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lesbianjunimo · 4 years ago

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OM Brothers as Hozier songs

I am a cottagecore lesbian, therefore this post was inevitable. Anyway here are the Hozier songs I think resonate most with the boys and their relationships to MC! Each will have a little explanation blurb (tho I am writing this before I start so I’ll probably get carried away asjdgkdj)

this is very different from my usual style so feedback would be greatly appreciated!! thanks :D

Lucifer - As It Was

You are the home Lucifer comes to after losing his first one. He can never go back to the Celestial Realm, the place he was born and raised. But he doesn’t even want to when you are with him.

You, and all that you are, are home. Being with you makes Lucifer feel a joy like he did before the otherness, the War, came. He never thought he could feel that way again. You are as bright as the lights of the Celestial Realm; a light he thought he would never see again. A light he thought he had dragged both himself and his entire family away from forever. But here you are, in front of him, shining with a light he had almost forgotten despite his best efforts to remember.

And your love for him is unmoving. You know his past, you know his present, you know the worst sides of him. Hell, he tried to kill you before! And yet...your heart remains unmoved. He will never be able to express his gratitude for the way you waited for him, waited for his pride to subside, waited for him to realize the depth of his feelings for you. You welcomed him with open arms when he finally came home.

The lyrics I think resonate most with him:

Just as it was, baby Before the otherness came And I knew its name The drug, the dark, The light, the flame The highs hit the heights of my baby And its hold had the fight of my baby And the lights were as bright as my baby But your love was unmoved

Tell me if somehow Some of it remains How long you would wait for me How long I've been away The shape that I'm in now Your shape in the doorway Make your good love known to me Or just tell me about your day

Mammon - Sunlight

Your love is sunlight. Pure and simple. Your love is sunlight to Mammon, who has not known a soul like yours since the Celestial Realm. He loves his brothers, and he knows they love him, too, but their love feels conditional. Your love for him is unconditional, and you tell him so every day through the way you look at him.

He still doesn’t know how you put up with his waffling for so long. With the way he ran away from your affections, the way he put up walls between you to protect his aching heart. If your love was like his brothers’, if it required him to change...he didn’t think he ‘d be able to bear it.

But you were stubborn. Almost as stubborn as him! And when you finally reached a stalemate you confessed. The moment “I love you,” left your lips, Mammon knew he was lost to you. He was lost in this foreign feeling and the only way out was in your arms. And from that moment he knew he would never leave your embrace, never leave your wonderful heart.

He would sooner die before he let his sunlight be taken away.

The lyrics I think resonate most with him:

Oh, the tale is the same Told before and told again A soul that's born in cold and rain Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight At last can grant a name To a buried and a burning flame As love and its decisive pain Oh my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight All that was shown to me, sunlight Was something foreknown to me, sunlight Oh your love is sunlight Oh your love is sunlight But it is sunlight Oh your love is sunlight Oh your love is sunlight But it is sunlight Sunlight

and

Each day you rise with me Know that I would gladly be The Icarus to your certainty Oh my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight Strap the wing to me Death trap clad, happily With wax melted I'd meet the sea Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Leviathan - Like Real People Do

Levi has never cared for the company of others who are real, who are not figments of some grand author’s imagination. All they do is hurt him. He has had too many heartbreaks in his life to let anyone else into his story. He is a lone side character.

But then you came bounding into his book and tore apart every page with self-loathing words written on it. He fought you tooth and nail, but you just kept digging, straight to his heart. You dug yourself in deep, so deep he couldn’t move you even if he wanted to. Which, of course, he can’t even imagine doing now.

You’re real. And so is the love you have given him. With each kiss you prove to him that he is not some side story. He is the protagonist of his own adventure. You are his love interest, written to fit perfectly against his side when snuggling on dark nights.

It took your arrival for him to realize just how much he longed for the company of real people, for the affection of real people. And I don’t mean in the literal sense of real- I mean people who are real with him. People who are truthful, who won’t hurt him with stinging words, barbs aims right at his psyche. You use your words to guide him without crippling him, and he is so thankful for that.

The lyrics I think resonate most with him:

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask and neither should you Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

Satan - Shrike

Satan had no idea there was any goodness in him. No idea he was capable of anything with a shred of goodness in it. That was, until you came along and showed him just how long his stone heart had only been lying dormant. It was never useless, as he had suspected. It just needed a skilled stonesmith to chip away at it carefully, which is exactly what you did.

Even as he felt you cracking away at his walls, he would not tell you how he felt. He knew from the first tap of your gentle hand on the rough rock of his heart that he was yours. That he always would be. But he could not utter his love. How was he to know if you did this to everyone you met? Was he as special to you as you were to him? Or was he just another sculpted heart in your collection?

He couldn’t hold out for long, though. Not when you were housing him in your heart’s warmth with no mention of reciprocation required. What was your scheme? Why were you showing such goodness to him, and at the same time revealing he was capable of the same?

But when you whispered words of love to him, it all fell apart. The last chip of stone covering his heart shattered, as did his resolve to hide his love from you. He knows that you two will always be together, even after this lifetime ends. Perhaps the two of you will return, him as a thorn and you as his shrike.

The lyrics I think resonate most with him:

I had no idea on what ground I was founded All of that goodness is going with you now Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted All of my goodness is going with you now

and

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn Remember me love when I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

Asmodeus - Nobody

Asmodeus, unlike his brothers, has known love. He has bathed in love, breathed in love, slept in love. He knows love. And yet, in all his years, he has known no love like your love.

Your love is a wholly new phenomenon to Asmo. So pure, unfiltered, unconditional. Surprise picnic dates you spent all weekend planning, bouquets of flowers waiting for him on his bedspread, hugging him when you’re all sweaty after a jog because you know it bothers him. There is a fondness in your every action, even when you simply pick a nail polish shade for him to use for the week. It is an unfamiliar sensation for Asmo to feel such love through an accidental brush of the fingertips.

Because of this, Asmo never wants you or your relationship to change. Damn everything he has known before, damn the opinions of anyone he knows, damn what he knows of love! Your love is the only love he cares to know, now. Your love and everything that comes with it.

Asmo has had many adventures and love affairs in his time, and yet you are the only one he never wants to end.

The lyrics I think resonate most with him:

And I think about you though everywhere I go And I've done everything and I've been everywhere, you know I've been fed gold By sweet fools in Abu Dhabi And I danced real slow With Rockettes on dodgy Molly But I've had no love like your love Ooh from nobody I'd be appalled if I saw you ever try to be a saint I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave But I want you to know that I've had no love like your love

Beelzebub - NFWMB

You are part of Beelzebub’s family. You have been ever since you slept beside him, holding his hand to keep his nightmares at bay. You are his family, and nothing fucks with his family.

Beelzebub’s family is his heart and soul. You are his heart and soul. He would do anything for you. Your little finger is stronger than any arsenal in the Devildom, because you have Beel wrapped around it. But part of the reason you have him in the first place is because he knows you would never use that to your advantage. You do not see Beel as a weapon, or a hungry beast, or a danger, nor even as an annoyance who empties the fridge every two days. No, you see him as Beel. And that’s all he can ask for. That’s all he wants.

Your affection for both him and his brothers is something he cherishes more than anything else. Nothing will harm you as long as he can help it. He has lost his family before, and he will not lose any ever again. The second your fingers interlocked with yours the night you slept at his side, he knew no harm would ever come to you from that moment on.

Lucifer started a war for the ones he loved once long ago, and now Beelzebub knows that he would do the same.

The lyrics I think resonate most with him:

Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing can get a look in on my baby Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing If I was born as a black thorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies Ain't it warming you, the world goin' up in flames? Ain't it the life where you you're lighting off the blaze? Ain't it a waste it watch the throwing of the shade?

Belphegor - Would That I

Ever since the death of Lilith, Belphegor feared the fires of love, the fires of feeling, of emotion. He stomped on the embers of his heart and vowed never to light them again. It was easier to feel nothing than it was to feel her loss.

And then you...you and your blinding light, arrived. He hated you at first. He killed you, tried to put out your fire the same way he put out his own. But even death couldn’t douse your flame. You were a wildfire, one that had already spread to all his brothers and rapidly came to set him ablaze too.

It didn’t take you long to light him up. He knew it wouldn’t, but he still tried to fight it at first. The first word you spoke to him in the attic told him that if he were to ever burn bright again, it would be by your hand.

And that’s exactly what you did. Even after he had killed you, you fought to ignite the long-dead pyre of his heart. Your persistence wore him down until his lazy nature decided it would be easier to give in and let you burn him. He expected pain, expected scars, but instead he simply felt warmth. Your warmth. All the years he spent in the cold without even realizing it were suddenly over. He was warm in your arms, and he never wanted to leave again.

The lyrics I think resonate most with him:

With the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet Like the ashes of ash I saw rise in the heat Settle soft and as pure as snow I fell in love with the fire long ago With each love I cut loose I was never the same Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Laying waste to my loving long ago But that's not tonight Where I'm set alight And I blink in sight Of your blinding light And it's not tonight Where you hold me tight And the fire bright Oh, let it blaze, alright, honey

#this was SO much fun #i liked experimenting like this #posts #obey me #my writing #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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dreamersleeps · 4 years ago

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Todoroki Enji and the Egyptian Sun God Ra

(Part Four: Mythological Influences in Boku no Hero Academia)

Note: ok, so I’m kinda nervous to post this. . . but here we are

So how did I get to comparing the Egyptian sun god Ra to Endeavor? To sum it up, this is the fourth post in a set of analysis and meta about mythological influences in BNHA, so a lot of this builds on top of the info and connections I’ve made previously.

There are quite a few references and influences to Greek mythology in BNHA and personally I was very intrigued with the Hawks and Icarus parallels that kept popping up. In the myth of Icarus, the sun melts the wax off of Icarus’ artificial wings which causes him to fall and drown in the ocean. I saw Endeavor as one of Hawks’ metaphorical “suns”. While I sat on that, I began looking at Tokoyami, since he has a mentor-student relationship with Hawks, and found how he has Egyptian influences in his character design which I wrote about in a post here.

I began researching and reading through ancient Egyptian myths and information. One of the figures that caught my attention was the ancient Egyptian’s most important god: Ra, the sun god. (He is the falcon headed figure depicted below.) I quickly found some similarities between Ra and Endeavor.

This image is from the expereince-ancient-egypt website.

Before I begin, I’d like to say I am very much aware that BNHA is a Japanese manga series and that the story is greatly influenced by Japanese culture and society. Unless there are very explicit examples (such as the case of Tokoyami) this post is not me saying that Horikoshi intentionally wrote certain characters and aspects inspired by Egyptian mythology. I just like like finding interesting similarities whether they were intentional or coincidental and writing about it.

That being stated, let’s begin.

Ra: The Egyptian God of the Sun

The original source of the image above is unknown.

So, who exactly is Ra?

Ra was the Ancient Egyptian sun god. The sun had a special place among the ancient Egyptians, they considered it the source of life. He was... the creator of the universe, one of the most famous deities...

Ancient Egyptians believed that Ra created himself, and his tears created humans. The setting of the sun means the beginning of the daily journey by Ra, in which he travels by his holy boat to the underworld every evening, to fight the forces of evil represented in a big snake called Apophis, and then returns to a brilliant triumph in the heights of the sky every morning on a new day. The ancient Egyptian saw this as a sign of human resurrection, and also evidence of Ra’s victory over the forces of chaos and evil (cleopatraegypttours).

Throughout all the websites I went through, Ra was very closely associated with the themes of the sun, life, the underworld, resurrection and victory over chaos and evil.

Let’s focus more on Ra’s journey through the underworld.

During his life he was required, as the incarnation and representative of the sun god, to maintain the cosmic and social order (ma’at) established by the god of creation. He had to repel the forces of chaos which constantly threatened the order of the world.

After his d/eath, the king united with the sun disk and his divine body merged with his creator. In his new role he continued to perform the task of subduing the powers of chaos. This active role of the king and sun god necessitated a detailed description of the d/amned, who represent the forces of evil.

Perhaps you may be starting to see the similarities and connections I began to form between Ra and Endeavor. If not, it’s okay. Sometimes II have to sit on a lot of the information I’m taking in before I see anything.

Endeavor’s Powers

Endeavor’s fire-based quirk is called “Hellflame.” The list of his named moves are: Flashfire Fist (Jet Burn, Hell Spider, Hell’s Curtain), Karmic Raze - Hellfire Storm, Raging Assault - Hell Minefield, Vanishing Fist, and Prominence Burn. As you can see, there’s a lot of mentions of the word: Hell.

While we can connect the “hell theme” back to Ra’s connections to the underworld, I would first like to point out what the Egyptian underworld was. We associate fire, suffering and other things with hell, however, this is a depiction that comes from the Abrahamic/Judeo-Christian religions.

The image above depicts a section of the Egyptian Book of the D/ead with Osiris on the left and the Weighting of the Heart taking place on the right.

There were many sources that described the extensive processes of the underworld and afterlife so I’m keeping it simple here. Anyways, the ancient Egyptians did not really have a concept of this sort of hell. Instead, after death, a part of the soul would travel through the underworld which was also known as Duat for judgement. They underwent a judgement process that had two parts and if they passed, they moved on to the Reed Fields which was Paradise. Those who failed simply ceased to be.

The “hell” that is probably being referred back to with Endeavor’s quirk and powers most likely was influenced with other cultures, again more specifically those with Abrahamic/Judeo-Christian religions. Despite this difference I do still think that there are other interesting similarities between Endeavor and Ra.

For example, I’ve already established in a previous post that I like to associate Endeavor to the sun. A lot of this post will rely heavily on what happened during the High End vs Endeavor fight. The move he is using above is called “Prominence Burn.” According to NASA:

a solar prominence (also known as a filament when viewed against the solar disk) is a large, bright feature extending outwards into the Sun’s hot outer atmosphere

This is the finishing move that helps Endeavor defeat the High End and this is very significant because it is the only move with a name that relates back to the sun.

In Chapter 188 during the High End fight, Endeavor is even depicted as a fiery sphere of fire and light high up in the sky, very visually similar to the sun.

If you need more evidence for sun related themes surrounding Endeavor, Ending, the criminal who kidnaps Natsuo describes him as “A fierce solar flare that shines bright.”

One of Ra’s main duties is to keep order and defeat the “forces of chaos and evil.” Endeavor and the heroes in general sort of view themselves as this force of good and see the “villains” as enemies that have to be taken care of. I don’t agree with the ideas that “all heroes are good, and all villains are bad” and that is definitely not the message that Horikoshi is trying to send. It is because that sort of belief exists that hero society is flawed. Typically, when reading through mythology or religious texts, the themes of absolute good and absolute evil are common. Those are the contexts in which gods and other figures that exist. Humans are flawed and tend to stand somewhere in the in between.

That being stated, Ra and Endeavor are similar in their ties to the sun, underworld and sense of duty that they must defeat the “forces of chaos and evil” for the sake of everyone else.

High End vs Endeavor

Endeavor greatest ambition in life was to become the number one hero. He may act like a hero in the public’s eye but he does not have a “heroic nature” or “character.” He failed and broke his own family for the sake of his ambitions, and arguably, the Todoroki family came in to existence to serve a certain purpose. If he could not become the number one, then he’d make sure that someone with his blood and name would achieve that one day. However the unexpected happened. All Might had to retire and Endeavor was given the title as number one hero. He didn’t earn it. He was given it purely because he was the number two hero.

Let’s revisit the High End fight. This conflict happens shortly after the Hero Billboard Chart event. Japan is uneasy as their symbol of peace has retired and they do not know whether they can rely on the new number one hero. His family also is conflicted with his new position and how it was given to him. Throughout the fight we take a step in to Endeavor’s thoughts and inner monologue.

The manga panel above is from Chapter 188.

The High End is incredibly powerful and even with his powerful Hellflame quirk, Endeavor is having a hard time fighting against it. One of the weaknesses with having a fire related quirk is that it overheats his body so he’s had to rely on using his flames properly and cooling down afterwards. Because of this, he thinks about his family. The family that began because of this very weakness. His memory goes back to Rei when she is young, perhaps at the beginning of their arranged marriage or shortly before. Touya, Natsuo and Fuyumi are young as well. Standing far away and unhappy, maybe even nervous. And lastly, Shouto, the child he wanted to continue his legacy in, activating both his ice and hellflame quirks. He is the only one depicted in his actual current age.

On top of the very next page we get a scene with the High End Nomu speaking as seen below.

This Nomu came to fight and defeat whoever was the strongest. Despite it’s ability to speak, it is still mindless, declaring on and on about its power and strength. It does not care about who it is fighting and the destruction that is occuring along the way. The High End has multiple quirks that were chosen specifically to make it as powerful as it could be. Perhaps it was in this moment that something clicked in Endeavor’s mind.

Soon after, the High End strikes Endeavor multiple times, with one strike later leaving him with the scar that runs down the left side of his face. He falls to the ground and in to the rubble. Chapter 188 ends on this page with the manga panel seen below and everyone is left to wonder whether Endeavor is dead or alive.

In Chapter 189 we see the effects of the void All Might left due to his retirement.

If the “villains” can’t be kept in check the public becomes chaotic with fear. A quiet night fell over Japan after All Might retired. People felt like the light was taken away. Then Endeavor gets up. With Hawks’ help he rises in to the air with wings on fire.

And in Chapter 190 he defeats the High End Nomu with Prominence Burn.

Endeavor and the Dawning Sun

There’s a lot of things going on here. Endeavor basically follows the journey Ra takes every single day to complete his duty. Similar to how Ra “dies” as he travels through the underworld, at one point we are led to believe that Endeavor has been killed by. As most of the battle took place up in the air, Endeavor physically falls when he “dies.” Leading up to the fall, he is thinking about his family and the past.

While Ra and Endeavor “resurrect” at different points in their journey, they both rise back again in order to fulfill their duty to bring back “order and balance.”

I’ve already written about the falcon/hawk headed Egyptian god Horus and Hawks, however I have yet to address the relationship between Ra and Horus. At some point, Ra was combined with Horus and became known as Ra-Horakhty which means “Ra, Horus of the Horizon.” Ra-Horakhty is most often thought of as the god of the rising sun. It is in this form that Ra rises in the sky to bring the dawn when he arises from the underworld.

The original source of this image is unknown.

There is a deity (seen above) that appears a lot throughout architecture from ancient Egypt called “Horus-Behdity” who is depicted as a winged sun disc:

The winged sun disc is highly symbolic representing the Union of Horus the falcon God, and Ra the sun god, the union of the Two-Lands of Egypt, and becomes a symbol of rebirth for the kings (British Museum).

Although it is Endeavor who ultimately defeats the High End, it is with the aid of Hawks’ quirk that he is able to land the finishing blow. He rises in to the sky like the winged sun disc: Endeavor as the sun, and Hawks as the wings. I think the depiction of Hawks with his back towards he audience and Endeavor burning them with his flames on the cover of Volume 21 says a lot of things (including the Icarus parallels!).

Taking a couple steps back, the wording on the pages where Endeavor addresses the nomu and then before uses the finishing move Prominence Burn on the High End is important.

“Modified human... Noumu! Manufactured one. . . Holder of multiple quirks. . . Obesessed with the pursuit of strength!” (Chapter 190)

“You are... Just like me! From the past, or perhaps from an alternate future. Now burn, and rest for all eternity!” (Chapter 190)

Endeavor is a controversial character that because of his past and the horrible things he did to his family. However, we can not ignore what has been written in the manga. I’m not going to argue or talk too much about my own thoughts and opinions here, but I think it is important to address what happened during this High End fight.

He identifies himself with the Nomu: the power hungry and mindless creature. It’s interesting that he uses the phrases of “manufactured” and “holder of multiple quirks,” and “pursuit of strength” which are words that are heavy with meaning to him: the arranged marriage he purchased, the children he neglected and the “perfect” child he sought after for the sake of strength.

The train of thoughts that had begun in his mind is expressed outwards. He shouts them out in to the sky. He acknowledges the past (however to what extent is debatable), and even addresses the future. I’m not sure if he’s acknowledging that he may fail to change or that he hopes that he can change what he can.

He then defeats the High End. Endeavor had been given the number on hero position but this victory is what “establishes” him with the title in the eyes of the public. With the bright light of All Might gone, the public is inspired by a new light, the sun that Endeavor represents bringing a dawn to the night. His victory pose is reminiscent of All Might’s however it is with his other arm that is in the air, he’s slumped over and his legs are barely keeping him up. The flames that usually cover his face and body are gone as well. This is the victory of Endeavor the hero but it could also be Todoroki Enji as a father making a statement.

I’m not sure if this is him symbolically k/illing the monster he was, or if this is symbolic as to where Endeavor’s journey will ultimately head towards, or if its a representation of hopes that never come true later on. I’m not trying to paint this piece from a pro-Endeavor stance or an anti-Endeavor stance but merely trying to explain how I interpreted the events of the High End fight and the thematic meanings it had as it unfolded. At the end of the day, we all have different opinions and interpretations and you have all the right to disagree with everything I’m writing in this post.

(The case with Endeavor is very complicated and I don’t want to get to deep in to it here however) We definitely should not forget what Endeavor did in the past but at the same time we should not ignore the efforts and progress he has tried to make. While we must hold people accountable for their actions, it is not wrong for someone to want to change or become better. Endeavor may “fail” or he may be able to “succeed,” whatever either entails or looks like. However even though we do get the depiction of a rising sun, you have to remember that the sun also sets.

Anyways, what has been established was that this fight is where Endeavor explicitly expressed his acknowledgement of the past (maybe not in its entirety but it is a big first step). And it is directly after this step that we take a deep dive in to what facing the past will look like for Endeavor.

#endeavor #todoroki enji #hawks #takami keigo #bnha analysis #mha analysis #mythological influences #bnha meta #mha meta #dabi #todoroki touya #todoroki family #todoroki shouto #luna writes #my post

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klixxy · 4 years ago

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Weekly Fic Recs

(ft. my bookmark comments)

HAIKYUU!!:

the pretty (pining) setters squad - bloodyhalefire

(haikyuu!!; multiple relationships; chatfic; setter-centric; 36k words; ongoing)

oikawa: I HAVE NO FEAR

suga: straight iwaizumi

oikawa: I HAVE ONE FEAR

said you’re coming back home, boy, don't feel so alone - jublis

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; 9k words) MANGA SPOILERS

The ball rolls gently on the ground, all the way to Tobio’s feet. He bends down to pick it up, and something in his blood sizzles like lightning. He looks at the leathery surface, then at his sister’s wild smile and neat hair; looks back at the court and the net, where the boys are running a spiking practice. Everyone else seems focused on the attackers, but Tobio’s eyes are zeroed on the one tossing. Set, connect, spike. Bang-bang-bang.

No one wins without the setter.

Tobio tosses the ball to Miwa and says, “Again.”

Or, Kageyama Tobio grows up, older, and not that much wiser at all. Featuring brothers and sisters, anger, connection, and that moment when someone finally catches up with you.

My Best Friend is a 9 Year-Old - CO32minus

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; kagehina-centric; 48k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Kageyama didn't expect to become friends with Hinata nearly as fast as he did. He expected becoming best friends with Hinata's sister even less. But over the course of his high school career, the two of them grow closer than any friend Kageyama has had in a long time. A long time.

[my bookmarks: beautiful. a masterpiece. i have been rendered... speechless. it's poignant and painful and heartbreaking.

explores the relationships between tobio and a variety of people in a unique way. an emotional, tearful rollercoaster all the way through.]

you who appeared before my eyes like a miracle - vivahate

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; hurt/comfort; 2k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Everything I told you last night,” Kageyama says at last and he sounds so awful, so defensive: he keeps trying to pull away, and Hinata can tell he’s come to all the wrong conclusions. “I told you because I wanted to. There’s nothing more to it. I don’t need your -”

“It’s not pity!” Hinata hisses, tightening his hold on Kageyama’s hands. “Or whatever else you’re thinking.” Hinata releases another quivering breath against Tobio’s neck, the setter going completely still in his arms. It’s important that Tobio understands. “It breaks my heart knowing that the boy I love was hurting and I didn’t even –” he breaks off with a sound of frustration, “I could’ve done something to make it at least a little better for you.”

(or; Kageyama tells Hinata about Kazuyo san after the Black Jackals/Adlers game, and Hinata processes.)

cats and other challenges - vivahate (they have such good fics!)

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; hurt/comfort; 6k words) MANGA SPOILERS

“Was that Hime?” Miwa asks over the phone, having apparently heard that pathetic yowl.

“No.” Tobio grunts, “It’s a different cat I picked up from the garbage on my way home.” On the other end of the line Miwa laughs gleefully, probably thinking he’s joking.

He’s not.

(Or; Sometime in the year following the Olympics, Tobio finds himself adopting a cat. And then three more. Hinata doesn't mind.)

etymology - tothemoon

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; coming of age; 3k words) MANGA SPOILERS

Kageyama Tobio has a language all his own.

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is pure poetry. beauty. breathtaking. <3]

and if you asked me if i love him (i'd lie) - fakecharliebrown

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; humor; falling in love; au; 13k words)

“Okay, what the fuck,” Tobio said, upon seeing the source of the commotion in his kitchen. There, standing in front of his open window—when had he opened that?—was a guy probably several years younger than Tobio, a high schooler most likely, with bright, orange hair. He was soaked to the bone, dripping rainwater all over Tobio’s kitchen floor like he was trying to fill a new lake.

The boy looked up, wide-eyed, and blurted, “This isn’t my apartment.”

or; Hinata accidentally breaks into Kageyama’s apartment, starts a fire, and is deeply offended that Kageyama eats lettuce. It all seems to unravel from there.

burn - orphan_account

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; au; 3k words)

Kageyama Tobio had always had the odd ability to see the numbers signalling how dangerous a person was. He'd gone through his childhood surrounded by Twos and Threes, maybe even Fours. And then he meets his Ten.

~~~~~~~~~~

The flame seemed to burn ever so bright, as Kageyama felt the air around the other basically crackle. He felt as if he was Icarus and Hinata was the Sun. Two wings to hold him up, a fiery heat to burn him down.

Don't get too close, or you'll melt.

6/10 - CheekyBrunette

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; social anxiety; 19k words)

Hinata babbled on. “Natsu’s just so annoying sometimes. Everyone comes over and is like, ‘But oh, she’s so cute!’ and, well... yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like pushing all my buttons, you know? I mean, this is the third time she stole my blue furoshiki, so I had to wrap my bento with her stupid cat one!”

Kageyama’s hands knotted up in the bottom hem of his shorts. “Little sisters are the worst,” he tried.

Hinata’s nose scrunched up, and Kageyama’s stomach threatened to tie itself in knots. That had been the wrong thing to say. “Well, she’s not the worst,” Hinata corrected. Kageyama felt stupid for speaking up.

Fixation - @radio-silents

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kagehina-centric; 7k words)

Hinata can’t stand Kageyama.

He can’t stand Kageyama’s stupid grumpy face, he can’t stand his stupid hair, and most of all he can’t stand how stupidly good Kageyama is at volleyball.

Alternatively, where Hinata spends a lot of time being frustrated and confused about his conflicting emotions toward Kageyama.

Summer Days, Flying By - @anawriteshorror

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; abuse au; angst; 11k words)

“Ne, Tobio.” Shouyou asked him one afternoon, smile relaxed on his face as he spread his fingers, splaying shadows on the walls. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to fly?”

He shook his head. Flying meant going outside, and even imagining it made him tense up. He was already breaking enough rules as it was; no need to stir up his mind more than he already had.

Shouyou looked a little sad at that. “Well, I have.” His eyes went to the sky, like he could see himself soaring at that very moment. “You should imagine it, just once.”

The facts that make up his world are this: his name is Kageyama Tobio, he's ten years old, and he's never been outside his house.

Until he met Shouyou.

well, maybe i'm a crook - aruariandance

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; kageyama-centric; angst; 6k words)

The thing is-- Hinata is in love with Kageyama and everyone knows it, including Kageyama.

[my bookmarks: i'm cryignd i can't-]

discovering the smile of one kageyama tobio - Emlee_J (also a great fic writer - check out her other fics they’re all equally as good)

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; falling in love; 3rd year au; 8k words)

Kageyama blinks once before a grin of his own spreads over his face. Shouyou’s breath halts in his lungs at the sight, and he wills for time to stop, just so he can drink it in. He sees it sometimes, when they’re playing - Kageyama’s fierce smile when they pull a combo off just right, when they show their opponents how possible the impossible can really be. But then there’s another serve, another rally, and the moment is gone.

'Shame', Shouyou thinks to himself, as he lets his eyes roam over Kageyama’s stupidly happy face, taking in the creases that are from joy rather than frowning, for a change. 'It’s a really nice smile.'

In which it's their third, and final, year in high school and Hinata has only one goal: to make Kageyama smile outside of volleyball.

Wedding Tosses - its_tabby_cat

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; wedding; fluff/humor; 4k words) MILD MANGA SPOILERS

Based on the post I can't find anymore about Hinata and Kageyama spiking their wedding bouquet during the bouquet toss in their wedding.

Hinata and Kageyama's wedding is unique in their friends and guests' memories for one very specific reason. Natsu and Miwa wish they could say they saw this coming when they organised a bouquet toss as part of their brothers' wedding, but they didn't. They should have, though.

Hinata and Kageyama have no regrets. Neither do any of their guests (Except maybe Tsukishima).

gonna stand by you - meregalaxiesandgods

(haikyuu!!; gen; 3rd year au; kageyama-centric; 5k words)

Five times Kageyama defended his teammates, and one time they defended him.

baby, i can give you wings - Metis_Ink

(haikyuu!!; kagehina/daisuga; superpower au; humor/romance; 8k words)

In which there are superpowers, cats, rainstorms, realizations, split-second jealousy, embarrassing volleyparents, killer whales, electric Kuroos, unstable emotions, bad romance movie mentions, some angst, some fluff, but mostly a lot of awkward high schoolers.

The minute Kageyama walks into the gym and sees Hinata hovering eight feet over the nets he knows he’s screwed.

if it wasn't for you - diphylleias

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; getting together; 13k words) MANGA SPOILERS

A long moment passes between them, and Hinata watches, starstruck, as Heitor’s eyes linger on Nice’s silhouette from across the venue. His voice is deep, rich, all encompassing. “Some people change your life just by being in it, and you don’t want to let that go.”

Huh, Hinata thinks grandly.

[my bookmarks: This is majestic. Im now gonna proceed to scream internally about my kagehina feels for the next few hours.]

kintsugi - horchata

(haikyuu!!; gen; magical realism; kageyama-centric; 4k words)

Tobio notices when people get hurt. Something inside him hums to fix it.

The first time’s for Iwaizumi-san.

i bear little resemblance to the king i could become - silpium

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; kageyama-centric; found family; 1k words)

Something else that’s infuriating about Hinata: he doesn’t question much. He never questions how Kageyama never smiles. He never questions why Kageyama doesn’t seem to have any friends. He never questions why Kageyama doesn’t talk much about himself, or talk much at all. He’ll make fun of these things sometimes, sure, but there’s never a probing question lingering beneath it. He seems to know there are just some things about Kageyama that are the way they are and that won’t change.

Or: sometimes people find their homes later in life.

Saffron and Cayenne Pepper - dontsaycrazy

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; falling in love; cooking au; 30k words)

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

halcyon - @queenanimetrash

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; depression; falling in love; hurt/comfort; 11k words)

"...And Kageyama cried. There was no rhyme or reason to it. There was no reason for all of the things he was feeling. Depression was weird like that, the lady in the pantsuit told him. There was no reason for it. It just comes and stays sticky on your skin, lumpy in your throat, heavy in your heart, suffocating and cold all at once."

again - bigspoonnoya

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; falling in love; reincarnation au; fantastical; 15k words)

Both your deaths in this universe have failed. “Failed…” Kageyama echoes. The word seems to hurt him. “How can you fail at dying?” Hinata asks, incredulous. Luckily you have an infinite selection of universes, with an extensive number of lifetimes, still remaining. Until you can save one another, you will never grow old.

[my bookmarks: magical. absolutely breathtaking. amazingly poetic. <33333]

Blowing Up - sarahenany

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; gen; bombing au; angst; hurt/comfort; 10k words)

Minor spoilers for early S4 of the anime. Hinata and Kageyama go to different training camps, but news reaches Hinata's camp that there's been a bombing at the Ajinomoto Center, where Kageyama's camp is being held. Kageyama has minor injuries. Hinata is worried and protective. Tsukishima, Ukai, Takeda, Kenma and Kuroo are awesome.

like a sudden flight of birds - starstrikes

(haikyuu!!; atsukage; soulmate au; 17k words) MANGA SPOILERS

There are these chances—the ones that come flying overhead, streaking through the sky, waiting for a jump and a catch.

It takes Tobio a couple wrong chances before the right one comes swooping by like a shooting star. This time, Tobio jumps for the catch and doesn't let go.

stray bird - diarahans

(haikyuu!!; tsukkikage; falling in love; fluff; 7k words)

Tsukishima brings home a rain-drenched Kageyama.

All That's Left - tsunderei

(haikyuu!!; kagehina; falling in love; pacific rim au; 38k words)

Almost immediately after his last mission, where his mistakes nearly claimed the life of his partner, Kageyama Tobio resigns as a Jaeger pilot. Since then he has kept to himself, his life stuck in a rut and his reputation left in tatters. When the Kaiju suddenly threaten to rise again, he doesn’t want anything to do with them.

But along with the new threat comes new recruits, and a certain redheaded pilot isn’t willing to give up on Kageyama so easily. Hinata Shouyou is all about fighting spirit and second chances, despite his lack of experience. Slowly but insistently, he pulls Kageyama along – back to life, back into the Jaeger, back into the drift.

everything/anything by @superish

[all of my bookmarks for superish’s stuff: ]

like literally. this was my bookmark for one of their fics:

OH. MY. GOD. OHMYGOD. THIS IS PHENOMAL. BEAUTIFUL. BREATHTAKING. THE DESCRIPTIONS OF TOBIO WERE JUST- A+++++++++++++. INFINITE +S. INCREDIBLE. RIDICULOUSLY GOOD. HEART-STOPPING. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH ADJECTIVES TO PRAISE THIS FIC.

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I'M SCREAMING. I'M GONNA SCREAM. I'M DYING. HOW- WHY- THE EQUIVALENT OF PERFECTION EXISTS IN THIS WORLD, AND IT IS THIS FIC. JESUS CHRIST I'M IN LOVE. THIS IS MY NEW FUCKING RELIGION AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

BNHA:

Knead a Hand? - staqua

(boku no hero academia; bakutodo; bakutodo-centric; 5k words)

Ah. For all of the appliances Shouto had been, a blowtorch was new. Still, just to prompt and bother: "So...?"

"So..."

It was a plea for help but Shouto wanted to hear the words. Another eyebrow twitch. The other one this time, because Bakugou clearly liked to workout both muscles for ultimate impact.

"Argh! Just light your finger on fire and caramelize these shitheads!"

OR: Shouto discovers his quirk is useful for more than hero work through his time spent cooking with a grudging Bakugou.

journey to the past - @aloneintherain

(boku no hero academia; gen; midoriya-centric; time-travel au; 44k words)

Izuku is five years old the first time he's saved by heroes. He's an instant fan of the woman in pink with her cheerful smile and the man with his ice powers and fine-boned features, even if they both refuse to tell him their names.

For most of his life, Izuku has been the centre of villain attacks, but he has never been injured. Every time, he's saved by bright, unknown heroes—heroes who smile at Izuku, and ruffle his hair or ply him with hugs, and seem mesmerised by how small he is.

Heroes that the rest of the world doesn't believe exists.

(Time-travelling Class 1-A AU)

Candy Canes And Christmas Crackers - bigdorkenergy

(boku no hero academia; bakutodo; fake dating au; slow burn; 104k words)

“So….your huge family somehow all think that you have a long term boyfriend and are insisting that you bring him to your week long Christmas family reunion?” Despite his efforts the end of his question raised in pitch as Kirishma swallowed down a giggle.

“How does that even happen?” Kaminari added popping some of the hashbrowns Bakugou made into his mouth.

OR your classic holiday romcom where Bakugou needs a fake boyfriend to bring home for Christmas and Todoroki is willing to take that bullet.

some days - @chibistarlyte

(boku no hero academia; pre-bakutodo; gen; angst; 6k words)

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

hear me howling - @lunal0u

(i absolutely love, love, love this author check her out PLEASE you don’t even have to ship tododeku just PLEASE)

(boku no hero academia; tododeku; gen; angst; suicide; emotional rollercoaster; 14k words)

Instead of squinting away like Izuku would, Shouto’s eyes seem to grow warmer as they stare into the sun, seem to grow softer.

In the glow of the early morning, the sky painted in hues of red and pink, it almost looks as if the sun itself is reflecting from Shouto’s eyes, his dark pupils dyed gold by the light.

(or, four times izuku watches the sunrise with shouto and the one time he doesn't)

[my bookmarks: this is everything i aspire to be, shoved into one, brilliant fic.]

the stars are floating and we are flying - @lunal0u

(boku no hero academia; tododeku; gen; angst; mental illness; 39k words)

Aizawa starts walking towards the exit, obviously expecting Shouto to follow him, but Shouto's feet are frozen in place. His eyes flicker from the distorted reflection of himself in the ice to where All Might is giving him a long look, eyes kinder than anything Todoroki has ever been deserving of, and he feels sick.

“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya says gently, squeezing his arm in what Shouto presumes is meant to be a reassuring gesture. “It’s going to be okay.”

He doesn’t think Midoriya is in any place to tell him what okay is, all things considered, but he chooses to keep quiet on the matter.

[my bookmarks: this made me burst into tears. my heart just exploded. I'm crying like a baby. just fricking- it's just fricking beautiful. astounding. incredible. wonderful. poignant. heartbreaking. so, so very sad. i can't even put it into words frick.]

rock'n'roll, buckaroo! - Origamidragons

(boku no hero academia; gen; humor; youtube au; 6k words)

Kaminari walks up to Todoroki in the hallway after class and says, “Dude, I need your help.”

Todoroki checks over his shoulder, twice, to verify that Kaminari is indeed talking to him. “Why?”

“Yesterday you asked Shinsou-kun if he was Aizawa-sensei’s son,” Kaminari says, as though that explains anything at all.

“...yes?”

“Make a hero conspiracy YouTube channel with me.”

FMAB:

snipers solve 99% of all problems - silentwalrus

(fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood x harry potter; gen; humor; 226k words; ongoing)

Ed had thought, after the whole Promised Day, homunculus, entire country harvested for alchemical batteries thing, the batshit quotient of his life would have settled down some. He really ought to have topped out the meter with that one. But no. The bullshit is just getting started.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Ed demands. “The wizards?”

Podfic & Chinese translation available! See notes

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is amazing... {SPOILERS}]

everything/anything by tierfal

you don’t even have to have read fmab for some of their fics- you can hate royed for all i care- just PLEASE read their fics. all of their fics are just so wonderful and are such an emotional rollercoaster that has you absolutely hooked from start to end. the author has an amazing quality that their writing just makes you feel so much.

please check them out.

ATLA:

respite - @blue---pluto

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; gaang finds out abt zuko’s scar fic; 3k words)

“It’s healing really well.” Katara tells him with a smile, before her lips quirk down into a frown. “Though it’ll still scar pretty bad.”

Zuko shrugs. “It’s ok. I doubt people will really focus on it anyway… the one on my face is a bit more prominent.”

Katara makes a face, like she’s not quite sure if she should laugh or frown, when Toph speaks up.

“You have a scar on your face?” Toph asks, sitting up so she’s sitting by his legs rather than lying on them.

Zuko blinks. He never quite forgets that Toph is blind, but the fact that she can’t see his scar never really occurred to him.

“Oh, yeah.” Zuko looks down at his lap. “My father burned like, half my face off before I was banished.” He says it a little too casually, probably not bitterly enough.

The Competition - @littlelovelyspiderling

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; tickle fic; zuko-centric; 8k words)

The avatar gang competes to see who can get Zuko to laugh first. Adorableness ensues.

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; zukka; azula and zuko-centric; 60k words)

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

asmr: Actively Seeking Machiavellism's Redemption - cereal_whore

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; azula redemption; zuko-centric; time travel au; humor; 13k words; ongoing)

When Zuko's midlife crisis is just his life replayed for a second time, it tests not just his patience, but also whether it's truly Azula that's the murderous sibling out of the two. Because Zuko might be a mentally matured sixteen-year-old with his own handful of daddy issues, but he is this close to throwing hands at his eleven-year-old baby sister out in their courtyard.

Or: upon being hit by Azula's lightning in the last battle, Zuko finds himself back in time to when his father just branded half of his face. He also finds himself facing his younger sister, eleven and not a murderer, and through his own mixture of overwhelming pity and resentment for her, realizes he could possibly save not just all the people she killed- but herself as well.

In other words: Zuko wants to make things right for Azula (who was never given a chance by anyone), so he essentially drags her along with him on his life-changing field trip as a tired nanny.

heirloom - jublis

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; azula redemption; angst; series; 56k words; ongoing)

The weight of the world rests on the shoulders of children. In spite of it all, they still find enough place to grow.

[my bookmarks: fuck i’m gonna cry again]

Leaves and Shells - ChimaeraKitten

(avatar: the last airbender; gen; angst; zuko-centric; 2k)

Zuko thought he knew how to deal with grief. But loss is different every time, and losing the one person who anchored him through all the other turmoil is its own special kind of pain. Luckily Zuko is not quite as alone as he once was.

Names - TGP

(avatar: the last airbender; jetko; angst; amnesia au; 89k words)

His name is Li. At least, that’s what the villagers call him and when they die in a Fire Nation attack, he carries that name with him to the Freedom Fighters and a war that will test every fiber of his being.

Where Zuko ends and Li begins is a muddled thing indeed.

[my bookmarks: i don’t ship jetko but... but this... i did NOT see this fic coming and it hit me with the feels train... hard.]

CROSSOVERS:

In His Element(s) - WriterGreenReads

(boku no hero academia x avatar: the last airbender; gen; aang-centric; 111k words; ongoing)

“So… one more time.” Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting both waking up this morning and possibly existence in general. “You’re the spiritual avatar of an entirely different world, and in the process of keeping the peace with said spirits, originating from your… dimension, you’ve come to our world to stop the actively malicious versions of your spirits, because our world told your world that something was wrong.” The child shrugged and grinned, looking much too cheery for someone currently in handcuffs. “Pretty much!” he chirped. “Your world spirit is really polite, too. Ours was super grumpy about all the spirits escaping, but then yours said it was ok, so long as I teach her more about them on the way back!”"

Aang chases some renegade spirits across worldly borders and possibly makes some new friends along the way.

but it's a little too late - @irleggsywrites

(haikyuu!! x bleach; kageyama x ichigo; gen; humor; 11k words; ongoing)

Kageyama's elusive "girlfriend" turns out to be a bizarre ginger-haired boy who isn't Hinata. Subsequently, he may or may not lose it at some point.

Karasuno's getting kind of suspicious of Kageyama's relationship. It seems like he always runs into trouble around this guy, and some things aren't adding up. When push comes to shove, they aren't afraid to show their protective streak, especially when it comes to their youngest.

Ichigo likes his new volleyball-playing boyfriend a lot. He just wishes ghosts would stop crashing their dates, because it's a real mood-killer.

(This is 110% crack. HQ!! focused.)

Ignis Aurum Probat - writing_addict

(fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood x how to train your dragon; gen; angst; humor; 37k words; ongoing)

Edward Elric is born early into the dead of winter, on an island twelve days North of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing-To-Death. He comes into the world sickly and small--and endlessly defiant, burning with the kind of rage that can shake the foundations of the universe. The gods themselves hear that scream, that roar of fury and thunder promising to remake the world as they know it, and wonder.

Fifteen years later, Ed brings down the Night Fury that's been plaguing his people for generations, stands over it with the perfect opportunity to make the kill...and spares it. And just like that, the Norns begin weaving the fate of a hero.

62 notes · View notes

imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

The Englishman JACK - CHAP 1

Chap 1 The Name Is Jack | Chap 2 >

Summary: Jack travels to his new employer and Bunny tries to get away.

Word count: 4.657 (17 min. read)

Disclaimers: Strong language, misogyny, mention of relationship with great age gap, lots of cigarettes and “the thrill of the chase”.

Call Me Jack

Lipstick stains and cigarette buds were all that was left of her. The woman who made him into a man. The room he stood in now felt strangely unwelcoming. Like he was a stain himself. Black and bold in this lavish palace of beige and gold, on the top floor of the Parisian Grande.

The smog of cigar smoke and traffic jams was rising up through the ceiling-height windows, starting yet another day in this crazy paradise called Paris. The city had somehow always felt pompous to him, just like this apartment. Buffed gold furniture, heavy beige curtains, the scent of patchouli and sex lingering deep in its essence. It was the french way, she would have said. But she was no longer here. And he was not here to stay.

Thumbing over the precious jewels that had once graced her stretched out earlobes and wrinkled swan neck, he remembered the time he had accidentally teared one of these off. She had simply laughed at his eagerness. But he had felt great shame, crawling around on the beige carpet to look for one of the missing pearls.

I’ll buy a new one, my boy.

My boy. Years had passed since then. Since that moment. And she had made her boy into a man.

All he now had to do, was avenge her.

It was the same thing each and every morning, it seemed. The metal bullet shells chinked as they were cleaned away by the butler on the next terrace. With heavy strokes of the broom the morning silence was broken. But the world didn’t seem to mind. All was quiet. The birds were hushed, the sun was struggling and wisps of mist drifted lazily over the rolling Tuscan hills. Like the Italians themselves, nothing here seemed to be eager to get started with the new day.

Even the three bodyguards that were stationed on the far edges of the porch seemed to be more asleep than awake. Dressed in their sharp black suits they rose from the mists like great Greek statues, squared shoulders turned to stare out in the distance. What they were looking at exactly, was anybody’s guess; for the next 10 miles or so, the land was pretty much entirely owned by Bunny’s family, the Maniari’s.

Sighing quietly, Bunny sat back in her black and white cushioned chair, making the mists curl away for a moment. The northern porch hardly had the best view; a large wall hid most of the gorgeous landscape. But it was all she was allowed in terms of “freedom” as she had her breakfast session out here in the morning chill. As usual she was dressed to a tee, floral blue sundress and pretty magazine-style hair indicating she had been up at least a few hours already.

She was so very different from her family, who wouldn’t wake before the sun was high and the remnants of last night’s “hunting games” were cleaned and cleared. In fact she was..bored. Was a woman of her station even allowed to be bored? Here be Bunny, the ridiculously rich and perfectly cared for mobster misses! Bunny, the woman who had it all but wanted even more! She snickered to herself. Would the wax melt off her wings if she too would try to touch the sun? Just out of mere curiosity whether it would hurt? Would she drown in the seas and for once be done with this? This..this...ugh.

Knowing she was no Icarus by any means - it was the lack of waxen wings on her back, she figured, she flicked back some of her brown locks. The men who stood on the far ends of the porch seemed truly dazed today. A rough night perhaps? Having finished her last bite of marmalade on toast - also so very un-italian, she tapped the ash of her cigarette onto the ashtray next to her plate.

Would they notice if she’d fly off? It was a good question to pose in a world where men turned a blind eye on so many things. Squinting her eyes, Bunny took another long suck of the ashen delight between her fingertips. These men truly did seem blind. Or at least sleepy. Heads were hanging slightly limp and from the soft beeps coming from Number One’s walkie talkie, it was clear he was definitely not paying attention.

Her father had once said that these men were stationed near her for safekeeping. But Bunny knew better. She knew they were just as much here to keep her from running off. Away from this golden cage with its marble floors and far too expensive crystal chandeliers. But these poor men couldn’t help it either. They probably had played a late night of poker with Big - something you simply couldn’t win even if you had all the good cards in your hand. Life simply wasn’t fair like that. Not here at least.

Quietly slipping from her chair, her dress brushing through the mists, Bunny snuck back inside - to get out.

These dresses are only getting shorter, huh? With a devious little smirk Jack settled back in the cushioned airplane seat. He watched as one of the flight attendants shuffled by with her demure little smile. The plane was about to take off, heavy engines rumbling on the taxi strip. But first, he’d let one of these sky angels do the honours. And, looking up, apparently the lady of choice had come to her calling. Italian presumably, he saw her lips curl in a semi-flirty smile.

‘Good afternoon.’ - Her French accent was horrid. ‘May I please assist you with your seatbelt?’ She was already leaning over before Jack could object. Not that he would. Settling back a little more, he let her tiny hands clutch around the metal clasp. It was a challenge to get the thing tugged around his luggy hips. But he didn’t protest as she bent over a little more. If anything, he let the opportune moment run its course as the taxiing plane rolled over a pesky little bump. Enough for him to bump into her in consequence, the little accident followed up by a polished act of surprise on his end. A warm, steadying hand on her hip was all it took to turn the woman into a blushing, flustered mess. She chuckled and apologised with that same awful little accent.

Not that he cared. With a suave, calm smile he settled back, thanking her in perfect Italian. And with that the deal was sealed; he had ensured that this flight would be just as delightful as this woman’s dress implied..

You know what they say. Can’t let a good thing get away.

‘Found anything?’

The two men stepped into the beams of the car’s headlights. The night around them was muddled black, heavy rain clouds obscuring the skies. It was one of those moments where a seeing man could feel blind. Though these men didn’t seem to be concerned with the dark. Sharing a handshake, muddied feet slushing in the red earth, they greeted one another. One of them showed a slight limp.

‘No -’ The limping man coughed raggedly. ‘Nothing.’

‘And the footprints?’

‘Dead end.’ His cough continued and he spat on the ground, bloody mucus seeping into the crimson soil.

‘Brother..’

‘We’ll find ‘em. Just give me more time.’

The other wished to object, but a soft crack in the bushes on their left disturbed them. Someone was there. An intruder. Hidden in that pesky veil of night. With a grumble the healthy man grabbed for his gun. But the limping men stopped him.

‘Brother? Let me..!’

A church bell rang in the distance, silencing them. Twelve times the heavy copper tolled, announcing midnight, and the end of their fleeting meeting.

‘Whomever it was, we can’t chase ‘em.’ The limping man sighed. ‘And rain’s comin’.’ He coughed again and grasped the other man’s sleeve. ‘Let’s go. Ghosts aren’t worth bullets.’

Was there something like the thrill of being chased? Bunny clutched the steering wheel of her trusty blue cake tin on wheels, squealing with excitement as it slipped in the puddles of last night’s thunderstorm.

Much like the weather - the air now clean and fresh, she felt a renewed energy in her bones. This could very well be the time she’d succeed. The time she’d finally get away.

She had omitted all the non-essentials. She had learned by now that it was key to not act suspicious. Learn the patterns and only then take the leap.

The last time had failed catastrophically. Apparently she had been too obvious with her packed suitcase at the ready. Not even a lie about a personal safety plan with all the gang violence going on was enough to dissuade her father from her intentions. She could still feel the ache in her buttocks from the spanking she had received.

So yes. She had learned. She had learned to be more inventive. And now here she was. Smirking. With a sideglance she looked to the backseat of her trusty little Fiat. A small designer bag lay there discarded. Barely noticeable to the male eye, but packing much more than just the usual feminine essentials. In fact this bag held none of the usual make-up items and hair spray. It held passports, roadmaps, money and a well-thought out escape plan. She was ready. She was. Right?

Clutching the steering wheel a little tighter, she looked back at the road. And just in time. With a panicked foot on the brakes she slid through the mud, barely managing to evade the unamused looking vintager who had just stepped onto the road after inspecting his vineyard.

‘Fuck.’ Bunny muttered quietly, keeping the slower speed long enough to raise an apologising hand at the man. It was the new one. The new vintager, the other one deceased some years ago. The other wine makers had refused to take on this piece of land. And none would say it aloud, but the reasoning was simple; it was the only small trip of land that separated the Maniari estate from the Luchesse estate. Two mobster powerhouses trying their best to overrule the other; you simply didn’t want to be in the middle of that.

And now Bunny had nearly killed the one person who had dared to take on the challenge.

Trying her best to calm her racing heart, Bunny looked back to the road ahead of her. She couldn’t make a mistake now. Not when she was so close to getting out. So close to freedom. Because that’s what she wanted, right? She was ready, right? Clutching the steering wheel she pushed the gas pedal a little deeper again, forgetting for a hot minute to look back. And in doing so, she missed one essential little cue in the shape of a rushing car behind her.

The thrill of the chase was back.

Jack gritted his teeth. Not even the lovebites in his neck or the linger of sweet perfume could calm his nerves. He was hours away from Florence. Hours away from pretty city women, good coffee and proper infrastructure - the roads all red mud around here.

Jack was also not sure whether this rental he had received from that car dealer was set up for failure, or that it was just misfortune that had killed the engine. Either way: he was stuck. Stuck in an idyllic picture of green winelands covered in a thick blanket of ethereal mists. A dreamscape, the likes he had seen on postcards sent by his good friend Luigi. Those cards had often described trivial things, until a week ago, when Jack received a request. And if it weren’t for their friendship, it would be for his own devices that Jack found this trip to Tuscany to be a perfect way to spend some time. One plane ride, car drive and engine failure he was here. Stuck as a bug in a rug. Or in this case stuck with a car in the mud.

‘Fuck.’ He grumbled, turning off the radio that was bleating on about some local seismic activity. He wished right now he had accepted Luigi’s offer to have him chauffeured to the estate. But Jack was a proud man, and a man of resolve. Besides, he enjoyed driving in most cases. It gave a sense of freedom, of power. Engines rumbling, the windows rolled down.

But that would be for another time. First he had to find a new means of transportation.

Swinging open the door he stepped out into the morning mists, nostrils flaring out to breath in the biting cold that licked around his heated skin. Perhaps he shouldn’t have worn his fine calf leather shoes, he mused, looking down at the mud splatters as they painted a red dotted work of art over the recently polished noses.

Gritting his teeth again he cued a cigarette to his lips and turned around the back of the car, picking up his suitcase and hat before starting his way down to the nearest village.

Bunny knew she had failed when she turned the roundabout. With a flash of black and white the sleek suit of Number Four was hard to miss from behind his steering wheel. And he was far too close for comfort. Especially with him driving the Mercedes-Benz, its engine rumbling like a dark horse to match his steely gaze.

Taking a swift turn, Bunny changed plans. Straight roads were omitted and made way for the local Saturday market, her car soon disappearing in the hustle and bustle of cows, chickens, cabbages and coffee.

Nervous hands thrummed on her steering wheel as she moved at a snail’s pace through the meandering crowds. It was terribly busy, and that made the market both a blessing and a curse all in one. Old nans with hunchbacks, young children playing soccer, farmers marketing their produce; any other time this would have been a lovely place to be. But right now Bunny had no time to wait for the cows before her to cross the street. And so with a quick flick of the wrist she escaped her car, bag in her hand as her swift feet zipped past the meaty backsides of two brown cows before she vanished into the misty morning mayhem.

Her heartbeat was racing. Fluttering like a little bird caught in too small a cage. Sweaty hands clutched onto the bag in her arms as she apologised to a leather faced man she bumped into, his large chest already puffing up before he turned to scold her for not “using her godgiven eyes”.

‘Scusi!’ She scampered away, little mules clicking on the paved village square. She had made sure that, though practical, her clothes wouldn’t have raised any suspicion on her family’s part. And with her always wearing something rather fashionable, today was no exception. Her calf-length blue summer dress waved around her legs as she brushed past the flower stall sales men, their hands waving around in the air to catch her attention.

‘Miss! Miss! Why the hurry?! Good morning, good morning!’

She wished to throw them a wistful smile, but her eye caught on to a blur of a neat suit on the other side of the square instead. Another mobster? Really?! Keeping her green eyes transfixed on the man who was trying to chat up with one of the salesmen, she noted he was different from the others. Brown suit covered up to his calves in mud and with his handsome face contorting in agony, she saw him turn away from the salesman. She had never seen this man before. He looked foreign, his skin far less tan than most Italians and his eyes a shade of Mediterranean blue. He could very well be one of the American movie hunks she used to fawn over. Cary Grant, Humprey Bogart. His slicked back dark hair and chiseled cheeks by no means inferior to the legends of the silver screens.

But there was no silver screen here. And Bunny had no time for funny business. She had to figure out what to do. Go home and act like nothing happened? Try again later? Or get out on foot and hope that her father’s henchmen wouldn’t use their bloodhound like noses to track her down.

Feeling cold shivers run up her spine she wished to grasp for her bag, only to realise it was no longer hanging down her hip. There went the last of her plans. Washed down the drain, like the fish scales washed by the fishmonger behind the tall, handsome stranger. Who, strangely enough, had disappeared.

‘Good morning signora.’ A warm honeyed voice brushed past the shell of her ear and without looking, Bunny darted off. Did Number Four get backup? Or was it one of them? Fuck-fuck-fuck. With hasted feet she pushed past a group of women doing their daily shopping, disturbed eyes looking her up and down before they stepped aside for the mobster daughter’s pursuer.

‘GET OFF ME!’ Bunny exclaimed when she felt a hand on her arm, her hands raising up to throw in a punch if need be. But it wasn’t Number Four who stared back at her. It were heavy dark eyebrows, risen near comically onto the handsome stranger’s face.

‘I am..profusely sorry milady! I…’ Blue eyes blinked at her before he reached out a familiar item to her: her bag. Bunny exhaled. It was just her bag. Her bag! Her.. She snapped her eyes back at him. Who was this?

‘Thanks.’ She grabbed for the bag, only to see his hand wrap a little more tightly around the tan leather.

‘Wait a moment…’ He narrowed his eyes and terror was back in Bunny’s bones. Fuck. Was he with them?! She tugged a little more fiercely on the bag, but it didn’t budge. Oh please let go! Please let go! She pulled and pulled, but she was no match to the hidden muscles beneath the man’s well-cut suit. He smirked.

‘Are you..the Maniari sister?’ His accent finally clicked; foreign indeed. British, most likely. Was it the man her brother had mentioned to be visiting soon? Frowning, Bunny looked back at the man, only to realize another two suits had popped up in the corner of her vision. She had to make haste. Now.

‘Follow me and find out.’ She breathed, using her momentum to pull her bag free from his hand before running in the direction of a narrow alleyway between the houses. Fresh laundry was hanging from lines that crossed above her head, casting the street in a misty play of shadows, waving over her escaping form.

As half expected, the man continued to pursue her, muddied soles following her in close proximity.

‘Where are we going?’ His voice remained level despite the exertion and Bunny cast him a side glance. He jogged easily behind her, eyes looking up and around the narrow street. She wasn’t sure whether he was nervous about onlookers, or just admiring the change of scenery.

With a sharp turn they entered an even smaller alleyway. But just as she was about to make another right, she saw men rush past. And from the looks of it they were most definitely looking for her. Sharp suits, eager eyes. Within an instant she had pressed her back against the wall, making the stranger half bump into her.

‘In a bit of trouble?’ He smiled. ‘Do tell me it’s not a stolen bag, for…-’

‘Shut it.’ Nervously looking around herself, Bunny decided to keep heading straight, passing through another alleyway where a few women were hanging out carpets to give a pounding. Dust circled up in the air, offering a perfect getaway for their retreating feet.

Some streets later Bunny found herself back at the other side of the square. And if she wasn’t mistaken, her car wouldn’t be far from here. With nimble feet she moved through the crowds that were returning home after their shopping. Arms full of fresh fish, bread and vegetables; it was a challenge to not knock anything out of hands as she zipped past.

Staying hidden in the shade of the narrow passage, she eyed the street where her car was left in the middle of the road. No suits were seen, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Over her shoulder, the stranger watched along with her. Was he really not with them? Or was this just play pretend and would he be there to push her into their arms at the opportune time? Feeling her heart thump in her ears, Bunny pressed back into his chest, wishing to back away. And thankfully he did so too, sidestepping so they could remain hidden in the shadows of the buildings surrounding them.

‘Bunny, right?’ He whispered, looking at Bunny’s mildly flushed face. She was a beauty with her brown haired bangs and sparkling green eyes. And a feisty one too. With a scowl she looked back at him.

‘And you are?’

‘A tall dark handsome stranger?’ He tried, smiling. She rolled her eyes quietly and looked back at the square. As half expected one of her father’s henchmen had stepped out from one of the alleyways, shaking his head at someone who didn’t wear a suit. They were everywhere. Why had she even been so stupid to try and get out? Who did she think she was?

‘God have mercy.’ She whispered, shaking her head in defeat. This might just have very well been the last time she’d be allowed to even be outside. Here be Bunny, the mobster misses who became a prisoner in her own home. Woopti-fucking-doo.

‘May I suggest something?’ Jack eyed the little blue car that was left alone as the mobster henchmen ran into another street to continue their search.

‘Shoot.’

‘Charming woman you are.’ He teased.

‘Don’t push it.’ She looked back into his blue eyes, expectantly, waiting for him to dish up his idea.

‘I drive, you lay low and once at home you better have a really good excuse for your father.’

Bunny snarled. There went the last of her plans.

‘Papa!’ Bunny kissed her father’s cheek with perhaps a touch too much enthusiasm. Would he notice she was faking it?

‘Bunny, dear.’ Augusto leaned back a little to brush a loving thumb over his daughter’s face. He seemed quite oblivious to whatever had just transpired.

‘Sleep well?’ She asked, stepping back so her father could move to his desk where a recently lit cigar was waiting. Thick smoke curled up to the high ceiling of the dark, wood panelled office. And from the half-closed shutters and slow movements of Augusto it was clear he was having a particularly rough morning. Or hangover. Or perhaps both.

Waiting in the door opening, Jack shifted on his feet. He was painfully aware of the disheveled state of his shoes and pants. And all that running may have very well ruined his hair too. Keeping his hat in the crook of his arm he looked around the room. So this was it. The lion’s lair. The heart of the operation. Jack was just about to be addressed by the mobster lord who had settled back in his desk chair, when rushed footsteps echoed through the smooth marble hall. The mobster lord frowned and looked up and over Jack’s shoulder, where a heavy breathing bodyguard shot an exasperated look at Bunny.

‘YOU!’ The man wanted to step past Jack, but the Englishman was smooth in “accidentally” obstructing the doorway, eyebrows raising in feigned shock.

‘Apologies!’ Jack bowed slightly, making the bodyguard scowl even more. Apparently more people were having particularly rough mornings. Jack smiled inwardly and watched as Bunny stepped back to side with her father, her eyes betraying just how nervous she was despite her cool facade.

‘She was out, boss.’ The man pointed a reproachful finger at the brunette. ‘You little devil --’

Augusto inhaled sharply, face souring. ‘Out?’ He looked up and Bunny flinched. Augusto was an impressive looking man. Thin silver streaks framed his rugged looking face and his eyes flamed with passion, madness or both. Standing up with a pained groan he looked down at her, her feet wishing to shuffle back, but bumping into a small garbage bin instead.

That’s what she was to her father in this moment. Garbage. His face melted into complete and utter displeasure. ‘And what, daughter sweet, were you doing..out?! HMM? Wasn’t I clear?!’

‘Papa..I just..I wanted to --’

‘NONE OF THAT.’ Augusto inhaled from the cigar between his fingertips and let the smoke fume out through his nostrils. He looked like a raging bull, eyes wild as he looked back at the bodyguard, then Jack. Jack looked back at Augusto with level eyes, keeping them trained on the mobster lord with an unfazed expression.

‘And you?’

‘Your daughter was kindly enough to pick me up when I had car trouble.’ Jack stepped forward and bowed confidently. ‘Jack Wa--’

‘Are you a fool?!’

Jack raised back up and saw the mobster had turned back to his daughter, making Bunny shrivel smaller and smaller every passing second. She shook her head.

‘How..ugh..how are we ever to find you a husband? This insolence! You are just like your mother. You women you!’ He gripped Bunny’s face between digging fingertips and studied her for a second, snarling: ‘I’ll deal with you later.’ He let go, leaving small red marks on her skin as she rushed past Jack and outside of the room. Jack swallowed. He knew that Luigi’s family were mobsters. He had never cared much for it. All rich people seemed to have their flaws. Their peculiarities. And he was a friend of the family right? But perhaps that had just now been completely and utterly ruined.

‘And you must be Walker.’

Jack quickly returned his attention to Augusto. ‘I am.’ Jack nodded solemnly, keeping a straight face as the bodyguard turned on his heel and looked Jack up and down. His eyes lingered especially long on his sodden trousers, red mud dried like bloody splatters on the brown wool fabric around his calves.

Oh, how he wished he could have changed into a different suit before meeting Augusto. First impressions mattered, you see.

‘Do not be nervous.’ Lucia smiled, squeezing her fingers around his bicep. ‘It’s just men. Stupid, silly, rambunctious men. They wouldn’t know a good thing even if it hit them straight in the face.’ Her silvery eyes glanced over at the bellboy who kept a straight face, staring in the direction of the elevator doors as they zipped up to the 11th floor of the Parisian Grand.

‘I’m not nervous.’ Jack looked down at her. All silvery haired class wrapped in a black satin gown. She was breathtaking. ‘Not for them at least. I’m nervous for..you.’

‘Me?’ She chuckled softly. ‘Oh sweet darling. You do not realize what a gem you are. The men in my life never cared for their women the way you do.’ She sighed and looked down at the ring on her finger. Wrapped around the smooth black tuxedo jacket, it sparkled like a star in nightly skies. She missed the one who gave that ring to her. But he was gone. And were it not for Jack, she’d feel rather alone - and terribly bored.

‘And your husband?’

‘Well. What can I say. He was a man. I loved him. I fought him. I hated him. And then he died.’

Jack swallowed as the elevator’s bell dinged, signalling they had arrived at Lucia’s suite. The place where he’d meet her family - and perhaps in a way become part of her family too.

‘Remember to be better than them my boy.’

‘It’s Jack, madame.’

‘I know, I know.’ She laughed and the doors slid open. Her fingers tapped comfortingly on his arm before they strode out into her palace of gold and glitter. ‘But you’re still my boy...Jack.’

Chap 2 >

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama @maddyreads14

#henry cavill as jack #henry cavill fanfiction #the englishman jack #tuscany #1956 #mobster fic #paris

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scribblesofanaricat · 4 years ago

Text

Kaleidoscope Icarus

(big thank you to Toni for helping me with parts of this)

Alone in bed. Covers twitch. Clock hands rattle around their beaten path and I count it backwards. A meander towards oblivion.

I see my reflection blink. It must like watching me thrash in blue sleep.

Narrow staircase, no socks, tea bag fossils pinned to the wall, I count them up, all six, any colour I like as long as that colour is yellowish grey.

I inhale indifferent coffee broth with a side order of whichever death cult the screen hunched in the corner is serving up today. Bidding its junkies a good afternoon and then meting out a lethal dose of contradictions. It beats down on me as a sun would: simple, forcible, inevitable, ordained.

I’m not Icarus.

Even so, quick fears still tread on my heels after I kill the show and instead pay a call to the frosted-glass moon low in that blank page of a sky. Shoes dangling over a railway bridge, one a lovely Twitter-blue, lemon laces trailing like a severed leash, the other was once violet. Jaundiced glances from pedestrians and passengers cursing the back of my neck.

They plant themselves beside me because where else would they go? We don’t say much, never do, “our glass roots were love when lilac liquids flowed invisible” and “my powdered soul occurs from sun sight with figure flames and smoke” and “if we lose time by staring freely and counting sound, you’re told about it accidentally”, that sort of thing. And we do submerge our long short hours in staring freely and we do count sound since we’re not the type to move mountains, although young by our own reckoning. We know it - or we think we know.

Amongst foggy vows to meet again tomorrow, they clear off and I’m left with the grains of my own soul, the static in my skull, wearing it like a flannel shirt. House prices. Affairs. Break-ins, breakouts. Blares of ‘protect our free speech, protect our children!’ born from whatever illusory agenda they’re being warned against by the king agenda-pushers this time...another monologue from another plastic jack-in-office here to fuck us around...

Sometimes I could carve it all into my skin with a dirty needle and not flinch.

We end up huddled like penguins in the fug heaving around my room. We’d have thought the dawn of the end times would look different, something that’d be splattered over our calendars and marked in history. Instead we’re met with a whitewashed wall from the screens and newshounds even as we watch it happen in 3D. Nothing to do now but wait.

‘I don’t give a damn.’ They’re flung down on their stomach, right arm stowed under an Everest of pillows and left arm glancing off the carpet. ‘I don’t care, I couldn’t...we’re gonna flatline someday soon and we’ll nosedive into Hell and I’d still take that over this shit…I’ve got to see that ocean again, though...just one last time…’

‘Mhm.’ I’m stiff. Stiff yet floaty. The screen crouches there, rattling off a story from America about some toupeed sore loser being forcibly dragged out of the White House with the boot of millions tattooed on his arse. Let them have their pipe dream, let them have their ocean, their fickle friend with its brackish spray, rolling pulse, delusive serenity, useless but to go to your watery grave in… if I scorn it hard enough, I can almost smell it.

I outstretch my rusty arms, gathering the ceiling in a remote embrace, and begin to narrate. ‘After the downfall from the empty pages of a multitude, myths started to creep back through the gaps in the world we saw. They’d been driven feet-first out of society by the threat of extinction long ago and so they’d had to hide themselves away over the rooms of sighs they found.’ The haze seethes and swirls, fashioning hieroglyphs from my breath.

They shift beside me, breathe it in. Counting sound. I survey it all as they draw it down into their lungs and bloodstream - giants and Lilliputians, fae and demons, sister ships sleeping in spoken hiding places, uman babies feeding off a wolf who bares her teeth at us. And Icarus. Taking to the air, lured by the glare that swallowed all else and eagerly drinking it down, until he fell so far and so fast that nobody could save him.

Not like us. We won’t be led astray. We are not the imperfect sight, crimped, bought with ballads.

‘But their memories were long and their bloodlust ran deep as trembling nails. And whatever scraps of human society were left had their turn to hide, or to pose as something different - pretend to be one thing when they were really another, in case they were in line for the wrath of their former fantasies.’

I recline on my mountaintop carpet in the soupy silence after my short tale gives out, waiting. Waiting perhaps for a flashbulb of understanding or for guesses at regions of dry ideas. The clock shudders into its next aspect. Bonded pattern, distorted mosaic.

‘C’n we go to th’ocean?’ is what they exhale at length. I lie there. Head sagging into my chest. Dead rain of a crowd. And then I patter on about spume and pulse and deceit, and about rock shadows standing full at Phoenician attestations, and by God, it’s like reading a bedtime story (or maybe an aloof comedy) to a toddler and almost as easy.

So we sprout in the bleary armchair of the ocean. Coast and universe falling away like a house of cards beneath our shoeless steps. They ask pinch-eyed if I brought a laptop along with me (of course I didn’t; the world watches us out of the corner of its panoramic eye enough as it is) and seem satisfied with my answer. I droop backwards so the rocks can catch me, mendacious as the water - that slumbering giant - but in the opposite direction, downside up. I have to wonder if the sky could be the same way, or if it’s merely everything and nothing. The aridity of all.

A boat worms along the horizon, eats it up inch by inch. That old static begins to pulsate against the core of my head, guessing at who or what could be in there. The newest pet of the media, pockets padded with the benefits from yesterday’s public-spirited stunt, familiarising themself with the bits of fruit floating in the middle of an etched glass and awaiting the casting call for yet another lone hero who’s the only force insulating their precious homeland from the evils of truth and the nefarious threat of equality.

Maybe a consortium of sallow flesh and bloated eyes, red as tongues of flame yet seeing only in black and white, skin honeycombed with pinprick holes. They give and take manufactured fairy tales that accelerate their enslavement, fire their last magic bullet together in a binding act of mercy.

Or a smoke-bearded fisherman and his helpmate with salt water in their veins, in their stirring times; they haul up their meshwork and inspect its captives. Look at these beauties, they marvel every time, a record dashing against its broken needle like a baby bird against a window. Or something - I don’t fucking know what fishermen talk about. Are there fishermen anymore? I guess there must be.

As I study the vessel, purling with the wind, it metamorphoses fitfully into a whale. Its heaving back is encrusted with arthropods. Plunging its way into nowhere. Watch through unchartered eyes as its tail heaves up into the air, blotting out the sun, before it too plunges beneath the depths, beneath the waves, into the dark, dark blue-grey murmurs and untapped power of the abyss. I wonder what sort of watery graves still dwell there, trapped, locked in and locked out. The corpse of a ship. The corpse of a whale.

The sun dissolves into the horizon, spilling its aureate blood over the sea-shaped cemetery. I drink it in; it comes out in puffs of icy white. The smouldering glare lances across my eyes, burning, gnawing. I close them. I breathe cold.

My wax wings splinter. But will not melt.

Their pixelated face reappears above my own, sun’s gore cleaving to their hair with a shimmer, and jab me with a bone. And we trudge back over clumps of sand, the world brightening and darkening, brightening and darkening. The light parts liquefy like butter in a pan, overflowing, flowing, flowing until there’s no more left to flow. Until it evaporates and its burnished blush is briskly replaced by glitter and dazzle and tiny flickers of rainbow bouncing off little jewels.

I breathe warmth. The radio goes on at me, goes on, goes on, a webspinner sniping its threads.

Time hangs suspended for the lion’s share of the night. Screens paralysed in an eternal moment. The masked puppets on one side, me on the other. They dance, bow, spin on wire strings. They get tangled. They do not move any longer. Asides from the occasional twitch and twist, as weak as that of a dying deer caught in the scheming beauty of the headlights. They do not get free. Eventually they too are still.

I move onwards.

We separate then, me and them. Their fingers dance in the air as the light of the sky slips through the cracks of the earth. ‘We’re completely and irreversibly fucked.’ It’s somewhere between question and statement. I watch them droop away, hands tucked in pockets of woven clouds and leather, until the night embraces them and their shadow melts much like the light had. Tipped-over oil, trickling away.

I watch. I wait. I breathe.

I move onwards.

The wet earth slumps when I step upon it, its cold breathing into the soles of my worn shoes. I look towards the sky, up and up and up, so far that I cannot see. The sun has sunk, withered away. Gone. Gone and perhaps never to return. You never know. Never know.

The moon is rising now, the stars winking like oh so much spilled glitter. I see the sun's reflection here, its beaming glow bouncing off the pale white surface of the small planet as though it were an alien mirror. This is how you know it's there, even when it’s faded away. Gone but never quite so.

But its blazing heat is no longer here to thwart me, even if its glimmer is still present. I spread my wax wings. I breathe, I live, I rise, I die. That wet earth hums its lullaby of little critters, chirping crickets and twittering bats and the frozen old breath of ghosts long dead. Disdainful wind freezes my nose and lips and ears. I soar…

I am not Icarus.

The dark sky cradles me like black ocean water. The shimmers of light are fish, sparkling beneath the waves, the moon their only beacon. My only beacon. I breathe warmth in the cold night air. Prickles of goosebumps along the skin of my arms and legs. I am the warmth, but the cold consumes me slowly.

I float lazily, there and not there, alive and dead, warm and cold. An angel on wax wings, a ghost long dead and gone, a corpse at the bottom of the ocean. Fuck. I breathe a disclaimer of disaster, a rage against the remorseless. I breathe warmth, then cold, then nothing. Just to double check.

The golden-white glimmers of school fish trail past, streaks of astigmatic light. The moon smiles down at me, a comforting glow. A lantern hung by gods of old on invisible chains. The mirror of the sun. The dancing partner of the earth. The lighthouse of the sea.

My beacon in the sky.

It does not melt my wings. I am not Icarus.

I soar. On and on, the sparkling sky, the gentle sea. The land leaves me far behind, the twinkle of city lights fading into nothing but open waters, open skies. Nothing but starlights. Nothing but moonlight.

There is nothing waiting for me. Fuck. They have melted into the shadows, slipped like dry sand between fingers, like dry sand in an hourglass, like water in a hole-littered bucket. It is only me and the star speckled sky. Me and the moon.

I'm not sure how long I stay, floating between schools of sparkling starfish. Slowly, the moon rises…falls…and the sun creeps up behind me like a monster in a cave, turning the sky from black to blue…green…then spilling yellow, melted butter, sunstreaked blood across the horizon, its burning light warming my frozen cheeks…soothing my goosebumps…the black sea once more becomes its sparkling blue-ish green. Fuck. The stars fade like fleeing fish and vanishing ghosts. I breathe cold into the warmth.

My wax wings drip in the light. The sunlight burns my eyes, searing my retina, boiling my cornea. I squeeze them shut. I wobble and sway, a dance in the sunrise. I dance, bow, spin on wire strings and liquid wings. I become tangled. I tumble down a narrow staircase, no socks, teabag fossils pinned to the wall.

Wind sighs in my ears. I see my reflection blink in the waves far below. It must like watching me thrash in yellow dreams. The world beats down on me as the sun is now; simple, forcible, inevitable, ordained. The world crumbles around me, earth cracking, water roaring, sky tearing and tearing like shreds of paper in the hands of scissor-happy children. I am a puppet on broken strings and I am falling with nothing but the frigid embrace of the ocean to catch me, where the whale-ship corpse sleeps. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I breathe and it is cold. The sun blazes like a beacon. It is life. It is the death cult and that fear tingles down my spine.

A shoe of lovely Twitter-blue falls free, lemon laces flapping wildly. I outstretch my rusty arms, as though to catch it like a ball during playtime in the schoolyard, swamped in the too-big uniform of bright purple, a blazer that fell well past my knees. But I cannot catch myself.

I’m falling.

Falling, falling, falling like Icarus.

#my scribbles #mine #tw language #tw drug mention #tw self harm mention #tw existential crisis #tw death mention #long scribble #original writing #writeblr #wow that's a lot of tags

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mediocrity-at-best · 5 years ago

Note

"If you die, I'm going to kill you" with Logince?

Hey! Thank you so much for the prompt, I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you like it, my guy!

Title: Icarus

Words: 1,742

I am going to put this under a read more because it got long. Hope you don’t mind! Let’s-a go!

Logan glares up at Roman’s shrinking figure. Roman, in true Prince-family fashion, had ignored all of Logan’s well-meaning and factually correct warnings and climbed the tree. It is a very tall, old tree and had very sparse branches the higher up he goes.

And he is going so very, very high.

“Roman, must you do this? We were having a nice, peaceful walk.” Logan rubs his temples but his eyes never waver from Roman.

“C’mon, Specs. It’s for science. Besides, did you start dating me for nice and peaceful?” Logan flushes, but he will not dignify that with a response.

“You realize that you are recreating the age-old legend of Icarus, don’t you?” Logan calls after him. He can’t stop himself from trying to persuade Roman down, even when he hears Roman’s laugh traveling down the tree and feels it wrapping around his chest like some strange, comforting force.

“You’ll have to remind me,” he says, voice echoing all over the forest. He sounds so assured and fearless, nearly ethereal, as though he were invincible, and for a moment Logan almost believes it. But he knows that if Roman gets hurt, Logan will not be able to move him back to the car alone, and the cell reception out here is spotty at best. Logan’s heart is in his throat while he watches Roman use another branch to pull himself higher. “I can’t quite remember that one.”

“Falsehood,” Logan mutters. Roman was the one who had the Greek phase. He knows each and every myth and legend like the back of his hand. He would not just forget one, and especially not Icarus.

“What’s that?” Roman says even though Logan knows there is absolutely no way that his voice would have been audible Roman at all.

“I said that you are a poor liar at best, which is astounding as you claim to be such a wonderful actor.” Roman makes an ‘offended Princey noise’ and Logan snorts. “But if you insist on playing the part of the ignorant fool, I will comply. Icarus attempted to escape from Crete by flying on wings that his father created from feathers and wax. Except,” Logan’s voice took on a far-away quality that he was not even entirely aware of, “when he truly could fly, he became arrogant and would not heed any warnings given to him. He believed he would be able to touch the sun. But he flew too high, and the heat of the sun melted the wax, and Icarus fell into the sea. He never escaped from Crete.” Logan pauses, lost in the way the myth happens, the way history can be written by tragedies or by triumphs, the way everything that can be done will be and every folly will follow with it.

Not every venture is rewarded.

Logan suddenly comes back to himself and shakes the reverie off of himself like a dog shakes water. “You are getting very close to the sun, my Prince.”

“Not nearly close enough,” Roman says. Logan is about to sigh but gets cut short when a branch cracks and Roman yelps.

“Roman, are you okay?” Logan runs frantically back and forth under the tree, trying to see if Roman is hurt or if he’s going to fall. He is far enough away that Logan can’t make out any details. “I swear to god, if you die, I’m going to kill you!” he shouts.

Roman laughs and Logan can tell it is the half nervous, half excited giggle that Logan has always loved. It usually means adventure and fun, but Logan’s well aware, in this moment, that Roman can get just as excited about the negative possibilities as the positive.

“You’ve been reduced to nonsense phrases, nerd.” Roman’s voice is as loud and steady as ever. “Promise, I’m safe. I wasn’t even touching the branch that broke.”

“Roman,” Logan says.

“One more second.” Slowly, Roman spreads his arms out to either side.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat as he stares up at his boyfriend. He looks radiant with the gold of the setting sun outlining him against the rich pink of the evening sky. Logan knows that beauty is a construct, an impossible standard set by society, something that is different for every person, but as he looks up at Roman and takes in every bit of gorgeous, burning life that drips from him, and every bit of dazzling, ravishing fearlessness that makes the world pause and lean toward him, Logan knows irrevocably that Roman has surpassed every standard made to hold them back and stands on his own pedestal, somewhere entirely untouchable to most.

“It’s beautiful, Lo,” he says, barely loud enough for Logan to hear.

And Logan wants to say, you are an incomparable beauty in this world, but instead he says, “Get down from there,” and Roman finally does. He descends the tree quickly and gracefully, as easily as Logan might turn the page of a good book, and then he is standing in front of Logan, a smirk lending his features an air of mischief. It does little to quell the urge Logan has to kiss him, but he refrains.

“You are not invincible, you know,” he says quietly.

“Nothing’s killed me yet,” Roman snarks, but then he gently reaches out and takes ahold of Logan’s hands. “And nothing will any time soon if I have anything to say about it. I swear, my King,” he kisses the backs of Logan’s hands, “I am yours forever.” Then he pulls Logan into a hug, which he reciprocates easily. Roman drops a kiss on the top of his head and it makes Logan bury his face in Roman’s chest.

He supposes if Roman is going to do dangerous things, the least Logan can get out of the deal is a little affection. Plus, Roman’s heart creates a beautiful, steady beat in his chest. It is one of the most calming sounds that Logan has ever heard.

“You forgot part,” Roman suddenly says into his hair.

“What?” Logan asks, voice slow.

“Part of the story of Icarus,” he says. “He flew too close to the sun, but it was the most beautiful thing he ever saw, and the most wondrous he ever felt. To have the heat of the sun warm his back, to have the sea stretched out before him, open and inviting, to experience a second of that same feeling Helios must feel as he pulls the sun in its arc across the sky in a golden chariot; it is the most anyone could ever ask for. Maybe his end was a sacrifice worth making.”

Logan thinks of Roman in the tree, the way the sun shone golden off his hair and skin, creating an impenetrable halo of youth and beauty and naiveté around him. He thinks of Roman reaching the top, the way the world must have looked so large and exciting, piquing every curiosity for any adventure he could imagine. He thinks of Roman watching the world, seeing the sun as it set and perhaps feeling as though he was, for one glorious moment, guiding the chariot Helios used to lead the sun.

Logan thinks of all the things Roman could have felt, and then he thinks of the way Roman came back down the tree. For Logan.

“Perhaps,” Logan agrees. “Perhaps to some such an experience would be worthy of the end it caused. But you are no Icarus.”

“No,” Roman says. “Who would ask for the sun when I already have the whole universe?” He cups Logan’s face in his hands and stares into his eyes, a smile gentling his features. He leans down and Logan leans up, and the kiss is soft and breath-taking, and every emotion Roman must have felt when he was on top of the world spirals through Logan, as shocking as a rainstorm in the desert.

Logan has never needed the same kind of adventure Roman has to feel like he was living life to the fullest. Logan could live a perfectly sound existence with only the company of books and an occasional walk through the woods. But out here, existing with Roman, pulled away from the peaceful familiarity of his books and quiet corners, Logan is thrown headlong into a rush of feelings he did not even know he could encounter personally. The world is loud and bright and painted in exquisite shades of pink and gold and green, and Logan is reminded of the person he loves more than anyone else.

Logan pulls back from Roman, smiling up at him, worry mostly forgotten. It is true that folly follows with every possible path. But for some, like Roman, that folly is merely something others will say and never something that will happen. So Logan leans into his chest and sticks his hand into Roman’s back pocket.

“It’s time to leave,” he says.

“I suppose it is.” Roman keeps one arm wrapped around Logan’s shoulder as they start walking back to the path together. “You should climb the next tree with me.”

“Absolutely not. There will be no ‘next tree.’” Roman laughs, and Logan smothers a smile. They both know there will be a next tree, or a next zipline, or a next shark dive. Logan can no longer imagine a world where he is not dragged along to whatever crazy, death-defying plan Roman has decided on. Whatever it is, he knows it will be exciting and terrifying all in one. He knows that he will feel that same explosion inside his chest, like butterflies and dynamite, and he knows that there is always a possibility that Roman will eventually overestimate himself, just like Icarus. But this path, the one they have chosen together, over and over again, is a path that is more than worth whatever destination awaits.

Logan squeezes Roman, just slightly. “No more trees.”

“Of course,” Roman says. “What do you think about parachuting?” Logan laughs and relishes in these moments, small and glorious and perfect. They are few and far between, but he has more of them now than ever before and he will make as many of them as he can. Between now and forever, they have plenty of time.

Icarus may have flown too high, but Roman is Logan’s sun, and Logan will not melt. He is stronger than fabricated wings of wax, and with Roman lighting his path there is nothing Logan can’t do.

#ask #rightsnruckus #sanders sides #ts logan sanders #ts roman sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts logic #ts creativity #ts princey #icarus #my writing #my fanfiction #ts fanfiction #ts fanfic #fanfic

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adamgeorgiou · 6 years ago

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Eulogy for Pappou

Adamos Georgiou has passed away. Finally, he is allowed to rest.

The obvious and uncomfortable irony of trying to memorialize him now is that he's been gone, in truth, for a long time. The mind of the man who passed away was not that of the man who created his legacy, my family's legacy. It is a harsh thing to point out in such a sensitive setting, but my pappou's late condition is necessary to note in order to properly prioritize the simple, tragic, and relatively short-lived character of his later years; against the bold, sturdy, remarkable stroke of his long past. It's too easy to think that his more recent life was the more relevant, and therefore that it should be what I talk about now. But his dementia stands insignificant and unnoticeable next to the massiveness of his past.

Another irony of this eulogy is that I'm likely not the right person to make it. I mention this not as false humility, but as a proper acknowledgement of the fact that I did not know Adamos Georgiou for the majority of his lucid life, and even when I did, I was just a dumb kid intimidated by this grizzly bear of a man who spoke in foreign poems with a straight back and wise eyes that could just as easily be iron as clay.

I look back and I remember silly but vibrant moments.

Him sitting at his kitchen table, from his reserved corner seat, telling me the old stories of Aesop and Socrates and Plato. I can still see and hear him describing Icarus flying too close to the sun, how the beeswax that held his wings together melted, his pride becoming his downfall. Or how Socrates willingly drank the poison he was sentenced to die by, rather than flee, in order to prove his belief in the righteousness of the justice system that convicted him.

I remember Pappou not liking it when I preferred pizza and hot dogs to his gourmet curries, but always passing a well cut slice of an apple or orange to the backseat during long road trips upstate.

I remember him fiercely giving my sister and me his famous single syllable roar when we were being too rowdy in the car on the way home from church, and us instantly cowering away silent and terrified.

I remember him waking up before dawn with my dad and me to go fishing out in Greenport, him ready with a meticulously packed tackle box full of lures, lines, and savory snacks for both us and the fish.

I remember his gardens, before he gave them up. Me, useless and happy with dirty knees and a spade, always impressed with how he managed dozens of vegetables and herbs, when at our house we only ever had tomatoes and cucumbers.

And I remember his shed, in it a small, red, trapezoid toolbox made out of steel, full of rusted tools; and shelves with a half dozen spools of different types of string, one type, waxy and thin, he would use to make elaborate grips to knives and fishing poles, and another, nylon and white, he would use to hold tomato vines to their supports.

Everything he did was a detailed project that he was consciously steering towards success.

That's why they called him the Captain.

Adamos Georgiou was a man who took life seriously. He didn't let life happen to him, instead he grabbed it in both fists and bent it to his liking as best as he could. When it was time to make a decision for himself and his family, he didn't wait, he acted.

Moving from Cyprus, to The States, back to Cyprus, and then back to The States -- chasing opportunity, avoiding war and risk, and refusing to be disheartened by material injustice -- he never gave up, he never stopped working, and he never compromised his principles. You couldn't break the guy. He wasn't the type that would let his own animal impulses distract him from his higher goals. He believed in the potential for people to create meaning, to create good works; and he knew he was responsible for realizing that potential in his time on Earth.

He took responsibility. That's what I see as the overwhelming theme of his life. He took responsibility. Consciously, and with intent instead of dogma, he took responsibility. And in so many cases, he won the games that he played.

He raised and supported a beautiful, healthy family. He was hospitable to the communities he operated within. And he imparted so many wonderful, significant traditions with such a hearty charisma.

When I was younger, I used to hate going to Greek School. In theory, Greek School was an extracurricular class where you were taught the Greek language through a strict, proven method in a focused, formalized environment. In practice, Greek School was a bunch of Church ladies cycling between filing their nails, picking students to read from single-ply textbooks sold by the Greek Scouts of America, and propagandizing you to be more patriotic through the door-to-door selling of cement and sawdust chocolate bars. I still have flashbacks to one of those teachers spitting on me as she howled, "YOU MUST BE PROUD, ΠΑΙΔΙΑ! Be PROUD THAT YOU ARE GREEK!" And I still have some of those chocolate bars in the back of my freezer. All I ever wanted back then was to get out of that repurposed house-turned-classroom and to go to Taco Bell.

One of the yearly chores of those classes was to memorize a Greek poem and recite it in the church basement for Greek Independence day. This was simultaneously one of the more interesting and nerve racking assignments, because it involved memorization, which I viewed as a kind of game; but also you had demonstrate this skill in front of the entire parish. Year after year, I would do this. I would get on stage, and recite the sounds and syllables I had committed to memory over the weeks, no idea what I was actually saying, and then I'd pass the microphone to the next kid in line, and breath easy until after the ceremony when it was time for bagels and glasses of milk. (Meanwhile you’d get yelled at by the church custodian, Marco, for taking glasses of milk, because as everyone knows milk is for coffee not for children.) None of this ever meant anything to me beyond the moment's anxiety. But then one year something different happened.

I remember our class got off the stage and they invited my pappou up to say a few words. This had never happened any of the years before, to my pappou or any other adult, as far as I can remember. Usually, it was 5 to 6 classes of kids, each a year older than the last, each shuffling through monotone and rote read poems of imperceptible difference, each poem a test of patience and self-control and maddening boredom for those sitting around waiting for the others to finish.

But now my pappou is on stage. I know that guy. He's alone. Why is he up there? What is he doing? And in the brief instant during which all these questions were popping into my mind, he boomed into a multiple paragraph poem, energy overwhelming his posture, and exiting through both his voice and an outstretched finger, which would come down to mark the significance of a specific stanza or piece of punctuation. His greatness in that moment was undeniable and the church-goers sitting in that basement hall stayed silent the entire time, and then when he finished, many minutes later, they crashed at him with reverence and applause.

My pappou had faith in the power and beauty of words and ideas, and he knew it was his responsibility to pass them on and keep them alive, for if he didn't who would? I knew then that many of the adults in that room didn’t have the courage to be onstage, let alone the talent to deliver the words with such confidence or even the knowledge of knowing the words in the first place. And that meant that my pappou likely didn’t start with that talent or knowledge either. At some point in his life, he made the choice to develop and to learn. Someone once said, ‘Courage isn’t an absence of fear. Courage is the willingness to act despite fear.” In that moment, watching my grandfather, I began to understand what it was to be a man. I was proud to be Greek and proud to be his grandson.

My own love of books; of telling stories; of the balance between hospitality and gratitude; of nature, the mountains, the sea, the animals. Every backyard BBQ, every early morning adventure, every household project. The focus, the finesse, and the brute force, at times. The desire to achieve and to persevere and to preserve.

All of the things that together add up to being a good man. All of the things I hold as ideals.

They are rooted in him. In Adamos Georgiou.

When I think now about his death, I truly don't feel sad, as in the heartache of lost love. That grief has already been paid slowly over the years.

Instead, I am overwhelmed with a combined sense of respect and inspiration and thanks.

And if I am sad, it is the sadness of a disappointment that he couldn't be around longer so that I could've thanked him as a man, and so that I could of continued to have learned from him directly, instead of simply through his legacy.

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wetookanoath · 7 years ago

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the Ultimate™ big, fat, long ass shyan fanfic rec list by your local librarian, part II

So, tumblr fucked the format and apparently, it doesn’t allow you to post as many links as one may want. Fuck you, @staff.

Contains: More than 150 fanfictions on AO3 and tumblr. Commentary for each by me, rating, number of chapters and summaries. Divided by Top 25 Favorites, Oneshots, Multichapter, Ongoing, Series and On Tumblr Only.

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

Coming Soon: Rec Page.

~ Oneshots, part II

Something a Demon Would Say by EAST (WESTAGE)

Summary: Ryan wants to prove that Shane is a demon, and/or an alien, and Shane just wants to ask Ryan out on a date.

“The jig is up, Shane Madej! I know what you really are!”

Rated: G

Commentary: This fic has one of my favorite endings of all time. It’s fun and funny, and characterization is wonderful. Also, Shane has a not-so-secret crush on Ryan and it’s adorable.

i wanna see the sunrise and your sins by AmazingAida

Summary: ryan goes into heat while filming and shane is, thankfully, there to help.

also ryan and shane come face to face with their true feelings and it’s very confusing.

or, alternatively: in which shane and ryan have sex for one reason that ends up being a completely different implicit reason.

or, alternatively: feelings are confusing just don’t have them.

Rated: E

Commentary: Pure, fluffy PWP, if that’s you think– the only reason I don’t cherish as much this fic is because it is a cheating fanfic. And while they don’t cheat on their real life girlfriends in the fic, Ryan still has a partner and I just... don’t. But other than that, this is very sweeet and hot.

Mausoleum by ghostwheeze

Summary: How about…. Ryan and Shane are stuck in a room for some reason (Maybe the doorknob broke off…?) And Ryan is absolutely terrified. The sexual tension has been high between the two for a while and so Shane decides… fuck it, and does something to distract Ryan ;)

Rated: T

Commentary: This fic has something... something tht makes me love it. It’s so good and hot, even if they are just--- not doing it, and yeeeeet. I ove it.

SLEEPINGWITHAFRIEND by grapefruitghostie

Summary: it’s a risk but, babe, i need the thrillor; the author just wants to cry

Rated: E

Commentary: Alright, this one is kinky. In this story, Shane and Ryan also have a dom/sub relationship, with Shane being Ryan’s dom, and it also has– you guessed it right, daddy kink. I love it.

he is the one named sailor moon by schuyleryette

Summary: Ryan Bergara was just your regular college student trying to deal with classes, an asshole roommate, and one of the most insufferable jerks he had ever met. None of this prepared him for the talking cat who change the course of his destiny…

Rated: T

Commentary: Another big, but nice, surprise in the tag was to find a damn Sailor Moon AU. Look– I grew up watching this anime and this was the first manga I read, and I also probably became a little bit gay because of Michiru (and her wife Haruka), so this AU is everything to me.

That, and the fact that is. so. much. fun. Honestly, give Ryan a break– he had one weird night in this fic. It’s great, you all should read it.

satisfaction brought it back by ElasticElla

Summary: A true crime case turns supernatural, and Ryan gets a little too curious about Shane’s fanfiction references.

Rated: M

Commentary: Listen, Ryan’s curiosity in this fic is everything to me. I felt all the second hand embarrasment in the world while reading him go through smutty fanfics as Shane slept in the same room as him, getting hot at fanfic!Shane saying that “you are mine” and stuff like that. It was amazing.

Danse Macabre by americanchemicals

Summary: On your thirteenth birthday, a mark would appear on your body, a mark that only one other person in the world had. These matching marks, or soulmarks, were a physical connection between two soulmates.

Rated: G

Commentary: THEY GET– AT THE END THEY– DUDE, JUST READ IT. The ending of this, the climax of this fic, had me shook and It made me happy. Lovely fic.

and i’m puffing my chest, getting red in the face by pissedofsandwich

Summary: "Zack’s going to be there?“ Shane asks, masking his… whatever it is he’s feeling in his chest, with nonchalance.

Ryan blinks. “Yes?”

Well, never mind dancing with the fucking sun. He’s Icarus, wings melted and falling face-first into the asphalt.

Or: Shane is definitely not at all jealous of how close Zack and Ryan are getting during the making of Sports Conspiracies. Except that he is.

Rated: T

Commentary: One of my favorite fanfics that also has jealous!Shane and one of the most funniest climax ever. All their co-workers are damn angels, you gotta read this, it’s incredible. Also, kudos to poor Zack having the rage of a jealous Shane Alexander Madej with a cup of coffee in his hands.

Blood Buddies (with benefits) by Squeakyshroom

Summary: Ryan thought they were just friends, but one night and one bite has him questioning everything.

OR: Shane’s a fledgling vampire. Ryan’s an idiot.

Rated: E

Commentary: I’ve read a total of 16 times since it was posted a few weeks ago, lmao. Look– this author? I love her. She is one of the first people I talked to while doing the project, she kinda got me into talking to other authors and that helped me a lot to get through the reading happily.

She has a very unique style and the way she writes their dynamic is something else. This fanfic in particular is a lot of fun, and I hate the fact that I know one and every damn Twilight reference in it.

It also has one of my favorite mental images/scenes in a fanfic ever. If you guess which one is, come tell me about it, lmao.

give me all your poison by ElasticElla

Summary: Shane catches Ryan red-handed. Or well, red-shirted and fuck, this is not the romantic reunion he envisioned when deciding to surprise Ryan.

Rated: E

Commentary: AHHHHH, I LOVE THIS ONE. It inspired a whole series in which both are killers that you should totally read, too: the serial killer ryan quartet. This fic has… a scene I really like. If you get which one, I’ll love you forever. I’m so glad I read and commented this fic, because my comment helped inspire the rest of it.

distorted truths by hwsinbs

Summary: All of Shane’s entourage is convinced that his boyfriend is a ghost. Ryan takes it a little too well (and Shane wishes it was a real ghost).

Rated: G

Commentary: LMAO, this fic. Look– Ryan has to say a little lie and it becomes this big thing… he can’t even breathe properly after it. It’s incredibly fun, I enjoyed reading it a lot.

Eventually, the Darkness Stares Back by EAST (WESTAGE)

Summary: Shane realizes he likes Ryan exactly the way he is: alive.

Rated: T

Commentary: Oh, this one gave me the creeps. Shane is fucking scary, man, and the whole scenary, the moment when everything happens, I just– wow. This one’s good, really good.

Nana by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: I sat with you beside your bed and cried For things that I wish I’d said

You still had your nose red

And if I live past seventy-two, I hope I’m half as cool as you

Ryan is ready.

Rated: Not Rated (I’ll say T)

Commentary: This should be rated DEATH FOR YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES, because is a soul-destroyer fic. Dude, the ending. Dude, be prepared.

“Do you think there’s fanfiction?” by Anotherlostblogger

Summary: This is about to get very meta but it does not necessarily depict real life events and/or my actual opinions about the lovely fanfic on this site.

Rated: E

Commentary: The whole first part is a lot of fun, kinda on the nose, but really funny. And the smut is good, too. Very enjoyable fic, a lot of fun for everyone. Especially Ryan, lmao.

Fuck Fear by Squeakyshroom

Summary: Ryan can’t sleep and Shane invites him into his sleeping bag.

Sex and confused feelings ensue.

Rated: E

Commentary: From one of my favorite authors, this fic has ace!Shane who enjoys getting his partner off, and Ryan enjoys it of course. This fic is a lot of fun.

Ryan Bergara: The Biggest Fucking Tease in the World by ClaraLuna98

Summary: why was Shane so GODDAMN disheveled during the Sodder Children episode?

Rated: M

Commentary: This one is supposed to happen while they are filming the Sodder Children episode of True Crime, season 1. You know the one– when Shane looked like if he had just fucked. That’s the one. And it’s glorious. Also, daddy kink.

i wanna see your face and know ive made it home by isthepartyover

Summary: “I’m going,” Shane announces, blood smeared on his face and baseball bat still clenched in shaking hands.

They try to argue with him, tell him it’s dangerous and he might die and he should really leave it to the adults-Shane barks out a laugh at that one.

“I’m going,” he insists, and follows the scientists to the creepy-ass lab and down under to the gaping, disgusting maw waiting for them underneath.

Rated: Not Rated.

Commentary: SO THIS WAS DONE BECAUSE I SAID ON ONE OF MY SILLY, SILLY FANFICS POST HOW I WANTED A STRANGER THINGS AU IN THE FANDOM AND– and angels do exist, look at THIS. It’s wonderful, you guys, Shane’s POV is rich and fun, and is an interesting story that will make you want to die a little in the climax. Go read it!

Rogue State by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: “Who are you?” Ryan blurted out, once they had gotten away.

The line of Shane’s lips stretched into an amused grin. He chuckled. “I’m still your ol’ pal, Shane. I’ve just been keeping a few secrets.“

“And what secrets are those, Shane?” Ryan asked, voice wavering under the pressure of his anxiety and irritation. Shane pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side. With a small shrug, he explained, “Let’s just say I’ve been watching you for a long time.”

Spy!Shane AU.

Rated: M

Commentary: This is such an amazing fanfic, this AU is incredible and wow, I wish there was more of this. Shane and Ryan’s relationship is everything here, the things Shane has done for Ryan... amazing.

My Wings // Shyan by egofelix

Summary: An Angel by the name of Ryan meets a Demon by the name of Shane and let’s just say… the rest is history.

Rated: Not Rated (M, for sure)

Commentary: In which Ryan is an angel, Shane is a demon, there’s a war between their worlds, and they have some good dicking session. This fic is interesting, boning aside.

Compliment Each Other Like Colors by americanchemicals

Summary: When you look into your soulmate’s eyes, the world fills with color. Until then, people are forced to live in black & white, yearning for the day they’re able to see the universe in a different way.

Rated: M

Commentary: Can’t include a “you start seeing in color when you meet your soulmate” AU, especially when it’s kind of really original and well written. Very good fic with a good twist in it.

Angel With a Shot Gun by notimmortal

Summary: "I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe. Don’t you know you’re everything I have?”

- Angel With a Shotgun by The Cab

Shane is an Angel and will never let anything harm Ryan, ever.

Rated: T

Commentary: Shane (and Sara) is an angel in this one. What I like the most about it is Shane’s POV and the universe it wrote, the world building is pretty rad. And also– Shane does has a gun. His spiritual weapon is a damn gun. It’s fucking awesome.

nothing’s making sense at all by isthepartyover

Summary: Ryan was drunk.

Very drunk.

The room was spinning slightly, making it hard to focus on anything in the room or any one thought, the anxious dread he’d had building in his gut since Keith’s disappearance only getting worse and less tolerable with the alcohol in his system.

The girls were laughing loudly over some joke Ryan couldn’t quite remember hearing, leaning on one another with the force of it, and the sound was making the terrible knot of feeling in his gut worse for some reason.

Rated: Not Rated. (Again, T).

Commentary: This oen is part of the Stranger Things AU. Like I said before, I love this AU. It’s awesome and Ryan’s POV in this one is one of my favorites.

Self care by Mega_purplezebracorn

Summary: Ryan likes to shower. The shower is a private place where he can think to himself and reflect the day.

However, sometimes a certain somebody will flash into mind and…distract him from this…

This is filthy, filthy dirt and I am both ashamed and proud. *sighs* wtf have I become?

Rated: E

Commentary: This one… has something… that I really like, and I don’t know where to put my finger on it. Both chapters of it are smutty. In the first one, Ryan takes care of himself and it’s… certainly sexy. While the second one is THE scene between them.

It’s also a “discovering you got a daddy kink” fanfic, they realize together they are into that. Good shit, good shit.

conflict of interest by spoopyy

Summary: Shane is a high school science teacher who really hates his job. He bumps into a passionate, but lonely history teacher named Ryan, who just might make teaching worth it.

Rated: Not Rated (but I would say, G)

Commentary: BOY, this is such a perfect fanfic, all of it. From how they met to how they get together, and how their relationship keeps going. READ IT.

and he takes and he takes by cooliohoolio

Summary: Shane wants to say I will be dead within the next year. He wants to say the flowers in my lungs are there because of you. He wants to say I’m in love with you and it’s killing me.

Rated: Not Rated (I’d say T)

Commentary: I love Hanahaki Disease, man. It’s so tragic and romantic at the same time, and I guess– sometimes, love does feels like that. It fills you up and yet, it’s killing you, takes your breathe away. And this fic? It killed me.

Bloody Hell by AussieBookworm

Summary: One of the gifts of being bitten by a vampire, Shane supposed, was his improved hearing. For example, he could hear Jen quietly humming a song she claimed she hated, Quinta having a conversation with her mother about her father’s surprise birthday party, and Ryan leaving a meeting room and walking over to him.

***

Shane is a vampire and Ryan starts getting a bit too close to the truth, completely by accident

Rated: T

Commentary: In which Shane and Ryan visit an actual Vampire Hunter for an episode, and Shane wants to destroy something. In this one, Shane and Sara are vampires and good friends, and Ryan doesn’t know his pal is exactly what he is looking for. And it’s awesome.

May I Say I Loved You More by Luntian

Summary: He felt Ryan’s warm palm on his shoulder. By then he knew he couldn’t lie anymore.“I—well, uh…” Shane inhaled deeply, “Promise me you’ll believe.

”Ryan was puzzled, but he nodded almost immediately.

After a long pause, Shane finally continued, “I’m not human.”

“What?” Ryan whispered. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, I was human, then—and then I died.” Ryan stared. Shane realized he was making no sense. He sighed, “Okay, listen. I am an angel.” Shane glanced at Ryan, trying to see his reaction but he saw no expression on his face. “I was sent on Earth to, uh, complete some mission.”

“You’re an alien?!”

“I’m an angel!”

/or/

Shane is an angel with a time limit. And a boyfriend.

Rated: Not Rated (T)

Commentary: Angel Shane AU that for a second seems to be all happy– then it’s not. I cried a lot.

find each other when we’re losing our minds. by alvaughn

Summary: “Gotta build up to it, baby.” Shane replies.

“Don’t call me baby.”

Rated: M

Commentary: We are in smut territory again. This one is FUCKED UP, like– all of these Seril Killer AUs are fucked, alright, but this one is just… oh, holy shit. Ryan, uuuuh, gets off of Shane coming to him every time he kills someone. But I like it. Another take on the “don’t call me baby” comment, also

.a short history of almost something by cooliohoolio

Summary: "I think I’ll wait another year.“Shane’s in love with Ryan, and will get around to telling him. One of these days.

Rated: Not Rated (G)

Commentary: This fic is… so damn cute. All of it. The scenes with them out in the grass, looking at the stars, are wonderful.

shelter by Hugabug

Summary: When Ryan comes home, covered in blood, Shane is ready for it.

Rated: T

Commentary: Serial Killer Ryan AU. Shane loves Ryan so much in this fic. And even though Ryan does– these horrible things, you can’t help but just want them to be safe. Protective Shane in this context is as wonderful as in any other.

waiting here for catastrophe by anarchetypal

Summary: “Ryan.” Shane breaks off and sits down again, slides his chair closer to Ryan’s, stares him down. “God, fuck, look at me, okay, I did this. I did this, this is my case, this is mine, everything you’re talking about—”

Ryan can’t help it: he laughs. It comes out a little anxiously, but it’s a laugh all the same, because Shane can’t really expect him to buy into this, right?

And Shane looks—well, murderous is either the wrong word or the right one.

“I’m not kidding.”

“You really want me to believe—”

“You entertain all possible theories, right?” Shane says, exasperated and angry, and Ryan notices it’s the first time he’s ever said that seriously. “That’s what this stupid show is—that’s what you do.So entertain this one.”

All at once, it stops being funny. Something the size of a golf ball seems to lodge itself high in Ryan’s throat. He realizes it’s alarm, fear, a caged bird thrashing against the bars inside himself. He’s waiting for Shane to break, to burst into laughter, to say it’s all a stupid joke, but it doesn’t happen.

“What the fuck,” he croaks out.

Rated: M

Commentary: Serial Killer Shane. In this one, Shane is offended that Ryan thinks he is an amateour in the Art of Killing, and also does the horrible, terrible pun of “Cereal Killer” as he eats Ryan’s cereal. It’s fantastic.

when the tide comes by AnastasiaYu

Summary: the disappearance of ryan bergara.

Rated: T

Commentary: To quote Luke Skyalker, “this is not going to end the way you think”. This is… so sad. The ending is, wow, one of my favorites. The original ending. Althought the second ending is also good. But the first! So sad! So good!

i keep telling myself i’m not the desperate type by juniperProse

Summary: ““Hmm. Guess I’ll have to get you to shut up another way, then,” Shane says, and somehow he just sounds like he’s smirking.”

—

Or: It’s exactly what it sounds like. They just make out. That’s it.

Rated: T

Commentary: I know I keep saying this, but this is the cutest thing in the world and it’s gonna make you happy like it made me when I first read it. Besides, I really like this author a lot.

Short Stack by americanchemicals

Summary: An AU where the first words your soulmate ever tells you are marked on your wrist.

And Shane isn’t disappointed, because he knows he’ll know his soulmate right away, with how unique his words are.

After all, not many people greet others by saying, “You’re a fucking Sasquatch.”

Rated: T

Commentary: Listen, “You are a fucking Sasquatch!” has never been this romantic. This one fic is wonderful, def one of my favorites. Also, Soulmates AU are everything to me.

Love by JayCKx

Summary: "Do you not know how love works?“ Ryan utters softly, voice a little bit awed, looking at Shane with an expression that the taller man can’t quite place.

Immediately a million thoughts and memories spring forward into Shane’s mind.

Rated: G

Commentary: My heart warmed so much while reading this. It’s really cute, you just gotta ignore the unrequited love tag, lmao. Also a shorty but goodie.

The Desk Fic by SincerelyLeah

Summary: Shane was having a shitty Monday morning and it was all because of one person, Ryan Bergara. But, by now he should know that endless teasing gets Shane more than riled up.

Rated: E

Commentary: I have so much fun reading this damn fic. Because it’s funny– Like, Shane’s POV is funny and you can feel his frustration because Ryan is. such. a. fucking. tease. And THE moment is just– good. Also, lmao, beware of the daddy kink.

Under The Stars by SincerelyLeah

Summary: “I promised myself I would never fall in love with you. But it was four am, and we were laughing way too hard. I felt happy for the first time in a long time, and I knew I was screwed.”

Rated: G

Commentary: A sweet something you will be glad to have read once you are done. I loved it, it’s so sweet and warm, it makes me truly happy.

if we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now by floatingonthelehigh

Summary: “How did you convince me to come here again?”

“My irresistible charm, of course.”

Ryan’s mouth settles into a hard line. He’s not wrong.

(Shane gets Ryan to come to an old abandoned house with him. One of them, and you’ll never guess who, gets more than a little freaked out. Featuring: pure terror! confessions of love! and a somewhat-terrifying framed photograph of a woman!)

Rated: T

Commentary: Pure, sweet, loving fluff. Ryan gets a little angry at Shane but he deserves it, but at the end everything is right. I love this fic.

mystery item by rycan_toucan

Summary: ” – okay. remember last week when you, jen, steven and i went drinking and i had, like, eight and a half shots of whiskey?“

“i specifically remember the half, yes.”

“impressive. anyway, i ended up not passing out when i got home and did some high quality online shopping, instead.”***

ryan bought a thing, they both find it extremely funny and have a good time.

Rated: T

Commentary: The boys are so silly and happy in this little thing, oh my God, I’m smiling as I remember this fic.

Nemo est Scire by KatHowellLester

Summary: Shane and Ryan are staying the night in a haunted building and Ryan can’t handle it so Shane cuddles him and makes him feel better by talking and holding him

No one has to know

Rated: E

Commentary: Say hello to the first daddy kink fic in the fandom, at least on AO3. Okay, so this one– I love the ending of this one a lot. And the use of the kink is pretty good, they actually discover they are into it during the act in the story. Pretty good and loving.

gayer than expected by juniperProse

Summary: Ryan sees Shane in his new glasses, and realizes that he may be less straight than he originally thought.

Rated: G

Commentary: NFNFINEIFRO, this one is so funny. I mean, just look at the title. Also, juniperProse is one of the best authors out there, you are gonna love this one.

Disneyland & Soulmates by anxiousdraco

Summary: Shane Madej is tired of looking at his Mark. He has yet to meet his Other even though he’s 26. So, he saves up his money and catches a flight to LA to get his Mark removed – something that is incredibly frowned upon. When he finds out he is to meet his Other in two hours, he goes to Disneyland. Why? Who knows. But it all works out in the end. // Shyan

Rated: Not Rated (I’d say T)

Commentary: Super cute, one hell of a meet-cute, even if at the beginning is a little bit angsty. Love this fic!

forever by catbrains

Summary: Prompt: “Can I kiss you?”

It’s an urge that comes on suddenly and all-consumingly, like starvation with no hunger to prelude it.

Rated: G

Commentary: In this one, they kiss for the first time and I melted when I first read it. The super poetic and beautiful way the kiss is written haunts me to this night.

The Lube Fic by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: Someone sends Ryan a 55-gallon drum of lube, and Shane finds a good use for it.

Rated: Not rated (M, I think)

Commentary: Like I said before, Joey is the best and he always gives us the best content. This one is hot and funny. Also, it’s in his oneshots anthology, Between a Crucifix and the Hollywood Sign. This fic is so much fun... and has daddy kink, lmao.

Popping Dilemmas by SincerelyLeah

Summary: A late night run and met a late night stranger.

Rated: G

Commentary: This is one of those fics a meet-cute that you just LOVE, and this one is the case for me.

But I would like to, with you by MPhoenix7

Summary: “Maybe I don’t”.

“But I would like to, with you” was left unsaid.

Rated: T

Commentary: As you can see, this little moment marked us all. This one is another take on that, “You don’t know how love works?” little question. It’s also incredible.

in a crowd of thousands by Hugabug

Summary: the parade traveled on, with the sun in my eyes you were gone but i knew even then in a crowd of thousands i’ll find you again

Rated: G

Commentary: And as you can see, I love Hugabug’s writing and wonderful AUs. This an Anastasia AU, Ryan is Anastasia and Shane is Dimitri, and this is BEAUTIFUL.

Unsolved by areneecz

Summary: The fluff-fueled antics of Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej.

Rated: M (but not really, is like T)

Commentary: OH THIS ONE. It’s so good, so pure, so cute. Shane calls Ryan “sweetheart” and I just fucking MELTED.

Candid by Planterra

Summary: ”The light shone through the window, hitting the younger’s smooth skin in just the right way. He was glowing. Ethereal. Beautiful, Light in an unworldly sense- and all of him belonged to Shane.“

Rated: E

Commentary: This is such a poetic little thing, in the smut realm also, and so beautiful…

I Only Need One Hand To Drive by gayunsolved

Summary: Ryan Bergara knows what he likes, okay? But he won't tell you if you ask, so don't ask.

(Alternatively, putting the 'size' in fantasize.)

Rated: E

Commentary: AHAHAHA, THIS FIC. So good, so hot, so-- listen, Size Kink it’s my thing and this fic gave me exactly what I wanted.

Oh Well, Oh Well by americanchemicals

Summary: Shane was just a typical demon, adventuring with his boyfriend through different haunted locations. Little did his boyfriend know, but he was there to make sure that nothing sinister hurt his human.

Ryan was just a regular demon, travelling to different haunted locations with his boyfriend for videos. Little did his partner know, but he was also making sure nothing hurt his tall partner.

Rated: M

Commentary: In this one, both of them are demons and it’s amazing, because none has any idea the other is, lmao. I love this fic.

Under no circumstances by Memefaego

Summary: Under no circumstances is Ryan getting in the tub with Shane.

Rated: T

Commentary: I bookmarked this one as “quality content” and that’s what it is. It’s the only fic about that bathrube scene, can you believe that?

things you said in the moonlight. by idkspookystuff

Summary: Ryan invites Shane to spend the night, only he hasn't told his boyfriend he's transgender yet. or ryan's trans, he gets his period, and shane loves him despite everything.

Rated: T

Commentary: Such a sweet little fanfic that I love with all my heart. Trans Ryan AU, he and Shane had just started to date and everything is cute.

crossroads by thescrewtapedemos

Summary: It’s not a good idea to try rituals you find on the internet.

Rated: T

Commentary: Ryan’s actions in this fic are horrible in the sense that he thought– he thought nothing had happened and yet, all nightmares come to him and he doesn’t seem to notice, until the nightmare starts getting more and more clear. It’s incredible. I love this fic. It’s short and terrifying.

force at play by historicandgay (dannylawrence)

Summary: Over the decades, the Queen Mary has become filled to the brim with varying spirits and ghosts. Most of them are tired and prefer to keep away from the living. Most of them, that is. On one fateful trip, a young Ryan Bergara gets more than he predicted when a nosy ghost ends up seeing the future he could have with a certain skeptic, if only Ryan could just, ya know, believe in ghosts.

"Everything always came together, perfectly so, whether you meant it to or not, whether you wanted it to or not, no matter how hard people tried to predetermine the answer to every aspect of life, there was always something more."

Rated: Not Rated (I’d say G)

Commentary: Such a sweet fanfic about the ghosts at the Quen Mary, and one in particular that sees Ryan grow.

but still let me tell you that i love who you are by BooyahFordhamYacht

Summary: Ryan says the most wonderful things when there’s no one there to listen yet.Or, five voicemails from Ryan that Shane refuses to delete.

Rated: T

Commentary: A most recent fanfic I read while doing this list, it’s such a little gem. I love it to no end, it made me cry with how sweet and raw it is. I looove it.

Sweaters and Glasses by SincerelyLeah

Summary: It was the middle of September and it was cold in the house.

Rated: M

Commentary: Another smutty piece that I love way too much. I have a thign for glasses, alright, don’t judge me and just read this wonderful fic.

secrets by rycnbergara

Summary: the day after a huge party, ryan’s hungover, to say the least. but he drags himself out to the street festival outside. there, he meets a magician around his age. maybe the best decision he ever made.

Rated: G

Commentary: A great magician never tells his secrets, but this fic needs to be known. I loved it, it’s a lot of fun and something just sweet for when you are feeling down.

i'll hold your hand (but only if you want me to) by cactsu

Summary: “When you, uh… when you called me babe, I… I kind of liked it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess I should do it more often, then,” Shane turned to lock eyes with Ryan, something dark and sultry in his eyes. “Babe.”

(basically based on the ‘I’m pretending to be your bf because you looked VERY uncomfortable with that person at the bar hitting on you’ prompt)

Rated: E

Commentary: Aaaaah, the smut in this fandom is just wonderful. And this fic? Amazing, one of my favorites.

the things you do to me (you know them too well) by Catherines_Collections

Summary: He thinks maybe it won’t last, tries not to think too much about the risk their both taking, but he’s going to enjoy it while it does.

Rated: Not Rated (I’d say T)

Commentary: Oh, man. This fic is wonderful, like everything this author ever does. I love it, the narrative is incredible.

the ghosts are screaming by ryan_bergara (ashtronomical_wander)

Summary: "Okay, not gonna lie, I'm still freaking out a bit about this hotel, so erm," Ryan says frantically, eyes shifting around the room in panic. "How about we, er…" he nods towards the bed, before giving Shane a pleading look.

"Wait, are you sure?" Shane blushes a little, not sure if he feels right doing this when Ryan was in such a state just moments ago.

"It'll take my mind off it, come on…"

- Basically -

Ryan has anxiety and Shane is his comfort.

Rated: E

Commentary: Man, I love this fic for the way it portraits their relationship. They are such a good couple and they are still best friends. It’s incredible well done and so hot, too. This smut is in another level for that. Also-- it’s fun, you are gonna smile and laugh reading it.

Flinch by oh-devil (conceit)

Summary: “Holy shit, you are ticklish.”

“Congratulations, you cracked the case.” Shane shot back the rest of his beer and tried to level his best glare at Ryan. “Now fuck off.”

Ryan’s laughter rang out through the trees.

Rated: M

Commentary: There is something special about this fic. I’m not sure what it is, but every fnfic during the Bigfoot hunt is just... blue. And wonderful. I really like this fic for some reason.

Good Enough by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: Shane couldn't stand the idea of Ryan regretting him, and such a regret could start that very night.

Or, both of these boys are massively insecure.

Conrinuation of The Proposal(s) by GhostWheeze and murphy's law by Spoopyy.

Rated: E

Commentary: Joey is back at it again with another wonderful fanfic. This one is a wedding night fic, so imagine that-- It’s amazing, alright. I will always love more some sweet and tender, and loving, errr, love-making, than any other kind of sex. And Joey here did an amazing job.

i think i'm still turning out by the_tenerife_sea

Summary: Shane is starting to think Ryan is using him for his baby, considering how much he’s already talked her up to all of their coworkers and friends.

____

Or the one where Shane is a new parent, and Ryan is always there for him (and his daughter, of course).

Rated: G

Commentary: I love parents AU and this one is just lovely-- I don’t know what happened that people started to post kid fics all at once in the same week, but I’m glad they did. I may not be a big fan of how Shane becomes a single dad, but I really liked this fic.

I Will Follow You Into The Dark by AmazingAida

Summary: Ryan likes looking into Shane’s eyes, so as to not look into the darkness, so as to not let his mind wander.

Rated: E

Commentary: Their relationship in this fic is so deep and beautiful, man. The smut is obviously great, but its the depth of their relationship that makes this fic incredible.

not with you by oMUSEo

Summary: "I'm always scared," Ryan whispers, afraid that if he speaks too loud the moment will be ruined and Shane will wake up and realize he's been hallucinating. That he should go back to his girlfriend who smiles like sunshine and likes her coffee the same way he does because Ryan is just unlucky when it comes to love.

Or when two dorks love each other and don't know how to act.

Rated: T

Commentary: One of the first fics I read and that I loved. Again, the way their relationship develops and the angst around it as it happens, amazing. I love this fic with all my heart.

Shane And Ryan Were Here by WhatWereMadeOf

Summary: “I’m...where are we? Did you just wake up? Are you okay? Jesus fucking Christ I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry Shane...”

When Shane didn’t reply, Ryan opened his eyes to see confusion on the other man’s face. He watched him lift a hand and point to his ear. He spoke slowly, and Ryan’s heart sank into his stomach when no sound came out.

“I can’t hear you.”

Or, Ryan and Shane get abducted and held captive by aliens. Maybe? Probably? There's some debate.

Rated: T

Commentary: This fic is amazing. It’s disturbing and all, but it’s also... kind of fluffy. I love it, to be honest-- It’s the greatest shit. Also-- IT WAS ALIENS, I KNOW IT!

Reluctant Cuddles by skepticalghouligan

Summary: Shane knows it’s his job as a Dom to take care of his boy after a scene. Sometimes he forgets he needs care too.

Rated: G

Commentary: One of the sweetest little things I’ve read in this fandom, especially as someone who loves dom/sub dynamics. This is so important and sweet.

Me & U (Village Bootleg Remix) by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: A possessive, drunk Ryan and a flustered, lovelorn Shane walk into a bar...

Rated: T

Commentary: In which one lowkey wants to punch Ryan for being such a bro, but then you realize he ain’t. This fic is awesome.

The Thing About Submission by skepticalghouligan

Summary: Shane and Ryan have a day to play. So they explore one of Shane's favorite things as a Dom: bottoming.

Rated: E

Commentary: Doms that bottom are the best and of course Dean, king of dom/sub in the shyan fandom, is the right person to write this. Honestly, this fic-- amazing.

Ghosting by Girlwithgoggles

Summary: Shane dies, and Ryan's world falls apart. Then a pen rolls off Ryan's coffee table.

Rated: T

Commentary: Man... You guys sure love your Ghost AU as sad as it comes, this one doesn’t disappoint.

Just Out of Reach by formosus_iniquis

Summary: A variation on the “I asked for your help getting a book off the top shelf and and you laughed at my taste and called me a nerd so I shoved you into a table of nonfiction best-sellers and that’s how we both got banned from the quirky community bookstore” prompt

Rated: T

Commentary: This fic makes me happy. It’s lovely and so well written, the situation it presents it’s also funny and overall, I love it.

while we all pretend to sleep by fructose

Summary: Ryan hears about a town in the Southwest, Shane takes him there.

They drove across the southern point of Nevada over two slow days, traversing that jagged shard of rock and dust with the static from the radio as their soundtrack. It crackled on even as Ryan pressed his hand between Shane’s legs, leaning over as they drove to growl obscene things in his ear. It was the white noise that played on as Ryan jerked Shane off in the back of the van, their bodies pressed close and hot.

Rated: M

Commentary: This fic… is another level of… awesome. I don’t know how to explain it, man. But it has something magical about it. I guess is the fact that I like melancholic and weird things. But it’s really In The Mood, you know.

Fresh Eyes by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: Soulmate au where when you reach 18 you stop aging until you meet your soulmate? After a few years of being roommates (they were roommates through college and then just moved in together afterwards) shane and Ryan realize they've been slowly aging together (Bonus points if one of them realizes first and has to bring it up to the other person)

Rated: T

Commentary: This soulmate AU is such a cute little thing, I love it. It’s like a bunch of wonderful tropes in one well written and perfect fic.

the mustang kids are out by sevencts

Summary: "Do you want to turn back?“

Ryan looks at his hands: Left– clasped around the handle of his pistol, right– clasped around the palm of his lover. "No,” he whispers, taking a deep breath in and coming to meet Shane’s eyes again. He says, in earnest with a twisted smile on his pink lips. “Never.

Rated: M

Commentary: Oh, boy. This is the Bonnie & Clyde AU you never thought you needed until you read this. Short, but I love it. I fucking love it.

what’s the opposite of recruitment? by kinderhook (mrs_nerimon)

Summary: Ryan has a problem with the newest member of his Paranormal Club.

Rated: G

Commentary: In which Ryan has zero common sense and his friends are so tired. This fic is a lot of fun.

i'm just curious by soyicedcoffee

Summary: Ryan thinks, in this moment, as Shane twirls a pen between her fingers idly, that she’s never been so viscerally irritated.

Rated: E

Commentary: Genderswap AU. I never thought I would read one of these over here, but you guys always manage to surprise me in the best ways. This fic is everything. I’m conflicted because Shane reminds me of my crush in the city, who absolutely broke my heart, but man-- this fic is good.

I Think the Ghost Likes You by cactsu

Summary: "Dude, are... are you touching me?"

"...No."

aka shane is bold enough to touch ryan, but not bold enough to admit it.

Rated: T

Commentary: Man, this fic. It’s a lot of fun to read and it has something-- the tease of them being together, I guess. It has a great ending, but seriously all that part about the ghost wanting to feel up Ryan, Jesus fucking Christ-- that’s great.

Not Safe For Work by doctorkaitlyn

Summary: Of all the many, many meetings Ryan has had to sit through since becoming a full-fledged Buzzfeed employee, this one is probably the most painful, for exactly three reasons.

1) It's not even eight thirty yet, and his coffee has yet to kick in and wake him up.

2) Zack is on his left watching a muted stream of last night’s Warriors and Lakers game, which is nearly impossible to look away from.

3) Shane is on his right, and one of his huge hands has been planted just above Ryan’s knee almost from the moment he first sat down.

(Or, having sex in a sound booth during work hours probably isn't appropriate workplace conduct, even for Buzzfeed, but that doesn't stop Ryan and Shane.)

Rated: E

Commentary: Listen, these men are killing me and in this fic? Holy shit Shane is a smooth son of a bitch and I love him. And also, Ryan, dear-- wow.

The Conjuring by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: Omg yes...write a conjuring fic pls.

Rated: M

Commentary: I’m in love with AU. it’s so interesting and well written. It’s not the movie(s) but its own piece put in the universe of the movies. It’s incredible.

transgender dysphoria blues by ficfucker

Summary: shane and ryan find themselves in new hampshire to film an episode

and get a bit sidetracked in the process

Rated: E

Commentary: Trans Shyan. I’m in love with this fic, even though it’s kind of sad as the name suggested. It has something very special that I think speaks to many people. Shane is such-- I don’t know how to say this. But he is amazing and so is Ryan, and I love this fic.

two bros chilling in a sleeping bag by nastyboy (orphan_account)

Summary: “Dude. Dude. Shane. You gotta let me sleep in your sleeping bag.”

Shane rolls over. “”There- it’s a one-person bag.”

Rated: M

Commentary: I love this kind of dirty stuff, don’t judge me. Honestly, bless the authors of our fandom.

Revolutionary Road by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: can i request a shyan fic where the two get into a fight??? im in the mood for angst i guess lol. thank u!!!!

Rated: T

Commentary: Bro, this fic is... wow. A very interesting ghost story, passt lifes and possessions. It’s truly an amazing fanfic.

you get me closer to god by sessrumnir

Summary: Ryan wants to experiment. Shane is more than happy to comply.

Rated: E

Commentary: Also bless this fandom for writing such good Dom/Sub dynamics and in such different ways from one another, for making their relationship so deep and their trust so big, that’s love. This fic is wonderful. And hot.

And Then You by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: amazingaida asked: heya! same AmazingAida from ao3, I decided to check out your tumblr and I'm in love with it ngl <3 so, since i'm here, concept: ryan wearing shane's shirts bc shane is a very tol bean and just ryan wearing them when he gets scared for comfort and just ahhhh

Rated: T

Commentary: I have a Thing(tm) for Ryan wearing Shane’s clothes, and apparently, so does Shane. I love this little fic, it’s not only adorable, but sexy.

Honey by spectr

Summary: Alternatively: Ryan Bergara seizes the moment.

Rated: M

Commentary: Well, this is one of the sexiest things. And it’s not smut. Also, this fic is so poetic and aesthetically pleasing, I love it.

Ugly Sweater by skepticalghouligan

Summary: Shane hates the holidays. Specifically this holiday because he lost a bet. And the sweater is awful.

Rated: G

Commentary: Christmas fluff is always good and this fic is everything. Besides, ugly sweaters? My aesthetic.

Bloodflows by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: "Shane scoffed; the Force, the Jedi, balance, order, none of it made sense to him. It was too difficult to believe that there was some cosmic power responsible for ensuring the stability of the galaxy. He knew better than anyone what a joke that was. The cosmos were a boiling cauldron of chaos, wild and uncontrolled."

Shane discovers he has a power that could give him everything he wants, if he'll only let it.

Rated: Not Rated (T)

Commentary: Listen, I never knew I would need a Star Wars AU, but as it turns out-- I do. This idea of scruffy looking smuggler Shane and believer in the force Ryan is everything I’ve wanted. I love this fic a lot.

The Potion by 1967VivalaKITT

Summary: Basically Shane gets a love potion from a sketchy lady off the street, he puts it in Ryan's water gun and then accidents happen.

Rated: Not Rated (G)

Commentary: Listen, a love potion fic that is not used for sex it’s a big oportunity one can’t let go. I love casual magic in fics and this one is wonderful at it.

But if it's Not Right (What Can I Do?) by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: Ryan Bergara, host of True Crime on Buzzfeed Radio, attracts the wrong person's attention.

A twisted version of Pichiba's radio!au.

Rated: T

Commentary: I LOVE FUCKED UP SHIT, and this one is one of the bests in the fandom. For real, I love this AU and I love how well Joey wrote the sick part of it all. The ending just jfbnfdinfir gave me the chills, it’s damn amazing.

Let's just forget the Hollywood rules by tearupthesky

Summary: Ryan rolls his chair closer to Shane. "Did you hear that, man?" he says under his breath. "That dog hates me, did you hear it growl at me? It almost took my fucking hand off! It could smell the curse. It recognized me with its primordial wolf senses."

"It's a fucking labradoodle," Shane says.

Rated: T

Commentary: Ryan is such a smooth motherfucker in this fic, I love it. There’s a part in which Shane makes a playlist for the main event of the fic and it’s just so fucking funny to read. I love this fic.

It's a Ghost (Snake) by skepticalghouligan

Summary: Ryan's been courting the oblivious Shane for months. Jen comes up with a surefire way to win him over.

Rated: G

Commentary: I’m a sucker for fics with pets, and this one is so sweet-- Ryan is the best, and he deserves all the kisses.

Unconventional by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: …In that moment, [Shane] can’t find an elegant way to ask, “Hey, you’re exceptionally healthy, have a great personality and are well-educated. Want to be my baby’s daddy?”

Shane and Ryan take an unconventional path to parenthood.

Rated: E

Commentary: Trans!Shane. This is one of my favorite fics in the fandom. I just love it, the whole of it, and it explores parenthood for transmen. The author is trans himself and a wonderful person, so they know what they are talking about and I just– he is the author I respect the most right now.

pray to stay by halfwheeze

Summary: Prompt! Okay, imagine this: Shane and Ryan are investigating a house infested with demons, right? And the demons are like 'damn aren't they just cuter than a kitten in a basket?' So they start to purposefully scare Ryan in order to give him and Shane a proper push in the right direction!

Rated: Not Rated (T)

Commentary: This small weird fanfic deserves much more love,it’s so original and just-- so good. I love the POV and the strange story. It’s great.

getting late to give you up by middlecyclone

Summary: Nobody ever becomes a ghost the easy way.

Rated: T

Commentary: The ghost chick in this fic is everything More seer!Shane for the soul.

Mission: Brave New World by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: The Federation's rise to power had started years ago. When the great energy-producing deserts were destroyed, the world powers that depended on them collapsed. And in their wake, the Federation began to rise.

The Federation united all of South America under one banner, and devoured everything in its path as it moved relentlessly to the north. After turning ODIN against us, the Federation stood on the doorstep of America, poised for the kill.

They thought we were weak, crippled; prey waiting to be taken. We fought hard and we fought well. We fought them to a bloody stalemate. And here, just beyond the craters of "No Man's Land", we find ourselves in a defensive war against a more powerful enemy.

Rated: M

Commentary: Ah, man. The racism exposed in this fic is something else, and the way Ryan is written... wow. I love this fic, it’s very cool and interesting, and the boys are badass. And they sort of get married, I love it.

First Anniversary by skepticalghouligan

Summary: Shane's distracted, it's their first anniversary and Ryan doesn't even seem to remember.

Rated: G

Commentary: Such a sweet fic from a very amazing author that I love. I’m a sucker for established relationship fluff and this fic gave me al I need.

Might As Well Fall by middlecyclone

Summary: “I don’t trust this house,” Ryan says. “Something is really, really wrong here.”

Rated: M

Commentary: Fuck, this fic is amazing. It’s one of the best horror fics I’ve read, and while it’s not-- it’s not really scary or something, the tension it builds and the way it shows the boys’ feelings and relationship is incredible well done.

boys and their toys by ficfucker

Summary: some trans!shane for the soul

Rated: E

Commentary: Trans!Shane. I really like the way the writer made their relationship and Shane’s POV is veeery good.

ghosts can't pick up power drills (probably) by anarchetypal

Summary: “What you’re suggesting is that we have sex in the exact spot where a dude was once brutally murdered with a power drill. That is what you’re suggesting to me right now.”

Shane throws up his hands. “Well, sure, when you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

Rated: M

Commentary: Alright, this fic is a lot of fun and I enjoyed it a lot when I read it for the first time. Shane is such a litle shit, it’s amazing.

Would U Be So Kind ? by Lizjames

Summary: There stood Shane Madej with his signature grin on his face

Ryan’s heart sped up and he groaned.

Ryan has feelings, and he doesn’t really know what they are and how to process them.

Rated: T

Commentary: Another poetic piece that blowed me away. The relationship between them is so wonderful and pure, and there is a lot of pool time involved.

breathe for me, baby by literalmetaphor

Summary: Shane loves seeing Ryan freak out.

But not like this.

Rated: T

Commentary: Protective Shane is my favorite Shane, and this fic builds the tension of what will happen at the end pretty good. It’s a very good story.

Maybe, Kinda by babbyspanch

Summary: Ryan is having a tough day. Okay, tough week. Alright it's been a tough few months but he's got it handled okay? He's handed over the editing of Unsolved to a team and now... well he's still distracted, but he's trying.

But, Shane just makes it really hard to focus.

Rated: G

Commentary: Such a sweet fic, man. I love the fluff in this... and the pining!

On Longing and Other Contrite Bullshit by sunshinewinchesters

Summary: All Shane can ever do is long for his ghost-fearing best friend, and apparently be angsty about it until something finally happens.

Rated: T

Commentary: More pining for the soul, and some more deep POVs that sound like poetry, this time from Shane’s view. Also, this fic talks about my city in such good light, I had to love it a bit more.

Removing the Mask by skepticalghouligan

Summary: Shane doesn't believe in luck. But even he has to admit it's a damn good coincidence that he got stuck sleeping in the same bed as Ryan that night.

Rated: G

Commentary: Kids, sometimes when we want to be funny, we end up almost giving our crush a heartattack. But for real, this fic is super tender and I love it.

Panem et Circenses by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: “As a reminder that even the strongest among you cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this, the third Quarter Quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district-”

Shane felt his world fall away. A cold numbness coursed through his body. His heart leapt in his throat while his stomach dropped to his feet. If not for Ryan beside him, he would have given into his urge to vomit.

Rated: M

Commentary: I was never a Hunger Games kind of girl but I did read the books, this crossover is super interesting and holy shit, it’s savage as fuck. I love it.

~ Multichapters

Someone to Stay by carrieonfighting

Summary: Ryan can't sleep at night, and Shane is an enigma

Rated: T

Chapters: 2/2

Commentary: Oh, man. This two-chapters fic is something else. There is a part in which Ryan puts holy water on Shane’s coffee because he can’t believe the things that are happening between them. The denial is real. Also, it’s just very good.

Me and You by SaturnineMartial

Summary: "Have you ever thought about getting married?""That's a loaded question if I ever heard one.""Never mind, forget I said anything."

Rated: M

Chapters: 2/2

Commentary: The start of a series I’m very interested in. This lovely fic has all I love in my fluff: love, cuteness, marriage proposals and sweet lovemaking.

Foolish Mortal by ghostwheeze

Summary: After a demon encounters a teenage Ryan Bergara on-board the Queen Mary, the spirit decides to follow the entertaining boy around, eventually possessing a vessel to spend even more time with the kid. When they both land their own show where they investigate the paranormal, the demon - Shane - takes glee in watching Ryan try to interact with spirits. If only he knew there was one right next to him.

Rated: T

Chapters: 8/8

Commentary: I will be forever in love with this fic and that one chapter when we got Ryan’s POV and we saw how he came into an understanding of who Shane is, and then-- he found out the truth. This is an mazing fic, a classic in the fandom, and you HAVE to read it.

Oblivion by InkStainsOnMyHands

Summary: Tragic consequences typically follow when a god falls in love with a human. Typically...

Based on the comment:"My theory is that Shane is the devil and was just super bored. Then one day he chanced upon a poor scared Ryan and thought “this is pretty fun” and now follows him to supernatural sights to have a giggle at his expense. But that’s also why they never capture anything on video, because the evil spirits and demons know Shane for who he really is and are too afraid to mess with him."

Rated: E

Chapters: 3/3

Commentary: One of the best AUs out there. Since the beginning, it traps you into the narrative and the way Shane is characterized. The story between him and Ryan is beautiful, this is literally soulmates without it being an AU, they are damn mean to be. This fic is the literal meaning of eternal love.

The Great Heist Of Shane Madej by Cat (ActualBuckyBarnes)

Summary: Have you ever wanted to run away?

Ryan Bergara, local troublemaker and scoundrel, has his whole world turned upside down when he finds out that his best friend, Shane Madej, is being abused by his parents. Ryan spends the next four years of his life trying to get Shane away from his family - but what happens when they finally make it?

A story about being lost, and then being found again.

Rated: M

Chapters: 3/3

Commentary: While I haven’t finished reading this because life is kicking my ass, I’m enjoying it a lot. As an abuse survivor, these are nice things to read.

You're Just What I Needed by doctorkaitlyn

Summary: In which Ryan and Shane first meet (and make out) at a party on the final day of the semester, officially fall for each other over the course of a summer spent two thousand miles apart, and then make out some more, all while having spirited debates about ghosts, cryptids, and whether or not Medieval Times is awesome.

(Spoiler alert: they agree to disagree on all of the above.)

Rated: T

Chapters: 3/3

Commentary: This fic is lovely and warm, I love the way their relationship starts and how it develops as the chapters keep going. It’s a lot of fun to read.

The Ghost Of You Is Close To Me by skepticseptic

Summary: Character A is a spirit medium that has the ability to see and communicate with spirits – the problem with this is that Character A has started to develop a crush on Character B, one of the friendlier spirits that comes to visit Character A.

Rated: T

Chapters: 2/2

Commentary: While this may not have a proper happy ending, I still think it’s happy and sweet. Ghost Shane is… adorable. You’ll see.

Don’t Want it Troubling Your Mind by Crimsonflowerz

Summary: Shane Madej really liked Ryan Bergara. He was funny, a joy to mess with, and took his brand of teasing pretty well. He would consider him a friend, kind of. But when the team goes to investigate the Franklin Castle for ghosts, Shane gets more than he bargained for, and the results could cost him his friendship with Ryan.

Rated: T

Chapters: 7/7

Commentary: One thing that makes this fic so original in its own is the fact that it has such a… charming demon. Anael is fuckig funny, he a bitch-- but so funny. He is evil and you hate him for doing all he does to Shane, the way he plays with his mind, and the three final chapters are just– horrible. But yeah, this fic.. it’s gooood. Also, ace!Shane.

Office Space by skepticalghouligan

Summary: The construction really was only supposed to take a few weeks on Ryan’s office. And it would have - it was a simple expansion and paint job. That was, until Shane Madej got brought onto the project. It only took two days (and three near misses) for Ryan to believe Shane may be trying to kill him. But could it be something else?

Rated: E

Chapters: 19/19

Commentary: Like I said before, this author is one of my favorites and in part it’s because of how well planned and build his fics are. This wonderful story is such a funny yet deep AU I love with all I am.

Hey, nude by y00ti

Summary: Shane drunkenly tries to send a nude to some guy he met on tinder. It doesn’t go as planned.

Rated: Not Rated (I would say T)

Chapters: 3/3

Commentary: I had so much fun reading this fic. I first read it here on tumblr and soon the author posted it on AO3 and it’s glorious. All the pining and the sexual tension... You will laugh a lot.

The Department of Unsolved Cases by trailsofpaper (Sanwall)

Summary: Ryan Bergara hasn’t been an FBI agent for long, but he’s seen enough inexplicable things during his career to know there’s more to the world than meets the eye. He comes up against the stubbornly skeptic Shane Madej, head of the Unsolved Cases department - the basement where low-priority cases go to die.

The case of possible alien abductions and UFO sightings become top-priority very soon however, and Ryan starts to think that maybe Shane has a reason for wanting to stay on the Unsolved Cases even though he used to have a very promising FBI career in front of him.

Come to think of it, maybe Ryan also has his reasons for wanting to stay by Shane’s side even when things get rocky.

Rated: M

Chapters: 10/10

Commentary: I’m on chapter three of this one, and so far, so good. It’s a great adaptation of The X Files and the boys characterization is very good. I’m liking it a lot…

Lost Buttons by Trash4bears

Summary: They have somewhat platonic sex in a haunted place it's as simple as that

Rated: E

Chapters: 3/3

Commentary: There’s nothing platonic about this fanfic, lmao. It’s hot, super dirty, but hot. Chapter three has some of the best positions I’ve read ina while. And dialogues are amazing.

Maelstrom by thewindupbird

Summary: Here’s the thing about driving halfway across the country to see someone. You can’t really deny, after that, that you’re pretty much head over heels for them.

Rated: E

Chapters: 11/11 (complete)

Commentary: Again, I haven’t finished this fic but everyone loves it and I trust the fandom’s good taste. Beides, I read the series before this fic, and they are amazing. I can’t wait to have time and read this; but so far (chapter 4), it’s really good. I aspire to be this good.

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sarkastically · 7 years ago

Text

(More A Softer World prompts for Baze/Chirrut. Warnings for mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit. Modernish AU. Very messy. Also the prompt itself never really appears in the story but still directed the fic so whatevs.)

4. i don’t know what the fuck true love even is but i do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life. (let’s hang out - TO THE DEATH)

They have been dating for three years, six months, four weeks, two days, fifteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and approximately ten seconds when Chirrut turns on his heel like a man possessed by a sudden, swelling urge--which is normal when it comes to Chirrut, Baze thinks, because he is always this way, always like the wind, mercurial and shifting, though this is not a bad thing, really, at least Baze has tried to convince himself that it is not a bad thing, get over the edge of anxiety that it makes curl in the pit of his stomach because he never knows exactly what is going to happen next--and smiles at him like the sun.

Oh no, Baze thinks but only for a moment until the warmth of the grin soothes every small, worried thing in his mind. At least for a moment. Then Chirrut starts talking.

“Baze, I’ve been thinking.”

These are dangerous words. Everything about Chirrut can be dangerous from his smile to his tongue to his quick wit, and this is not even counting what his body can do, the endless martial art forms that he has mastered. The way that Baze has seen him best everyone in sparring without seeming to even break a sweat. Chirrut is a honed blade, and Baze is the sort of person who accidentally cuts himself on the kitchen knives while washing them. Holding Chirrut sometimes seems like it is destined to end in disaster with his heart in ribbons on the floor. So when Chirrut says something pointed and dangerous, he doesn’t immediately answer him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’ve been thinking?” Chirrut is on the edge of pouting, his lips turning down just a little, and his eyes a touch hurt, something that Baze can never stand to see for many reasons.

Chirrut’s eyes have been declining steadily for as long as Baze has known him, far longer than they’ve been dating because there was their childhood tangled and woven together like something perfect. There was Baze waking up at three in the morning in a cold sweat sometime during their teen years with the keen and terrible realization that he was in love with his best friend but utterly unable to say the words because that is like him, unable to say words that mean something huge out of fear. Then there was the moment he returned from university to find Chirrut still there, still in town, almost as if he had been waiting, though Baze knows it’s a stupid thought. Chirrut doesn’t wait for anything. But there he was in the door of the Malbus family bakery, grinning when Baze got home, and Baze, full of something strange and new, almost possessed himself, had pulled him into a hug and then kissed him.

Three years, six months, four weeks, two days, fifteen hours, twenty-eight minutes, and approximately thirty seconds ago now. Because Chirrut kissed him back and then, in the most winded voice that Baze had ever heard from him in all their years of knowing each other, declared that they were dating, and he wouldn’t hear any reasons why they shouldn’t or couldn’t. Baze hadn’t been able to say a single thing to dissuade him, didn’t even want to despite the constant, meandering streams of fear and worry that occasionally flood their beds and soak the more sensible territories of his heart.

Chirrut loves him. He knows this fact, and yet he still worries when his lover says things out of the blue.

“Oh.” Caught. “Yes. Of course, Chirrut. What have you been thinking?”

“About asking you to marry me.”

Baze feels like he has been hit by a truck. Oddly enough, it is the best feeling in the entire world though only just. It is almost topped by the memory of the first time Chirrut whispered out the words “I love you” while they were gently and languidly exploring each other’s bodies, hands and tongues slowly traveling, no rush at all, just enjoying the dips and hollows and the way that they could make each other moan or curse. Baze always soft, soft, in whispers, and Chirrut starting out at a normal volume before building to something loud enough to potentially wake all the neighbors, something loud enough to make Baze hesitant and nervous but soaking it in and unable to shush him after the first time he shouted. Baze had heard the words before, of course, when they were young, at holidays or birthdays or just on the spur of the moment because Chirrut has always been vocal and demonstrative about affection, never hiding it. However, there was a difference in those words when whispered into the shell of Baze’s ear while Chirrut’s fingers swept over the inside of his thigh. There was a different meaning inside of them, a new cadence, something reverent, something that made Baze’s heart take flight inside of his chest, Icarus desperately hurtling toward the sun.

He’s still fearful of the eventual fall. Even now.

“I’m sorry?” he manages to mumble out, and Baze can feel the blush creeping up his ears and down his neck, flustered even though they are alone in this stretch of the field, walking hand and hand along the paths with nothing and no one to impress or bother them. Except the rushing wind or the grass, and the natural world has never seemed to mind them intruding on it. Chirrut speaks about it, sometimes, the energy behind all things, and Baze thinks that it is lovely, beautiful talk, though a bit unbelievable. Sometimes, though, he can almost feel it. When they come out to stargaze, laying on their backs on the grass, side by side, getting lost in the glimmer of the lights, long dead, in the sky. Baze pointing out constellations one by one, Chirrut making up new stories about them. It’s during those times when Baze thinks, yes, there might be something to all this talk about a universal energy, after all. It’s just harder for him in the light of day when everything is so bright and stark and real. The night is otherworldly, like Chirrut.

Chirrut’s face has fallen a bit, though not quite enough to give him away completely. He is the master of disappointed but not face. Baze is the quiet one, but Chirrut has always been the best at hiding when he needs to because he can push down all the things that tumble from Baze’s lips and eyes uncontrolled. Still, when his speaks there is rare venom on his tongue. “I said I was thinking of asking you to marry me. Seems like it was rather a stupid thought. I’ll let the wind take it.”

Baze feels like Alice in the story of Wonderland, drinking from the bottle and shrinking down to almost nothing. That is how he feels in this moment, reduced and small, especially when Chirrut slips away from his fingers to cross his arms over his chest and stride further along on the path in the field, putting an obvious distance between them. The wings on his heart seem like they are faltering, growing weaker, and he wonders whether this is the moment where they will fail, where the wax will melt and leave him tumbling back to the earth, to break all his bones, to fall into the sea, to drown, to die.

Icarus, he knows, did not give up. Icarus kept going as long as he was able with no thought about his own preservation. It’s supposed to be the moral of that story, not to reach for things that are out of your grasp, but Baze has often thought about it another way, to keep trying even though it’s scary.

He quickens his steps and reaches out to brush his fingers over Chirrut’s wrist. It is a reward when he does not immediately pull away. “I’m sorry. I know that wasn’t the response you wanted.”

“It was not as bad as it could have been.” The tone, the way the words are clipped like each one is its own sentence indicates that Chirrut is still hiding. “You didn’t laugh in my face. That’s something.”

Baze wraps his arms around Chirrut from behind, pressing his face into his neck, and can feel the way that his lover is shaking, though he is unsure whether this is from disappointment or rage. It is rare to see Chirrut undone, and he hates that he has been the cause of it in this scenario. “I would never laugh at you,” he says, and he hopes that Chirrut can hear how he means it not just in the sound of his voice but in the way the words rumble through his body

“You laugh at me all the time.” Petulant.

“Only when you want me to, my love. I would never laugh at you for this.”

“You didn’t say yes.” Chirrut continues to sound blunt and distant, but he has leaned into the embrace, trusting Baze even though they both know that Chirrut is the stronger of them. Physically, he needs protection from no one. Emotionally, Baze thinks they could both do a little better, but they are imperfect beings struggling to learn the best ways to love. Just like everyone.

Baze presses a kiss to Chirrut’s neck and places one of his hands over Chirrut’s heart where he can feel it beating double time in the universe that exists inside his lover’s body. “You surprised me. And I.”

“You worry,” Chirrut finishes before he can get there. “You worry. I can feel it. It’s in the air all around you, an energy all through you. I know, Baze, but I.” His voice shakes, and he stops speaking for a moment.

Baze tightens the embrace and presses another kiss to his neck, an unspoken way to let Chirrut know that he is safe, that he is surrounded. Ever since his eyes began failing, little by little, bit by bit, Chirrut has told Baze about his nightmares, waking in endlessly blank rooms, unable to navigate, alone, adrift. And ever since Chirrut told him that, Baze has been in the habit of offering physical support, physical reminders of his presence to calm him down. When they were younger, it was hand holding, hugs. Now that they are romantically intertwined, the reassurances remain just as intimate even if they might not always be as chaste as the ones from their childhood.

Chirrut swallows and tries again, his words a rush, raging like a river fed by too many rains, threatening to sweep cities away in its flood. “I want to marry you while I can see still the ceremony. I want to be married in the botanical gardens under the blossoms while they gather in the waves of your hair so that I can pick them out later that night when we retire to bed as husbands. I want to see what you will wear and what you look like as I divest you of it piece by piece. I want to see it, Baze, such that I will never forget it. With every moment that passes, I get closer to not being able to do so, and it breaks my heart.”

Baze is blinking away tears by the time Chirrut pauses and loosens his grip so that the man in his embrace can turn to look at him. Unsurprisingly, Chirrut’s eyes are also wet, and Baze reaches out to brush a tear away only to be frowned at, briefly, before he is allowed to run his fingers over Chirrut’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about it after such a short time.”

“A short time?” Chirrut’s voice is incredulous, his eyes wide as though someone has just told him the moon in the sky is a fake, a trick of the light.

It is almost enough to still Baze’s words in his throat, but he carries on anyway. “It has almost been four years.” To him, this seems short compared with how long he has loved this man. Baze isn’t sure what would be long enough, whether love should be measured in moments or mountains.

Chirrut still looks like he cannot believe what he is hearing. “Baze, you dense fool, it’s been forever.”

Now it is Baze’s turn to be shocked, and he is sure that his expression bests Chirrut’s. “What?”

Chirrut puts his head in his hands for several seconds, laughing into the palms, before looking back at him and clicking his tongue. “I’ve loved you forever. Did you think it was luck that I was still in town when you returned home from school? Did you think it was fate? Did you think it was happenstance that I had not gone traveling as I had talked about when we were small?” He lifts his hands to place them on either side of Baze’s face, and his eyes have gone as soft as Baze has ever seen them. “I waited for you, my silly man. I waited just for you. I would have continued waiting for you as long as it took for you to do something.”

This is another truck running into him. Loving Chirrut, knowing Chirrut is a series of trucks blindsiding him from all angles, at unknown times, and it is fine. It is fine. He loves it. “Yes, I thought. I wondered. Why you stayed.” His arms around Chirrut’s waist tighten slightly, pull him closer, though he will never be close enough, Baze knows. He will always be reaching, always wanting more. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

“You’re too easily swayed, my love. I needed to know it was you. I needed to know it was not just me convincing you.” Chirrut presses a kiss to his neck. Chirrut looks deeply and utterly moved, his face completely open, no hiding at all, and it is as bright as the sun. Baze knows how Icarus felt. He feels Icarus every day. “I wanted to tell you. I wanted to kiss you. Every day for years. And before I understood what love was, what being in love was, I just wanted to be near you always. But I needed you to feel that, too. Even when the waiting killed me.”

“You waited.”

“I was very glad you were a good student. Had you been worse, it might have taken you longer to complete your studies, and just fantasizing about you was getting repetitive. There are only so many scenarios.”

“You waited.” Baze’s voice is awestruck, and the words don’t make sense because this is Chirrut. Chirrut does not wait for things. Chirrut does not pine. Except he did. Except he does.

“Yes, my fool.”

Baze has pulled him so close that they are almost lip to lip when he says, “For me.”

Chirrut laughs, and it vibrates through both of them. “Yes. Baze, will you do me a favor?”

There is nothing that Baze would not do for this man in his arms who is lovely and infuriating in turns. Who is mercurial and inspiring and yet soft under all those blows that he can land and all those smiles he flashes. He could ask for anything. He could ask for everything. Baze would do it all. “Anything.”

“Don’t make me wait longer.” There is a plea in those words as though Chirrut thinks Baze is capable of doing anything other than agreeing.

He says the only words he can, the only words there are. “Yes, I’ll marry you. If you’ll have me.”

Baze supposes that the kiss that follows, the tongue in his mouth, the hands threaded into his hair, the way that he knows every inch of Chirrut’s body even through their clothes is answer enough.

And, he thinks, as Chirrut says his name over and over like a prayer, perhaps they are both Icarus convinced that they are hurtling through the sky, trying not to die, desperate to touch the sun.

#sara writes #spiritassassin #sara's drabbles

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adelmortescryche · 7 years ago

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YOI Mythology Week - Day 1

AN: Dear God, getting this promptfill done was insane. I’ve been juggling being present at a destination wedding and writing simultaneously this time around, meaning writing between pre-wedding parties, in lobbies, in moving buses... *laughs helplessly* What an experience, @yoimythologyweek !! Either way, here’s my promptfill for Day 1, for the prompt Icarus Myth.

Here’s hoping this isn’t too on the nose! Also, @voxofthevoid, this one’s for you because you had a bad day. May the fluff help!

Premise: Victor is Icarus, Yakov is Daedalus, while Yuuri, Yuri and JJ are, well... that would be telling, wouldn’t it. *wry grin*

YOI Mythology Week Fills: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

He’s spiralling down-down-down, like a feather falling to the ground. Except faster, and with a much grimmer end. It would have been messier too, if they weren’t over the water. His wings are unravelling, as Yakov warned him they would, but Victor hadn’t cared when they’d started out. For all that they were supposed to be a means of escape, they were also freedom, and helped Victor get further up and higher than climbing the tallest tree or standing at the edge of a cliff high up in the air ever had. So close to the sun, and not enough, that vision of light and heat blazing down mercilessly on them both. The tar had melted, as Yakov said it would, his feathers were falling away leaving him with nothing to keep him aloft.

Victor could hear Yakov screaming, but it doesn’t feel as important as the fact that he’s falling further and further away from the sun, still shining bright and lonesome in the sky.

Yuuri, he whispered, soundlessly, bound in mind and breath and bone to the vision he’d seen all those months ago, in the shadows of the Temple of the Sun.

They had been invited, back then, Victor vaguely remembers. The memories felt more like they belonged to another life, not just a life a few months past. Yakov had received his invite because he’d offered the worshippers some novel ideas on how to illuminate the inner sanctum of the temple without need for tapers or candelabras, while Victor had received his by virtue of being Yakov’s top apprentice.

Victor had tired of the celebrations taking place at the temple, before long, seeking some solace in the gardens, and had found Yuuri instead, dark of hair and eyes, skin as pale as milk, and radiating a quiet dignity that was wholly different from the festival he’d fled. Quiet, where everyone else had been gregarious and intent on making merry, singing and dancing, their music more cacophonous than anything else. His surprise must have been obvious, rudely so, because Yuuri had burst into soft chuckles that felt like they had hooks to dig into Victor’s heart.

He spent just a scant few hours in Yuuri’s presence, but they were enough to make him want to spend many more hours with Yuuri. And days. And months. And years. His whole life, if Yuuri will allow it, but that’s probably a bit too much to lay on someone when he’s just met them for the first time, right?

Victor had been lonely for long enough, his life filled with nothing but the minutiae of being apprenticed to Yakov and building fantastic, terrible things that Yuuri felt like a pitcher of cold water in the midst of a desert.

He knew that he shouldn’t simply give himself up to Yuuri and whatever the quiet man had to offer, but somehow, Victor found it increasingly difficult to care. Especially since, after that very first meeting at the temple, Victor somehow seemed to keep running into him. While stopping by the early morning market to pick up fish for lunch, while hiding out at a bar with Chris to avoid Yakov or the prince on a bad day, one afternoon while wandering the King’s private gardens for a break - and if anything should have told him that there was something strange about Yuuri that should have been it.

Victor had been too busy getting seduced by how understanding Yuuri seemed to be, at the time. So self-possessed. So willing to let Victor talk, and only responding when Victor paused for breath, looking to Yuuri for a response.

It wasn’t his passiveness that had drawn Victor in, no matter what Chris had claimed with a salacious smirk and a toast of his pitcher a piece. No, it was the fact that Yuuri always seemed to have time for him; time to listen, time to spend simply sitting in one place and enjoying the scenery… time to breathe steady, and enjoy Victor’s company, unlike nearly anyone else Victor knew. And even if Victor only ever got to spent a scant few hours a day in Yuuri’s company, and only while the sun was still burning bright in the sky… Victor had no complaints to make about his good fortune. Not when something about Yuuri’s soft smiles, the quiet laughter glittering in his eyes, left Victor breathless every time they ran into each other.

His preoccupation with this unexpected source of life and love had Yakov chafing at the bit a lot of the time, especially since Victor was driven to distraction on some days. On others, the busy work of using his hands and his mind to aid Yakov in the workshop gave him enough to concentrate on - thoughts of Yuuri’s smiles, his eyes, his hair, his hands, his thighs, not enough to cause him to make mistakes – but those days were few and far between, enough so that Yakov threatened to cut Victor off, and send him away to apprentice with one of the artists that the king patronized.

Victor knew he’d never do it, though. Not only were Victor’s ideas inspired enough to be useful, especially when the King was in the mood for something… strange, Yakov simply loved Victor too much to send him away. It showed in the variety of threat – Victor loved art almost as much as he loved to build things. And it was mutual; Yakov was the father he’d never had as a child.

He’s still in the process of figuring out how to convince Yuuri to stay long enough to stay long enough to share an actual meal for once, and possibly stay long enough to help him shut Chris up, when Yakov abruptly hurtled into the little apartment they had connected to their workshop, face ruddy and covered in sweat. For all that Yakov lost his temper often enough for the sight to be familiar, it was still alarming to see. Especially when he knew that Yakov had been expected to meet with the King earlier in the day.

“We need to leave. Quick, we must head for the docks- no, Alain would have set up blockades by now, we wouldn’t be able to reach the ships in time, or leave after-”

“Yakov, what-”

“Vitya, we need to leave!”

His voice was raised, and just hysterical enough that Victor stood up immediately and followed Yakov back out into the workshop. Yakov seemed agitated enough that Victor knew they didn’t have time to pack and leave. When Yakov made his way towards where they had their inventions for flight stashed away, he knew that something had gone very wrong.

“Yakov?” he asked carefully, though he didn’t pause in helping the old man check the two man flying machine that he’d helped build. Yakov snarled, and shoved himself away from it, quickly disabused of being able to use it.

Victor silently followed him to the canvas wings next, but he didn’t need to express his unease about those out loud. Yakov took a single look at them before running a hand down his face, visibly pained. Those had been the ones that had been scrapped early on, because they didn’t work without a good updraft. Useful for a lark, not to actual travel anywhere with any real confidence.

It was only when he stopped in front of the wings built of leather, feathers and tar that Yakov actually offered up an explanation.

“The King heard that Jean-Jacques came to us for a method to get through the Labyrinth. He threatened me in court, and when I denied the accusation, he ordered the guards to come arrest you instead. I fled.”

It took Victor a moment’s thought to actually remember whom Yakov was talking about. And then he remembered the Prince appearing at their doorstep in the dead of night, looking desperate. He spent another moment wondering why the heck they’d wasted their time actually helping the narcissistic brat. Probably because that night had been the first time he hadn’t looked like a narcissistic brat. Victor’s fixation on Yuuri had given Victor a sense of companionship with the prince, moreso than he thought anything ever could.

“Did he tell the King, then?”

“No. The fool boy’s already fled the island with his bull-headed lady love. Alain was simply sharp enough to be able to tell that his son wouldn’t have solved the puzzle of the Labyrinth as swiftly as he did without help from us.”

Well. No one had ever accused King Alain of being slow.

Two sets of working artificial wings in hand, Victor and Yakov left their workshop behind, heading for the cliffs and moving as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves. Or to what they carried with them – sadly large piles of feathers were eye-catching even if they succeeded in disguising what the feathers actually were. They could hear the alarms sounding off even as they drew closer to their destination.

“Remember, not too close to the sun, or to the water beneath!” Yakov snapped, even as he helped Victor strap the wings onto his arms.

“Yes, yes, I know Yakov,” Victor sighed, helping Yakov strap the second harness on once his own wings were in place.

The running leap he made from the edge of the cliff felt like taking a breath for the first time.

(Ironically enough, it also felt like that moment in which he’d been looking for a quiet place to breathe, in the midst of chaos, and had found Yuuri instead, leaning against a pillar, dressed in simple white robes, standing lost in thought, his hair attractively mussed and with a crown of laurel grasped carelessly in his fingers.)

Their invention worked! They left land behind faster than expected, Victor outpacing his mentor fast enough that the older man called out after him in alarm. He couldn’t help himself, though – he had the sun in his eyes and the smell of salt water running through his lungs. The burn of light and heat against his skin, reflecting off of the sea beneath them, was enough give his skin a soft pink flush, and the exertion needed to keep his body aloft only added to it.

Even so, it felt as though the sun gleamed particularly brightly down on him. The longer they spent in the air, the more it felt like its light was enveloping Victor, and energizing him. He lifted himself further up in the air with a whoop, laughing in delight even while Yakov yelled for him to slow down, and not go as high.

It was easy enough to convince himself to stay away from the waves, especially when the one time he dropped down low enough to dip his toes in the water, the damp setting into his wings almost made it too hard to drag himself up high into the air again. But the sun was harder to ignore. Ignore it he did, though, after spending a while high up in the air. Maybe it was some lingering concern for poor Yakov’s heart too, because his mentor almost screamed himself hoarse whenever Victor got either too high or too low.

…the first feather that slipped out of the wings strapped to his arms was a coincidence. Maybe they hadn’t stuck that one firmly enough in place. Maybe the tar hadn’t held it as strongly. Maybe it had just gotten stuck between the straps of the harness somehow and had chosen that specific moment to come loose. Maybe maybe maybe. Victor told himself to ignore it, and the next one that fell as well. And the third.

By the fourth, Yakov seemed to notice that something was wrong. By the fifth, he tried to draw up closer, looking about as terrified as his great big face could allow, too rigid in age. Victor waved him away, though, in words and action, worried that his drawing closer would put Yakov in as much danger as him. It didn’t seem to deter Yakov, though, his mentor hurling accusations of being ‘too proud’ and ‘a fool boy as bad as JJ’ – the first of which Victor accepted, gladly, but the second only made him frown in distaste, even as he beat his arms harder to keep himself aloft.

It didn’t help him. Not one bit. The longer they flew, the more feathers fell out of Victor’s wings – and now he could actually feel the stickiness of the tar, melting in the heat of the sun. Even when Victor tried to stay lower down, where the heat wasn’t as strong, feathers still continued to come loose, the tar having softened enough it wouldn’t harden unless Victor could set the wings aside to dry for a while first before attempting to use them again. If only they could pause a while.

There was no land to be seen anywhere, except in the distance behind them.

It wasn’t a sudden thing, when Victor began to lose height. He felt himself sinking lower, and no matter how much he beat his arms he found that he couldn’t lift himself as high as he had been before. A glance was enough to tell him that the sun was as merciless as ever, watching him as he sunk lower down, in spite of his earlier flirtations.

“I’ll hold you,” Yakov offered at one point, flying lower so they could move side by side.

Victor laughed, the sound ugly in his throat.

“It’s safer for you if you keep flying onward, Yakov. Leave me,” he replied. The words earned him a disgruntled, pained look, the expression telling him that Yakov dearly wanted to slap him upside the head. Apparently there were unforeseen benefits to the wings, if they stopped Yakov from being mean to him.

The agonized cry that fell from Yakov’s lips when Victor’s wings finally lost all aerodynamic ability made his heart hurt.

Thoughts of Yuuri filled his head, even as his body crashed into the water, from enough of a height that it hurt, enough so that it felt like a full body bruise. Thoughts tinged with regret, and longing, and the ridiculous thought that he would have liked to see Yuuri again, just once, before the King had called for his and Yakov’s heads.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye. They hadn’t even shared a meal together. He didn’t know Yuuri’s favorite foods, his favorite time of day, whether his smiles tasted as sweet as they looked, and whether he enjoyed spending time with Victor as much as Victor enjoyed spending time with him. The potential of their unfulfilled meetings unspooled in his mind’s eye like precious gold thread coming loose, too fine to spin back in place.

The water dragged him under, enough so that he couldn’t hear Yakov’s cries from above. Enough so that the last of his breath escaped him in little bubbles, the water that he’d been delighted by earlier on overtaking him in seconds, even while he tried to keep his head above the surface of it.

Time slowed down. Almost to a standstill. All Victor could hear was the sound buzzing between his ears, his thoughts slipping away as easily as sand, the water all consuming.

This was his end.

This would be his end.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

“Oh Vitya. What am I to do with you?”

Quiet, fond, and with just a hint of irony. The voice as familiar to Victor as his own, now, as precious to him as his need to breathe. He didn’t know how, but when he opened his eyes, Yuuri was there, face right above his own. Victor choked, fearing the water in his lungs, but miraculously, had no trouble at all, the great big gulp of air he unduly ended up taking making his chest ache.

Yuuri continued to smile softly above him, and it took another long moment, spent gasping for breath because it still felt like a novelty after thinking he would find his end in strange waters, before Victor actually registered that Yuuri was holding up his bedraggled form, one arm beneath his knees, the other around his shoulders.

He still looked like himself, but now, in the light of the noon day sun and out in the open with nothing to shadow him, Victor could see the way Yuuri’s very skin seemed to hum with energy, all but radiating heat. The mere sight of him was arresting enough, but it was the crown of leaves sitting atop his head that Victor couldn’t seem to draw his gaze away from.

“Is it true you chased a disinterested girl until she begged her father to turn her into a tree?” he blurted out, and Yuuri stared down at him, visibly bemused.

“There was no disinterested girl,” his voice was still soft to the ear, but it was filled with enough humor to make up for the pitch, “only a friend who endeavored to free me from a spell that I wanted no part of.”

“But the leaves!”

“Yes, she does tend some lovely laurel bushes, doesn’t she.”

Victor felt like his heart was going to burst right out of his ribcage, too full with adoration to bear staying in place.

“You rescued me,” he murmured, voice awed.

Yuuri’s face went red, flushing across his nose, the color spreading enough to touch the apples of both cheeks. Victor cooed, throwing his arms around Yuuri’s neck, and laughing when that made him flush brighter. The sight was adorable enough that he could almost ignore the fact that Yuuri’s bare skin across his nape was unnaturally hot. Hot enough to compare to a freshly brewed pot of tea. Enough to burn his skin, and possibly would have – if the temperature of it hadn’t dropped the moment Victor’s arms went around Yuuri’s neck.

It was almost adorable enough to ignore the fact that they were both floating in midair, and that Yakov was nowhere to be found.

“I bade him go forward,” Yuuri explained, not needing Victor to actually ask his question out loud.

“Oh? And how did he react to being told to keep flying by a God?” Victor responded, curious.

The mild smile tugging at Yuuri’s lips spread into a full-fledged grin, toothy and indulgent.

“His only reaction was to demand that I rescue you quickly, so he could yell at you for romancing the one God who could end your escape in tears.”

It was Victor’s turn to blush at that, the tips of his ears and his nose going hot in a way that was uncomfortably familiar. Yuuri just laughed, though, quietly, but it sounded just as overjoyed as anything else.

“But you saved me, didn’t you Yuuri,” Victor whispered, and Yuuri nodded, eyes glinting with delayed amusement.

“Yes, yes I did. Though you didn’t make it easy on me, with how badly you exposed yourself to danger. The next time you decide you want to fly, try not to get hurt again? I might be the God of the Sun, and Healing, but I’d be just as happy if I didn’t actually have to heal you, my dear.”

Victor yelped in protest at that, scrunching up his face in a moue of displeasure. It just made Yuuri smile, though, and lean in to nuzzle their noses together. And Victor couldn’t just let that go, now could he.

It turned out that Yuuri’s smiles were just as sweet to taste as they looked.

OMAKE

On the mainland, in a certain youth’s home

Yakov: *sitting sullenly by the window, scowling over his tea*

Yuri: So you leave, because you don’t want the two of us to keep inventing in the same city, and you’re telling me you found yourself an apprentice who gives you more headaches than I ever did? Even when he’s older than me? Really, Uncle.

Yakov: *shoots Yuri a dirty look* My apprentice was fine. Any headaches he gave me were manageable.

Yuri: …I sense a but. Why do I sense a ‘but’ in that statement, Yakov. Or a past tense.

Yakov: *remembers Yuuri blasting out of the sky, covered head to toe in golden armor, looking like he might have dived straight into the water after Vitya if he hadn’t noticed Yakov trying pathetically to stay in place, screaming himself hoarse*

Yakov: *remembers what it felt like to find out that his apprentice had a God terrified for his life*

Yakov: *remembers that his apprentice had been going around with a besotted, lovesick expression on his face for entire weeks together before they had to escape the island*

Yakov: …I did say were manageable. I am not sure if he’s manageable any longer. Not when the fool boy somehow managed to seduce the God of the Sun when I wasn’t looking.

Yuri: *cleaning out his ears* Say what now?

#yoimythweek #day 1 #icarus myth #yoi #victor nikiforov #katsuki yuuri #yakov feltsman #mild angst #love at first sight #fluff #ofc there's fluff #victor and yuuri are always saps #longer than expected #my writing #adel writes #being yakov is suffering #yuri just thinks they're all crazy #also jj and bella are lovely together always

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kdinthecity · 8 years ago

Text

Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen: The Fall

This is for @zutaraweek Day Four: Icarus. Trigger Warning: hints of abuse

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Is it ridiculous that I am now curled up in bed with Zuko’s sweatshirt? I’m not even wearing it, just hugging it. My brain keeps replaying this tantalizing scene—his car windows all fogged up for a much different reason. If only we had been swapping spit instead of sob stories.

Would he think me a desperate fool if I just… kissed him? After confessing about my dead mother, yes… yes, he would.

I wonder what the scar feels like.

What would Mom say? I could use a little advice here. Is it too soon? Yes. Is he even my type? No.

Jet had a tragic backstory. A small voice in the back of my mind says.

But Jet was also an amazing kisser. Says an even smaller voice.

I can’t sleep, so I turn on Netflix. I’m halfway through season six of a dramatic series based on Greek mythology. Because I’m a dork. Coincidentally, the episode is about the goddess of love forming an escort service, of sorts, and is quite graphic in its depictions of the Erotes. I fall asleep thinking about simply kissing Zuko, but one thing leads to another, and then...

I am so embarrassed by my first ever sex dream (of such great detail) that I don’t think I can face him at work the next morning. It’s still raining, so I dread that Yue will assign Hahn and Zuko to the lab again, and I might slip and say boner instead of beaker or pussy dish instead of petri dish. Why am I’m such a mess? I blame Aphrodite and her meddling.

The gods have mercy on me. Zuko doesn’t show up at the center today. But this also worries me. Did he make it home OK in the rain last night? Should I text him? No, he's probably fine. This internal debate continues, and for the second day in a row, I’m terribly distracted at work. It’s only a matter of time before Yue notices.

That night, I snuggle up again with his sweatshirt, trying to calm myself in the storms of uncertainty. The relentless rain, among other things, has chilled me to the core. I’m nearly asleep when Zuko sends me a message, offering me a ride to work tomorrow. The gesture itself sends a jolt through my body, like lightening. Excitement and nerves quickly settle into that warmth I was craving—his comfort. As much as I would love to accept, though, he lives halfway between here and the Marine Center. It would be too far out of his way, so I shouldn’t inconvenience him.

God, I hate riding the bus. Especially in the rain.

But Zuko now says he’s staying with his Uncle.

Why didn’t he mention that before? I’m too tired to consider the reasons. I can just ask him in the morning.

I’m a downpour of nonstop chatter when I get in the car. I guess I do that when I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be since we had such a good talk the other day. But then I literally had a dream about kissing him and… stuff, so…

Once I finally shut up, I realize how quiet he is. He keeps his eyes trained on the road and doesn’t look at me at all. I can respect a careful driver, but something isn’t right.

“Zuko, are you OK?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

His voice is huskier than usual, and there is a dark circle under his right eye. I lean forward so I can catch a glimpse of the other side of his face, but he quickly turns his head away. I try to follow his sudden movement, but the seatbelt locks up on me, so I slump back in my seat.

“How long have you been staying with your Uncle?”

“Since last night.”

“Oh.” This doesn’t make sense, but I can’t figure out the best question to ask next, so we ride the rest of the way in silence.

“I’m just gonna drop you off and head to my next assignment, OK?” he says as he pulls into the Marine Center parking lot. “I can give you a ride home, too, if you want.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” He still won’t look at me, and now I’m worried that I did something wrong.

At the end of the day, Zuko is in Yue’s office, so I sit outside the door to wait for him. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but the walls are thin, and I can hear every word.

“Zuko, are you sure it’s not broken?”

“No, ma’am. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You look terrible.”

“It doesn’t affect my ability to work, so please, can I just—“

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Yue interjects. “It does affect your work when the summer camp counselor calls me and says you’re scaring the children.”

“The kids are always scared of the scar anyway, so it’s not—”

“Zuko, I’m pulling you from education. You can work in the lab with Katara. She’s behind on her reports and could use the help.”

As troubling as the conversation is so far, I'm elated at this news. The extreme distress in Zuko’s voice overshadows any fleeting joy I feel, though.

“But Dr. Arnook, please. My father won’t… I have to…”

“The Marine Science Center appreciates your father’s generous donations. We’ll make sure his patronage is properly recognized.” Yue’s tone has turned to ice.

“OK, but… could you maybe not tell him? That I’ve been reassigned? I just don’t want him to think I failed… again.”

“I will leave that up to you. What you tell your father is your business.”

“Thank you, Dr. Arnook. Thank you so much.”

“But Zuko, if I have any reason to believe that he is the one doing this to you… then I will make it my business. I will report him. I don’t care how much money he makes or how much he gives us, he can’t just—“

“D-d-don’t. It’s not what you think… Please, don’t say anything.”

My heart starts pounding, and I clutch my chest to suppress the rising ache when I finally see his face. His left jaw sports a nasty bruise, and his lower lip is swollen. The scar looks the same, but in that instant, I know. Whoever inflicted these fresh wounds was responsible for that one, too.

I didn’t think it was possible for me to hate someone so much, someone I've never met… and in defense of someone I've only just met, actually. Dad calls me fiercely loyal, so maybe that’s what he means. I joke about wanting to hit Hahn for being so stupid. This… feels different.

How could he do such a thing? And how do I make him pay?

Zuko scowls at me, and I immediately melt into a puddle of worry. He doesn’t want my pity, that much is clear. I’ve seen that look, and I understand that feeling. I do my best to mask my concern, but how do I show him that I care? I want to help.

“I’m sorry you had to wait,” he mumbles.

“It’s OK.”

About halfway through the torturous drive home, I take a chance in breaking the silence. “Hey. Let's go get some sushi. I’m starving. I have a favorite place not far from my house.”

He doesn’t answer right away. He might not answer at all. Or ever talk to me again.

“It’s Mushi Sushi on the corner of 43rd and Kings Road,” I add with an air of hopefulness.

He laughs. And laughs again. And then laughs some more. I like the sound of his laugh, but right now it’s unnatural and annoying. And he’s wincing in pain, too, which makes it borderline unbearable.

“What’s so funny!?”

He clears his throat. “That’s my Uncle’s place. I was headed there anyway.”

I gape at him. “Your Uncle is Mushi?”

“Well, his name is Iroh. But yeah.”

Zuko pulls his hood over his head and slides into a booth near the back of the restaurant. It’s more crowded than I expected and decorated with colorful banners and candelabras. I had forgotten about Mushi’s theme nights on the third Thursday of the month. If my dinner companion wasn’t in such a sour mood, we could have fun celebrating… whatever it is.

The server, dressed in robes presumably for the occasion, hands me a menu. “Tonight’s specials correspond with your table assignment. Let’s see, you’re seated at Icarus, so you can enjoy seafood soup, fried chicken wings, and ambrosia.”

“Ambrosia?” I ask.

“The nectar of the gods,” he says with a smile.

It’s Greek mythology night! My inner dork squeals with delight.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

Zuko slumps even further down in his seat, like he wants to disappear. “Shit, I forgot about this. Let’s just get out of here, OK?”

“Aww. It looks like fun! Maybe it’ll make you feel better?”

“It’s supposed to be a sushi restaurant. I don’t want chicken wings.”

“You have to admit it’s kinda clever. Fried wings for Icarus?”

For the first time today, he makes eye contact. “Yeah, the guy who got burned because he couldn’t please his father.”

Oh.

I do my best to hold his gaze, but the intensity of it is almost too much. “That’s not really how the story goes, you know. Daedalus warned his son and tried to help him. Icarus fell to his death because he didn’t heed his father’s instructions.”

He looks away. “Daedalus built a maze to hold a monster. Icarus is better off dead anyway.”

I'm not backing off, though. “Seriously, did you sleep through sophomore second semester? You’ve got your Greek myths all wrong.”

“And you’re the expert? You probably get your info from that stupid show, Crossroads of Destiny.”

“I do watch that show. And it’s a great resource!”

“It’s not about Greek mythology! It just borrows from it. And butchers it. Honestly, how can you and my uncle watch that shit?”

He makes that incredulous face again with the one raised eyebrow. The shadow of his hood hides the trauma we’re both trying to ignore… by arguing… over nothing.

So, I laugh. And laugh again. And then laugh some more.

“What’s so funny!?”

“I can just see Mushi—I mean, Iroh on the edge of his seat with a remote control in one hand and a golden goblet of ambrosia in the other, waiting with bated breath for the season premiere of Crossroads of Destiny to start. I bet he dresses up for convention, too.”

“I did not attend CoDCon this year, although I considered it. I did dress as Dionysus at the annual wine festival last October. And coincidentally received a golden goblet as a souvenir.”

I hardly recognize the man, clad in leather armor, even though I’ve seen him before. He’s also wearing a broad grin framed by a course white beard and creases etched in thick skin, like that of his costume. I can tell he’s been through a lot—and would be prepared to take on anything. The heat of my embarrassment burns in my cheeks as I shake his extended hand.

“Odysseus at your service, my lady," he says with a bow. "Katara, I presume?”

I swear Zuko is blushing, too. So, he’s told his uncle about me?

“Yes, sir. Pleased to meet you. Er—nice job with the Trojan horse.”

“One of my finer moments, indeed! You're a good judge of character, but only half-right, I must say.” The old man winks at me. “I do wait with bated breath but not with remote in hand. I often watch shows on the iPad. It's much easier on these aging eyes of mine. Also, ambrosia is both a food and a drink, and for today’s menu, I’m serving it as dessert. I’ll bring you some, on the house.”

I open my mouth to say thank you, but Zuko’s groan causes both of our heads to snap in his direction. He probably did it out of annoyance with his uncle’s antics, but I am now reminded of his injuries.

Iroh is, too, as his countenance changes completely. “Nephew, you need to get ice on that. It’s still swollen.”

“I’m fine,” Zuko growls.

“I can help,” I offer.

“I don’t need help.”

Iroh sits down next to me, facing Zuko. His voice is so low that I strain to hear his words. “Nephew, you can hide behind your hood and sulk in the corner all you want. But you can’t deny the truth anymore. And part of that truth is that you do have people who care about you.”

Iroh then turns to me. “Take him upstairs to my apartment. There’s an icepack in the freezer. I’ll bring food up later… including that dessert I promised.”

Zuko slouches on a bar stool with arms folded across his chest, his mood matching the darkness of his marks—all of them—which I now carefully inspect.

I’ve never been this close to him, yet somehow I’m not as nervous as I thought I’d be… if we ever got to this point under different circumstances, that is.

Oh, how I wish the circumstances were different.

He flinches when I place the ice on his face, so I instinctively cup his other cheek with my hand and lightly trace the stubble at his jaw line with my thumb. The gesture is more intimate than I intended, but I hope to return some measure of the comfort he gave me. His sigh comes out more like a shudder—a release—as he leans into my touch.

I step forward and press our foreheads together. It’s a way of bracing myself to be strong for him. Because I need to feel a connection even if it is a small one.

“I don’t know what happened to you, and you don’t have to tell me, OK?” I whisper. “But I’m here… if you need to…”

“Thanks, Katara.” He closes his eyes and brings his hand up over mine to adjust the ice pack. When he lingers there, my body finally betrays me with a quickening pulse and a fluttering sensation in my stomach. I am standing but no longer steady. I am connected but not in control. I allow my fingers to slip to the nape of his neck and thread them through his hair. Because suddenly I need more.

Kissing him right now would be a matter of simply tilting my head. I feel the warmth of his breath. I hear him swallow. I smell the damn fabric softener that started this whole thing.

We are that close. It would be so easy.

Yet so… complicated. The trail of melting ice running down my forearm reminds me that I am here to help. He’s too vulnerable, and I don't want this—whatever this is—to be confused with pity. I do want to make him feel better, though. I don’t exactly understand what I’m feeling.

Because I’ve never felt this way before.

#zutara week #zutara week 2017 #zkweek #zkweek2017

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