#verse: the three date opportunity

[no-gorms]

Hullo, it is finished! 💖

The Three-Date Opportunity (18,000+ words) by scaramouche Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Additional Tags: Getting Together, Flirting, Dating, Unrequited to Requited, Tony Has a Crush and Does Something About It, Mild Angst, Happy Ending, Tony POV, Avengers Tower

Summary: Tony gets three dates to win over a skeptical Steve. Three, no more and no less.

[moondirti]

anal on the beach w/ gaz. a spiritual continuation of that one cbf! dry humping blurb i wrote but can be read separately

kinda dubcon. anal (obviously). manipulation. semi-public sex (no one catches you). gn! reader

he texts you that he’s got an extra ticket to fiji. the message is brief, spontaneous like he tends to be. pack your bags. eta 1420. you planned on rotting home all weekend, already in your pyjamas and hair care, looking every bit a wreck as you feel. it isn’t exactly the opportune time for him to come by; though you know mentioning it won’t do anything to change the fact that he will.

frankly, the whole thing reeks of that kyle-specific class of manoeuvring you’ve come to know in recent. catching you off guard with something you can’t say no to, and using it to push you past what you’re comfortable with. you’re tempted to refuse. it’s too short a notice. pick someone else. but a week long beach trip sounds nice, actually. work has been killing you. your personal life’s a mess. every date you’ve managed to snag in the past month has ghosted you. and to top it all off, you miss your best friend – his odd quirks and all.

so your body’s way of protesting is to slip off the couch, refocusing on the effort it takes to haul your luggage out of storage rather than your several woes. by the time kyle comes by, you’re in a sweatsuit and sneakers, bag stuffed with all the swimsuits you’ve owned since high school; you doubt you’ll have time to wash one between swims.

and it’s nice. you sit next to one another on the plane, syncing your movies by counting down to three. yours is always a few seconds behind, but he waits for your reactions before delving into a spiel about how realistic it is to drive a knife into someone’s throat with just your teeth, à la dev patel. you listen, swinging off every word he says into your own conversations, and it goes that way until the old lady two rows back shushes you. you, specifically, seeing as kyle charmed her into deference when he helped her lift her bags in the overhead compartments. always so considerate.

still, you’re concerned about falling asleep next to him, lest you wake to find a hand kneading your inner thigh.

nothing weird happens, though. you touch down in fiji and check into a lagoon resort (we managed to find you that king room, mr. garrick – the receptionist adds with a smile, eclipsing the weary way you regard sharing one bed. but you’ve had your fair share of cramped family vacations, and are well-versed in the subtle art of pillow walls to keep his side and yours separate.) that first night, he gives you an hour to dress up for dinner reservations while he fetches snacks for the room. make it pretty, yeah? we’re meeting a few distant cousins f’mine. i told them we’re dating to keep the work questions off my back.

nothing weird happens. until—

you take a boat out to Fulaga after citing it as one of the least populous islands. with wisps of white sand, like baker’s flour beneath your feet, and limestone islets across electric blue waters, it’s hard to see why.

no matter to either of you. you lay your towel on flat patch of sand, smothering yourself in sunscreen to play a game of chicken and waves. a vain endeavour, of course. he’s always willing swim out further than you, diving under quivering waters to arch amongst sea turtles and ulavi.

eventually, you grow bored of watching him from the shore, ambling back to your set-up to make use of the oils you bought for an exorbitant price. they lacquer over your skin, the places you can reach, to reflect the light overhead. you recall a quote you read in uni as you slather – something about people broiling themselves as though they were nothing but cuts of meat – and falter for just a moment. it had seemed crude at the time, particularly in the context in which it read, but as you prep yourself for the sun, you can’t help but feel exposed. vulnerable. like predatory eyes are tuned in all around you, peeking from the foliage, the waves, and honed on your slippery flesh.

you tell yourself you’re being silly, and spread yourself back on your towel. the heat licks away at your worries, making good work of laving the salty stress off your neck. you measure time in how long it takes for the sand to flake off your feet, drying as the rest of you does.

when the soft stretch of your stomach starts to burn, you turn yourself over and bury your cheek into the fibres cradling you. sun-drunk, chafed, bruised a little from the choppy waters, you welcome sleep when it inches on your conscious.

“and what are you doing exactly?” kyle huffs, encroaching on your sanctuary. you can’t see him, though you can almost hear the water vaporising off his dark skin. sizzling. the heat sinks into your side once he flops down onto his own towel.

“sunbathing.” you mumble, reluctant to give more than a words response lest it shakes you out of languor.

“the water’s great. you’re missing out.”

“mm. later.”

“and what am i supposed to do?” he all but whines, tugging at the complicated strings that tie your bottoms up on your hips. it doesn’t feel as suggestive as it might be. all you can manage, in the wake of your scoured unease, is annoyance.

“read. dig. sleep.”

he doesn’t take to your advice, shuffling until his knee presses into your arm. “you missed a spot on your back.”

“get it, then.”

“where’s the lube?”

your head snaps up, eyes narrowed both to adjust to the brightness and in admonishment. “oil.”

“same difference.” his grin is wicked, white and impossible to upbraid. rolling your eyes, you settle back down, face turned the other way around to keep an eye on him.

“in my bag.”

he shuffles through your stuff until he comes up with the hot pink bottle, making no stop for confirmation before he squirts the contents over his hands. they feel every bit as big as they look when they press into your back, right below your nape. rough, barnacled with callouses, but softened a bit by the ointment so it doesn’t hurt when his thumbs run circles around your shoulder blades. you sound an appreciative moan.

“say, if you’re short on something to do, y’can always massage me.”

“yeah, yeah. doubt you’ll return the favour.”

“i would... later.”

he laughs. “whatever. isn’t what i want, anyway.”

“and what do you want?” you ask. not because you’re curious – but so long as entertaining him keeps his efforts on your sore muscles, you’ll keep at it.

“oh, y’know.” kyle hums. ambiguous. you don’t know, not really. not until one caress strays lower than it should, conforming to the rounded shape of your ass. your cheeks clench with the sudden touch. he takes it as confirmation that you must want the same thing, too. “these bottoms aren’t leaving much to the imagination, mate.”

“th-they’re old.”

“this pert thing is practically eating them. can’t see fabric anymore.” he squeezes the fat there, shaking it in a vice grip that doesn’t so much as allow you to sit up, to knock his assault off. “want me to look for it?”

“kyle–”

“kyle.” he mocks, snickering. your hesitation does nothing to dissuade him. instead, he rocks up to straddle your legs, hands moving away from your back to settle below the curve of your ass. you don’t know what’s hotter – the damp, sun-bleached sand cushioning you, or the way he spreads either cheek apart, groaning when your swim-suit slips to expose the tight rim under it. “fuck. you been hiding this from me?”

“i- i don’t… please don’t be w-weird about this.”

“dunno what you mean by that.” he says, then promptly proceeds to be weird about it as his knuckle grazes your hole. you’re stiff, printing an indelible mark on beach. “never had it touched before?”

“no. i’m not a freak.”

“ouch, darl.” but he’s already spurting a hefty amount of oil onto you, working it in with a thick thumb. effectively makes good on his stupid name for it; lubes you up, nice and slick, so the only pain that arises at his intrusion is the virgin stretch. “promise it feels good.”

and you hate to admit it, but it does. once you get over the foreign sensation of his finger pistoning where you’ve never been fucked before, it stirs a tumultuous heat in your belly. part of it, you think, isn’t so much the physical sensation as it is the taboo of it all. despite the beach being virtually empty, void of any life but hermit crabs and the two debauched humans at its centre, there’s a delicious thrill that curls with the risk of being caught. not only being conventionally raunchy, but having your ass gaped by your best friend. what a sight you must make, pinned to the ground, having your sense pared off you in slow, painstaking layers.

one finger becomes two, and two soon turns to three.

the sound is so lewd, borderline disgusting when set against the natural ambience. you squelch and suck around him, lube smacking between your nates. and you lament it in slow, drawn-out breaths. embarrassed, wailing, soughing with the briny wind. kyle’s determined to get you ready for something much bigger, it seems, because four digits cram into your hole and scissor apart.

“is that re- really necessary?” you pick your sand- dusted face off the towel to huff into the thick air.

you feel him jostle atop your legs. shrugging, likely, in that deferent way he does when he realises acquiescence will better serve his purpose.

“whatever you want, mate.” there’s the sound of wet fabric scratching against itself, his trunks shucked down to rest mid-thigh. “i was getting impatient, anyway.”

if the excitement in his tone isn’t enough of a forewarning, he soon makes you regret saying anything at all when he notches his cock against you. it’s fat even at the end, the head too hefty to fit between your spread cheeks. it slips as it searches for purchase, rubbing against the excess lube he pours for aid, before pushing in. not in one fell swoop, but with five short, strong thrusts to finally anchor into your asshole.

you squeal, grasping behind you, onto his wrists for stability. you feel capsized, heeled over, thrown off kilter. shells and sparkling horizons dot the backs of your eyelids, liquid pleasure coursing through your veins. nothing about it is romantic, momentous like firsts should be. rather, you liken it to soap scum. spume. salt crusted hair. natural conclusions to things you overlook.

“s’fuckin’ tight, soft. can’t breath when you squee-eeze me like th-that. loosen up… up, mate.”

“k-kyle. fuck. ah! i c-can’t, you’re so… yersobig.”

“tried, didn’t i? b’you wanted to complain. next time i’ll make you t-take it dry… teach you how to count your, your blessings.”

and that turn of phrase – next time – is what sticks as he thrusts into you. not the implication that it’ll be painful, or that he intends to punish you for whatever it is you did wrong – but that this isn’t the last incident of its kind.

you had excused his homecoming – that first time he rushed you with a hug and came in his pants – as incidental, weeks of pent up energy. you try to excuse this – this, taking your ass on a vacation he probably booked precisely for the two of you – even while it unfolds, searching for justification in the distance between here and home.

but you’re not stupid. what becomes increasingly clear, as kyle fixes your waist in place and cants your hips higher, balls slapping your greased thighs, tightening with his looming orgasm, is that this was never meant to be a one time thing.

(won’t be, if he has any say in it.)

you resolve to think about it later. later; the coil in your stomach ripping a blinding release.

[mandoalorian]

delicate

Pairing: High honour Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Summary: When Arthur and the gang are out in Valentine, you can’t help but notice that he left his journal by his bedside, unattended. You’re aware that Arthur is never careless enough to leave something so valuable to him in camp and see you see it as an opportunity. Upon reading his journal, you discover something that changes everything…

Word count: 2,000

Author’s note: My first Arthur fic! It’s been a long time coming. This is also cross-posted on my AO3. I do not consent to my fics being posted anywhere else, or translated without permission. If you enjoyed this fic please reblog as it helps increase support!<3

Masterlist 

You saw it as an opportunity.

Arthur, John, Micah, Javier and Sadie were out in Valentine, following Dutch’s well-convoluted plan to rob the local bank. They’d been gone for three hours already and with Micah part of the team, you dreaded to think how they were getting on. Dutch and Hosea had gone to scout out a manor northwest of Lemoyne, in Scarlet Meadows. Hosea was following a lead he’d heard from a guy at Emerald Ranch – that apparently, a well-off family were residing over there. An excellent opportunity for a cash grab, Dutch was also sure. Lately, any possibility of getting money, Dutch got excited over. You didn’t understand why because the ledger appeared more filled out than ever. Perhaps it was merely nothing more than a sin of greed, although you were in no position to question it. 

Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen were doing laundry as Miss Grimshaw supervised, and Miss Molly O’Shea was napping in Dutch’s cot. She’d been sleeping a lot recently, you’d noticed. Uncle was nowhere in sight, probably sleeping or drunk or getting himself killed by Raiders. And Abigail was with Jack, nursing him back to health as influenza he’d developed after your time in Colter hadn’t yet subsided. The camp was empty. Not a soul in sight.

There was a small crate in the corner of his tent and organised neatly atop was a framed photo of his mother Beatrice, a small vase of flowers that were native to New Hanover, and a beat-up leather journal that he kept close to his bedside. Arthur was so protective of his journal, you’d often tease him for it. Sometimes, you’d admire him from afar. After a hard day, he’d often sit by the lake, slumped against a tree, jotting down his thoughts or filling the pages with doodles of his ventures. 

And this time it was calling out to you.

You wondered why he hadn’t taken it with him. Had he really just ‘left’ it at camp? Forgot to put it in his satchel before he left this morning? You were hyper-aware that you’d more than likely never get this chance again. The curiosity was begging to be explored and you took one final glance around camp before slowly inching towards the crate by his bedside. Arthur’s tent was really just a canopy and once you were under you felt a pang of guilt in his heart. You shouldn’t be snooping around his business like this. He had done nothing to warrant you doing that.

It wasn’t malicious. It was harmless. Just a little peek…

You sat on the edge of Arthur’s cot and picked up the journal, feeling the worn leather between your fingers. Undoing the clasp, you pulled it open midway and were greeted with an illustration of a girl. It was the back of her, so there was no way of making out her face, but as you took a closer look at the pattern on her ranch boots, you couldn’t help but recognise the embroidered swirls and shapes. They were your ranch boots, and Arthur’s illustration was a depiction of you. It was dated noon, 5th July 1899, just a few weeks ago. It appeared to be a drawing from observation, and you were pictured helping Pearson put away an assortment of canned goods. 

It took a moment for it to dawn on you. He’d drawn you.

Now you were invested. You turned to the next page to see a verse of words:

‘Sometimes I wonder when she sleeps

Is she ever dreaming of me?

Sometimes when I look into her eyes

I pretend she’s mine all the damn time’

To the left of the words was another illustration of you but this one had a lot more detail. A delicate flower was placed in your hair and this time, you could see your face. You could see the shape of your nose and the creases in the corner of your eyes when you smiled. It had never been so clear. Your gaze flicked back towards the words as you reread them over and over again. Could they have really been about you?

Surely not. Arthur had never done anything to suggest that he’d had these feelings for you. As far as you were aware, he was still hung up on Miss Mary Linton. You’d never met her before. You’d only heard tales from Hosea, how Arthur was sweet on her and she broke his heart to the point he didn’t want to leave camp for days. You couldn’t imagine Arthur that way. You supposed that since then, he had changed, and maybe since meeting you, he’d changed again.

On the outside, Arthur was rough. His skin was sun kissed and his clothes were old, his boots were muddy and he could go months without shaving. You’d heard stories of his questionable temperance but with you, he was patient and soft and gentle. You’d seen him be kind around little Jack too, and that relationship spoke volumes since John was mostly absent from his son’s life. Arthur was a good influence on Jack. Hell, you could argue he was the best influence around camp in general. Although he was often gloomy and he would, on occasion, pick fights with Micah or Bill, you saw through that. He had a good heart, wether he believed it, that didn’t matter.

A loud cough interrupted your thoughts. You froze, and it was like you could feel time moving. Arthur’s journal was still in your hands and you could feel the eyes of a cowboy bore into your back. You hoped and prayed it was anyone but Arthur. At least then you’d be able to potentially mangle yourself out of the fact you went behind your friend’s back. You wanted to put the journal down, hell, you needed to, but it was like your feet were glued to the ground and your hands were locked in place.

“What you doing snooping through my stuff, girl?” 

Oh, it was Arthur. You winced under his question and took a deep breath. You carefully placed the journal back on his bedside, just as it was before you took it. Perfect. Like it hadn’t moved an inch. Not that it mattered anymore…

“Well?”

Fuck. You cursed under your breath. Say something. Anything.

“Arthur-I’m-so-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-I-was-thinking-I-just-saw-it-there-and-you-always-got-your-head-down-in-it-and-never-show-anyone-and-I-was-just-curious-and-I-know-it-was-wrong-but-I-just-“

“Now, why you talkin’ like that? Like I’m holdin’ you up at gunpoint? Turn around and look at me.” He cut you off, his question was rhetorical and his voice stern.

You immediately obliged and spun around on your heel. Your stomach was in knots. You wish you had never looked. Never betrayed him like this. Arthur’s eyes were a piercing blue like you’d never noticed, and his lips were curled into a frown. But still, he remained stoic. It’s like he was trying to appear unbothered, but you could see right through him.

“You know now why I let nobody look in here?” Arthur muttered, leaning over you and snatching the journal from his bedside.

You nodded apologetically and watched as he stuffed the journal into his satchel.

“I’ll be on my way now.” Arthur tipped his hat to you before turning around. He paused and when he was looking away he muttered, “’Am sorry if… you thought it was weird, miss…” 

Your mouth felt dry as you watched him walk away.

Weird? He was worried that you thought it was weird.

You chased after him and caught up pretty quickly, placing the palm of your hand flat against the broadness of his back. “Arthur, what you wrote in there was the sweetest thing… not weird at all, I promise.”

Arthur stopped and looked down at you, still frowning. 

“I just had no idea you felt that way,” You continued, shaking your head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I overstepped your boundaries and we can just forget about it if that’s what you want…”

To clarify, forgetting about it was the last thing you wanted to do, but alas, this wasn’t about you anymore. You would do anything for Arthur’s forgiveness and if that meant pretending like today never happened, then so be it.

“Forget?” Arthur whispered. “You really expect me to forget about this?”

You pursed your lips together, holding back a sigh. “I don’t think you should. I know I’d struggle to forget what I saw in there… but also, I don’t want to forget. I… I’ve been sweet on you since the moment I met you, Arthur. Tilly and Mary-Beth would always tease me for it. Abigail knew too, but she said you’d never be interested in pursuing someone in camp. Hosea made it seem like you were still hung up on Miss Linton, and so I never said anything. Oh Arthur, you’ve always been so kind to me. So gentle and soft, you’re different to the others…” You placed a hand on his bicep and Arthur practically softened into your touch.

“I’m a bad man,” Arthur shook his head gruffly. “I’ve done bad things.”

“Haven’t we all?” you snapped back, exasperated. “I may just do the chores around camp but you forget my history, Mr Morgan. All of us are Van Der Linde’s and we are not good people. Hell, I struggle to even tell the difference between good and bad anymore. But when I’m with you, I feel good. Really good. I feel safe and protected and God, Arthur. When I saw you felt the same way… that you think about me in the same way…”

Arthur cut you off with a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and contrasted with the roughness of his stubble and quick-growing moustache. You let out a small gasp when his lips crashed atop yours but quickly melted into it, bringing your hands up to his head and running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. His tongue tasted like fresh mint and other herbs you couldn’t quite recognise, and you had never been closer to his musky familiar scent. Arthur’s big arms wrapped around your body and he held you tight against him. When he finally pulled away, he nudged his nose against yours and lingered for a moment, staring into your eyes.

“Forgive me for saying miss, but if it wasn’t already clear, I think I’m in love with you.”

The revelation made you giddy, your heart racing in your chest with the thrill of it all. You couldn’t believe it. Abigail…. Hosea…. They were all wrong. Arthur actually felt the same as you.

“I’m in love with you too,” you squeaked, tears filling your eyes as Arthur enveloped you in a hug.

When you finally pulled away from him, it was only to ask him another important question.

“Do you forgive me for what I did, Arthur?” you asked him sadly. Arthur could see the guilt; it was written all over your face.

“If you didn’t do that, none of this would have ever happened,” Arthur smiled, pressing his index finger to your chin and picking your face up so you were looking at him in the eyes. He was smiling. He was okay…

“I s’pose that’s true,” you shrugged. “I’m still sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

“I believe you,” Arthur said, lacing his fingers with yours. “Now let’s go grab some of Pearson’s broth and we can take it to the lake. I think we have a lot to talk about…”

You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up. You and Arthur walked side by side to the campfire and the entire way you felt yourself bubbling with anticipation over what was to come next.

[makethatelevenrings]

It’s White and Gold // D. Grayson x f!reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: You would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend for the very first time and you needed something formal to wear. Well, fuck.

Part of assassin!verse but can be read alone

“Well, I think the only reasonable solution here is that I go ask Ivy if she can concoct something that will keep me housebound for a week and we have to cancel the date,” you announced from the other side of the curtain. Stephanie booed as Cassandra tossed a shoe at your feet. You emerged from the thick rayon fabric and sent a half-hearted glare at the three women seated in front of you. You spun in a slow circle, your arms extended at your side to show off the dress Cass had picked out. Barbara glanced up from her phone and scrunched her nose up.

“Nah. Too much sequins. That would be so uncomfortable to eat in,” she declared. You dropped your arms to your sides and grimaced. She was right. The little plastic circles dug into your skin and it would be a bitch and a half to move around in.

“Fuck it. I’m staying home,” you declared.

“Who taught her that word?” Damian sighed as he emerged from the racks. “Right. Todd. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. May I just say, those sequins are awful.”

“Thank you, tiny Tan France,” Stephanie said. “We get it. It’s a bad dress.”

“Sorry, Steph.” You knew she wasn’t taking the criticism to heart even if she had picked the dress. It was just the first time you would be going on a real date with Dick to some high-end Bludhaven restaurant as both a PR opportunity and as a mission. Rumor had it that a certain politician would be present with one of the largest cartel leaders and Dick needed a chance to bug their dinner and gather intel. 

Which meant that you would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend.

Dick Grayson, the son of the Prince of Gotham. The Heartthrob of Bludhaven.

The man who fell asleep into his oatmeal this morning.

“Is it too late for me to fake my death, change my name, and fall off the face of the earth?”

“Been there, done that,” Damian hummed. “Father can’t possibly do even more of that paperwork. It nearly took him out the first time.”

Cass nodded. “No, no. This could work. He ate the last oreos. Go ahead. Fake your death.”

“No one is faking anyone’s death,” Barbara cut in. “Let’s just try a different store.”

You groaned. “This is the fourth store we’ve tried and we have three hours until reservations. I might as well just go in sweats and call it a night.”

Stepping back into the dressing room, you ignored the bickering outside from your entourage and instead focused on stripping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t have any formal wear. You were never assigned jobs where you needed to get dressed up. Your role was always to hide in the shadows, not to be seen. This was the exact opposite of what your training required and it was starting to grate on your nerves. How could you do this?

As if he could sense your frustration, your phone rang from the pile of your belongings tucked on the bench in the dressing room. You picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, a small smile crossing your lips as you swiped your thumb across the screen and answered.

“Hi, Buttercup,” Dick greeted. Warmth suffused through your veins at his soft greeting and you ducked your head as heat rose to your face. Fucking hell, you had at least seventeen confirmed kills under your belt and Richard Grayson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Hey,” you replied. “Are you cool with me wearing a bathrobe and slippers to dinner tonight?”

He laughed and you wished desperately that he was here in this tiny dressing room with you. You wanted to feel his hands enclose around your waist, stroke along your skin, and kiss your temple. You wanted to feel the safety he offered. You had four Batlings sitting on the other side of the flimsy curtain and you had years of training, but you never felt as safe as you did when Dick was near.

“Babe, you could wear one of my old shirts and those cute little shorts you wear and I wouldn’t care. I take it shopping isn’t going well?”

“I didn’t realize Damian religiously watches Queer Eye and Drag Race because you would think I’ve committed the most egregious fashion sins with the options I picked.”

He laughed again and then sighed. “I figured it wasn’t going well since you weren’t home yet. Stop stressing yourself out, baby, I can hear you thinking over the phone. Anything you wear is going to look amazing, okay? Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”

“But the media…”

“Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck them all. Your comfort is more important than a stupid magazine cover.”

You gave up fighting the grin that spread across your face and shook your head. Holding the phone with one hand, you tugged your pants on with the other. “Okay. We’ll try one more store and if I can’t find anything, I’ll come home and figure it out.”

“Good. I miss you, Buttercup.”

“Miss you too, Westley.”

You hung up so you could pull your shirt over your head (it was actually Dick’s shirt that you had stolen but he wasn’t going to argue) and gathered up your wallet and keys. You emerged from the dressing room to join the others and your little gaggle of Batlings led you to another shop at the mall.

“Wait,” you called once your eyes caught on a mannequin in the window of some store. Steph nearly collided with you when you stopped in the middle of walking. The blonde examined the outfit and a crooked grin spread across her face.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she cooed. “Let’s go try it on.”

Dick kept himself entertained as he waited for you by playing fetch with Haley. Cass and Steph had practically shoved you into the apartment with a bag clutched in your hand, waved at Dick, and disappeared as you darted towards the bedroom before he could say anything. He was glad he already changed into his tux because the clock was inching closer to your reservation time.

The bedroom door creaked with its aged hinges but it was enough to catch his attention. Dick raised his head and promptly lost all ability to breathe, think, and speak. You offered him a shy smile and ran your hands over the soft fabric that clung to your body. A thick strap rested over one shoulder, leaving your neck and arms exposed, and pulled taut across your chest. You had forgone a dress, but the jumpsuit was still formal enough for the restaurant you were attending.

And it was Nightwing blue.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice quiet with apprehension. Dick sucked in a big gulp of air and he dropped the ball in his hand, sending Haley scrabbling across the wood in pursuit. He rose and crossed the room to stand before you. His hands rose to hover over your hips as his eyes raked over every inch of your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. His hands finally came down to settle on your waist and then drifted down to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you into his chest. You laughed at his desperation and eagerness.

“Is that a knife strapped to your thigh?” he murmured against your lips. You fixed the lapels of his suit and smoothed them down, a mischievous smile taking hold of your face.

“Ready to go to work, Mr. Grayson?” you teased.

“I owe Steph my life,” he groaned.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[everythingne]

hey yall :D!

i've just moved back into my dorm for classes today but i don't start any actual work for a while. im gonna be a bit slower now with work and such but I wanted to let y'all know of some upcoming fics to expect :)! please let me know if any specific ones interest you as i am in a bit of a slump and any encouragement seriously helps <3

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growing pains - dr3

(3+1) three times the girls pain makes you and daniel realize they're not always going to be your little ones. (a first period, a first breakup, and moving out) and one time, the girls come back to show all the lessons you've taught them, and that no matter their age they'll always be your little girls.

mrs mclaren - ln4

the winner of the mini series vote for my 300 follower special was lando, friends to lovers/mutual pining, angst/whatever. so born from that is y/n mclaren, the granddaughter of bruce mclaren, who may just have a huge crush on her driver and somehow literally everyone but lando knows.

wasted summers - op81

to try and solve your huge two decades old crush on your childhood best friend, you attempt to capture his love over the short summer break, with the help of F1 twitter and other racers. it goes about how you would expect.

gripped - ln4

Roxanne Powell's quick thinking on a film set saves Lando from serious injury, the moment making an unlikely connection between one of the top Formula One drivers who takes all the fame and glory for his team, and a girl whose work is hardly credited to herself. it takes seeing the other side to open your eyes.

more below (max n logan)

the one with the wedding - mv1

max grapples with the fact he's getting married on his wedding day. slightly inspired by friends and real weddings i've attended. luckily charles and daniel are there to ease his fears, and you end up having a picture perfect monaco wedding.

akin to a pride verse - 'i truly am my fathers child' - mv1

when brought to tears by ruthless bullying by reporters, reina snaps and hits a reporter out of fear, but the media claims its anger. with no other option, hana flies max to london help her daughter out of a depressive episode caused by reina realizing she's more like her father than she ever wants to be. its a conversation that makes max think back on his actions too.

drunk walk home verse - 'stalkers tango' - mv1

isaiah doesn't go away, not after max nearly shatters his nose. late night phone calls, text messages, and dms lead to a break in that terrifies you and the f1 world. luckily, you're away for the break in, but its not safe for you to return alone. don't worry though, max enlists the help of a few drivers to move all your stuff to his while you 'hunt for apartments.'

wing damage ch 2 - mv1

nadine struggles to accept the fact that she's single and alone in her now too big yet claustrophobic apartment. luckily for her, max is only a phone call away. and a few too many drinks lead to what is probably the stupidest decision for two newly single people who are hurting in their own rights.

meet cute, stay cute - ls2

logan keeps having meet-cutes with you throughout london, noticing the same thing each time, a book tucked under your arm. when you move in next door, he capitalizes on the opportunity to make this meet cute permanent by buying you romance books he's recommended by friends and twitter as a means of flirting.

out of the woods ch3 - ls2

dhanishka struggles to accept the fact that even her best performances can be deemed unfit, and the actions of herself when shes drunk. logan struggles to accept he may have cut things off early. charles needs more wine to deal with this.

go fins! - ls2

logan is only following one miami dolphins cheerleader, you. and you don't think its a big deal until he comes to visit to get an honorary helmet for the miami gp, and they have you give it to him. the clips circle for weeks, begging to know if you're dating the driver, and sometimes its more fun to make a rumor be true than to shut it down.

[richincolor]

We have a whopping FOURTEEN books on our radar for today! Check them out--you've got great odds you'll find something to add to your TBR list!

All This Twisted Glory (This Woven Kingdom #3) by Tahereh Mafi HarperCollins

As the long-lost heir to the Jinn throne, Alizeh has finally found her people—and she might’ve found her crown. Cyrus, the mercurial ruler of Tulan, has offered her his kingdom in a twisted exchange: one that would begin with their marriage and end with his murder. Cyrus’s dark reputation precedes him; all the world knows of his blood-soaked past. Killing him should be easy—and accepting his offer might be the only way to fulfill her destiny and save her people. But the more Alizeh learns of him, the more she questions whether the terrible stories about him are true. Ensnared by secrets, Cyrus has ached for Alizeh since she first appeared in his dreams many months ago. Now that he knows those visions were planted by the devil, he can hardly bear to look at her—much less endure her company. But despite their best efforts to despise each other, Alizeh and Cyrus are drawn together over and over with an all-consuming thirst that threatens to destroy them both. Meanwhile, Prince Kamran has arrived in Tulan, ready to exact revenge… Layered with exquisite tension and heart-stopping romance, All This Twisted Glory is the explosive third book in the captivating, bestselling This Woven Kingdom series.

ASAP by Axie Oh HarperTeen

Sori has worked her whole life to become a K-pop idol, until she realizes she doesn’t want a life forever in the spotlight. But that’s not actually up to Sori—she’s caught between her exacting mother’s entertainment company and her father’s presidential aspirations. And as the pressure to keep her flawless public image grows, the last person she should be thinking about is her ex-boyfriend. Nathaniel is off limits—she knows this. A member of one of the biggest K-pop bands in the world and forbidden from dating, he isn’t any more of an option now than he was two years ago. Still, she can’t forget that their whirlwind romance was the last time she remembers being really happy. Or that his family welcomed her into their home when she needed it most. . . . So when Nathaniel finds himself rocked by scandal, Sori offers him a hideaway with her. And back in close quarters, it’s hard to deny their old feelings. But when Sori gets an opportunity to break free from her parent’s expectations, she will have to decide: Is her future worth sacrificing for a second chance at love?

Bless the Blood: A Cancer Memoir by Walela Nehanda Kokila

A searing debut YA poetry and essay collection about a Black cancer patient who faces medical racism after being diagnosed with leukemia in their early twenties, for fans of Audre Lorde's The Cancer Journals and Laurie Halse Anderson's Shout . When Walela is diagnosed at twenty-three with advanced stage blood cancer, they're suddenly thrust into the unsympathetic world of tubes and pills, doctors who don’t use their correct pronouns, and hordes of "well-meaning" but patronizing people offering unsolicited advice as they navigate rocky personal relationships and share their story online. But this experience also deepens their relationship to their ancestors, providing added support from another realm. Walela's diagnosis becomes a catalyst for their self-realization. As they fill out forms in the insurance office in downtown Los Angeles or travel to therapy in wealthier neighborhoods, they begin to understand that cancer is where all forms of their oppression Disabled. Fat. Black. Queer. Nonbinary. In Bless the A Cancer Memoir, the author details a galvanizing account of their survival despite the U.S. medical system, and of the struggle to face death unafraid.

Bright Red Fruit by Safia Elhillo Make Me a World

An unflinching, honest novel in verse about a teenager's journey into the slam poetry scene and the dangerous new relationship that could threaten all her dreams. From the award-winning poet and author of HOME IS NOT A COUNTRY. Bad girl. No matter how hard Samira tries, she can’t shake her reputation. She’s never gotten the benefit of the doubt—not from her mother or the aunties who watch her like a hawk. Samira is determined to have a perfect summer filled with fun parties, exploring DC, and growing as a poet—until a scandalous rumor has her grounded and unable to leave her house. When Samira turns to a poetry forum for solace, she catches the eye of an older, charismatic poet named Horus. For the first time, Samira feels wanted. But soon she’s keeping a bigger secret than ever before—one that that could prove her reputation and jeopardize her place in her community. In this gripping coming-of-age novel from the critically acclaimed author Safia Elhillo, a young woman searches to find the balance between honoring her family, her artistry, and her authentic self.

Daniel, Deconstructed by James Ramos Inkyard Press

A nerdy high schooler learns to embrace his main-character energy in this witty and heart-healing ode to movie tropes, meet-cutes, and LGBTQ+ love. Photographer and film buff Daniel Sanchez learned a long time ago that the only way to get by in an allistic world is to mask his autism and follow the script. Which means he knows that boisterous, buff, and beautiful soccer superstars like his best friend, Mona Sinclair, shouldn’t be wasting time hanging out with introverts who prefer being behind the camera. So when Daniel meets a new classmate, Gabe Mendes, who is tall, mysterious, nonbinary, and—somehow—as cool as Mona, Daniel knows exactly how this is going to play out. Mona and Gabe will meet cute, win their nominations for Homecoming Court, and ride off into the sunset together. Daniel just needs to do a little behind-the-scenes directing. But matchmaking means stepping into the mystifying and illogical world of love, dating, and relationships, where nothing is as it seems and no one knows their lines. And when Daniel finds himself playing a starring role in this romance, he’ll question everything he thought he knew about himself and his place in the world.

The Girl, the Ring, & the Baseball Bat by Camille Gomera-Tavarez Levine Querido

Rosie: Capricorn. Does great in class. Wants nothing more than to get into the prestigious Innovation Technical Institute and kiss this awful school goodbye. Her talisman: a magical jacket from her mother’s past that gets people to do whatever she says. Caro: Leo. Rosie’s older sister. Always been closer to their estranged father – and always butted heads more with their strict mother. A trip to Dominican Republic for her father’s wedding leads her deep into family history that clears up any illusions about her parents she’s ever had. Her talisman: a baseball bat that fixes whatever it breaks. Zeke: Certified Triple Pisces. Up in cold-ass Jersey City living with his aunt after his grandmother dies and his father moves to London to take care of his mother. He crushes on EVERYone – he knows he’ll find happiness in love, and maybe a way out of this depression. His talisman: a manifestation stone that will make anyone fall in love with him. Rosie, Caro, and Zeke – and their talismans – find themselves intertwined in a magical, hilarious, and whip-smart Outsiders for the modern day, written by Camille Gomera-Tavarez, a 2022 Publishers Weekly Flying Start.

How the Boogeyman Became a Poet by Tony Keith Katherine Tegen Books

Poet, writer, and hip-hop educator Tony Keith Jr. makes his debut with a powerful YA memoir in verse, tracing his journey from being a closeted gay Black teen battling poverty, racism, and homophobia to becoming an openly gay first-generation college student who finds freedom in poetry. Perfect for fans of Elizabeth Acevedo, George M. Johnson, and Jacqueline Woodson. Tony dreams about life after high school, where his poetic voice can find freedom on the stage and page. But the Boogeyman has been following Tony since he was six years old. First, the Boogeyman was after his Blackness, but Tony has learned It knows more than Tony wants to be the first in his family to attend college, but there’s no path to follow. He also has feelings for boys, desires that don’t align with the script he thinks is set for him and his girlfriend, Blu. Despite a supportive network of family and friends, Tony doesn’t breathe a word to anyone about his feelings. As he grapples with his sexuality and moves from high school to college, he struggles with loneliness while finding solace in gay chat rooms and writing poetry. But how do you find your poetic voice when you are hiding the most important parts of yourself? And how do you escape the Boogeyman when it's lurking inside you?

I Hope This Doesn't Find You by Ann Liang Scholastic Press

Sadie Wen is perfect on paper: school captain, valedictorian, and a "pleasure to have in class." It’s not easy, but she has a trick to keep her model-student smile plastered on her face at all times: she channels all her frustrations into her email drafts. She'd never send them of course -- she'd rather die than hurt anyone's feelings -- but it's a relief to let loose on her power-hungry English teacher or a freeloading classmate taking credit for Sadie's work. All her most vehemently worded emails are directed at her infuriating cocaptain, Julius Gong, whose arrogance and competitive streak have irked Sadie since they were kids. "You're attention starved and self-obsessed and unbearably vain . . . I really hope your comb breaks and you run out of whatever expensive hair products you've been using to make your hair appear deceptively soft..." Sadie doesn't have to hold back in her emails, because nobody will ever read them... that is, until they're accidentally sent out. Overnight, Sadie’s carefully crafted, conflict-free life is turned upside down. It's her worst nightmare -- now everyone at school knows what she really thinks of them, and they're not afraid to tell her what they really think of her either. But amidst the chaos, there's one person growing to appreciate the "real" Sadie -- Julius, the only boy she's sworn to hate...

Infinity Alchemist (Infinity Alchemist #1) by Kacen Callendar Tor Teen

For Ash Woods, practicing alchemy is a crime. Only an elite few are legally permitted to study the science of magic―so when Ash is rejected by the Lancaster Mage’s College, he takes a job as the school’s groundskeeper instead, forced to learn alchemy in secret. When he’s discovered by the condescending and brilliant apprentice Ramsay Thorne, Ash is sure he's about to be arrested―but instead of calling the reds, Ramsay surprises Ash by making him an offer: Ramsay will keep Ash's secret if he helps her find the legendary Book of Source, a sacred text that gives its reader extraordinary power. As Ash and Ramsay work together and their feelings for each other grow, Ash discovers their mission is more dangerous than he imagined, pitting them against influential and powerful alchemists―Ash’s estranged father included. Ash’s journey takes him through the cities and wilds across New Anglia, forcing him to discover his own definition of true power and how far he and other alchemists will go to seize it.

No Time Like Now by Naz Kutub Bloomsbury

It's been one year since Hazeem's father passed away unexpectedly, and one year since Hazeem got his special ability: He can grant any living thing extra time. Since then, he's been randomly granting people more years to live: his old friend Holly, his study buddy Yamany, his crush Jack. . . . The only problem is, none of them wanted to spend any of that time with Hazeem. Now, Hazeem spends most of his days with his grandmother. When she experiences a heart attack, Hazeem is quick to use his power to save her--until Time themself appears and tells Hazeem he has accrued a time debt, having given away more life than he has left to live and putting the entire timeline in serious danger of collapse. In order to save the timeline and himself, Hazeem must take back some of the life he has granted other people. Suddenly, Hazeem is on a journey through and against time, but as he confronts the events of the past, he must confront the mistakes he made along the way. Hazeem will come to realize that when it comes to time, quality is more important to quantity--but is it too late to reclaim the life he's given away so he can really start living? No Time Like Now is a timely twist on A Christmas Carol that takes readers on a thought-provoking adventure, asking what matters most in life.

Out of Body by Nia Davenport Balzer + Bray

A high-stakes, propulsive YA thriller with a body-swap twist thoughtfully exploring themes of friendship and identity, perfect for fans of Tiffany D. Jackson. Seventeen-year-old Megan Allen has been jumping from friend group to friend group in her high school, trying on identities like outfits. Nothing ever seems to fit—until she meets LC, the adventurous, charismatic girl who appears at her favorite coffee shop one day like magic. Finally, Megan feels like she’s becoming the person she’s meant to be: someone like LC. On the night of their friendiversary, what was supposed to be a bonding experience ends in a waking nightmare. Suddenly, Megan is no longer herself. Too late, she realizes that LC has secrets—dangerous ones. Betrayed by her best friend, thrust into another girl’s life, and targeted by LC’s enemies, she must claim what makes Megan Megan to get her life back . . . or die trying.

Pangu's Shadow by Karen Bao Carolrhoda Lab

There are no second chances in the Pangu Star System. Ver and Aryl, apprentices at the most prestigious biology lab among the system’s moons, know this better than anyone. They’ve left behind difficult pasts and pinned their hopes for the future on Cal, their brilliant but difficult boss. But one night while working late in the lab, they find Cal sprawled on the floor, dead. Murdered. And they immediately become the prime suspects. Their motives seem obvious. Ver, who left her home moon to study the life-threatening disease wracking her body, had a hopeless attachment to Cal that could’ve become twisted by jealousy. Aryl, on the other hand, clashed with workaholic Cal because she valued more in her life besides research. To clear their names, Ver and Aryl put aside their mutual suspicion and team up to investigate Cal’s death. As they search for the real murderer, they uncover secrets that have shaped all of Pangu’s moons… and must decide what kind of future they really want.

Relit: 16 Latinx Remixes of Classic Stories edited by Sandra Proudman Inkyard Press

These sixteen stories by award-winning and bestselling YA authors center a Latinx point of view in an empowering anthology that reimagines classics through fantasy, science fiction, and with a dash of magic, for fans of A PHOENIX FIRST MUST BURN and RECLAIM THE STARS In classic stories remixed, Latinx characters take center stage Pride and Prejudice is launched into outer space, Frankenstein is plunged into the depths of the ocean, and The Great Gatsby floats to an island off the coast of Costa Rica. A shape-shifter gives up her life to save the boy she loves from an evil bruja. La Ciguapa covets a little mermaid’s heart of gold. Two star-crossed teens fall in love while the planet burns around them. Whether characters fall in love, battle foes, or grow through grief, each story will empower readers to see themselves as the heroes of the stories that make our world.

You're Breaking my Heart by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich Levine Querido

Harriet Adu knows that her brother's death is her fault. I mean, it's not actually her fault, but it still kinda is, isn't it? She would do anything to live in a world where she could take back what she said that morning. Then a strange girl shows up at Harriet's high school – a girl who loves the same weird books Harriet does, who doesn't vibe with anyone at school the same way Harriet does – and that different world suddenly seems possible. The girl speaks of a place underneath the subways of New York, where people like them can go and find a home. A place away from the world of high school, grief, cool people, and depression. A place where one may be able to bend the lines of reality and get a second chance at being a better person. Will Harriet open the door? With You're Breaking My Heart , award-winning author Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich offers a remarkable speculative novel that will hit home for anyone who yearns for that one chance to do things over.

[staticintone]

Ta da! Finally the RAM Wishlist, not including plots already in motion! Very much a self-indulgent little list, and some of them may involve more than one player or a multimuse willing to take on more than one. I am also willing to throw my Vox or Velvette into the mix as well.

Pocket Universe Ideas:

Vox:

—The directives start to falter. No regaining of memory exactly, but things start slipping through the cracks.

—Give me a circumstance where Alastor has to break his promise and redo the Ordeal. I want him to struggle with that and treat Vox very differently as a result.

—Alastor goes too far and actually hurts him. Almost a one-sided fight.

—Give me any opportunities for Alastor to break his own directives, especially about Vox’s love for him. I want to see just how much it changes the dynamic between them, if at all.

—Vox breaks down and Alastor has to help him but quickly starts ignoring him.

—Alastor breaks down and Vox has to deal with it somehow. Could be extermination related.

—Obsessed with “I thought you were dead” plots. Please give it to me one way or another. Could get super twisted considering how possessive and protective Alastor is here.

Niffty:

—Soft interactions with a whole lot of implications.

—A rare situation where Alastor actually loses his patience with her. Would have to be plotted heavily in advance.

—He stops her from doing something and she snaps at him, showing bits of the person she used to be.

—Or the above but she resorts to childlike behavior. “I hate you!”

Charlie:

—A conversation where Alastor thoroughly convinces her that the Vees are to blame for Vox.

—The reverse, where she leaves the conversation positive that Alastor is lying.

—A confrontation when she discovers the truth.

—What if he actually convinced her it was for the best? I’m not sure how that would happen, but if someone’s interested we could try to plot it out.

Husk:

—Husk finally confronts Alastor on the state of Vox and Niffty, whether out of genuine concern or righteous anger. This could end very badly, be warned.

The Vees (Valentino and/or Velvette):

—They have to meet up for one reason or another in public and play nice. Can involve Vox or Charlie or someone they don’t want to upset.

—Or, you know, they could fight.

Any Character:

—Someone ask him if he’s dating Vox. That’s funny to me and only me. Could even be Vox if combined with other ideas.

—Someone gets ahold of one of the broadcasts and broadcasts it again. Will most likely end badly.

Multiverse Ideas:

RAM’d Vox:

—I really want one of the Voxs to get clingy and start demanding that Alastor stop RAM’ing other Voxs because he doesn’t want to share Alastor any more than he already has to.

—One of the Voxs who’s meant to go back to their Alastor freaks out and demands to stay with RAM instead.

Non-RAM’d Vox:

—I really want a Vox to try and figure out what Alastor does by agreeing to see the Ordeal firsthand. Not being RAM’d but watching him do it to someone else. There are so many possibilities here.

Alastor:

—I want RAM Alastor to hand over a RAM’d Vox to his “keeper” and the Alastor actually appreciate it for a while. Until, you know, it becomes an issue later. Would involve a couple of people, and quite a bit of three way plotting. That or a multimuse or my own Vox maybe. It would probably be a long thread too.

Niffty:

—A canon Niffty figuring out the differences between her and RAM Niffty could be super interesting. Her meeting RAM Alastor could make her question her own Alastor in the process (which could be my main verse or something).

Charlie:

—Ask him why he has more than one Vox. Someone has to deal with all the extra TVs around here.

Angel:

—An Angel outside of the RAM sphere isn’t necessarily bound by NDA. Start questioning Alastor and everyone around him.

Valentino:

—War of the gaslighters, especially if Alastor can get under Valentino’s skin because Vox loved him first and he actually “won”.

Lucifer:

—What if I just RAM’d the King of Hell? How disastrous would that be?

Any RAM’d Character:

—Something goes horribly wrong during the Ordeal. I don’t know what but either your character dies or gets wrecked beyond all reason.

—Something goes wrong during the Ordeal in the opposite direction. It absolutely fails and your character deals with the consequences in a completely different way.

Any non-RAM’d character:

—Try to steal his Voxs. Obviously they’d have to agree to it too, but you know.

—Try to kill Alastor and fail. As of now, the only one who I’ll allow to kill him is Vito, but I want a fight that ends badly for everyone involved.

[adelaidedrubman]

COMFORT MY CHARACTER. (from this prompt list) + jestiny +☀️ - a nice day outside (requested by @simplegenius042) + 🧸 - a soft plushie (requested by @blissfulalchemist) + ✋ - a hand carding gently through their hair (requested by both!)

notes: hello hello, look who is coming in three months later to finally answer these. i am sorry for the delay and ofc no pressure to read, but i decided this would be good to pivot and post for valentine’s day. also, avoiding spoilers but if you want a visualization on 🧸 you can find it here. this is set in hook, line, and sinker verse, but the only context from it you really need is that john and jestiny are fake dating. wordcount: 2.3k warnings: animal death, fleeting detailed fantasies of violence against humans, and threats to do violence to humans. pretty tame all things considered.

A gentle breeze kicks up to ease the heat settling into Jestiny’s cheeks and tickle her jaw with the feathery ends of her hair, and as she draws in a deep inhale of the scent of pine carried on the air it dawns on her that this truly is her definition of a perfect day. 

The sun beats down on the back of her neck to bake the skin and draw a pleasant coating of sweat that flushes cool with the wind. The glittering waters of Snowshoe Lake lap gently at the thick heels of her boots stuck into mud. 

Three trout float defeated and bled dry in the cooler she pulls a fresh beer from, a fourth cutting ripples into the water as it moves to flirt with her hook. The glass on her bottle of Two Hearted Ale kisses her inner thigh with its crisp coating of frost as she props it against her leg. 

Hank is tucked away in the bib pocket of her overalls and firmly in the grips of a food coma courtesy of the extra scoop of bait Adelaide threw in for him, pointy pink fingers still curled around the batch of crickets he grew too full to finish. 

And any threat of tranquility stagnating to tedium is kept at bay by the sudden plop of her bobber to sink into the water, causing Jestiny to perk up and brace herself just in time for the satisfying tension of weight pulling against her rod. 

Jestiny licks her lower lip as she begins to reel, muscles of her arms tensing and tugging on instinct with the perfect amount of pressure to meet the force of the fish in a smooth, elegant dance — a back and forth quickly rewarded as her catch leaps from the water. An opportunity she gladly seizes, reeling it to its doom. 

She feels Hank begin to slowly stir against her chest as she pierces her knife through the fish’s brain, his head poking from her pocket for his whiskers to brush against her chin as she drops the trout into her cooler. 

A somehow still surviving cricket leaps from Hank’s clutches as he unfurls his fist in a waking stretch, landing at the top of Jessie’s head as the rest of the insects fall lifelessly into the depths of her pocket. 

“Hank,” she chides without malice, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she grins down at the opossum. “What did I tell you about goin’ and wastin’ bait?” 

Hank claws his way up Jestiny’s chest as she rewards herself with a hearty gulp of beer, climbing over her shoulder to cling to the back of her head and reach to pluck the cricket from her hair and plop it into his mouth. 

And to Jessie’s relief he doesn’t scramble back down to grab for the bait she slides onto her hook, instead remaining perched on her shoulder as she casts her line, his fingers tangled in her hair. 

Hank combs the fingers through short locks as Jestiny leans back to settle in and watch the water, his snout nudging against her as he sniffs for more bugs, licking to groom out anything he finds. 

His sharp little claws send a relaxing tingle along Jestiny’s scalp as they rake along the skin, gliding down her spine to ease the tension from her shoulders. 

Yes, in Jestiny’s mind it is truly a perfect day. And with the bright blue of the sky stretching out without a cloud in sight, she felt certain that nothing could happen to ruin —

The low rumble of an engine tears Jestiny from her thoughts, followed by the thud of a car door slamming that tells her the driver is close. 

“The fuck,” Jessie mutters under her breath as she glances to her phone. “Shouldn’t be a fuckin’ soul around here but —” 

“Ah, there’s the fisherwoman I’ve been looking for!” a devastating familiar voice calls, the surface of the water suddenly busy with the ripples of fish swimming away. 

“No,” Jestiny says before she’s even turned around. She jumps to her feet to face the man strolling towards her and shout louder, “No. Absolutely not!” 

“You certainly know how to give a lover a warm welcome,” John replies as he plants himself in front of Jessie. 

“Never fuckin’ call yourself that,” she says with a grimace, taking suspicious note of the giant, glossy gift bag slung over his shoulder. “Never call anyone that,” she tacks on, a disgusted shudder texturing the words. “And never fuckin’ bother me when I’m fishing,” she snaps. “How did —” she runs a frustrated hand through her hair, pushing it back into the face of the opossum still clinging there. “How did you even find my spot?! You stalkin’ me now?”

A sharp grin carves itself into his face to push back the modest rounds of his cheeks and deepen the sag of his laugh lines, his eyes lighting up with an irritatingly proud twinkle. 

He slides a hand beneath his vest, pulling out a sleek smartphone with a cross insignia on its case. “Scathing negative reviews of Snowshoe Lake suddenly popped up last night on Fishbrain, FishHub, ANGLR — even AllTrails and 27 Crags mentioned the nearby mountain pass being subpar.” 

“You saw somewhere with shitty reviews and figured you belonged there?”

“I figured it was the work of my clever, reclusive little angler slyly marking her territory.” A slow, dramatic bat-batting of his eyelashes punctuates the statement. “And lo and behold, here you are.”

The hinge of her jaw; her nose twitches. “I like my privacy,” she drawls slowly, so that he may understand. “Now that we’ve gone over the how, maybe we can move on to why the fuck you’re here? And when you’ll be fucking leaving?”

If it’s within the next ninety seconds, perhaps she can still salvage her perfect day. 

“Why, you haven’t been keeping track?” His tongue clicks against his teeth with a furrow of his brow in a contrived display of woundedness. “We’re celebrating our one month anniversary today!”

She snarls and bugs her eyes. “Great! Our fake relationship reached a fake milestone I wouldn’t even celebrate if it was real!”

“Do you think that attitude could have been a contributing factor to the death of your real relationship?” 

She thinks how beautiful her fishing knife would look lovingly buried to the hilt in his jugular, the sweet glug glug glug he would make choking on his own blood. She thinks about how pretty he would look with that sharp grin sliced to gape and droop like a catfish’s mouth. 

“I think interrupting my fishin’ time is about to be a contributing factor in your death,” she settles on. “The only way you’re gonna be any good to me around here is if I chop you up into little bits and use you as bait for my fucking hook.” 

“Well, for all that empty posturing you’d think you would better understand the importance of keeping up appearances,” he muses as he rifles through the bag at his side. “We’re pretending to be a happy couple — the kind that would spend their anniversary together.”

“Well, nobody’s here! So how ’bout we don’t and say we —”

Jestiny is interrupted by a hand shoving a bundle of red roses against her chest, full enough to block her vision so that she must snatch them by the tissue paper and ribbon wrapped stems to lower enough for her to glare at the man stepping back to gaze at her with a self-assured smile. 

“Aw, John,” she coos with a sweet flutter of her eyelashes and beaming smile. “You shouldn’t have,” she fusses as she leans in to stick her nose in the petals and inhale. “You really shouldn’t have. Because anyone who’d actually been dating me for a month would know —” she hurls the bouquet to the ground, stomping a foot down atop it. “That I! Fucking! Hate! Getting! Flowers!” she screams as she grinds the blossoms into the dirt beneath her boot. 

“Ah, well,” his unaffected sigh draws her attention to the repetitive shuttering sound filling the background. “Luckily, I don’t think anyone would suspect as much from looking at you.”

She looks up from crushed petals to see John holding up his phone with screen pointed towards her, her own sarcastically smiling face as she clasps a bouquet greeting her. 

“And image is what matters,” he purrs, stepping back and tucking his phone into his vest pocket just as she swings for it. 

“Then how about you get the fuck out of here before I wreck that phone and that pretty face of yours?”

He positively glows at the threat. “Come now, you didn’t really think I’d call it quits at a puny dozen roses, do you?”

“I’ll shove the next bouquet so far up your ass your mouth is gonna win an award for best rose garden!”

“Not roses,” he replies, holding out a bright red heart-shaped box. 

“Great,” she grumbles, snatching the box. “Another thing I don’t fucking wa —”

He catches her hand as it moves to throw the box to the ground. “Just open it.”

“I don’t fucking like chocolates,” she replies, holding no particular distaste for chocolates. “Especially this stupid fucking February 15th drugstore clearance aisle —”

He lifts the lid himself with a huff. 

She sees there are in fact no chocolates in the container. Instead, its five sections are filled with a menagerie of bait — a tangled ball of earthworms in the left round at the top, a school of dried minnows in the right, one pile of crickets and one of grasshoppers in the center, and a cluster of doughballs at the pointed bottom. 

“Mm,” she grunts in begrudging appreciation. She pinches the leg of a grasshopper between her fingers, lifting it above her head to offer up to Hank before she grabs the lid from John to place back atop the box. 

“Doesn’t make no goddamn sense to have doughballs and insects in the same damn container — where am I finding catfish and trout together outside of a stocked pond?” She snorts with laughter at the ridiculous thought of fishing at a stocked pond before clearing her throat and setting the heart-shaped box down by her cooler. “Still, I guess it keeps me from using you to bait my hook.”

That proud glow of his brightens until he’s absolutely luminous at her walking back of the death threat. 

“Don’t oversell the proclamations of love, Jessie dearest — it has only been a month,” he says with a dreamy sigh, leaning into her as if blooming towards the sun itself. 

“You wanna quit while you’re ahead?” she offers with a tilt of her head towards his car.

“Rule of threes, my love,” John answers breathily. “What would flowers and chocolates be without a cute stuffed animal?” 

Her eyebrow twitches. “Should have quit while you’re ahead,” she snaps. “I am a twenty-eight year old woman, not a schoolgirl looking for a teddy bear to hug at —”

Another flourish of his hand cuts her off, palm outstretched to display a soft plush of pink and gray. 

“Not a teddy bear,” he purrs. 

It’s not a teddy bear. Its round little ears are bare felt and marbled pink and black, the beads of its eyes pinpoint tiny beads, bubblegum pink tail curling around its body. It’s — 

“An opossum,” she mutters to herself, a small, giddy huff of a laugh passing through her lips against her will. She brushes her fingers against its soft faux fur before she can stop herself, and John’s free hand reaches out to cover hers and wrap it around the plush to hold it on her own before retracting his. 

She coughs and shoots him an obligatory glare before looking back to the opossum plush, eyes drawn to take notice of the opening in its middle — finding a second tiny opossum head peeking out. 

Her eyes widen, and in spite of herself she laughs out under her breath, “It’s got a baby in its little pouch…”

She pulls the smaller stuffed opossum from its place nestled inside the larger plush, holding both up in proud display to no one in particular. 

She feels the scraping of claws and a the tickle of tiny, sniffing exhales against her cheek as Hank climbs down to perch atop her shoulder and inspect. 

His clawed little hand reaches out to grasp the smaller opossum, holding it to himself in ownership, then tucking it into the pocket of Jestiny’s overalls before climbing down her chest to curl up beside it. 

“Ha!” Another laugh bursts out before she can stop it, looking up with a delighted grin on damnable reflex to check that her company saw the precious sight she did. 

Blue eyes sparkling bright with pride meet her. Jessie’s cheeks sear under their unbearable heat. 

She clears her throat. 

“Well, Hank likes it,” she mumbles, spinning on her heels to turn her back to him as she tucks the larger plush into her overalls. “Gotta keep it, I guess.”

“Is that all it takes?” John asks, his breath falling hot along the back of her neck as he crowds behind her with every step she takes back towards the shore, like a trout chasing a lure. “Perhaps Hank can put in a good word for me, then?”

“Opossums can’t talk, dumbass,” she scoffs in reply as she reaches into the heart-shaped box to pull out an earthworm to slip onto her hook. “And people who expect to be allowed to hang around while I fish shouldn’t either.”

Another dreamy sigh and a rustle of clothing against grass as weight sinks beside her in the mud. 

She focuses herself on the pleasant plop of her bobber landing in water, breathing in the crisp mountain air and ignoring the encroaching warmth of a knee casually pressing against her own as she spreads her legs to shore up her fishing stance. 

Perhaps her perfect day would have to be chalked up as another one that got away. 

An arm stretches out behind her to press its palm onto the ground on the opposite side, its owner’s head indiscreetly turned to the side to stare at her rather than the water, and this time she chooses to blame the heat crawling along her cheeks on the afternoon sun rather than the scrutiny of his adoring gaze.

But a bad day of fishing beats a perfect day of anything else, after all. 

[merv606]

Puritianverse but…

Alpha Terry is getting married to Daniel, an older widowed Omega with a toddler, Sam. It’s their wedding night, and Terry has never been married before, so sweet, piousDaniel is under the impression that his young Alpha mate does not know of his maritime duties, and how a blessing comes about. But it’s not an Omega’s place to dictate to their Alpha what to do…

Meanwhile Terry, who is anything but a virgin, knows full well what is expected, and of course wants to consummate his marriage to his precious Omega…but thinks it’s adorable seeing how flustered Daniel gets, and decides to play clueless and have holy little Daniel tell him what he wants. At least for a while. Heh.

Happy Valentine’s Day ♥️

So I tweaked this a bit. Sam is a little under six months old meaning Daniel is still nursing so you know that drives Terry wild.

Keep that in mind and everything is could entail (cough cough lactation kink cough) but themes are in line with the puritan verse.

That Terry wants to consummate his marriage to his precious Omega is an understatement.

He has been thinking about nothing else but getting his hands on his diminutive brunette beauty.

So as eager as he is, he is kind of frozen, trying to figure out what part of Daniel he wishes to consume first, and Daniel, well, he must take that indecision as hesitation.

Terry tries not to laugh when he realizes that his little omega thinks he does not know what to do; what is expected of him.

In reality, nothing could be further from that truth. Terry knows all too well of his husbandly duties (and rights) and has been waiting to perform (and take) them.

And he plans to.

Often.

He had wanted the little omega since lying eyes on him after all.

Which, Daniel had been unfortunately married, and heavily pregnant at the time mind you, which just made him more enticing, he was absolutely glowing, but the ring on his finger meant he was out of reach, which did not happen to Terry too often - seeing something he could not have.

Something that did not sit right with Terry, that and how neglected the little omega had been all night. If it was Terry, and Daniel was his mate, his pregnant mate, he would not have left his side.

But when news had reached that his husband was no longer in the picture, he dying shortly after Sam’s birth in a freak accident under mysterious circumstances, the newspaper had said, well, Terry had seized the opportunity, although his advisors had tried to talk him out of it.

A younger omega they had begged Terry, although Daniel was only 23 and had many good years of breeding still in front of him, Terry himself had only just become of age.

When they realized that was not a deterrent, they had tried to insist on a pure omega, one that had been untouched by another alpha, an omega that would only know Terry in that intimate sense.

One that had been unmarried, for Terry, himself had not yet been, although well versed in matters of the flesh and the marital bed, mind you.

It was normal for an alpha, after all.

But that was not what Terry wanted.

Terry had wanted Daniel.

And Terry always got what he wanted.

It was a good thing Daniel hadn’t really resisted, when Terry had made his intentions known, not just to Daniel but everyone in his land.

No, the little omegas had only cited the same hesitations Terry’s advisors had.

Former advisors anyway.

They had found themselves quickly replaced, at any rate.

Daniel’s former husband had left him without much means to care for himself or the new babe, several things coming to light after his death. Family members Daniel never heard of before showing up and somehow being entitled to pieces of the estate.

So all things considered, it didn’t take much convincing to allow Terry that first date which, quickly became two, then three…..

And now, well, Terry has what he wants, right in front of him, with nothing stopping him but his own inability to figure out where he wants to start, the little omega becoming more confused the longer Terry just stares.

“So …. ummm,” the gorgeous little omega says, clearly unsure of what to do - how to approach this situation. He had figured the alpha would have already had and finished with him. That was what happened on his first wedding night - which is not something he looks back on fondly.

“How do you want me to receive you, my lord?” He asks, clearly trying to prompt his alpha into action.

Terry tries not to laugh.

Although the little beauty is turning a becoming shade of red as he stammers over his words. Terry wonders …..

“Receive me?”

Near scarlet now, as he tries to think of another way to put it. “How would you like to have me?” Daniel tries again.

“Have you?” Terry continues, pretending still that he has no idea what Daniel means. The little omega is really too tempting when he’s being teased.

“Umm yes … should I …. I mean …” the little omega is beet red and it does take everything in Terry not to have him then and there.

“Would you have me on my back?”

“Why should you be on your back?” Terry asks, keeping the ignorant act up, stepping forward though. He can’t help it.

The White nightshirt - sheer enough that it hides nothing from the alpha’s eyes, showcase plump nipples.

Daniel, who is nursing his daughter Sam, who shall reach her sixth month soon, harden under both the alpha’s gaze and the smooth fabric of the nightshirt against them.

A hand ghosts over the ample swell and the omega gasps.

Terry backs them up until they hit the edge of the bed, sitting down now.

Taking the opportunity to undo the nightshirt slightly, so that Terry can slip it off narrow shoulders until it’s pooling at the omega’s waist.

As sheer as it is, he wants nothing between them - those gorgeous nipples have been teasing and tempting him since they first met and he knows now, without question, where to start.

His thumb rubs over them before rolling it between him thumb and forefinger, massaging until he sees the first beading of white.

Daniel gasps, little mewls and whimpers he tries to hide, as the alpha plays with his sensitive and slightly full chest.

He was expecting his alpha to push the nightgown up and push inside, and although that doesn’t happen he does feel the alpha’s hand disappear up his thigh under the nightgown, hand smoothing over the bottom of his stomach, tracing over the slightly faded scar of how Sam came into the world.

Terry continues playing with the omega’s small brown nipples, which had darkened in pregnancy, making them even more enticing, and Terry leans forward, finally taking one in his mouth, tasting for the first time what he has been so desperately craving.

Terry’s been waiting to do this.

Wanting to do this.

Oh how he has waited and wanted, and now it is all his for the taking, and take it he shall, many times over.

As they courted, he could scent it sometimes, see the small wet patch when they’d leak if she cried, Daniel quickly stammering out to apology, disappearing to feed her and change, something that disappointed Terry.

Although there had been a few times Terry was able to observe Daniel feeding her, though it was in secret, the omega ignorant to the fact his future alpha was watching, both enamoured and hard as a rock at the sight.

Terry knew Daniel was made for this, but watching him tend to his child, there was no doubt.

But how he longed to get his mouth on them … to taste them as he moved inside Daniel, filling him with another.

He was made to be bred, meant to be made fat and full.

“Alpha,” it’s moaned out, but he can hear the note of scandal amid the pleasure, pleasure dripping in sin.

“That’s … that’s for …” he gasps as Terry’s hand massages the neglected one his mouth is currently unable to entertain.

He finally lets it go, blowing air on the wet skin to watch it harden.

“She has been fed has she not? In fact she has bottles as well.” The night nurse instructed not to disturb them until Terry had indicted.

A flick of his tongue against the nub, a violent shiver of pleasure down the omega’s spine.

No wonder the babe is always greedily attached to them, Terry thinks, as he himself would do the same - will do the same.

They will fill and swell further too, once Terry’s child is inside his mate, and that will be sooner rather than later.

Sam will not be an only child for long, that was made clear to Daniel from the beginning.

“Yes but …” he whimpers. “I ….”

Terry knows the omega thinks this isn’t proper and Terry plans to do many things that aren’t, not by his pious standards anyway.

Fortunately he knows how to deal with these types.

“I am your husband, am I not?”

“Of course alpha,.”

“Hmmmm so these belong to me, do that not?”

“I well, yes, but …”

“Everything belongs to me,” a hand brushing against a disappointingly flat tummy.

“So I if I wish to use my mouth, on that which is mine, is that not also well within my rights as your husband?!”

“Of course,” and he bits his lips as Terry’s fingers roll the sensitive nubs between them.

“Will you not be a good omega for your husband?”

“Dutiful.”

“Obedient.”

“Fulfil his wishes?!”

“Will you not obey the vows we just took?”

“Of course ….”

“So let me pleasure you as I see fit.”

He’d been unable to touch the omega, rules of his station, and he has plenty planned.

He probably won’t be getting out of bed except to tend to Sam and even then Terry had a team of nannies and nurses to help Daniel.

Although that’s more proactive - he plans on breeding his omega thoroughly and often.

He wants a large family, something the little omega is eager for as well.

His prior aloha had needed an heir and when he got it although he still took his pleasure, he had allowed Daniel to go on birth control when he asked.

Terry had forbidden suppressants and birth control though, when he found out, making it clear that Daniel was to be bred right away, and he had stopped taking them well in advance of their wedding night.

He knows how good motherhood looks on the omega, how well he took to pregnancy, and can’t wait to see it himself - up close and personal.

Terry’s ring now upon a slender finger makes it ever better.

Terry plans on the little omega never needing to lift a finger, only spread his legs.

Daniel had been overwhelmed with it all. The birth of Sam, and the death of his husband, the uncertainty that created although that did not last long

Terry had called upon him even though his husband hadn’t even been in the ground a fortnight, but Terry had been know to them anyway, even if it had only been for several months before the other alpha’s untimely death.

Daniel had recalled meeting the younger alpha at a gala while heavily pregnant with Sam.

He had been a great help and gentleman. He had truly taken to Sam as well, to the point where when out people thought Terry was her father. It helped that a resemblance was there. Sure, the dark hair could have come from both but the blue eyes …..

Terry never bothered to correct anyone who made the assumption either.

At a mere three months into their courtship, he had asked for Daniel’s hand.

It would have been sooner but decorum and his station rendered that not possible, although the little omega was already living Terry, which had been frowned upon, now that Terry cared.

Daniel and Sam had found themselves needing a place to live. The house had foreclosed suddenly and without warning after all.

If the surprise and scandal of their courtship hadn’t set enough tongues wagging, the quickness of the engagement had.

Talk around town was that he was already carrying Terry’s child which, sadly was not true.

Although Terry consoled himself knowing it wouldn’t be long before that became truth.

The omega had agreed to be Terry’s betrothed, and now Terry is reaping the many benefits and rewards of his patience.

For now the sweet taste of his omega surrounds him as the scent of wetness and his arousal mixes with the scent of milk as Terry sucks and sucks, the other hand massaging the one his mouth cannot occupy.

He pushes them together, to take them in this mouth at the same time

Daniel’s head swims. His former alpha had never … but then his alpha was much older than Daniel, who on top of that, had married at a young age.

All thoughts of his former life leave him, his mind blank with nothing but pleasure when a large, questing hand disappears back under his night gown, tracing the outline of his underwear, a red lace, a gift from his husband for their wedding night.

He rubs against it, before disappearing inside to feels the slick folds hiding his special omega place. A finger slips between, parting his slit slightly, allowing a thumb to rub his rosebud and he whimpers.

“Oh does that feel good?” Terry asks, like he doesn’t know how that drive most omegas wild.

“Yes,” he moans out, horrified at his behaviour and the throbbing between his legs.

His first alpha, it was never this good. He couldn’t say he dreaded the nights his alpha would visit and have Daniel perform his marital duties, but then he couldn’t say they were exactly looked forward to either. It was nothing more than a chore and his duty, not that it lasted long, thankfully, but he never got much pleasure from it.

He thinks these duties will be much different and welcomed. Looked forward to if how he feels is any Indication.

“Well if that feels good .. do you think I can put my mouth there?”

“I …” Daniel has never heard of such a thing, but surely not ….

“Relations are for blessings,” he stutters out … and that would not result in one he thinks.

“We have to make it wet though don’t we …. so I can fit inside?”

Daniel dips his head down but Terry forces him to look his straight in the eye as he feels his underwear being slipped off him.

“You won’t be needing these anymore,” Terry tells him as a single but thick Finger dips inside him now, the wet noises as his alpha fingers him.

“Please,” Daniel gasps, embarrassed at the noises his body is making, trying to close his legs, although a strong hand on the inside of his knee stops that attempt.

“I think we can get it more wet though.”

He continues playing with his omega’s cunt.

“Has no one done that for you?” Terry asks, bringing it back to topic at hand. “Put their Mouth on this pretty cunt?”

That Terry could have this first ….. that he’ll have that at least, some type of first.

A finger is withdrawn, coated in slick that he spreads around the omega ‘s stiff rosebud.

Daniel’s not even done nodding before he’s on his back so fast his head spins, the nightshirt around his waist as his husband roughly opens his legs, pressing them back to his chest, before burying his face between those enticingly spread legs.

The omega screeches.

Terry groans at the scent and taste.

His chest heaving, hands gathering the nightshirt as he clenches the fabric between white knuckles, the obscene sound of his husband pleasuring him in this manner.

He’s never been … never had … this can’t be proper …. For an alpha to .,..

His former Husband would push in, fill him, and leave.

He can feel something building, his hips working against the alpha’s face, and it doesn’t take much when a pointed tongue traces his erect rosebud, throbbing in arousal, coming when the alpha sucks it into his warm mouth.

The alpha moans as the omega’s release hits his tongue, his pretty omega pussy soaked now along with his own face.

His little omega might be a squirter, Terry thinks, pleased at this knowledge. He can’t wait to tease and finger the little omega more; see how much he can get out of him.

Done eating him out, he spits on it, not that’s it’s necessary at all. Terry has never seen a wetter cunt, never scented such arousal, never seen an omega more ready to be bred, good and full.

His alpha comes up, face dripping and the omega is horrified.

Daniel has no frame of reference for this.

He received his husband, yes, who only came to his chambers at night to claim his god given rights, fill the omega, nothing more or nothing less, and Daniel did that duty.

Was this what alphas and omegas do? Had he been missing this?

Daniel and his former husband had separate bed chambers, although attached by a secret door, which when Daniel would hear it open, he knew what that meant.

He lies now though in the room he and his new husband share, on their large bed, which they also share, just one more difference in his former marriage, recovering from the strongest orgasm he’s had, and that’s a big difference in his former marriage.

As is the tenting of his husband’s breeches.

“Now what?” Terry fakes ignorance.

“You … your manhood … it … um …. is used to fill me.”

“Here?” Terry asks, thumb tracing a plumb lip.

His husband made him perform some of these duties, sometimes needing help to become hard enough to fulfil his duties and take his husbandly rights.

“Well if you wish, but that is not how a blessing is placed inside.”

“How then?”

Unable to say the words, Daniel spreads his already open legs wider instead, in a clear explanation of what he expects Terry to do.

And isn’t that not the most inviting thing Terry has seen.

“It fills me here, alpha sir.”

Terry spreads the slick folds, the small hole within - finally able to truly look upon it, now that’s he momentarily drank his fill.

“Are you sure it will fit? It’s so small,” he says, slipping a finger back into the omega’s body. “It’s so tight ….” He continues … “So warm inside you.”

Looking at Terry’s cock for the first time, he wonders much of the same. His new alpha is much more endowed than his prior alpha.

This will be even more unpleasant, Daniel thinks. Hopefully, like his former alpha, it will not last long.

Two fingers fucking in and out, when before he had only tried one. More wet noises, his rosebud rubbed, his thighs shaking.

And then …. His release is pumping out of him. Slick hitting the alpha and bed, the first time that had even happened.

Terry licks the juice off his hand and arm.

“Knew I could get that pussy to purr for me.”

Daniel’s hearing gives out for a moment, a loud ringing in his ears announcing its return.

“You’ve made me so hard …..” Terry says, “so now, like a good omega should, it’s time for you to receive me.”

Terry spits again - this time directly on the omega’s entrance, Not like Daniel needs it, he’s never been this wet. He could barely get wet for his prior alpha.

Already he thinks he’s come more with Terry than his entire prior marriage.

Any orgasms with his husband had been few and far in between and entirely by accident, and weak at best.

He finds he is actually anticipating being filled in this manner, for once. He’d also a bit more open now from the finger fucking.

The alpha takes himself in hand to guide his manhood into the omega’s waiting hole, and god, it is better than anything he imagined it would be, having him like this - his cock breeches his omega’s body, the soft inviting walls parting for him as he pushes in, better than any omega or beta he has filled before.

Daniel whimpers as he is filled - inch by solid, unyielding inch. While not a virgin, it’s been awhile and his husband is a lot. Although he has a feeling it won’t take long for him to get used to receiving him in such a manner; for his body to become accustomed to this cock inside him.

He imagines, given his husband’s young age, he will become very adept very quickly.

“So fucking tight,” he grits out ….. Terry can only imagine what having him pure was like. He doesn’t think he would have lasted long enough to be inside him all the way.

Even now he’s not going to last long - needing to come, needing to consumate and fill the little ormag’s cunt with his seed - mark it as HIS now.

No one else’s - ever again.

“Is it good?” Terry asks, as he feels the omega loosen up around him, his body adjusting to the feel of it outside him,

“It is more than I am accustomed to,” he moans out, eyes rolling back as Terry starts moving in and out.

And it is. His husband is well endowed. Much more than his former alpha, already filling him in a way he never was before, reaching parts of him previously untouched

So, although it’s a lot, it’s good.

Terry’s thrusts increase, watching those pretty plump tits move in time with the dirty snap of his hips, and if there has even been a more enticing sight, Terry has yet to see it. Although maybe in a few months, when Daniel starts to show ….. it will change his mind.

For now though, the babe cries, and although she is quiets, it’s too late, his nipples stiff and already starting to leak, Terry’s thrusts increasing in ferocity at the sight.

“God I can’t wait to see you on my knot.”

“I cannot wait to see you in the bare flesh as your stomach grows and swells with child … to have you in thot state.”

“I have thought of nothing else since seeing you that first night ….”

And Daniel is not surprised his husband plans to have him even once a blessing is inside, something his former alpha never did. The entire time Daniel was carrying his former alpha had not touched him, busing himself with his mistresses.

“Let’s see if I can knock you up on our first night as my wedded omega.”

He feels the alpha’s cock pulse and throb, his seed feeling him, but he does not pull out, rather … he keeps fucking in - making sure every drip is deep inside .

Daniel swears he can feel the cock hitting his womb.

Not just that but …. His husband, despite fulfilling his duties, is still clearly hard inside him …. Something Daniel is not used to.

Given his former alpha’s age, he could manage one a night, at best, and even then it wasn’t even every night he took his liberties - one of the reasons why it was years into their marriage before Daniel’s pregnancy had taken.

His husband had not been unkind, not in the other aspects of their marriage. Daniel had everything he needed and was taken care of but he had been left alone - his marriage was one of convenience and need - not of want or love - for either of them, and Daniel had no experience while the alpha was not much of a lover.

His alpha needed an omega to bred and Daniel needed an alpha to provide for him

His alpha had spent some nights with his mistresses, something he is expecting of Terry, something he was hoping for originally, although now he’s not so sure that is what he would want.

Although Sam has taken years he has a feeling he won’t have that problem with Terry he thinks, right as the alpha puts him on his hands and knees the proper breeding position.

“I think I can get in deeper like this,” he says, keeping up the charade, although by now Daniel must know that Terry, while younger, was no inexperienced alpha.

He’s taken like that, pushing back against his husband’s near animalistic fucking, a hand at his rosebud …. He comes around his husbands’s cock this time.

“Fuck that’s it … god, your cunt feels even better around my cock when you come on it … I can’t wait to feel it take my knot … it’s going to look so good stretched around my knot.”

The crude words have him clenching, forcing more seed out, his channel practically milking his husband dry as Terry’s balls draw up, emptying everything inside of Daniel.

“You like that? How much I like that pretty pussy? … I’m going to live inside it…. It will always be full of my seed.”

“You will not spend yourself in others?!” He dares to ask now, albeit hesitantly, as his husband regretfully pulls free.

His former husband had made it clear that if the mood struck he would take mistresses and lovers, which he had.

Terry laughs now. He can’t help it.

“I desire no one else. Besides I will be too busy with you.”

A knock on the chamber door, and the blanket is drawn up, Terry throwing on a robe - cock wet with his seed and the omega’s juices.

The heavy chamber door is opened and the nanny is revealed, standing with a red faced Sam, who Terry takes, cooing to her as the nanny apologetically explains that she will not settle nor take a bottle.

Not that Terry blames her. He’d prefer the real thing too, now that he’s had a taste.

Daniel can already feel his chest ache, leaking against the blanket as his alpha approaches with baby in hand, and when he tries to get up, to go somewhere to feed her, Terry stops him.

“I would like to watch,” although it’s not a request.

Terry lowers the blanket, before Daniel can protest, eyes focusing on the white beading at the tips in response to the baby’s hungry wails. His face colours slightly, and Terry’s finger brushes against it, gathering the moisture there.

“Never hide yourself from me.” A Hand on his chin. “Never be ashamed of what your body does to feed our child .. what your body will do once I put my child inside.”

Terry places Sam into Daniel’s arm who quickly finds a nipple, latching on greedily.

Terry gathers them both in his arms, watching Daniel feed his daughter … their daughter. She will take Terry’s name.

He can sense the alpha within her.

Terry helps Daniel feed her as much as he can, and Daniel gets the feeling Terry will be very hands on once their own pup comes and during his pregnancy.

There is a bassinet next to their bed but Terry calls for the nanny who takes her back to her room which is close to theirs.

“I shall want you again shortly,” he explains. “I am satisfied for the moment but I am far from done with you yet.”

Although that proves to be a lie because as soon as Sam is out of the room, Daniel ends up in his lap, Terry greedily sucking a plump nipple dry. Normally he would pump between feedings, especially if she had only fed from one side, which she had.

Terry though had other plans, telling Daniel he would like to to use his own mouth, to take more for himself, although he was already wrapping a plush mouth around his aching chest.

Daniel feels the hard length against his entrance, wet with his husband’s seed and more slick as he responds to the feel of his husband’s mouth on him.

Moments later it’s guided back inside him, Daniel bouncing on his husband’s cock whose mouth is still firmly attached to his breast, greedy and possessive, hand massaging the other as he has his mate again.

He has a feeling his marital duties will be quite different than what he is used to but, as his husband encourages him to reach down and touch his own rosebud, quickly coming around the cock pulsing and throbbing more seed inside him, he finds he doesn’t mind.

True to his word this time though, hours later he wakes in his husband’s arms, his length hard and wanting against him.

His cunt aches slightly, his husband’s length larger than he’s used to, but it’s not in an unpleasant way, it feels oddly good way. He was used well and satisfied his husband, which was what was expected of him. What was unexpected was how he had enjoyed it as well. A proprietary hand rubs his tummy, bloated form seed and the many breedings as he is fucked open and filled even more.

[atlasalexanderwrites]

Welcome Home Baby Brother Pt. 2 (a Queen!Reader x Malcolm Merlyn verse One Shot....PT. 7)

IMAGINE...being the eldest child to Robert Queen, (Being in a relationship with Malcolm Merlyn,) and having dinner for the first time since your baby brother, Oliver, came back from the dead after five, long years.

Word Count: 2,437

Warning: Possible out-of-character canon characters! Spoilers for any readers who haven’t watched Arrow (I guess lol)

A/N: I hope you all enjoy it!

Previous Parts - 1 2 3 4 5 6

“So, do you plan on telling him about you and Mr. Merlyn?” The question from Thea as the two of you were seated in her room waiting for Oliver to get out of the shower and for dinner to be ready made you flinch and look up from your cell where you had been attempting to do some work for Queen Consolidated while you waited.

You knew that it was going to be brought up, but you had hoped that it would wait until tomorrow.

No. You had no intention of telling Oliver about you and Malcolm. Not only was it something you didn’t know how to bring up, but it was also something that maybe your baby brother didn’t need to know about just yet.

Your gaze fell to your left hand where the diamond ring sat. Malcolm had proposed only a few months earlier during a three-week business trip in France for a joint Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Global business deal. Since then, neither of you had spoken about setting a date or anything to do with a wedding ceremony. A part of you was nervous to bring it up; you didn’t want to make Malcolm feel pressured and didn’t want to somehow, accidentally, bring up memories that would sadden him or anger him by reminding him of Tommy’s mother. The other part of you was nervous to bring it up to Malcolm because…because you weren’t sure you wanted to be married to Malcolm Merlyn. Not right now. Not with Oliver being alive and home and all those suspicions about Malcolm being involved with the Gambit bringing up not anger but dread.

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if that box got opened. You weren’t sure you wanted an answer to whether Malcolm had a hand in your family’s yacht going down.

“Oliver doesn’t need to know about my love life, Thea. There is no reason he needs to be told. Besides, it is probably best that we don’t overwhelm him too much. It’s like…how Mom wants to not bother Oliver with her and Walter just yet. Oliver needs time to settle and adjust. No doubt, he’s hardly at any time to mourn dad or…or even Sara.”

Thea nodded as you spoke and then rolled her eyes saying, “So, you’re scared to tell him?”

“Terrified.”

How could you not be?

Oliver from five years ago had been an asshole, but he still tried to fight every boyfriend you had ever had.

The last thing you needed was Oliver trying to fight Malcolm the moment he got back to Starling City, not to mention the awkwardness that could pop up between Oliver and Tommy as a result.

Sighing, you stood and brushed a hand through your hair while saying, “Look, I promise that I will tell Oliver, but for tonight lets keep that between us.”

“Us and Tommy, mom and Walter, Raisa, most of Starling City, and…” Thea continued as the two of you walked out from her room and headed downstairs.

She wasn’t wrong. Too many people knew and too many people could let it slip to your brother. But if you were being honest, your biggest concern was Moira. She hadn’t budged even a little on her dissatisfaction toward your relationship with Malcolm, and Moira took every opportunity she could find to try and keep the two of you apart. Even with you now living in Malcolm’s home.

It had been amusing at first, then weird, and then frustrating. It was like there was something she was trying to tell you without telling you.

Like Moira knew something about Malcolm she wanted you to know but couldn’t bring herself to spell it out.

“Tommy!” Thea grinned as she bounded down the last few steps and practically skipped over to where Tommy and Oliver stood, reconnecting in the entryway.

You met the gaze of your brother’s best friend (who just happened to be your fiancé’s son as well) and forced an awkward smile as Tommy greeted Thea. The two of you were on good enough terms, but you also knew each other’s secrets – secrets that neither of you wanted Oliver to know about just yet. It made the situation uncomfortable, and you were kicking yourself for not having spoken openly about it with Tommy before this dinner.

“Well, this is a sight that I have missed.” You finally spoke up, plastering a smile on your lips as you closed the gap between yourself and the others. “And to think Starling City was only just beginning to heal from the terror of Oliver Queen and Thomas Merlyn.”

Most of Starling City probably didn’t care that Oliver had returned. Those who were excited were, of course, your family and Oliver’s party friends.

Still, the thought of having Oliver home meant that there was a chance for some semblance of the familiar. As close to the “good old times” that you could get to with your dad being gone.

“We will try not to do anything too crazy.” Oliver smiled. His voice soft. He sounded sincere, like he truly had zero intention of being his old self, and his eyes held a softness that younger Oliver would have never shown – it would have ruined his party boy persona.

“Make sure you don’t.” you laughed as Risa stepped into the hall announcing that dinner was about to be served.

Thea snorted, “Let’s not keep mom waiting.”

Oliver chuckled at your sister’s attitude and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, teasing Thea about “Making mom happy” as they followed after Risa.

You couldn’t help but chuckle knowing that your stepmother or Walter had sent Risa to “collect” the four of you; no doubt, Moira was having flashbacks from your childhood to when you, Oliver, and Thea would get so caught up in something the three of you had chosen to do together that it would take your father coming home and being “stern” for the three of you to finally come back to reality.

The thought was bittersweet, but you didn’t mind it. You appreciated that you could remember things like that. Over the past five years, there had been plenty of days where memories of your brother and father had been the only thing that helped you get out of bed and get on with your life.

“Hey Y/n,” Tommy hissed, grabbing your arm, and stopping you from following after your brother and sister. He waited for the two of them to be out of earshot before saying, “Listen I just…wanted to make sure we were on the same page about…things. Like, what gets told to Oliver and what can be saved for some other time.”

You knew what he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with you and Malcolm.

It was kind of sweet that Tommy was so concerned about telling Oliver certain things because he wasn’t sure how his lifelong friend would react. It spoke volumes on how much Tommy respected and cherished his friendship with your baby brother.

You whispered his name and offered a small smile as your gaze slipped to your left hand and the diamond engagement ring that sat there. The smart thing would be to remove the ring altogether. After all, if Oliver didn’t see the ring, then he couldn’t ask about it, but you didn’t want to give the impression that you were ashamed of Malcolm and that you wanted to hide your relationship with him.

“I promise that I won’t say anything to Oliver about what you’ve been up to the last five years as long as you don’t say anything about me and your father. I just...I haven’t figured out how to tell Oliver about us yet.”

Tommy stared at you for a long moment, taking in what you had said, and then breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Alright, alright. Thank you, Y/n. I…thank you.”

“Any time, Tommy.” And you moved into the dining room to join the others.

While Tommy and Thea sat to either side of Oliver, you chose to sit across from Walter placing Moira (and Oliver) at the head of the table. You didn’t mind as it gave you a chance to speak softly to your stepmother and Walter about Queen Consolidated and it gave Thea the chance to soak up as much of Oliver’s attention and closeness as she desired. Thea needed that. She had been only thirteen when the Gambit went down – life was hard enough for Thea with being in her early teens, the loss of your father and brother hadn’t helped things at all.

Besides, you would have plenty of time to catch up with Oliver.

It isn’t like he’s going anywhere any time soon.

“…I was hoping to swing by the office.” Oliver’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you quickly snapped your full attention in his direction.

“Queen Consolidated?” you laughed, interrupting whatever Walter had been saying as a response to your brother. “You want to go to…how hard did you hit your head while on that island?” you teased while lifting your glass of wine to your lips.

“I had a lot of time to think while I was away.” Oliver smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “I need something to do with my time, and I was thinking, why not make that something the family business?” his blue eyes looked from you to your mother and then back on you, “Unless this is your way of saying you want the company all to yourself?”

“Shut up, brat.” You laughed with a playful roll of your eyes, “I think it’s a brilliant idea for you to have a hand in Queen Consolidated. Dad would want it.”

“Then it’s settled.” Moira was beaming, clearly happy that Oliver had matured enough to show an interest in your family’s business.

You were proud of Oliver as well, but you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had motivated your baby brother to want to take an active role in Queen Consolidated. Surely, most people who came back from the dead would want to take some time to rest and readjust to life. But Oliver didn’t seem to want to do that.

Actually, that look on his face…it’s determination. He’s home and he has a list of things he plans to do.

But what?

What has happened to you, Olive?

*

When you were younger, the thing you feared the most was that your baby brother and sister would hate you. That they would grow up and realize how lame you were, and they would then want nothing to do with you.

That morning when you got that call that the Queen’s Gambit had gone down, that your father and brother were lost at sea and presumed dead, you felt so silly for your childhood fears. You knew then that the worst thing imaginable was having those you loved ripped away from you in a moment, in the blink of an eye, without warning.

And now, standing outside with Oliver and avoiding going home to an empty house, you felt that fear in your stomach. Like this was all a dream and that you would wake up, having imagined Oliver being alive, and you would be back in that cold, dark world where your baby brother was gone. Taken from you by fate? A tragic accident at sea? Or…at the hands of unknown enemies.

“So,” Oliver sighed, turning to you with a smile, “When do I get to meet the person who gave you that?” he gestured toward crossed arms, at your engagement ring.

“The wedding?” you shrugged, trying to play it cool at first as you looked anywhere but at him. “It…the engagement is actually pretty new. We don’t have a set date yet.”

“Does mom disapprove?” Oliver asked the question softly, his gaze locked on you so tenderly.

You snorted, “Of course she does. Mom…doesn’t think he’s good enough or me. Which is crazy because he’s a businessman, he’s very successful, and his company actually has a lot of dealings with Queen Consolidated.” Your amusement turned to frustration as you spoke, frowning at your own words and the reminder that Moira could pop off and spill the beans about you and Malcolm at any moment.

“Do I know him?”

Your cheeks flushed at his question, and you found yourself chewing on your bottom lip instead of answering.

Humming, Oliver nodded and leaned toward you, placing a kiss to the side of your head as a sleek, black limo pulled up. “I know that I don’t have to worry about you, Y/n. You’re the smartest out of us all. If you’re sure enough about this guy to marry him, then I will trust you and try to wait patiently for you to introduce me to him.”

“Ollie.” You murmured, eyes filling with tears as you wrapped your arms around him, tucking your face into his shoulder as he returned the hug. “I fucking missed you, Oliver.”

He nodded in agreement, saying “I missed you too, Y/n.”

It took all you had to pull away from him, and it was only after the two of you had agreed to see each other again tomorrow that you finally forced yourself to move away from your baby brother and walk to the limo and Malcolm’s driver.

“Jude.” You nodded, refusing to show your surprise as you stepped past him.

“Miss Queen.” He greeted you with a tilt of his head and a small smile.

Smiling in return, you waved goodbye to Oliver once more before climbing into the limo and letting the door shut behind you.

It was only after you were off your family’s property and Oliver was out of sight that you looked beside you at the man who was supposed to be overseas.

“Darling.” Malcolm hummed, his lips turning upward into that ridiculously charming, crooked smile of his.

“You said…”

Leaning toward you, Malcolm placed a kiss to your lips while murmuring, “You needed me here more.”

Tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, you forced a breathless laugh and pulled away, settling back into the seat. “Thank you, Malcolm.”

“Of course.” He took your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles, and set it in his lap – seemingly mindlessly playing with the band on your ring finger as he turned to stare out the window, watching the world fly by.

Content and exhausted from the day, you rested your head on his shoulder and let yourself drift off to sleep listening to whatever jazz number Malcolm had chosen for the drive.

*

I hope you all enjoyed it! And I hope you’re all a sucker for sister!reader x Oliver content as I am lol (Oliver being a brother is so lovely to me 😉 )

The next installment will be reader x Malcolm! Probably a gentle day for them! It won’t be out in the next two weeks as I have other one shots (non-Arrowverse) that I want to finish writing/editing/etcetera.

As always, if you want to show some love, feel free to sent me things through my inbox and I also have a Kofi if you would like to support me in that way!

Please be safe and I hope you are having a good day!

~Atlex Writes!

[writeforfandoms]

You’re the hand I have to hold

Find my masterlist and series masterlist

Your mysterious contact sends a new dragon and some clues your way.

Everyone thank @brandyllyn​ for pointing out a golden opportunity here.

Warnings: Swearing, more mysteries, people cannot give straight answers in this ‘verse. 

Word count: 1.3k

Jack Daniels x f!reader

The email surprised you in its simplicity, especially considering who it came from. 

If your rancher is amenable, I'd like to board a dragon with him for a few days. I will of course pay for the service. Please let me know at your earliest convenience. 

You read the email three times before you took a screenshot and sent it to Jack. 

His response was fast and simple: What the fuck?

Giving up on trying to figure him out via text, you called instead. 

"Who sent that?" Jack asked, grouchy and grumbly. 

"My source, the one I told you about." You bit your lip. "He wouldn't have asked if it wasn't legitimate." 

"Why should I?" It was little more than a petulant growl, but still made you smile. 

"Well, he is helping us," you pointed out, very reasonably. "He's not actually this awful person. Besides, you'd be doing him a favor, so I bet you could leverage that to get more information."

Jack was silent for a few long moments before he blew out a noisy breath. "You make too much sense, darlin'." Already he sounded less grumpy. 

"So should I tell him yes?" 

"Ask for dates and what he's payin'. I'll decide when I get that info." Jack grumbled a little. "You coming over this weekend?"

"Of course," you agreed. "Nothing could keep me away." 

"Good." His smile was clear in his voice. "I'll talk you later, I gotta get back to it before Ginger murders Tequila."

You laughed. "Go on. I'll see you soon." Grinning, you hung up. It took no time to type out a response to your contact, and then you went back to work. 

The answer came not even twenty minutes later. The timing was this weekend. And the fee was… a lot. It seemed a bit exorbitant to you, but maybe that was intentional. 

Jack okayed it, so you sent along the reply. 

This weekend was certainly going to be interesting. 

Saturday noon found you and Jack outside awaiting the dragon. Someone (a gruff man) had called you earlier to notify you that he was on his way with the dragon. 

"Could be them," Jack murmured, nodding towards the horizon. You could see two specks, slowly growing larger as they approached. 

“Why two?” you asked, shading your eyes as you watched the specks. 

“Prob’ly has his own dragon,” Jack grunted. “Easier for him to ride his own and drop off this dragon here, so he’s got his own way out.” He shrugged when you looked at him. “Only two ways to transport a dragon, darlin’, and freight on these guys is expensive as adults.” 

You chuckled but didn’t ask further. The specks had definitely become dragons, getting closer as you watched. 

It wasn’t long until they landed a safe distance away, although the wind from their landing did blow dirt and leaves around. You made a face as you brushed a leaf from your shoulder, starting towards the two dragons. 

The rider slid down from the dragon on the right, a huge silver dragon with bits of orange hiding among the scales. The rider wore a brown flight suit, zipped all the way up, and a silver helmet, like a motorcycle helmet. The visor was tinted and pulled down still, giving you no glimpse of the man. 

He took a few steps towards you and Jack and then stopped, calmly saying your name. When you blinked and nodded, he pulled a letter from a pocket and held it out to you. 

“From the shipper,” he said, not moving and letting you step forward in your own time to take the envelope. 

“Thank you.” The envelope had only your name on the front, no other information. “Do you want a drink? Does your dragon need anything?” 

The man tilted his head, just a little, and you had the feeling he was watching you, even as Jack came up behind you to place a hand at the small of your back. “Thank you, but no. We’re fine.” 

His dragon snorted, lowering her head to sniff at you. A puff of hot air sent a leaf you had missed flying away from you, and you giggled. Raising one hand slowly, you let her sniff your hand and then shove her snout up against your palm, clearly demanding scratches. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” you crooned, scratching along her jaw. “You are huge, my goodness. And impressive. What’s your name?” You glanced at the rider. 

“Razor Crest.” He sounded surprised. “She doesn’t normally… like people.”

You laughed quietly, stretching up on your toes to scratch her eye ridges. From the side, the other dragon snorted and rumbled, apparently upset at the lack of attention but also smart enough to not get into Razor Crest’s space. “I hear that a lot. And what’s your name?” 

He was silent for a few moments, just watching you and his dragon. “Djarin.”

“Well, Djarin, thank you for this.” You smiled and scratched Razor Crest’s eye ridges one more time before you patted her jaw and stepped back. “Safe flights.”

Djarin nodded to you and pulled himself back up onto his dragon, seemingly effortlessly. Which was an impressive display, you had to admit. You and Jack both backed up, going over to the new dragon to give Razor plenty of space to take off. 

“And who’s this?” Jack asked, holding out his hand for the green dragon to sniff. The dragon was on the smaller side, though clearly an adult. The dragon pranced forward with only a perfunctory sniff, ready to play. 

You opened the letter, reading through it quickly. “This is PJ, apparently.” You slowed your reading, frowning a little. 

This is PJ. He’s five - an adult but still young. His previous owner, Poppy, had to get rid of him to make space, as he has turned out to be too rambunctious for her and her staff. He was raised around humans, and is quite comfortable with people. 

His registration number is 12104083, alternate number 103974812. 

Someone will be by in a few days to take him. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.

The letter was unsigned, but you didn’t need a signature to know who it was from. But the other information didn’t make sense. You hadn’t expected anything about his former owner, and…

“Sugar?” Jack frowned a little, ducking his head to try to meet your gaze. PJ nudged him, sending him stumbling a step, and he absently patted the dragon’s jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“Dragons don’t have registration numbers,” you mumbled, half to yourself, rereading that sentence. “Or alternate numbers.” 

“What?” 

You held out the letter to him. “Dragons don’t have registration numbers,” you reiterated. “We all know that. So why is he giving me numbers to reference?” 

Jack didn’t respond, busy staring at the paper. His eyes were wide, lips parted just a little. PJ nudged him again, but this time Jack didn’t even reprimand the dragon. Instead he scrambled for his phone, typing in something quickly.

“Jack?” You frowned, watching him. 

“Poppy,” he mumbled. “Oh, clever man. Whoever you are, you do not like the Golden Circle, do you?” He was starting to sound excited now. 

“What are you talking about?” You shifted your weight, glancing between Jack, the letter, and PJ. 

“The Golden Circle is run by a woman named Poppy,” Jack told you quickly. “We’ve known that much for years, but could never get a location on her base. ‘S why she’s still in operation. The numbers here aren’t just numbers. They’re coordinates.” He laughed once, short and sharp, and turned his phone around to show you a spot in the middle of Cambodia. “Your informant just gave us the location of the Golden Circle.” 

[no-gorms]

I'm posting this one as a WIP! Final word count will be around 15k, I reckon.

The Three-Date Opportunity (3000+ words) by scaramouche Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Additional Tags: Getting Together, Flirting, Dating, Unrequited to Requited, Tony Has a Crush and Does Something About It, Mild Angst, Happy Ending, Tony POV, Avengers Tower

Summary: Tony gets three dates to win over a skeptical Steve. Three, no more and no less.

[changer00]

Winx Club Headcanons – Personality Traits and Magical Abilities

Former Princess Isdis Aneira Chione Earlrook (‘Icy’), Witch of the Cold Spell

Icy was born the eldest child to the King and Queen of Dyamond, a small system near the Omega Dimension Rift near Zenith, and is a small system, with three planets.  Icy grew up like most other royals, with a governess and surrounded by those of noble birth.  Icy was especially close with her younger sister Sapphire. However, when Icy went to Nila the Sharman Witch of the Omega Portal to help save her sister from Icy’s own magic, her lust for power and greed for knowledge, saw her kill Nila for an energy transference. This form of dark magic was what transformed Icy’s magic from majority positive to negative, and was what triggered her witch form, despite Icy already having achieved the winx transformation.  Icy was the first royal on Dyamond to not lean into positive magic and this saw her outcasted from both her family and friends.

Because of this she became bitter and cruel, and she left the Dyamond capital in the dead of night.  It was while on the run from palace guards that she found Stormy and Darcy.  Icy was originally hesitant to form a Coven, however, she eventually saw it as an opportunity to gain both knowledge and power.  Because of her upbringing, Icy is well versed in dimensionally politics and power plays and is something she ensures that she is up to date on.  When she was offered a scholarship to Cloud Tower, Icy was, for the first time in a long time, excited.  She wanted to expand her knowledge and skill base, and she didn’t care who was in her way to get to the top.  

Icy is very antisocial, only ever truly liking Darcy and Stormy.  This is what originally formed her persona as being cold, cruel and outright vindictive.  Her hatred for fairies, however, is more deeply seeded in the fact that she lost her ability to transform, and hence the power that comes from positive magics.  She is known for being utterly ruthless and willing to kill and destroy anything and anyone in her way.  However, she has a sarcastic streak and enjoys telling jokes at others expense, especially if they can give it back.  She is also extremely intelligent and charismatic and very boy focused, more so when they have a lust for power also.

Icy’s magical talents lay mainly in her ability to manipulate ice, and she is able to create objects, rapidly change the temperature of an area in a large scale, freeze others inside and out and manipulate the weather.  Over time she has also been able to drain the life forced out of others and transfer it to herself, a dark and dangerous form of magic.

[feverishly-kpop]

Hyunjin & Stray Kids - Cold

“I’m really ok, I swear,” Hyunjin said for the umpteenth time that day as the members looked on skeptically. Hyunjin had been teaching some new choreography that day but seemed to be struggling. As usual, his dancing was flawless, but the others couldn’t help but notice that his voice was getting scratchier and quieter the more he tried to talk. Despite the constant clearing of his throat and sips of water, nothing seemed to help.

Hyunjin continued to teach, feigning a level of enthusiasm that was more exhausting than the actual instruction portion of his day. He had received some suspicious looks from all of the members but really wanted to focus on teaching his choreography. He had spent the last three weeks getting up early and going to bed late, making sure it was perfect for their new track. He knew that the lack of sleep and overworking was starting to catch up to him but taking a break now wasn’t an option. He had worked too hard for it to be ruined by a dumb cold.

As he demonstrated the next eight count, Hyunjin was overcome with a coughing fit. Gesturing to the members to give him a second, he bent down to grab his water bottle, only to topple down to his hands and knees, still unable to stop his cough.

“Okay I think this is where the day ends for us,” Minho said firmly, making eye contact with Chan. He had been in Hyunjin’s position before, pushing himself to the brink in an attempt to get a full tack choreographed and ready to teach. But it was clear that Hyunjin had gone too far. He kneeled down next to Hyunjin, rubbing circles in his back in an attempt to comfort him.

Chan, who had been digging through his bag, soon produced a lozenge which he tossed to Minho to open and give to Hyunjin. Hyunjin accepted it and managed to catch his breath after a minute or two.

“See, I’m fine! It’s just a little tickle in my throat. I want to get to the end of the verse at least!” Hyunjin said breathlessly, still kneeling on the hard practice room floor. The members looked awkwardly amongst themselves, not necessarily wanting to be the one to contradict Hyunjin but also knowing that he wasn’t in any condition to continue on. After a few seconds of tense silence, Chan spoke up.

“Jinnie we’ve gone through a lot of choreo today. I think us non-dancers need a break, right guys?” Chan asked as he glanced at the members with a look that begged them to agree.

“Yeah, honestly I’m really beat” Jeongin chimed in, sensing Chan’s need for back up. He was followed by a chorus of agreement from the rest of the members.

“Guys…come on…” Hyunjin sighed, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. He knew that nobody else was that tired but would continue pretending just to make him feel less guilty about not being well enough to continue.

“We made a lot of progress, we’ll pick this up again soon” Felix stated, not wanting to give a specific date as he suspected that Hyunjin was coming down with something and would need a few days of rest.

“Tomorrow. We can finish tomorrow if we start early enough” Hyunjin responded, sounding almost frantic.

Minho reached down to help Hyunjin off the floor, his concern growing a bit as looked at Hyunjin up close. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks looked a bit more hollow than usual.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Hyunjin,” Minho said as Hyunjin took his hand and stood up. “We are way ahead of schedule.”

“Ok, but tomorrow…” Hyunjin started, only to be cut off by Minho, who knew that Hyunjin would continue to spiral if given the opportunity.

“What’s for dinner?” Minho interjected, not allowing Hyunjin to continue on. “I’m buying.”

*~*~*~*~*~

The ride home was uneventful as the members made small talk and joked. Hyunjin tried to calm down and join the conversation but he couldn’t stop thinking about the choreography. They were supposed to get to the end of the second verse today, at the very least, and preferably the chorus too. But they had hardly made it through the first few counts of the second verse before his body betrayed him. Even though he knew he was getting sick, he was desperate for the number to be perfect, and that meant teaching it early and running it until every last member could do it in their sleep, backwards and forwards.

As they arrived home and headed inside, Minho unexpectedly grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist, wanting to chat with him in private.

“Hyunjinnie, I’m worried about you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard and, look, I get it, but I think you’re coming down with something and I’m sorry but I’m not just going to turn a blind eye and let you push through till god knows what happens.”

“Hyunggg” Hyunjin whined, “seriously I’m fine.” The whining always put Minho over the edge but he didn’t let it distract him.

“You’re fine? You barely have a voice and you were coughing so hard you fell over. That isn’t fine Hyunjin.” Minho was trying not to let the frustration seep into his tone but he wasn’t entirely successful.

“It’s not my fault that the room was dry. You’ll see tomorrow when we get up for practice that you gave me a hard time for nothing.” Hyunjin says with a pout. Minho couldn’t help but notice that this whole situation was just very “Hyunjin.” The overdoing it, the playing everything off as nothing, the literal fixation on finishing the choreography in record time, the pouting, and the whining. My god the whining.

“Alright, whatever you say Hyunjin.” He sighed. Hyunjin smiled, convinced that he’d won this argument and turning around to go inside. “But…”

Dammit, Hyunjin thought to himself. He knew nothing good ever came after a “but” from Minho.

“But tonight, dinner, shower, then bed. And that isn’t up for debate. Got it?” Hyunjin rolled his eyes but nodded.

Minho always saw Hyunjin as his little brother. He wore thin on his nerves constantly but that didn’t change the fact that Minho felt compelled to watch over him. They were both dancers so they shared the same pressures and many of the same anxieties, but at the end of the day it hurt Minho to see Hyunjin suffer and would do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen.

*~*~*~*~*~

Dinner arrived just a few minutes after the members arrived back to their apartment. Hyunjin took a small serving but spent more time pushing it around his dish than eating it. His mind kept wandering back to his failed rehearsal today, his thoughts punctuated only by the occasional cough.

“Hyunjin…” Chan spoke softly, “Earth to Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin suddenly snapped out of his own mind upon hearing his name.

“Food’s better when you eat it, you know.” Chan added lightly. “Alright so for tomorrow. Seungmin and Innie-vocal lessons, Jisung and Changbin, the three of us are going to work on a few new tracks to see if we can get anything to stick for the new album. Felix, you have an interview. I moved it up from Saturday to tomorrow so you can maybe have the weekend off.”

“Hyung,” Hyunjin piped up, his voice frantic again.

“Minho and Hyunjin, you guys are off tomorrow.” Chan interrupted.

“But the choreo,” Hyunjin blurted out, speaking over Chan. “I said I wanted to finish it tomorrow. Please, can things be moved around?”

“Sorry Jinnie, the schedule is full tomorrow. Try and enjoy your day off. You haven’t taken one in what, two weeks now?” Chan questioned.

“Three and a half.” Minho interjected dryly. “He hasn’t taken a day off in three and a half weeks, so yeah, he will be taking the day off tomorrow, right Hyunjin?” Minho glanced at Hyunjin with a look that left no room for argument, eliciting only a shrug from Hyunjin. “I’m sorry, I must have missed that, what did you say?” Minho prodded.

Hyunjin sighed and spoke up this time. “Yeah I guess so.” Minho nodded and pointed at Hyunjin’s dish, silently directing him to finish what was on it. Hyunjin took a few more bites before excusing himself to shower.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hyunjin cranked the heat up in the shower, knowing the rest of the members would be frustrated when there was no hot water left, but he wasn’t concerned about that right now. The heat soothed his muscles that were sore and stiff from overuse, and the steam eased the pain in his throat as he slowly inhaled. Minho was right, he was coming down with something, but he’d be damned if he let on that he wasn’t feeling his best.

Finally having his fill of the hot shower, he turned off the water and put on some warm pajamas-his favorite hoodie and some flannel joggers. He dried his hair as best he could with the towel and brushed his teeth. After a moment of thought, he decided to head to bed instead of returning to the living room to hang out with the others.

A few minutes later he heard a soft knock on the door.

“It’s open” Hyunjin croaked out, wincing at how raspy his voice sounded. Minho entered with a cup of hot tea, sitting down on the edge oh Hyunjin’s bed and handing it to him.

“Calling it a day?” Minho asked gently. Hyunjin nodded in response, not wanting to irritate his throat any further.

“Well, thank you for following my instructions.” Minho said with a smirk. Hyunjin scrunched his nose up at that, getting a chuckle out of Minho.

“You look a little flushed, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Minho asked, tucking a few damp strands of Hyunjin’s hair behind his ear. Hyunjin nodded again, whispering almost inaudibly “hot shower.”

“Alright, we’ll let me know if you need anything.” Minho said, standing up and walking to the door before turning around and adding “And turn off your alarm. I want to sleep in tomorrow.”

Hyunjin flashed a quick thumbs up, reaching for his phone to silence his alarms.

*~*~*~*~*~

Unfortunately for Minho, he wasn’t able to sleep in. After having been woken by the other members getting ready for work, he had managed to doze off again for a few more minutes before hearing another set of feet wandering around as well as a steady, painful sounding cough. He looked at his phone seeing that it was only 7:30 AM. “What is Hyunjin doing up already?” he thought to himself.

Dragging himself from his bed, he walked out to the kitchen where he found Hyunjin fully dressed, hair pulled half up, backpack and runners on, pouring some hot water into a to-go mug and throwing a tea bag in.

“Hyunjin” he said tiredly, grabbing his attention. “Where are you going?” Hyunjin opened his mouth to respond before Minho interjected. “And if you say anything that ‘back to bed’ then…”

Guilt crept across Hyunjin’s face as he replied, not looking up from the tea in his hands. “I wanted to go practice the choreography” he responded, his voice sounding worse than yesterday. Just the effort of speaking those few words had sent Hyunjin into another coughing fit.

Minho softened a bit, taking the tea from Hyunjin and setting it on the table and helping him take his backpack off. As he coaxed him into a kitchen chair he took notice of Hyunjin’s appearance. Everything he had noticed yesterday, like the dark circles under Hyunjin’s eyes and the flush in his cheeks, had been amplified.

“Hyunjinnie, I want nothing more than to be mad at you for trying to go to work on your day off, but I can’t be mad at you when you look and sound this way.”

Hyunjin still refused to look up at Minho, taking a few sips of his tea to relieve his cough. Once he was able to catch his breath, he shook his head. “I’m worried about the choreo. Practice went poorly yesterday because of me…I couldn’t teach it well.”

Minho felt his heart sink. “Hey I get it. But practice went fine. I know we didn’t get through as much as you wanted but that happens sometimes. We are still way ahead of schedule.”

“I just really need to go run it a few more times today to make sure I’m ready to go with it at the next practice.” Hyunjin persisted.

Minho sighed, getting up from the table. “Ok Hyunjin, you can go,” Hyunjin perked up, honestly not expecting to hear Minho give him permission. “But…” Minho continued. There it is again. There was always a “but.” Hyunjin groaned.

“But first, check your temperature to make sure you aren’t running a fever. As long as it’s normal you can go.” Minho said as he returned with the thermometer. There was no way that Hyunjin wasn’t running a fever, thus no way he’d be going into work.

“Hyungggg why? I’m fine, I promise” Hyunjin whined.

“Oh my god Hyunjin the whining. You said you’re fine so just get it over with then you can go.” Minho turned on the thermometer and handed it to Hyunjin, who grabbed it indignantly and placed it under his tongue.

They made eye contact for a moment, both knowing how this would end. Minho stood up, using the minute or two it would take to register Hyunjin’s temperature to pour himself a cup of coffee. Just as he finished stirring in the milk he heard the beep.

Turning around, he extended his hand. Hyunjin handed him the thermometer, adding meekly, “it really isn’t that bad hyung. If I only go for a little while…”

Minho looked at the reading and back at Hyunjin. “Seriously? 39.1° isn’t that bad?” Hyunjin looked defeated, which made Minho feel badly about being so stern with him. “What am I going to do with you Hyunjin?” He asked softly, running the back of his hand along Hyunjin’s warm cheeks and forehead. “Let’s get you a little more comfortable, yeah?”

*~*~*~*~*~

To say that Hyunjin was feeling overwhelmed was an understatement. Yes, he was sick, that he could deal with. But his stress about the situation at hand far superseded whatever cold or flu he’d got himself into. He had worked so hard only for the entire situation to fall apart. What’s more, he had seen Minho successfully pull this off multiple times, choreographing, teaching, perfecting… it shouldn’t be this hard. Yet when it was his turn to take control he failed.

Minho helped Hyunjin up from the table and sat him down on the edge of his bed, kneeling down to unlace his runners. The guilt was too much for Hyunjin.

“Hyung, I can take care of it” he managed to whisper, his throat burning.

“I know you can, Jinnie” Minho replied gently, continuing to pull Hyunjin’s runners off. “But it’s ok to let somebody help you.” Hyunjin knew his words weren’t just referring to his shoes.

Since Hyunjin was tasked with the choreography for the new album’s title track, it’s all he could think about. From sun up to sun down. Minho saw the signs early, the way that Hyunjin latched on and fixated to this project, like he did to every project, being the perfectionist he is, but always to the detriment of taking care of himself. Every offer from Minho to help was met with an absent shake of the head from Hyunjin, who was too focused to even entertain the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin sighed. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Which it is,” Minho assured him. “It’s the best choreography we’ve had in the last few comebacks to be honest. And it will still be the best choreography once you’re back on your feet and feeling well enough to finish teaching it.”

Hyunjin nodded, his throat too sore to say anymore. Minho helped him back into his pajamas and into bed. His muscles were almost unbearably sore. But Minho already knew that. He always knew what Hyunjin needed without being told.

“I’m going to grab you some medication, okay? Then you can sleep all day, for as long as you need, no interruptions.” Minho said, pulling Hyunjin’s blankets up over his shoulders.

Stepping out of Hyunjin’s room, he sighed and pulled out his phone to return Chan’s earlier text.

“He’s sick. Fever, sore throat, achy, the works. Tried to go to work but I got him back to bed.” He responded. Chan had texted him a few minutes earlier asking if Hyunjin was awake yet and how he was doing.

Minho tossed his phone on the counter, heating up some water to make Hyunjin some more tea. He glanced down when it vibrated again.

“Damn you were right. Make sure he gets some sleep today. And let me know if you guys need anything.”

Minho responded with a simple 👍🏻 before adding the tea bag to the water and pouring some tablets into his hand. When he returned to Hyunjin’s room he found him sitting against the headboard watching a video he had taken yesterday of one of the group’s final run throughs of the the choreography they had learned yesterday, making mental notes about who needed to work on which moves.

“Hey, I’m serious Hyunjin, no more work today. Rest, sleep, recover, but no work.” Minho chided, taking Hyunjin’s phone from his hands and setting it on his bedside table. Hyunjin nodded, accepting the tea and tablets. “These should help with the aches and pains and fever, but they’ll also make you sleepy. So just let it happen. I’ll see you when you wake up.” Minho stated as he helped Hyunjin lie back down. He stayed a minute, brushing Hyunjin’s hair off his warm forehead, until his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off.

*~*~*~*~*~

Hyunjin wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep but he had slept like a rock. He was feeling a bit better after his nap and decided to get up and find Minho. It only took a moment for him to find his hyung sitting on the couch watching a movie.

As Minho saw Hyunjin emerge from his room he immediately paused the movie and gestured for Hyunjin to come sit down next to him. Hyunjin complied, snuggling into Minho’s side.

“Feeling any better, Jinnie?” Minho inquired, feeling Hyunjin’s forehead. He was definitely still feverish but didn’t feel quite as warm as he had that morning.

Hyunjin nodded in response, his throat still bothering him. He reached for Minho’s wrist, checking his watch. He was surprised to see that it was already 1:00 PM. He really must have fallen into a deep sleep.

“Are you hungry?” Minho asked, garnering a shake of the head from Hyunjin. “Will you try and eat something if I make it for you?” This time, Hyunjin shrugged. Trying once more, Minho asked with doe eyes, “Please?”

Hyunjin couldn’t say no to that, so he nodded his head yes. Minho smiled and stood up, handing the remote to Hyunjin, telling him to put on whatever he wanted.

When Minho came back about half an hour later, he found Hyunjin asleep exactly where he had left him. Minho carefully nudged him awake, startling him a bit and causing him to cough.

“Sorry Hyunjin, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Minho apologized. “Your cough doesn’t sound great though.”

Hyunjin sighed and shook his head, only able to get out a whisper. “Painful.”

“I know” Minho replied, not sure what else to say, before adding, “hopefully the soup will help a little.”

Hyunjin smiled sadly, taking the soup from Minho.

“Actually, hold on a second Hyunjin, I’d like to check your temperature before you eat.”

Minho grabbed the thermometer from the counter and handed it to Hyunjin, who popped it in his mouth. After a couple of minutes, Minho grabbed it as it beeped. Hyunjin looked up at him with puppy dog eyes expectantly. “38.3°. That’s a lot better Jinnie. Looks like the meds and sleep have done their job so far.”

Hyunjin responded with a sigh and began eating the soup. As Hyunjin ate, Minho texted Chan.

“Hyunjin is up, came out of his room about 45 minutes ago. Fever is down a bit but still there and he’s eating lunch now.”

Minho got a response fairly quickly.

“Is he feeling any better? Do you need anything? Felix is here with us but I can send him home and have him pick up whatever you need on his way.”

Like clockwork, Hyunjin let out a few painful coughs in succession, followed by a groan. Minho replied,

“Actually yeah can you have him grab some lozenges? Hyunjin’s throat is really bothering him and the cough isn’t helping.”

Chan responded letting him know that Felix was on his way, so Minho turned his attention back to Hyunjin, who was doing his best to stay awake. Minho grabbed the bowl from him, satisfied that he had eaten just about all of it.

“Hey, do you want to take some more meds and try to get some more sleep? Felix is coming home with some lozenges for you but looks like you’re ready to go back to bed.”

Hyunjin nodded and stood back up on his feet, feeling a little dizzy. Seeing him sway, Minho kept to his feet, grabbing Hyunjin around the waist.

“You good?” He asked, before letting him walk back to his room, following shortly after with a glass of water and a few tablets. Once he ensured that Hyunjin had taken the meds and was comfortably settled in for his nap, Minho drew the blinds and closed his bedroom door.

*~*~*~*~*~

It didn’t take long for Felix to arrive back with the lozenges in addition to a box of popsicles.

“I thought these might help with his throat” Felix said, glancing around for Hyunjin.

“Thank you so much Felix, you’re a lifesaver. He went back to bed a few minutes ago and took some more medication, so he’ll probably be out for a few hours.

Minho and Felix spent the next few hours watching TV, chatting about Felix’s interview, his day at work, and what everyone had been working on that day. Felix’s mood then shifted a bit, and Minho could sense that there was something he wanted to say.

“Hyung, I don’t mean to overstep here, but I’ve been thinking about this situation with Hyunjin.” Felix began, feeling awkward. Minho nodded, trying to make Felix a bit more comfortable to continue.

“Do you think he made himself sick? I mean, he gets almost manic when he’s choreographing and he doesn’t come to either of us for help…” Felix trailed off, overcome with concern for Hyunjin and guilt for allowing him to get into such a state without stepping in to stop him.

“I know, I’ll talk to him, I promise” Minho replied firmly. Just then they heard a door opening, followed by a cough, which was followed by a whine. Hyunjin walked over, sitting on the couch and returning to his spot burrowed into Minho’s side.

“What time is it?” Hyunjin asked quietly, clearing his throat.

“So you do remember how to speak” Minho replied, making Hyunjin smile. Minho was glad to see that. “It’s 4:30. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly a lot better. My throat is still sore but I can talk a little” Hyunjin responded, taking the lozenge that Felix offered. The three of them sat in silence on the couch for a few minutes, Felix on one end and Minho on the other with Hyunjin glued to his side.

“It’s just going to be the three of us here tonight, the rest are going to be working late then Chan is going to take them to grab some dinner. I figured we can order in, whatever you guys want.” Minho said, interrupting the silence. Felix and Hyunjin nodded affirmatively and Hyunjin reached for the remote.

Felix tried to hold his tongue. He really did. But he couldn’t wait any longer. Snatching the remote from Hyunjin’s hand suddenly, he blurted out “Hyunjin why do you do this? I can’t stand it anymore.”

Minho cringed as the words flew from Felix’s mouth as if it was physically impossible to hold them back. Felix wasn’t wrong by any means, and Minho had been feeling the same way, but he had hoped to address it once Hyunjin was feeling well again.

“Felix, not now…” Minho sighed, seeing Hyunjin’s eyes widening and welling up with tears.

“I’m sorry hyung, but if not now, when?” Felix replied defensively, trying to hold back his tears.

Minho took a deep breath. Two crying kids, one that was sick, no backup…this was not ideal. He wasn’t sure what to say.

After a moment of contemplation, Minho sighed. “Okay, let’s hash it out then, but let me start.”

Squeezing Hyunjin a little closer to him, Minho began speaking, trying to pick his words carefully. “Listen Hyunjin, you are a great dancer, and you’re a great choreographer, you have nothing to prove. You know that, right?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond, but Minho continued. “There is nobody here that would question that, but it’s concerning that you have no issues neglecting yourself for weeks at a time. There is no reason for you to be doing that and no excuse you give will change my mind.” Hyunjin remained silent and Felix used that as an opportunity to unload his thoughts, trying to get his words out through tears.

“It’s like you become a whole different person. We have all of this time but you act like time is running out. If you really were falling behind you could come talk to Minho hyung or me but you just keep going as if the world depends on the choreography being finished in record breaking time, and honestly Hyunjin I’m so sick of it. You always push yourself too far and we never say anything because…I literally have no idea why…but we don’t and now this time you’ve made yourself sick. And maybe nobody else is going to say any of this but I will because I can’t stand seeing you this way.”

Hyunjin looked up, tears streaming down his face. Minho rubbed his back trying to comfort him before adding awkwardly, “well, yeah I guess that’s the gist of it.”

The three sat in silence for a few moments, Felix trying to calm down, Hyunjin trying to figure out how to respond to all of this, and Minho shifting his glance back and forth between them trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin muttered in his raspy voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you guys.”

“Okay Hyunjin, I appreciate that, but this isn’t about us, this is about you.” Minho said calmly.

Hyunjin kept talking and Minho wasn’t even sure he had heard what he just said. “I’m not as good of a dancer and the fans don’t like me as much and I want to be valuable to the group so I worked so hard and I didn’t realize…”

Minho nodded, giving Hyunjin a little squeeze. “First of all, he said, what do you mean you aren’t as good of a dancer and the fans don’t like you as much? That is literally not true and there’s nothing more to it than that. I don’t know what you’d think that.” Hyunjin let out a sniffle, wiping his tears off his face. “Secondly, Minho continued, “you do realize that Felix and I were both literally kicked out of the group…so…do with that as you will.”

Hyunjin and Felix both laughed at that, starting to calm down. Minho breathed a sigh of relief. “I think we can agree that not a single one of us is very comfortable showing vulnerability. Well maybe Felix, sometimes,” he added with a smile. “But we are a team and it’s ok to ask for help if you need it. We don’t have to shoulder any burdens alone, okay?”

Hyunjin and Felix nodded in unison at that. “And next time you push yourself too hard and make yourself sick, I won’t take care of you, okay Hyunjin?” Minho added jokingly.

Hyunjin smiled and nodded, snuggling closer into Minho’s side. “Okay hyung but please take care of me this time till I’m better.”

“Fine,” he said sarcastically as he placed his hand against Hyunjin’s forehead.

“I think your fever will break by tomorrow, it’s definitely down.” Minho confirmed. Relieved, Felix handed the remote back to Hyunjin.

*~*~*~*~*~

The three of them stayed on the couch for the rest of the evening. Minho ordered dinner, which he and Felix ate quickly and Hyunjin picked at before finally eating some at the direction of Minho, followed by one of the popsicles Felix had brought home for him.

By the time the rest of the group came back, they were sound asleep, Hyunjin still tucked into Minho’s side.

“Oh my god it’s so adorable” Changbin quietly said with a laugh, causing the rest of the members to join in his laughter. Chan knelt down in front of Hyunjin, feeling his forehead with his palm, which stirred him awake.

“Hmm?” Hyunjin said sleepily.

“Your fever’s gone, Jinnie. Are you feeling a little better?” Chan questioned quietly.

Hyunjin only nodded tiredly before resting his head back on Minho’s shoulder.

“No, don’t go back to sleep here, let me help you to bed.” Chan instructed, helping Hyunjin up. Once he had gotten a very sleepy Hyunjin into a fresh pair of pajamas and got him to brush his teeth and comb his hair, he put Hyunjin to bed. Chan was not surprised that Hyunjin was asleep before his head even hit he pillow. He then returned back to the couch where he gently woke Felix and Minho, who, after some coaxing, finally got up to go to bed while. As they slowly headed to their rooms Chan let them know that tomorrow’s schedules were cancelled.

*~*~*~*~*~

The next day Minho was awoken by Hyunjin crawling into his bed and latching onto him like an oversized koala. Without a word he closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep.

Minho spoke up, giving Hyunjin a small squeeze. “Morning, are you feeling better today? Chan said your fever broke last night.” Hyunjin nodded in response. Aside from some tenderness in his throat, and a slight lingering cough and fatigue, he was feeling far better than he was the prior day and, frankly, for the past few days.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin whispered. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Minho smiled, pulling Hyunjin a little closer into his chest. “Of course, that’s my job as your hyung, to take care of you when you’re sick.”

Hyunjin nodded sleepily and added “not just yesterday, hyung. You always take good care of me. And I appreciate it.”

“Ahhh, who are you and what did you do with my little brat Hyunjin?” Minho responded jokingly, ruffling Hyunjin’s hair. He was relieved to see Hyunjin on the mend.

“No work today. Go back to sleep.” Minho whispered, ready to fall back asleep himself. No matter how far over the edge Hyunjin pushed him, he’d never stop caring for his favorite little brother.

[jules-has-notes]

It Ain't Me — VoicePlay music video

The VoicePlay guys are fans of the Book of Mormon. So when an opportunity arose to collaborate with a singer who was about to join the national tour, they were pretty excited. They chose a brand new song, and created an arrangement that shifts the tone from the melancholy regret of the original to unapologetic liberation.

Details:

title: It Ain't Me (feat. John Pinto)

original performers: Kygo & Selena Gomez

written by: Kyrre "Kygo" Gørvell-Dahll, Brian Lee, Ali Tamposi, Selena Gomez, & Andrew Watt

arranged by: Layne Stein & Hannah Juliano

release date: 12 April 2017

My favorite bits:

that beautiful three-part harmony from John, Earl, and Eli with their coordinated breathy offsets

the resonant woodblock-y pops in Layne's percussion line

Geoff's little descending triplet at the end of the first verse

dropping out everything but John's melody and Geoff's bass line to create a feeling of emptiness

the driving rhythm of the choruses

the harmonized tone jump on ♫ "slee-EE-eep" ♫ in the second chorus

Geoff's long notes and slides contrasting against Layne's stacatto percussion in the breakdown section

the ♫ "no no no" ♫ bell chord and the descending run that follows

building the layers from the bottom up

John's soaring, nimble riffs

You don't need extra drums, silly!

ending on pure octaves

all the rehearsal footage and behind the scenes shenanigans

Trivia:

Bringing in John and his lovely countertenor gave the group a trial run at moving Eli into the vacant baritone spot and making a higher voice their permanent fifth member, which was an option they were considering.

This video was filmed at a new location for VoicePlay, Starke Lake Studios in Ocoee.

The YouTube description includes a parody verse: "I had a dream / you were eating something sweet / won't you please share that with me / 'cause I like ice cream. / Lieutenant Dan! Ice Cream!!!"

While John was in town, he made sure to stop by Disney World and take a dip in the Atlantic.

The guys met up again a few months later when the Book of Mormon tour spent three weeks in Salt Lake City, UT, and a week of shows took VoicePlay to nearby Park City.

After two years on the Book of Mormon tour, John joined the Broadway cast in 2019, where he has remained thus far.

John has returned to sing with VoicePlay twice to date, for the "Just Sing" mega-collaboration in 2020, and a gorgeous rendition of "Unchained Melody" the following year.

VoicePlay had included "Hello!" from The Book of Mormon in their "Aca Top 10 – Broadway" countdown, which they also performed in live shows, starting with the 2015 Sing-Off tour.

[bravetemptation]

FAITH IN THE FUTURE - LYRIC ANALYSIS

This is about to be the longest thing I’ve ever posted, so buckle up and prepare yourselves cause I’ve been typing this out for three hours.

Disclaimer for any who need it - these are my personal thoughts and opinions as someone who has been in the fandom for 12 years, has listened to the album 10+ times in the last three days, and got to experience some of the new songs live. You don’t have to agree with me. You don’t have to like what I have to say. But you do have to remain respectful, and if I see any nonsense you’ll just get blocked cause I don’t have time to deal with childishness in my inbox.

Below are my thoughts on each of the 16 songs on Faith in The Future. Please enjoy my ramblings 💙💙

The Greatest:

This song has two very clear meanings to me, and I believe them both in equal measure, which is unusual for me, because usually one of the concepts that I see in a song is a bit of a reach, but hear me out. This song is both about his relationship with his fans and how, when apart, it's not special, but together they are far more powerful than they are apart (alone we're only / just as good as the rest / together we're the greatest). In that respect and with that concept, it's the perfect album opener (can personally attest to it being PHENOMENAL as a show opener - the drums beat right in your chest, it's amazing). The other concept is, of course, a relationship, one that they were comfortable in until they had to hide it away (said I had a plan for us / time it came and changed it all / we had to disappear). But even though they did that, how they feel about each other still shows (the way you know something / your face reminded me / of a love you cannot hide / but don't need to tell me why) and reminiscing on the old times, being able to just exist in them in the present when they're together, making up for the time they spend apart when they're together again and the opportunities they missed because of the life they lead and getting to experience those things in their own way (back dancin' in the dark / back to the very start / finding pieces that can fit / making up for what we missed). It ends with the last line of the chorus (Life for us is never over) and it's such a powerful message - that no matter what or when or how, together they're better than they are apart and they will never give up on that.

Written All Over Your Face:

This is truly just Louis writing about Harry being the dramatic aquarius that he is. It's sexy, it's edgy, it's got that really super catchy guitar riff to start it off, and the lyrics just speak of an experience that Louis is very well accustomed to and has dealt with on many occasions (when you don't want coffee in the morning / I know I'm in a hole). That line isn't metaphorical, it's specific. The entirety of the second verse is just pure gold - he's said these things before, he doesn't know why they keep happening, but he knows that when it's over, they'll have the best sex they've ever had. Then, of course, you have the last line of the chorus (So when you find out what we're fighting for / I'll be ready to talk) which again speaks to experience, knowing that he has to wait until Harry figures out what the petty thing is that's bothering him, and then he'll be there waiting to talk it out.

Bigger Than Me:

I've talked about this one at length so I will try to keep it short, but this song is just so powerful in its use of metaphors while also being direct as fuck. It also has a double meaning - one rooted in his experience in the industry, and one rooted in the concept of being queer. The lines that stand out most to me with the first analysis are those at the end of each verse (all of these voices, all of these choices / I don't hear them anymore). So many people have tried to tell him what to do, where to go, who to date, how to do this or that, and he's made mistakes along the way, but now that he's here, comfortable in what he's doing and who he is as an artist and a person, he doesn't hear those voices anymore. When people in his life told him that the music industry would change him, he would just smile and nod, but there was an innate fear that he would lose himself in that process (When somebody told me I would change / I used to hide behind a smile / When somebody told me I would change / I was afraid I don't know why). But he came to the conclusion through all of his experiences that it's okay to change, it's okay to adapt, because the whole thing, the world and his career and the relationships he made along the way were way bigger than just him.

In the concept of the lyrics standing for the journey of queerness, again we come back to the beginning of the chorus. As he grew, matured, figured out what and who he wanted, people always had an opinion on it, would always be giving their two cents to him, and of course he was scared of who he would become because the reactions would be so varied, could take away everything he'd worked for. The longer he kept the secret, the harder it would be to tell the truth. People would say he lied to them, that he changed, but people do that. They change, they grow, they learn, and it's okay to do those things as long as you're staying true to yourself. And he probably felt isolated in his experience. Even knowing that other artists had been through this before, it's hard to look at it that way when it's happening to you, but he finally realized that it's bigger than just him. It's a whole industry, a whole world, of people just like him who are struggling, who are learning, who are going to change, and that thought was a comfort.

Lucky Again:

I've had much longer to think on this one than some of the others, since I've had the leaked version for quite some time (shh don't tell). It took me a while to figure this one out in my own brain, because it didn't quite seem to fit into one solid storyline or concept at first, but thinking about it after having heard Harry's House (and we'll get into the parallels between this album and that one later cause DAMN) and after seeing the Sushi video, I had a few ideas, though still not a solid storyline. I feel like this song is more of a letter to H, especially in the first verse and pre-chorus - talking about how Louis has watched him work really hard to be himself, to be able to express that while still in an industry that isn't open like it should be, and how he gives so much of himself, his kindness, to other people that don't necessarily care about him unless he's making them money, and that he could maybe slow it down a little. But I think it could be conceptually about H possibly being so taken with the idea of wanting to be good, to be enough, to make something of his life, and knowing that Jeff could give it to him. The pre-chorus leans into that idea heavily (if you believe that guy is Superman / they're selling tickets at the cinema) - Jeff being Superman, of course. Louis doesn't trust Jeff, but he trusts Harry to do what's right for himself. But if that life and those things are what helps H get through darker times, then he has to do it, but be careful and hold on tight as he does. The chorus can really relate to Louis - it really says to me that at one point Louis was lost, he didn't know where to go in his solo career, but he figured it out. They had such luck being in 1D, and Harry already has it, and Louis fully believes that he could find that luck again on his own.

Face The Music:

Gay gay gay gay GAY.

Those were my thoughts when I heard it the first time. That first verse is so potent - society tells you what's right and wrong, what's good and bad, what's love and what's hate, and all of that depends on the reality that you live or are taught, but in the end it's all subjective. But Louis knows what he's experienced, and he wants to stay there (I just wanna stay in this moment the rest of my life). He knows what society expects of someone in his position, and he doesn't want to face that reality, so he's choosing to stay with the person he loves, to dance with them, to keep buying them time even when they shouldn't. when it could ruin both of their careers. He doesn't care, because those people are wrong in their outdated expectations. He reminds that person that it's going to be okay, they just need to breathe, take their time, that those luxuries they have aren't as important as what they themselves have with each other, and Louis is okay with forgetting about them (close your eyes and count to ten / if your standing on the edge of falling / open up and looking down / everything that matters is forgotten). It's basically saying "fuck them, I choose you". Beautiful.

Chicago:

When we were told by a radio interviewer that we would know exactly who this song was about, I was so confused when I then read the lyrics because in my mind I'm going "none of his exes, real or fake, have both a brother and a baby so what the fuck". And then it hit me - Zouis. Of course. Because Zayn and Louis were best friends, and much more in tune with their emotions than most men. They would have talked about everything and anything - including what they would name their future kids. Zayn would have been like a brother to Louis, so in turn any of Zayn's friends would be like brothers to Zayn - I think he could be referencing the Naughty Boy incident here (And is your brother doing ok / is he still getting out of fights). The pre-chorus just punches you because Louis probably hated that Zayn was leaving the band but supported him because he knew that's what he needed to do, even if it fucked everything up for everyone else, and then their friendship just kind of blew up and they're both stubborn as fuck and refuse to talk about it. So Louis would be sitting here after all these years wondering if the bitter end to their friendship would turn sweet, if it had been long enough for Zayn to forgive Louis for the things he said and did. While the song has some lines that can allude to this being about a romantic relationship, I think that it's more geared toward a really close friendship that he lost. And I'm also aware that Zayn doesn't live in Chicago, but saying "and if you're lonely in Mechanicsburg" doesn't quite have the same ring to it. This song ended up being one of my absolute favorites.

All This Time:

I also get extreme GAY vibes from this one, and it touches on the theme of wasted time (It's not how you spend the time, it's if you waste it) which Harry has now engrained into my brain, so thanks for that, Harold.

I think it's something unique to the queer experience where you figure out that you're not like everyone else, that there's something that makes you different, and you hold that close to your chest for a long time (I'm tryna find the words to say for ages). You know who you are and sometimes it scares you, sometimes it excites you, and sometimes it can just be downright confusing and demoralizing. Even when you come to a time where you are comfortable with who you are and that maybe other people will be okay with that version of you, and you know where you want your life to go, you can get into a place of doubt (but the truth is I still doubt that what I do can get me home). Even when you find someone that understands your journey, that might have gone on a similar journey of their own, even when you have everything with this person, it's still scary. But in the end, it's been true and real the whole time and it's worth it. Everything is worth it for that person to be in your life, for you to get the chance to love them.

Out of My System:

Honestly, the allegory to queerness and that journey on this album is insane, and this song I think perfectly captures the concept of figuring out you're queer and not wanting it. It was something I encountered in books and movies, actually, the concept of "oh I'll just do it once, get it out of my system, and I'll be normal again", and that's what this song says to me. He talks about moving quickly towards disaster, like he knows deep down that this won't be a one time thing, that it won't fix the problem, but he's ignoring that. The chorus basically says "I've lived my life with this dirty little secret, but I need to get through the rest of my life without this stalking me so I'll do it once". The demons imagery in the second verse reminds me of the same type of imagery in Kill My Mind, which is just a nice callback. BUT these lines are interesting because they can be interpreted one of two ways - either that the demos are the voices of people telling him that his feelings are wrong and he's shoving them away so he can feel alive by being with the person he wants to be with just once, or the demons are the queerness itself, and shoving it away will somehow make him feel more alive. Either way, super powerful. Also, the punk rockness of this song makes me so happy, and it's also a banger live. The energy is unmatched.

Headline:

This one was pretty clear - it's about a relationship that went badly because the person only saw Louis as what he was in the papers, who the papers thought him to be, not as an actual person with feelings. They were quick to believe any story they saw, no matter what information they had to the contrary, and that's why they're no longer in Louis' life. I could see this as something more abstract, where it's not necessarily about Louis personally but as a famous person trying to be with someone who isn't famous/is easily swept up in the tabloid drama. Pretty straightforward, definitely a jam.

Saturdays:

This. Fucking. Song. Wow.

Like ... Louis always has such a way with words, but this one really blew me away.

Stay with me - this one is also about Zayn. Now I can get where people would see it as a romantic song, but I feel like sometimes losing a best friend - not to death or anything but to fued or disagreement - holds a different kind of pain, a more visceral kind, and that's how this song strikes me. Louis and Zayn did everything together those last few years of 1D. They went out, they smoked, they got drunk, they partied, they were ride-or-dies. And Louis himself has said that, in years past, he has not been in a mature enough position to contact Zayn or to talk to him about what happened between them, but lately he has been far more open to the idea. But that doesn't mean that he hasn't been thinking about him (I've been wondering about what you're up to / not for the first time / not for the last time) or remembering the good times they had (and I've been thinking 'bout the things we used to do / not for the first time / not for the last time). There has always been many sayings about drowning your sorrows in drinks, drinking to forget, going out on a Friday/Saturday night, and Louis really leans into that here with a simple yet devastating lyric (We always used to say / "Saturdays take the pain away") and I think Louis thought he would always have that with Zayn, that connection of two people who understood each other on such a deep level, and he never expected it to change. But it did. And now he no longer has that person in his life.

Then you get to the next verse where he talks about how he thinks he sees this person, or he sees two people who remind him of how he once was with his friend, and he freezes cause he has no idea what he would do if it was actually them, or if he had to face what he'd lost, and then he pushes it away (A shadow of you sticks me to the carpet / try to ignore it). But he has to keep reminding himself that some things change, and yeah it sucks, and yeah, his heart might be broken at the loss of his friendship, but he refuses to let it destroy his life (My heart might be broken / but I won't be broken down). And then how all the instrumentals and backing vocals just drop out for the final lines of the chorus, it's almost like as he reaches the end of the song, he actually believes what he's been telling himself this whole time, and it resembles starting to let go of the pain and resentment and moving forward. One of, if not THE, best songs on the album, don't come for me. (Also I truly can't BELIEVE he ended his set like this on Friday, I left depressed as fuck haha)

Silver Tongues:

Before I go into this one, I just have to say that the transition from Saturdays to Silver Tongues is absolute genius. That is all.

Now. When I heard this for the first time, it was like blue and green alarm lights were going off in my brain, not gonna lie. While I do think that this song has an overarching theme of found family and having the best time of your life with people who understand you and never wanting to go home after being with those people, I just ... see it as a song about being in love with your best friend. The pre-chorus and chorus really say it all - there is one person who understands Louis like no other, who makes him the happiest he's ever been, who he shares inside jokes with and has written songs with and only the two of them can understand what it's like. And we both know that Harry would be the one to call it a night on a night out and Louis would be the one who would want just one more drink, so there's that for you. And then you go into the second verse which is so fucking domestic and adorable, because even when Louis is like you're such a hypocrite, you say I can't like weed cause it's bad but you can drink vodka and it's fine, he's still like I love you, I get you. (You said grass was a dirty drug / you like to preach with my vodka in your mug / I love all the things you know). Then we hit PEAK VOCALS (so far) with that next part, where he admits that they can both be stubborn, they can both say stupid shit, but in the end, they love each other, they have a plan, everything is better when they're together and they'll keep making it work because neither of them want anyone else (you and me until the end / waking up to start again / there's no where else that I would rather be).

I could also see the argument of this being about Louis' time in 1D and this song being nostalgic, looking back at the good times, knowing that no one will ever understand him like his boys do, but no matter what you believe, this song is just happy, bouncy, amazing all around. (And would be a great show ender in the encore cause we are all so much happier at concerts and we never wanna go home - it’s amazing to scream that with Louis).

She Is Beauty, We Are World Class:

I had to listen to this one several times before it grew on me - the lines were short and coming right after Silver Tongues, I don't think my brain was ready for it (which is exactly how I felt when I heard Sushi for the first time). But I think this one is about the music industry. Someone did an in depth analysis of this concept already, so I won't repeat what they said, but each line refers to a different aspect of the music industry - knowing what to say and when (Conversation is currency), dealing with paps (Finding faces in the trees), not knowing whether you're your own person or a brand or both (Are we one or are we two? / Are we me or are we you?), and constantly being in the spotlight with every single step you make (surrounded by light). It's a really innovative way to talk about the reality of the industry without calling anyone or anything out directly.

Common People:

This song brought up so many pictures in my mind - Louis as a kid growing up surrounded by such a good parental figure in Jay and being part of a big family (I came from a good home / a house full of terrace dreams) and being okay with living that life because that's all he knew (that was enough for me), but knowing others who didn't grow up that way wouldn't understand (you know, you had to see it to believe). He talks about Doncaster with such reverence, such nostalgia, and you can tell that his heart will always consider that home. He was one of the common people, and at his core, he will always see himself that way, even when his fame becomes apparent to him through others (common people, nothing's changes / you'll hear strangers singing your name). The first line of the second verse (I took her to the local) made me immediately think of him taking Bebe there to film the video for Back To You, and how she asked for sushi and he was like HA no, we don't have sushi here. Just introducing someone who didn't live that life to the intricacies and excitement of something simple in a place that you love can be a really grounding experience.

Angels Fly:

This one was a really hard one for me, because I had an immediate thought and then I was like ... IDK if I wanna talk about that one, it seems tooooooo personal (if you had the same thought as me you'll know exactly what I mean). I think it can be a comforting song - there are definitely good lyrics for that in there (You'll be okay, we can talk tomorrow .../...I wanna hear all that, but right now / you know it's not where we're going). But it also almost feels like a song you would write in retrospect after losing someone. There's a theme running through here of saying "it's alright, I know you're hurting or you have something to say, but there's always tomorrow, we can wait, take your time" when we all know that there isn't always tomorrow. Shit happens. We lose people. And when I think of that, the last bit of the chorus makes a kind of haunting sense (If every star is an eye in the sky / you'll see angels fly) - it makes me think of telling a dying child that they're going to heaven, trying to make things seem beautiful when they're terrifying and horrible. Either way, this song rips me apart in both the best way of someone actually caring to come and take care of me when I feel like shit, and in the worst way of losing someone and not having the time you thought you had with them.

Holding on to Heartache:

This song is 100% about One Direction and how Louis felt lost and resentful after the band went on hiatus. I truly can't hear it any other way, and unless I'm crazy, he pulled off some pretty clever lyrics that lead me to this very point. The whole first verse is very much a person looking back, seeing something for what it was instead of what it felt like in the moment (we knew that all would change / creates the strangest feeling / just slowly waiting for the end). He still thinks about it often, how they lived every moment thinking it couldn't get bigger, better, but they also knew there was a time limit on it, something they ignored steadfastly until they couldn't anymore (The moments as they came .../... because we faded into darkness .../... I can still hear a clock that's ticking). Louis has said himself that he was finally finding his place, his confidence in the band, and then they were on a break and it wasn't something he wanted or was ready for, and I think, in holding onto that pain, he stopped himself from embarking on his solo journey for a long time. He didn't understand, he wanted answers (the questions that I'd ask you / "where did it all go wrong?"). Then the bridge - the glorious bridge that I can't wait to scream on tour with him - hits, and you can feel what he felt - the sensation of suddenly being on his own (you know the party's over / when you're standing in an empty space alone), the realization that he would need time to recover (And time can always heal you / if you let it make its way into your bones), the raw honesty towards himself (Nothing's ever easy / to be honest, I'm not easy on myself) and towards the others' careers (The second that I see you / the space between us just comes flooding back). As he fades out the last chorus, in comes again the realization that he might need to let go of any lingering resentment, because in the end, this was what was always going to happen with the circumstances they were surrounded with.

And it was at this moment on my tenth listen that I realized that some of the lyrics were referencing (in my opinion) One Direction songs - "It's gonna drag me down"; "the moments as they came"; "the nights, they change in seasons"; "the space between us just comes flooding back". These could be coincidences, of course, but I think Louis is clever with his writing, and that this might have been intentional.

That's The Way Love Goes:

This song surprised me with how much I liked it, and I think it's all down to the fact that this is not at all your typical love song, but rather the opposite. He's consoling a friend who broke up with their girlfriend, trying to pull them out of the funk they've been in since the relationship ended with a little tough love (Here are some words I know that you don't wanna hear / "I think she's moved on, mate, it's almost been a year") and just explaining to them that they aren't the only one to experience this, that it's a universal experience (that's the way, that's the way love goes). Then there's a beautiful callback to Miss You (Remember when you told me I should give it time?) and kind of a nudge to get a move on, put your shoes back on and rejoin society, it will all be okay in the end. And the brutal honesty in explaining that the level of pain felt directly correlates to how much you loved that person (When it cuts you, when you bleed / that's when you're feeling it the most). It's a beautiful song of reassurance in the classic Louis way, and a great way to end an album - on a sense of hope for a better, brighter future.

There was this one other point that I wanted to make about Louis as a lyricist - Louis does this thing where he changes the lyrics from the first to second verse/pre-chorus (See Bigger Than Me - All of these/those voices; All This Time - I/you still doubt that what i/you do can get me home; Out of My System - Gotta get it off of my chest/out of my head; Saturdays - the ones that you wore when you walked out the door/but you're not here anymore) that I love because it's such a small thing but words have such impact, such power, and a small switch can hint at a large change in perspective.

This album is no skips, absolute perfection, and perfectly encapsulates who Louis is as a person, the things that he's experienced, and his ability to craft relatable stories through his words, be they personal or abstract. His voice was clearly made for this genre, and I can't wait to hear even more when he tours next year and when LT3 starts cooking.