Anything to soothe her visitor’s nervousness.

“Would you care for a morning beverage?” Vision asks at the exact same moment, his words colliding with hers. He winces, and she’s sure he would blush if he could. “P-pardon me. Good morning.”

Focusing on the mugs in his hands, Vision starts again. “It is customary to consume a heated, caffeinated beverage in the morning. This seems like a practice that would appeal to you, so I have secured two options. I- I am not aware of your preference.” His blue eyes flick to hers. They are skittish, like the eyes of a deer. “Would you prefer green tea or filtered coffee? Or a different product, perhaps?”

“No, no, the coffee is fine.” She wraps her fingers around the warm ceramic and Vision shifts his hand away as soon as she has a secure grip. He is so careful to keep his fingers from brushing against hers. So careful to avoid making contact.

If it were anyone else, Wanda would think it was because of her, a fear of the storm of red that boils just below the surface of her hands. But she has seen inside his head. He is not afraid of her. He is the only one in this building who isn’t.

No, Vision is avoiding human touch, just as he does in the hallways, entering them only when there are fewer people who might brush against him. And the entire time, he keeps his shoulders curled forward, as if to make himself as small as possible.

Why does he avoid even the chance of contact? Why does he fear it so?

Wanda focuses on the mug in her hands, soaking in the heat and the familiar comfort it provides. Steam rises to her nose, but it does not carry the rich, dark scent of fresh coffee. Instead, a burnt and bitter odor greets her. Feeling Vision’s gaze on her, she dares to take a cautious sip.

If Vision made this himself, she knows the first thing they’ll work on.

Wanda’s wrinkled nose must give away her disgust. Vision rushes to assure her, “I have also procured cream and sugar for you to add, if you so wish.” He ducks into the library down the hall, returning with a wooden serving tray.

Wanda pours most of the cream from the little pitcher into her mug, stirring it with the teaspoon he holds out. “Did you get all this yourself?” Her second sip, at least, doesn’t make her cringe. She might have outgrown watered-down coffee years ago, but the cream makes this drink halfway palatable. And if nothing else, the cup will keep her hands warm.

“I retrieved the tray and its implements from the breakfast bar in the dining hall. The teaspoon I selected from the kitchen drawer. The spoons that had been set out for beverage use were not of the proper sort,” Vision explains, expression solemn. “A pot of coffee had already been brewed, but perhaps I should have prepared a new one…” He falls silent, brow furrowed as he watches her sip from the mug.

“It is good,” Wanda lies, and Vision’s shoulders drop in relief. He nods and turns to set the tray down. His golden cape, reaching almost to the floor, ripples around his boots with every step. Wanda follows its lines up his shoulders, frowning at the metal collar joining it to the tight fabric of his suit. None of it looks very comfortable, especially for more than a couple hours.

She looks down into her coffee, idly stirring the pale liquid in slow circles. “You still want my help, yes?” Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Vision turn around slowly.

“Yes.” The river of his thoughts speeds up, tumbling and rushing like rapids over rocks. Anxious. About what, exactly?

Wanda realizes her intrusion and pulls back from his mind, refocusing. “Okay. So...” She takes a deep breath. “Um... the outfit. It is fine for fighting and such, but otherwise you might want something more… relaxed?”

Brow furrowing again, Vision peers down at his clothing. “I must always stand ready to defend.” The phrase is flat. Automatic. Scripted, maybe? His eyes meet hers as he speaks his next words urgently, striving to convince her. Or himself. “It is my purpose and honor to defend and serve.”

Did Stark decide that for him? Is it something S.H.I.E.L.D. told him?

Wanda nods slowly. “It is admirable of you to think that. But there is more than one purpose in life. And things change. Always.” Suddenly, she cannot watch him any longer. Staring down into her coffee, she wills her blurred sight to clear. She has cried enough. “And when they do, there is no other option but to adapt.”

Vision watches her solemnly, eyes soft with sympathy.

Wanda takes a deep breath and forces herself to try another smile. “So. Daily clothing.” The mundane topic is awkward and alien on her tongue. There wasn’t much talk in the last few years about anything other than matters of life, death, and survival. The normal and the everyday belong in her memories. In another lifetime.

Nodding thoughtfully, Vision stares past the wall, irises swirling from one direction to the next.

Is he considering his options? Searching the internet, maybe?

“What would you suggest?” he asks.

Wanda purses her lips. Where in the tower could they find extra clothes… There is nothing she can remember seeing during her brief tour, but she remembers little of that first day. We could ask the Captain. She clenches her sweatshirt sleeves in her fists at the thought of venturing into the floors below.

Then suddenly her musings are swept away. Wanda blinks, brain scrambling to comprehend what she sees as Vision’s clothing seems to ripple and shift, both in style and color. Soon, a loose, plain cotton T-shirt and dark jeans drape his tall form. Not a trace of the suit or cape remains.

Her mouth falls open in astonishment. “How did you do that?”

“I am equipped with a thin layer of nanobots, easily controlled through a mental-cellular interface. I assume their purpose is the formation of clothing.” He holds his arms out to the side. “Do you think this attire will suffice?”

Wanda frowns. Vision’s old-fashioned, formal speech looks jarring alongside the modern style, and his perfect posture disrupts the loose fit. If anything, he stands even stiffer than when he wore the battle suit.

She tilts her head. “Is it… comfortable for you?”

“It is casual, is it not?”

“But are you comfortable? Do you like it?”

The corner of his mouth curves down. “Not… strictly speaking.”

Wanda nods. “Try something else, then. You will want it to fit you.”

Vision’s irises begin twirling, starting with the opposite direction this time. When he does that, what exactly goes on behind those blue eyes? She’s sorely tempted to look.

A moment later, his clothing shifts again.

Wanda examines the dark gray vest and tie over a long-sleeved white shirt with neatly buttoned cuffs. Pressed charcoal slacks and black dress shoes complete the simple, yet elegant outfit.

Vision looks to her, waiting

Wanda bites her lip. Maybe he should loosen the tie. Then again, he is obviously more comfortable dressed formally. His body language alone speaks loudly to that. She nods once. “This is good.”

“Good,” Vision repeats. She wonders if he’s aware that he mimics her nod and tone almost exactly. “Excellent.”

----------

During those first weeks after Pietro’s death, the intensity of the searing, screaming pain had not surprised Wanda. Neither had the crushing cloud of grief, or the red haze of anger that fogged her mind and numbed her senses during those dark nights she spent alone, hiding in the Bartons’ spare room.

Wanda has been through it all before. She knows loss well.

But now the grip of those feelings has started to fade, and what does surprise her is the boredom. The restless, irritable energy, the listless lack of focus. Every day is just the day before, completely identical in every way. Get up, train, meals, train, sleep.

There is no purpose. No drive. No one to hunt down and make pay for her brother’s death. No revenge to lie awake and plan.

She already ripped out the killer’s heart, but it was too late to save her own.

Not even the intense combat training, progressing as rapidly as she can handle, holds her attention. No matter how hard she throws herself into it, how carefully she blocks out everything but the red in her hands, she cannot lose herself in the movements. All the fighting does is bring the memories of her last battle rushing to the surface. Pietro’s last battle. And when each session finishes, it leaves her fighting to hide her pounding heart and the shaking that spreads from her hands.

There is no forgetting for her. No distraction.

Fortunately, Vision seems to have found some direction, or at least something to fill his time with. He must have read every book in the library on their floor once, if not twice, and frequently he phases through the floor with an armful pilfered from elsewhere in the building. Made-up stories, real stories, textbooks, manuals, encyclopedias, he reads them all. His desire to learn is insatiable.

If only Wanda could muster even half that enthusiasm for something. Anything.

Today, the late afternoon sun seeps through the library’s full-length window, illuminating the book in Vision’s lap. Wanda flips through the channels on the TV in the corner, jaw clenched in frustration.

It is Monday, the fifth (or maybe sixth) afternoon in a row they’ve spent in this room, and by far the quietest. They train every morning and evening except for Sunday, but the hours between are their “free time.” It’s a good thing the time is “free” because she has done nothing but waste it.

Wanda drums her fingers petulantly on the arm of her chair, restlessness coiling in her chest. She jabs the remote buttons again.

There is nothing on TV. Even worse, there is nothing to do, and she needs to do something. With a growl, Wanda hits the power button and tosses the remote to the table.

“Did you know mantis shrimp are equipped with sixteen different kinds of cones?” Vision suddenly says.

Wanda turns to look at him.

“That’s thirteen more than humans possess,” he remarks thoughtfully, eyes still tracing the page of the encyclopedia.

This was another new thing, his habit of sharing random facts. There is an unspoken understanding between them that they spend the afternoons here in their library because neither dares venture into the mob of noisy people and hectic thoughts that awaits them downstairs.

Wanda could take the solitude a step farther and stay in her room. Completely cut herself off from the noise. But somehow her room is too quiet. Too empty.

She wonders if he feels the same about his.

So they end up here, sharing each other’s company but rarely speaking. Not knowing what to say is another thing they have in common. Vision wants to talk, though. She can see it in the way he glances up from his book every once in a while, eyes darting to her, just briefly. And she tries to start the conversation sometimes, she really does. But it is frightening to realize how little she remembers of how. This is why Vision breaks the silence and she does her best to keep the conversation rolling.

Wanda tilts her head. “Cones? What cones?”

Vision straightens. “Oh, pardon me for the lack of context. I see this topic requires a little elaboration.” Enthusiasm brightens his eyes as he ponders how best to explain. He really does have nice eyes.

“The organic eye perceives light and color due to a thin layer of neurons and receptors covering its posterior wall. This layer is called the retina. The superficial layer of the retina is composed of photoreceptors, which come in two different varieties, cones and rods.”

Most of the words fly over her head, but Wanda cannot hide an amused smile as Vision adds his hands to his demonstration.

“The rods line the distal edges of the retina, providing sharp vision, while the cones cluster in the middle and supply color vision. Humans have three types of cones, each perceiving a different wavelength of light. Mantis shrimp, on the other hand, have sixteen different varieties.”

“So they see more colors?”

Vision purses his lips. “Oddly enough, no. They can see ultraviolet light, however, and a property of light called polarization. The latter is sort of the orientation of the light waves.” He holds his hands up side by side, first vertically, then horizontally.

“Hmm.” Wanda considers this, searching for a good question to ask. Her mind remains blank. It’s harder to think now that Pietro is gone, like trudging through knee deep snow with every thought.

After a few moments without a reply from Wanda, one corner of Vision’s mouth lifts. The other remains stubbornly flat, allowing him to offer her only an awkward half-smile before he ducks his head and returns to his book. It is the one expression he hasn’t figured out yet, likely because he always seems so unsure about it. As if he’s afraid to commit and show the wrong reaction.

Wanda bites her lip as silence returns to the room.

“It is quieter than usual.” She glances toward the hallway. Normally they can hear the murmur of activity floors below, but today there is an uncanny stillness. It is far quieter than even the weekend, which is only minimally less hectic than the rest of the week.

“Today is President Washington’s Birthday, a federal holiday,” Vision promptly replies.

Wanda stares at him.

He lifts his gaze and clears his throat, a little sheepish. “By which I mean no one except Agent Romanoff is working today.”

“No one else.”

“Correct.”

Wanda fiddles with her sleeves, tentatively reaching across the compound to confirm this. The only minds besides theirs are those of the security guards.

“Would… you be interested in exploring?” Vision traces the cover of his book, stealing a quick glance at Wanda’s face. “I haven’t had the chance to investigate most of the ground floor.”

Wanda looks around the library. There is nothing to do here. And the building is completely empty…

She shrugs. “I guess.”

Vision nods and stands, wiping his hands on his slacks. Despite the formality of the outfit, he looks comfortable in his vest and dress shirt. Still, he does not seem to completely grasp the idea of clothing. He hasn’t switched outfits since picking this one, choosing instead to just change the color every morning.

The moment they step from the elevator into the huge, empty lobby, Vision tenses. His eyes dart across the abandoned floor without seeming to actually see it.

“Let’s, um… Let’s go this direction.” Wanda tips her head toward the right, and Vision nods, blinking a couple times. They walk without talking, resisting the urge to tiptoe as their footsteps echo off the walls.

Most of the doors on the ground floor lead to bland offices, and the two floors above aren’t much better. The rooms are either locked, more offices, or storage.

Her flicker of anticipation for this journey has long died out and Wanda is about to give up, when they stumble across yet another storage room.

Vision examines the label on the door. “Prop storage.”

Wanda lifts an eyebrow. “Props for what?”

With a shrug, Vision opens the door, gesturing for her to enter first. The room isn’t nearly as large as some they’ve found, but it’s stacked floor-to-ceiling with boxes, totes, and assorted junk all the same. For a building only recently built and occupied, the Avengers wasted no time filling it.

Seeing only junk, Wanda turns to exit. But when she doesn’t hear footsteps behind her, she glances over her shoulder to see Vision wandering deeper inside. With a sigh, she follows, fingers trailing idly over the shelving units.

“Theatre props is the first possibility that comes to mind, but I can see no logic in it,” Vision muses, still stuck on the room name.

Smooth leather meets Wanda’s fingertips, and she stops.

Is this…?

Reaching into the shelf, she slides out a black case and sets it on the floor. Her hands find the latch by memory, and she can’t hide the triumphant smile that crosses her face as the lid opens to reveal an acoustic guitar.

“Do you play?” Vision asks, peering over her shoulder.

“I did.” Wanda traces the wooden grain and gives the steel strings a gentle pluck or two. Glancing up, she catches Vision watching her expectantly. “What?”

“Are… Are you going to play it now?” Curiosity gleams in his eyes.

Her arms ache to hold it, her fingers to slot the notes and strum the strings. The need to play it winds together with another familiar ache, just as strong. The memory of her instructor. Her mama.

“No.” Wanda shuts the case.

“Oh.” Vision frowns. “Are you sure? I don’t think anyone would mind.” He glances around the empty room.

Wanda lifts the case and slides it back onto the shelf. “I’m sure.” Her curt tone keeps away any questions.

A few minutes later, they return to the library. But Wanda’s thoughts linger in the cramped props room all day.

The next morning, she is greeted by a black leather case outside her door. Frowning, Wanda eyes the case and searches for Vision’s mind. His thoughts echo from downstairs. Wanda shakes her head and sighs. She told him she wasn’t going to play.

For a moment longer, she stares at the smooth leather, picturing the instrument inside. She bites her lip. Kneeling beside the case, she flips open the lid. The guitar lies there quietly. Inviting. Promising. A soft brush of her fingers breaks the silence with a low hum. It needs to be tuned. Wanda pulls the case into her room and closes the door behind her. Before she can change her mind, she lifts the instrument into her arms.

The guitar is lighter than she expected, than she remembered. Yet it feels just as right. The strings are strong and familiar under her fingers and the ring of the notes resounds in her chest. The ache, the itch to play becomes louder than the need to avoid digging up old grief.

This floor really does belong to her and Vision, so no one will hear if she plays a few chords. None of the other rooms have ever been used, not even the offices, and not a single employee dares journey up here. Wanda feels the frantic spikes of fear in their minds on the rare occasions she enters their domain downstairs; it doesn’t take much to put two and two together and realize she has been isolated on purpose.

Normally, it would anger her. Normally, she would give them a piece of her mind. But she’s tired, and she is grateful for the solitude. For the quiet.

Especially today, when there is no one to hear her and ask questions, such as who taught her to play, or what the song is, or why she chose such a “sad” chord.

Wanda frets a D minor. She strums the waiting strings.

And finally the world fades away as she falls into the music.

----------

If the days are long and suffocating, the nights are worse. Darkness falls and Wanda lies awake, sleeping fitfully or not at all. The nightmares are fewer, but still she can’t sleep. Insomnia, Vision calls it.

But she avoids the subject, because she can’t talk about how her sleeping mind seeks out the comfort of his, diving into the ocean of gold when the nightmares start. Or how even her few good dreams take place on the seashore now. It’s too much, too close. Too personal to put into words.

There’s something about Vision. Wanda doesn’t understand it, but his mind and soul glow brighter than any she’s ever seen before. And somehow he and she are connected.

Yet every morning, she wakes and reminds herself she can’t lean on the comfort and reassurance he so willingly offers. What if she grows to need it? What if she begins to need him, and like everyone else in her life, he is taken away? She’ll be left behind again. Left alone.

She always is.

Wanda stares at the ceiling, her own breath too loud in her ears, nearly as loud as the thoughts burning in her mind. Flinging the covers aside, she slips from bed. There will be no sleep tonight.

The digital clock reads 2:11 AM. She walks just to move, to do something. She can’t outrun her own mind. But she can try.

Wanda tiptoes down the darkened hallway. The elevator looms ahead, and she stops. Down? No. The last thing she wants is to run into an obsessive employee working late into the night.

So up, then.

The doors open onto the rooftop and Wanda steps blinking from the harshly lit elevator. Slowly, her eyes adjust to the gentler light of the night. One by one, like frightened children, stars surface in the sky above, outlining a figure stationed at the building’s edge. His cape swirls softly in the brisk February wind.

She does not have to guess who it is.

Always, she and Vision end up together. In the library. Here. Are they really so similar that they seek the same places? Or did she search for him subconsciously? (She suspects it wouldn’t be the first time.) Or was it the invisible thread pulling them, a connection she can’t comprehend born from the moment she looked into his mind as he lay dreaming in the cradle. Part of him was still Ultron then. But Vision was there. She felt it.

Wanda steps quietly across the concrete. She stops just behind Vision, unwilling to disturb him but reluctant to go inside.

“I was disappointed to hear the New Avengers team would not be based at Stark Tower,” Vision says suddenly.

Stark. Wanda bites back a scoff. His disappointment is not mutual.

“It has nothing to do with Mr. Stark,” Vision continues, guessing her thoughts. “It is only that I have a certain… fondness for his view of the city lights.” He stares out over the dark countryside and she joins him, standing a couple feet from the edge. “They represent the life of the city, spread across the streets below. Still bright despite the hour, shining on both those awake and those peacefully slumbering. Pushing back the night like guardian angels. Providing a sense of comfort and safety.”

Vision’s words have the rhythm of poetry. His eyes glow softly like the light he paints such a reverent picture of. Wanda watches the serene blue spill over his pensive expression. In his light, she sees comfort. Safety. Just as he says. She looks away.

“There are more stars here, though.” Wanda nods toward the sky above. “You can’t see them in the city.”

Vision cranes his neck, searching the galaxies spread across the darkness. “But they’re so very far away,” he whispers. Curling his long legs beneath him, he sinks to the concrete, his head still tilted back to stare above.

Wanda stands in silence. She doesn’t know how to answer. Why his expression is so sorrowful or how to fix it. She doesn’t understand the source of his pain. But the ache of watching stars at night… This she understands. No matter how brightly, how beautifully they shine, they always burn out.

Wanda traces a meteor as it streaks across the sky and disappears from view.

Some stars even fall.

After a moment, Wanda sits beside Vision and pulls her knees to her chest.

The brilliant, glimmering show of the galaxies unfolds above them, millions of light years away. They watch until it melts before the threat of the morning light. Until every trace fades as if it were never there.

They do not say anything.

----------

Knock knock.

Stifling a groan, Wanda rolls out of bed and stumbles to the door.

“Hello.” Vision offers her a smile and a mug of coffee. The smile is as tentative as always, lifting only half his mouth. But a new light in his eyes makes up for it. “Good morning, Miss Maximoff.”

“Wanda,” she reminds him, accepting the steaming cup. She barely remembers to mumble her thanks before taking a long drink. Vision, as it turns out, is a much better coffee brewer than whoever made the burnt, bitter monstrosity.

Vision nods his acknowledgement. Is it just her grogginess, or does he hold his shoulders higher? Not with tension but with… confidence. He meets her eyes eagerly, boldly. As if he truly wants to be here. With her.

But maybe it’s just her imagination.

Vision’s gaze flickers past Wanda and into her room, just briefly. A sudden twinge of guilt twists in her chest. She didn’t join him in the library yesterday. In fact, after he delivered her morning coffee, she didn’t see him at all until nighttime. When they met on the rooftop under the stars.

She had spent all her time with the guitar, letting it pull her in and awaken an all-consuming desire to relearn the sound of the notes and the feel of the rhythm. To reclaim a piece of herself. And to be honest, she has no desire to share something so personal with anyone else. But Vision brought her the instrument. He gave her the push she needed to actually play it. It is only fair she let him hear a little.

Wanda takes another sip of her coffee to hide a sudden smile. With eyes as lively and curious as his, how could she say no? Lowering her mug, she clears her throat. “Also, thank you. For the guitar. I would not have gone back for it myself.”

“You are most welcome.”

She shifts from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. “Would you… want to hear it?”

“Oh, yes please! If you don’t mind.” Those blue eyes Wanda can’t stop noticing glimmer with childish enthusiasm, and some of her hesitancy fades. She opens the door a bit wider and returns to her seat on the bed. Vision follows, gaze darting across the room, hands wringing. He stops just inside the doorway.

Breathing deeply, Wanda bends her head and focuses on her breathing. With each inhale and exhale, another piece of the world around her fades. Vision’s presence, the hum of activity floors below, the heater’s droning buzz. Her fingers slide down the polished fret. The strings bite into her sore fingertips, but the notes she plucks are clean and crisp.

They ring slowly and distinctly at first, each with a bold and individual voice. After a few measures the melody begins to grow, building and expanding beat by beat. Notes find their places, melding with their harmonies in a tune mounting in complexity. The volume, the tension builds until all the notes weave together, their voices joining in a single resounding chord that ends the song.

Wanda smiles to herself. The hours spent perfecting that piece and her red, aching fingertips are well worth it. Glancing up, she falters at the sight of Vision’s face. His eyes are wide and awestruck, as if she just performed a baffling magic trick. Though quite proud of herself, she must admit the tune isn’t particularly difficult or beautiful. But Vision’s expression says he thinks otherwise.

His gaze leaps from her, to the guitar, and back. “How did you do that?”

“I just… press my fingers here...” Surely he knows how guitars work.

“No, how did your hands move with such swiftness and precision? And in perfect coordination with each other?”

Her face reddens. “It wasn’t perfect.”

He stares at her hands. “It was entrancing.”

Wanda fidgets with the tuning pegs, embarrassed by his unabashed honesty and admiration. “Anyone could learn that.” The image of Vision poring over encyclopedias and old novels jumps to the front of her mind. “You could.”

His eyes snap to hers. “Oh, I truly don’t think so...”

“Would you like to try?”

“I-I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Giving him an encouraging smile, Wanda nods toward the bedspread next to her. The guitar looks small and delicate in Vision’s large hands as he carefully accepts it from her, propping it against his knee in an imitation of her posture. Awkward and uncertain, he looks to Wanda for guidance.

“Alright. The basics are mostly form and knowledge of the notes. The first string is an ‘E.’” She nods to him. He finds and plucks it. “Good. By holding the string against the board there at the top of the neck, you will make another note.” The “F” Vision plucks twangs brassy and flat. “You’ll have to press harder.”

He nods, brow furrowing as he applies more pressure and tries again. The note rings clear and musical.

“Good. To make a chord, press with more than one finger. The E minor is your second and third fingers on the second fret, fifth and fourth strings.” Her fingers curve around the empty air, miming the placement.

It takes her a moment to notice the wide-eyed look he gives her.

Wanda’s about to suggest they stick with single notes for now, when Vision cranes his neck and stares at the fretboard. “Second and third fingers,” he whispers to himself. His long, elegant fingers are strangely clumsy on the strings, fumbling to find the position.

“Second fret,” Wanda reminds him. She bites her lip as she watches him struggle. “Here.” She reaches for his hand. And just a moment too late, she remembers his aversion to touch.

Her fingers brush his and he jumps as if struck by electricity, the instrument nearly slipping from his grasp as he yanks his hand away.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Wanda apologizes, face flushing bright red. Vision set a boundary through his careful actions, and she crossed it. It’s no way to repay someone who has been nothing but overwhelmingly kind to her. I didn’t mean to, I am so sorry-

“No, no, I must apologize. I honestly didn’t mean to respond in such a manner.” Guilt and horror at his own reaction chases the shock from Vision’s face. He looks just as sorry as she feels.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I should have asked.” Her entire face burns. He’s so new and inexperienced, more frightened and unsure than she probably knows.

“You only surprised me. I-” Vision stares down at the instrument in his hands. He takes a deep breath and his shoulders loosen downward a fraction of an inch. “I actually would like you to show me. The chord, that is.”

Glancing nervously toward his hands, Wanda bites her lip again. “M-may I?”

Vision’s irises rotate just once. She sees the moment he chooses to trust her. “Yes.”

His fingers are rigid and cold as she gently nudges them in the right direction, trying to keep her own hands from shaking as she explains how the notes fit together. He follows her guidance as best he can, the stiffness never leaving his hands. When Wanda checks out the corner of her eye, his jaw is just as tense as his arms. But then he glances at her, just briefly. And his eyes are soft and open. Longing, almost.

There is so much she does not understand about him. His sorrow the night before, his fear of people and touch. The hidden shame she’s just starting to hear behind his words. But there are some things that make sense now. There are some things she knows.

He trusts her. The realization startles Wanda in how sudden and obvious it is. He talks about his interests to her, lets her see the nervous and scared parts of him. He lets her guide his hand across the strings, despite the measures he takes to avoid even casual contact in the hallway.

Vision trusts her. But he doesn’t trust anyone else, and she knows exactly why. The few instances she’s seen him interact with others flash through her mind. Yes, he chooses to keep his distance, even during conversations, and never once has she seen him shake someone’s hand. But now that she thinks about it, she’s also never seen anyone offer him a handshake.

The people of Sokovia had avoided touching urchins such as Wanda and Pietro like they carried a disease. And isn’t Vision just like they were? Isn’t he new, and uncertain, and afraid, just like a child? Sent into the world alone just like an orphan?

Anger burns in her chest. S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to take care of Vision, but they handed him off. Dropped him at the doorstep of the compound, where he is ignored and avoided by every employee. Where he is nothing to the Avengers but another recruit to whip into shape.

Wanda may not know them well, but she is certain the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. would not abandon a child. No, if a child was placed in their care, they would guide and nurture him, providing whatever he needed as he struggled to learn and develop. As he tried to discover who he was. And if they could not provide this, they would place him with someone who could. They would not fail a child the way they have failed Vision.

Do they really not see him?

“Perhaps I am capable of learning to play an instrument,” -Vision’s voice pushes Wanda’s thoughts aside, pulling her back to the present- “But I think I shall leave the music to one with more skill.” He gives her the half-smile, and her heart breaks a little.

She shakes her head slowly, trying to refocus. “You are not so bad.”

Vision passes the guitar to her. “Could I hear another song?” He asks so shyly, and a soft affection fills her heart.

Wanda shrugs, settling the guitar in her lap. “I guess it is not yet time for training. One more.” Her fingers move almost on their own as a flurry of thoughts continues to tumble through her mind. She feels Vision watching her contentedly, open admiration written across his face.

He is so young, so eager and afraid all at once. So desperate to make a connection and find something to hold onto. He needs more than someone to ask questions of and tell unusual facts. He needs direction, to be introduced to experiences and the world outside this building, just as he so strongly desires.

The Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have failed him, completely. Forgotten him.

Wanda will not.

#scarletvision #wanda maximoff #vision #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #mine

[katsukikitten]

JUST IN TIME FOR SAME DAY TWO FICS I PROMISED. @pazumi-au

You waltz back into the living room as Kirishima yells into the head set. Little do you know why he has it on in the first place.

At first it was to get teammates together to win a better game but it quickly turned into the purpose of drowning out your moans.

He yells again, telling his teammate that he can take the flag there until you plop onto his lap. Straddling him as your hands go beneath his loose muscle tee. Hips grinding slightly to entice him as you would Bakugou. You feel him twitch beneath you while heating the all too familiar sound of a console powering down.

Hook, line, and sinker.

You gaze into his ruby gaze as your eyes scream lust, hands fondling muscles that move to readjust your body. You don't know how long he's dreamed of this exact situation.

Of you interrupting a game session or finishing a game session with him just to ride his cock all night.

But he was always too much a gentleman to ask if you were interested. Especially after he saw you smiling at your phone so often.

Funny how he hesitates even now and you present yourself to him. He searches your eyes for something more but all he sees is white hot lust.

You stare deeply into his eyes, noticing the slight differences in their eye colors. Glistening softness vs glowering burning intensity.

"Y...y/n?" He asks with a slight blush, although you're more than sure it's not from embarrassment as you feel him harden beneath you. Another twitch has you kissing him before you can change your mind. Tongue rolling over tongue as you grind a bit more on him.

His hands roll up your sides, peeling off your shirt to reveal a nice pair of tits. He salivates as you shove them in his face, reaching for your phone. You snap a picture of Kirishima's sharp teeth biting gently into your collar bone as he all but worships you.

You send the photo to Bakugou quickly tossing your phone to the side.

Another harder bite on your collar bone has you moaning.

"Bakugoooo." Instantly the man beneath you freezes as hot embarrassment flushes your body.

"Y/N?" Kirishima pushes you back slightly to see your face. Hard on dying from both the hurt in his chest and the the hurt in your face, "Is Bakugou the hero who's 'just a friend'?"

The question has you burst into tears, sobbing as you press your face into the cool skin of his neck. Breathing in his comforting scent of sandalwood cologne and soft natural musk.

His arms fly around you tightly. Gladly falling back into the best friend category especially so since this is the first time he's seen you cry.

And you've lived with him for three and a half years.

You both were broke as hell desperately needing a roommate in order to survive in this part of the city.

You a photographer and painter and he a start up hero.

You both made more than enough to have your own apartment within the first six months but somehow the two of you just kept renewing the lease. More than happy to "save" for a house.

So to hold the strongest woman he knew as she sobbed was an honor.

Even if it meant only being the shoulder to cry on.

"I..I'm so stupid Eiji. So fucking dumb. I..." Another sob as you try to collect yourself, "I really fucking like him and then I go and use you to spite him. I'm sorry Eji I'm sorry I'm such a slut. I'm sorry."

Is all you can say as you clutch onto his shirt as if you had been lost and he was the first to find you.

The first to be salvation.

"Hey..." He soothes pushing his own hurt pride down, "It's okay. Just don't do it again. I know you're sad...."

"I'm sorry...." You say again wiping away the tears as you borderline hyperventilate.

"Here." Kirishima says pulling his shirt from his toned form to shield you from non existant prying eyes, "You wanna catch up on some anime? Eat some iiiicccceeeecreeeaam?"

You nod shyly as he lifts you onto the couch, wrapping you in the faux fur blanket you insisted should be in the living room before he heads to his room for another shirt. He comes back just as quickly to see you staring down at your phone with sniffles, he turns on his heel to pop into your room, careful to avoid anything on the floor or night stand.

He grabs your favorite giant plush and returns.

Little does he know it's one Bakugou won for you. But your face doesn't become crestfallen when he tucks it in your arms.

More tears prick your eyes as his actions remind you of Bakugou's normal after care. The rare time where his wall his down and he speaks so softly.

And just for you. Your heart squeezes in your chest as you think of the moments you fell in love with him.

"I'll be right back. Kay?" Kirishima says before slipping out the door.

Not ten minutes later he finds you in the same spot, although you do have the anime series you two were watching pulled up. Your crying had slowed but not by much as you stare down at what must be a dry phone.

He places the icecream in your hand sitting beside you. He watches you snap a picture of you holding your stuffy and the icecream to send to Bakugou before you lean into him a little like you normally would.

Kirishima is happy to be your shoulder to cry on. Silently he is rooting for you two. Especially now that he knows what must be going on. He's seen the way the two of you look at each other at parties.

More than lust lies in both yours and his scarlet eyes.

Kirishima pulls you closer to place a soft kiss on your hair line before the two of you settle in for a long night of anime.

You wake to the sound of banging on the door. You breathe in deeply as Kirishima startles beneath you. Having fallen asleep in what has to be the most uncomfortable position you've ever seen.

"Sorry. I'll get it." You say softly as you stand, stretching as you assume it's your neighbor two doors down looking for her lost kitten. Again.

"Sorry I haven't seen your kitten." You say opening the door without looking, instantly regretting not only your choice of words but your outfit. Scarlet eyes stare you down as he pushes past you into you into the apartment.

He cannot tell if you are being a brat or not.

He cannot tell if you slept with his best friend or not especially with the two conflicting pictures you sent.

"Oh uhh Hey Bakugou!" Kirishima scratches the back of his head awkwardly. Scarlet eyes notices his outfit. A brick red shirt and jeans.

No one puts jeans back on after they fuck, at least not in their own house. Still Bakugou keeps his hands deep in his black dress pants, still clad in a collared shirt, loosened tie and black vest from his early morning debriefing.

He would have been at apartment 3C earlier if it hadn't been for that stupid fucking meeting.

"You might want to leave." He keeps his voice even yet still his normal gruff as he speaks to Kirishima. The red head nods in agreement before looking to you.

Poor exhausted cried out you. He swallows thickly and whispers to you as he leaves out the door.

"Tell him and text me if you need me." With that Kirishima closes the door to leave you sealed inside with a deadly tiger.

"Care to explain, kitten?" He lets his eyes rove over the semi messy apartment, a pizza box and empty icecream containers litter the coffee table, the stuff animal he won, or more so threatened the game worker at the fair sits on the couch slightly tucked into the blanket.

"Or is it as you said and you are not my kitten anymore?"

Shit. He took your words seriously when they were intended for someone else entirely. If you told him the truth would he believe you.

"I'm still your kitten, sama." You say softly, avoiding eye contact. Still exhausted from the night before.

"Yea?" He asks coming closer, bending down to catch your eyes, hands still in his pockets to keep from popping, "Then prove it."

You rack your brain of all of his favorite lewd things you do for him and think of only one thing that has him admit you're in control. You sink to your knees, hands going to unbuckle his pants when a calloused hand seizes your throat. Choking you as he lifts you back up to your feet. Furry clouds his eyes as he looms over you.

"This is not what *my* kitten would do." He snarls, "*My* kitten would defy me until I pushed her to her knees. My kitten is disobedient. She shows her claws and bears her teeth when she's mad."

"And she's always fucking mad." He snaps letting you go to sit on the couch. He waits for you to follow and when you do not he slaps his knee hard.

You gulp as you wonder if this is the other half of your punishment.

You crawl over his lap for him to growl over your shorts. The ones that drive him mad even when he's pissed. Like now you feel him growing hard especially after he massages your ass to warm it up. He waits for any sort of protest before he comes down with a hard slap. You whince as he waits, eyes falling to your head, when you nod yes to go on he proceeds to spank you over and over again. Massaging and moving to other parts of the ass but relentlessly attacking.

"This is for wearing these around Eijirou." Another slap before a cool rub down, "This is for making me think you fucked him."

As his hand rubs over your ass and down between your thighs he speaks again.

"Are you going to tell me why you were eating icecream and snuggling with King explosion murder?" He asks referring to your fluffy angry looking bear. You're still unable to answer earning another spank, you cry out but he continues.

"You only eat icecream when you're sad." More silence and another hit this time increased intensity with aid of his quirk.

"P..please please sir. I'm..." You swallow a bit of your pride as he brings another blasting palm to your ass, "I'm starting to hurt."

"Ah so you do know how to use your words." He rubs his fingers against your dampening shorts and you buck for better access. He slaps your ass again, "Kitten gets spanked until she tells me what's really got her acting out."

One, two, three more slaps before tears are welling in your eyes. Still he looks to your head for a nod of approval when it doesn't come he decides he will do a final slap before trying a different approach.

This slap sends you over the edge as you think and think and God damn think.

"I like you. Like really like *like* you and I wanted you to be my fucking valentine!" You yell out, tears slipping down cheeks. You're righted quickly, he has you straddling him as he looks up at you.

His eyes are the same as they are during after care. Kind, soft, worried and only ever for you. Your heart pounds faster in your chest as he pushes some hair out of the way.

"Y/N....my kitten why didn't you tell me?" His voice is laced with hurt as he searches your eyes.

"Because I told you no feelings and then I go and fuck it all up!" He squeezes your ribs before his hand wipes away more tears. He gives you a soft smile that slowly turns into a deadly smirk.

"I guess I fucked up too huh?" He kisses you tenderly before putting in all of his burning passion onto your lips. Tongue fighting yours as you start to grind into his hips. He breaks the kiss hands falling to your hips placing the ball in your court.

"You like like me?" You ask, hands crumpling his nice dress shirt.

"No." He says slyly, kissing your forehead, "I love you."

You blink, heart bursting in your chest as you stare down the most emotionally unavailable man you knew. Or at least thought he was emotionally unavailable.

"Have been. For months." He admits, now it is your turn to kiss him, one hand working to free his member while his hands move aside the shorts.

"Are you sure?"

"Always Sama. Please." You say desperately before he aligns himself to plunge into you. You gasp, holding his eyes as this is the first time you've faced him.

All the other times you had asked to be bent over or blind folded.

He slowly thrusts into you before you ride him out, wanting to give him pleasure for once. He squeezes your hips as you're in charge praising your work and movements as you begin to chase your own high.

"Fuuuuck. You're riding me so well." He says coming up to bite on your collar bones, sucking hard enough to leave small bruises. You feel him twitch in your as he gets closer causing the tightness in your stomach to double.

You were going to make him come all your own. You hump harder as your clit rubs against his boxers just right causing your moans to come out shuddering.

"I..I'm close." You gasp out, core grasping onto his hard memeber for all that it's worth.

"Cum for me kitten." He breaths and he thrusts into you, holding your eyes causing you to come wholly undone. Emotionally physically and as cliche as it sounded spiritually as you watched face contort in sinful pleasure as he fucked deeply into you, hand pressing your forehead harshly to his as he filled you to the brim.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, his grip letting up as your tightens on him. You get up off of him but do not leave his lap. He stares up at you with even newer eyes, your body shudders on it's own from his duality you so desperately needed.

"Be my valentine kitten?" He asks softly supporting you even though you are on top. You smile down at him before your inner brat takes over, stealing a feverish kiss before adding.

"I thought a King never asks."

@lady-bakuhoe here is the kirishima part 😊

#bnha angst #bnha fluff #kitten valnetines day event! #bnha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bnha smut #bnha kacchan #bnha fic #bnha fanfiction #bnha asks

[f-117-nighthawk]

Playlist Update Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Part 2! Here lies Endless War, Dystopian Fiction, and Filaments. EW hasn’t changed much, DF has a bit and it's all INFECTED's fault, and Filaments has more than three songs finally. My explanations for these aren't quite as fleshed out (partially bc there's less in my head to flesh out with and partially because these aren't nearly as set in playdough as the main playlist. more like set in syrup)

Part One

In chronological order:

Endless War

Dark Matter is here because it always is, twining through everything else.

(Don’t stop, don’t think, don’t look back/You’re a bolt of lightning in the sky now/Don’t stop, don’t think, don’t look back/I’ve pulled you in, nowhere to hide now)

I Am the One links into Eater of Worlds as sort of the aftermath, sort of during Apocalypse 1992. Our Fifth General has her realization about [REDACTED] far, far before Team Voltron does because she’s there in the thick of it during Through Apocalypse Skies.

(I am the one/I hold the dreams from fallen heroes)

(We are gods, we are monsters/We create to devour/Not for love but for power/What’s a life worth in the end?)

(From the caves beneath Dundee/Ancient hermit arrives/A messenger to the war in the stars/Korviliath is nigh!)

The Truth Beneath the Rose is from the perspective of our last (and first) Blade in the aftermath of Through Apocalypse Skies, as she realizes just what she helped create. Also… kinda connects to a song in the main playlist, but not very obviously.

(Blinded to see the cruelty of the beast/It is the darker side of me/The veil of my dreams deceived that I have seen/Forgive me for what I have been, forgive me my sins!)

Raise Your Banner is The Fifth General’s newfound resolve as she starts collecting allies against Zarkon’s empire.

(Wake up/I’m defying you, seeing right through you, once I believed in you/Wake up/Feel what’s coming deep within we all know)

Obey is a bit of a weird one. It’s in the same vein as You Keep What You Kill in the main playlist, but it’s more specifically about the creation of the first Druids and how Haggar uses them against the Fifth General and her team.

(Obey, we're gonna show you how to behave/Obey, it's nicer when you can't see the chains)

Silver Moonlight is cracks forming in The Fifth General’s new set of alliances and her desperate and occasionally rash attempts to get them to believe in her goal. Not just the main one to take down the empire, but the one that will allow them to do that.

(I’m impatient, but it’s colors that I need/Too many shades of grey, I cannot breathe/The dreams I have ain’t tainted, I need you to believe/The only way to make them real, oh)

Endless War is the title track, connected to Holy Ground and I’d Rather Burn as a specific event but also sort of encompassing the Fifth General’s motivations throughout the series. She’s “hunting a miracle” that is also those colors from Silver Moonlight, and then the end of Endless War kicks in with Holy Ground, and the Fifth General’s final stand in I’d Rather Burn.

('Cause you’re fighting an endless war/Hunting a miracle/And when you reach out for the stars/They just cut you down/…/Is it worth dying for?/Or are you blinded by, blinded by it all?)

(You got inside my head, I want you out/'Cause I’ve been betrayed on holy ground)

(Won’t let you take my soul away/I’d rather go to the stake/I’d rather burn)

Empty Eyes is [long spoiler beep]. (and yes! I found it on Spotify finally!)

(I don’t know where I’m going/In search for answers/I don’t know who I’m fighting/I stand with empty eyes/You’re like a ghost within me/Who’s draining my life/It’s like my soul is see-through/Right through my empty eyes)

Dystopian Fiction

Dark Matter is on here because title track, but also it does end up with effects. Especially by the end… and of course, the Thing that is Wrong With Earth.

(Don’t stop, don’t think/Move up, don’t blink now/On your knees pray for rain/Don’t breathe when you take your aim)

The Human Condition is the Éskhayklos manifesto. A warning of the end times. The condemnation of the parasites. The reveal of the only cure. The final extinction cycle. Also their new image song, as Cross the Line got moved.

(We have the cure for the disease/Locked down inside us/When all is dead, then we will see/We are the virus)

INFECTED is the Éskhayklos’s slow, well, infection of the Sol Federation, and their descent into full-blown terrorism. (And yes, I know the actual lyrics have ‘he’. Shhhhhh. It’s a STARSET song, it’s about a Shirogane, even if it’s sort of from Cascade’s POV)

(Here's a challenge for all mankind/The preacher man is warning of the end times/The weatherman agrees but she don't know/So she's got to go now)

Who Will Save You Now here is about Sam, and the aftermath of Here to Save You, in addition to its referenced role in the main playlist.

(Alone with this vision/Alone and blind/Go tell the world I’m still alive)

Codebreaker is Adam’s song! But here it’s also in conjunction with Cross the Line as the final Éskhayklos mission before...

(Codebreaker can’t you find/Can you read between the lines of code?/Tell me all that you know/How far down the hole does it all go)

(Cross the line, redefine, break away unbent, unafraid/Together we stand in the dark/Seeking the light and what is right, together we cross the line/Our journey will come to an end and then our human cause will be/Justified)

The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Dystopian Fiction is the title track for this part. With the events of The Day the Earth Collapsed, the Garrison and our heroes on Earth are at their lowest point. It really is a piece of dystopian fiction, between [spoiler] and [spoiler]. They’re fighting for something that, at that point, must seem like ‘superstition.’ And also: “Nobody can shoot me down, not just yet” is about Adam bc Fuck Canon. Even if he does, technically, get shot down.

(I’m a dead man/In the wasteland/I’m a soldier fighting for superstition/Under searchlights/In the long nights/We’ve been written like dystopian fiction)

World on Fire and The Reckoning are the two of their subset that make it over here because they’re the two that happen before the result of This is a Call can come to fruition, and are more focused on our Earth heroes anyway.

(Sent by forces beyond salvation/There can be not one sensation)

(We’re all alone, walking in twilight/The night has been long and so many have fallen/Feel no remorse, light will be breaking/Our freedom is worth it all)

Filaments

Filaments is still in flux but does have way more solid than it did. Like, you know, most of an ending. I just don’t really know how they get from A to B yet.

Dark Matter is here because, well. A) Title track, B) yes, it still has effects. It’s the overarching theme, after all. Filaments sort of has a subtitle itself, which is ‘The Undoing,’ after the other part of the lyric that the subtitle of the main playlist comes from. It’s about undoing a past mistake (that wasn’t obviously a mistake until much later) and reconciling the events of Your World Will Fail.

(I am the keeper/I am the secret/I am the answer/I am the end)

Filaments is the title track of this part. It’s… a little hard to explain without giving away the entire plot but it’s about the connections between different parts of the universe, and some fall-out of Cosmic Vertigo and Louder Than Words.

(These glowing filaments/Conducting this enchanting/Sarcophagus that’s holding us)

Starlight is, again, Adashi song, and this time the happy part

(Don’t leave me lost here forever/I need your starlight and pull me through/Bring me back to you)

Carry Me Home is its eponymous fic.

(Carry me home to the morning light/carry me home before you wave me goodbye/Oh, carry me home…)

And then we get to the new part. Know that stuff in Carry Me Home about “The record skip that only [Keith and Krolia] can remember”? Yeah, Prognosis is a huge step to figuring that out.

(How long is the body beholden?/How long 'til we run out of road?/Deep down in the black of the ocean/Fading from the glow)

The timey-wimey ball gets tossed around more in Blackstar. Partially due to [REDACTED] and a certain terrorist’s reemergence, but also due to Prognosis-related stuff

(They'll let you try/To reverse everything/Don't waste your time/Sing Hallelujah 'cause you can't change anything)

Eon straight-up plays Calvinball with the timey-wimey ball and gets the Paladins stuck in a groundhog-day situation, and the only way out? Isn’t good.

(If time's a song, I won't wait for its reprise/I am done wishing farewells and goodbyes)

The Art of War and Centigrade are the beginning of the end. The Art of War is Cascade finally showing his true colors, and the Sol Federation not having a good time. Centigrade is the other side of it, Team Voltron having a realization of just what they’re going to need to do.

(I can remember all the days of violence/I can remember all the days they fought for rights/When men united all by fear and interest/I mustered them with hopeful promises I've broken)

(What did you hope to find adrift and lost in time?/Is this the end ready to begin?/It's time to escape the fate of destruction, excavating within until salvation/No longer pretend the future's a lie from a past you cannot hide)

The Future is Now and A Theater of Dimensions are. Well. You’ll see. It’s a little hard to pick a lyric from AToD, I'll say that much.

(They said there was no way/But they forgot the black hole in the sky/Yesterday is nothing/I have half a life to rewrite)

(I’ve seen our freedom in the mist of time/The old signs I’ll follow and the day of relief will be yours and mine)

And then there’s Afterlife. Fitting to end on a UtA song, after everything, especially since The Immortal has repeatedly throughout DM been a metaphor for Voltron. Also fitting that it’s this one, considering the parallels between the end of The Immortal’s story and Filaments

(But with such power, think how you could rule/Hold to your promise to watch over those in despair/Why would you choose to serve when you could be master of all?/Be true to your honour and fight for a world that is fair!/Out of shadow, out of darkness, welcome to the light/As the day shines boldly over night/Follow me to finally be who you are inside/Open wide, embrace the afterlife)

#i am dark matter; your road to ruin #long post #at least this time was only an hour and a half? #dm playlists

[just-horrible-things]

[Continued from here, part one here.]

He sits where he is put, on the cot that the Meek have assigned him. He is too distraught for sleep. He wouldn’t dare to move from the spot even if he had reason to. So he sits, and hugs his knees, and rocks, and tries to pretend that he is home in his cell and that the last few days have been nothing but nightmare.

There’s enough distance and enough doors between him and the hall that he can’t hear the Interrogator screaming any more. But he can still hear her inside his head. Exhausted. In agony. Breaking like only he is meant to break. The sobs bubble up from the well of horror inside his ribcage, and they will not stop.

The atmosphere is chokingly familiar. Everywhere, he senses the touch of the Dark Powers on what should be reality. He Sees the roiling Warp whether his eyes are open or closed. The weight of it should crush the air from his lungs and leave him nauseated. But the corruption in his soul answers the ambient, and it is not unpleasant. The self-loathing does not make it easier to stem the flow of tears.

The names of the Gods buzz inside his head. He has not spoken them in... five years? Ten? He tries not to even think them, when he does not have to for his function. But now they press at the inside of his lips, craving freedom. They mock him for ever imagining that he could escape their grip. They demand that he speak them, renew his fealty. At the same time laughing with the knowledge that such hollow oaths have never mattered. The Gods claim their own. And is that not what he is? Occultist. Daemonologist. Sorcerer. He is more kin to their captors than he is to the Interrogator.

If he still prayed to any power, he would pray that it stays that way. Her conviction is beyond shattering, surely. It has to be. If she cannot keep faith, what hope is there?

The tears have slowed and the shuddering has dwindled to a subtle tremor by the time the door opens. It is Vereda. He bows his head in respect, feeling his gut clench and his heart ache with fear. He doesn’t know what to expect from her yet. At this point, it could easily be execution. He doesn’t want to die.

“How are you feeling?” she asks. Her tone is gentle. But he knows her kind. Always friendly, while the rot spreads beneath the surface. A gentle hand to soothe infection into the skin while the patient gasps in agony and delirium. “I, um. A, a b-bit better, sir. I, I’m sorry. I’m sorry sir.” “Why are you sorry?” She sits down on the cot beside him. The training that tells him to stay still wins out over the desire to inch away. “I, I d-don’t know, sir. I made a, a scene, I was loud, I... I’m sorry. W-whatever I did, I’m sorry.” He snivels wretchedly. “It’s alright,” she tells him gently. “You got overwhelmed, isn’t that right?” He nods gratefully, wiping his eyes with the back of his borrowed sleeve. That is definitely a true statement. “Rex was out of line. I’m sorry for his behaviour.” “Th-thank you, sir.” She has the sound of sincerity down perfectly. Her voice is full of regret. But the words ring hollow, after listening to her sneer and preen and mock while she shot helpless men and women. After watching her inflict torture, and take satisfaction in it. “Would you like a bit more time to calm down?” “I... I p-probably w-won’t. C-c-calm down, I mean. I’m s-sorry sir.” “I can give you time if you like.” “It, it’s ok-kay.” He’d rather get this over with, in the hope that it isn’t his death warrant, than sit here and stew in terror. “Alright.”

Vereda takes a moment to gather her thoughts. 068 wonders if she is genuinely trying to be gentle with him, or if she is coldly calculating behind that facade. “I want to talk about your relationship with the Inquisition woman,” she begins. Fear is cold. He watches her carefully. “You’ve told me that she tortured you, and forced you to serve against your will. But you do not seem to take satisfaction in seeing her suffer in turn.” He forces himself to breathe steadily. He wishes she would speak harshly to him. At least then he could be confident that the knife edge he senses behind her words is real. But no, he doesn’t wish that. If she snapped at him, it would be impossible to think past the fear. “You are something of an enigma, my young sorcerer,” she continues. “Tell me what you are thinking.” The tone is that of a suggestion, but he knows that it is an order.

He breathes deeply. To lie, and tangle himself in guesswork falsehoods aimed at her unknown desires, or to venture the dangerous, shameful truth? Somewhere in between, probably. Isn’t that always his answer to the world? Somewhere in between? Pathetic. He just doesn’t know how to ever make the right choice.

“I... I d-don’t know, entirely, w-what I feel, sir. Uhm. I hate her -” and he’s surprised by the feeling he’s able to put into that “- b-but, I, it’s c-complicated...” He is grateful that she waits quietly, and lets him try to articulate what he feels - or something related to what he feels, at least. “She, uh. Without, without w-what she d-d-did to me, I’d never have, I w-wouldn’t have d-drawn the at-ttention of the Dark Prince -” no, this is no time to be shy about it “- of Slaanesh.” There, I said it. Are you happy yet? Of course not. They are never sated. “You enjoyed it?” “No! N-n-no sir, I, I d-d-don’t h-have th-that blessing, or, or skill...” Or insanity. Not quite. “It, it was, it, you c-c-can see w-what it d-did to me, b-but... uh. I. Uh.” “You are grateful?” “I... I... y-yes, m-maybe. I, I d-don’t... I just... she, she’s r-responsible, in a way. And, and she enjoyed it, h-hurting me. She m-made me sing my, my pain to the Warp and, and she d-doesn’t know that it f-, that it honours the Prince b-but she d-did it all the same...” He runs out of words, shivering, struggling to breathe evenly. She waits. He can find nothing more to say.

“You care for her,” Vereda suggests after a while. “Yes,” he admits miserably, wondering if it condemns him to share her fate. “I, I h-hate her too, but, but I d-do. She... she’s a-all I’ve had, for a l-long t-time. It’s n-not right, I know, b-but.... b-but she’s important to me.” He can’t take his eyes off hers. It’s too much eye contact, he knows. But looking away is forbidden. Disrespectful. He’s too afraid. “She is the enemy,” Vereda reminds him gently. “She d-doesn’t have to be,” he pleads desperately. “She, she a-already p-pleases Slaanesh, w-without knowing...” For the first time, Vereda cuts him off. It’s not with words, but with laughter. She has a rich, throaty laugh. In another context it might be pleasing. 068 falls silent, cringing. “It would certainly be an accomplishment, to corrupt my prize. I will not stop you trying, darling. But forgive me if I do not expect much. And until she turns her coat, she remains my enemy... and yours.” He snivels and nods, not trusting his voice. He does not know what he could say to sway her. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. “Don’t fret, little sorcerer. I will still let you bring her comfort and tend her wounds. I have no intention of letting her die.” “Thank you, sir.” He means it. What she has not said hurts - that she will continue to torture her. It will keep breaking his heart. But it is still better to think that his Interrogator will survive, and that he will get the chance to be with her. And that he will not be punished for having muddled feelings and mixed-up loyalties. Not overtly, at least. He’s very grateful for that.

In the silence that follows, he starts anxiously replaying the conversation so far. The weight of what he has said hits him all at once, like a blow to the stomach. He would try to corrupt her faith, to save her life? He sickens himself. Does he have no standards? No lines he will not cross? Oh, he is a detestable creature.

Vereda is watching him, and he tries to swallow down the wave of self-loathing. It’s okay, he tries to reassure himself, you’re okay. It is not as if it is out of character, for him to cringe with suddenly renewed misery and fear, for no reason in particular. If she asks, he will claim that his guilt is over feeling even a little loyalty to an agent of the hated Imperium. But that isn’t what she asks.

“Your Interrogator, she has a name.” It’s a question, not an observation. “Yes sir. It, it’s Ariadne M-Milonas. As, as f-far as I know.” It’s easier than usual to think of her by name. But it still feels like a betrayal. Even though he knows that Vereda already knows who she is. “You must see a lot of her work.” “N-not much, sir. I, I l-live in a c-cell m-mostly...” He is shaking again. How much will she want to know? What will she do if he does not, or cannot answer? “I, I c-can t-tell you w-what I d-do know, w-what do you w-want to know, sir?”

His eagerness is pitiful. Is he really willing to tell her everything he knows? He is so scared of the consequences of holding back. But he can’t, he can’t betray the Inquisition, the Holy Ordos of the God Emperor’s divine will. But... but they know he’s untrustworthy, that’s why they keep him in the dark. Surely they don’t let him know anything important... But even if he does share, will it satisfy her? His breath comes as quick, frantic huffs. He can’t focus, focus! Pay attention, scum!

“Are you still with me?” Vereda is asking. He forces himself to focus on her face. “S-sorry,” he gasps, “S-s-sorry sir, I, I’m h-here, I’m f-f-foc-cused.” “Easy. This isn’t an interrogation.” That is a lie, he knows. But he wouldn’t dare disagree. “Take all the time you need. Let’s start simple. Do you know where you’re kept?” He nods jerkily. “Uh. S-sort of, sir. A-ab-board a voidship, b-but, I d-d-don’t know its name, sir,” he lies. “ I, I have a cell, it, it’s, they d-don’t t-tell me th-things...” “That’s alright, that’s good. How long have you been kept there?”

In the end, he answers all her questions. How could a broken thing like him do anything else?

[Continued here.]

#my writing #my ocs #tacitus #ariadne and tacitus captured by chaos #tw interrogation #tw mental illness #tw past trauma #tw mention of torture #tw mention of murder #hmmm #I don't know if this is any good #but I've written it now #so there you go

[loki-fanfic-whore]

Consumed ch.1

Loki tries to help the newest Avenger with her control over her powers and her self-esteem

Taglist: @drakesfiance

Warnings: negative thoughts and head space, a lot of self doubt, anger issues, possible triggers, possible sexual situations

Chapter 1: Breathe

You could feel your thighs trembling. The fabric growing wet from your sweat. Languished panting fell from your pink lips and flustered face.

"Ah-Loki-we need to stop p-please." The way his name rolled from your tongue caused your core to tighten. Long slender fingers wrapped around your waist hoisting you up higher in the air.

"Hold it! Feel how shaky your muscles are? You are growing so strong." He spoke softly teasing you as he let go of your waist, your full weight on your toes and hands again as you stayed in the arched back bend. Your long hair enveloping your huffing face.

Loki walked to the table in the room and turned the music to the next song, chill slow music courses through the air as you cry out collapsing onto your mat. You could feel your muscles tingling at how long you had held the agonizing pose.

Loki chuckled and pulled the curtains open, flooding the room in light. You had stayed a crumpled mess on the floor. Letting your dark hair curtain your shamed face. You could hear his fluid movement through the room until you felt his hand brush the hair from your face.

"Honestly, little flame, how will you be able to keep up with the stamina of a God if you cannot even keep yourself up?" He teased cruelly as his green eyes drank in the sight of your pink cheeks and ragged panting. Your own eyes dilating at the musky smell of him.

"I do quite well in combat thank you. And I assure you my stamina is no concern of yours. I simply asked you to help me become limber and agile. As to keep me from becoming too clumsy on the field." You retorted sitting up. You swept your hair up into a high bun, but felt a few missed pieces falling back against your cheek and down your back. You pulled your top off to expose your chest, enveloped in a dark black sports bra and lightly sheened in sweat. You had always been heavier, but you had tried to embrace your curves after years of fighting it. You knew your limits and knew they were higher than many your size. You giggled softly as Loki blushed for a fraction of a second and looked away clearing his throat.

"What is wrong 'my prince'? Do you suddenly see something not to your liking?" You teased back before standing and stretching. You used your shirt to wipe the sweat from your forehead before continuing the stretches.

"Of course not. You are simply different than the women of Asgard. You seem....healthier..." he flustered for just a moment and you realized he was referring to your weight. You had caught him selecting his words carefully as to not offend you.

"Oh my God! Loki did you just call me fat?!" You feigned anger as you threw your sweaty shirt at him. He stood and looked at you angrily.

"How dare you put words into my mouth! You are a mortal and I am a God! I will not have it!" He started as he approached you menacingly. You rolled your eyes as he began acting childlishly.

"I think we have trained enough, since you want to act that way. Good night 'my prince'." You spoke curtly just as he got close enough to touch you, you turned and quickly left the room. You knew if you had stayed it would have ended up with the two of you fighting or fucking.

You had never actually fucked him before but the sexual tension between the two of you was so palpable you couldn't see how he hadn't just taken you by now. You refused to make the first move since this God was known for having a silver tongue.

You made your way quickly to your room and closed the door. You stripped the rest of your clothes off and made your way to the bathroom starting a shower. You looked at your body in the mirror as the water heated. You had rolls and stretch marks, scars and bruises, your nipples pierced and a tattoo of wisps and lines down one of your hips. The pattern was a symetrical mandala and helped to calm you, but all your mind went back to was Loki's remark that you weren't like asgardian women...you could only imagine large perky breasts and smooth skin in varying paleness...small waists and large child bearing hips...all of these women throwing themselves at the god... your heart sank as you tore yourself apart mentally. You stepped into the shower and scrubbed the day away, you had just finished washing your long dark hair when the alarms blared and you sighed. Quickly jumping out and toweling yourself you headed half naked into the living room.

"Whoa! Hey Embers, can you like not be completely fucking naked here for our brief?" Tony spoke as he waved a clinking scotch glass in his hands. You flipped him off and sighed.

"Yes because we all know I decided today was the day I would grace you with my delicious flesh." You half spat back.

"Sister Ember! My brother and I would greatly enjoy that view!" Thor roared in laughter at his own joke as he clapped Loki on the back hard enough to cause him to snarl. You had decided not to give Loki the pleasure of meeting his eyes drinking in the sight of you more than half naked.

"Is this important enough for me to stay here or can I go put on underwear at least?" You found yourself impatiently tapping your hand on your folded arms. You could feel stray water dripping down your various body parts.

"For fucks sake go get dressed! I can't have everyone focusing on their blood rushing from their heads because-!" You didn't wait any longer you quickly moved down the hall and back to your room. You stripped the towel off and grabbed your clothes. Black, all you ever wore was black due to your abilities. After donning panties and a bra you quickly pulled on black pants and a tanktop. You decided to leave your hair a watery mess around your face.

As you walked back you could hear Fury scolding the group and briefing them at the same time.

"These motherfuckers aren't very smart, but the issue is they have so many they will overpower you. I need you all to go in, get the fucking box, and get out. Stealth is key, so be fucking quiet!" He stood straight as you returned and stood silently listening.

"That's all. Get dressed and go. Dismissed." He spoke loudly as he pushed past you and out of the room.

You looked to the shocked room and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" You asked as Natasha swallowed silently.

"Uh-...well we need to go...and you...you need to-" she began but was stalling looking for anyone to help.

"Sister Ember!" Thor piped in, there was that fucking nickname Tony gave you...itll never leave apparently.

"You are to stay here with Loki and watch him while we go retrieve a box!" Thor grinned oafishly as you looked to the trickster God who refused to look up.

"Why must I stay?" You found yourself becoming defensive.

"Well...for one you are explosive... two you arent... quite adept at extreme cardio." Tony chose his words carefully and you scoffed, you could feel the heat beginning in your fingertips and climbing up your arms. Looking down you could see the black webbing up your pale skin.

"What the fuck is with all of you!? I know I am fat!" You cried the black was traveling faster now. It was in your bloodstream boiling you alive. The black had covered your hands and wrists and was quickly consuming your arms, you were sure your feet and calves were black as well.

Tony stood and moved towards you followed by Thor and clint.

"Please try to relax, I am sure Tony didn't mean it that way!" Natasha called out, but all you could feel was the extreme heat radiating off of you.

"Reindeer Games, we could really use your frosty powers." Tony called out as he tried to take your hand only to have you wrench your hand out of his.

"Don't touch me! I know you all look down on me! I can't control this! I can't help what happens! I don't look pretty or skinny or anything like any of you!" You were shrieking now, the black was consuming your ribcage, and had traveled up the side of your face, your eyes were dilated and becoming more and more black,soon you wouldnt be able to hold back.

A freezing cold hand clasped onto the back of your neck and gently held you snapping you back to reality as you gasped and shivered. You couldn't see who it was but by the widened eyes of the others you knew it was Loki in his Jotun form. You felt the heat beginning to cool as he enveloped you in a hug from behind.

"Shhhh, just breathe little flame. no one thinks ill of you. Tony is a twat. I,for one, think you are beautiful." You could hear his hushed tones and even if he was lying you knew him to be the God of lies. Slowly the others backed away as the blackness on your skin receded. Loki pulled you backwards down the hall and into your room. He released you and sat you on the bed.

"Why on midgard would you think that way about yourself?" He asked gently as he also turned back to a pale cream color. You kept your eyes trained on the floor.

" all my life...I've been ran, trained and pushed harder than any other due to my size....never for benefit...it was always out of malice to break me...to try to show me what I cannot do...you heard Tony...even you said I wasnt like your asgardians." You felt yourself begin to crumble in the depth of the reality. Loki took your face into his hands and shushed your mind with his seidr.

"I said no such thing little flame. I said you weren't like them. That is a compliment to you. The women from my home are not as beautiful as you." You let out a small sigh as you felt his thumb brush your cheek. You were crying again, your emotions running freely now. You were always like this after an outburst. Volatile is what everyone had called you. A liability.

"Stop it darling. I can hear you putting yourself down. Dont think like that." He spoke gently as he made you stare up into his green eyes.

"Just focus on your breathing and listen to me. You are still so young and need to just become aware of your abilities. In time I have no doubt you will be stronger than any of us, myself included." He smiled and released your face.

"...thank you 'my prince'... even if you are silver tongued." You spoke hoarsely. Loki sighed and paused looking at the door, his back to you.

"Rest little flame...you need to sleep after such an ordeal." and with that left the room.

You tossed and turned trying hard to sleep only to finally drift into a nightmare.

Fire, ash and embers fell from the sky raining all around you as you shivered. You were a small child, possibly 10 maybe younger. Your house had burned down leaving you in the snow shivering with your arms clasped around yourself. You could see him...the monster...the man who forced his imprint onto you. Who made you who you are. His body was covered in an inky black substance that dripped and oozed from his skin and mouth. Everywhere it toucbed began to catch fire and burn away. While trembling in numbness and fear you watched as his arms reached out and plucked you from the snow. You screamed and kicked as the black ink flowed onto your flesh like liquid, but it wasnt on your flesh...it was under it...you felt boiling heat consuming you as you screamed and kicked. The man's dripping black eyes shined in the burning carcass of the house.

"Let it consume you child. Let it have all of you." His voice was smooth and deep but only made you fight harder. You could feel the black ink splatter your face from him speaking.

Your eyes shot open as you sat up groggily. Your head was pounding and you could smell smoke. Jumping from the bed you ran down the hall

"Loki!" You screamed as you looked for the source of the smoke.

"What?! What is it?" Loki turned to look at you as you stood panting in the kitchen. He was standing holding the toaster angrily, smoke billowing from it. You felt the tightness in your chest ease as laughter escaped you. Relaxed laughter flooded the air as you watched Loki turn back to the toaster and curse it. You could feel the tension slip away almost fully as you pushed the God out of the kitchen and threw the now ruined toaster away. You made food for the two of you and sat a plate infront of the sulking Loki.

"I made you steak and potatoes....I figured you'd enjoy it more than burnt toast." You snickered as he scowled at you. You smiled as Loki pouted but still ate every bite of food. You found the silence kind of relaxing as your mind wondered.

How were the rest of the team doing? When would they be back? You felt your mind reaching darker depths. You remembered your dream and it got you thinking about your parents.

"Little flame?" Loki spoke gently sitting properly. He had an empty plate infront of him, but had no intention of leaving the table. Your pet name being uttered snapped you back to reality causing your eyes to flick to his.

"Hmm?" You half purred.

"...Tell me what is weighing so heavily upon you? What is consuming you?" He spoke softly but his stare deep and almost primal.

There was that word again...consume...

Loki swallowed saliva as black flashed through your veins quickly, just barely visible under your skin. If he had blinked at the right time he would have missed it.

"What is consuming me?" You repeat as you feel a hot flash travel up your body.

"I-I don't know what it is...I...I lost my parents and I was just a child and a man-or-erm a thing that looked like a man tied me up. He flooded me with...this." you held your hand up which was numb, your fingertips black which faded downward on your hand into your creamy skin.

Loki looked deep in thought for a moment.

"May I try something little flame?" He spoke casually as he gently scooted away from the table.

"Let us go to the training room...I need to be sure you will be willing and alright." He spoke calmly but you could feel your own heartbeat pick up. The inky black feeling in your veins. You pushed yourself from the table and followed him into the training room. He closed the blinds which left only the white artificial light cascading down on you.

"Trust me little flame." He spoke gently as he moved quickly towards you and began circling you. Your heart beat was throbbing in your ears now. You felt bile in your throat.

Loki's eyes flashed a deep green and he spoke again filling the deafening silence.

"I need you to strip down...."

#loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #lokixfemalereader #flame #shitty grammar #sorry #chapters #loki x reader

[occasionalfics]

worth my while // p. 10

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | p. 9 | p. 11

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power.

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.You know you shouldn’t get involved.

But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au…kind of…)

A/N: We’re so close to finishing! I have some kind of major edits that have to be made to the next two parts, but hopefully they won’t take too long!

Warnings: Violence, lots of angst, borderline abuse and definite manipulation, way too many feels, major character death (eventually). Hades is terrible.

Words: 3,363

He gets Hades within an inch of his life. Only a God can kill a God, and Thor is strong enough and driven enough to take Hades out if he must.

But first, Hades must take him to his lair - his real lair - and show him how to save (Y/N). Thor knows Hades won’t do it of his own volition. He’s dealt with Gods like this before.

He thinks of Loki as he holds a fist around Hades’ neck. He thinks of the lies his brother has told, the lies his father told them both. He remembers when he was held captive by Agent Coulson, when Loki came in disguised in Midgardian clothes and told him their father had died, that Thor was banished for good.

But Loki should have known their mother better. She taught him all her tricks, after all, and it was one of her tricks that had righted all of the wrongs Loki had set forth all those years ago.

Thor shakes his head to clear it now, because Loki is not in front of him. Hades is not Loki, and Thor has no emotional ties to the God he holds by the neck except for the human woman he knows, in his heart, is already dead.

“You will show me how to bring her back,” he seethes, “or I will end your life, too.”

Hades smirks. Thor wonders how often (Y/N) has had to look at that smirk and know she’s made a decision that will ripple out like a drop of rain into a calm lake. There’s something about the smugness that fills even Thor with a sense of dread that he’s about to take a step he’ll never be able to come back from.

For her, he’ll do it. He knows other mortals need to be saved, that maybe even those Hades is commanding needs to be saved. But he also knows he is the only one with the ability, the power to take Hades out. He has to act quickly.

Hades lifts a hand and...snap!

Darkness.

It’s a stark difference from the overbearing sunshine in New York and the murky evening in Normandy.

Thor’s hand tightens around Hades’ throat until the other God is gagging, clawing at the huge fist around him.

A torch lights on a dark, cavernous wall. Thor eases his grip as torches lining a long and narrow hall before them ignite. Hades gasps for air, glaring at Thor as he attempts to regain his balance.

“You know you have to keep me alive to see her again, right?” Hades asks. He receives no response.

It takes a moment, but eventually. Hades straightens his suit out. He stands tall, turns away from Thor, and leads the way down the cold and empty hall.

“Hope you like it here, God of Thunder,” Hades calls as they walk through a threshold. “Might be here awhile.” He takes a step to the side, crosses his arms, and nods out over his domain.

Before them is a large lake that looks still from the surface. There’s a light glowing from below that illuminates a movement beneath, though, and as Thor steps closer to the shore, he can see faces. They look as if they’re sleeping, but their mouths are all moving. It’s like...like they’re having one collective nightmare as they float along with the water’s current.

“What’d’ya think of Styx?” Hades asks. He grips onto Thor’s shoulder suddenly, and Thor is just about to retaliate when he notices a transparent arm lift itself from the water and stretch toward his leg. In an instant, Thor leans into the hand on his shoulder, grimacing as he stumbles away from the river.

“Do not waste my time,” Thor says, turning to glare at his nemesis.

“Oh, believe me, I’m not.” Hades let’s go of Thor and nods again, this time with meaning, to show direction. Across the river, the light shifts into one beam, swirling and seeking something specific as souls all move around it.

The river is deeper than it looks. It seems to go on forever. Thor has never seen anything like this, and the thought chills him to the bone. The chill worsens when the spotlight finds what it’s looking for and zeroes in on it.

(Y/N).

Everything in him shudders and slumps. Thinking she is dead is one thing - seeing it… is entirely another. But there she is, mumbling with the rest of the crowd, flowing along with the water because there is no other choice for her tethered soul.

Thor almost charges into the river, but is, again, stopped by Hades’ hand on his shoulder.

“You should know, the river will only give her soul back if she wasn’t meant to die in the first place,” Hades tells him.

Thor only looks back because that seems like far too useful information to give so freely. His brows furrow, and yet again, he steps away from the river.

“And if she was?” he asks, unable to finish, knowing it’s unnecessary anyway.

Hades smirks again. “Skin of any kind can’t withstand the Styx’s properties. Not for long, anyway. Asgardians...well, to tell you the truth, I’ve never had one of you down here before, so I don’t know how long you’d last. But after long enough, you’ll either drown or disintegrate, and your soul will be stuck right alongside hers.”

His first thought is At least I’ll be with her, but he banishes it immediately.

Thor is certain that (Y/N) was not meant to die. She wasn’t supposed to die for him. All she’d meant to do was keep him from hurting himself, to keep him from being the one swirling around in Hades’ death lake.

He’s willing to risk his life on this bet. On the hope, nay, the belief that, despite having been working for this God of Death beside him the entire time, (Y/N) does not deserve to be in that lake. She was not meant to die in that car. Not for him, not like that.

He has nothing left to say to Hades. His mind is made up.

Thor turns back to the lake. He takes two deep breaths, then presses his toes into the impossibly cold water of the Styx. It takes no time at all before souls are clawing at him - or getting as close to clawing as they can when they are made of something lighter than air, lighter than skin, and somehow still colder than the river itself.

He only turns back to leave Mjölnir on the shore, knowing Hades is not worthy of such a weapon. Then, with one last deep breath, he dives in head first.

Souls latch onto him with every stroke as he swims against the current. The darkness settles around him, the cold seeps into his body and drowns out the warmth of his lightning. He thinks This must be what it feels like to die slowly, but reminds himself that he will not die. He can’t. Not because it’s impossible, but because he needs to reach (Y/N), save her, then return to saving the world.

This isn’t like him.

Thor doesn’t put his duties aside for one life. He fights for the greater good, for the collective mass that cannot fight for themselves.

The life of one girl should mean nothing.

But this...woman - and she is a woman - is so much more. He has never been willing to die for just one person before. Sure, he’s been willing to fight for whole civilizations before, but this?

This woman, who lied to him. This woman, who barely told him anything about her. This woman...who saw past the facade of the Avengers, saw past the God-like stature, posture, and posturing. This woman, who’d clearly seen death and had, until recently, lived to tell the tale.

Thor has never loved someone he knew so little about. But the thing is, he realizes, as he pushes past souls that do not belong to him, that he doesn’t know little details. He knows who she is.

She is complicated. She is kind and sometimes shy. She is guarded and somehow still so open with her time and attention. She makes him feel truly worthy of the chance he’s been given to redeem himself. She makes him feel adored in a much more intimate way than any of the girls he meets at Avengers events. She makes him feel like he is the sun to her moon, day to her night.

There is no one else in the universe he would rather risk his life for.

Halfway across the river, he can see the aging spots on his hands, the wrinkles along his fingers. He knows he’s slowing down, but he can’t stop. Not when he’s this close. Hades had said nothing about this - a feeling not unlike the one he’d had when, only hours earlier, Hades had taken his strength.

Thor is not surprised.

He can’t die.

He has to save her.

She saved him. From so much loneliness, from being misunderstood until the end of his days. From going out into the battlefield with no strength, no weapon, no abilities.

She was not meant to die. He knows it in his heart and soul.

He can see her when his skin starts to flake. He reaches, but has to continue his strokes to get closer. His arms feel heavy and his body is exhausted. The current starts to pull at him, but he cannot let it have him.

She needs him. He is her only hope.

She is his, too.

Souls all around him fling themselves at him, drag him down and away. But Thor is nothing if not determined. He pushes on, knows he has to do it.

And he does.

His hand wraps around (Y/N)’s. She feels far more solid than the other souls. She moves much more lightly than they do. Thor brings her in close to his chest, tries to hear what she’s mumbling, but the words are quick and unintelligible. It’s like she’s repeating every word she’s ever said.

They rise together from the river. Her soul doesn’t take a solid form, but it feels warmer in his hands the closer to the surface they get. Her eyes don’t open, but for once, he’s rather glad for that. He’s not sure what a Soul’s eyes might hold, and he’s not certain he wants to know.

They break the surface of the river, and warmth and fullness and strength all fill his body. It’s like the Earth above is fighting off the death below. He wonders if her soul feels anything at all.

He swims them back to shore, where a dumbstruck Hades awaits. Thor cradles (Y/N) to his chest, calling Mjölnir to him with an open palm.

“Did you truly believe she was meant to be here?” Thor asks, throwing his own smirk at Hades. He raises his weapon-wielding arm, points his hammer at Hades, and lets loose a long, violent string of lightning.

It brings Hades to his knees. Thor stands over him, making sure he can see the peaceful yet unsettling look on (Y/N)’s face.

“She no longer belongs to you, and neither does the world above.”

With that, he unleashes all that he has left.

It puts the flame of Hades’ hair to shame.

--

Death is quiet. It is nothing. It is the absence of light and dark, good and evil, high and low. It is, truly, peaceful.

What’s not peaceful is the incessant beeping you keep hearing. Your head hurts so badly. But you were sure that Death made you feel no pain. It made you feel nothing, think nothing, become nothing.

The ringing in your ears says otherwise.

The bright light in your eyes confirms it.

Did you somehow make it into Heaven?

Is there such a place to begin with?

Well. You know there’s a place where souls go when bodies die. You’re sure you were going there. That you’d been there.

But it can’t possibly look like another hospital room.

Something’s not right. The last thing you remember is...is Tony Stark’s voice telling you how far away an ambulance was. Friday coming in to correct him. Hands grabbing the wheel, grabbing the airbag, grabbing you. Pain so intense, you black out until those hands put you on a bed- no, a stretcher.

They hadn’t even gotten you into the ambulance before you’d died.

How are you here, now, though? How are you blinking in a room that you are sure, with every bit of your being, does not belong to Hades? You’re breathing, and you can taste the clinically clean aroma of the room. It doesn’t make sense.

Someone steps into the space between you and the window. You squint because, at first, they’re shrouded in shadow. Your heart speeds as fear courses through your veins - the only logical explanation your brain can conceive of is that Hades has found you and is here to take you with him for good. You’d held up your end of the bargain, earned your freedom by betraying the one person that believed in your goodness, and now he was just going to punish you for it anyway.

But the shoulders are too broad. The hair isn’t the right color, and this person isn’t wearing a suit. Actually, it looks like they came straight from battle and only changed clothes.

Sam’s olive t-shirt is pressed and clean, and so are his jeans, but his face is covered in dirt and grime. His expression isn’t promising as he approaches. You wonder if he’s dead, too, and your heart goes into overdrive.

Sam can’t be dead. You know you barely know him but he’s the second closest to you on the team and you, at least, know he doesn’t deserve to die. Hades has done nothing to earn his soul.

So if Sam isn’t dead, that must mean that...you’re not either.

“Hey,” he says as he leans on the edge of the bed. He sounds a little shaken, but still like Sam. Still like he’s gonna pull a joke the second you say something he can turn back on you - all in the name of fun, of course.

You find it undeniably easy to open your mouth and get out a small, “Hi,” back. You sound well rested and, generally, you feel it, too. Aside from a few sore spots, it’s like...like you weren’t in a car wreck at all.

In a moment of overconfident comfort, you try to push yourself up. But then a spasm in your back stops you, and you grunt until Sam’s hands find your shoulders and hold you gently.

“I wouldn’t,” he says, just as softly.

What is it with these Avengers and their dainty hands? You think.

You settle back against the bed and try to get comfortable again, but now that you’ve moved, you doubt that’ll happen. There are several knots along your spine that feel like rocks beneath your skin, sitting heavily on your muscles. Your chest is a little tight, and if you breathe too deeply, your ribs ignite in internal fire. You know at least a few of them have to be broken.

“What...the hell...happened?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

And then it happens: Sam smirks, crosses his arms, and chuckles at you.

“Depends on where you left off.”

You take a second to remember, then tell him that Thor left you in the wreck after Tony Stark assured him you’d be taken care of. Sam nods and pulls the chair in the corner up to the bed.

“So, kid, you died,” he says. He’s a little too blasé about it for your taste. But you give him the benefit of the doubt, since you’re, clearly, no longer dead. “Dude with blue flames for hair tried to take over the world.”

“Hades.” Your fists ball at your sides and you ignore the pain of your nails digging into your palms. It’s nothing compared to how that wreck felt, anyway.

Sam’s smile fades a bit, but he nods. “After what I’ve seen, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Where is he?” you ask. If Hades is still out running around, no one is safe. Not for long.

But Sam shrugs. “He came and went. We were all in different places, fighting off zombies. I think they were zombies. It’s… It was weird, (Y/N).”

You want to laugh, but his tone isn’t as comedic, and you really aren’t in the mood. Everything hurts, and the fact that Thor isn’t here is only serving to remind you that you failed in your attempt to keep him safe. You don’t know how you’re still alive, but you think it must mean that Thor isn’t. He took your place, somehow.

You let out a deep breath. It hurts leaving every second. “I’m so sorry, Sam,” you say, and then you look at the bed because you can’t stand to keep eye contact with him anymore.

Thor is his friend, too. And now he’s gone, and it’s all your fault. Everything is your fault. The zombies and the destruction and your own death - it all weighs down your shoulders and back and makes you even less comfortable than you already are.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out for one of your hands. You don’t stop him from holding on. The warmth of his palm against yours, the slight scent of coconut oil contents you just a little. “What in the world are you sorry for?” he asks.

You shrug. “Everything.” Your voice cracks and you feel your eyes become weighed down with tears. It all happens so fast, there’s no way for you to hide it.

“Oh, kid,” he says. His hand tightens on yours just a smidge. Then another, and another, just until you finally look at him again. “This is part of our job, (Y/N). You didn’t choose the life we did, but this is all just...stuff we get used to. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“He was my boss,” you say. Finally. To someone, out loud.

Sam looks at you for a second, stunned, then cocks his head a bit. “The blue guy?”

You nod. “It- um. It’s a long story.”

There’s a silence then, as Sam waits for you to tell him the whole thing. But you don’t. You find it hard to swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth, though.

“Gimme the short version, then,” Sam says softly.

Without much hesitation, you do. It feels...unimaginably good to finally say it to someone. To open up and get out just: “My ex and I got in a fight one night. He was hit by a car, died on impact. Hades found me, made me a deal I couldn’t turn down and...um. Brought my ex back to life. It didn’t work out, but I was stuck in his service until…”

You look away, toward the door, though no one is coming in. It takes you a split second to realize you were hoping Thor would be there.

Sam gets it immediately. “He’s not here,” he says, once again squeezing your fist in his hand. “He got called home.”

Your eyes widen. Home. The clock on his wall is the first thing in your mind. The one that made him happy and sad at the same time.

“Oh.” It’s all you can get out at first. But of course he was called home. Of course this...Hades...that would be the one thing to make him worthy of Asgard again.

You should’ve known better than to fall for an alien Prince. But, god, did it feel so good to let yourself give in.

Even now, when you think about him lightyears away, you don’t really regret it. Given the chance, you know immediately that you’d do it all over again. Every second of it, just maybe not with Hades involved. Definitely without the secrets and the fake need to keep things casual.

“Good for him.”

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor fic #thor au #worth my while fic #hercules au

[trashcats-for-trashwriting]

In Light of Ardegi Allegations...

 I would like to take the time to share my personal story. First and foremost, I want to say I did not contribute to the anonymous messages sent to @/official-darkforest. Whether that is believed or not, well, I can’t force anyone’s hand. Seeing those messages made me think, though. If others have struggled, maybe I should share my experience. So, I’m going to try to recount events that led to my leaving the Ardegi server as best I can from my memory. I admittedly only have 1 screenshot that I will share below the cut; the rest is from memory and I want to try my best to present the most honest account I can.

EDIT: THERE ARE SOME ADDITIONAL NOTES AT THE END OF THIS. THE ORIGINAL STORY HAS NOT CHANGED BUT I HAVE ADDED SOME THOUGHTS.

I joined Ardegi last year and quickly created a gaggle of characters. For a time, I was really happy! I enjoy helping RP servers even when I am not a moderator, because it gives me something to do and a way to distract myself. RP has always been an outlet for me. I make my friends through RP and find creative freedom in RP. I offered to do things for Ardegi -- I made a map, which they still have permission to use to this day, I helped with a timeline and herb list -- and didn’t ask for anything in return.

I was, as I am in any RP, highly active. I was a full time college student taking online classes at the time, so I had a lot of free time on my hands. This allowed me to be available for RP for most of the day, all week. This led to me being involved in all the Clans’ plots as a reliable, active RPer.

If you follow the Ardegi blog, you may have seen mentions of Delilah of RustClan. I was approached by Admin Ken after pitching Delilah as a dark-minded character about possibly making her the next villain for the serverwide plot. I was happy and honored to accept.

I felt like I was friends with the staff team. The admins and moderators were easy to talk to. I became close to them, and sometimes would talk to them as friends in DMs when I had personal issues. I felt involved and included and genuinely a part of the server as a whole. During my time and talking to staff, they told me about past members who had been removed for a variety of reasons, and I was lead to believe that these members were bad for RP and that I should warn other RPs about them.

I’ve since learned all was not as it seemed, and that apparently these types of lies were unfortunately common. Additionally, I had friends who struggled to fit in with the Ardegi group. I was confused at the time. I had seemed to fit in so well, why were they struggling? Now, I feel as though it was the wool over my eyes that allowed me to fit in.

As a 21 year old in college, I admittedly suffered a lot of pressure, anxiety, stress, and depression. I still do, to a degree. Those of you who use RP and Discord servers may know that there is sometimes a channel called a “vent” channel. Sometimes it is preceeded with TW tags as well, because, in my experience, it is meant as a place to yell into the void and not have the void expected to yell back.

I started to go downhill in Ardegi after the new year.

In February, I was issued a warning by staff for godmodding characters. I had taken up the position of deputy in CliffClan and had told the currently serving medicine cat to assume they had healthy patients. In Ardegi, there was (at the time) a system for sick cats in CliffClan. It was complicated, a lot was going on, and the moderator who controlled the system was not easy to get in touch with, nor was the leader of the Clan. Rather than struggle with the system, I advised the medicine cat’s RPer that they did not need to do sickness rolls. I did not say the RPers wouldn’t request treatment still, but they no longer needed to do the complicated rolling system to see if treatment succeeded or failed.

This was deemed godmodding, and I was warned.

Shortly thereafter, I suffered an extreme bout of depression. I turned to the vent channel, which had been an extremely good outlet for me in the past, as I did not expect members to offer any support or aid. They’re not trained professionals. Vent is for yelling into the void, and so I yelled. I said I was not good enough, vented in an, admittedly, self-deprecating manner. I wasn’t looking for aid, I just wanted to yell.

A staff member messaged me after this occurred, and we started to talk. Believing that this was a personal discussion, not a discussion between a member of the RP and a staff member, I admitted that the godmodding warning had broken the dam of emotions I had been holding back for weeks. Stress from school had piled up, and as some of you with mental illness might know, it only takes one thing to break that dam sometimes. There’s nothing you can do about what breaks down the dam. You deal with it. You move on.

I admitted this to the staff member believing we were having a conversation as friends. I was wrong.

During these events, I was busy apologizing to the aforementioned medicine cat of CliffClan for my choice about the sick cats, and the staff member that had created the system. I was still in a bad place mentally, and I did not want to start confrontation or argument. I know that I can be hostile in the depths of depression, so rather than lash out, I wished to amend things professionally and without allowing for emotions to seep in.

Still struggling with a depressive episode, I turned to my personal Tumblr blog (not this blog) and vented. I have never forced anyone to follow my blog. I did not take the post I made to Ardegi and say “Hey guys, look at this!” In no way did I believe this post affected Ardegi. It was not a happy post. It was not a lighthearted post. It was sad and angry and depressing, but posting it made me feel better.

After I posted in my personal blog, I fell asleep. I calmed myself, recovered, and tried to start the slow climb back to stability. I was added to a group message with both admins and a moderator and sent the following message:

I don’t deny these points, but I felt attacked. 

1. Vent channels are for venting. As my vent was posted before the spoiler system in Discord, I had no way to black out what I said. The vent channel was marked as possibly triggering.

2. As mentioned, the things I said to a staff member were said friend-to-friend, not member-to-staff. I wasn’t saying it to make the staff member fix anything. I was just trying to talk to a friend and express what had happened.

3. My neutral-toned apology was meant to be professional, unbiased, and removed from the emotional state I was in.

4. My personal blog post was not shared in the server. I never asked the server to follow me.

I never abused or attacked any members of Ardegi. I was flexible with plots and RP. I adjusted my villain to fit within the standards of the RP (a RP that allowed the inclusion of the murder of a litter of kittens, in cold blood, before I was a member). I never asked Ardegi to be the professionals to help me. I used the appropriate channels to vent and spoke privately to a friend who turned out not to be a friend.

RP was my outlet. I believe that I never harmed anyone within Ardegi. Though it was phrased as asking me to take a willing leave of absence, the following line of deliberating whether I could stay or not was phrased in a way that...made me feel like I had no choice. I could leave quietly, or I would be forced out. I left quietly after expressing that I felt they had given me no choice.

Following my departure, friends within the server told me it was explained that I had left voluntarily. I shared the screenshot above with my friends and explained what I have explained here today. I cannot speak for my friends’ opinions, but I felt betrayed by Ardegi. They were lying to my friends and saying I had left voluntarily, making it sound like this was a choice I had.

I had no choice.

I could leave, or they would have made me leave. That’s not a choice, Ardegi, that’s an ultimatum.

I have since met some of the people that Ardegi’s staff spoke ill of to me. Those people, or rather person in my case, is not a bad person. They are nothing like what Ardegi led me to believe. After my own experience and sharing it with others, I really can’t believe in good faith that Ardegi hasn’t done what Anonymous users are claiming they’ve done. I know others they have hurt. Some members find a decent community there, but it’s not easy. From my experience, being in the leadership positions helps keep you in favor of the staff.

Make your own decisions. This is my testimony. I don’t want to cower and hide. Ardegi can say what they want about me; this is the story as I know it.

EDITED ADDITION BEGINS HERE

After posting this, I got in talks with Admin Ken of the Ardegi server. I had always considered the Ardegi team my friends before this incident, and so I was genuinely hurt by the message I had received. Ken and I set out to address our mutual concerns and try to find a common ground, and I believe we have achieved this.

Ken admits that the handling of my situation was not ideal, and that staff honestly panicked when faced with a situation of a member in deep depression. In Ken’s own words, 

“It was never our intent to just throw you out like that - our intent was to approach you and ask you to voluntarily take your leave, which we assumed you did - we didn’t intentionally lie to members about that.”

Knowing Ken before this event and having talked extensively, I believe these words to be genuine. I still believe that, 3 or so months ago, Ardegi did have some problems with how they handled my situation. I was not banned, but I left feeling as though that was my only option. Having talked to Ken, I realize now this wasn’t their intent.

Both sides admit their shortcomings. I should have handled my episode better, and staff should have handled the situation better. Ardegi has learned from this and is, in my opinion, trying to improve. Not all RP servers are perfect. 

Obviously, the biggest part of this is communication. Ken and I admit this should have been a talk had a long time ago, but neither of us was willing to make that first step for a long time. We have both apologized and want to try being friends again, which I think is a very positive outcome.

If you need to ask questions, you can message me here or at  bepbep_beaches#6020 on Discord.

#ardegi #warrior cat rp #ardegiwc #warriors rp #warriors #warrior cats #warrior cat oc #warriors oc #long #text

[cielpurrple]

Make Me 18.2

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Word count: 7472 Warnings: cursing, #SelfControlCHIM 

Summary: Give Y/N a fire truck loaded with holy water, she’s thirsty!!!

The thought of you and Jimin being together in one house again made your stomach tumble. You tried to keep your excitement to yourself as you supress the smile that’s forming on your lips while a lot of thoughts with a plan of surprising Jimin once in a while came into your mind.

As you watch the view from the window, you began planning what would you cook for him, a weekly movie date, maybe in blanket and pillow forts; things like that. You then felt his hand search for yours, so you took his hand and looked at him, only to find out that he’s eyes were already on you.

“What?”

You half chuckle as you ask him.

“Nothing, I’m just happy you’re with me right now, going home,” he smiled back.

You internally prayed that your blush was concealed by the darkness of the night.

“Eyes on the road,” you reminded him to concentrate in driving.

“Aye, aye,” he shifted his gaze.

After passing different landmarks, you were now slowing down into another expensive looking residential area. He turned left and approached a tall, dark metal gate. As you observed, it’s also automatic but when you pass by, two men dressed identically as his grandmother’s bodyguards gave him a polite bow as a greeting.

He stopped in front of the house, get out of the vehicle, and opened the door for you and offered his hand which you gladly accepted. You thanked him while he guided you out of his car. The men earlier carried your belongings and brought it beside the front door.

Your eyes scanned your surroindings although it’s dark, you cannot deny that it’s beautifully kept and expensively designed.

“Shall we come inside?” he asked.

You nod. He pushed the door, but to your surprise, he suddenly scooped you up bridal style which made you squeak. Then you noticed you weren’t alone, a familiar scenario wherein people stood in two lines greeted you.

“Put me down Jimin, it’s embarrassing!” you half whispered, half screamed.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that until we’re at the bottom of the stairs,” he relpied as he walked past the people who’s looking at the two of you.

He carefully put you down when you’re at the bottom of the stairs. You scanned the interioirs of his house and it’s mostly earth colors with a bit of blacks, reds, and greens.

“I wanna show you something, come,” he held your hand and slightly dragged you to wherever it is that he wanted to show you.

You walked past the kitchen, a large dining area, until he slide one of the glass doors and pressed a switch.

You smiled as you saw a swimming pool, with fake candles floating around it.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whispered.

“That’s nothing compared to what I’m looking at,” he replied.

You turned to look at him so you could see where he is looking, you gave him a shy smile as you see him looking at your direction, straight to your eyes.

“May I dance with you?” he suddenly asked for your permission out of the blue.

“There’s no music, how are we—“ you were cut off when a soft melody from you don’t know where became audible.

“Now, may I have this dance?” he offered his hand to you this time and you accepted it.

You lightly placed your arms on his shoulders as he put his hands on both sides of your waist. You let him guide your movements, and slowly swayed into the music.

“How clever, you planned this don’t you?” you spoke as you looked at him.

“Of course, I wanted to make a bigger, grander welcome party for you but I didn’t have much time and graduation’s there so this is just what I managed to do,” he explained.

You shook your head in disbelief, with the thought that he’s still thinking his efforts wasn’t enough.

“I’ve told you many times, you’re presence is enough remember?” you looked into his eyes which seems to sparkle in the pale lights.

“This is me, making up for the days I wasn’t able to be with you, and of course last Valentine’s and White day baby,” he replied.

“Aww, how sweet of you,” you couldn’t help but to hug him in return of his efforts.

“Welcome home, Y/N.” He whispered.

“Thanks, I’m glad to be home, with you.” you relpied.

Your words made Jimin search for your lips and kiss you gently.

“You looked beautiful on that dress baby,” he commented.

“Thanks, your grandmother sent me this,” you confessed.

“I should give her a call and thank her then,” he replied.

“No, we should visit her instead,” you suggested.

“That’s a better idea, but before that, why don’t we change into comfy clothes? I’ll take you to your room,” he offered.

You nod at him and let him lead.

He immediately brought you to your bedroom door.

“This is it, your room.” he said while he pointed at the closed door.

“Thank you. um, where’s yours?” you asked innocently but to Jimin, that question of yours made him feel nervous and excited.

“It’s for you to find out princess, now go get changed.” He said as he watch you enter your room.

Upon entering, you were surprised and delighted to see that your room is decorated in pastel colors, same with your room at his grandmother’s house.

You carefully took off your dress, and hung it neatly for dry cleaning later.

You stared at your reflection, wearing that sexy underwear and that’s when you remembered what Jungkook told you. But another thought which was Z’s advice came popping into your mind. You sighed as you pulled your luggage and grabbed whichever clothing was on top. You’re now wearing shorts and an oversized shirt. You started unpacking while waiting for Jimin although you want to search for him.

You’ve finished placing all of your belongings to it’s appropriate places and yet, he hasn’t come around so you got bored. You lied on your bed and it’s so fluffy, it feels so comfortable.

You pulled the strap of your bag and pulled your phone out. You were surprised to see several messages from the boys, and from your parents.

You replied to  your father first whom asked how did your move went. You told him that it went out smoothly since you don’t have much things to pack and bring in  the first place.

Your father called after you replied and you excitedly answered it.

“Heya, dad!” you greeted him.

[Aren’t you too cheery for bedtime?] his frown is visible through the video call.

“It’s  because I miss you and, I ate sweets for dessert earlier,” you replied.

You smiled even wider when your mother comes in and joined the conversation, carrying Potchi.

“Hi mom! Hello Mr. Potchi!” you greeted them.

[Hello, darling, Potch say hi] she held one of the dog’s front leg and waved it.

[So, how’s your move?] your father asked.

“It was okay, I just brought my clothes and school stuffs,�� you replied.

You gave them a tour on your room and as you do it, your father suddenly speak.

[If that’s your room, where’s Jimin and where is his room?] he probed.

“We talked an hour ago Dad, and I don’t have an idea where his room is”

Your father just gave a hum as a response. Then, you told them that Jimin’s house was also spacious  and the only thing that differs is that it’s modern and he has people working for him.

[So, does that mean the two of you are not alone in that house, correct?] your father confirms.

“Yes, Dad. We’re about ten here? I think.” You assured him.

[Alright, don’t forget to study okay?] your father reminded you.

“Yes Dad!” you smiled.

Then he passed the phone to your mother who’s now walking away to the living room and went to your unoccupied room.

[I wanted to tell you this in person but it will take so much time so, this will do...] your mother started

Your heart suddenly became uneasy, it began to beat faster.

“What is it Mom? C’mon, you can tell me” you said.

[I know this is out of the blue and I know that you are a smart girl, a good girl...] she said, as she sat down on the edge of your bed, adjusting the phone so you can still see her.

You waited for her to continue, She sighed and started talking again.

[Well, let me make this short honey, just take care of yourself and behave okay?] she gave a small smile in the end.

“Of course, Mom. I love you. Tell dad and Potch I love them too.”

[Rest well, and text me still every day, okay?]

“Will do Mom. Good night, bye.”

You stared at your phone for a little while as you think about what’s going on in your mother’s mind that she can’t say directly at you.

Then you chose to open Jungkook’s message

[From: Jungkook

Havin’ a fun night? :p]

[To: Jungkook

Of course! Jimin and Taehyung just graduated. Aren’t you happy for them?]

[From: Jungkook

*eye roll gif* ofc i’m happy. What I’m saying is, are you having fun wd Jimin – hyung right now?]

[To: Jungkook

Yes.]

You waited for his reply but he didn’t seem to read your last message. You waited for Jimin to knock on your door but still he hasn’t returned yet and you wanted to watch TV but you’re hesitant to go downstairs because of what he did earlier.

You sighed as you press your speed dial number 3, and waited for the other line to ring but, you were quite surprised when Jimin’s phone number is busy. So you left him a text message asking if he’s awake.

You waited for his reply but there’s no response for him until you finally fall asleep.

Meanwhile, after Jimin brought you to your room, he ran towards his own room which is just at the other end of the hall from yours and went straight to the shower. That dress of yours although it’s far from revealing made him feel some sort of way. This dress was more tempting than what you wore during Summer Solstice. He calmed himself down as the water gushes over his body. He dressed quickly so he can hang out with you again but he noticed that the door to his office is open. He kicked it and revealed Hoseok, who jumped into his seat due to shock.

“For heaven’s sake, you surprised me.” he said while clutching his heart.

“Ditto, what do you need from me in on this hour?” he said in a serious manner.

“Well, I just came here out of curiosity,” he replied while looking at his fingernails.

“So, you really mean it huh, the moving in thingy?”

Jimin returned Hoseok’s question with a stare.

“Well, it seems that you’re really serious about that plan” he smiled awkwardly.

“I am.” Jimin responded dryly.

“How about her, are you serious about her?” Hoseok replied with now a hint of seriousness on his tone.

Jimin kept quiet, trying to calm himself down. He doesn’t want to talk to Hoseok at this late of night, and not now that you’re living together.

“Just tell me your goddamn business here right now so we can end it.” Jimin snapped.

Hoseok sighed, and began talking.

“Are you gonna tell your girlfriend you know, her?”

Jimin’s eyes widen upon realizing what he’s talking about. His face lost it’s color.

“If I can avoid it, I wouldn’t.” He replied firmly.

It’s Hoseok’s turn to be surprised this time.

“Wouldn’t it be unfair to Y/N, Jimin?” He leaned closer to the table, anticipating his answer

“Now is not the right time to tell her anything about her. Now, can you leave?” Jimin starts to lose his cool.

Hoseok, stood up while both arms are slightly raised and exited the house while Jimin touched his forehead trying to stay calm. When that didn’t work, he turned the monitor of his computer and began working which took until wee hours of the night. He wanted to punch himself for that so he left his work and went to your room.

He softly knocked and called your name and when he didn’t hear any response, he opened the door and quietly peeked. He saw your sleeping form on the large bed but you’re not under the covers so he slowly went inside tryig not to wake you up.

He pulled the duvet as slowly as he could, and put it on top of your sleeping state.

“Good night princess, see you later.” He whispered and left.

You were sleeping peacefully when you heard a soft voice calling you.

“Princess, wake up~” you heard a familiar voice.

You slowly open your eyes and you instantly smiled upon seeing Jimin, aka your boyfriend.

“There, good morning, princess. Had a good rest?” he asked.

“Yes. The bed is comfy, thank you.” you smiled at him.

“Of course. So, shall we have some breakfast?”

You glanced at your clock and it’s already 9 o’clock.

“Can I atleast make myself presentable?”

He nods and sat at the edge of your bed.

When you’re ready, the both of you went downstairs together and went straight to the dining room.

You were surpised with a lot of food that’s nicely prepared on the table.

“So, do we have guests?” you asked.

“Uh, no, we don’t have. Why?” he looked around to choose the food that he liked and reached for some salad.

You looked around and you chose to eat ham and egg sandwich.

“There’s so much food,” you replied.

“Well, I actually prepared everything today I thought you’d like it.” he pouted.

“Yeah, I like It but it’s too many, we can’t eat everything even until late in the evening.” You explained.

“Don’t worry, we’ll share it to everybody,” he smiled.

The two of you enjoyed the breakfast together. You told him you wanted to watch TV. Instead of bringing you to the living room, he brought you to his mini theater that’s complete with equipment plus game consoles.

“So, what do you wanna watch? Horror? Sci-Fi? Romance?”

“What do you want to watch?” you asked back.

So the two of you ended watching Toy Story.

You got bored in the middle of the second movie when he received a call and excused himself. You’re not intersted in watching anymore so you played a game with your phone.

“Sorry about that,” he said when he returned to take a seat beside you.

He probably noticed you’re bored so he paused the movie.

“Let’s go somewhere else, go get changed.” He said as he stood up and run towards the exit while you follow him.

You easily made a mental map of the places you would probably use when you’re at home so it’s easy for you to go to your room from the mini theater. You took a quick shower and wear comfy, casual clothes.

You went downstairs so you could wait for him there and as you do, the helpers who pass you by either greets you politely or awkwardly which make you feel uneasy.

A few minutes have passed and you heard someone coming and to your relief, it’s Jimin.

“Shall we go?”

You nod.

He approached one of the helpers and told him that you wouldn’t be home until late night.

The car was already waiting at the front door so you both hopped in and he drive away.

A few minutes in your road trip, you wanted to ask him where are you going but it might spoil the fun so you just kept quiet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he said.

“What do you want to know?” you replied without looking at him.

“Anything and everything that makes your mind wanders off of me,” he said.

“Well, to be honest, I kinda feel somewhat uneasy with the people around the house, I think they’re afraid of me? or perhaps, annoyed?” you blurted.

Jimin chuckled at your statement.

“Princess, I apologize but you have to understand  that they were given an order by gram to be like that,” he explained.

“Don’t worry because they’re not gonna stay in the house except for the security. They’re on call.”

You processed what he said and when you get it, that’s the time you reacted.

“It means, it’s just us that really lives there?” you confirmed.

“Yes, Just like before,” he replied.

You felt somewhat relieved and scared at the same time knowing that you’ll be living together just like before. You passed the expressway and you began to question him where are you going and instead of a proper answer, he just gave you a smile.

An hour has passed and you ended up watching a random series on your phone when he slowed down and passed a toll gate.

“Wait, where are we going, Can you please tell me now?” you now begged.

“You’ll find out soon enough baby, don’t rush,” he grinned.

You sighed and let him drive as you continued watching.

Another hour has passed and you needed  to stop for a quick break. You stretched your limbs and so is he. He even bought some snacks.

You stopped watching the series when you got bored and just quietly observe the view from the car when you realized where it’s going.

“Wait, I know this road! Don’t tell me—“ you looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“Told you you’ll know soon enough. Yes, we’re going to visit your parents,” he finally revealed your destination.

You smack his arm in excitement. You wanted it to be a surprise so you just texted your parents that you’re fine.

Although you don’t want to sleep, your eyes grew tired while watching the view that you’ve been seeing for the past few hours, you accepted defeat and dozed off.

“Baby wake up now,” he gently tapped your shoulder and you immediately responded to him, giving him a smile.

“Where are we?” you looked at your surroundings and it’s already dark. Your eyes landed on the arch that welcomes you home. It made you smile wider.

“Let’s take you to your parents,” he said as he continued to drive.

He parked near your house and you couldn’t help but to jump for joy when you see the very welcoming vibe of your house.

You tried opening the gate as quiet as you could and when you’re both inside, you locked.

You went to check the backyard. Nobody’s there so you knock.

Not a minute has passed and your mother opened the door for you whom screamed in surprise upon seeing you.

“Oh my goodness honey, honey, Y/N’s here!” she shouted at the direction of the living room.

Your father suddenly popped out of nowhere, he’s already behind your mother.  

She welcomed you with a hug and you returned it with a much tighter one.

“Mooooommm, I missed you~” you said sweetly.

“I missed you too—what are you standing there, Jimin come here and give me a hug!”

You giggled as you noticed the similarity of your mom to Jimin’s grandmother. He greeted your parents politely and your mother hugged him as if he was her own son.

“Come in, make yourself comfortable and I’ll make something. I bet you’re hungry,” she disappeared in the kitchen.

“Potchiiii!” You excitedly greeted your dog but instead of coming to you, he almost jump into Jimin, licking his face.

Your father was facing the two of you, eyeing your movements which made you and Jimin sit still. Your father’s expression was too funny for you so you couldn’t help but giggle which made the atmosphere lighter.

“I’m glad you have the time to visit us  although it’s really far from the city,” he said.

“I just wanted Y/N to see you more often if we have time.” Jimin replied.

They talked about different things until food comes in. You all enjoyed that simple yet special dinner together.

After the meal, Jimin was invited by your father to drink which you immediately said yes to. You help your mother in folding the freshly laundered clothes when she suddenly speak.

“I am glad that you visited, really.”

“I’m happy too Mom. To be honest this is unplanned.” You confessed.

“How sweet of him dear, I’m thankful that you’ve met a guy like him, my mind is at peace,” she said.

“Moomm, we just visited you, it’s not like we’re gonna get married or something.” You tried to sound normal but you couldn’t help but to smile.

“We will never know dear, by the looks of it, a proposal from him might be just around the corner,” she teased.

You gave her a pout with the hopes that your blush will be concealed.

Your mother continued to tease you but you just laughed with her.

Meanwhile, your father and Jimin spends the night having a one on one drinking session in silence when your father spoke.

“Congratulations by the way,” he started.

“Thank you sir, your daughter was my inspiration.” He confessed.

Your father gave Jimin a sincere smile upon hearing his statement.

“Jimin, thank you for updating me regularly of my daughter’s activities, I truly appreciate it.” he continued.

“About your vacation, you have my permission. Just you know, don’t forget our agreement, alright?”

Jimin thanked your father in giving the permission for you to tag along, and promised your father that he would not break his promise.

To be honest, one of Jimin’s purpose was one, to ask permission from your father so he could take you somewhere during summer break; two, he wanted you to see your parents as often as possible.

After helping your mother, she let you go downstairs so you can have some time with Jimin and your father.

You smiled as you saw the both of them playing a mobile game, Jimin has his competitive face on while your father looks like he’s winning.

“What’s up?” you sat on the space beside your father to watch what they’re playing.

They’re playing some sort of a card game.

You watched it for some time but your father and boyfriend’s reactions were even more entertaining so you just watched them instead of the game. You even took a stolen picture for memory’s sake.

You were surprised to see a text message from Taehyung and Jungkook. You chose to read Taehying’s first.

[From: Taehyung

How’s future Mrs. Park doing? Your future husband seemed busy, I hope he’s busy because you’re with him ;)

[To: Taehyung

He’s in a very serious meeting.

Photo0221]

You attached the picture that you took last. You then opened Jungkook’s message.

[From: Kookie

Mrs. Park, yuhoo~]

[To: Kookie

Shut up.]

[From: Kookie

:P nope. I know you like it tho. >:P]

You stopped exchanging messages to them when Jimin screamed in defeat and your father let out a monstrous, triumphant laugh.

“Go, go and console your boyfriend there,” he said as he wiped a tear from his eye due to laughter.

You looked at Jimin who smiled at you.

“I’ll be calling it a day, if you two have plans in going out, make sure you keep the gate closed aryt? You know where the keys are, Y/N.” He said as he stepped upstairs.

Your mother served you some late night snacks and even prepared a spot for Jimin to sleep. The two of you thanked her and you smiled at him cutely.

He pat the spot which he wanted you to sit so you went closer to him and wrapped his arms around you.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you looked at him.

“It will always be my pleasure, princess.” He smiled.

You gave him a hug in return, and he kissed your forehead.

“Maybe let’s call it a night,” he said and yawned.

“Yes, right you’ve been driving all day.”

“I’ll see you later.” He let go of you.

“Good night, Jimin.”

“Good night,”

You went upstairs while he prepare himself to lie down and sleep.

When you’re on your room, your dog was already on the foot of your bed, watching you.

“What are you looking at? You didn’t even greet me properly.” you pout and heard your dog whine which made you giggle.

You lied down and your dog rested itself on the empty space and faced you.

“You like him too, don’t you?” you said as you play with his fur.

“Well, I don’t just like him, I love him too Potch, I think I love him very much.” You confessed.

That night, you sleep with a wide smile on your face.

The next day came and you planned on helping your mother to cook breakfast but you’re too late. When you went downstairs, the table’s filled with delicious breakfast, with the help of Jimin which earned praises from both of your parents.

After cleaning up, you told your parents that you have to go back to the city. They both bid you goodbyes plus several reminders.

It was a nice view seeing your father giving Jimin a pat on the back and ruffling his hair while Jimin smiled. It made your heart melt a bit.

“Take care, you two!” your mother said. You rolled the windows down and waved them goodbye.

“Now, where shall we go next?” he looked at his phone.

“Huh? We’re going somewhere else?”

“Maybe somewhere that’s along the way.” He said

“That would be great!” you agreed.

You’re half way from the City when Jimin read an ad about a villa. He turned to the direction the ad points it’s way.

It took you less than an hour to locate the villa and you instantly fell in love with the place upon seeing the entrance.

It’s covered in flowers, the place seemed like a place from a story book.

When the car’s already parked, you excitedly get out of it. You grabbed Jimin’s hand which he laced with yours. He let you lead.

You instantly smiled when you saw a sunflower field and you told him to take a picture of you there which he gladly did, followed by a picture of you two.

You walked around some more and there’s a carnival. You played bump cars and after that you had some snack in a form of corn dogs and juice.

you walked even further and you noticed a beautiful chapel just like the entrance, it’s filled with beautiful flowers.

You jogged towards it only to find that there’s an event.

You stood at one of the sides when a friendly usherette approached you. She offered you a seat but you declined. You chose to stand on one corner that’s concealed from the view of the guests.

A few minutes has passed when somebody announced the arrival and entrance of the bride and groom. This made you feel excited.

As the doors opened, the guests looked back and the music began to play. The bride looked so beautiful, wearing an off-white floor length gown while the groom looked dashing in a navy blue suit.

You looked at the guests and you assume that the women crying are the mothers.

You watched the entire ceremony and when it’s time for the exchange of rings, you felt a gentle hand holding yours.

You looked to your left, seeing Jimin look at you, his eyes once again sparkling. He then lifted your hand and tied a ribbon on it, attached is a yellow balloon.

You giggled at his actions, making you feel mushy inside.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest announced.

You felt your lips touched something soft, you realized Jimin is kissing you.

And you kissed him back.

When you heard the applause of the guests the two of you let go of each other and instead linked your hands together and walked away from the chapel.

The two of you decided to continue driving. You placed the balloon on the backseat and let it bounce there.

“Did you liked our detour?”

“I loved it!” you replied excitedly.

“That place is so magical, as if we’re on a fairy tale,”

“Yeah, that place is nice,” he agreed.

“And can you believe it, we even witnessed a wedding! It’s not like I haven’t into one before but, that’s different. It’s so nice, and everybody seemed happy.” You smiled as you recall your favorite part.

You earned some giggles and hums from Jimin as you drive back to the city.

The drive back was fast. You reached home around 3PM and greeted with an empty house. No helpers, gardeners, just the security team that’s roaming around outside.

Jimin wrapped his arms around you from behind, and you pat his head as he rest it on your shoulder.

“You should take a rest, you’ve been driving for two days,” you convinced him.

“Yeah maybe I should, but I have a favor to ask,” he said.

“Join me,let’s take a nap.” He whispered.

You suddenly felt warm, but you’re more concerned about his health so you brush aside your thoughts.

“Okay, let’s take a nap,” you agreed.

He lead the way, and he opened another room which seemed to be another gaming room.

“Is this your room?” you looked around, and found several photos of the boys hanging on the wall.

“No, but here’s where Taehyung and the rest of our friends stay most of the time.

“Yeah, I can see that.” you smiled.

Jimin pressed something and the sofa became a large bed.

“Oh, that’s why they prefer to stay here,” you imagine them fighting over a spot on the bed.

He climbed the bed and stretched, patting the space he made for you.

You slowly climbed and lied down, turning to your side, you looked into each other’s eyes until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Close your eyes now and sleep,” you said to him.

“Close yours first,” he said, his tiredness is showing.

“Thank you Jimin, thank you for surprising me,” you said as you slowly flutter your eyes, sleep is starting to win over you.

“I love you, Y/N” was the last thing you heard from Jimin.

“WAKE UP YOU TWO, IT’S TIME TO PARTY!” a loud music made your eyes open in an instant, realizing you’re not alone with Jimin anymore.

You tried shutting them up, telling them that Jimin is tired.

“Can you tell us why he is tired, Y/N-nie?” Jungkook suddenly came out of nowhere.

“We visited my parents, he drived” you replied matter-of-factly.

“That’s all?” Jungkook’s disappointment is evident.

“Yes, that’s all.” You dismissed the topic.

“But we still need to wake him up.” Jungkook sat beside you.

“Why?” you disagreed.

“We’re going somewhere. Pack clothes that’s enough for a week.”

“Okaaaay, wake him gently, I don’t want him stressed.” You exited the room and went to yours.

You began putting clothes on your backpack when you noticed the paper bag of the lingerie that you bought. You were more determined to surprise him this time.

You grabbed it, and placed it at the bottom most part of your bag.

When you’re done, you heard the boys  cheer, Jimin’s up.

“Sorry they wake you up,” you looked at him.

“Nah it’s alright, this was planned beforehand,  I just didn’t know that it’ll be today.” He said.

“Are you ready?” you wanted to help him pack.

“Yes. Are you?” he looked at you.

You nod and showed your backpack.

“Then let’s get going.” He said and you left the house.

You were dropped at the largest pier in the city, you’re wondering where you’re going.

“There it is!” Taehyung pointed at a luxurious ship.

You watched the ship approach the pier. Several men waited as it send signals. When it stopped, Taehyung began walking and you all followed.

You were greeted and welcomed with flower garlands on your necks.

“Here’s your keycards, don’t lose it.” Taehyung handed one keycard and when he approached you two, he smiled mischievously.

“Which one of you’s the better keeper?” he asked.

The both of you looked at each other at the same time, and both chuckled.

“I’ll just entrust this to you, Y/N. Let’s meet up here again but for the meantime, let’s drop our bags in our rooms!” he ran after that.

The rest of you went to ride the elevator and you all went to your respective rooms.

It’s a luxurious suite you and Jimin have. And funny thing is, there’s only one enormous bed.

You placed your bag on one of the side while Jimin followed.

He sat on the couch and rest his head.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you approached him.

“Yes, don’t worry,” he replied.

He stood up and hold your hand. The two of you exited your room and waited downstairs where you agreed to meet.

When you’re all there, you decided to go take a look around and see what’s in store. There’s a large bar, casino, club, water activities, 4D theater, laser tag, rock climbing area. And you all decided to pick a place that you wanted to try and you chose the 4D theater. You all agreed to play rock paper scissors and whoever wins you’ll go there.

“YES IT’S PARTY TIME!” Taehyung exclaimed because he won and he chose the bar. Taehyung began dancing to the beat as you entered the club. A staff guided you to a private room. They ordered their preferred drinks and several ladies drink for you.

You’re on your second glass when Taehyung asked you to dance. You accepted it and you two danced like children on the dance floor.

After one song, Jungkook asked Taehyung if he could dance with you, and the song was kinda slow so you’re dancing closer to each other.

In the middle of the slow dance, Yoongi tapped Jungkook shoulder. You smiled at him as he hold your hand.

“You haven’t replied to my message, I wanna sulk,” he began.

“Sorry. To be honest I’m interested but you know, my head associates that play on the time Jimin was so mad at me,” you confessed.

“Yeah, I get it, I hope we could work on that part.” Yoongi said.

“Don’t worry, I will.” You assured him.

Yoongi was followed by Jin that asked you to dance. Another upbeat music came in and you giggled as he danced.

“Am I too late to ask for this lady’s permission to dance with me?” you glanced behind you and saw Namjoon, in floral polo and pastel shorts.

“Hello, Mr. Namjoon.” You greeted him.

“Ouch. Just call me Namjoon. Shall we dance?” he smiled, his prominent dimple showing.

You agreed and when you both dance, he earned giggles from you because his dance moves remind you of your father.

As the night turned into a day, you’re getting to know these people and why are they special to Jimin.

-SEVERAL DAYS LATER-

You spent some of your time being alone with one of them. The first one was Jin, who shared some secrets in tasting some food. You shared some ideas with him which he considered.

The next one’s Namjoon who preferred rock climbing than other amenities. At first you thought he’s just pure formality but there’s a funny side of him too.

Of course, Taehyung brought you to the 4D theater, and you both screamed your lungs out as you watch the horror movie there.

You’ve bonded with Yoongi when everybody’s out and you don’t want to go to the bar. He took you to the arcade and you played there although he admitted that he sucks, he still played with you. After several games, he accepted defeat and you just talked about the play you saw and once again, the interest you have for it was rekindled.

Jungkook invited you to the water slide which you took up until ten times, you enjoyed it too although it’s scary at first.

“I finally get what you meant Kook, the one that you told me when we’re at LATE,” you said as you walk with him towards the exit of the water park.

You looked at him and he showed you a wide smile.

“What are you gonna do about it?” he asked out of curiosity.

“I don’t know.” you honestly replied.

Since that night, you keep on thinking whether you’d do it or not but whenever you think about it, your head always says no.

But  tonight was your last night at this ship, and you wanted to do something special for Jimin. While they’re out, you get yourself prepared. You looked at yourself in the mirror, still fresh from the bath. You sighed and put on your chosen sleepwear for the evening.

You tried waiting for Jimin but he’s taking too long so when you got bored, you watched whatever’s on the cartoon channel. When it finished, you climbed to bed and played a game on your phone.

You heard the faint beep of the door and you pulled the the blanket closer to you you. You can heard him went to shower and you felt his weight on the bed.

“Princess, are you awake?”

You stayed silent.

“I know you’re awake, say something.” He said.

You still kept quiet.

“Fine, you got me no choice, I’ll tickle you!” he suddenly poked your sides which he instantly got a reaction from you.

You continued defending yourself but he’s quicker, so he flipped you over, now he’s hovering above you.

His eyes widen as he shifted his gaze from your face to what you’re wearing.

“Y/N, what are you wearing?”

You gulped at his reaction, you pursed your lips.

“S-surprise!” you tried making the situation light but it doesn’t seem to work.

Jimin gave you a cute chuckle, he took off his pullover and placed it on your head.

“Dress warmly, it’s cold here.” he replied.

He stood up, and went towards the direction of the door.

“I forgot to return something to Jin hyung I’ll be back.” he said and left.

You don’t know what to feel, a part of you is relieved but tears began to fall as soon as you heard the beeping sound of the door.

Jimin came rushing to Jin’s room.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Did you really just wore such a sexy outfit?

For what?

To tease him?

Jin was in the middle of eating croissant when he let Jimin inside, the rest of the boy are also there.

“What happened, you’re so pale did you see a ghost?” He remarked.

“Much worse... I guess.” He  said as he slumped into the fluffy sofa.

He sighed as he rest one arm on his eyes. Upon seeing that lingerie on your skin, he immediately called all the gods so he would remain composed.

“I’ll take a shower.” He stood up and make his way to the bathroom.

You stayed up all night waiting for him, and as you expected, he didn’t returned. You tried waiting for him for breakfast but still he didn’t showed up. So now you’re at the dining hall eating a delicious breakfast alone. You felt ashamed of what you just did, you felt cheap. You thought it’ll make him happy but instead it made you feel disgusted about yourself. You didn’t even finish a quarter of your food, you returned to your room and began packing your things.

Without thinking twice, you threw the lingerie. And began packing your things.

Jimin came knocking on the door during lunch time. You just opened the door for him and returned to the sofa where you watch.

You listend to his movements without looking at him. He’s also packing.

Another knock came and It revealed the rest of the boys. Taehyung announced that you’ll be on land any minute now so you should get ready.

You waited for Jimin to finish packing and let him go out first. When he does,  made a final check and when there’s nothing that belongs to the two of you, you exited the room.

You’re at the lobby now when the captain thanked your personally for choosing their cruise ship.

When the cruise ship reached the pier and you’re told you can go now, you approached Taehyung and the two of you walk together until you reached the pier’s grounds.

“YES, I’M ON LAND AT LAST!” he shouted and you chuckled.

“Thank you for inviting me Tae, I truly enjoyed this.” you hugged him.

“Ah, don’t mention it, this is my last party probably, I have to start getting serious.” He said.

“I wish you the best of luck at work, I know you can do it.” you smiled at him.

When all of you are on land, you stayed for a little bit for lunch. You purposely sat between Yoongi and Jin, across Namjoon and Jungkook. Taehyung sat on one end and Jimin chose the opposite end.

You celebrated Taehyung and Jimin’s graduation with occasional teasing from them. Right after that, all of you parted ways. You searched for public transportation directions until Jimin’s car stopped in front of you.

Just to be safe, you placed your things on the backseat, and sat beside him still.

Through your peripheral vision, you could see he’s glancing at you. But he decided to wear his sunglasses and well damn, he looked so good.

You decided to sleep until you reach home.

You woke up just in time the car approached the gates. When the car stopped, You didn’t wait for him and unbuckled your seat belt, grabbed your  bag and went straight to your room.

You lied on the bed and hugged one of your pillows there.

You began crying when you heard a faint knock.

“Can we talk?” you heard him from the other side.

“I’m coming in,” he said and he slowly turned the knob, and it revealed him. He closed the door quietly and approached you, your body’s turned from the door.

“I want to sleep, let’s talk later.” You said.

“You’re not sleepy, You just woke up.” he said.

“First of all, I’m sorry princess. I really do.” He started.

This time, you couldn’t control your tears.

You felt his hand rub your arm, trying to calm you down.

“Face me, I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

He tried to shush your crying, and he turned you to him.

“Tell me the truth, am I ugly?” you said in between your sobs, you’re now sitting down, your hands covering your face.

“Goodness, of course not! Baby, you’re a goddess you always mesmerize me.” all of it was true though, and Jimin hoped that his sincerity could reach you through his words.

You revealed your tear stained face, You wanted to know why he rejected you.

“Then why—“ you were cut off as he suddenly kissed you.

This kiss is rough, wanting, needing.

You lied comfortably on the bed, letting him again be on top of you.

You found the nape of his neck, and you tried pulling him into you closer, his hands caressing your exposed thigh.

When you let out a moan, he stopped and sit down.

“Come here, he extended his hands to yours, and pulled you up so you can sit also.

He held both of your hands, searching for your eyes.

“Ah, fuck, I didn’t know what to say but the truth is, you looked so beautiful last night, I really wanted you right there, looking like that for me but baby, listen to me,” he adjusted your head so you’re looking directly at him.

“I respect you so much, also your parents, especially your father, entrusted you to me. And he and I had an agreement, that I should not touch you until you’re ready.” He tried to search for more appropriate words.

As you hear his confession, you realized what you just did, and you felt embarrassed because of your bold move.

“I thought you would be happy so I did it,” you shyly confessed.

“I am. And I am very pleased even. But baby, were you really ready last night?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“See? Let’s not rush things okay? Let’s take it slow, baby steps, Princess. I’m just right here with you.”

You don’t know what you did on your past life but you’re so happy you met this man. You couldn’t help but to embrace him tight.

“I’m sorry, Jiminie,” you whispered.

“Don’t worry about it, We’re okay now, right?”

“Yes,”

“You know what, I wanted you to meet someone,”

You let go of him and looked at his face.

“Who?”

“My mom.”

  A/N

I’M CRYING, Y/N’s going to meet Jimin’s mom soon! 

I wonder who  “her” is.

AAAAA I can really see the end, it’s not far from here T_T

Thanks for reading, enjoy!

#BTS jimin #BTS jin #BTS jungkook #BTS rap monster #BTS suga #bts jhope #bts v #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #jimin x you #jimin x reader

[bentchcreates]

Start Here, Stories of First Encounters 

Let me just say this right off the bat, I’m giving this 6 of 5 Stars! First of all, the editors and my co-authors deserve the 5.5 of 5 Stars. This is my favorite book this year, cheesy for me to say, but it is! I’m giving a half star more for my own story because I’m very proud of this, okay? :P I’ll talk more about that on a separate blog post, haha.

To begin, I want to thank the editors (and our PM, Hi Mina!) for coming up with this anthology. The intros by Ron and Brij, in itself, were already strong messages to those who are looking for contemporary romance that represents Filipinos of this time, LGBTQIAP or not. It perfectly put out the reasons behind the conception of this anthology, as well as the hope that this sparks a flame towards more Queer Romance and Queer HEA in Philippine Literature.

1. In the Moonlight by Agay Llanera

This was a sweet start to set the tone for the rest of the stories. It’s an awesome sequel to my other favorite, Another Word For Happy. And like what I said in my review for AWFH last year, Caleb seems to have been made after my own heart.

I wish I was exaggerating, but the indecision, the awkward reaction to ‘the kiss’, the hyperawareness to the smallest of things, IT ME! When I was Caleb’s age, at least. LOL. And I’m sure a lot of gay people (maybe not even gay people, everyone, really) will find it relatable one way or another.

What Caleb is better than me, though, is his courage towards the end of the story. He did something I never would’ve been able to do. And I hope when others read this, they’d be inspired to be braver, too.

2. Come Full Circle by Bobbi Moran

I love me some slow burn romance and huhu, the slow burn in this one killed me (in a good way!).

This short felt quite episodic as the characters are shown through different stages of them finding themselves – and eventually, love – but that slow progression allowed me to really root for them to be together at the end.

I found the attention to detail fascinating (especially the architectural ones when Alana and Marion went on a holiday) but what I loved most about this is the accuracy of tiptoeing in a relationship when one is still unsure where the other one stands. I mean, relationships are already complicated without the whole guessing-and-hoping-the-other-one-plays-on-the-same-team narrative, but add in sexual confusion (and tension!) and you’re in for a wild, but nonetheless more interesting, ride. This story tied to a full circle satisfyingly.

3. Gorgeous by Motsie Dapul

This is probably my first F/enby romance and it certainly lived up to its title. This might also be the first fiction story I’ve read using the singular they/them pronoun and while it took me about a minute to re calibrate my [faulty] sense of grammar, it wasn’t jarring and it told Jays and the MC (I’m not 100% sure she was named, I need to reread the story, stat!)more genuinely for me.

It is also somewhat a variation of the enemies to lovers trope which is always interesting. I’m happy to note that there is grovel. :) 

I think what I want to focus more about this story is how something that happened years ago, something that seemed small and irrelevant to you, might mean a whole different world to another person. And simple things like words said haplessly, or actions that weren’t well thought of in our youth, could still impact us as adults no matter how much we’ve changed in the time in between.

This story tells and awesome story of discovering one’s self, discovery of love, and acceptance of the MC’s past, present and future with Them. :)

4. Shipping Included by Danice Sison

Can this be any cuter?? <3 <3 <3

I will admit that I didn’t get all the KPop references but I know those who are knowledgeable (and obsessed) with oppas will appreciate and enjoy this.

Done in alternating POVs between the protagonists, David and Kiko, the story’s strength lay on the well-rounded characterization of the heroes, as well as the kids who made their meetcute extra cute! There is a glimpse of what it must be like to be a Filipino KPop fan while also focusing the spotlight on those who don’t share the dedication but support their loved one’s hobbies nonetheless.

The Kuya and Tito may not be in their girls’ fandoms but Kpopocalypse gave them (all of us, really) a different reason to swoon and make fingerhearts at each other.  

5. Delubyo by Barbie Barbieto

This is beautifully written.

This was the first work from the author that I’ve read and I loved it so much, it made me seek out her other work. Haha. The style and flow of words are smooth and easygoing, it hooked me up real quick.

Add to that is Pebbles’ odd four-month relationship rule which I thought was mean at first, but actually makes so much sense and is understandable from someone who’s constantly afraid to put her heart on the line. Still, I don’t tolerate it. (I loved this so much, I’m super invested and I want to have a talk with Pebbles bec huhu, the poor ex-girlfriends! LOL)

I love the progression of her feelings towards Gabrielle, told brilliantly somewhere in the middle of the story – after that awesome beginning! It made the ending such a relief and a source of immense kilig!

6. The Other Story by H. Bentham

*sly grin emoji*

7. Blooms and Hues by Ella Banta

I loved the softness of the themes in this short story, reminiscent of Gay YA fiction I used to devour in college (from foreign authors like Brian Sloan, Alex Sanchez, John Hall, etc.) and the short films I still find on YouTube from time to time.

It is a lovely addition to this anthology, despite not being heavy on the romance like the other stories, especially since being queer in this country, love, relationships - and matters of the heart in general - are less likely to be this soft and dreamy. (At least during my time as an actual young adult. IDK, maybe kids these days are allowed this gay tenderness we weren’t given access to. It wasn’t even such a long time ago, I mean…anyway, that’s not what this review is all about. I got distracted. lol)

The artistic MC and LI are adorable. And flowers! I’m never not in love with stories where flowers come into play.

8. Another First by Yeyet Soriano

I admit that I felt scared to continue with this once it was established that Jess, the MC, is in a long term relationship at the beginning of the story. I dislike scenes with messy break-ups due to cheating, but I soldiered on and was greatly relieved that this didn’t go that way.

I liked that the characters acted like the adults that they are and that this did not turn into a rehash of popular love-triangle telenovela plots. I especially loved the part where things had to settle down and fall into place for all characters (Jess, Lili and even Matt) separately at first – on a personal level – before the romance could be resolved. It showed a healthy depiction of self-discovery and acceptance a little bit later in life.

9. Luck from the Skies by Katt Briones

This one I’ve actually read before the book came out and ugh, rereading it second, third and fourth time did not make it less wonderful! The characters have supporting roles from Katt’s other book, Chasing Mr. Prefect, but the timeline here is before that book’s time.

I liked the fictional artista/modeling angles and the progression of friendship between Chan and Asher towards a romantic ship (#ChaSher5everr!!!). The rainy weather theme is also very Filipino and how it plays in the advancement of the plot is just brilliant! And kilig! So kilig!

Sab is defineitely a scene stealer (I love bestfriends!) but since the romance was so strong in the first place, she didn��t overshadow my boys. LOL.

Also, prepare to crave bulalo!  

10. Lemon Drop Friday by Brigitte Bautista.

“Here goes [Brij] again, making a mess [with my heart]”

When I was reading the review copy and got to this point in the book, I stopped for a full day before I started this story. Part of me knew I would breeze through it and I didn’t want the book to end just yet. And I was right.

Brij did it again! Made me fall in love with her mastery of words and then made me cry because this was so good and so satisfying.

I was highlighting passages throughout the book (for review notes) but with this one, I couldn’t even stop to highlight words, I just wanted to fully immerse in that universe and feel the love, and the fear of rejection, and the ultimate HEA where these messy girls finally, finally got together!

I have a favorite quote (aside from the mis-quote above. Lol)

“If she looked at me a tad longer, she would figure it out.”

Argh! MY HEART! I loved Tala’s POV so much! It’s quirky and funny and honest and SO relatable. I’m done talking about this because I WILL SPOIL IT FOR EVERYONE so please get the book and read it! :P

To end, again I want to thank everyone who worked (and continue to work hard to promote) this book! I cannot fully express into words how important this is to me, as well as to others who might need these stories in their lives (whether they know it or not). I hold this dear this not because it is among the first queer books from #romanceclass, but more because all were written with wonderful skill and heart. Each story offers something unique for the reader who might be reading queer for the first time as well as someone looking for themselves in the written page,

We yearned so much to be represented well. We craved for stories we can connect to on a deeply personal level. We waited for our happy endings, in fiction at the very least.. This is definitely the beginning of us getting all that. And more.

Blurb:

There’s a first time for everything. Gatecrashing a KPop concert with an oppa in a business suit. Taking shelter from the storm with the girl you’ve been meaning to shake off. That kiss that blurs the line between friendship and something more. A one-night stand (or, is it?) with your best friend from across the hallway.

Dive into these 10 stories of first encounters – unapologetically queer, happy endings required, with a smattering of that signature #romanceclass kilig. Whether you’re recalling your own firsts or out there looking for one, there’s a story in here for you.

So, go on.

Turn the page.

Start here.

Edited by Ronald S. Lim and Brigitte Bautista. Featuring short stories by Agay Llanera, H. Bentham, Ella Banta, Danice Sison, Yeyet Soriano, Barbie Barbieto, Katt Briones, Bobbi Moran, Motzie Dapul, and Brigitte Bautista. This anthology contains M/M, F/F, F/NB romance stories with happy endings. Some stories have a high heat level.

Release Date: January 27, 2018

Book Cover Design: Dani Hernandez

Additional Photography: Alexandra Urrea & Chachic Fernandez

Buy Links:

Pre-order Start Here on Amazon: bit.ly/rcStartHere Order Start Here on paperback (PH only): bit.ly/StartHere-PrintPH

Add Start Here on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/37880247-start-here

Author links:

Katt Briones: @kttbri (Twitter& IG)

Ella Banta:  @gabbie_ellaine (Twitter) , @ellamaepot (IG),  gabrielluna.wordpress.com (blog) , https:// www.facebook.com/ ellabantawriting/ (FB)

Agay Llanera:  http:// amzn.to/ 2k2gj34.(Amazon)

Yeyet Soriano: @ysrealm (Twitter & IG) @Yeyetsorianowrites (FB), www.yeyetsoriano.com (blog), [email protected]

Danice Sison: @hastyteenflick (Twitter)

Bobbi Moran: [email protected]

Motzie Dapul: FB.com/atemozzarella, FB.com/atemozzarellastories, @atemozzarella (Tumblr) , mozzarellastories.wordpress.com (blog), motzie.dapul@ gmail.com.

Barbie Barbieto: @barbiebarbieto (Twitter),  barbiebarbieto.com (blog) 

H. Bentham: this is me. heh.

Editors: 

Brigitte Bautista: @brijbautista (Twitter & IG), brijbautista.wordpress.com (blog)

Ronald S. Lim: @tristantrakand (Twitter), [email protected]

#start here #bentchcreates #bookish #romanceclass #lgbtqiap

[literallyjustanerd]

In His Eyes (Chapter 8)

School is back in! And yet I somehow managed to write the longest chapter yet!

Genre: Slow build/eventual romance Word count: 5008 Pairing: Nightcrawler/Angel Rating: T+

You can also read this chapter (and all the chapters before it) here!

The night is cold. Cold enough that when Kurt exhales, the air billows out in front of him in a small, translucent cloud. His legs are drawn in close to his chest, his tail hugged tightly around him, and after twenty minutes he has only just lifted his head from where it has been buried into his knees. The moon’s light is weak and milky, but with his eyes he can still see the wind meandering through the tall oak and pine trees that pepper the grounds below him. His lips still feel strange: numb, and not just from the cold. It is as though he can still feel Warren on them, warm, desperate, unexpected, and… welcome? Unwelcome? Kurt still cannot decide. During the brief, fleeting moment they had been locked together, Warren’s hands firmly grasping each of Kurt’s arms just below the shoulder, Kurt’s muscles had turned to melted butter, and he had wondered whether everything was fixed, if everything after the kiss would be the fairy tale he had always secretly wanted he and Warren to be.

 But the moment the warmth began to fade, the moment the magic was broken, the all-swallowing pit in his stomach had assured him that no, this wasn’t the part of the story where the protagonist and his love interest finally confessed their true feelings to one another and embraced and kissed and laughed about how foolish they’d been trying to hide it. Instead, it was the part of the story where the protagonist, filled to the point of nausea with a sudden embarrassment and terror, fled the scene, and hid on a roof for twenty minutes to avoid confronting his own feelings, and the feelings of the boy he’d been pining over for months. And now, here he is, huddled against the bitter night, feeling the wind turn the tearstains on his face into small streams of concentrated cold and wondering how he is ever meant to look Warren in the eyes again. Is Warren upset with him for running away? Is he hurt? A sick feeling kicks up in the hollow of Kurt’s chest. Is he angry? He tries to picture Warren in his room, surrounded by the things Kurt had left for him, the evidence of a gesture that now seems childish and unwise. Kurt himself feels childish and unwise. Too unequipped to be in this situation at all. Of course it had burned to the ground.

Fix. Warren had asked Kurt if he thought he was going to fix him. The word lingers in Kurt’s mind, unfolding and reshaping into new and unhappy realisations. Warren thinks of himself as broken, as in need of fixing. Warren thinks that Kurt thinks of him as broken. That, above all, is enough to erase the last of Kurt’s anger, and replace it with something even harder to swallow: regret. Deep, dark, horrible regret, the claws of which tease at his insides, pulling strings now and then to make him remember another cutting remark or lamentable retort he had thrown out in the moments his temper had taken control. He should have stayed. He should have talked to Warren, calmed him, and calmed himself. He should have found a way to defuse the situation. He considers prayer: that is what has always assisted him through these tough situations in the past, steering him towards redemption and reconciliation. But for some reason, he knows that tonight it will be of no help to him. Instead, he lets out a deep sigh, watches the mist of his breath dissolve in front of him, and allows his muscles to relax a little. He will be out here for a while yet, simply because he cannot imagine making himself move from this still, silent reverie. At least here, in the almost ethereal, surreal atmosphere of complete isolation, he can pretend he has only imagined all the events that now plague his thoughts.

You are a fucking idiot. The voice in Warren’s head has been repeating those words, occasionally with different, more scathing words added in. He lies on his bed, splayed uncomfortably on top of his wings and looking up towards the high, faded ceiling. Now and then, another surge of frustration hits him, and he slams a fist into his forehead or kicks the heel of his foot into the wall in anger. The heat of the moment, and the rush of emotions that had come with them have long since passed, leaving him with nothing but a desolate feeling in his stomach. It is as though there is a hole somewhere inside him, and the more he thinks about what he has done, the more he remembers the look on Kurt’s face in the instant before he vanished, he more empty he feels, and without any way to react, the sensation consumes him until it lights every nerve in his chest and fingertips on fire and leaves him to burn alive. The image of Kurt’s face will not leave his mind. His eyes, frantic and defensive, like a cornered animal. He could almost see Kurt searching through his mind and trying to figure out what angle Warren would take now to continue his side of the fight. The look that assumed that whatever Warren had done had to be some new tactic designed to find crueller and more unusual ways to put him down. Imagining the look alone was enough to defeat Warren, to leech all the anger out of him. The idea that Kurt would see him as an assailant, and would see the kiss as some strange new way to hurt him, seethes within his mind and forces him to confront everything he has said to Kurt over the months, every way he had pushed and pulled and otherwise abused the boy’s kind, forgiving nature. If only he had it in him to be able to tell Kurt the truth: he has captivated Warren for months, aroused feelings in him that have confused him to no end. And the kiss? Well, the kiss was the result of too much repressed emotion bubbling over and taking over his conscious mind. Warren drives the heels of his hands deep into his damp eyes, welcoming the pain that blooms out from beneath the sockets. Once more he hears it: you are a fucking idiot. That is the last he can remember before falling into a restless, uneasy sleep.

When the next morning comes, both boys dread facing the real world again. The realm of friends, of amicable teasing and complaints about the usual things like breakfast and homework, seems so far away, and the prospect of pretending to be fine in light of the previous night’s events feels hopeless. Even outside of that, both are acutely aware that part of their argument had been heard by two of their friends, neither of who would have had any qualms in sharing the juicy piece of gossip. And yet, they have no choice, and to avoid arousing suspicion, Kurt forces himself to rise from his bed and dress himself in anticipation of a long, hard day. Warren can get away with not leaving his room: it has been a long, long time since anyone but Kurt has stopped trying to rouse him on the days when he decided he would not face the world of the living. But Kurt has a reputation to keep up. Kurt approaches the table where his friends sit a little later than usual, and immediately knows his efforts to seem light and carefree have been for nought: they are speaking rapidly in hushed tones, talk that ceases the moment Jean catches sight of the blue boy drawing near and chokes off her story mid-sentence. His stomach constricts: how much do they know? He cannot ask – or rather, he will not ask. He does not have it in him to start such confrontations. And so, he sits down with his slice of buttered toast and quartered orange, and tries to tolerate the nausea that accompanies his dread of Warren appearing. Mercifully, in a small reprieve, the meal passes without any sign of him, and Kurt is able to finish eating and slip away from the table before anyone can work up the courage to ask him a question. Scott watches carefully as Kurt leaves the dining hall, tail almost literally between his legs, reminiscent of a hurt puppy in demeanour. He loses himself to thought and speculation, and Peter has to repeat himself twice before he finally gets any attention. “He didn’t show up in our room until late last night,” he says, gaze shifting from the closing doors back to Scott. “No?” Scott replies. “Nope. Had no idea where he was. He was gone when I fell asleep, there by the time I woke up.” “Hm.” “Any idea what might’ve happened?” Scott frowns, eyes still stuck in the middle distance “No. None.”

It is almost not a lie. While he knows as much as anyone else at the table about what specifically took place between Kurt and Warren the previous night, he is at an advantage being the only one to know about the subtext between the two, at least from Kurt’s side. In his mind, a scene takes form: Warren accusing, insulting, denigrating, and Kurt cowering, meekly defending, wishing he had just stayed quiet. As the conversation at the table turns to wondering just what the pair could have been fighting over, Scott rises from his seat and sets his sights on the door. Past the crowd, through the doors, up the main stairs as his footsteps echoed through the empty, cavernous foyer, and along the hallway towards Warren’s room Scott takes himself, fuelled by a deep-down desire to protect his friend. The sound of a heavy bass line and screaming guitar grows louder as he approaches: a clear sign that Warren is in no mood to attend classes today. As he goes to reach for Warren’s doorknob, he feels a momentary breeze, and Peter is next to him, leaning back against the wall on the opposite side of the door. “What are we doing?” he asks casually. “Get lost, burnout.” “Whoa. I’m not the one messing with other people’s private affairs. I’m Kurt’s roommate and you don’t see me trying to fight his battles for him.” “You don’t get it.” “What’s there not to get?” Scott drops his arms to his sides in annoyance. “It’s nothing. Not my place to say.” “Ah, come on, tight ass. Let me in on it.” His insistence brings on a sigh. A deep one. He can tell Peter is not about to let up: for someone who can get most things done in a fraction of a second, Peter is relentlessly patient when it comes to gossip.

“Kurt has… a bit of a thing for Warren,” he says carefully. Instantly, Peter’s eyebrows rise with the new revelation, a smile spreading across his face like a child who has just successfully snuck into somewhere they do not belong. In the pause before Peter speaks again, the screeching and wailing of the music stops, leaving a brief moment of silence before the next song begins and the two boys are afforded the cover of noise once more. “Really? What sort of thing?” “I don’t know,” Scott says shortly. “Just a thing. He told me about it the day Warren started flying again.” “So you think this fight they’ve had is about that?” Peter asks, turning to face the doorway as Scott folds his arms and shrugs in response. “I don’t know. That’s what I’m here to find out.” “God, please tell me you’re gonna go in there and try to intimidate him into talking to Kurt. I so want to see that.” “What?” Scott frowns under his glasses, and Peter is already on thin ice. The boy across from him grins, daring Scott to argue the point, and demonstrate himself as not just a “stick-in-the-mud,” but uptight about it as well. Left at a stalemate, Scott gives a heavy sigh and knocks firmly on the door. Predictably, there is no response, and Scott knocks louder. When more time passes and the two boys are still left waiting, Peter decides to take matters into his own hands. “Warren! Open up, jerkface!” The music dims, the bed creaks, and heavy footsteps sound as Warren approaches the door, swinging it open with a look that instantly shatters all Scott’s hopes of appearing imposing. He says nothing, instead shifting his eyes from Scott to Peter expectantly. His eyes looks sunken and slightly out of focus. If his visitors didn’t know better, they could swear the redness and puffiness in his eyes suggested tears.

Peter looks from Warren to Scott pointedly, cocking an eyebrow in an attempt to remind Scott of his purpose. Scott shakes himself out of his own thoughts and clears his throat, trying to scrape together the conviction to seem authoritative. “I want to know what happened with you and Kurt,” he states, emulating his best teacher voice. Warren rolls his eyes and goes to shut the door, but Peter’s foot blocks his path. He makes a mock tutting sound, smirking like the whole situation was a game. “Come on, Angel,” he jostles. “We just want to help.” “I don’t want you guys to help. This isn’t your business.” “You made it our business when you did something to hurt Kurt,” rallies Scott, glad to have found a place to revive his original intention. But the surge of confidence is short-lived when Warren scoffs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses in little more than a mumble. The idea that Scott would have the gall to come to him as Ororo had previously, and to talk to him like a concerned school counsellor, ignites a small flame of anger in Warren, and considering the unfamiliar and uncomfortable rollercoaster the past day has been, it is at least a comfort to return to something he is used to. “So why don’t you tell us what we’re talking about?” Peter cuts in before Scott can reply, and all this suggestion earns him is a harsh glare from Warren, a wordless answer to his question. “Look, I don’t know what you assholes think you’re doing letting yourself into me and Kurt’s business, but you’re not going to play mediator with us. Stay the fuck out of it.” Scott’s eyes narrow, and in a movement that comes off as slightly childish and unconvincing, he steps forward towards Warren, lowering his tone to one that he hopes is at least a little threatening. “Listen, buddy,” he begins, and even Peter has to suppress as smirk at how obviously put together the line sounds. “I don’t give a damn about you or your side of this. I care about Kurt. And since, for reasons I still can’t find, he wants to keep trying to bring out whatever worthwhile thing he sees in you, I’m making it my job to make sure he doesn’t get hurt more than he already has been.” Silence sets in. None of the three boys seem to know how to continue without breaking the roles they have set for themselves. Eventually, Warren lets out a heavy, tired sigh and closes the door in one sharp, jerky movement. After a beat, the music is turned up once more, and Scott and Peter are left standing outside the door as though they had merely imagined Warren’s entire, brief appearance.

“What a jerk,” Peter finally says, in a tone so casual and blasé that even Scott has to smirk. “You gotta wonder what Kurt sees in him,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets as he begins down the hall. Peter gives a shrug as he follows. “Maybe it’s just physical.” “Can you imagine Kurt liking someone just for their looks?” “Yeah, you’re right. He’s too goody-goody for that sort of thing.”

In Warren’s room, far from the unfeeling and uncaring brick wall Scott and Peter have just spoken to, Warren is wearing a thoughtful, solemn frown, replaying Scott’s words over and over in his head. The anger at his overconfident and under-practiced demeanour has subsided, or rather has been eclipsed by an intense need to known just what motivated Scott’s words. Kurt wants to keep trying. Kurt sees something worthwhile in him. He dimly wonders whether he should change the words in his mind to wanted and saw, but he does not want to approach the thought directly. In the time since the previous night, he must admit he has spent an amount of time planning words he never truly intended to say to Kurt, scripting apologies and explanations and confessions that were supposed to make things better, or at least earn him a second –no, it had to be fiftieth by now, at least– chance. Now, however? While he still believes he could never say out loud the exact words that had been part of his fantasy conversations, the prospect of speaking to Kurt begins to drift back into the realm of possibility. After all, wasn’t it the persistently happy, forgiving, fluid and flexible nature of Kurt that had fascinated Warren in the first place? And couldn’t he try to replicate that, to try and earn Kurt’s trust back? It still seems optimistic, something that hardly fits into the complex puzzle that forms Warren’s psyche, but maybe that is what he needs right now. An action that defies all the rules set by his previous self, that marks a real change into something better than himself. Into something that maybe, just maybe, could be deserving of Kurt’s time and –dare he say it– his affections. But, unsurprisingly, these thoughts are soon beaten down by the same dark force that has kept him from deviating from his usual ways for years. Just as always, Warren is left in the purgatory between wanting to act and being too scared of the outcome to make a move. He writhes on his bed in indecision for lengths of time he cannot know, then paces his room back and forth, reaching for the doorknob a thousand times but never going further. The music he had been playing has long since run out as he perches on his desk chair and restlessly bounces his leg, pent up emotions and desires festering and itching under his skin. By the time lunch finally comes around, the build has become too much, and Warren moves quickly, decisively, leaving his room with the door still open behind him and striding down the hallway with long and slightly hasty steps. There is an extremely small window of opportunity here, and if he misses it, he knows his willpower will be doomed to disintegrate altogether. He reaches Kurt’s door, slowing down subconsciously as he nears it. As the inside of Kurt’s room comes into view, the lines in the script he has frantically written in his head suddenly become jumbled and inarticulate. The door is open, and when he takes one more step forward to peer in and sees that he has made it, his heart still clenches anyway. Peter has already been and gone, depositing his books carelessly on his bed and whizzing off down to the dining hall for lunch. Kurt, however, takes his time, setting his books on his desk and sorting through what work he will have to do that afternoon. He does not notice Warren behind him, observing the way he moves, taking in every detail. There is something missing from him today; he moves more reluctantly, without the energy or fluidity that usually drive his gestures. Even his eyes seem to be duller today, and Warren’s heart plunges through his stomach at the realisation that the reason for his expression is Warren’s own actions. As the seconds wear on, and Warren hears the telltale sound of footsteps climbing the stairs, he shakes himself from his thoughts, and takes the plunge, clearing his throat to alert the boy opposite him to his presence.

Kurt jumps, shocked from his thoughts by the realisation that he is not alone, and for a moment he teleports instinctively away, reappearing in his room after spending a split second outside on the lawn. He looks through his own cloud of deep purple smoke, seeing the figure of Warren in his doorway, and feels a dizzying mix of hope and dread. It is plain to see that Warren is agitated, too, and Kurt is unsure how exactly to react to his sudden presence. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and it takes an eternity for Warren to realise that he will have to offer an explanation himself, since Kurt has no way to request one. “Wanna talk?” he mumbles, hands balling into fists and shoved into his pockets. As he speaks, his eyes flick repeatedly between Kurt and the floor, between where he wants them to be and where his instincts direct them. Kurt does not know exactly what it is that makes him nod, that makes him point to his neatly-made bed and close the door behind Warren as he slinks into the room and sits down on the edge of the bedspread. His wings shift nervously, settling and resettling against his back, unable to find a position that would relieve his discomfort. Kurt hesitates before he sits down, shifting over to put a little more distance between himself and Warren. Both boys look forward, finding a patch of wall or carpet to stare at in lieu of looking at each other. “You been okay?” Warren asks presently. Kurt lifts his shoulders in response. “I’ve been fine.” “Good.” There is a certain insincerity to Warren’s tone, and he knows Kurt can hear it, but he does not know how to make it go away. Neither comments on it, lacking the conviction or the willpower, or both.

“So… You want to talk. Let’s talk,” Kurt sighs, breaking the thick silence. “Where do we start?” At being given a direct question to answer, and at being spoken to with the manner of a lost schoolchild, Kurt summons the drive to give a direct reply, and to make a solid demand for answers to the many questions he has been agonising over. “Why did you kiss me?” Though taken aback at first, Warren is glad to surrender his part in directing the conversation, and sinks a little further forward, forearms on his knees, in preparation to respond. Willing his words past the dam in his throat, he speaks. “Because I wanted to.” “Because you wanted to what?” “Because I wanted to kiss you.” Kurt makes a soft humming sound. “Your timing was a little off.” Surprisingly enough, his remark draws a faint laugh from Warren, a mere sharpened breath of a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Yeah… No shit.”

Outside, the sky is above the mansion is dark, heavily overcast with only sparse patches of blue between the cloud cover. When Warren looks up at Kurt and sees him gazing into the sky outside, he turns his head to face the window as well, and with a newfound resolve, scrapes together a few words from the many mental essays he has written for Kurt. “Look, I’m an idiot. You know that by now, right? You have to.” An uneasy frown takes over Kurt’s sharp, angular features, but as he opens his mouth to reply, Warren holds up a hand to stop him. “I’ve treated you like crap. I’ve treated you worse than crap, and you didn’t deserve any of it.” Warren allows himself a private smile, and with his eyes in his lap he is unable to see that Kurt is now staring intently at him. “Hell, you’re probably the one around here who deserves to be treated the best.” Already, something is different. The light in the room takes on a new quality, polished and crystallised by Warren’s forthright words. No longer is there a haze of uncertainty between the two, intertwining with and distorting their feelings and intentions. Kurt feels as though he is seeing Warren anew, just as he had on the day that he had first seen him take to the sky. Though he wants to speak, Kurt stays silent, sensing that there is still more Warren wants to say. Sure enough, with a deep breath to support his sudden surge of sincerity, the winged boy continues. “I’m so sorry, Kurt. I should have been upfront with you from the start. I’m just… I’m like poison, I guess.” Warren clenches his fists, and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Kurt has never before noticed just how striking Warren’s eyes are. A pale, milky blue, with small flecks of darker grey towards the centre. They are pained now, sorrowful, and Kurt’s heart aches as he quickly finds himself getting lost in them and in the mournful sadness in his words. “Any time I get close to people I just end up hurting them. I’ve never been able to make a friend or have a relationship that didn’t go to shit because of me freaking out about them getting too close. Ever since I was a kid, from my asshole father to everyone after.”

It takes a long time for Kurt to find the proper words to reply. He has always known that Warren took the sort of image of himself that belonged in an angsty teen drama, but to hear him say the words out loud is confronting, and it hurts Kurt as deeply as any of Warren’s insults. His instincts tell him to do whatever he can to soothe Warren, to take him into his arms and comfort him, but his conscious mind knows that this is not what Warren needs right now. Coddling will do nothing for him – it is real, genuine talk that stands a chance at helping him. Warren, meanwhile, feels a magnificent weight lift off his chest, leaving him feeling free in the same way he did in the air. Never had he imagined that the one thing he had always detested, always avoided as though it would be his death, would feel so fantastic. The sensation is addictive, and Warren suddenly feels the intense urge to spill out every last word that lies within his still extremely full mind. “I’ll admit that the way you treated me hurt,” Kurt begins softly, breathily, and Warren returns to reality immediately. “It hurt a lot. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a second chance. You’ve been through a lot. You still need help with some things.” “Would you still be willing to offer that help?” Warren feels foolish for asking, especially in such a pathetic, sentimental tone. But this shame evaporates when Kurt gives a small, inward smile that sets off an involuntary flutter in Warren’s chest. Gradually, Kurt begins to realise that the space he had put between he and Warren is too much, and quite diffidently, he shifts over the bedspread, stopping with just a little more than an inch between his own leg and Warren’s. “Would… Would you be willing to accept it?” Too distracted by the sudden closeness of the boy he’d been all but obsessed with for weeks, Warren cannot reply in words. His throat goes stiff, and all he can think about is the fantastic warmth radiating from the boy, and how badly he wants to feel more of it. He musters a nod, a slow but assured gesture. Moments pass, though to the two boys on perched on the edge of Kurt’s bed, they may as well have been on a different planet, one completely their own.

It is Kurt this time that closes the distance between them and presses his lips to Warren’s. Softly, tentatively, nothing like the unplanned and haphazard kiss of the previous night. Kurt slips his hand into Warren’s, who responds by lacing his five fingers snugly into Kurt’s three, his eyes still closed as he returns the gentle, tender pressure. A shudder ripples down his spine and along his wings as he feels Kurt’s other hand against the back of his neck, grazing against him so lightly before it lands that it sends tingles sprawling across his skin. Feeling the intuitive desire to return the gesture, he lifts his free hand and, with eyes still shut tight, lets it feel its way across the bedspread until it finds Kurt’s side. It moves upwards painfully slowly, caressing Kurt’s arm and bringing out an intensely satisfying shudder from the boy as he softens further into the kiss.

When at last the two part, each one is giddy and smiling, and neither one has any intention of fleeing the scene for any other reason than to run to the nearest rooftop and yell to the world what has just happened. Both too caught up with each other, neither knows how much time passes before one of them finally decides to break the quiet. “I never thought you’d actually…” Kurt breathes, his fingers still tightly knitted with Warren’s. He does not even need to finish before Warren nods in agreement. “Me neither.” The two share an open, breathless smile, cheeks flushed hot, and in Warren’s case, bright red. The skin on the back of his neck is cold now, already missing Kurt’s touch. He is struck by another impulse, and acts on it with a smile, leaning in and pecking Kurt on his temple. Kurt smiles in response, the expression as bright as a star and as warm as the sun. He lays his head on Warren’s shoulder, his tail subconsciously curling around Warren, the spade gliding back and forth over the place where Warren’s hip meets his thigh. Left undisturbed in Kurt’s room, the two of them sit for as long as they can together, savouring the perfection of the moment and hoping that nothing would come to end it before they were good and ready to leave each other’s side.

#yay i finally updated #sorry to keep everyone waiting #in his eyes #nightangel #nightcrawler #angel #archangel #Warren Worthington #warren worthington iii #kurt wagner #x-men #x-men: apocalypse #comics #marvel #fic #drabble #fanfiction #xmen

[theroadfromustome]

Mile 76

Ok, at the office ostensibly to work, and God knows I need the money, but I feel like I need to take a little bit of time to sift through a whole heap of shit that has happened. And, as I cannot afford or schedule therapy right now, I need to get this out and mull it over somehow.

Ok soooo since I last wrote...

J came to visit. (This was just over a month ago.) We took a day and bashed around my part of town; played games, it felt more like we were investing in what I wanted to do. He was also sensitive, considerate, and we didn’t really have much time where his health or other factors tanked the conversation or invoked dead air. Very promising. I did show him my bedroom, in all its glory, and I fear I pushed intimacy there too far. Exceedingly foolish on my part. He was sweet and went along, and enjoyed himself I’m sure, but in hind sight--that was a NO. He says he’s following my lead wrt sex, but I wonder if he really wants to go that far. I get the sense that sexual enjoyment is something he wants to provide as a gift/service, and he thinks well enough of me to want to do so. He was also affectionate and moderately cuddly, more so than he has been before. He met my mom, and gets points for being sweet and charming to her. (He knows where stepdad is btw, but I was not brave enough to tell him why.) He also offered that we invite her to dinner so she not feel left out--points there. But ALSO, the discussion about it was nice and co-conspiratory and felt good--we were partners in crime making this decision. That was nice, and not the only time such had happened that day. And, when I got too intimate in the bedroom and cried, he held me and listened. An infinitely good man. But I’m still not sure he considers me precious enough to build something long term--he cares for me I know, he’s attracted to me of course, but am I precious to him?  Unknown. I know this: we did not end up taking mom to dinner, and while there had as open a conversation as we ever have. I tried to explain to him that when he stops actively pursuing it confuses and unsettles me; that the radio silence is really bad for my anxiety. He showed me a glimpse of his broken heart, talked about his breakup with his previous lady, and took my hands and said, in the most tender heartfelt of voices “I want to do right by you.” Perhaps the closest thing to a legit declaration I have ever gotten from him, bc he is so careful and reserved. It was amazingly touching, and I thought, good, this is a directive, something to go on. He really REALLY has the best of hearts. But THEN...he didn’t pursue that. His job is eating him alive right now I know. But there has been weeks of almost entirely radio silence--to his credit he has made some small convo which I know is him making an effort, and a mark of affection. He has finally resolved to get out of this abusive job, which is great. And perhaps on the other side of that he could be able to be available to me in the way I need, even on a slow burn. The trouble is that in that radio silence and disconnect...

P stepped in. P, who I thought just wanted to be friends. P, who I have said in the past feels far safer than J, for whom I haven’t (until nowish) had to tell myself to lower the stakes with. P, who I have raced forward with at a rate that is incredibly foolish in the course of about a month. So he’s got some neuroatypicalities and trauma, I think, from past negative experiences. He uses words like “frigid” and “robotic,” and has hangups about physical stuff. So he was giving me mixed signals bc he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to pursue anything romantic with me. But, when pressed, he was most complimentary and we messaged until 4AM. We set up a proper date, in which he taught me self defense, and I taught him swing dance. He is a natural and brilliant and supportive teacher. I’m not exactly kicking butt any time soon, but he makes me feel like I could, make me feel as though I could be capable of more than I realized; hence the list of ambitions. That partnership--that being able to glance across the dance frame or over the punching mat he is holding for me and look into his eyes and know that he is just *there* for me...that is...so good for me. SO good. He is a consummate partner, and I fear I am coming to rely on him too much. He understands and upholds my need to feel equal; engages in trades (music for music, combat for swing, massages for... other things). He makes a ridiculous amount of money, so when he spends on me it is one time when it simply cannot be equal. I begin to worry about other things too. He went away with his dad to a conference in Finland for a week and wrote me the loveliest letters every day while away. He was back for three days (which evenings we spent together and I even was able to sleepover the last and he made me breakfast...) and then is now in NY for a week with his family. He can’t write as much there bc it is family time, and I fully get that. My life continues and feels humdrum here--esp bc I’m not really working at Job #1 bc I’d hoped to be working in promotion at Job #2 by now. But more on that below... He’s being so active and outdoorsy, telling me how amazing his cousins are...and he’s not *here* I guess, to reassure me in person... For whatever reason, I’m drowning in feelings of inadequacy, and I fear, for the first time, that an expiration date has been created here. We agreed initially ‘one day at a time,’ but both had trouble keeping to that. We have trips already planned two months out (he’s taking me to NYC to see Hamilton!!!!), and talk long term all the time. Let’s remember folks, we have been romantic only A MONTH. Another good occasion for this gif:

But he seems to feel the same depth of emotion (impetuous though it is) that I do, that feeling of safety and ultimate support. Could this be a chance (down’ the road) for an unconditional love relationship with a romantic partner? Could such a thing exist for me? I worry bc he is so inherently capable; a genius and regimented; he owns a house, cooks, works out regularly, keeps himself to a diet, is a great planner, not to mention the combat; he’s a natural at swing and most anything else he puts his mind to. He’s also crazy smart, eloquent and witty; well-versed, well-read, and his baggage is not as incommodious as mine. I hate the idea of lying to him (a good sign!) and so I told him (where I was not brave enough to tell J) about stepdad and that situation. I feel for the first time (in an Austenian sense) how tainted I am by association. Most people (say, his excellent family) cannot stomach that sort of a thing in any sense, nor wish to connect themselves. He says he is not bothered, but it makes me angry and sick to think about it. Blegh. Just another of those bits of baggage I bring which make me so difficult to be with--the child and the legal marital status being others, among many... So far I have felt decently comfortable being myself and not feeling like I have to change for him (that bbaaaaaaad instinct). But lately I have felt as though I need to start working out or I cannot keep to his standard. It is not that I don’t want to be active, and I know the benefits, but working out as rigorously as he does is not something that feels like it comes from me; rather something I feel I must do for him. And the instant I start feeling like I have to behave a certain way or he will walk is the instant the warning bells start. I have the feeling and I want to stop it; I’m pretty sure it lies in me, and I want to understand it so I can stop it. I will never be as infinitely good, capable, vigorous or whole as he is. And if he wants to attempt to love me in spite of this...I just need to square with that. I want to have the strength to feel good in myself without his support. I want to feel worthy and equal. What can I bring to him that he doesn’t already have? And is it enough? When I tally our assets I always feel as though mine are wanting. He tells me I make him happy, happier than anything. But will that fade? Is it enough? Bc by my calculations it simply doesn’t add up.

“...the day that I find, suddenly I’ve run out of secrets, suddenly I’m not always on his mind...”

So, guiding questions:

1- Am I being foolish rushing into this? Am I trying to convince my heart to go where it simply cannot yet and is not ready to go?

2- What is the source of this feeling of inadequacy and how can I halt it? 

3- Is there an expiration date? How would I feel about that?

In the midst of all this T is proving tricky to shake. My fault as much as anything. I find myself crazy susceptible to his physical prowess (he’s well-versed in the art of physical intimacy) and he blindly praises me with a worshipful devotion. It’s addictive I admit. P will be more of a slow burn in terms of physical intimacy; but if we get all the way there (which slow burn is really a good healthy thing for me), I suspect it could be the sort of thing that makes me cry, in the best of ways. The contemplation already makes me more sentimental than I can say. And that’s the thing; when P gets back in town and I can look into his eyes again--when he’s there on the other end of the dance frame...holding my hand and holding me up, I will feel safe again. Loved, secure, and in no doubt. I have yet to feel inadequate when he is there like that. Because he doesn’t look at me and see flaws. And he is so pragmatic and unruffled. A good attitude for me. He is a “problem solver” as he likes to say, and nearly everything has a simple, logical solution. That’s a lovely grounding thing for me. It give me steel and makes me think things like “You don’t have demonstrable skills? Then acquire some.” And he makes it seem simple, achievable. He believes in me. And he tells me so. And he is committed to getting this thing we’ve got right. All good good things. So I have faith that things will return to normal when he’s home. 

Another point of insecurity for me atm is that I await news of this job which I had hoped to hear of before now. The week that they gave me is almost up, and I cannot help but feel that if they wanted to offer it to me they would have by now. Also, feeling anxious about all I have to learn.

And on THAT note, I do feel somewhat better and need to get some actual paid work in. Hopefully I will muse more before too much longer.

Non sequitur: In the soundtrack of P (he is sharing metal with me) there is so far: “Heaven Help My Heart,” “You’re Awful” and “Two Sleepy People”--because we cannot seem to get enough sleep in each other’s company--texting or cuddling. Which is, in his simple heartfelt language: “nice.”

[thebioticbasilisk]

So, I Finished reading Legend of Korra: Turf Wars.

Recommendation to fans who are UK residents like myself: if you’re still waiting until August 8th -10th, try looking a comic shop as opposed to a more mainstream retailer. I’d preordered mine at Forbidden Planet, went to pick it up on the 28th, and they had copies out on display for sale. In fact, any fan in any country, if a comic shop is an option for you, go for it.

I don’t want to risk spoiling it for anyone who hasn’t read it yet, so I’m going to add a ‘Keep Reading’ feature, and have it tagged to be on the safe side. Just wanted to express a couple of viewpoints about the comic. Expressing my opinion... on Tumblr... why do I feel like this isn’t going to end well :/

I can’t stress enough if you’ve yet to read it, SPOILER WARNING! Keep reading at your own risk.

What I Adored/Loved:

Like I even need to say it; KORRA AND ASAMI! Seeing them together, all the little looks they gave eachother, the interactions, the dialogue, the kisses. It was sweet, cute, funny, and heartwarming. It’s all I could ask for, just seeing them so happy, after what they’ve both gone through since LoK began, and getting far more freedom to express their feelings than the show would allow. Cannot wait to see more of that expanded on in the next books.

Speaking of interactions, dialogues, and looks, I think every character during some of the most ‘stand out’ moments in the comic really spoke a lot more than words ever could. Irene Koh has clearly proven herself to be highly talented at depicting the feelings and emotions of characters through expressions and body language, and i’m eager for more she has to offer not just in the continuation of Turf Wars, but in her own work. What can I say, I like analyzing the subtle features within art. Some of my favourite examples, i’ll list as seperate points;

Kya’s suspicious/curious little glances as she suspects something’s up between the two leading ladies.

Tenzin’s enthusiastic smile/look of joy at the evacuee camp when he see’s Korra and Asami have returned. And looking so proud of Korra after she’s addressed the people. She even referenced a past advice quote from him (“Change can be good or bad, depending on your point of view.”). Being her mentor and also - dare I say - like a second father to her, it all feels just so right for his character and gives me a major case of the feels.

Mako during Korra and Asami’s reveal to their friends. I’ve said it before that regardless of my pairing preferences, I like him as a character, and while I suspected this was going to take him off guard at first, he’d be supportive because that’s the kind of loyal friend he is. And his reactions throughout that scene were not just priceless, but appropriate (considering the past position he’s been in ;) ). Like much of what I’m saying throughout this ‘review’ it’s all just my personal opinion, but if you’ve read the comic and are reading this, look closely at Mako’s expressions throughout that scene. Doesn’t it look like that - in his head - he’s thinking the following: Whoah, What just happened? > Well, how about that. Good for them > Wait, are we all actually expressing reactions now? Should I say something > OH DAMN! Ummm. Uhhhh. What do I say?

Speaking of Mako, his skills as a detective are my favourite aspects of his character, so it’s great to see him back on the job and not letting that still injured arm of his slow him down.

Mako and Bolin: Brothers in Armed Forces :P  Adored the Brothers together, and smart move getting team Avatar 2.0 back together before the major fight towards the end. So sweet to watch Mako still viewing Bolin as his goofy sidekick/younger sibling throughout, only to embrace how well they work together side by side during the climax. “Thanks for the save -- Partner”. And I can’t help but be all smiles as i’m continued to be reminded how Bo has grown and that there’s a formiddable fighter behind the goofiness. Want a good way to pwn a villain? Break his Weapons!

What I thought was Great:

Tokuga. I didn’t know what to make of him at first, but I began to see him shine trough as a villain as I watched his fight scenes and took a closer look at his fighting style. Notice how one panel focuses on how he snags Mako’s sling with one of his hook blades; he saw a weak point and exploited it! Perfect villain behaviour. And look who came prepared with Gas Grenades and Throwing Knives. Add his little ‘spirit infection’ at the climax into the mix, and now I await great things from him.

Some extra exploration into the lore/myths of the Avatar Universe. In this case the four nations’s different views of same sex relationships. Now, I’m not going to talk about how this is significant to/relates to representation of LGTBQ relationships - as a straight, it’s not my place to say - but as someone who’s list of Kryptonites includes lore/myths/history within fictional worlds (*cough* Dragon Age *cough* Mass Effect *cough* Lord of the Rings) I just find extra details like that fun and fascinating.

That one of my other favourite pairings - Bopal - is still going and got some recognition (if only minor). Bolin even proposed a double date with Korra and Asami! Oh, by Raava, please make this happen! If not, looks like i’m going to have to get my arse back in to gear with new drawings. Already been feeling a burst of inspiration after reading this!

Zhu-li takin’ charge. Like in Book 4, she’s no longer settling with just being Varrick’s assistant, as she tries to keep things under control at the evacuee camp and starts collabing with Asami for a solution. And if the teaser description, on the preorder pages I’ve seen on Amazon, for the plot for Turf Wars Part 2 is anything to go by, she’s only going to get more awesome!

What I feel indifferent towards:

Some characters either missing or getting ‘backgrounded’. E.g. Where’s Bumi? Where’s Varrick? Or Kai? That being said, I realise that this is only the first part and there may be more chances for characters to make a proper appearance. And in hindsight I have no expereience within the comic industry so I can’t pretend to understand the process of writing a story, working within limits, and not to overload it with more content than it needs.

Would’ve been nice to see a little more ‘page-time’ with characters than they got. Such as Tenzin, Lin and Opal (still having fingers crossed for that double date). But like the previous point: I need to remember that this is only the start. I’m just being honest and I don’t wish to sound ungrateful - espeically with all the things I listed which I loved - but in the unlikely event that anyone who actually worked on this comic actually reads this, I apologize and hope you don’t take what I say too much to heart.

Korra getting mad with Tonraq after the initial celebration of her and Asami’s comming out to her parents. I silly little thing to nit-pick at, I know, but it just makes me sad seeing Korra and her Dad fight *feeling horrible Book 2 flashbacks* and so soon after the whole family was happy for her and Asami. On the other hand, it’s understandable that he - as a parent - would feel cautious, it does lead towards the afformentioned exploration on same sex relationships within the Avatar Lore, and is all in keeping with Korra’s character. I love her, but she can be quite the hothead. I just hope that in one of the next comics, there’ll be a forgiveness/making up moment between father and daughter.

What I didn’t Like/Hated:

Wonyong Keum. Prick. Yep, that pretty much sums it up.

Raiko being a moron... again! I’m not gonna lie, I’ve never been much of a fan of politician characters for petty reasons. But Raiko is just one of those guys that just keeps finding ways to aggrivate me. What was it he said: “Avatar Korra... so you’re finally done gallivanting around the Spirit World?”. Said the guy who has previously banned her from Republic City, then acted as if they were good after her poisioning, and invited the annoying press whilst Korra was trying to work on a solution to the Spirit Vine issue at the start of Book 3. After all that she’s done to try and help the city up to this point...you ungrateful sod. I’m just gonna say it now: ZHU-LI FOR PRESIDENT!

That I now have to wait until January until the next part. Thought i’d close this with a joke ^^;

#legend of korra #legend of korra turf wars #lok turf wars #korrasami #turf wars spoilers #lok turf wars spoilers #spoilers #Avatar legend of korra #korra #asami #asami sato #asami sato legend of korra #personal babbling #thebioticbasilisk #never tried writing anything as in-depth as this before #thought i'd give it a shot

[actuallysatanfic]

title: i don’t love you anymore (but i always will)

rating: n/a

word count: 2,253

summary: They both just woke up one morning and it was like a fog had been lifted and they were staring at each other like they were perfect strangers.

notes: self care is staying up past 12 multiple times writing plotless divorced victuuri angst while listening to yuri on ice while tears are streaming down your face as you regret your life’s choices.

big thanks to @judette-mathis for betaing this i love you sis

read ao3 or under cut

The problem was no one lied. There was no cheating involved and promises remained in tacked. They both just woke up one morning and it was like a fog had been lifted and they were staring at each other like they were perfect strangers. Their hearts didn’t break, but the feelings of love were gone, only leaving an empty feeling and the sensation of something missing. They tried, tried very hard, but no matter what they did, they couldn’t bring the love back. It was gone, it vanished as quickly as it came like magic.

It went on like this for a year. Stumbling and tripping over the pieces of their relationship, doing their best to keep it afloat, to keep it in tack, but all it did was slip through their fingers like sand. Fights escalated over this, it was to be expected, they were desperate, trying to hold onto their sandy relationship was starting to become impossible. So one day, Viktor left. Packed up his things and left with his dog without a word. Didn’t even leave a note. Just a ring and an empty house and a broken heart. Yuuri curses at him, screaming he should have left crazy glue instead, it would have done him so much better. He swipes the ring off the table and chucks it in a drawer, hoping he’ll never have to see it again. (If only he paid attention to which drawer he threw the ring in, then maybe he would’ve had an easier time).

Days and weeks pass, no word from his ex. Only a manilla envelope with half signed papers and a Russian P.O. Box address. He tosses them onto the table, not wanting to look at them any longer, frustrated that he can move on so fast while he himself is just barely piecing everything back together. (It takes him a full month to read them again, and another two months to sign them. Don’t ask about the return process, he can’t bring himself to talk about it yet).

Several years down the road, and he stands in line at a coffee shop in Detroit, visiting old friends and contemplating a coaching career when he spots him. He wishes he didn’t but the silvery hair is hard to miss, especially on someone as young as he is. He averts his gaze, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It’s too early, he can’t speak face to face right now. He’ll burst into tears and beg a restart but then he’d be just as pathetic as he was when the final nail was slammed into the coffin, in the one fight that ended everything.

He waits for his turn and as he steps up to the cashier, a voice rings out cutting him off of his order. He stops breathing and is afraid to look but does so anyways because no matter how many times he tries to convince himself he isn’t, he’s weak and will always be weak for this man. The man that stole and broke his heart into indistinguishable pieces only to order for him at a local Starbucks like nothing had happened in eight years. He cancels the order out of anger and spite, and leaves the cafe in a huff, silently praying he doesn’t follow. Silently praying the gods will get the message across and for once in his life, he does what he’s told. He makes to main street when someone grabs his arm, pulling him away from the intersection he is about to cross. He turns with venom in his eyes, ready to tell whoever grabbed him off, when his eyes meet icy blue ones. The same ones that used to look at him with all the love in the world that now stare at him with a look he cannot place. (So much for happily ever after.)

“May I help you?” His voice comes out steadier than he thought it would. Maybe he is ready for this. He waits for a reply but gets none as the grip on his arm is loosened until gone completely. Icy blue eyes stare in confusion but he shakes it off.

“Nothing, just—nothing.” Viktor turns back towards the direction he came, and Yuuri stares at his back with a look mixed with befuddlement and anger.

Pure anger. He grabs his arm and drags him to the nearest alleyway, slamming him against the wall of the nearest building. He glares at him and spits out, “What the ever loving fuck do you think you’re doing? It’s been eight years and now you want to speak. What do you want, Viktor?”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, but he doesn’t care. He’s done, done with missing him, done with this broken heart of his. He just wants closure; he wasn’t expecting it before, but now that he’s here, he might as well get it. He needs to know, if what they once had really was temporary. Viktor stares at him with wide eyes, surprised at his language, but he keeps his cool. “I just—I—I don’t know.” Yuuri grabs his collar and brings him down, their lips inches apart. It’d be so easy to kiss him right then and there, but he restrains himself, keeps himself strong.

“I don’t have all day.” He lets go of his collar and folds his arms across his chest.

Viktor adjusts his shirt and clears his throat. His next words get stuck in his throat but he says them anyways, “I just—I had the sudden urge to speak to you. That’s all.” Yuuri stares at him in disbelief, and shakes his head. He chuckles under his breath, places a hand over his mouth to keep them from spilling out, but it ends up in vain. The chuckles escalate to giggles to laughter loud enough to attract a few stares. He hunches over, his sides hurting from laughing so much, but he can’t stop. It’s as if what Viktor said opened up a box of emotions he kept hidden and the only way he can deal with them all is by laughing his ass off.

Viktor stares at him befuddled, not entirely sure what to do so he keeps silent. Yuuri finishes laughing moments later, even though it feels longer than that, and stands up straight, hoping he can put his incoherent thoughts in order. He looks into Viktor’s eyes, malice gone, replaced with something softer. “I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.” He wipes the tears from his eyes, “You never fail to surprise me, Viktor.” Yuuri gives him a small smile, and Viktor stares at him, gaping not sure what to say (he never thought he’d get past ‘hello’ or ‘it’s been a long time’) so he opts out of words and hugs him instead, hoping it’ll be just as effective. Yuuri stiffens, not expecting this and was hoping for a worded explanation, but for now takes what he can in this moment and melts into his arms. In this tiny moment, he feels twenty-four again and wishes naively to a small deity that this lasts longer than a minute.

Viktor pulls away, too quickly and too soon and Yuuri’s heart drops at the lost of contact, wanting to stay in his arms forever, but steels himself up for reality. Cursing himself for the hope, he braces himself for the inevitable good-byes and farewells, knowing he’ll never see Viktor again without the help of luck. He takes a step back, or tries to but he can’t. Viktor still has his arms around him, even with the space between them. He doesn’t seem to be planning on letting go, and Yuuri can’t decide if he likes it or thinks it’s selfish of Viktor to do so. Yuuri places a hand on Viktor’s forearm, the right one, then one on his waist, and squeezes it, hoping Viktor will get the message and let go. He loosens his grip, but keeps his hand there.

“I want to show you something.” Viktor’s voice is delicate and he keeps his gaze down on his shoes. “I need to show you something.” He corrects himself, still not looking at Yuuri. He does nothing to hide his want, he feels it’s now or never, and with someone like Yuuri, it’s best to do it now. Yuuri swallows down his tongue and pride, and nods. Viktor doesn’t see Yuuri’s response with his head down and hair in his eyes, so Yuuri repeats his answer verbally. Viktor lifts his head, gives a small smile, and drags Yuuri back in the direction they both came from. Yuuri trudges along, trying to keep up with Viktor, his pace rushed and desperate with a pinch of fear mixed in. Viktor’s grip on Yuuri’s hand only tightens as they maneuver their way across the bustling sidewalks and busy intersections.

Viktor slows down where Yuuri presumably guesses is their destination: an ice rink. Yuuri tightens his hold on Viktor, and finds it hard to breathe. He gulps down his anxiety, telling himself there’s nothing to be worked up over, and follows Viktor in. The rink is empty, the few staff members there idly stand around, paying the two of them no mind as they pass on by.

Viktor only lets go of Yuuri’s hand when he reaches the benches. He laces up his skates, quickly and methodically, and not once looking at Yuuri. Yuuri stands there not sure what to do as Viktor gets up from the bench, his blade guards resting on the bench and walks over to the rink’s entrance. He glides to the center and turns to face Yuuri.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me.” is all Viktor says before he starts. He starts by lifting his hands and looks up to the ceiling, and starts to glide across the ice, moving his hands back down. Even with no music, Yuuri immediately recognizes those moves. His breath is stuck in his throat as he watches Viktor skate his old free skate program.

The one he discarded along with the ring all those years ago.

Yuuri watches in silence as Viktor transitions from jump to spin to another jump. The lump in his throat gets bigger as Viktor moves into the step sequence showcasing his inner turmoil, frantically gliding across the ice. Yuuri almost bursts into tears when Viktor lands the quad flip cleanly as he did in his prime. One last combination spin and then the final pose, but instead of facing Yuuri, Viktor faces the side wall, so his left outstretched hand is pointed at Yuuri.

He starts running. Not away from Viktor. He slips and almost hits the ice, but regains his balance. Viktor meets him halfway, like old times.

“How long?” Yuuri questions.

Viktor stares at Yuuri.

“How long what?” Yuuri looks down at his hands for a bit, but then lifts his head and looks into Viktor’s blue, blue eyes.

“How long did you wait to show me?”

The question catches Viktor off guard. If he’s honest with himself, he should have expected it, but right now, he doesn’t want to be, even though it matters. He looks down and sees Yuuri expecting an answer and he curses to himself for being so slow. He fumbles with his answer.

“I—I’m not sure.” He scratches his cheek. “I ended up watching your old routine online and I had the urge to do something. I didn’t know what at first, but then my mind went back to that video of you skating my old routine and it hit me. At first, I was going to record it and post it online, but then I decided I didn’t want to live without the knowledge of what you thought of it. So I made the rash decision to show it to you in person.” He stops to breath and launch into a long-winded story of flying back to Japan only to find out he moved out and changed his number and has no contact with anyone save for a few close relatives and friends, but he doesn’t. His voice gets stuck as he sees the tears falling down Yuuri’s cheeks like summer rain. Viktor swallows thickly, and very carefully, reaching up to wipe his tears away.

“Y-You stupid, stupid, stupid man,” Yuuri’s voice is shaky, and Viktor can only smile at that. Yes, he is a stupid, stupid, stupid man. However Viktor still loves his man, even if time wasn’t kind to either of them. He’s willing to trade those eight years they spent apart after their break-up just to turn back the clocks and make everything right again, but time doesn’t allow returns or exchanges.

Viktor cups Yuuri’s face in his hands, and brings their foreheads together. “Yes, I am. But I’m yours if you want me.”

Yuuri steps back, as much as he can given his current location, and takes a deep breath.

“Time, Viktor. Give me time. You don’t have to do anything else. In fact, I don’t want anything else. Just. Time.” The last two words come out harsher than he wants, but he knows he got his point across.

“Of course.” Viktor slides up to Yuuri. “On one condition.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“You give me your number.”

Yuuri bursts into laughter, and feels that they might be alright this time around.

Oh, please, fate. Let us have another chance at forever. Time wasn’t kind the first time.

#yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #victuuri #vikturi #angst #angst with a happy ending #i shouldve burned this #IM SORRY SIS IM A TERRIBLE BROTHER