#nothing gets his muse raring and ready to go quite like this band

[cynicallyscorned]

sarcasm get scared my beloved 😊❤️

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 10

masterlist

Jin had become a little less volatile in the following days, but he had become almost unbearably smothering when he wasn’t disappearing into his office to take mysterious phone calls. He always seemed to be touching her, kissing her. The man was practically glowing with excitement, and his excitement never boded well for her. She tried at least to enjoy the relative peace while it lasted. He hadn’t tried to initiate anything either. It was a relief for her. There was a lot she could put up with, mostly because she had to, but that was not something she wanted to give to Jin.

She had never like Kim Seokjin. He was not a good man, even before this, but now, she firmly believed that he was the devil. What else could he be? He was the subject of nightmares, the creature that mothers warn their children about. He was the monster her parents had warned her about. She should have gotten away when she’d had the chance. She should have quit all those years ago when she first realized how horrible he was to work with. None of this ever would have happened if she’d taken the job in the first place.

Her father had always taught her to try to find the good in any situation, but she couldn’t find any here. There was no good to be found in Kim Seokjin. In a way she was glad that her father was dead. She would have hated for him to see how far she had fallen. He’d always wanted a good life for her. Maybe if Jin wasn’t psychotic, and they had met in a different life one where Jin had wooed her like a normal man, he could have provided that for her. There was no chance of that now though. Jin had taken everything from her. He’d taken her freedom, her dignity. She had a sneaking suspicion that he had been behind Minseok’s demise. And now, he was going to permanently tie them together.

Jin had presented her with a ring as gaudy as he was, happily slipping it onto her finger gripping her hand a little too tightly for the gesture to be sweet. The large diamond was prominently sat in the middle of a platinum band with two smaller baguette diamonds on either side of the central emerald cut stone. It was a hard piece of jewelry to ignore. Every time she moved it caught the light drawing her eye down to the horrid thing. Jin was so proud of it. He declared it worthy of the future Mrs. Kim, but she detested it. Every time she looked at it, it made her stomach turn. She wanted to chuck it over the balcony and down to the busy streets below, but she refrained too frightened of what Jin would do to her if she did so.

He’d brought in a team of ladies to primp and poke her into the image of Kim Seokjin’s wife, as well as a team to groom poor Jinnie, but not before thoroughly threatening her. Jin couldn’t risk her asking for help. He couldn’t risk his image as Seoul’s golden boy. He was perfect, and his future wife had to be too.

Every time she thought of his dead eyed smile as he’d spoken to her, as he’d threated to kill Jinnie, to hurt her, a shudder went down her spine. It had been a struggle for her to keep quiet when the ladies had been there fixing her hair and doing her nails. Even if she had wanted to speak up, Jin was always there leisurely seated a few feet away giving instructions to the ladies. He wanted her to be perfect, his version of perfect. Her hair was styled to his specifications. Her nails were shaped and painted in a demure neutral color, because the wife of Kim Seokjin was to be a perfectly demure lady, and she hated it. She had never been a very vibrant woman. She’d always been a little softer, a little more neutral, but something about that fact that it was now being dictated to her made her hate it.

She was filled with the urge to take a pair of kitchen scissors and cut off all of her hair. She wanted to paint her nails a violent shade of pink just to spite him, but how could she? He was always there, always hovering over her shoulder. He was so thrilled with the idea of their wedding, and she had never dreaded anything more.

He was almost manic in his excitement. He was constantly bringing her wedding magazines forcing her to choose between preapproved flowers, colors, food. There was nothing that wasn’t already Jin’s choice, not that she really wanted to be involved in wedding planning. She knew what would happen once the wedding took place. She’d be legally tied to Jin in the eyes of the law and the eyes of the public. There would be no escape for her, not that there was much chance now.

She’d learned a lot about Jin during her captivity. She’d always known him to be meticulous, a perfectionist, but there was something about seeing him in all his psychotic glory that stripped her of all hope. He was almost obsessive, no, he was obsessive. Every detail of her captivity was planned just as every detail of their wedding was planned. There was nothing she could do to fight against him, not when he held all the cards.

“Hello, my darling.” Jin greeted her placing a kiss to her forehead. She was getting better at accepting his displays of affection, or she was had been well trained. Any rejection of Jin was met with violence so she kept herself calm. She kept herself gentle and passive just as Jin wanted her.

“How has your day been?” He asked sinking down to sit next to her.

“It’s been fine.” She smiled setting her book aside. She wasn’t allowed to do other things when Jin wanted her attention. Her focus was always to be on him. He was a narcissist at heart. Everything had to be about Jin. “Do you have anything you want me to look over?” She asked. Jin wanted her active and excited in the wedding planning, so she pasted on a smile and pretended as best she could if only to keep him calm.

“No, darling.” He cooed smiling gently as he played with her hair. “Not right now, we have almost everything decided. It won’t be long now.”

A thought she dreaded.  Marriage to Jin was the last thing she wanted, but it wasn’t as though he was giving her a choice.

“What’s that?” She asked looking at the file resting on his other side. If he’d brought it instead of taking it directly to the office, it had to have something to do with her.

He smiled picking up the file and opening it up. “This? This is your medical file, darling.”

She froze dread filling her. What could he possibly want with her medical records? How had he even gotten them? She wasn’t sure who to be more upset with, Jin or her doctor, but the likelihood of her ever seeing the doctor of her choice again was slim. It would probably be Jin’s choice from now on. He was an overbearing bastard.

“We’ll have to get your IUD removed.” He mused flipping through the pages. “We’ll be needing an heir, and that pesky little thing will get in the way.” He looked back at her gently brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “But we can take care of that after the wedding. I want to enjoy you before we have a son.” He leaned in nipping at her ear.

“A baby?” She whimpered doing her best not to flinch away from him.

“Of course, darling.” He chuckled trailing light kisses down her neck. “Mother and father are anxious for grandchildren as well. Seokjung won’t be much help to them in that regard.”

She stiffened even more at the mention of his brother. It was rare for Jin to bring him up. Not many people even knew the fate of the older Kim brother, but she had been working with Seokjin for years. She’d even met the man a few times, quite the feat considering how the family kept him away from the eyes of the public. The poor man wasn’t even mentioned with the rest of the family, not since the accident.

Kim Seokjung was set to inherit the company until there was a skiing accident when the brothers were in high school. Seokjung had ended up paralyzed from the waist down and had become effectively useless in the eyes of his upper crust family. He received the best of care, but his life was essentially over. Seokjin had risen as the only son and heir of the Kim family.

Of the two, Seokjung was definitely her favorite. He was a pleasant man, far more pleasant than the rest of his family and surprisingly optimistic considering the life he’s been thrust into. Assistants had no place in private family matters, but Jin had insisted on bringing her to the family home on more than one occasion, and that was where she had met Seokjung.

She first encountered him in the kitchen in the family home. To say that both of them had been surprised would have been an understatement. She had only been working for Seokjin for a year, and she had never heard mention of a brother, but they’d quickly settled into conversation seated at the little breakfast nook in the vast kitchen with a cup of tea that Seokjung had made for them himself. There wasn’t much for him to keep himself occupied now that he was effectively under house arrest by his own family, but he was excellent at making tea. He was also an amateur chef. She loved talking to him. The few times she had met him were the highlight of her time working with Jin.

One thing that never made sense to her was the accident. Both Seokjin and Seokjung were very athletic back in the day. Seokjin was still athletic. One of the things that the Kim family excelled at was winter sports. Seokjin preferred to snow board, but from what she had heard, Seokjung was quite the accomplished skier. They’d been to that resort hundreds of times. He’d skied those hills all his life. The conditions hadn’t even been bad on that fateful day, but something had gone wrong, so wrong that Seokjung no longer had the use of his legs. Now knowing Jin more, she now had to wonder if he had had something to do with the accident. She wouldn’t put it past him, not now.

“Wouldn’t that be nice, darling?” Jin cooed bringing her back to the present as he nuzzled into her neck. “A little son.”

“I don’t… I’m not…” He breath hitched as Jin nipped at her neck more harshly.

“You’re not what, darling?”

“I’m not ready for children.” She whispered trembling as she waited for Jin’s reaction.

Jin pulled away staring her down before a grin stretched across his features. “Not to worry, darling. We can wait a little before we start our family. I want to enjoy you first.” He purred nipping her neck again.

“No, Jin.” She whispered pushing him away gently. “I don’t want children.”

She had always been on the fence about kids. It was the biggest fight that she and Minseok had ever had. He’d wanted a houseful of them. She wasn’t even sure she wanted them. She’d never had siblings, and she’d cared for two ailing parents in her life. Kids had never really crossed her mind, but she knew she definitely didn’t want them with Jin. She doubted she had much choice on that either, but she had to try.

Jin frowned before pasting on an indulgent smile. “Two I think. Two boys. Doesn’t that sound nice, darling?”

“I don’t…”

Jin cut her off his smile becoming more strained, his eyes darkening. “You don’t know what you want, darling. That’s why you have me.” He pet her hair his tone taking on a condescending air.

“Jin…”

“My poor stupid darling.” He cooed pulling her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “How did you ever survive without me?” She grit her teeth restraining herself from snipping at him. She’d gain nothing from upsetting him even more than she already had. “Don’t worry, darling. By this time next week, we’ll be married, and you’ll never have to worry again. Daddy will take care of you.”

Yes, that was exactly what she was afraid of.

part 11

[supposed2bfunny]

Yoo it’s me & you got me thinking. So 2D,spoiled only child,not real thoughtful(prob didn’t realize his mum did his laundry til he moved out and his laundry wasn’t magically clean anymore) & Murdoc leaves little candies and things in his pockets/around the house for him. Phase 5, Murdoc’s in jail. Suddenly there’s no candy around for him all the time. He’s confused about this until Noodle is like “who do you think did all that stuff for you?” What do you think that realization is like for him?

Uhhhh this may have expanded beyond anything I had in mind when you sent this ask hours ago, nips. Short ficlet under the cut!

It’s the second or third day after Ace moves in and the band moves forward with the new album that 2D finds the last vestige of Murdoc lurking on his things like a smelly miasma. He pulls on a worn sports jacket, a gift from FILA from 2013 or 2014, slips his hands into the pockets, and finds something heavy and metallic lurking in the right-side pocket.

Pulling it out, he beholds a silver ring bearing a skull, the sort of thing Marilyn Manson would have pulled off well in the 90s, that gothic bulkiness in which Murdoc has always aspired to look cool in and has never quite succeeded.

After a moment’s inspection, 2D does the logical thing: he hurls the ring down the staircase of the Spirit House, grinning with satisfaction at the sound of it bouncing off the wooden floors below and rolling away to be forgotten amongst debris and clutter and apathy.

“Tosser,” he mutters to himself.

The weeks wear on. Recording goes well, the band gets on just fine, and 2D does not think about Murdoc. 

However, he does suffer a few completely unrelated hang-ups that put the faintest damper on his otherwise now-near-perfect and tosser-free existence.

Primarily in the loss of surprise candy.

He wonders for the first time where all the sweets have gone.

And this leads him down the rabbit hole of wondering where they came from for the first time. For as long as he can remember, 2D has always been pleasantly surprised by hard candies, lemon sherbets, blue-raspberry lollies, Jelly Babies, even the rare Cadbury Creme Egg in the pockets of his jackets, or in his jeans, sometimes tucked into his beanies or even shoved into his pillowcases. Sort of like a tooth fairy has graced him at random times, leaving behind his preferred snacks. Good omens, if ever there was such a thing. 

It’s always reminded him of the way his mum used to leave Flake bars on his pillow after doing her weekly shopping, even when his dad went through his health kicks and tried to ban sweets from the house. 

He doesn’t exactly notice the loss until he’s standing in line at the market one day, purchasing several boxes of his preferred frozen chana masala dinners, when he impulsively grabs a few chocolate bars on his way to check out.

It’s only then that it occurs to him he hasn’t found any mystery goodies lying around for him in several weeks. Where had they come from in the first place, he muses. Noodle? Maybe Russel?

It doesn’t seem likely that Russel was giving them out, since he prefers to cook whole meals himself to serve the band. That leaves Noodle. And why wouldn’t she be sharing candy with him these days? Are they having a row?

As he makes his way home, he ponders what he could have done wrong to upset Noodle. She’d seemed perfectly fine the other day when they went out for bubble tea. She’d even laughed when he’d sucked the boba through the thick straw by sticking it between the gap between his front teeth. Things had seen positively chilly between them!

Being the brave, no-nonsense man that he is, and the de facto leader of the band now that the tosser is locked up for lord-knew-what, he figures he ought to confront her about it straightaway.

So he gives it a couple of days, in case she needs to blow off steam or cool down. Then a few more days, figuring she can approach him first to apologize, he should really be the bigger man. Then he gives it yet a few more days, just to be sure they are in fact having a row. Because rehearsals seem normal. Noodle’s spirits seem as high as ever, her Instagram posts emoji-saturated, her smiles genuine, her laughter nonstop as she develops a close bond with Ace and the two become inseparable. 

Finally, he bumps into her one night: they’re nothing reaching for their preferred coconutmilk ice cream sometime past two in the morning.

“Great minds think alike,” she smiles. “I’ll grab the bowls.”

“Hey, Noods,” he says, leaning back against the counter casually and popping the carton open. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up, Dee?”

“Are you...aw, it’s gonna sound so silly! You ready to laugh? You’re not cross with me, are you?”

She hands him a bowl and spoon and gets scooping. “Cross with you? Not at all--” he nearly drops his bowl in relief--”why do you ask?”

“Nah, forget it. What’s Ace say? Fuggeddaboutit?”

She pulls a face. “That was a really shitty accent.”

“Aint that the point?”

“I guess,” she concedes. “Anyway, I want to know why you thought I was cross with you: just tell me!”

“Well...I guess I kind of miss the candy you always shared with me.”

Noodle pops her spoon into her mouth, sits on the kitchen table and crosses one leg over the other. “Huh? What candy?”

“I mean, you’re the sweet tooth queen, Noods! You always have candies on you, and you used to share ‘em with me. And I guess I miss it a little bit.”

“When did I last share candy with you?” she asks. “It’s been like, a million years since I placed one of those bulk orders of the good stuff from Japan that I like.”

“No, no, not any Japanese candy. I just mean like, Jelly Babies and stuff. You used to leave ‘em in my coat pockets, or sitting out on my keyboards to surprise me. Like, rewind a month or so ago, you’d do it all the time.”

“No I wouldn’t,” she answers, looking thoroughly perplexed. 

“But...” he frowns down at his ice cream. It’s too cold still, hasn’t begun to get all good and melty the way he likes it. Just a lump of chill and ice. “Then who did?”

“You mean the little presents Murdoc always used to leave out for you? 2D, that was all Murdoc.”

There’s a pause as 2D continues to leer down at his bowl, almost forgetting that he’s not alone in the room. He remembers the skull ring he’d found and thrown. He remembers the candies sitting on the bench by his piano in the basement, the comic books rolled up and jammed into the case of his acoustic guitar, the comic books he has no memory of purchasing though they feature his favorite heroes. He remembers the fidget cube he’d found one day in his sock drawer, and the Cadbury Creme Eggs next to his condoms by the bedside.

“Hey,” Noodle’s voice draws him back out. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Everything’s fine, luv.”

She arches a brow at him; she knows he only calls her that when he's unfocused. “It’s okay to miss him, you know,” she says gently. “Sometimes I do too. He was pretty indulgent towards you, when he wanted to be. Can’t blame you for missing that.”

“Yeah right,” he forces a chuckle. “Think we’re all doing better with that sod out of the band for a bit. I’m having a nice time stretching my legs, so to speak. Really, I’m much happier these days, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Okay,” she responds, and she sounds patronizing, but maybe it’s just his imagination. “I’m gonna go finish the movie I started,” she hops off the counter, leaving him to his thoughts. “G’night.”

“’Kay, night!” He sits down at the table properly, intending to finish his dessert. But while it melts, he figures he has time for a smoke. He pats his pants pockets, realizes he doesn’t have any cigarettes on him. Murdoc always had ciggies with him, no matter where he was, no matter what level of dress or undress he was in. These days, 2D often finds himself with smokes but no lighter, or playing with a lighter but lacking in smokes.

Not in the mood to get up to find some, he instead sits there, fiddles with his spoon. It seems wrong to qualify Murdoc’s behavior as kindness, given that the word is so contradictory to his entire persona. Murdoc is not kind. Never has been. Murdoc is a tosser, a criminal, an impulsive crackhead with a tendency to make decisions that hurt those around him.

A selfish prick...whose arbitrary actions have unwittingly brought him joy for months, years, shit, he can’t remember when he first started noticing these little treats and presents left out for him, like a corvid collecting bottle caps for a preferred human companion. 

He hates Murdoc then, not for his cruelty and nasty behavior, but for his capacity to defy his own constructed persona. 

Sometime deep into these thoughts, he realizes that his ice cream has melted beyond the point of being softened and melty: it’s just a puddle of coconutmilk soup with a caramel swirl. It’s also lukewarm. It’s also approaching four in the morning.

Joints cracking as he stands, 2D brings his bowl to the sink, then approaches the bottom of the staircase. He pulls up the flashlight on his cellphone, casts it around the foyer and the living room, peaks under unpacked boxes of records and ottomans collecting dust and many, many, many pairs of shoes.

He doesn’t find that ring he’d thrown. Eventually, he gives up looking and heads to bed.

For the first time since he’d received a phone call from the local police station, he dreams of Murdoc, wakes up with crusty eyes and tight lungs and stares at the ceiling for a long time. He feels less like the leader of the band then, and more like a wayward child. A runaway. A vagabond. Directionless.

Eventually, he reaches out an arm, fumbles blindly till he finds the notebook he’s been writing lyrics in. With a sigh, he hoists himself up into a sitting position, rolls his shoulders; a joint cracks somewhere in his neck.

His pen scratches dryly a bit against the blank page at first, reluctant to share its ink with him. The hiss of nub against paper, friction. Then, the ink floods out, all at once. 

[himbowelsh]

Valentines alphabet with Talbert or Nixon please!

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

Tab is a cuddler. He likes to be close to people, to by physically intimate with them in a way that goes beyond sharing a space  ---  this boy runs on touch, and isn’t shy about it. He enjoys being touched, having his back clapped or his arm squeezed, as much as he enjoys giving it. In a romantic relationship, this goes beyond casual touches; Tab just likes having his partner near him, being able to pull them close and simply hold them, his chin on the crown of their head while they shift and breathe against him. He’s not very tactile with casual acquaintances, so if Tab touches someone frequently, it means he cares for them.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

He has a special fondness for wildflowers, but you’re not gonna find those in any florist’s shop. When he’s in a sentimental mood, he might go out and pick a few to put into a bouquet...  but Tab’s favorite way of appreciating the flowers is to bring his partner out to a field, where they can soak in their natural beauty.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s not a big fan. Anything with nuts in it, he’ll eat gladly. Nutella is one of his favorite things in the world.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Let’s go on a hike! Tab feels most at ease in nature, so he’d love to go on an afternoon hike up a familiar trail with a partner, chatting quietly until they reach his favorite ridge  ---  where they can watch the sun set over the horizon. He’s not unfamiliar with hiking in the dark, so he’d be comfortable heading back down...  but if his partner prefers it, they can camp out for the night. Huddling in a tent with them in his arms, just talking softly and enjoying the quiet...  hell, he’d love that.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Once again  ---  he thrives on touch! He loves touch! His hugs are warm and affectionate, like a warm drink on a rainy day. Usually he’s on his best behavior, too...  usually.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Oh, he’s an inconsummate flirt, and doesn’t even try to hide it. It’s like a reflex at this point. He’s drawn to pretty ladies like magnets, and they’re drawn to him right back. He’ll wink, he’ll tease, he’ll find excuses to get closer...  usually, girls eat out of the palm of his hand. He’s not used to being rejected  ---  on the rare occasions it does happen, he goes a little shell-shocked, and has to sit in a corner to recoup for a few minutes.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

Well, he definitely tries! Points for effort, at least, but Tab is a notorious regifter. If he doesn’t like something, he’ll store it away for a rainy day, and rocks up to Popeye’s birthday party with the poncho Auntie Marge gave him last Christmas. He tries to be smooth, but, like...  buddy, everybody knows.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’ll give the rest of him way quicker; Tab’s had plenty of affairs without much emotional intimacy involved, and frankly, he prefers it that way. Real relationships are daunting. Much as he wants one, the idea still scares him a bit. Tab has to be sure of himself before trusting his heart to someone else...  and equally sure that they won’t break it.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Tab has a dozen ways to say ‘I love you’ that don’t involve words at all. He’ll kiss, he’ll caress, he’ll tease, he’ll do the dishes and put them away without a second thought...  honestly, actions speak louder than words with him. While he’ll say it after a while, his partner won’t be surprised  ---   because he’s already told them a hundred times before.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

It depends on how serious the relationship is, and how serious the situation. Tab’s not an overly-suspicious guy, and he’s not about to make something over nothing...  but if his partner’s suddenly spending all their time with someone else, talking about them constantly, or if another person seems to be moving in on them, Tab won’t be pleased. He’s the sort of person to say so outright, believing the situation can best be resolved if everyone’s on the same page.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Do you even have to ask? He’s an astoundingly good kisser; not only does he know how to use his tongue, he recognizes the tentative dynamics of kissing, like a balanced scale which so easily tips one way or the other, and has learned to manipulate it. Not too much touch, just enough to leave his partner hungry for more...  not too much tongue, otherwise it gets gross...  let his teeth graze their lower lip just enough to make them moan, run a hand along the back of their neck just lightly enough so they shiver. Kissing’s a skill, just like playing the piano or learning to cook. Tab’s...  had a lot of practice.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

Tab’s a funny sort of extrovert:  he can thrive in a room full of people easily, enjoying the company of his friends and the opportunities to make new ones...  but he never feels more at peace than when he’s outside, in nature and quiet. Honestly, Tab adores his family, adores his friends, adores animals, and would adore any partner he had...  but nature will always have a special place in his heart. (Nature, and Captain Winters. Always.)

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

Look, Tab can work with any hour of the day. He’s not picky. 3pm? 3am? He’s ready to go. Maybe he’s half-asleep, but he’s ready.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

If the human body were a piano, Tab’s Ludwig von Freakin’ Beethoven. Knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands at all times. Tab can work wonders with those hands; it’s hard for his partner to keep track of exactly where they are or what they’re doing, only that they need to be doing more of it. He can be quite sparing with touch during the act, preferring to make his embraces count. Knows all the best places to stimulate; the gasps and moans of his partner only urge him on, encouraging him to work harder at pleasing them. Can grind like nobody’s business, and is shockingly flexible; has tried most positions at least once, and will try them again. When it comes to kinks, he’s actually a bit shy about trying anything too extreme... but if his partner pitches it right, he’ll usually be willing to try. Not to mention the mouth  ---  Tab has a magic mouth, and puts it to work exactly as God intended.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Not really. He tries, god help him  ---  he’s even tried his hand at writing poetry, not that he’s ever let anyone read it, because he knows how bad it is...  but Tab is quite plainspoken. He says what he’s thinking. That said, he’s got a talent for making the bluntest compliments sound romantic when he tries.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Someone adventurous. Tab needs someone who’s willing to try new things, who can keep him on his toes at times. He wants someone he can laugh with, someone he can dance around the kitchen with...  but also someone who appreciates the quiet beauty life has to offer. If they like being outside? All the better. They have to love animals, that’s non-negotiable. (Hopefully a dog person?) A great laugh, self-confidence...  and a bit of passion.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Look, he’ll absolutely do it. If he gets to the point where they’re both ready  ---  preferably after they’ve had a long conversation about it beforehand  ---  Tab will plan a cozy proposal outside, pick out a ring, find a serene spot and...  go for it. But if his partner did it first, it would be a massive weight off his shoulders, and he’d honestly be relieved.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s got a romantic streak so big that it chokes him sometimes. Really, he just wants to share all the things he loves with someone who can find as much joy in it as him...  and he wants to get to know their world and everything they care about. He craves a deep connection with someone, beyond the physical intimacy of sex, but the idea intimidates him at the same time. Tab would absolutely spoil his partner with romantic surprises and gifts, just because he wants to make them feel appreciated and get to know them better. He wants to understand what kind of romance they want.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He had his first kiss under a jungle gym when he was four. You do the math.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

He...  wants to. Very much. Isn’t sure he’s ever seen it before, and doubts it’s for everyone  ---  he’s kind of convinced it’ll never happen to him  ---  but it’s got to be real for some people.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

He had a girlfriend in high school that he was crazy for, even hoped to marry one day. Little Floyd was popular with the girls, but he grew into an awkward phase that lasted throughout middle and most of high school; but Maryetta Stevens was the sweetest gal he’d ever known, and never judged him for his acne or his bitten nails. He was genuinely head-over-heels for her...  but she was stolen away by the marching band captain, and that was the end of that. It took him months to recover.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

He’s got a dozen things he’d prefer to be doing, but everybody wants to go on a date on Valentine’s day. If fighting their way through a crowded restaurant just to get a cozy table by the window is what his partner wants to do, Tab’s game for it.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

It’s something he’s given a lot of thought to  ---  and, while he’s not against it, it would definitely have to be with the right person. Tab’s not going to make that commitment until he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with someone; it’s not something he takes lightly.

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Not for his friends in general, but he’s got nicknames for all his siblings, would come up with great ones for his own kids...  and a few sweet, intimate ones he uses exclusively for his partner. Those only come out when he’s in a gushy mood.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

...  yeah. Abso-freaking-lutely. And he’s not gonna apologize for it either. If someone’s threatening someone he cares about, Tab’s not gonna hesitate to step in, and he’ll take whatever approach is necessary  ---  a suggestive word, or a firm fist. Tab doesn’t mess around when it comes to protecting the people he loves.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

He’s...  he’s...  he’s Tab, is the thing. He’s just...  talented. A gift like that doesn’t come without a lot of people eager to unwrap the package. The boy... definitely gets around.

[izzy-b-hands]

A Rainy Saturday Afternoon

A fic inspired by Tim’s monologue in a song called ‘The Right’ from an album he made as a part of the band Morgan (I transcribed the whole monologue last night, it is a wild and delightful trip lol.) 

Tim/Reader (gender neutral.) A hook up that’s meant to clear just general horny feelings for both of you, but instead turns into maybe something more. 

But this is also still mostly smut lmao. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

You didn’t make it a habit to go home with anyone. It wasn’t out of a lack of want exactly, but that you were picky and the local boys were...something, and-

None of them were this boy, that was for sure.

He was gorgeous. And, according to him:

“Painfully fucking lonely,” Tim sighed as you followed him to his room at the hotel. “Not just for things like this, I mean, though I’m very glad to have you over of course.”

He swung open the door, and immediately blushed.

You couldn’t help but do the same, giggling at the not-badly-put-together homemade blow up doll propped against the wardrobe. “Are we to have a third with us?”

“No!” Tim darted forward and tossed the doll into the wardrobe, staring at the doors of it as he slammed them shut. “I-I’m sorry. That...shouldn’t have been out and...”

He sighed and turned to you with a sorrowful look on his face. “You can leave. I understand; you’re not the first to see that when I didn’t mean you to, and any feelings you have about it are valid-”

You made sure the hotel door was locked, then strode into the room and interrupted him with a finger pressed to his lips. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” he asked. “Every other person I’ve brought back was...well, horrified. Found it pathetic, said awful things about me for having it.”

“Fuck ‘em,” you smiled, and pulled him towards the bed by his hips. “Well, more accurately, fuck me, and forget them. You’re a grown man, yeah? And you’ve been lonely and horny and are apparently quite creatively talented; why shouldn’t you have made your own companion for the time being?”

He grinned. “Thank you. I don’t know how honest you’re being, but-”

“I’m being honest,” you interrupted him with a quick kiss, and leaned in close to his ear. “So honest, that I ought to let you know I’d happily get myself off while watching you fuck that doll, or jack yourself off, your choice. If you’ll have me around again, that is.”

He nodded as you stepped back, and you let him help you tug off your clothes, your own hands working at his. Maybe this was moving too fast, but you didn’t care. You didn’t know for sure how long Tim would be around, or if he would keep in touch once he did leave.

You wanted this now, as close to something stable as it could possibly be, even if it was only for so many weeks. You could deal with any lingering feelings after he was gone.

Besides, you couldn’t bear the thought of stopping it all now. Of course, if Tim had asked to stop you would immediately, but luckily he was as comfortable as you were.

Comfortable being a mild way of putting it, with both of you touching every inch of bare skin as quickly as you could (there was simply no way to get your fingertips everywhere you wanted all at once, neither of you had hands enough for that) and kissing hard and hot. First at each other’s lips, then anywhere else you could get to as you flopped onto the bed together.

The mattress let out a frighteningly loud groan, and you couldn’t hold back your giggles.

“It won’t break,” Tim reassured you. “I think. It hasn’t yet, and I’ve um...given it a good workout by myself, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I get the gist,” you replied. “But you could still give me a demonstration later. I’d like that, to make sure I’m really understanding you.”

“How did I not meet you earlier?” Tim asked as he ground his cock against your thigh. “Wouldn’t have even needed the damned doll then.”

“You weren’t ready for me yet, and maybe I wouldn’t have been ready for you,” you mused, reaching a hand between the two of you to gently run your thumb over the head of his cock. “But I certainly am ready for you now.”

The condoms and lube in the drawer near the bed were still in their packaging, and you couldn’t help but smile as he fussed and swore at them.

“Will you get that upset when we have to buy more and break into them again?”

He had slipped to lay beside you as he fought with the packaging, and turned his head now. “More?”

“If I have my way, and if you want the same,” you said. “I intend to run out that supply of yours there. Likely before you leave, so we’ll need to get more.”

Tim looked excited at that prospect, but his smile faltered for a moment. “I will have to leave, is the thing...”

“I know,” you sighed. “And I’ll miss you, I’m sure. You might even miss me. We can exchange addresses and phone numbers and maybe write letters to each other. And if we find we miss each other enough, maybe we’ll have to make some travels and meet up again.”

“I barely know you,” Tim said as he finally freed a condom and rolled it on. “How on earth am I already so attached?”

You shrugged, and took the lube from him to use on yourself. “Same way I am, I suppose. I barely know you, but I know that right now, even if we weren’t going to fuck, I’d still rather be here in your room with you than anywhere else.”

He nodded, and took the bottle from you to set it back on the bedside table. “Are you alright? I mean, ready, or-”

“I am, but I like being teased,” you interrupted and lay back, gesturing for him to climb back on top of you. “So you can take your time, if you like.”

He did, the condom slicked in lube as he moved against you, and you could feel him shiver even as he tried to move slowly.

“Since we’re getting to know each other,” you murmured in between kisses to his neck and chest. “I should give you a compliment.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve a lovely cock,” you replied, grinning as he blushed and laughed. “What? You do! And it isn’t even in me yet, that’s saying something.”

“Let me make sure you really like it then,” Tim said as he slipped gently inside you. “Still okay?”

You groaned happily into his neck as you pulled him close, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Can I get a yes or a no?” Tim asked, and you lay your head back and opened your eyes.

He was beautiful, a halo of dark hair and eyes sweetly watching your face for any sign of your discomfort. You’d never had any such care from any of your prior rare hook ups.

But then, this didn’t feel like just a hook up anymore.

“Yes,” you replied. “I’m okay. More than okay. Or I will be, once you move.”

He kissed you hard, and answered you with the movement of his hips, meeting yours awkwardly for the first few thrusts.

But it was only a moment or two before you found rhythm with him, and moaned with the feeling of it.

There was the sound of a hand slapping at the wall near the bed, and you slapped a hand over your own mouth. “Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” Tim laughed. “Just my bandmate, ignore him.”

“Are we making him jealous?”

“Maybe,” Tim replied. “I don’t rightly care, honestly. He can deal with it, because you’re mine only.”

“Good,” you murmured, and focused back in on him.

Which frankly, was a joy. He didn’t hold back any moans or whines, kissed like he needed your touch to breathe, and nuzzled his face into your shoulder the rest of the time.

You had intended to try and hold off, to come as near to when he did as you could, but it was too much.

“You’re too good at this,” you managed to gasp out just before you came, mumbling his name and kissing him at every bit of skin you could reach.

“Fuck,” he sighed happily as he kept thrusting, working you through your orgasm. “I could feel that. I need to make you do that again.”

“I’d love that, but what about you?”

“I might need a bit after this,” Tim replied, his hips jerking against yours. “But we’ve got all night, and if you really meant it before...you know, that you’re in no rush to go...”

His eyelids fluttered shut as he came, and you pulled him in for a deep kiss, moving to meet his movements as best you could.

You waited for his eyes to open again, his head dropped against your shoulder, an adorable blissful smile on his face.

“I’m in no rush to go anywhere. I only just met you, and I feel like I ought to have known you for ages. Might be nothing more than puppy love, but I’m not going to turn that down if there’s the chance it might be more. So we’ve got time to make up for.”

He nodded. “We do. Shall I get up and clean us up, and in a little bit we can do this again?”

“Probably should, or we’ll fall asleep like this,” you replied. “I can barely keep your gaze; I’ll get lost in your eyes otherwise.”

Tim giggled as he slipped out of you and rolled off the bed. “Do you sweet talk everyone you fuck?”

“Only the ones I actually like,” you said, watching as he tossed away the condom and retrieved a few small towels from the hotel bathroom. “And I’ve not liked any of them enough to actually do that until now, so you’re the first. Congratulations, pretty boy.”

He let his towel fall to the floor and tossed yours there as well as you finished cleaning yourself, then dropped back beside you onto the bed. His arms wrapped around you, and it was delightfully warm and loving and comfortable.

“Pretty boy? I’ll have to think up something to call you,” Tim smiled.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” you chuckled. “Nothing too mean though.”

“Never,” Tim sighed. “I think sweetheart is good for now.”

Your heart leaped at that. Oh, it was going to hurt when he left. For both of you.

But for now, he was safe in bed with you, and there was plenty of time to spare.

You wouldn’t waste a single minute of it.

[victoodles]

Cruel World I’m Gone (Chapter 6)

back again with another chapter, edited by the fantastic @verai-marcel​! follow the series on AO3 and make sure you read part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Arthur has unconventional definitions of love. One he originally believed started with Mary. But after years of reflection and introspection, Arthur realized it ran deeper, began sooner.

He’s a young boy, with a father he loathes and silently mourning a mother he still thinks about fondly. A father who is a “no good bastard”, who taught him nothing but contempt and that wickedness could have a face.

Blood is thicker than water?

What a crock of shit.

They’re bitter memories, painful. But a sweetness tinges them, immortalized in the form of six pink flowers and a weathered portrait he still keeps beside his bed - even to this day. Sentimentality is a blessing and a curse.

Now he’s fourteen, on the cusp of manhood and something else entirely. He’s angry. Angry at a dead father who left him with nothing but the hat on his head and a measly mugshot. Angry at the world that couldn’t give a shit about him but still insists on taking, taking, and taking.

But mostly he’s alone, scared; he can snarl and bare his teeth all he likes but he’s still just a child. Arthur yearns for companionship, for a family that he never truly had growing up. For things he was wrongly denied.

It’s unorthodox, but eventually, he does find what he’s looking for. In the form of a younger Dutch and Hosea: the curious couple and their new unruly son.

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

And for twenty long years, he had a father - two in fact! They took him in off the streets, taught him how to read, write, shoot. Raised him from a boy to a man capable of finally taking back from this cruel world and then some.

From Hosea, he learned empathy, humanity. And from Dutch, loyalty, a code of honor.

Despite all his hypocrisies, Arthur can’t wash away and deny that he is who he is because of Dutch van der Linde.

Arthur tries to focus on the good years as much as he tries to forget the ugly, warped ending to that chapter of his life. It’s a continuous uphill struggle but that’s nothing new for him, just more difficult to deal with.

Thinking of some good years…

He’s traversing through his twenties now.

Arthur has had a tryst from time to time as a young man, reveling in the experiences of his first kiss and other means of getting handsy. He was awkward at first, as any boy is when they delve into the unknown fruits adolescence bears. Fumbling hands, a nervous flush dusting his cheeks, all bundled in a veil of naivety.

Hosea used to tell everyone, drunk around the campfire, the humiliating tales of a younger Arthur. His particular favorite being when Arthur came to him, on the verge of tears, thinking he now had to marry a local stable girl because he dared to kiss her behind dear old daddy’s barn.

But then there was Mary.

Mary, Mary, Mary.

Formerly known as Gillis, and soon to be Linton. A name no one dared to whisper around camp for years. In a life filled with killing, robbing, and running from the law, Mary was possibly the most complicated aspect of it.

She yearned for things Arthur couldn’t give or be. Wanted a man that Arthur couldn’t become despite his best efforts.

Loyalty is the only thing that matters…

A belief that cost him happiness time and time again.

It wasn’t just Mary at fault - Arthur couldn’t deliver on his promises either.

In the end, he tried. Tried to mold himself into someone worthy of her and her cantankerous father’s expectations of what a man should be. Tried to be one of those Saint Denis socialites with their coiffed hair and perfectly tailor suits. But despite all the gussying, primping and grooming, he was just a rugged outlaw playing at a gentleman. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

It took him a while to overcome his heartbreak, to realize she had her own heavy crosses to bear the same as he did. Roles to fill, people to placate despite the pining of the ever-fickle heart. Coming to terms with that wasn’t easy despite the ever apparent facts. And like many before him, Arthur shared his sorrows with the bottom of a bottle and buried them deeper between the legs of a stranger.

Eliza…

Her name still fills him with guilt, albeit it a dull ache now in contrast to the agonizing stabbing he once felt on his heart. She was just a girl trying to get by, barely on the cusp of twenty, who just happened upon Arthur in a disgustingly familiar drunken stupor as he wallowed in self-pity and the bitter taste of whiskey. She humored him, at least he thinks she did. Or it could’ve been a kindness, he can’t quite recall after all these years.

But she slept with him, let him indulge in his therapeutic carnal desires all the while he sputtered out another woman’s name. He was reckless, careless and he couldn’t give less of a damn at the time.

And as a result, it got her…

It got them…

He can’t dwell on it now, refuses to. The thoughts weigh heavy on him, crushing his ribs in a vice and stealing the breath he counts himself lucky to have from his lungs.

He tries to distract himself, instead focus on things more lighthearted to ease his troubled thoughts. He starts with something tangible, for instance, the small ring in his pocket that suddenly feels ten times heavier than the burdens he that weigh on his bad shoulders. And the girl he intends to give it to...

You.

He doesn’t think he can articulate how much you mean to him, but that doesn’t stop him from trying within the confines of a new leather-clad journal. No longer does he write harsh words of self-deprecation and hopelessness. They’re kinder, eloquent and beautiful. Soft lines that make out the shape of you adorned with hearts. He melds into your embrace all too easy now, and despite two decades of bloodshed and dodging Death’s scythe, he’s never felt safer than in your arms.

Arthur never thought life would deem him worthy of second chances. Dealing him a fortunate hand with a new life, new purpose, new love. Absolution was not a word his tongue was familiar with, yet here he stands on the porch to his - your home. The stains of his past don't follow him beyond the mountains and rolling hills.

The Van der Linde gang is gone - scattered, dead, or both. Arthur Morgan, Dutch’s right-hand gun has turned in his holsters and bandolier and has now found work as a simple carpenter in Annesburg. He spends his day building and expanding the ever-growing civilization he was trying to run from. A law-abiding everyday man. The irony isn’t lost on him. But it’s good work, honest work. The kind that only cares if you’re strong and able and doesn’t focus on the minute details of one’s extensive criminal record.

And he’s proud to say that after months of arduous labor, he managed to save enough for the ring that seems to be burning a hole in his pocket. It’s humble but elegant with a single diamond resting in the middle of a pale gold band.

Like her, Arthur idly muses with a smile.

Ideally, he would’ve loved to grace your finger with some luxurious rock as a grandiose display of his affection. A massive diamond that would glint perfectly in the light atop the rare platinum. It would’ve been all too easy to hold up some pompous jeweler, the routine and its step all but muscle memory at this point. But that’s not how one does when trying to leave behind the life of an outlaw and it wouldn’t be a proper way to start your marriage.

Marriage.

The concept alone has him frozen in front of his own home, trembling with excitement. He thought Mary would be his everything at one point - the future Mrs. Morgan. When she left he felt as if she took that possibility with her along with the shards of his fractured heart. There's a hint of fear in him as well, a nagging sense that history could repeat itself once more. Round and round the thoughts go in his head as he opens the door with a shaking hand, rattling painfully in his skull.

I’m not ready for this.

Dread surges through him, rough seas raging against his chest as his heart threatens to burst. He’s been shot at, beat, and tortured but this plunge he’s about to take might possibly be one of the scariest things he’s ever done.

Arthur somehow manages to get the door open, feet heavier than lead as he makes his way through the threshold. The sound of your singing from the garden out back restores his composure, lulling him into a serenity once more. He’s refocused, and the tremors that plague him gradually cease. There’s a reinvigorated sense of purpose, sparked to life once more, and he eagerly calls your name in response.

“Out here, Arthur!” You chirp back and Arthur wastes no time following the sound of your voice. He doesn’t realize how quickly he rushes to the backdoor until the afternoon sun is blinding him. When he regains his vision he finds you tending to your plants, a basket of freshly picked vegetables at your side and a tender smile on your lips.

Beautiful.

“Happy to see me, are we darling?” Your voice has a teasing lilt to it - he hadn’t realized he’d spoken that last sentiment aloud. A flush creeps up the back of Arthur’s neck, spreading up to his ears and painting them an embarrassing shade of red. He hopes you don’t notice in the sunlight but when your smile turns into a playful smirk, he knows there's no chance of hiding it now.

Arthur clears his throat, “Always am, sweet pea.”

Your impishness seems to have passed for the time being, your simper losing its bite as you turn your attention back to your gardening. “How was work today?” You ask idly as you go to work pulling another carrot from the dirt.

It was the same as any other day, building more housing for the miners in the ramshackle town of Annesburg. Who can think about something so mundane when there were bigger picture things for him to be concerned about? But still, he answers back with a simple, “Good.”

You titter at that. “How positively exciting, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur wishes he had more to offer in terms of a response but he’s too distracted by you. There’s dirt smudged on your cheeks and hands, skirt a wrinkled mess, and hair in a messy braid to keep out of the way of your gardening. Some might find you disheveled but he thinks you look absolutely lovely- as always.

A voice in the back of his mind whispers, She’s not her.

He finds himself imagining what you would look like in all white, waiting for him at the altar of a church. Maybe at the cathedral in Saint Denis where the colors of the impressive stained glass would shine down on you, casting you in an ethereal rainbow glow. In your hand is a bouquet of the finest flowers: lavender, honeysuckle, daisies. A gossamer of silk covers your face, that same breathtaking smile on your lips as Arthur makes his way towards you and-

“Arthur?” You snap him out of the daydreaming he inadvertently slipped into. “Are you alright?”

“I-” He struggles to find the right words, any words, but comes up short. You look at him expectantly but that only makes him more tongue-tied. Christ, he’s a grown man, this shouldn’t be so difficult.

“You…” You try to ease him into something resembling a response, bless your heart, but still, nothing.

So instead he opts for action.

Arthur gets down on one knee in the dirt with you, going for the ring he still has nestled in his jacket. Your eyes go wide at the gesture, and even wider when he silently presents the ring to you.

“I,” he begins again, voice a little stronger in its conviction. “I love you. More than you could ever know.” He takes your hand with his free one, running his fingers over your knuckles softly. Tears begin to well up in your eyes and you can’t help as they begin to trail down your cheeks.

Arthur continues, “You are my heart, my soul, my everything. Without you, Hell, I wouldn’t even be in front of you to ask this. When I’m with you, everything makes sense. And I’m ready, really ready to start over, good and proper. With you.”

It’s time to leave Arthur Morgan the outlaw, the man shackled by so many fears and doubts behind in the ashes of what once was. His rebirth comes in dreams of the future, hand in hand and growing old by the fireplace. 

Together.

“So I was wonderin’...what I’m trying to ask is you would-”

“Yes,” you whisper, unable to find your own voice now. You heart is hammering fiercely, galloping like a wild horse at the sheer intensity of Arthur’s proposal.

He can’t help but chuckle at your ardor, endearing (and relieving) as it may be. “You didn’t let me-”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes a thousand times yes you silly man!” you exclaim with no hesitation this time, throwing yourself on him and peppering him with kisses. “Yes,” you repeat over and over and over, as many times as you can to reaffirm you aren't dreaming. That this isn’t your own self-made mirage that could vanish at any moment.

Arthur is momentarily stunned and brings you as close to him as possible, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finds his own tears starting to form. The same voice is back, no longer a whisper but a firm reassurance of, She isn’t her. She isn’t any of them.

And she never will be.

“Say it again.” 

Let it be real.

Your lips find his now, in between each kiss marked with a, “yes”.   

A single syllable has him enraptured, spellbound. Such a glorious admittance, the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard.

And as he slips the ring onto your finger, the both of you grinning madly, he thinks “I do” will sound even better.

[kewltie]

contains: slavery, master/slave dynamic 

"Here." Katsuki deposits a discreet black box on Izuku's lap. "You'll need this when you go out."

Izuku looks down at the giftbox, a thin rectangular box that sits light on his lap, but it feels strangely heavy. The thing is deceptively innocuous and boring in appearance, but there’s no doubt in Izuku’s mind what it is. "You got me a replacement collar already?" he muses, one hand carelessly touching his neck in thought. It'd been only a week and a half since Katsuki had destroyed his last one in a show of power against the Academy. "Did you want see me leashed that badly?"

He'd almost gotten use to not having that heavy weight around his neck, but without his collar—his PET ID—Izuku couldn't go out in public, not if he wanted to get arrested. The law is ruthless in that regard; a Lesser like him have to be track and monitor for his own good like he’s no better than an animal.

It doesn't matter that Izuku is no different than anyone else except for his quirklessness, he is considered a property by the state and marker like a PET ID, personal electronic tracker, is how they keep Izuku in line—to remind them of their place in this new societal order; there is no place for the quirkless.

Izuku drags himself away from such bitter thoughts because there’s no point in stewing in it now, and looks up at Katsuki, whose staunch silence has been a strange and troubling thing. "Kacchan?" he presses, staring at the tense line of Katsuki shoulders, the twist of pain on his face, and the clenched fists at his side.

Katsuki exhales a long drawn out breath that make him appear a lot younger, unsure, like he's unmoored and Izuku is the one with feet planted on safer shores. "It's not—I wouldn't," he shakes his head in a clear sign of frustration, "just fucking open the damn thing already." He gestures helplessly toward the box still on Izuku's lap.

"Oh," Izuku breathes in realization, heart warms as his gaze drops to his gift. "That was mean of me, I'm sorry." His eyes linger on it for a moment before he carefully lifts up the lid and inside is a delicate silver band that would sit nicely on his ankle.

Heart palpitating, he reaches for it and then stops. His hand goes still, hovering just slightly above the box. Not quite touching it yet. He lets his eyes roam over every curve and indentation, examining it warily like he’s defusing a bomb.

It’s made up of mainly a thin wall of silver curving inward and at the back is a short chain link to close off the circle. A bar of metal tag engraved with Izuku’s name and ID number is hanging off one of the links with a green gemstone embedded in it.

It’s surprisingly simple and clean in design for something worth its weight in gold. This isn't a normal factory made PET ID. Hand still in the air, he finally drops it down on the anklet, tracing the curvature and feeling the cold metal pressing against his skin.

Lesser belonging to elite patrons would often wear a beaded choker, diamond studded earring, gold plated bracelet, or a signature ring embedded with a nanochip as their PET ID. They’re statement pieces. Meant to show off the power and wealth of the owner and not the wearer.The more ostentatious the PET ID is, the more it would further emphasize the standing of the Lesser’s master.

Sometimes, Izuku wonders if a bit little bitterly, if these ‘special’ PET IDs are even more degrading than the mass produce collar and cuff that they are forced to wear.

At least the former didn’t make Izuku feel like a decorative ornament hanging on the arm of his respective master. They can dress Izuku up in expansive clothes, glittering jewelries, and polite smile but it doesn’t change who and what Izuku is—the lowest rung of the social order. Almost by instinct, his hand recoils from the box and its content as doubt claws at his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Izuku hears Katsuki grunt out. He looks up to see apprehension lining Katsuki’s shoulder and his posture tensing up like he’s ready for whatever the fallout may bring.

Izuku quickly drops his gaze back to the giftbox and thinks somberly when did he become so cynical? For all Katsuki’s flaw, his pride, his arrogance, and his temper—he’d never been cruel for cruelty’s sake. There's no ulterior motive to Katsuki's action because that isn't him.

At Katsuki’s worst, he was a misguided and angry boy who’d lashed out at everyone and everything because nobody had taught him better, but it isn’t in his nature to be malicious for malicious’ sake. Izuku knows that, know it well enough that he isn’t afraid of Katsuki.

Katsuki may not always be gentle or kind in that brusque way of his, but he is a good man.

Somewhere along the way since they parted, Izuku had forgotten about that. Embarrassment sweeps over him. "Nothing's wrong," he murmurs, unwilling to meet Katsuki's heated regard again as he gets his bearing. His hand finds the anklet again, pawing at it with a renew interest.

An anklet is rare.

Rare enough that Izuku had never seen it on any Lesser before. PET IDs are visible maker of identification. A collar, bracelet, or even a ring can make a quick and easy scan but an anklet would force others bend down to make the requisite check—Izuku blinks.

His head snaps up to look at Katsuki with curious eyes. “Did you—?” He swallows, fingers clenching around the PET ID. He can't really mean to do that right? The corner of Katsuki's lips quirk up just ever so slightly in that smug way that reminds Izuku that this is Katsuki.

It’s easy to mistake Katsuki’s volatile personality as just another mindless brute who only knows how to use his fist, but he’d been consistently outshining their classmates ever since they were children. Katsuki wouldn’t be where he is today, among the top young heroes in the world, if all he relies on was physical force and his quirk.

Katsuki wasn't just smart. He got a strategic mind to lead and the charisma to pull it off. And this choice of anklet as a PET ID is intentional. Katsuki doesn't care for others' opinion of him, so this is every bit calculated. Izuku’s eyes widen now. “Why though?” he asks.

Katsuki shrugs, a careless shift of his shoulder that does not highlight the gravity of his words. “If you have to lower yourself before them then they, too, have to lower themselves before you,” he says cuttingly. "They have to work for it just to see who you are."

Izuku smiles humorless, unclenching his hand from the anklet. "I'm not worth much for them to really care who I am," he says, gesturing down to the anklet, "and you are making it hard for them to check my PET ID isn't going to make them suddenly sympathetic about my plight."

Katsuki's lips thin out. "You don't need their sympathy," he says with an annoyed huff. "What you need are allies who stand by you and not let the everyone else fuck you over just because you're quirkless."

"And what of the world's opinion that I deserve it?" Izuku muses. "After all quirkless is a debilitating disability under the law."

Katsuki frowns, face usually tight. "I bought you so you’re mine," he asserts. "Not the state or anyone else. The only words that should matter to you are mine alone. Fuck the rest. They're not important as me.”

Izuku blinks. Hard. And then clutching his stomach, he bends over and laughs. Light and free and so full of wonder. The sheer arrogance in this man, he thinks helplessly in that endlessly fond way of had spellbounded him in the past.

Katsuki is truly one of a kind.

"What the fuck, Deku," Katsuki snaps, and Izuku can literally hear the annoyance thick in his voice. Quickly composing himself up once more into some semblance of order, Izuku pulls back up in time to see the pinched expression on Katsuki's face.

He says, with a thinly veiled humor, “It’s just,” he smiles, warmth from the thought, “all so you, Kacchan. You haven’t changed after all these years.”

Katsuki makes a face, opens his mouth, and thought again before settling on: “You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that.”

Izuku’s smile only broadens. “I know,” he says softly as his eyes drops once more to the anklet still sitting innocuously his hand. He rubs a thumb over the cool metal under his touch as he muses, light and loose, “But not as ridiculous as wanting you to put this on me though."

Silence.

Katsuki wears his pride like a second skin. It’s his armor and though they had been dented in the past, he would rather die than be stripped of it. To think he would even lower himself to Izuku of all people, to a Lesser even, is not only preposterous but inconceivable.

Realizing right away the hiccup that he had made, Izuku’s head jerk up and he sees Katsuki had gone stock still, face carefully and eerily blank. “S-sorry, it was just a stupid joke. I didn’t really mean—“ his next words hang in the air under the severity of Katsuki’s glare.

“Give me that thing,” he instructs coolly, like the words coming out of him wouldn’t turn Izuku’s world upside down.

“W-what?” Izuku squeaks out in disbelief. Horror. And whatever other nonsense this entire situation had made itself into. No, no, this can't be happening.

And when Izuku is still stuck in his shocked stupor, Katsuki steps forward, reaches out, and rips the anklet from his hand. Then, oh-my-All-Might, he drops down to his knees in front of Izuku's feet with a startling ease that sends a bout of fever rushing through Izuku’s head.

Izuku hastily withdraws his legs from the floor, tucking it close to his chest protectively. “Get up from the floor,” he hisses, looking down at Katsuki’s bow head. “I said it in jest. You—you didn’t have to do it!” He flails helplessly, because Katsuki had gone mad. Absolutely, wretchedly mad.

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki snaps with a snarl of his lips. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His free hand shoots out, snakes it around Izuku’s right leg before yanking it down. Izuku struggles against his hold at first, his other free legs kicking furiously at Katsuki to let go.

What a ridiculous picture they both must make with Katsuki making an attempt to hold onto one of his legs and Izuku trying to fight him off, but it's a losing game. Katsuki is a trained hero who fights villains for a living, put away criminal daily, and he has a powerful volatile quirk, while Izuku is just plain old Izuku.

“Don’t,” Katsuki orders, heated palm pressed meaningfully on Izuku’s skin. Just a single word from him can bring such dangerous connotation that Izuku stops, the fight having been knocked out of him at last. He knows exactly what Katsuki is capable of, the danger he poses to Izuku.

It's in the way he carry himself, the scars stamped all over his body, and the lethality in his hands. It's the same hand that is currently wrapping around Izuku's ankle. The palm pressed against Izuku's bare skin is firm, and it burns like a brand, but his touch is careful. Controlled.

He had seen that hand take down a villain twice Katsuki’s size and weight, blast a hole through steel, and send a man flying across town. Katsuki’s hands capable of so many violence things, but hei had also use them to save a pregnant woman trapped under rubbles and carried a child out of a burning building. They'd saved lives; they'd saved Izuku once a long time ago.

Katsuki lifts the heel of Izuku’s foot up and rests it on his knee. He drags his other hand, the anklet still in its grip, near and opens the chain clasp. With an immeasurable care and steady hands, he wraps the jewelry around Izuku’s ankle and closes it once more.

“Things don’t always change, but sometimes they do,” Katsuki tells him, voice low as he places Izuku’s foot down on the floor again and backs away. He stares up at Izuku, eyes unflinching as he says dogmatically, “I’m not that dumb ignorant brat anymore. “

It’s not an outright apology, Izuku knows but he sees of Katsuki’s hunched form and it’s—it's, the dynamic is all wrong. Izuku has the shackle around his ankle, but Katsuki is the one on his knees. One of the strongest, mightiest, heroes of this generation is kneeling before him.

How absurd.

It's maddening, really, but it's a statement if there ever was one. Katsuki’s hysterically clumsy zig-zagging attempt of an apology without ever saying those damning words. That's just so like him. That's just so not like him. Katsuki's right. He's still the same old Bakugou Katsuki that Izuku knows but he'd grown up  now. Time, care, and effort had aged him well.

Katsuki stands up and steps back as Izuku’s eyes fall on his feet. “I know,” Izuku murmurs, looking at his newly acquired bespoke collar.

There's no doubt in his mind that it is collar, because all PET IDs in all its many forms are simply that, but just for a second with the anklet sitting easy and light on his ankle, he doesn't feel it. Doesn't see it for what it is, it’s Katsuki's concession to him.

Izuku had been afraid it would be too heavy to carry around, and it is. Katsuki’s intention are weighing him down, locking him in place, but somehow in its confinement, he finds comfort and security. Katsuki can't change how the world may see him, but this is a start.

[coexistxcoldrain]

The Moon in Old Times

Title: The Moon in Old Times (AO3 Link, please visit! :) ) Author: yaoionshavedice / hes-only-tiny Rating: Explicit Warnings: Well, smut ...; mentioning of suicide Ship: Masato/Hiroki (MasaHiro) Words: ~10.000 Summary:  An onsen in the middle of nowhere, weird dreams of long forgotten times and oddly familiar memorial sites. Masato couldn't pinpoint the moment he thought he'd lost it. Maybe it had nothing to do with himself and everything to do with the appearance of this little brat from Tokyo who might or might not be shamelessly flirting with him. Notes: Not a native speaker! Please do give constructive criticism, I appreciate it! Also: kind of weird topic, I know. I’m also not an expert on all things Edo, unfortunately. So I hope you don’t mind tiny errors or anything that doesn’t make so much sense after all. Have fun :)

The Moon in Old Times

It had been hard – but not impossible – to find a nice traditional onsen that allowed tattoos. Obviously, that aspect had to have been one of my first concerns. I still had a spacious room with a private onsen here; however, I did enjoy using the public one first thing in the morning. When it was still freezing and dark outside. And considering how atmospheric the illuminated landscape melted into the steam rising up from the water … it was honestly a soul-healing experience. Cleansing, almost. I needed that, at least once a year.

It was on the dot 6am, maybe five minutes later. I had difficulties getting up early when on tour or during stressful weeks in general, but no such feelings when I was on vacation. I lay there, completely absorbed in my thoughts and the tingling sensation of the contrast between hot water and cool morning air; I’d almost missed the hesitant footsteps of someone with the same intentions I’d had.

When he entered the water, however, I realised I’d been lost in thought. I didn’t look. It just meant that my alone-time had already drawn to a close. You really shouldn’t stare when someone was about to enter the onsen, anyway.

A few minutes passed in silence as I concentrated further on the hazy, blurred surroundings and the pleasant feeling; but then the guy a couple of metres next to me raised his high voice with a clearing of his throat.

“Masato? Is that you?”

I couldn’t quite recall the voice though, so I turned my head in fear of seeing a full-on stranger sitting next to me; a fan. That was honestly the last thing I would have wanted right this second. I probably would have needed to change the ryokan, too. But no, sitting next to me, even if still awfully unexpected, was Moriuchi Hiroki; frontman of MY FIRST STORY and brother of one of my best friends.

That was … a coincidence.

“Oh, hey!” I spat out somewhat perplexed, seeing that I not exactly knew what else to say. Even though sitting naked inside an onsen with strangers and friends was part of the Japanese heritage – something as normal as it could get – here right now it remained kind of awkward. We were still the only ones here this morning and I knew him, but I didn’t really know him. Their band belonged to a different kind of generation of rock bands here in Japan. We briefly met on festivals, if we were lucky, but most of the time not even that. He wasn’t on very good terms with his brother, last time I checked, and Taka and I were good friends. That was it.

“That’s so funny that you’re here, too!” He grinned, or as far as I could make that out through the foggy night air. “Just on vacation?”

“Yeah,” I answered, still slightly taken aback by this new situation, “a few days. Just trying to relax a bit.”

“Me too,” Hiroki mused and nodded gently as if he had something on his mind but I didn’t say. I had actually just planned on remaining as silent as I could possibly manage during this holiday. Protect and heal my voice and just sweat out all this pent-up tension from all this unnecessary social interaction. I shook my head inwardly.

“So … I heard you just released a new album?” I asked only in order to have anything to say. It was release season after all, I thought I might have heard something along those lines, but honestly I just tried a shot in the dark. Next to me, however, he began nodding his head slowly.

“Been quite the year. I also needed a break.”

“I see …”

After that we fell kind of silent, though I talked myself into believing that it was because we enjoyed the relaxing warmth and silence, not because we were awkward as fuck. A few other men had joined us after a while, mostly elderly who honestly wouldn’t recognise any of us anyway. As it was time to go up again to get ready for the day, we briefly said our short goodbyes and I was sure I could feel his stares in my back when I left. But maybe I was just being paranoid.

***

I had started my day off slowly but breakfast went by pretty fast. And as I was launching in my room, clothed in a yukata, I noticed a curious pattern on the furniture and the wall cupboards. They weren’t just made out of smooth brown wood, as it was common for the interior of these old inns. There were delicate little flowers carved inside most of the surfaces. Nothing special to the fleeting eye of course, this ryokan was just a tad fancier than others, it would seem. Those, however, were lotus flowers. Significant in Buddhism and a lot of Asian countries in general. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, were they not spread throughout the whole room. I just wondered if there was a deeper meaning than just ‘it looks fancy’ to this. But I’d also seen a few here and there in the lobby and dining room.

I shrugged, and having finished my green tea, I lazily got up. I wasn’t in the mood to read and there was still so much time left until lunch, so I decided to take a quick stroll through the little village.

Breathing in the fresh air of the still early day, I walked alongside the river. A small amount of rosy plum petals drifted with the stream downwards. It was a nice enough day, a bit cloudy and the cold wind cutting. There were few tourists in the streets, less than I’d expected, albeit it being such a picturesque little onsen village. Right out of picture-book-Edo. Lots of tiny shops, bathhouses and restaurants on each side of the river.

Lost in thought, I let my fingers trace the wooden handrail in the middle of the street that separated the sidewalk and the river. It made me realise how badly I’d needed this time off. No phone. No appointments. No one other than me and my thoughts.

And yet … here I was thinking about the brief encounter between Moriuchi Hiroki and me this morning. What a God damn coincidence. Something out of a screenplay, right? How was it possible that two people in the same business who knew each other ended up at the same place and at the same time? Ryo would probably laugh about this; endlessly amused. He was the one who actually kind of got along with Hiroki and his band, no matter the age gap. I knew that the guy looked up to us as musicians. Maybe even as much as he looked up to his brother and his band. We were almost on the same level after all. We’d both did Budokan. We’d both toured the world. We were friends. If Hiroki were to strive to be like someone, I wouldn’t be surprised if it would be us.

I’d been so absorbed by my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the little shrine at the end of the path that had slowly but steadily come into sight. It was a cosy, little thing. Overgrown with soft looking green moss here and there. It basically completed the picture of this fascinating Edo-looking village.

I bowed subtly before I entered through the torii on the left hand side. I hadn’t expected to visit a shrine on this trip; I wasn’t even particularly religious or fond of traditions. Sure, I did visit the local shrine on New Year’s day. But that was about it. Something inside of me, however small, told me to stay. I suddenly felt a warm feeling of understanding and calmness reach my chest. I just laid the blame on the fact that I’d felt so relaxed coming here in the first place. That feeling had to have come from that, right?

There weren’t even any tourists or local people on the shrine grounds. And even though I wondered why that was, I decided that I liked this situation a lot better than otherwise and opted to ignore it. Coming from a big city, it was so rare to see anything like that.

I went through the motions of washing my hands and mouth at the little well, cleanse my body with the incense and then went to pray. Something you internalised as a Japanese person. Even though I hadn’t known what to pray for beforehand, all of a sudden I knew exactly what to ask.

When I turned around, I noticed a statue made out of stone in front of a small pond. Even though not very delicately sculptured, you could make out the silhouette of what appeared to be a couple in each other’s arms. Nowhere were foxes or komainu to be seen. That was odd.

“I take it you are not from here?”

I was taken wholly by surprise that when I turned around, an old man was standing right next to me. I laughed, feeling caught, and shook my head. When the heck had he appeared out of nowhere?

“No, I’m not from here.”

“You are wondering about the memorial, do you not?”

I took a closer look at the guy. He was clad in everyday clothes and his thinned out white hair reached the tip of his ears. He glanced piercingly in my direction with his bushy eyebrows raised. One of these stares that you couldn’t resist answering, though he honestly didn’t come across unfriendly. So I nodded.

“It is said to be Kozaemon and his courtesan Tsuka. They committed love suicide a long time ago.”

I side-eyed the old man and watched him fold his hands behind his back. I of course knew a little about all this; about life back then, about the ranks and samurai and yūjo. About Bunraku and Kabuki and the usage of popular real-life occurrences that had found their way into premodern art forms. Double-suicide being one of the most popular among those. The most romantic. I’d just never seen a memorial like this before. Didn’t know there were any.

“It is, however, also said that an error occurred while passing on information and Tsuka was actually Tsukichi. That is all I know. A beautiful statue, is it not?”

I nodded slowly and gave an awkward sound of understanding and gratitude. The old man took it, nodded himself and calmly shuffled away. If that was the truth, no wonder modern Japan decided to conceal it. Love-suicides used to be common and relationships between men no secret. Though I’d never heard of an instance of a homosexual double-suicide before this.

***

Since I wasn’t in the mood to actually sit down and eat at the ryokan, I decided to drop by some small diner and eat out instead. Though when I returned to the lobby, I saw Hiroki sitting in the far corner of the room, reading a magazine. He hadn’t noticed me yet and for one short moment I thought about ignoring him and just returning to my room. But as I examined him there reading alone, I felt like this was a way too coincidental situation to let it pass by. To be nice, even if I didn’t feel like it.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

Hiroki lifted his gaze and instantly cleared up the moment he saw me; a subtle smile playing on his lips. I told myself that it was just because he’d been feeling kind of dull and hadn’t expected to see me again so soon.

“I’ve just been reading,” he swiftly showed me the magazine in a fleeting motion, something about music … or art … or fashion. I couldn’t really tell before he again put his hands on the cover. “You look positively relaxed, though!”

“I’ve been walking around the neighbourhood and picked up some food. I guess I’m fine.”

I nodded gradually to back up my statement as if Hiroki needed to be reassured that I was telling the truth. As I realised how stupid that was, I stopped. Shifted from one foot to the other. I wasn’t nervous. It was just awkward …

Just as I was about to take my leave, because him casually sitting in front of me throughout our conversation mildly irked me, he stood up. I was a fair bit taller than he was but Hiroki didn’t seem as though he was bothered by it in any way. His bright smile caught me somewhat off-guard.

“I bought this expensive sake yesterday that I actually wanted to bring home. But if you’re free tonight, I could bring some over,” he suddenly explained with a straight face. He looked as if he’d only just had this sudden revelation, though something told me that he’d kind of planned on doing just that. I honestly wasn’t really fond at the prospect of him robbing me of my night time ritual – if you could call it that – but he seemed so excited that I couldn’t bring myself to say no. So I reluctantly agreed.

And finally at night, there we were, sitting at this round coffee table on the tatami floor, in our yukata and drinking sake; probably looking like a curious wall painting from the Edo period. This was the theme throughout after all. Our hair styles didn’t quite fit in, though.

I watched as he sat there, one half of his yukata very nearly sliding off his shoulder. Soft looking, tanned skin peeking out from underneath it. The grey of the garment looked honestly good on him, I had to admit.

“You’d make one hell of an entertainer. That yukata suits you,” I heard myself blurting out without properly thinking it through first. The alcohol had already sunken deep into my bloodstream and had tinged my cheeks a hot pink. Or at least that was what it felt like. Totally forgetting that, in a sense, he already was an entertainer.

In front of me, Hiroki chuckled and again nipped on his drink. He had this habit of covering his mouth with the back of his hand when he laughed. It made him seem soft somehow. He also seemed to be at least as intoxicated as I felt, though probably quite a bit more, to be frank. Right this moment I was just relieved that he wasn’t weirded out by my admittedly kind of creepy comment. His brown hair was tugged behind his ears, revealing his slightly puffy and likewise reddish cheeks. The tip of his nose sheen healthy in the warm toned light. I could not seem to turn away from those two delicate moles straight underneath his right eye. There was just something about him that I couldn’t explain.

“Did you just call me a prostitute?”

Wha–? I knew he didn’t mean it, he was joking; bantering. There was still this drunken challenging smile on his lips, but his fidgety hands on the table told a different story. I hadn’t intended to make him uncomfortable. But now that he said it, it could indeed have been perceived like that …

“No,” I tried to reconcile, albeit probably sounding desperate. Here was to hoping that he wouldn’t realise in his current state. “But did you know that prostitutes did in fact enjoy quite a high rank back in the day? The good ones, that is …”

Again, he chuckled. “Every child knows that … But you did call me ‘one hell of a,’ right?”

“Okay, this is getting weird, I’m sorry,” I laughed nasally because I was trying to hide half of my face somewhere behind my upper arm. Taking another sip. Feeling the stinging liquid run desperately hot down my throat. This wasn’t how I’d imagined this going. We weren’t even that close. Why couldn’t we, for the love of the Gods, keep up a normal conversation like actual adults?

“I’m just messing with you, you know?” Something in his brown eyes glistened when he looked at me. Maybe it was just the light reflected in them, or maybe he just really enjoyed being a tedious little brat. “Didn’t think it’d be so easy with you.”

I clicked my tongue, shook my head and downed the rest of the liquid from my glass. Should have known, really. He wasn’t annoying, however, for some reason I felt myself liking the way our interaction went. It was a fine line between annoyance and pleasure, though.

“I think you had one too much to drink,” I lectured him with a raised eyebrow; not looking at him. I took the result of my earlier statement as proof that I should probably refrain from handing out compliments like White Day chocolate. He did look good, but this time I held back my opinion; swallowed it down again. No idea why I’d had this thought in the first place.

Hiroki, however, only smiled at me with an odd expression as he picked up the bottle of sake again and poured us another two; almost triumphantly, not saying a word. I sighed.

“Hiroki … I honestly don’t want to fade away in the onsen tomorrow morning with a hangover …” It was a white lie, I wouldn’t be hungover tomorrow. I just genuinely thought that we’d better stop right here …

“I’m just trying to be a good yūjo,” he shrugged, his plump lips still forming a slight smile. Innocence. Feigned innocence.

Again, I sighed. “Don’t you think you’d much rather make a better wakashū?” I didn’t quite want to enable this weird conversation any further, but it seemed like we were at a point of no return here. Now I wanted to at least look at this logically.

In front of me, Hiro nodded approvingly. Actually a bit too enthusiastically for my tastes, too.

“You’re right. But I’d be a bit too old for that, don’t you think?”

“Let’s not go there …” I shook my head. I really didn’t want to imagine Hiroki as a barely teenage Kabuki actor, occasionally pleasuring old men in his free time. I scrunched up my face and was about to consider whether I should cut it right off here; tell him I’m sleepy, suggest that we should maybe go to bed. I was starting to feel uncomfortable under his glances and cheeky remarks. And I wasn’t about to ask myself why that was just yet.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he breathed, this time a tad softer. His fingers played with the glass on the table and a strand of hair was now loose behind his ear and fell into his face.

I was older than him, obviously. Seven years, to be exact. I’d asked. He looked young, too. Maybe a conversation like this was totally normal among his group of friends.

“But it’s still okay to tell you that your natural hair colour suits you, right? That’s not going too far, is it?”

Again, I stared at him a bit dumbfounded before I regained my composure. Slowly, I took another sip, felt the liquid run down my throat. Swallowed and almost had to cough because I’d chocked on it. My ears felt warm. “I guess that’s okay. I’ve complimented you first. We’re even.”

My words came out curiously broken; with a low and careful voice. I’d grow out my natural dark brown hair during off time. I liked the occasional change and also to give my hair a breather between tours. It had been a while, however, since someone had complimented me on that. Weird that I just wasn’t able to pocket it like a normal compliment from an acquaintance. Suddenly it became hard to look him in the eye.

“Maybe we should–” I started to intervene, but he nodded midway, agreeing to my unfinished suggestion in a whisper.

“We should,” he said.

As we both nodded and reached for the little glasses simultaneously, our hands faintly touched and we instinctively flinched; like a god damn film cliché. It was like a little electro shock, like a spark, I felt the hair on the nape of my neck stand up. And then, as I looked at him, for a split second I could swear Hiroki didn’t look like Hiroki anymore. In this short moment, I was sure to have seen what looked like an older version of him. Not as in ‘aged,’ but as in ‘not exactly now’. All the colours were sepia toned and blurred and before I could inspect his hair style any further, the weird feeling was gone and I snapped out of it.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly; his facial features only now starting to make sense to my brain again, slowly blending together. I shook my head confused to let go of that state but then nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Forget it. I should really go to bed.”

***

I was leaning against the chunky trunk of a big plum tree. It appeared to be spring, everything was deeply in bloom and blossom, pinks and whites and yellows and greens all around, but the rays of the sun felt already intensely warm on my skin. I peeped up to the baby blue morning sky and smiled on account of it. What bliss!

“Your skin looks golden in the sun,” the boy in front of me asserted out loud; cupping my face lovingly with his two hands. I looked at him and even though I felt like scolding him, still I smiled.

Next he took the tiny used notebook and very short pencil from my hands and placed them next to us. I let him do it without objecting, even though I knew that he shouldn’t have the power to bother me at a time like this. I combed through his loose raven black forelocks.

“Take me with you tonight.”

“You very well know I cannot do that.”

“Your wife does not even need to know.”

“Look at me,” I heard my own voice ring in my ears as I looked at him intently; his face both soft and hopeless at the same time. The freshness of his pink cheeks well-neigh touched me to tears. “There is going to be a time and a place for everything yet to come.”

“I am afraid I cannot wait any longer,” he cried tenderly but his eyes were screaming. I could not seem to turn away from those two delicate moles straight underneath his right eye. They made him seem mesmerizingly beautiful. This time, I cupped his face. “I am tired. I love you.”

“And I love you,” I reassured him, “but this is not how the world works.”

“I cut myself for you.”

With deliberate and careful fingertips, I caressed the long, thick scar on his shoulder through the garment from that blade that day. It had only just closed up and healed recently.

“I mean it.”

“We will find a way, I promise you,” I whispered those words onto his trembling lips. Kissed a salty tear away. Knew that, in the end, this would only mean one thing.

“Born together on the same lotus flower.”

When the day of his genpuku ceremony came, and it was his time to cut off his forelocks, he lay in my arms; sobbing. I held him close and brushed through his hair patiently. Kissed his head.

He had tried to postpone it as long as he could but ultimately there was no young man who could escape it. You were supposed to embrace it, naturally. What an opportunity, an honour! To be able to fight in open battle as samurai and to finally be considered an adult! But for the wakashū youth at the time, it was bound to be a disaster.

“Will you still love me after that?” “I told you, I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I would gladly give my life for you,” I whispered into his black hair and meant it. “You will find a way, too, you will see. The wakashū-kabuki is about to change. I know it.”

And when it was finally time for us to be reborn, the winter had taken hold of the land. The icy cold gusts of wind cut our cheeks but we determinedly marched forward to the perfect spot encompassed by those large, naked plum trees and the little shrine. I had taken care of my wife’s financial well-being as best as I could have managed. I felt guilty but also indescribably happy at the prospect of finally being free with him. Together with him. Like it always should have been.

When I leant down to cut his throat, I kissed him intently and whispered “same lotus, remember” against his lips. It was both the hardest and the easiest thing I’d ever had to do. Then I hung myself.

And as I hung there, swaying in the wind, the full moon shining on me, I–

***

My alarm went off. Horror-stricken, I came to and suddenly I sat upright in my futon; clutching my throat and desperately trying to gasp for air. Until I realised I didn’t need to. There was fresh sweat on my forehead that I wiped away before I got up to drink some water.

What a freakish nightmare.

I’d never before dreamed of dying. Let alone anything Tokugawa period inspired. I didn’t even know I’d had the knowledge. But it had all felt too real, looked so real. The more I tried to hold onto the blurred memories, however, the more they slipped away. I shook my head. With all of yesterday’s wakashū talk and the little lecture at the memorial site, this was bound to happen, right? Right …

I sleepily rubbed my eyes and looked outside. Still dark, of course. I hadn’t been as sleepy yesterday …

After I’d had a cup of tea, I made my way downstairs to the onsen. Wondered if Hiroki would appear at the same time as yesterday. I waited in the mushy warmth and people came and went, but he never appeared.

Slightly feeling defeated, I let the back of my head fell softly on the wet stones behind me and sighed. I couldn’t put my finger on why I felt so bad. Maybe I’d scared him away yesterday after all; had made him feel unwelcomed. That hadn’t been my intention as his senpai at all.

But then, what did I want?

Finally, at breakfast, I saw him sitting at the large table and joined him hesitantly. He really didn’t seem too pleased. But maybe I’d only imagined it.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Hiroki spooned his miso soup; his face stiff. “So-so. Could have been better, honestly.”

My fingertips itched to ask him why he didn’t come to the public onsen this morning. He’d probably just used his own private one, but then again, why today …

“Yeah, me neither,” I mused; body refreshed, mind sleepy. “I hope I didn’t offend you yesterday.”

It was honestly a thought that had been circling around in my head all morning since I’d woken up from that weird dream. Objectively I knew that I hadn’t offended him and if I had, it wasn’t my fault. Just … seeing him looking so miserable, for whatever reason, felt like choking. Trying to be as silent as I could manage, I grabbed everything I needed for my breakfast and started to eat.

“You did not,” he reassured me and there was honesty in his voice, though his eyes remained a question without an answer. “I honestly think that I was acting like a little brat on purpose and I should apologise for that.”

“So, do you only think you should or are you apologising?”

When I lifted my gaze to look at him, for a moment, I thought he’d throw his tofu at me. But to my huge relief, he smiled, beamed even, and so I chimed in for a bit. When the pleasant feelings had settled after a while, I again tried to focus on the food. Suddenly it tasted a lot better.

“I’ll be honest with you,” I started after a few minutes in pleasant silence, not quite knowing whether I should really tell him, “actually I wanted to spend this vacation alone. You know, not even seeing or talking to anyone. But now that you’re here, too … how about going around town for a bit later?”

Hiroki nodded, not too enthusiastically but I liked to think he was. “That sounds great. Check out the restaurants?”

I nodded. There were a lot I hadn’t yet seen.

***

It was long dark outside when we exited the restaurant we’d had dinner at. Both clothed in grey kimono, and already slightly intoxicated from all the sake we’d had after food, we walked along the dimly lit river.

It was astoundingly beautiful here. It very well-neigh looked as though you were literally in old Edo, only the street lights meddled with the illusion. It was a clear night with a clear night’s sky and although still quite cold, there was no wind cutting our faces. Everything was dark and still and silent and listened.

We hadn’t said a word since we’d started walking alongside this little river called Heiki in a daze of alcohol and mild food overdose. Which was, for the record, slightly out of character for the both of us considering that we’d happily chatted away during our meal and it made me fuzzy in the head. We’d had a lot of fun together tonight.

After we’d walked for a while, our ryokan wasn’t too far anymore, Hiroki suddenly stopped to lean onto the wooden handrail at the side of the street and listen to the polite rhythm of the gurgling water. On the other river side, the plum trees were already in full bloom.

“Why we’re stopping?” I asked oblivious and watched him watching the scenery in front of us. There was a short smile on his lips. We were still drunk.

“It’s just so pretty here. I’ve spent enough time indoors.”

I nodded. Although I silently dreamed of using the onsen for a second time today. “It’s cold after a while, though, don’t you think?”

Hesitatingly, I shuffled to a spot next to him; the fabric of our kimono almost touching.

“I can handle the cold,” he mused but I knew he wasn’t finished. So I didn’t say anything after that. Then he looked up and so did I. Out here, you could actually see the stars. Sometimes you get the feeling that they’re not quite there in the city, as though someone had imagined them a long time ago and so they only then came into existence. You never really think about them, you never really see them, because even though you might sometimes look up from your hectic walk, they are not really there. You look up and they’re not there. You know they should be and you know everyone says they’re there, so you believe them.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

I watched the not quite full moon closely, silently, and wondered if Hiroki knew what he’d just said. What a walking cliché … After another few seconds had passed, however, I decided to blame the alcohol for that as well.

“It is,” I said warily and got ready to start walking again, “but let’s just go inside. Have something to drink. I just want to get into the hot water one more time before I go to bed.”

“That does sound good,” he agreed enthusiastically as he walked right by my side. I could see his breath forming little clouds of white mist in the light of the street lamps whenever I peered over to him. And while I was at it, I forbid my head from overthinking his statement from earlier. He hadn’t meant it like that … “How about we go to my place? I have a private onsen.”

“Don’t you think I have one, too? You’ve been to my room.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his cheeks sporting a soft glowing pink. He was giddy, always in such high spirits, it was fascinating. “But does yours overlook the forest?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve booked the most expensive room?”

“What can I say?” Hiroki looked at me and laughed a hearty smile, showing me his wrist and attached to it: a rather expensive looking watch. “Rich parents and successful, too. Why would I settle for the almost?”

“Wow, you’re … unbelievable.”

What a fucking brat. He’d been like this from the start, as if he never cared how he came across. Maybe he really didn’t. Some people’d understandably think of him as obnoxious. But I knew he was kind and thoughtful. Honest even. That’s why he didn’t bother to change his cheeky ways. He knew he could trust me.

And he had been right indeed – his room looked full-on fancy; sort of extravagant even and the view over the forest was breathtakingly gorgeous. I hadn’t been aware that there were such major differences between the rooms. His little private onsen was built on what appeared to be a balcony of some sort – there weren’t any walls or glass façades surrounding the hot bath. It was wonderful, really, so you’d still be sitting outside and the hot steam wouldn’t fill the cramped little room. Now I knew why he’d stayed inside this morning. And, ironically enough, there was the moon right outside this room, hanging over the onsen like an exclamation point with the stroke of its upper body missing.

“I’ve got some beer. Tell you what, I’m going to get it and you go and get yourself ready?”

“That’s decadent,” I intervened slightly puzzled, though Hiroki’s face only revealed what seemed to be one of his ‘what do you mean?’-looks. As if that was the most common thing on this planet. So in the end I shrugged my shoulders and obliged, wondering when our roles had switched exactly. The fact that I was still intoxicated, however, helped this case enormously.

I’d been with friends to the hot springs a hundred times. Even with his brother. But somehow … this time … alone in a private onsen with him and alcohol involved … there was something feeling not quite right about this. I just couldn’t put my finger on why that was, though. And so I ignored the little voice inside my head as he sat opposite of me. The fact that I kind of initiated this mess in the first place Sipping his beer. The lights inside were dimmed, we only really had the moon illuminating our faces.

It looked kind of bizarre. I knew he was of drinking age, but he still looked so young holding this comparatively huge beer can in his hand. The way he sat there, silently, enjoying the warmth and sometimes looking up at the sky; questioningly. There was no way I could enjoy my bath like this. With all these ideas and thoughts running through my busy head. And him thoughtfully examining me once in a while when he thought I wasn’t looking.

“Is there something on my face?” I asked him without really expecting an answer to that.

The air around us had been electrified ever since we’d gone home from the restaurant. I should have known better and retired to my own room after we’d come here. I didn’t know what had made me stay.

“Do you think the moon looked the same for people in former times?”

I had to muffle a small laugh at that; I’d been expecting a lot but this knocked me off track. “Oh, it’s that time already? Philosophy?”

I couldn’t help myself but mock it. I busied my fingers with my own beer and hoped he would just drop the subject altogether. Something about it unnerved me to no end. No more talking about the bloody moon!

For a while then, he said nothing. Only when he saw my raised eyebrows did he open his mouth to respond. For some weird reason, I was anticipating exactly what he was about to say just then. God damn, I hadn’t actually wanted to trigger that.

“It’s just … I’ve had a weird dream last night.”

“Just a dream, though,” I assured him and freaked out on the inside. What a bizarre coincidence. Hopefully just that. Hopefully.

In front of me, Hiro nodded and finished his beer in one long gulp. He did make me nervous, I finally realised for the first time. His unspoken words especially; I could see them in his eyes. Now it was just awkward between the two of us. Both staring into nothingness and trying not to move. The water was suddenly too hot, it made my face glow up, and yet I could have sworn that I felt the subtle heat of his body instead. He was resting his arm outside of the onsen on the elevated ground; his fingertips loosely pointing in my direction. My chest felt heavy. I didn’t know what to do.

“What made you come here in the first place?” I heard myself saying before I could even intervene consciously. But then I thought that it wasn’t such a bad idea to talk about that, after all. Normal enough conversation starter. Made both our minds busy. Would probably and finally stop me from wanting to move closer to him.

Hiro shrugged. “I felt like it. Searched for a place that allowed tattoos. This one felt right.”

“Right,” I whispered like in trance. Even though I had to have sobered up quite some bit already, my head felt so fuzzy. Trying to be subtle about it, I examined that part of his chest piece that was visible above the water surface.  It said ‘Rule the Fate’ in elegant lettering and when I was done reading it, my hair on the nape of my neck stood on end. I realised that I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I knew he’d noticed. “Same for me.”

“You only have those two?” he whispered back in the same tone of voice, though only stared at the one on my neck. The Vena tattoo. “It’s your album title, isn’t it? What does it mean to you?”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t quite make his eyes out in the dark, but his look was piercing. Not in an uncomfortable way, however, it managed to make me hot to the touch. My throat felt tight.

“We wanted to get back to our roots music wise,” I tried to give him the same TED talk I’d given basically any interviewer back then. And it wasn’t even that big of a lie. “So I thought roots … blood … veins … you get it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he nodded, “but why’d you get a tattoo of that on your skin?”

“…Why’d you get yours?”

“I mean …” he paused, gesturing a bit comically. I again swallowed a lump in my throat. “You only have two. Those must mean something to you.”

“I just wanted to have someone on the cover with that tattoo. Thought it might as well be me.”

Hiroki only nodded as if he understood but in reality I knew he wasn’t convinced. Again, it wasn’t that big of a lie. I just didn’t feel fully comfortable talking about anything that personal. At least he accepted that. I watched him in front of me; tilting his head back to catch a nice cool breeze, his chest rising and falling softly. Fate. Then he lifted his gaze.

“Can I take a closer look at it?”

“What?” I responded instinctively and way too fast. I couldn’t quite tell him not to be ridiculous. I would have probably told him so yesterday. But tonight … I felt like I couldn’t refuse him such a simple request. He probably hadn’t gotten a good look at it in the past two days and he was just … curious. We were still slightly drunk. To ask such a thing was within the realms of possibility. It wasn’t weird. Or so I told myself. Because when I looked hard into it, when I tried to be honest with me … then I knew that all the fibres of my entire body wanted him closer. I wanted to say yes. I wanted him to look. The time of self-control was over, I’d just decided. No more self-control. He had it coming. I just couldn’t shake off that feeling of total helplessness; a feeling that this was all supposed to happen, right now and in the same exact way it was happening. “…yes.”

I held my breath as he carefully skidded closer to me in the onsen. It wasn’t big or anything, but the motion felt like minutes. Eventually, however, he was standing right in front of me; his stomach was almost at the same height as my face. I exhaled relieved when he decided to hunker down in front of me after all. My ears felt hot, again I held my breath. Prayed that I wasn’t coming across as nervous as my beating heart suggested.

This was it, wasn’t it? This was one of those moments. I’d never been good at them. I was tense enough with women. But with a man? The whole realisation of it all, that it felt so right and that I knew my body wanted him so badly, made me lose my mind.

Sitting in front of me like that, Hiroki scooted just the tiniest bit closer; supporting himself with his right hand on the edge of the onsen right next to my head as he leaned forward in slow motion. I felt his breath on my wet skin, making me shiver and flinched when the fingers of his left hand finally touched me; tracing the delicate strokes of black ink. I hadn’t expected him to, honestly. I’d thought he’d only look, but now that he was here and I wasn’t quite surprised retrospectively, I leaned back and let out a small sigh that I’d held in consequently.

I imagined he was aware of where my body was and was fussily concerned with trying not to touch me in the water, though I could feel his thighs close to mine. My pulse throbbed so loud in my ears that I couldn’t understand my own voice inside my head anymore. All I heard was him breathing faster. I was so nervous and yet so giddy. Time moved so excruciatingly slow. I knew my impulses were about to kick in. I could feel it. My head felt so dizzy, my heart screamed. This ridiculous act was so painful. I knew he wanted me and I was sure he knew that I wanted him.

Two days. It had taken him two days to make me mad for him and his body. Laughable!

I was just about to go ‘fuck it’ and grab his head and just kiss him; I couldn’t take it any longer and my fingers itched for his skin, I couldn’t take the fact that I couldn’t just touch him anymore – but then I  felt his lips brush against my neck. Drawing in a breath sharply, I swallowed down a moan and was so perplexed that I suddenly didn’t know what to do after all. Then I just decided on placing my hand on his head, brushing through his soft hair bolder by the second, encouraging him to go on. His right hand now on my shoulder and upper arm, the other somewhere in the water.

This kid sure had balls. I chuckled amused but softly. Relieved.

“You’ve planned this?” I breathed under shivers. My heart was so full; I didn’t know what to do with all these giddy feelings. I hadn’t been this horny for someone in such a long time. How was I supposed to hold back until I could finally touch him properly, anyway? All of this was moving way too slow. I wanted to grab him and press him against the floor. I’d never done that to a guy. I wondered how he moved; how he moaned and how his face looked when he had my cock inside of him. I let out a shaky breath. Grabbed the back of his head and finally kissed him. Pressed him against me; our faces so close that it became almost impossible to move. The steam had made our hair and skin damp. His lips were wet.

I loved the little trembling breaths he took between kisses. I knew his lips felt soft but all I could think of was that tingling right underneath my skin, everywhere. Everywhere his body touched mine. His hands all over me and one of his legs somewhat awkward somewhere between my legs. His hips were touching my stomach. I could feel his hard-on and I knew he could feel my cock brush against him, too. He kissed back with such force; with at least as much desperation as I had in me. Even his fingertips where shaky. When I supported him by the hips and pressed him closer towards me, he sobbed against my lips; I opened my eyes. My hands still both cupping his face.

God, he was beautiful.

But as I was watching him in front of me, searching for his eyes in the dark but failing, there was this sudden realisation what we were about to do. Reluctantly I pressed our foreheads together. Clenched my teeth. Exhaled slowly. It felt right, yes, though this would most definitely not be perceived this way by … literally everyone we knew or who knew us.

“Hiroki … I think we should stop.”

I almost couldn’t recognise my own voice when I spoke; I was out of breath. I tried to search for his gaze one more time in the dimly lit darkness and recognised the coldness of his breath on my wet neck. He was still so close to my own face that it was hard to breathe. Our noses touched. I felt his chest heaving. I honestly didn’t want to let go of him. I couldn’t.

“You don’t want this to stop.” A whisper.

He was right. I smiled against his lips but didn’t kiss him. He let out a long sigh. I didn’t know how we’d ended up here. I didn’t even really want to occupy my mind with that question. I just wanted to follow whatever instinct was piloting me at this moment. It felt so right. Something inside of me told me that I really shouldn’t worry about such a minor thing. It would all fall into place. I just knew that I wanted to get off with him so badly. I wanted to see his face when he came. I wanted to know how he sounded like when he was close. And it did feel like a taboo, too, somehow. Something I’d never considered doing, something that fans would definitely never know about. And something his brother would most definitely never learn.

God damn, I couldn’t stand it anymore. He was so right. No, I didn’t want to end this.

So I carefully got up and out, so as not to slip or hurt Hiroki accidentally in the process, and impatiently dried my body with a towel. It was freaking cold, but that wasn’t it, I was just desperate to get inside and begin where we left off. Still out of breath, I watched him climb out; biting my lips as my gaze fell on his hard cock. He looked a bit awkward standing there but I could not wait to touch him again. And so I took another careful breath and reached for his shoulder, wiped those single drops of water off as he was distractedly drying himself, too. His eyes on me the whole time. Gave him a small kiss before I began to hurry to get inside.

“Come on,” I encouraged him, took his hand and pulled him into the warmth. Didn’t care if he was still wet. Didn’t care if some of the curtains weren’t closed. Didn’t care about the far too dimmed lights.

I closed the door behind us and quickly pulled him into another kiss. Cupping his face, feeling the smooth skin on his back, pressing him against me as we stood there in the middle of the traditional looking ryokan living room.

I felt far too hot, my ears hurt. And I knew my lips had to have been swollen by then. But I just couldn’t stop kissing him, catching his moans and little desperate breaths. It wasn’t like playing an instrument; Hiroki definitely knew what he was doing and what he wanted. He fought back, he pushed, he pulled. I would have loved to thrust him to the floor and to just lead this whole thing. See if he liked that. If he wanted that or had had in mind when he started hitting on me yesterday out of the blue. But instead Hiroki swiftly dropped to his knees without any time left for me to protest.

It must have been God damn uncomfortable on the tatami floor but seeing him like this, looking up at me with half-closed eyes – I wasn’t really gonna talk him out of it, let’s be honest. I brushed through his hair gently and was excited to see where this was going. No man had ever given me a blowjob but Hiroki looked as though he knew exactly what he’d had in mind, which aroused the question of if he’d done it before. I held my breath before his tongue touched me and shivered when it did.

He grabbed my waist and let his hands wander back and forth. I closed my eyes. Could not quite relax standing like this but the sensation was just so overwhelmingly perfect that I at the same time couldn’t care less. I just wanted more of that throbbing inside of my chest, to get all choked up. I didn’t even think I could bring out a single word at this point. My mouth stood open and all I could do was to breathe loudly as he had me in his mouth. My hands somewhere in his hair. I felt him grinning against my skin.

Jesus. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Hiroki,” I forced out with a broken voice then after all. I didn’t want to come just yet. But he was so good. My breathing grew faster and finally he stopped. Licked up my length once more before he stood up to face me again. He was still shorter than me, but his grin was so wide and smug that I was on the verge of holding him down and wanting to fuck it off him just like that. Instead I pulled him into yet another kiss; his tongue tasted faintly salty and bitter.

I let him press himself against my body as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and tickled my ear with his breath. Enjoyed the warmth his body gave off; all the angles, edges and muscles a woman didn’t have. Tried to capture and keep a hold of how he felt on my skin. Inhaled shakily.

“Are you brave enough to fuck me?” he whispered in my ear. I shivered. And mulled it over for a second. Brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. I couldn’t think properly, I was just so horny. I hadn’t had sex with a man before him. But I wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t worried. All I wanted right now was him in front of me on all fours; on top of me, beneath me. Everything; I didn’t care. I just wanted to make him scream my name.

“I didn’t exactly think about bringing condoms, you know.” That had been pretty low on my priority list when I came here, to be quite honest. Who would have thought, anyway?

I let my fingertips run up and down his flat chest, felt the pulse on his throat; nose to nose, lips to lips. My hands now on the nape of his neck. Breathing in his sighs. On the verge of telling myself ‘fuck it’ – only that I knew better.

“I don’t have any, either,” he whispered against my lips. I kissed his.

“I was afraid you might say that …” I chuckled almost silently; still pressing myself against him. The desire I felt for him was immeasurable at this point. How could a stupid little kid do that to me? I tried pushing the fact of him being Taka’s little brother, of him being in the rock music scene himself, to the very back of my head. It was kind of weird the longer I thought about it, but because I still wanted to do this, however the fuck he’d managed to convince me, I tried not to think about it any further.

So … we couldn’t fuck, but there were still plenty of other options left. Plus, there was always the possibility of a ‘next time,’ right? I had all the time in the world to fantasise about my thick cock inside of him next time, when we were more prepared. About him sobbing little moans and pleas with every thrust; begging for more. To be released. Deeper and faster. I almost chocked at the thought and finally broke the physical contact to get the futon out of the closet.

Hiroki watched me prepare it; his breathing shallow. When I sat down on it, he joined me in the blink of an eye. It didn’t take long for me to pull him into another kiss, which he approved of easily and obliged without a word. If anything, he melted into it. I could feel his body blur together with the rest of the background; I could feel him shiver and shake. My movements only grew stronger; more erratic. Pushing and pulling. Until he was lying right underneath me. I breathed his name against his lips. Kissed his jaw. Traced his cheekbones. Swallowed hard.

He was so God damn beautiful. And so God damn needy and complaint under my fingertips; his legs spread, pressing himself up against my body. I craved him. I so wished I could just fuck him after all. I could not wait. I pinned his arms back onto the floor and caught his silent sighs. Grinding down on him. Watching his eyes cloud over. His cheeks pink with lust, intoxication and hopefully embarrassment. I didn’t know why I wanted him embarrassed exactly. I just knew that I had to wipe that smugness off him fast.

“Want to have the next best thing?” I purred, shoving two fingers inside his mouth maybe a tad too ungently; all the while keeping his arms in check. But he understood, wasn’t surprised, it took him not a second to start licking them. I groaned as I pressed our foreheads together. I liked the sensation. I liked how I still felt as though I had the upper hand in all this. He’d oblige, and if he didn’t, I’d make him.

When I felt like it was enough, I replaced my fingers with my mouth and let them wander down his body instead. It was my first time with a man but I’d had anal sex before. I knew how he’d like it. And I was excited at the prospect of finding the perfect angle for him. Watching his face change. Experiencing in what way it was different for him than it was for a woman.

He arched his back when I was finally massaging against him, waiting for another response. Watching him wriggle and twist, trying to escape my firm grip. Watching him slowly losing it. I just needed this one reassurance. This one push. At this point I was hovering right above his lips. Not kissing him again. Waiting. My own cock was throbbing. My heart sank. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this excited.

“Please,” I heard him breathe, but his voice was so shattered and shaky that I’d almost missed it. His cheeks were still a fresh pink, as were his ears. He had his mouth open and his eyes closed shut. His teeth clenched. I could feel his cock pulsating.

God, was I really about to fulfil one of his old teenage fantasies? Had he been into me the whole time?

“Say that again for me,” I asked, licking his lips provokingly. Being the one to call the shots, to have the power over him, made me positively drunken with excitement. Women were often way too obedient in the first place. I’d never had the urge to exhaust established power dynamics. It was different with Hiroki. And this was only the beginning. I was looking forward to finally being inside of him; to fuck that smugness out of him. And somewhere in my head I wondered for a short second if I’d be able to cuddle him on my sofa, too.

“Please, Masato–”

Maybe he wanted to add something but I decided that it still wasn’t enough.

“I need a full sentence from you.”

He moaned under my weight; under the feeling of my fingers pushing further against him and yet still not pushing far enough. His cock looked so ridiculously full and desperate.

“I– I need your fingers inside of me, Masato. Please–”

When I finally pushed my fingers in, I made sure to watch him closely; to see how his face went to pieces, how he lost control of his facial features completely. I watched him intently. Fascinated. He instinctively tightened around my fingers. I had yet to move them in and out but he already seemed to be in the highest of highs. When I let go of his arms, he didn’t look as though he knew what he should do with them all of a sudden. So he left them above his head on the floor. But sitting back, taking in the whole picture; all of him – was so arousing.

After I’d started slowly moving my fingers in and out experimentally, he relaxed and it gradually became easier and his moans increasingly louder. It felt like being in a total state of manic fixation. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Off his face; off his cock; off the place my fingers slipped in and out of him. I watched his chest heave and him squirm. Two fingers were all it took for him to go insane. He looked as though it would be so easy for him to cum just from my fingers alone. My cock twitched at the thought. But I really wanted to get some friction, too. I was just so turned on by the sight of him and his little sobs. By the feeling of my fingers surrounded by his tight warmth. By him trying to somehow hide his face behind his arms embarrassed. Even though he obviously loved being watched as I fingerfucked him. His wide open legs said more than a thousand words.

Jesus, I would have loved to replace my fingers with my cock. Seeing what kind of difference it made. How loud he could moan. How his face looked.

I swallowed hard. I never would have thought I’d do that to a man, let alone him. I never would have thought I’d find cock attractive. But seeing him so turned on turned me on. Maybe my heart beat so fast because it was him and not some random other guy.

I leaned down again to stifle his moans with my mouth. Reached down between my own legs and began jerking myself off. It was kind of a pain in the ass, to be honest. God damn uncomfortable. But the smallest of touches felt heavenly. I shuddered with every stroke and already felt close to the edge. How could that even be a thing?

“I want to come all over you,” I pressed out; my voice shaking with lust and arousal. I couldn’t think of anything more perfect right now. Seeing him come. Him coming at the same time as me. Him coming from me coming all over him. Not needing to care about where to release or how to get rid of it afterwards. Just watching him love every second of it.

“Yes, I want you to,” he breathed equally shaky against my lips and I felt him finally reach for his own cock, too. Even though I would have loved trying to make him come just from my fingers, I shivered at the thought of him jerking off. Never thought about watching anyone like this. Suddenly I couldn’t think of anything hotter.

I leaned back in order for me to take him in fully; to watch him slowly get closer to the edge himself. He was pulling his cock slowly but firmly, in the same rhythm as my thrusts. I was matching him. Not thinking about it. My head was on autopilot. I moved my fingers faster. He moaned louder. I did not think about bothering other guests. My mouth stood slightly open. Breathing became harder. My own hand on my cock felt so good. I closed my eyes for a second. Sighed.

“You look so pretty like that,” I groaned. Maybe a tad too loud. His answer was a long moan. I could see that he was close. Felt it.

And even though it was way easier to both fingerfuck him and jerk myself off when I leaned back, I just couldn’t resist bending further down to kiss him. I liked how he just couldn’t cope anymore the moment I tried to steal his breath on top of everything that was happening. He yelped and gasped and it momentarily threw him off balance.

“I’m close,” he whined against my lips.

I skidded closer to him on my knees. Moved my fingers faster, tried to go even deeper. He cried. I pressed our foreheads together. Massaging myself with an even stronger grip. I felt hot all over and this familiar electric sensation spread through my whole body. I closed my eyes.

But when I finally came, I leant back again to watch it all. I couldn’t seem to control the volume of my moans. I felt deaf. I tried not to lose the rhythm of my fingers but I kind of failed. I watched as the first shot hit him on the neck and jaw. I exhaled. Then his chest and stomach. I groaned. When he was finally coming too, triggered by my own orgasm, his cum reached his clavicle. My own was dropping on his cock and hand by then.

Breathing. Coping. Trying to regain composure.

I smiled when I realised how much cum he had on his body. He smiled back as he grabbed my head with his clean hand and just held it. Pressed our foreheads together this time.

What a fucking mess.

When I realised that he’d probably have to sleep in this futon tonight, I carefully pulled out my two fingers; listened to him whine at the sensation. Then I tried to find him some tissues to get rid of most of the mess roughly first before it ran down his sides. Then I washed my hands.

“I don’t know if it’s me – but I think you should take a shower.”

“Oh, really?” he said in a mocking tone as he turned around to face me. But his face was still flushed; he gleamed almost. His smile so bright I wondered if I’d just accidentally drugged him instead.

I cleared my throat; abruptly feeling a bit more awkward than before. It was just the way he stood in front of me like that. The tattoos suited his body shape. All of a sudden he looked his usual bratty self again. All wide smiles, big laughs and provocative words.

I liked how his body looked, I only now realised. It honestly blew my mind how that preference could develop over two days when I hadn’t even felt a similar urge once in my life before.

“Yeah,” I whispered and closed the gap between us. Pulled him inside my arms. Felt the angles and edges and pressed my lips onto his. “I should probably go with you.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Ninety-Two: Cooperation ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, Hatake Kakashi, Aburame Shino, Inuzuka Kiba, Yūhi Kurenai ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

Genin missions have been so boring lately.

While Sasuke expected there to be some learning curve...he wasn’t assuming it would be this bad. Dog walking, yard weeding, cat fetching...these aren’t shinobi tasks! Nothing about them utilize what they learned in the Academy, or during the training sessions they’ve had thus far with Kakashi. These are things any civilian could do! Why tasks like these are being afforded to shinobi - even if they are genin - is beyond his understanding.

Needless to say, it’s made the little Uchiha irritated. He’s supposed to be gaining experience, learning new jutsu, building up both his knowledge and his strength...and these assignments aren’t cutting it. He’d even dare to call them an insult. He has no time to waste on menial tasks when his brother is out there, still breathing, and far beyond Sasuke’s current skill level. How can he even begin to compete with - let alone kill - his elder brother if all he’s being given to do are stupid chores and pointless exercizes?!

“So, I’ve got a little something different for you three today.”

Meeting as always atop the little bridge that roughly sits in the middle of their homes, the trio of genin look up as Kakashi finally arrives. While Naruto and Sakura take to their usual berating of the man, Sasuke just leans coolly against the railing. There’s no point to it by now...their teacher will never be on time, no matter their fussing.

“So, what’s the mission? Huh? Huh?” Naruto demands, practically dancing around with anticipation. “C’mon, you gotta tell us!”

“Well, it’s another D-rank,” Kakashi begins, pausing as his team all wilt. “...is that a problem?”

“Man, these missions are lame,” the Uzumaki mutters.

“We all have to go through them,” Kakashi assures him, giving his infamous one-eyed smile. “You’ll outgrow them soon enough...but first, you need an introduction to missions and the system before we start sending you on something more...advanced.”

“You’ve been saying that for months,” Sasuke retorts, arms loosely folded over his chest.

“And you’re still not ready, even after all that time.”

Dark eyes narrow, but Sasuke withholds any other quips. It’s just a waste of time.

“Now...barring any more interruptions...we’ve got a two-squadron mission on our hands.”

The genin blink. “...wait, what?” Naruto demands. “Y’mean we gotta team up with more genin?”

“Precisely,” Kakashi chirps. “Today you’ll be working with team eight.” After a pause, he clarifies, “Aburame Shino, Inuzuka Kiba, and Hyūga Hinata. Currently under the tutelage of one Yūhi Kurenai. They’ve been denoted as a bit of a tracker team, what with the kikaichu, ninken, and Byakugan at their disposal. And you three are to be more of the...beef in this little mix.”

“...meaning?” Sasuke asks.

“You and Naruto are pretty heavy hitters, and Sakura is clever. Working with team eight’s abilities to find your target, you’ll then head in to capture it.”

“If it’s another cat, I’m gonna holler!” Naruto...hollers.

“No, not a cat this time,” Kakashi assures him with another smile. “This is a bit more...feisty.”

All three genin furrow brows at that. “...what’s feistier than a cat?” Sakura muses mostly to herself.

“You’ll just have to come find out! We’re to meet your temporary teammates at the gate.”

Exchanging glances, team seven makes to follow as Kakashi about-faces and heads to the main village entrance.

True to his word, Kurenai’s team is already there. “Kakashi,” she greets, hands on her hips.

“Ready to go?”

“Are you going to explain what we’re looking for?” Sakura cuts in, folding her arms with a hint of impatience.

“Yes yes,” Kakashi replies. “You see, we recently had a new batch of messenger hawks start training yesterday! But unfortunately...they weren’t quite tame enough, and flew off. It’s up to you six to locate the missing hawks, and safely return them to the village aviary.”

“...we’re after birds?” Naruto clarifies, squinting.

“Important birds. Konoha’s message system has to be foolproof,” Kurenai offers. “Important, encoded information is often sent by hawk. If we don’t have enough of them, or those we have aren’t trained properly, we could lose intel to our enemies.”

The implication perks the younger group.

“So, you’ll be working in pairs,” Kakashi goes on. “One member of each team: team eight will do the tracking, and team seven will work on retrieval.”

“How are we supposed to catch them? Especially without harming them?” Sakura inquires with a frown.

“With these,” Kurenai offers, holding up a bag, within which are several weighted nets. “We’ve also got some bait to try to lure them in, but we have to find them first.”

“That won’t be a problem!” Kiba insists, dashing a thumb at his nose with a grin. “Team eight’s the best trackers from our class!”

“We will do our best,” is Shino’s contribution, Hinata nodding.

“All right...Sakura, you’ll be with Kiba. Naruto, you’re with Shino. And Sasuke, you’ll team up with Hinata. Ready?”

Arming themselves with nets and bait, the pairs scatter.

Sasuke and Hinata head north along the wall, Hinata quickly activating her Byakugan and scanning their surroundings.

He gives her a glance. They very rarely speak, so...in all honesty, he really doesn’t know her that well. Sasuke kept to himself and his studies in the Academy, and she was such a wallflower he often forgot she existed. But her being a Hyūga is interesting, given their supposed shared roots. “...see anything?”

“Not, um...not yet,” she reports, still gazing ahead.

“...how are we supposed to tell them from wild hawks?”

“Kurenai-sensei said they have little metal bands around their left legs. The aviary reported five missing birds last night.”

“And you can see those bands?”

A nod. “Yes. At least...so long as it’s within my range. Right now, I can see about f-fifty meters in any direction.”

Dark brows lift a hair. “...and the Byakugan...it can see through things, right?”

“Yes, most things. Some jutsu can - can warp or distort it. But I haven’t...encountered any of those yet.”

Huh...color him impressed.

They wander for about twenty minutes before Hinata holds out a hand, squinting. “...there. T-twenty meters, ten o’clock.”

He can’t see it, but...Sasuke trusts her. “All right...I’ll set some bait, see if we can lure it out.” A potent dead rat is laid among some leaf litter on the forest floor, Sasuke hiding up in a tree. Hinata takes a nearby branch, watching.

“...here it comes!” she whispers.

With a flutter, the hawk lands nearby, tempted by the smell. Waddling a few paces with outstretched wings, it makes to inspect the carcass.

Timing a leap, Sasuke closes much of the distance as he can before the bird reacts, tossing the net the rest of the way. With weighted edges quickly dragging it down, it gives a fierce cry, fighting against the fibers with sharp talons.

Both genin stand nearby. “Should...should we try to pick it up…?” Hinata asks, stance a bit wary. “I’m not sure that would be, um...that would be safe.”

“I think I can get it.” Approaching carefully, Sasuke ignores the bird’s struggling, managing to get a careful grip on its legs, cradling the rest in his arms. “There…”

“Wow, good job!”

There’s a small warmth at the praise, but Sasuke keeps his expression neutral. “Well...guess we better take it back to free up the net.”

Kakashi and Kurenai look up as they make their way back. “Well well, good job you two!” Kurenai praises.

“Has anyone else found a hawk yet?”

“Not yet,” Kakashi confirms.

“What should we do with this one…?”

Answering with action, Kakashi accepts the upset avian, putting a blinding cap over its eyes and a tether around its legs. It quickly calms, occasionally fluttering and giving a soft rasp.

“Well, back to it!” he then chirps.

They manage to find one more, Kiba and Sakura bringing in three. Naruto and Shino...find none.

“Man, that was totally lame!” Naruto complains, arms folded as the two sensei handle the birds while they trek to the aviary. “How were we supposed to do this?”

Shino adjusts his glasses. “I tracked them just fine...but you were too loud and scared them off…”

“Sounds like Naruto all right,” Sakura agrees with a sigh.

The aviary team gratefully accepts the returned messengers, assuring the teams they’ll be paid well.

“So, that was a pretty good exercise in cooperation between squads,” Kakashi then observes, hands in his pockets. “I think you guys make a pretty good combined team!”

Sakura and Kiba beam, while Shino and Naruto give cool side eye looks. Glancing to Hinata, Sasuke manages a hint of a smile, which she returns.

“Well, that’s all for today. You all head home, and we’ll turn in the reports,” Kurenai offers. “We’ll be sure to get you your pay shares tomorrow morning.”

With that, the group disperses, Sasuke deciding to get a few hours of training in before making his way home.

“Um…”

Catching Hinata’s voice, he pauses as the rest leave them behind. Posture shy as always, Hinata ducks her head. “It...it was nice working with you today, Sasuke-kun.”

Eyebrows lift just a hair. “...yeah. You too. Maybe we’ll get to do that again sometime. Nice change of pace from yard work…”

To his surprise, she giggles into a hand. “You guys do that sort of thing too?”

“Ugh, yeah...all the time.”

“Have you, um...have you had to catch Tora?”

“So many times, I’ve lost count.”

“Yeah, us too! I hope we get more missions like this one...o-or at least, you know...something different. It can get a little...f-frustrating. But I guess genin get stuck with all the b-boring jobs no one else wants, huh?”

“Seems that way.”

...silence blooms.

“Well, um...I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, probably. Later, Hyūga.”

Hinata gives a short, bobbing bow as the pair part ways. Hands in his pockets, Sasuke mulls the mission over. It was a nice change of pace. Hopefully Kakashi finds more like it. And while he didn’t get to see how Shino or Kiba worked, Hinata did really well. He’ll admit...he’s a bit curious about the Byakugan now. Maybe they can spar sometime so he can learn more about how it works...seeing through objects would be exceedingly handy.

But, for now...time to do a little training on his own, then head home for the day.

                                                             .oOo.

     Tiiired...and headache...blegh lol      Anywayyy, just some random genin shenanigans. Been having a lot of muse for this era in RP, so...I thought it'd work well for a drabble entry! I really wish these teams interacted more in canon...but, I guess that's what fics like this are for!      But yeah, I'm gonna go crawl into bed! Thanks for reading n_n

[post-itpenny]

Blacklight

@grotesquegabby Alex and Peregrine being Alex and Peregrine on a visit to see Magpie. I had way too much fun writing these two, Hope I got Alex’s reactions right uwu.

Alexander popped into the reality that was Adeline’s pocket dimension. He was on his way to visit Magpie again. Something that he had continued doing ever since the first visit with Maggie.

Today he had a battery powered CD player tucked under his arm, Magpie wasn’t the best at communicating but she clearly was still having trouble with her memory, besides she had been very much out of the cultural loop before. He had given a couple of choice CDs for Fanny to hold and today he planned to start educating his friend.

Alex was musing over if he should let her listen to Journey, Nirvana, or Whitney Houston first before stopping in his tracks.

There was someone else standing before Adeline’s cottage.

And damn if the white hair wasn’t a giveaway.

Magpie has mentioned her brother on only rare occasions but the message was clear on their relationship.

From her place around Alex’s waist Fanny gave a deep growl. Alex’s smile dropped just a fraction. So big brother finally came to visit huh?

Peregrine turned, surprised that another person would be he and frowned at the sight of Alex. Vespers had mentioned his Aunt’s friendship with the chaotic clown, something Peregrine knew could only promise disaster.

Alex grinned, “hey there old man how’s it hangin? Name’s Alex.”

Peregrine’s frown deepened, Vespers wasn’t kidding about the 90’s thing. “Peregrine, and I’m here to visit my sister. I do believe Adeline had prohibited most visitors however.”

“Ah well, Granny and I go way back, it’s all good. Besides, gotta check in on homegirl. Surprised you didn’t do so sooner. Being your baby sister and all.”

Peregrine sneered at the comment and knocked on Adeline’s door. “Well we all can’t be so popular as to have acquaintanceship with elders… or is it more that you’ve just the kind of person that gets under everyone’s skin?”

Alex gave his sweetest smile, “naw man she’s real chill. Not salty like the ocean or some people you know what I mean?”

There were tiny salt shakers on Alex’s sunglasses. Peregrine growled but before he could say anything the door opened to reveal Adeline.

Who had sliced peaches in her hair.

“Oh good you must be the brother, I see you got my message then.”

Peregrine gave a deep bow, Madam Adeline, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Adeline chuckled and ushered Peregrine in before turning to Alex. “Hello Alexander, not sneaking in this time I see.”

Alex chuckled. “Well now no need to be trippin Granny. How did you know anyways?”

Adeline smirked, “You’re not the quietest when sneaking in through a window Alex dear.”

“With a jacket that loud he’s hard to miss,” Peregrine mumbled under his breath.

If Adeline heard she did not comment, Alex on the other hand had a grin that grew even wider.

“So she’s been making it rain fruit in the house.”

Both Peregrine and Alex stumbled to a hail tat Adeline’s statement. Alex laughing and Peregrine with his head in a hand.

“May I ask why?” Peregrine asked with a sigh.

Adeline gave a tired smile, “it’s been the past two times I fed the animals.” She answered with a sweep of her arms at the variety of creatures that scurried and flew about the place. “I always keep carnivores separate for obvious reasons. Most of these are vegetarian or insectivores.”

Peregrine sighed again, “she’s trying to be… helpful.”

Adeline chuckled at the answer, Peregrine frowned in embarrassment.

As they walked through the halls of the Elders home Peregrine noticed more and more of Magpie’s influence. Flowers like thistles and bluebells growing out of the floor boards. Strange blotches of color on the walls. Peregrine continued to apologize over and over on his sister’s behalf and over and over Adeline waved him off.

“She’s recovering dear and struggling to express her thoughts and feelings. If this helps then at least the biggest worry is peach juice in my hair.”

Alex smirked the whole time, all Peregrine seemed to care about was that his sister didn’t make a mess. How was that huh?

Alex made a point to stroll through Magpie’s door first. She was clearly happy to see him and once again did not mind when Fanny tried to swallow her face. The creature giving her a lick on the cheek before making its way to the bed and forcing itself under Magpie’s limp hand.

“Hey, hey Chica how's it hanging?” Alex greeted with a smile.

Maggie smiled back, she had been working very hard to be able to do so. Only… the smile left when she saw Peregrine in the doorway.

Alex watched the two. Peregrine was clearly a mixture of guilt and relief at seeing his sister but Magpie was much harder to read. A strange combination of too many emotions at once flickering through her eyes and a mouth caught between a smile and a frown. It was almost ironic but it seemed she had full memory of her brother.

“Hello Magpie,” Peregrine quietly greeted.

Magpie’s eyes flicked away, she seemed as if bracing herself for something.

Peregrine entered the room slowly but then stopped, realizing he was to get no response from her.

“She can’t speak,” Adeline said from the doorway. I’m working as quickly as I can with her before muscle apathy becomes too much of an issue but her movement is limited. She still seems to get locked up sometimes but she is becoming quite expressive. She does tend to “lock-up” however so I try to keeper relatively calm” Adeline’s eyes flicked back and forth between the siblings. “I’ll… give you some time to visit.”

Her eyes then landed on Alexander for only a moment, and it occurred to him perhaps she was placing trust to not let things get too out of hand.

Once again, Alex’s smile dropped just a fraction.

Peregrine stood in front of his sisters bed and said nothing, Magpie watched him completely unable to say anything.

Alexander- quickly decided he was over this.

“Heya Pie I brought some tunes!” Alex announced as he sat the cd player on the bed. “Come on Fanny spit them out.”

The fanny pack creature compiled by opening its mouth wide and spitting out several cds.

Magpie appeared surprised but also fascinated with Fanny’s trick, Peregrine was clearly disgusted.

It was actually really entertaining to introduce Magpie to different bands and music artists. Some she very clearly did not like, others however Alex watched as she tried to bob her head along.

Alex grinned as he changed cds. “Anyways, here’s Wonderwall.”

Peregrine groaned.

Alex whipped his head around, the white-haired clown had stepped back at some point. Begrudgingly observing his sister’s so-called “music lesson.”

Alex smirked, “let me guess. Not a fan of the classics bro?”

Peregrine sneered, “I’m not your “bro,” and none of what you’re playing is a “classic.”

“Chill now homeslice.” Alex chuckled. “Sorry my music is not your vibe.”

Peregrine pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, clearly trying not to lose his temper. “Could you please just speak like a normal person?”

“Says a guy with that accent.”

“I live in Scotland!”

“Relax dude, I’m just saying you sound like some reject Scrooge McDuck.”

“Ah leas I don like sound some blethering radge with is heid full o’ mince!”

Peregrine slapped a hand over his mouth. Alex busted out laughing. Magpie watched the two going back and forth with a worried- yet helpless expression.

Outside thunder boomed.

Alex looked out the window, Peregrine to his sister. “Magpie please calm down.”

Alex whipped around, “dude let her be.”

Peregrine sighed, “if you really were her friend you would know she’s causing the weather.”

Alex smiled, “oh yeah man I get its her but no need to wig out on Pie.”

“I’m not.. Whatever the hell you just said.”

Outside it began to pour, heavy sheets of rain came down so thick you couldn’t see. The garden outside Magpie’s window quickly turning to a mud pit.

Peregrine reached out to shake his sister’s shoulder. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, mouth in a deep frown. She did not respond to him.

Peregrine called out to Magpie with no response. When Alex tried it was the same result.

Adeline came barging in she took one look and grabbed both men by their collars, tossing them out of the room. “What did I say about making her lock up? Go wait in the kitchen both of you.”

Peregrine and Alex were sent to the kitchen. The two sitting across from each other at the table. Alex with his usual smile and Peregrine looking as if he was ready to burst at the seams.

Outside it was still pouring rain.

“This is your fault,” Peregrine hissed. Why are you even here?”

Alex sat back, propping his feet on the table. “I’m just visiting my friend old man. Cause you know, that’s what friends do. Thats what family does. If it were my baby sister Bella then none of this would have happen you know what I’m sayin?”

Peregrine narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

Alex’s grin widened. “I’m just sayin no way I’d let some creep near my baby sis. No way I’d let her get hurt and I’d go after anyone that tried. I would certainly be visiting every day if she was hurt. But you know... To each his own fam I guess.”

Peregrine gave a very thin smile. “That’s right, so why can’t you mind your own business?”

“Or both of you stop acting like petty children?”

They two looked towards the door where Adeline stood with her arms crossed. “I just got her to unfreeze and it seems here I walk in and find the problem.”

Peregrine looked away in embarrassment, Alex giggled.

“You,” Adeline said with a finger pointed at Peregrine, “You need to set aside whatever crawled up your ass.”

Peregrine nearly fell out of his chair in shock. Alex nearly fell out of his trying not to break down into laughter.

“You,” Adeline pointed at Alexander, “you stop goading him. Now I don’t care who started it but I’m finishing it now because my patient is upset and flooding my yard.”

Peregrine rolled her eyes. “Just tell her to stop-”

“She is upset! She cannot speak! She cannot move! Young man I will not tell her to stop, if this is the only way she can express her distress then so be it! Do you have any idea how awful this must be for her? To be forced to listen to the people she cares about going back and forth with each other and she cannot do anything about it?”

Peregrine flinched at the elder’s words, Alex frowned. Frustrated with the slight guilt he now felt.

Adeline rubbed her temples, “both of you need to leave.”

They were shoved out into the rain. Peregrine giving a heavy sigh as he leaned against the frame of the cottage,he actually looked defeated.

“You don’t need to rub it in that I’m a terrible brother.” He growled as he rubbed the scar on his face. “But you have no idea what we’ve been through.”

Alexander shrugged, “shit happens my dude. Families fight and crud, the difference between your fam and mine is that you all will get over it at some point.”

Peregrine gave Alex a very long look as his words clicked into place. His frown softening.

“...oh.” Was all he said.

They started to walk off when Alex patted his waist in shock.

“Fuck I forgot Fanny!”

He ran around the cottage, Peregrine left with little clue as what to do but follow.

As big as Adeline’s cottage was on the inside the outside of it was quite small. Soon enough they were at Magpie’s window which Alex already knew how to jimmy open.

Magpie opened her eyes as the two climbed in. Fanny still resting under her hand but as soon as Alex was in the room the creature leaped out and swallowed his head.

“Good to see you girl,” came his muffled chuckle as he attempted to pull the creature off. Peregrine sighed as he walked up to his sister’s bedside and took her hand. He looked as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t seem to get the words out. Magpie gave him a sad smile nonetheless. She understood.

Peregrine then stepped back and looked around. With the growing evening the room had become quite dark. He turned to his sister with a questioning look. “Magpie do you not have any light in here at night?”

Magpie almost seemed to give a pleading look to her brother, Peregrine nodding with understanding as he walked to the door.

Alex looked between the two in confusion. “Where ya going old man?”

Peregrine looked over his shoulder. “Magpie is afraid of the dark and Adeline doesn’t have light in here for her.”

Little question marks appeared on Alex’s glasses. But then his signature smile appeared on his face. “It’s all slammin dude, Alex has the fix.”

Alex opened Fanny’s mouth before reaching inside, seeming to be rummaging around for something.

“Lucky you Granny’s got electricity in this joint now. A-ha!” Alex shouted in triumph as he pulled out the object he had been looking for. A small blacklight.

Alex plugged the light in and set it on Magpie’s bedside table. The dim purple light just strong enough to banish the nearest shadows and of course make both Magpie and Peregrine’s hair glow.

Magpie watched the light in wonder before having a supposed moment of clarity, looking to Alex in excitement.

Alexander grinned, “yeah just like the lights at the clubs. Do you remember?”

Magpie grinned, nodding her head.

Alexander’s smile broadened, she remembered more of him. She was remembering the fun they had hanging out together.

The two were clearly caught up in their excitement. Peregrine stepping back to watch with just the tiniest smile of relief.

From the doorway Adeline watched all three of them as they were completely unaware of her presence, she rolled her eyes with a smile and left them be.

[bytheangell]

Showing Hearts

(Read on AO3)

It’s the end of a very, very long day for Alec Lightwood, who stays later than the rest of the Shadowhunters to relish the quiet that settles over the Institute after a stressful day of nonstop activity. From rushing himself to and from meetings, to going out in the field as emergency backup after a routine sweep of what was supposed to be an abandoned nest of rogue vampires turned out to be a lot less abandoned than their intel suggested, he’s just thankful there’s a second left to breathe. Alec takes a shower and changes into a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tank top he still keeps in his old room, even though he can’t remember the last time he actually spent a full night here rather than the bed he shares with Magnus back at the Loft.

He’s tired. No, more than that - he’s exhausted , with every muscle aching in protest as he bends over to lace up his sneakers - but he isn’t quite ready to return to the place he calls home just yet. Slightly revitalized from the shower and inhaling the scent of sandalwood from the shampoo and body wash Magnus made for him to keep here, he grabs a small box from inside the drop dresser drawer and moves down the hallway impulsively. Magnus has clients tonight, Alec is pretty sure he remembers him saying, and with an extra hour or so to kill he’s drawn to the piano.

There’s a shelf to the side with classical pieces, sheets of intricate notes dating back decades and centuries, along with a few more contemporary pieces. Alec puts the box down on top of the piano and picks up a few sheets of music printed off one day from the internet onto flimsy computer paper and folds them a bit at the center so they’ll stand up straight in front of him before sitting, shifting to situate himself more comfortably on the bench.

He only means to stay there for a few minutes and make a little more progress on where he left off the day before, but he gets caught up in the music and loses all track of time.

The piano was never something Alec was particularly good at. His long fingers and thin hands are practically made for the instrument but it was always Jace who seemed to take more naturally to the craft, where Alec chooses moments no one else is around to pluck his way through the notes, striking more wrong keys than correct ones until he has a better read on the notes in front of him. After enough repetition he falls into an easy rhythm on the sections he’s been practicing for weeks now, always after everyone else has gone, always alone. Perhaps the overnight security patrols hear him from time to time, or Izzy or Jace if they stay a bit later to catch up on reports, but if they do they don’t say anything.

“ My head’s under water But I’m breathing fine You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind ”

Once the notes begin to flow freely he adds his voice, soft but passionate. It doesn’t take a musical scholar to hear the emotion behind the words or to tell that the cracks that come at certain moments aren’t from an inability to hit the notes but something deeper moving him beyond words. Alec loses himself in the music, in the lyrics, in how much they reflect everything he’s thinking and feeling and wishes more than anything he could put so perfectly into words of his own. He wants to tell Magnus how much he means to him, how desperately he wishes nothing more than to share every high and low, big or small, with him for the rest of his life. And he will, one day. Alec smiles to himself thinking of the moment when, once he’s perfected it, he can finally share this with the only person he trusts with all of himself , praying to the Angel that Magnus will feel the same.

“ The world is beating you down, I’m around through every mood You’re my downfall, you’re my muse My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues I can’t stop singing, it’s ringing, in my head for you”

This is what Magnus arrives to when he decides to surprise his boyfriend at the Institute after his last client. He returned back to the loft to find it empty and attempted to reach Alec’s cell only to find it ringing uncharacteristically to voicemail. He’s curious enough (with the hint of worry that comes with dating a Shadowhunter who has no qualms with throwing himself into harm’s way in the name of Duty and Honor and every other ridiculously selfless trait Magnus both loves and hates Alec for in equal measure) to portal himself to the Institute, starting his search at Alec’s office and moving on from there.

The sound of the piano carries through the otherwise quiet halls of the Institute. Magnus follows it curiously, the tune familiar but not immediately recognizable to him until he draws closer to the open door of the room it’s coming from. He can hear a voice now and nearly stops walking when he does recognize that, because he’d recognize that voice anywhere; it’s Alec.

Magnus only heard him sing like this once before, while taking a shower at the Loft while Magnus was out - except he’d come back early and caught Alec enthusiastically singing the (somewhat incorrect) lyrics to a song Magnus played for him a few days prior. The moment he realized Magnus was home he stopped, did nothing but speak of how embarrassed he was despite Magnus’ reassurances that he was actually rather good, and refused to so much as hum under his breath for weeks. Every time Magnus caught his boyfriend singing something quietly to himself after that he made sure to encourage it - it’s a side of Alec he doesn’t see often, and one he would love to see more of.

And now he’s getting that wish. Magnus stands in the doorway. He listens. He admires from where he is, careful not to make a sound, wanting to take in as much of this unfiltered, raw emotion he sees so rarely from his guarded, soldier boyfriend… but the longer he does the more it almost feels invasive, as if he’s watching some private part of Alec’s life that isn’t meant for him to witness. Magnus recognizes it now: it’s the same song from the shower, the same one Magnus played for him the other week after coaxing him into some swaying slow-dance after a few glasses of wine.

“ Cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts Risking it all, though it’s hard-- ”

And then Alec’s voice cracks, giving way to a swell of emotion that Magnus can see in every inch of him: it’s in the hesitation of his fingers, in the exaggerated up and down of his chest as his breath hitches, and in the quiver of his lips; Magnus betrays himself by letting out a small, but audible, gasp of air in response.

The next notes fumble, fingers missing their marks as Alec’s hands slide from the ivory and ebony keys and his entire body turns sharply on the bench to stare at the door with a look that can only be described as mortification. It’s only then that Magnus sees the threat of tears welling in those beautiful hazel eyes.  

They stare at each other in silence as the last of the notes played vibrate and fade through the suddenly charged air.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” Alec mumbles under his breath, wiping quickly at his eyes in the hopes that maybe there’s a chance Magnus hadn’t seen the tears there.

“Well, I’m certainly surprised,” Magnus confesses, unable to keep the awe from his tone.

“Not that. I mean, yes, that, but…” Alec seems to struggle with himself for a moment, biting his lower lip as he brings a hand to rub at the back of his neck like he always does when he’s thinking about something that worries him.

“What is it?” Magnus prompts, letting him know it’s alright to share whatever it is that’s on his mind. He can’t imagine why Alec is sat there crying over the piano, but he wants to know. He wants to help.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it yet. And now I’m getting all emotional and I can’t stop, and fuck , this isn’t at all how this is supposed to go.”  Despite the fresh stream of tears that are now as confusing as they are concerning, Alec huffs out a… laugh?... while shaking his head slowly to himself.

“I don’t follow, darling. How what is supposed to--” Magnus starts, trying to understand, when Alec reaches over and grabs a small black, velvet box from next to the sheet music. He falls immediately silent. Magnus hadn’t even noticed it against the black backdrop of the piano while his eyes were glued to Alec, but now he can’t seem to look away from the box in Alec’s hand even when Alec starts speaking again.

“It was supposed to be this big romantic gesture. I was going to practice, and think of something clever and probably way too cheesy to say about how there’s no one else I’d rather give my all to, and I certainly wasn’t supposed to be half in tears in the middle of the Institute wearing a pair of old sweatpants, and--”

“Alexander,” Magnus cuts him off, finally tearing his eyes away from the box to look back up at Alec.

“Yeah?”

“Just ask me already.”

Alec’s worried expression fades to a soft smile and he nods, sliding off of the bench to get down on one knee. “When I first met you I couldn’t begin to imagine a future where I could have someone like you in my life. Now I can’t picture my life without you by my side every step of the way, and I hope I never have to.” He almost forgets the box on his hands and opens it quickly, hands shaking slightly, to expose the simple silver band within. “Magnus Bane, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Magnus chokes out almost before Alec finishes asking the question, and Alec slides the ring onto the finger that’s been consistently lacking adornment since the day Alec met him. “For you, Alexander, the answer is always - and forever - yes.”  

[onestowatch]

Lollapalooza 2019: 13 Ones to Catch (Who Aren’t The Strokes or Ariana Grande)

The moment we have all been waiting for is nearly upon us -- who’s ready for Lollapalooza? The music fanatics’ equivalent to Christmas in August, Lollapalooza is set to fill Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois, starting August 1, with some of the biggest and best names in music for four days straight. We have personally been preparing by taking turns between moshing alone to The Strokes’ entire discography and getting over our ex thanks to Ariana Grande’s thank u, next.

While Lollapalooza is certainly the spot to be if you want to catch Flume’s first set in years or what may possibly be a stop on Childish Gambino’s farewell tour, if you do not read the fine print, you are missing out. Lollapalooza’s 2019 lineup features a host of not-to-be-missed up & coming artists who you can guarantee we’ll be front-and-center for. These are our 13 indisputable ones to catch at this year’s Lollapalooza

Scarypoolparty

When & Where: Saturday, 3:45pm at Lakeshore stage 

When we say an artist like Scarypoolparty comes around once in a lifetime, we do not say those words lightly. The spellbinding project of Alejandro Aranda, Scarypoolparty became a worldwide sensation after a heart-rending audition for American Idol went viral. Since that fateful audition, the last odd year has seen Aranda finish as the runner-up to Season 17 of American Idol, release his official debut single as Scarypoolparty, and sell out shows across the nation. This is a set and artist not to be missed.

half•alive

When & Where: Thursday, 2:50pm at American Eagle stage

How to begin describing half•alive… a wholly infectious amalgamation of R&B, funk, pop, rock, soul, and so much more all encapsulated under the iridescent reflective lights of an array of disco balls seems like a good as place as any to start. The Long Beach trio quickly became a pop-adjacent sensation after a seemingly one-take video for their single “still feel.” mesmerized us and more than 24 million others. half•alive is simply one of those bands you have to catch live, and what better a place than Lollapalooza?  

Alec Benjamin

When & Where: Friday, 1:50pm at American Eagle stage

With John Mayer taking him under his wing, Alec Benjamin may just turn out to be one of the greatest and most popular songwriters of the 21st century. Referring to himself simply as a “narrator,” the Phoenix-born singer-songwriter manages to elevate the seemingly mundane into rich, grand lyrically-driven narratives. Yet, to officially release his debut album, now is the time to catch Benjamin before he is quite possibly the biggest thing on the planet.

Joji

When & Where: Sunday, 3:30pm at Lake Shore stage

Joji’s music is an inescapable vibe–there is simply no other way to describe the ominous, space-age R&B of the Osaka, Japan-born artist and producer. A central figure of music collective and label 88rising, Joji stands at the forefront of a new wave of artists. It is a level of previously unheard innovation that runs through the pulsating electronic undercurrents of his phenomenal debut album BALLADS 1 and is sure to carry over into this rare live performance.

Sam Fender

When & Where: Saturday, 1:00pm at Bud Light stage

Sam Fender is the voice of a generation on the brink. The central figures in the electrifying British artist’s records are not lovelorn teens or heartbroken exes, but dystopic nightmares brought about by manmade failings, friends lost to suicide, and the eventual end of the world that seems to be creeping in at an alarming speed. It is not easy casual listening, but it shouldn’t be there. There is a pressing nature to Fender’s guitar-driven musings, a pressing nature that makes his music feel larger than life yet deeply personal.

Conan Gray

When & Where: Friday, 2:45pm at Bud Light stage

Conan Gray is the undisputed king of bedroom bops. First finding his start with nothing more than GarageBand and a bargain mic taped to a lamp, the current state of Gray is one defined by a legion of fans, national sold-out tours, and a polished take on anti-pop that runs the gamut from explosive to deeply heartfelt. Without a doubt the next big thing in pop, Gray is ready to take Lollapalooza by storm, and you will want to be front-and-center for it.

Yeek

When & Where: Sunday, 2:10pm at BMI stage

Yeek belongs to an era of artists not bound by genre conventions or norms. The Florida-born, Los Angeles–raised artist weaves together elements of pop-minded R&B, hip-hop, and indie rock to create a hypnotizing concoction of sounds that is just as apt to catch you in a nostalgic bout of feels as it is to open doors to a previously unrealized future. Hot off the heels of his acclaimed IDK WHERE EP, Lollapalooza will give you just the chance to catch the magic of Yeek in a setting quite like no other.

Lennon Stella

When & Where: Thursday, 2:45pm at Bud Light stage 

To say Lennon Stella has come a long way in a few short years would be a massive understatement. Getting her start covering pop and R&B hits on YouTube with her sister Maisy, the rapidly rising pop starlet is in the midst of joining the same ranks as those superstars she once covered. With only a lone debut EP and a handful of singles to her name, Stella is now racking up streams in the hundreds of millions. This festival may just be one of the few times you can see her before she is packing arenas.

Roy Blair

When & Where: Friday, 4:30pm at BMI stage

Roy Blair is a name you need to know. Quite possibly the very definition of anti-pop, Blair’s music sees him instilling all the emotional depth and unapologetic honesty of sprawled diary entries into the pages of sonically rich hip-hop, R&B, and pop influences. While he has only released a single full-length album, 2017’s Cat Heaven, the impressive debut feels like more than enough material, and then some, for a standout festival set. And if we’re lucky, this will be one of the few opportunities this year to hear new music from Blair firsthand.

Omar Apollo

When & Where: Friday, 1:00pm at Bud Light stage

There is a multidimensional appeal to the dreamy sonic musings of Omar Apollo. Blending elements of bedroom pop and idyllic R&B with a relaxed lull that drifts in and out of English and Spanish, Apollo arrives as a star for a new generation. The universal charm of Apollo is only heightened by the DIY feel of the entire experience, as the Indiana native coaxes you further into his dreamscape behind a perfectly imperfect wall of fuzz and textured instrumentation. Now, this is an act capable of whisking up an inimitable groove and dreamlike state in the same set.

GothBoiClique

When & Where: Thursday, 5:45pm at BMI stage

Truth be told, we cannot tell you what exactly to expect from a GothBoiClique set, and therein lies part of the excitement. The Los Angeles–based emo rap group formed in 2013 by WICCA PHASE SPRINGS ETERNAL, Cold Hart, and Horse Head paved the way for the modern-day emo rap that now pervades mainstream public consciousness and airwaves. Beyond a set poised to feature the most artists on stage at once, GothBoiClique is a not-to-be-missed affair for any of our sad boys and girls out there.

Yung Gravy

When & Where: Sunday, 5:40pm at BMI stage

Blurring the lines between self-aware parody and viral rap phenomena, Yung Gravy is our newest not-so-guilty pleasure. First going viral with the Seuessian smash hit “1 Thot 2 Thot Red Thot Blue Thot” in 2018, the Minnesota rapper returned a year later with a debut album that has no right being as good it is. Sensational, the debut album in question, sees Yung Gravy cementing himself as more than just a punchline but a genuine artist fully capable of turning what could be thought of as a passing joke into an international sensation.

DJ Diesel

When & Where: Sunday, 5:15pm at Perry’s stage

We don’t know how many times you will be afforded the opportunity to witness Shaq drop a DJ set at one of the largest festivals in the world. That is all.

[thorne93]

It Was Written In Song (Part 6)

Prompt: (from request) Reader is a singer, who happens to be friends with Tony Stark. One night, she gains inspiration from someone she never expected to get it from – Loki.

Word Count: 1337

Warnings: language, dashes of angst throughout the fic

Notes: Request from @abigailredgrave​. Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​… all rights to songs used belong to Twenty-One Pilots

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

London, Paris, Auckland New Zealand, New Orleans, Tokyo, and Berlin. Six cities. Endless memories. Three months of nothing but discovering the world together.

If there was paradise, or heaven, this was it. Touring the world with Loki, showing someone who knew nothing about Earth everything. You learned along the way too, going to museums, learning about historians, artists, writers, poets, politicians. Loki peppered you with questions wherever you went, and you answered to the best of your ability. What you couldn’t answer, you googled or asked guides.

He kept you warm by offering you his coat in drizzling London. Atop a restaurant in Paris, you two shared crepes, overlooking the city, then taking it in at night. You showed him cemeteries and how death, as well as life, was celebrated in New Orleans. Berlin offered its Brandenburg Gate to you, which reminded Loki of home in a way, with its magnificence. Scuba diving in Auckland felt like an underwater oasis. Tokyo was the most strange to Loki, but he still enjoyed it, mainly the food. Part of it was awful, driving around the city with so many potholes. It made you partially angry.

You’d been to most of the cities before, but you very rarely ever got out and experienced them because you didn’t want to be alone. Now that you had Loki, it was amazing. Some of the time you were imparting your knowledge on him, the other times, the two of you were learning something together for the first time and it felt like the two of you had gotten closer than ever before.

By now you even slept in the same hotel room, crashing on separate beds because you stayed up late talking so much. He loved to watch you write lyrics or songs when the mood struck, sometimes he even helped rearrange a few words here or there or offer a different word. You loved having him nearby for inspiration.

You were the artist, he was your muse.

Before you were ready to say goodbye, the tour was over. This was it, it was the end of the line. You offered Loki to tour with you, but past that, there wasn’t much you two could do. You didn’t live near New York so you couldn’t see him all that often and you weren’t sure if you could or should invite him to your home city.

So now, you had to part ways, and it was killing you. Your last night in your last city.

“What will you do next?” Loki asked as the two of you walked the brightly lit streets of Tokyo.

“Record, work on my next album. My last album released almost three years ago so it’s time to get my material out there.”

“You won’t take a break?”

You shook your head and slightly laughed. “Why would I? I have so many ideas, I feel so inspired…” you said, leaving it vague so he would have no idea half the songs in filling up your notebook were about him right now. About experiences together, about the fear of losing him, about the budding friendship.

About falling in love with him…

“That’s a wonderful idea, then,” he said.

“And you? What will you do?” you wondered.

“Me? I… don’t know. I suppose I’ll join Thor back at the Avengers compound, help him with managing the Asgardians. Possibly train. I believe Stark wants me to join the team, help fight crime, be a hero,” he said, rolling his eyes, pretending to hate the idea.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you beamed.

“You think I’m cut out for the job?” he asked.

“I think you were born to help the world,” you simply stated, trying to hide your blush as you walked.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he commented.

-----------------

Four months into recording and life was upside down, to say the least.

Recording was good, you had tons and tons of fantastic material that the band and producers could work with for you all to build hit after hit. The music side of your life was fantastic.

But since you and Loki parted ways at the airport, this all felt so empty. What was an artist without her muse? The lyrics were there, the melody was there, but the heart, the soul… it just wasn’t in it. The songs that had nothing to do with Loki were phenomenal, over the top. It was real quality work.

Yet, if Loki was the star of the piece, you just couldn’t get in the headspace to fill the void that was inside you. Even with nightly Skype video chats and daily texts, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to see him when you went to sleep, wake up to him. Tease him about his extensively long morning routine to get ready. Even let him hypocritically tease you about owning too much leather. Hearing his laugh, seeing the way his face lit up and his eyes sparkled at the world, watching as he gazed at you while you worked -- that’s what you missed, that’s what you needed. It’s almost as if his face itself were a song.

You had no idea if he felt the same though. You were madly, deeply in love with this man, and you were sure he felt that you were only a friend. Otherwise he would’ve made a move, right?

Maybe you could gear your heartbreak towards your music, you thought. Everyone loves a good heartbreak song, right? But you didn’t want heartbreak, you wanted life… You wanted love… You wanted Loki.

It was late one day and you all had been trying to record a song, a non-Loki related song and it was going decently, but you couldn't get quite the right pitch you wanted, so you were running it over and over.

“Okay, Burt, let’s run it again, from the top,” you said, readying your headphones.

“Y/N, you got a visitor?” your producer said and you looked up and frowned. You pulled off the headphones and walked out of the booth, into the hall, where your muse stood.

“Loki?” you gasped as you walked forward, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly. You pulled away and looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I have something to show you, if you have a second. You said you were having some trouble with some songs so…”

“So you flew all the way down here to show me some lyrics?” you asked, incredulous and happily surprised.

“You flew all over the world for me, it’s only fair I repay the favor,” he stated with a boyish grin. “Besides, someone back home was encouraging me to come see you.”

You peered up at him only a moment longer, getting transfixed on that stunning smile before you finally remembered why he was here. You opened up a folded piece of paper and gasped.

“Loki… is this a poem?”

“Yes, for you. I thought it might help with some of the musical writer’s block,” he tried.

“This… this is fantastic. I love it. Truly.”

“You can use it for a song, if you’d like.”

“Really? Are you sure? I’ll credit you and make sure you get royalties and--”

He put his hands on your shoulders and looked at you. “All I need from you is confirmation that you will accompany me to a date this evening.”

You stared in awe for a moment. “A...a date? That’s it?”

“If it’s not too much to ask?”

“No! Of course not! Yeah, I’d love to. I’d be more than happy to,” you said, blowing any sort of cool cover you might’ve had going on.

“Excellent.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I look forward to your next album. Make me proud.”

At this, you grinned like a fool before he left you speechless in the hallway. Quickly, you tucked away your song, prepared to look over it later and transform it. You stepped back in the booth and the next take was perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[stylinsonlibrary]

HISTORICAL AU FIC REC

50+ fics set in the past

A Word We've Only Heard (6k)

So, where are you headed?” Liam asked, not wanting to sit in awkward silence for their journey.  It was twelve hours to Chicago, and that was far too long to sit and not chat with his fellow passenger in front of him.

“Chicago,” he answered, his blue eyes meeting Liam’s own.  “It’s home.  Been on the road for quite some time now, it’s the first time I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed in almost a month.”

Liam whistled.  “You must be pretty excited.”

The man gave a soft smile, which made him look younger than Liam initially expected; he might even still be in his twenties.  He wondered what kind of a life this man had led to look so tired until he smiled.

Or, it's 1951, Harry is the owner of a music shop, and Louis is a traveling salesman making his way back home.

I'm Ready to Fall, Love (9k)

Louis doesn't like Harry, except for the fact that he really does.

(Basically: A royal AU with Prince Harry and Stable Boy Louis.)

One Day You'll Say These Words (11k)

Growing up together in Yorkshire has led to a lifelong friendship between Louis Tomlinson, the future Marquess of Rotherham, and Harry Styles, the heir to a viscount. When Harry suddenly inherits his uncle’s title and estate much earlier than expected, Louis must watch his friend struggle under the weight of these new responsibilities, including searching for a wife with a dowry large enough to save his estate. However, sitting idly by as Harry looks for a bride brings some unexpected feelings to the surface.

A friends to lovers story set in the Regency era.

feel my heart beating (12k)

‘90s AU where Louis’ addicted to matchmaking and Harry’s just playing along.

lead me out on the moonlit floor (12k)

In all honesty, Harry was long forgotten, cast aside by a dimpled stranger and too much champagne. He was almost glad, now, that Harry hadn’t come, because he wouldn’t have met this stranger, this tall man who could make his heart flutter with a single glance.

Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who's only confident when he's wearing a mask.

Autumn at Fairbridge Hall (14k)

It is October 1817. Mr. Louis Tomlinson hosts an Autumn Ball and a Fox Hunting Party at his estate Fairbridge Hall, with the intention of finding suitable husbands for his younger sisters.

A Regency AU where Louis does not want to deal with marriage proposals, a stubborn sister and unwelcome guests. The only things he really wants is peace and quiet and..., the handsome Mr. Styles.

To Honor (14k)

Commander Styles leads his men to victory, but at what cost?

Manifest Destiny (15k)

Harry and Louis had fallen into bed together again that night, mouths greedy and hands needy. And now every time Louis stops at Fort Kearney, even if it’s weeks in between, he and Harry spend the night together. The nights are always filled with heat and passion, and it gives Louis something to think on fondly as he rides across the western territories carrying sacks of mail.

They’ve never talked about it, and they’ve never kissed. Louis doesn’t know if he wants either of those things to change, but he knows that his presence in Harry’s life is sporadic at best. Probably best to leave things be.

Or, Louis is a Pony Express rider and Harry runs a station along the trail.

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) (16k)

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

Break Me Down, Build Me Up (16k)

America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. Harry Styles was never a part of the plan.

[or: Louis moves his family to America to try and find a better life. Harry finds him instead.]

The Man I Love (17k)

It's the Roaring Twenties, a time of blissful prosperity, overflowing champagne flutes, adrenaline-filled dancing, and the rise of the Jazz Age—and Louis Tomlinson absolutely abhors it all. A stickler for modest classics, jazz is the bane of Louis' existence.

Coincidentally, Harry Styles is the bass player for an underground jazz band.

Or The 1920s AU where Louis is a hardworking, no nonsense paralegal, Harry is in love with the greatest city on earth, Zayn is the enigmatic leader of the band, Niall's just there to make sure everyone's having a good time, and Liam is the barber who started it all.

The People's Playground (17k)

It is 1900 in New York City, and Harry Styles has recently immigrated to America from England. His sister encourages him to take a day off from his life as a factory worker and Harry decides to take a trip to the infamous Coney Island where he literally runs into Louis Tomlinson. It looks like Coney Island will be more than Harry bargained for.

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart (19k)

Louis and Harry had been childhood best friends, but had been separated by evacuation as the city they grew up in was destroyed around them. Now, twelve years later, they are both back in London, and through chance they meet again. In a time when you can't admit to being gay, for fear of arrest, admitting to your best friend that you love them seems like an insurmountable obstacle.

Featuring boxer Harry and mechanic Louis, much pining, and a lot of post war Britain

No One Like You (19k)

Dear Niall,

I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield (20k)

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

threadbare (20k)

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill.

He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

Un Verso Que Hiciste De Mi (20k)

Harry froze as he looked up to his handler’s face. He found himself staring at the most beautiful twin pools of blue he’d ever see, and had to take a second to breathe before he remembered what to say.

“Please, don’t kill my friend,” he whispered.

Louis looked over at the red headed man. “You are to go back to your manor, and tell his family he will only be brought back if my ransom is met.”

or a Scottish Borderlands AU where Louis is a laird that kidnaps his rival’s betrothed, and Harry just happens to be that betrothed.

Damn the Dark, Damn the Light (20k)

“Why is this face of beauty ringing so true?” The genuine confusion in Harry’s voice causes Louis’ chest to painfully twinge. “You’re a complete stranger in my eyes, William Shakespeare, but not in my heart. How is that possible?”

Louis wants to live out every romance plot he has ever written in his own life. He wants to be the protagonist of his own narrative, the hero who finds true love and gets his happy ending. Instead, Louis is stuck with only dreaming of such wild fantasies and writing them down. He can create entire romances in his dreams, yet he can never live one.

let it shine under the morning star (22k)

It's the summer of 1891, and Bruges has significantly more angry swans and accidental Irish revolutionaries than Harry was anticipating being faced with on his summer holiday.

the dead things we carry (25k)

September ‘49 

He hasn’t seen him since that day in France, that horrible muddy day where for one terrifyingly long second, Louis really thought he was going to die. He winces with the phantom pain, the hand not holding his cane going to his stomach automatically, remembering the franticness, the tenderness, of Harry’s hands while Louis was bleeding out.

This is the man who saved Louis’ life.

For one second, Louis fears Harry won’t recognise him, but his eyes widen when he turns to his left and they meet Louis’. He takes a step forward, reaching for him with a shaky hand before stopping himself.

“Louis,’ Harry says with a shudder and Louis doesn’t think his name has ever carried more weight.

This is the only man Louis ever thought about kissing for real.

“Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?”

There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.

Is it too much to ask for something great? (26k)

It is the dawn of the sixties and the whole sexual revolution may as well never happened since Harry still has to muffle his groans in the pillow when he fucks. God forbid neighbours would caught on. But maybe he wants to scream, maybe he wants his moans to carry through the wall and maybe he even likes to think that they would irk the person there somehow, but no. No such thing happens with Louis, because apparently he is the only person on the planet who doesn't care who you fuck. Being a fag in Greenwich Village is great, lots of fun, being a fag who is in love with his painfully straight best friend Louis? Torture. He should just let the whole thing go. Louis doesn't care for his moans, he produces a lot of them on his own, and those on the other hand haunt Harry's dream, and he's pretty sure that ten days on the road with Louis and Louis alone is actually going to kill him.

And he doesn't even like Beach Boys.

Box of Rain (26k)

that in his free time informally works as a ring boy. Somehow he manages to always get tangled on the ropes and at the same time charm the pants off of all the fighters and patrons. They meet in Manchester in 1977 and, even though they don't seem to have much in common, they... Well, they just sort of click, really.

The one with a friendship ruiner game of Monopoly, Harry always ending up in jail for wanting to save the world, Louis face to face with his archenemy and way too many references to 70s music.

Also staring Zayn as a brooding anarchist punk rocker, Liam as the nerdiest and nicest boxer in all Britain and Niall as a bookmarker that can easily convince people to bet fortunes, but can't make his friends realise their mutual crush on each other.

autumn leaves (27k)

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

What Happened to 'Never Say Die'? (28k)

The 80s were one of the best decades to be a teenager in America. Just ask anyone who's seen a John Hughes movie. Louis would beg to differ. At least today he would, while he was stuck cleaning out his family's basement - part of his grounding after a senior prank gone wrong. But when he finds a box containing details of the biggest unsolved crime in Luna Hills, he and his friends decide to sneak out for one last adventure before they're all off to college. That is, as long as the mayor, who also happens to be Louis' mother, doesn't stop them before they discover the truth.

Or, a coming of age American AU inspired by classic 80s movies like The Goonies and Stand By Me where everyone has a secret and no one wants to get caught.

the beginning of everything (30k)

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

Our Stable Heart (30k)

Louis Tomlinson had it all. A beautiful mansion in the country-side of London, a well known job in the heart of downtown, and a lovely fiance he would soon marry...

But what happens when Louis' world is turned upside down just from gazing into a pair of dreamy, green eyes?

Something Louis could never have imagined himself...

i could marry that smile you're wearing (34k)

Louis is lost in his thoughts. Harry has found his new purpose in life. Both meet very unexpectedly and it is all full of cliches you can expect.

Ancient Greece AU - Louis as a member of aristocracy and Harry as a common slave.

what this world is about (34k)

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Gem and the Hunters: The Treasure of Babylon (34k)

Louis Tomlinson wished, for one thing, his whole life: to find the ancient city of Babylon. After one failed attempt, he swore to never again attempt a search for the city. His friend, Niall Horan never pushed the issue, but when his family finds themselves in trouble, Niall’s only option is to convince Louis to try and find Babylon again.

Niall enlists the help of two famous treasure hunters: Harry and Gemma Styles and their friend Liam Payne. Harry and Gemma love ancient cultures as much as Louis and would give anything to find Babylon. Liam is just along for the ride, running from a shade in his past.

The five embark on the adventure of a lifetime… and find much more than any of them bargained for.

The Boy with the Red Scarf (35k)

It’s 1925 and Harry has left his small home to chase after his father’s footsteps. He wants to be a movie star, make money to keep his family comfortable just like his mother had told him his father had. But when he makes it to Chicago, he finds that people aren’t what they seem. The parties are grand, the women charming, and the money rolls. What he doesn’t understand is that behind that beautiful mask of a city there is something lurking in the shadows.

Starring Harry as a struggling actor and Louis as Al Capone.

If we meet sometime in the after years, my darling, I trust I will find your love still mine. (38k)

1970s AU.

The boy at the dinner table isn’t as much of a stranger as Louis thought, and somewhere between the diners, concerts, and the way the moonlight falls just right, the summer is enough time for realizing just that.

Felt the blood rushing through my veins, I still remember (42k)

Harry is the heir to his father's estate and wealth and he knows he is the most eligible bachelor in all of England. Louis is the stable boy who everyone loves and adores even though he can be a touch too bitter sometimes. They can't stand each other, and the pride of one and the prejudice of the other disallows any other feelings they might have.

Coeur du soleil (48k)

After assuming the throne when the Cardinal dies, Louis becomes King of France in 1661. He thinks he has everything under control and is determined to prove himself the leader he knows France needs, but his plans are quickly thrown aside once he meets a curly haired English Ambassador.

Harry's only job was to observe the King, and he ends up observing a little closer than expected. Featuring Captain Payne of the Royal Musketeers, Ambassador Malik from the Ottoman Empire, and Lord Horan from Ireland.

We're What's Right In This World (48k)

“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?”

“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.

The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”

“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.”

“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

the last person on earth i could ever marry (50k)

A Pride and Prejudice AU, where Harry is fed up with rich men and Mr Tomlinson is a very rich man.

For the Sake of Propriety (52k)

Louis Tomlinson is the caretaker of an estate that is not truly his, and when his Uncle calls upon him to take it back, Louis knows he will soon be out on the streets with four overly zealous sisters to care for. His only solution: wed the eldest two off and pray for the best. When an even better solution unexpectedly presents itself in the form of the charming Mr. Styles, Louis is faced with a difficult choice. But as with all things in the regency era, reputation very well may threaten to outweigh the fleeting matters of his heart.

Back To You And Tennessee (57k)

Louis Tomlinson rises to rock and roll fame at age twenty three and is thrown into a life of luxury and excess, but being on stage isn’t easy for a boy who has always stuck to the side-lines, and Louis struggles to deal with his new fame as he joins the Grand Ole Opry and is sent out on tour with names like Liam Payne and Elvis Presley. His life takes a turn, however, when his childhood role model, Harry Styles, joins them on tour, and the two become closer than two men in the spotlight are allowed to be.

OR, the one where Louis is Johnny Cash and Harry is June Carter

I Hunger For Your Beautiful Embrace (57k)

Legatus Harry is governor of Capua and Dominus of his estate. He governs with a firm and harsh rule and has never been known to be soft. That is until Louis comes into his life. A beautiful slave who creeps into Harry’s house and heart.

But in the times of Ancient Rome, when sex, wars, and death are the entertainment of the times, life and love are rare commodities.

Paint The Sky With Stars (62k)

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

Life Had Just Begun (63k)

Stand up. Breathe. Run. Survive.

Back on his knees, Harry can wipe the blood from his eyes and see again, blurred and in slow motion, but he can see. He doesn’t think, he just moves. He gets to his feet, stumbling as his brain goes white in time with the lightning strike.

Run. Run. Run.

It’s 1985. All the cool kids are wearing Members Only jackets and acid wash jeans. The gay rights movement might be gaining traction around the country, but for a small town in Colorado, even listening to Queen is an invitation for a beating. Louis Tomlinson’s life is turned upside down when he comes face to face with the afterlife, and is given one seemingly simple mission: save Harry Styles.

The Art of Being a Gentleman (64k)

Out of all four of the Styles children, Harry has always been the most adored. He is the handsome, intelligent, and oh so charming golden child of the family, the perfect son who will soon be married to the perfect woman, a beauty queen named Victoria Astaire. Despite how loved he is among all who reside in the affluent town of Alton, his siblings absolutely despise him. In order to stain his squeaky-clean reputation and get their traditional, old fashioned parents to despise him as much as they do, they devise a plan that involves Harry’s giving nature, the desperation of a mother and father, and a mischievous boy who doesn’t give a damn about what’s proper.

Such Good Luck (66k)

Louis smiles at Harry’s words, leaning into his touch. “Tell me again.”

Smiling, Harry takes Louis into his arms. Pressing gentle kisses to his face, Harry murmurs, “In six months’ time, I will have my twenty-fifth birthday. On that day, my portion of the inheritance will become legally mine. And I plan that very day to announce to my family that I have found love.” Harry chuckles as he runs his lips lightly along Louis’ cheekbone. “That, in fact, I found love when I was twenty-one years old, and that I have loved and been loved every day since.”

Or, an Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

Adore You (66k)

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

The World Turned Upside Down (71k)

In September 1984, Harry Styles starts at Manchester Polytechnic with two goals: to take pictures and to join the Lesbian and Gay Society. He’s never paid much attention to the news, but everyone he meets in Manchester supports the miners. He realises how right they are when he meets Louis Tomlinson, a striking miner who flirts with him. A month later they are both at the founding meeting of Manchester Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, trying to bring down the government. Through letters and visits they build a relationship, in a world very much not of their own choosing.

Manchester and Doncaster in the 1980s are grim, hopeful and alive. Niall is president of the Young Labour club, Nick Grimshaw is in love with the singer of an up and coming band, Fizzy wants to know more about the women of Greenham Common and Harry and Louis are brave.

A Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners/Pride AU.

modern love (72k)

It's August 9th, 1985. "Shout" by Tears for Fears is the top song on the Billboard charts, Back to the Future has been the #1 film in the country for five weeks straight, and Harry has just moved to what he believes to be the shittiest town in the Midwest.

Louis has been wasting away in East Chicago for over five years, Harry is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to him, and both of them are hiding a dangerous secret from their best friend: they're, like, totally sprung on each other.

Chasing Empty Spaces (79k)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

This Feels A Lot Like Love (80k)

Harry didn’t expect for his senior year to be filled with a blue-eyed boy with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper tongue. Then again, he didn’t expect to fall in love either.

Closeted romance, false promises and stolen kisses ensues. Set in the 90’s era.

Victorian Boy (81k)

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Atlas At Last (83k)

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

And down the long and silent street (86k)

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy.

Or: Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

Coax the Cold (86k)

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Here In The Afterglow (88k)

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Resist Everything Except Temptation (100k)

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

OR The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

Butterfly Gun (100k)

Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true.

1940's AU. Even after six years apart, they can't forget their shared wartime childhood.

Through Eerie Chaos (102k)

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Landslide (143k)

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

Love Endless (series; 3 completed works/1WIP; 696k)

The year is groovy 1973, and eighteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson is perhaps the gayest teen to ever grace the gloomy, hateful town of Fortwright. Would be fine if he wasn't so viciously bullied at both home and school for such a "harmful" sexual preference.

Yeah, yeah, we've all heard this story, haven't we?

Believe him, Louis didn't think he was anything special either.

Until he found the mansion. The notoriously haunted mansion hidden deep within the forests of his tiny blip of a town in Bumfuck Nowhere, Idaho. No one with a brain ever goes near it, but Louis could use a little excitement in his life...and possibly a Band-Aid or two.

After discovering the mansion was less abandoned than he'd thought, he's now left with the most riveting mystery of a lifetime; every new finding leaving him with more questions. Who is this elusive owner, and why won't they show themselves? Why is there a set of journals in the same handwriting that span over centuries? Why in the world is there a padlock on the refrigerator...and who the hell is Alexander?

[enbouton]

Better Call Saul Rewatch, Part 7/30: Guilty As Sin

Bingo (Season 1, Episode 7)

Written by Gennifer Hutchison / Directed by Larysa Kondracki

If someone asked me “I want to get into Better Call Saul, what’s a good episode to start with?”, I would tell them “START AT THE BEGINNING and don’t skip anything!!!”, but I would also be tempted to say “Bingo”. It has everything: Chuck and Jimmy together, Kim at work, sweet McWexler moments, inept criminals, Jimmy charming the elderly, a What’s Mike Doing?™ sequence. It’s poignant and heartfelt and makes you feel for our long-suffering protagonist as he’s thwarted once again, but there are notes of hope and optimism too.

Having said all that, it feels weird to pivot and point out that the episode opens with a shot that quite clearly frames Jimmy as a wanted criminal:

Irate Abbasi comes for his notebook, which Jimmy claims to have stumbled upon in the parking lot. Abbasi isn’t buying it, but he can’t prove the theft, any more than he can prove that Mike is the killer he’s after. He leaves after delivering Mike a breathtakingly cruel parting shot: “Hopefully whatever you are didn’t rub off on the rest of your family.” Mike takes it on the chin.

Sending Jimmy away, Mike talks with Sanders, who you get the feeling knows exactly what happened that night in Philadelphia. He says that if Stacey has nothing to tell them, that ends it. He’s not unsympathetic: a lot of people thought that Hoffmann and Fensky had it coming. His younger colleague just needs to learn that “some rocks you don’t turn over”. The world isn’t as black and white as Abbasi would like it to be.

A chrysalis hangs from a leaf in the foreground as Jimmy drives up outside Chuck’s house. He finds Chuck outside, attempting to build up his tolerance to EMFs. After what happened, he says, he has to find a way to get better; it’s a rare, pure moment of hope, and it energises them both. Jimmy brings in boxes of case files, claiming lack of room in his office. He just needs to fill out the 413s on some wills, he says. “You mean 513s,” Chuck corrects him. A deliberate error to entice Chuck? Either way, he takes the bait, and Jimmy watches him through the peephole as he starts rifling through the files.

At a palatial office building, Kim and Jimmy explore a vacant suite. Huge and bright, it could not be more dissimilar to his cramped nail salon digs. “It’s time to invest in myself,” Jimmy says, using the language of self-improvement again. “Gotta look successful to be successful, right?" But he’s saving the very nicest room, the corner office with the sweeping views, for her.

I like the handling of Jimmy’s romantic gesture here. Kim is genuinely touched by it, but her attachment to HHM isn’t something that she can just shake off, nor is she ready to change the course of her carefully planned career. (This is also the first scene that refers to HHM having put Kim through law school and the debt she owes them.) Noting his disappointment, she defuses the awkwardness by saying she wants to see the kitchen. Jimmy lingers in the empty corner office, looking crestfallen.

At HHM, Craig and Betsy sit hand in hand. Kim is outlining a plea deal she’s arranged for them. Betsy hates the very word “deal” (”a deal is what they got O.J.!”) Kim tries the word “arrangement”: sixteen months in prison (down from 30 years) as long as the money is returned. “But there is no money,” Betsy says. Kim— who stays patient and professional despite her obvious frustration— reminds them that if they go to trial, Craig will most likely end up in prison for decades. She asks them to consider their children, “seeing their dad through bars on visiting day”. Betsy coolly tells her that she’s fired.

Howard blames Kim for this, which is the kind of thing you might think would account for a lot of why Jimmy seems to hate him so much.

Called away from the bingo game he’s officiating (the bingo machine on this show always sounds like a pot of boiling water about to spill over), Jimmy meets the Kettlemans at Loyola’s. The moment where the server comes over with coffee and Betsy waves them away just as Craig reaches out his mug is just perfect. The Kettlemans want to hire him, with certain stipulations: zero jail time and no deal. Jimmy, reluctant from the outset, tries to convince them to go back to HHM (sweetly, he adds “and apologise to Ms. Wexler”), but they won’t budge. “If there were any money, there would have to be a full accounting of it,” Betsy tells him. “Every penny.”

(“All of it,” Craig chimes in, after Jimmy has got the message. “That includes the $30,000…” / “He knows, Craig.”)

At HHM, Jimmy finds that Howard has evicted Kim from her office and sent her to the unseen east wing, the “cornfield”. We get a gorgeous repeat of one of ep. 1’s best shots:

In defeat, Kim is wry. They discuss the hopelessness of the case. No deal is possible without the money. Back in his office, Jimmy rifles through legal texts (one copy of the New Mexico Statutes is open to the page headed “Embezzlement”), then looks up. Toward the ceiling.

Mike is up to something. In a lovely, deft, unhurried sequence, he sprays a stack of cash with some substance, puts it on the back of a remote-control car in the Kettlemans’ yard, then retreats to the back wall with his transistor radio and eats apples off a nearby tree while listening to baseball. Several apple cores later, Craig retrieves the money. After the Kettlemans have gone to bed, Mike enters the house and uses a blacklight to follow traces of fluorescent dye to a compartment where they’ve stashed the money. Later, Jimmy ruefully adds the $30,000 he’d stashed in his ceiling to the pile. He’s doing “the right thing”, he tells Mike, making air quotes.

In the morning, Jimmy goes to the Kettlemans’ house— interestingly, he’s back in his dark brown double-breasted suit here, after an episode and a half of Matlock linen— and confronts them. They have to take the deal; the money is on its way to the DA’s office. “Criminals have no recourse,” he quotes Nacho. They could report the bribe he took, but that would implicate Betsy as well as Craig. Jimmy does twist the knife just a bit with the reference to “inter-prison visitation”, but then Craig entreats Betsy to think of the kids, and she breaks down and sobs. The show invites us to marvel at Betsy’s wilful blindness to reality, but when she confronts it at last, it’s not pretty.

Jimmy returns the Kettlemans to HHM, where Kim mouths “thank you” at him through the open elevator doors. It’s a bittersweet victory, though: without their bribe, Jimmy can’t pay for his new office any more. Even the suit he’s wearing reflects that he’s back where he was pre-Kettlemans. Alone in the large, airy suite, he kicks the door repeatedly and cries. Then his phone rings; he composes himself. “Law offices of James M. McGill, how may I direct your call?"

Misc.

“As you well know, there is a 60-kilovolt transformer 200 metres south-southwest of my front yard." I love Chuck because he’s a nuanced, sympathetic, complicated character and also because he says things like this.

Jimmy wants a cocobolo desk. He doesn’t know what it is, he just likes saying it.

For those keeping track of colour symbolism, Betsy wears a bright coral suit to their meeting with Kim; Craig wears pale pink, literally a watered-down version of Betsy’s colour. Later, orange features in both Craig and Betsy’s clothing:

As the Kettlemans hurry out of HHM, you can hear Betsy telling Craig “don’t look back, honey. Always look forward. Always in life.”

Craig and Betsy aren’t sure what elder law is. “Maybe if we were older...” Craig muses.

Timeline: a few days in early to mid July, 2002

Music

"Tune Down” by Chris Joss (2009), as Mike steals the money back

References

Cracker Barrel (hey, I didn’t know what it was until I visited the U.S.) is a Southern-style, country-themed restaurant chain where the front porches are decorated with rocking chairs.

Guy Lombardo, one of Jimmy’s bingo references, was a big band leader and member of the Royal Canadians.

Mrs. Landry’s cats are named after Oscar Madison and Felix Ungar, the lead characters in The Odd Couple (play, film and TV series).

The 25th Hour is a 2001 novel about a man’s last day of freedom before imprisonment for dealing drugs. The reference may or may not be anachronistic; the film adaptation was released in December 2002, a few months after the events of the episode take place. Ned and Maude Flanders, meanwhile, are Homer Simpson’s relentlessly cheerful Christian neighbours.

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[analogscum]

BLOODY MOON (1981, d. Jess Franco)

You can lobby a lot of criticisms at Jess Franco, and I say that as a fan of his films. Detractors have labeled him a pornographer, a misogynist, a con man, and the devil incarnate. However, when you consider the man behind the work, I can’t help but admire his integrity. Franco could’ve easily coasted his entire career, doing the sort of weirdo Hammer knock-offs that he first made his name with. But he left it all behind, moving to France to escape the censorship of his native Spain, while also foregoing the cushy budgets and box office grosses that he had enjoyed. Yes, he gave this all up to make twisted tales of bondage nuns and lesbian vampires full of gratuitous nudity and S&M, often inspired by his obsession with the works of the Marquis de Sade, which may not strike you as all that noble. But Franco’s dedication to his craft above all else embodies what I love about cult cinema: as I discussed in the Hard Rock Zombies entry, these movies were made by people who stuck to their artistic guns, no matter how noncommercial they were. Above all else, Jess Franco cared about making Jess Franco films. At least for awhile.

Even without knowing the behind the scenes story of today’s film, 1981’s Bloody Moon, you can probably tell just by watching it that this was a money for hire job. Enticed by Wolf Hartwig and Erich Tomek, a pair of German producers with some lofty promises and bucketloads of cash — which were probably very enticing at the time, given the fact that he and his first wife, Nicole Guettard, had just divorced — Franco gave in to the zeitgeist, signing on to craft an American-style teen slasher film for the German marketplace, if you can imagine such a thing. However, it didn’t quite work out that way. To watch Bloody Moon is to watch an idiosyncratic auteur thumb his nose at a genre that he obviously sees as hopelessly formulaic, while also injecting a heaping dose of breathy Eurosleaze into the proceedings, almost as if he can’t help it. In other words, Franco gonna Franco.

We open on, what else, a disco dancing party. Miguel, a Klaus Kinski-looking creepoid with a huge facial scar that resembles fried chicken, is looking at his sister all weird. His sister, Manuela, is like, yo don’t look at me like that, I’m your sister, so yeah, the movie goes THERE immediately. Bummed out over being rejected by his sister, Miguel steals a Mickey Mouse mask and starts to mack on a lady who’s not a blood relative. She invites him back to her bungalow for some horizontal bedroom dancing, but when she takes off his Mickey Mouse mask, she’s, shall we say, less than enthused about Miguel’s fried chicken face. Oh, and she thought that he was her boyfriend, so this is basically how that gag (with like twelve quotation marks around the word gag) from Revenge of the Nerds would turn out in real life. Miguel is also, shall we say, less than enthused by this young lady’s screaming, so he stabs her a bunch of times with a pair of scissors. Glad to see we’ve come so far in terms of dealing with toxic masculinity!

Cut to: five years later. A doctor, played by Jess Franco himself, is like, hey Manuela, your brother is way less murder crazy now, so I’m going to release him into your care, just make sure he’s spared from any sort of excitement, like the constant temptation of having nubile young co-eds around to murder, anyway, byeeeee! Well, oopsies, because as it turns out, Miguel and Manuela live with their invalid billionaire aunt, who leases her land out to an organization called the International Youth Club Boarding School for Languages (you graduate when you’re able to say the name of the school without getting tripped up), which is crawling with gorgeous buh-buh-buh-baaaaaabes who are always dancing sexily and lounging topless around the pool when they’re not learning Spanish for like 5 minutes a day. Great. Things nearly go to hell immediately when, on the train home, Miguel becomes fixated on a young lady named Angela, and when Manuela sees a silk scarf stuck in the window, she somehow thinks that Miguel pushed her out of the train while her back was turned for two seconds. But then Angela gets up, and explains, to these two total strangers, that she had just dropped something on the floor and was bending down to pick it up. This is going somewhere. Cue the next paragraph!

Easily the biggest problem with this movie is the dialogue. This is the rare movie that manages to both show AND tell at the same time, as if we the audience were complete dummies. Characters are constantly talking about their relationships to one another, or narrating events that just happened seconds ago. And the dubbing in this movie…good gravy. Every character talks almost nonstop, no matter what the situation, whether they’re together or alone, in these breathless, dramatically overwrought monologues, delivered at a furious clip, full of the most flowery language. It sounds as though the movie was dubbed by some alien computer technology whose language database consisted of nothing but quotes from John Waters movies.

So as it turns out, Angela is heading to the language school to join her friends in sexy hijinks, but whoops, she has to live in the bungalow where Miguel went all scissor-happy back in the day. And gosh, wouldn’t you know it, but as soon as Miguel makes the scene at this school again, people start turning up dead. Good news, though: this movie delivers on the kills. We get to see the mean old invalid aunt get burned alive in her bed, one of Angela’s friends gets stabbed in the back and the knife pokes out through her nipple, another friend is choked by some sort of like bear trap thing, and then there’s the coup de grace, when yet another friend is beheaded by a giant circular saw. Hell yeah. On the other hand, there’s a really cruel, unnecessary scene in which a snake is beheaded by a pair of garden shears. Leave the critters alone!

For whatever reason, no one believes Angela when she’s like yo all of my friends are being murdered, because she, uh, is reading a murder mystery novel, so it must be all in her imagination? It makes no sense, but then again Angela doesn’t exactly endear herself to us by running around all over creation having a nervous breakdown. I know they can’t all be Ellen Ripley, but cheese and crackers, cut the damsel in distress act, woman! Along the way, we hit all of the major slasher plot moments: the killer POV shots, the jumping cat fakeout scare, the last girl stumbling upon the intricately posed corpses of her friends, etc. You can practically feel Franco smirking each time a scene like this happens. This leads to a final act straight out of a giallo movie, full of crazy twists and double crosses and escalating violence.

And then there is the soundtrack. One lofty promise made by Hartwig & Tomek to Franco was that Pink Floyd were slated to provide the film’s soundtrack. Yes, THAT Pink Floyd. Why Franco would believe that these German snake oil salesmen had corralled the biggest rock band in the world at the time to do a soundtrack for their no-budget horror flick I honestly don’t know. The music was eventually done by an Austrian gentleman named Gerhard Heinz, and Franco has gone on record saying it is his least favorite part of the film. However, I quite enjoy it. There is a great variety of motifs and sounds, from lounge exotica to demonic strings to Stockhausen style bleeps and bloops. And then of course, there is the film’s main theme, which does indeed sound like something that could’ve conceivably been an outtake from the Wish You Were Here sessions.

To wrap up my take on Bloody Moon, I wanna cede the floor to the master himself. Click here to watch an excellent, highly entertaining interview with Franco, shot in his home for Severin’s DVD release of the film from 2007. Beginning in charming fashion with second wife and collaborative muse Lina Romay grabbing her purse and leaving for the afternoon, Franco chain smokes about a thousand cigarettes and regals us with many an entertaining anecdote from behind the scenes of Bloody Moon, including the one promise the producers did keep to him (casting Olivia Pascal as Angela), the true identity of mysterious screenwriter “Rayo Casablanca” (co-producer Erich Tomek), the fact that he indeed did treat the film as more of a tongue-in-cheek venture (much to the producers’ chagrin), and the horrifying and inaccurate title the film was saddled with for its release in Spain (get ready for it…Raped College Girls. Yikes!) It’s sad to watch the interview knowing that Franco would only be with us for another five years. But that’s the thing with artists as prolific and driven as he was: it will take a lifetime to digest the twisted feast that is his body of work. We may have covered an outlier today, but perhaps it’s enough to get you started on exploring the sumptuous, problematic, bizarre, and wonderful world of Jess Franco.