#i wonder what triggered it. i noticed before then recently i was romanticizing a lot of the past

[saeransangel]

Fine Line

Spencer Reid x Reader

*Trigger Warning*

Warnings: addiction(use of narcotics/opioids), swearing, angst

**This is in NO way condoning the use of drugs or glorifying/romanticizing addiction... Many of the things in here are based off personal experiences I’ve been through in the past. I know how draining and horrible it is. This is a vent piece for me. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with reading about drug use.

The reader starts to fall into a rough group of friends while occupying time when Spencer is away. As Spencer starts to catch on to her blossoming addiction, the reader admits she needs help.

Word Count: 2496.

You and your boyfriend, Spencer had finally gotten into bed together after a long day. He had just gotten back from a case in California and was completely exhausted. You on the other hand, were still recovering from a party you went to yesterday. You were told the night was fun, but it was all a blurred memory to you. After about three hours of sleeping together, the phone rings. It was Spencer’s cell.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice sounded tired and drained. You both knew it was the BAU calling. You sighed in annoyance. He had just gotten back, you haven’t gotten to spend any quality time together in two weeks and it was putting a strain on your relationship. Neither one of you said anything, but you could feel it. It was starting to feel different. The connection between you wasn’t as strong as it always had been, and that worried you. But you were too scared to bring it up. Not that there was ever time anyways.

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” Spencer said after a while. He hung up the phone and got out of bed, careful not to disturb you, though you were already awake.

“Spence, again?” You sighed.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I should only be gone a few days, then we can spend all week together.” He promised. You knew he was trying and it was just apart of the job, but recently it’s been too much. You’ve spent too much time away from him. 

“You said that last time, Spencer.” It came out more aggressive than you wanted and you instantly felt bad.

His eyes softened as he looked towards you. He sat down beside you and embraced you gently. “I really am sorry, Y/N. I love you so much, but this is my job.” He sounded so upset, knowing he hurt you. Slowly, you melted into his arms and wrapped your own around his slim figure.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just miss you so much when you’re gone.” You whispered, almost tearing up at the thought of being without him again. It might seem dramatic for only a few days, but he was your moral compass. It was hard without him around.

He kissed your forehead and gave you one last loving embrace before grabbing his Go Bag and leaving the bedroom.

As you lied back down into the now empty bed, you felt like you were sinking already. What was the point of this relationship if it was a constant revolving door of leaving and being together? Before you could get too deep into your thoughts, you heard a ping sound come from your phone. 

“Hey, Y/N, I know we just raged together last night, but I miss you so much already lol! Come to my place right now. Zoe is bringing the usual. It’s gonna be fun!!”

It was your friend Sam inviting you over for a party...at 2 am. You sat and stared at the message, wondering if it was a good idea to go. Your body still hadn’t fully recovered from last night, but you didn’t want to be alone tonight. You shot back a quick response and put some different clothes on that were fit for this type of party. As you headed out the door, your body was already feeling excited for the rush this night was going to give you.

When you arrived at Sam’s house, you took a deep and shaky breath. Was this really what you wanted to turn to? Finding comfort in a six hour euphoria? Whatever your better judgement told you, it was too late. You were already getting out of the car and walking up to the house that was flooding with people and blaring loud music. You stepped through the front door and took in your surroundings. Sam, Zoe and a few other people you recognized were sitting on the large sectional couch, passing a blunt around with each other.

“Y/N! You’re here!” Zoe shouted over the music. You approach the group with a vibrant smile. You took the blunt from Sam and took a long drag off it. The smoke filled your lungs. It felt good, you slowly started to relax.

“You look like shit.” Sam said bluntly. “What happened to you?”

A long sigh escaped from your lips. “I’m still a mess from last night I guess.” You replied trying to just laugh it off.

“It’s more than that, tell us what’s wrong?” She pushed. You didn’t really want to tell her, but at the same time you needed to vent. They were always there for you. Why was now any different?

“It’s Spencer. He’s always leaving me because he has to go fly across the country to do whatever it is he’s doing!” You didn’t mean for that to sound as selfish as it did, and you knew if Spencer ever heard you say that he would be crushed. He loved you unconditionally, and here you were acting self-centered and mean. “He’s means well though, I know he loves me. But it’s hard someti-”

Zoe spoke up. “Save it, Y/N/N. We understand.” You gave her an apologetic smile. You shouldn’t have said anything. Spencer is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, even if he was gone more often than you would like, you loved him and he would never talk about you like this. The feeling of missing him was being overtaken by the guilt you felt from talking about him leaving. Tears welled in your eyes. You looked down to try and hide the fact that you were now a teary mess.

“Y/N/N, we’re here for you.” Sam said while rubbing circles on the small of your back. The music was blaring so loud you almost didn’t hear her. You recognized the song. CANT SAY  By Travis Scott. You smiled, remembering all the amazing ragers you went to with Sam, Zoe, and the others. 

Your reminiscing was cut short. You noticed Zoe placed a small bag on the table that everyone was sitting around. There where small, circular, white pills inside. Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Is that...” Your voice trailed off.

“Oxy? Yes, ma’am it is.” Zoe smirked. You instantly got the feeling you shouldn’t have come tonight. In the past you struggled with a lot of substance abuse issues. Opioids in particular. It started after a surgery, Valium, then  Hydrocodone, then it escalated to Oxycontin. You even rolled on molly every so often. But you went to rehab about three years ago. You were clean, apart from the occasional marijuana use which seemed to becoming more and more frequent.

“I don’t know if I should. I haven’t in years.” You try and protest. They didn’t seem to care. Zoe grabbed two out of the bag and held them out for you. Upon reflex, you opened your hand and watched as the two pills fell into the palm of your hand. The whole group was looking at you, waiting. Sam popped one into her mouth and swallowed it. She looked eagerly at you. Part of you didn’t want to throw all the years of sobriety down the drain, but the bigger part of you wanted to stop feeling the guilt and the loneliness you felt when Spencer was away.

You didn’t even remember putting them in your mouth, you just remember the feeling of them sliding down your throat. After about twenty minutes, you felt the effects of the narcotic. Your body felt light and weightless. Your thoughts were cloudy. Why were you even here? This is fun right? As you danced through the crowd with your friends, you felt a moment of euphoria as ypu forgot the reason you came here in the first place.

Two Days Later...

You woke up on a scratchy couch that was definitely not apart of your home. You took in your surroundings, head pounding. You were still at Sam’s house. You grabbed your phone to check the time. It was probably late the next day...

“It’s been two days?” You gasped. You shot up, looking for Sam. Her house was so big, you didn’t even know where to look. Luckily you didn’t have to go far. She was in the kitchen with Zoe and another guy named Jared. They all laughed and turned towards you as you walked in.

“Look who decided to wake up,” Zoe teased. 

You glared at her. “It’s not funny.” You spat. “How long was I asleep?”

“Only, like ten hours, chill.” Sam laughed awkwardly.

“I got here Friday night, its Sunday now.” You were growing impatient. So many questions raced through your mind.

“Yeah... we were together partying all weekend, are you okay?” Zoe urged.

“I don’t remember anything except for Friday night.” You admitted. Instinctively you checked your phone again. Your eyes widened. 

Missed Calls: Spencer Reid(16)

Upon looking further you found dozens of texts, to which you replied, “At Sam’s party!” You had no recollection of sending that.

Spence: What?! Why are you with her??

The most recent text was from a few hours ago.

Spence: Hey angel, I’m just checking in on you... You’ve sent me one text the past couple days. Are we okay? I love you so much. I’ll be home in a few hours. Please call me. 

Your heart broken into a million pieces. Your free hand covered your mouth in an attempt to stop the sobs from coming out of your mouth. You stared down and the phone in your shaky hands. He knew who these girls were. He knew they always were trouble and fueled your addiction in the past. You knew he was concerned for you. The thought of him being upset and not being able to see you was suffocating. Zoe and Sam rushed over to you right away.

“Hun, what’s wrong.” Sam pleaded with you. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You hated them for doing this to you. For doing this to Spencer. You hated yourself even more. You needed to get out.

“Get away from me.” You cried. Fighting there grip, you pulled away from them. You ran into the living room and sat on the floor, back leaning against the sofa.

The two girls followed you into the living room, worried looks strewn across their face. Before they could say anything, the doorbell rang. Sam paused before going to open the door.

“Spencer...” She exclaimed surprised. You looked up. The tears wouldn’t stop falling now.

“Y/N, where is she?” He said sternly and he pushed his way through the door. He looked around for a minute before his eyes finally fell on you. He immediately rushed over to you. The look in his brown eyes told you that he knew what you had done. You knew you looked like a mess. It was a dead give away.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer.” You sobbed. His warm arms wrapped around you so tightly you thought you couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t mind. You needed this. 

“You’re going to be okay, Y/N. We can get through this. I promise.” He whispered. You closed your eyes and melted into his comforting touch.

“Is she going to be okay?” Zoe pressed. “I mean, you keep leaving her to go do God knows what. Did you know that’s why she came here.”

Spencer’s grip on you loosened. He leaned back to get a good look at you, trying to see if it was true. NO. This was not his fault. Not after everything he’s been through. You’d be damned if you were going to let him think this was his fault too.

“Shut up.” You said venomously.  She shot you a confused glare. “Don’t you ever speak to him like that EVER!”

“What? I’m trying to defend you?” She shouted. You couldn’t believe her. You couldn’t believe yourself. Everything felt like it was spiraling.

“You’re not defending me. You’re trying to drive the one person that loves me away!” You were screaming now.

Zoe walked closer to you, she was in your face. “At least I care about you!” Her voiced boomed through the house.

“If you really cared about me you wouldn’t have gave me the fucking drugs in the first place.” You wailed. Spencer grabbed you arm. Your head whipped back to look at him. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You let out a despondent sigh at the sight of him. You never wanted any of this. You just wanted him to stay. Now look what happened.

 Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed Spencer guiding you out the door. He put his arm around you, and without another word to Sam or Zoe, you got into his car.

It was silent for the whole car ride home. You were thinking of all the ways to apologize to him, all the reasons he had to leave you, all the reasons why you didn’t deserve him. When you both arrived back to his apartment, you broke down.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. None of this is.” You sobbed.” It’s all mine. I’m sorry. I love you so much. Please, don’t lea-”

You were cut off by a pair of strong arms embracing you. How did you get so lucky to have a man like Spencer in your life? “Y/N, it’s okay.” He cooed.

“It’s not!” you cried, pushing him away. He looked confused and sad, which only made you cry more. “I’m supposed to take care of you. You’ve gone through so much with your job, your mom, everything. You don’t deserve this, Spence. I don’t deserve you.”

He examined your weak figure before giving you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. “If there’s one thing you have taught me, Y/N, it’s that it’s okay to need a little help sometimes. Recovery is not linear. Slip ups can happen. I know you didn’t want this, but I love you and I’m not going anywhere.” He declared. He slowly wrapped his arms around you again and you let him. He held you as you cried and he didn’t let go even when you stopped the relentless sobbing. His soft hands traced patterns on your back while he listened to your breathing regulate. 

“Nothing you could ever do would make me leave you.” He whispered.  “Because I love you. Nothing can change that.”

You kissed his neck delicately, amazed at how insanely lucky you were to have him around. “Thank you Spencer. I love you so fucking much.” He held you tighter, letting you know that you were safe and everything was going to be okay.

A tear slipped down your cheek. But this wasn’t from sadness. It was from adoration. You knew with your full heart that Spencer loved you, and he was going to get through this with you. One step at a time.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan imagine #jennifer jereau #jennifer jereau x reader #emily prentis #emily prentis x reader #criminal minds #request #request open #angst #spencer reid angst

[mayaswollman]

TITLE: the plain woman. TRIGGER WARNINGS: abuse, domestic abuse, violence, injury, parental abuse, depression, and brief stalking.

Therapy was an exhausting crusade. It mainly consisted of Maya sitting inside a dusty old room with her sweet but cynical therapist. The room is filled with comfortable enough looking furniture and the lighting is a dim yellow-golden hue. Despite it being perfectly mediocre and not bad in the slightest, it makes Maya unreasonably angry. Though she knows it’s better to go than lie awake wishing she did. That sentiment might relate to almost everything in her life.

Maybe she should have known then. Maybe she should have known to trust her gut. Or maybe she should have known when she lost her charm bracelet.

The plain woman. The categorization falls into Maya’s lap, something she complains about often while spewing away in her therapy sessions. Most times, her words escape her, especially since she was still a tad new to the whole therapy thing. The plain, average woman. 

Do you feel special? Is what her therapist had asked originally, and Maya just exploded like a dying star. It resulted in tears and snot, excessive apologizing for said tears and snot, and bittersweet laughter to save face and not make a total fool of herself. 

Really, she was nothing special. Though perhaps that was a stupid insecurity. Never being the one but being a one regardless. That was truly something, a surefire way of making her feel more than terrible. Never the one, but one regardless. Maya says that too, her voice wavering like she has something crawling up her small throat, threatening to hop right from her mouth.

That’s how the session ends, Maya leaving with nothing but a relatively stable, reassured mind and a bucket of her own salty tears and gooey snot. It doesn’t help that she steps out into sticky, still air. Louisiana heat coming faster than she’d like. She looks to her wrist where she should be wearing a watch, like normal people, and thinks of what the might could be. Maybe past seven, but not before six. She drags her feet to her car, head low, dark curls falling in her face. 

Wrist.

The drive home is lackluster and nothing to report. So is stepping into her apartment. Though the cool air that hits her was a nice welcome, Maya inhaling deeply upon arrival, happy to just be home. She thinks to make herself something to eat before her phone buzzes, a notification popping up onto her screen.

If there was anything anyone needed to know about Maya Wollman, it was that she was a lazy person with commitment issues. Communication was certainly not where she shined, hence why most of her relationships were fickle ticking time bombs. It was only a matter of time before Maya became bored and over the whole idea of being someone else’s, despite growing lonely only days later. She’ll never reach out again, though, in fear of seeming desperate or ridiculous altogether. This cycle repeats itself more often than not. 

There’s this one guy who’s been kinda persistent, though. Nice looking, full beard, not huge but bulkier than most. He has the kind of face that’s neither plain or remarkable, somewhere in the middle. Maya would honestly put herself under that category too, so to her, he was just fine. In modern terms, you could say she ghosted him quite a while ago, unable to commit to anything but food and her work schedule. 

They went on one date. Maya doesn’t think of it very much, but he seems to think of it frequently. She likes to think they’re just casual friends now who went on one Tinder date that didn’t work out, really, and they text sometimes to say hello or for a brief chat. That was it. 

Truth be told, Maya likes being thought about. Remember that feeling of not wanting to seem desperate? Well here was the cold truth, she was. Desperate by all the means within her. Desperate for something, anything. Maya absentmindedly clicks through her phone before she gets to her text messages, reading the ones he’s sent. Her read receipts weren’t turned on, of course. Nobody with commitment issues had them turned on.

iMessage, 7:33PM, Matthew: Hey, was thinking about you. I saw you at The Dive recently with some friends and thought to say hi but didn’t. Hope you’re well! iMessage, 7:33PM, Matthew: Also, I think I have your bracelet? I found it on the ground at the bar and noticed it looked familiar. iMessage, 7:34PM, Matthew: [image:attatched].

Oh, fuck. Her charm bracelet, gifted from her grandparents when she was three or four. Maya’s hopeless romanticism kicks into high gear then as she sets down her bags and heads for her tiny living room. She plops down onto her couch, hands a little shaky, reading over the messages over and over. Then she looks to the photo. It’s definitely her bracelet staring back at her, the one real piece of jewelry she owns that she somehow lost at The Dive not too long ago.

The plain woman.

The thought, or insecurity, returns in no time. Are you going to be just one forever? Maybe he’s the one. Maya starts typing out a message, knowing there’s no going back now. 

iMessage, 7:40PM, Maya: Hey! You should have said hello! I can’t believe you somehow found my bracelet. I thought it was gone forever or a pack of angry criminals came and snuck it from my wrist, never to be seen again. iMessage, 7:40PM, Maya: Do you wanna meet up? Just to catch up and so I can get my bracelet back lol.

The exchange is simple. They text for a little while longer before deciding when and where to meet. Maya feels a little giddy inside, beginning to picture every scenario. She thinks from now to ten years from now, daydreaming endlessly about what could come of the two of them. A childish thing, really, and she knows it. But perhaps her loneliness had become futile.

ONE DAY LATER.

When it comes time for Maya to finally meet up with Matthew, her nerves finally bubble to the surface. She doesn’t even know how long she’s paced around her tiny apartment, going over every which way this could go wrong or right. It’s a game of back and forth inside her mind, every image flashing vividly and at a rapid pace. 

In classic Maya fashion, she gets ready with about two hours to spare. That was never a good thing, causing in the exploding of her own thoughts. By some miracle, the two hours go by and Maya is leaving her apartment, locking the door behind her securely. No going back now.

CALLIOPE, 8PM.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Maya says upon arrival, though she’s not actually late. Matthew had just shown up first. That’s never happened to her before. “Oh, you’re not late at all. Sit, they should be bringing the menus around now.” Matthew so politely pulls out her seat, which makes Maya’s entire face heat up, a reddened hue decorating her expression. She carefully takes a seat, smoothing the end of her dress. “Thank you,” She says quietly to the gesture, then smiling warmly to the waiter who places their menus down. 

It’s like a scene from a movie, really, how the evening pans out. They spent the night laughing and sharing stories, Maya finally settling into herself once she begins to feel comfortable. That was always when Maya shined. That was when she finally shed that outer layer she always sported, the one that dared to deem her an average woman. Maya Wollman was not plain or average, she was bright. She was funny and sweet and everything wonderful. Matthew seemed to like her too, head resting in his hands endearingly every time she went on about some silly little story from her youth. He laughs at all her jokes and even reaches out for her hand towards the end of the date, the pads of his fingers dancing across the tanned skin of her wrist. 

Wrist. Hand.

Touch was a strange thing in Maya’s world.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Matthew says, his touch pulling from Maya. She misses it the moment it’s gone though feels strange once it’s there. She touches her arm while Matthew plucks her charm bracelet from his pocket, sliding it to her. “Fuck, thank you so much. This is the only real piece of jewelry I own, so, I really appreciate this.” Maya’s tone returns to that middle ground, that nervous place that fears so much and so little at the same time. Matthew doesn’t seem to mind it, his smile still present, that same endearing look on his face. Maya tries to relax again. “No worries, sweetheart.” He says, brown eyes glued to her.

Maybe Maya should have known that things like this don’t really stick. Maybe she should have known when she got a phone call after an exhausting therapy session, one where she was vulnerable and unable to feel good about herself. But the night takes a quiet turn somewhere towards the end.

They’re walking out, Maya happy and at ease. Matthew is at her side, saying they should head to a bar and continue the night. Maya is more than happy to do this, despite being someone who prefers to call it a night rather early. Mainly from her own personal tiredness.

Maybe she should have known when he’s grabbing her a little too tight. Or maybe she should have known when he makes some crude remark about a guy across the way getting a look at her. It was just a small glance. I’m with you right now. Is what she said to reassure him, smiling sweetly. That giddiness seems to have fallen from his face like he’s flipped a switch. Though it returns in small ways, a little flicker of hope, and Maya clutches onto that hope like it’s her last chance at survival. 

Or maybe she should have known after the second date when he’s showing up at her job on a whim, asking her to take some time off and go away with him to New Orleans. Maya chuckles and says no. Sure, she was beginning to like him a lot, but not enough to go on some spur of the moment getaway. He seems upset by this, his jaw clenching. Maya sees a small vein bulge in his forehead as if he’s holding his breath. 

“Next time, I promise,” Maya says gently, resting a hand on his chest. She didn’t want him to be upset, despite her own discomfort. Matthew grabs at her arm, maybe a little too hard. But Maya was a small woman with petite features and he was much bigger than her. He just didn’t know his own strength. 

Wrist. Hand. Arm.

But maybe she should have known when he picks her up from a therapy appointment, pressing her about what she talked about. Maya isn’t comfortable with this, he tries to joke about it, wanting to know if she talked about him. She didn’t, which makes her feel guilty. Though she tells him no, not wanting to lie, and he becomes upset. Angry, even. Maya is confused, asking him why he’s so mad. They’re sitting in his car when he pulls his hand up and smacks her across the face, the sound and impact earning a ringing to erupt in Maya’s ears.

Wrist. Hand. Arm. Face.

Maya has been hit before. By her parents, by her siblings. But not like this. Never like this. Suddenly she’s back in her parents’ home, thinking back to every moment they’ve hurt her both physically and mentally. But then Matthew’s voice breaks through the noise. Or, his voice drills through it aggressively, tears running down his nice but not spectacular face. 

“Maya,” He cries, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just want to be a part of your life. I really, really like you. Maya, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Maybe Maya was a little weak. But was weak the word?

She forgives him. She cries along with him and they drive back to her place, a reddened spot on Maya’s face. It was going to bruise, she knows it. He probably does too. She stares at it in the mirror when she gets home, the smell of chicken and rice coming from the kitchen, Matthew was cooking for them. 

Maya had never tolerated violence from her parents? Despite always going back to them, she always fought back. What was so different now? She couldn’t quite figure that out but everything inside her turns to spoiled milk, her heart a paperweight inside her chest. Everything is warped.

It happens again while they’re out on another date. This might have been their tenth or eleventh, Maya was losing track. She was having a great time until Maya says she wants to get home, she had work in the morning. Matthew grabs her wrist a little too hard, this time causing a bruise. He says he wants to stay out and he wants to spend time with her. Apparently, he hasn’t seen her enough this week. 

Her charm bracelet dangles on her wrist, a reminder of the good deed he’s done. His grip leaves a bruise just under the jewelry. He lets go of her soon enough, spewing his apologies again, cooing to her. He missed her. This time, he says he might be falling for her. That sends a sudden signal through Maya’s mind. Was she the one?

She complies, smiling warmly. Her bracelet still dangles on her wrist.

Wrist. Hand. Arm. Face. Wrist. Wrist. Wrist. Wrist. Body. Heart.

#drabble. #character study. #tw abuse #tw violence #tw injury #tw domestic abuse #tw depression #tw paternal abuse #WELL....YEAH

[sunsetswurve]

Overcome / Numb (G.D) part 1

"Woah, hey, please stop working yourself up. Breathe. No like really, deep breath in. Hold it. Now let it out slow. Okay. Good. That's really good. Tell me what you're thinking, Sky, please. Don't keep whatever it is you're feeling in. Please?" Grayson was sitting across from me, hands on my shoulders.

Skylar Martins has been going through a lot, mentally and emotionally. She’s lost in her own head. Everything is getting worse for her and she feels like she’s all alone, even when people are asking her if she’s okay. Feeling like a burden and a problem, she’s set on her life being like this from now on because there is no way out for her. That is until an old friend pops back into her life, seeing through her lies and getting her to see there’s more to life than what she’s doing. 

A/N: Sooooo I’ve been going thru some rough stuff and this is the first time in a while I’ve written something. It’s been even longer since I posted any writing on the internet. Depression and anxiety are talked about. Suicidal thoughts are mentioned so trigger warning for that. Also, I’m not sure if this is going to be a friend!Grayson or like a relationship. heck I’ve always been bad at continuing stories so who even knows how far this will go. All depression and anxiety writing is from my own experience, I’m not trying to romanticize it or anything and i’m definitely not trying to make it that Grayson “cures” the main character. Let me know what you think, just please go easy on me <3

"Skylar, are you getting out of bed today? Don't you have work?" My mother asked from my doorway.

"Called out." I mumbled under my covers.

"You okay?" she asked, concern filling her voice.

"Yeah, I'm just tired and have a migraine."

"How are you tired? you've been in bed for the past 3 days. AND you've called out one day each week for the last month just to stay in your room. Do you even have sick time anymore?"

"Yes mom. Dont worry, I have enough hours. I just need to rest."

"Okay, we'll see when you lose your job for missing too much work. This isnt working Skylar. What’s going on?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." Lies. Truth was my depression was the worst it's ever been. I haven't had any energy to do anything.

"Have you been taking your pills?"

"Yes." Lies. I don't care to anymore. It's ridiculous that I have to depend on stupid pills to be a normal human. If this is who I'm supposed to be. What’s the point.

"Bullshit." She rolled her eyes and slammed my door. I heard her go down the stairs and the front door slammed shut also. Nice. Very mature, mother. See, I'm so miserable and annoying my mother doesn't even care anymore. Just leaves me here to rot. I sighed and rolled over, looking at my phone. It was 2 in the afternoon. This is what my life has come to at 23 years old. Alone. Stuck in my room.

I used to try. I used to have energy to try and fight this. But recently its gotten harder and harder to get out of bed. I can see everyone's worried looks and heads shaking with disapproval, but its like there's this wall between what I know I should do to help this and myself. I'm stuck in this cloud of self doubt, self hatred. I hate that I'm like this. I see myself getting worse and yet I just can't put myself out there to say anything to anyone or express what I'm feeling.

To be honest, I'm not even sure what I'm feeling. Numb, mostly. I'm just sick of being alone. I've always felt like I'm the third wheel in all situations. Always in a group of three friends, but the other two were closer and there was me. I've always been a shy person but after high school and stuff I went through in my first year of college, it got worse. I get nervous meeting new people, but I'm also nervous talking to people I haven't seen in awhile. I mean yeah, I have my family and even though I was that third person with friends, I still had friends. I'm also so close to my family. My cousin's been one of my best friends since I was born. But she's gotten pretty serious with her girlfriend so I'm pushed to the side once again. Not to mention they're talking about moving to the other side of the country. It's just gonna get worse.

I sound so selfish. But these are the thoughts that run through my head constantly throughout the day. Its all consuming. I'm alone. I'm alone. I'm alone.

With everyone in the house gone, I go downstairs and grab some cookies in the cabinet and sit in front of the tv. I'll be here for the next few hours until my parents and/or brother come home and then I'll head back upstairs. This is how it's been, avoiding everyone and eating junk to try and make myself feel less numb than I have been. I was switching on netflix when my phone buzzed.

"Hey Skylar, haven't talked to you in awhile. how have you been?" It was a text from Grayson. One of those friends I haven't talked to and don't freaking know how to talk to anymore because I'm a mess. I re-read the message a few times and wonder what I should respond with.

oh ya know, just wondering if I'll finally grow the balls to end my life or keep living in the hell I've created for myself. Oh yeah, that'll  go down swimmingly.

"Hey, I've been fine, just working. How are you?"

"Oh are you working today? Could use a hair cut haha ;)" people only talk to you when they need something from you, they don't really care about how you're doing, silly.

"I'm actually off today, Gray." I turned back to the television, desperately trying not to dwell on the thought that he only wants to know what I'm doing just so I can do his hair. I understand with being a hairstylist that people want me to do their hair but its like. Even the people I see constantly do this, they see my behavior has changed, I'm not the happy person I was before. They've asked me how I'm doing -- at the most inopportune times, mind you. But if you think there is something really wrong, you shouldn't want to ask me while you're on hold with our supervisor, this conversation WILL end up with me sobbing and I really really don't think you're ready for it, Margaret so of COURSE I'm going to say I'm fine. A few minutes later, my phone lets out another buzz.

"Do you want to hang out?" That's different. No one's asked me that recently. Not that I'm the best person to hang out with right now, with the buzzkill I've become. I don't answer. Let's add "flaky" to the long list of flaws I've developed over the passed couple of months. Sometimes it's just easier to act like nothings happening. I turn over on the couch and fall asleep.

..only to be woken up 20 minutes later to the doorbell ringing

The hell? We live on a secluded dead end, no one ever comes here unless its planned, like ever. I open the door to reveal Grayson Dolan on my doorstep with a small grin on his face.

"Gray, what are you doing here?" I ask opening the door more for him to step inside.

"When you didn't answer my text, I figured you fell asleep because you've always loved your naps" he chuckled, since he could tell from the look of confusion on my face that is exactly what happened.

"ohhh" I'm not sure what else to say, honestly. I told you I haven't been the best with conversations lately.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asks, taking in my disheveled appearance and greasy looking hair. Greasy looking because I haven't showered in days. Ya know, the things that happen with depression the internet and media don't tell you about when they're glorifying it for their aesthetic.

"Uhhh yeah. I haven't washed my hair in a few days. Look Gray I don't think--"

"No Skylar, really, are you okay? I was scrolling through twitter, saw one of your tweets and it's concerning."

"oh uh.. it's nothing, its just shit that comes to mind at night when I can't sleep." I say, hoping he doesn't press anymore. When I feel really low and don't know what to do, I let it out on twitter, no ones ever said anything before about it so I thought it didn't matter or they didn't care or whatever. It's been like this for years, so this really caught me off guard.

"Are you sure?" no.

"Yes." He gave me a look that definitely said he wasn't convinced, but shrugged anyway.

"Okay, so what are we watching?"

"Oh um, I'm catching up on Supernatural."

"Nice!"

"Gray do you even watch Supernatural?"

"No, but if you're watching it, I'll watch it with you. I wanna hang out and you're not busy. I miss you, so let's go! press play already." I gave him a weird look, this is different. Usually Grayson is really busy between doing stuff with Ethan and/or filming.

"What's going on? Where's Ethan? You two are inseparable."

"He's doing some stuff today. Tattoo and other errands. He'll be gone until tonight."

ahh, so he's just here because Ethan is busy and has nothing better to do

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just got this disappointed and annoyed look on your face. What are you thinking, Sky?"

"It's nothing."

"Listen, I know we haven't talked in months but this is not the Skylar I've known for years and I know you're not okay no matter what you're saying behind that fake smile. I'm not going to push it. You don't have tell me right now. But I'm here for you, even if we just sit and watch TV, okay?" My jaw dropped a little, I was not expecting this. Especially since we haven't talked in a while. But Gray has always been able to sense when I'm feeling off. So I'm not too surprised. But to still want to hang around me even if I don't want to talk, like damn, that's so sick of him.

"Thanks G." I say, smiling slightly and lean into his shoulder, a small gesture to show my appreciation. We focused in on the tv and got lost in it for the next few hours.

I didn't notice how many episodes we got through until the front door opened and my mother stepped in.

"Wow. You're out of your room AND someone is here? I'm shocked." She said sarcastically and turned to Grayson. "Hi honey, are you staying for dinner?"

"Hi Mrs. Martins. I'd love to."

"Good! I'm glad someone's been able to get her out of bed." my mother comments as I roll my eyes and continue to focus on the television. I could feel Grayson gaze on me though, I kept facing forward, hoping he would let it go and thankfully, he did. I couldn't focus back into the show though. He knows somethings wrong. But like he really knows. And I'm gonna have to tell him something soon or he'll just be wasting his time and get sick of me just like everyone else. I started biting my nails as I watched forward feeling anxious and sick of myself.

"hey do you still have your PS4?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Do you wanna go play some before dinner?"

"I don't really have any two player games."

"That never stopped us before. We can take turns doing stupid stuff on GTA?"

"Wow I haven't played that in the longest time."

"Lets go!" He said, standing up and waiting for me to follow him upstairs to where we have the playstation set up. I slowly stood up and went along with him. "Remember when we used to play online all of the time?" He asked as I set it up.

"Yeah, remember how angry Ethan would get when asshole twelve year olds would kill us before we could even do anything in the game and I had to figure out how to start a server for just us?"

"Oh man, back when we were living in apartments our neighbors would get PISSED at how loud he would yell."

"And I'd be up here swearing, thinking no one could hear me but one day my mother came up here PISSED because I dropped the f bomb like a million times in a minute."

"She lectured all three of us the next time me and E came over." We both laughed at the memory.

After some time, my mother called up, letting us know dinner was ready. My brother and father were both home now and we all sat down for our meal.

“Grayson! It's been so long since you've been over! How are you and your brother doing?" My father asked

"We're good, Mr Martins. We're working on some new video ideas and Ethan is getting stuff for it today."

"That's great to hear. Its nice to see Skylar out of her room and have company over for once. She's just been in her room for months."

"Dad. seriously?" I ask, do we have to talk about how I'm fucked up at dinner?

"Well she doesn't help herself if she's not taking her medications." My mom comments not looking up from her plate.

"Mom!"

"Skylar why aren't you taking your meds?" My dad turns to me, everyone turns to me actually. I feel my face start to heat up with all of the unwanted attention. My anxiety rising for being put on the spot like this when Grayson was here, or anyone actually.

"And we wonder why I'm finding excuses to not sit out here with you guys all of the time?" I say, rolling my eyes before standing up and hurrying up the stairs to my room.

----

I go into my room and throw myself on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Now he's definitely gonna know I'm not okay. He's definitely gonna walk talk to me about that and probably try to help. He'll stick around for a week or two, see how annoyingly sad and stubborn I am and give up. Just like everyone else has when I've been like this in the past. As if he could hear my thoughts, I hear a knock and Grayson quietly say my name, trying to not disturb the silence.

I look up but don't make a move.

"Sorry you had to awkwardly witness all of that." I mumble. He comes in, gently shutting the door behind him. He lays next to me, also looking up at the ceiling.

"You know they're just worried about you, right?"

"I know," I sigh.

"You also know I'm worried about you, right?"

"Don't be."

"How can I not? Your tweets are literally screaming that you're not okay. You aren't taking care of yourself and distancing yourself from everyone trying to help you." My eyes start filling up with tears and my breathing start to get heavy. My skin is on fire, feeling like hot pins and needles are stabbing me all over. "Skylar?"

I can't say anything. It's like the floodgates have been opened. I dont feel numb anymore but I feel everything. Hurt, sad, angry and frustrated. All I do is curl into a ball, sobbing and gasping for air. I feel Grayson try and pick me up to bring me closer to him but I push him away. It feels like I'm being smothered with nothing touching me at all. I know he means well but when I'm like this, touching doesn't help. I feel him start to pull away, probably to get my mother since somethings wrong and he doesn't know what he should do. but I grab his hand and shake my head.

"Panic attack. Stay. Give me a few minutes." I manage to get out between strangled sobs. He nods, staring at me with worry. I'm not surprised he's freaked out. Usually when I have panic attacks like this I'm not around anyone, so he definitely hasn't seen me like this before. My mother has only heard me have them because I used to call her when I was in college. That was when they started to get really bad. He doesn't let go of my hand though, it would be hard to with me squeezing it, trying to ground myself while focusing on my breathing.

It feels like an eternity, but it was probably just a few minutes later when my breathing slowed and the pins and needles sensation had left. I let go of Grayson's hand and wipe my face, groaning once it really hit me that I just had a panic attack in front of someone for the first time in so long.

"I'm so sorry about that Gray"

"Did you just have a panic attack?"

"Yeah, again, so sorry"

"Don't be! You know I have panic attacks too. I've just never seen you have one and you've always been okay with hugging and stuff so that just threw me, I didn't know how to help you."

"I usually have them at night or I'm not near anyone when they do happen. Uh, I uh feel like I can't breathe and my skin feels like it's on fire and I'm getting stabbed with hundred of needles all over my body so I freak out even more when people try to touch me when they happen.

"Jesus, Skylar. Why don't you tell anyone you're going through this?"

"I don't know" I shrug, "I don't like to bother people."

"Are you serious? You wouldn't be bothering anyone, you just need to tell people how you're feeling when they ask, because I know they've been asking. They're really worried. I'm really worried."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I just need you to take care of yourself."

"That's really hard right now, G."

"Then let me help, let someone help, stop locking yourself away and thinking you need to go through this by yourself." Tears are now streaming down my face and I'm quietly sobbing. He brings me in for a hug and kisses my forehead. We stay like that for awhile. "We're gonna get through this. I promise."

For some reason, that just makes me cry even harder. Why can't I take care of myself? I used to be strong and independent. Now I'm weak. I need people to take care of me at 23? What is this? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Woah, hey, please stop working yourself up. Breathe. No like really, deep breath in. Hold it. Now let it out slow. Okay. Good. That's really good. Tell me what you're thinking, Sky, please. Don't keep whatever it is you're feeling in. Please?" Grayson was sitting across from me, hands on my shoulders.

"I, uh, okay." I take a deep breath again. "I'm just so fucking weak. And helpless. You shouldn't have to be making these promises and be worried about me." I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts and take a few more breaths. "Like this is sad. Ridiculous. How did I get myself in this situation. I don't get it. I don't know or understand myself anymore and I don't know how I got like this." My panic was turning into anger now. Anger at myself. The world. God or the universe or whatever seems to be in control of all of this.

"Stop beating up on yourself for like two seconds to see that people care about you and love you. Sometimes life gets hard and we need help. If I was in this position I would want someone to help me. I can't stand seeing you like this. I WANT to help. Life got busy and I was a shitty friend that grew distant. But I'm here. Your family is here. I know for a fact that if Ethan was here he'd be agreeing with me. We've known each other for years. I know you ARE strong. You just need a little help right now. The only question is if you're going to accept the help or stay stuck." He got a little louder, was it because it's Grayson and he's just loud or wanting to make his point come across clearly? both, probably. I took a few deep breaths, really calming for the first time in hours.

"Okay."

#Grayson Dolan #Dolan Twins #Dolan Twins fanfic #grayson dolan fanfic #Ethan Dolan #Ethan and Grayson #Overcome / numb #dolan twin fandom #grayson bailey dolan #dolan twins imagine #grayson #ethan #fanfiction #TW: depression #TW: anxiety #tw: suicide mentioned

[moonraccoon-exe]

*whispering* Pst Moon! Write the first time Gladnis brotherhood thing. Yes, I read your tags (#^.^#)

FRIEND, I FINISHED IT AAAAAAH.

This is all for you, dear DreamIggy you wonderful human being, because of the motivation and because you’re such a good person.HAVE IT with all my love (」°ロ°)」

I also saw your entry @latte-cosmico, thank you for the motivation, it’s also for you!!! I didn’t answer on yours because you mentioned a headcanon list and UNGH, I’m so gonna write that, so we get TWO things, hgdkgdfmgh.

 It’s super long (unless you’re reading that Beauty and the Beast AU, then this is a joke, you can handle this fine ;D) so it’s okay for whoever that doesn’t want to read it.

But just know, it’s Brotherhood Gladnis first-time-oral fluffy smut, so it’s your choice whether to miss it or not.

This is like 10k of mere Brotherhood Gladnis being playful, awkward, shy, adorable and sexual together, and I LOVED writing it.

Brotherhood Gladnis is my most fragile weakness hgnhngnnnnngggg

This was inspired and triggered and based in this gorgeous gem of kaciart’s Gladnis drawing.❤

I hope you enjoy, whoever is reading!

It would bea lie to say Gladio was not excited, but it was also true that he was a bitnervous.

He remindedhimself, ironically, of his own boyfriend; thinking things too much. Theproblem with his boyfriend was that the overloaded-with-work seventeen-year-oldadviser-to-be was always thinking things too much, on everything. Ever sincechildhood, Gladio was constantly trying to convince him to stop that, sometimeshelped distracting him so he could stop the overthinking, tried making himunderstand sometimes one simply had to go with the flow and natural rhythm ofthings.

Walkingwith Ignis at his side, a hand holding both their bags above one of hisshoulders and the other softly wrapped around the younger male’s one, Gladiokept three quarters of his attention on their conversation and the rest onmentally telling himself that this was the same, one of those situations whereoverthinking was unnecessary, reminding his own brain that he was always the one with the ‘take it easy’ philosophy,and that this would be fine so long he took his own bloody advice.

It was likepresenting a speech to the council or to the king; planning and talking it waseasy, if only a little nervous, until it was the realmoment for it. Then, the nervousness could rocket up far beyond the moon.

Gladio felteven more nervous than during the very same moment Ignis unexpectedly asked himfor this. An entire conversation of procrastination and some shy stutteringlater, Ignis, arms tightly wrapped around Gladio and face furiously hiding inthe Shield’s chest, had muttered some simple words.

‘I wantto…return the favor? Try it myself…’

It tooksome moments while Gladio understood, trying not to get too distracted with howcute Ignis behaved when entirely flustered, before it hit him like a brick tothe head; return the favor, try it himself, Ignis could only mean one thing, ifGladio linked the words to the events a few days prior to that moment.

Igniswanted to return the favor and try it himself.

Or, in morevulgar but simpler words, Ignis wanted to try giving his first blowjob.

The Astralsdamn, Ignis had offered to give Gladio a blowjob.Face buried in hands, buried in Gladio’s chest, but he had offered it himselfnonetheless. It was not new, that neither of them suggested exploring a littlemore into the sexual aspect of their relationship, but this felt like quite astep. Ignis had not shown himself too interested, until Gladio, and Gladio hadrefused sexual approach with others due to not feeling mature or preparedenough for the responsibility, he, too, until Ignis. Being each other’s first,of course there was curiosity.

Gladio wasgrateful that Ignis was as responsible and mature as he had always been,because he understood how things worked; slow, step by step, instead of wantingto try to imitate those videos online. First one thing, then the other,not force anything, explore little by little because it was unexploredterritory. One had to be cautious, and so they had been so far. They did notstart any physical intimacy until a year after becoming boyfriends, bothbecause none had felt well prepared, and they had been so content with being ableto cuddle and kiss each other that the idea of sex had literally not crossedtheir heads.

And when itdid, it was just as both wanted; at the correct pace, nothing too rushed,nothing forced, and allowing themselves to explore together. It started withnaturality, a kiss that turned into an unexpected make-out at Gladio’s house,that eventually led to both of them talking about it and figuring the paceinstead of trying to romanticize the things in novels and movies. It wasawkward, of course, but much more natural and comfortable (and much moresuccessful and healthy) than just taking things out ofpants and shoving them places without the proper care or knowledge of it.

Make-outsessions that eventually led to hand-jobs, that eventually led to some dry-humpingas foreplay or companion for it. And, of course, the first time that any tried giving oral.

Despite hislooks and popularity among both women and men, Gladio did not have much sexualexperience, and he was not a master of any of this. Eighteen, he considered,was still rather young; he had no troubles being inexpert and enjoyed learning.So this passion for learning new things led him to, once Ignis agreed to it,try giving a proper first oral.

“Guide me,please?” Gladio had said after he had given a few kisses here and there toIgnis’ hardening member, looking up at his boyfriend, whom Gladio swore turnedred enough to pass as a moogle’s pompom.

“How? I’venever received one before…”

“Just…tellme what feels good. Okay?” Gladio had asked, and ended up making Ignis promisehe would tell him what and where it felt good no matterthe circumstances.

Gladio wassure there were a few things that felt good on him but Ignis kept quiet toeither “not sound vulgar” or, more likely, to “not bother Gladio, what if thatwhat felt so good to me felt bad to him or could have evenbeen harmful? No, best to keep it secret, I don’t want to bother or trouble orhurt Gladio; quiet is not the same than lying.” That sounded a lot likesomething that would go through Ignis’ head.

That waswhat kept Gladio so nervous; Ignis had sworn that he wanted to try both forGladio but also for himself (’can’t a guy selfishly desire to eat dickwithout making it seem like he’s doing it for the counterpart?’ hehad said), but he still feared that Ignis would push himself too far. Both hadagreed to not do anything the other would not want, to do things always withconsent, but Gladio still feared that Ignis could sometimes act out ofselflessness; thinking Gladio may grow bored or exhausted of him if he did notgo further into their unexplored map, and hence forcing himself to act like heagreed to something he truly did not wish, only for Gladio’s happiness and pleasure.And, the worst part, Gladio would blindly trust in him, and would not evennotice Ignis had lied.

Gladio knewhim since childhood and could read some of his unsaid things, but the Six damn,Ignis was raised as a strategist, good luck trying to figure when he was lying.

The leastthat Gladio wanted was for Ignis to push himself too far and end up damaged inany sense, and the emotional side of sexual consent was as important as thephysical act itself.

One day hisselflessness was going to kill him or worse.

Or it couldhave him gagging and throwing up and being an emotional mess because he was notprepared for this and ended up traumatized with the experience.

Still, andvery thankfully, that did not appear to be the case. Despite the normal nervousness,Ignis seemed to be rather calm, and firm on it. He wanted to try, and Gladio would make sure that he learned and explored without havingto push himself too far.

It was nosecret that they sometimes spent the while at the Amicitia home all on theirown. Attendants were not there 24/7, and so was not Clarus, nor Iris. Bothteenagers had spent days there, only a few of the most recent ones using alittle of the time to explore their sexuality, most only to spend a comfortableand calm while together after school or a date.

It seemedlike any other day.He let Ignis in like any other day, walked in himself,closed the door, but felt the tension different than those of other days, andhe hated it, because for more that he insisted to himself to calm and to seethis as naturally as possible, he continued to feel flustered and tense andnervous like a preteen about to receive his first peck on the lips from theflaming cheerleader of school; stupidly excited over something as simple.

They ate,spent the while together, stuck to routine like nothing out of the ordinary.The natural flow of things had Ignis lying his head on Gladio’s lap when theywere chatting at the sofa; overthinking brought him to sit back up after a fewminutes. And, truth be told, Gladio was thankful he did; feeling bad and stupidfor it, having Ignis’ head there, even if as innocently, had inevitablyreminded him of what else they would be doing sometimebefore that night, and he feared that any bulge in his pants would betray him,poke at the back of Ignis’ head, ruin everything. He was scared of making Ignisthink that all that he thought about was the sex because it really, really wasnot everything, but the Astrals bless, he could not stop his body and that partof his mind to be so eager about it because holy gods, Ignis had offered to give him oral that day and Ignis wouldgive him oral that day and he was excited.

Still,scared of accidentally hurting Ignis’ feelings, Gladio decided to not bring itup and let Ignis take control of the pace. It still took a while, as if thoughIgnis himself was scared of bringing the conversation up first.

It was notuntil some kissing, sat there at the couch, that Ignis felt decided enough togive the first step into it. Ignis had approached to kiss him. By nature, they stayed there a little longer than expected, but none rejected it. With ahand on Gladio’s cheek, Ignis opened the mouth at the same time Gladio did, nowords or gestures required, only coincidence of synchronicity, to deepen thekiss. Tongues poked out, more shyly than usual, and into each other’s mouth.Ignis’ hand, a bit shy as well, slid down the Shield’s face and reached for hisneck. Eyes closed and breaths becoming a little heavier, both breathed intoeach other’s mouth, moved only to adjust the angle of their faces, and lettheir tongues continue their duties, at the time Ignis’ hand lowered and movedto land on Gladio’s shoulder, sensing the strong muscle underneath.

A littleembarrassed by the immediate reaction of his body, Ignis mentally confirmed tohimself that he really, really was enjoying a lot of Gladio’s physicalprogress; back at age sixteen his body was already more outstanding than othershis age, and all he was doing was to become even stronger, taller, every timemore stunning, bigger, a dominant weight. A bit embarrassed because he had noidea he found bulkiness to be a turn-on but also very content that Gladio,besides a wonderful heart, happened to have such a beautiful physic, Ignissmiled lightly mid-kiss and let his hand travel a little more onto the other’schest. Gladio’s breath trembled between kisses, and Ignis realized the waythis was going.

Slowingdown on the kiss until he felt it prudent to break apart, Ignis separated fromhim and let his hand go up again to caress Gladio’s face again, making sure tohave eye contact despite the nervousness and shyness.

“…can we goto your room?”

Gladio,cheeks slightly red, gave him a pair of shy eyes and nodded, mute. Ignis smiledlightly; despite his looks and usual cheekiness, Gladio tended to turnincredibly shy and flustered during moments of intimacy. It made Ignis feel alittle more loved than usual; such an involuntary reaction made him feel likeGladio cared enough about and for him, and considered the situation intimateenough. To be allowed into his intimacy, to be given the first times ofdifferent events in Gladio’s life…that was incredibly beautiful.

Both stoodup from the couch, and Gladio reached to hold his hand. He smiled at Ignis,still a little shyly, before guiding him across the living room and towards thestairs. Even though it was highly unlikely for anyone to come through the dooruntil night, both enjoyed much more of the intimacy of Gladio’s room ratherthan using the living room. A bed was always more comfortable than a couch, andin the extremely rare case that anyone did appear at the house, they would havemore time to successfully dissimulate.

Once in hisroom, door closed, they stood in front of each other and retook their kissing,giving more weight to the sensuality than the shyness, even though it was stillpresent. Sensing Gladio a little shy, Ignis, not stopping his mouth’s movementsagainst Gladio’s, reached for the Shield’s wrists, softly taking them andgently guiding his arms around the adviser’s waist. Gladio hugged him as he wassilently requested, and deepened the kiss at the time he felt Ignis’ arms goingaround his neck. Even though he was only a year younger, Ignis had to stand intip-toes and Gladio still had to lean down a little to properly kiss. He adoredit, and allowed some cuteness to pinch his heart among the sensuality of thekiss.

Gladio endedup sat nearby the edge of his bed, with Ignis straddling him, the knees at thesides of his thighs, while still kissing. Hands roamed places, breaths becameheavier and mouths more stubborn with each kiss, with every caress of theirtongues. Despite shyness still there, both gave in to the flow of therising heat, caressing faces and hairs, shoulders and arms, backs and chests,Gladio’s big hands adoring the sensation of his boyfriend’s slender back, evenif through his sweater. He knew Ignis was too shy to make any new move whenfully naked (‘too exposed, makes it awkward’, he used to say), so he did notask him to take anything off, and did not do it himself. Instead,he focused in the kiss, enjoying of Ignis’ tongue, and not helping to realize howwell hydrated his mouth was.

Ignis kissedhim as good as he was receiving, and their throats started trapping a few moansat times. Gladio’s hands slowly and eventually started moving down, untilthey passed the small of his back and reached for his butt. Ignis exhaledtremblingly into his mouth, and whispered a very quiet ‘Yes’ that was more anencouraging agreement than a reaction of pleasure, some sort of ‘You can dothat; I enjoy’. He caressed Ignis’ cheeks for a moment, going with the settledpace, not breaking and only deepening the kiss.

It lastedfor a couple moments more, heating up the moment, before they broke from the kiss,eventually, giving a few pecks to each other before coming to a real halt,opening their eyes. Gladio looked up at him, a bit worriedly, despite the heavy breath.

“Are yousure about it?” he asked in a murmur, and he saw his boyfriend smile and nod.Ignis reached closer to peck at his lips again, before he moved back to get offthe bed and his boyfriend, and standing in front of him. Ignis had started togo down when Gladio stopped him a bit too quickly, reached for one of hispillows, and offered it to his boyfriend. Despite the younger teen’s littlecomplaints and small laugh denying it, Gladio did not seem to be satisfieduntil he accepted it, and so Ignis was left with no option. He put it on thefloor right beneath him, so that when he would go down his knees would rest onit and not the floor.

Ignis movedclose to his boyfriend again, cupping his face in his hands and leaned down tokiss him, now that he was taller in their position, with Gladio sat at the edgeof his bed and him standing in front of him. Their lips caressed each other,slipped and caught each other over and over, with the tips of the tonguespoking here and there between kisses, before he let go.

“You sure?”Gladio asked him still with those eyes that gleamed with worry, and Ignis couldnot help to widen a smile and exhale a little chuckle, resting his forehead toGladio’s and letting his hands move down to the Shield’s strong chest.

“You’reasking too much” Ignis whispered to him, his palms very slowly moving ontoGladio’s chest, teasing the torso a bit before he would get to his goal. “Youworry for me?”

“Of courseI do” Gladio whispered back, arms wrapping around Ignis’ slender, stillteen-like waist. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable withjust because of me or anything.”

Ignisoffered a wider smile, and leaned closer to kiss him again, this time a littlesofter and more innocently compared to the previous sensuality.

“Worry not”Ignis whispered against his lips. “I want this, and I’m ready.”

Breakingapart and giving it time enough to smile at Gladio and for the Shield to smileback at him, Ignis calmly went down on his knees. He smiled when he felt thepillow underneath his knees, the adorable if silly detail from Gladio’s worry.

Kneltbetween Gladio’s legs, Ignis stared at the bulge in his boyfriend’s pants, andcontained a sigh in his chest. Gladio’s heart drummed loudly in his ears and hefelt his face burning, excited and nervous, aroused and a bit shy, staring asIgnis caressed his belly down to his crotch with a hand, before taking hisbelt.

Nervous atthe sight, Gladio moved a hand up to caress Ignis’ hair, trying not to mess itup, in a sweet gesture that made Ignis smile and look up at him.

“Just…don’tpush yourself past what you’re comfortable with, okay?” Gladio told him andgave a shy smile. “Only…only reach…where you can, no need to go all theway…alright?”

Instead ofsaying something, Ignis moved up, pulling his spine up, his lower back archingwith the motion, and kissed Gladio. The Shield kissed back, a littletremblingly. The kiss deepened once more, and asmall moan echoed in Gladio’s throat. As they kissed, Ignis’ hands startedundoing his belt without needing to see, being careful, until he succeeded.

“I know” hebreathed against Gladio’s mouth, smiling. He kissed the Shield again, wet lipscaressing, already a little achy from the make-out. He broke the kiss butkept the mouth against Gladio’s, feeling his own face red, but not helping thelittle smile, “stop worrying.”

Gladio didnot reply for a moment, only stayed quiet while Ignis gave him a last kissbefore lowering himself again, Gladio moving his hands to his own sides to restthem on the bed for support. While Ignis focused on the button and zipper ofGladio’s pants, the young Shield smiled; that was new, Ignis telling him tostop worrying. It was always the other way around.

Soonenough, after palming him a little through his underwear while Gladio breathedand moaned quietly in response, Ignis released his boyfriend’s cock from anyclothing, and held it upright with a hand. Gladio bit his lower lip, staring.Ignis stared at his length as if studying it, hand distractedly stroking it. A little later, Ignis chuckledand shook the head very lightly.

“…I don’tknow what I just got myself into” he said and continued before Gladio could askanything; “I start to doubt whether it’s good or bad that you are…so greatlyendowed, Gladio” Ignis looked up at him again. “Makes the task a little hardfor a first timer, are you aware?”

Gladioresponded with a little laugh.

“It’s fine,you don’t have-”

“But I want” Ignis insisted, hand stroking Gladio a little harderthis time, and whether it was to give emphasis to his words or to shut theShield up, Gladio did not know, but both worked. “I’ll never improve if I neverstart.”

“Got apoint there.”

Ignisside-smiled at him, before breaking eye contact again to focus on Gladio’scock, standing proudly and needy. It was quite a sight; Ignis had alwaysassumed before the first time he saw it that Gladio was well endowed, but this was ridiculous. For a moment, hewondered if Gladio still had some inches to grow or if he was already in adultheight. The idea made Ignis burn red in the face and take in a breath to calmhimself and come back to the present. His hand continued to stroke him, wantingto bring it to full hardening instead of that happening unexpectedly in hismouth, and his imagination, the previous make-out, Gladio’s cock throbbing inhis hand, and the mere idea of what he was about to do made him more and morearoused, using his other hand to palm himself through his pants.

None saidanything while Ignis continued with this for a moment, before he reachedcloser, a little hesitant like a pre-teen about to give a first kiss; wantingto, but pulling back a bit. He closed softly the eyes and pressed a small kissto the shaft of Gladio’s cock. When he did, Gladio released a trembling exhalehe had been holding, and stayed quiet, only staring. He kept his hands at hissides, fearing that if he caressed Ignis’ hair too much the younger male wouldmisunderstand and think Gladio was implicitly asking to go further.

A bit moreconfident, Ignis moved to give another kiss to the other side of the cock’sbody, holding the base with his fist, and using it to stroke whenever he brokeapart. He gave a couple more kisses across it, finishing with a particularlylong one given to the head, which had Gladio letting out a quiet moan. Heseemed to think for a second, before he let go of his own crotch and startedtaking his glasses off. Before he could put them anywhere, he saw Gladio’s handappearing in front of him, so he looked up at the Shield, as if questioning.

Gladio’scheeks burned a little brighter when they made eye contact, but he smiled,nonetheless, and gave the shrug of a shoulder as if saying ‘I get it, I thoughtI could help?’. Ignis smiled back and gave him his folded glasses, beforereturning to his task, stroking Gladio and reaching to unbutton and unzip hisown pants, to release himself at least a little not to be achingly trapped, whatwith how hard he had grown himself.

The Shieldput the glasses aside, on the bed, where the pillow had been, and looked backdown at Ignis, resisting the impulse to stroke through his light-brown hair.

Ignis foundit a bit awkward; Gladio was just sat there, staring. The idea was a littleamusing, but he did not want to voice it aloud not to discomfort Gladio or makehim think Ignis would rather have him not staring. The idea of Gladio watchinghim was…sort of motivating.

Theadviser-to-be removed his fringe for a moment, even though it returned to itsplace. He did not fight it. He continued stroking Gladio in all moment, not tolet it loose, and decided it would be good to start experimenting a littlemore. Trying to imitate the way Gladio had handled it some days ago, Ignisdecided to not just eat the entire thing at once, and, instead, to both buildup his courage and to make it enjoyable for Gladio, Ignis decided to lick.

He pressedhis tongue nearby the base, a little shyly, but not wanting the shyness to pullhim back. Pressing it as wide as he could, he moved up slowly all along theshaft and reached the head. Gladio shivered as Ignis licked him, and let out alittle moan, less shy than the first he had given back when Ignis was kissinghis cock. Motivated and wishing for Gladio to feel as good as possible, Ignisreached close and repeated, on the other side.

Ignis wasfocusing on his task while also paying attention to the reactions of Gladio’sbody and the sounds he made, trying to figure what had been good, and testingif he was closer to some particularly good spot. He continued to lick long andslow, travelling all across the member with his tongue, trying to do more thanjust straight lines upwards and sometimes pressing wet kisses here and there.

Gladio’sbreath was heavy and slow, every exhale was trembling, and his fingers had duginto the sheets of his bed. To be a first time, Ignis was letting himself gopretty well, and he was not doing a bad job. He imagined if Ignis was imaginingthis was like kissing lips during a make-out, except adding all that licking,instead of overthinking on the title of ‘first oral I ever give’. For a moment,Gladio wondered if Ignis had…if he could have…maybe…practiced with something.It sounded bit like an Ignis thing to do; practice a newthing before really doing the real thing. The thought had the young Shieldshiver again, not helping to his arousal.

Igniscontinued to kiss and lick him, a little faster. At some point of it a littlemoan echoed in his throat, and his free hand, the one not holding Gladio’s base,moved from the Shield’s thigh back down to palm again at his own erection, stilltrapped in his underwear, and getting worse. At first he had not known what toexpect, but truth was that whether it was due to Gladio’s little moans andconstant shivers of arousal that felt like approval, Gladio’s pleasure itself,that Ignis was the cause of it, or only the mere act of it, Ignis was enjoyingvery greatly with this. For a moment he hated that they had not gotten to thismuch earlier, but he also regretted nothing.

It was somemoments later that he decided to try the ’real’ thing, andmoved slightly away. When he did, as he had been mid-kiss, there was a thinthread of saliva connecting his mouth and Gladio’s cock. When it broke, Ignis’first instinct was to move a hand up to clean his chin and lips, and his cheeksburned bright red.

“Apologies.”

“No, no”Gladio rushed almost interrupting. “It’s great. I mean- I mean, that it’swell…lubricated.”

“Ah” wasall that Ignis replied, burning a little brighter, and making eye contact onlyfor a moment before both went shy and broke it. Ignis found it a little funny,but again said nothing, using the hand on Gladio’s base to stroke him a littlemore, feeling how wet he had managed to get it, and hoping it could make it alittle easier. He noticed Gladio’s tip was helping with pre-cum that alreadycovered the head.

He took afew moments more, before reaching close again, and he gave a kiss to the headof the cock, mouth opened, to wet it and taste it. Gladio shivered again inresponse, and put a hand to the side of Ignis’ head as if to call hisattention, so the light-brown haired looked up at him.

“Uhm…yougonna…try?” Gladio asked as if insecure on how to put the words. Ignis smiledup at him and nodded. “Alright…” he sighed. “Just…be careful.”

Ignischuckled in response, but said nothing. Gladio let go of his face and returnedhis hand to the edge of the bed, and adjusted himself a little. He hadforgotten to ask Ignis where he should…aim when he would come, but could notformulate the question before his boyfriend was already putting him in hismouth. Gladio thought about calling his attention again, but feared to killIgnis’ mood, what with how many times he had interrupted the entire thing eversince the make-out.

Theadviser-to-be only took the head in his mouth as if in another kiss, lingered alittle there, and pulled back. He was breathing heavy as well, and seemedfocused in his task, remembering a few of the tips he read on the internet forthis. He licked his own lips almost in reflex, before he reached close againand took the tip of Gladio’s cock into his mouth, and slid down a littlefurther.

It was abit awkward, keeping the mouth so widely open. He felt a little ridiculous, thejaw as far away from its usual place, but there was no other way to do this. Hedid not want to accidentally harm Gladio with his teeth, and it was not likethe dick was small or even average. His reflex movement asked himto shut the mouth but he could not just do that with a cock in his mouth. Hestayed still some moments before pulling back up, making sure to press histongue to the skin in his way. He breathed when his mouth was empty again, andtook only a second before putting it back inside, his hand stroking at the basebefore staying still. Closing the eyes as if to focus, Ignis decided to firstreach down instead of worrying too much on what to do with the tongue, and sohe started sliding down, very slowly, and trying to stay as calm for his throatnot to close and have him gagging too soon.

He wantedto go all the way down. Not in his first, of course, but he wanted, one day in a future, tobe able to take all of Gladio in his mouth. He wanted Gladio to feel good, hewanted Gladio to have a great sex partner, he wanted Gladio to feel incredible.And, only now that he was moving down on him, Ignis realized that he too feltgood just with doing this, and wanted more. One day, when they were a bitolder, he would be able to take all of him just fine. Maybe Gladio then couldgrip at his hair and move his head as he pleased. He adored, loved that Gladiowent soft on him, but he was also a little excited at the idea of masteringthings a little better so they could, from time to time, also be a littlerougher sometime in the future.

Ignisstopped again after another inch to remember to breathe, and opened the eyes,but found it awkward so he closed them again and tried to continue, making surefor his teeth to not get in the way. He heard Gladio groan when he startedmoving down again, louder than other times, and felt his cock twitch inside hismouth. It felt like approval and it aroused him, had him smiling and relaxing alittle. He felt very full, a bit too full, and could not understand how hishand was still gripping at the base and he did not feel it anywhere nearby hislips. Either Gladio was bigger when taken in the mouth, or Ignis had gone apoor few inches and was already a little overwhelmed.

A bitfrightened in a silly way at the idea, he started moving down again, his pridenot allowing him to get away to find he had managed only an inch or two inside.He continued for a moment, and even though he felt it with some anticipation,he still continued a little before he gagged. He made a sloppy sound as hequickly but carefully got away, stared to a side and coughed a little,controlling his gag reflex as best as possible.

“Y-youokay, Iggy?” Gladio asked worriedly, a shaking hand reaching for Ignis’ face.The adviser-to-be, curiously, laughed a little, and looked up at Gladio withteary eyes and a smile.

“I’m sorry”he apologized, “I think that’s as much as I can take…”

“Th-that’sfine, Iggy” Gladio smiled at him, and watched Ignis clean his own teary eyes. “ No need to go further if you can’t.Ididn’t think you could go as far down, it was…it was great…”

“Were youunderestimating my skills?” Ignis asked casually to lighten the mood, andGladio laughed a little in response. Ignis smiled up at him, happy to see that,despite the awkward bits here and there, it was going just as any other thingthey had gotten to so far; as relaxed, with so much trust, so naturally. Thealmost casual air made him a little more comfortable, and he decided to go backdown again.

HoldingGladio with a hand all the time, Ignis kissed and licked a little more as if togain some more confidence, before taking him in his mouth again. Now that itwas explored territory and that he had measured how far down he could go, Ignisstarted moving with less fear. He used his tongue here and there and moved down,taking Gladio in again, and moved back up.

“Use yourtongue a little more” Gladio suggested in a murmur and Ignis nodded, gratefulfor the advice. Astrals, he thanked his first sexual partner was Gladio, sopatient and understanding, and who was exploring all this for the first timelike himself; anyone else could have said nothing and just expect him to do agood job, and there was nothing that made him more anxious than that, theexpectation. Better to be advised where to go than be thrown in the road alone.Even though it was a crazy comparison, he understood his role as adviser alittle better.

Ignis tookhim in mouth and did as told, twirling the tongue, having it caress all ofGladio’s cock as it could reach. When Ignis moved up, he again remembered aboutGladio’s take on him and imitated, sucking on his way up. Gladio moaned inresponse and moved a little in his place. Taking that as approval, Ignis smiledand kissed the tip before taking him in his mouth once more.

Hoping hewas doing it right, Ignis decided to start bobbing the head, up and down, notforgetting about using his tongue. Gladio groaned in response at the firstconstant movements of his head, and Ignis heard a little ‘Yes’ escaping him.

Hecontinued to bob the head, making himself salivate to spread it with his tongueas it moved on Gladio’s cock. It felt hot, and heavy, and too thick in hismouth, but Ignis did not find major troubles on it, and was enjoying greatly,and hoped Gladio was feeling a thousand times better. He kept an even rhythm,not too fast, and not too slow. He still was not picking the best grip of thisand needed to not rush, still figuring how to adjust to it perfectly fine.Gladio offered no complaints; on the opposite, all that he did was to breatheshakily and ocassionally moan.

Ignis gotaway for a moment to properly breathe, and, as aroused as he was, it was areflex when he started jerking Gladio off as soon as his mouth got away. Helooked up to see Gladio move the head lightly back, whispering another ‘Yes’and bucking very lightly the hips. Ignis himself felt his own body jerking thehips, and he hated his stupid shirt and sweater and how unnecessarily hot hefelt in them, but he did nothing to pull them off his body. He continued tojerk Gladio for a moment before putting his lips around him again, a little tooexcitedly.

He pulledaway again after a few sloppy sounds he made while moving down, and triedapologizing for them, but Gladio reassured him they were not gross, and, whilehe did not say it, Ignis hoped that the sounds were, on the opposite,enjoyable. Again, he took Gladio in his mouth and started sliding down, alittle faster than before, making sure to open his mouth as good and wide aspossible, and starting to swallow him further than he had been doing, until hereached the same spot where he had marked his limits. He stayed there, half ofGladio’s cock in his mouth, and licked all on it as best as he could, nothelping little moans to get trapped in his throat.

Astrals,this was amazing. It was a bit awkward and it was not likereceiving one, but Ignis was enjoying greatly of this, and could not understandhow they had been so nervous in the way home and before Ignis had taken him like this.

“Six, Iggy”he heard Gladio moan out breathlessly, and he felt the Shield’s big handlanding on his head, fingers getting lost in among his hair. “You’re fantastic at this…”

Ignis couldnot reply because, well, he had a cock in his mouth. But the words motivated him very greatly, and, to make it a thousand times better, Gladio’shand in his hair felt incredible. He had hoped Gladio would do that, and nowthat he did it felt incredibly motivating. Gladio was enjoying of this, andsoftly caressed through his hair. Content with the approval, Ignis moved backup, sucking in the way, but did not let go of Gladio’s member before going backdown again.

“Gods, yes,Iggy…” Gladio moaned again. “Fuck, you’re amazing…”

Gladio’sheavy breath and little phrases of compliments here and there accompanied theminutes as Ignis bobbed the head, gaining confidence with each movement. Hefelt that palming himself was a bit selfish and that it distracted him frombeing fully focused in only Gladio, so he stopped and used his free hand to geta hold of Gladio’s hips for support, the other still holding the base of hisboyfriend’s cock while his lips, curled around it, moved all along its body.

Eventually,Gladio’s words quieted as Ignis got a grip of the situation and could catch afaster pace. There was a swear word from time to time from the Shield, andevery time he sounded more and more breathless and more and more aroused, whichdid but motivate Ignis into moving faster, into twirling the tongue better,into sucking better. Pre-cum was escaping Gladio by loads, and it made Igniswonder for a moment if it was not that Gladio had already come, but his cockstayed as hard for longer, so he continued.

At somepoint, he moved down a bit slower than he was already doing, to stay there atthe limit of how much he could take, and have his tongue lick the shaft slow andgood. Apparently, he hit a particularly soft spot, because Gladio bucked thehips upwards, and Ignis gagged again. He pulled back and let go, coughing.

“I-I’m sosorry!” Gladio yelped out while his boyfriend continued coughing and trying tocontain his gag reflex. “I’m so sorry, Iggy, I-I didn’t mean-!”

Ignis moveda hand up asking him for silence, but he continued to cough a little and movethe jaw and tongue to get rid of the nausea. Gladio stayed quiet only a momentbefore he retook his paranoid apologizing, and the mess continued before Ignisstopped coughing, smiling and not helping a small chuckle.

“I didn’tmean to, Iggy” Gladio apologized, “it was…a reflex.”

“I willtake it as a compliment” Ignis replied with an amused smile, hand returning toGladio’s cock to continue stroking it. The Shield took a moment before smlingand exhaling to calm down. Still, he moved a hand for it to caress Ignis’cheek.

“You okay?”

“Yes” Ignisreplied. “Are you? I haven’t caused any harm, have I?”

“Oh, you’vecaused everything but harm” Gladio smiled at him, and Ignis smiled back, cheekstainting red from the compliment. “You’re doing amazing, Iggy. I’m not surewhether to think this isn’t the first time you give one or if you’ve practicedwith something.”

“That shallremain as secret information” Ignis said with a playful wink, and Gladiolaughed. Ignis smiled, still stroking him; he liked how they could still jokeand be playful during this sort of intimacy. It made it a little more real, andeasier to go through. Almost like remembering this was the same Gladio thanevery day, playful, silly, cuddly Gladio, and was not expecting him to be a godof oral. No expectation made it much easier and enjoyable.

“Do youwanna continue or do we stop here?”

“Of courseI want” Ignis replied almost as if offended. “I cannot just leave you likethis.”

“I didn’tmean-” Gladio stopped to chuckle. “I mean, there’s other ways.”

“You’re notstopping me from sucking this a little more, Gladiolus” Ignis said and,inevitably, it sent Gladio into laughter, at how deadly serious Ignis made suchvulgar words sound. “I will never learn if I don’t study properly.”

“Howstudious” Gladio said teasingly with a smirk.

“Number oneof my class” Ignis smiled at him for a moment before his expression turned tothoughtfulness. “No, wait…that sounds bad in this context…”

Gladioburst laughing again. Ignis joined with a smile that turned into achuckle, eyes back on Gladio’s member and hand still moving along it.

“Alright,then” Gladio said a little lower, done with joking but still smiling. “Just,I’m really close. I’ll…warn you when I think I’ll come.”

“Alright”Ignis said with a little nod, hand moving faster on Gladio’s member, and eyesfocusing on it again. Gladio caressed his hair a little and passed a lock of itbehind Ignis’ ear, watching his boyfriend round the head of his cock with hislips and stay there some moments.

Ignis soonretook his earlier movements as he had explored and learned, testing to see ifhe remembered, if he had understood, and if he had managed to catch some skillfor it. Thank the Astrals, he did not feel as horribly full as the first timehe put it in his mouth; of course, it was still as thick and big, but it did not feel as overwhelming. It was like it was more enjoyable each time he swallowedhalf of his boyfriend.

The earlierlittle conversation had distracted him and he had forgotten how painfully hardhe was himself, still not released from his underwear. He palmed himself only afew times, before putting his attention full back on Gladio. He had adored thesounds the Shield was making and wanted to look for them again, so he tried hisbest on retaking the blowjob as it had been flowing.

“Shit,Iggy…” Gladio breathed out while Ignis slowly moved the head up and down onhim. “Your mouth…it’s so hot in there…”

Seen asIgnis had seemed to untense a little when he did it, Gladio did not fear whenhe put his hand to the top of Ignis’ hair, caressing and hiding thefingers among the light brown locks. He did not grip because he did not wantIgnis to either misunderstand and force himself, or to be in pain, and he onlycontinued to caress through his hair, whispering a small ‘Yes’ here and a‘Gods’ there while his boyfriend moved along his shaft, head coming up and downat a rhythmical pace, hand stroking at the base, and tongue doing wonders.

That Igniswas no master of this, of course not. But it was his first time, and it was notbad, either. Gladio was enjoying greatly, and that Ignis seemed to like it toowas great. It seemed like caressing his hair was also some sort of motivationfor his boyfriend, so Gladio continued to do it, head moving back and eyesclosing, adoring the sensation, every lick on the shaft, every suck on the tip,how hot and wet Ignis’ mouth was.

Ignisquietly continued for a couple minutes more, pulling away every now and then toget a proper breath before going back down without a word or hesitation.Eventually, he started catching the same pace than before, faster than before,and all of his mouth seemed to team up, sucking him harder, tongue caressingfaster, lips drawing further. Gladio started trembling and his breath wentheavier. He moaned with more frequency, hissed sometimes, muttered a word or twoof pleasure or encouragement, until he had to let go of Ignis’ head andreturned it to the edge of the bed, gripping it to contain himself from buckingthe hips. It took quite an effort, and his moaning became louder whileresisting the urge of thrusting upwards into Ignis’ mouth.

“I-Ignis…”Gladio called after a particularly loud moan, opening the eyes and staring atthe way Ignis’ head moved on him, unstoppable, fast enough for their firsttime. “I-Iggy…I’m going to come…”

He made sureto warn him with time enough, and he was sure it was not a murmur, but Ignisdid not pull away, as if completely ignoring him. Gladio stared athim bob the head, leaned back slightly, enough to watch Ignis’ lips when hepulled up, his oh so gorgeous, so soft, so warm, so beautiful, stunning lipswrapped around his cock, and he felt the tension quickly build up and rushingdown his belly. Gods, Ignis had the hair turned a mess, no glasses, and he wassucking at his cock greatly and so deliciously great.

“Iggy…” hecalled again, hand returning to his boyfriend’s hair, pressure a little harder,but Ignis ignored him again and continued with the movements, only pulling awayfor a moment to obscenely lick at the head before putting it back in his mouthand sliding down once again. “I-Iggy, I’m going to come!”

Hehesitated whether to pull Ignis from his hair or not, because he was at theedge, only contained due to his own effort, but his soft side did not want tobe rough on the seventeen year old, so he did not pull him away. Gladio triedto warn him again, but when he opened the mouth the only thing that made itpast it was a curse, followed by a louder and long moan, head going back andshoulders shrugging, both hands holding to Ignis’ head, and his load spillinginto the younger male’s mouth.

It did nothelp that Ignis kept his dick in his mouth all through his orgasm, tonguepressed to it, and Gladio lost himself to orgasm for some seconds, stillgroaning and holding Ignis’ head. With another groan, Gladio let go of it andhis hands returned to the bed, head dropping forwards again. It was only then,a few seconds after having released to the very last drop he had, that Ignispulled back, freed his mouth, looked away, and started coughing.

Gladio puta hand to his forehead, and his orgasm was refraining a little of the shockbecause…the Six damn…Ignis had swallowed it all.

The advisercoughed only a little, not compared to how bad it had been when Gladioaccidentally had him gagging, before using the tip of his sleeve to clean hislips. His expression was that of slight disgust, but also satisfaction. Hecontinued cleaning himself and Gladio recovered senses fully again, handsalmost instinctively reaching for Ignis’ cheeks, almost worriedly.

“My Gods,Ignis, you didn’t have-” Gladio used a hand to caress through his fringe,pulling it back as if to comb it like a vampire, and letting go to cup hisface again. “You didn’t have…to swallow, Iggy, that’s- I’m sorry.”

“You did warn me” Ignis said and managed a smile, and, for somereason, he looked rather tired, hands distractedly putting Gladio’s cock back in his clothes. “I chose to do it. I wished to…test, to say itsome way” he side-smiled up at Gladio, playfully. “How will I learn if I nevertry?”

Gladio onlygave a laugh. He offered a hand to Ignis, who happily accepted it and usedit as support to stand back up on his feet. When he did, Gladio pulled himcloser and wrapped his arms around Ignis’ hips, putting the head up gesturingfor a kiss. Ignis wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and was leaningdown to kiss him, but he stopped before it and asked Gladio if he really wantedto do that after Ignis had just swallowed. The Shield gave him a silly blink, thenshrugged and asked ‘A peck, maybe?’, which Ignis joyfully complied.

They peckedeach other’s lips for a while, before Gladio gently pulled them apart andstared down at the bulge still present in Ignis’ underwear.

“My, Icannot leave you like this.”

“That was apoor impression of my accent.”

“I nailedit” Gladio said with a grin, and his hands reached to take a gentle grip of hiships, pulling him closer to Gladio at the time he too moved back on the bed.When he spoke again, it was back to a low and sensual almost-murmur. “You comehere. I want to make you feel real good.”

Ignis offeredno complaints, and climbed onto the bed with Gladio, straddling him again eventhough now they were not at the edge of the bed, but rather comfortably satproperly on it. He caressed through Gladio’s undercut hairstyle, before cuppinghis face and reaching down to pamper his face with kisses, while Gladio’s handsroamed up from underneath both sweater and shirt to caress his torso a little,teasing for a moment before reaching their real target at his crotch.

Gladiocaressed it from over the clothing for a moment, and then squeezed it. Ignisreacted with a moan, stopping the kisses and holding to Gladio’s shoulders forsupport. Gladio squeezed again and made a comment on how hard Ignis was, andhow much he deserved to have an orgasm as good as the one he gave Gladio. A fewsqueezes and palming later, Gladio pulled Ignis’ cock from its hideout and letit stand free and needy only for a moment before taking it in his fist. Soon,he started stroking it, relatively fast. Ignis trembledlightly and rested the forehead to Gladio’s, closing the eyes. Gladio kept hisopen and stared at his boyfriend’s face, his incredible lips and the way theyparted and moved lightly with every breath he took, his pretty birthmarks,every inch of him, wanting to see his expression through his pleasure.

Apparently,Ignis had not been too far from his own orgasm, and it took only some momentsinto Gladio’s hand-job before Ignis was shallowly thrusting his hips into it.Gladio took the gesture and Ignis’ little moans as encouragement and startedpumping harder and faster, seeking for a quick release, and Ignis did not seemto complain; it was like he wanted it to be over soon, or he would combust. SoGladio complied, looking to make it quick. No wonder Ignis was at the edge bythat point; he had blown Gladio while mostly not touching himself, so,unattended, of course his cock would be needy and sensitive.

Gladiocontinued jerking him off fast and quick, stopping for only half a secondsometimes when he squeezed nearby the tip, as he was learning that Ignis likedit. Whenever he did, Ignis either bucked his hips or moved the head back,letting out a quiet but aroused ‘Yes’ each time.

“W-wait…Gladio”Ignis recalled, eyes still shut tight and Gladio still stroking him. “I-I’mgoing to…stain our clothes…”

For amoment, Gladio thought about having Ignis come only on him, maybe fromunderneath his shirt, but he was struck by a different idea he liked better. Helet go of Ignis’ cock only for a moment, and asked him in a breath to turnaround. Ignis obeyed, pressing the back to the Shield’s chest and, as aroused,also pressing the butt to Gladio’s crotch. Gladio was not hard anymore, butAstrals, did it feel fantastic. Gladio took his cock once again and continued jerkinghim, harder than before. A little startled, Ignis moaned and his hands lookedfor support, one holding to the forearm of the arm Gladio was hugging him with,and the other moving back to be able to hold onto the arm of the one he wasusing.

Gladio closedthe eyes and tried not to get hard again, because, Astrals, he could totally gohard again. Ignis’ butt on his crotch, the angelical and sexual moans he wasletting out, and Ignis’ slender waist in his arms, dammit. Gladio adored it,adored Ignis’ physic; he was a guy in good conditions for his age, and whilegetting stronger thanks to his training at Crownsguard, he was still in ateenage body. Slender, beautiful, small. Gladio could wrap his arm entirelyaround that beautiful waist, and he adored it. Ignis, smaller than him, soslender, feeling so small in comparison, it drove him crazy. And even though itwas cuter than sexier, Gladio adored him in his always classy if slightly nerdyclothing, the dumb sweater, the gods dammit.

He breathedheavily against Ignis’ neck and softly bit at it, not enough to leave a markbut enough to be felt. Ignis was specially sensible there, so thereaction was immediate; his eyelids fluttered, a long moan escaped him, and hethrew the head back onto Gladio’s shoulder, while the Shield still furiouslyjerked him off. One of Ignis’ hands flew up to find Gladio’s hair, caressingthrough it, and the adviser started moaning more frequently and in a slightlyhigher pitch, hips jerking forwards.

Adoring thesensation of his butt riding on Gladio’s crotch, despite their clothing,Gladio’s teeth still on his neck, and the absolutely wonderful hand-job, Ignisarched the back and moaned louder than before, and finally spilled his own loadinto Gladio’s fist and onto the sheets of the bed. Ignis lost the voice butkept the mouth open while riding his orgasm (and Gladio’s lap), and Gladio continued jerking himthrough it, squeezing sometimes to push the last of the drops out of him.

He switchedto gently caress his softening cock when Ignis finally started relaxing on him.It took only a few more moments before Ignis was loose in his arms, head restedto his shoulder and heavy breath trying to recover composure. Gladio smiledsoftly and cleaned his hand onto the sheets (they were dirtied already,anyway), to use it so he could properly hug Ignis with both arms, mouth pressing little kissesto the adviser’s neck and shoulder.

Ignis saidnothing, but after a few moments recovering himself, he pulled slightly away,put a hand to Gladio’s jaw to make him turn, and he reached for another peck onthe lips.

“Thiswas…gratifying” Ignis told him in a murmur after pulling away.

“Gratifying?It was amazing” Gladio said, and Ignis pulled away againto turn around, while putting himself back in his underwear. “Best first blowjob ever!”

“Oh, soyou’ve had other first blowjobs?”

“Don’t godrama on me.”

Ignisreplied with a laugh, moving back, avoiding the cum on the bed. Gladio moved aswell, and once he made sure they were not in its way, he turned to Ignis andbasically threw himself against the adviser, tackling him among laughter andcomplaints, and squeeze-hugging him while Ignis complained and ordered him tolet go, thing that, of course, Gladio did not do.

They stayedthrown on the bed together, hugged. Gladio kept the arms tightly around hisboyfriend, head pressed to Ignis’ chest, while the adviser caressed his hairand nape. It was a good half-an-hour in absolute silence, embraced and snuggledcomfortably on the bed. None needed of conversation to have a good time together,and Ignis was pretty convinced that that was a very good sign for theirrelationship.

He wasstill toying with Gladio’s hair when he heard the Shield-to-be talking.

“I stillfeel a little bad I came in your mouth” Gladio said and Ignis could not help alittle smile and blush. Gods, adrenaline and ecstasy passed, it made him feel alittle vulgar. “I mean, you chose to do it, but you can’t choose the flavor”this made Ignis laugh again. “It probably tasted like hell. ‘m sorry, Iggy.”

“It’s notEbony, of course” Ignis said as if analyzing, raising the eyebrows. “But it’snot necessarily bad. I could get used.”

“Really?”

Ignislaughed lowly again, more content than properly amused.

“Why not?”he said. “I do wish to repeat this, and I do wish to get better at it” Ignisburied his face in Gladio’s hair to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Andwhen learning how to give a good blowjob there’s inevitably some cum asconsequence” Gladio laughed. “Spitting sounds gross, and rumors have itswallowing is, what is it called? ‘Sexy’.”

“You’resexy enough just being yourself.”

“Now,aren’t you the smooth talker?”

“Whatever,Iggy” the adviser laughed softly in return. “You and your pretty body and yourpretty eyes are sexy enough. But swallowing was kinda hot.You don’t need to if you don’t want, though.”

“Too late,you said you enjoy, I’ll do it again.”

“You know,we should probably stop the sex talk” Gladio said from his chest and looked upat Ignis , who broke apart enough to be able to stare down and make eye contactwith his love. “I think there’s pastries in the fridge. Wanna go grabsomething?”

“Why shouldwe stop the sex talk?” Ignis asked him. “We always talk about our sexuality, norefrains, don’t tell me that the fact that I swallowed has inhibited you.”

“It’s notthat, Iggy” Gladio said and his forehead returned to its place against Ignis’chest, arms still hugged to the adviser’s hips.

“Then whyshould we stop the talk?”

“Because”Gladio again looked up at him, “I am young and apparently very horny, and allthis talk could get me ready for a round two.”

There was asmall pause between the two. Ignis blinked a few times, and Gladio only waitedfor his answer.

“…and doyou not want that?” Ignis asked him with a tiny smile and an exaggerated, fakedinnocent expression. Gladio stared at him, at first believing what Ignis wasimplicitly offering, but soon caught it was but a joke and stared at Ignis with a glancethat said ‘Ha ha, you’re so funny’, at which Ignis just contained a laugh.Gladio rolled his eyes at him and started sitting up.

“Let’s justgo grab pastries, mister Sass and Jokes.”

“No!” Ignischanted out unnecessarily dramatic, the vowel trembling like faked distress ora ghost, and he too sat up, only to throw the arms around Gladio’s neck frombehind, catching him a bit off guard and stopping him in place. “I just literally gave my first blowjob ever, I feel likestaying here and be cuddled.”

“Andpraised?” Gladio offered, covering one of Ignis’ hand with one of his own andturning to look from above his shoulder.

“Well, I did a majestic job, I believe” Ignis said and Gladiolaughed again, turning not to give his back to his boyfriend, who spoke as hemoved. “I deserve the praise.”

“Yes, youdo” Gladio replied and took him in arms again, letting themselves fall on theirsides to lie again on the bed. This time, Gladio adjusted themselves so hecould switch the earlier position, in a way in which Ignis could rest his headto Gladio’s chest and so Gladio could bury the head in Ignis’ hair and kiss thetop of his head over and over, hugging him close and dear. “Okay, then. We stayand cuddle.”

“Wonderful”Ignis said and snuggled closer to Gladio, head nuzzling against the Shield’sstrong chest, and eyes closing.

Gladiostared down at him and continued cuddling him, and found it unnecessary tocontinue talking. The praise talk had been a joke, but he would still make sureto praise Ignis a little later. Speaking in those moments felt unnecessary, anobstacle, almost like a sin. Their moments of silence were entirely precious;there was not a single second of discomfort or awkwardness. It was like theywere resting on a cloud of their own little bubble, where nothing else but each other existed, except the bubble was noise-fragile and would collapse atthe first word.

So he saidnothing. Relaxed, in peace, and satisfied, but, more than anything, so deeplyand happily in love with the most stunning mind, the prettiest body, and themost beautiful heart, all three belonging to only one person, the one in hisarms, Gladio smiled and closed the eyes, adoring everything, adoring to be ableto only hold Ignis against him and caress his messed hair and his firm back.

Ignis saidnothing either, because, just like the previous silence they had shared momentsearlier, he found their silences to be precious, entirely comfortable, a gem. Agood sign for their relationship.

Contentwith himself and how good things had gone, Ignis sighed softly and stayed therein the safe place of Gladio’s arms, happy that his boyfriend was such an excellent partnerin all aspects, and happy to go through unexplored territory hand in hand withhim.

Turns out,the unexplored territory was full of wonderful things, and Ignis would notprefer walking it with anybody else. Gladio, and only Gladio.

And, hewished, Gladio and only Gladio for the rest of his life.  

#THIS WAS FANTASTIC TO WRITE #I COULD STOP EATING AND BREATHING AND LIVE ON BROTHERHOOD GLADNIS CONTENT ALONE #I'D BE HEALTHY AF #HNNNNGNFGFNG I STAYED UP SO LATE FOR THIS #WHY AM I LIKE THIS #I HOPE YOU PEOPLE LIKE IT #gonna put taht in ao3 #...tomorrow #coon is TOO EXHAUSTED bye #THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE I LOVE IT #AH #yay gladnis! #gladnis #fanfic #smut #fluff #first time #gladiolus x ignis #moon raccoon is satisfied #hope coon doesn't have to wake up to #DISAPPOINTMENT #*flips desk* #i think i am still exalted why #hurr hurr goodbye #NIGHT #I MEAN GOODNIGHT #i need my bed

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Riley! You have been accepted for the role of Pete Silverman (FC: Harris Dickinson). Pete is a central member of the plot, and we were concerned in trying to find a writer who could balance his romanticism, good nature, genuine kindness, and latent fear, in a way that was sensitive to the trauma he’s faced. You gave us that and more. There were so many elements of your application that made us sit up and take notice. What’s really interesting is Pete’s feeling of repetition. He was a part of such a terrible mystery, albeit when he was a child. How will he deal with the current events? What does that mean for his development? You’ve started him so well; we can’t wait to see how he’s written from here on out. Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Riley Age: Over eighteen Pronouns: he/him Timezone: GMT Activity estimation: I try to be as active as possible. I work in complaints for a major company so depending how my case load is will depend how many replies I can get done during the days I’m working, but I also have days off when I can write. I try and reply within a couple of days and keep regular track of the dash, but due to my working hours I’d estimate the bulk of my activity would be during the later half of the week, Thu-Sun. Triggers: [Redacted]

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Peter Thomas Silverman Age (08/06/1978): 18 years old Gender: Cisgender Male Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: Questioning Occupation: Student Connection to Victim: Pete goes to high school with Brian’s older siblings and the case shares similarities with his own kidnapping years prior which means he has a vested (and uncomfortable) connection to the case. Alibi: ‘Walking. Just walking.’

‘Walking where?’ they ask him.

‘Nowhere in particular,’ he answers quietly, almost as if he’s ashamed or embarrassed, but he’s not. It’s just a fact.

‘That could mean a lot of things.’

‘Yeah,’ Pete shrugs, not dismissively, but as if to acknowledge the question; what more can he say?

‘Was anyone with you?’

Pete shakes his head. ‘Just me and my dog.’ He’s quiet for a moment. But then, he’s always quiet. ‘I don’t really like sports, but just walking around and listening to music… it relaxes me. Helps me forget about stuff.’

If you were a cynic, you might see it as a subtle manipulation, an attempt to play the victim, but anyone who’s really familiar with Pete knows it isn’t what he wants in life. He just wants to live it. Still, they can’t help but remember his past now that Brian has gone missing. There’s the simple scratching of a pen and the usual understanding, polite smile. Nobody really suspects the kid anyway. They’re just asking ‘cause they have to.

‘It’s okay son. I doubt we’ll need anything from ya. Just take care of yourself, okay?’

Faceclaim: In order of preference, Harris Dickinson, Tarjei Sandvik Moe, Ansel Elgort

WRITING SAMPLE

His mom wasn’t home when Pete got back from school, but to be honest, he didn’t expect her to be. She was working later and later. The paranoid part of him wondered if she was deliberately avoiding him anyway, avoiding talking to him or asking him how he’s feeling after what happened (or might have happened) to Brian. Then the cynic in him realized she probably didn’t really care enough to avoid him. She was just busy working. It had been a couple of years since Pete had really bothered trying to get her attention.

“Hey boy,” he greeted in a soft tone as Billie padded over to him. He bent down, pulling back the padded headphones that played one of his Smashing Pumpkins cassettes to scratch the dog behind the ears. He left his backpack and jacket hanging on the back of the dining chair, and made sure the water and food bowl were full. A chewed up tennis ball was lying on the floor, and he gave a little whistle before picking it up and bouncing it down the hallway so Billie could chase it and bring it back to him, and then he let him out in the back yard.

God, he was so freaking glad it was a Friday. But he was equally apprehensive about it. Tomorrow would mark one week since Brian had disappeared. He recognized the looks in people’s eyes when they spoke to David or Beth. He’d been on the receiving end way too many times. How weird was it to feel like he was the one giving those looks out? He’d also seen that look creep back into people’s eyes when they looked at him over the course of the week. He knew what they were thinking, because he was thinking the same thing.

It’s happening again.

Pete told himself it had to be something else, something completely unrelated to his father or to Max Acosta or to him. It sucked, but sometimes kids disappeared. That didn’t mean they were all linked… right? He didn’t wanna think about this stuff, and he especially didn’t wanna have the nightmares again. They’d been back all week long. He kept insisting everything was fine, but damn, he must have looked even more pale and skinny and exhausted than usual.

The little light flashed red on the answering machine, and he pulled a bottle of Diet Coke out of the fridge as he hit play. A message from Karen Shah’s receptionist telling him they could fit him in tomorrow if he wanted, could he call them before 10 tomorrow morning to confirm? Pete sighed. The next message was for his mom.

He shook his head, almost pulling his headphones back up. Mostly out of habit, out of defence. He held off for a few minutes though, wandering into the garden to call Billie back over. The dog was always grateful for the attention, and Pete was always grateful for the distraction. After a few minutes playing with tennis balls and sticks, he took Billie back inside to grab his leash. He hovered by the phone again, just for a few moments, and then he dialled.

The phone rang a few times before the voice at the other end answered. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice as upbeat and casual as possible. “It’s Pete. I’m about to take the dog out for like an hour, but are you doing anything tonight? We can catch a movie or hit the diner or something.”

ANYTHING ELSE?

https://www.pinterest.co.uk/rileyliamm/pete-silverman/

Of course, gender presentation is no real indication of sexuality or gender identity, but Pete has never been what people would dub a ‘manly man’. He doesn’t buy into macho bullshit. He just is. He’s sensitive, scribbling song lyrics in notebooks and the margins of his text books, being in touch with his feelings largely because he doesn’t have a choice. He seems to feel everything intensely whether he wants to or not.

Pete is creative and kind, he’s friendly but quiet. He loves his sister more than anything or anyone in the world and since he was raised by her and raised without a father figure, he’s in touch with what people would dub his feminine side. Dating and relationships aren’t something that are currently of particularly high value to him, especially recently with the disappearance of Brian. He’s always said he just needs to focus on himself.

The occasional crush here and there, a little casual high school dalliance, dancing with someone at prom and homecoming, but Pete has never really gone all-in. Romantic and sexual feelings are the exception to his usually intense feelings. He values friendship, family (mainly Mary), music and creativity. He’s never really talked about or acknowledged his attraction to men or masculine presenting people, even with his therapist.

Yeah, he goes to therapy. Well, on and off. He seemed to go all the time when he was little. He never really understood why, at least not for a few years. He knew his dad was gone, but couldn’t really remember all the details until it started coming back in dribs and drabs since his early teen years. People tried to protect him. They treated him like glass. But Pete never quite broke… He just chipped a little. He would just go, talk, draw pictures, do jigsaw puzzles, listen to music. The visits became less frequent further down the line, once a week, once every two weeks, a phone call once a month and then maybe not at all for a couple of years. When his nightmares are at their worst, he sometimes went more often, sometimes less often, but often he didn’t really want to talk anyway. What he was feeling wasn’t something a good walk and a pair of headphones couldn’t fix, at least so he told himself.

Pete has an affinity for animals, particularly dogs. They don’t ask awkward questions or give you those weird looks like they’re worrying about you. The general public in town don’t do that anymore either -  at least not until recently  - but they did, for years. He has a brown and white American Staffordshire Terrier called Billie (after Billie Joe Armstrong) who he found injured and caught in a trap on one of his walks a few years ago. He nursed him back to health and in spite of his mother’s protests, was allowed to keep him (so long as he was properly trained and, for the love of God, house-trained). Having a dog is a good excuse to go walking. People don’t look at you weird when you take your dog out for a few hours. And it’s nice to have some company that doesn’t expect anything of him.

Everyone knows Pete loves music, but he can’t perform it worth a damn. The idea of being on a stage in front of people with all eyes on him? No thanks. He likes writing though. When people ask him what he wants to do with his life, Pete isn’t really sure. Maybe writing for some kind of music magazine? After all the stuff he’s read in newspapers over the years though about him and his father, the idea of studying journalism sort of makes him uncomfortable and working at one of the local papers even for the experience is unthinkable. He feels like one big ‘to be continued’. Maybe he could work with his mom for a while, until he figures out what he actually wants to do. Maybe then he’d finally get her approval. But Pete is afraid of falling into a routine and just blending into the scenery here forever. Or worse, what if he does everything he thinks his mom would want, and she still doesn’t give a damn? Better to just keep his head down, keep his distance.

He often considers moving out, but he’s not sure where he’d go. His mom barely seems to notice him anyway, so it’s almost like he has the house to himself. But he also notices her not noticing him. At least if he had his own place, that wouldn’t be an issue. Sometimes he wonders if he could go stay with Mandy, but she’s already done enough for him.

#dkaccepted #accepted #pete silverman

[how2to18]

ONE SINGULAR PLEASURE of this “Second Acts” column — which examines, à deux, second books of poems, one of which had appeared 20 or more years ago and the other only recently — is the chance to discover mutual sympathies between two poets and their projects, both aesthetically and in terms of subject matter. These connections may be conscious — what Goethe called “elective affinities” — or they may be unconscious. Either way, reading the texts in counterpoint can prove illuminating, even surprising.

Susan Stewart and Jennifer Chang seem like an obvious pairing; the two certainly share some scholarly and poetic DNA. Both are intrepid, lucid literary critics and poets of visceral intellection. Stewart, currently Avalon Foundation University Professor in the Humanities and professor of English at Princeton University, is such a dazzling academic (a MacArthur Fellow who has also served as a chancellor of the Academy of American Poets, she will deliver the prestigious Clarendon Lectures at Oxford University in 2020) that it might be understandable if her critical work overshadowed her poems.

Fortunately, earlier this year Graywolf Press released her Cinder: New and Selected Poems to wide acclaim. New and selected volumes allow readers to encounter recent work in the context of a career, ensuring that early work is not lost to time even as we indulge our infatuation with the new. But the focus of such collections is usually, and perhaps rightly, the new. I feel it is important to focus more intently on early work, if only to appreciate how and in what ways a poet has evolved, something perhaps especially appropriate for Stewart, who has written discerningly about the primacy of praxis and process in the poetic endeavor.

Second books make an especially provocative place to delve into a poet’s work because they can either stall or extend the promise of the inaugural book. Will the poet become self-parodic, a one-trick pony, or a formal shapeshifter? Ideally, the second book confirms what will become lifelong obsessions, evinces a spirit of experimentation, and is rife with the suggestion of forays and fulfillments to come.

“Field in Winter,” the poem that opens Stewart’s Cinder, begins this way:

The world, a museum of itself. The cold colonnade of dying elms. You cannot will a dream, though you, too, can fall, and fall asleep, and wake in wonder […]

It is this stereoscopic perspective on the world as its own Wunderkammer — a place to fall and dream and wake and fall and dream and wake again “in wonder” — that has kept me reading Stewart since the appearance of her first book, Yellow Stars and Ice, in 1981. The poems in the first book are a young woman’s work, yet they are charged with an awareness of unbreachable distances, especially the longings of language of love, as in these last lines from the collection’s title poem:

As far as the space between word and word, as the heavy sleep of the perfectly loved and the sirens of wars no one living can remember, as far as this room, where no words have been spoken, you are as far as invention, and I am as far as memory.

In landscapes as various as rural Pennsylvania and Italy, the interconnected themes of Stewart’s first book — precariousness and endurance, loss and tenderness — swell and progress in her sophomore collection, The Hive, and find particularly deep expression in the notion of sacrament, ceremony, and what Pasolini calls, in the book’s epigraph, “the ancient rite […] // which only by dreaming inside a dream / could [be pronounced] by its true name.” Unsettling forces — birth, death, war, love, violence, separation — create the central tensions in each of these poems, tensions which Stewart then moves to address and sometimes even resolve through acts of private, sometimes secret, ceremony.

In the opening poem, “Man Dancing with a Baby,” for example, a new father finds sure, if mobile, footing when faced with the terror and vulnerability of his parental responsibility by putting on a record and dancing around the house with his newborn, an act of ritual importance:

The slippery floor shimmers and spins like a record while The light is swinging footloose on its rope Out of time. The shadows

Slip, shimmering black, and spin across the floor, Then turn back and pick up again. Oh seedpod stuck for just One moment on the cattail, out of time, out of shadows, Downy cheek against a beard: oh scratches

On the record, oh baby, oh measure Oh strange balance that grips us On this side of the world.

Likewise, the speaker in “Consecration” redeems the loss of a building that has been demolished by finding in the empty lot,

like the gestures of the dead in her children’s faces, […] the flowered paper

of her parents’ bedroom, the pink stripes leading up the stairs to the attic,

and the outline of the claw- footed bathtub, font of the lost cathedral of childhood.

In “The Summer Before the Moon,” Stewart uses the inchoate feelings of a girl on the cusp of adolescence to articulate how each of us, whatever our ages, must find fresh words for the new worlds we enter in the wake of every one of our changes. The girl in the poem waits,

as if a cloud had stepped back like a startled deer, as if a door had been closed so softly no one noticed, although the other side would now be understood as a different world. This is how the child learns to wait for hours,

listening for something like a ceremony to begin, something that as yet has no name.

In “Secret Ceremony: The Sailboat,” parting lovers share private trigger-images of loss: “how they flare up suddenly // from the stillness of the heart / like an oil spill — secret faces / in the surface of the river.” And in “Gaville,” the poem from which the book takes its title, the speaker imagines how a now-sleepy Italian town might be threatened again by an array of historical and natural forces — the Cavalcantis, the Nazis, a power plant disaster, a devastating rain, a fire — and concludes that

What this fascination with consecration and ceremony implies, of course, is a reckoning with the sacrament that is the lyric poem itself, which can express, to paraphrase Sharon Cameron, what it can’t redeem or restore by any other means. In their forays into iconography — a raven’s wing leaving its “print, a deep / and liquid stain,” or a child-prince’s opulent ornamental gown (“the surface of things being / a kind of armor”) or that lone, lost, gem-like bee — the poems in The Hive foretell the marvelous experiments with orthography, symbol, and field poetics that Stewart would explore in later books, both of poetry and criticism. The Hive suggests that current innovative poetries are not necessarily anti-lyrics, but rather attempts to embody what a lyric poem — hybrid, othered, outed, plural, polyphonic, “unmastered” — can be, mean, and accomplish.

¤

Jennifer Chang’s newly published second collection, Some Say the Lark, which follows her award-winning The History of Anonymity (University of Georgia, 2008), is, like Stewart’s work, preoccupied in part with provoking and questioning the lyric poem. Her book’s title comes, of course, from a well-known passage in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet in which, after exclaiming to Romeo that what he hears is not the lark — harbinger of the daylight that must separate them — but rather the nightingale, Juliet revises her wishful denial to admit that what she hears is the lark. But rather than allowing the lark its typical pastoral, dulcet association of “sweet division,” marking the distinction between the darkness and the light, she reveals a decidedly unromantic association, linking the lark’s music with the inevitable wrenching of lovers from one another’s arms.

Chang, who is assistant professor of English and Creative Writing at George Washington University, holds a PhD in English literature and an MFA in poetry writing. In her second book, she sustains the obsessions of her first book — identity (personal and cultural), history, effacement, and the realms of flora and fauna — and extends them into a questioning of the limits of lyric poetry itself in a world fraught with contingency and anomie.

In “The Winter’s Wife,” for instance, Chang’s speaker acknowledges that despite her wish to believe in the pathetic fallacy by which literature displaces into nature the “want” of human experience (“I want wild roots to prosper / an invention of blooms”), she, “unlike twilight, [does] not / conclude with darkness. I conclude.” Chang is fearless in taking on traditional notions of what poetry can do to the self and to the natural world. In the section “Phenomenology,” from a series called “Small Philosophies,” she talks back to Keats’s famous nightingale ode, refusing the traditional poet-bird conflation, reminding us of the rape of Philomela, and stressing the dangers of romanticizing either song or silence:

Permit the forest armature, neither elm-brigade

nor garden-lust. You are a twilight and a twilight bird. Isn’t that

a sparrow forlorn in the greenest branches?

Why forlorn? Because the clouds have gone brute.

You are a quality and a thing silenced

by pine-shrug. Stern willow. Now run and hide in the fern.

Conversing with poets and cultural figures as diverse as Sir Thomas Wyatt and Patsy Cline, Mary Wollstonecraft and Frank O’Hara, Wallace Stevens and Thomas Jefferson, Oedipus and William Butler Yeats, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and the speaker’s own children and childhood friends, this philosopher-poet asks again and again: “Brittle page, history, what am I to you?” (“Whoso List to Hunt”) These inquiries and assays are both personal to Chang, a first-generation child of Chinese immigrants, as well as relevant to all of us.

Stalking Chang’s poems is an awareness of never, of no, of nada — “Never is / a strange design, to name what can’t be / or won’t begin,” she writes in “Mount Pleasant” — and this sense of absence, this hole of aught, is the secret center of all lyric poetry. Chang confronts the poet’s essential quandary — how, and whether, to word the unwordable — again and again, perhaps most strikingly in “Dorothy Wordsworth,” which begins: “The daffodils can go fuck themselves. / I’m tired of their crowds, yellow rantings / about the spastic sun that shines and shines / and shines.” After rehearsing the “old joy” of “spring again,” Chang concludes her stunning poem with an unflinching expression of what it means to be a poet in the first place:

If I died falling from a helicopter, then this would be an important poem. Then the ex-boyfriends would swim to shore declaiming their knowledge of my bulbous

youth. O, Flower, one said, why aren’t you meat? But I won’t be another bashful shank. The tulips have their nervous joie-de-vivre, the lilacs their taunt. Fractious petals, stop

interrupting me with your boring beauty. All the boys are in the field gnawing raw bones of ambition and calling it ardor. Who the hell are they? This is a poem about war.

Both Chang and Stewart, then, foreground the machinations and motions of the lyric poem — site of sleight of hand, site of ritual, in which there is an economy of sacrifice — in verse of daring beauty, honesty, and depth. In “Ceremony,” Chang writes, “I am quiet / and won’t / squander words / to make what’s / false true.” In both The Hive and Some Say the Lark no word is wasted. Each serves a world in which “all waste […] shall bequeath to our heir. Our air,” as Chang writes in “About Trees.” She closes “Again a Solstice” this way:

What does it even mean to write a poem? It means today I’m correcting my mistakes.

It means I don’t want to be lonely.

¤

Lisa Russ Spaar is a poet, essayist, and professor of English and creative writing at the University of Virginia. She has published numerous books of poetry, and her latest collection, Orexia, was published in 2017.

The post Second Acts: A Second Look at Second Books of Poetry: Susan Stewart and Jennifer Chang appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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