necroangels
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"This is too far; both of them know it’s too far. They’re stepping into uncharted territory. They took a vow, an oath even, to never cross this far, because they could never, ever, go back."
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i wont forget how you looked at me then by necroangels
Fandoms: Bittersweet - Ayejay.Jvrozx (Webcomic)
18 Oct 2025
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"why don't I say it then, i want you all the time."
a what if & continuation of the make out scene, written to pork soda by glass animals.
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Ivan does not hesitate. Hesitation would be noticed. It would be recorded, remembered, held. Instead, he swallows without chewing. Whatever is biting into his stomach twists there, forcing it into a knotty mess, pushing the swallowed pieces back up his throat. He quashes it anyway, pressing everything down, tamps the reaction flat, and keeps still until the watching eye finds nothing to seize.
( Or, time lingers only in the living: one, once younger, now alone in its quiet passage, while the other rests frozen, unchanging. The insects are absent, and yet the silence speaks. Death itself becomes a record. )
Bookmarked by necroangels
26 Feb 2026
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Runa and Ivan are touching lips, Runa cupping the back of Ivan’s neck while running her fingers through his hair with her eyes closed. Ivan’s hand is holding her chin, keeping her mouth pressed against his.
Till shudders, an uncomfortably hot feeling blooming in his chest. His face reddens, and suddenly he feels tears pricking at his eyes. He’s not sure why, but he’s upset. He thinks back to when Ivan once asked him if they could touch lips, remembering that Ivan had actually referenced that empty promise a few days ago with Mizi. Till tries wiping his tears from his face with the back of his sleeve, planning on glancing up at the pair one last time before he leaves for good.
Only, when he looks up, he catches Ivan’s red-pupiled gaze.
A girl in Anakt Garden asks Ivan to be part of an exclusive pair. Ivan doesn't refuse.
Bookmarked by necroangels
26 Feb 2026
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The lights were off. The house felt still, heavy with sleep. He figured everyone was out cold, blissfully unaware that he'd dragged himself home half-alive and bleeding.
Then a voice floated out from the kitchen, smooth and dry as smoke:
"Please tell me the other guy looks worse."
Tom froze mid-step.
Tord leaned against the counter, lit only by the microwave clock. He was barefoot, sleeves rolled up, red hoodie hanging loose over his gray tee.
Tom scowled, eye twitching. Of course. "Jesus, fuck, Tord. Don't you sleep?"
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Tom gets hurt and Tord is surprisingly not an asshole for once.
Bookmarked by necroangels
27 Oct 2025
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But, then came that expression that Tom unfortunately knew too well; that subtle, razor-sharp smirk that could cut class.
“Didn’t figure you for the brooding type, Thomas.”
The use of his full name was deliberate. A small provocation wrapped in silk. Tom’s name sounded different in Tord’s accent.
Tord didn’t wait for permission. Didn’t wait for an invitation. He never did. Not in all the years that Tom had known him. He stepped out from the dim hallway, and into the living room’s amber glow, moving with that particular brand of confidence that existed somewhere between arrogance and simple certainty. It wasn’t this aggressive swagger. More like, fluid grace, like someone who had already proven everything they needed to prove.
He walked slowly. Deliberately. Like someone testing the temperature of water they were about to dive into. His drink swayed loosely in one hand, clearly unimportant, a prop that served no purpose beyond giving his fingers something to do. What mattered was the way his attention focused on Tom like a laser, unwavering and intent.
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After a party, Tom and Tord's feelings for each other come to a head.
Bookmarked by necroangels
27 Oct 2025