#okay to make it simple...it's about a fantasy fic where two persons met towards each other in a same dream and all those adventure etc etc

[gxtzeizm]

that feeling when you found a local drama series that being originated from a local streaming platform in which the plot reminds you of a fic that you wrote 6 years ago

[lovelypeasantjellyfish]

“I know it’s not your birthday or anything, but I got you a present.” - Wilhemina Venable x Reader

This is the first complete (Lord knows I’ve got a bunch of WIP and vague ideas swirling around in my head and laptop) fanfiction I’ve ever written for AHS. I got the idea from the fluff, hurt/comfort prompt list made by rookie-ramsey, link here.

Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Reader (Reader’s gender is not specified but they are wearing a skirt in this fic)

Trigger Warning(s): Several mentions of smut and NSFW activities.

1914 Words

The moment you saw that jar of candy-coated violets in the shop window, you immediately thought of Mina; although to be honest, anything purple you saw made you think of her. But these violets were somehow different, they brought up images of how it would look like when sweet treats swirled around in her mouth, coating her tongue and throat as she savoured them. You stood there for a second, dry-mouthed as your mind wandered to the redhead who always took your breath away with her monochrome outfits, stern voice, and gentle touches.

The shopkeeper knocked on the shop window, startling you. Your face flushed when you spotted their raised brow. They were, without a doubt, silently judging the red-faced stranger that had been standing in front of the shop window for much longer than necessary. Giving them a weak smile, you kept your head down and entered the store, pushing down the embarrassment of being caught. The candies were much more important than what some shopkeeper thought, Mina was more important.

Your experience in the store wasn’t much smoother either and only served to embarrass you even further. The cashier stifled a laugh as you marched into the store and made a beeline for the candies with a determined look on your face, exchanging an amused look with the shopkeeper, who was watching you like you were the most interesting thing that had happened to them so far that day. Their supposedly silent judgment became audible when you almost tripped over your own feet when walking to the register, both letting out a short laugh and clearing their throats.

“For someone special?” The cashier asked as they bagged the item. You nodded silently, not trusting yourself to speak. Wilhelmina was definitely special.

With the small jar now tucked safely in your bag, you made your way home to your apartment. Plans had been made on the day before to have dinner at your place, and Mina had called earlier to say that she would be late, grumbling about a meeting and imbeciles. You had chuckled softly at that, loving the way her voice sounded when she cursed.

Now that the sun was setting, you only had an hour or so before Mina showed up at your door, no doubt dressed in her signature purple with a tired expression on her face. You hurried home, feet falling quickly into place as you took to the road you knew so well. You stayed in your work clothes as you began to prepare the food, the precious jar still safe at the bottom of your bag. Dinner was simple enough, roast chicken with mashed potatoes and sautéed veggies. It was a meal that you'd prepared many times before, mostly because it was the one sort of fancy meal that you were confident in.

The sound of Mina's cane outside your apartment door met your ears just as you finished setting the table, each utensil placed perfectly parallel to each other, just the way Mina liked. You hurriedly wiped your hands on your skirt as Mina knocked, the sound sharp and resonating. You opened the door, a smile immediately dancing across your face as your eyes met those of Mina's.

Stepping aside, you let Mina into your space. She handed you her handbag, which you took as you greeted her, gently depositing it on the end table where your own bag sat. Your gaze drifted to the small lump protruding from the canvas fabric, another smile found your mouth as your mind wandered to how Mina's face would light up when you presented the jar to her.

"You're in a good mood today." Mina's voice sounded from directly behind you, her hot breath tickling the tip of your ear. You squeaked in surprise and turned to face her, her hand grasped your right hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"I guess I'm just happy to see you." You replied, grinning at her amused face. A light blush coated her cheeks as you looked up to meet her eyes, the smile never leaving your face. The two of you stayed there for a few seconds, enjoying the expression on each other's face and the comfortable silence. Mina's hand left your hip to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers tracing along your jaw and lingering there. Your face was definitely redder than hers now, judging from the glint in her eyes as she continued to stare at you. Unable to take the rush of emotions under her gaze, you broke eye contact, face flushed, mumbling something about dinner. You didn't, however, miss the smirk on Mina's face when she won the staring contest.

Chuckling softly, Mina took your hand and led you to the perfectly set table. You pulled out the chair for her, making sure she was comfortable before heading over to the fridge, getting out a pitcher of iced water for yourself and wine for Mina. You carefully poured the wine into the waiting glass, Mina's tongue darting out to lick her lips as she eyed the red liquid, gently swirling the glass when you were done.  

"How was your day Mina?" You began, taking your seat and filling your glass. "Better now" she replied, gracefully bringing up a forkful of chicken to her lips. You hummed in agreement, eyes once again flickering to your bag. Mina watched you, she knew you were definitely up to something. Usually, you would not be able to take your eyes off her, given that the two of you did not spend that much time together. You’d been together for almost a year now, but because of the long hours of your respective jobs, occasional weekday dinners and weekends were the only time the both of you could devote to each other. Luckily for Wilhemina, it was a Friday, meaning that she had two whole days to pry whatever it was that you were hiding out of you.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she thought of the ways she could get you to confess, the methods she could use to get the words to spill out of your pretty little mouth, needless to say, a lot of it involved situations that left her feeling that oh so familiar tingle. You continued eating your dinner, unaware that Mina was eyeing you like a predator to prey. It was only when you were reaching for your glass that you noticed Mina’s plate was a lot fuller than your own. “Is everything okay? Is there something wrong with the food?” You asked, noting Mina’s slightly flushed face. The food tasted fine to you, but then again, you had made and eaten this meal many times before, maybe it was too salty or bland for Mina’s liking. Or maybe her back was hurting, or maybe her day was worse than she had let on.

Wilhelmina snapped out of her fantasies at the sound of your voice, blinking at your worried eyes. “No, sweetheart. I was thinking of something else, that’s all.”. She took a bite of the potatoes, they were slightly warm, coating her tongue as she swallowed.

“Oh, okay. What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing in particular.” She evaded your question, knowing that if she had asked right at that moment, you would have confessed immediately, but if she waited until she got you to the bedroom, your surprising bratty side would show if she played her cards right. Then, oh then, she’d have a fun night ahead of her.

“Mina, is everything really alright?” Your voice was softer this time, you’d watched her more closely after what had happened, and Mina’s fork had stopped at the side of her plate again.

“Everything is fine sweetheart, don’t worry about it.” Wilhelmina kept her tone even, not wanting to spoil her plans for tonight. She would have snapped at you to drop it in the past, when the two of you were unfamiliar and both had walls up. She would never admit it out loud, but you made her want to take them down, just so that she could be closer to you. Even then, your constant smiles directed at her and the way your face would scrunch up trying not to laugh whenever she cursed sent her metaphorical walls crumbling bit by bit.

You were planning to wait until after dinner to present the little jar of candies to Mina, almost as if the candies would be dessert, but seeing her like this made your heart break a little. She was being distant, or at least that was what her efforts to keep her plans for later tonight secret seemed like to you. The two of you had taken your relationship slow, mainly because the two of you were afraid to get hurt or even worse, hurt each other. Thus it was understandable that you had misread her, even if you didn't know it yet.

"Well, I have something that might cheer you up," you declared, deciding that if your little gift was going to make Mina feel better, you were going to give it to her as soon as possible. You walked over to your bag, gently cradling the jar in your arms as you headed back towards the table. "I know it's not your birthday or anything, but I got you a present." You slowly placed the jar on the table in front of Mina, just as her eyes widened in surprise.

If her walls were crumbling before, they were definitely completely reduced to dust now.

Wilhemina stared at the jar in front of her, breath hitching as she noticed how the sugar coating each purple petal shined as they reflected the light; they reminded her of how your eyes twinkled whenever you looked at her. This was the first gift you'd given her in the course of your relationship, with your birthdays coincidentally falling in the same month.

She looked up at you, you had been watching her expression, but quickly looked away when her eyes met yours, looking at the kitchen wall like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. You were naturally a shy person, even more so in situations like this, when you didn't know how the other person would react. "Thank you, sweetheart, they look absolutely divine" Mina breathed, smiling softly.

You met her eyes at the sound of Mina's words, noticing the smile on her lips as a similar one tugged at your lips and your heart swelled at the sight. "You're welcome Mina.".

The rest of the dinner went on as they normally did, except for Mina's more frequent and softer glances at you and the jar in front of her. Once both of your plates were empty, you did the dishes while Mina remained at the table, watching your back as you hummed a somewhat familiar tune and made sure that every single piece of cutlery was clean.

Both of you spent the next three days together, lazing around the apartment as the jar slowly emptied, the sweet taste lingering on both of your lips.

Epilogue: When you stopped by Mina's workplace to drop off a forgotten file (you'd convinced her to stay in bed for five more minutes after a particularly intense night, which resulted in the uncharacteristic forgetfulness), you noticed the empty jar sitting on her desk, next to the crystal ball. You fell even deeper in love with Wilhemina Venable.

[seapandora]

Commemoration｜ One-shot

Steve x female!Reader

A/N: This set out to be a fic losly based on the song Daddy Issues, but it just didn’t really fit in or work out so this is a different story than the one I had planned. However, it discusses heavy objects so if you are triggered by any of the warnisng please don’t feel like you have to read it, or if you decide to, please be careful. Enjoy! Please reblog and like if you liked this short one-shot. GIF-cred to owner.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death of parents (hints of suicide), mentions of war and death, sad, fluff, (please feel free to tell me if I missed any)

Summary: Y/N and Steve are so unlike each other. He´s a superhero, she´s the neighbourhood librarian. One thing they have in common is the loss of their fathers before either of them were born, maybe they can connect over that.

Words: 1904

~Keep reading~

The library was Steves´ newest favorite place. He had been reading up on history and also the big reads of the 1900s. Mostly he just borrowed the books and took them back home, but sometimes he would take his due time and sit in the library and read.

It wasn’t a huge library, just one floor with cramped sections of books. One of the best things had to be the little coffee machine that had been installed a few weeks ago. When it came in Steve had decided to spend more time in the library instead of at home.

The cute librarian made it easier to stay as well. She was silent, but always happy to help him to a new book or new genre. Her latest recommendation had been Lord Of The Rings, a series he had already read. However, he had humored her and reread it considering she talked about the books with so much passion and love.

Steve was the only one of the former avengers who had found the library, or at least he hoped so. It was his little corner of the world. This particular Monday morning had been hard. He had been reading some letters his father had sent to his mother during world war 1.

His father had died before his birth, and Steve was sad that he had never gotten to meet the man, and he kept wondering how different his life would be if he had. His mother had done well raising him on her own but he had often noticed how she would read the letters he had held this morning.

He kept his eye on the librarian the whole morning, which was crazy. He didn’t even know her name, but the way she rearranged her books and cleaned up the sections was a welcomed habit to watch. It was consistent. Steve felt comfort in it is the same movement every time he came to visit.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice the man who had been visiting her library in the past few months. No one could miss him. He towered over most people and could barely fit through the old door that leads into the little library. He also happened to be a famous super-soldier, one of two, so it was hard to miss him.

She hadn´t said much to him. The usual hello every time he came by, asking if he wanted coffee or help to pick a new book, but she had never actually introduced herself, and he hadn´t asked her about herself either.

Steve wasn’t usually a very observant person. Bucky would claim he was the most oblivious man he knew, but Steve wouldn’t take it that far. Especially not when it came to people he had come to care about. The librarian was one of them. She was looking quite down this Monday, and instead of her normally let down hair she had it in a messy bun and she was wearing headphones, which was very much out of character for her.

He frowned at her behavior and, against his better judgment, decided to walk up to her. He tapped her on the shoulder gently as to not scare her, which failed, resulting in Y/N jumping a bit and dropping the books she had in her arms. “I´m so sorry,” Steve quickly said and began to pick up the books.

Y/N had pulled off her headphones and looked fairly irritated with being scared, which Steve could understand. “I didn´t mean to scare you, I just wanted to make sure you´re alright. I mean, you know I´ve been coming here for a few weeks, but I´ve never seen you with headphones, you usually hum for yourself” he explained and reached up rubbing the back of his neck.

She stared at him for a bit before she sighed and began to pick the books from his arm to place them where she wanted them. “That’s very observant, borderline creepy. But yeah no. Today is not really a good day. It´s an annual thing,” she explained and pushed some books in one of the shelves to make space for three of the smaller books Steve held.

Steve nodded understandingly and made sure he kept some space between the two. “Well, hey, if you need anyone to talk to, I… well I can volunteer,” he said and gave her a small smile. Having been friends with Sam for a while, he had learned a few things about supporting others.

Sam had the shield now and Steve had taken over Sams support groups. He could do more help there than with the team anyways. Y/N frowned but bit her lower lip. She used to go to regular therapy sessions but she hadn´t been in a while considering her library had taken up so much of her time.

“I… I´d like that. I´m closing down in half an hour to go get some lunch, there's a good salad bar just a block from here,” she explained and picked the last book from Steves´ arms to get it onto a shelf. He nodded as a reply and smiled, not having thought she would agree to talk to him.

Half an hour later Steve met up with Y/N outside the library which she locked up before she slowly began to walk towards the salad bar. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked beside the supersoldier. “I´m Y/N by the way,” she said with a small smile figuring they should at least be introduced before she spilled her story.

Steve smiled and introduced himself as well. Y/N smiled knowingly and nodded. “I know, being Brooklyn born and raised, you're the ultimate hero,” she said and laughed softly. After all, Steve was the reason for a lot of things in Y/N´s life, whether he knew it or not.

The salad bar was almost empty as they entered through the simple diner door and walked over to the disk. Y/N ordered her usual chicken Ceasar salad and waited for Steve to choose something as she got her wallet. “My treat,” she said and got them some utensils and napkins as well as a glass of water for herself.

Steve also grabbed a glass of water and followed Y/N over to a table where he sat down in silence. Although he had taken over Sams job he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to have a one-on-one type of session. Y/N sat down in front of him and looked at him for a while.

“Today is the 19th, this day 28 years ago my father was killed in Bosnia in the war,” she said softly and looked down at her hands. “I wasn’t born and it took a lot out of my mother. She… she never moved on and two years ago she...,” Y/N swallowed and took a deep but very shaky breath.

She didn’t have to say the words for Steve to understand. He reached over and took her hand. “Hey it´s okay, you´re here, you´re safe.” He said softly trying to make her feel like she was in a safe company and that she could talk freely. Y/N smiled at him, well the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

“I lost my father before I was born too and I lost my mother when I was 18. It´s very hard, and it doesn’t really get better, but we keep fighting. We keep fighting because the option is to stop everything.” He said softly and stroke the back of Y/N´s hand. She nodded and reached up with her free hand to wipe away some tears.

It had been long since she spoke so freely with, well with anyone. She had her library, she didn’t have friends or any other family. “My parents met in the library so once I learned it wasn’t doing too well I bought it. I´ve been filling it with my favorite stories ever since.” She said and sighed softly.

“It´s sort of my way to honor my parents,” she continued and tugged at the sleeves of her shirt. “You´ve done something extraordinary with that place Y/N. I don’t really like to leave my house much. People still consider me Captain America even if we have a better one now. But your library is just a piece of the world where I can be myself and where I don’t have to hide. I´ve also seen some families come in regularly and the kids light up every time.” He said and slowly released Y/N´s hand.

Y/N looked up at Steve and smiled softly. She could feel her face heat up quite a bit. “I have special deals with military families. Most people only get to check out two books at once but being able to escape from the world can be so important to kids who miss a parent and I instead allow them to check out as many books as they like. I also keep book circles for them. That way they can meet others in the same situation,” she said and leaned back as the owner of the salad bar came out with their salads.

Forty-five minutes later Steve and Y/N were back at the library. She sighed as realized she had a lot to do, she also had some paperwork to file and sign off on. Three or more deliveries were arriving in the coming week and she was behind on her chores in the little library.

“Do you work all alone here?” Steve asked as he looked around. It wasn’t big at all, just a few sections, mostly kids' books and fantasy books with a small seating area. The reception was pushed as far into a corner as one could possibly imagine and it was overfilled with paperwork and books that needed to be tagged or taken out into the library and placed on shelves.

Y/N shrugged. “yes, but it isn´t very big. It’s the area you see here and a ten square-foot room in the back with empty boxes and such, mostly storage and dust. It looks a bit like a mess now, but I´m so behind on making all the payments and stuff and around this time of the year I can only do so much,” she sighed and shook her head at her own behavior. Normally she was a very clean and organized person.

Steve looked around once more as he thought for a few seconds. “Would you be cool with me helping out a bit? I only do the VA-meetings twice a week and I have a lot of free time on my hands, plus I really like being here,” he said and looked over to Y/N with a smile. “I´d love the help, but I´m not sure I´d be able to pay you. It isn't exactly a lucrative business, running a library.” She frowned and pulled a face.

He shook his head. “I volunteer, please, it would be a pleasure to help you out here,” he said and walked over to her. “Plus then I wouldn’t feel so bad about drinking so much of the coffee either,” he added with a smirk.

Y/N smiled and nodded. Maybe this was the universe telling her to get some help and not having to go through her emotions alone. After all, she had met Steve where her mom met her one true love. Fate doesn’t always show itself that clearly.  

[izumisays]

dear yuletide author

Thank you so much for reading this and taking part in this wonderful annual conspiracy!


First of all, I hope you have a lovely time! If any of the fandoms below pique your interest, I’m delighted already, and ready to hear all the stories you want to tell.

Fandoms:  Chihayafuru, Nirvana in Fire, Thunderbolt Fantasy

As for reading preferences, I’m happy with a wide variety of tones and genres, of any rating, ranging anywhere from lighthearted antics to dramatic casefics. But the core of all the stories I love has always been character interaction and interplay of their competences.

How the characters play off each other and bring out their best/worst, how they’d react to a divergence of events, how true they’d stay to themselves in a different setting – I love fanfiction for allowing us to reconnect with our favourite stories time and again by asking these questions. And there are so many ways to do it! To name a few favourites, I’m always game for POV hijinks, a missing scene, a casefic, canon expansion, backstories and what-ifs.

You may notice that quite a few of my requests lean towards shipfic – those, too, are welcome in a variety of tones – but I also tried to include openings for gen ideas if that’s your jam. Additionally, while it is not usually my top interest, I don’t have anything against AUs if there is something that you are itching to explore: I tend to enjoy them for a new aesthetic that fleshes out the favoured character dynamics in a new light, or a fusion that redefines the playing ground to allow the characters to exhibit their core competences in new and exciting ways.

I would be very grateful if you could avoid a/b/o and similar kinktropes, played-straight soulmate fic, and character interpretation that runs contrary to their core values. If in doubt, please reach out to me on anon - the askbox is open!

CHIHAYAFURU: Mashima Taichi, Wataya Arata, Suou Hisashi

You don’t have to include all three characters, but I’d love to see a fic that explores the connections between them better. I’m up to date with all manga scanlations.

Wataya Arata/ Mashima Taichi

In the immortal words of Henjin Meijin, Arata is that person for Taichi whose opinion makes or breaks him. (His wording may have been different, but if I go rummaging into the chapter archive to find the exact quote, I’ll end up binge-rereading year three into the night again, and then where would my Yule sign-up be?) (On that note, what kind of a MASSIVE LOSER waxes poetics about Taichi’s boyfriend problems to Taichi’s MOTHER, whom he JUST met? Suou Hisashi, that’s who.) Needless to say, that paramount opinion was not always great, and neither was Taichi’s general wellbeing.

Good news is, Arata is confident in his manliness, and he has no problem acknowledging Taichi’s ridiculously pretty and not too bad at karuta these days, and he’s also moving to Tokyo. Taichi’s definitely pretty and has an apartment in Tokyo, where a country bumpkin of paramount importance may possibly stay over until things are sorted out… eventually. Hint hint.

Jokes aside, I pine for the dynamics between the two of them. I nearly lost it, reading the Meijin semifinals — and if you can show me a person who saw them bawl as they crawled into each other’s laps on Japanese national television and didn’t bawl in response, well, that person is sure not me.

I’d like to see a story that lets them build and explore that connect. I do not object to eventual OT3, but I think Chihaya is on a quest to find her own footing and pursue other goals at the moment, and I’d really like it if she was allowed to do this (join forces with Shinobu to drag karuta into a professional league, girl!). I’d like to think that in that space, different bonds and relationships can develop and strengthen, starting with Arata and Taichi.

Taichi the overanalyzer, the hardworker and the looker, the golden boy who at some point surely hit that red button, meme-style: you will be perfect at everything, you will have everything, except the one thing that you want above all. Arata appears to be his perfect foil: steady and serene where Taichi’s scrambling and flawed, adorably awkward and disarmingly sincere where Taichi’s groomed, smooth and miserable about his own deceptions. But they don’t see it like that! And they keep tripping each other up so beautifully!

I’d love to read your take on them growing closer and hopefully smooshing their faces together. Roommates in Tokyo? Long-distance friends? Figuring out how to tell your flatmate you’ve been in love with him since you were 12? Established relationship while hijinks happen? AWKWARD THIRDWHEELING WITH SUOU?!

On that note:

Suou Hisashi & (or / - wejustdon’tknow.gif) Mashima Taichi

I cannot believe that ridiculous man. Did you see a grown ass adult swoon because his unrequited disciple I mean not-friend I mean Taichi just up and went to meet his relatives??? To  help reconnect them?? One can do things like this?? What next, being able to make phonecalls like an adult??

Does not compute.

I was there, Gandalf. I was there when the story first indicated that we might be getting an unlikely team-up of the world’s weirdest Meijin and Tokyo’s most miserable overachiever. But even in my wildest dreams I did not dare hope to see them sprawled on the carpet on a humid summer afternoon, Taichi comfortable in his own skin and Suou, erm, probably not very comfortable with his fascination :D He did not sign up for this. He, a grown ass man in what must be his early twenties, is too old for this youthful seishun sakura bullshit. And yet it is he who mournfully accosts Taichi’s mom to talk about how this other boy is paramount in Taichi’s universe. He who gets offended because Taichi knowing how to adult and work the social ropes is too sexy and competent. He who finds something compelling in the painful struggle of genius and skill.

Arata - Taichi - Suou

For maximum indulgence of yours truly, bring those into one place. Arata coming to Tokyo and finding Suou a fixture in Taichi’s life how?! Suou being infinitely pissy at the Fukuyi upstart and yet dragging himself to socialize with the boys regardless like a totally-not-pathetic adult with a social life of his own? Arata being mildly puzzled about the antagonism, but in there for the sweet snacks?

You tell me! I delight in my anticipation.

NIRVANA IN FIRE: Mei Changsu, Xiao Jingyan

Is this a complex, narratively inevitable historic tapestry strangling people with its treads, full of delicious politicking and identity porn? Yes, it is.

Is my burning – nay, primal – desire so simple as to smoosh two faces together and watch them kiss? Yes, it is :’)

I mean, I will obviously not say no if the kissing is giftwrapped in the said tapestry of beautiful, politicky plot, but the fever I can’t get out of my system is this: LET THEM KISS, GODDAMMIT. LET THEM BE HAPPY. I welcome canon divergences, alternative endings, fix-its, insert eps and codas where it looks like they would have kissed (erm, or at least confronted each other in a way that would inevitably end with them making out) if only Mei Changsu wasn’t so caught up in self-loathing and fluffy foxfur coats, and Jingyan didn’t talk too loudly about his so dead, so very dead beautiful ex to hear Mei Changsu weep stoically into his beautiful white furs.

I adore Prince Jing. He is 90% cheekbones and 20% heartbroken pouting over his so very dead friends, and all of it noble and awkward and stubborn and deserving of happiness. Mei Changsu is ridiculous, and capable, and twisted into pretzels of his own creation: not above gloating over his enemies while daintily dipping cookies into his tea, he gets too caught up in weaving the tapestry to notice he is a part of it.  Pull him off his high horse, Jing! Render him helpless by being yourself! Do something about being hopelessly charmed with each other, through resentment, loss, bitter pining, and narrative inevitability! JUSTKISSALREADY.gif!!

THUNDERBOLT FANTASY: Rin Setsua; Sho Fukan

I LOVE THIS SELF INDULGENT WUXIA NONSENSE AND I CANNOT LIE!

Sanfan is a mixture UTTER GLEE and deep fondness for the genre staples, self-aware and masterful playthrough of all the wuxia tropes in the book, and one goddamn well-constructed story. It plays the tropes straight, calls them out with a knowing wink, walks the tightrope between the two with panache, and just as you are relaxed and enjoying this trapeze show, it grins cheekily at you, sets the discoball on fire and pulls a bunny out of a hat.  It’s DELIGHTFUL and fun and lovingly crafted, just like a good passion project should be.

I want anything that capitalizes on the absolutely hilarious dynamics between Rin Setsua and Sho Fukan (and while personally I end up using the Japanese versions of their names more often, please feel free to go with the Chinese names if you prefer). Sho Fukan does not want any of those heroic quests, he’s the human equivalent of been there, done that mood, and he just wants to REST and hopefully dump a bunch of magical murderswords someplace safe. Rin Setsua is a Totally Respectable and Non-Villainous Member of Society, of which he will inform you firsthand in the most high spoken and verbose way possible, and maybe even produce paperwork that has definitely not been tampered with. He harbours no ulterior motives, ever, and does not trail behind Sho Fukan for any reason beyond the pleasure of his company, and his mission to personally victimize and cockblock every morally derelict villain in two countries, by no-one’s request.

Whether you go shipfic (yiss!) or canon levels teamup circus (also yiss!), don’t hold back your horses. Everything about this is Extra, and should continue to be so <3

I am okay with both expanding the canon and playing with AUs/crossovers/fusions for this one, provided they retain the character dynamics. I love the extended cast as well: any characters including the Seiyou gang (and on that note, if you want to write the Seiyou backstory for Shou’s gang that has no Rin in it, you’re welcome as well), reappearance of the familiar faces from Touri (read: Rin’s victim list, past, future and present), original characters lined up and waiting to be screwed over (guaranteed) and rescued (the administration does not bear any responsibility etc etc).

Thank you for taking the time to read the letter, and I’m greatly looking forward to reading your story — and hopefully, getting to chat about these ridiculous and wonderful characters post-reveals :)

[demonsonthemoon]

You Know Every Part of Me

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairings: platonic Jehan & Grantaire, romantic background Grantaire/Enjolras Word Count: 3793 Summary: "Isn't it weird?" Jehan helps Grantaire pick out an outfit for her date, and the two of them have a discussion about their relationship. Note: Years ago (I'm guessing around 2014, but I'm not sure anymore), the ever amazing @anastasiapullingteeth posted a Jehan/Grantaire fic on Valentine's day. That fic changed my life, because it allowed me to meet someone I'm very proud to call my friend. I posted this fic on AO3 on Valentine's day 2020, and I'm still both proud and lucky to call Caro a friend. Also, I'm still totally in love with Jehan and Grantaire. Happy meeting anniversary, Caro. I love you. Title for the fic is taken from the song "Dear Jealousy" by Mika, because I was uninspired, and also, it's a bop. I changed some of the characters' pronouns in this fic, so Grantaire uses she/her and Enjolras ey/em (which is totally a reference to my old fic Tunnel Lights, because I was feeling nostalgic.) Also, the book mentioned in the beginning of the story is The Heretic's Guide to Homecoming by Sienna Tristen.

Also available on AO3.

“Isn't it weird?”

“Um?” Jehan shook himself from the novel he was reading – a fantasy book, one that actually engaged with the idea of language barriers, and how was Jehan supposed to resist to that? - and looked up at Grantaire. “Don't wear that shirt,” he immediately said. “You already wore it on your last date.”

Grantaire looked down at the black collared shirt she had put on, an eyebrow raised. “Really?”

Jehan couldn't help but smile a little. “Trust the only person in the room with a fashion sense.”

Grantaire's eyebrow managed to rise by another centimeter, and she gave Jehan a pointed look. There was a possibility that Jehan deserved that look, because he was currently wearing Mickey Mouse leggings under an oversized knitted jumper he'd found in a charity shop. “I never said that I had a good fashion sense,” Jehan pointed out, trying to stop himself from giggling. “Just that I had one.”

“This is why people don't trust you,” was Grantaire's reply as she started taking off her shirt.

 Jehan dramatically pressed his open book to his chest as he mimed being fatally wounded. “I have no idea what you mean. I am obviously the most innocent and trustworthy person anyone has  ever  met.”

 Grantaire's response to  that  , was to throw her newly-discarded shirt at his face. Jehan tried to make an affronted noise, but he started laughing before he could properly pretend to be mad.

“Okay, so what should I wear, dear innocent-one-with-a-fashion sense?”

Jehan properly sat up from where he was lounging on Grantaire's bed so he could look at her closet. Truth be told, she didn't have a lot of options that were date-appropriate, although Jehan had to scoff at the notion that there were such things as inappropriate clothes for a romantic occasion. Wasn't the point of those things to be yourself with another person? But if it meant something to Grantaire to dress up before a date, he would do his best to help despite their limited options.

“Go with the black tanktop that has lace on the front and your green turtleneck.”

Grantaire picked out said items from her wardrobe and oblingingly put them on, before assessing the outfit in front of her mirror.

“Yeah, I guess that will do.”

Jehan rolled his eyes. “Could you show any more enthusiasm?”

Grantaire turned towards him at that, her curls bouncing with the movement. She grinned as she approached the bed. “I'll show you enthusiasm,” she said. She then picked up Jehan's book from where he was still clutching it and marked his page before putting it down on the bedside table. It was a small gesture in the middle of a bigger moment, but Jehan's attention latched onto it. That small act expressed all the care that Grantaire put in her relationship with Jehan, and it made him echo her smile even as she bent down to kiss him.

Grantaire was indeed enthusiastic enough, and their clash of lips was anything but chaste as she kneeled over Jehan and licked her way into his mouth. Jehan was more than happy to respond in kind, sucking her lower lip between his as he ran his hands across the soft fabric of her sweater.

After making some sort of satisfied noise that Jehan would lovingly qualify as a purr, Grantaire pulled away.

“Wait,” she said in a fake-serious tone. “I was making a point.”

“If the point was to remind me of how much I like kissing you, consider it made,” Jehan retorted with a grin.

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, young man.”

“Not even into your pants?”

Grantaire laughed at that. “That line was so bad I think you stole it from me. Aren't you supposed to be a poet?”

Jehan shrugged. Grantaire bent down to kiss him once more.

“Nice try, but these pants are staying on for the time being. You're supposed to be helping me get ready for a date, not seducing me.”

“I can perfectly do both at the same time. I'm sure Enjolras would appreciate seeing you out of your pants as much as I would.”

Grantaire blushed a little at that, swatting at him half-heartedly. “Stop that!”

It made Jehan laugh, free and easy, because the fact that such a simple comment could make Grantaire glow like this was just delightful.

“Like I said, I was making a point. About this. About us. I don't know.”

“And what was the point exactly?”

“Just...” Grantaire quieted down a little, sighing. “Isn't it weird? Shouldn't it feel weird?”

Jehan shrugged, tilting his head in consideration. “I mean, we've talked about 'this, us', before, I think we've been over the fact that most people would find it a little weird. A lot of people are still weird about stuff like open relationships and polyamory, so if you try to bring up stuff like 'commited platonic sexual relationships', it's gonna raise a few eyebrows.”

Grantaire rolled her eyes. “I know that, it's not what I mean.”

Jehan didn't say anything in reply, waiting for Grantaire to figure it out herself. This was something they'd talked about. They'd had to, both when they had first started flirting and Jehan had oh-so-casually slipped in that he was aromantic, and when Grantaire's simmering love story with Enjolras had finally turned into a proper romance. Those conversations hadn't exactly been fun, because discussing emotional needs and establishing boundaries was complicated work, but they had gone well enough that their relationship still worked. That didn't mean there weren't kinks that needed to be worked out from time to time (pun fully intended, some kinks being a lot more fun than others.)

“What I mean is that this, this whole helping-me-out-before-a-date thing, that wasn't part of the package. That's not something we talked about. And it just... I don't know.”

“You said that it should feel weird,” Jehan started carefully. “Does it?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I don't really know. That's my issue here. It's weird because I don't actually know how it makes me feel. I feel like... On the one hand, it's nice to have you here. I like you, obviously, and it just feels... normal, reassuring. On the other hand... I guess I'm kind of always aware of how it might look to other people. It just feels like... Like I'm flaunting it. Like it should make you uncomfortable.”

“You mean you and Enjolras?”

Grantaire nodded.

Jehan took the time to think about it, sitting up and crossing his legs so as to be more comfortable. This sounded like it was quickly turning into a conversation, so he might as well put himself at ease.

“Well, first of all, it's not like you're showing off something that I actually want. It's...” He paused for a moment, picking his words carefully. Jehan prided himself for the fact that he was pretty attuned to his own feelings. He did write poetry, thank you very much. But that also meant he was particularly aware of how contradictory his feelings could get, and overly conscious of the things he preferred not to think about. “It does sound... nice. It obviously makes you happy.” Grantaire couldn't repress a small smile at that, like she still couldn't believe her luck after three months of dating, and fuck but she was adorable. “Which is great. But I guess sometimes it does make me feel... envious, in some way.” That got the smile right out of her face, which made Jehan want to flinch. “Not in a... not in a personal way. It's not that I'm jealous of Enjolras, or of what you have with em. Not really. Not... specifically. It's more... Well. The feelings you have for each other seem to mean so much, and to make you happy. So I do sometimes feel envious that I don't... feel anything like that. That I don't get what it's all about. But it's all abstract. It doesn't mean I actually want it. Not really. Am I making any sort of sense?”

Grantaire had settled on the foot of the bed, mirroring Jehan's position. She looked at him, pensive.

“You are. At least I think so. It's not about jealousy for a person in particular, more about... the general sense that we're enjoying something you can't feel.”

“Yeah, something like that. But I don't want you to... try and hide it, or anything. That would feel weirder. And I think it would kind of be sad. I would rather know about the good things in your life than know you're hiding something from me to spare my feelings. And it's not as if society wasn't constantly throwing huge fucking clues at my face that I'm supposed to feel like I'm missing out on something, so I doubt those feelings would disappear anyway.”

Jehan shrugged again. The gesture wasn't enough to cover the bitterness in his words, but it was all he had to offer. Grantaire didn't say anything for a few seconds, considering his words. At least she wasn't looking at him with pity. That was probably one of the best things about her, and about the relationship they had. The fact that Grantaire – despite not exactly understanding how his emotions worked – didn't pity his lack of romantic attraction, and the fact that she was well aware that he was still perfectly able to pursue the kinds of relationship he did want. For example, the kinds of relationships that involved getting into Grantaire's pants.

It wasn't that Jehan was usually so single-minded about this type of thing. It's just that Grantaire cleaned up good.

“So it's not weird for you?” She finally asked, and Jehan had to re-route his train of thoughts and catch up with the conversation.

He shrugged again. “It's not that it's not weird. It's just that so much of my life would be considered weird by a lot of people, that at some point I stopped getting worked up about that feeling. I would say that my technique is to vaguely acknowledge the norm and how I feel about it, and then move on and ignore it for the rest of whatever it is I'm doing.”

Grantaire grinned at that. “Like you seem to vaguely acknowledge fashion and then ignore it every time you take clothes out of your dresser?”

Jehan mimed wiping tears off his face. “I know, it's so sad. For such a brilliant woman to die so young. Oh, no, it couldn't have been anything other than a natural death. Who would want someone like that dead?”

Grantaire laughed at his antics, and Jehan had to admit he was fairly proud of himself for finding friends who still laughed at that kind of things despite his having left the highschool drama club four years ago.

“But seriously,” Jehan said, back to a more serious tone. “I don't think asking if it feels weird is the right question. Sure, it's weird, but so am I and so are you. Doesn't mean I would change anything about it.”

Grantaire hummed under her breath in agreement.

Silence settled after that, allowing the moment to quiet down. Jehan let it. Grantaire wasn't the type of person to be quiet. Not usually. Not unless she was feeling particularly comfortable. Talking a lot, giving an answer to everything and having a brash attitude were all ways that she had of protecting herself. Silence was her true way of showing vulnerability.

Jehan lied back down on the bed, and opened his arms. Grantaire smiled at that, and settled into the embrace until they were properly spooning. The position felt a little silly, due in large part to the fact that Grantaire was the little spoon despite being nearly a head taller than Jehan, but neither of them really cared. It felt comfortable.

After a few minutes of easy quiet, Grantaire mumbled something.

Jehan made an inquiring noise, loathe to actually talk, which would involve moving from his position.

“I said that if you're not jealous of em, there's no reason for you to hold me hostage until I miss my date with Enjolras.”

Jehan giggled a little, closing his arms tighter around his friend. “Oh yes, that is exactly what this is, a dastardly plot to stop you from leaving,” he whispered against Grantaire's back.

“I've always known you were an evil mastermind,” Grantaire quipped back, still not moving away.

“Sure,” Jehan easily agreed. He suddenly felt confused. Was he really supposed to be jealous of Enjolras when he could have this? Something easy and soft, something that didn't push him to give more than he wanted to, but still offered him so much in return?

It wasn't that it was easy. It just felt like it was worth it. More so than anything else he could imagine.

Still smiling, he pushed Grantaire away, earning a groan from the woman. “Come on, I didn't help you pick a killer outfit for no one else to see it.”

[real-fakedoors]

star-crossed just hit 1,000 kudos!

(klance / cinderella AU / fantasy & medieval elements)

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR AMAZING LOVE AND SUPPORT.

like, just, wow.

I never thought this story would amass such a loving audience and im humbled everyday when i log into AO3 and see the steady uptick in kudos, comments, bookmarks all of it. I check the stats on this fic religiously and I promise if you’ve even VIEWED the fic I’ve noticed, I watch it that closely. thank you, from the very bottom of my heart; there aren’t adequate words to express my gratitude.

I wanted to at least share something to mark this milestone, so here is the working introduction to the second installment. I’m so excited to get some of my other projects finished so I can dive back into this. :)

Lance had heard his fair share of folk tales from his Mamá, about people who rise above the station of their birth, about triumphing against bitter odds, about falling in love and living happily ever after. He remembered a lot of awfully convenient montages, glossing over the finer details of consequences. What happened to the villains? Did they get thrown in jail? Executed? Or what about the hero’s best friend, ex-lover, family—do they miss the hero once they go on to live their big, exciting lives, or is it always a happily ever after?

Maybe those are just the stories people like to tell. The stories people like to remember, where everyone is happy and the bad things only happen to bad people.

Most of the tales Lance knew didn’t tell him what happened when people are stuck living in the poverty they were born into, no matter how hard they try to get out of it; or what happens when the odds are not in the hero’s favor; or how love is so painfully unconditional, and impossible to explain, and that it could kill you much faster than any magical weapon or poisoned apple if you let it.

He was staring at the pages of an old tome, thick but well-maintained, the pages all in decent shape. It had been pulled from the archives by Sir Coran before he and the others returned to Altea, and Lance had found himself zoning out on the image of a pretty blonde human in the arms of her pretty human Prince Charming.

A weird thought occurred to him: would stories be written about Keith, like this one? It was easy to forget that Keith was indeed a figure of legends, would be memorialized like all the Princes and Queens and rulers that came before him.

Would people make up harrowing things to say about them?

Lance almost laughed out loud before turning the page. “Pfft. No.”

Because, first of all, Prince Charming? Out of the long list of words Lance would use to describe his fiancé, charming was not really one of them. Irritable, thoughtful, and just mullet, to name a few.

 and, a few other small things to share in celebration, I’ve included two scenes beneath the cut

deleted scene from epilogue pt. 2 untitled dream sequence from the second installment

deleted scene from epilogue, pt. 2 conversation between paladins, Allura and Coran keith POV

[Allura continued.] “I want to give you the best answer available, I need to have all the information surrounding this whole mess first. For that to happen…” she sighed, a sound of abrupt sadness slipping through a clearly, if not expertly, worn façade. “I need to ask you all a favor, but once again, unfairly, much of the burden for this falls to Lance. It is of paramount importance that you tell me exactly what transpired between you and Lotor, starting from the first night he approached you.”

The tan-skinned teenager blinked a few times, and Keith thought he looked paler than when he and Shiro first arrived. Gently, he gave Lance’s hand a little squeeze. “Oh. Umm. I mean, I can, I just -- what do you need to know?”

Fingers steepled in front of her nose, the Princess sighed. “As much as you feel you’re comfortable sharing, I suppose, but I would say the more the better. I just don’t know enough of what the Galra have planned, or if this is connected to Zarkon, Lotor, the witch -- none of them, all of them?” she sounded unusually frustrated, a fist coming down on the table. The mouses scurried towards different paladins, leaving the two Alteans to stare at each other. Keith didn’t mind the mouse, but he did glower at Allura -- she didn’t mean anything by it, he knew, but perhaps the nonverbal warning would be enough to have her compose herself. No need to project her anger towards Keith’s fiancé.

“I — I mean, I can try, some of the stuff Lotor said was really…” he paused to bite his lip, and Keith felt a strange twist in his stomach when Lance’s eyes darted anxiously towards him. “It was sort of… personal. I was kind of trying to forget about it, to be honest. Thinking about it makes me… I don’t know, I can tell you if you think it’s important, but it might...make you mad?”

By the end, Lance wasn’t talking to Allura anymore, and Keith’s hand was moving before he could really think about it.

“Hey, stop that,” the Prince said, brushing his thumb over the abused skin of Lance’s bottom lip so he might stop with the self-harming habit. “Don’t bottle things up for my benefit. If you have something you want to say, say it. I can’t promise I won’t get mad, but I can promise I’ll get over it.”

Shiro barely concealed his snort with a cough. “Wow, Keith, that might be the most mature thing you’ve ever said.”

Keith attempted to kick Shiro under the table. “Fuck you, old man.”

That made Lance laugh, and while Pidge made a point to do a loud gagging demonstration, it did little to distract from the simple pleasure Keith felt at being responsible for eliciting such a pretty sound from his fiancé.

Lance’s shoulders were still visibly tense, but he didn’t look quite as uneasy about the subject when he met Allura’s steely, blue-soulfire gaze. “Okay. I guess, what, start from the third night of the ball? That’s when I really interacted with Lotor. A little on the second night, but he was mostly just being a dick.”

Nodding, the Princess gestured for Coran to take a seat beside her. A writing utensil and fresh piece of parchment seemed to materialize in the advisors’ hand.

“Queen Krolia has managed to supply some basic information on what happened when you and Lotor spoke privately in the infirmary, but due to the nature of your healing, the resources expended on gathering testimony, and all the other din of these past few quintant, it doesn’t appear you’ve given any sort of statement about what you and Lotor talked about -- the night of the peace summit, and then explicitly what was discussed that night in the infirmary. I know this is asking a lot, but it’s important that we’re all on the same page if we’re to try to fight whatever this is.”

“I — well — I guess I just hadn’t thought about, like, talking to anyone about it, like in a reporting-way.” He looked thoughtful for a moment before choosing a place to begin. “The night of the peace accord thing, he said I had to dance with him, or he was going to tell the realm that I was in a relationship with Keith. In retrospect, it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but he had… framed it… in a sort of shitty way.”

“Meaning?”

Lance swallowed, his hold on Keith’s hand slipping away as his complexion took on a rosy tint. “Uhh… well, he said, um… like, it was insulting to me to, ya know, sleep with Keith. He said I could do a lot better… and obviously implied that he was the better option. Like, it would have been a big scandal or something for both Keith and you, since, like, both of you were still supposed to be getting married at the time? That’s about when Coran showed up. Oh, and er, he also saiiiiiid…” his voice turned sing-songy, face even redder. “That I was special, and uh, that he would find a way to ‘make me his,’ basically no matter what. He said ‘Keith is your price’, which like, I don’t know if I’m super okay with the idea of talking about myself in those terms, but… I didn’t really have a good comeback that wouldn’t put both your reputations in jeopardy, so I just didn’t answer.”

From the side of the table, Hunk looked like he wanted to reach over and scoop Lance up like a baby. “Buddy...”

Lance cleared his throat, staring at Coran’s hand as it flew over the page, not meeting anyone’s eye. “I’m fine, Hunk. The next time I saw him was after everything, I was in that private room Sir Adam let me use. I woke up, and I was just like, bam, on the ground. It was sort of dizzying and I hadn’t been sleeping super well so I guess, I just didn’t know how to react at first. He told me back talk wasn’t —” A pause, and Lance pursed his lips. “He told me not to talk and to just listen. So, ya know, I wasn’t in a position to fight him, so I did as he said. I mean, my back was exposed and he basically was standing on me so I didn’t have a choice.”

Lance sat up, back arching a bit as he ran his hands through his hair. Keith noticed his fingers were shaking when he pulled them back down and into his lap again. Silently, the Prince was simmering beneath the surface, his blood hot and roaring in his ears. The edge of his vision had tinted red.

“And then there was a lot of the same stuff again. He was super fixated on the fact that I was with Keith. I don’t know, I feel like he jumped around a lot, because after that there was this big monologue about how the realm was about to go to war. And that no matter what happened, as long as... I was alive, there would be a war… unless I became one of his ‘consorts.’ I know, it was really fucked up.” Lance added the last sentence quickly, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Um. He went through this whole list, pretty much. He said Daibaazal would absorb Olkarion, and then Altea would be next or something. And that his dad is on some super fucked up power trip, feeling like he’s not important anymore with Marmora and Altea around. And that the guy who had the bomb, he asked me if I saw him -- I did. He looked… Olkari, but Lotor seemed like he expected that? Like, he said it was probably an Altean shape-shifted as an Olkari. Um… what else… oh, yeah. Um. He gave me an ultimatum, and said if I didn’t go along with him, my choices were:” Lance began ticking them off on his fingers, one by one. “Let Zarkon kill me, like, I think he said make an example or maybe a martyr of me or something; make a statement that I was the one who set off the bomb so I might not get literally murdered by his Dad, instead, I would, hah --” he let out a humorless chuckle -- “I could just fucking hang for it instead. How messed up is that? Or I could let the realm go to war if I stayed in Marmora. Or, lastly, I could agree to be his -- his personal bitch, basically. I don’t know what goes into being a consort but I have an idea, and I -- yeah. I didn’t have much of a choice, though I told him to fuck off and that I’d rather let Zarkon kill me with his bare hands than spend another second with him.”

Keith had never in his life tried so hard to control the devastatingly violent impulse of his Galra heritage, but his gums tingled with the insistent pressure of fangs pushing against his mouth. Even the skin of his fingers felt strange, like he could so easily just let go of his control and the tips could sharpen into claws in seconds if he let them.

Breaking Lotor’s wrist now felt pathetically underwhelming. He should have just killed him. The realm would have been better for it.

“Anyway... Lotor wasn’t super happy about that, I know, shocker. And he basically said he would buy my family, you know, since we’re all fucking slaves or whatever, if I didn’t do what he said. I didn’t -- I didn’t know what to do. I want to say I would never agree to that but just, f-fuck, I’m sorry.” Lance’s voice cracked at the end, the sound of tears edging into his tone. His arms, already folded over his chest, tightened. “So, yeah. That’s when the Queen showed up.”

“Stars above, I’m so… sorry. I had no idea it was that severe.” Allura sounded disturbed, and both Hunk and Pidge were exchanging nervous glances with each other. Keith couldn’t see Shiro, seeing as he was turned to face Lance, who was staring down at the box on the table in front of him with a clenched jaw and dry eyes.

“I’m okay,” Lance said for the second time, and some of the immediate emotion had drained from his voice. “Keith’s mom showed up before I had to agree to anything. That’s all that happened with Lotor, though. The only other thing was the vision-dream thing I had with Blue… I told you guys about that while Keith was getting his stitches, right?”

Various people nodded, and Keith vaguely remembered hearing Lance’s voice, too-loud to be speaking to people nearby but that was just how Lance was, somewhere off to his side. He made a mental note to ask him to re-explain the details to that later.

“...So, yeah. That’s all I can really remember. I don’t remember Lotor mentioning anything about Oriande or any of this stuff.”

“Yes, well,” the Princess laid out both her hands on the table, and as if a silent call, all four mice returned to her in a sudden rush of paws and squeaks. “I’m not sure of anything at this point, but I am near certain that this is the witch’s doing at minimum. Whether it is Zarkon or Lotor who she is aiding, we will still have to consider all of this information. The fact that Lotor seemed to find it unacceptable that you die, so much so that he was willing to blackmail you, leads me to believe he might be more invested in this than I had previously thought. It could have been his pathetic attempt at courtship, but I’m not sure. Whatever it is, the reality is the same: something is happening to the realm, and if more corruption like that we saw earlier from that Beast spread, I fear the whole realm may be in danger. For now, we will have to continue to gather information, try to understand what exactly they’re planning.”

unpublished from part 2:

untitled dream sequence

lance POV

His legs weren’t working properly.

Lance felt them buckling, like his torso and arms and head and heart were weighed down by the entire universe. Why? Why couldn’t he use his legs? He wasn’t even standing, so the fact that his dumb legs weren’t working seemed especially frustrating to him. Laying on his stomach, Lance pushed himself up to a sit-up, the bottom half of his body utterly useless at the moment. Ugh.

Someone was calling his name, but the voice was warbled and hard to place, like he’d been trapped beneath the ice of a lake and there was someone pounding on the other side, trying to find him.

Craning his neck, it was with a small start that he realized he knew this place, dark and infinite and magnificent in every direction, but he couldn’t move. What was it called? Why couldn’t he remember? Blue told him about it...

“Blue? Blue, are you here?” He turned, annoyed by his lack of motion, but blinked in surprise at the sight of something much, much bigger than the little kitten he was expecting.

Lance’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

It was the single most beautiful, overwhelming things he’d ever seen.

About fifteen paces away, a massive tree sprouted from the ground, crowded by iridescent leaves. There was no breeze that he could feel on his face or brushing through his hair, but the leaves danced and shimmered anyway. A million colors, reds and blues and greens and whites and yellows -- and every color in between, peach and cream and mahogany and turquoise and blush and lavender -- colors that he didn’t even have names for, was pretty sure weren’t even on the real spectrum of light, all glittering crystal-bright in the dark expanse of the empty space around him. In every direction, the ground was the black surface of an endless ocean, rippling when Lance moved but otherwise flawlessly reflective. It sent back an inversion of the same sight, an overwhelming sense of purity, of flawlessness, of flowing sublimity with the roots at the center.

Lance couldn’t breathe, awestruck.

What was it? Why was it here?

Oh, gods. Lance used to believe people had always been dramatic when they heard a song or saw a painting so beautiful that they were brought to tears, but this was his comeuppance for that attitude, evidently. His cheeks were wet, and the corners of his eyes were pulsing light blue.

This was definitely some sort of… something otherworldly. Magical.

Shit. Shit, shit, uhhh, fuck, this was probably important, wasn’t it? Was this some sort of dream-vision thing? In his stream of consciousness, dream-Lance tried to will himself to summon a dream-roll-of-parchment and a dream-inkpot, but all that amounted to was making him strangely dizzy.

After attempting to summon things, and dealing with the subsequent disappointment, Lance hauled himself up as best as he could with his hands, sort of like a mix between a push-up and an army crawl.

Chewing his lip, Lance eyed the immaculate branches, overlapping but never touching, a faultless flow of leaves brushing back in forth, almost lazily.  It was a sort of breathtaking, heart-stopping, gun-wrenching sort of beauty.

Blinding, almost.

[kvhottie]

Hinata, sports reporter and Kageyama Tobio fanboy, had found one way of dealing with his nearly decade-long crush on someone unattainable: writing fanfiction—the smutty, self-insert, wildly creative kind. It had always been his most guarded secret, and was going to remain that way until…

Olympic volleyball star Kageyama knew almost nothing of the fanfic world. But overnight a babbling, orange-haired reporter changed that when instead of an interview transcript, he sent Kageyama a dirty (and oddly intriguing) draft for a story featuring the two of them.

Rating: Explicit |Pairing: KageHina |Tags: Sports Reporter& Fic writer Hinata/ Volleyball Pro Kageyama, Humor & Smut

**With special guest, Esselle, writing Hinata's fic excerpt

[Ao3]

Hinata’s first crush was through a phone screen.   He was sulking in bed, potato chip crumbs on his chest, and his phone held above his face as he watched the third round of the All Japan Intercollegiate Volleyball Championship. It was part self-torture and part curiosity that lead him to watch these games, since his own team was not participating because of their loss in the Nagoya representative playoffs.   The game was Tokai University versus Chuo University, both powerhouse schools with an equal chance of winning. Hinata was just a first year so all he knew about them was how impossible it was to get into their starting lineup due to a top-notch team of players. But then the Tokai University player introductions scrolled across the screen and he saw it: Kageyama Tobio, principal setter, 1st year.

 Hinata nearly choked on his umaibou. He sat up with a start while coughing and smacking his chest to clear his windpipe, and pressed rewind to make sure he read the caption correctly. But the undeniable and impressive truth was still the same: Kageyama Tobio was the 1st year setter for one of the strongest and most competitive university volleyball teams in Japan. A prodigy. And though normally that would only make Hinata pissed off and hyperaware of his common, un-prodigy self, this time his eyes couldn’t help but follow Kageyama around the court in admiration.   He was beautiful, in like, every sense of that word. He had pitch-black hair that brushed across a smooth face and serious, deep blue eyes. And that body—chiseled in all the right places, Hinata’s favorite assets being his defined pecs, thick legs, round butt, and wide sculpted shoulders. But aside from Hinata’s superficial and ‘he can’t help but be hella gay’ observations, it actually was how Kageyama moved about the court that drew him in. Never wasting a step, Kageyama commanded the court with meticulous precision and unmatched grace. The trust between him and his teammates was palpable in the others’ resilient determination to connect the ball to him, and his perfect repayment of their efforts: he always made sure the ball got to one of their hands in just the right position that maximized each of their strengths. Hinata could tell that it was Kageyama’s ability to flawlessly set the ball to them, repeatedly and without fail, which got him his spot on the team.   Watching one game lead to watching all the Tokai games in the championship, which lead to watching all the games in existence since Kageyama joined the team: it had become a full-blown obsession. So this is what it was like to have a favorite sports player…though Hinata’s interest in him was tainted with something beyond a simple appreciation of his athleticism. He was grateful for Tokai’s dedicated stream of online content, providing coverage of every official and practice game, as well as behind the scene moments at practice and a few interviews with the starting line up. Hinata watched every video, sometimes multiple times, and keep a close eye on Kageyama’s expressions and movements. His favorite was a short interview where Kageyama was asked what it was like to be the main setter as a freshman.   His usually disinterested expression broke into a teensy smile, eyes lighting up, and he said, “My senpai always get the ball to me and I can set for them at every game. It’s fun.” And then he walked off.   The video was a mere minute but Hinata never tired of re-watching it. He wanted that smile, as tiny and brief as it as, engrained in his memory. He thought he had seen all of Kageyama’s expressions—anger, smugness, annoyance, exhaustion, and a hybrid of a few of these—but this one, this one was so rare and pure it made Hinata want to kiss him. But he couldn't, unfortunately, so he threw his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes, trying to imagine what that would be like. At first it was innocent like this, just imagining his lips or his laughing face. But with time his imagination gradually seeped with lust, waking him up sweaty and wet in the morning and sparking a fire in his gut whenever he closed his eyes to think of Kageyama. He knew it was…strange. That he was crushing so hard on a person he’d never met to the point of jerking off to the mental image he had ingrained of him was, a bit out of the norm, to say the very least.   The feelings persisted for many years—through his attempts and failures at dating, his uneasy and regrettable one-night stands, and that post-graduation loneliness that came with being a working adult and living alone. He had graduated with a degree in communications, concentrating on sport journalism, and after countless interviews and rejections, was hired by TV Osaka as their new sports reporter. He hadn’t expected this stroke of luck. Especially since it came on the tails of Kageyama being recruited to the Osaka’s Panasonic Panthers. Not only would they be in the same city, but also with Kageyama becoming a professional volleyball player, Hinata would be able to cover news about him all the time. And there was a lot of news about him and his vibrant pro career: having Kageyama as their setter lit a fire under the Panasonic Panthers that hadn’t been seen in a while and they started winning tournaments. If that wasn’t impressive enough, he also did an amazing job as the setter for Japan’s Olympic volleyball team. Oh, and of course, there was the occasional small scandal of x or y woman leaving the handsome athlete’s apartment, but none of it amounted to much, to Hinata’s relief.   Yes, even still, Hinata liked that distant and unattainable Kageyama. He especially enjoyed his reporting when it had to do with him, so everyone had noticed how much of a Kageyama fanboy he was. And that lust that burned through him…it had matured into something beyond masturbation and finding porn stars that looked like Kageyama. His head had become so filled with fantasies that he needed to find a way to empty it, and so he started writing fanfiction. He would write countless stories of his OC, which was actually just a self-insert of himself, and Kageyama, doing all sorts of wild things. The stories brought him warmth, peace of mind, and when they started getting a few loyal readers, a group of people who also relished in these fantasies he was once shamed of.   But, the most painful thing about unrequited crushes is that all the imagining only made him fall harder. Hinata loved the Kageyama from his imagination, whether or not it lined up with the real one. This was the only Kageyama that could ever be completely his and he was okay with living in his head.   Well, he thought he was okay with just living in his head…   He SHOULD have been satisfied with just the fantasies, yet—Hinata let out a shaky breath and stared at his reflection as he nervously finger-combed his hair. He was currently at a potential major turning point in his life and also having an existential crisis in a bathroom.   “Get your shit together,” he mumbled to himself, opening the sink faucet and splashing his face with cold water.   TV Osaka was going to do an exclusive and intensive report on volleyball’s MVP, and that’s where Kageyama fanboy and Osaka’s sweetheart announcer came in. This meant Hinata was going to have to meet and talk directly to Kageyama, multiple times, throughout the course of a few weeks. Hinata had already been working at TV Osaka for three years, so the fact that this didn't happen sooner was a mystery, but he had never actually prepared his heart for the reality of it happening.   “Hinata!” Ueda, his fieldwork partner and also the one who was going to run the adjacent and more detailed exclusive on TV Osaka’s website, peeked into the bathroom. “Stop shitting your pants already. The love of your life just finished practice so we have to go do the interview now.”   ‘Love of his life’—ha, if only Ueda knew how true those words were. “Stop teasing!” Hinata yelled and dried his face with a paper towel. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said with a sigh, pulling his lanyard badge from his white shirt pocket so it hung freely and visibly on his chest.   They walked into the Panasonic Panther’s gymnasium and toward the corner they had set up with chairs, microphones, and filming equipment for the sake of the interview. There Kageyama stood, tall, towel dangling from his neck as he dabbed at his face, his shorts and practice shirt straining with every defined muscle now glistened with sweat. Hinata put on a smile as he trained his wild thoughts on artic ice baths, naked grandmas, and dying cats.   “Hi,” he beamed, a bit too enthusiastically, and extended his hand. “I’m Hinata Shouyou, with TV Osaka.”   “…Oh. You’re shorter in person.” Kageyama noted, briefly shaking his hand. “And your hair is even brighter.”   “Um, I am! And yes it is,” he replied with a forced smile. How was he supposed to even act? How does a person act when they meet someone they’ve been jerking of to for years?! Hinata signaled to Ueda, “This is my partner, Ueda. He’s going take charge of the recording and filming while we talk. Should we start?”   “Sure.” Kageyama took his seat and pulled the towel from his neck, hanging it on the arm of the chair.   Hinata sat down and opened his notepad with his list of questions. “Um, okay. So first question, how do you feel about being called volleyball’s MVP?”   “That’s a nice sentiment but calling someone the most valuable player of an entire sport is ridiculous.” Kageyama shrugged. “There are players in other teams doing things I can’t do and being their team’s MVP in their own way. I don't need an exaggerated and flashy title like that.”   “So you don’t like that title?”   “Not really.”   Hinata tapped his notebook with the tip of his pen.“…But you can’t deny that you’ve broken countless records in the past few years. You’re certainly one of the best Japanese volleyball players to come into the court in the last three decades. Not only is your professional record unbelievably impressive, you always made huge splashes in the collegiate and high school level—”   “—I’m doing what I’ve been doing since day one and nothing else: setting to maximize the abilities of each player on my team. I’m glad to be doing it and it’s fulfilling. That’s it. Everything else is outside my field of vision.”   “Understood.” Hinata gave a nervous laugh. “So, do you get along well with your team? Are you guys friends outside of practice?”   “Yes, we go out to eat and drink together from time to time.”   “Is that all?”   Kageyama cocked his head a bit to the side. “What else would there be?”   “Um, like hanging out in each other’s apartments, or doing karaoke, or a joint hobby you guys may have. Do you have any hobbies?”   “Volleyball,” Kageyama stated and Hinata could almost hear the silent ‘no shit, Sherlock’ following it.   “Aside from that.”   “I like food. Does that count?”   Hinata chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I suppose it does. What’s your favorite food?”   “Pork curry with egg on top. I also like meat buns.”   “Do you eat these often? Is it difficult to stay in shape while eating your favorite foods?”   Kageyama looked down at himself and then up again at Hinata with a confused expression. “I’m always practicing and work out often. And aside from those foods I eat a pretty clean diet…so it’s not hard at all.”   Hinata fought the burning desire to cop a longing glace at Kageyama’s body. He made the smart decision to look him in his gorgeous face instead. “That’s good, then.”   “Any more questions?” Kageyama was bouncing his leg now. They must have passed the threshold of his patience with people snooping into his life.   “Just one more question for this part of the interview series.” Hinata said with a grin. “Do you have any other play you see as a rival?”   “No, I only focus on myself and how I can be more of a strength to my team.”   “Pretty admirable.” Hinata closed his notepad and got up from his chair, looking to Ueda. “And that’s a wrap for now.”   Kageyama grabbed his towel. “Am I done for today?”   “Yes, I’ll send you—” Hinata shut himself up; noticing Kageyama had already walked away. “…Okay then,” he muttered as he watched Kageyama move further from him. Damn him and his wonderfully shaped ass.   Ueda and Hinata spent the next hour going over the footage and planning on what questions to tackle the next time. Ueda asked him more than once if he was feeling star struck, but Hinata answered that he wasn’t sure. He obviously didn’t give full disclosure, but on his way home he thought more deeply about what exactly he was feeling at the moment. First of all, it hadn’t yet truly sunk in that he just had a conversation with the fodder for his sexual fantasies from the last eight years. But if he were being honest with himself, though his heart was jumping out of his chest and it was very difficult to keep his eyes off of Kageyama’s body, the whole ordeal was pretty…anticlimactic?   Sure, it’s not like he was expecting a TV drama scene or anything. But he thought it’d be more of a BAM or a WAH, or some other of his many nonverbal sounds. Of course it was amazing talking to Kageyama. He still found him unbearably attractive, somewhat cold and unrelentingly straightforward as he had expected, and also a surprisingly awkward, but meeting the ‘real one’ made Hinata pitifully hyperaware of his own delusions.   He took his laptop and the USB with the recording of the interview out of his bag and set it on the small table in his kitchen. He then slipped off his tie, untucked his shirt, and grabbed two beers from his fridge. He yawned, it was already ten at night and the exhaustion from his over-excitement was pulling at his eyes. But he needed to transcribe the interview and send it over to Kageyama for approval so that they could soon put it up on TV Osaka’s website. He opened up his first can of Asahi, took a refreshing gulp, and got to work.   An hour later he was not only quite drunk from a bad combination of light-weightiness and exhaustion, but also finally done with the interview transcript. He saved it into whichever folder he had used last, and though it happened to be his fanfiction folder, he figured he’d just move it elsewhere tomorrow. He was tired. All he needed to do was attached this document to an email and…done! Kageyama should have gotten that. He’d send him a text late tomorrow to ask if the transcription looked fine, but right now he could only think about his heavenly bed. And so he waddled off to sleep.

Kageyama Tobio was sure he was dreaming. After all, there was no way the brilliant, handsome, talented, sexy, Pulitzer Prize winner for Investigative Reporting journalist Hinata Shou could actually want to have sex with him, was there?   Sure, Kageyama was pretty hot himself — since he was naked, his really awesome abs were obvious. His pecs were super defined because of his twelve-step exercise program he’d developed himself (now a series on YouTube!) and his eyes were really blue, like, way bluer than anyone else’s eyes and twice as pretty. And he was tall and also handsome and the best setter in Japan, probably even the world. He was definitely just as sexy as Shou, so why shouldn’t they sleep together? They’d probably have really hot sex, and maybe even fall in love.   “I really want to have sex with you,” Shou said, dispelling all doubts from Kageyama’s mind.   “I really want to have sex with you, too,” Kageyama told him.   They started to have sex. It was really fucking hot and super sexy and vulgar, which was the best kind, even though sometimes Shou liked it slow, too. Also, they did it without a condom. First, Shou got on his knees and gave Kageyama a blow job. He was really good at it, even though Kageyama had also never been with anyone besides Shou (despite how super sexy and hot Kageyama was). And now he knew he would never have sex with anyone else again, ever, because Shou was definitely the best.   “Shou,” Kageyama said, and Shou looked up at him, while he kept sucking on Kageyama’s trembling manhood. “You’re the best at blow jobs. If this were the Olympics, I’d give you a gold medal.” “How about a pearl necklace instead?” Shou asked sexily. [A/N: a pearl necklace is when a guy cums all over his partner’s chest!!!!!! So vulgar (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)]

At first Kageyama stared at his laptop screen with a blank expression. Surely, it was shock. What the fuck was this? He rubbed at his eyes to make sure it wasn’t the exhaustion playing tricks on him. But as he continued reading, his face burning a deeper shade of red with every sentence, that initial shock turned into realization.  

This was so hot that Kageyama came instantly, and he did it all over Shou’s chest to give him a pearl necklace. After that, Shou made Kageyama lie down so that he could finger him (with lube!!) until he could have sex with Kageyama. Kageyama was so sexy, moaning so much while Shou was inside him, that Shou came really soon, too. It felt AMAZING to come inside of Kageyama (without a condom) that he came so much his cum filled up Kageyama’s tight hole and even came out all over Shou’s throbbing, thick member. It was really gross, but also really hot. It was so hot that it made Shou want to have even more sex.

  “Kageyama,” he moaned, “I’m going to ride you, okay?”   “Yeah,” Kageyama moaned also, “I want you to ride me so bad, Shou, you’re so hot!!”   Shou made Kageyama finger him now until he was ready, even though he was so turned on that he probably could have done it even without fingering, but he also wanted to feel Kageyama’s sexy hands with his sexy national level setter’s fingers inside him. Kageyama was a really good setter, but he was also really good at fingering, and Shou even came again while Kageyama did it, because he was so good.   “Can you still ride me?” Kageyama asked after he came.   Shou smirked down at him. “Baby, I can do anything you want.”   Kageyama’s mini-Yama wasn’t really all that mini!!! It was enormous, big, thick, trembling. Shou screamed as it went inside him when he sat on it. Kageyama’s penis was the best thing he had ever felt. It was so good that he had to start bouncing on it immediately. He really wanted Kageyama to fill him with his cum.   “Kageyama!” he screeched, gyrating his hips around and around in a figure eight on Kageyama’s meaty spear, which he’d read was a good sex move in Cosmo. “Fill me with your cum!”   “I’ll do anything for you, Shou!” Kageyama yelled. He started to come, even more than Shou had, pouring his hot, sticky ropes of spunk inside of Shou for at least two minutes. Shou climaxed simultaneously with him, coming all over Kageyama’s sexy abs and on his nipples, too. It was the best orgasm either of them had ever had.   “That was the best sex ever,” Shou said as he snuggled next to Kageyama and Kageyama cuddled him and kissed his forehead. “And I’ve had a lot of sex.”   “Really?” Kageyama asked. He was super happy that he had made Shou come so much and feel so good even though he was a virgin before. It must be because they were made for each other.   “Yeah,” Shou said. “Let’s do it a lot more.”   They cuddled the whole night long and had sex seven more times, because they were boyfriends now and would probably get married and get a dog. Shou would always come to see all of Kageyama’s games, and Kageyama always dedicated his medals to Shou.   They loved each other forever!!!   THE END.   [A/N: KTsHubby69 here! Hope ya enjoyed that. And remember to leave me comments and likes~]  

This was ‘fanfiction’.   Hinata had sent him fanfiction. His email had said this was supposed to be an interview transcript but it sure as hell wasn’t! It was steamy, raunchy, and very badly written gay porn about him and some guy called Shou. There was this time that to poke fun at him, his teammates had shown him a page full of stories of him and other guys, some being his own teammates, in some fanfiction site. All the knowledge he had of this foreign world was that memory and, well, this wretched document on his screen. Why was contriving sexy situations between other living people something a person would want to do with their free time?   Wait, wasn’t Hinata’s name…Shouyou? Huh?   Kageyama launched forward so violently in his couch that the laptop that was resting on his knees smacked him in the face. “HAAAH?” he yelled to absolutely no one but his panicking self.   He pushed the laptop away from him and rubbed at the sore spot on his forehead while he tried to wrap his mind around the situation. Hinata Shouyou—bubbly, vibrant, sunshine sweetheart of TV Osaka—had sent him smutty fanfiction involving Kageyama and a guy named Shou. Only a dumbass wouldn’t notice that Shou and Shouyou are basically the same name. And since the document said ‘draft’ Hinata had, certainly by mistake, sent him something he was personally working on. Meaning that Hinata was writing fanfiction of himself doing wild things with Kageyama.   But the biggest question of them all was: why?   The most obvious answer was that Hinata had a crush on Kageyama and fantasized about Kageyama doing all those things he wrote about. But that was hard to visualize—the Hinata crushing on him part, not the sex, Hinata made sure to make that painfully vivid—after all, he acted pretty normal in the interview today. He was a little bit red in the cheeks and sometimes he did have a questionable look in his eye, but other than that, he was utterly calm.   Kageyama pulled the laptop back to him and cozied up with it in a corner of his couch. He was curious. He wanted to know what that seemingly innocent face had hiding in his mind. And so he started reading yet again from the beginning. Most of it should have made him uncomfortable. Up to this point all of his experience had been with women and he had never considered being with a man…yet he wasn’t opposed to the things portrayed in this fanfic. Well, he wasn’t opposed to most of the things portrayed in the story, but Hinata’s characterization of him? Horrendous. It was unbearably out of character. He wouldn’t say half the crap Hinata had him say! Also his writing needed some work.   Kageyama went to Google and looked up the username mentioned in the author’s note. He was curious to see what else Hinata had written, in what other ways did they ravish each other on the page. Chalk it up to 3 a.m. boredom, or a touch of narcissism, who cares. The search lead him to Hinata’s profile on a fanfiction website and a listing of everything he’d written. Kageyama scrolled through—Hinata was somewhat prolific, having written almost fifty fics, and also singularly focused: every fic was between Kageyama and this Shou character of his. Kageyama wasn’t sure if to feel flattered or bothered by the fact that some of the fics ranged back a few years, meaning that Hinata had been hung up on him for quite some time. He tried to click on a fic in the listing, a pirate ‘alternate universe’ that sounded interesting, but the site redirected him to an account creation page. Was he really about to create an account to read bad fanfiction about him and the adorable reporter in charge of him for the next few weeks…   Short answer: Yes.   Long answer: Yes, but he was probably going to regret it tomorrow.   Something was vibrating. Kageyama’s eyes peeled open, the bright sunlight in his living room causing him to shield his irritated eyes. He looked around, his neck sore and mind disoriented—when did he pass out? If he remembered correctly it was somewhere in the middle of the third fic he was reading. He groggily set the dead laptop on top of his coffee table and searched his pocket for his vibrating phone. It was an unknown number.   “Hello?” he mumbled, a yawn catching him at the end.   “Sorry did I wake you? I didn’t expect you to still be sleeping this late in the afternoon.” It was Hinata’s voice.   Kageyama shot up and looked at the clock hanging above his television. It was already two. “Not usually. It’s my day off and just…I had a late night.”   “Oh, what kept you up so late?”   Your lewd fics, that’s what. “None of your business,” Kageyama muttered. Fuck, that sounded a bit too harsh.   “S-Sorry! I shouldn't be nosy, right? Um, anyway, I sent you an email with the interview transcript. Did you get it? Does it look fine to use?”   “Uh…” Kageyama glanced at his laptop and immediately felt his face burn up. “Y-Yeah. It looks good. Totally fine.” His guilt was eating him alive.   “That’s great, then! I’ll be in contact with you about our next interview and the photo shoot.”   “Okay.”   “Bye!”   He hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, deep sigh. How the hell was he going to face this guy from now on? Just trying to bring up an image of his pretty face and obnoxiously vibrant orange hair dragged up all sorts of descriptions of moans dripping from those saliva licked lips and eyes glazed over with—fuck, you see, his mind just freaking GOES.   And it kept going, bringing up a scene in one of Hinata’s fics every…damn…time.   How about when they were at lunch together and Hinata was happily eating his salad and babbling about the photo shoot that would happen in a few days. Well, of course, brain, wasn’t the cabbage lush, green, and very similar to the jungle foliage in that fic where Hinata and him were castaways on an island and fucked like bunnies to keep each other sane? UGH.   Kageyama squeezed his plastic water bottle so hard it popped, splashing water all over himself and the table. He stood up with a jolt and Hinata came to his rescue with napkins, trying to hold back a laugh while simultaneously shoving napkins into Kageyama’s hands and pressing them on to the table. Kageyama dabbed his practice shorts with the napkins, eyes stead on the soft curve of Hinata’s lips and the crinkling of his eyes when he giggled. When he wasn’t chattering on nonstop he was actually, sort of…lovely.   That was the usual pattern.   Hinata did something completely innocent like untangle the filming equipment and BAM, that kinky ‘shibari au’ Kageyama had read a few days prior would play in his mind. Eating ice cream dragged up ‘semen drinking fetish au’. Sipping coffee— ‘coffee shop au’. Unbuttoning the top of his shirt to cool down—‘stripper au’. Stretching. ‘Dancer au’. Playing volleyball together. ‘Fucking in the team locker-room PWP’. Any mention of Sci-Fi and that really, really strange ‘alien abduction au’ that left Kageyama both confused, but also hot and bothered, flashed through his mind.   Why the hell did this guy have such an impressively overactive imagination? Kageyama could also say that for himself…if he didn’t keep reading Hinata’s god-awful fics this problem of constantly thinking about them would probably solve itself. But he couldn’t help but go back to read them every night, they had become strangely addicting. Though his own characterization hadn’t improved in the slightest, and he made sure to leave Hinata a comment letting him know that, it excited him to see how Hinata would react in each of those different scenarios. He wondered if Hinata was that sensitive in real life.   Anyhow, said dirty scene popped up in his head, and the next step of the usual routine was that he’d act like am utter fool. Too often had he spilled water on himself, but he’d also trip, bump into things, and let easily receivable balls catch him in the face. None of it affected his actually playing or practice (thank god) since it only happened around Hinata, but it did make filming and shooting photos take that much longer. Yet, Hinata was never mad. When facing Kageyama, an endearing gaze glimmered from those golden eyes, and he’d laugh, much to Kageyama’s embarrassment, in dulcet tones that warmed up the room.   Kageyama could tell he was falling for him.   In the last few weeks there was rarely a moment Hinata wasn’t on his mind, but which Hinata? Fearless, wonton, and suave Hinata from those fics or the adorable, cheerful, and snarky Hinata right in front of him? They might be one and the same. If he dragged Hinata to a room where they were alone and pressed him to the bed, would he be able to see the blood rush to his cheeks as he lost himself in Kageyama’s embrace?   He wanted to answer these questions. But first, he needed to know if his feelings were true.

Hinata yawned, glancing at the time on his work computer. It was past eight and he wouldn’t be going home any time soon. He bounced his leg impatiently and pressed the home button to his phone, only to be disappointed yet again. Kageyama hadn’t responded to any of his texts for about week. Half of them weren’t work related so Hinata guessed that Kageyama was too busy to respond to them. But he hadn’t expected radio silence about the scheduling of their last interview, since Kageyama used to be prompt in his responses to work related emails and texts.   “Here you go,” Ueda returned with two cups of coffee and took the seat next to Hinata, passing him one. They were looking over all the Kageyama video footage they had and editing it down for the online exclusive.   “Thanks.” Hinata grabbed the cup with both hands and took a blissful slip; it was perfectly warm.   Ueda took a gulp of his and set it down on the desk. “So…are things going okay with you and Kageyama recently?”   “Hm? What do you mean by that?”   Ueda scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, like, did you do anything to get him pissed or something?”   Hinata pursed his lips and set his coffee on the desk. “Not that I know of…but he has been ignoring my texts for a while. Why do you ask?”   “Well, it’s just that I overhead our boss on my way to get coffee. She said that Kageyama had called in this morning and requested that the reporter in charge of his exclusive coverage be changed.”   “What?!” Hinata exclaimed, standing up from his chair. “Why? Did he say why?”   Ueda shrugged. “I have no idea. That’s all I heard, but she’s probably going to talk to you about it soon.”   Hinata bit his bottom lip and tapped his foot on the floor. Did Kageyama catch him staring at him weirdly? They were getting along super well recently so why would Kageyama all of a sudden want to avoid him? What was up with his freaking luck! First he had a rude reader saying his Kageyama was OOC and now this?!   “Sorry, Ueda. I promise to make it up to you but I won’t let Kageyama take this project away from me!” Hinata stuffed his phone in his bag and hurried to the door. He heard a faint ‘Good Luck’ from Ueda as he left the room.   Hinata headed to Kageyama’s apartment, he and Ueda had gone there briefly for a portion of the photo shoot and Hinata had committed it to memory. It was a Friday, so Kageyama usually finished practice around seven and went straight home. He tried to gather what he was going to say in his head but his thoughts were all muddled. He was nervous—what if Kageyama had come to hate him for some reason? Somewhere in the corner of his heart he was holding on to the hope that they could continue to meet up even after they were done with the exclusive. He didn't expect Kageyama to come to love him or anything like that, but friendship would have been nice. Now that he’d been by Kageyama’s side so many times, seen his expressions up close, felt him near by, he didn’t know how he’d go back to just living in his head.   Once inside the entrance of Kageyama’s apartment building, Hinata pressed the intercom button for his apartment. He looked straight up at the camera, knowing Kageyama could see him.   “Why are you here?”   “Let me up. Please.”   He heard a quiet sigh and then the door buzzed open. Hinata took the elevator to the third floor, practicing deep breathes as he approached Kageyama’s door. There, Kageyama was waiting for him in a white t-shirt and shorts, hair damp from getting just out of the shower. Hinata nearly forgot what he had come all this way for.   Kageyama leaned against his open door. “If you’re here to—   “—Why are you avoiding me?!” spat Hinata, eyes wide and locked to Kageyama’s.   “I’m not avoiding you,” insisted Kageyama, desperately wanting to look away from Hinata’s intense stare but keeping his gaze steady to not make his lie obvious.   “You are.” Hinata balled his hands on either side of him. “I know that you want to change who’s in charge of your exclusive. And you haven’t answered my texts. If I did anything to make you mad or uncomfortable just tell me. I’ll try to be better, I promise.”   Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s not that…it’s just, personal reasons.”   “But I thought we were getting closer!” Hinata stammered, eyebrows knitting, and lips quivering. “Just tell me why. Did you notice that I look at you weirdly? I promise I’ll stop; it’s just that I’ve been a fan of yours for so long that it gets away from me sometimes. This exclusive is a dream come true, it means a lot to me. I just really—   “Hinata!”   “—love you!” Hinata’s eyes widened, swimming wildly with the realization of what he just said. “No, no, not that. I mean—“   Kageyama slapped a hand over Hinata’s mouth and covered his own burning face with the other. “Shut. Up. Already.” He huffed, finding enough composure to uncover his face and return his gaze to Hinata’s. “I’ve known you like for a while now.”   “Mm!” Hinata muffled.   “And before your mind jumps to that, no, that’s not why I’m avoiding you.” Kageyama moved his hand away from Hinata’s mouth. “Try to be quiet, dumbass.”   “How?!” Hinata whispered, loudly.   Kageyama sighed and took Hinata’s hand, silently leading him into his apartment. Hinata just followed along, not really sure of what was happening anymore or if he should say something, so he also kept quiet and focused his attention on their linked hands. They took off their shoes, walked into the living room, and Kageyama plopped him down on his couch. He picked up his laptop from the coffee table, clicked around, and placed it on Hinata’s lap.   “That’s the email you sent me in order to review the transcript for the first interview. But you attached the wrong document,” Kageyama explained, cheeks dusted in pink once more.   “What did I send, then?...” Hinata looked at the document title and his faced immediately went beet red. “Wait, no. No way.” He opened the document, and having confirmed his fear, returned the laptop to the coffee table, covered his face with his hands, and curled forward until his head was on his knees. “You must think I’m crazy,” he muffled.   Kageyama gently mussed the hair on the top of Hinata’s head. “I don't.”   “Even though I write weird stuff about you?!” Hinata croaked, face looking up to reveal his flushed face and glossy eyes.   “Yes.” Kageyama retracted his hand, folding his arms across his chest, and paced back and forth while staring at his feet. “…I wasn’t grossed out by it. More like, I was so hooked that I read a lot of your other stories,” he stammered.   “H-Huh?” Hinata stood up and took a few steps towards the restless Kageyama. “Really?”   “And I kept thinking about your stupid fics every time we were together. I wanted to put some distance between us because I couldn’t tell if your stories were influencing my feelings or if they were my own…” Kageyama stopped pacing and let his hands fall to his sides, blue eyes meeting Hinata’s golden gaze. “I like you, Hinata. Even if you write strange fanfiction.”   “You didn’t have to add that at the end!” Hinata whined, hand tugging at Kageyama’s t-shirt with a smile so wide it could have left his face. “Is this for real? I feel like I’m dreaming.”   Kageyama flicked Hinata’s forehead. “It’s real, stupid. You’ve done enough living in your head for a lifetime.”   “Then…” Hinata grew quiet, gaze cast downward, and pinky finger sneaking to touch Kageyama’s skin from where he was holding his shirt. “You’ll have to keep me busy.”   Kageyama swallowed, hard. “Yeah, of course,” he managed to get out.   Hinata looked up through his lashes, and though he was trying to best to be sultry, his pursed lips and knitted eyebrows displayed his embarrassment and desperation. But even more so with this front he was trying to put on—he was unbearably cute.   “Right now,” Hinata whispered.   “Now?” Kageyama murmured, the fingers Hinata was crawling up his abs leaving immense heat in their wake. “Okay. My room is this way.” He grabbed Hinata’s assaulting hand and pulled him along.   “Wait,” Hinata said as he slipped his hand out of Kageyama’s grasp. “I need to take a shower first and prepare, and all that.”   Kageyama pointed at a door across from the living room. “That’s my shower and tub.”   Hinata nodded and said, “Thanks,” promptly disappearing behind the door.   Twenty minutes passed and Hinata remerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his usually messy hair now damp and framing his rosy cheeks. Kageyama shot up from the couch, eyes traveling across Hinata’s almost naked body as if they had a mind of their own.   “My room?”   Hinata nodded, a small smile slipping past his nerves. “If it’ll get you to stop trying to eat me alive with your eyes.”   Kageyama chuckled and shook his head, grabbing Hinata’s hand again. “I think it’ll only get worse.”   Once in the bedroom, Kageyama turned on only his bedside lamp and set the lube and condom from his drawer on top his nightstand. Hinata climbed onto Kageyama’s dark blue king-sized bed. Kageyama threw off his t-shirt and shorts and carefully crawled over him. He deliberately smoothed his hand across Hinata’s chest, focusing his attention on tracing his beautiful collarbones and pink nipples. He feathered his fingers down Hinata stomach and up again, inching closer and closer to the edge of his towel with every pass. Hinata shuddered under his touch, hazy eyes watching his face and hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand Kageyama was leaning on.   “You’re a lot more forward in your fics,” Kageyama commented, pulling down at Hinata’s towel until he was completely exposed. He took in Hinata’s naked body, its lean shape, faint freckles, and the proud state of his leaking dick. “But just as sensitive…I’ve barely touched you.”   “I can’t help it!” Hinata wrapped his arms around Kageyama’s neck and pulled his face closer. “I’ve imagined this a million times. You could probably just look at me for the next ten minutes and it’ll be enough to make me come.”   Kageyama brushed his lips against Hinata’s, grabbing one of his hands and pressing it to the raging erection he was packing in his boxers. “I’ve read half those fantasies so I’m just as painfully excited. But…” Kageyama placed his lips right beneath Hinata’s neck and murmured, “You should focus on the me that’s here.”   “Ah,” Hinata breathed, fingers teasing Kageyama’s dick against the cloth of his boxers. “It’s really hard to focus on anything right now.”   Kageyama laughed through his nose, mouth traveling down to Hinata’s neck to nip and suck at his unmarked skin. It bruised with ease and soon enough Kageyama had scattered dark red hickies all the way to his shoulder. Hinata also kept himself busy, shaky fingers traveling up and down Kageyama’s spine, grazing gentle nails against the back of of his neck. Kageyama trembled against that touch, biting harder into Hinata’s neck and rolling his nipples to reciprocate the pleasure. Hinata whimpered against his ear, his fingers pulling at the hair nearby, drawing a low moan from Kageyama.   “You like that?” Hinata huffed, fingers traveling deeper into Kageyama’s hair.   Kageyama hummed in affirmation; tongue teasing Hinata’s chest and hands tortuously caressing the inside of his thighs. His mouth moved further down, tongue prodding at the place where his thigh met his hips, teeth grazing so close to Hinata’s dick that Hinata’s legs quivered uncontrollably despite being so tightly wrapped around him. Kageyama sat up and reached over for the lube and condom, setting the condom behind him for easy access later and pouring excessive lube in his hand. He warmed it up, some dripping onto Hinata in the process and making him jolt slightly.   “Hurry up…” Hinata begged, pushing his fringe away from his face with the back of his hand.   “Hush,” Kageyama said as he leaned forward, propped himself up on his right hand again, and slowly pressed two fingers into Hinata. A breathy moan escaped Hinata’s lips and he pushed against Kageyama’s fingers, arms reaching above his head to grasp at the pillow. Kageyama worked him unhurriedly—gaze steady on Hinata’s face to take in each of his fevered expressions, only breaking his watch to occasionally drink up Hinata’s moans with a messy kiss.   But Hinata grew impatient. He reached down to pull at both sides of Kageyama’s boxers, succeeding in freeing Kageyama’s throbbing dick. He wrapped his legs even tighter around Kageyama’s waist, hands diving to the back of his head. “Come on, already“ he said with drawn out tug of Kageyama’s hair, his voice no longer begging, but desperately commanding.   Kageyama complied, too riled up to be able to endure teasing Hinata any longer. After rolling on the condom, he leaned forward again, his weight on his right elbow, and lined himself up against Hinata’s entrance. He inched in slowly, relishing the sharp intakes and pants Hinata made against his lips, losing himself gradually to the heat inside Hinata. When he was in to the hilt, he pulled out a bit and rolled his hips slowly, grinding hard with each deliberate thrust. Hinata dug his fingers and heels into him, taking Kageyama’s lips to muffle the insistent chorus of his own moans.   But Kageyama wanted to hear him, those whimpers and pants so knee-weakening that they would be enough to push him over the edge. He broke the kiss, holding Hinata’s hands over his head so he couldn’t pull Kageyama’s face in again, and buried his face in Hinata’s neck.   “Kageyama,” Hinata cried, “I’m close.”   “Mmn,” Kageyama moaned in agreement.   He picked up his pace—slamming in faster, deeper, urgently. Kageyama reached down and pumped Hinata’s dick in matching rhythm, swiftly making him climax with a strained moan as he spilled hot and white into his hand. Kageyama barely lasted a few seconds after him, Hinata’s sudden tightness being too much for him and bringing him crashing past the edge.   Kageyama waited until their bodies’ quivering had stilled, and slowly pulled out. Hinata gave a short whimper, teeth sinking into his bottom teeth, but soon after he let out a blissful sigh. Kageyama followed suit with a satisfied sigh of his own, and slumped next to Hinata, bodies close and feet tangled.   “…Damn, ” Kageyama breathed, pressing his damp forehead against Hinata’s. The blue of his eyes was filled with adoration. “Your writing doesn't even do you half the justice.”   Hinata’s lips curved up into a warm smile and he traced the edge of Kageyama’s ear. “Maybe you should help me with it from now on.”   “I probably should. I could guide you on writing a Kageyama that’s not out of character for once.”   “Wait…” Hinata’s eyes widened and he sat up, gasping dramatically. “Were you that annoying reader that kept dissing my characterization?”   “…No,” Kageyama denied, trying to hold back a smirk but failing miserably.   Hinata yanked the pillow from under Kageyama and hit him with it. “You were so rude!”   Kageyama blocked his face, lounging at Hinata to pull him down into a hug. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past.”   “You hurt my feelings, though. Make it up to me,” Hinata pouted.   “Depends on what you want.”   “…Let me wear your Olympic jersey.”

“As long as you do it with nothing else on,” Kageyama retorted with a sly smile. Hinata laughed in that lovely singsong way of his and pressed his lips to Kageyama’s. “Deal.”

[adorkablephil]

Fic: Imaginary Friends (Chapter 4)

Title: Imaginary Friends Summary: Nothing’s AU ... except that Dan and Phil have been appearing in each other’s dreams since childhood without realizing it because they’re soulmates. Everything on the outside looks like the reality we’re used to irl. Rating: Teen Word Count: 1440 (this chapter) Tags: Soulmates, AU, But Kind of Not AU, Except That There’s Magic, Certainly Not a Typical Soulmates AU, Dreams, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers Author’s Note: I’m really hoping this doesn’t immediately get massively overshadowed by Halloween baking, but I’m posting it anyway. Fic also available on AO3 here

[Masterlist of all Imaginary Friends chapters on Tumblr]

Chapter 4: No Such Thing As Magic

Around age 10, Phil first started noticing that he seemed to attract weird people on the street and on the bus, and he worried that it meant something was wrong with him. But his grandma had told him it was just “the Skill.”

His grandma knew a lot of things, including how to read tarot cards and tea leaves and other mysterious things. She knew about magic. And she told him that she had something called “the Skill,” and that he had it, too. She said it was genetic, but not everyone got it.

She said they were special.

Many people in the family thought Grandma was crazy, but Phil loved her, and he trusted her, and he didn’t think she was crazy at all. They spent long afternoons just talking as she lay cards out in various patterns or just shuffled them idly, or looked at the palms of Phil’s hands, or just sipped her tea and talked about the ways the world really works, which was always much more interesting than what they taught him at school.

She told him that quite a few people had the Skill, but most never knew it, because it worked differently in each person. She thought maybe, long ago, it had once been something everyone had, but now it only showed up in a comparative few, and some only faintly.

Her own Skill leaned toward divination, but everyone was different. Some might be able to influence other people’s thoughts, or communicate across long distances, or make themselves pass unnoticed, or manipulate their dreams. Really, it could be almost anything.

Phil’s Skill drew people to him, she said. And so other people who had a bit of the Skill, even if they didn’t know it, would feel compelled to approach him, would want to be near him or interact with him. That’s why strangers sometimes reacted oddly to him. They were just people with a bit of the Skill, being drawn to him for reasons they didn’t understand. Grandma’s imagination had always seemed a bit wild, so Phil didn’t know what to think, but he listened, because she was his grandma and he loved her, and she gave him ginger cakes with lemon icing.

He shouldn’t be afraid, she said—the Skill was a good thing. And oftentimes, if two people’s Skill worked in complementary ways, it could form an unbreakable bond. It had been like that for her and his granddad. Her Skill had told her that he would come into her life someday, that he would be her soulmate, but she didn’t know anything about him except that they were connected. She didn’t know what his name was or what he would look like, only that he would come. And his Skill, weaker than hers, only gave him the power to recognize the Skill in others. But when he came up to her at a cousin’s wedding and asked her to dance, their eyes met and she immediately knew this was him, the man she’d always seen in her future. And she could see in his face that he knew it, too.

And so, since Phil’s Skill drew people to him … someday, another Skilled one who was drawn to Phil could turn out to be his soulmate, just like her and his granddad. Her own Skill at divination told her that it would happen. Someday, Phil’s Skill would draw his soulmate to him, and their bond would be stronger than he could possibly imagine.

Phil listened, but as he grew older he became less and less sure that he believed it. Even though he loved his grandma, he was pretty sure there wasn’t any real magic in the world, not like in his dreams. And, as years went by, he never saw any proof of anything she’d said. He never heard or read any other reference to “the Skill,” no matter how much he searched. Strange people continued to accost him in public for no apparent reason, but he never found any “soulmate” … and after his grandma died, he slowly forgot the last traces of any faith he’d once had in her magical knowledge or ability to predict the future.

Whenever someone would bark at him on the street or say something particularly strange out of nowhere, Phil would think wryly to himself, “Yeah, that’s because I’ve got the Skill,” but he didn’t really believe it. He couldn’t remember if he ever really had.

The first time Dan came to visit him in Manchester, Phil met him at the train station, and when their eyes met for the first time something like electricity arced between them. Phil immediately glanced away, then shyly back again, and they smiled at each other. He felt some strange sense of recognition, but convinced himself it was just the result of dozens of hours on Skype.

“I can’t believe I’m really here,” Dan had said, sounding awestruck. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long and now … here we both are!” Phil had opened his arms, and Dan had dove in for a tight hug.

“I’m glad I was finally able to lure you away from the captivating delights of wonderful Wokingham,” Phil joked as he released Dan again, immediately missing the warmth of the slim body against him.

“I just couldn’t stay away from you and your animal magnetism,” Dan grinned. Phil raised both hands like claws and roared, making Dan laugh.

In the years that followed, Phil would always be grateful to the universe for bringing such a wonderful friend into his life, and it all really started with YouTube, and with that day in the train station.

It was like Fate.

Maybe his grandma would have said that the Skill drew Dan to him, that maybe all those weird people on the street were just the price he paid for having the power to draw this one person to him at the right time … but Phil didn’t believe in the Skill anymore, if he ever had, and the Internet certainly made a lot more sense as an explanation. Even Fate made more sense, or at least a lot more people believed in it. Nobody believed in “the Skill.” It was just some idea his crazy grandma had come up with to romanticize how she met his granddad.

And now she was gone, not there to argue with him, and so Phil dismissed his occasional wonderings about how magical it seemed that Dan had ended up coming into his life the way he had. He supposed thoughts like those were what led people to make up romantic, mystical, ridiculous stories about things like “the Skill.” Okay, maybe tarot cards and tea leaves might be fun, and they might make for entertaining videos or party tricks, but they weren’t really magic. They weren’t really real.

YouTube and Twitter and the Internet were real, and they had brought Dan into his life. It was that simple.

He didn’t need to believe in magic. He didn’t need magic. He had Dan.

And … at night … he had his shadow. Nearly every night now, since the time with the starlight, they came together in his dreams.

Often literally.

He spent his days with Dan, his best friend in the real world … and he spent his nights with his oldest, truest friend, the one who had always been there for him, but only in his dreams. The one who—he could feel it, the way he could always feel things in his shadow dreams—the one who loved him. Really, truly, deeply loved him. Loved him in a way Dan never would, with kisses and touches and passion and want. And, yes, Phil loved the shadow, too. His dreams were filled with desire and pleasure and the bone-deep knowledge that he was cherished. So, yes, of course he loved the shadow.

But maybe not exactly the same way he loved Dan. Because Dan was real, and the shadow was just a dream.

If anyone had ever forced him to choose, Phil would have chosen the Dan who didn’t love him over the shadow who did, because Dan was Dan. The shadow was just part of Phil’s imagination and always had been.

It was just that, as his sexual and romantic frustration had grown in daily life, his subconscious had apparently taken to satisfying it in his dreams … where Dan would never know and it could never ruin their friendship.

Dan never needed to know how Phil spent his dreaming nights.

Even when they slept every night side-by-side on the tour bus.

Author’s End Note: My basic idea of “the Skill” comes from an excellent series of fantasy novels by Robin Hobb, though I have skewed the concept quite a bit for my own purposes. The series starts with a novel called Assassin’s Apprentice, and I highly recommend it.

And a final thank you: Again, thank you bazillions to my patrons, @jorzuela, @itsjustmestef, and she who shall not be named! If you, too, enjoy my writing and would like to support me, leave a tip in my Tip Jar or learn about how to become a patron. Or, you know, just like, comment, and/or reblog!

[Continue to Chapter 5]

[niedolia]

psa for the yoi fandom: russian names & how to use them

Russian guides: masterpost | patronyms | terms of affection | answered asks

I’m going to start by swearing this isn’t me just complaining but a general resource for the Yuri on Ice fandom because I’ve noticed some mistakes in the naming conventions used among the fandom and want to help correct them. Especially in how the fandom treats diminutives. I absolutely love seeing the huge amount of interest in Russian diminutives, etc. in fanart and fics and hopefully this breakdown will help continue that trend and interest and even spur some more ideas in fandom content.

So let’s go through some important details below the cut!

note beforehand: I use the spelling Viktor for transliterative reasons.

the basics of russian names

By now this is pretty common knowledge but I’m going to explain Russian names anyway, using our lovely Viktor as my example.

First name:  Viktor. self-explanatory.

Patronymic: It’s not a middle name. It is not a middle name that gets to be chosen like in America/etc. It is derived from the name of a person’s father and has an ending depending on whether they’re male or female. No Russian character in YoI has a patronymic and I’m going to explain why this really sucks and how we can get around this in the meantime below.

Surname: Nikiforov. self-explanatory. But do know that for females, their surnames will have an -a at the end, ie Mila Babicheva.

- as a side note, just because a character’s surname ends in -ovich or something similar doesn’t necessarily mean they are ethnically Russian. Other Eastern Slavic nations use similar endings on their surnames, so you should be relying more on the first part of a surname than the ending if you’re trying to find the character’s true origin. Georgi Popovich is a good example: his surname is Ukrainian and Belarussian even though he skates for Russia. I doubt this will come up much but it might be a nice thing to know.

the next part is about formality & when to use patronymics. if you’re a modern-based writer & couldn’t care less, go down to the diminutive part.

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patronymics & why YoI has creators screwed over here !!!

I’m sure a lot of us have heard it by now: the complaint rising from foreigners trying to read Russian novels that there are too many names for one person. The reason overall is pretty simple: how you call a Russian person depends on close you are to them. There’s three basic levels on how you should address someone, but the last two mix a lot so we’ll go over that later:

Strangers, formal situations: First name + Patronym

Friends: Diminutive

Close Friends, family, lovers: Diminutive & Pet name

We’re going to go over the first level then go from there in degrees of intimacy between two people. Plus there’s some things wrong with the above basic levels, but for simplicity and understanding sake, we’re going to start here and then improve.

I’m going to say now to those writing modern stuff: you can skip to the next part if you want. I explain why below but honestly it’s just me proving the show got this part right. Historical/Fantasy AU writers, you’re in for the long haul.

This is where this fandom is irreversibly screwed until more information comes. I can only hope whoever reads this doesn’t need to worry. Good luck to those who do.

Side tip: it’s not the best equivalent but if you’re having a difficult time understanding when to use patronyms, think of them as like versions of English “Mister” and “Miss”. Or, if you speak Spanish/French/etc., it’s like the continued name equivalent of using the formal “you”. You’d use these for say, your teacher or friend’s mother, not so much for your friend. I’ve also seen it be compared to Japanese “-san” but I’m not sure how correct that is.

The First name + Patronym structure is used for: formal situations, much older people, your doctor, teachers, and those higher than you career-wise. Notice something? This isn’t used for strangers absolutely all the time until you become friends - unless you’re in a formal situation like with a doctor or interviewing for a job. This creates level 1.5, which I will introduce below.

I’m going to split this in 2 parts, depending on what type of art you’re creating:

Modern: chill, my dude. Patronyms have nothing on you. Thank your dear Russians for that, their understanding toward our customs and adjusting - a lot, actually. While Russians might introduce themselves as First name + Patronymic, this can get dropped pretty quickly with anyone under 40 years old and not your boss/new doctor/etc. This is due to recent shifting trends with Westernization and is especially going to be followed by our Russian skaters when they’re at the GPF, etc.

This is where we get level 1.5: addressing someone by their full name (and by formal “you” but that’s lost in English). No nicknames, no patronyms. It’s casual without being too casual. This is what you use for coworkers, loose friends, etc. This is how Viktor is going to address Georgi.

What does this mean for modern fics?

Don’t worry about the patronymic. Our Russian skaters + Yakov (not Lilia though, Lilia is something else, be afraid) are okay with being addressed by just their first names (though I feel Yakov has no choice thanks to Viktor).

Don’t go to diminutives until characters are closer. Especially if it’s a younger character to an older one - ie. even if Yurio was a completely different person, it would be inappropriate for him to call Viktor Vitya.

Go. Be free. Why are you reading this section? Skip to the next part.

Historical/Fantasy AUs: Patronyms stopped being A Big Deal recently, so basically people under 50 years old no longer use them outside of formal situations. So if your AU is within the past couple decades, just use the modern format and go on with your life. If it takes place a long time ago or is one of those fantasy AUs with princes and whatnot, this is the section for you.

Hopefully you read the modern part because that there is your base. You know now that the First name + Patronym structure is used for formal situations. Historically, the patronym is going to be used in formal situations, by colleagues, by acquaintances, and by those younger than you.

Yes, that means Yurio should be sucking it up and calling Viktor by his name and patronym - twice over, in fact, since he’s a colleague of Viktor’s. Unless your Yurio gets Upgraded to friend, he’s stuck in this section.

It also means that Viktor and Georgi probably address each other with their patronyms, Yakov should be addressed so, etc. Technically Yuuri should call Viktor this way too when they first meet, but this really depends on the AU - whether Yuuri will know this or not, whether Viktor will feel compelled to correct him, etc. Then with time characters can upgrade to just first names and then just diminutives. The pacing depends on how fast your characters are moving.

But Vasilek, we don’t know any of the Russian characters’ patronyms!

I know, fam, we’re not in a Good Way.

Unless you’re writing Yurio, then I have a good theory for you below.

But for the rest, you basically got 3 options here:

Yakov as a father: ngl, I love Yakov as a father figure. So if you want to make it official in your fic and blow off canon, here’s an easy option to getting your patronym. Yakovlevich is the patronym for a son of Yakov. So, Viktor can be Viktor Yakovlevich Nikiforov. Make your own rules. Also as a note: a person can legally change their patronym to distance themselves from their father / recognize their adopted father, so Viktor changing his patronym for Yakov is perfectly okay to do - both in modern and historical/fantasy AUs (see this post for details).

Make it up: yeah. Just pull a patronym and take it. Make your own rules. It’s more accurate than there not being anything at all. And if Viktor’s/whoever’s father’s name is revealed? Just say that the father ditched and the mother picked another patronym. So, to take my middle name as a self-indulgent example, Viktor could be Viktor Vasilievich Nikiforov. Luckily patronyms are more set in their form so they can be constructed easily for males & females (usually -ovich/-evich for males & -ovna/-evna for females) but I’ve explained all of this in better detail + added some more tips about patronymics here.

Leave it out. How unexciting.

This applies to Viktor, Yakov, and every other Russian except Yurio. If anyone has any other suggestions for the patronyms please contact me and I’ll add it, but I can’t think of much else.

So why is Yurio so special??????

Yurio’s special because we know two things about him: his grandfather’s name & some background information from an interview stating that his family is broken. And even then, we know that his grandfather raised him. We can assume that his father is unknown/some similar excuse. According to Russian law, if the father is not known, the mother is allowed to choose any patronymic she wishes for the child - just as long as it’s a patronym.

The most common practice in this case? To use the child’s maternal grandfather’s name as the patronym.

Yurio’s grandfather is named Nikolai. So, unless officially stated otherwise, we can accurately say that Yurio’s full name is:

Yuri Nikolaevich Plisetsky. 

Taking their relationship to a whole new level, huh?

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level two: diminutives

Alright, we’re safely out of the formal atmosphere and closer than just coworkers. We hang out, we know each other fairly well, we met a few months ago. We’re friends! We can use diminutives!

The fandom actually has a pretty good grasp on the diminutives. It’s not just a nickname; it’s not a childhood nickname, it’s not cute or childish or anything like that. Diminutives are used at all ages in casual settings. They’re short and end in -a usually which is how we identify them. Viktor has been called Vitya by his family, Yakov + other teachers, friends (ie Christophe), and even lovers all his life and will remain Vitya to them ‘til the day he dies. When Nikolai Plisetsky asks Yurio to pass the salt at dinner, he calls him Yura. Hell, Viktor could be asking someone new out for a drink and introduce himself as Vitya. It’s just a casual language thing.

Y’all got this part down. It’s some of the details after that that get hazy. I’m going to use Viktor & Yuuri as my example below but do know that these rules apply to the rest of the Russians; ie. Otabek calling Yuri Yura consistently while they’re just friends, etc.

THIS IS THE IMPORTANT STUFF WRITERS !!!

1. Since Russian, Japanese, and English all work differently, Viktor’s probably going to tell Yuuri when he’s okay with being called Vitya. That timeline is up to you, but realistically, I bet Viktor tells Yuuri straight up that he can start calling him Vitya. And knowing Yuuri, Viktor is going to be the one to initiate this. Give me all of the permission scenes, I love them, please.

2. Once Viktor tells Yuuri he can call him Vitya & Yuuri agrees, don’t have Yuuri switch back to calling him Viktor! Unless they break up (ha), there’s no going back. Viktor is Vitya now, permanently. And knowing Viktor’s Extra-ness, he’d probably be devastated if Yuuri backtracked on that after calling him Vitya. Keep consistent. Viktor - agreement to call him Vitya - Vitya. - Exception: office AU and the like. If Yuuri and Viktor are in a business meeting/in some other formal setting then, and only then, is it chill for Yuuri to switch back temporarily. Otherwise? He’s Vitya now.

3. Viktor is ‘Vitya’, not any other diminutive! No, he is not Tora or any others of the like. (Pet names are another matter, but can have the same rule). Viktor is canonically called ‘Vitya’ as a diminutive. He probably wouldn’t answer to the others, that’s not how he introduced himself as. I know there’s a lot of cool diminutives but seriously, remember that consistency is key for level 2. It would be the Russian equivalent of someone named James and goes by Jim suddenly being called Jem. Diminutives are usually chosen by the parents so Viktor will have grown up hearing Vitya and not, say, Tora. It’d be weird and possibly inappropriate to use something else if you accidentally grab an affectionate diminutive. And just to give you an idea of how permanent a diminutive can be: some parents will decide on their child’s diminutive before deciding their full name (ie Anna and Anastasia have similar diminutives so the parent will have to choose between these two for their already established diminutive). - Exception: Vitka is okay on level 2.5.

4. For those of you with some drama in your fic, I did get a very interesting question: how would Yuuri address Viktor when they’re fighting? If they’re in the Vitya stage already and it’s not a big fight, Yuuri could switch back to using Viktor during it, that would get his point across. If he’s still calling Viktor by his first name and/or it’s a big fight, go for the full Viktor Nikiforov. Leave out the patronymic. Remember that the First name + Patronym is considered respectful; that’s not what you want. But using the First + Surname when Viktor is right there is considered rude and would produce the right effect. It’s like when your mom calls you because you’re in trouble.

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so what the heck is level 2.5 vasya ???

Level 2.5 is colloquial diminutives. This is Vitka instead of Vitya.

Colloquial diminutives are for really good friends, this is for your bromance, now with an extra -k. Yep, these ones are recognizable by the k present in them (so Viktor - Vitka, Anna - Anka, etc.). So if you think Viktor and Christophe are real chill buds, Christophe’s probably gonna call him Vitka sometimes when they’re hanging out together. Or if Yuuri wanted to show that he’s at that stage with Viktor, he can start using Vitka; since they’re already at the Vitya stage and it’s pretty obvious when you’re bff’s with someone, Yuuri could start using this without Viktor’s permission once he felt like it.

In fact, Viktor would probably freak out in joy if he does.

The context for when Vitya vs Vitka should be used is kinda weird to explain in English because at some level they’re interchangeable. The closest we have is the James - Jim - Jimmy name tree, following the Name - Diminutive - Colloquial Diminutive in this case. So think of it like this: diminutives are casual & colloquial diminutives are hardcore casual while also noting that this person is your bff all in one. You wouldn’t introduce your best bro as Jimmy or Jim (unless you’re Cpt. Jim Kirk trying to charm the ladies) to a stranger, you’d start with James. Then when they get to know each other it’s Jim. Then a few years later you find James and the stranger playing Super Mario w/e with the stranger yelling “get out of my way, Jimmy” at the top of his lungs. It’s casual and intimate, more so than Jim, without getting into romance terms either.

Now this scenario, playing a video game, would fit Viktor and Christophe perfectly and demonstrate a natural time for when to use Vitka. It could also fit in for when Yuuri and Viktor are watching a movie alone, etc.

Diminutive vs colloquial diminutives are highly interchangeable and it’s going to depend on the mood of your scene. If you use it, just make sure the two people are close friends and in a casual setting (ie at home, the park, what have you). Because it’s basically an even more intimate form of Vitya without getting into pet names, and a hardcore mode of Jim vs Jimmy. It’s also a much smaller step than going from Viktor to Vitya; it’s more of an acknowledgment of the stronger friendship.

Tread carefully with these! If two people aren’t that great of friends it can be seen as an insult, as belittling. So if Yuri is mad at Mila, he’s going to call her Milka. - This goes back to historical times when a person would refer to themselves to a superior by their colloquial diminutive - ie peasant Viktor will call himself Vitka when talking to the Tsar. But the same connotation wouldn’t carry over to peers - fellow peasant Christophe could call Viktor Vitka too and it would be alright, just a way of communicating their friendship. - Modern times are a bit different; Vitka is still seen as being lower. So even though it can communicate friendship, you should go easy with it and only use it in extremely casual situations. In other terms, you’re not going to call your friend “Jim-boy” just anywhere.

When in doubt, stick with the plain diminutive or upgrade to a pet name.

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level 3: affectionate diminutives / pet names

This level can get weird and confusing, ngl.

Pet names are reserved for really close friends, family, and lovers (and children like Yurio. children are referred to as their diminutives/pet names fairly often). That’s it!

It’s also worth nothing that teachers do not use these. They will use diminutives, but not colloquial diminutives or pet names with their students. This illustrates just how close Yakov and Yuri really are for Yakov to call him Yurochka.

Pet forms are pretty easy to recognize, I won’t get into that. I’m going to tell you all the other scary stuff.

This is the level where Yuuri probably shouldn’t expect an invitation to call Viktor Vitenka, unless Viktor is being Extra. But I think after the kiss, it should be pretty obvious that they’re at level 3. This is gonna vary by your fics: general rule of thumb, if they’re dating & know it, go for it. That’s not the hard part.

The hard part is knowing when to switch between diminutive/colloquial/pet form. That is all in the atmosphere of your fic. And while my general rule of thumb is to stick to one diminutive and one pet name for simplicity’s sake, the truth is Russians do use more than one pet name. Get rekt, right? Luckily pet forms are just for people the character is really close to such as spouses and family (ie both Nikolai Plisetsky and Yakov are going to call Yuri Yurochka). Otherwise, you should be avoiding these.

There’s a random string of exceptions to this last rule. While you generally should avoid pet forms unless they’re really close, they can be used on a friend’s birthday or when a character is doing something nice for a friend. For example, Viktor might call Yuri Yurochka on his birthday and then probably get murdered afterwards. Just use pet names carefully.

So should Yuuri be calling Viktor Vitenka all the time then? Nah, and I doubt Yuuri would feel comfortable with that (though Viktor might like it lol). Natives obviously have it down more but there’s some general patterns for when to use pet forms for a spouse:

Holidays (Valentine’s Day, lol), birthdays, when expressing their love, during great emotion in general (ie when Yakov calls Yuri by his pet name after he skates). Probably also for when a character really wants something from another (ie if Yuuri wanted Viktor to do something for him, he could switch to Viktor’s pet name), kind of like how Americans will say “Honey dearest, can you x for me?” to their spouses.

Now if you said something like, “Vasyusha, pass the salt.”, I’d probably question it. That’s where you should be saying just the diminutive or maybe colloquial diminutives. In fact, spouses/etc. tend to stick to the plain diminutive (ie Vitya) until given a reason otherwise like expressing love or great emotion (I can give further examples but I think Yakov and Yuri above sum it up well). It’s a very personal name is what I’m saying.

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vasyka for the love of ice just sum all that up

So to give some sort of pattern for us non-natives, this should be the general timeline for what Yuuri calls Viktor:

Viktor + Patronym: too formal and outdated for modern

Viktor: when they first meet onwards / if Yuuri is in a softcore fight with Viktor after they’ve reached Vitya level

Vitya: they’re friends & invites Yuuri to & usually from then onwards

Vitka: they’re in a very casual setting (ie alone)

Vitenka / Vityasha / etc.: they’re lovers & Yuuri feels like it’s the right time to call Viktor this

Viktor Nikiforov: they’re in a fight and Yuuri’s pulling out the big guns

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DIMINUTIVES

Here’s some Russian diminutives for Viktor, Yuri, and Yuuri (by popular demand). Please keep in mind that Vitya is canon and you should not go changing that out for another diminutive (which is why I’m not providing any others for Viktor). Since Yuri & Yuuri are phonetically close, some do use Russian diminutives for Yuri for Japanese Yuuri - personally I don’t see much wrong with that and Viktor Extra Nikiforov would probably do it anyway, so feel free to have Viktor call Yuuri any of the diminutives/pet forms below. Since not all of these diminutives are in common use, I’ve italicized the most common ones. These come from some Russian websites so if you want me to transliterate any other diminutives (ie for Mila) feel free to message me!

Viktor Pet Forms: Vitenka (Витенька), Vityusha (Витюша), Vityasha (Витяша), Vityacya (Витяся), Vityakha (Витяха), Vityosha (Витёша), Vityulya (Витюля), Vityunya (Витюня), Vityucya (Витюся), Vityukha (Витюха), Vishuta (Вишута), Viktorka (Викторка), Viktucya (Виктуся), Vitasha (Виташа), Vitunchik (Витунчик)

Yuri / Yuuri Russian, Diminutives: Yura (Юра), Yurik (Юрик), Yusha (Юша), Yurchik (Юрчик), Yurok (Юрок), Yuka (Юка), Yurka (Юрка), Yurets (Юрец) Pet Forms: Yurochka (Юрочка), Yuronka (Юронка), Yuranya (Юраня), Yuracya (Юрася), Yurakha (Юраха), Yurasha (Юраша), Yurchenya (Юрченя)

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but vasyusha, this made no sense / i have more questions / i have something to contribute to this post !!

Message me, my dude !!!  I’m open to answering more questions and I’ll do so to the best of my ability or at least hook you up with some resources. Don’t be afraid to ask me, my life is this language, I welcome questions!

Also!! Shout to to my two beta-readers, @nihonlove & @dokurochrome  for reading over this, asking questions and for clarification, and encouraging this post! You two are amazing <3

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (150/161)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Forty Nine

Travelling by Bifrost was not unlike time travelling -- maybe it was a little more dizzying. Tony stumbled when they arrived in Asgard, but Steve caught him deftly and Tony lingered leaning on him for a small moment before straightening up. They were in a huge dome like structure. A man in full armor stood by some sort of device raised up right in the middle of the dome and beyond him was the rainbow bridge. They had seen some of this in Thor’s memories through BARF but it was something else to see it in person. To see Heimdall in person because he was more impressive than seeing him through Thor’s memories.

“Woah,” Scott said, echoing everyone’s thoughts. Only Bruce, Thor, and Rocket seemed unaffected by how amazing the place was.

The man that had been by the device walked down. He was in golden armor that actually gleamed and his eyes shone. There was even a sword in his hands. He looked like something out of a fantasy epic.

“You are not from this time,” he said without preamble.

“We are not,” Thor said and it was so clear that he hadn’t been considering the emotional toll it would all take.

“Heimdall, we come from the future. We are here to take the Aether. The fate of the Universe depends on it,” Tony said, stepping forward.

“I believe Odin has ordered it taken to Taneleer Tivan,” Heimdall said.

“The Collector,” Rocket said in a half-whisper.

“Whose real name is Tanleer Tivan?” Clint asked and laughed.

Steve nudged him.

Thor seemed to have collected himself because nodded. “We’re aware. We want to take it before it leaves Asgard. The future is -- there is a threat and the Infinity Stones were collected and used. We are working to undo it.”

Heimdall’s eyes shone even brighter before he spoke again.

“The stone -- the Aether, it will be returned to the moment it is taken from,” Tony said quickly and Heimdall’s gaze landed on him. “For this to work the stones have to go where they were once we are finished using them. They have important roles to play.”

“You must be confident in your victory. If you suppose that you will be able to return the stones,” Heimdall said.

They all paused at that. None of them had considered the consequences of not prevailing. None of them wanted to think about not being able to bring everyone back.

“It will not be difficult to retrieve the stone,” Heimdall said. “I see you brought a replica. Switching it out will make things easier.”

Which seemed simple but very clearly wasn’t. Not only did Thor look nothing like the Thor from this time. The wig they’d gotten him didn’t really sit all that well on him and it didn’t match what Thor’s hair used to look like exactly but Heimdall had some sort of insight to that since he could apparently see everything -- or mostly everything.

“The Aether is currently in the throne room. Odin is waiting to pass it on to Sif and Volstagg who will take it to Tanaleer Tivan.”

Thor nodded and Tony could tell that he was wondering what they all were -- if it was Odin or Loki disguised as Odin that sat on the throne. But that really wasn’t their concern at the moment. It wasn’t why they were in the past.

“So we cause a distraction to get him out of the throne room,” Steve said.

“I could request he come here,” Heimdall offered.

Thor nodded. “Yes. That would work. And then I’ll sneak in and switch them and we’ll be on our way. Easy.”

Thor paused before they could leave the dome, but Tony motioned for the others to walk. Clint and Rocket went ahead and then Scott and Steve and Bruce. Tony looked back and saw Heindall with his hands on Thor’s shoulders. Thor’s head was bent. The moment didn’t last long and then Thor and Heimdall turned towards them.

“Not all of you should go,” Heimdall said.

Tony was not going to miss out seeing Asgard and Clint seemed to be of the same mind but Bruce and Scott hung back and when Tony looked at Steve smiled tightly at him.

“I’ll wait. You and Clint go with him. But we’ll come after you if you’re not back in twenty.”

“Okay,” Tony said.

Outside of the dome was the Bifrost bridge and it was amazing and like nothing that Tony had ever seen before. It went on for a while and it would have been easy to fall off of it, but Tony was mostly focused on how fluid and colorful it was. But as amazing as the bridge was, Asgard and the palace was impressive in a different way.

The thing about Asgard was that it was so obviously in space and yet there was enough structurally that made it seem like some sort of ancient city like Rome. But the palace itself was gold and huge and beautiful and futuristic.

“And somehow you wanted to stay with us on Earth,” Clint said, breaking the silence.

“I did not want to rule,” Thor said. Unlike Loki.

“Still,” Clint said.

“It’s gone now,” Thor said.

Thinking about it made Tony recall the illusion that Thanos had created to show Titan as it had been in its prime. Things didn’t last -- they were very rarely ephemeral. Even places. The walk to the palace proper wasn’t long -- or at least it didn’t feel long because there was so much to take in. And then they were inside and Tony had known what to expect but it was more spectacular than he’d expected. Thor had grown up here. It was often hard to remember that Thor wasn’t just a god -- he was also royalty. Not that any of it mattered anymore.

The inside of the palace was as impressive as the outside with huge halls and high ceilings and decorations that spoke of the opulence of Asgard as a kingdom. There were also a lot of Asgardians around so Thor found them a few robes to make it easier to blend in but Tony still thought that they stuck out a bit. More than a bit. A few of the people that did see them seemed to take a second look as they passed but no one said anything maybe because they saw Thor among them.

They made it into the throne room eventually and Tony didn’t know what to look at because the room was so grand.

It was as they approached the actual throne that someone else entered and they all froze. Clint reached for his arrows, but Thor stepped in front of them.

“Friends,” he said, arms open.

Tony recognized them, then. He’d seen them in the videos of Thor’s memories from BARF. These were Thor’s friends that were supposed to take the aether to The Collector.

“Back so soon,” one of them said, the one with the red hair and long beard. Had to be Volstagg.  

“Did something happen?” Sif asked.

“No. No. I -- I decided I would deliver the Aether myself before I remained in Midgard”

Thor’s friends had to be suspicious. Thor had two different colored eyes and hair that only nearly matched what it had been like back then. He wasn’t even really dressed like Thor.

“We can accompany you,” Sif offered.

“I--”

“We came with Thor to help him,” Tony said, stepping forward.

The two Asgardians looked to him and then Clint with some level of suspicion.

“Humans,” Volstagg said after a moment. “This is not a concern for you.”

“Like hell it is,” Clint said. “That thing just left destruction on our planet and we are here to make sure that doesn’t happen again. We’re The Avengers.”

Thor nodded and he stepped closer to Tony and Clint. “Yes. These are my friends and teammates from Midgard. We’ll take care of the aether. I’ve already spoken to my father.”

They still looked suspicious but they didn’t seem keen to argue or fight and so Thor strode towards the throne and the box that was sitting on one of the steps leading up to it. He brought it back over and handed it to Tony who opened it and sure enough inside was a glass vial with the aether.

“We need to be on our way,” Thor said.

His friends each hugged him and Tony met Clint’s eyes. Thor seemed to be fighting to not hold on to them for longer. They were gone in the future -- not even due to the snap. Thor’s sister had killed them.

“Come on, big guy,” Clint said as they walked away from them, this time taking a more direct route.

Tony took more of the palace in as they walked and he had to stop when Clint glasped and pointed at the ceiling.

“Doesn’t tell the real story, apparently,” Thor said, eyes looking up at what had been painted above them.

Even if it was a lie, it was a beautiful lie and it had been either made by magic or hand painted. The royal family of Asgard and the palace itself and other details but each drawn and painted beautifully. The only thing that Tony could compare it to was Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel.  

They walked back out and to the bridge quickly enough, taking some sort of transport to get them onto the bridge faster. It was when they arrived on the bridge that they saw Odin. Or Loki. They still couldn’t be sure.

They stayed out of the way and out of sight, but as Odin drew near, Thor stepped out into Odin’s path. Odin looked like Thor but older with grey hair, dramatic robes, and a missing eye.

“Father,” Thor said.

Odin stopped. Surprised. “Ah. My son, I thought you’d gone already. Back to Midgard and…” Odin trailed off, staring at Thor. “You look--”

“Loki?”

“Your brother is dead. You told me so, Thor, what is--”

Thor shook his head. “Loki, I know it’s you. I know what you did with father.”

“And you’re not the Thor that went back to Midgard,” Odin/Loki said and in a flash it was Loki standing in front of Thor and not Odin.

Thor shook his head. “I am not, brother. It is good to see you.”

“Good to--”

“Do well by our people, brother. And maybe check up on our father every once in a while.”

“Your father,” Loki said.

“Our,” Thor returned. “I will return one day. I won’t be happy with what you’ve done.”

Loki laughed, cackling, and then he changed back into Odin and was on his way. “When are you ever?” he called back before he walked away.

When Thor returned to them, he looked a little lighter.

“I had to--”

“I know,” Tony said. “He was your brother.”

Loki may had straddled that line between good and evil -- or he was just in it for the mischief and the trickery -- but he was still Thor’s family.

They made it across the bridge in just a few minutes and rejoined the others.

“Got it,” Clint said and held up the box.

“I guess it’s time we go,” Thor said.

He looked back out at Asgard and Steve and Bruce walked over to join him.

“He’s gone through much more than I could ever foresee,” Heimdall said.

“Yes,” Tony said.

“Open the bifrost,” Thor said.

“You got what you wanted,” Heimdall said and then stared at Thor for a long while. He placed a hand on Thor’s shoulder. “You have gone through a lot, I can see that. But things must pass as they need to.”

Thor nodded and didn’t say much else as Heimdall opened the Bifrost to send them back to Earth.

---

Shuri reminded Peter a little bit of MJ and a little bit of Ned, but she was still very much her own person. She was kind of brilliant too. He’d shown her his suit at her insistence. After wandering around the great orange vastness with it on for a while, Peter had taken off the suit. It was just more comfortable to walk around in his own clothes. But he’d kept the suit close.

“I thought it’d be more like the Iron Man armor,” Shuri admitted, “but this is different. I like it. But it’s still protection and I assume it works with your powers.”

They spend a long time discussing his suit, but Shuri was rather impressed with the web shooters and the web fluid.

“This is impressive. I’d love to experiment with it if we ever get the chance.”

“We will get out of here,” Peter said. He liked to stay optimistic.

Bucky seemed to get along really well with Shuri and T’Challa as well and Peter was reminded that Bucky had been living in Wakanda for a while now. He asked Shuri about how she’d managed to fix the brainwashing and Peter couldn’t pretend to understand everything, but he could follow some of it.

“I’m going to need to visit your lab,” Peter said.

Shuri laughed. “Yes, you will. I’d love to see your father in person again. I’m extending an invitation personally.”

During the few moments when Shuri reminded Peter of MJ, he thought about how much MJ would love Shuri. Ned would love her too, for that matter. He’d be sure to introduce them if he could.

-

Chapter One Hundred Fifty One

[kingotabek]

do you have any fic recs?

EBuckle up. This is only took me three weeks to formulate an answer for okay because I read SO MANY FICS (like not kidding sometimes upwards of ten or twelve a day) and this ask is MAKING ME PICK????

I’ll put them in neat little ship categories too, so I don’t look like a completely uncultured reader.

**** = My faves. 

 I’ll designate my fics too, because why not shamelessly promote myself while I’m here. 

Victor/Yuuri (Victuuri):

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too [T, 1.6k] by shingeki_no_llama  | Victor Nikiforov thinks he knows just who has their thoughts scrawled so carelessly on the back of his hand. He can only pray he is right.———Soulmate AU where the thoughts of your soulmate inscribe themselves on your skin in a temporary ever-changing tattoo

Viktor!!! on Ice {E. 2.3k} by timelordofrassilon | Yuuri sent a prayer of thanks to the gods for whoever invented ice cubes. He stood in the onsen, body hot and steaming from the water at his waist, while Viktor’s cold tongue slid up the curve of his neck.————————–Fluffy, in-character onsen sex that is also 100% raunchy ice skater porn. They confess their fantasies. There are ice cubes. Yuuri talks about his body pillow.

****Unwritten {T, 34k} by kaizuka | Soulmates AU where whatever you write on your own skin appears on your soulmate, but when there is a language barrier, meeting becomes just a little more difficult than it should be.

hold me hard and mellow {M, 3k} by YuuriVityaNyan (NarryEm) |Training with Viktor is … hard.  In more ways than one.It doesn’t take long for Yuuri to realise that if Viktor is going to coach him, there are few things that he has to work out first.  One of which is his not so little crush on the Russian skater.  And, of course, he has to figure out how the heck he is going to skate to ‘eros’ for the skate-off.

****************Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches  {E, 197k} by Reiya   | ‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’A single event changes the course of Yuuri’s life, throwing him into a bitter rivalry with Viktor Nikiforov that spans across his entire skating career. But as the years go on, rivalry and hatred begin to develop into something very different and Yuuri doesn’t seem to be able to stay away, no matter how hard he tries.Hatred and love are two sides of the same coin and even though everything changes, some things are still meant to be.

all the world’s a stage {E, 112k} by braveten | Everyone has a guilty pleasure.For Yuuri, it just happens to be romance movies starring famous heartthrob Victor Nikiforov.(And, honestly, on the spectrum of guilty pleasures, he figures that his is on the far, far more innocent side.)

****Even if I Tried {T, 6k} by deathbycoldopen | He took his place next to Viktor in the kiss and cry, floating like ash over the wreckage of the fire. He took the water bottle Viktor offered with a murmured thank you, and stared out at the ice. Distantly, he couldn’t quite believe that the surface was still frozen.“Did it really feel that good?”His eyes flickered over to Viktor, then back to the ice. There was a different kind of heat invading his cheeks now, all too familiar and unwelcome. “Um,” he said quietly. “Mostly I just wanted people to feel good watching it.”Lie. He’d only thought of one person. The man who’d regularly had underwear thrown onto the ice along with the flowers, the man who’d had four scandalous and highly publicized affairs with models and other skaters before the age of twenty, the man that Yuuri couldn’t hope to keep but desperately wanted to.

My Victuuri Fics:

Like The Ache Of Life {T, 1k} | Victor lives a life of aching limbs, high spins, and blades against ice.He’s trapped.——–Or that one fic that’s not as angsty as the description makes it sound, and where two boys fall in love.

Otabek/Yuri (Otayuri):

Sonata in A Major {T, 8k} by Lumieres | Yuri is like a meteorite, caught in his atmosphere. If he doesn’t take care of him, he’ll completely burn up, and there won’t be anything left for him to salvage.(Or: Three times, Yuri and Otabek kiss, only to never speak about it again.)

****Teach Me Just What Fast Is {E, 3k} by Zee |  “You don’t like it when other people tell you what to do,” Otabek said, “but you accept it from me. Why is that?”Yuri likes it when Otabek bosses him around, and Otabek calls him on it.

How Long You Walked For (til you got lost tonight) {T, 3k} by LiviKate | “Stop apologizing,” Yuri snapped at him. “You told me you loved me, and now you’re just thanking me and apologizing. It’s weird.”Or, in which Otabek falls in love and doesn’t notice when Yuri does, too.

*****fingers crossed my obsession with you is tameable {E, 5k} by seaworn | “I think I didn’t quite grasp it. Show me again?” Yuri asked breathlessly.Otabek bit his lower lip, eyes lighting up in joy.“Alright.”**Yuri and Otabek meet on New Year’s Eve.

**********  From Almaty, With Love {E, 71k} by BoxWineConfessions ( @boxwineconfession ) | It’s quiet here. Even if the car alarm on the neighbor’s goddamn BMW has been going off for the past twenty minutes. Quiet, even though the alarm’s got the neighbor’s dog howling like crazy, and the neighbor works second shift and isn’t there to comfort the dumb dog.It’s quiet…They haven’t spoken to each other since that morning, when Yuri went off to go see his tutor, and Otabek went off to do whatever the hell it was he did in the mornings before he hit the rink.“You’re used to the noise?”“Yeah, but…I think I like the quiet too.”Or: Yuri spends the summer with Otabek in Almaty. (this one is my fave I WOULD DIE FOR IT and im not at all biased. Just check out the author’s profile and read all the fics there okay? Okay.) 

****Endurance and Peach Tea {G, 11k} by chapstickaddict | Yuri hummed. His body didn’t uncurl, but instead of pressing his face into the fold of his legs, he rested it on his crossed forearms. Tilting his face towards Otabek, he looked for the bronze metal. The colorful ribbon snuck into the folds of his jacket, hiding his prize from view. Yuri reached out, and Otabek let him pull the ribbon to bring the metal into the light.It was beautiful. Heavy and ornate, with the front masterfully detailed. The perfect symbol of success. Yuri flipped it over, admiring Otabek’s name carved along the back.Wait.“Did they spell your name wrong?” he demanded, straightening. Otabek made a noise beside him.

****Yours, Mine, Ours {T, 5k} by aphhun   | Otabek blinked himself back into the conversation and turned towards Viktor. Without thinking, against what he tried his hardest to keep from happening, he inquired-“Your Yuuri’s, or my Yuri’s?”-In which Otabek has always been careful not to use Viktor’s “My Yuuri/Your Yuri” reference system but indulges in the habit on Live television, and Yuri has a damn heart attack.

Permanently {T, 14k} by HugsandButterflyKisses | What’s with you assholeOtabek sat stunned before looking at it again. That couldn’t be right. His soulmate wasn’t going to say that the first time they met.Otabek looked once again.What’s with you asshole was neatly printed on his left thigh.orThe soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed on your skin. Otabek can’t wait to get his but the mark is not what he expected. Neither is his soulmate.

************Shutter-Release {M, 7k} by kaijoskopycat | Otabek Altin has been a fashion photographer for longer than he cares to think about and he’s never been as moved by a model as he is when he meets Yuri Plisetsky, one of the most unconventional personalities for a top model out there. (all i can say is HOT DAMN)

My Otayuri Fics: 

Raincheck {T, 1k} | “You’ll be better before I leave.” Otabek hums; tracing the patterns of his upcoming routine on Yuri’s thighs.Yuri meets his eyes. “And if I’m not?”“Then I’ll just take a raincheck.”——–Or that fic where Yuri is sick and Otabek is simply the best.

A Journey To Love {Not Yet Rated, WIP, Currently 6k+, 2/10 chapters} | For Otabek and Yuri, love is a journey.—Or, ninety-nine scenes of them falling in love and one where they finally say it. (WIP)

An Errant Spark {E, WIP, 14k+ Currently} | The future, convoluted and ever-changing as it is, doesn’t come to Yuri easily. ——- Or that Hero/Fair AU will all kinds of other things thrown in. (WIP)

With Us Went The Sun {T, 1.5k} | It’s one forty-five in the morning and the sky is bright. Not with stars or the lights of buildings rising through the night, but bright like day. Lit with shades of pale yellow like some old forgotten painting; phosphorescent as it burns, and blinding.Otabek forces his stinging eyes away, and looks to Yuri. (Warning: ANGST)

Someday, In This Morning Light {G, .6k} | This life is filled with simple beauty, and Otabek relishes silent moments such as this one, where he can do no more than observe and collect memories. (Drabble)

Hear Me Roar {Explicit, 13k+} | Yuri can’t remember when it started; has no idea when the first instance of Otabek’s control over him was displayed. But somewhere over their three years of friendship, Yuri realized that not only does he listen to Otabek, he enjoys  it. (A Six Part Series)

Phichit/Seung-Gil (SeungChuChu):

Bite Me {T, 3k} by EttaMills |  Phichit Chulanont looks so innocent. Who knew, underneath, was a sharp-tooth predator who is very protective of his friends? Feature Seung Gil’s first date and him not knowing how to act around this ball of sunshine and Yuuri and Phichit being adorably supportive of each other.

take a picture (it’ll last longer) {T, 4k} by aozu | Phichit takes a lot of photos.And by a lot, Seung-gil means a fuck ton.

That’s all for now folks. :)

[shortiegardengnome]

Date Night - Part Two - Phil Lester

Part 2 of Date Night Fic.

Warnings: None.

Phil and I had gotten closer since that day and had been acting completely smitten much to Dan’s dismay who took pleasure in making fake gagging noises every time he walked into the room to find us being affectionate with each other. Despite being completely comfortable in our new roles as people who have feelings for each other we still hadn’t been on the date that Phil had asked me on until finally we made plans to go see a movie and have dinner. I agreed feeling butterflies erupt in my stomach at the thought of going on a proper date with Phil Lester; the guy who I had a crush on for a long time now. What was I going to wear? How the hell would I do my hair and make-up? I know that he has seen me on my bad days where I look like I just rolled around on the ground for a little bit before seeing him but that was before I knew he had feelings for me. Not that it changed much but it meant that I wanted to look really nice for our night out. So I pulled out a lot of stops for this night, donning my favorite green dress which made my boobs look really good with my black leather jacket and a pair of black pumps. I looked admittedly amazing outfit wise, make-up and hair wise I decided to go simple, making sure to only emphasize my eyes slightly with silver eye shadow. My hair was out in loose curls which sat nicely around my face. I was ready for my date physically at least; mentally was another story altogether. Mentally, I was a mess of nerves showing itself in the trembling in my hands and my palms being sweaty.  Dear lord I wanted tonight to go down well.

 A knock sounded at the door startling me out of me deep concentration. I looked up at the time to see that it had already reached 5:30pm which was when Phil said to expect him. Looks like he was on time for once; I’m going to go ahead and take that as a good sign that he was as excited as I was. Giving myself one last look over in the mirror to make sure that everything was in place, I grabbed my purse and headed towards the front door, all the while reminding myself to breathe and that it was ‘just Phil’ though that proved to be a considerable problem and Phil was never a ‘just’ never to me, he was always this extraordinary person of light and happiness, a literal ray of sunshine as Dan would put it. Probably the only person who had the same amount of appreciation for Phil, though probably not quite in the same manner of affection.

 I opened the door in an attempt t a breezy fashion and smiled brightly when I saw Phil waiting on my doorstep for me. He was wearing his practically trademark black skinny jeans and his red button up shirt with white hearts scattered on it, which was my favorite shirt on him. Even though in this context it was completely cheesy. Phil looked up from his phone and I felt his eyes run up and down my outfit before he beamed at me. “Hey, you look beautiful,” Phil reached out with a pro-offered hand and I took it delicately, letting Phil take me out of the door and closing it behind me. Phil pulled me closer to his side and intertwined our fingers and nudging my side. “Ready to go?” Phil smiled down at me and I nodded; a tiny bit nervous about this whole endeavor.

 “What exactly did you have planned for tonight anyway?” Phil had asked me when we decided to go out that I let him plan what we’d be doing, so I basically had no idea what we were doing tonight.

 Phil winked at me and said with a confidence that I hadn’t seen in a while “First I think that we could go for some dinner? How does Chinese sound?” I grinned at his hopeful expression, Chinese was my absolutely favorite food to have, quite possibly the best guilty pleasure on the planet, and Phil knew it too.

 “Have I ever once in the time you’ve known me said ‘no’ to Chinese?” Phil shook his head as we kept walking towards the restaurant where Phil had made a reservation. “Then you know I’m always happy with Chinese.” Our hands swung back and forth between us playfully.

 Phil took me to my favorite Chinese Restaurant in London and we were escorted to a table for two with a partition separating us from the rest of the restaurant for a little bit of privacy. Phil held out my chair and I smiled at his act of chivalry and he kissed my check before sitting down in his own seat opposite mine. A waitress was with us within seconds.

 A blonde girl, who looked about 17 years old with a cheery demeanor that could compete with Phil himself probably. She has beautiful grey-green eyes and her hair up in a pony tail curling at the end. With a dimple in her right cheek and a smile before asking us if there was anything that she could get us at the moment. We both looked at each other before scrambling to pick up our menus; I quickly order my usual favorites with a look at Phil to make sure that everything was okay. He nodded and with a look at his won menu ordered his own food. When our menus were taken away by little miss sunshine. Phil and I didn’t have anything else distracting us; I felt admittedly a little awkward but taking a moment I leaned forward and started talking to Phil.

 “So how was Vid-con with Dan?” I leaned forward to hear him properly because despite the partition there was a layer of general hum throughout the restaurant which made it just that little bit harder to hear Phil without him raising his voice to a near shout or me leaning forward, so I decided to take the easier route and lean towards him.

 “Vid-con was great,” Phil beamed and he then told me all about his adventures in America with Dan; about how he met up with other Youtubers, went on a trip with Cat to an amusement park, the panels he spoke at, the fans he got to meet and all the presents he received from them. I had to admit his fan had excellent taste in shirts. It was all really amazing how he got to travel and do all of these things, whilst still doing a job that genuinely made him happy and enabled him to live with his best friend.

 He asked me what happened to me since he went to England but as a journalist who writes the advice column there wasn’t much that could happen to me in about a fortnight; still I endeavored and told him all about the letters I answered in the most recent edition and how I was considering maybe writing my own novel when I had the time (which would hopefully be soon). When Phil heard that his entire demeanor brightened.

 “Y/N that’s amazing! You’re going to be a great author!” Phil knew that as long as I can remember I wanted to be a writer so that I was actually pursuing publishing of my own novel was a huge leap of faith for me, I had always done practice pieces, but none that I was entirely happy with so I never did anything with them except keep them on my computer for a later day. For me to consciously set out to write something that was going to –hopefully – be published one day, was kind of terrifying but I knew if my doubts got too over-whelming that I could trust Phil to bring me back to my faith in myself. Judging by the look of absolute support beaming from Phil at the current moment I knew this to be true. “Do you know what you’re going to write about?” Phil leaned in towards me in excitement rather than because of the hum of noise surrounding us in our bubble.

 “I’m not a 100% sure yet; I’ve got a few ideas banging around in my head, it’s just about picking one of them.” I bit my lip realizing that I actually had to pick one of the many ideas I actually really liked at the moment, they varied in all kinds of genres… horror, contemporary, fantasy and supernatural; but I didn’t know which one I liked the most, or rather which one I thought would be good to write as a first novel. “But maybe I can tell you my ideas and you can help me?” my voice tilted up towards the end in a question, unsure if Phil actually would.

 “Yeah of course!” Phil exclaimed happily as our food was placed in front of us. Conversation slowed down to quiet murmurs about the food and little other things. The food was amazing as usual and I had to show Phil how could it actually was and it seemed that Phil agreed as we both ended up feeding each other our meals and eating the other half for ourselves. There was a point where we just looked at each other and broke into giggles at how ridiculous we looked feeding each other like toddlers. Phil leaned forwards and kissed the corner of my mouth to catch some food and I felt warmth flood into my cheeks. I held Phil’s hand across the table and ran my thumb over the back of it, back and forth.

we finished our meals still feeding each other like people completely infatuated with each other. Later when we had finished our food we collected our check, had a quick wrestle over who would pay the check and then went to get dessert. We walked the streets of London, Phil leading the way as I still had no idea where we’re going. But eventually we came to Phil’s favorite ice-cream shop and we both ordered cones, I personally went for mint chocolate chip and Phil had chocolate swirl. We sat together on the supplied tables and chairs and had our ice-cream until Phil decided to dip his finger in ice-cream and wipe in on my cheeky with an impish grin. This naturally started an all out war between us two, to the point where we were both sticky, covered in ice-cream and in tears from laughing so hard.

 “Truce! TRUCE!” I called out waving my hands frantically. Phil was rocking back in his seat giggling and nodded his compliance and we finished our ice-creams… well, what was left of them. After that Phil and I walked home after an amazing night out, I was completely content, I felt like I never wanted this night to end, but sadly it had to come to a close; I sadly came to this conclusion when we both came to my front door. I turned to say goodnight to Phil and thank him for the great night but was stopped by his lips on mine. It took me a second to register what was happening but I quickly got over that and kissed him back, stretching up to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in closer to me. His arms cam to rest on my waist and we pulled apart grinning. “Goodnight Y/N.” Phil kissed me one last time before pulling away.

 “Goodnight Phil,” I said and he walked back home and I went upstairs to go to bed.

And that concludes my first date with Phil.

[deliverydefresas]

i got a taste of love in a simple way

AAAH, I KNOW IM LATE AND IM SO SORRY. 

Life as a sister-mom is quite difficult, you know? it’s been busy busy busy! and i’ve also had some bad days but,,,, i’m here and day four is queued for later today, alright? it’s double fic day (maybe tripple if i can finish day five in time but i doubt it tbh) and i hope you enjoy! 

Not even close to be proofread but i do wanna thank my fave cupcake @ac-ars for supporting this when i doubted xD

(there’s a little loophole here that will be answered in day 7, the continuation of this date) 

DAY THREE: “When i was told i was going to a blind date, i never thought it’d be you”

“So, what you’re saying is that you set me up with someone who a) you’ve never even met, and b) could be the evil incarnated?”

Simón couldn’t believe his friends. He’d heard (and been part) of many stupid ideas the past five years they’ve been a band, but this was just pure insanity from then. Who even cared if he had a date for the charity-thingy their record label was throwing, anyway? Absolutely no-one.

Except his so-called-friends.  

“Hey, hey, hey. I never said she was the evil incarnated, okay?” Pedro tried to calm him down, turning away from the eggs he was frying on the stove for a minute, “Delfi’s friend is complicated. Maybe a little mean and full of herself, but not evil.”

Simón was having none of it, “if I wanted to go with someone complicated, I would have asked Daniela to go with me.”

“Now, she is the evil incarnated,” Nico, who was seating beside him, butted in, his mouth half-full from the toast Pedro had made for them; Simón flipped him off for that, “what? I’m just vocalizing what everyone was thinking.” The blond defended himself, taking another bite of the toast, not really caring about the topic at hand.

“I could have asked Luna or Yam, maybe even Nina,” he told them, still frustrated with the situation. “You didn’t have to set me up with a stranger.”

“You’re talking as if I had chosen a girl from the street and asked her to go with you,” the drummer turned the stove off and went to sit with them, eggs and toast on his plate, “Delfi knows her, and I trust her judgment.”

“Are we talking about the same girl who lied about being another person to be with Gastón?” now it was Pedro’s turn to flip Nico off. He waved him off, and turned to their guitarist, “Luna and Yam are on their mid-terms, they couldn’t come. And the event does require for you to skate for at least an hour; would you really torture Nina that way?”

They all knew the answer to that.

“I still don’t think this was a good idea.”

Pedro gulped down his bite before shrugging, “it’s only for a couple of hours, and who knows? Maybe you two hit it off and end up liking each other.”

They were quiet for a couple of minutes, each one of them too focused on eating before the rehearsals for their incoming tour started, before Simón finally accepted defeat.

“I hate you both, root in hell.”

He threw them a piece of bread on their heads, missing epically on hitting them, making his friends laugh at his childish antics.

Fast forward to a couple of days, he was still not in for it. If this charity event weren’t so important to him and the hundreds of kids who he’d be helping get an education he’d cancel in a heartbeat.

But now, with less than an hour until he left with Pedro to get the girls, he just couldn’t back off and be a coward. He’d spent the last ten minutes trying to get rid of the nerves by face-timing his best friend since their diaper days, but she was having none of his sentiments on the subject.

“You’re being very dramatic about this, Simón,” she said, trying to hold in her laughter when she saw him angrily combing his hair.

“Whose side are you on, dude?” he asked, dropping his comb on the bed; not looking back where it’d fell when a thud resonated on his room.

“Yours, of course,” Luna rolled her eyes, “which is why I’m telling you to go with an open mind and have fun.”

Simón recognized the change in her voice almost immediately. “You know something I don’t.” He stared at the face displayed on his tablet, searching for something to confirm what he already knew.

She smiled sheepishly, “I was the one who convinced Pedro to set you guys up,” when she saw his expression hardening, she was quick to explain, “I’ve met her before, Simón. She’s not bad, and I’m 1,000,000% sure you’ll like her; I would have never supported Delfi on this if I wasn’t.”

He was quiet for a minute. A part of him wanted to be mad, but he couldn’t really stay angry for long with anyone, much less his best friend. She knew him better than anyone else, and if she said it’d be okay, he’d trust her word.

“Fine,” Simón sighed, “who is she anyway? Where did you meet her?”

Luna froze for a second. He wasn’t sure if it was his connection failing on him, or her own body freezing in shock, “I, uh, went to school with her.” Her voice got a hint of nervousness, and Simón got suspicious. Luna didn’t lie to him, ever, so he was sure she was twisting the truth.

“What’s her name, again? None of you’ve told me.” He could see her struggling to find an answer.

“Uh, what was that? I, uh, can’t hear you anymore. And, um, Matteo is calling me so, bye?” The screen turning black let him know she’d hung up on him. Hung up.

Simón was about to call her again to ask for an explanation when someone knocked on his bedroom’s door. Pedro came in, cellphone in hand, and said, “the girls are ready, we’re leaving in five; hurry up, champ.”

His bandmate left before he could ask for the girl’s name.

The whole ride to Delfi’s was spent with Pedro singing as loudly as he could so Simón wouldn’t be able to question him.  

He’d turn up the volume all the way until his eardrums were vibrating, turning it down a little when his head started aching. Simón tried to gain his attention multiple times, on red lights and when a song ended and before another started, but Pedro always seemed to figure out what he was planning and changed the subject; saying stuff like “this is my favorite song!” four times in a row.

When they finally parked outside of Delfi’s building; his friend tried to sneak away as fast as possible, running to the entrance and to elevator, shouting a quick hello to the caretaker of the building.

“Does this idiot not know I don’t know where his girlfriend lives?” weren’t he so confused, he’d be amused at the way Pedro made everything seem ridiculous. The caretaker stood up from his seat by the counter, and smiled at him.

“Mr. Arias does the same thing every time, sir.” He confined, writing on the visitors’ book Pedro’s name, “I think miss Delfina gets annoyed when he’s late.”

Simón had to smile back, “he’s just whipped, mister,” he read the tag on the man’s chest, “Lozano.”

“Love is a funny thing, son.” The old man’s smile got bigger, “it brings out emotions you didn’t know you had, and makes you do stuff you were sure you’d never do.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He loved multiple people in his life, had been sure he was in love with Luna and Daniela at some point, only to find out later he wasn’t at all.

Growing up he’d fantasize about finding his one true love. Someone who’d make him smile at the mere thought of her face, of long nights on the phone and conversations who’d never bore him. As time passed he realized those were fantasies only, and loving someone not always meant being in love with them.

At this part in his life, he still dreamt of love (because he was the sappiest bastard ever) but he now knew searching for it was just pointless. Love finding you in the less expected times and all.

The sound of the elevator arriving the ground floor distracted him. Out came a couple of people he didn’t know first, followed by Pedro and Delfi holding hands. His friend looked embarrassed when he saw him waiting alone in the lobby, the bag with Delfi’s skates hanging loosely on his shoulder; his girl reprimanded him for leaving him behind.

“Sorry, man.” Pedro apologized as soon as he was in front of him, palming him back lightly. Delfi shook her head, still surprised her boyfriend had ditched him in the lobby.

He shrugged his apology off, before finally looking behind the couple to see his oh, so secret blind date. He was stunned when he recognized the prettiest blue eyes and wavy blonde hair.

Standing there was Ámbar Smith, Luna’s aunt’s goddaughter and the girl he’d crushed the biggest in his life.

Memories of both at the mansion that used to be Luna’s home came to his mind. They hadn’t liked each other at first, her being too closed and unreachable for him to get know her better; and he “too goody two shoes” to be considered cool for her. Then, somehow, they were alone and she wasn’t as unreachable, and he wasn’t lame, and they were just what the other needed.

That was the day he knew he’d been crushing on her for months without knowing.

But that was also the last time he’d seen her. Until tonight.  

“Ámbar.” Her name came out breathless, too shocked to speak properly. Her lips curved the slightest bit at this.

“I see you remember me,” her voice had changed. A little more mature, less full of herself and no trace of superiority.

He didn’t notice when Pedro and Delfi had gotten out of his way until he started walking towards her, “that’s impossible, you know it.”

Ámbar flipped her hair, and he was surprised to see she’d grown it out a couple of centimeters below her shoulders. “Always the charmer, Simón Álvarez.”  

“I never thought it’d be you,” he said more to himself than to her, scanning her face; trying to convince his brain he wasn’t dreaming, “when I was told I was going to a blind date, I never thought it’d be you. Not after all these years.”

Her frown told him he’d say something wrong, “are you disappointed?” the question threw him off, and his tardiness to deny it made her tense, “I only agreed because Luna wouldn’t shut up. You can blame her for this.”

Simón blinked a couple of times when he heard her. Of course.

Luna knew he had the biggest crush on Ámbar the moment he saw him mopping the days that followed her departure. She knew she’d gotten back in town, saw the opportunity and set him up with her. Her words resonated in his mind; “I’m sure you’ll like her.”

“No,” he denied, looking straight into her eyes, “I got to thank her, because I’m not disappointed at all.”

The weight of his look made her fidgety, not sure how to respond to his words. Delfi called for them, hurrying them to get to the car or they all would be late.

Ámbar cleared her throat, straightening her spine to get rid of the nervousness. Simón took the bag with her skates gently from her, and offered his arm to her.

“Shall we?”  

[lavenderprose]

Fic: Those Bright-Eyed Boys

Title: Those Bright-Eyed Boys Author(s): Lavenderprose Rating: T Summary: Yuuri has no idea how he came to be surrounded by so many different kinds of love.

Notes: Written for Victuuri week Day #1, with the Yuuri prompt: Confessions. Will be cross-posted to AO3 at some point, but not right now because I’m barely getting this in before the day is over and mama needs to slEEP.

Just so y’all know, there’s some past Chuchuyuu (Yuuri/Phichit) in this, but it’s mostly just them being incredibly loving and supporting friends and Yuuri being very deeply an happily in love with his fiance, Viktor Nikiforov.

So, Yuuri's alcohol tolerance is…pretty good. Like, there are several Russians in this club right now and he's keeping up with them pretty well. Is that a stereotype? He isn't sure, but they aren't so different—these people learned to drink on spirits, same as Yuuri did. He and Phichit ran bad, bad vodka through a Brita filter and put it in water bottles and carried them in coat pockets to parties where they mixed it with punch, orange juice, coconut Margarita mix—anything cloyingly sweet that would mask the taste. Something that wouldn't taste horrible if it came back out the same way it went in. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out where their limits laid, and sometimes Yuuri still fucks up. Getting wine drunk at the 2015 banquet is still at the tippy top of his list of Worst things I've ever done, literally, ever. He was hungover for three days and spent most of the flight home wrapped around the airplane toilet to the point where a man who Yuuri is pretty sure was an air marshal asked him where his parents were.

Because Yuuri didn't and still doesn't look twenty-four. The same ageless quality is the reason Phichit started wearing eyeliner.

But yeah. Yuuri Katsuki? Pretty accomplished drinker. Not exactly something he'd tell his parents or the Japanese press, but not exactly something he's ashamed  of either.

So when he shouts, "I'm not drunk!" in Viktor's ear as they're dancing, Viktor laughs and probably doesn't believe him, but Yuuri is telling the truth.

"Look, okay—so, okay—my twenty-first birthday, Phichit and I got, like…oh boy, tequila? And there was a worm in it. I'm not even kidding, it was a real worm—"

"Mexican Town is a wild fucking place," Phichit says, appearing suddenly at Yuuri's back. This club is playing mostly American pop music for some reason, so with Phichit there it feels almost exactly like old times. The song is periodically telling everyone to make their hands clap.

"Phichit, tell Viktor I'm not drunk," Yuuri says to his friend, leaning back against him and turning his head to yell against Phichit's face. Phichit is familiar and soft and smells like the apartment Yuuri moved out of over a year ago. Viktor is kind and laughing and there is a look on his face like the first time he saw Yuuri do Eros.

"Yuuri still has his shirt on," Phichit tells Viktor, now essentially wrapped about Yuuri like some sort of large and friendly snake. "So he's not drunk. You don't know what drunk looks like until you've seen Yuuri after eating a tequila worm."

"We split it," Yuuri insists, tugging on Viktor's shirt until he's pressing against his front, still laughing. Yuuri laughs with him because he's so happy. He just won silver at the Grand Prix Final, he's engaged to Viktor Nikiforov (Who's beautiful and amazingly kind and very good to him and also: the love of Yuuri's life) and his very best friend in the whole wide world was here to see all of it happen. "I only had half. I was drunk for two days."

"I saw God," Phichit adds, and then screams because the song has changed and it's one of those songs that Yuuri will forever associate with half-remembered nights in the basement of a club on Michigan Avenue, riding home slumped across Phichit's lap with slim fingers combing his hair back and giggling, the smell of forty degrees in Michigan in February. "Yuuri! This is our song! Viktor, this is mine and Yuuri's song! This was the first American song I heard!"

"I'll let you have him for it, then," Viktor says. "I'm going to get some water." He looks so happy. Yuuri can't deal with it. He kisses him, his fiancé, and then twirls around into Phichit, who laughs and wraps his arms around him and swings him around. Their hair is still slicked back from the free skate earlier. Phichit is sort of unbearably handsome with his hair combed back that way, his kind and expressive eyes with a fine outline of his usual black liner.

"I'm so happy for you," Phichit gushes, tilting him backwards. "You're engaged! You're going to be married, Yuuri!" He says something in Thai that is probably congratulatory.

"I know," Yuuri laughs. Phichit straightens him back up and they spin. Dancing with Phichit feels familiar, and good, and nice after all of the (Wonderful, frightening, sublime) excitement and strangeness of the last few weeks. If Viktor's fresh perspective and new love is the compass Yuuri needs to find within himself a better and happier person, then Phichit's comfort and reassurance is the path that Yuuri will follow towards it.

As the song ends, Yuuri kisses Phichit, smiling against his lips. It's something he's done hundreds of times. Phichit smiles back at him when he pulls away.

"I love you," Yuuri tells him, wondering if a simple three words can convey the depth of feeling he has for his best friend.

"I love you too," Phichit tells him, eyes kind and soft. "And I'm…so glad that you finally found someone who can love you the way you want to be loved. I want you to be so happy, Yuuri."

The sting of happy tears builds up behind Yuuri's eyes and in his throat. Thickly, he says, "I am happy. I don't think I've ever been this happy."

"Good," Phichit says, wrapping his arms tight around Yuuri's shoulders.

They pull away when the jostling of the crowd grows too violent, and by unspoken agreement Yuuri trips his way towards where Viktor disappeared to while Phichit spins back into the crowd, engulfed in moments. Yuuri finds Viktor on a barstool slightly removed from the dancefloor and somehow, probably because the floors of this place are their own special hazard, crashes between his spread knees. Viktor bursts out laughing and catches him by the fabric over his shoulder.

"Here, darling, drink this," Viktor says, handing him a large and full glass of water. There is another glass, half-full, by his elbow.

Yuuri takes the glass and downs half of it in one go, not realizing how parched he was until the cool water hit the back of his throat. Viktor stops him from drinking too much of it at once, taking his wrist in hand and gently maneuvering the glass back onto the bar and Yuuri to lean against his chest.

"Really, I swear, I'm not drunk," Yuuri mumbles against his shoulder. Viktor's hand is big and warm on his back, reassuring. "The universe is just conspiring to make you think I am." He turns his face into Viktor's neck, inhales the smell of his cologne and feels happiness trickle up and down his spine. Tomorrow is the gala, when they will debut their partner skate and Yuuri will fulfill a lifelong fantasy in front of hundreds of people. Skating on the same ice as Viktor Nikiforov. Skating with Viktor Nikiforov, dancing beside each other.

Viktor kisses the top of his head. "I believe you."

Yuuri grumbles and turns around, leaning back between Viktor's thighs with the edge of the seat digging into his back. Viktor wraps his arms around his waist, chin hooked over his shoulder, and Yuuri has never felt so warm and loved as he does in that moment. He feels wanton with it, like a slut—but only for affection, and only from Viktor Nikiforov.

"I haven't seen you dance like that since the Gala," Viktor murmurs in his ear.

"Hm," Yuuri hums, tilting his head to the side. "Phichit's the person I learned all of that from." That and a pole dancing teacher named Moxie whose class Phichit had dragged him to half a dozen times his last year in Detroit, but it'll be a cold day in Hell (Or a warm day in Siberia) before Viktor learns that particular tidbit.

Viktor presses a long, hot kiss to Yuuri's cheek. "I think you must have had a love affair with our friend Mr. Chulanont."

Yuuri stiffens immediately, spinning back around in the circle of Viktor's arms. "I—Viktor, I would never—"

"Oh, Yuuri, no," Viktor presses a hand to his face, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it that way, love. I meant—I don't know what I meant, sometimes I speak without thinking." He presses a kiss to Yuuri's forehead, gentler than the one previous.

Yuuri closes his eyes and bites his lip, drops his hands to Viktor's lap. This is his fiancé, the man he's going to marry. Doesn't he deserve to have full disclosure? Even though the idea of telling him some of these things makes Yuuri's anxiety spike, his blood pressure double, his palms sweat? How will Viktor feel, knowing that Yuuri is routinely alone with a man whose bed he frequented for longer than he and Viktor have known each other?

"I wouldn't really call it a love affair," Yuuri mumbles, playing with the buttons on Viktor's shirt.

"You don't have to tell me," Viktor says. His hand goes to Yuuri's chin, tilting it up. "It's okay, darling."

Goddamn it. What is it about this man and making him cry? Yuuri is beginning to think that he's cursing himself to a life of weepiness, marrying Viktor. He'll be buried under pillows daily, just fucking sobbing, and Viktor will have people over and be forced to say Oh, that's just my husband, he's a bit emotional—don't slip in the puddles.

"Phichit isn't like that," Yuuri says quickly, just to get it out before he thinks better of it. "We—you should probably know that we…before I met you, before I moved back to Japan, we were—having sex. A lot. And we didn't really, um, break up. I just—I moved back to Japan and that was, um, now things ended. But we were never—we didn't date. Phichit doesn't, um, do romance, I guess? He's the friendliest person I know, the best friend I have, and he's—I know he loves me, but not…not like that." He reaches up and straightens out Viktor's collar for the utter lack of anything else to do with his hands. "I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry I didn't before."

Viktor's hand trails up his back, fingers against the dip of his spine. When Yuuri chances an upward glance, Viktor's eyes are soft, the line of his mouth gentle. He asks, "Did you love him?" in a way that says he might be, in an odd way, commiserating with Yuuri. Like he is speaking not as Yuuri's fiancé, but as a person who understands what it is to have felt for someone something that they couldn't return. Yuuri doesn't know how he got in this situation. He has gone from admiring Viktor Nikiforov from afar, knowing all the while that he would probably never even hold a full conversation with the man, to standing between his knees in a crowded bar, Viktor's promise on his finger and blue eyes boring into him, asking to be his confidant.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Yuuri whispers.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." Viktor's forehead touches his, their eyes now too close together to focus. An elephant could run through the room, and Yuuri would have been none the wiser. If he looked up in a moment and realized that the world had come to a calamitous end around them, he might not even be concerned. Viktor's breath is on his lips, telling him, "I want to know everything about you. Even the parts you don't like to think about. That way, I can think about them for you—and love them, even though you can't."

There go the tears. The first one drops down his cheek. The second sneaks into the crease of his nose and stays there, gross and wet and uncomfortable.

"I did," Yuuri whispers. He licks a third tear off of his lips, tasting salt. "There was a while where I thought…maybe I could be happy. Just being around him, being affected by his presence, his…happiness. Because I didn't think that I would ever get anything better than that—someone who made me feel happy, and took me to bed, and felt about me the same way I felt about them. Two out of three wasn't bad, you know?"

"Did you tell him this?"

"No," Yuuri snorts. "I knew how he was. One of the first things he told me was that he didn't understand people getting married and only being with one person their entire lives. Phichit wants to meet people and make them his friends and have a big group of people that he loves and supports, not just one person. He wants to…roll around in bed with handsome men and not feel obligated to call the next morning. He loves people. He's kind, and someday he'll probably settle down in an apartment with a few friends and he'll be happy like that. But I don't see him ever devoting himself to one person. Not in the way I've always seen myself doing. Not the way I want to do with you."

Viktor kisses him then, not to interrupt but to agree—to tell Yuuri that yes, that's what he wants too, that he isn't alone. Yuuri loves him, God he loves him.

"Don’t think less of him," Yuuri implores.

"How could I?" Viktor murmurs. Their hands lace together; Viktor brings his mouth to Yuuri's ring. He's only had that ring for three days and already, he thinks he might die if he lost it. "He loved you until I could."

Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor's shoulders and presses his hot face into his neck, weeping. "I love you." There's a woman behind Viktor who probably can't speak English and looks pretty alarmed at this red-faced crying man hanging off her seat neighbor, but she seems disinclined to comment. Yuuri closes his eyes and breathes.

"I love you too," Viktor says, kissing his neck, cheek, ear, hair. "My Yuuri. My darling."

He eventually pulls away and drinks the other half of that glass of water. The music is still pounding, and the tears gave him a headache and he's starving, but he thinks this might be one of the best nights of his life.

"Heeey!" Phichit crashes through the crowd, dragging along an unfamiliar man by the hand. The unfamiliar man is taller than even Viktor, Mediterranean with a slightly homely face but piercing blue eyes that make him strangely beautiful, and a friendly, uninhibited expression. Phichit gestures to him, somehow using the same hand he's holding onto him with. "I found you guys! This is Thomas."

"Tomás," corrects the man in a kind tone, obviously unconcerned. He probably wouldn't be able to pronounce Phichit's name either; Yuuri couldn't his first hundred or so tries.

"Right! Sorry." Phichit points to Yuuri. "This is Yuuri, my best friend."

"Hi," Yuuri says, falling back in shyness now that he has more water in his belly than vodka, still feeling the residual tear trails on his cheeks.

"And this is his fiancé, Viktor." Viktor and Tomás shake hands, both exchanging accented greetings. "Yuuri's the silver medalist, and Viktor's his coach. They just got engaged the other day." To Viktor and Yuuri, he says, "Tomás was telling me that his friend runs a tapas bar not far from here, and that she'll give us half off our food if we show her Yuuri's medal."

"You could show her your engagement ring instead," Tomás says, gesturing to the ring on Yuuri's finger. "A medal, an engagement, both are to be celebrated. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Yuuri says. To Viktor, he says, "I'm starved, what about you?"

"Always in the mood for tapas," Vikor says, nudging Yuuri the barest minimum of distance away to stand up. He waves a hand towards Tomás. "Lead the way."

They gather Mila and Otabek on the way out, and Viktor ends up at the front of the group, probably telling his life story to Tomás as they walk because that's just what he does. In about ten minutes, Tomás' friend the bar owner is going to recognize Viktor from one of his international ads and he's going to spend twenty minutes signing autographs and taking pictures, but for right now he's just being the friendly person he naturally is.

"Are you okay?" Phichit asks, walking beside him at the back of the group. He hand goes to Yuuri's elbow. "You look like you've been crying?"

"I'm fine," Yuuri says, and means it for once. He lets a smile break across his face. "I'm…the best I've ever been, I think."

Phichit's eyes dart over his face, examining, then breaks out in a smile of his own. "Same. I fucking love Spain."

"Well, it beats Downriver," Yuuri says.

They laugh. Yuuri doesn't know how he got so lucky, to be surrounded by so many different types of love.

[acrownofblueroses]

Klance Fic Recs- AU Settings Pt II

FANTASY

Mermaids/Sirens Watercast (WIP) by fishwrites Shiro has been a Galra prisoner for over a year; with his flight feathers clipped and unable to fly. Desperate to escape, he jumps overboard while being transported to the capitol on a Galran ship. Lance is a merman who saves him from drowning. Keith thinks Shiro is about to become mermaid dinner. Hunk just wants Lance to stop going to the surface all the time, dammit!

(AU where Avians (winged folk), Galra, humans and merfolk cohabit earth. Shiro and Keith are avian soldiers, Lance is the youngest son of a Queen, Hunk is also a merman and Pidge is still looking for her family.)

Pass Like the Weather by crxzy “What’s it like?” “What’s what like?” “You know, being a mermaid and all.” “It’s very wet.”

AKA- that vaguely sad, slightly angsty, mainly just cute and kinda strange mermaid AU that nobody asked for but me.

Moonset Deep (WIP) by MilkTeaMiku All his life he’d been told to make sure he was never seen – it was what all the children were taught from the moment they were born. Never let a human see you, never fall in love with a human, and most importantly, never kiss one.

For Lance, humans were a mystery. He'd lived beneath the surface of the ocean with his shoal his entire life, and had intended to remain there. He knew the danger humans posed to his kind, and what would happen if he came close to one. That's why, when he found one drowning, his first instinct was to save him.

He'd never been good at following the rules anyway.

To Resist the Siren’s Call (WIP) by leolovesnico Ever since the death of his mother, Lance McClain can't bring himself to love the sea as his father does- who knows what could lurk beneath the surface? With the threat of a war looming over his head, Lance needs to face his face in order to save their country from the Galra. (Fantasy au, mermaid au, voltron secret santa gift 2016)

the sea pronounces something by legendarydesvender “You’re the best we have.”

“Shiro was the best and we all know what happened to him.”

“That’s the thing, Kogane — we don’t know what happened to him, or the Holts, or anyone else who went in there and never returned. There is a good chance you won’t make it back either. But if you don’t give a damn about that, the mission details are in here.”

Keith shrugs. “Well, I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

***

AU where Keith is a sailor and Lance is the siren trying to drown him.

See You Tomorrow by Craptastic He stands frozen as a creature of magnificent beauty swims up to him with a smirk on his lips. The dwindling sunlight catches the creature's iridescent tail causing the colors to alter between shades of blue and green. The creature is a thing of fairy tales with half a body of a human and the other of a fish. The beauty that lays before him was from fairy tales, nothing in reality could be as beautiful.

It has to be a dream.

breathless by zxrysky "You shouldn't go out to the sea at night," their grandmother says. She's in a rocking chair, old and creaky, her withered body settled with a shawl around her shoulders, wrinkled fingers gripping the edges of the arm rest. "Don't risk it."

"Risk what?" Shiro asks, eyes wide. He's fourteen, just a young boy, on the cusp of maturity, arms wrapped around his younger brother as they sit before their grandmother.

His grandmother pauses for a while. "There is danger in the sea."

Going Under by sun_stricken Lance takes a dangerous spill in the ocean and is saved by none other than a mermaid with weird hair.

Or: a mermaid keith au, with not even gratuitous amounts of surfing sorry my bad

Seafoam Castles (WIP) by milkdromedas Lance has what one may be able to call a near-death, close-encounter experience with a mer...person.

No, really.

Elemental Powers (a la Avatar Last Airbender ish) Foundations by needchocolatenow When Keith met Lance, it was over a briny sea.

Soulmates I Will Follow by jamwrites Keith and Lance are bound by their soulmate tattoos, bound to meet again and again with each new new life. When lives hang in the balance, that bond will be sorely tested.

An explosion of golden pleasure and joy and love for Keith rushed through Lance’s body like a tidal wave, every bit as strong as when the flower had first bloomed. His legs suddenly were gooey; it was everything he could do not to crumple to the floor.

“Okay, okay,” Lance said, panting a little. “Sorry.”

But he was smiling while he said it, because now he wanted nothing more than to be close to Keith, and he could tell Keith wanted the same.

You don’t have to say “I love you”, to say I love you by haarucchii soul mate noun noun: soulmate a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.-In which Lance's soulmate, isn't really his.

A Shove Towards Love by General_Button A simple rescue mission turns into chaos when the species on the planet Novaria take an interest in the lives of two of its paladins.

In It To Win It by Lucy_Claire One of two things was happening right now, either Lance was having a heart attack on of the biggest day of his life, or he had just laid eyes on his Soulmate. _______

Competitive swimmer Lance McClain feels his Timer counting down right when he’s about to jump in the water and finish up his race. He’s faced with two choices in this moment: Continue the race and miss meeting his Soulmate at their fateful time or abandon his life’s work for someone he never met.Lance makes his choice and has to suffer the consequence of never getting back what he missed out on. Or does he?

Love and Other Questions (WIP) by squirenonny One week after news of the Kerberos disaster broke, Pidge receives a new Mark--proof that Matt is still alive. She breaks into the Garrison to find him, only to find herself caught up in the fight for the fate of the universe.Keith keeps his arms covered so he doesn't have to watch Shiro's scars compounding on his skin--but doing so means cutting off contact with his romantic soulmate, who greets him each morning with a new (and terrible) pickup line.

Shiro and Matt thought they were the luckiest people alive when they found out they were going to Kerberos together. But Shiro hasn't seen Matt's untidy scrawl on his arm in almost a year, and he has no idea if his soulmate is even still alive.

[Canonverse Soulmate AU with romantic and platonic soulmates (and some gray areas in between)]

daytime star by draconicwyvern Keith's neighbor across the balcony is annoying. And not just annoying — Lance is get-on-your-nerves, make-you-want-to-punch-a-wall annoying. So when Lance announces he's moving to Colorado, Keith finally feels as if the world is back to being just him and the night stars.

But things don't go as planned: the paper airplanes, the scent of coffee at 1:00 a.m., the words inscribed on Keith's neck, and the slow curl of a blue flame echoing in his chest. And maybe, just maybe —

— stars do exist in the day.

in between suns by drowninships Lance thinks he would always remember Keith like this; he would always remember the glow of his eyes, the fall of his hair, and the rhythm of his laugh, the callouses of his hands.

When he sleeps, it's all he sees. In his dreams, he would never forget.It's just that — every time he wakes, he doesn't remember a thing.

--

What do you do when you meet your soulmate in your dreams but can't remember anything when you wake up? What happens when you meet them and suddenly, the dreams stop?

(Soulmate AU!!!!!)

Fragmented by darkgaaraluver In a world of soulmates, Lance drew the short straw. The indelible marks forever marked him inferior to his soulmate, and the people around him, what made it even worse were the first words that pass Keith's lips...

The Marks We Make (WIP) by wittyy_name Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he’ll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don’t say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It’s not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can’t bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he’s resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he’ll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He’s just an art student who’s struggling to find his place in the world. There’s so much he hasn’t been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can’t do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

Witches Forget Me Not (WIP) by TheHomestuckWhovian There Keith was, surrounded by all his friends, a picture of total contentment. At least, he would be, if something weren't missing.

Keith agrees to test a spell for his brother's best friend and discovers a vaguely familiar boy who no one can remember. What follows is a series of magical shenanigans that will either be tragic or entertaining as hell.

The Quilted Lion (WIP) by geewillikers Keith is stuck in New York City barely making ends meet so he and Pidge can live in a decent part of the city close to her university. They scrape by on the illegal winnings Keith makes in street boxing matches, but his manager, Shiro, decides that it's time Keith gets a side job. He's whisked into The Quilted Lion café owned by the woman Shiro's been fawning over for over a year, only to find that he has more to worry about than his lack of magic and cooking skills-

-There's a waiter at The Quilted Lion who is entirely Keith's cup of tea.

Magic Me Some Love by KaSaPe When Shiro's arm gets cut off while he is trying to protect Keith, Keith doesn't see any way to save his life but to break into the Galra's castle and steal some of their magical medicine. But nothing goes as planned and when he exits the castle empty handed he is cursed to look like a Galra until he accepts his halfbreed status. He is convinced that he has condemned Shiro to death - and then he learns of a magician that might be able to help just in time.

Meanwhile Lance didn't expect a Galra to turn up at his door, demanding him to save his half dead (human?!) friend. And he certainly didn't expect to fall in love with him either.

throw fairy dust at me by zxrysky "Are you going to do the telepathic thing?" Lance asks, standing up and dusting stray hairs off his shirt. "Where you get into my mind which, cough, is my private space?"Blue opens an eye. "Yes."

Okay, Lance isn't going to argue with that. If he were a lazy cat, he'd probably do the same. But for now, he's going to go check out some clubs, make some friends, maybe hang out with some cute girls, and Lance is a Man with A Plan.He's going to enjoy himself.

-=-

Lance is enrolled into Altean Castle. It's filled with magic.

throwing shadows by ilgaksu “Dude,” Lance says, “It’s not my fault he does this!”

“Dude,” Hunk says, and leaves it at that.

What a Cat-Astrophy by annoyedraccoon In an unlucky turn of events, Keith gets cursed and transformed into a cat. To make his life even more miserable, one college kid finds him and decides to adopt him. And worst of all, that kid was Lance.

We’ll Stir the Stars (WIP) by Latios Lance is somewhat of a talent in a family full of sea witches; His usual days consist of practicing his element, flirting with mermaids, and helping his mother brew potions for the local myths around the island. Finding an injured and stubborn dragon named Keith isn't part of that routine, but definitely changes it—and sends him traveling across the sea to recover the dragon's one and only family who was captured by hunters.

Lance only hopes they won't bite each other's heads' off before they even get there.

Dragons He Who Fights Monsters by magisterpavus In a world where monstrous dragons terrorize humanity daily, the Garrison trains valiant Knights to slay the evil beasts and defend Earth. But when Knight cadet Lance Espinosa is kidnapped by a strange red dragon who kills its own kind, certain truths are revealed...and so are the true monsters.

Incubi Sure sounded good at the time by GemmaRose Keith believes in a lot of things, cryptids and aliens and conspiracy theories among them. What he does not believe in, however, are ghosts and curses and demons. Those are as fake as fairy tales. Except for the part where they're really, really not.

Crossposted from the Voltron kink meme.

Vampires one more off key anthem (let your teeth sink in) by maryams Keith sucks at being a vampire and Lance is going to hell. Nothing strange here.

or, supernatural boyfriends go shopping and are confounded by The Gayness™.

Ghosts The Quiet (WIP) by MilkTeaMiku Does he not realise he's dead?

Keith can see ghosts. As a part of his Garrison training, he's sent to a hospital to do one year of medical clerkship - it's there that he meets a charmingly irritating ghost who definitely needs to learn what boundaries are.

your favorite ghosts and planets by xShieru In hindsight, an asthma attack in the middle of the day wasn’t such a terrible way to give up the ghost.

Except this isn't how he imagined afterlife.

An AU about being dead.