Artist: @jam-knife (main: @godoftrashandmisfortune)
For: @mapsareforbraindeads
Prompt: anything related to one of my fics (mapsareforbraindeads on ao3)
Artist’s notes: Hi! I chose your fic ‘Barriers’ as inspiration for this. But let me thank you for writing this prompt! Because of it I got to read through many of your fics and they’re really great! I had a hard time making up my mind on which one to choose. That being said I hope you like this! Feel free to upload it as a cover for the fic if you want too (with credit pls <3)
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Hi jam-knife! I regret to inform you that you matched up with Takuo Shibuimaru, the second guy Kira killed, who’s a skeevy lowlife gangster wannabe. This man really has no redeeming qualities and spends his life pestering girls and riding around with his lowlife buddies. Hard pass right?
BUT you’re matched so you can get to him first and do the deed better than Light!! Channel Beyond and give this guy what he really deserves, I know you’re up to the challenge ;)
The threat of reward hangs like February’s icicles off the keystones of their arched windows; like teeth, glittering with iridescent magic he had secretly wanted to reach for but could never allow himself to indulge his imagination and believe there was anything special about sunlight captured in tapering ice.
But, unlike the magic of dripping frost spirals, B held real mystery that could not be measured on the density of latticing molecules or their capacity for refraction.
— For the past five Winters, he had glimpsed from over his shoulder the grey outline of the second successor in the dull amber lamp-light, bleeding into the darkness of predawn from their window’s frame – the sight eerily echoing fairytales, an ice-toothed maw, building a weak fire at the back of it’s throat around the templar caught in it’s jaws.
The house’s bowing scaffolds and cavernous ceilings reminded him of a monstrous, yawning thorax. But, hadn’t B always been the beast he was told to slay?
The second child would be the only one to swallow up his future, but even after he became curious enough to peer out after him into the dying night, he never called him back inside. He simply watched him go.
Only once, B had seen him through the frosted glass and drew a warm finger down the chilly pane, leaving a clear trail for A’s eyes to follow.
– ‘ 早 trop ’
早; early. Trop; too much …
`
A had smiled softly. ‘ Too early, too soon. ’
Too quickly gone. Everything.
`
The privacy of twilight, the thrill of their rivalry, the careless surprise on B’s face when he uttered ‘friend’ in his mother’s tongue, the impression of warm fingers on cold glass, their time together sharing the same Winters with the same purpose, all too quickly gone.
He lingered a little longer that day but, all the same, disappeared to the far side of the grounds, the only hour and place he found true privacy, in the weeds spared by the grounds keepers; indulging his imagination and giving form to the unrefined thoughts of B and their place in the world.
`
A dreaded the day he might be discovered and told it was too dangerous to venture out before dawn…
It was as though, as his mind was sharpened and expanded, it became equally more wild with possibilities and a thirst for purpose. Some were fantastical, others bitterly inevitable, but his position left no room for doubt or desire that might take him off course. Yet, language allowed him to solidify his thoughts, condensed his fears from their monstrous shadows and gave his conflicting fascination with B more form to twist into delicious narratives that no one else had to know…
Could any of what he imagined in the slow moments of sunrise be mutual … ? Could Backup’s own expanding mind hold the same spoiled possibilities?
`
The invitation to revisit old battles was enough for him to incline into the warmth building between them, further kindling a familiar unrest that twisted his dreams into an abstract hunger – pressing into the other’s skin desperately, pulling him blindly into his body like an animal ignorant of sex…
The shot glass, standing amber and fading to his left, wasn’t spared a glance. But, he neither considered backing down nor felt ready to accept the dare.
`
His senses were too swept up in the physical actions; It’s only been moments-
B’s thighs wound around his body, a hand guiding his fingers - it is like the creak of the window’s ledge under the heel of his hand, reminding him of how close he is to touching the slender, sparkling ice, and that if his intent is already so obvious, that he might as well have. i t. …
If only for a moment, he allowed possibility of learning what rolling, summer-soaked sex felt like …
Watching barely parted lips, soundless as smoke.
His breath trickles from his open mouth.
He could almost feel it.
`
“ - B … ”
`
He hesitates, introspection emerging out of the soft haze, slowing time. Several questions not quite formed,
‘Why do you want it?’,
‘For what ends?’, ‘Have you ever- ?’
‘Would you ever consider- … me ?’
– a distracting warmth builds on his face. He can’t tell if it is the heat rising from between their bodies or if allowing himself to ponder asking has caused his inexperience to surface visibly.
He’s been practicing control over his emotional affect since the day L asked him,
“Why do you think you are first and Backup is second?”,
The question made his blood run cold…
`
Being readable was being vulnerable.
A’s skin has always had the thin, delicate quality of alabaster. B’s pin-prick love bites had bruised him painlessly for weeks but had damaged his carefully constructed veneer of invulnerability, drawing low toned whispers from their peers…
Until then, most assumed he was easily flustered from anger; a manifestation of a temperamental nature under pressure or the years spent with B allowing something to rub off.
In truth, it was a compromise with his body; if he couldn’t conceal his responses, he would control the message they carried – A sharp glance, the sucking of teeth, the veil of teenage impudence, ‘-tu meurs en premier’ ( You die first ) where nothing else felt strong enough…
`
Hiding behind animosity had been intentional, but it felt like a betrayal to suppress more of who he was than he already had to, slipping deeper into the skin of his persona until there wasn’t a trace of the person beneath the letter left.
However, it was a price worth paying, allowing his eyes to wander unscrutinized over polished desks to trace the gentle, verdant veins of the other boy’s arms – his hands, fingers curling around the pages edge gracefully, the tender hiss of skin against paper…
Behind the camouflage of disdain, he could drink in the subtly of his closest friend’s voice, it’s cadence maturing into a syrupy, deep resonance; saccharine sound…
`
… Do other boys do this to themselves ?
`
A would repeat his words behind closed lips, savoring them, amplifying every morsel by bringing it into his body, into his mouth. Anything to make the thought more vivid; the memory of B’s breath trickling over his pulse.
He can’t remember what was said anymore…
It changes with his mood, the flavor of his dreams, the tone of the moments when he is alone.
He can only remember the wispy susurrations over teeth, the strange awareness of the temporarily of the moment, how teasing close to the line of satisfaction it brought him, leaving him feeling desperately unsated when it was over.
It keeps him revisiting the confrontation, a pseudo-masochistic fixation with a moment long gone and fading from memory.. But all within the safety of his mind, where no one else would know.
The warmth on his face leaves him feeling exposed, summoning the familiar resentment towards his own body .. though it’s muted, somewhere distant, pricking without sting.
`
He still wants to pull away and hide.
But, the distance between them is so unbearably tight, and unreasonably comfortable…
`
He leans in closer.
If he is close enough, B will not be able to distinguish the emerging color from the shadows he casts over his features. But, he can feel the humidity of an exhaled breath pulled into his mouth and the warmth seems to prickle like sparks through his skin.
The condensing air between their lips is sweltering and silent as the calm before a storm. It tingles with electricity that he pulls deeper into his lungs. It’s charge filling up his chest, until the impossible gravity brings the flush warmth to his mouth without any deliberation - the release of letting himself simply have it allows a sigh to escape, taking with it the uncertainty that’s haunted every previous instance of betrayal by his body.
The contact is tender, the motion slow, as gentle and inoffensive as it was starved… letting the plush heat and subtle pulse seep into the union of their lips. Time’s viscosity embellishes the pressure with delicate sensation he’s never been receptive to before, amplified by his famished longing to relive the lustful sincerity of their altercation.
– His fingers press into the firm muscles of his friend’s lower back. The contact is so light B could detect the trembling of his hands… He’s never felt this rawly unguarded before, this honest without regret.
`
The balmy nirvana of his rival’s lips has an ethereal softness like the satin of rose petals that lingers on the tips of his fingers, something he couldn’t detect in the bruising, hateful kiss they shared years ago.
But, it meets his senses with a familiarity… from their childhood; the groaning of tree limbs under his weight as he leaned over and allowed the contact as light as moth’s wings meeting mid-flight, guiltless and strangely polite. The sensation was phantom, almost untangle, like if warm velvet and cream could mesh, living on his lips like they had exchanged something vial and irreversible - leaving an unsatisfied intrigue, the desire to fully grasp the physical impression. They personified the idiom ‘just one more time’ – turning one, a single curious action, into several repeating attempts.
A sermon on sin lead them to never speak of it again, but his belief in sin had outgrown second hand virtues. There was nothing virtuous about his intoxicated touch, brushing fingers against his friend’s smooth cheek as he gave himself to it, his eyes sliding closed as he let himself submerge - the quiet sanctuary of their room, ‘I-missed-you’ pressed into the lobe of his ear, the warm inflection like a lifetime’s confession -pulled down into B’s body, sliding under him, pulled into Egyptian cotton by his gravity-his fingers lacing into his hair-surrender-as-they-curl-pulling-possessive-’say you’re mine’-the-humiliation-of-his-heel-in-his-back-
His lips part.
`
The galvanized air slips into his mouth, tingling as faintly as dust caught on sunlight, sparkling invisibly on his tongue as he inhales. He wants to fill his lungs back up with static, invite the delicate energy into his body, allow the current to saturate his senses. He wants Beyond’s thunder in his veins.
Sloping into one another, his fingers guiding the arch of B’s back. The subtle shift of his clothes, pressure through thin layers, and bare caress of skin again skin, the novel sensation of having someone press their aroused body into his. A hitch in his breath, a shiver rolling down his spine. Everything moves so slowly, the fiction tight, hot in his lap. He can feel the warm weight of B’s thighs and is unable to conceive of anything but the sensation – a surge like cream icing on his tongue, every nerve telling him he’s on the cusp of what he’s been craving all this time.
Each benign shift leaves his mind blank from pure indulgence, relaxing his jaw. He could yield under that mouth without a second’s regret.
`
But nothing feels quite enough.
`
Ensnared in a torrent of want, he presses harder into his friend’s friction but he can’t push it deeply enough into his own body to reach the elusive ache. The unbearable want is undefinable, evanescent as fists of sand, slipping through his hands -
`
— He-brings-his-fingers-to-wrap-around-his-rival’s-throat - his thumbs press into the resistance of cartilage…
The electricity is burning him from the inside out-
`
He wants something beneath the relief he’s pursuing, he wants to plead with B for it, but doesn’t know it’s name. It’s not a promise, it’s not his body, it’s not that he wants to ask him to be his friend again-
He wants something he cannot have.
He wants the mystery of the second child, the one from the crimson-lit alleys of a country he’s never seen, to hold real magic that will make all of this stay the way it is forever – never knowing who wins, who vanishes from history, what there is left to keep his blood running hot when his opponent is gone, what a decade without his touch to haunt him will feel like–
But, there is no magic.
Ice spires hanging like opulent wands would melt in his hands, trying to keep their rivalry forever would be as futile as clutching at sand being pulled in by the tide. You can’t conquer fate or time, they know no mercy or masters and never will.
B knows that better than he ever could.
There is no magic but B possesses a curse that never lets him forget the futility of trying to hold onto what was never yours.
`
But, if either gave into despair over what they could not change, he would not have this to lament that it would be gone one day. A would relish in the fire of their conflict and the heat of B’s body, until time took it from him. Because it would.
`
Fragile peace is found so easily when, if he could get any closer, their clothes would merge at the treads and he would be one less layer from reality… Every nerve is ringing with his friend’s friction, the first direct motion causes his eyes flutter, the muscles of his thighs spasm with an intense surge. The carnal hunger is devouring all sense, in his mind, in his mouth, his pulse under his thumbs.
He squeezes down a bit harder, summoning up the impression of B’s heel at his back with as much vividness as his imagination could manifest -- he could feel the tread bitting into his spine, the sense of defeat, the delicious twinge and tension-
A breaks the kiss, his gaze softened with ecstasy but darkening with stormy passion. Each movement was building up to an indeterminate end and he was aching for impact.
`
“ - Dit-moi que tu m’deteste. ”
Tell me you hate me.
`
Fantasies conjured up with more intensity without need of the usual focus. It was just there, at his lips, between his thighs, and looming over him without threat. His friend’s confession of violent daydreams, had became intertwined with his own.. The fixation with their worst altercation, it was mutual.
`
“uhhh-h-…”
If he could feel embarrassed by the meager, straining sounds, it isn’t right now. The rush comes again with a roll of his hips, A shuts his eyes to yield into it.
It is incredibly more intimate than he is able to appreciate.
White incandescent moonlight came through the narrow slit of curtains drawn but not quiet overlapping, drawing a single pale line down the opposite wall. Like the night itself was highlighting his point of vexation and would not allow it to disappear into the darkness. He couldn’t tuck it away till morning, the second now occupying his precious space.
Perhaps, he was at fault for getting too comfortable with the notion of exclusive territory in a place where nothing belonged to anyone. But it came as an unwelcomed surprise when the very person he had attempted to avoid was placed not ten feet away from his bedside. B, the backup, was now close enough to hear him breath and all the effort to put this threat as far from his mind as he could was to his detriment. He would have to open himself up to sharing a room with the his rival.
Initially introduced as A and B, later as Alternative and Backup. He knew that the other boy had to be terrifyingly intelligent and they would soon become intimately familiar with the other’s habits, talents, and weaknesses. --- He did not want to make an enemy he would have to sleep with.
Roger had insisted it was an advantageous arrangement. They would acquire some social graces, learn to cooperate with another person, perhaps it would even give them both a friend. Of course, these were the conventionally acceptable excuses that thinly veiled the true reason. Wammy’s had limited space and more prospective candidates, more children collected and kept.
They were lucky it was just the two of them.
Alexander rolls over, tired of pretending to sleep. His eyes trying to focus in futility, the room a monochromatic scape in the dim lighting.
“Backup...” He said barely a whisper, trying it out on his tongue. He would have to get used to saying that name wouldn’t he?
“Ils ne vous ont pas laissé choisir.” He mouthed, musing as he pondered what an awful sound it had. Backup, the plan B.
▪️Does that thing where if you correct them they go, “Oh of course I knew that. I was just testing to see if you knew that,” and you have no way of proving that they’re lying
▪️English isn’t even their first language and they’re still better than you
▪️Has a great cosplay and awesome drawing skills but rarely uses it for their rp blog
▪️Decodes the clue you sent them and sends it back to you without answering it
▪️Answers asks and threads in a timely fashion
▪️Greets everyone with equal enthusiasm
▪️Comes up with actual witty responses, like, stop being so perfect you’re messing up my problematic fave post
Mun: Oh my God, this made my day. I mean, “English isn’t even their first language and they’re still better than you”? “Has a great cosplay and awesome drawing skills”? “Comes up with actual witty responses, like, stop being so perfect”? Why, thank you so much!!! I’m actually a huge dork but thanks \(^-^)/
Mun: Also, bullets 1 and 4... lmao so true, I’m crying
Mun: And as for the ‘who am I’ part... -smirks- I’ll tell B to get at it immediately, but I already have my suspicions...
PD: Again, thank you (wow I’m someone’s fave aaaah you’re too nice)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I got so excited I had to draw it... I'm not great at scenes so here's just a quick lil thing. @jam-knife @thequietonesarethedarkestones Also, can you see the @detectivexhanabira cameo? I couldn't resist.
