actually satan in disguise

my writing side blog cause why tf not floaties by mhilka

[thedreadvampy]

ppl pulling the 'just let people enjoy Wizard Game' are often met with 'JKR funds anti-trans groups!' and that's. entirely true. but doesn't actually go far enough.

like if you're on team Let People Enjoy Wizard Game hey. did you know. that in my city RIGHT NOW JKR is sole funder and key board member of an unregulated private agab-policed rape crisis shelter set up specifically to Own The Transes

and which now sits on several gendered violence prevention boards alongside representatives from the (publicly funded and accountable) existing Rape Crisis Centre, against the staff of which her friends and followers have been involved in a years-long harassment campaign purely and explicitly because they run trans-inclusive support services and bc their CEO is a trans woman of colour.

(my friend works there and the pure volume of transphobic harassment has caused several long standing members of staff to quit. which I'm really fucking angry about bc I would not be here today if the Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre hadn't been there to help me)

and that on those boards they're known for supporting increased police harassment and approaches that disproportionately criminalise trans people, unhoused people and sex workers and provably don't positively impact the issue of gendered violence.

what I'm saying is that yes JKR funds anti-trans groups but she is also pretty directly involved in materials worsening conditions for vulnerable people at a local and personal level too!!!! she's running an unregulated crisis shelter out of spite and using that to legitimise her political lobbying!!!!!! fuck you!

[thedreadvampy]

btw I don't actually give a shit about Wizard Game beyond the fact that you're pretty obviously no ally to trans or Jewish people if you put playing ANY game over their direct wellbeing

but this isn't actually a post about Wizard Game despite the framing. I'm not mad about people playing a video game, I'm mad that JKR is working in my home city to use extremely vulnerable people that she pretends to care about as pawns in her escalating moves to fuck over another group of extremely vulnerable people. and in the process providing cover for legislative pushes that will fuck shit up for all survivors of gendered violence, trans or cis, and negatively affect support and funding for inclusive crisis services. that's what she's doing personally and materially as well as rhetorically. I'd guess she's sunk at least a couple of million into getting this set up (property in the centre of Edinburgh ain't cheap) and it is very directly causing harm.

(if I wanted to take this off JKR specifically and onto the movement she's part of, I would point out the recent push to frame feminist organisations like Rape Crisis Scotland and Women's Aid Scotland and Engender as Paid Shills For The Government's Trans Agenda because they supported gender recognition reform and, unrelatedly, recieve Scottish Government funding. I would point out that in December, when Beira's Place launched, this specifically looked like pundits framing almost all the big gendered violence prevention and abuse support organisations in Scotland as corrupt and evil and unworthy of funding bc they supported increasing trans people's access to basic rights. I don't want this to be the focus bc I think it's important to separate out 'things that the movement JKR associates with have done' from 'things that JKR individually and personally has done' but I do think. It's significant context.)

anyway this isn't about a video game. one way or another. Wizard Game isn't the point, it's just a touchstone of whether or not any of this matters enough to you for you to make minor changes to how you behave. like. not buying Wizard Game won't stop her doing this, she's already richer than god. I recognise I brought up Wizard Game but Wizard Game is so much not the point. the actual material harm is the point. shut up about the game we're talking about the spending-millions-to-materially-harm-vulnerable-people bit.

[limetimo]

Trans Inclusion Statement - Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre

In support of Trans Pride Scotland today, we are publishing our Trans Inclusion Statement. In 2008 we began actively and publicly offering s

[actuallysatanfic]

title: the heart is a liar (when you run away)

rating: n/a

word count: 678 words

summary: n/a

notes: happy new years eve heres another unplanned-i-just-word-vomitted-one-day-and-figured-it-was-pointless-to-make-this-a-separate-fic-when-it-tied-in-perfectly-with-this-one chapter to this shitstorm whoops

first chapter: ao3 | tumblr

read ao3 or under cut

“I don’t want to love him anymore!” There. He said it. He screams it out into the ocean waves, the wind blowing as if it’s answering his cries. He shakes his head, somehow thinking it’ll help relieve the pain, but all it does is make his tears fall faster. His grip on the sand tightens as he tries to steady his breathing. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out on the cold, windy beach, but at this point, he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care at all.

He sits on the sand, giving his knees some relief from kneeling for so long. The strained muscles thank him as they uncoil and relax into the cold. He stares out into the ocean, not sure what to do. He’s had more breakdowns this week than usual and he’s tired from crying so much. He wipes his eyes onto his sleeve and heads back to Rakuen, to ask Mizoguchi for the rest of the day off.

Kazuki trudges up the stairs that connect the rest of the town to the beach, wondering who’s idea it was to have such a thing, but chalks it up to tsunami safety. He slowly walks back—as if taking his time would delay the inevitable, but at this point in time, it’s moot so he picks up the pace and gets there just time in for the dinner rush. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with it but having checked who’s on duty, sighs in defeat and decides he needs to stay until the end of his shift. He tightens the knot on his apron, takes a deep breath, and walks in.

Mizoguchi is the first to spot him, and gives him a chastising lecture before letting him be on his way. Kazuki takes his place behind the counter and somehow manages to get through one of the longest shifts of his life.

He gets home and collapses onto his bed both physically and emotionally tired. He doesn’t bother changing out of his clothes and instead opts to bury himself under the covers and sleep the exhaustion away. His mind briefly wanders to his time at the beach, but figures he can deal with it in the morning. For once he doesn’t cry himself to sleep. He calls that a personal achievement.

Somewhere on Tatsumiya Island, two concerned friends meet up with one another, discussing how to deal with a certain development regarding a mutual friend. They both honestly were at the wrong place at the wrong time, but can admit it did help piece together certain recent behaviors exhibited by said friend. They, at first, didn’t know what to make of the behavior—they chalked it up to exhaustion and prolong symptoms of the assimilation phenomenon, but as time went by, it was obvious it was anything  but that seeing as the odd behavior only appeared when the two of them were within proximity of the mutual friend, whether it was one on one or both of them at the same time.

Maya had her suspicions regarding the source of the behavior, but dismissed it on the lack of evidence and knew Kazuki would’ve denied it if pressed. So she left him alone, and opted to casually observe and make sure he was okay. She brought these concerns up to Soushi once before but they both figured it was something Kazuki needed to deal with and if he reached out to them, then they would do what they could for him.

This brings them to their current predicament—Kazuki’s outburst at the beach. It was a mistake—a simple mistake and poor timing on their part that lead to them eavesdropping, basically spying, on their best friend as he had a breakdown on the beach side. Hearing him screaming out into the ocean was heartbreaking—even more so when they didn’t know what caused it. It wasn’t until he screamed out another phrase that pieced everything together. The mere sound of his heartbroken screams broke their own hearts.

Oh, what have they done.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: paint my heart blue

rating: n/a

word count: 342

summary: “Canon?” Maya’s soft voice rattles Canon out of her head. She takes a deep breath, pretends everything’s okay and imagines what she’s wearing. “So which one?” Blue.

notes: im on a roll

read ao3 or under cut

Canon sits back on Maya’s bed waiting for Maya to finish getting dressed. Maya originally invited her over to help her pick out her outfit for her date, but from how long it’s taking for Maya to narrow down her choices, Canon’s help might be for naught. So she sits back and watches Maya standing in front of her full length mirror alternating between two dresses: one pink, the other blue. She sticks her tongue in frustration, unable to decide to wear for her date with Soushi.

Her first date with Soushi.

Canon cringes at the thought but keeps it to herself. She doesn’t want Maya suspecting anything. She doesn’t want Maya knowing anything.

Maya turns from the mirror, still holding the dresses to her body, and faces Canon with a distressed look on her face.

“Canon,” she whines. “help me. Which one would look on me?”

For him gets left unsaid, but Canon hears it anyways from her tone. She stares intently at the two dresses, wishing she was choosing in different circumstances.

So she pretends.

She pretends this is their first date and she’s not here, but outside, back at her own house, on her way to pick up Maya. She pretends to have a skip in her step, practically running over to her house, eager to take her out. She pretends to imagine what she’s wearing when she gets there, her heart skips a beat at that.

“Canon?” Maya’s soft voice rattles Canon out of her head. She takes a deep breath, pretends everything’s okay and imagines what she’s wearing.

“So which one?”

Blue.

“The pink one. He likes you in that color.”

Maya grins widely, and leaps over to Canon, engulfing her in a big hug.

“Thanks, Canon, you’re the best!” She drops the blue onto the bed, and runs to the bathroom to change.

Canon hopes, during the quick, two second hug, that Maya did not hear the sound of her heart breaking.  

The dress staring back at her on the bed seems to be her witness.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: set it all on fire (but these tears drown out the flames)

rating: n/a

word count: 633

summary: He thought he could do this. He told himself he would. But the sight of the two of them together burned that progress to the ground and tossed the ashes out the window. He can’t.

notes: the never mine verse is back at it again with its bullshit

read ao3 or under cut

He thought he could do this. He told himself he would. But the sight of the two of them together burned that progress to the ground and tossed the ashes out the window.

He can’t.

He needs to get out of here, but it’s his job so he needs to stay. He gives a small glance over to Mizoguchi and continues to do his job. He wants to leave early, but there’s no one to cover his shift until mid-afternoon, and that’s a couple of hours away. So he swallows the heartbreak down, and wipes down the nearest tables first. Gives him an excuse to avoid them later, and he’d rather do this sooner than later. The anticipation would have killed him. He finishes the nearest tables and moves onto the farthest ones. He keeps his back to them so he could forget about them. Pretty soon, Mizoguchi catches onto what’s he doing, well, at least catches onto what he thinks he’s doing. He mutters a soft ‘I’m sorry’, finishes the table in front of him, and heads back to the kitchen area to finish their orders.

He curses to himself and the sky as he’s cooking for his rotten luck and their even more rotten timing. If only they had waited a couple more hours for this then Kazuki wouldn’t be mourning over the death of his progress. He was doing so well too. He finishes their orders, and begrudgingly carries them over to their table, he knows Mizoguchi wont do it if he’s the one on duty. He looks to the floor as he tells them to enjoy their food, and marches back to the kitchen area; he needs to keep his hands busy and reorganizing the spice shelf seems like the perfect task for that. He arranges them alphabetically, then by type, then color, and then reverse alphabetically. He was about to arrange them by label color when a cleared throat snaps him out of it. Mizoguchi gestures to their table, indicating that they’re done. He drags his feet to the table, collects their plates, asks if they would like dessert. They decline, ask for the check. He says it’s coming right up and carries their dishes to the counter.

He brings the check, and he pays, much to her chagrin. He drowns out their banter, knowing it’s as playful as they are trying it not to be. He makes it to the cash register in one piece, places the money in, and grabs their change. He turns to give to them, but finds that they had left. He crumbles the bills in his hands. He throws them onto the counter in anger, and storms out of the cafe, much to the dismay of Mizoguchi. He ignores his protests as he races out, apron still on, and runs. He keeps on running, not bothering to look where he’s going, or his destination. He runs and runs, and finds himself by the sea, the calm waters staring back at him. He feels their mocking eyes; it’s as if the ocean is telling him what he already knows, You’re pathetic. Weeks of progress thrown out all over a little date. You’re so pathetic for letting it get to you.

“I know!” he screams as a reply, like the ocean understands what he’s saying. He breaks down into heavy sobs, collapsing to his knees as if the weight of it all kept him from standing. He wails into the ocean waves, screaming until his voice is hoarse. His body racks violently with unshed cries, his arms around himself do little to settle them. He wants it gone. He wants this pain, and his love to be gone. He doesn’t want to love him anymore. If only letting go was as simple as that.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: apologies over ice cream

rating: k

word count: 1470

summary: Maya invites Canon out for ice cream. It goes about as well as you expect.

notes: *flops down on floor* this is literally happened all because i was bored and had a bit of spite left. thanks @judette-mathis for betaing. this one’s for you

read ao3 or below cut

 Maya lays down on her bed with a huff escaping from her lips. She buries her face in her pillow as she recalls the events that took place earlier that day. Honestly she wishes she could take it all back but unfortunately time travel wasn't an anomaly present on the island and possibly anywhere else on this planet. She contemplates asking a Festum if time travel was one of their perks but she doubts she'll be able to get the first word out before she’s covered in green crystals. She throws that idea out of the window and instead buries herself deeper on the bed. A knock on her door keeps her from thinking of another plan and with a muffled “Come in,” her sister enters the room with a phone in her hand and worried expression on her face.

 “Are you alright?” She asks with her hand on the receiver.

 “No,” Maya groans. She still hasn’t bothered lifting her head from her pillow. Her sister chuckles and remembers the phone in her hand.

 “Well, I won't ask for the details, but you have a phone call.”

 Maya slowly lifts her head from her pillow, and it takes a lot for Yumiko to not burst out laughing. Her usually kept hair is sticking up from all angles with a few rebel strands sticking to her face.

 “Who is it?”

 All Yumiko does is give a please-dont-get-mad smile and hand her the phone. Maya takes it cautiously and presses it to her ear.

 “Hello?”

 “Hello, Maya.”

 Maya rips the phone away from her face as if it burned her. She whips her head to the direction her sister was only to find a slightly ajar door and an empty room. It seems Yumiko had anticipated her reaction to the person on the phone and made sure to scaddle as fast as she could. Cursing Yumiko’s name, Maya contemplates hanging up but figures that would be even more disastrous than the day’s events, so she sighs, swallows her pride, and brings the phone back up to her ear.

 “H-Hi Canon. What’s up?” Maya cringes slightly at her stutter but prevails on.

 “Nothing much, just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Canon’s monotonous tone makes it hard for Maya to pin down exactly what Canon’s feelings are so she keeps the conversation going, hoping her over-powered observational skills would pick something up.

 “Yes, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” She chuckles into the receiver.

 The earpiece stays silent for a while, and Maya starts to wonder if they were cut off. She lifts the phone from her ear and sees the line is still going. She’s just about to say something when Canon starts talking again.

 “I’m glad.” She breathes in relief. Maya’s brow scrunches in confusion. She has no clue why Canon would be relieved, for it should be her who’s relieved. She’s happy there’s nothing awkward between the two of them. She lets out a little breath, her disposition much lighter than before.

 “Well, now that’s settled, why don’t we go get some ice cream? My treat.”

 A small pause later, which to Maya felt like hours thinking she had messed up again, it only takes one word to melt away any doubts she had prior to asking her question.

 “Yes.”

                ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥

 They meet in front of Rakuen at around 1:33, which lucky for them, was just after the lunch rush. They enter together and grab their usual booth by the window. Maya orders a sundae and Canon her usual ice cream float, this time strawberry. They eat in silence, both not entirely sure how to break it. Maya figures she should start with an apology for her behavior that morning. It was unsightly and frankly, plain out of character of her to be acting like that. She puts her spoon down and clears her throat. Canon stops drinking her float and looks up at Maya. She pulls the straw away from her mouth and addresses Maya.

 “Canon, I’m so sorry for acting that way this morning. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” She bows her head over her sundae, not wanting to look her in the eye just yet.

 Canon cocks her head slightly. “It’s okay, Maya. You don’t need to apologize. I wasn’t--” She clears her throat. “I wasn’t hurt or offended.”

 Maya sighs in relief and lifts her head up excitedly. “So, friends still?”

 “Friends still.” Canon nods in agreement. They eat their ice cream in silence, this time with much lighter shoulders.

 Maya is just about to put a spoonful in her mouth when she eyes Canon staring at her with a calculated look.

 “Y-yes, Canon?”

 “I’m starting to think I should’ve ordered the sundae instead.”

 “Why?”

 “....No reason.”

 Maya looks down at her spoon and back at Canon. A wicked thought crosses her mind.

 “Want to try some?”

 At that, Canon’s face grows red and becomes flustered. “N-No, no. That’s alright, I could always order it next--”

 Her protests die out as a spoon is shoved into her mouth. Her face scrunches up from the coldness of the ice cream but she swallows it down. Maya can’t help but think it’s cute, and wants to see her make it again. She gets another spoonful, but this time gives Canon a little warning.

 “Say ‘ah’!~”

 “I already said you don’t need to.” Canon turns her head away from Maya, a blush and a pout paint themselves on her face, it makes Maya want to kiss that pout away.

 “Ah, c’mon. A couple of spoonfuls wouldn’t hurt. And besides, did you      see    this thing when I first ordered it? I’m starting to think it was falsely advertised for one person.” She gives Canon her best puppy eyed look, which she knows she can’t resist. Canon sighs in defeat and grabs the spoon from Maya’s hand and eats the ice cream off of it. Maya grins satisfactory and grabs the spoon back to give her more.

 At some point during their feeding session, Maya found herself on the same side of the booth as Canon, but she honestly doesn’t care as to how she got there. She just cares about what she can do      now    that she’s there. She glances over to make sure Canon isn’t looking and slowly scoots over closer to Canon. She scoops some more ice cream and turns to Canon.

 “Canon.”

 The girl in question turns her head quickly only to find a spoonful of ice cream and Maya in her face. She slides backwards to distance them but finds there’s a window behind her. How they got so close is a mystery to Canon, but she knows there isn’t much she could do about it. She gulps nervously and opens her mouth so Maya could slip the spoon in. She wraps her lips around it and tugs slightly to get the ice cream off. Maya retracts the utensil and turns a little to get more ice cream. This time, Maya presses her upper body towards Canon’s, pinning her to the window as she feeds her the sundae.

 They stay like that until the sundae is done, by that time, the golden rays of the sun are showing signs of orange streaks. Maya goes to the counter to pay, leaving Kazuki a tip for not kicking them out for inappropriate behavior. Canon waits for Maya outside, hoping it’ll give her time to cool her face off and calm her racing heart. She fixed her straw hat while she waits hoping she can do both things at once. Unfortunately for Canon, Maya exits the cafe before she could do any of those things. Maya holds out her hand and offers to walk her home. She takes them both--the offer and Maya’s hand.

 The both of them find themselves walking in a comfortable silence and by the time they both realize it, they have arrived at Canon’s house. Maya turns to Canon and says, “I had a lot of fun today.”

 “I’m sure you did,” Canon pouts, referring to the spoonfeeding in the cafe. Maya chuckles, “But you enjoyed yourself.”

 “Yeah, I did.” She blushes slightly at those words, but it’s the truth. She did have a lot of fun, despite the initial awkwardness.

 “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” There’s a hesitant hitch in Maya’s voice as she asks that, but Canon puts those ills to rest.

 “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Maya smiles and closes into Canon, giving her a small peck on her lips.

 Maya lets go of her hand and walks home, her finger lightly touching her lips as she walks down those stairs.

 (Little does she know, a certain red head in a straw hat is doing the same thing, wondering what she has to do to feel it again).

[actuallysatanfic]

title: who would’ve thought we’d come this far?

rating: e

word count: 1,896

summary: Kai and Aichi are reunited after months apart. They bang.

notes: here are the tweets that sealed this fics fate i hate how im right sometimes thanks @judette-mathis for the plot to this pwp i love you so much sis and thats not the sleep depravity talking -finger guns-

read ao3 or under cut

Kai reads text he had received from Aichi about a half and hour ago saying his plane landed and was on his way and silently praying he gets here soon. He doesn’t admit it often, but he misses Aichi and wants to see him as soon as possible. He offered to meet Aichi at the terminal when his plane landed, but Aichi refused, citing that it was too much trouble. He did, however, suggest he stay at Kai’s apartment the time he was in Japan, to which Kai agreed lightening fast. (Miwa had a small field day watching Kai stumbling to hold onto his phone long enough to answer, and Kai contemplated getting new friends).

He stares at his clock, willing it to go faster, but at the same time willing himself to stop being so desperate. He folds his arms over his chest, not thinking about how long it’s been since he’s last seen Aichi, not thinking about how long since they’ve spoken face to face, and certainly not thinking how long it’s been since they’ve fu—The door bell rings, and Kai trips over his feet trying to get up fast enough to answer it, hoping the deity he sorta prayed to answered his prayers. He swings open the door to find Aichi with his luggage and a sheepish grin on his face.

“Kai-kun, it’s been a lon—”

He’s cut off by Kai pulling him into his arms rather roughly.

“Oof. Kai-kun, Are you alright? Are you sick?”

Kai loosens his hold on Aichi, and looks at him. The expression on his face says it all, bringing a small smile to Aichi’s face. He cups his cheek with his hand.

“I’m home, Kai-kun.”

“Welcome back, Aichi.”

The distance between the two of them becomes noticable as Aichi stares at Kai’s bottom lip, wondering  if he should make a move, and Kai wondering the same. In the end, Kai opts to cup Aichi’s face with his hands, and leans in, his lips centimeters from Aichi’s, asking if he could. Aichi covered the remaining distance, telling him it’s okay, he wants this just as much as Kai does.

One of Kai’s hands travels to Aichi’s waist, bringing him closer than he already is, deepening the kiss. Aichi’s other hand flies up to Kai’s neck, returning the kiss with equal fervor, matching his pace without showing signs of slowing down.

Kai steps back further into his apartment, half-leading half-dragging Aichi along with him. Aichi stumbles on entrance’s step, breaking the kiss to keep his balance.

“You okay?”

Aichi chuckles at Kai’s question.

“Yeah. I just find it funny. Here we are, reunited after months with minimal contact, and we choose to skip the pleasantries and head straight to making out by the door trying not to trip over ourselves. Who would’ve thought we’d end up this far?”

The last part Aichi whispers to himself, but Kai still hears it, not sure what to say. He’s never been good with words especially with situations like these where Aichi, despite the years of building up his confidence and self esteem, trusts Kai enough to leave himself vulnerable with his heart out in his hands. It’s time like these that Kai fumbles over. Despite all the years of them being friends, being whatever it is that they are right now, he wishes he could give Aichi the extra support he needs, but it seems just being by his side helps him the most.

So that’s what he does. He takes an extra step forward, and holds Aichi close, telling him everything’s the way it’s suppose to be, that everything’s alright.

“We didn’t, we couldn’t have thought this far, given the circumstances...but,” Kai hooks a finger under Aichi’s chin, tilting his face up, “I am so glad I met you, Aichi.”

Kai’s words...there were enough. It was enough for Aichi, knowing that, despite the compactness of that one sentence, Kai’s feelings were clear as day. Aichi pulls Kai down for another kiss, his hands gripping his collar tightly as their lips slot together messily. Kai’s hands travel along Aichi’s sides, settling at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slightly to feel the warm skin under his fingertips. Aichi breaks the kiss, long enough to say, “Bed.”

They manage to make it to Kai’s bed without tripping on air, with Kai pinned down under Aichi as he makes do to get rid of his shirt. He returns to Kai’s lips, his hands in his hair as the kiss deepens. Kai’s hands slide along Aichi’s bareback, pulling him down. His hands slide down to his lower back, playing with the waistband of Aichi’s pants.

Aichi breaks the kiss and chuckles, “Now, now, don’t get impatient.” He sits up, straddling Kai, and starts toying with the buttons on his shirt. Slowly and carefully, he unbuttons them one by one, his fingers lightly touching Kai’s skin. He unbuttons the last one, and lets the top fall open, revealing Kai’s smooth chest. Aichi runs his fingers along the exposed chest, trailing down to his navel and back up.

He cradles Kai’s face in his hands, caresses his bottom lip with his thumb, drinking in everything. Kai’s messed up hair, his lightly dusted cheeks, small panting breaths, and his newly dilated eyes. All just from a make-out session. Aichi can’t wait to find out how he looks after getting fucked. Aichi leans down and whispers onto Kai’s lips, “Kai-kun,” He draws out Kai’s name, purring it onto his lips, “touch me.”

Kai’s hands move from Aichi’s waistband up to his neck. He leans up, his lips on his neck, kissing and nibbling on the soft skin under Aichi’s jaw. He sucks on the skin, leaving a bright pink spot and starts making his way down Aichi’s chest. Aichi lets out a small moan, letting his arms curl around Kai’s neck.

Kai stops again at his waistband. He looks up to Aichi, “May I?”

“Not yet,” Aichi says as he palms the front of Kai’s jeans. “I need to take care of you first. May I?” He repeats Kai’s question, and waits for an answer. Kai nods and Aichi slides the zipper of his jeans down, slowly, not wanting to rush things. He tugs the jeans down to Kai’s knees and toys with the wasitband of Kai’s boxers.

He looks up again and asks, “May I?” One small nod from Kai was all he needed to pull them down, freeing Kai’s erection. He eyes Kai’s fat cock, licking his lips in anticipation. He lowers his lips and after an experimental lick around the head, takes as much of Kai’s dick in his mouth. Aichi places his hands on Kai’s hips to keep him still as his tongue runs along the shaft up to the head. He sucks on the head before bobbing back down. Kai’s hand flies to the back of Aichi’s head, gripping his hair as moans escape his lips. Aichi’s tongue swirls along the head, sliding down the shaft as he lowers himself down, taking more of Kai’s dick. The head hits the back of his throat, causing Aichi to gag and let up a little, and Kai to let out a loud moan. The grip on Aichi’s hair tightens, and after one last suck, Aichi releases Kai’s dick with a pop. He looks into Kai’s blown up pupils and is satisfied with the results.

Kai stares at Aichi’s red, swollen lips from sucking his cock and his dilated eyes, almost coming on the spot. The hand that was tangled in Aichi’s hair slides to his cheek, caressing it with his thumb. He sits up, shifting Aichi to his lap, and softly kisses his swollen lips. Aichi meets his lips again and again, not wanting to deep it. He guides Kai’s other hand to the front of his pants, grinding into it.

“Kai-kun, please.” He breathes out into the kiss. Kai gives him one last kiss, and proceeds to unzip Aichi’s pants just as slow as Aichi had done either. He slides them down, and Aichi stands on his knees to remove them. Kai’s finger play with his boxer’s waistband, snapping it lightly against Aichi’s skin. He looks into Aichi’s eyes and asks, “May I?” Aichi swallows and nods, giving Kai the permission he needs. He slides his boxers down slowly, not wanting to ruin a precious moment by going fast. Aichi’s cock springs free from its confines, the head hitting his stomach.

“Top drawer.” is all Kai says, but Aichi’s known him long enough to know what that translates to. He leans over Kai to get to the dresser and takes out the bottle of lube and a condom. He places the condom on the bed beside Kai and opens the lube. Aichi pours a generous amount onto his fingers and makes his way to his entrance. He slides one finger in to get the hang of having something inside of him. Once he’s accustom to one finger, he slides another one in, moving in and out of himself, stretching his rim as he goes. Aichi moans loudly as he fucks himself with his fingers, teasing that one spot that always drives him crazy. He slides a third one, and he’s frantically thrusting them inside himself, wishing they were something bigger.

Aichi removes his fingers when he feels he’s stretched enough and grabs the condom by Kai. He tears the foil packet open and slides the condom onto Kai’s dick. He searches for the lube bottle he tossed earlier, and finds it hidden in the sheets. He pours a generous amount onto his hand and coats Kai’s dick with it. He aligns his entrance with his dick, and looks uncertain at Kai. Kai grabs Aichi’s hips and nods. Aichi lowers himself slowly, and doesn’t stop until Kai’s cock is completely inside him.

He rolls his hips, getting used to having Kai inside him after so long. He lifts himself up a little before sliding back down. He does this a few times, setting up a rhythm.

“Kai-kun, faster.” Aichi moans out as he lifts himself up as high as he can and slams back down. Kai’s grip on his hips tighten as he meets Aichi’s thrusts, feeling his orgasm coming. He speeds up his thrusts and changes his angle, earning a scream from Aichi as he hits his prostrate.

“Kai-kun, I’m close.” Aichi rides harder, trying to match Kai’s thrusts. One hard thrust into Aichi’s prostrate has Aichi seeing white as his orgasm ripples through his body. He rides it out as Kai thrusts a few more time before his orgasm hits him.

Kai pulls out of Aichi and removes the condom. He ties the end and throws it the trashcan’s general direction. He’s positive he made it. Aichi collapses onto Kai, and winces as he realizes his come is on his stomach. He sits up carefully and heads to the bathroom for a washcloth. He wipes the come from Kai’s stomach as well as his own face and chest. He throws it into the laundry basket near the bed and climbs in next to Kai.

Kai wraps his arms around Aichi and brings him close, covering their bodies with a blanket. He kisses Aichi’s forehead and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. Aichi follows soon after.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: play our song on repeat

rating: e

word count: 1081

summary: Yuuri removes the outer jacket of his costume and places it on the chair next to him. His pants go next, leaving him in the glittery, transparent leotard. Viktor makes the mistake of looking up and gets an eyeful of Yuuri in the leotard and has to look away quickly before he makes his want obvious. Yuuri turns slightly towards Viktor with a boast of confidence and aftermath adrenaline rush and smirks.

"Like what you see?”

notes: ho sweet jesus so this is a thing that happened partially inspired by that one fanart with yuuri in just the leotard portion of his free skate costume that i can never seem to find you know the one big thanks to @judette-mathis for beta’ing this filth at deadass o'clock in the morning i owe you one sis

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Yuuri enters the backstage dressing room after his free skate program with an exhilarated sigh and a ball of relief. While it wasn’t the gold medal he was aiming for, Yuuri places his silver medal on the dresser next to him and starts changing out of his costume. The navy suit glistens in the low-light, and Viktor has to look away slightly. His protegé-slash-fiancé deserves some privacy so he opts to look at the floor. His mind swirls of last night’s fight, but he refuses to dwell on it now. They made their decisions, it’s up to them to go through with them.

Yuuri removes the outer jacket of his costume and places it on the chair next to him. His pants go next, leaving him in the glittery, transparent leotard. Viktor makes the mistake of looking up and gets an eyeful of Yuuri in the leotard and has to look away quickly before he makes his want obvious.

Yuuri turns slightly towards Viktor with a boost of confidence and aftermath adrenaline rush and smirks.

“Like what you see?”

Viktor remains silent, leaning against the wall with his rigid stance and his bang hiding his expression. Yuuri walks the small distance in the tight room, his bare feet pattering against the tile floor, until he’s in front of Viktor.

“Did I say something wrong?” His earlier confidence starts retreating back to the sidelines when Viktor pushes himself away from the wall and gently places a hand on Yuuri’s cheek. He leans in, his lips dancing over Yuuri’s.

“May I?” His voice laced with want, and Yuuri’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Yes.” Yuuri breathes out, barely a whisper, but Viktor hears it anyways, he always does, and meets Yuuri’s lips halfway. He kisses them over and over again desperately trying to hold onto him, as if he’ll slip away like sand, but Yuuri reciprocating the same sets those fears aside. Viktor drinks them in like sweet wine, the hand on Yuuri caressing its way to the back of his head, cradling it softly while Yuuri’s hands move to Viktor’s neck, lazily hanging them from his shoulders. His other hand cradles his hip, and he swiftly switches their positions without breaking contact and pins Yuuri to the wall behind him, his hand softening the blow. The kisses get heated, soft pecks get deeper and longer and Viktor has to lean into Yuuri a little more just to keep from melting to his knees. He hooks Yuuri’s left leg around his waist, causing Yuuri to shift one of his hands to the back of Viktor’s head, running his fingers through the soft strands.

Yuuri breaks the kisses with “I’m sorry’s” playing on repeat but Viktor returns them with “I forgive you’s” and “I love you’s” and his hands fiddle with Yuuri’s leotard. Both hands cup Yuuri’s waist bringing it to align with his own as their lips continue to waltz with a tuneless song. Yuuri grinds his hips against Viktor’s and smirks at the sharp intake he makes at the sudden contact.

“Viktor.” Yuuri drops his voice to a sultry, seductive tone and it makes Viktor weak. He gulps loudly, his grip never leaving his hips.

“Yes, Yuuri.” He states rather than question, no need in these situations. His thumb rubs circles into the mesh fabric on his hip, waiting for Yuuri to say something.

“Stop teasing.” He stops massaging his hip.

“Oh?” A playful tone mixes in. Viktor leans into his ear, his words caressing his ear.“What do you want me to do, Yuuri? Tell me.”

“Touch me.”

Viktor crashes his lips onto Yuuri’s, their waltz becoming a tango, as lips mesh with teeth and tongue. Yuuri hooks his other leg around Viktor’s waist, holding himself up with his arms tighten rung around his shoulders. Viktor shifts slightly to compensate the extra weight, but not once breaking rhythm. Yuuri’s hands return to Viktor’s hair, threading and pulling among the silvery strands. Viktor bucks into Yuuri’s hips, and rubs his hard erection against Yuuri’s. He kisses his way down to his neck, sucking and nipping softly as to not leave a prominent mark. Viktor sucks on a sensitive patch of skin, causing Yuuri to buck his hips up and let out a low moan.

“Viktor. I thought I told you not to tease.” Yuuri whines as he struggles to gather any friction with his thrusts.

Viktor kisses his way to the base of Yuuri’s neck and palms the front of his leotard. Yuuri’s dick is starting to leak pre-cum, giving the garment a small wet spot on the front. Yuuri leans his head back and lets out a loud moan. Viktor smirks against the top seam of the leotard, deciding to be a little merciful. He pins Yuuri further into the wall, and as if he read his mind, Yuuri lowers his hands to unzip Viktor’s pants.

He toys with the band on Viktor’s underwear, fiddling with it and snapping it softly against his skin before slipping it down as far as he could in his position to free Viktor’s cock. He massages the head, spreading the pre-cum around. His fingers slide up and down the shaft, rubbing the vein as he goes. Viktor swats Yuuri’s hand away, and takes it in his own, lacing their fingers together as Viktor grinds his dick against Yuuri’s still clothed own. Yuuri moans loudly as the friction from Viktor’s dick and the mesh on his costume creates this indescribable pleasure causing Yuuri to franticly meet Viktor’s grinds.

Yuuri crashes his lips to Viktor’s, wanting Viktor to swallow his moans, and tugs at his hair with his free hand. Viktor’s hand slides from his hip to his ass. His fingers squeeze under the fabric, and massage Yuuri’s rim as he meets Yuuri’s lips again and again and again. Yuuri screams into Viktor’s lips, grinding his hips faster and harder, and Viktor swallows them with heated kisses.

Yuuri’s close, he feels it coming fast, and Viktor meets his thrusts, his fingers teasing the entrance to Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri tugs at Viktor’s hair as his orgasm hits him, with Viktor not too far behind. He removes his fingers from under the costume’s fabric and helps Yuuri to his feet. Come stains both Viktor’s and Yuuri’s clothes so they opt to change as fast as they could before it dried.

Luckily Viktor knew of a dry-cleaner that could get rid of such stains without questions.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: insecure boys in pretty skirts

rating: k+

word count: 694

summary: If he’s going to be honestly with himself, ordering the skirt for his monthly clothing delivery was on a whim—a crazy, irrational whim—but something in Soushi told him he needed it.

notes: okay tbh this mostly a rushed vent-fic written at like 10:30 at night so sorry if nothing makes sense/seems loose. My dyshoria was starting to kick in a bit and I kinda needed a healthy way to let it out and soushi in a skirt seemed to have calmed it down. I might make this into a series, im not too entirely sure yet ;;

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Soushi stares at the piece of fabric in front of him. He picks it up with two fingers, unsure if he should be touching it, and holds it up in front of him. The black material falls neatly as he carefully examines it and wonders if he really should be doing this. The black skirt—which is something Soushi is still getting used to—stares at him nonchalantly. He doesn’t do anything but stare back, still deciding if this was a good idea or not. If he’s going to be honestly with himself, ordering the skirt for his monthly clothing delivery was on a whim—a crazy, irrational whim—but something in Soushi told him he needed it.

Which leads to his current predicament, now that he has it, now what? He hadn’t thought that far and he kicks himself for it. He stares and stares at it, honestly just wanting answers, but as his eyes wander to the opposite wall, he curses himself softly. The clock is telling him he’s almost late for school, and he’d hate to disrupt his perfect attendance record, so he quickly puts the skirt on over his shorts, grabs his bag, and heads out the door.

The trip from Alvis to school was uneventful and it calmed Soushi’s nerves somewhat. He didn’t have the energy for any confrontations and is silently praying it stays like that all day. He makes it to the classroom in one piece, but he wishes he could say the same as he walked to his desk. Multiple pairs of eyes stared at him, as if he was a foreigner and not their fellow student. Soushi flops onto his desk chair, ignoring the pairs of eyes that are trying to make heads-or-tails of what Soushi is doing, more specifically, what he’s wearing. He pulls out a pen and his notebook, hoping his ignorance would turn everyone’s interest off and get ready for class.

Soushi eyes the clock, and sees class starts in a few minutes. He takes deep breathes, Okay, in. Out. You can do this. The bell rings which gives Soushi the courage to look at the front of the room, which to his dismay, lacks their teacher. He contemplates scanning the room, and chastises himself for not talking himself out of it. Everyone is in their seats and staring straight at him. He feels a ping of annoyance, and scans the room, looking for Kazuki who seems to be running late this morning. For the all times he’s late, it had to be today.

He gives it no further thought as his fellow classmates are still initiating a one-sided staring contest. He sighs and turns to Sakura.

“Why is everyone staring as if you have never seen me before?”

Sakura looks taken back, not expecting the question, and fumbles with her answer. “I-It’s a little weird seeing you wear a skirt, Soushi.”

“Is that all? It’s only a piece of clothing, Kaname-san. Surely everyone’s seen one just like it.”

“Yeah, but not on a boy.”

Soushi narrows his eyes. “It shouldn’t matter what gender the person is, as long as they’re happy with what they wear, then they should wear what they want. No one makes a fuss when you wear pants, so the fuss over my skirt is completely irrational and uncalled for.”

He thinks back to this morning, over his conflicted feelings over the skirt, and while some of them are still there, he feels the irrational whim comment was, well, irrational. He smooths the folds out of his skirt, signaling the end of his conversation with Sakura, and turns at the sounds of a door sliding open. Kazuki races inside and to his seat, and after giving a quick glance at Soushi, prompts himself down at his chair.

“’Morning everyone. ‘Morning, Soushi. Nice skirt.”

Kazuki’s offhanded comment seemed to have broken the tension that Soushi was just now noticing. He mumbles a small ‘thank you’ into his desk and wonders just how many more skirts he should get. He contemplates a few dresses but decides it’s best to not push it. He’ll take this one step at a time.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: torn up fabric

rating: k+

word count: 995

summary: It wasn’t suppose to end like this, but as suddenly as they had passed on, Maya, too, is forced to move on.

notes: omfg I told myself I wouldnt do this and yet here I am with ANOTHER GODDAMN INSTALLMENT someone pleas eend me but wait until the prequel is done please and thank you technically this one concludes the series but I wont mark it as complete until the prequel is done and uploaded.

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Maya makes her way up to the cemetery, like she has been for past several months now, with a bucket of clear water and an old handkerchief that was once her father’s. She trudges up with ease, having been doing this for so long has built up some muscle, the water sloshing in the bucket as it hits her leg occasionally. Some water spills onto her leg but she pays it no heed as she makes her way over to Kazuki’s and Soushi’s graves. They’re as spotless as ever, but even with the amount of cleaning they receive, Maya feels it’s not enough.

She sets the bucket down and kneels in front of Kazuki’s grave first, she doesn’t have it in her to mix it up this time. She takes her handkerchief out of her skirt’s pocket, dips it into the bucket of water, and starts cleaning. Methodically, she wipes along the sides and empty spaces between the engraving and the edges, saving the former for last, since it’s the only thing she takes her time on.

As she moves from an edge of the tombstone to the engraving, the fabric of the handkerchief snags on the corner, tearing slightly. Maya panics, but quickly recovers long enough to carefully remove the tearing handkerchief from the grave’s corner. She dips it into the bucket of water beside her, rings it out, and begins cleaning the kanji carved in front, as if nothing had happened at all. She carefully wipes every character, every stroke as careful as handling a newborn babe, and not once letting herself rush any of it. This is what she can do for them, it’s the only way she knows how to apologize to them. For not being there as much as she should have during...through everything.

Maya finishes cleaning Kazuki’s grave, giving it one last wipe down, before shifting slightly to Soushi’s gravestone, the cement block staring at her in disappointment. She wipes her brow before getting to work. She dips the handkerchief in the bucket, rings it out, and starts cleaning. This time she’s extra careful when she wipes from a corner to the center, making sure she doesn’t tear the handkerchief anymore than she already as.

Maya rinses the handkerchief one more time and starts on mina. Carefully as she had previously done, she cleans every stroke as methodically and precise as she can, taking her time with every ministration. However, this time it doesn’t go as planned.

As careful as Maya was, as careful as she is, she could not have fore sought the sharp edge in the middle of mina and shiro. As she moves the handkerchief from the last stroke of mina and onto shiro, the cloth snags onto a sharp edge, tearing in half as Maya tries to remove it. The torn up fabric catches her off guard, and all she can do is stare at the beat up cloth as half flutters to the ground in front of her.

For a while, she doesn’t move. She stares at the handkerchief for what seems like hours but finally makes an effort to pick up the torn half, but it seems fate had other plans. A breeze picks up and carries the handkerchief away from the cemetery, away from her, and Maya reacts too late to catch it time. Her hands form fists and pounds the ground in anger.

“Why?!” She screams. She lifts her head and looks straight onto Soushi’s grave. “Why, Minashiro-kun, why?”

The grave doesn’t answer back. It’s dead material.

Anger coils in her body as she grabs onto the gravestone. “Answer me, Minashiro-kun! You’re the one who always had them so why?! Why did everything turn out the way it did? Why am I the only one who has to bear the burden? Why did you and Kazuki-kun have to go? Why why why?!”

She bangs her fists onto the cement with each question, each hit weaker than the last. She lays her head on the slab, sobbing. “Why did you two have to leave me behind?”

Maya wails into the silent cemetery, only ashes and cement her witnesses. She told herself she was done crying for her two best friends a long time ago, but it seems she never properly healed. She convinced herself day after day that she was okay, okay with this duty she assigned herself after they both passed on. Her mind flutters back to her conversation with Canon weeks back when she asked if she was alright. She only let her back do the talking, not wanting to answer her question, not wanting to think about it.

She wipes her eyes with the half of the handkerchief she has left, rinses it in the bucket of water besides her, and places it back in her pocket. She places a stick of incense by both graves, and says a prayer to the both of them, like she always had been since she started. She picks up the bucket of water and turns to both graves, her back squared with determination and a fire in her eyes last seen all those months ago.

“Goodbye, Kazuki-kun. Minashiro-kun.”

Maya turns her back to the graves and walks back down the hill, not once looking back. She forces herself not to, afraid she might change her mind. She dumps the water under a small tree by the entrance, and puts the bucket back by the well. Maya pulls out the remaining half of her handkerchief, her grip purposely loose as the wind carries that one away too. She doesn’t bother seeing where it ends up, she’s certain it went to meet up with the other one. At this point, Maya is starting to doubt her decision, but decides it’s too late to turn back now. Fate has other plans that don’t involve handkerchiefs and buckets of water.

She walks away from the cemetery and onto home, wondering if Canon’s doing anything tomorrow afternoon.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: i don’t love you anymore (but i always will)

rating: n/a

word count: 2,253

summary: They both just woke up one morning and it was like a fog had been lifted and they were staring at each other like they were perfect strangers.

notes: self care is staying up past 12 multiple times writing plotless divorced victuuri angst while listening to yuri on ice while tears are streaming down your face as you regret your life’s choices.

big thanks to @judette-mathis for betaing this i love you sis

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The problem was no one lied. There was no cheating involved and promises remained in tacked. They both just woke up one morning and it was like a fog had been lifted and they were staring at each other like they were perfect strangers. Their hearts didn’t break, but the feelings of love were gone, only leaving an empty feeling and the sensation of something missing. They tried, tried very hard, but no matter what they did, they couldn’t bring the love back. It was gone, it vanished as quickly as it came like magic.

It went on like this for a year. Stumbling and tripping over the pieces of their relationship, doing their best to keep it afloat, to keep it in tack, but all it did was slip through their fingers like sand. Fights escalated over this, it was to be expected, they were desperate, trying to hold onto their sandy relationship was starting to become impossible. So one day, Viktor left. Packed up his things and left with his dog without a word. Didn’t even leave a note. Just a ring and an empty house and a broken heart. Yuuri curses at him, screaming he should have left crazy glue instead, it would have done him so much better. He swipes the ring off the table and chucks it in a drawer, hoping he’ll never have to see it again. (If only he paid attention to which drawer he threw the ring in, then maybe he would’ve had an easier time).

Days and weeks pass, no word from his ex. Only a manilla envelope with half signed papers and a Russian P.O. Box address. He tosses them onto the table, not wanting to look at them any longer, frustrated that he can move on so fast while he himself is just barely piecing everything back together. (It takes him a full month to read them again, and another two months to sign them. Don’t ask about the return process, he can’t bring himself to talk about it yet).

Several years down the road, and he stands in line at a coffee shop in Detroit, visiting old friends and contemplating a coaching career when he spots him. He wishes he didn’t but the silvery hair is hard to miss, especially on someone as young as he is. He averts his gaze, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It’s too early, he can’t speak face to face right now. He’ll burst into tears and beg a restart but then he’d be just as pathetic as he was when the final nail was slammed into the coffin, in the one fight that ended everything.

He waits for his turn and as he steps up to the cashier, a voice rings out cutting him off of his order. He stops breathing and is afraid to look but does so anyways because no matter how many times he tries to convince himself he isn’t, he’s weak and will always be weak for this man. The man that stole and broke his heart into indistinguishable pieces only to order for him at a local Starbucks like nothing had happened in eight years. He cancels the order out of anger and spite, and leaves the cafe in a huff, silently praying he doesn’t follow. Silently praying the gods will get the message across and for once in his life, he does what he’s told. He makes to main street when someone grabs his arm, pulling him away from the intersection he is about to cross. He turns with venom in his eyes, ready to tell whoever grabbed him off, when his eyes meet icy blue ones. The same ones that used to look at him with all the love in the world that now stare at him with a look he cannot place. (So much for happily ever after.)

“May I help you?” His voice comes out steadier than he thought it would. Maybe he is ready for this. He waits for a reply but gets none as the grip on his arm is loosened until gone completely. Icy blue eyes stare in confusion but he shakes it off.

“Nothing, just—nothing.” Viktor turns back towards the direction he came, and Yuuri stares at his back with a look mixed with befuddlement and anger.

Pure anger. He grabs his arm and drags him to the nearest alleyway, slamming him against the wall of the nearest building. He glares at him and spits out, “What the ever loving fuck do you think you’re doing? It’s been eight years and now you want to speak. What do you want, Viktor?”

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, but he doesn’t care. He’s done, done with missing him, done with this broken heart of his. He just wants closure; he wasn’t expecting it before, but now that he’s here, he might as well get it. He needs to know, if what they once had really was temporary. Viktor stares at him with wide eyes, surprised at his language, but he keeps his cool. “I just—I—I don’t know.” Yuuri grabs his collar and brings him down, their lips inches apart. It’d be so easy to kiss him right then and there, but he restrains himself, keeps himself strong.

“I don’t have all day.” He lets go of his collar and folds his arms across his chest.

Viktor adjusts his shirt and clears his throat. His next words get stuck in his throat but he says them anyways, “I just—I had the sudden urge to speak to you. That’s all.” Yuuri stares at him in disbelief, and shakes his head. He chuckles under his breath, places a hand over his mouth to keep them from spilling out, but it ends up in vain. The chuckles escalate to giggles to laughter loud enough to attract a few stares. He hunches over, his sides hurting from laughing so much, but he can’t stop. It’s as if what Viktor said opened up a box of emotions he kept hidden and the only way he can deal with them all is by laughing his ass off.

Viktor stares at him befuddled, not entirely sure what to do so he keeps silent. Yuuri finishes laughing moments later, even though it feels longer than that, and stands up straight, hoping he can put his incoherent thoughts in order. He looks into Viktor’s eyes, malice gone, replaced with something softer. “I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.” He wipes the tears from his eyes, “You never fail to surprise me, Viktor.” Yuuri gives him a small smile, and Viktor stares at him, gaping not sure what to say (he never thought he’d get past ‘hello’ or ‘it’s been a long time’) so he opts out of words and hugs him instead, hoping it’ll be just as effective. Yuuri stiffens, not expecting this and was hoping for a worded explanation, but for now takes what he can in this moment and melts into his arms. In this tiny moment, he feels twenty-four again and wishes naively to a small deity that this lasts longer than a minute.

Viktor pulls away, too quickly and too soon and Yuuri’s heart drops at the lost of contact, wanting to stay in his arms forever, but steels himself up for reality. Cursing himself for the hope, he braces himself for the inevitable good-byes and farewells, knowing he’ll never see Viktor again without the help of luck. He takes a step back, or tries to but he can’t. Viktor still has his arms around him, even with the space between them. He doesn’t seem to be planning on letting go, and Yuuri can’t decide if he likes it or thinks it’s selfish of Viktor to do so. Yuuri places a hand on Viktor’s forearm, the right one, then one on his waist, and squeezes it, hoping Viktor will get the message and let go. He loosens his grip, but keeps his hand there.

“I want to show you something.” Viktor’s voice is delicate and he keeps his gaze down on his shoes. “I need to show you something.” He corrects himself, still not looking at Yuuri. He does nothing to hide his want, he feels it’s now or never, and with someone like Yuuri, it’s best to do it now. Yuuri swallows down his tongue and pride, and nods. Viktor doesn’t see Yuuri’s response with his head down and hair in his eyes, so Yuuri repeats his answer verbally. Viktor lifts his head, gives a small smile, and drags Yuuri back in the direction they both came from. Yuuri trudges along, trying to keep up with Viktor, his pace rushed and desperate with a pinch of fear mixed in. Viktor’s grip on Yuuri’s hand only tightens as they maneuver their way across the bustling sidewalks and busy intersections.

Viktor slows down where Yuuri presumably guesses is their destination: an ice rink. Yuuri tightens his hold on Viktor, and finds it hard to breathe. He gulps down his anxiety, telling himself there’s nothing to be worked up over, and follows Viktor in. The rink is empty, the few staff members there idly stand around, paying the two of them no mind as they pass on by.

Viktor only lets go of Yuuri’s hand when he reaches the benches. He laces up his skates, quickly and methodically, and not once looking at Yuuri. Yuuri stands there not sure what to do as Viktor gets up from the bench, his blade guards resting on the bench and walks over to the rink’s entrance. He glides to the center and turns to face Yuuri.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me.” is all Viktor says before he starts. He starts by lifting his hands and looks up to the ceiling, and starts to glide across the ice, moving his hands back down. Even with no music, Yuuri immediately recognizes those moves. His breath is stuck in his throat as he watches Viktor skate his old free skate program.

The one he discarded along with the ring all those years ago.

Yuuri watches in silence as Viktor transitions from jump to spin to another jump. The lump in his throat gets bigger as Viktor moves into the step sequence showcasing his inner turmoil, frantically gliding across the ice. Yuuri almost bursts into tears when Viktor lands the quad flip cleanly as he did in his prime. One last combination spin and then the final pose, but instead of facing Yuuri, Viktor faces the side wall, so his left outstretched hand is pointed at Yuuri.

He starts running. Not away from Viktor. He slips and almost hits the ice, but regains his balance. Viktor meets him halfway, like old times.

“How long?” Yuuri questions.

Viktor stares at Yuuri.

“How long what?” Yuuri looks down at his hands for a bit, but then lifts his head and looks into Viktor’s blue, blue eyes.

“How long did you wait to show me?”

The question catches Viktor off guard. If he’s honest with himself, he should have expected it, but right now, he doesn’t want to be, even though it matters. He looks down and sees Yuuri expecting an answer and he curses to himself for being so slow. He fumbles with his answer.

“I—I’m not sure.” He scratches his cheek. “I ended up watching your old routine online and I had the urge to do something. I didn’t know what at first, but then my mind went back to that video of you skating my old routine and it hit me. At first, I was going to record it and post it online, but then I decided I didn’t want to live without the knowledge of what you thought of it. So I made the rash decision to show it to you in person.” He stops to breath and launch into a long-winded story of flying back to Japan only to find out he moved out and changed his number and has no contact with anyone save for a few close relatives and friends, but he doesn’t. His voice gets stuck as he sees the tears falling down Yuuri’s cheeks like summer rain. Viktor swallows thickly, and very carefully, reaching up to wipe his tears away.

“Y-You stupid, stupid, stupid man,” Yuuri’s voice is shaky, and Viktor can only smile at that. Yes, he is a stupid, stupid, stupid man. However Viktor still loves his man, even if time wasn’t kind to either of them. He’s willing to trade those eight years they spent apart after their break-up just to turn back the clocks and make everything right again, but time doesn’t allow returns or exchanges.

Viktor cups Yuuri’s face in his hands, and brings their foreheads together. “Yes, I am. But I’m yours if you want me.”

Yuuri steps back, as much as he can given his current location, and takes a deep breath.

“Time, Viktor. Give me time. You don’t have to do anything else. In fact, I don’t want anything else. Just. Time.” The last two words come out harsher than he wants, but he knows he got his point across.

“Of course.” Viktor slides up to Yuuri. “On one condition.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“You give me your number.”

Yuuri bursts into laughter, and feels that they might be alright this time around.

Oh, please, fate. Let us have another chance at forever. Time wasn’t kind the first time.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: hearts are made of stone (but why is mine glass)

rating: n/a

word count: 509

summary: He tries his best to put the fragile pieces of his heart back together, but each time he tries to glue them back, they shatter in his hand.

notes: i got salty so here’s a sequel to That Fic™

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He stands, staring into his hands as he shakes his head and makes his way back home. He can’t. He just can’t. The mere thought tears him up inside, tugging at his heart sharply and painfully. He breaks into a sprint at the corner, hoping it’ll help. He reaches home out of breath and with a heavy heart. He curses himself for being so weak. He should’ve known it wasn’t going to work out. He should’ve known he was waiting in someone else’s place. He should’ve—

He opens the door to his house, pulling off his shoes while announcing that he’s home. The house remains silent, meaning his father isn’t home making everything easier. He heads to the kitchen to make dinner for his father, he doesn’t bother with a portion for himself, he isn’t hungry. He sets out a bowl and chopsticks onto the counter, trusting his father to serve himself. He can’t find it in himself to do it right now. He heads upstairs to his room, exhausted from crying earlier. He feels drained, similar to how the assimilation phenomenon saps at his strength from time to time. He lies face down onto his futon, trying his best to put everything past him, but he can’t. He just can’t. It gnaws at his brain, throwing image after image into his face, breaking his heart all over again. It’ll take time, a lot of time, for him to process and begin the acceptance phase, but right now, in the privacy of his own room, he lets out another sob into his pillow.

His heart feel betrayed, and he chastises himself for feeling that way. Soushi was not his to begin with, he is his own person who can love whoever he wants, but deep down, Kazuki wished his affection was towards him. The small, genuine smiles that are rarer than days off, the light, awkward chuckle that only he can get out of him, the soft touches that come and go but are still treasured. He doesn’t want to believe that there’s someone other than himself that bring that side of Soushi out. He refused to believe she can. He wants to keep believing those moments, that side of him, were for his eyes only. They know each other like the back of their hands, but it seems all that tip toeing they had done for five years was for naught, and it makes him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

His grip on his pillow tightens as he cries into his pillow, curling himself into a ball to make himself smaller. He tries his best to put the fragile pieces of his heart back together, but each time he tries to glue them back, they shatter in his hand. He swallows the lump in his throat, telling himself he won’t cry anymore. So he doesn’t; he sweeps up the tiny, glass-like shards that was once his heart and starts again.

Maybe this time he can glue them back.

Just not in one night.

[actuallysatanfic]

title: i wanna ruin our friendship

rating: k+

word count: 804

summary: we should be lovers instead/i don’t know how to say this/cause youre really my dearest friend

notes: I promised @judette-mathis this like a long ass time ago, and like always it takes me for-fucking-ever to finish. enjoy this fluffy piece sis before i break out the angst again. may this serve as a water bottle to quench that thirst of yours. The prompt i used from this was “Kiss me” as well took slight inspiration from this song which i recommend that you blast on repeat throughout the whole thing.

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The sound of music flows into Canon’s ears as the chimes of Rakuen’s entrance die down. Maya turns and greets her, partially because of her job but also because she’s happy to see her. The cafe is empty save for the lone jukebox in the corner and the two girls. Canon spots the jukebox and notions to it, wondering where it came from. Maya chuckles and explains one of the residents found it in their basement and donated it to the cafe. She also points out that it, in fact, is still in working condition, despite the machine’s age. Canon’s eyes widen in shock, surprised that despite centuries passing, it looks brand new. Whoever had it before must have taken quite good care of it.

Canon walks over to the jukebox, curious as to how it operates. The songs are in English and the buttons are Roman letters and Arabic numbers which makes it a little harder for her to get the hang of, Neo UN training be damned. She picks a song at random, and watches in fascination as the mechanical hand grabs a vinyl disc from its collection and swings it over to the front. An upbeat jazz song plays from its speakers. The trumpets and drums fill the room with a piano tune following behind.

She turns back and faces Maya with a triumph smile on her face, proud of herself for figuring it out. Maya giggles softly into her hand, and waves for Canon to come back over. She walks back to Maya a little giddy and childlike, but right now she cannot seem to care. Maya puts her tray on a table, and grabs Canon’s wrist, urging her to dance with her to the music. Canon stiffens; she’s not used to dancing in front of other people—she’s not used to dancing period, but one look from Maya has her putting that behind her and she decides to give it a try, just for her.  

They move their bodies to the beat of the music, at least the best they could with their limited knowledge of how dancing works. Canon’s read about it in the pop culture section of a history book while Maya envied the gracefulness of actresses in old movies and once-lost home videos. They swing their hips to the beat of the music; if they look silly to other people, they don’t seem to care at all.

The song ends as soon as it started—too soon to Canon’s standards, but by that time, they’re both out of breath. Maya leans over a table to catch her breath while Canon holds her hand to her chest trying to calm her racing heart. Seeing Maya moving without a care in the world caused her heart to beat faster than necessary along the amount of repetitive movement she has been doing. Soon they’re both back to normal with steady breaths and even steadier hearts (if Canon ignores hers), and the next song starts playing. Piano music plays softly from its speakers with a melancholic undertone.

A woman’s voice fills the room, and Canon finds her grabbing Maya’s wrist, pulling her into a slow dance. Maya wears her initial shock off and joins Canon, wrapping her arms around her waist. They sway to the music, just enjoying each others presence and lull the music puts them in.

‘I wanna ruin our friendship. We should be lovers instead.’

The song, from which Canon can deduce from her limited English, speaks of a woman’s unrequited love for her best friend. It speaks of her desire to be lovers rather than friends, but is scared she might push her away. Canon curses the heavens for the jukebox playing something that speaks truth of her own situation, but she realizes how silly that it all is. She swallows her pride, figuratively and literally, and breathes in and out.

“Kiss me.”

The words fall naturally from her lips, even if she really didn’t mean to say them. She didn’t, but right now with the soothing, melancholic music playing in the background and Maya in her arms, she realizes she doesn’t want to take them back. Not now, not ever.

Maya wides her eyes in surprise, the words unexpected, but then they soften, and fill with a brightness that can only be described as ‘happiness’. She compiles, leaving a soft kiss on Canon’s lips. She leaves another and another and another, until they’re both leaving sweet kisses on each other, the world behind them.

The song ends and the jukebox remains silent, as if it’s observing this intimate scene with a sense of pride and accomplishment. But the two girls don’t seem to care. They just keep meeting each other half way.

‘I don’t know how to say this, cause you’re really my dearest friend.’

[actuallysatanfic]

title: time froze when you left (so come back and start the clock again)

rating: k+

word count: 1,677

summary: Centuries pass since that day, and Mikleo would like to say that he had kept track of single year, day, hour and minute of that time, but he would be lying if he did.

notes: this was suppose to be a short, bittersweet fic centered around mikleo and time but i guess not goddamn it muse

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After Sorey fell asleep, Mikleo traveled alone back to Elysia. He entered the home Sorey lived in during his years before leaving for Ladylake. The house was exactly how it was when he left is what he would like to say, but can’t. The house is in a mess; books toppled over, pots smashed, blankets thrown near the extinguished fire place, a priceless artifact stolen from its highest place on the shelf. Mikleo clenches his fist in anger. How dare those Hyland soldiers treat Sorey’s home like this? A dark thought passes, but he shakes his head. Revenge wouldn’t solve anything, and Sorey wouldn’t have wanted that. Mikleo only sighs and starts picking up the broken pieces of Sorey’s favorite vase. He might as well clean up, silently hoping that by the time he was done, Sorey would walk through the door as if nothing had happened at all.

Centuries pass since that day, and Mikleo would like to say that he had kept track of single year, day, hour and minute of that time, but he would be lying if he did. Time stopped the day Sorey went into his slumber, and it hasn’t moved since. Mikleo gets up from Sorey’s old desk and walks over to the bookshelf. He pulls out his tattered copy of the Celestial Record, battered over centuries of use. The writing is already faded, but Mikleo knows exactly what was written on each page. He’s had centuries to memorize the whole thing. He brings it over to the desk, and opens it to where he left off the last time. The faded drawing of a ruin stares back at him, but Mikleo picks up his pen and replicates it onto his own paper. The words underneath the drawing flows straight from his pen as if he was the original author and not copying from memory. Preserving the Celestial Record was Mikleo’s own personal project. Even with the rise of modern technology and mass printing of hundreds upon hundreds of editions, Mikleo couldn’t help but preserve the book in the only way he knew how: by hand. Just as his uncle before him wrote it down, he feels like he’s carrying on a tradition of sorts, by preserving the world’s treasures one by one through pen and paper.

Hours pass by in silence and the sound of a pen scratching on paper. Mikleo puts his pen down and stretches. He gets up from his chair and walks around the house, still messy from the military raid all those years ago. He told himself when he was young and still naive, that if he cleaned up the house, Sorey would come back, but then doubt started seeping into his conscious. What if cleaning his house ended up not bringing him back? What if convincing myself that if I did this simple task so Sorey could walk through that door was all in vain? What if I never see him again? What if—

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to finish the rest. The house remained as it was centuries ago, frozen in time along with him. Somewhere along the line, he had forgotten how to move forward. He tried tracing his footsteps, traveling the same path him and Sorey and the rest of their party did before the final battle, but even with all that walking, Mikleo never found his answer. So instead he settled down and waited. He resided himself in Sorey’s home, copying the Celestial Record in his own hand and reading as much books about the world as he could. Occasionally he went out and visited old friends, to catch up and collect interesting stories to tell Sorey when he woke up. Sometimes he’d reminiscence about the old days and write them down so he would never forget them. He plans on calling it the Celestial Record: Volume 2. He’ll think up a better title later.

After walking around the house a few times, Mikleo heads back to the desk chair, hoping to get more work done. Half of the twentieth page is finished when he hears the door creak open. He puts his pen down; he wasn’t expecting any visitors and doesn’t appreciate being interrupted. He gets up from the chair and turns to address the intruder.

“Who is—”

He stops in his tracks, and his breath gets caught in his throat. He swallows it down and slowly walks to the entrance. Sorey stands there, unsure if he should enter, even if it is his house.

“Mikleo, do you know what year it is?”

Tears make their way into Mikleo’s eyes but he keeps them down.

“I...I don’t know.” He winces at his voice cracking, but Sorey laughs it off. He either thinks its funny or hadn’t noticed.

“Really? It’s seemed like something you’d do.”

“Something I’d do? Like what?”

“Like keep track of the time.” Sorey scratches his cheek; it’s an old habit he picked up when he’s embarrassed about something.

Mikleo shakes his head. “I couldn’t bring myself to.” Time stopped when you left was left unsaid but Mikleo couldn’t bring himself to say it. He doesn’t want Sorey to feel guilty for choosing the path he did, even if it meant staying frozen in time along with him. Mikleo takes a good look at Sorey, overall he looks relatively the same as he did centuries ago: the messy brown hair of his sticking up in weird places, his green eyes filled with the same passion and zest as they did centuries ago, the Shepherd’s garment still fitting him like a second skin, the feather earrings fluttering when a breeze passes by, and the ceremonial sword that he kept by his side all those years. The only thing different about him now is his presence. He no longer gives off one of that of a human, but as a seraph. Mikleo has a hard time distinguishing his element, but it puts a small, bittersweet smile on his face.

“I’m sure Gramps would’ve had a blast teaching you lightening artes.” The memory of their Gramps is of a bittersweet one but talking about him like this makes the pain easier on the both of them. The comment catches Sorey off guard but he chuckles and says, “Yeah, I’m sure he would’ve.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve mastered a couple of healing artes, otherwise you would’ve been toast.”

“Hey!”

They both burst into laughter over the thought of it all. Mikleo wipes his eyes with his gloved hand, searching his memory for the last time he’d laughed and smiled like this. No recent memory comes to mind so he puts this moment into a corner of his mind, hoping he’ll be able to replay this exact moment whenever he can in the future. They both come down from their high, and Sorey takes a deep breath.

“You grew out your hair.”

It’s Mikleo’s turn to be taken off guard. His hand subconsciously goes up to his messy ponytail. He hasn’t brushed it in decades, the puffiness mostly from the various tangles and haphazard care. A small blush dusts his cheeks.

“Yeah.”

Sorey walks up closer to Mikleo. He runs a hand through it, gaining a wince out of him.

“I like it. It suits you.”

The light dust evolves into a solid red, and Mikleo has to look away to regain his composure. Sorey chuckles a little before realizing something.

“You’ve gotten taller too.”

Mikleo faces Sorey again and sees that he’s right. He has to look down at Sorey in order to make eye contact. A sense of accomplishment flourishes within him.

“Looks like I’ve finally beaten you in the height department.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair?”

“You had centuries to grown, while I—”

“Also had centuries?”

“I was asleep the whole time!”

“Uh huh. And I’m sure if Maotelus was aware that teenage boys stop growing at twenty-one, he wouldn’t have deprived you of that joy.”

“Grrrr.” Sorey’s pout is always something that Mikleo had found adorable, even if Sorey is a little too old for it. Mikleo pats Sorey’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll still continue to grow even after sleeping for so long.”

“Mikleo, I surpassed twenty-one ages ago. I’m sure I won’t.”

“So did I, but I still kept on growing.”

“How long ago was that again?”

Mikelo stops in his tracks. “...Good question. We’re probably going to have to ask someone.”

“That’s a great idea!” Sorey taps his fist on his palm. “I know, how about we ask Ro—ah, nevermind. I’m guessing by the look on your face it’s been longer than that, huh?”

Sorey ponders for a minutes and looks up with a bright smile on his face. “Oh, Lailah! I’m sure she’ll know.”

Mikleo’s face lights up as well. “Yeah, I’m sure she will. Question is, where will we find her?”

“Huh? You mean you haven’t kept in touch with everyone?”

“We-well, not exactly, we’ve met up several times over the course of I don’t know how many centuries, but..hmmm...the last time I saw Lailah we were in Marlind; however…”

“You don’t remember how long ago that was, huh.”

Mikleo nods. Sorey puts his hands on his hips with a big grin on his face. “In that case, we just have to look for her.”

“Look for her?”

“Yeah, we can start with Ladylake. It can be like old times. What do you say?” Sorey extends his hand out to Mikleo. Mikleo contemplates it over in his head. Years of not traveling rush into his mind, and he realizes just how much he misses traveling the world, whether it be with friends or just Sorey. A small smiles breaks out onto Mikleo’s face.

“I’d love to.” He places his hand onto Sorey’s.

Sorey’s grin somehow manages to get even bigger than before. Any bigger and his face might split. He walks out the door, hand in hand with Mikleo, set for Ladylake, just like that day all those years ago.

“Let’s go, Mikleo.”

[actuallysatanfic]

title: passing through

rating: k+

word count: 746

summary: The sight in front of her was one she was expecting, but deep down she was hoping it would turn out differently.

notes: for @judette-mathis istg this is a completely different fic from the conversation we had some time back im sorry for always making you cry im a terrible brother

read ao3 or under cut

Canon has been keeping an eye on Maya for a while now, and it only worsens her worry. Every day, she watches the other girl take off her apron at the end of her shift and head up to the cemetery on top of the hill, and every day, her heart grows heavy with each trip. Canon wishes she had the strength (and the words) to say something, but every time she tries, her throat tightens and her mouth dries up, killing the words on the tip of her tongue before she can get them out in time.

Today, Canon decides, won’t be like the previous days that she spent sitting at her usual table staring at Maya’s back; today she decides to follow her and well, she hasn’t gotten that far in her plan, but she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there. When the chimes on top of Rakuen’s entrance stop ringing, Canon takes it as her cue to leave, carefully pushing the chair back as to not disturb the other occupants.

Carefully opening the cafe’s door, Canon makes her way over to the graveyard. She takes her time getting over there; she has all the time in the world, and she knows Maya has already been up there for a while. At this point, Canon knows the exact amount of time she spends up there to point where she doesn’t even need to name it, she can just feel it. She walks to the cemetery, but if someone were to pass by, a blink and a miss could mistaken her steps for floating. By the time the mistake is cleared up, she’s already gone.

Making her way up the hill would’ve proven to be difficult any other day, but today she can’t feel anything. Her one, predominant thought keeps her from feeling any pain in her legs, and that’s seeing Maya. She needs to see the other girl with every fiber of her being, to be sure that she’s going to be alright. It’s the only thing that’ll give her peace.

She stops behind Maya, unsure how or where to start. Maya is kneeling on the ground, cleaning Kazuki’s gravestone with only a handkerchief and a bucket of water. Her movements are precise and delicate, giving the stone extra care and attention. Maya remains unaware of Canon’s presence, which both relieves and saddens her. The whole point of coming here was to talk to Maya (originally it wasn’t), but with the image of Maya kneeling in front of Kazuki’s grave cleaning buried into her mind, her focus has changed.

Words stick to her tongue like putty and any attempt to pry them away is futile. Her breath hitches slightly and she hates herself for hesitating so much. It’s now or never, she thinks to herself. Canon clenches her fist and with her eyes shut close, she shouts out the first thing on her mind.

“I think you should stop coming here, Maya!”

Silence engulfs the cemetery like a thick blanket. Canon slowly opens her eyes, and releases the breath she never realized she was holding. The sight in front of her was one she was expecting, but deep down she was hoping it would turn out differently. Maya was still kneeling front of both graves; this time, she was cleaning Soushi’s in exact replica to Kazuki’s. Canon sighs deeply, it was to be expected. There’s nothing she can do but hope for the best.

Canon steps forward, and places her hand on Maya’s shoulder; it passes through her skin. Canon smiles bittersweetly and removes her hand from her shoulder. She feels tears coming to her eyes but she told herself way back that she wouldn’t cry. She’s done all she could; it’s now up Maya and the rest of Tatsumiya island pick up the pieces.

“Goodbye, Maya.”

She says before the wind carries her away.

            ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥

Maya wipes her brown with her sleeve and stands up to stretch. Kneeling for so long made her legs stiff. She places the handkerchief back in her pocket and she picks up the bucket of water. She turns around to the gravestone behind her and says, “I’ll be back tomorrow to clean yours, Canon.” Maya swallows thickly before walking back home. The gravestone marked Memphis stares at Maya’s retreating back sadly, but waits for her return anyways.

[actuallysatanfic]

original//untitled

he raises himself in agony wondering how the hell he got himself in this mess but he deals with it as he always does: with clear cut precision and an ice tea to spare. he wills for the day that the current flows with him instead of against but knows that wishes don’t come like that. to get something, giving something of equal value in exchange is the law of this land. fighting against that is like fighting the world itself. he knows what happens to those who dare fight back, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. he straightens his back, releasing the built up tension and sets out with a sword in one hand and a pen in another. today’s the day he finds out which one will help him win the war: the pen or the sword?

[actuallysatanfic]

title: ribbons

rating: n/a

word count: 444

summary: lets just say the title is very misleading gomen ne dont kill me

notes: @judette-mathis i swear this isnt the fic i was writing earlier. Tiredness does all sorts of things, including writing angsty fics that have absolutely no direction whatsoever.

read ao3 or under cut

Maya holds the other girl in her arms in desperation sending prayers left and right clinging to the notion that she’s going to be alright. Canon’s arm staggers on its way up to comfort Maya but it only goes as far as the other girl’s forearm. She keeps it there, steadiest herself in Maya’s arms. Her eyes level with hers; the fear in her eyes so prominent she can practically taste it. Canon opens her mouth to reassure her but all that comes out is a mouthful of blood. Maya stiffens for a nanosecond before the adrenaline kicks in once more. She screams out Canon’s name as she coughs up more blood; ribbons of it shade her mouth but its all too soon until the curtains cover her chin.

Maya surveys her surroundings but there’s nothing; there’s no one around except dead people and piles of rubble. She and Canon are the only two left, at least from their perspective; the rest of the world may just as well be alive and kicking. Maya clenches her teeth and looks down at Canon. Her breathing shallows out and her skin is now a creamy white. Maya panics; in one of those rare moments, she doesn’t know what to do. She’s stranded in the middle of rubble with no supplies. The makeshift bandages have been soaked with blood since she applied them, and she has no replacements. Canon’s grip on Maya’s forearm starts to loosen; her hand lays nonchalantly on her arm. It droops; it falls. Maya stares horrified as Canon mouths something to her. She remains silent for a long time; her arms are feeling cold. It’s not from the weather; judging from her face, it’s starting to look like rain.

Cloudy eyes stare at the body she’s cradling, sending out prayers to every deity out there. It’s futile, but when faced with circumstances such as hers, it matters not. She finds herself screaming at the unfairness of it all, willing with every part of her being to trade places with the girl in her arms, but the sounds of her wails only prove its failure. She opts to curse at the sky; the gray clouds do nothing to comfort nor chastise. Maya picks herself and Canon up from the blood-soaked ground; she cannot stay here for long. Her posture sways a little but she doesn’t fall nor drop Canon. She walks, carrying her across the sea of bodies and blood. Her final words play on loop in her mind; she strides forward, her eyes sad with a spark of fire. In these dire times, it’s all she can do.

‘Stay alive. I love you.’

[siegtiddy]

Never Mine

Fandom: Fafner

Characters: Makabe Kazuki, Minashiro Soushi,Toomi Maya-mention, Mizoguchi Kyouhei-mention

Pairing: Makabe Kazuki/Minashiro Soushi, Minashiro Soushi/Toomi Maya

Rating: G

Word Count: 396

Summary: He shakes his head; “It’s not fair. It’s not fair,” repeatedly falls from his lips, but he knows he was never his to begin with.

Notes: The author would like to issue an apology, for they did not intent for this to happen. (AO3)