#the fact that they both almost fall because they had linked arms is also glorious ahfnhsg

[sherlock-is-ace]

I sure fucking love it when they do the thing :')

[namjoonfluff]

Homemade

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, you cook Jungkook his favourite meal and he fucks you to say thank you 

word count: 1,300

note: I’m not great at writing smut but I felt like this needed it aha 

masterlist linked here

Things have been pretty stressful lately! Jungkook was working at the studio more than normal - spending twelve hours most days or maybe even longer practising his performance. He wouldn’t get back to the apartment you shared until one in the morning most days, by which point you were tucked up in bed deep in sleep. Quietly, he would creep around the bedroom and shuffle under the blankets to cuddle you while he could. After all, it wasn’t all Jungkook’s fault. You were also working as a nurse in the local hospital. Maybe two hours after he settled into bed, you were up and out of bed to head off on your 4am shift. Both of your work schedules were horrendous but somehow, you made it work!

You just missed the nights you climbed into bed together; watching TV, eating food, having sex… God it had been a while! You couldn’t quite remember the last time Jungkook had fucked you properly. You know, the kind of sex that has you thinking about it for days and days afterwards. The type which had your body fluttering every time your mind flashed back to those intimate moments! Unfortunately, even when you both made it home in time, the last thing either of you wanted to do was strip off and fuck like you used to. Neither of you had the energy most days to even make dinner, let alone have sex. You instead resigned yourself to takeout food and quick snacks before crashing on the bed. The most you would get is a passionate kiss and potentially a fondle of your breasts before you both hit the hay. 

However, on the odd day off you had, you decided to do something special for Jungkook. He was so stressed out with tour preparations so you wanted to cheer him up. You knew the only way to Jungkook’s heart and that was, of course, food! Therefore, you decided to make him a special dish; one that he had confessed to loving at the beginning of your relationship - Kimchi Jjigae. As a non-native of South Korea, you were worried though. You really didn’t want to screw this up! Therefore, you had studied the recipe from a number of Korean recipe blogs and YouTubers. 

About an hour before Jungkook returned home from practise, you rushed out to the local grocery store to grab everything you needed. There wasn’t much to the simple stew but from what you had read, it was a comforting staple of Korean cuisine. That was exactly what he needed right now - as well as yourself. The two of you worked to the bone with little rest. It was one of the qualities that had brought you together. You loved his dedication to the band and he felt exactly the same way about you and your work. However, you recognised the balance between work and play, knowing how important it was to relax for your mental health. If only he did too! 

With everything in hand, you laid it out on the kitchen counter and grabbed the jar of Kimchi that Jungkook’s mother had prepared weeks ago. All of a sudden, you felt overwhelmed. The sudden self imposed pressure to create an authentic meal bubbled up inside of you. What if he hated it? Wouldn’t that just ruin his day? Despite your fears, you proceeded with a huff. It was going to be okay! Your hands moved quickly to follow the instructional video in front of you. You carefully marinated the pork while the Kimchi cooked in a pot on the stove. A little laugh left your lips when you noticed the pot still had a sticker on it from the store - clearly unused despite living together for a year now. 

It wasn’t long before the whole apartment was filled with the scent of spices. At the strong smell of garlic and chilli, you nodded in approval. A sense of pride filled you seeing the stew bubbling on the oven. It looked good to you, at least. In fact, it wasn’t that dissimilar to the pictures you had found online. You just hoped Jungkook liked it! 

“Baby!” You heard him call as he opened the front door. “Wow! What is that smell?”  Tempted by the smell coming from the kitchen, you heard Jungkook rush into the space - chucking off his shoes and throwing down his bag as he went. He wrapped his arms around your waist and peered over your shoulder. “Is that what I think it is?” He gasped. At the sight of his favourite dish, his eyes lit up. The often tired and almost dull-looking brown orbs now filled with a warm, gooeyness that could only be compared to melted chocolate. 

“Yup!” You said proudly, holding a stew-soaked wooden spoon to show your true chef abilities. “I made it!” In the moment, he had never looked more in love with you. His grip around your waist and the chin on your shoulder felt tighter - as if he never wanted to let you go! You almost felt embarrassed at the way he gazed at your face, beaming with a shared pride. It was like something as simple as cooking his favourite meal was the kindest thing he had ever experienced. And you were so pleased to be a part of that moment. With the sauce blended, you served up the stew into two different bowls. Jungkook still refused to let go of you so he remained a clingy shadow on your back. If this hadn’t been the first time you had felt his embrace properly in weeks, you would have shrugged him off. But it was so relaxing to feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. The scent of his cologne also lingering in the air - almost overtaking the smell of stew. 

“I don’t want to let go!” He giggled into your ear.

“But we need to eat,” You pouted, picking up the bowls of stew. With Jungkook refusing to let go like a koala bear, you ended up dragging him to the dining table. Not only had you put together the Kimchi Jjigae but there was a variety of side dishes available; it was truly a feast! 

After a few minutes of slurping and chewing, you asked: “So, how is it?”

“It could do with a little more seasoning,” He smirked, pointing at the bowl of stew with his chopsticks. 

Despite his joke, you felt a little downhearted by his words. After all, you had tried hard to get the dish as authentic as possible.  “I’m joking,” Jungkook smiled reassuringly. “It’s really good. Are you sure you aren’t Korean?” You let out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure!” “What did I do to deserve you?” He let out a gentle sigh. Shortly after finishing your meal, you both got up to wash the dishes. However, Jungkook had other things on his mind. While you’re running the bowls under water, he pressed his body against yours. A finger clasped onto the loose strand of hair falling onto your chest and moved it back, exposing the skin on the side of your neck. Without saying a word, Jungkook hovered his lips over your skin and began lightly kissing the area. 

“I think the dishes can wait until tomorrow,” You could feel his lips form a smirk as they were still pressed against your neck. “I have something else in mind.” “Oh, you do now,” You raised a brow, not that Jungkook could see it because he was too busy peppering your chest with kisses now. 

“You made me a lovely dinner,” He whispered against your collarbone. “Now, let me show you what I can do for you!” 

Not being able to resist his words, you dropped the bowl into the soapy water and flipped in Jungkook’s arms. He almost looked shocked when your hands wrapped around his neck and lips connected with his immediately. His lips were soft and welcoming like a bed you couldn’t wait to dive into. And in the same way, Jungkook used his large hands to remind himself of each body curve. The moment his fingers connected with your lower stomach a spark was ignited; there was no way to control it. It had been so long since you had experienced such passion that you were moaning against his mouth already. For the first time in a long time, you wanted him to fuck you right there on the kitchen counter. It just goes to show what a good meal can do!

It’s not long before Jungkook’s hands were all over you; tearing off your tank top and pulling at your bra to release it. There you sat atop the kitchen counter with your breasts exposed to your boyfriend who just licked his lips. However, with just your skin exposed, you felt left out. You wanted to see Jungkook - all of him. Quickly your hands plucked the buttons off his shirt and peeled it open to worship his muscular chest and complexion. 

“Fuck!” You moaned, seeing his chest heaving up and down. 

As he watched you eye-fuck him, it turned Jungkook on even more then he already was. That’s why his plump lips were quick to start teasing at your chest, touching and biting your skin while his hand reached the top of your jeans. His hand gently slipped down to start slowly massaging your throbbing vagina. Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing when he rubbed your sensitive clit with his thumb; going round and round in circles to get your breathing heavy. He made sure to take extra care around your clit because that was a sure fire way to make you cum quickly.

“You’re so wet,” Jungkook whispered. “So wet for me, baby!” 

It wasn’t long before the orgasm inside you was released. The legs wrapped around Jungkook’s waist were shaking and toes curled as you moaned through the pleasure. No one could make you cum better than he did. He always did everything just right!

“Fuck, Jungkook!” You breathed heavily. “I want you to fuck me!” 

Feeling the wetness soaking through your underwear, you waited with anticipation as Jungkook took off his pants and exposed his cock. It was glorious, glistening with pre-cum as it rested on his stomach. With one quick and fluid motion, he dragged you closer to him on the counter. Jungkook needed to line you up perfectly with his hard cock so he could fuck you in exactly the right place. He gently slid across your panties and pushed his thick cock into your wet pussy. You were so ready for him, your core immediately coating him with your cum. You moaned as he entered, feeling his length completely stretching you out - as if it was the first time all over again.

“Feels so good!” He moaned, pounding his member in and out of you. “Tell me how much you love it!”

“Love your cock,” You reciprocated a moan. “Love how it stretches my pussy!”

After a few more powerful thrusts, Jungkook released his load inside you. He looks completely exhausted as you both flop together and share a moment of complete and utter silence. All you could hear were the heavy breaths falling from your mouths as you recovered from the pleasure. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. It would be nice to forget about all the responsibilities you both had and just fuck all day. Once you leave the post-sex haze, you feel Jungkook poke the end of your noice and say: “I fucking love you, you know that?” You nodded with a smile. And you couldn’t help but think you needed to make Kimchi Jjigae more!

[goldinavonlea]

So let’s talk about Prissy Andrews and That Scene. 

What I’m fascinated by with Prissy’s storyline the first two seasons is that it’s almost an anti-coming-of-age tale and you don’t (or at least I didn’t) realise quite what they were doing or how well they were doing it until the scene where she runs out of the wedding.

Right from the off Prissy is framed apart from the other girls. One of the first things Diana says to Anne on her first day of school is that they can sit together because “Jane and Ruby may sit together, now that Prissy’s studying for Queen’s academy entrance exams and needs to sit with the older students.”. Notably however we never really see any of these supposed other Queen’s prospectives, certainly not in any detail. Prissy sits at the back of the class, she’s taller than the other girls, she looks older, and we almost never see her specifically with the other girls.

Our first real introduction to her is when Diana and Anne see her and Phillips through the supply room window. Now when Anne asks if they’re married, Diana does respond “Of course not! She’s a student and he’s old”, but the real impact of that age gap is overshadowed both by how Diana’s line is played—there’s a childishness to it, she says old like she means ancient when he clearly isn’t, the same sort of way that as a small child your friends’ older siblings seem like Grown Ups even when they’re definitely not—and by Anne’s immediate following comment of “They must be making a baby” which again they very clearly aren’t. The scene isn’t really about Prissy and Phillips—it’s about Anne and Diana’s innocence, and a clear set up for how the limits of that innocence in Anne compared to her peers are going to get her into trouble. Even the way we see them—blurred through the window, the most obviously charged moment a shot of their hands that excludes their faces—is nebulous, unsharp, tinged with the childlike comprehension of the scene that Anne and Diana have. The way the scene is framed and where the focus is draws attention away from what’s happening: an adult man in a position of authority is conducting a romantic (or supposedly romantic) relationship with a teenage student. 

The visual indicators we see of her youth—the shorter dresses and pinafores, the hair worn down—are things which are used consistently through the show, so we Know, but they also don’t resonate to the modern audience with the immediacy they would at the time. We see as viewers that young girls wear their hair down and adult women wear their’s up, but we don’t immediate see Prissy wearing her hair down and think ‘This is obviously a child’ because that’s not the case in the modern world.

Throughout both the first and second seasons the majority of the interactions we witness Prissy having are with adults, and though these are clearly not equal interactions—between her mother and her, between her and Phillips—the fact that these adults are the people we see her interacting with frames her subconsciously in the minds of the viewers as one of them. Even in the scene between Prissy and her mother Prissy is clearly the taller of the two—all of these things which despite our again Knowing that she isn’t suggest that even if she’s not quite on the same level as, in the same position of power as, these adults we see her interacting with, she is closer to being one of them than she is one of the other girls.

Which is precisely how Prissy sees herself: “not a child”.

And because of all this careful positioning I think we, as an audience, kind of buy it. We’re placed into that sort of dazed, half-cognisant view of the situation that Diana and Anne have through the window: of course we know that it’s ENTIRELY not alright for an adult teacher to be pursuing a student, a child, romantically (’romantically’ in descriptor only: it’s not romantic, obviously, its horrific and predatory), but we’re prevented from ever really feeling the full horror of it because we never really see Prissy as a child.

Until. UNTIL that moment at the end of the aisle where she starts to look around. We see a shot of her face, then a shot of Anne. A shot of her face, and then a shot of Diana and Minnie May. A shot of her face, and then a shot of her mother’s. She’s stood there in this elaborate grown-up wedding dress with her hair all up at the end of the church aisle, and it’s in that EXACT moment that the full-fledged wrongness of the whole situation is truly presented to us as viewers. She looks at this audience, at these people, looks at Anne and Diana, and at her mother, and realises herself which of those two groups she belongs too. Suddenly there’s something almost grotesquely farcical about the wedding dress, the hair—it looks wrong, she looks like she doesn’t know how she got there. It isn’t until she’s right there at the end of the aisle that the show really, violently hits us with the appallingness of the situation—she’s vulnerable, frightened, and being married off to an adult man who was able to manipulate her because he had power over her and it hits us exactly when it hits Prissy.

When she runs out of the church it isn’t any of the adults who follow her: it’s the other girls. And then we get those fantastic shots of them all running through the snow—all these bright, candy-coloured girls running after Prissy who’s stumbling through the snow in her mother’s veil and a dress she has to hike up because it’s so long (too long for her—she shouldn’t be in that dress, she’s not ready for it), a dress you don’t realise is actually just a little off-white until it’s contrasted against not just the snow but her bright white petticoats. The white of a wedding dress is supposed to represent purity, innocence, and the contrast here of the dress itself and the petticoats—the cloak of greater experience, of age, even perhaps of complicity in the situation over this underlayer of absolute innocence and youth and vulnerability (costume designer marry me when?)—it’s all this sort of horrifying realisation, this sudden sharp sharp focus of how Not At All Okay this situation has been the entire time as she falls over and collapses into the snow, the other girls gathering round her. 

And then she sits up and you realise she’s laughing.

That’s the anti-coming of age moment. That’s the first moment that we’re encouraged to really look at Prissy and go ‘She’s a child’. We’re given all the moments before of that We Know This Isn’t Right feeling that never quite materialises fully, that awful sick horror in the church, this huge sadness for her as she’s running through the snow, but then this sudden glorious, boundless, childlike joy as she starts laughing with the other girls—suddenly they are the other girls, suddenly she is entirely, obviously one of them—as she throws her arms up in the air, and the other girls link arms around her, literally gather her into her circle, start dancing around her. 

Prissy Andrews, in a dress that’s too long for her, that suddenly looks like a costume, giggling with friends, dancing in the snow, miraculously and finally a child.

There’s something almost painfully miraculous about it: this girl who was so nearly lured into adulthood much too soon finding joy and fulfilment and the hope and possibility of a future not in becoming an adult, but in reclaiming her childhood—not in growing up, really, but in growing back down again and finding friends waiting for her with open arms and excitement and a love that doesn’t ask her to give up anything at all.

Prissy Andrews, ‘a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free’.

[raendown]

A follower milestone gift fic for @birkastan2018 using the prompt word woolage.

Pairing: MikotoKushina Word count: 952 Rated: T+ Summary: Apparently I didn’t add a summary and I ain’t doing it now. 

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Morning Glory

If Mikoto could be described in just one word - an impossibility that Kushina had tried to accomplish several times before - the one that might come closest to encompassing everything about her would be ‘grace’. She was gracious and graceful and full of grace itself, graced by the gods and given grace by every life she touched. Honestly there were some times when Kushina wondered how they even became friends let alone how she managed to snag a date with this otherworldly creature that so clearly walked above the rest of them. When she’d tried to communicate that, though, Mikoto had given her such a look that Kushina bowed out of the conversation before it could even start. Without grace, of course, because Mikoto made her clumsy like that. 

The fact that there might be times when Mikoto was a little less than put together honestly never occurred to Kushina until she witnessed it herself for the very first time. Several dates in and it still felt like her heart was going to pound right out of her chest every time they kissed, that’s how far gone she was, so getting invited in to the woman’s bedroom for the first time definitely got some very embarrassing noises out of her. 

And then some very delicious noises out of them both. 

It was the morning after that really changed the way Kushina looked at the one who had stolen her heart so thoroughly. Waking was not, strictly speaking, her very favorite activity on any given day. Greeting the morning was usually done with grumbles, reluctance, and a frequently overzealous helping of profanity. Safe to say that she was not a morning person. Returning to consciousness after the single best night of her entire life did nothing to change habits built over a lifetime. Kushina wrapped both arms around her head and groaned like she could scare the sun away with enough annoyance in her voice. It was the echoing groan from a scant few inches to her left that sent a zing of energy through her veins and Kushina had never been more alert in her life than those few breathless moments it took to unwrap her own head and peak sideways. 

Then she was laughing. Rolling on to her stomach where she could press her face in to the pillow and hope it would muffle the sound of her startled delight. Apparently it didn’t.

“You’d better have a good reason for waking me up,” Mikoto’s voice growled, husky in the way of being pulled unwillingly from dreams. “There will be violence if you don’t.”

Kushina tried to answer, honestly she did, but one quick peek to the side had fresh peels of laughter ringing freely throughout the room. She would have felt a little bad but she also would have challenged literally anyone else on the planet not to laugh at the glorious sight all stretched out next to her and frowning with sleep irritation. Mikoto, apparently, suffered from bedhead. Even in the midst of chaotic battlegrounds her long dark hair managed to stay smooth and pretty, almost a taunt in and of itself. ‘Look at me’, it said, ‘look how little you matter, you can’t even muss up my gorgeous locks’. The state of her now said something entirely different.

It should not have been so utterly adorable to see a frown that deadly surrounded by dark dandelion fluff, hair crumpled and sticking out in every which direction at seemingly impossible angles. Static electricity from a night of rubbing against the pillow even had some of it standing straight up off her head. Kushina wondered for a moment if it was possible to die from cuteness overload. 

“‘ShiShi,” her girlfriend rasped, making her heart flutter all over again for the ridiculous nickname. “You have ten seconds to stop laughing at me or you will not be invited back to this bed.”

“Can you blame me?” Kushina retorted. She wasn’t even sorry for laughing. This was the best day of her entire life. 

“Yes I can.”

For the first time not even the finality of that tone gave Kushina pause, too wrapped up in the adoration filling her chest. If this was love it was something too big to fit inside her skin but by all the gods she wanted to try. Wanted to pull and tear and hold the fraying seams of herself back together as many times as it took to keep this. When she finally managed to sit up it was to run a hand through her own hair, briefly considering the irony that her much longer locks weren’t nearly as much of a disaster, then she turned to smile at the mess beside her. 

“I love that you’re human in the morning,” she said. The words spilled out with no thought just the same as most of her words did but as soon as she’d said them Kushina was struck with how much she meant it. Mikoto blinked through the lingering remnants of dreamland to squint up at her. 

“And I hate that you’re so talkative. A woman needs her beauty rest.” 

With that she rolled over and although Kushina laughed at her again it was a short burst, followed quickly by a minute or so of squirming while she wriggled her way back under the blankets and up against Mikoto’s body. 

“You’re already beautiful,” she said just to make sure that was understood, “but yeah. Go back to sleep. I’ll, uh, brush your hair for you when we get up?”

Mikoto’s grumbles were the sweetest music to fall back asleep to. Grace could return to them later in the day; for now Kushina held perfection in her arms. 

[blouisparadise]

Another incredible year of fics is complete!

This list is always nearly impossible to make, so keep in mind that this is just a small selection out of hundreds of incredible bottom Louis fics that were posted this year. We hope every fic writer feels appreciated because your works mean so much to this fandom. And we hope there will be even more amazing BL fics coming out in 2020!

The fics are listed by length and we included AO3 usernames and links to the writers’ Tumblr accounts if we could find them - so please go give these people love! And give love to every other writer who wrote a bottom Louis fic that you read and enjoyed this year.

All Bottom Louis Fic Fest fics - click this link to the December BLFF masterpost!

This list would be twice as long if we included all the fics for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest, so we’ve decided to instead simply link to the December masterpost of BLFF fics. These fics are ALL favorites of ours this year, so check them all out and give them love!

That Summer Feeling by laurelhips / @laurelhips | Explicit | 2093 words

"It was still a lazy summer evening, the sun was still floating in the sky and the balcony window was letting in a warm breeze. Harry thumbed at Louis’ hipbone, easing his lips off Louis’ skin just to mumble “Turn over, darling.” Louis cracked a small smile, turning over slowly and revealing the back half of his naked body. Harry’s tongue felt too big for his mouth. He swallowed as he took in the sight. He’d never get tired of this."

How Easy You Are To Need by sweetums / @darlou | Explicit | 2356 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

A day in the life type of drabble where Harry returns home after a business trip to his boy and a surprise visit from his niece.

Fine Line by Speechless | Explicit | 3281 words

This is just a tiny fanfiction that in my head was really just a Survival Instinct spin off, but then became a thing of its own.

No One But You Got Me Feeling This Way by runaway_train / @runaway-train-works | Explicit | 3787 words

Harry is well aware he should be studying or watching T.V or cleaning the kitchen or doing literally anything from a list as long as his arm instead of this, but he is. The list of reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this is probably at least double that, but here he most definitely is. He’s sitting on his bed, legs straight out in front of him, back propped up against the headboard and some fluffed-up pillows and his MacBook is resting on his thighs. His jittery fingers drum lightly on the edge of the keyboard as he stares at the tiny digital clock in the top right hand corner of the screen, willing the seconds to tick by faster. He wants to get into this and get it over with in equal measures.

Like Sangria by Harryskiwiposes / @hadtobelou | Explicit | 4152 words

As he looked up to the ceiling he imagined what it would feel like to have this man all to himself, all night long. He wanted the man in his bed, spread out underneath him, his skin begging to be kissed by a little more than just the sun.

Harry let out a small chuckle at the thought because he hadn’t even wanted to come on this beach vacation in the first place - he had wanted to go sightseeing in New York City. However, Niall and Liam had outnumbered him and so two days ago they had all boarded a plane to Jamaica for a lads holiday celebrating Liam’s thirtieth birthday.

Digging his fingers into the man’s hips, Harry sent a silent prayer up to the heavens that he was currently not sightseeing in New York and was instead on his way to hooking up with the sexiest man he had ever encountered.

Bad Idea! by rina_a / @lougendarey | Explicit | 4247 words

“I’m gonna ruin you.” And words had never felt so real in his life. Harry was going to ruin him in every way and Louis knew it. He had memories scattered all throughout his brain of the pain and pleasure of being destroyed by Harry. The feeling of ecstasy he was currently experiencing outweighed how much it was going to hurt in the next morning when Harry vanished. He was melting under Harry’s touch and that was the only thing that mattered. He could feel Harry’s smooth and strong biceps under his hands as he arched his back against the car door, unsure if he was leaning into Harry’s lips or moving away from them.

Can You Feel The Fever by delsicle / @emperorstyles | Explicit | 5113 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

Tour has Harry exhausted. Luckily exactly what he needs is waiting for him in his Sacramento dressing room.

Gotta Catch 'Em All by larryent / @larryent | Explicit | 5186 words

Louis loves Pokémon GO, he gets a little crazy and ends up ramming into a guy. Harry gets mad, calls him a brat and treats him like one. Oh, and they're in central park.

I'm Slipping Under by purpledandelion / @purpledandelion | Explicit | 5351 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

What better way would there actually exist than starting it filthily with Louis falling apart on his tongue? Nothing else could have surpassed that.

Nothing.

That's what Harry had thought at first, at least.

Just Fuck by rbbsbb / @rbbsbb | Explicit | 5565 words

Louis’ so drunk off Harry, though—even more than all of the drinks that he’s had—that he doesn’t even want to look anywhere else. He’s dying for it, for Harry to hold him down and fill him up, mark him inside.

Burnt & Tied Up by tilthesundies / @tllthesundies | Explicit | 6327 words

Come to the show tonight, Harry told him. Begged him. Pleaded with him.

Louis isn’t doing this for him.

Act Out | by feermartsant / @boldbabe | Explicit | 6721 words

Harry leans forward so he's closer to Louis's ear, and murmurs, "If I was your husband, I'd never let you out of my sight."

It’s ridiculous. He is his husband. There’s hundreds of photos, and official papers, and rings, and two babies with the last name Tomlinson Styles that prove it. But it’s also possessive, and hot and Louis doesn’t know what he was expecting when Harry told him he wanted to try roleplaying a little, but so far he’s not complaining.

Kisses and Coffee Breaks by youreyesonlarry / @youreyesonlarry | Explicit | 9350 words

Midterm season was finally here and all Harry wanted to do was study, however his boyfriend, Louis, seems to have a better idea.

Tattooed Heart by KrisStylinson / @zourry-a | Explicit | 10035 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Is that fucking real?”

Harry grins. “Feel for yourself.”

A curious hand comes to trace over Harry’s chest, sighing in awe. “Harry.”

He watches him as he does it and wishes he had a camera on him, because the sight of Louis’ dainty hand caressing the beautiful L written in intricate cursive right over Harry’s heart has to be the single greatest thing he’s ever seen.

“Like it?” he asks.

“Harry,” Louis repeats, suddenly digging his thumb into the skin as if it was going to disappear at any second—it wasn’t, something Harry’s tattoo artist made sure of. “That’s—that’s permanent.”

“You’re permanent,” Harry replies, simple as can be.

Little White Lies by wickedarcher_08 / @wicked-archer | Explicit | 10450 words

Louis makes an off hand comment in an interview then comes home to find Harry has laid his old braces out on their bed.

All The Strings Attached by floweredhalo / @floweredhalo | Not Rated | 10517 words

“He wasn’t good enough for you anyway, H,” Louis says and continues eating. Harry’s still reeling from the fact that Louis is jealous. Part of him wants to prove that Louis has nothing to be jealous about, that Harry is fully Louis’ and no one else’s. The other part wants to punish Louis for acting spoiled. But Harry can’t act on either urge, he tightens his hand into a fist in his lap instead.

“No, he wasn’t. He didn’t quite fit the job.”

“Harry, it wouldn’t be a job to date you. It would be lovely,” Louis says, almost in a whisper. They’re sitting closer, Harry just now notices. Louis’ body is completely angled towards Harry and Harry’s body is not far behind.

Your Sins, My Vices by Jennifer_Kaid | Explicit | 12582 words

Louis hates soulmates. Harry has waited his whole life for one.

This Glorious Mess by theweightofmywords / @sunflowerrlouis | Mature | 14260 words

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes float open to focus on what used to be his bedside table.

It’s empty now, devoid of the framed photo of the two of them. And Louis knows that he has no right to feel hurt, but somehow, this only confirms what this really is.

“This is the last time,” he cries, his voice breaking both from pleasure and pain.

“I know, baby,” Harry breathes, burying his face in Louis neck.

Pleasure Over Matter by summerwine / @smrwine | Explicit | 15204 words

Harry is a bit out of his element, and an unsuspecting stranger provides him temporary relief.

Everywhere And Nowhere by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2 | Mature | 16547 words

Niall took a seat and said, “Apparently Louis’ downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food.”

“What has he given you?” Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. “There was a rabbit’s foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can’t prove it’s from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though.”

“Wow,” Liam said, looking deep in thought. “That’s old school.”

“What’s old school?” Niall asked. “Giving creepy gifts?”

“I’ve never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he’s courting you.”

Louis couldn’t contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. “He’s courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they’d do in the 1800s or something?”

Tonight's Not Over (Come Over And Stay) by louistomlinsons / @microlouis | Explicit | 16690 words

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, pausing and worrying at his bottom lip. Finally, he asks, “Have you heard that Cox guy is coming out with a new song?” Louis freezes, fingers hovering over his keyboard where they had been typing his password. “No, I hadn’t,” Louis says truthfully. “Where did you hear that?” “Tell anyone this and I’ll kill you, but I’d consider myself a big fan,” Zayn says. His face doesn’t change in expression, completely serious as he admits this to Louis. “Big fan? Like run a blog and everything?”

I Been Feeling High When I Touch Your Body by notasawrap / @notasawrap | Not Rated | 16946 words

Harry is a boxer, Louis is an architect and Liam is the worst cupid that could ever exist.

The Post-War BP by jaerie / @jaerie | Explicit | 17732 words

The eight year war has left the country’s birthrate severely stunted with a lack of virile alphas left to bring it back up. To ensure the survival of the country, the government opens The Breeding Program where young omegas can apply to carry an alpha’s child in exchange for benefits. Louis’ family is struggling and the BP is one of the only ways to secure a roof over their heads. Harry was drafted at the age of eighteen and spent six years of his life defending a country he doesn’t recognize when he returns home. The government made the bed but it’s Harry that has to lie in it.

Be Mine, Dear by louisgrindsonharry | Not Rated | 20104 words

It really wasn’t fair. He was the oldest of all of them. He’s the one who dreamed about being bonded his whole life, while Liam laughed at the idea, until he met Sophia. Niall had always been indifferent, but when he met Heather six months ago, everything changed for him. He quickly went from being the only omega around two alpha’s, to the odd omega out. And it really wasn’t fair, because Liam and Niall both still protected him just as much as the did before, just as much they do their new mates now, but he was still bitter about it, so he’d pity himself as much as he wanted.

Deflower Me by thelesserneptune / @quelquesetoiles | Explicit | 20154 words

Everyone is 19 and horny, and Louis just really wants to get fucked by Harry.

Going My Way by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom | Explicit | 20261 words

"Hey Harry. Really sorry to do this to you but an emergency has come up with Vera’s mum and we’ve had to jump a flight home. My mate Louis is going to take over my LYFT clients while I’m away. He’s got my car and my phone and everything else. Hope that’s okay. He’s a good guy and I think you two are going to get along brilliantly. Catch you soon, Benny."

Drunk in Love (Last Thing I Remember) by MrsStylinson / @lovehoperomance | Mature | 22102 words

The one where Louis wakes up, naked, in a stranger’s bed and has no idea how he got there. Maybe it’s foul play. Maybe it’s just the kindness of a handsome stranger amused by his drunken antics.

Etched in Salt (Is a Cathedral of the World) by HelloAmHere / @helloamhere | Explicit | 24416 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH. This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he’s stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

Welcome Back From The Friend Zone by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2 | Mature | 32354 words

The one where an idea to create a fake wedding with the sole intent to receive gifts from billionaires took a turn no one, but also everyone, saw coming.

Close to Nowhere by angelichl / @angelichl | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat by angelichl / @angelichl | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

If I Stay by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings | Mature | 37226 words

Harry and Louis agree to a temporary arrangement that Harry can't seem to walk away from no matter how many times he tries.

The Only North Star by Skyebyrd / @skyebyrd | Explicit | 39299 words

A story told in two parts.

Part one: Harry meets Louis at NYU and falls immediately and deeply in love, despite Louis’ overbearing boyfriend. Harry interns at the local Daily Bugle as part of the Superhero/Crime Liaison Unit and learns how to study and track superheroes and villains and the damage they inflict on the citizens of NYC. Harry does what he believes to be the right thing. Come the end of the school year, he uncovers more than what he cares to know.

Part two: Louis gets bitten, gets sick, and gets strange powers (which come with…strange responsibilities). He has to learn to control them while also helping NYC’s most famous superheroes to fight off NYC’s newest, baddest supervillain. He also has to figure out his slowly detangling relationship with Harry. He only has the summer to save the city, and Harry.

Latibule by thelesserneptune / @quelquesetoiles | Mature | 49946 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

Dog Got Your Tongue? by seducedbycurls / @seduced-by-curls | Not Rated | 50914 words

Louis is a dog walker.

Waiting for the Tides to Meet by nauticalleeds / @nauticalleeds | Explicit | 59637 words

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate’s. It’s only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he’ll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis’ workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis’ heart.

I Just Wanna Get Back to Us by louiesunshine / @louiesunshine | Mature | 62131 words

Where Harry and Louis are divorced soulmates who are seeing each other for the first time in two years.

Swallow The Knife by whoknows / @crazyupsetter | Explicit | 76168 words

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

Consequences by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16 | Explicit | 78566 words

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia AU.

Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) by MCSSymon / @mcssymon | Mature | 119264 words

Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by Toomanytears / @toomanydreamers | Mature | 126057 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they’re forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Inevitable by Etoilenoire | Mature | 185917 words

AU where Louis and Harry used to be more than friends, but everything had to change the day Harry introduces Louis to his new girlfriend.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Unprofessional {Headcanon}**

Warning: Moderate SMUT, NSFW

Words: 2.2k

Note: All of these requests made me want to freestyle again. No idea where this one came from but, you’re welcome.  

Recommended listening “Would you Mind by: Janet Jackson. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The life of an actor is pretty straightforward. You show up to a set, say your lines, stand where you’re supposed to, do what you’re supposed to, then end the day and rinse and repeat for the next day and however long it takes until those glorious words are shouted-- “It’s a wrap”.  

Chris had been working in the industry for years, almost twenty years to be exact. He'd had countless co-stars, been in countless love scenes that required him to really sell the attraction and love between characters, he’d always executed them with ease, comfort and professionalism.  

You were Chris’s costar for the upcoming anticipated action romance movie “Virtual Immortals”. It was a fun movie, one that had you playing Chris’s love interest. You were a professional but you were also human and you had eyes. The man was drop dead gorgeous and built for every premarital sin that would land you in Hell.  You were attracted to him but you also had a job to do, so you pushed that attraction to the side and focused on the task at hand—filming. 

For the last seven months being on location with you was proving to be a test for Chris. He'd filmed with beautiful women before it wasn’t about beauty. There was something about you that he responded to. Your intelligence showed in every single conversation he had with you. Your talent was evident in every take you completed with ease. It went past your beauty, past your intelligence and talent and after seven months he still couldn’t put his finger on it. One thing was obvious to him, he liked you and he knew he shouldn’t.  

For the few months of filming he’d seen you get visits from an actor he knew from the industry, one he’d even worked with. They weren’t friends but that didn’t matter. You were in a relationship, that was another point to show him you were off limits.  

Still, the more and more time he spent with you on set the more he fell for you and the more he had to keep a tight rein on his feelings. It was exhausting. He dreamt of you, had wet dreams and daydreams all about it. It was embarrassing, he felt like a little boy back junior high. 

Today was one of the last shot of the movie. After this he’d hear “wrap” and it would mean he’d be back home within the week until he was needed again for post-production work. He was both dreading this but also looking forward to it. When he was back home in Boston away from you, he knew he’d begin to feel more like himself, he’d hopefully forget you. On the other hand, this shot was the most sexual scene of the movie. You’d already given your consent for him to do whatever felt right for the scene. That consent made him even more uneasy. 

You were already there waiting. When he approached you, your eyes roamed over his body. His eyes met yours and you knew he’d seen you do it.  

“End of the marathon, ready to knock this out?” 

Chris smiled and again it made you take complete notice of how beautiful he was. You had no idea why or how he was single. There was no visit from any girlfriend of any sort and the tabloids didn’t report about anyone he was linked to. You didn’t know why. You surmised you weren’t his type because he’d expressed not even an ounce of interest in you.  

The director approached both of you and began giving you set direction and his vision for the scene. You and Chris nodded along. After a few minutes it was time to get to it. You walked up the steps of the home that was being used for the movie and into the living room, then sat on the couch. Throughout the home cameras had been set up to catch every angle that the director would piece together for optimal optical enjoyment.  

Chris stood before the bar and waited for “action” to be called. Once he heard it, he went into action, poured two drinks then slowly walked over to you and handed you a glass. 

“Thanks.” Chris stood before you, nodded his head but kept his eyes on you. Just as he was about to walk away you slowly uncrossed and re-crossed your legs. The action made the high split at your thigh fall apart to give him the perfect view of your skin.  

“What should we drink to?” You leaned back a little as you stared at him trying your best to give him a seductive, suggestive look. It wasn’t hard. You took a heavy gulp from the glass—it was apple juice. 

Chris’s eyes roamed over you before stopping at your exposed thigh. You saw the clench of his jaw. 

“Nothing really to drink to right now. I haven’t quite finished the job; we have no victories.” 

You softly smiled then you allowed your eyes to roam his body. When you got to his crotch, he lunged his hips forward. You wondered if it was an improvisation. When you looked back to him your mouth ran dry with the amount of heat you found there. You forgot your line and just stared at him. Chris didn’t make a move either. 

“Cut!” The director approaches and looks between the two of you. “Forgot the line Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I'm sorry.” 

“It’s okay. The line is “what if I have another job you can start and finish right now.”  

You cleared your throat and nodded trying to get a hold of your runaway thoughts. All you could think about was actually dropping to your knees and seeing just what he was bragging about in one of his interviews.

“All right, let’s take it from right there. Three, two, action.” 

You and Chris stared at one another and you tried to focus on the fact that this was pretend. You sat up in the seat, took another sip but finished the glass then put it on the nearby side table. “What if I have another job you can start and finish right now.” 

Chris smirked and watched your painted fingernail that trailed just below your bottom lip. “What job is that?” 

You stood and took three slow steps to him then trail walked your fingers from his chest to his bearded jaw. God he was gorgeous you thought and almost said it. Chris was looking across your face until his eyes settled at your lips. Your finger slowly traced his jaw up to his bottom lip. The heat in his eyes intensified and his lips crashed to yours. 

The kiss is a sensual one that starts out fiery and passionate from the beginning. You moan completely going off of instinct. There was tension in his body, as if he were restraining himself. 

“Cut!” You pulled back and stepped back a few steps and walked over to the glass on the table and took an ice cube and popped it into your mouth.

“Chris, what’s going on bud? You looked stiff. This scene is where the two of you finally express that mounting attraction that we’ve built for the first half of the movie. Stiff is not what you should be. Express the passion, the desire.” He nodded and looked to you and watched you suck on the ice cube. The action had him focusing on your lips and the way your tongue peaked out every so often.  

“Ready?” He nodded although he wasn’t sure he was. The scene required him to go somewhere he’d purposely tried to not go. He doubted he had the control to come back from it.  

“Places.” You walked back to him and pressed your body to his. 

“You okay?” He nodded at your inquiry then wrapped his arms around you. Once action was called, he crashed his lips to your again and let instinct guide him. He kissed you with passion and dropped his hand to your backside and pulled you flush against him. You release a soft groan against him and just like that half his control is gone.  

Chris lifts you; you wrap your legs around his waist and he makes moves to walk up the steps and down the hall to the designated bedroom. You heard the door slam violently against the wall before he stopped. His hands on your ass squeeze with urgency. He loosened his grip allowing you to slide down his body to stand before him.  

When you looked at him again everything fell away, cameras, crew, pretend life, this felt real. You stepped back from him and began slowly taking off your shirt, then you threw it at him. He easily caught it with a smirk and dropped it. 

You slowly moved your hands down your body to the waist of the skirt and undid it and allowed it to slip from your body to the floor. You stood before him in a lace matching bra and panty set. Chris slowly looked over your body then back to your eyes.  

“Like what you see?” It slipped out. It wasn’t part of the script, but no one called “cut”. Chris smiled and approached you slowly as you backed to the bed before you dropped onto it to watch him.

Chris then begins taking off his button down. Your eyes remain on him and roam over his exposed chest before you look down to his waist and watch him undo his pants and kick them off. In the same breath he climbs on the bed between your parted thighs and kisses your chest above one of your breasts. You suck in a breath and angle your head back. His lips meet your neck before he bites it and goes to your ear. “You’re beautiful.” Again, it wasn’t part of the script.

You roll onto him and straddle him. His hand drops to your hips where he squeezes and dips his fingers underneath the band of the underwear. Unconsciously you begin rocking against him before he sits up and kisses you again. You dig your fingers in his hair. 

Chris is so engrossed in you that his moans escape him and he begins to lose himself in you. His fingers sink into your hair and he pulls your head back revealing your neck to him. 

“Fuck!” It wasn’t written in the script but you said it and the fact that you did made him even more turned on. He held you close and lowered one of his hands to the back of your bra and expertly undid he hooks. The material sunk between the two of you and as it fell his hand was there to cup your breasts. All he could think was you were perfect and made for him, you fit perfectly. 

He rolled back onto you and heard another moan from you. He was dangerously close. You latched your lips onto his neck then went to his shoulder and bit and his hips instinctually snapped forward, he felt his cock nudge the apex of your thighs and then he heard your moan as your nails sank into his back. 

He moaned and rocked his body, each time he pushed forward he got harder and harder. Soon your moans blended together as your bodies mimicked the dance of lovers. His hands again dropped to your breasts where he felt them. When his mouth dropped to your nipple you gripped his head to you and whimpered. It wasn’t in the script.  

You rolled onto him and rocked your hips violently against him and panted. He felt himself blatantly bust through the reins of his control and moved your body against his and moaned along with you. Before long he felt the stirs of his orgasm and before he could move or stop, he’d come in his underwear with you on top of him.  

Neither of you moved, or spoke. He didn’t know if you knew it or felt it and he was way too embarrassed to look at you. 

“And cut. God damn where did that come from? I’m not complaining because that just took the scene way out of this stratosphere. The two of you have incredible, undeniable chemistry.” 

When you pulled back from him and his eyes met yours, he knew you knew and shame and embarrassment like he’d never felt took over. 

“I’m so sorry.” He didn’t want to draw attention to you and embarrass you any further, so he whispered it. You nodded and saw something behind your eyes but he was too mortified to look at you anymore. As you climbed off him you removed one of your hands that was plastered across one of your breasts and took a robe that was being held out to you. You placed it across his lap giving him some privacy from his situation.

He stood tied the robe and walked out the room. He wanted to fall in a pit.

As you watched him walk out the room you had to keep a straight face, but half of you wanted to laugh while the other wanted to go after him and do that again.  

[artemis-pendragon]

Fire in the Sky (one-shot)

Poe found them standing on top of the second highest skyscraper in Galactic City, wispy clouds gathering around the pointed spire, the vast metropolis spreading beneath their feet. Fireworks burst in the darkening sky, shattering sparks leaving trails of smoke like shooting stars. Or wounded ships with broken wings, wreathed in fire, spiraling to the ground...

He shook himself. There would be time for grief later. This was a time of celebration, of rebirth. He was going to be happy, damn it, even if only for one night.

"Hey." He slapped on a smile as Finn and Rey turned toward the sound of his voice. His friends were holding hands, fingers linked, shoulders touching. Jealousy flashed through him, hot as a brand. He set his jaw and hoped it didn't ruin his smile.

"Poe!" Finn said, grinning. "Isn't it great up here? I'm pretty sure this is the best view in the city."

Rey's smile was more reserved. "I'm glad you found us. We looked for you earlier, but you weren't at the new base. Headquarters," she amended.

"Oh, right!” There was a note of awe and relief in Finn’s voice. "Headquarters. No more secret bases. No more hiding. We did it. It's over."

Poe tried to feel relieved, tried to savor their victory like the others, but all he could think about was Snap going down in flames, of walking with Karé down darkened streets, letting her hold his hand so tight he thought the bones in his fingers would break. He didn't say, I wasn't at HQ because I was trying to keep my team from falling apart. I wasn't at HQ because as soon as the first fireworks burst gold and red in the sky, I was back up there, and we lost so many people, and I didn't save them, and maybe I could have.

He didn't realize he'd zoned out until Finn was right in front of him, hand on his shoulder, expression tight with concern. "Hey, you okay? You look like you're about to pass out."

Poe summoned the energy to smile again, to pat Finn's hand and say, "That would be a long trip to the bottom if I fell off this thing, buddy."

Finn frowned. Apparently Poe's tone wasn't convincingly humorous, or maybe his expression betrayed how exhausted he was, how close to shattering like sparks across the city skies.

And then Finn was smiling again, and damn it, Poe thought, he's so beautiful.

"Yeah.” Finn squeezed Poe's shoulder then let go, turning back toward Rey. "Hey, if you fell I bet Rey would catch you. If you promise not to try any more crazy stunts with the Falcon, that is."

It was intended to be humorous, and Poe knew it. There was no ill intent, just playful banter between two friends. But in that instant he was furious, irrationally terrified, like the silken fabric of the world was slipping through his clenched fingers. "It's always about Rey," he muttered.

"What?" Finn sounded genuinely confused. "What about Rey?"

"Nothing." Another smile that felt a little too sharp around the edges. He looked past Finn to where Rey was watching the fireworks, a silhouette against the florescent horizon, confidence and elation written in the set of her shoulders, the upward tilt of her chin. She's beautiful, too. Poe's chest hurt, a dull ache like bruised ribs. And she saved us. When it comes down to the bare facts, she saved us, and I should be fucking grateful.

And he was. But he was also bitter, angry, carrying the grief of a thousand families whose children and siblings and parents and lovers had fallen like shooting stars over Exegol. Like plumes of red and gold bursting in the eternal dark of space, brought down by blaster fire, by cannons, by bolts of blue lightning stunning their engines and boiling their blood.

"It's loud," Poe said.

Finn had returned to Rey's side, but hadn't retaken her hand. Poe didn't know he'd spoken aloud until his friends looked back at him, Finn with concern, Rey with understanding.

"Maybe you should go back to headquarters." Rey said gently. "Don't worry, you won't hurt our feelings if you'd rather be somewhere else right now."

Another flash of anger, of bitter jealousy burning in his blood. "Yeah," he said. "Think I was interrupting something anyway."

Before either of them could reply, he turned and crossed to the hatch door, throwing it open and descending into the steel guts of the silver skyscraper.

* * *

Finn found him hours later sitting on his bed in his new top-floor apartment, head down, hands gripping his upper arms, knuckles pale and breath shaky.

"Hey," Finn said. "You left the door open."

Poe felt a flash of embarrassment. I wanted you to find me, he didn't say. Instead, he said, "Yeah, well, I'm trying not to shut myself off from the world. I want my team—my friends—to know I'm available if they wanna talk. Or just... I dunno. Be together." His words tripped over each other, falling clumsily off his tongue. He was drunk, but at least he'd been drinking with Jess instead of alone.

"That's a great idea," said Finn. "You mind if I come sit with you?"

"Please," Poe said, a bit too desperately. He covered it with a nonchalant smile, raising his head and taking a few even breaths. If Finn noticed anything was off, he didn't mention it. Poe was achingly grateful for that fact. The last thing he needed right now was pity.

Finn crossed the room (there was so much space, more than Poe had ever had to himself) and sat on the edge of the bed. His shoulder brushed Poe's, and Poe tried not to read into it at all.

"So," Finn said after a long beat of quiet. Quiet except for the distant hum of the city, of airborne cars and people cheering in the streets. "You wanna talk, or is this more of a sit-in-silence kind of a situation?"

"Whatever you want, buddy," Poe said automatically. "You're the one who came to me."

"I'm worried about you." Finn said. Although he wasn't looking at him, Poe could tell he was frowning. "Up on the Spire, you seemed... I dunno. Off."

Poe laughed. He was pleased with how real it sounded. "I'm good. I'm so good. We won, remember?"

"Do you?"

The question caught Poe off guard. He bit his lip and tilted his chin up, looking out through tinted windows at the glorious sprawl of Coruscant. He swallowed a sigh. "How could I forget? Listen to those fireworks. Someone's burning a lot of credits on pretty lights right now."

"Yeah, I guess. But they make people happy."

"Not everyone," Poe said. He felt Finn's gaze on the side of his face and swallowed, ducking his head again. He pressed both palms to his eyes so hard he thought they'd leave bruises. "Sorry. It's just... Snap. I can't believe he's gone. And all the others, and Karé is..." He trailed off and sighed, shaking his head. "Everyone's celebrating, and that's great. That's fine. But shooting stars aren't always lucky, y'know?"

“Huh.” Finn was silent for a long moment. “I mean, I don’t get what this has to do with shooting stars, but I do know that you're drunk, and tired, and honestly getting an actual night of sleep would probably help. I'm not saying it'll fix anything, but it'll help. Trust me."

Poe leaned against Finn, resting his head on Finn's shoulder. He closed his eyes. "I trust you," he said.

"Okay, then. Get some sleep. You know where to find me if... I dunno. If you need anything, I guess?"

"Thanks," Poe slurred as Finn stood up, one hand on Poe's shoulder. "Seriously, Finn. You're a good guy. I'm lucky to know you."

"You too." Finn crossed to the door, his voice echoing in the empty room. Poe intended to get some furniture to make his new home less barren, but right now he was too tired to care about aesthetics, or lack thereof. "'Night, Poe,” Finn said.

"Hey, Finn," Poe called after him, falling back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. For a moment the little bits of crystal embedded in the stone tiles glimmered like stars in the silver streetlight slanting through the windows. "What were you gonna tell Rey?"

But Finn was already gone. Poe was alone.

Turning over, he dragged himself onto the bed, curled up, and focused on breathing. He stayed there until night surrendered to day, until the last bursts of red and gold evaporated in the light of dawn. He stayed there until he heard laughter in the halls, revelers returning from a night of drinking and celebration.

What were you gonna tell Rey?

As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't always known.

Sighing, he forced himself to get up and cross to the window. To watch the sky bloom into morning colors, a flag unfurling over a new day. We won, he reminded himself. It's over.

One last burst of fire in the sky, and then silence. Not all shooting stars are lucky.

He was lucky. He was the luckiest star in a sky full of billions. We made it, he thought, and for the first time since the war ended, he felt light, almost giddy. We're gonna be okay.

And for one bright, shining moment, he let himself believe it.

[pikelanette]

I’m jealous of the rain (that falls upon your skin)

Pairing: pikelan Words: 4460 Link: ao3 Soundtrack: jealousy - labrinth

Pike did not like jealousy. She certainly wasn’t interested in entertaining it. Jealousy had always had an ungrateful edge to it for; like she wasn’t appreciating what she had. After everything her grandfather Wilhand had done for her, there was no way she could accept that from herself.

The thing was, she also didn’t like people flirting with Scanlan, apparently.

They were at their favourite bar with the entire crew on a Friday night. After spending their week in various ways, they usually hung out there to let off some steam and just be around each other. Grog had just returned with their drinks and distributed them, and now they were teasing Vax, and laughing. But Pike nursed her drink in silence.

Scanlan had gone to the bar with Grog and stayed there, trying to charm Jarrett into pulling out the karaoke set early tonight, just like he did at least once a month. Jarrett put up a fight, still, but everyone knew he would cave eventually.

There were two girls at the bar, too, who Pike had seen around a couple of times over the last few months. They’d always looked nice. But now one had apparently mustered up the courage to join Jarrett’s conversation with Scanlan and make a move on him.

Usually, she would cheer her on. She had a lot of respect for girls who went after boys in bars like this. And this had happened a million times before; someone went after Scanlan, because he was so damn charming, and he welcomed them with open arms. It never bothered her.

But Scanlan had been changing, lately, so now Pike had as well.

She sipped her Guiness and, for the gazillionth time, tried to figure out what exactly had happened during the past five years.

She remembered meeting Scanlan like it was yesterday. She’d gone to a festival with Keyleth and the twins, somewhere outside in the sunlight. There were a lot of flowers crowns involved, and it was a great afternoon. A few hours in, Grog had arrived, and he’d brought Scanlan, who he had met in a bar somewhere. Scanlan had fell in with them like it was the most natural thing to do; he just dropped himself on the grass beside Pike and started making a flower crown the best he could.

He had grinned at her, and flirted excessively, and she remembered seeing stars.

He was funny, and kind, and he had zoned in on her so specifically that for two glorious hours she thought she had just come across something special.

But she had met Scanlan while he was at the top of his game before long, he was showering other girls in compliments and attention and she realised it didn’t really mean anything. He was just having fun all around, and went home with whoever was the most interested.

She soon found that the only way to be comfortable around Scanlan was to dismiss him. Never take him seriously. Never play his games. She just had to ignore his advances and focus on anything else he was telling her, because Scanlan tended to slip in facts about himself and his life that mattered while he was claiming to adore her.

It was hard not to believe him, sometimes, when he looked at her so sincerely or started shaking a little when she touched him. Part of her knew that he had gotten serious about her within the first few months of them knowing each other. But Scanlan wasn’t ready to be committed to anyone, and she wasn’t willing to wait. So, instead – and maybe this was unfair of her, but she was just human, and she had to do something to protect herself – she refused to believe any of it.

Things changed when Scanlan found out he had a four-year-old daughter.

Kaylie’s mother hadn’t intended for him to find out about her at all, and she fought him tooth and nail. The battles left him bloody, and frustrated, and a mess, and for a year he was the biggest asshole. He was completely focused on himself, on Sybill, on trying to find a way to his daughter whether he deserved it or not. When Pike stopped talking to him after he had hurt her Grog – who was a big softie at heart, and Scanlan knew that, the fucking asshole – he had hardly batted an eye.

She refused to let it break her heart. She wouldn’t let it.

(Of course, it did.)

A year after he stopped talking to them all, he came back. He was different, then. More mature. More in touch with himself. He was part of Kaylie’s life, now, and he was happy with that. It had taken a bit for the group to forgive him, but he was so sincere in his apologies that they hadn’t been able not to. After all, they had always wanted him back. He was giving him the best excuse to forgive him: true change.

And that’s when everything changed for Pike.

Scanlan stopped sleeping around. He stopped flirting with her so much. (She didn’t miss it. She didn’t.) He tried to be the best dad he could for Kaylie, who was by then almost six years old. And Pike just… She just…

She’d always liked him, even when he was, debatably, a piece of shit. How was she supposed to ignore this?

But she wasn’t even sure he still thought of her in a romantic way. Being a father had consumed him, in a way, and she definitely wasn’t willing to run the risk of rejection. Nope. No way.

It was silly, after all the times she’d rejected him, and he had still loved her. But she had told herself so often that he didn’t mean any of it that she’d almost convinced herself it was true, and now she was reaping what she sowed.

Pike glanced at Scanlan and the girl over the rim of her glass.

Now she was reaping what she sowed. And she didn’t like it.

“You okay, pickle?”

Pike looked up at Vax beside her. He was smiling at her, and she thought he looked both a little worried and amused, somehow. He’d probably guessed what she was thinking.

“Fine,” she said, turning away from the view of the bar a little more. She couldn’t just keep staring at them. She shouldn’t care.

She realised that even after going over the last five years again, she still didn’t fully know how she had ended up here. Somehow, going through these motions was always futile.

Vax tapped the bottom of her glass with his ring finger. “Just keep drinking.”

“Happily.” She took another sip. “This stuff is good.”

“Aye, Pikey!” Grog grinned from the other side of the table, “That’s the spirit.”

“Don’t get her drunk, Grog, I need someone to drag me out of here at the end of the night!”

Pike startled at the sound of Scanlan’s voice. He put his drink down on the table beside her and smiled at her.

“Scan-man!” Vax immediately scooted over, grinning at Pike, and she had no choice but to scoot over to and make room for Scanlan beside her unless she wanted people to notice she was being weird.

She sent Vax a private, sour glare, but then put a smile on her face and made room for Scanlan. He plopped down next to her with a grin, his thigh pressed up against hers, and she wasn’t sure she could deal with that at the moment, to be honest.

“What are you doing here?” Vex teased, “I thought you were busy?”

Scanlan shook his head. “He isn’t bailing tonight. No karaoke before eleven. Even after I told him he was the most beautiful man in the room! An obvious lie. I am the most beautiful man in this room.”

“Not what I meant,” Vex pushed. She gestured to the girls at the bar. “Don’t tell me she just wanted directions?”

Pike took a sip of her drink.

“In fact, my dearest Vex, she wanted drink recommendations. Clearly she took one look at me and realised I was a connoisseur.”

“Not exactly one look,” Pike said.

Grog, Keyleth, Percy and Vex looked at her a little strangely. She refused to see what looks Vax and Scanlan were sending her.

“I’m just saying I’ve seen them around here before,” she continued with a light blush, “On other evenings.”

“I guess my beauty is just intimidating to some people,” Scanlan said solemnly.

Grog turned his eyes to him now, sending him the same strange look. “Isn’t like you to see it that way, bud.”

“Sure it is!” Scanlan took a big gulp of his drink and then slammed it down on the table in front of him, “Now, what were we talking about?”

The others let it go after that and started talking about Vex’s new boss, and then bosses in general, and Pike threw in some comments about how mean one of the surgeons at the hospital could be and settled down a little. Slowly, Scanlan’s warmth beside her became comforting instead of distracting, and she started to lean into him just a little, happy with her drink and her friends’ laughter and the subtle smell of Scanlan’s elderflower shampoo.

They had another drink, and one more, and she was just getting sleepy when a shadow fell over their table and she looked up to see the girl from the bar smiling down at Scanlan beside her.

“Hi again!” she said, and across the table Grog and Vex sent each other meaningful looks.

Immediately, Pike wasn’t having such a good time anymore.

She went back to her empty glass, staring at it.

“Hello,” Scanlan answered, and she could hear his smile, but he wasn’t putting on his full charm. That was something, she supposed.

She was acting like an idiot. She had to stop.

“I had that IPA you recommended!” the girl said brightly. She sounded a little nervous. “It was pretty great, so I thought I might buy you one as thanks?”

“Oh, well…”

“Might as well,” Vex threw in, “You finished your drink, right Scanlan?”

Grog gave him a thumbs-up, probably feeling like a great wing-man.

“I did,” Scanlan said, and before he could continue, before Pike even knew what she was doing she put a hand on his thigh.

Scanlan froze immediately, and the girl glanced down at Pike’s hand in surprise, then up to her face.

Pike sent her one of her brightest smiles, not removing her hand, and tried to look at little apologetic. Deception wasn’t her strong suit, but this didn’t feel like a lie. It felt like raw honesty. The kind she was never able to put into words.

“Sorry,” Scanlan said beside her, his voice a little higher than usual, “I’m good here.”

The girl glanced at Pike’s hand again. “I see. Well, uh…” She recovered pretty quickly. “Have a good night!” With that, she turned around and swiftly walked back to the bar, where her friend immediately started to question her.

This is when Pike kindly asked herself what the fuck she was doing.

She started to pull her hand away, as if suddenly Scanlan’s body burned her skin, but before she could Scanlan grabbed her hand tightly with his own.

Pike looked up at him in surprise, but he was staring straight ahead, clenching onto her fingers like a vice.

“What just happened there?” Vex asked, and for a second Pike thought she’d seen everything. But when she looked at Vex, she seemed clueless enough, and mostly confused about why Scanlan was still sitting with them and not at the bar with that girl.

“Like I said,” Scanlan told her. He squeezed Pike’s hand. “I’m good here.”

A furious blush started running over her cheeks and Pike quickly hid it behind her empty glass and her bangs. She tried to move the hand Scanlan was holding, but he refused to budge even an inch. His skin was hot on hers and just a little clammy. He still refused to look at her.

“So what were you saying about that colleague of yours, Pike?” Vax suddenly asked.

Pike startled again and looked up at her friend, who had definitely seen everything. Vax was grinning at her, and she was a little confused about what exactly he wanted from her in that moment.

“Yeah, uh… “ she said, “Sheila. She’s new. She’s… Well, she’s pretty great, actually.”

“Didn’t she get the same weird coffee order that you always get?”

“Yeah!”

Before long, Vax had pulled her back into a conversation and a sort-of normal atmosphere returned to the table. ‘Sort-of’ being the key word, since Pike was still touching Scanlan more intimately than probably ever, and even though the conversation had her little distracted, her skin was still burning up. But she did relax a bit, and that was probably what Vax had been angling for, now she thought about it.

Once Pike relaxed and accepted that well, guess that’s where her hand was now, Scanlan seemed to relax as well. Slowly, very slowly, he started playing with her fingers. At first, she thought it was accidental, but when she didn’t move her hand away, he grew a little bolder, and there was really no denying that it was intentional when he was caressing the back of her hand very softly.

“Are you cold, Pike?” Keyleth suddenly asked, clearly surprised.

It would be ridiculous: the bar was getting stuffy, and hotter, and there was definitely no reason to be feeling cold right now. But Pike had goosebumps on her arms anyway.

“A little,” she lied, her cheeks red with the heat of the place.

“Do you need a jacket?” Keyleth pressed. She already moved to get her own denim from behind her in the booth.

But Scanlan was slowly turning Pike’s hand around to trace the heartlines of her palm and she really didn’t want to move her hand.

“I’m sure it’ll pass soon!” She beamed at Keyleth.

Keyleth smiled back. “Okay. Just let me know if it doesn’t, yeah?”

“If you’re cold, we should just huddle together more,” Vax decided, and with another one of his grins (which were adorable but also infuriating) he pressed against her, pushing her further into Scanlan. Scanlan took that chance to lace his fingers with hers and hold her hand for real now. Pike was starting to feel a little overwhelmed.

When was the last time she’d held hands with someone? Not that long ago, probably – she held her friends’ hands a lot. But not like this.

This was…

She glanced up at Scanlan, who was glancing at her too, and for a moment their eyes met and he sent her a smile that was in equal parts charming and embarrassed.

This was different.

They spent the rest of the evening trying to ensure that neither of them had to get up. When someone had to go for drinks, they were suddenly deep in conversation with other people - one time even with each other, which, since it was so obvious that they were doing it because they didn't want to move, made the conversation pretty awkward, but also rather hilarious. 

But Pike's bladder was slowly filling up, and at some point she really couldn't hold it anymore, so she went off to the toilet feeling disappointed and just a little bit relieved. Once the contact was broken, she felt like something hazy was removed from her brain. Immediately, she started overthinking, of course, but the small amount of alcohol she'd had helped in pushing that way for the time being. Pike was pretty great at repressing her emotions when she felt like it. 

She’d let go of his hand. That was definitely for the best. What happened just now was weird, and it would probably fuck up their friendship, and it was best to never speak of it again. She should pretend it never happened. That would be best. 

But when she sat back down, Scanlan smiled at her, and when he took her hand again she made no attempt to pull away whatsoever. She just let a warm contentedness wash over her and smiled at her friends. Strangely enough, she felt more in touch with the present than she had in a long while. She was enjoying the night more than usual, since normally part of her was always considering this or that, her job, or Wilhand, or Grog, or anything else. Right now, she was just there, in the moment, holding Scanlan's hand. It felt like home. 

Time went very quickly after that. She got out of having to do karaoke, as always, and this time she let Scanlan’s hand go without any care in the world when he stepped up to give his performances. She knew he’d be back.

She laughed and clapped along and had an arm-wrestling contest with Grog (she did lose, but barely) and then it was time to go.

They left together, like they always did. Their little family didn’t leave anyone behind. If someone wanted to go, they all went. From this bar, at least – sometimes some of them went off to the next place to continue the night. But this was bar belonged to all of them, so no one was ever there alone.

Pike let go of Scanlan’s hand when they started to leave, and it was weird not to hold it anymore. She wondered whether she’d hold it again sometime soon. Still, she wasn’t ready for any questions from the others, so she couldn’t let them see it.

They went outside and chatted for a bit more before all heading off in different directions. Keyleth went home with Vax– something Vex clearly felt very weird about, so she decided to head to one more bar that night on her own to talk with the white-haired barman she’d befriended there recently. That was something Vax felt very weird about, because he clearly saw something in his sister’s behaviour that she hadn’t realised yet herself.

Grog asked if Pike wanted to share a cab, but Pike found herself saying that she’d rather walk home. It wasn’t that far away, and she loved taking the walk, even at this time of night. She was pretty confident in her ability to defend herself.

“I’ll join you,” Scanlan said quickly.

Pike wanted to say she hadn’t been hoping he would say that, but honestly? She wanted to hold his hand some more.

Grog shrugged his shoulders and called a cab for himself, and the group separated, all heading off in different directions.

Scanlan and Pike walked together in silence for a while. Scanlan had his hands in his pockets.

Was that a sign? Was he regretting this? Or had he not been serious? Or just-

Nope, hold up, she wasn’t doing this. Not yet. She could overthink tonight in fifteen minutes, when she was home. Not yet.

Pike sighed as they turned the first corner and left the view of their friends.

“You okay, Pikey?” Scanlan asked immediately.

Pike looked up at him and tried for a smile. “Just tired.”

Scanlan sent her a soft smile back and pulled his hands from his pockets. Pike’s heart soared with hope immediately, and when he took her hand again she was reminded of the first day she met him, and the stars she felt then.

“You work too hard,” Scanlan said, and he squeezed her hand.

Pike was sure she was blushing furiously again, but she didn’t have a real reason to hide it this time. So she just kept looking at him, boldly, unashamed of her reaction, and that allowed her to watch Scanlan’s cheeks redden as well.

“Well, there’s a lot of work to do,” Pike said.

They were both slowing down, and quietly stopped walking.

“You don’t have to do everything,” Scanlan answered.

“Not everything. Just as much as I can.”

Scanlan shook his head, but he looked awed rather than disappointed. He smiled at her and moved closer. She could smell his shampoo again, and feel the heat of his body radiating from him.

“You are the best person I know,” he told her softly, and his gaze wandered down to her lips.

Pike could feel her breathing getting shallow, and she thought she would start shaking from the intensity of the moment. Instead, she just kept looking at him, and watched the way his eyes closed as he leaned in.

Scanlan pressed his lips to hers softly, in a gentle, tender kiss, but his free hand moved up to cradle her face immediately and there was nothing hesitant about his soft grip. He moved on her like he had thought about it a million times before, and considering everything that had happened between them over the course of five full years, that wasn’t unlikely. Pike could relate to that.

She melted.

She kissed him back with the same softness, and there was something so natural about it that she wasn’t sure anymore why she hadn’t done this before. She slipped her free hand into his hair, opening her mouth to breathe him in, and he let out the softest whimper that made blood roar in her ears. He pressed her into him, their entangled hands moving to her waist so he could pull her even closer. The feeling of being chest to chest with him like this was almost more than she could bear.

It took five minutes for them to pull apart even the slightest bit, foreheads pressed together, held up in a tight embrace, breathing shallowly.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” Scanlan mumbled. He had his eyes closed.

“You would have kissed me if I was drunk?” she asked.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I hope not. I don’t want to…” He fumbled for the right words. “I wouldn’t want to fuck that up. Not that badly. Not… I hope I wouldn’t do that.”

Pike couldn’t help but smile and she pulled her hand from his hair to caress his cheekbone. “I think you underestimate yourself. You wouldn’t do that.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Well,” he said softly, “You know me better than anyone else. So if you say so…”

Pike attempted to nod solemnly, but she couldn’t repress her smile. “Yes, trust in me. I know you, Scanlan Shorthalt.”

“Pike Trickfoot,” he whispered, and he kissed her again, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

Pike finally let go of his hand so she could wrap both of her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to press into him as much as possible, hugging him while she kissed him, feeling elated and tingly and right.

Scanlan, however, groaned, and for a moment he sounded like he was in pain. She pulled back to look at him and he sent her a look that was – yes, definitely pained.

“You know I adore you, right? You know?”

She couldn’t believe how insecure he was. She couldn’t believe he didn’t feel it – how much she loved this, how happy she was. She thought she must be radiating happiness, but apparently he couldn’t see it.

Maybe he would hear.

“Scanlan,” she said very softly, brushing her thumb over his cheek, “I think I could spend days just admiring you. I love who you are. I have no doubt in my heart about how I feel about you.”

His eyes were so brown, and so warm, and so full of hope and love. “How do you feel about me?” he whispered.

Pike smiled at him. “I love you. In all the ways there are. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt. I feel bad for trying not to feel it for so long.”

He let out a staggering breath and pressed his forehead against hers again. His grip on her tightened, as if he felt more secure in holding her now. A little bit of that exorbitant confidence of his seemed to return. She was happy to be held by it. She loved confident Scanlan as much as she loved vulnerable insecure Scanlan, she realised.

“Why did you?” he asked her.

Pike had to think about that. She knew, of course, but it wasn’t easy for her to put things into words. She wasn’t sure she could say it in a way that he would really understand. “I was scared,” she said finally, “That I would lose you. Or me. I like me.”

He smiled at her, clearly endeared. “I like you too. I wouldn’t want to change you.”

“I know. I think I was just afraid I’d change anyway. That I would… I don’t know, that we would be worse off together. That we would harm each other, somehow. I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense now. I’ve never been so sure that I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been afraid of you.”

“Or yourself,” he added.

“Or myself.”

“You’re pretty great.”

She laughed. “Why, thank you, Scanlan. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I neve thought you’d love me,” he admitted.

Pike shook her head. “That’s what I mean. You underestimate yourself. Your worth. You’re really not as bad as you think you are.”

He looked away.

“You’re not,” she pressed, waiting for him to look at her again. He did, slowly. “You’re not,” she repeated softly. She smiled. “Although I’ll admit you’ve gotten a lot better since I met you.”

He nodded. “I like myself better now.”

“Well, I liked you all along. Before you liked yourself.”

He looked amazed at that. “I thought you sort of… I don’t know, liked me despite of me being me.”

“You are one insecure bread crumb.”

He laughed and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “You’re the cutest. I love you.”

Her heart soared at those words, growing so warm she thought there might be a sun exploding in her ribcage.

“I can’t believe I found you,” she whispered.

Scanlan pulled her closer, holding her in an embrace, his chin on her shoulder and her arms warm and secure around her body. “Me neither,” he said.

A cold drop of water fell onto Pike’s head. Then another. Another.

They hardly broke away from each other to look up at the sky and watch as it slowly started to rain. They looked at each other again, smiling. A raindrop fell on Pike’s nose and Scanlan kissed it away. She started laughing. He did too.

Then, she pulled out of his embrace and took his hand again, smiling at him in the dark.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

“Yes, please,” he told her. And they walked on into the night.

[radientwings]

Of Drunken Shenanigans (Eriel Fluff)

Written for this prompt: ‘How about a Drabble where Elain gets really drunk and she's super giggly and emotional and Az helps her out?’

There was nothing in the world that Azriel found quite as endearing as a drunk Elain Archeron. Perhaps it was because she differed so much from the rest of the Inner Circle when she was intoxicated. Elain was not a rowdy drunk like Cassian, or a provocative drunk like Mor, or a contemplative drunk like Rhys, or even a mixture of all three like Feyre was.

No, Elain was a happy, giggly drunk. And, by the Cauldron, it was a glorious thing to behold. He loved seeing her be so free, seeing her let go of those perfect manners and show that beautifully big heart of hers to the world. (And he loved the fact that she was even able to do all of that now. There was a time when he’d worried that the burden of her visions would leave no room for her happiness. Oh, he’d had faith she could learn to master the powers she’d been given… but self-mastery and being happy were entirely different things. He’d learnt that the hard way.)

Azriel was also rather certain that the rest of the Inner Circle enjoyed it too, not that they would ever admit it. (In fact, he was fairly certain that Elain could endear herself to even their greatest enemies, but that was another matter completely.) Her drunken shenanigans were never mean-spirited or violent like others’ might be. She mostly just flitted from person to person when drinking, as if she wanted nothing more than to make them all happy. She laughed with Mor, linking their arms together as they both gently teased him. She babbled at Nesta, who watched her with a rare smile. She danced with Feyre in the middle of the packed crowd at Rita’s, both of them drawing no small amount of attention from the other patrons. She tried to arm-wrestle Cassian, wanting to prove how strong she’d become – though this only happened once. (Cassian had laughed a good hour about it after, and still frequently brought it up, if only to see Elain flush in embarrassment.) She embraced Rhys with all the enthusiasm of a sister; something she rarely dared to do sober, still having a hard time seeing him as both High Lord and friend. She even approached Amren, making sure the ancient-being turned Fae was remembering to eat and drink properly; things that she hadn’t had to do until now. 

But most of all, Elain laughed, bright and true. And she almost always did that at his side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist even as she leaned away from him to listen to one of Cassian’s many sordid tales. (Mother above, he hoped she never lost her propensity for drunken tactility… or her propensity for touching him in general.) 

And Azriel watched it all with a smile on his face, unable to even try to stop it from forming on his lips as he watched the other half of his heart interact so easily with the rest of their family. He didn’t deserve the kind of happiness Elain brought him. The kind of happiness that made his heart ache to the point it almost hurt. The kind of happiness that came from a life full of steady, ardent love. He didn’t deserve it, her. After all, how could he?

He was made of shadow and violence and pain. And Elain… Elain was Elain. A seer of incomparable strength. A loyal sister. A steadfast friend. A passionate lover. A new immortal with most generous heart he knew.

So, no, he didn’t deserve the tender light she brought to his life.

But then… then there were moments like this. Moments when she did something, something small but significant, and that surge of pure, utter happiness would hit him and Azriel knew, he knew, that he could never leave what they had behind. No matter how much he sometimes thought he should. (Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn’t his choice who Elain decided to be with – that choice was hers alone. As it should be. Too often had the members of their family lost the right to make choices.) 

And, regardless of it all, he simply couldn’t give up moments like this.

A moment like this… when Elain stared up at him, her eyes hazy with alcohol but still ever so earnest. She’d flung herself at him mere seconds before, her arms tight around his neck so she wouldn’t fall from the tips of her toes. She swayed a bit in his embrace, skin aglow from all the dancing she’d been doing with her sisters and Mor while he’d been off getting drinks. Unsuccessfully, it seemed, since Elain had decided to waylay him halfway to the bar, nearly tackling him in her enthusiasm.

Azriel couldn’t find it in him to rustle up even an ounce of annoyance at this turn of events. Instead he only tightened his hold on Elain, hands soothing over her waist.

“Not that this isn’t a nice surprise, but I was only going to be gone for a few moments,” he commented lightly, that infernal smile that had been pulling at his lips all night only widening in her presence.

“Sorry,” she replied with a giggle, in a voice that was not at all apologetic. “Couldn’t let you go. Had to tell you so something first.”

“And what’s that?”

“I love you,” she said, all seriousness, her eyes shining.

Azriel wouldn’t be able describe the feeling in his chest that those words caused if he tried. He leaned a little closer to her, pressing their foreheads together. “I know,” is all he said, the words both a declaration and awed kind of realization.

Elain’s eyes widened as she shook her head vehemently, seemingly worried he wasn’t quite appreciating the depth of her feelings for him. “No, you don’t understand. I really and truly love you.”

“I know,” he repeated reassuringly, carefully brushing some stray hair out of her eyes (they were a deep, soulful brown, her eyes – he examined them as often as he could). “Do you want to know why?”

She nodded, her gaze growing heavy as she tilted her head further into his hand. “Mmhm.” 

Azriel grinned, his thumb tracing the edge of her lips. “It’s because I love you too.”

Excitement lit Elain’s gaze. She bounced on her toes. “Really and truly?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, almost feeling like he was floating, his heart racing in his chest. (Perhaps he had also overdone it slightly with the drinking, but he honestly didn’t care in this moment. In this beautiful, beautiful moment.) “Really and truly,” he repeated back to her. 

She nuzzled his nose with her own, laughing delightedly along with him. “I knew it.”

“Did you now?”

She nodded again, biting her lip. “Mmhm.” 

Azriel found himself admiring the way stray curls of hair that had escaped her braid now clung to the bare skin of her neck. How he wanted to kiss his way up that soft, soft skin until she shivered underneath him. His eyes rose back to her face, distracted briefly by the lip she still had caught between her teeth – he wanted his teeth there, his mouth on hers… until she made that little noise he couldn’t get enough of, that little half-gasp of pleasure she could never suppress.

He didn’t even realize his arm had tightened around her waist until she hummed, swaying a bit as she adjusted her body against his, her nails scraping against the back of his neck.

“And how did you know?” he finally managed to ask, his voice rough. 

Elain’s happy gaze turned serious – there was something quietly haunted underneath the fog of the alcohol. “I don’t see much good… but I do see that. I always see that.” 

Azriel didn’t bother to ask how and where she saw it; if she saw it in visions or in the look her wore whenever she was around him. It didn’t matter much anyways. All that mattered was that it was the truth. He loved her. And she loved him. Really and truly, he thought with fondness. (Elain became so sweetly talkative when she drank.)

Instead, he finally gave into temptation and proceeded to kiss his way up her neck until he reached her plump, enticing lips. She let out that little half-gasp as their tongues danced together, though it was drowned out by the noise of the crowd filling up Rita’s. But no matter. They always had later tonight. With a final kiss, he pulled away from her lips, only to tuck her head into his neck so he could lean his chin against her hair and simply breathe in her comforting scent.

For now, he was happy just standing here with Elain in his arms, the both of them swaying gently with the music. He should probably move them back the dance floor, rejoin their friends… but this was a perfect, beautiful moment. And he didn’t want to do anything that might ruin it.

[sulietsexual]

Angel the Series - Reunion and Origin? And SPN - Houses of the Holy and Fresh Blood?

Nonnie, I gotta be honest with you, Houses of the Holy andFresh Blood are episodes I tend to skip when re-watching, as I find bothepisodes a bit dull. Honestly, I can barely even remember what happens ineither, only that the first has some preacher who believes he’s an angel andthe latter has Gordon turned into a vampire (which was a nice bit of poeticjustice). But I don’t really have a strong opinion on either. However, I’vewritten you some nice, long meta on both AtS episodes, so hopefully that makesup for my lack of opinion on the SPN eps.

Reunion

Shortopinion: Angel’s been a baaaad boy.

Longopinion: Who doesn’t love Reunion? It’s such agreat episode, narratively and thematically, bringing the Darla storyline tothe boiling point and showcasing just how far W&H have pushed Angel. Thisepisode marks Angel’s start of darkness and underlines what I’ve always stated– that Angel himself has capacity for great and deep darkness and that is why Angelus is so sadistic,because Angelus is Angel without the control of a soul.

The opening scene of this episode has Angel near breakingpoint, babbling and incoherent, horrified at the events he had just been forcedto witness and desperate to save Darla. I’ve written previously about theeffect Darla’s return has on Angel, the emotional marathon he goes throughbecause of it, and the way human Darla completely messes with his state ofmind. Which, of course, was always the point. W&H always planned to have Darla turned into a vampire, not only tofurther torment Angel but to push him into going Dark Side. The original planwas for him to turn her, but whenthat fell through, they had her turned infront of him (make no mistake, that was deliberate, an extra touch oftorture, forcing Angel to watch Drusilla drain Darla while he could do nothingto stop it). And it works, Angel almost loses his mind in the aftermath, sotormented by failing Darla that he is determined to kill her before she canrise again as a monster.

However, he’s tripped up by the fact that he no longer sees Darla as a monster. His experienceswith her as a human have left him unable to distinguish between Darla with asoul and Darla as a vampire, which is why he hesitates when he has the chanceto stake her. Things are no longer black and white, Darla has become someonereal to him, someone whom he cares about. The torture she and W&H put himthrough has left him confused and torn between his feelings for her and theknowledge that she is too dangerous to be allowed to live as a vampire.

Darla, meanwhile, is in a state of utter confusion andhelplessness at first, having risen for a second time and with the memory ofbeing human so new and fresh. Due to the fact that as a human she had actuallyaccepted her death and let go of her desire to be turned, she is at first furious at finding herself a vampireonce more, taking her frustration and rage out on Drusilla, who is now hersire. Her tormented cry of “Why?!”really resonates, showcasing just how conflicted she is regarding her siring.Drusilla’s tearful reply of “It’s what you wanted” seems to bring Darla back toearth, and the demon’s nature takes over, allowing her to feed off a nearbyhuman and prompting Drusilla’s delighted “You’re all new again!”. However, asthe next episode shows, the confliction Darla feels due to being so recentlyhuman has not entirely been resolved and is a driving factor in a lot of heractions for the remainder of the season.

The climax of this episode has Angel crossing a line which hethen has a hard time coming back from, but it’s hard to blame Angel for his actions,as they are a direct result of the torment W&H have put him through in thepreceding months. I actually think that in-Universe Angel is treated tooharshly regarding his actions over the latter half of the season, as W&Hhave basically been torturing him through Darla for the entire first half ofthe season, and he pretty much reaches his breaking point. Closing the lawyersin with Darla and Drusilla was a result of that torture, and pretty much gavethe W&H team exactly what they deserved.

Now, firing Wes, Gunn and Cordy was a pretty shitty move but,once again, there is a deeper reason going on. I’ve spoken about this in anearlier meta. Angel knows that he needs to kill Darla and normally this wouldnot be an issues (we see him kill her with ease in BtVS Season 1, when Buffy’slife was in danger). However, Darla is no longer just a soulless monster. He has known her as human now. He hascared for her, loved her, offered to die for her. He has connected with her ona level he never expected to and so, in order to kill her, he needs to becomedark. He needs to cut himself off from his own emotions, become cold andcalculated and access the Angelus part of his personality. And he cannot do that while Cordy, Wes and Gunnare around because they are his link to humanity. They are who keep him feelinghuman, able to suppress and control Angelus, able to function in the humanworld and feel and experience emotions such as love, compassion and empathy. Heneeded to get rid of them to become dark enough, to become cut off enough tonot only kill Darla but take down Wolfram & Hart. And while that sucks for Cordy, Wes and Gunn, it was anecessary step Angel needed to take.

All up, this is an amazing episode, opening up new threadswhile tying together old ones. The return of Vamp!Darla is awesome and watchingher and Drusilla get up to all sorts of evil hi-jinks is always fun, if a littlemacabre. Angel gets some great characterisation and the start of a new, albeitdarker path. It’s easy to see why this episode makes IMDB Top 10 highest ratedepisodes of AtS.

Origin

Shortopinion: Cries forever because Connor and Angel.

Longopinion: This episode – like all Connor/Angelepisodes – kills me, but this one especially so because we actually get to seeConnor and Angel interact without animosity or hatred or resentment and Connor doesn’t remember who Angel is.Excuse me, I have to go cry for twenty years, because this relationship turnsme into a blubbering mess every time I talk about it. But seriously, this is agreat episode, which once again showcases what a victim of his circumstancesConnor was and how he would haveturned out fine, had Holtz not stolen him as an infant.

Angel’s interactions with Connor in this episode are funny,sweet and absolutely heartbreaking, as he struggles to maintain a neutral frontwith Connor and not let anything suspicious slip. The helplessness on his facewhen he first sees Connor at Wolfram & Hart is heartbreaking, as he looks so shaken and devastated. Angel neverexpected to see his son again, so when Connor shows up on his doorstep, hisfirst impulse is to turn him away, to make sure that Connor stays as far awayfrom his world as possible. He gave up Connor to protect him and has everyintention of making sure that sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

Of course there are bigger forces at play here, and Angel isforced to allow Connor back into his world, first saving him from the demonswho attacked him and his family and then bringing him back to W&H to train.Angel tries his best not to get emotionally involved but as this is his son, he inevitably ends up gettingcaught up in interacting with Connor. It’s so cute to watch the two actuallytalk freely and without animosity and it’s especiallyendearing how impressive Connor finds Angel, admiring his fighting movesand eagerly asking him what it’s like to be a vampire. Angel, in turn, justlights up around his son, obviously thrilled at spending time with him, butheartbreakingly reminded time and again that Connor is no longer his, such aswhen he first saves Connor’s family from Veil’s demons and Connorenthusiastically remarks on Angel’s moves, before rushing to his father,exclaiming “Dad!”. The look of sorrow on Angel’s face is almost too much totake.

Through this episode and Connor’s well-adjusted persona, theaudience gets to see a different Connor, a Connor without trauma, without pain,a Connor who was never taken through a portal, who didn’t hold his dying fatherin his arms, who wasn’t manipulated by Holtz or Faux!Cordy, who was never rapedor tormented, who didn’t live the life which was originally his. And he is agreat kid. He’s smart and funny and has a good head on his shoulders. He’s alsofair and stands up for his family. He tells Angel that he’s not a bully andwants a fair fight, but is also smart enough to know that he needs help. Hisinitial interactions with Sahjhan are hilarious,especially his polite “There’s some weapons here, if you want” line, completewith considerate gesture. Of course, once the memory cube gets broken we havethat glorious shot of the old Connor,rising to meet his opponent, blood on his face and the classic Connor sneer onhis face.

Of course I can’t talk about the cube being broken withouttaking time out from my Angel/Connor heartbreak to rage about Wes and his ridiculously selfish and self-indulgentattitude in regards to Fred’s death. This episode underlines, once again, howobsessive, selfish and gross Wesley is when it comes to his feelings for Fred,even after her death. He doesn’t give a shitabout Angel’s warnings, doesn’t even contemplate that Angel might have hadreasons for signing a contract with W&H, no, he just assumes the worst of aman (vampire) whom he has trusted and respected for years and decides that Angeltraded Fred’s life for his son’s (like, honestly, why the fuck would he assume that?!) and smashes the cube with noregards to what it will do to anyone, only caring about his own grief and pain.

You know, I don’t think there’s a character out there who Ilove and hate in equal measure as much as Wesley. Give me Season 1 Wes, awkwardand mildly sexist but who tries and fumbles and falls and is always striving tobe his best self, or Season 2 Wes, slowly settling into his role within AngelInvestigations, growing in confidence, able to take the reins when he, Gunn andCordy break away from Angel. But don’t give me Seasons 4 or 5 Wes, arrogant andmisogynistic, selfish in his grief, screwing everyone over because he can,treating women like shit and believing he’s right in doing so. God I hate laterseasons Wes. But I digress.

The real emotional crux of this episode comes in the finalfew minutes, with Connor visiting Angel to say goodbye. Those final two lines “Yougotta do what you can to protect your family. I learned that from my father” absolutely kill me, because theytell the audience that not only has Connor regained his memories, he understands why Angel chose to remove themin the first place. That final line is so powerful and it gives Angel hope,hope that one day he might be able to know his son, to be a part of his life. Itwas the most beautiful and fitting way to end the episode, finishing on abittersweet note and giving hope to Angel and the audience.

Now excuse me, I have to go cry forever *ugly sobbing because Angel loves his son more than anything in theworld*

[raendown]

For the @madatobiweek prompt the was only one bed. 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5104 Rated: T+ Summary: Hashirama runs in to an old friend unexpectedly and Tobirama - well. Tobirama would like to have a firm chat with life's manager. No way is it fair for any human being to look that delicious.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Woodn’t It Be Nice

‘Just an old friend from middle school’ Hashirama had called him. Tobirama didn’t doubt that part, his brother had a habit of befriending every person that crossed his path by sheer force of will, but he found himself slightly upset that Hashirama hadn’t seen fit to warn him even a little bit before introducing him to the human wet dream known as Uchiha Madara.

Madara had, at one point, big plans to follow along with the dreams his family had for him to become some big business exec. Evidently those dreams had been cast aside at some point when he realized the high stress lifestyle was not how he wanted to spend his years. Tobirama didn’t really see how anyone went from business school to taking up a career in lumberjacking but he was hardly about to complain. Living in the deep woods and hauling trees for a living had clearly done wonders for Madara’s figure. 

And Tobirama really wanted a piece of that.

It was truly unfair how good that man made tartan look considering how many times Tobirama had snuck in to his brother’s closet only to despair that such patterns still didn’t suit him. Also high up on his list of unfair things was the sheer mass of all that thick dark hair falling in wavy tangles and how utterly scrumptious he looked without, apparently, having yet discovered the socially accepted function of a hairbrush. Given time and a good keyboard Tobirama was sure he could have produced a thesis length paper on why he should be allowed to bury his hands in all that hair. Two on why he should be allowed to touch that chest.

Because wow the chest. With a rib cage the size and general shape of a barrel and a waist line built for standing his ground against at least a smaller sized tank, it was almost enough to distract Tobirama from the thick muscle outlines clearly visible under the flannel – almost, but not quite. If he looked any harder his eyes might actually fall out of his head but he couldn’t seem to stop or even convince his mouth to close. 

Using his mind to juxtapose the image of an ax over those stubby thick fingers, Tobirama swallowed hard and wondered how many people had tried to pick this man up with some sort of bad wood puns. And more importantly whether that would work for him too. He definitely had some wood sprouting up that he wouldn’t mind letting Madara take care of. 

“What do you think Tobi?”

“Glorious…”

“Right? I do have good ideas sometimes!”

“Huh?” He turned to find Hashirama beaming at him but his brother was already turning away without giving him a moment to clarify that he hadn’t actually been paying attention to the conversation. 

Clapping his old friend on both shoulders, Hashirama smiled so wide he nearly split his own face in half. “You’ll love staying at our house. And you’ll love sharing a room with Tobi!” 

“Wait, what!?” Maybe he shouldn’t have taken quite so much time to admire that chest. 

Hashirama laughed. “You didn’t think I’d make him sleep on the couch did you? Not when you have a perfectly good spare bed in your room!” 

“But that- that’s Itama’s bed. What if Itama comes home?” Growing up with four boys in the same house, each only a few years apart from the others, it still felt wasteful for all of them to sleep in separate rooms even now that they were older and Hashirama’s job at the hospital had paid for a much larger house. It didn’t matter that Tobirama had actually been getting a little lonely while their two younger brothers were off at university in another city. Extra space or not there was no way he would survive sleeping in the same room with Madara unless he was granted an hour or so of alone time first. And knowing his older brother’s enthusiasm for socializing that wasn’t likely to happen. 

“Itama called last night,” Hashirama reminded him with an absent smile. “He’s off this weekend with his roommate to some concert happening a city away from them. I would ask Madara to sleep in Kawarama’s room but he’s still not over that cold he’s been fighting all week. We wouldn’t want our guest to get sick!”

“Appreciated,” Madara grunted. 

Slightly panicked, Tobirama cast about in his mind for any other excuse he could think of. “What if I’ve caught it too? He'd still get sick.”

“Nonsense, Kawa hasn’t let anyone near him except the dog. Neither of us is sick.”

“I don’t know, Anija, I feel pretty warm.”

“Maybe because it’s like a hundred degrees out,” Hashirama laughed. “Come now, Tobi, if you keep saying stuff like that I’m going to think you don’t want Madara in your room!” 

One look at those massive flannel-clad arms and Tobirama quickly swallowed his next words. The man could probably crush his head without thought and as delicious as it was to imagine being caught between those biceps he was also quite fond of living. While his brother threw an arm around broad shoulders Tobirama forced his eyes to look elsewhere, contemplating the restless night ahead.

Thankfully for his sanity he was at least able to sit alone in the backseat on the drive back from the hotel Hashirama just happened to spot his old friend going in to. Madara sat up front and nodded or grunted along to the man’s endless chatter. The backseat was quiet, free of tempting muscles, and gave Tobirama all the room he needed to stretch his legs across the width of the car. He noted Madara stealing glances at him in the rearview mirror several times but it was hard to tell what expression might be hiding under that scruffy beard. The fact that it was apparently due to be shaved off at the first opportunity was probably one of the greatest tragedies this world had ever seen. 

As a history buff Tobirama felt particularly qualified to make that call. 

When Madara was finally encouraged to speak more than a word or two strung together he told them how he had come to be in town with no plans and nowhere to stay. Apparently his younger brother Izuna still lived in Konoha and he’d planned his vacation to make a surprise visit. Except he was the one surprised to discover the house locked, one of the neighbors calling over to him that the whole family had left on a vacation of their own just a few days before. 

“Good thing we caught you then!” Hashirama declared. “No point in spending money on a lonely hotel room for two weeks when you could be catching up with me! I can’t believe how little you’ve changed!” 

“Really?” Tobirama muttered under his breath. If Madara had looked like this back in middle school he definitely would have remembered a face like that. Puberty would no doubt have smacked him in the face several years earlier. 

After a slow blink Madara grunted, “Beard.” That was, apparently, all he had to say on the matter. 

Never before in his life had Tobirama been quite so grateful to arrive home as he was that day, spilling out of the car and heading for the door as if all the devils of hell were chasing him. He made it in to the kitchen with enough time to set the kettle boiling and slip back out towards his bedroom before the other two even made it inside. The planet earth itself would fall out of its heavenly rotation before he let Madara walk in and see the absolute mess he typically lived in, research notes strewn here and there, clothing left on the floor where it was shed after yet another twenty hour binge on the latest project. No one needed to know the shame of his bedroom during the months when Itama was gone.

Just as he kicked out a foot to steady a precarious stack of textbooks the door opened and Hashirama cheerfully invited their guest in to a room that wasn’t even his. Madara blinked around, eyes pausing on the one bed that had clearly not seen any recent use. 

“Hope you didn’t clean up or anything,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“Oh don’t worry, Tobi’s always really clean!” Hashirama chirped, oblivious to his brother’s uncomfortable shifting. 

“Right. Where can I drop this?” 

Madara held up the duffel he’d been carrying when they spotted him on the street. When told he could put it anywhere he liked it was tossed on the floor with little care, a sure sign there wasn’t anything too breakable inside. A moment later he seemed to think the better of his actions and asked where the bathroom was as he stepped across to riffle in one of the duffle’s pockets. 

As quickly as he had hurried to his own bedroom Tobirama was gone again just like that. The kettle should be going off any second and he was pretty sure if he stuck around for Madara to come out of the shower all damp and delicious and possibly half naked - well, suffice to say the police probably wouldn’t accept any of the excuses running through his mind just then. 

Like it always did, a large hot cup of tea helped to settle him in his skin, leaving him feeling much more in control of his own reactions by the time Hashirama came back downstairs. His brother gave vent to a gusty contented sigh while he poured a cup for himself. 

“It’s hard to believe Uchiha Madara of all people is upstairs in my home!” he said. “Honestly I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. But, isn’t it funny, i was just thinking about him the other day!”

“Whatever keeps you going when Mito tells you to bite the pillow,” Tobirama murmured. 

“No! Ew! It’s not- hey! She doesn’t make me do anything like that!” Hot tea sloshed all over the counter as Hashirama slammed his cup back down and bent double to gag exaggeratedly. Sometimes it was hard to believe he had failed drama in highschool what with all the dramatics he filled every day with. 

Tobirama let the poor idiot catch his breath a little before daring to ask, “He taking a shower before dinner?”

“Um, I guess so. He didn’t say. What would you like to eat?”

Dinner - fish, of course, since the choice was left to him - was about as quiet as meals in their house ever got with Hashirama chattering endlessly. Amazingly Madara actually seemed to be listening to it all, nodding in the right places or humming in tandem with Tobirama whenever it was needed. It was nearly impossible to tell what was actually going on in his mind and Tobirama hated himself just a little for being so desperately intrigued by it. He’d never loved anything more than puzzles, taking things apart to see what made them tick, digging and digging until he ran out of questions to answer. People like Madara were exactly the sort of rare person who were able to hold his attention. 

Even more so since their guest came down for the evening meal with a clean shaven face, dark shaggy beard sacrificed to the waste bin upstairs, and Tobirama came to the horrifying conclusion that it needed to be glued back in place as soon as possible. Surely it had to be illegal for any human being to walk around looking as delicious as this. It wasn’t fair.

Under normal circumstances he would have said that going to bed was a relief, being allowed to crawl between familiar sheets and allow the privacy of his own room to unclench the tensions in his body. With Madara stumping in to the room after him he knew that he had nothing to look forward to but a few hours of restlessness until he gave in and snuck off to shame himself in the bathroom down the hall. Itama’s ancient bedframe gave a mighty creak the first time its new resident sat down. Normally it bore a much lighter load than all the rippling muscles clinging to Madara’s frame but it held up alright and the two of them were able to lay their heads down with goodnights murmured in to the darkness. 

Tobirama lasted only an hour and a half. He really hoped the other man only thought he was getting up to pee. 

During the day things weren’t so bad. For the most part Madara spent his time with Hashirama getting dragged from one end of the city to the other to re-experience all the things they had done in their childhood together. It was actually somewhat of a relief not to be the center of his brother’s attention for a while, left blissfully alone to work on his research and occasionally greet the ghost of Kawarama whenever he ambled past for food or water before holing up again. With one sibling down for the count and the other away for university the task of indulging Hashirama’s ceaseless energy had fallen entirely to him and it wasn’t until he was finally able to be productive again that he realized just how little he’d been getting done lately. 

Even meal times weren’t too terrible if he kept his eyes on his food instead of the tasty meal he would rather be having across the table. It was the evenings when he truly suffered. Getting Madara to come out of his shell and actually engage in conversation had taken a couple days, out of practice as he was from spending most of the few years quietly knocking and hauling lumber, but once he finally opened his mouth long enough to say more than two words together Tobirama was exasperated to discover a mind as beautiful as his face. Was there any way this man wasn’t perfect for him? The universe must be having a grand laugh at him, that was the only explanation he could think of. 

Still, as much havoc as it wreaked on his libido it was wonderful to have someone else to converse with who could actually keep up with him. Madara understood the basic concepts of his research, asked intelligent questions, even offered a few philosophical insights that Tobirama himself hadn’t thought of. If he didn’t want the man in his bed so badly it hurt he might have been tempted to offer him a job as a research assistant. 

He saw the signs coming from a mile away of course. Stopping it was impossible, though he still gave it the old college try. Catching feelings for his brother’s friend, a man who was only in town for a few weeks and then would likely never be back again, was probably one of the stupider things he had ever done. Tobirama wanted to be mad at the idiot for not just being a pretty face he could seduce and then let go of but it wasn’t like it was Madara’s fault that he checked every box on a lonely albino’s list. He probably wasn’t even aware of how tempting he was. Tobirama really hoped the poor man hadn’t noticed all the drooling and staring and whatnot. 

For a little over two weeks things went on like that, so close and yet so far, sleeping in the same room and slipping away to the bathroom for a while just to get himself to sleep. Even as a teenager his body hadn’t ruled him this much. If their family hadn’t been raised to be so frugal it was entirely possible that nothing would have changed, that they would have parted ways as nothing more than a what-if. But Itama loved that old bed no matter how it creaked and groaned and so none of them had ever thought of replacing the ancient thing until one night Madara flopped down on to the mattress and with a loud protest the entire frame shattered underneath him. Almost more shocking that that was the indignant squawk that gurgled up his throat, so unlike the smooth deep baritone he usually spoke in. Tobirama could do nothing but stare from where he stood halfway through the motion of getting up, one arm outstretched, and try to process what had just happened. Apparently all that muscle was too much for the bed to handle. 

He could relate.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Madara blinked up from the center of the now very lumpy looking mattress.

“I’ve been better.”

“You didn’t hurt anything did you?”

“No. Well, I think I hurt the bed.” With a groan he rolled off the mess and stumbled to his feet where he stood looking down with a wry expression. “I’ll pay for that.”

Money was not exactly the most pressing concern on Tobirama’s mind at the moment. “That, ah, is that just some of the frame pressing up from underneath?”

Praying to all of his ancestors that the mattress was still usable even if it had to rest on the floor, he watched the other man haul the entire thing up with one hand like it weighed no more than a feather and tried not to whimper. With no light but the moonbeams twisting around the curtains it was easy to see there was nothing directly under the mattress that would make such shapes. 

“Bunch’a springs broke under the pressure, I think,” Madara concluded. When he let the whole thing drop back down it did so with a muffled thud much like Tobirama’s heart inside his chest. “Guess I won’t be sleeping there anymore.”

“Not unless you want metal springs digging in to your spine all night long.”

Madara nodded slowly. “Couch it is, then.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to be an option,” Tobirama reluctantly called the man back before he could get halfway to the door. He tried not to be obvious about cringing when Madara turned to pin him in place with dark eyes turned obsidian by the shadows around them.

“Why not?” 

“You’ve been here an entire week and I’ve never once seen you sit comfortably on the sofa. It’s just not built to hold someone of your...stature.”

For the space of three heartbeats Madara did nothing but stare and blink. Then he sighed and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand because it was true. Hashirama had bought most of their living room furniture for his tiny wife and his three whipcord thin brothers; he himself preferred to disappear in to the single cushy armchair that could actually hold his tall frame. If Madara went to go sleep on either of the two couches he would probably roll off the first time he tried to take a full breath in. 

Genius that he was, Tobirama had already done the calculations. He already knew what doom was about to fall upon him. In their house there were four beds for four people and two couches. One of those beds already had two people in it, Mito quietly arriving home from her work trip earlier that evening. Another contained one highly contagious whiny Kawarama and stank of dog after several days of the two curled up together in it. Now the third bed had collapsed, frame and mattress and all, leaving only one other place left as an option for sleeping.

Tobirama squirmed. Why had he ever thought it was necessary to buy such a roomy bed? He was only one person, surely a twin mattress would have held him and saved him from eyeing the several feet of unused space at his side with defeat in his bones. It was this or ask Madara to sleep on the floor. 

“So if I can’t sleep on the couches then where the hell am I supposed to sleep?” He even eyed the carpet as though wondering whether it was plush enough to let him get some rest but one night wasn’t the problem. Laying flat out on the ground for several days in a row would do murder on anyone’s back and just because his job left him in the wilds for months at a time didn’t mean he had to play at camping even in his off time. 

“I’ve got room here,” Tobirama forced himself to say.

“You don’t have any sort of air mattress or anything?” 

“Not anymore, no. Our dog got in to the closet and chewed them all last summer.” 

He watched the other man nodding slowly, a small frown drawing his brows together, and wondered if the option was really so detestable to consider. The offer was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Mito would share a bed with him instead for a few days so Madara could rest beside the friend he had much better reason to trust but the words never had a chance to be spoken. 

“You don’t kick or anything, do you?” 

“No,” he murmured, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Right.” 

Then Madara snatched up the same pillow he’d been using for the last couple weeks since Tobirama only had the one on his own bed and stumped across the room with all the grace of a bear. As unsexy as that image was Tobirama still managed to find his thoughts in the gutter, privately thinking that he wouldn’t mind taking up bear wrestling if this was his opponent. 

Somehow he managed to keep such thoughts to himself as the mattress dipped to accommodate more than double the weight it was used to. Convincing the anatomy inside his trousers that it was not Go Time was a little more difficult to do. Tobirama carefully rolled on to the side facing away from his new bed partner; at least in this position he was only tenting his own clothing rather than the bedding as well. Nothing could possibly make his desires more obvious. After a moment’s pause he felt Madara shifting around and finding a position to settle in to as well, hopefully facing away from him though he couldn’t exactly see what was going on. When the movement finally stopped he cleared his throat. 

“Night,” he mumbled awkwardly. Madara grunted, which he had learned was about the equivalent of him saying it back. 

In the silence that followed Tobirama dearly regretted leaving the curtains cracked. Just that small amount of light made shadows on the wall for him to trace with his eyes and glare at as though they were the source of all his problems. If there were shadows on the wall that meant there was enough light for Madara to see if he threw back the covers and tried to escape to the bathroom. Not to mention that it would be much harder to sneak off even after the man had fallen asleep when there was a chance any shifting of the mattress could wake him again and alert him to Tobirama’s nightly embarrassment. 

He smothered a groan and curled a little tighter in to himself. Sleep was an impossibility when all he wanted was relief and there didn’t seem like a safe way to achieve that with the source of all his delicious miseries lying so close. It seemed he was doomed to simply lie here while his balls turned bluer and bluer. 

“Alright?” The word rumbled low in the space between them and Tobirama nearly leapt out of his skin. 

“What?”

“If you’re not feeling good I don’t want to catch anything.”

Clenching his fists he grumbled, “I’m not sick.”

“Seems like you’re not alright though,” his companion mused. 

“Oh and how would you know?”

A beat passed before Madara answered. When he did his tone sounded almost hesitant in a strange way. “You don’t usually sleep all curled up in a ball. Is it your stomach? Maybe dinner doesn’t agree with you.” 

Pausing in his prayers for death to take him in a localized strike of lightning, Tobirama frowned in to the darkness. It wasn’t such an unusual question - or it wouldn’t have been if they had known each other for any appropriate length of time. He struggled over whether or not to say something until finally his curiosity couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Do you...watch me sleep?”

Choking sounds accompanied the sudden brush of air against the back of his neck, startling enough that he instinctively shot up on to one elbow so he could twist around. There he was greeted with the sight of Madara spluttering and cutting his way through several disconnected syllables. It was hard to parse which part of the scene before him was the most shocking, the fact that Madara was quite obviously embarrassed or the fact that he had apparently settled down to sleep facing the center of the bed rather than away towards the wall. 

“I’m just...observant!” He finally managed to choke out. 

“While we’re both lying down on opposite sides of the room you somehow manage to observe my position every night when your eyes are supposed to be closed?” 

Madara flushed visibly. “I have trouble sleeping a lot. Sometimes I sit up for a while!” 

Fascinating as it was to see a new flustered side to such a composed man of so few words, Tobirama couldn’t truly enjoy this rare opportunity when he was distracted with yet another devastating revelation. 

“How long does it usually take you to get to sleep?” he whispered. 

“A couple hours.” The words had already passed the man’s lips before Madara seemed to realize what he had just given away.

“Oh.”

The two of them stared at each other, wide eyed and silent, as they both processed what the other now knew. If Madara was awake each night long enough to observe what position Tobirama fell asleep in then he was awake each night to observe him slipping out of bed and down the hall for much longer than one would need for a simple nightly piddle. He knew. And he hadn’t said anything. 

“It’s not every day,” Tobirama blurted without thinking. “I’m not some kind of obsessed nymphomaniac or anything.”

“Right.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay. So. Is it just...me then?” 

The twitch in his pants said yes but the flaming heat in his face, well, that probably also said yes despite what he would have preferred. All the genius in the world couldn’t help him think his way out of this particular spot, lying in the same bed with a man he could already feel himself developing very ill advised feelings for while that very man stared back at him processing the knowledge that he was very interested in taking up certain physical activities together. What would Hashirama do, he wondered, if he woke up tomorrow morning to discover that his little brother had been smothered to death by those glorious and very strong biceps?

“Didn’t mention it to your brother yet,” Madara finally spoke again. “Wanted Izuna’s opinion on the idea first. But I’ve been thinking about moving back in to town lately. I got a job offer at one of the factories.” 

“O-oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Think maybe you’d want to grab a coffee or something sometime?” Somehow the man was able to project both flawless confidence and an adorably unexpected shyness at the same time.

Tobirama nearly swallowed his own tongue trying to rein in his own frantic nodding. “I’d like that.” 

“Good, good.”

All plans for throwing himself off the edge of the earth were put on hold. How the hell he had missed his dream hunk returning any sort of interest was beyond him but the last thing he would be doing was complain about it. Who was he to say no when being handed everything he thought he couldn’t have? All wrapped up in a pretty package with gorgeous unruly hair, naturally pouty lips, and thighs he would be happy to have his head crushed between. Whatever small fragment of the universe had taken pity on him deserved a massive ethereal fruit basket in thanks for giving him this. 

“You wanna make out?” Madara cut in to his thoughts. “Or do we need to wait for that first date?”

“Now is good,” Tobirama breathed, already twisting the lower half of his body to face inwards as well. Maybe later he could take the time to be ashamed of his own enthusiasm but right now he had an entire beefcake to throw himself on and judging by the appreciative moan that greeted him it didn’t seem like Madara had any problems with that. 

He had already managed to roll himself on top of this woodsman adonis and gasp at the stretch in his thighs for how wide they had to open just to sit astride those hips when he paused, pulling away from quite possibly the most mind-bending kiss he’d ever experienced in his life.

“What’s your opinion on wood puns?” he mumbled. 

“I will kill you,” Madara replied with absolutely no inflection. 

“Noted. Can I wear your shirt tomorrow?” 

“You would look absolutely terrible in tartan.” One dark eyebrow lifted slowly, something like hunger gathering in the man’s eyes. “Sure.” 

Tobirama shivered and decided if he said anything else he would probably spill every dirty possessive thought his brain had ever come up with. It was much safer to dive in again and tremble under the feeling of large hands curling around his bottom. 

Maybe - maybe - he was glad that Hashirama had decided to take a different route home that day and happened to spot his old friend. A reward this good was definitely worth the torture of thinking it was all beyond his reach, that he would suffer through the stages of falling in love and then be forced to ssay goodbye when Madara left, to never see the man again. Whatever it took to convince him that moving back in to town was a good plan he would do it. Even if he had to track down this Izuna fellow himself and beg on his knees for a little support. 

For now the only thing he planned to do on his knees was moan, however. Possibly beg. That depended entirely on how far Madara was willing to go before they even made it out for a simple coffee or discussed anything between them with any sort of depth.

Whatever the case, he just really hoped his brother was well and truly asleep down the hall because he had zero plans for staying quiet after finally getting his hands on such a perfect dream. 

[mechagalaxy]

John T Mainer 28840: Legion of Vega

Legion of Vega

I was on Vega brokering a deal to sell some of the garbage the Spirit of Bunny got on their last raid. Apparently fighting evil energy sucking stormclouds gives you crap for loot. Weathermen don't retire rich, I guess that was one of the reasons I became a pilot in the first place, I didn't want to do honest work, I wanted to shoot bad guys for beer money and shiny shiny loot. There was little danger of any of that on Vega. Vega is a desert world, one of the wind swept hell worlds of the Prince Of Iron's Meiji Shogunate. Settled by Islamist Fundamentalists, they got nuked back to the stone age by one of the early Emperors for an assassination attempt, and only rebuilt partially when the nuking clean up revealed some nasty heavy metals useful in biopic production were discovered, and crystal farming proved to be the one thing that Vega's high radiation atmosphere and almost total lack of surface water was good for.

Vega had been a bright spot for the Shogunate during the war against the Illyrian's, but had fallen into disfavor when the garrison sided with the Prince of Flowers in the late civil war, and the once proud 11th and 14th Legions of Vega were disbanded. The scum soldiers of the Legions of Vega had been an open joke, a dumping ground for criminals, stim addicts, discipline cases, burnouts, and political dissidents, yet when the Illyrians attacked the border, and world after world fell, the father of the current Emperor, the famous/infamous Teddy K, lead the 11th in their doomed stand, and the 14th in their epic war to take back not just Vega, but to drive into the Illyrian border worlds and gut the supply chain for the whole invasion. Since the civil war, they had been without anything but local corporate troops and Internal Security Force security troops. With the increase in pirate and Storm linked activity the governor of Vega, the vastly and cheerfully corrupt "Uncle Chandy" had been authorized to raise a defense force if he could equip it out of his own (cheerfully lined) pockets.

Thus, some of the elite of Mecha Galaxy were gathered on a world that made Arakis look like a vacation spa, that made Pirate Moon look law abiding, and made camels sick of sand. Uncle Chandy was a fat, happily decadent and corrupt man whose vast appetites were only exceeded by his intellect and a strange, almost inexplicable desire, to serve the Shogunate's best interests, whether they knew or approved or not. He was so openly shifty he had three boxes on his desk labeled clearly "Bribes" "Blackmail" "Payoffs", they were all full. One thing Uncle Chandy had oddly never once been accused of, is breaking a deal. Win or lose on a deal, he paid in good coin. Thus it was a few of us were gathered on Vega trying to offload some low level gear, crap crystal mecha, weapons you could possibly bother a rat with if he hadn't been eating well lately, and some decent gear we just couldn't afford to level up.

Uncle Chandy was a generous host, and plied us with all sorts of comforts when we were not negotiating, but when we were, he took a duelists delight in a close match and permitted no distractions, so negotiations were not swift. The first reports of storm disruption of the gates were drifting in to us through our own private networks. If we hadn't been busy trying to out outmaneuver each other, and treating each other as enemies, we might have compared notes and been able to get our asses out of there before it went sideways. We didn't. We each had a report of disruption of some of he gates, we each had reports of raiders hitting some adjacent worlds. If we would have compared notes, we could have summoned our own clans to deal with it before we got cut off. Uncle Chandy, well, he had all of it, and played us like the master gamesman he was.

I was sitting in the waiting room, a scantily clad hostess was plying me with some sort of candied fig while I waited to finalize the sale on a half dozen Cindron when Lewis Reed my Logistics Officer burst in.

"Boss, we got trouble. The gate network is down hard. Something has scrambled all the access routines and we have zero contact with base. From the bit that I got, all the teams are reporting the same. They can't get offworld, and we have over thirty percent of our personnel in all Clans isolated or trapped away from support. We also have word of Deneb and Misery falling. Unknown raiders, not pirates, way too big. Not a raid, they took Deneb's main city and shut down the spaceport and the gate complex both"

I just about choked on my fig. Deneb is a sector capital and well defended. Misery is another hell world, but its an ice ball. To be brutally honest, the only export of Misery is misery....and ice. The water to keep Vega alive came on the ice ships from Misery weekly. With the gates down, the fall of Misery meant we were trapped on Vega with no water, in the sure and certain knowledge that the world that should be enforcing order in this section of space just got conquered by "forces unknown". This was not good.

I swore under my breath. I had to see Uncle Chandy right away and see about trading our Cindron's for one of his ships to get offworld while we still could. I wished for the first time that I had brought the clan in a Warship not taken commercial transport through the gate system. I approached Uncle Chandy's door to see about interrupting his current meeting when I heard voices inside.

"Not on your life, no frigging way. Only a lunatic would agree to that, I don't care what you are paying! That is suicide!" I stopped, my hand about two inches from the call plate on the door. I swear I recognized that voice. The door opened and a hard bitten pilot with a angry scowl just about barreled into me.

It was Able Hunter. He took the cigar out of his mouth where it was being chewed more than smoked in his current rage and jabbed it in my direction. He turned back and shouted one more time at Uncle Chandy before pushing past me and leaving.

"Try that idiot. He is just stupid enough to volunteer to commit suicide for this sand covered crap-hole!"

Uncle Chandy was full of smiles and took my arm and lead me to a nice massage chair in front of his massive desk. Easing himself into his own larger version, two of his many semi-dressed assistants settled glasses of melon soda over ice in front of us. He kept up a constant and happy babble of nonesense and routine Japanese politeness to prevent me from getting to business until he could raise his glass to offer a toast.

"To the glory of the Emperor, the safety of his children, and our own mutual benefit. A drink, and some of the last ice of Misery unless someone of experience and standing undertakes the defense of this world. Sadly, there is no way off this world save the Kigamure, which is reserved to trasport the troops of the Legion of Vega for the defense of this world. Sadly, that is by order of the Prince of Iron, and your humble servant could never oppose the will of the Son of Heaven or his war prince." Uncle Chandy's smile was a mix of the beneficence of Buddha, and cold hunger of the great white shark.

I took a sip of my drink, and considered his words.

"If we don't get off this world, you will run out of water faster" I attempted

He spread his hands, and replied "A hundred or two foreigners more or less won't make a difference when two million of my problem children run out of water, yet with a strong military expedition to restore our water supply and to guarantee our defense until such time as the gates stabilizer, would not your people and my own both profit?"

I looked into his smiling face and sighed. I nodded. "Fine, I will lead your defense. What can you offer me?"

Uncle Chandy smiled and pushed across a box. I opened it and found a memory crystal, code locked to an individuals DNA and brainwave patterns, and the insignia of a Tai-Sa, along with eight matching Legion of Vega pins. Uncle Chandy was beaming and his voice boomed happily.

"I offer you command of the glorious Legion of Vega, and all its resources for the defense and strategic security of this world and its trade. This includes the Kigamure warship as well as all the mecha and support resources you can raise as volunteers. Yours will be the war against Chaos for the glory of Vega, and the enrichment of your troops. I guarentee that each will receive a mecha commensurate to their own glorious contribution, paid for from my own, considerable pockets" Uncle Chandy's voice dripped happy avarice at the end that made my mercenary soul perk up a bit. The fact was, generosity aside, eight mecha is a crappy basis for defense of a world.

I countered "I want command of the ISF batallion. Sure they are green troops, and used to only dealing with civil disobedience and labour disputes, but a batallion is a batallion. I want command of them as well. They can be meat shields if nothing else" I demanded.

Uncle Chandy's face expressed sorrow like a baby basset hound, and he let his implant depolarize his huge office window. Outside the demonstration of Sal-Eh-Dim was in full force. Marches and even mecha carrying or draped with banners "Boycott Chaos" pressed against the line of ISF troopers and mecha out front of the Vegan capital building.

"It is regrettable that I must retain the ISF batallion to keep order here at home, thanks to the peace activists demand we boycott the Chaos war, even if that means failing to restore the Ice supply from Misery, and everyone on this beautiful world dying" Uncle Chandy showed absolute innocence and an odd belief that this waterless pustule of corruption was indeed a paradise worthy of the blood of a legion, but he wasn't wrong. If we let things stand, this world died. He was going to see us paid, and paid well. In the end, if you are a mercenary mecha jock, you chose this profession because you wanted to kick ass, take names, and yes by the gods, be a hero every once in a while.

I pinned on the insignia, slotted the memory crystal into the reader on my belt and felt it synch with my implants. I activated the Legion command circuit and the call for volunteers went out. By the time I got Lewis from the front office and had him book transport for our mecha to the Legion barracks, so long empty and probably looted dry, I was deeply depressed. No eight random mecha platoons can defend a world. I opened the bay doors and walked in. There was chaos underway as swearing pilots and technicians in a mismatch of coverals and even bad Hawaiian shirts struggled to slot a bewildering array of mecha into empty cradles and other deeply suspicious pilots started undogging the unmarked crates Uncle Chandy sent over that seemed to be brimming with Meiji Shogunate munition marks that I strongly suspect the Shogunate does not know are no longer on its shelves.

I pinged the officers from my implant, wondering who I had, and hoping I wasn't looking at a half dozen third level pilots with nothing heavier than a Warhorse when my implant accepted the response from the Legions officers. I gave a low whistle.

Ben Rail, Terry Cole, Lewis Reed, Stroker Spot, Mike Ehmann, Able Hunter, Myeponym, and me. Son of sand rat, maybe we could defend this world. If I had to take eight platoons and bet the life of a planet that I could take Misery, at least long enough to get the ice ships flowing back to Vega, this would be it.

The rat banner of the Legion of Vega flies again. A dumping ground for the disgraced, despised, and the disposable, they had turned the tide of war before, so perhaps we could do so again. We are the Legion of Vega. We are coming for you.

John T Mainer 28840

[raendown]

I think tumblr blocked the original post from being searched but this is just a little thingy for Valen-tied Day. 

Pairing: IzunaKagami Word count: 2654 Rated: M Summary: Kagami follows his dreams to try something new. Izuna sets everything back to where it should be. They both come away completely satisfied.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

(In)Subordinate

“I really hope you’re sure about this.” Kagami was perfectly aware of the strange dichotomy between his words and his actions, thank you very much. But really it was no less than normal to be worried about one’s first time for anything.

His first foray in to bondage, of all things, was definitely something he was allowed to be nervous about. Especially considering it was also his first attempt at dominating another person in any way.

Not that he was scared or anything. It wasn’t his ankles currently being strapped in to sturdy cuffs with chakra suppressant seals painstakingly carved in to the leather. That honor went to his partner of four months, the only man alive who had the ability to make him simultaneously melt in to a puddle and run for the hills. Fumbling his way through asking Izuna on that first date was both the best and worst decision of his entire life. He had yet to actually regret it.

“Get out of your head,” Izuna tried for a soothing tone, marred only slightly by breathy arousal. “You’re the one that keeps having wet dreams about this, you’re not allowed to have second thoughts.”

“I just want to make sure this is okay! They’re not too tight, are they?”

With a pensive expression Izuna wriggled. “No. They’re perfect.”

Kagami straightened and stepped around in front of the other man to admire his work. He had to admit that reality turned out to be even better than his recurring dreams, quite a feat considering how hard he always woke up afterwards. Izuna looked like a delicious meal like this, kneeling on the floor with his back arched, arms tucked in behind himself, both wrists bounds and secured to the cuffs circling his ankles as well. The restraints left him completely at Kagami’s mercy.

To be trusted so completely by a man so famous for his inability to trust anyone was…there were no words for how deeply it had touched him when Izuna was the one to suggest they try out the scene that kept waking him up at night. Even now as he tested the chakra seals and realized that he wasn’t able to so much as sense his own presence he still remained perfectly calm, looking back up at Kagami with nothing but love and the banked arousal from slowly peeling each other out of their clothes, trading kisses and gentle touches as they went.

“May I service the master please?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. Kagami swallowed thickly. Role play wasn’t something he had much experience with either but he did understand the general concept and damn if the very thought of being Izuna’s master wasn’t already sending spikes of lust to his core.

“I suppose you’ve earned a treat,” he heard himself say. In that tone it was hard to recognize his own voice. His cock was already hard and jutting out proudly as he stepped forward and took a fistful of Izuna’s hair to pull his face forward. “Suck,” he commanded. “If you do well I might let you come too.”

His partner wasted no time shifting back as far as the grip on his head would allow and lipping at the cock almost literally shoved in his face. It was a bit of an awkward struggle chasing it down and fitting his mouth around it without hands but finally he had the head in his mouth, suckling gently and making a show of rolling his eyes back with pleasure.

Kagami fought back a groan. If he was the master in this situation then he needed to stay in control and remain strong in the face of the glorious pleasure bursting through him every time Izuna bent forward to take as much cock in his mouth as he could. His tongue came in to play a moment later, sliding along the underside of the shaft with each bob, and it was clear by the look in his eyes that the restraints had already begun to frustrate him. His blowjobs were usually accompanied by wandering hands that always knew just how and where to touch to drive his partner out of his mind. To be denied his usual tricks and forced to rely only on that clever mouth of his had him furrowing his brows in determination.

Should it be this sexy knowing someone wanted to put so much effort in to pleasuring you? Because Kagami definitely found it very sexy.

It was a bit of a fight not to rock his hips forward – until he wondered why he was bothering to restrain himself. This entire scene was supposed to be about him dominating his usually dominant partner, after all, and he was smart enough to spot any possible signs that Izuna wasn’t enjoying something he was doing. A smirk quirked his already breathless lips as he petted the silky hair unbound and spilling over the older man’s shoulders. He waited until Izuna lifted his eyes just enough to peek up at him curiously before taking a handful in a tight grip and guiding him deeper, hips pressing forward just far enough that he knew he wouldn’t cause any surprise choking.

Getting nothing but a soft moan in response almost ended things right then and there. When his fingers released Izuna all but dove forward to ride the thrust of his hips. Sage, what good deed had he done in a previous life to deserve this? On visuals alone this whole venture was even better than he’d thought it would be. His dreams had always been vague, sort of hazy around the edges and unclear on some parts, and Kagami realized a little too late that he had activated his Sharingan to capture every detail of the delicious portrait before him.

Wrist bindings just barely visible from this angle, arms held straight and back, long neck exposed with the way his chin was lifted and his eyelids fluttering as he swallowed around the cock in his mouth like a tasty treat. Each time he managed to lift his eyes his gaze was an intoxicating mixture of heat and barely contained submission. Izuna would never make a very good submissive, they both knew that very well. That he had agreed to this at all was surprising but that didn’t change the fact that he looked amazing in the role he had deigned to fill for at least one evening. Yet as amazing as he looked Kagami was startled to realize how enticed he was by the idea of filling that role himself. Those dreams that woke him night after night with their blurry details made clear only by the lewd sounds that always chased him in to waking again, could he have interpreted them wrongly?

His thoughts scattered like ephemeral fragments when Izuna moaned around him in that dirty way of his that always shut down Kagami’s brain. Was he excited by the idea of being the one on his knees, restrained and used for the other’s pleasure? Absolutely he was. Did he have the ability to concentrate on that possibility at the moment? He very much did not. The rest of the world was very rapidly falling away until all that existed was the perfect heat surrounding him and the eager body all tied up in such a pretty package at his feet.  

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, tracing the bulge of Izuna’s cheeks and trying to sound much more confident than he actually felt. “I’m so close, pet. So close. Think you can make me come without your hands?”

Izuna didn’t even bother to pull away to make room for speech, his answer clear in the doubled enthusiasm and the moan of arousal.

“So good for your master,” Kagami murmured absently. His own tongue yearned for the weight of Izuna in his mouth, for the triumph of bitter seed spilling down his throat. Thinking about it sent shivers down his spine and he had to fight to keep his eyes open and focused on the man kneeling at his feet.

Embarrassingly, he was pretty sure Izuna could tell what thoughts were running through his mind. The dark eyes watching him were half-lidded and wicked as he continued his work and the more Kagami’s façade of control crumbled the harder Izuna worked to tear him down even faster, tongue working in ways that should be impossible but felt much too good to question. The heat and the slick glide of his mouth, the eyes that now refused to look away, the way his body seemed to project absolute submission at the same time that he seemed to realize he was still somehow the one in control, it was all too much.

Kagami came with one hand in his partner’s hair and the other on the man’s shoulder, bearing his own weight as he bowed under the intensity of the pleasure. Short noises muffled by the clench of his teeth made a mirror of the way his hips stuttered and jerked. Under the guise of being a proper submissive Izuna worked him through his orgasm until he was forced to pull the other away with both hands just to prevent himself from collapsing entirely or anything else that would have been equally as embarrassing.

“Fuck,” he whined as the head of his cock slipped out from between Izuna’s lips, the cool evening air sending shudders down his back. “That was…wow. Okay. Yeah. Definitely your turn.”

“Have I pleased the master?” Izuna purred. His voice carried a very distinct note of teasing.

“Gods yes,” was all Kagami could say.

On shaking knees he fumbled his way around to sink to the ground at Izuna’s back. Trembling hands traced the arms he had bound, following them up to thin shoulders and around to the chest panting in anticipation. His thumbs paused to trace circles around sensitive nipples and he stopped only when Izuna’s head snapped to the side to pin him in place as surely as if he were the one bound and helpless.

“Touch me,” his partner demanded.

Kagami could do nothing but comply. Knowing the other could order him around even when he was the one tied up had his spent cock twitching with interest already, an idea to be explored later. One hand remained where it was to pinch and tease while the other descended quickly to wrap his fingers around the neglected length waiting so patiently for his touch. Izuna let out a pleased sigh and let his head drop back to rest on Kagami’s shoulder, hips rolling in to the pressure of a firm grip, just the way he liked it.

“Yeah, like that,” he murmured. “Faster.”

At his back, Kagami buried his face in the other’s neck and whined. His hand followed the order without thought.

“Perfect, that feels perfect,” Izuna praised him. As they always did, the words went straight through him until he had to concentrate a little harder to keep his hand steady. Burying his face a little farther still didn’t do much to stop him from gasping with want at the sound of another quiet moan.

“I-is it good?” he asked, desperate to hear more of that silky voice.

“So good. Just a little tighter – that’s it, yes. Don’t stop, pet.” If he hadn’t already suspected then that emphasis would have been enough to tell him Izuna knew exactly what had been going on in his head and yet Kagami couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed anymore. He shuffled closer to fit his body against Izuna’s and sank his teeth in to pale flesh as he listened for every word, every sigh his partner granted him.

He didn’t have to listen very hard.

Praise and encouragement dripped from Izuna’s lips like fine wine, telling him how well he was doing and how good his touch felt, how he had behaved so perfectly. It didn’t take very much to have him rutting uselessly against the body in front of him as well as he could despite knowing it wouldn’t accomplish much, not when he could hardly maneuver around the bound limbs and it was still too soon for his cock to fully harden again.

It was almost a pity that Izuna was even more worked up than him and unable to draw it out any longer. When his partner crashed over the edge still spilling honeyed words Kagami found himself both relieved and disappointed, wishing he had to time to chase that same high again for himself. A little greedy, perhaps, but no one had ever accused him of being a saint no matter how innocent he was capable of acting. He certainly felt anything but innocent as he continued to stroke Izuna through the pleasure and shivered at the feeling of hot seed spilling over his fingers.

“Don’t stop,” his partner gasped. Izuna loved riding that edge of too much, too bright, and Kagami loved nothing more than giving the man what he asked for.

Only when the high started bleeding in to discomfort did Izuna shakily command him to stop. He did not tell him to let go, however. Kagami kept his face buried in the pale shoulder to muffle his helpless noises and did his best to convince his hips to go still, behaving without even needing to be told to do so. The hand still wrapped around a softening cock twitched with the desire to go on.

“Was it a dream come true just like you hoped it would be?” Izuna asked him in a tone that was both gently mocking and genuinely curious.

“Uh-huh.”

“You enjoyed yourself?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you want to untie me so I can tie you to the bed and spread you open?”

Kagami tried to respond, he honestly did, but it was lost in broken stuttering while his fingers scrabbled to unlock the cuffs holding Izuna’s wrists to his ankles. That probably made his answer fairly clear anyway though so he didn’t worry about it too much. It took only a few seconds to have everything undone and he waited with baited breath as his partner rubbed at his limbs to get the feeling back in to them after being restrained for so long. When dark eyes turned to look at him he felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew that look. That was definitely the same look that had led them to quite a few discoveries in the bedroom over the past four months.

Within a minute he found himself hauled over to the bed and pushed down on his back, wrists pulled above his head and cuffed to the headboard with the same restraints he had just untied. That was all his body needed to kick back in to high gear again. Izuna leered at the hardening cock he had been sucking on a few minutes before as he crawled up the mattress to settle in between Kagami’s thighs, smug satisfaction clear in every line of his gorgeous body.

“Now,” he murmured. “Who’s a good boy?”

“I am,” Kagami breathed without a single thought for disputing it.

“Ah, how the tables have turned. How about I show you what a real fantasy looks like?”

Closing his eyes with a frantic nod, Kagami made a mental note to interpret his dreams a little better in the future. Having Izuna at his mercy had been fun for sure but there was no denying his true nature in the bedroom, the role he was all too eager to fill.

“Yes master,” he whispered. “Yes please.”

Some people were just born to serve. And if he was one of them, well, Kagami had always tried to do his best at the tasks expected of him. If Izuna wanted to help him chase his dreams then he was ready and willing to follow where his partner wanted to lead.