#and when in the singing part hes trying to reach some high notes like the girls and its so soft

[no-i-will-not-shut-up]

the vshojou halloween song!!!! god kuro sounds so good in the harmony like you can hear him taking care of the bass and ironmouse in the soprano and zentraya is so smooth

[thoughtfulfiction]

Dad and Mini’s Weekend

Author’s note: Gameday re-write! Bolt up as always. Hope you enjoy this dad!Justin piece!

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

The toddler stops in her tracks, putting down the purple crayon she was holding to look up at him like he’s offended her. “I’m not a baby, I’m this many,” she informs him, holding up four fingers. He reaches over the tiny drawing table and puts one of her fingers down so she’s only holding three up. They’ve been trying to work on it this week and there is clearly room for improvement.

“You’re right mini, you’re not a baby. Daddy’s sorry, do you forgive me?”

She hops out of her seat, the masterpiece she was creating quickly forgotten so she can give Justin a hug. “I forgives you, but...why do you call me mini?”

“Because,” he begins, laughing when she holds her hands up to be carried. He secretly still really liked to hold her, it was hard to believe the once small, green-eyed miniature girl version of him that he could hold in his hands like a football, was now a fully functioning, walking and talking miniature…person.

He walks the two of them to the bathroom, turning on the light so she can see their reflection in the mirror. ”Look at us, you look just like me. You’re my mini me. My mini.” She stares back and forth between her reflection and his, tilting her head as if that would help her get a better look. “See? We have the same eyes, same nose and—smile? That little hole in your cheek? It’s called a dimple. I have one too. And when I was your age my hair was blonde just like yours.” He pokes at each body part as he lists them off, his heart being warmed at the sound of her little laugh.

“Oh! We match daddy. We’re the same!” Remi kisses him on the cheek.

Justin was in charge for the next few days while you were in Chicago at a work conference. Remi had recruited you to help her make a list of things she wanted to do with him. And he made it his personal mission to get everything on the list done, to make up for all the lost quality time he didn't get to spend with her during the season.

Today, the main thing on the agenda was the aquarium. He strapped her up in her car seat and asked what she wanted to listen to on the way to their destination, secretly already knowing the answer because it had been the same for the last two weeks anytime either of you drove her around.

"The Cars song!"

“What’s the magic word?” He says looking at her through the rearview mirror, waiting for her to understand what he was getting at.

“Um…please?”

He nods and grabs his phone, playing the song on repeat. Remi starts dancing in her seat as “Life is a Highway” plays on the speakers. Justin watches intently as she wiggles her arms and shakes her little body as she pleases and joins her in singing along. If he could bottle up these tiny moments he would and he’d savor them just to be able to look back on them in the future because his mini was already growing up too fast.

Their duet lasted over an hour, driving into Newport from the ranch, and every time they left their home it made him grateful for his purchase to give his family some privacy. Of course he loved meeting fans and interacting with them but he wanted to be present with his daughter and interruptions or a quick selfie here and there got a bit old. And Remi was still trying to wrap her mind around why her dad always had people following him or taking pictures with him so answering those questions was always more fun for you than it was for him. So when he could be in the comfort of his own home, he wanted to be. But then again, if Remi said jump, most of the time he said how high and that is why he had this trip to take her to see some fish.

"Do you see those with the pretty tail that looks like a tutu? Those are called Red Betta Fish, so we can mark off the red square because we found something." Justin points out, handing Remi the marker and showing her the spot on the aquarium scavenger hunt they just checked off. After she was done she handed him the sheet, holding on to the writing utensil. He held out his free hand for her to hold, which she happily grabbed as her dad continued identifying different fish.

Remi looked at the various colors and sizes of the animals in front of her. “Do fishies have mommies and daddies too?”

“They do,” her dad nods, smiling at the fact that his daughter was tugging at his heartstrings due to her care for animals. He saw more of himself in her every single day but it was still mind-blowing.

“Maybe the mama went to work too, like mine. And the one in Finding Nemo!” She muses, looking up at him.

“You’re right! It’s exactly like that.” Neither you nor Justin had the heart to tell her what really happened to the mom when you all sat down for family movie night last Saturday. "Should we go find something blue?"

The toddler could not contain her excitement at the sight of the luminescent jellyfish. "Can we take one home? I want mama to see."

"Mini, I don't think they'd be very happy living at the house, they need lots of water. What if we find one at the gift shop to bring home? I think I saw some with glitter."

She understands immediately, silently wondering if she could let one live in the pool at their other house in California but she forgets her train of thought as soon as she he mentions glitter. "Yeah! I want more sparkly things in my room. Daddy?" He hums, grabbing her hand again, "someone is looking at us."

Justin turns around and spots the culprit, a little boy, maybe around 12 or 13, wearing his jersey. He can hear the dad, at least he assumed, who was telling him to just go up and ask for a picture. Remi pulls her dad over to them, clearly having heard the entire exchange as well.

"You should take a picture with my dad. He's really nice and he'll say yes." She obviously knew he played football but didn't quite understand the fact that her dad was famous. He was literally just her dad and he wanted to keep it that way as long as he could.

The kid's dad smiles at her, asking Justin if it's ok to interrupt his family time. "It's fine," he reassures him, "she insists and isn't the best at taking no for an answer," the quarterback huffs out a laugh. "Do you have your phone on you?" The dad pulls it out immediately, snapping a picture of the three of them as Remi looks on proudly. She definitely got that part from you. The father and son thank him after he signs the jersey with Remi's marker and both duos move on with the rest of their day.

Remi falls asleep on their way home, hugging her new plushie tight like her life depends on it. She's awake by the time he pulls into the driveway, thanking him for the "best day ever."

As soon as he opened the door, she went to her playroom to sit her plushie in a chair so all of her stuffed animals would be ready for tomorrow's tea party. "Hey," Justin pokes his head in, announcing his arrival when Remi doesn't turn around, purely focused on her "stuffies."

"Mini, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

She finally turns, plopping down to sit on one of the beanbags. "Can I have pizza pretty please? With ranch. Ranch is yummy."

"Sure, pizza and ranch coming right up."

"Thank you daddy," she says instinctively, having turned all of her attention back to the table.

Justin closed the playroom door, taking the stairs two at the time to grab his phone from the master bedroom. He clicked on your contact, praying you'd answer asap. "Babe, I really need your help. Remi wants pizza for dinner, how do I make healthy pizza?"

He hears you laugh on the other end of the line. "Oh my god. You know you don't have to give her absolutely everything she wants. I know you said you wanted to make salmon, so just make that. She'll be fine."

"I know but—she really wants pizza," you can hear the slight pout in his voice, reminding you of Remi.

"She also wants to be a unicorn when she grows up."

"I don't think I can make that happen, but I can definitely do some pizza. Can you just send me the recipe, please?" He really was desperate.

You chuckle at his antics, Remi really did have him wrapped around her little fingers. "Fine. Pushover."

"Whatever, thank you. I love you and we'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you too honey. You're a really good dad," you tell him seriously, "Rem has no idea how lucky she is to have you. We both are."

Justin didn't realize exactly how much of a pushover he was until he found himself sharing his bed with a toddler and the blue sparkly jellyfish he bought a few hours earlier and a gray bear named Muffin. Remi had cried sometime after dinner, a tell-tale sign she was tired, complaining that she missed you and his solution to that problem was to let her sleep in your spot for the night. She, of course, happily agreed.

All of the lights were off and he was seconds away from closing his eyes when he heard her giggle. "What's so funny over there little lady?"

"My pillow smells like mama. Like she’s right here.” She whispers in shock and he shakes his head in amusement, both of them drifting off to sleep with smiles on their faces.

The next day, Remi wanted to get into her costume. She’d been watching a lot of Spidey and his Amazing Friends and was convinced that she was Gwen Stacey aka Ghost Spider. So when her grandparents bought her a costume, she wore it pretty much daily. And her dad had to be Thor…for obvious reasons. The superheroes saved the city from the green goblin’s plan to turn everyone into hamsters and then they had to save Muffin from Doctor Octopus’ evil lair.

“We make a pretty good team, Spider Gwen.” Justin says, putting the Thor hammer on the couch.

“It’s Ghost Spider daddy.” She corrects him.

“Oh I'm sorry Ghost Spider. How about you take your costume off and we take a little snack break? Superheroes need food to keep up their energy.”

After enjoying her apple slices with peanut butter, Remi grabbed the list and asked her dad to read off the two things they had left.

"Flowers and slime."

She had added making slime to the list because she learned how to do it in preschool last week and made you stop at the store to get all the necessary supplies. Although he was secretly looking forward to this little science project with her, it was just another reminder that she was much closer to kindergarten than she was to the newborn stage. He followed the detailed directions that Remi got from school and added glue and food coloring to a bowl and let her stir.

“Do you wanna add in the baking soda?” He hands her the spoon and she dumps it into the bowl.

“Uh oh daddy I spilled. I need a tissue.”

“It's okay, we can clean it up when we’re done. You can keep mixing, you’re doing so well.” Justin runs a hand down her ponytail, proud of himself for successfully getting it all, even if it took him three tries. In his defense, Remi had a lot of hair to work with. “Next, we need to add some of this saline solution and mix it with our hands. Are you ready?”

Remi rolls up her sleeves with her dad’s help and digs into the bowl, kneading the slime with so much joy in her face. The orange slime came out gooey and perfect and they played with it for a while, cleaning everything up together when they were done. He loved that she was into science, fishing expeditions, superheroes and of course...football. But she was also a lover of unicorns, princesses, tea parties and all things glitter so they had gone through a plethora of her interests throughout the week.

The last thing on the list was going to the flower shop to surprise you with a bouquet when you came home. He walks into the tiny store with Remi on his shoulders, setting her down so she can smell the roses. "The yellow is pretty."

"It is pretty," he acknowledges, a sense of peace washing over him. Justin felt like he was in a constant state of serenity when he was home, the calm and quiet energy that followed him daily during the offseason was something he didn't want to take for granted.

The store clerk spots them browsing and asks if they're looking for anything in particular. "My mama is pretty, so we need the prettiest flowers in the world for her surprise."

She smiles, placing her hand on her chest at the toddler's words. "Well, I think I have just the thing you're looking for," the clerk crouches down to Remi's level, "do you wanna take your dad and see?"

Remi nods excitedly after looking at Justin to make sure it's alright. He walks behind her to the side of the store where they are shown an expansive array of flowers to make their own bouquet. The quarterback chooses sunflowers, remembering Remi's comment about the prettiness of the yellow, baby's breath and peonies and Remi picks out some roses, ranunculus bulbs and tulips, all various shades of pink. He gave her a fist bump on their way out the door, thoroughly proud of their work.

Before he knew it, you were texting him to let him know you were picking up dinner on your way home while the two of them watched Moana. Usually she’d be up and running around while the movie played in the background but tonight she was focused, cuddled into his side with her eyes glued to the screen. But as soon as you walked into the house Remi ran into your arms, not wanting to let go.

“Oh hi sweet cookie, did you have fun with daddy?”

“Uh huh, daddy is the best! I love him,” she mumbles into your shoulder.

“I love him too, he’s pretty great isn’t he? You’re so lucky sugar, you have the best daddy in the whole world.” Justin walks up to you and wraps his arms around both of you, sandwiching Remi in the middle. He gives you a kiss on the cheek and kisses the top of the toddler’s head. “So…tell me everything. What did you and daddy do?”

She takes a deep breath and you know you’re in for a long story. You catch your husband’s eyes and he shoots you a tight lipped smile as he goes back outside to your car to get your bags inside. Remi doesn’t let you go as you walk her to the couch.

“It was sooooo fun…” she begins, telling you every single detail without missing a beat.

“Do you need help unpacking? You know I have a little experience with it.” Justin smiles, looking down at your suitcase, long after Remi had gone to bed. You weren't going to say no to the help, gesturing for him to go for it. The man grabbed all of your essentials, easily placing them in their rightful places and putting your bags up without breaking a sweat. His tidiness and attention to detail had become even more attractive since you became parents, it really came in handy.

"How was it? Did she nap at all?"

He closes the distance between you and wraps you in his arms, sneaking in a kiss. "Barely. Maybe fell asleep twice for a total of less than two hours the last 4 days."

"I knew that was gonna happen," you laugh, shaking your head, "she was probably scared to fall asleep and miss spending every single waking moment with you."

"Not just 'waking.'" He notes. "She also slept in our bed...said she missed you too much to sleep alone."

"Of course she did, that kid is a genius."

"I swear she's three going on thirty. It hurts to admit but I just kept thinking about how fast she's growing and honestly? Sometimes I miss the baby stage. I—I think I want another kid." Your husband admits.

You look up at him with your eyes wide in shock, "really?"

"Yeah. Remi is...perfect. I just want her to have someone to play with and everything we did this weekend was great but it would be nice for her to have a sibling to do those things with. Hanging out with dad is cool now but it won't be forever."

Pondering his revelation, you bit your lip, taking in his words. "Two kids. That wouldn't be so bad."

Now it's his turn to be surprised, "you sure? I mean we don't have to make a decision right now, it's just-I always saw us having our own little crew running around."

"We did make a pretty cute kid, another one would just add more fun to our lives. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything,” he responds without hesitation. He’d probably carry the baby for you if that was humanly possible.

"This time I want to have an offseason baby, there's no way I'm having another kid in the middle of the season."

Justin's laugh vibrates against your chest as you hug him. "Deal. And maybe this one will look like you a little bit because Remi is all me."

"You carry a child for 10 months, suffer through over 20 hours of labor all for them to look like someone else. This one better look exactly like me or I'm suing you and your selfish genes."

"We'll have to wait and see but I may be seeing you in court."

[aakaneeee]

Round 7 was.. definetly intense and I have many thoughts about it, so I did a whole analysis.. yes it's finally here!

Time to start :3 (I will mostly try to make this coherent and chronologically correct, I might fail though! because we know how freaky i can get when it comes to Luka)

without further ado, let's get into it!

tws: drug use, violence, blood, overall quite gore-ish;

I. ROUND 7

Round 7 starts with a low intro, sung first by Till, Luka following. Till has his energy back, or atleast part of it. Luka, as always, has his perfect voice, but he seems to be a little more expressive this time, as if he's enjoying the performance, just like the lyrics suggest. Everything goes seemingly smooth, and they receive holographic instruments that almost seem to parallel eachother: Till, an electric guitar, and Luka, a violin. And yet, as the second pre-chorus emerges, Luka approaches Till, putting his hands around his neck, a cruel reminder of Ivan. He is... dizzy, to say the least, even getting a nosebleed, but he doesn't stop singing until the very end, even though images of the one he's been taunted with appear on the screen behind them. His eyes seem to light up when he sees a familiar figure in the crowd, Mizi, somehow remembering her even with her hair completely different, veiled, and between millions of aliens. He reaches out, and Luka is obviously at least annoyed at this, either mad that his trick didn't work, or that Till destroyed a perfect performance. Even so, it's too late for Till: Right before getting a hold of Mizi's hand, he is shot in the neck, falling down. Mizi is.. devastated. A flashback of them as kids plays, with a xylophone instrumental. Then, the camera cuts back, from a happy, smiling Mizi, to one crying over Till's soon-to-be corpse. In his last moments, she takes his hair out of his face and cups it. He tries to caress her hand, and then his arm falls next to him as the light fades from his eyes, destined to look into the distance forever. The text "LUKA WIN" flashes on the screen, but even the double-winner is too distracted to care, as in a safe distance, yet right in front of him, is an injured Hyuna, crouched forward, without her usual, characteristic confidence. They stare blankly at eachother as the screen shows new text: SPECIAL GUESTS, paired with photos of a grieving Mizi and a shocked, in pain Hyuna. We are shown Luka advancing as the winner, the last one left, supposedly, and everything goes black.

II. LUKA

(I will have a lot to say for the both of them, unsurprisingly, but I feel like Luka is still a little bit in the lead... again. who is surprised)

From the first frames we see him in, his clothes are obviously more revealing that in previous rounds (using plural since we have seen part of his Round 4 outfit in the intro of ROMH), using not only the usual open back, but also a huge v-cut showing his chest, and his hip open, specifically where his branding is. I imagine Heperu would've chosen this to show off that it's his pet. Not only that, but his surgery scars are also shown off. I suppose it might be something to brag about here? Maintaining a pet human is probably already really expensive, so it's a differentiation of class if they also afford to have surgeries? I see it as probable. When he begins singing, we see something new. He's a lot more expressive, and it carries through the whole round. Not only that, but when his first high note reaches, he almost crouches down forward, as if he was struggling with it (even though he had more difficult notes in round 5.) Personally, for me, I don't think he was going to use his 'technique' from the start. Some may argue that it's his usual, but he got the biggest score in Alien Stage history in round 4 (I may be mistaken) against Durian, and Durian had no dead loved one that Luka could've used against... him? (I'm still confused about Durian, Acorn and.. Tortilla.😭) So he's obviously insanely talented and only uses it when he feels a threat. Most of Luka's actions in Round 7 felt risky, unplanned, and decided on the moment, which really is unlike him. This feels, like one of my previous posts say, like he was drugged, just like Till. In his daze, maybe he considered that Till would stop singing, or maybe, not even sing at all, and that he'll have an easy opponent. But no, Till proved strong, and then, it came to the next possible way he could 100% win: disorienting him. A thing others have pointed out.. Luka's fingers are probably very cold, and it mightve reminded Till that Ivan is a corpse now. One of the most cruel frames of an already very cruel series was, atleast for me, shown in this video: Luka holding in his laugh after his 'plan' (since, as i already said, i dont think it was actually planned) works. For me, it's another piece of proof that he wasn't in his right mind, the carefully built facade of his wouldn't have just broken by his own will. But, even though he could swear it worked, Till doesn't stop singing. Sure, he's dizzy, dazed, but he still is singing. Shock only comes again when Till sees Mizi in the crowd, and anger, or atleast annoyance, is easily readable on Luka's face. He even pauses singing, looking at Till reaching out for his God, always unattainable, now in the reach of his fingers, in a position I could describe as hesitant, confused. Even so, he gets a win as Till gets shot in the neck. Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to revel in the victory, as he watches in shock, as 'the love of his life' appears in front of him, yet at a safe distance, injured. They stare at eachother, but it's different, it wasn't a blank gaze like in Round 5, it feels a lot more vulnerable.

I love how we've been shown past Luka's empty shell this round. Seeing him actually expressing himself, seemingly taking immense pleasure, almost in an euphoric, naive way, in the round around him. There is no way he genuinely enjoys it, or would've enjoyed it without.. exterior measures. We've seen him reacting to cameras around him in Sweet Dream. We can only imagine that was his truly 'sober' state. As I said, it's really amazing how we can see a more candid version of him.

III. TILL

From the start, it seems like Till has regained his spirit back. He's definetly more energetic than in Round 6, his hair is slightly messy again. His outfit, just like Luka's, is more revealing, but his branding has always been visible, unlike his opponent's. He is doing surprisingly well, not going down without a fight, maybe not going down at all! (I love being cruel) He's singing his heart out, every lyric he says showing desperation. And even though he was going so well, everything has an end. Because his declining mental state goes even more downhill as Luka acts like the freshly deceased Ivan, who left him with so many questions and dillemas. It feels like everything is crowding up on him, the huge stage feeling like a small box. His nose starts bleeding, and just as he was about to faint... He sees the love of his life, Mizi, in the crowd. She's reaching out to him. She's there to save him. He reaches towards her in happiness... Except he gets shot right before it. Mizi is finally reaching to him, right how he imagined when he felt like dying, after singing in that damned club. But just as you can't touch your own imagination, you can't touch a God.

Mizi is, and always will be unattainable. The moment he tried to touch her, the Universe is against him, once again. When he wanted to approach her, a powerful light engulfed him. When he died, it was back to pitch dark. In the flashback, it's implied that Till tried to escape, or atleast went against the rules, togheter with Mizi. They seem to be very close, as Mizi trusts him enough to hide, and bury her head into him. It feels affectionate, familiar, something Till holds onto, because he probably considers it one of his best memories. But nothing lasts. From a smiling, happy Mizi, it pans to the new her, now crying over Till, who was taking his last breaths. She gently brushes his hair out of his face, her hand holding it. In his last moments, atleast, he got what he wanted: Mizi's gaze on him, only on him, and just as always, he can't say anything to her. He just lightly chuckles, as his eyes lose light, and his arm falls next to him.

IV. IVAN

His intention was to make Till hate him. That's why he kissed him. He wanted to be forgotten. He already thought Till didn't care that much about him, so surely his actions would make him hate him? Wrong. Ivan was never Till's ray of hope. He was aware of it: Till only had eyes for Mizi. And yet, his death wasn't forgettable, like he thought. He used to mock Sua for her plan, saying that she'll only become trauma, and ironically, he did the exact same thing. Till sees Mizi as pure light, a goddess. Yet, he remembers Ivan in a shaky manner, a dark red veil over the flashback of the kiss. Mizi was his hope, and Ivan was his misery. Unfortunately, Ivan didn't realize this, considering himself to not be grief, but rather, nothing for Till. Oh, how wrong he was.

V. HYUNA

I really like the idea that the Patreon gave us. Its good to be confirmed that Hyuna, just like the others, is truly human, and by that I mean, flawed. Maybe I am interpreting it wrong, but from what my brain cooked up, she was.. somewhat willing to sacrifice a life (either Till or Luka) for the sake of humanity. (again, I might be wrong) We see another side to her in Round 7. She grabs Mizi and looks at her in a pleading way. She knows she's asking of her to see another of her friends die. Even so, she thinks it's better. I'm really curious about what she was doing on stage. Did she go after Mizi, because she saw she might've gotten caught again? Maybe.. she thought that Mizi was actually going to get Till, and she wanted to save Luka, too? You can never know.

VI. MIZI

First of all, she is still naive, which is so on brand for her. She went into a rescue mission, alone, with no weapons except for a smoke grenade. She still doesn't know what she has to do, and it's obvious. It seems like she took another route from Hyuna, who came up on the stage, while Mizi mixed with the crowd. Even so, I'm grateful that in his last moments, Mizi let Till rest. It was such an honest scene and I adored it. What I didn't adore was the parallels between her leaning over Tills body in Round 7, and her leaning over Sua's body in Round 1.

VII. PARALLELS

1. Till reaching towards Mizi, both in his hallucinations, and right before his death, where she still remains untouchable.

2. "The dark crimson air embraces us" -> "In your place, there's only blood and cold air left" (Black Sorrow) + "Lost in forever's embrace" (CURE)

3. Mizi leaning over Sua's body (Round 1) and Mizi leaning over Till's body (Round 7)

4. "In a blink gone!", sang by Till, in this, the visuals parallel his Birthday reveal art.

5. Luka raising his hands to his face, parallels Ivan tracing his hands up his microphone (they even have the same timing from what I've seen).

6. Mizi looking at Till from her capsule in Round 2, with Mizi looking at Till through the screen during Round 7.

7. Mizi throwing the grenade and Till breaking Freddie in Round 2.

8. Luka's hands on Till's neck are a 'gentler' version of Ivan choking Till, so aliens wouldn't consider it as violence.

9. Luka and Hyuna looking at eachother in Round 5 and Luka and Hyuna looking at eachother at the end of Round 7.

10. The way Luka pulls Till's lip down reminds me of that one freaky Luka image..

VIII. LYRIC ANALYSIS

Blink Gone works for all characters, in my opinion. Every one of them lost something, in just a blink.

"The clock goes tick-tock, tick-tock" I can only imagine this referring to the fact that Till's life is soon to coming to an end.

Till sings the more pessimistic lyrics, while Luka sings the ones about forgetting what's in the past and enjoying the moment. As much as he could be taunting Till, he is, in a way, also reassuring himself. To forget everything: perhaps Hyuna. Hyunwoo's death. And not only these, but the experiments, surgeries, punishments he's been through. On this specific stage, he feels like he's truly alive.

As I've mentioned before: "The dark crimson air embraces us" -> "In your place, there's only blood and cold air left" (Black Sorrow) + "Lost in forever's embrace" (CURE).

IX. DISPELLING SOME THEORIES.

1. Till's microphone was closed.

Personally, when I first saw this... I was a bit.. yeah... I know this sounds rude, but I was a little bit startled when I saw how many people agreed😭 The light on Till's microphone is a heartbeat tracker, proven to be right by the fact it turned green when he saw Mizi. Even if it was closed, a microphone doesn't make you sound better. He wouldn't have been heard, which he was, so obviously, it wasn't closed.

2. The competition was rigged in Luka's favor.

I dont personally agree with this, especially considering the aliens' nature. They don't care about humans. I don't imagine them wanting the same winner twice. Personally, I find it more like them to rig it in Till's favor. Imagine: he won his first two round by external factors, a rookie, yet a musical genius, defeating a past winner. Doesn't that sound more like something they could market? This is my opinion, but I can't think about them rigging it in Luka's favor. (yes I made a whole rubric just for 2 theories that kind of..somewhat. annoy me)

X. MY THEORIES (This is MOSTLY incoherent)

First of all, I am sure that something BIG will happen next. They said Round 6 is only the half of ALIEN STAGE, so, without counting Sweet Dream, there should be 6 more videos. Minus round 7, five. Hyuna vs Mizi and then whoever wins versus Luka are only two, so there's no way that's everything thats going to happen. I find it really interesting that were going to have 5 videos with only 3 (SUPPOSEDLY) alive characters. I'm not sure about the theory of "they are still alive", since Vivimeng aren't really.. known for that. I'm quite 50/50 on it. I can't believe we went from "only Sua will die" to "Everyone will die"😭 Thats what I call development. Anyways, I'm just as excited as ever for what's next!

XI. CONCLUSION + MY OPINION

Honestly, I ADORED Round 7. It was so beautiful and gorgeous and deep and I simply love it. Im going to sound like a gatekeeper, or rude, but I'm quite dissapointed in the people that genuinely are starting to harass Luka fans, to say they hated Round 7, to hate on Vivimeng for the decision they made, saying that they destroyed it and that there's no satisfactory ending to it now.. MAYBE I'm just lucky and my favourite character is Luka, so I haven't felt the grief of losing my favourite yet, but even if I did, I wouldn't start blaming the AMAZING creators that work so hard. If you're curious, yes, as a Luka fan, I've been told off, I've been told I'm a horrible person, and it's only been 2 days, which is insane to me. There is just so much more about him than "ooh he's a manipulator!" again, I'm gonna sound extremely rude... I love that there are a lot of fans that came during Round 6, but I feel like the people 'leaving' the fandom right now are those same fans. maybe that's just me and I'm just angry at what's happening right now😭

I don't want to offend anyone, these are just my opinions, please take everything I said with a grain of salt!

( @cherry-blossom-sword80 here it is!! tagging some other people I'd like to see this :3 @verdantlights @sotogalmo @rockwgooglyeyes )

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Hii, can I request laios (dungeon meshi) relationship headcanons please? Ty!

Ye shall receive, anon!

-Laios being Laios, is extremely dense and blunt when it comes to relationships. He wouldn't even get it, when you flirt with him. Even, if you were being open about it. Everyone else, but him got the hint. Even, when you two were on date he didn't realize it. You had to sit him down, to have the talk about dating. He just had thought you were really good friends. Holding hands, you calling him nicknames.

-Laios gets easily excited about things he likes. Monsters, dogs to mention few. Especially, monsters. He wants you to taste monsters, even if its odd. To him, it is a normal thing. So, he doesn't mention what he is cooking, if you don't ask. Not, because he wants to try to trick you... He is just dense, that he forgets not everyone is accepting eating monsters. But, when you do actually like the food, he will go on a lengthy talk about how he cooked it and what else monsters you two could cook.

-Laios would be delighted, if you wanted to explore the dungeon with him. He enjoys exploring the dungeons, so if you were exploring with his squad he would be overjoyed. He would be protective of you. He doesn't think you can't defend yourself, if anything he would love to see you protecting yourself and others. Protective in the sense, making sure you're fine and not overworking yourself.

-You have to often listen to Laios, info-dump on you. But, it is endearing. As he is sharing his interests, with someone that doesn't think his interests are odd. This does mean, whenever he learns something new about monsters, he wants to share it with you. To add to this, he shares his monster guide with you. He does hope, some of his enthusiasm for monsters will rub on you. If, you start to add notes on his monster guide he will be overjoyed. Finally being able to have a conversation about monsters, with someone other than Senshi and Falin.

-Laios wants to teach you how to handle a sword. He would be patient with you about it... But, he doesn't know how to teach about it. He knows how to handle a sword, but at this point for him its muscle memory. So, its less of Laios teaching you and more of him giving pointers, as you swing the sword around. If, you do know how to handle a sword, Laios would start practicing with you using wooden swords. It was good way for you two, to get closer and to workout.

-Laios has a small wardrobe. He has only few clothes, one casual pair and one more formal. So, when you bring this up with him you have to go clothes shopping with him. Nothing extreme, just some more clothes for him to choose from. He thought, it would be cute to have matching clothes. So, he does just that and got matching pairs of clothing.

-Laios loves to snack, like a lot. He will have snacks on him all the time. Not to mention, he likes to make his own snacks. From monster bits to actual baking materials. He just likes to cook. So, he will share his snacks with you. He tries to keep it a reasonable, so when the mealtime comes around you two will be hungry. Although, sometimes you can't help yourself but snack on them and feed them to Laios.

-Laios doesn't really get how he is supposed to act in a relationship. So, his guide is Marcille... Whose knowledge largely bases on her reading romance books. So, Laios at first tries the most romantic stuff, flower, chocolate and the usual romantic gestures. Once, you told him you appreciated the gesture, but would prefer him to try his own romantic ideas. So, that led to him bringing you monster parts and doing monster mating rituals (I think, that's the right way to put it.) Which, were bit odd. But, it was Laios' who was doing it. So, it was cute either way.

-Laios tries to sing every-now and then. Unfortunately, he can't sing. Not in the smooth velvety way, more of soprano voice. He can reach high notes, which he uses to sing the siren song to flirt with you... Which works. You find it charming, that he sings the song he has practiced for awhile. Even, if everyone else thought he was just wailing.

-Falin and Marcille are important people in his life, so it means a lot to him, if you got along with them. Falin and Marcille are pretty easy to get along at the end of day, but he still stressed out about it prior to you meeting them.

-Laios snores, so you have to turn him to his side in his sleep to make it stop. Only for it to continue a moments later. You get used to it, but others do wonder how you are sleeping with him, when even the monsters avoid his snoring. When you hear Laios counting, satyrs/fauns as opposed to sheep. It was cute and still is.

[tyunkus]

perv

pairing: bf!huening kai x fem!reader summary: maybe kai is more of a pervert than he lets on. maybe you like it.

wc: 2.2k 

warnings: reader is fem!bodied and referred to as a girl multiple times!!! dont read if that makes u uncomfy pls! there is also: established relationship, both of you are horny af Thus the references to being a perv and whatnot, making out, LOTS OF BEGGING from both reader n hyuka kinda, dirty talk (praise with elements of degradation n humiliation), pet names (baby, angel, good girl), penetrative, No condom (practice safe sex lovelies), not rly breeding but breeding-adjacent (hyuka comes inside u <3), some stuttering i guess cuz kai is nervous n opening up his sexual horizons but it’s all cute and mushy, kai talks a lot in this he can’t shut up ur pussy’s too perfect babe

note: less plot than amazon wishlist sorry hehe i just wanted to write cutesy kai trying his hand at dirty talk with his perfect sexy gf (you)! i love him so bad guys i tried to portray him as best as possible but i might have failed miserably and if i did you’re allowed to egg my house ALSOOOO kinda rushed and not proofread and unbeta-ed im so sorry the ending SUCKSSSS

ALSO! if you were wondering why it seems familiar i based this ask off of the draft for this

“Can I kiss you?” Kai asks.

He always asks first, even though he knows you will always say yes. And you always feel so fluttery whenever he does, even though you’ve kissed him so many times now his lips feel familiar when they nudge against yours. It usually starts out like this—just the two of you on his bed, straddling his hips as he looks up at you. He says it’s his favorite perspective of you, which you’re not sure you understand. But Kai is always firm in his opinions of you, so you don’t mind.

“Please, please,” you say, and so he does, lips slotting against yours, soft, soft. Kai makes a quiet noise, reaches up to brush away your hair. His hands, so large and warm where he keeps them on your waist, just above your hip. 

“So pretty. My pretty baby,” he murmurs, and your heart sings. You bunch your hands up in his shirt, breathe him in. You want to bite him.

“Kai. Kai.”

“Yes? Hm?”

“Please. I want—I want—” The worst part is you can’t even verbalize what you want, either, but you’re squirming and panting on his lap, lips slick with his spit, and there’s honestly not many messages that those movements could possibly allude to other than I want your cock. “I—please, Kai, ah.”

“Gonna make me crazy,” Kai says, voice teetering on a whine. “Your noises. So cute. Want more, pretty? More?”

You kiss him again, drinking in his words, running your hands through his hair. Cute, cute. He’s breathing heavily, nose bumping against your cheek. Hours, you could spend hours just kissing him. Cute. You don’t realize you say it out loud until Kai makes a high noise at the back of his throat.

“Angel—so beautiful—I wanna—ah, can I, please—”

You take his wrist, guide his hand to the waistband of your pajamas. “Can you?” you ask, almost beg, your fingers trembling where they fold around his wrist. “Kai, please, I want you to touch me.”

You trail off when you see Kai’s expression, tentative and unsure. “Baby,” he whispers, tipping you down towards him so he can press a mountain of kisses against the column of your throat. His hand brushes over the hem of your underwear, soothing the divide between skin and bright pink lace. The warmth of his hand ghosts over you, where you ache the most, and you try not to sound too pathetic when you whine. “Baby, baby, shh, you know I want to.”

“Then do it,” you plead, your legs practically shaking with how badly you want it. Need it. You could hate him for not giving it to you. You could, but Kai likes good girls, and that’s what you are. What you want to be.

“Be a good girl,” Kai instructs, gently, his voice wavering still. There it is—Kai’s kinks slipping through the cracks. Finally, after you had to go through all the work to shatter it yourself. He’s still so shy about it, sounding so unsure when he talks dirty to you, but you can tell he finds it hot, with how red his cheeks get. “Not now, baby. Be good for me, don’t you want to be good?”

“Please,” you plead, completely ignoring him, inching the tips of your fingernails up and down his chest, his shoulders, his throat. You lean down until your face is practically buried in his hair, and you can feel his breath hit your tummy, his hands pressing down on your waist. “Kaaaaaiiiiii.”

But he only giggles brightly, face breaking into a smile against your skin. He loves this, gets off on this dynamic—you are normally the one taking the lead, but in here, like this, it’s Kai who gets to play with you the way he wants, coax reactions out of you with every touch. Treat you like a princess, be in charge, because it’s only in bed that he wants to. You can order him around during the daytime as much as you like, as long as he gets to fuck you up the way he wants.

“Want it that bad, sweetheart?” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your tummy. “So bad you’re practically gagging for it, huh? Want something else to gag on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Shut up,” you cry, heart fluttering at the way he giggles right after. “Fuck me first, please, I want it so bad.”

Kai coos at you, rubbing his hands along the sides of your thighs. “I know, baby, I know. Let me flip you over, sweetheart, I’ll take care of my cute baby.” And so he does, gently lifting you off of his crotch and letting you land softly on your back; he slides you a glittering smile, then settles his hands between your legs once again. “Want me to finger you first?”

You nod. “Anything, want anything. Please. Just you.”

Kai hums. “Anything? What if I made you get– get off on my thigh, hm? I…” He trails off here, steadies his breath. You can see the way his gaze trails down your body, hungry, wanting. “What if I used one of your cute toys on you, took it away right before you came? Would you… would you still want that?”

“Don’t care, Kai, just want you—you can do anything, anything, please—”

Kai groans and buries his face in your neck, thumbing over your clothed cunt. “F-fuck, baby,” he rumbles against your skin, feeling his fingertips dip inside you, slippery with your wetness. “So worked up over— over just a bit of touching, fuck, what a cute baby. So horny for me, for my cock, right?”

You let out a moan, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers. “Mhm, yes, Kai. Give me, give it to me.”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Kai presses a kiss to your cheek, so unfitting and filthy compared to his fingers rubbing over you. He pulls back slightly to look you in the eye. You can sense the flicker of nervousness underneath. “I’m not gonna last very long. Probably. ’S that okay?”

“That’s fine,” you breathe. “I don’t care. Just… I just want you inside of me.”

“I can do that,” Kai chokes, and you laugh. “Could I– could I fuck you like this?”

“Like what?”

Kai pokes your waist. “Missionary?” he says like it’s an offer, the corners of his lips rising when you squirm. “I want to see your face while I fuck you. You always look so pretty like that.”

Your cheeks heat and you look away. “You’re a perv. But okay, sure.”

“You’re the perv. Got all horny when we we’re just making out.” He presses a wet kiss to your cheek. “What if I had just wanted to kiss you, huh? Just some pure, innocent making out.”

“Sorry. You get me all worked up.”

Kai giggles. “I know. Love hearing you say it.” He hums while he takes off his sweatpants, and you do the same—you’re still tugging off your shirt when you feel his fingers brush against the clasp of your bra.

“You desperate?” you tease, letting him take it off for you.

Kai nods solemnly, moving down so his bare hips are parallel to yours. “Hell yeah,” he says, but you’re looking so intently at his cock that you forget to laugh. “Quit staring, perv.”

“You’re so annoying,” you shoot back, but there’s no bite, and he only smiles, taking the base of his cock to align himself with you. There’s a bare second of quiet, where you can hear both of your breaths, bated and waiting, and you can see the desperation—the hunger—in Kai’s face.

“Can I put it in now, baby?” he breathes. “Please? F-fuck, please?”

Shit. You might go insane if he keeps this up, begging prettily for you before he even gets his cock inside. You whine and nod, breath hitching when his fingers graze your tits. “Please, Kai,” you whimper. “Please, yes, please.”

Kai grabs the base of his cock again and eases the tip past your folds, his heart beating wildly. He breathes heavily, his other hand steady on your hip, so large compared to your smaller frame. “Jesus fucking Christ. You feel so good,” he says, trying not to sound too whiny when he barely put it in, but you don’t even notice, trembling beneath him. His brows furrow, lost in your warmth, but he manages to muster a smile. “You okay, angel?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is high and reedy. Your hands bunch up in the sheets. “Put—more, more, please.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he responds, sounding on the verge of tears, because he quite honestly is about to cry with how tight you feel already. He eases more in, slowly, letting you take it in inch by inch, relishing in the feeling. A few moments pass and your hips finally meet; you let out twin sighs of relief. Kai leans over to mouth at your shoulder, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Shiiit, baby, you feel fucking good.”

You only moan in response, almost drooling onto the sheets. Kai stays still for a while, letting you get used to it, marvelling at how wet you are.

“Shit, I could be inside you forever. Oh, fuck. W-would you let me? Hm? Ah, would you let me—shit—fuck this t-tight cunt everyday? Want me to be inside you all the time, right? Isn’t that right, baby?” Kai taps your cheek and you just sob, backing your hips against his desperately. Kai lets out a giggle, and it’s so high-pitched and out of place you would probably scold him if you were in any other state of mind.

Alas, instead you’re trembling beneath him as he pounds you, whining and drooling on the sheets because his cock feels so good. It should be embarrassing. It definitely is. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“You’re a f-fucking pervert,” you whine.

Kai breaks into a smile, so wide and so fucking proud of himself. You can tell, even through your hazy mind, and it makes your heart swell. “Shit, I must have a good fuckin’ cock if I got you all f-fucked up like this,” he murmurs, using his free hand to play with your nipples. “I love you so much, angel. Love making you feel good.” The filth falls so easily from his mouth that it’s hard for you to believe that not one hour ago Kai was struggling to even call you a good girl.

“Luh—fuck, love you too, Kai,” you wail, bringing your hands up to splay across your face. “Please, please keep going, f-feels so good—”

“You’re so shy,” Kai whispers, his expression melting into a grin. He reaches up, pinches your cheeks. “How are you still so shy, hm? Your pussy is weeping onto my cock and you’re acting like this? So cute. Wanna fuck you so hard.”

“You already are,” you whine, reaching up to slap weakly at his chest. “Fuck, why are you t-talking so much?”

Kai giggles again. “Feels so good, that’s why. Your pussy’s making my brain melt. Fuck.” He gives a particularly hard thrust here, then moves his hand to rub over your tummy. “’M gonna come soon. Love you—I love you so much. Where do you want it, angel? Inside?”

“Mmm—yeah, fuck, please.”

“Gonna fuck you til your pussy’s all white and mine, alright? Fuck it back into you so it stays there, ffff-fuck, baby, I love you, thank you, I love you so mu— fuck—”

Wet heat inside you and a soft breath against the side of your neck—you feel his head drop onto your shoulder before his hand reaches over to your clit. His hips shift and he pulls out, only to move down between your legs and give your pussy a soft, almost kittenish lick. “G’na come f’me, too, angel,” he murmurs around your pussy, and you can see the hints of a smile gracing his face when your legs close around his head and muss up his hair. “Come on, please, please, want you to come—”

He lolls out his tongue and buries his face deeper in between your thighs, and it only takes a few mor licks, sucks, and the steady pump of his fingers before you’re coming, legs trembling around his ears and hands tangled in his messy hair. Your hips buck up into the air but his lips still follow, chasing the taste, and you whine from the overstimulation.

When he pulls away, a string of spit follows. He can’t move far before you’re grabbing him and pulling him into a kiss, smiling against his teeth when he lets out a small oof. He’s on top of you now, hand cupping your cheek. 

“Love you,” Kai murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Love you so much. You okay? You’re making a face.”

You are. “Sorry—one of your plushies—Molang, I’m like, sitting on it—”

“Oh!” You lift your hips and Kai reaches underneath your torso to retrieve his blue penguin Molang pushie. He smiles down at you. “Were you on it the entire time?”

“No, I think it fell while you were eating me out and somehow ended up underneath me.”

Kai grins and nuzzles his face into your neck. “You were arching your back that much? Did it feel that good?”

“I think this concerns the amount of plushies you have, not your stroke game—”

“My pussy eating game, actually.”

You throw another Molang plushie at his face. It’s soft, just like his cheeks when he smiles at you and they get all squishy, just like his lips when you tug him down for another kiss.

[joeybrr9]

Part 4 - Poetic Man

Summary: Aurora continues to work on her new album but might have a new distraction

Warnings: None

a/n: So sorry it took so long for this part to come up. Finals week was KILLING me. So excited for Christmas break. Also, what are we all thinking of this break in at Joe's house???

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

“One more time.” Jack Antenoff was helping Aurora put together her 6th studio album. Jack was well known for creating success all across the music industry; the two first started working together for her album “i used to think i could fly.” Jack reached over and put his headset on, signaling to Aurora that he wanted her to sing her song again. “Alright…..let’s do it from the beginning.”

Aurora heard the music begin and took a deep breath.

“You're so dumb and poetic

It's just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic

Every self-help book, you've already read it

Cherry-pick lines like they're words you invented

Gold star for highbrow manipulation

And "love everyone" is your favorite quotation

Try to come off like you're soft and well-spoken

Jack off to lyrics by Leonard Cohen”

Aurora had very obviously written this song about her past relationship with Paul; it was a song that had become very intimate and personal for her. She hesitated even adding it to the album. Aurora worried once he heard the lyrics she would receive a nasty phone call from his display all his distaste for her work. 

"Don't think you understand

Just 'cause you talk like one doesn't make you a man

You're so sad, there's no communication

But baby, you put us in this situation

You're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin'

Save all your breath for your floor meditation

You're so empathetic, you'd make a great wife

And I promise the mushrooms aren't changing your life

Will you crash the car and abandon the wreckage?

Fuck with my head like it's some kind of fetish”

Nothing Aurora did in her relationship with Paul was right; whether it was making the wrong dinner plans, flying out to see him on the wrong weekend, interrupting his ‘work time,’ or even just being in his presence, she knew he didn’t want her around. Many people would ask why she stayed with him for so long and there was only one answer, he knew how to manipulate her. When they would have a terrible fight, the next day he would buy her 100 red roses. A big gesture. Love bombing some people would say.

“Don't think you understand

Just 'cause you act like one doesn't make you a man

Don't think you understand

Just 'cause you leave like one doesn't make you a man”

“Honestly Aurora, that might have been the last take.” Jack leaned back with a huge grin plastered to his face high-fiving Mark. Aurora on the other hand felt sick to her stomach, singing such an intimate song had her feelings at an all-time low. She exited the recording booth and was greeted with a bunch of smiling faces. “What’s wrong, we release Espreso in five days and the album is almost done.”

“Speaking of that.” Mark cut Jack off and took a step closer to Aurora. “Have you decided who you want in your music video for your second single? We should probably think about filming it soon.”

“Yeah, I haven’t thought about it yet. Let me get back to you.” She let out a nervous giggle because Mark had already reminded her to pick someone, a month ago. “ Well, on that note I should definitely get going. I have two hungry football players at my house right now.” She quickly tried to grab her stuff without any more interrogations.

“Football players, who is at her house?” Aurora heard Jack but she didn’t have the effort to explain why she had two NFL players staying at her home. 

“I think it’s that Joe Burrows dude and his friend. I don’t know and honestly, I don’t care.” That was all Aurora was able to hear before she let the door close behind her. She got in her car and hit the call button on Ja’Marr’s contact. It only took two quick rings for him to pick up. 

“Hello, my girl. What’s up?”

“I’m heading home right now. Did you guys settle in okay? You didn’t fight him over who gets the bigger room right.” Aurora heard a laugh in the background, assuming it came from Joe her cheeks reddened. 

“No Ma'am we did not start a fight in your home. Did miss you though Rory, thought you said it would only take you a little bit. It’s been five hours. I’m also starving. You don’t keep much food around here, like-”

“Okay Marr I get it, you're a starved man and it’s my fault. I’m only fifteen minutes away so how about we order when I get there, or can you not wait until I get there?”

“I guess, but you better buy some snacks for me. I’m not sure how you survive on wine and ramen noodles.” She let out a little laugh before sighing.

“Snack and dinner. I got it. I’ll be there soon. Love you, Marr.”

“Love you too Rory.” She hung up the phone, taking the exit to her house. Aurora sat in silence in her car, loud silence. For a few moments she thought about calling Ja’Marr back to fill the silent void for the last few minutes of her drive but instead, she pushed the on button to her radio. A random Dua Lipa song filled the car, only making Aurora forget about her thoughts for a couple of minutes. 

Eventually, Aurora pulled into her driveway, seeing her living room lights were on and she could see Joe and Ja’Marr sitting on her couch. A black truck was parked in her driveway, which must have been what the boys rented for the days they were staying in California. She quickly parked her car in the garage and gathered all the stuff to bring inside when she was met with Ja’Marr at the door. 

“Here, let me grab that.” He instantly took everything out of Aurora’s hands. When she was around Ja’Marr he treated her like a queen. “Soooo, I was thinking.”

“Well, that’s never good.” Aurora heard Joe say from the couch. She let out a little laugh.

“Yes Marr, what can I get you to eat tonight? I know I kept you waiting until,” Aurora took a quick glance at the time displayed on her stove, “5:30. Oh my gosh Ja’Marr it’s 5:30. I expected it to be around 7.”

“When I’m hungry, I’m hungry. Sorry girl.” Ja’Marr put his arm around Aurora as the two walked over to the couch. Joe was sitting comfortably watching Spongebob on the TV. 

“Okay boys, what do we want? Pizza, Chinese, Italian, In-N-Out, or Mexican? All of that sounds really good to me so you can choose. Aurora exchanged glances between Joe and Ja’Marr until Joe finally spoke up.

“Pizza sounds good to me.”

“What kind are we getting?” Ja’Marr wasn’t too concerned with the food. He was too busy watching the content displayed on the TV.

“What about pepperoni and sausage?” Joe and Aurora said at the same time. She felt a blush grace her cheeks as she smiled at him. 

“Yeah I’ll order it now-”

“No, I got it. You don’t need to be paying for our food when you’re already letting us stay here for free. I got it.” Joe left to go call in a pizza, leaving just Ja’Marr and Aurora. 

Aurora could see Ja’Marr looking at her out of the corner of her eye. “Instead of staring at me Marr, why don’t you just say whatever you want to?” He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his jaw.

“Me and Burrow were talking today. About you. A little bit. Not the whole time. Don’t let it get to your big head.” He gave a gentle push to Aurora’s shoulder making her giggle. “He mentioned that Tee sent him your interview. He seemed to think it was funny, in a cute way. Don’t be embarrassed Rory, he thinks you're cool.” She looked over to her left where Joe was standing in the doorway of her library on the phone. He hadn’t said much, or anything at all, to her since she got home.

“That interview got kinda out of hand. I’m embarrassed he even saw that.”

“You don’t listen. He thinks you’re a cool girl.” Ja’Marr wrapped his arm around Aurora pulling her into him. She was a little curious if Joe was still dating his long-term girlfriend from college. It had been reported a couple times that they had split but Aurora wanted to know from an inside source.

“Um, would he happen to still be dating that one girl from college? Not that I care or anything. I just see a lot of stuff on TikTok. You know.” Real Smooth Aurora. Ja’Marr looked down at the blonde girl with a cheesy grin.

“They did in fact break up. It was all on good terms. Joe is a very focused guy when it comes to football. Not sure that’s what she wanted. Sometimes he needed his space and they couldn’t agree on it. No bad blood as far as I’m concerned.” Aurora nodded her head. “So yes, he is single, Rory.” Ja’Marr poked her sides making her squirm and move away from him. 

“I got three pizzas and an order of breadsticks. Also, Aurora, I noticed you have a lot of wine in your cabinets so I ordered some wine too. Hope you don’t mind.” Joe took his original spot next to Aurora on the couch.

“I could never mind someone buying me wine; that was very thoughtful of you.” She flashed the quarterback a quick smile. 

“Pizza should be here in about 35 minutes.” Joe looked between Aurora and Ja’Marr.

“Did you guys want to put on a movie until then? The group decided to watch The Hangover until the pizza arrived. One of Ja’Marr’s favorite movies.

“Bro, did you see that tiger?” Ja’Marr was clutching his stomach from laughter. Aurora had stood up to get the pizza that just arrived.

“Yes, Marr. We all saw it. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen it about a thousand times too.” Aurora disappeared for about two minutes coming back with all the food. “Alright boys, I’ll let you get yours first.” She set out plates for everyone and a glass for her wine. 

“Here,” Joe reached over to open the bottle of wine he ordered and opened it. “Let me get this for you.” He poured her a glass and got her a couple slices of pizza.

“Um, thanks.” Aurora grabbed the gestures from Joe and made her way back to the couch to finish their movie with dinner. As she was walking back to the couch she overhead Ja’Marr and Joe.

“Try hard?” Ja’Marr scoffed as he grabbed a beer out of the fridge.

“Dude, she’s just a nice girl. I’m not gonna be rude to someone who’s letting me stay in their house for free. I’ve never met her before either. Good first impressions.”

“You sure it’s nothing else loverboy?” 

“Yes, I’m 100% percent sure. I’m focused on football, not girls.” Joe laughed. Even though there wasn’t anything going on between Joe and Aurora, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She hadn’t been able to move on since Paul and a very small part of her thought Joe would possibly be that person for her. It was a stupid thought anyway. 

Joe and Ja’Marr joined Aurora on the couch to enjoy their pizza dinner and movie. Ja’Marr was able to eat 10 slices of pizza while Joe only had 6. Aurora stuck to her original 2 slices with a bread stick. 

“Sorry to cut the night short but I’m gonna head to bed. Sleep good Rory. Night man.” Ja’Marr ruffled Aurora’s hair and dabbed up Joe. The two were left alone on the couch with the ending credits of The Hangover displayed on her TV. 

After a long couple minutes of awkward silence, Joe cleared his throat. “So Ja’Marr tells me you are working on your sixth album. That’s a pretty big deal.” Aurora took a big drink of her wine finishing off the glass.

“Uh yeah, I am. It should be out sometime this summer. I’m really excited to release another album.”

“He told me you won Album of the Year at The Grammy’s last year. That’s huge. Congrats, I know it’s a little late.” Joe chuckled. 

She swished around whatever was left of her wine. “Yeah, you know, you do something incredible like that and you feel like you need to live up to those expectations again. I just don’t want to let anyone down. I have an amazing producer and if I don’t win another Grammy with this next album I know I won’t only be letting myself down, it will also be hurting him.”

Aurora looked over at Joe and by the look on his Face she knew he wasn’t sure what to say to her singer/songwriter trauma. “Can I get you another glass of wine?” Aurora debated before she answered his question. Did he want to down here talking to her? This would be her third glass of wine.

“Yeah, sure.” Joe hopped up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen. Aurora couldn’t help but observe him in person. He was a good-looking guy; even better in person. 

“Here you go. Tell me more about yourself. How did you get your start in music?” Joe got himself comfortable on the couch; showing Aurora he had no plans of heading to bed anytime soon.

“My first album was “Singular Act I,” so that was obviously my big start. My huge single off of that album was Sue Me. Have you ever heard it?”

“Uhhhh, I don’t think so. Don’t hate me.” Joe laughed, making Aurora crack a smile.

“No hurt feelings. One day I just started posting videos of myself singing on Youtube and it started blowing up. Eventually, a record label contacted me and they wanted to produce a single. Fun fact, it wasn’t Sue Me.”

“Do I get to hear this legendary single?” Joe smirked at Aurora.

“Absolutely not. I like to brush that song under the rug. I never-”

“You know if you don’t play it for me right now I’ll just look it up later. Matter of fact, let’s look it up right now.” Joe pulled his phone out of his pocket and started typing something into Google. Aurora jumped up from her spot on the couch to move closer to Joe.

“Joe stop, I hate that song. I’m not kidding. Listen to it later, not right now.” Aurora reached for Joe’s phone the second she heard the beginning verse to Thumbs playing out of the speakers. “JOE, stop it right now.” Aurora couldn’t contain her laughter at this point. She was leaning over him, grasping for the phone.

“And the bank robbed the people, so the people robbed the bank.” Joe sang along, laughing in Aurora’s face. She took one more reach for his phone, failing, before falling back beside him. After the song ended Joe tuned toward the blonde girl.

“Honestly, I was expecting worse. Not sure what skidledeee deee dat dum means but I can roll with it. Definitely added to my warm-up playlist.” Joe gave Aurora a cheesy smile before bursting out laughing.

“I fucking hate you.” 

Aurora and Joe sat on the couch and talked until 2 am while Aurora drank, not one, but two, bottles of wine. She definitely would feel that in the morning. Joe knew that as the night whet on Aurora had become wine drunk and nothing she said he could take too seriously. She did tell him he had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, and that the curl in his hair was his best feature. Around two thirty Aurora passed out on Joe's lap while watching How To Train Your Dragon.

Joe carried Aurora up to her room while also trying to figure out which one was hers. When they finally made it there and he had tucked her into bed; it was time for his escape. He felt her hand grasp his wrist. 

“Can you please stay? Please Joe, just this once.” Aurora hardly opened her eyes but that was all the convincing Joe needed to stay.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 63: Alexander's Contentment

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, captivity, blood drinking

October 1925

"So… how long have you been a thrall, if you don't mind me asking?"

Roger swallowed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with water. He'd devoured most of it the moment the plate was put in front of him. "It must be close to twenty-five years by now."

"Twenty-five years!" Oliver could see that Roger was quite a bit older than him, but he hadn't been expecting that.

"Most of that time has been with Fitz," said Roger. "My first master was much less agreeable. The less said about him, the better."

"Does your master treat you well?" said Oliver sympathetically, also hoping to scope out his master's friend for himself.

"He's temperamental and dramatic. He doesn't lift a finger to do chores. He demands I wake him up in time for his shows, and then when I do, he whines about how he doesn't want to leave his bed." Roger sighed. "But he isn't cruel, and he never hurts me. He can often be good company, and when he's not in need of attention, he allows me to do as I will. My life is pleasant, on the whole, so as far as vampires go, I'm glad I have him as master and not another."

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. "So he isn't dangerous?"

"All vampires are dangerous," Roger pointed out. "But no, my master has no intention of doing you harm. He's been looking forward to feeding from you, as he made abundantly clear."

"Yes, he certainly did."

"How about you? Is Alexander treating you well?"

"Yes, very much so, I would say," said Oliver. "He's very gentle, and I appreciate his library. He seems determined to ensure I want for nothing. The only problem is… well…"

Roger nodded. "My master told me that there was a run-in with your master's sire."

"Have you met him?"

"Thankfully, I have not. Fitz makes a point of keeping us out of his reach. That's why we visit so infrequently."

"Did you know my master's last thrall?"

"Henry. Yes." Roger downed the last of the water glass, and Oliver stood to refill it. "He was a decent sort, a former accountant. Quiet. Loved to play cards. It's… unfortunate, what happened to him."

"…Yes." Oliver's hand shook slightly as he put down the glass.

"Thank you," said Roger, taking a sip. "For what it's worth, both Alexander and Fitz seem much more interested in you than they did in Henry, so there's reason to hope things turn out differently."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It seems possible that they'll pull out the stops to try and protect you. I've never seen my master so excited to drink from another thrall." There was a hint of jealousy in Roger's voice and eyes.

"It's my blood, I suppose," Oliver said sheepishly.

"You must have high grade blood. I'm similarly 'blessed,'" said Roger. "God only knows how vampires decide that. It reminds me of how they review fancy wines, and how it's meant to taste like flowers or minerals or some nonsense."

"I can't say I've ever really had fancy wine, even before it was illegal."

"Right, alcohol is banned here. Ridiculous, if you ask me. Vampires don't care in the least about human laws, so --"

Oliver's attention was pulled away from the conversation by a beautiful low note in his head. It sounded like his master's singing, but it didn't seem to be coming from anywhere. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That song -- my master --" Without any words, it was beckoning him, a call too strong for him to ignore. It had never happened before, but he somehow knew just what he was meant to do.

Roger seemed unsurprised. "Your master's calling you, is he? You'd better go, then."

"Um, but you…"

"I remember the manor well enough. I'll make myself at home in a guest room. Don't worry about me."

"All right," said Oliver, grateful that Roger understood his sudden exit. He didn't stand a chance at resisting the song, and practically floated up the stairs as though he were in a dream. When he reached the door of his master's bedroom, he knocked. "Sir? Were you calling for me?"

"Come in, Oliver," said Alexander.

The room was dimly lit with a couple of gas lamps. Alexander and Fitz were both lounging casually on Alexander's bed. Alexander's shirt was unbuttoned, Fitz was wearing only an undershirt, and they were both in their shorts. A blush crept onto Oliver's face, but the vampires didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest. Vampiric aura was thick in the air, and Oliver's nerves were fighting unsuccessfully against the docile trance state that was quickly claiming him.

"Did you wish to drink from me, sirs?"

"There he is," said Fitz with a positively predatory grin. "What a picture perfect thrall."

"Oh, he is," said Alexander, and Oliver felt like glowing. "Why don't you come sit down, Oliver?"

Oliver politely sat down on the side of the bed, and Fitz slithered up next to him. "Nervous?" Fitz asked.

"Somewhat, sir."

Fitz rolled over like a cat, looking at Oliver upside-down. "There's no reason to be nervous. I do bite, but I promise that you'll like it."

"What Fitz is trying to say," said Alexander, "is that we'd very much like to share in your blood, if that's all right with you."

He couldn't even think of denying his master this. The vampires' desire was too strong and his conditioning too deep. "Yes, sirs. Please share me."

"Well, now that we're not all standing around on a freezing cold dock, I can pick up where I left off, can't I?" Fitz sat up, and brought his hand near Oliver's face without touching it, his fingers moving in a fluid, mesmerizing motion. "I don't know if your master explained this to you, but just as his power is in his voice, mine is in my hands."

Oliver was staring at his fingertips, easily recalling how irresistible that touch was, aching for it. "I see, sir."

Fitz's hand cupped his cheek, and the last of his thoughts dissolved into bliss. "I'm glad we have an understanding, then," he said. "You'll be good for me, won't you, Oliver?"

Oliver had no defenses whatsoever against this new trance, not with his master looking on in approval. His muscles relaxed, his tension wiped away. "I'll be good for you, sir," he said, already half-asleep.

"Exquisite," said Fitz encouragingly, as he ran his hands through Oliver's hair and traced a finger down his jaw and neck. "You're so very good. Not resisting me at all. Just happy and obedient."

"Obedience is pleasure, sir," Oliver muttered, leaning into Fitz's soft touch. so utterly hypnotized and eager.

Fitz laughed. "That must be one of Lily's little mantras."

"Lily did a fine job priming him, not that there was any doubt," said Alexander.

"Such a charming thing," Fitz murmured, cradling Oliver's chin, "the way he simply melts under the slightest enthrallment."

"Hmm, yes, reminds me of another thrall I used to have."

Fitz chuckled. "Surely I was never like this."

"Surely you were."

Oliver's brows furrowed as he struggled against trance to process the conversation. Fitz had been a thrall? Alexander's thrall?

"No, none of that," said Fitz, tapping Oliver on the nose. "No thinking for you."

"Yes, sir," he said automatically, allowing the worries to fade away once more as Fitz caressed him.

"I've been looking forward to watching you go to work on him," said Alexander.

"Well, I can't disappoint, then." Fitz turned back to Oliver. "Do you enjoy being Lex's thrall?"

At the moment, any concerns he might have about his situation were far, far away. "Yes, sir, I'm very happy to be Lex's thrall."

"Don't you love his song? The way it makes you feel?"

"Yes, sir," he said, nuzzling into Fitz's hand with no shame, dreaming of his master's voice. "I love it more than anything."

Oliver felt strong arms taking him around the waist, pulling him close to his master's chest. His master began to hum softly in his ear, an enchanting song of pleasure, while holding him tight. All the while, Fitz kept up his intoxicating touch. Oliver's mind was entirely gone, consumed by an enthralled bliss that was stronger than any he had known.

"Isn't that song so beautiful, so easy to listen to?" said Fitz in his other ear.

"Sir…" he slurred in his drowsy haze. "It's so good… sir…"

Fitz chuckled. "You're delightful, Oliver, do you know that?"

"You're being so good for us," Alexander added in his other ear.

"So good."

"Wanna… be good… sirs…" said Oliver.

Fitz ran his finger across the spot where Alexander normally fed, and Oliver shuddered from the intensity. "You'll keep being good for me when I drink, won't you?"

Oliver was certain he'd never needed anything so much as that. "Drink… please drink from me, sir…"

"How could I ever deny such an adorable request?" said Fitz. "Just relax and keep feeling good, okay? I promise you'll find this enjoyable."

Oliver nodded, and gasped as the sharp fangs pierced his neck. It felt different from Alexander's feeding, hungrier, more desperate but no less pleasurable.

An overwhelming swirl of emotions began to pool in his mind. Joy at seeing Alexander. Fear for the future. Loneliness. Desire. Shame. Obsession. And through it all, an undercurrent of need, a deep, dark need that could never be fully satiated.

"Oh, he is delicious. I've never had a blood so rich." Fitz had paused briefly in his meal. "Why don't you have a bit, Lex? You look hungry."

"I'll take a sip, and then you can have your fill."

Oliver was shifted slightly to be closer to his master, and then Alexander was drinking gently from the wound Fitz had made, filling Oliver with a sense of peace.

Before he knew it, Fitz was at his neck again, feeding like a starving man. He was taking so much blood, and Oliver was floaty and sleepy, his eyelids drifting shut and a sigh escaping his lips.

"Fitz --"

"I know, I know, I don't want to overdrink from a thrall like this. Honestly, I don't know how you can control yourself, Lex. I wouldn't trust myself to not drain him dry."

"…It's difficult sometimes," Lex admitted.

Oliver slumped backwards into his master's arms, drifting in and out of a light doze, content and fulfilled and safe.

"You must be hungry -- all of that buildup, and you barely had a drop to drink," said Fitz. "Why don't I call up Roger so you can have a snack?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind that," said Lex.

Oliver woke up slightly as he was transferred from Alexander to Fitz, but the whine of protest in his throat was silenced as Fitz guided his head to his lap and began to stroke his hair, scattering his thoughts and stuffing his head full of cotton. The door creaked open, and Oliver could see Roger emerge from the gloom.

"You wish to drink from me, sir?" he said.

Alexander began to sing, and Oliver could feel the command in the melody, a command beckoning the listener forward and into Alexander's hold. Roger walked forward through the room, his steps as heavy as a sleepwalker's, and as he drew closer, his wide, glassy eyes reflected the gas lamp.

Oliver couldn't resist the pull, either, and Fitz didn't stop him as he crawled across the bed to his master and curled up next to him. Alexander stroked Oliver's face with one hand while welcoming Roger in with the other, singing of bliss and obedience.

"You remember my song, don't you?" asked Alexander.

"Yes, sir, very clearly," said Roger.

"Then you know the deep sense of fulfillment you'll feel when I drink from you."

"Yes… sir…" The worry and stress on Roger's face was melting away, and he looked somehow younger.

"A wonderful thrall. I'm very glad that your master has a thrall like you. Thank you for taking good care of him."

"Of course, sir… it's my pleasure and my duty…"

"You're going to be so relaxed now, Roger. You deserve it after taking care of Fitz every day."

"I do, sir."

"What are you trying to imply?" said Fitz with a laugh.

"There you go, perfectly relaxed," said Alexander, ignoring Fitz. "You'll feel no pain, only pleasure."

Alexander opened his mouth wide, and his sharp fangs glistened in the flickering light. Oliver watched in dreamlike fascination as he bit into the soft flesh of Roger's neck. Roger's eyes went lidded, his expression slackening. A goofy, dazed smile spread across his face. Oliver was too content and relaxed to be jealous. He couldn't help but wonder if this was how he looked when his master fed.

Soon, Alexander licked the last of the blood from the small marks on Roger's neck. He sank back onto the pillows, cradling Oliver in one arm and Roger in the other. Oliver glanced up to see a sly expression on his master's face as he started to hum again, the same song he had used to draw in the two thralls.

"What are you doing, Lex?" said Fitz. "Are you trying to enthrall… me… too…" A moment later, Fitz was snuggling in next to Oliver, and Oliver was surprised to see how entranced he looked. "I'll allow it, just this once."

They were all in a large, comfortable kind of pile centered around Alexander, and Oliver could feel his master's contentment. He was so used to the undercurrent of loneliness that constantly radiated from the vampire that it almost seemed foreign. This is exactly how things are meant to be. Everything that's mine is in its rightful place.

"I take it that it was agreeable to drink from Roger, then?" said Fitz quietly.

"Very much so. He was as delectable as always, and a perfect gentleman," said Alexander. "And you certainly seemed to enjoy Oliver."

"You know, when you told me the frankly extravagant amount you bought him for, I admit that I was skeptical. I couldn't imagine even the finest thrall being worth that much," he said. "But now that I've seen and tasted him… I understand. I wouldn't have given him up for any price."

"I'm glad you understand." Alexander toyed with Oliver's hair. "Apart from his natural obedience and decadent blood, he's also very pleasant company, soft-spoken and well-read." Oliver nestled in closer, happy to absorb his master's praise.

"He reminds me of you, a bit," said Fitz, running his hand through Oliver's hair. "It must be the smell of books about him. I suspect that's part of why I find him so appealing."

"Is that so?" said Alexander. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Fitz's forehead.

"And now I can tell everyone I've fed from a triple-A, twenty thousand dollar thrall."

Alexander laughed. "Well, not everyone can find such an exceptional thrall at a bargain price like your Roger here."

"To be fair, he was less of a bargain when I had to pay Lily to fix his poor mind. Still worth every penny and then some."

"Speaking of Lily, she suggested that we all meet up at the Tiger's Eye…"

The vampires continued to chat in low tones, and the sound of his master's voice was slowly lulling Oliver asleep. He tried to keep himself awake, wanting to hear the conversation and enjoy basking in his master's company, but his eyelids were drooping and heavy. He heard a yawn and then a bit of a snore coming from Roger, and he yawned too. His mind began to doze, drifting far away, unable to focus on what the vampires were saying, only listening to the cadence of Alexander's voice.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Alexander advances his plans.

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[itsphoenix0724]

Tickle My Strings (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel becomes a regular guest at your performances, and when you take a trip back to your house, you find the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, creepy interaction with a drunk man

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Hey everyone!! I hope you've all been well! We hit 100 followers which is really exciting! I can't believe 100 of you like my work enough to follow and I really appreciate it because sometimes I'm still convinced everything I write is awful lol. I wanted to take my time and write something I was really proud of for you guys. This work is heavily inspired by Annapatsu's cover of "Why Don't You Do Right" which I linked so give it a listen for the vibes! This is set about 50 years before Feyre and all the UTM stuff. I hope you enjoy and as always constructive criticism is welcome!

After all these centuries, Azriel still doesn’t know why he allows himself to be dragged to Rita’s every weekend.

He never particularly enjoyed clubbing.

Rhys and Cassian always found some female to entertain them for the night. They teased Az relentlessly because he hardly ever went home with anyone.

He figured most of them were too scared to approach his brooding form in whatever corner he hunkered down in.

However, they always convinced him to attend. And though he hated to admit it, spending time with his family was always pleasant. 

The excuse Mor had used to get him to attend this time was the promise of a new live performer. Recently, Rita’s started offering a cabaret night every Friday, and she insisted on dragging the whole Inner Circle every week. 

So that was how Azriel found himself crammed into their regular booth, surrounded by the dim lighting and a drink in his hand.

Twinkling notes played on the piano as a bright light shined on you overhead. You had to have had some kind of magic because once you stood up the piano kept playing.

You took a breath in and your voice flooded the space around the bar. It traveled to Azriel’s ears like smoke weaving through the trees. He figured you had to be part siren as you wandered through the crowd, still singing the enchanting song. His eyes tracked you as you plucked a rose from one of the table's centerpieces, singing into it as you stalked through the booths.

You finally stopped at the Inner Circle’s section and your eyes locked with Azriel’s from across the table. He saw the mischief light in your eyes as you hopped up on the table in front of him, and used the rose you were holding to tickle his nose before your voice dropped into a more sensual part of the song.

He could see Cassian and Rhys out of the corner of his eye each sporting shit-eating grins as you sang to him.

Azriel was trying very hard not to stare at your chest, which happened to be directly eye-level with him, before you lifted his chin with one hand and tucked the rose behind his ear. 

Hopping down from the table, you swayed your hips with ease, stalked back to the stage like a jungle cat, and sent the Shadowsinger one last wink over your shoulder. Azriel’s whole face was on fire, cheeks as red as one of Cassian’s siphons, as he stared open-mouthed at your form on the stage. Mor finally snapped him out of it, reaching over to snap his jaw shut as his brothers burst into laughter from his other side. Your song ended, and the whole bar shook with applause. He can see you send him a dazzling smile before you disappear behind the curtain. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was your fourth performance and every time you got off the stage you still felt the rush of adrenaline.

You began to notice regulars coming to see you, you can’t deny it did stroke your ego that the High Lord’s table had returned for you every Friday. 

Slumping in the small dressing room chair, you finally let your perfect posture drop after holding it for so long on stage.

You sigh in relief as you pull the pins holding your hair in the updo, and wipe away the leftover makeup you applied for the stage. Changing out of the skin-tight dress and into a loose sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder with a pair of fleece-lined leggings you packed your bag to go home.

Ducking out of the Staff door at Rita’s you started making your way towards your small apartment. 

You didn’t live on the best side of the City. It wasn’t a slum, but being a singer was hard and you didn’t make the most money from the gigs you’ve managed to pick up.

Rita’s was by far the best-paying job you got yet even if it was on the other side of town. You had plans to eventually move into the Rainbow, Velaris’s infamous artist district, but that was still a long way away and your little apartment would do for now. 

Plus you liked all the strays that hung around your building because you wouldn’t get so lonely. 

You had successfully made it most of the way back to your apartment before you heard a whistle call behind you. You tried to ignore it, pushing on through the final stretch to your apartment. 

“Hey, Beautiful! Where you going huh?” The drunk voice called closer behind you and you felt the chill deep in your bones. Your steps hurried across the cobblestones, but you heard heavier footsteps chasing you. You were about to round the corner when you felt an arm catch the corner of your elbow. “Hey, slow down don’t run away.” The smell of stale liquor wafts your senses as you struggle to stop from gagging.

“Leave me alone,” you snarl, and attempt to yank your arm out of his grip. He holds strong and tries to pull you back into his chest. You struggle for a moment before you feel something snake around your leg and another figure materializes out of the shadows. 

“I believe she asked you to leave her alone,” The other voice ran through your ears like black silk. Like death itself.

You can see the imposing figure over the shoulder of the drunk male. Two massive wings tower over the already massive figure. Your savior steps out of the shadows, and that’s when you recognize him. 

The High Lord’s friend. The male you teased during your first performance. The Spymaster of the Night Court. 

“Hey man,” the drunk male stumbled through a 180, turning around to face the Spymaster. You saw his body tense and he dropped the death grip on your elbow immediately. You saw Azriel smile at the fear on the other man’s face, nodding his head in the other direction. The male scrambled back down the alleyway he came from and you saw Azriel smile at his retreating form before calmly and slowly approaching you. 

“Are you alright,” his voice now is nothing like the way he spoke to other male earlier. It was softer now, almost gentle. He used the same tone you used to try to coax the scared stray cats that live behind your apartment. Azriel’s hands were tucked into his pockets, and it looked like he was trying to hide behind the fringe of his hair to make himself look as small as possible. 

“I am now, thanks to you.” You offered him a small smile, and he took that as an encouragement to move a little closer to you. “I saw you at the show tonight. Were you following me?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and you can see the light pink tint rise to his golden cheeks. 

“I wanted to talk to you after your performance, so I waited for you to leave. I couldn’t work up the courage, but I noticed you heading towards a more dangerous area of the city and I wanted to make sure you got home safe,” the red on his cheeks turned an even brighter fire red, and you could see his hands shifting around in his pockets. “I’m realizing now that that sounds extremely creepy, I’m so sorry, I’ll leave you to your night.” He nods at you and whips around to walk the other way down the street. You see him stretch his glorious wings to take off into the sky. 

“Wait!” you call out just in time. Azriel turns his head back around and you hurry to close the distance between the two of you. You stop in front of him and Az shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets. Standing this close he’s so tall you have to crane your neck to look up at him. “While I don’t appreciate being followed, you did save my ass back there. Would you mind walking me the rest of the way home? I can make you a cup of tea as a thank you, and I don’t trust there won’t be more creeps out at this time of night.” Azriel considers for a moment before dipping his head at you, motioning with his pocketed hand for you to keep walking. The two of you walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way back to your apartment building. When you reach the front door, you unlock it and gesture for him to make his way inside.

Your apartment was a bit small. It only had two main sections, a combined living room and kitchen, and your bedroom and bathroom. You noticed Azriel tuck his wings close to his body, and you suppose it wouldn’t be the most comfortable fit for him.

You did really have a lot of stuff crammed into quite a small space.

The kitchen was overfilling with herbs and pots and pans, and the living room was overrun by plants and your piano. You could barely squeeze in the small sofa and overflowing bookshelf due to the amount of space it took up.

Even if the amount of space was questionable you still liked to think you made the space feel like home. 

“So, I realized I’ve not properly introduced myself.” Azriel’s voice called again as you ducked and weaved through your kitchen. “I’m Azriel by the way, but you can call me Az if you like” You almost snorted as you dug your kettle out from the drawer underneath the sink and filled it up with water.   

“I know who you are.” was your reply, and you saw Azriel’s cheeks flush again. For the fearsome shadow singer of Velaris, he sure is easy to fluster. He looks a little uncomfortable so you do your best to offer him a comforting smile before you tell him your name. He repeats your name back to you in a tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “Anyway,” you clear your throat. “I’ll fish out the rest of the stuff for tea, feel free to make yourself at home.” Az sends you a small smile before moving to wander around in your living room. 

“Um,” Az stutters for a second, grabbing your attention from where you were digging for sugar. “I believe someone wants in.” His voice sounds slightly amused, and you walk over to see what he’s looking at. Sure enough, you spot the straggly black cat perched on your fire escape looking as grumpy as he always does. 

“Oh, that would be Winston,” You reach around Azriel to yank the old window open and Winston the cat struts inside the apartment like he pays the rent here. He rubs through your leg once before sitting infront of the hearth, glaring up at the two of you. 

“Is he yours?” He eyes the cat with a bit of unease, and you shake your head before laughing slightly. Wrestling the window shut you turn around coming chest to chest with the Spymaster. You can feel the slight flush rise to your cheeks as Azriels stumbles to get out of your way, his wings almost knocking over one of your plants in the process. You walk to the kitchen, the stray following hot on your heels as you fill a bowl of milk. The old cat purrs in approval as he jumps up on the counter to enjoy the treat. 

“He’s not mine, not really.” You scratch behind the cat’s ears affectionately. “This building has a lot of strays, and I leave food out for them most of the time. Winston’s a bit of a grumpy asshole, but he’s very sweet once he warms up to you.” You shoot Azriel a bashful smile before you resume plundering your kitchen, now in search of some tea leaves. You hear Azriel let out a laugh, and it sounds like music to your ears. Finishing the two mugs of tea, and collecting a small tray of sugar and honey you and Az make your way over to the couch. With a wave of your hand, you light the fireplace. The two of you get comfortable on the couch and you dump a spoonful of sugar in your tea before mixing it in. You watch in horror as Azriel dumps what can only be considered an absurd amount of sugar into his tea. “Dear god, how can you even drink that?” a laugh bubbles out of your chest, and he laughs too stirring the contents of his cup. 

“I have a preference for sweet things,” He leans back on the couch truly finally making himself comfortable. You both fall into an easy rhythm, and before you know it you’ve been chatting curled on your couch for hours. You’re on the last mug of tea the pot could hold, and the clock tucked on your side table reads well past one in the morning. “I do have a question for you though,” he raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip. You take a moment to admire him in the candlelight of your apartment. You think he might be the most beautiful male you’ve ever seen, features reminding you of the marble statues you’ve seen carved at the rainbow. You nod your head at him in encouragement to ask his question, resting your mug on your lap to give him your full attention. “What kind of magic is this,” He gestures to the fireplace, and you understand where he’s coming from.

“Well my great great grandmother was a witch.” you see his eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he leans forward to listen more intently. “I don’t have any world-shaking power or anything, but I can do small things like object manipulation. Light the fire, turn out the candles before bed, stir a mug of tea.” You twirl your finger for emphasis and the spoon resting in Azriel’s mug starts to spin before you drop your hand and it rests back against the rim. The wonderstruck look on his face encourages you to explain further. “The piano took me a while longer to learn. I have to keep the back of my mind constantly focused on the notes, so it can be a bit hard to concentrate on singing sometimes. But, it’s worth it because I love interacting with people during my shows. It just makes the performance that much more special for me and the crowd I’m performing for.” You realize you may have been rambling and you send him an embarrassed smile.

“I think that’s wonderful.” Azriel offers you in a whisper and you feel like a flock of wild birds is threatening to break free of their cage in your stomach. His eyes are so intense, the gold almost entirely drowns out the other colors under the candlelight. You almost wish you had been blessed with the ability to paint instead of sing. You could spend hours trying to get the color right and you still don’t think you’d ever be able to capture it accurately. You find yourselves drifting closer to each other and you swear he can hear your heart thudding against your ribs like a metronome. He’s so close you can smell him, night-chilled mist and cedar, you see his eyes dart down to your lips and you tilt your chin up in permission. Your eyes just slip shut when you feel a sudden pressure on your lap. You and Azriel both jump in surprise as you find Winston sitting there with his owlish eyes fixed on you. Dumbfounded, you snap out of your previous trance as he yowls for attention. You rub your tired eyes with the back of one hand before scratching behind his ears with the other. The cat lets out a contented purr and Azriel playfully shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I should probably get this cleaned up.” You rise from the couch and you almost swear Az’s hand reaches for you as you get up. Winston, thoroughly disgruntled, moves to the seat next to Azriel.

“I can help you if you like,” He stands up, almost bumping into you as you gather the empty mugs. He attempts to take the tray before you bat his hands away and scoop it up. He is your guest after all. 

“I got it don’t worry.” You shoot him a sweet smile, and he nods at you before he takes to wandering around your living room again. You rinse both of the mugs carefully and scrub out the teapot. Looking into your living room you see the cat sprawled in the middle of your couch and Az peering at the titles on your bookshelf. You hum to yourself as you continue to scrub the dishes, you want to do it now before it leaves residue stuck to the bottom of the dishes. You see Azriel move over to your piano and almost absentmindedly play a few notes along to the tune you were humming. You abandon the dishes and silently step through the living room in a way that could rival the Spymaster, as he continues to mess around with the piano. “It seems you’ve been holding out on me.” Azriel jumps away from the piano with an almost guilty look on his face. 

“My mother taught me how to play,” He sends you a sad smile as you move to stand next to him. “I wasn’t allowed to see her often, but she would teach me a few things when she could.” His eyes drift down to his scarred hand on the keys, and he flexes and opens his hand with a conflicted expression on his face. You reach down to cover his hand with your own and squeeze, the keys make an ugly sound with the pressure but you’re only distantly aware of it. Azriel stares at your hands for a moment before his eyes drift back to your face, darting to your lips again. Once more, you dip your chin in agreement. Azriel’s other hand gently cups your cheek for a moment as he admires you. The rough texture is a contrast against the smooth skin of your face, and you can feel the drag as he moves his hand down to cup your chin. 

He waits for one moment, two, before your eyes flutter shut and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Your hands shoot to the silky black hair and wind through the strands curling at the back of his neck before tugging lightly. This seems to urge Azriel on and he wraps his free arm around your hip like a vice before dragging you closer. You can taste the tea on his lips, and something else you can only assume is uniquely Az. He’s kissing you like he would rather have you than oxygen, and you find yourself echoing that sentiment. 

You don’t think you could stop kissing him even if the moon came crashing down from the night sky. 

You nip at his bottom lip, and you’re rewarded with a loan groan from deep in his throat. He urges you back against the piano, and you lean your hands down to brace yourself against the keys. The noise it makes grates against your ears, but you’re too enthralled with Azriel to care as he hoists you on top of the instrument. The crash must’ve scared the cat because you can distantly hear four paws hit the floor before padding into the dark sanctuary of your bedroom. You find your way to Az’s hair again and this time you pull a little harder, one of his hands finds the curve of your ass and squeezes. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and it feels like he’s trying to swallow the whine you couldn't bite back. His mouth moves to brush kisses over your jawline, and when his teeth graze over your pulse point your hips cant up in answer. 

It almost feels like a song, your two bodies moving perfectly together, pushing and pulling in perfect harmony. Kicking your piano bench back, Azriel advances again pushing you to lean fully on the piano as he kisses down your body and kneels before you on the floor. He wastes no time, yanking down your pants and underwear in one go. He licks one strong stripe up your center before letting out a moan that echoes through your apartment and dives in again. You start to get dizzy as you writhe against the piano, pulling his hair, drunk with pleasure. 

It’s then that you notice a pattern of what he’s doing.  

A line up, a line down, a stripe across. A zigzagged line. A line up, a curve, a diagonal line. Another straight line before his tongue swirls around your clit. A straight line across and a curve around. Another straight line, and then the pattern repeats itself. 

It takes your hazy mind a second to realize what he’s doing, but when you do you flush from the tips of your ears down to your toes. You rise onto your elbows, eyes shooting open to find Azriel staring right at you with a smug look in his eyes. 

That cocky bastard was spelling his fucking name. 

That fact alone almost makes you finish on his tongue as you collapse back against the instrument. The smooth surface is a welcome chill against your steadily climbing body temperature. You feel one finger rise to circle your entrance. He’s playing with you like a toy, teasing but not giving you what you want. 

“Look at me,” he growls into the air, one finger plunging in and curling to find the sweet spot inside of you. You try, but your eyes fall open and closed as he abuses that position, he even looks amused at your weak attempts to concentrate. “I’m not going to let you finish unless you can look at me while you do it,” His rough voice feels like velvet dragging over your skin. “Come on beautiful I know you can,” your eyelids feel like they weigh one thousand pounds, but you need to come right now or you might explode. It takes all your effort to pry your eyes open and look him straight in the eye. He pays you with another finger inside of you and drops his head back down to your core. Somehow, you keep your eyes on him the whole time, and he lifts his head briefly to mutter a “Good fucking girl” against your thigh. 

That’s what sends you over the edge, burning hot ecstasy shoots through your whole body as you hurtle into oblivion. Your legs are shaking when he rises, and his hand rubs a soothing circle into the meat of your hip. He leans down to press gentle kisses into your neck as you recover. 

“Can you go another round?”  He whispers into your ear, perfectly content to give you pleasure and get nothing in return. He could deal with the painful hard-on in his pants later. You nod your head with enthusiasm and Azriel almost sags in relief. Your hands find the laces on his pants and rip as you leave a trail of lovebites down his neck. You hold him in your hand as you pump it up and down. His head lulls back as you run your thumb over his tip. You guide him into you slowly, and he lets you adjust as he sinks in inch by glorious inch. He waits for a moment when he’s fully seated inside of you, and he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky before he starts to move. He picks up the pace, pulling almost all the way out before slamming the full length of him back in. 

You can feel yourself start to build to a second high, and Azriel can feel the way you're clamping around him. He reaches a hand around to rub tight circles against your clit and one of your legs rises to the keys, making another loud crash of notes so that Az can get a better angle. You drag Azriel closer to you and he hits the sweet spot inside of you again that makes you scream causing your nails to run down his back, leaving angry red marks in your wake. You finish for the second time like a blazing symphony, the rushing in your ears so loud your surroundings are almost entirely gone. Azriel follows you soon after that, his whole body tenses, and the moan he releases may very well be imprinted on your brain forever. The two of you sit there- hot, sweaty, and panting- as you stare at each other. Azriel gently helps you down from the piano and you thank him before offering to let him stay the night. He enthusiastically obliges and you fall asleep with his arm thrown around your waist. 

You wake the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of bacon coming from your kitchen. Padding out of your bedroom you are greeted with the glorious sight of a shirtless Azriel over your stove, and a pleased-looking Winston perched on the counter next to him. 

“What are you making?” You circle your arms around Azriel’s waist and he tenses before relaxing into your touch.

“Just some eggs and bacon. I was going to surprise you in bed, I hope you don’t mind I raided your kitchen” You smile into his back, pressing a kiss to the strong cord of muscle that runs along his shoulder. Before scratching the cat behind his ears. 

“Not at all, I see you’ve made friends this morning.” You raise your eyebrow at Az and he shoots you and the cat an amused expression. 

“I had to bribe him with a piece of bacon,” this sends you both tumbling into a fit of laughter. After that, you two eat breakfast mostly in comfortable silence, and Azriel gets dressed before leaving with a promise to take you out properly next Saturday.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As Azriel arrived at the training ring the first thing he heard was Cassian’s bark “You’re late!” before he threw himself into training. He had sparred with Cassian and with Rhys, and the Verlaris sun was making him sweat buckets. Excusing himself for a water break he peeled off the soaked shirt, tossing it to the chaise usually occupied by Mor. He distantly heard Cas and Rhys stop fighting but he paid it no mind until he heard Rhysand’s voice call behind him. 

“So that’s why you were late to training this morning,” Rhys sounded amused and he turned around to find both of his brothers staring at him with cocky smiles on their faces. It was then that Azriel remembered you had scratched down his back the night before. He had been so lost in pleasure that he hadn’t even felt it, but apparently, it had left a mark. 

“Was it the singer? I bet it was the singer.” came Cassian’s unneeded input. Evidently, the way Azriel ducked his head to hide the flush smile and the aversion of their gazes was answer enough for them. 

He didn’t care about his brothers’ teasing. He would take being teased for 100 more years if it meant he got to see you again this weekend.

[sparkrls]

set a love alight

MASTERLIST

part of the bandmates! harry x yn au

Summary: in which Y/N makes mistakes and Harry remind her she’s only human

Author’s Note: just needed some emotional Y/N with sweetheart Harry. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.3k

•••

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/N cursed, pushing past the mess of wires and equipment backstage and pushing through the door of the emergency exit. The door swung open, slamming against the brick wall before clicking shut again.

Kicking at a small rock in the gravel, Y/N tried to release her fury. A choked sob escaped her raw throat, the burning reminding her of the fatal mistake she’d made that night.

Ambition had been her downfall. She’d let herself be overly confident in her abilities and had reached too high, her wings scorched by the sun.

Y/N fell to the ground. She didn’t bother to sit down gently, simply just letting her knees give out beneath her. She curled her knees up to her chest, hugging them and linking her hands together.

The hem of her skirt rode up, reaching her upper thigh. Usually, she might tug it down, but she was a bit too busy crying to even think about something so trivial like her skirt.

A pair of hands settled on her shoulders. Y/N was startled at the sudden touch. She could’ve sworn she was alone.

Eyeliner and makeup smudged from crying, Y/N looked up to find that Harry was crouched in front of her, his gaze soft and warm. She quickly tried to wipe her tears away, but he caught her wrists and pulled them down to her sides.

Harry’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, “Baby. It’s okay.” He was handling her like shattered glass, doing his best to not slit his hand while picking up the sharp fragments. “I’m here.”

Y/N didn’t like for people to see her cry. Not only was she an ugly crier, but she hated when people saw her so vulnerable. It felt wrong. And she didn’t cry often anyways. But when she did, it was messy and wild.

“I screwed up,” Y/N whispered, hating how her voice broke when she was barely audible. A pool of shame gathered in her stomach, weighing her down and suffocating her.

Harry sat down next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. He leaned forward to meet her eyes. “Yeah. You did. And?”

“And?” She said, her voice raising a bit. “And I humiliated myself. I was so fucking bad.”

“You were nervous and you made a mistake,” Harry said steadily, his voice never raising. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I shouldn’t have taken that solo,” Y/N said with the shake of her head, another tear spilling against her will.

They had decided to perform their new song, ‘Set A Love Alight’. Y/N and Harry had written it just three weeks ago, and they decided to play it at this gig they’d booked at the bar they regularly played at, 17 Black.

After a long time of reluctance and hesitation, Y/N had decided to do the song as a solo. Up until now, Harry was always the one singing. Occasionally, Sarah or Mitch would sing a verse or two, but for the most part, Harry was the vocal powerhouse. Everyone liked it that way, everyone felt comfortable.

And Y/N had never dared to sing anything except backing vocals. And for the last few months, Harry had been trying to convince her to sing at least one verse of a song. He’d hyped her up, encouraging her to do so and telling her how amazing her voice was about a million times.

After a long time of pleading, Harry’d gotten what he wanted and more. Y/N took on the burden of an entire song. And tonight was not only the debut of the new song, but also of her voice.

Weeks of rehearsals had fallen down the drain when Y/N started singing and her voice came out shaky with nerves. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t hit the right chords on the guitar. And her lungs started constricting, making it hard for her to complete the lines without gasping for air. And all of this combined into the messiest performance the band had ever performed.

At the end of the song, Y/N was holding back tears and the small amount of people paying attention to the band clapped politely, but she heard the whispers of judgement. And when she turned to look at the band, the three of them were looking at her with pity in their eyes.

That was how she’d rushed off stage, thrusting her guitar into the hands of someone she passed by, possibly even a bystander just walking by. She didn’t even look at their face before walking out in tears.

“Love, you’re a good singer,” Harry said with a small sigh, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut. “You got nervous. It happens to everyone. You just have to learn how to control those nerves, that’s all.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, holding back a sob. “I made everyone look bad.”

Harry let out a small laugh. Y/N opened her eyes to glare at him. He rushed to say, “Baby, I wasn’t making fun of you, I swear. I just… I’ve made countless mistakes on stage. My voice has cracked, I’ve missed high notes, I’ve mixed up verses, I’ve sung off-key. But my mistakes don’t take away from my talent.” He pulled her forward to hug her. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a good singer. Because I was persistent and a hard worker. I didn’t give up even when I had moments where I sounded like shit and thought I had humiliated myself to a degree no other human being ever had.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Which part?” Harry asked, curiously. He was ever as bright as always, but so soft and gentle. He was a sweetheart above anything else.

“Getting on stage and giving an amazing as fuck performance each time,” Y/N said. She shook her head. “You’re amazing, H.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s what I know how to do. I’ve done it my entire life. The same way you always play the guitar ‘amazing as fuck’.” He scrunched his nose up at her as he mocked her words. She let out a small chuckle. He smiled, pleased at himself. He always pulled a smile out of her. “It takes time and experience. I promise next time you get on stage to sing you’ll be better. Not perfect, just better. And someday, you won’t even remember tonight as anything more than just another story to tell and laugh at.”

Y/N pursed her lips, silent for a moment in thought. He was right. He always was.

Somehow, Harry always managed to make the tears seem like just another silly hurdle to jump over. The world seemed so much easier to face when he spoke about it so simply.

And with Harry holding her in his arms, who wouldn’t be ready to take on anything the universe threw her way?

Harry let out a small sigh, running his fingers through her hair. “You’ll be okay, love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry always took care of her with love. Not as if she were fractured sharp glass, but as if she were a bouquet of flowers you settled into a vase with care as to not let a single petal drop.

And Y/N wished she were as sweet as him. She wished she could be as good and pure as he was, to give him the affection he needed. The care he gave her was the kind he should be receiving.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, starting off with something small to remind him of her love.

Harry smiled, as if she’d made some grand declaration of love and hung a star in the night sky for him. “I love you too.”

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Event Finals Part 2

Event Finals Part 1 Masterpost Read on AO3

Author's Note: We're approaching the end of this little AU (another part or two to come after this one, and possibly some cute one-shots or something if I feel like it). I legitimately don't know what I'm supposed to do now that the Olympics are over. Life will feel so empty without cheering for a new athlete in a random sport every day.

---

Quiet. 

Something an Olympic stadium should never be unless the lights are out, the arena closed, the athletes gone, no one but security to roam its empty seats. There is something unnatural about a sold out stadium standing still. 

Quiet. 

The absence of sound. No cheering. No singing. No clapping. No nothing. 

So why is it that quiet can be so damn loud?

Sometimes a stadium falls quiet as it bears witness to history in the making. Everything in slow motion. An audience holding its collective breath, waiting for some long-shot dream to come true. A record to be broken. An upset to turn from wildest dream to reality. A comeback to turn to victory. An audience goes quiet, waiting to see if the impossible becomes possible. 

A good quiet. The kind that draws people in, demands your attention because something incredible has happened.

But then there’s bad quiet. The kind that has the whole arena holding its breath because they’re worried that if they let it go, the worst will come true. A shocking loss suffered. A comeback failed. A career ended. History falling short. A life in the balance. 

That’s the kind of quiet that shuts everyone up, leaves them stunned and nervous and unsure what to do. It demands your attention because something terrible has happened. 

Quiet. 

The sound of the stadium at Worlds just over a year ago, when Bucky got chucked right off the high bar and into the ground, crumpling, unable to rise. 

Quiet. 

The sound of rustling and concerned whispering as medics rush to the apparatus. The sound of an audience willing the athlete to rise and feeling deeper and deeper sorrow when he doesn’t. The sound of an unconscious gymnast, usually so full of life, being loaded onto a stretcher and taken away. The sound of oh my god, and what just happened? and what happens now?

Quiet. 

The sound of an audience who doesn’t know what to do. The sound of remaining athletes who have been rattled to their core and now somehow have to just keep going because that’s sports. The sound of a teammate who can’t believe what he just saw, rushing after his best friend as he’s wheeled away, world titles be damned. 

Quiet. 

The sound of someone asleep, not waking up, still and broken in a hospital bed. The sound of a life saved, but a career lost. The unfairness of the world. The sound of pain that bears no words. The sound of fear that chokes the breath from your lungs. The sound of worry, when worry is all that’s left to do. 

Quiet. 

That’s the sound of Bercy arena on the morning of August 4, 2024. 

Is it possible for things to move too fast and too slow at the same time? Time splitting in different directions, tearing reality at its seams until you can no longer believe what you’re seeing. Because it’s wrong. 

Gale watches Bucky salute, and he can see on his face even way up in the stands that it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. He watches Bucky drop, like he simply can't hold his own weight any longer. And when the gymnast lays himself down fully on the ground, one fist clenched over his chest as his other arm covers his eyes, Gale shoots to his feet in the stands. Slow motion, fast forward, all at once. 

I’ll be alright, Bucky insisted last night. Gale chose to believe him even though he knew Bucky was downplaying the discomfort. Even if he didn’t believe him, though, he knows it wouldn’t have made a difference. John would have done it anyway. 

Right?

Or did Gale make a mistake? Trying not to overstep. Trying not to be overbearing. What did it cost?

Benny’s hand reaches out to grab onto Gale’s wrist, in alarm or comfort neither of them know. Croz stands beside Gale, while Brady and Alex lean forward in their seats. Alex grips the seat back in front of him while Brady covers his mouth with his hand. Cameras zoom in on their little group, capturing their reactions for the entire world to see.

Everyone watching gets to see the way Gale puts a hand over his mouth and runs the other through his hair, his eyes wide and wild like he’s seconds from jumping over every row of seats to get to the floor. Everyone watching gets to see the way Croz and Benny both put a hand on one of Gale’s arms, like they’re holding him back or holding him together. Everyone watching gets to see the way they stare down at the apparatus below in shock. 

Bucky, laying on his back on the floor beneath the still rings. An arm over his eyes to block the light. A hand clenched in pain. A grimace on his face. His bad leg bent so his knee is in the air and the outline of his brace is visible through the fabric of his pants. The whole world gets to see that, too. 

Bucky, who just gave the best still rings performance of his life. Who just wowed the whole world with a skill no one ever thought he’d be able to do. Who very likely just secured another gold medal. 

Except, instead of submitting his score, the judges are still staring at him, too. 

It’s quiet. 

The world stops, except for Curt, the first to find his way back from the break in reality. He yells John’s name again and jumps up onto the rings podium. He drops to his knees next to Bucky’s head, and their coach is close behind, kneeling by Bucky’s leg. 

Gale strains to see what’s happening, but he can’t from up here. All he can see is the two men hovering over Bucky’s body, the damn cameras trying to zoom in too close. Give him some damn space, he thinks. He wants to push every single one of them away. He wants to stand in front of Bucky and block everyone’s view of him, stop the stations from capitalizing on this gut-wrenching moment. 

On the floor, Curt sees flashbacks of the past in his mind. One moment, Bucky on the high bar. The next, in a slump on the floor, his leg a mangled mess. Unmoving. The quiet stadium. Everyone holding their breath. Curt running. Slow motion. To Bucky’s side. Bucky unconscious, eyes closed, face contorted in pain. Bucky. 

Quiet. 

The same exact kind of quiet. 

The thing is, Bucky didn’t fall. Not today, not in Bercy arena, not off still rings. Today he landed perfectly. He smiled. He saluted. He waved to the crowd. He had even the judges staring at him, impressed with his strength and skill. He did everything he needed to do. And then he just… dropped. 

At first, Curt thought it was exhaustion. A collapse in relief at the end of his last routine in Paris. After three all arounds and two events on a leg that may or may not have been ready. Nothing but a ‘I’m done. Thank god.’

But he didn’t get back up. He stayed there, on his back, staring into the blinding lights above. Unmoving. The cameras are crowding in on him, suffocating. The eyes of the entire arena are on him. Quiet. 

I’m fine, Curt. Just one more event. 

Just one more. Just one more. Just one more. 

This goddamn sport. 

Why do none of them ever listen?

Curt feels sick as he runs to Bucky’s side, history repeating, the world blurring, his ears filled with underwater noise. He kneels at Bucky’s head, their coach dropping down by his knee, which is still bent upwards. Not mangled. Not twisted. Just… what? 

“What happened?” Curt asks in a rush, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky pulls his arm away from his face but squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a shallow breath. “My knee,” he grunts, motioning vaguely to his leg. “Don’t know. I landed fine. I-I dunno.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair before he glances first at Curt, then at their coach. He’s out of breath, but Curt doesn’t know if it’s from the routine or the pain. Or both. “Hurt yesterday,” Bucky goes on. “Maybe I shouldn’t have…”

Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have done his final event? Shouldn’t have come back so soon? Shouldn’t have done four floor routines when the doctors said floor was the last thing he should be doing?

Curt shakes his head, because Bucky was always going to do all of those things. There’s no use in wondering. “Should’ve listened to the dog,” he tries to joke instead. 

Bucky cracks a smile but it quickly turns to a grimace. 

Their coach prods gently at the joint, checking for anything abnormal. “Some swelling for sure. Probably just a sprain,” he says calmly. All three of them know that that could mean anything, though, with the injury Bucky had. It could be nothing. Or it could cost everything. “Do you think you can get up?”

Bucky blinks and takes a deep breath. He looks at Curt. At their coach. His eyes drift away. Towards the rings dangling high above him, lined with chalk marks from his grips. Towards the other athletes watching in concern. Towards the stands, filled with spectators whose eyes are on him. He can’t see Gale. His heart jumps in his chest, but he forces himself to breathe. He knows Gale is there. But the sound and the lights and the pain is making his head pound and he can’t hold it up long enough to search. 

He looks at the cameras circling him like a flock of birds circles roadkill, locked in on their prey: this staggering turn of events. He tries not to think too much about them and the fact that this clip of him will be circulated on national television and across social media. His failure. His pain. Perhaps his downfall. All over again. 

Was it worth it?

Gymnasts get hurt. It’s not a matter of if. It’s when. It’s how bad. It’s can you rise again. Should Bucky have listened to the people who told him no? To the people who begged him to slow down?

Or should he have seized this moment for everything it was worth? He thought his career was over once before. In the end, how many times can you beat the odds before the odds come back to shove you down again?

The world loves a comeback story. And they also love to see it go up in flames. They call him unbreakable. What will they call him if he’s just ruined it all?

He got more out of Paris than he ever expected. He came back to the sport with a vengeance, and he grabbed for his titles with an iron grip dripping in blood, sweat, and tears. They say he could be, could become, the greatest male gymnast of all time. He made history here. 

Was it enough?

“John? Can you get up? Or do we need a stretcher?” The voice of his coach carves through the shroud in his mind, reminding him of where he is. The noise around him, even in deafening silence, crashes back into him. 

“I dunno,” he says, cringing at the way his words slur together. Experimentally, he straightens his leg a bit and grimaces at the pain, but it’s nothing compared to what he felt at Worlds. 

“Come on,” Curt says. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Bucky nods and lets Curt help him sit up, biting the inside of his cheek against the discomfort. Then he loops his arm around Curt’s shoulder, and their coach moves to his other side. Together, they haul him up, and Bucky takes a little hop to get his weight onto his good leg, the toes of his left foot resting lightly on the ground. He can feel his brace digging into his skin beneath the competition pants. His knee is throbbing with every desperate heartbeat. 

The stadium fills with sound again. 

With a deep breath, Bucky gives a pained smile as the arena erupts into cheers, whistles, and applause, relieved to see him on his feet. The USA chant picks back up, and Bucky lifts a hand from Curt’s shoulder to wave at the crowd. The sound follows him the whole way as, ever so slowly, the three of them make their way down off the rings podium. Their team doctor rushes over to them with a wheelchair, and she helps Curt ease Bucky down into it.

“You’re never gonna stop givin’ me heart attacks, huh?” Curt jokes.

Bucky inhales sharply as he adjusts his bad leg on the footrest of the wheelchair, but he laughs. “Don’t count on it.”

The moment his score finally posts, every single person watching knows before he does as he sits, idly tracing a finger around his knee and trying not to think about anything too much. 

He jumps in surprise when Curt claps him on both shoulders, telling him to look at the score. And he all but falls out of the chair when he sees it, Curt having to hold him steady as they both laugh and scream “What the fuck! Holy shit!”

In a sport of tenths, he won the gold by well over a full point. It’s his best ever score on rings. 

His smile starts to fade just the littlest bit when he watches the silver and bronze medalists climb up onto the wide open spring floor, raising high the flags of their countries. Celebrating their victories. It’s a right of passage for any Olympic medalist, taking that victory lap, playing a superhero just for a few minutes. 

Bucky tries to shove himself out of his wheelchair, but Curt pushes him back down. “You can’t walk, dude.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky insists, trying to get up again. 

“John.”

The third time, Curt steps back and lets Bucky do as he pleases. He makes it two limping steps before he can’t hold his weight, and their coach, ever the spotter, has to lunge forward to catch him before he falls. 

He realizes that his coach is holding an American flag, which is now half wrapped around Bucky. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you sit out, did you?”

He motions to Curt, who takes the chair and hoists it up onto the floor. Then together, they pull Bucky up with it and help him get seated again. Curt hands him the American flag, and they grin at each other before Curt takes off across the floor, pushing Bucky in front of him. The flag waves high and proud as the world watches.

–

Bucky will admit, when he envisioned his last medal ceremony in Paris, he didn’t imagine himself being pushed to the podium in a wheelchair. But here he is. 

He enters Bercy for the very last time with the other two medalists. He’s now wearing the team USA tracksuit over top of his competition shirt and shorts, the competition pants having been removed to take a better look at his knee. They still don’t know what the damage is, because Bucky refused to be properly checked out until after the medal ceremony. Scratch that, until after Curt’s vault final. It’s starting to swell, though, and the doctor wrapped it with obscene amounts of tape, pleading with him to “not do anything else stupid.”

Bucky doesn’t really know what she expects him to do between now and two hours from now, but he supposes she’s probably right to be concerned. They make him go out in the wheelchair, one of the event volunteers pushing him. He tries to make small talk with her before the athletes are guided out the door into the arena. But she speaks French, and the only things he really knows how to say in French he learned from Gale. And that mostly consists of flirting and dirty talk. 

She rolls her eyes at his botched pronunciation when he so much as tries to tell her “thank you,” but she smiles kindly and pats his shoulder. And then she wheels him out into the arena for all the world to see the duality of his success and pending downfall. 

He feels ecstatic at the same time that he feels self-conscious. Proud but also worried. Accomplished, and yet sad. He ignores the pain in his leg. 

At least he’s not on a stretcher. 

At least he’s conscious. 

At least he’s here, and not in a hospital. 

At least at least at least…

At least he got a medal out of it this time.

Yes. 

A gold medal. Another gold medal.

Everything else can damn well wait. 

Bucky might be in a chair, but the grin plastered to his face, the way he waves to the crowd as he’s wheeled out, the brightness of his eyes, so, so alive, make it seem like he’s on top of the world. He certainly doesn’t mind the way the audience cheers a little extra loudly for him. When the athletes stop behind the podium, in a line with Bucky in the middle, he pushes himself carefully to his feet. The volunteer gives him a questioning look, but he waves her off, and she nods and steps away. He stands with most of his weight on his good knee, head held high. He refuses to make himself small in this moment. He refuses to sit below the others at a time when he should be rising up.

When the announcer calls his name for the final time, introducing him as the gold medalist and Olympic Champion, he hops towards the podium and gives it a wary glance. Before he can work out how best to get himself up there, though, the silver and bronze medalists – a Japanese gymnast and a Ukrainian gymnast, respectively – step forward and take his weight on either side. Together, they lift him up onto the top step and make sure he’s steady.

“Thank you,” he says to them as he shakes each of their hands. They pat him on the back and smile at him so brightly that he’s momentarily amazed at the kindness that can be found in the world. He makes sure to clap louder than anyone in the whole stadium when their names are called. 

He really does almost cry this time when the National Anthem plays through the stadium, the American flag raising high. He quietly sings the words, and he hears the people of his country singing aloud, too. He stands on the podium, medal around his neck, pain be damned. 

John Egan, Olympic Champion. Five time Olympic medalist. Four in Paris alone. Two golds, two silvers. 

How’s that for a goddamn comeback?

—

Bucky’s singular text to Gale between his medal ceremony and Curt’s vault reads: Do you think you can still do gymnastics after a knee replacement? Asking for a friend. 

The reply comes back, maybe you can be a Paralympian. 

It doesn’t make him feel better, but it does make him laugh as he sits on the sidelines, watching the gymnasts warm up on vault. “Don’t do that for the final!” He jokes after Curt falls on his ass on the landing, even though he knows it was on purpose to save his knees from the impact during warm-ups. 

Curt gives him the finger. On live television. 

Presumably, Gale shared Bucky’s text with Croz in concern. Because when Bucky’s phone buzzes again, it’s Croz telling him to Stop being dramatic.

Curt easily secures his third medal of the Games, winning gold on vault like Bucky knew he would. He’s the best men’s vaulter in the world right now, with the highest start value of any gymnast here. 

“You got this babe!” Bucky yells out as Curt prepares to run down the track. And when he sticks the landing without so much as a hop, Bucky throws himself out of the chair and nearly falls on his face, having to grab onto his coach for support. 

“You did that! You fucking did that!” He exclaims as Curt hops down, buzzing from the adrenaline. 

They both fucking did it. 

—

When a reporter interviews Bucky and Curt again after event finals, Bucky’s still in the damn chair. They both have gold medals around their necks, though. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he insists, when the reporter comments on it. The truth is, he doesn’t really know yet. He’s really hoping his coach is right and it’s just a minor sprain, but he’s refused a proper medical examination until he’s done here at Bercy. He was told that they don’t have crutches on hand, but he thinks they just don’t trust him with crutches. 

Which is ridiculous. 

“You’re a mess,” Curt laughs. “You can barely keep yourself in the chair and you think you can be trusted with crutches?”

The reporter asks them both what’s next after this, the dreaded question of any Olympic athlete. 

How about rest? How about a week off? How about some ice?

Bucky could really go for ice right now. A hug from his boyfriend, maybe. A muffin. 

He tells the reporter as much. But then they both hint at 2028, Curt gunning for at least one more go before he’s just a “washed up Olympian.” Bucky agrees that, as long as he can keep himself in one piece, the world hasn’t seen the last of this dynamic duo. He may or may not wink at the camera. 

“Gale Cleven’s been in the stands for all of your events,” the reporter observes. “The aforementioned boyfriend, I take it? You two haven’t been very subtle.”

Bucky laughs and tries not to blush. “What can I say,” he shrugs. “I didn’t expect to fall in love at the Olympics.”

“But you did?”

“I did.”

—

Gale doesn’t even see the interview until late that afternoon, when Marge, sitting beside him, screams and shoves her phone in his face. “He fell in love?”

Gale grabs the phone from her hands and stares down at it. Marge reaches over and rewinds so he can hear it again. 

“I didn’t expect to fall in love…”

He rewinds it again. And again. One more time. Hell, he was still right there in the stands during that interview and he didn’t even know. His brain is short-circuiting, the same way it did the very first time he met John Egan on a plane two weeks ago. 

He doesn’t know if his heart is soaring at the confirmation: it’s not just him. John feels it too. 

Or if it’s pounding because he doesn’t understand why Bucky told the world before he told him. Did he mean it? Did it just pop out?

“Gale? You okay?” Marge asks. He realizes the video has stopped and he’s still just gripping the phone tight in his hands, frozen. It’s paused on Bucky and Curt grinning at the camera, holding their medals up. The replay button blocks part of Bucky’s face. 

Gale blinks and looks up at Marge. 

She smiles at him, and he nervously smiles back. He runs a hand through his hair. “I- do you think he meant it?”

Marge literally facepalms. “Gale, honey.” She rolls her eyes and shoves him in the shoulder. “Yes!” The he’s loved you since the moment he saw you goes unspoken. 

Just then, Gale’s phone buzzes. Still holding Marge’s phone, he checks his own, and nearly chucks Marge’s away when he sees it’s a text from John. Marge has to grab his wrist and gently remove her phone from his grip. 

Looks like a sprain. I’ve been released from Hell.

Then, The med center. They let me leave the med center. If that wasn’t clear.

Can I see you later? Gale asks. 

If you want.

He squints at his phone and bites his bottom lip, unsure what that means. But he says he’ll stop by John’s room that evening.

He sneaks a muffin from the dining hall on his way and buys pre-made sandwiches from the market in the Village. Other than confirming that this plan was acceptable, Bucky didn’t respond to any more of Gale’s messages all afternoon, and Gale tries not to let it put too much of a weight on his chest. It was a hard day, that’s all. It’s natural that Bucky would be upset. It’s expected. 

He probably just doesn’t feel like talking. 

So what if he didn’t reply when Gale sent him a picture of the cute Brazil pin he got on his way back into the Village? So what if he doesn’t send so much as a smiley face when Gale tells him Whiskey is proud of him? So what?

When Gale knocks on the door, it takes a minute for it to open. There’s a clanging noise, the word “fuck,” and then Bucky is standing on the other side of the doorway, a crutch under one arm and a brace on his knee. Even though he’s done competing now. Gale tries not to stare at it.

“Hey,” he says. He can’t help but smile every time he sees Bucky, his hair unkempt and a goofy grin on his face.

Except, the grin isn’t there. Bucky looks tired, defeated. He’s dressed in USA sweats and a t-shirt, and that typical mischievous light is gone from his blue eyes. 

“You okay?” Gale asks. The smile falls from his face. “That’s a bad question. Sorry.”

Bucky blinks and shakes his head, like he’s trying to refocus himself. He seems to notice Gale standing there for the first time. “Sorry. Yeah. Yeah, I mean. No, I’m not great. But…” He does smile now, and he gives a little self-deprecating laugh. “I have four Olympic medals now. So.”

“You do.” The corner of Gale’s mouth pulls up again. “Olympic Champion John Egan. The greatest gymnast in the world.”

Bucky laughs again. “I could get used to that title. Come on. No reason to stand in the doorway.” He reaches out to grab the bag of food in Gale’s hand, but loses his balance on the crutch and has to press his hand to Gale’s solid chest instead. He sighs and lets his forehead fall against Gale’s shoulder. “Maybe you better just carry the food in.”

Gale presses his free hand to Bucky’s, still resting on his chest. “I have a better idea.”

Carefully, he steps all the way through the door and closes it behind him. Then he sets the food on the floor, ignoring Bucky’s perplexed look. “Give me that.” He motions to the crutch.

“What are you doing?” Bucky raises an eyebrow and watches Gale skeptically, but he hands over the crutch, leaving him standing with all his weight on one foot. Gale makes quick work of it though, leaning the crutch gently against the wall, and then Bucky isn’t standing anymore. Gale literally sweeps him off his feet in one fluid motion, one arm under Bucky’s legs and the other supporting his back and shoulders, carrying him bridal style.

“Okay?” Gale asks.

Bucky gazes up at him, surprised, and licks his lower lip as his eyes trail from Gale’s face down to his chest, then to Gale’s arm beneath his knees. “Who knew you were so strong.”

Gale rolls his eyes, and he carries Bucky down the hall. “Wanna eat in your room or in the common area?”

Bucky raises a hand to cup Gale’s cheek, making him look down again. Wanting those eyes on nothing but him. “There’s other things we could do in the bedroom,” he suggests, gently biting his lower lip with a small smile. He raises his eyebrows in question.

Gale’s cheeks flush, which makes Bucky smile even bigger, but he sighs and shakes his head. “No. You need food. And rest.”

Bucky pouts. “Or, have you considered, I need feel-better sex.”

“Food,” Gale insists. “Now pick a room. You’re heavy as hell.”

“Wow you really know how to make a guy feel special,” Bucky mutters.

“John.”

“Bedroom.”

Gale nods and walks through the open door of Bucky’s room. He carefully steps over a second crutch laying on the floor beside the bed, assuming the clanging noise he heard earlier was Bucky dropping it when he tried to get out of bed to answer the door. He also kicks an abandoned heating pad out of the way, making a note to rotate Bucky through ice and heat again after they eat. Once he lowers Bucky onto the mattress, he fluffs the pillow and settles it behind Bucky’s back so he can sit up against the wall.

“Feel alright?” he asks.

Bucky nods, but he grimaces as he adjusts his leg. He points across the room. “Can you get Curt’s pillow and put it under my knee?” Gale nods and grabs the pillow, situating it beneath Bucky’s leg until the gymnast tells him it’s comfortable. 

There’s a knock on the open door, and Gale looks up to see Curt leaning against the doorframe. He has the bag of food in one hand and the abandoned crutch in the other. 

“Okay, this makes so much more sense,” he says, motioning to Gale with the crutch.

“Than what?” Bucky asks.

“I don’t know. Than you spontaneously turning into a bag of takeout.”

Gale stifles a laugh as he straightens up to face Curt and awkwardly shoves a hand in his pocket. Curt leans the crutch against the wall at the end of Bucky’s bed and thrusts the bag of food towards Gale.

“I’m heading out with the boys,” he says when Gale takes it. “USA House. You two wanna come?”

Bucky shakes his head before Gale can even think about it. “Looks like we’re eating in tonight.”

“We can go,” Gale tells him earnestly.

But Bucky shakes his head again, and Gale can’t read the expression on his face. “It’s alright. I’d rather stay here.”

Gale and Curt share a concerned look, but they both nod. “Okay,” Curt says. Then he glances at Gale and winks. “Be careful with him. Nothing too acrobatic.”

Gale’s face burns and he stammers a bit, but Curt points at Bucky before he can figure out what to say. “You’re the GOAT. Don’t forget it.”

“You’re a legend,” Bucky responds.

“A literal Greek god.”

“Fuckin’ Hercules.”

Curt grins. “Goddamn Olympic champions.”

“Love ya, babe.” Bucky dramatically blows him a kiss. 

Curt pretends to catch it, and then he’s gone.

Bucky shifts himself over so he’s on the side of the bed pressed against the wall, as close to the wall as he can get. “Really?” Gale says, motioning to the pillow that is no longer beneath Bucky’s knee. “I just got you set up.”

Bucky ignores him and pats the now empty space beside him. Gale sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. Then he gets Bucky’s leg elevated again and sits beside him, as requested. They don’t quite fit, so one of Gale’s legs has to hang off the edge, their shoulders pressed together. 

“I got you a muffin,” he says, opening the bag and pulling out a small, napkin-wrapped package. He sets it on Bucky’s thigh. “Since you have an addiction.”

“God I love you,” Bucky murmurs, glancing from the muffin to Gale. His eyes go wide when he realizes what he said. When Gale opens his mouth to respond, though, Bucky grabs the muffin and unwraps it. “Not the desert I was hoping to start tonight with. But I’ll take it.” He doesn’t miss the way Gale frowns and blushes at the same time, but he shoves down the feeling of guilt rising in his chest and offers the muffin to Gale. “Bite?”

When the muffin is gone, Bucky licks the chocolate off the corner of Gale’s mouth, then presses their lips together. He sighs into the way Gale reciprocates, and he reaches his hand up to grab at his soft blonde hair. “You taste like chocolate,” he mumbles against his mouth. 

Gale pulls away with a breathy laugh, darting his tongue out to lick at the last little bit of chocolate stuck to his lips. “How’d you get it on your nose?” He asks. He uses his thumb to wipe it away, watching the way Bucky’s eyes flutter closed at the gentle touch. 

Bucky tries to kiss him again, but Gale turns his head so Bucky gets his cheek instead. 

“A muffin doesn’t count as dinner,” he says. He reaches into the bag again and pulls out two wrapped subs, offering one to Bucky.

“Don’t need dinner,” Bucky insists, shaking his head. He nuzzles against Gale’s temple before dipping down to nip at his ear. “Need you.”

“Need protein,” Gale argues, shifting away. “Now chicken salad or Italian?”

It doesn’t much matter. Despite Gale’s insistence, Bucky only eats half of his Italian sub before setting it in his lap and staring at Gale with wide, pleading eyes. When Gale turns his head to look at him, eyebrow raised, Bucky smirks before leaning in to kiss him. First gentle, then a little rough when Gale reciprocates and melts into it. He wraps his hand around the back of Gale’s head and bites gently at his lower lip, then leaves a trail of kisses down his jaw to his neck. He pulls back the neckline of Gale’s shirt and sucks a light bruise into the delicate skin over his collarbone, where it will just barely be hidden by his clothes. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Gale mutters, even as he tilts his head to give Bucky better access.

“And there’s no evolutionary reason for me to exist? That’s rude, Buck.”

“No,” Gale grunts. Bucky nips below his ear. “You… are perfect.”

“Parfait?”

Gale nods. “Parfait.”

He can feel Bucky smiling against his neck, and he turns his head so their noses bump when Bucky tries to look up at him again. Bucky hands over the last of his sandwich so Gale can shove it back in the bag, which he throws to the floor. Then their mouths find one another, and Gale moans softly when Bucky takes his lower lip between his teeth, biting it gently before his tongue runs across it. His hand comes back up to pull at Gale’s hair the way he likes. But Gale pulls away when he realizes the way Bucky has to twist his back to get to him in this position, where they’re sitting next to each other, backs to the wall. Reality dawns on him. 

“Your knee,” he protests.

“Is sprained, Buck,” Bucky groans. “I can handle an innocent make-out session.”

“You never want to stop at innocent,” Gale argues. He’s right. And Bucky doesn’t plan to stop at innocent now. 

“Please?”

Gale can’t read the expression on Bucky’s face, and he doesn’t like that. Usually, he can read John like a book – his excitement, his anger, his curiosity, his cockiness. Now he’s smiling and pouting at once, looking at Gale with puppy-dog eyes. But there’s something desperate about it, something off. Something pleading, like he’s worried it’s the last time they’ll ever do this. 

It’s been a long day, Gale reminds himself. And he kisses Bucky anyways. 

He shifts so he’s in front of Bucky, basically sitting on his right thigh with his knee between his legs. He takes care not to jostle the sprained left knee as he leans in, pressing one hand to Bucky’s chest and the other to the wall beside his head, closing him in.

“Well hello, angel,” Bucky chuckles. His face shifts immediately, like relief washing over him. With a satisfied smirk, he pulls his shirt over his head in one swift motion, and then helps Gale do the same. He takes pleasure in the way Gale’s eyes roam over his upper body, like he can’t get enough of seeing Bucky’s arms, his chest, his abs. Like he’s seeing it all for the first time even though it’s far from it at this point.

“Parfait,” Gale breathes again, his cheeks pink and his lips parted, eyes already dark. It floods Bucky with all kinds of want and need. 

He cups the back of Gale’s head and pulls him in for another rough kiss. His other hand makes its home on Gale’s waist, holding him steady. He pulls at Gale’s hair, making the blonde moan softly, and there’s no denying how turned on Bucky is by that sound. He pushes his hips forward even though there’s nothing there to press into. Gale notices and lets his hand drift down, down, down. Bucky takes a deep, pleasured breath when he feels Gale’s hand on him, but it’s gone as quickly as it was there. Gale bites gently at Bucky’s lip before pulling away. He shifts downward to suck at Bucky’s neck and collarbone instead, his hand stroking up Bucky’s side until it reaches his chest. With deft fingers, Gale pinches Bucky’s nipple, making him gasp in surprise. Gale smiles against his neck.

He tries to move further down, so he can take the nipple between his lips, but he has to shift backwards to do so and bumps Bucky’s knee in the process. Bucky grimaces, inhaling sharply. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Gale says. He straightens up immediately, shifting away from Bucky’s bad leg, and he nearly topples off the small bed in the process. Bucky throws a hand out to steady him, resting it on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Gale.” 

Gale looks all sorts of guilty and concerned, and Bucky can’t stand it. “Maybe we shouldn’t-”

Bucky cups Gale’s jaw with a steady hand. “It’s fine,” he says again. “Please. I want you, Buck. I need you. Please.”

There’s a hint of begging somewhere at the bottom of Bucky’s tone, and Gale sighs. He wants it, too. He wants to keep going, too. He glances at Bucky’s knee again, but then he nods. “Come here,” he says.

Gently, he pulls Bucky away from the wall and helps him turn so his legs are hanging over the side of the bed. Gale kneels on the floor between them. “Feel okay?”

Bucky nods as he adjusts, scooting closer to the edge. Then without warning, eager to pick up where they left off, he wraps his fingers in Gale’s hair again. He leans down and pulls Gale up to kiss him once, then he guides Gale back to his chest. He moans when Gale takes his nipple between soft lips, licking and sucking at it gently. He holds Gale to him, asking silently for more as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. 

Eventually, Gale shifts his attention to the other side, giving it the same treatment, before kissing his way down Bucky’s abs to the waistband of his sweatpants. He peeks up at Bucky, icy blue eyes peering through blonde eyelashes. “Do you want…”

Bucky nods urgently. “Yes.” And he shifts to help Gale pull the waistband down. “God, you’re beautiful,” he nearly growls as he watches Gale. And then Gale’s mouth is on him, and he’s too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything else. 

One blowjob and one handjob later, and Gale is back on the bed again. They both have their pants pulled back up, Gale having cleaned them both up afterwards, but their shirts remain lost on the floor. Gale sits at the head of the bed, leaning back against the wall even though it makes his back sore. Bucky, beside him, is slumped down further so his head can lay against Gale’s chest, his injured leg stretched out in front of him. Ice rests on top of it. He tries to focus on nothing other than the comforting sound of Gale’s steady heartbeat and the feeling of Gale’s fingers playing mindlessly with his hair.

“Thank you,” Bucky says quietly. “For tonight. For everything.”

Gale hums softly but otherwise stays quiet for a while. He takes a breath and starts to say, “John, I-”

“I’m going home,” Bucky blurts out then. “Day after tomorrow. Early.”

Gale stops cold and looks down at Bucky, catching his eye. “Oh.”

Bucky averts his gaze again, exhaling a warm breath that tickles Gale’s chest. “The doctor, uh… well. They think it’s a sprain,” he explains, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. “But they don’t know how bad. It could just be mild. It could be a partial tear. I have to get an MRI.”

“So you have to leave?” Gale asks, confused and disappointed. They’d been talking about going to closing ceremonies together. 

Bucky nods. “I just… Gale.” He sits up, and his face turns dark. A flicker of fear flashes across it, followed by sadness. He opens his mouth to say more, but the words get caught in his throat. He can’t decide if he wants to look at Gale when he says it or if it would be easier not to. He grabs Gale’s hand and runs a thumb across his knuckles. He looks at that instead. “They don’t know if my leg will ever be strong enough to be competitive again.”

Gale blinks and looks down at Bucky’s hand holding his. Some things about Bucky’s behavior today are making more sense. The sudden avoidance after he left the med center. The desperation when he asked Gale to keep kissing him. Like it was the last time.

“Oh.”

Bucky nods and bites his lip.

“But they don’t know,” Gale points out. “It might just be a minor sprain. It’s not a death sentence, John.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I know. I’m getting kicked outta here anyways, though.” He motions to the room around them. The U.S. athletes have to leave the village soon after their events are over. Gale and Benny have been staying in a hotel the last few days with many of the other athletes reluctant to cut short their time in Paris.

“I was gonna get a hotel,” Bucky goes on. “But I- I need to go home, Buck.”

Gale nods, his brow scrunched as he tries to work through what Bucky is telling him. “I understand,” he says, even though he isn’t quite sure if he does. 

“So can we just,” Bucky sighs. Then he tries his best to smile at Gale and cups his cheek, guiding him to look him in the eye again. “Can we just be happy together tonight? I just wanna be with you right now.”

Gale closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. But he smiles back at Bucky, and he nods, and he says okay.

–

The next night, they say goodbye. “We live close together,” Gale rationalizes. Only a couple hours at worst, both in the DC area. “Maybe we can see each other when I get back and get Whiskey settled?”

Bucky nods and offers a weak smile. Not like that broad grin when Gale first sat beside him on the plane. Not like John Egan at all. He kisses Gale, pressing all the meaning he possibly can into it. It’s full of love and full of sorrow at the same time. 

It’s full of goodbye. 

Neither of them say I love you.

Gale texts him several times, checking in. Asking if he landed safely. When he sees a story in the news about Bucky, Olympic gold medalist, being welcomed home by all the kids that train at the same gym as him, he texts again to say how sweet the article was. He texts asking if Bucky is okay. If he needs anything. If he had his MRI. He asks about the verdict. 

For days, he doesn’t get a single reply.

[marimayscarlett]

I need more unhinged Richard quotes, like the whole “[coc*ine when you’re young vs when you’re old]” thing or I may simply pass away

Hi Hello 🤗

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while, but now I finally come around to compile some more quotes from Richard's interviews (here is 'Part 1' so to speak).

Off to another tiny little round of stuff Richard says (some are interesting, others a little weird or downright unhinged):

I think the quote you mean is this one [from this audio interview]: "It's like, you know, it's like you know when you were young and could do coke for a fucking month and nothing, y'know? When you get old you need to recover from fucking one week." (and the interviewer is seemingly quite lost: "haha..true..👀")

Now, on to the Fellfrosch gem [interview]: Interviewer: Perhaps the disgust at the bitter aftertaste is really just a problem of overly careless personal hygiene? Richard:  "Tastes change too. Much of what seemed too bitter to us in childhood tastes good to us today. On the other hand, we usually find the sweets from the past too sweet. Every fur frog tastes different. Pure question of taste. There is no judgment in the text. We’re not saying it stinks."

His readiness to try out his talents with on-screen eroticism some more [interview]: "After I shot some erotic scenes for a video the other day I could also imagine doing an entire film in that direction. I was quite nervous in the beginning, but the longer we were shooting the more fun I had. Erotic, mind you, not pornographic."

in the same interview, he discloses the two main activities which bring him relaxation: "I love lying in bed, smoking and watching good movies more than anything. That is the only thing where I can really switch of other than sex. Lots of both, please. [laughs]"

And another quote from said interview regarding in which time period he would've liked to live and about his affinity to the middle ages (which for me as a history geek is so lovely to see that he is into that period as well): "I guess the sword and blade time as I always call it. Knights templar, 11th century. I can answer that this well, because I like to watch even stupid movies when they deal with that period. I just have a huge affinity to it somehow and would love to find out how things were going back then."

The way he pressurized/threatened (?) Jonathan Davis to sing a high note for the song "Silent so long" (man Richard must be such a nice fellow to work with 👀) [interview]: "But there was a high note in the chorus that Jonathan couldn't quite get right. So what to do? He said he couldn't sing that high. So I grabbed the receiver and whispered the following into his ear: "Watch out, Jonathan. This is the German way! Now take both your hands, grab your balls and squeeze until you get that damn sound."

Touring is hard, but partying is even harder [interview]: "Touring is not the problem, but partying is. If you went straight to the hotel after the show - no problem. But if you party until six in the morning, it's getting increasingly more difficult to get out of bed."

Being super vague in moments where we need more facts from him like in this interview, about the "Bück dich" performance of Till and Flake: "If Till had to do it to me… I would probably you know, like… uhm.. I'll do… something."

this whole feverdream here: an interview for the promotion of the first Emigrate album back in 2007, where Richard and his alter Ego "Mister Emigrate" answer the questions 'together'. It's has a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde vibe to it but is kind of cute ✨

On a more serious note, here he talks about the effects of drugs on him: "I took a lot of cocaine. You reach dimensions that you could never reach otherwise. You can edit a bass drum for eight hours."

Thank you for your interest in even more stuff Richard says 😌

[digitalstardust]

TFP Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee and Arcee with a human s/o that likes to sing

Hi everyone! I know that I said I would post Part 2 of Wildest Dreams this week, but I'm not sure when I would finish it since I have a TON of work to finish, so I'll see do I get around to finish it at all.

There are a couple of songs that I will mention and the links' below! There are some in Chinese and Korean, so if you want the translation you can search it up or ask me for them :)

Enjoy!

Notes: Fluff, fluff, gender neutral reader

TEAM PRIME

Optimus Prime

Optimus has a pretty nice voice so I would say he used to sing before the war.

He was relatively shocked to find out that you sang too.

He found out one day when you and the humans were having fun and goofing around. Miko was trying to sing a song in Mandarin and the kids were covering their ears due to the limited Mandarin words she could speak.

You took that as a chance and took over for her, not missing a single word and reaching every high note.

That left them speechless and left you with a very red face.

After that, he would silently with you would sing all the time.

You can't blame him, honestly, since he has a love for music too.

I think the music on Cybertron is quite different from Earth, so he would love to listen to you sing.

He doesn't care if you sing well or not, he just loves your voice.

His favorite song would probably be 'Something just like this' because it somewhat reminds him of the life he had when he was a clerk in the Iacon Hall of Records.

He would probably ask you to sing for him when he's feeling down.

He would also sing for you when you don't feel well or is feeling sad, and honestly that man has the voice of a god.

You are the only one he sings to, so don't abuse that privilege.

"I've been reading tales of old, the legends and the myths..."

Ratchet

This man... He is the complete opposite of Optimus Prime.

He would pretend he hates your singing because it 'disturbs him' but he actually looks forward to listening to your voice.

He discovered that you loved to sing when he heard you singing when working one day.

He grumbled and asked if you could stop because it was disrupting his work and when you didn't stop, he went over to see what was going on.

It turns out you had headphones in and couldn't hear him, still singing to whatever song you were singing to.

He secretly enjoyed your singing and was somewhat disappointed when you stopped.

But of course he said 'Thank Primus' or something along those lines.

He would pretend to hate your voice so much that you actually believed it and stopped singing.

Once he saw you crying in one of the vents (how did you get there?) and was surprised when you said you were crying because of how unconfident you felt whenever you sang.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that he was the reason you felt unconfident.

He immediately apologized and reassured you that you have a beautiful singing voice.

Honestly... That's just the way he is. A pretty nice guy pretending to be a jerk for some reason.

He hates to admit that he wants to hear you sing, but you usually know what he wants and sings for him.

His favorite song would be '白月光与朱砂痣', because it's the song you sang when he first discovered your beautiful voice. Even though he doesn't completely understand the lyrics, it sounds peaceful and soothing.

"白月光在照耀 你才想起她的好..."

Bumblebee

This boy is the most supporting boyfriend anyone could ever have. You are lucky to have him. Do not break his heart or you would be seeing me tonight.

He's young. Like really young. He was born into the war so he has little time where he could actually let loose and be a child, despite him always acting like one.

He has this certain pressure on him to be mature and a warrior, so he has never had a peaceful life.

He loves music on Earth, especially hype music. He would be the type that hates classical music since it's too boring.

A Kpop fan. A huge one. He would be listening to Kpop 24/7, and I'd say that his favorite band is Stray Kids (because who doesn't love them)

He would be the type that doesn't go out of his way to learn a song or a certain dance but just jumps to the rhythm and hums to the music.

He discovered your singing voice when you were singing to a tune under your breath when you heard the song coming from his speakers.

Needless to say he asked you to sing it again and again.

He would watch all the MVs and try to dance along (and breaking stuff in the process)

His favorite song would be 'Zoo', indefinitely. He loves the beat and the rhythm, and it makes him feel alive. It makes him want to jump up and dance, so it would be a bad choice for music when he's driving.

"Head to toe, cool like a lion, CEO, boss like a bison..."

Arcee

I feel like she wouldn't like songs that are too noisy because they actually disturb her (unlike a certain person mentioned above) but she wouldn't like songs that are way too quiet.

She would listen to classical music when trying to focus or work, but overall she would like to listen to songs that aren't too boring but aren't too hype.

I think she would be a great singer but decides not to because she needs to focus on whatever she's doing, same when she was back on Cybertron.

If she's a good singer, then she would be an even better dancer.

She's really agile and quick on her feet (unlike me lmao) and she could hear the beat in music 10 times faster than anyone else and can come up with dances for every song.

She used to be a dance teacher as a part-time back at Cybertron and was good at it. Why do you think she can do cartwheels, backflips and splits without a second thought? She was either a gymnast or dancer and I'm saying dancer.

She would somewhat be like Ratchet, not going to admit she loves your voice but not going to say she hates it too.

She discovered your love for singing when Miko was learning a new song to dance and sing to when you popped in.

Since she was Japanese, it was a bit hard for her to learn something in Korean, despite them being similar (I'm saying this because I have that difficulty too, but for those that don't have this problem correct me pls).

You popped in and taught her how to pronounce the words correctly and proceeding to sing the song yourself.

She was pleasantly surprised, to say the least.

I think her favorite song would be Chandelier by Sia, because it sounds really nice and she just loves the song for some reason.

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

I might make a second part with the rest of Team Prime or the Decepticons, but we'll see. I was going to make a full Team Prime for this one, but I didn't have enough time.

Songs are below:

Something Just Like This (Optimus):

白月光与朱砂痣 (Ratchet)：

Zoo (Bumblebee):

Chandelier (Arcee):

This wasn't good, I know but it was an idea I had and I wanted to finish it before I lost motivation :(

See you next week!

[murkystarlight]

I've always wondered how people made playlists for characters. Or an entire fandom. Or anything really(I'm horrible at it. Or maybe I just don't know enough songs)

But I did manage to think of songs the new order would sing at karaoke, or just singing skills. I don't actually have songs I think they would sing. But we do have what I wrote down for musical abilities! (This thing was in my drafts for months-)

Jesse

Good at singing. But not very good with rhythms(those darn quick time events don't help!! Arghah)

But like the few songs they've sung their entire lives?? Yeah. The rythm kind of got stuck in their brains. And can keep up to it.

Probably would sing something like... breakup songs, the most. But like, happy break up songs(like.. not happy. But you know.. the 'I broke up with you, but I dont care. You were crap anyways. I'm so out of your league' kind of breakup songs). Why? I thought it'd be funny. Okay? I don't know why-

Olivia

She's a good singer. But she doesn't really like singing in front of crowds. So like.. only with her close friends. But she has a really nice singing voice. Can't reach the really high notes, but manages most of them(even if they're not fully perfect)

I think she would sing more calmer songs.

I think she would know how to play the piano or violin (think she got a good musical ear)(I also thought of her having a dj board thing--)

Axel

He has a loud voice. He covers his weakness of singing with that loud voice. Can't hit a high note? Just scream! Scream the crap out of your throat. But his neck is fine. He screams often, and it takes more than just 'screaming to get a high note' to damage his throat. So he can hit the high notes... well, it does the job. He can get the high notes done. And speaking of high notes, he would sing Hatsune Miku a lot(I- don't know why😃)

If he was to play an instrument I'd say something like.. the drums?

Petra

She doesn't really sing. But she isn't horrible at it. Maybe with practice she'll be better? But when she does sing, she sticks to the easy ones. If there is a high note in the song, she'll just skip that part. Just- everything goes quiet all of a sudden. When the high note part ends, she starts singing again.

She sings anything as long as she knows the song(and likes it) and if it's not something too cheesy(either she doesn't like it, or she just has a big ego).

And for instruments(which.. I apparently also started writing down in this post), drums and guitar/base?

Lukas

I think. He would be able to hit high notes. Like.. really high ones. But the problem is, he can only do it in one song. Or the next day he won't be able to speak. He also has to take care of his throat before and after the song. But other than that. He's a great singer

Think he would sing jazz for some reason. I have- no idea why. Or country. With a guitar maybe(I'm really just throwing things out there at this point). And maybe K-pop. Cause... I like that theory(also the reason why he can do high notes?)

Instruments; guitar. Maybe piano?

So, from here. I guess... dynamics?

After a while, Olivia, Axel and Lukas has to sit down and catch their breath(Olivia and Lukas mostly because they're tired, low energy. And Axel.. he can still go on. But he gets pulled down since he keeps trying to hit the high notes by screaming) So that leaves Petra having to deal with Jesse. Jesse wants to sing. While Petra... she's kind of tired of it by now.

Jesse likes singing duets(or more people) together. So everyone sings a duet with Jesse at least once if they go karaoke together.

Axel(most of the time) doesn't actually know the Japanese lyrics when he sings Miku. He just copies whatever he heard or sees on screen.

Lukas, actually knows the lyrics to the K-pop he sings. He reads books and stuff(yh. That's not a very good reason. Is it..). If he does like K-pop, he would've tried learning it. Other than that, I think he would know a lot of different languages. Even not fully. But know some words and phrases

Jesse and Axel would sing in the shower

Olivia once cheated during karaoke by messing around with the wiring. She got bored while waiting for her turn(the others only realized it after getting the perfect score three times in a row)

Annnnd I realized I didn't think of an instrument Jesse would know how to play. And I have thought of~ the flute. I was thinking of f!jesse. But imagine f!jesse and m!jesse being siblings and they both signed up to learn. F!jesse loves it amd m!jesse doesn't. But they've gone too far. He can't quit now

And that's all. Thank you 👐

[stealeroflemons]

eah thingy but it's if they had their own musical numbers in an eah musical BECAUSE I SAID SO #24 (PART I?)

this is also because I'm a theater person and I'm having performance withdrawals, and I'm watching Rise of The Pink Ladies, and Glee again, the withdrawals are real

Raven's solo would be called "Not Evil" where it's just her walking into ever after high trying to tell people that she's not evil and she really doesn't want to be like her mother (think when she first walked into the school with Maddie and everyone ran away when they saw her)

There would be a number with all the princess' called "What Princess' Do" during princessology where they go over the core fundemetals of being a princess (but not real ones, like stuff about smiling and learning to balance crowns on your head and always looking pretty) and it would absolutely be choreographed like "we both reached for the gun" from Chicago where everyone is being puppeteered

Headmaster Grimm has this stoic number called "Legacy" where he explains the importance of signing the Storybook of Legends

The Wonderlandians would absolutely have their own number called "Out of Wonder" which explains the whole Wonderland curse with mini solos about how it effected their lives

There's also a "Tea-Time!" interlude between scenes with big set changes where it's Maddie and possibly other students setting up a small tea party

Apple gets a solo called "The Apple Doesn't Fall Far" where it's her talking to Raven or Briar or someone about how Apple strives to follow her mom's legacy (think how she acted before Thronecoming)

The hardcore villain kids get a number called "Wickedly Cool" and it's bsically them singing about how being wicked and evil is cool and not as bad as some people make it out to be

Apple and Daring get a duet called "Destined Together" about how perfect they are for each other and are, of course, destined to be together forever after

On that note, the "Destined Together (Reprise) features both Apple and Darling, and Daring and Rosabella having this heartfelt moment where they go back and forth realising that they were destined for someone else

Briar and Faybelle also get a duet called "Frenemies Forever" where Faybelle just goes on about how much she appreciates Briar as her frenemy, and Briar sings along saying she doesn't really get it but Faybelle just keeps going, REALLY dramatic, about all the great benefits of having a frenemy

[aeolianblues]

“The masterplan was, there was no masterplan. Except to write good songs. Oh yeah, and to be the biggest band in the world. A modest ambition, but it put Oasis on the road to greatness.”

OASIS - THE MASTERPLAN (1998)

Plus some more pics of Oasis albums we have at our stations, sent to us promotionally by Sony Canada on behalf of Creation Records.

Liner notes below the cut:

The masterplan was, there was no masterplan. Except to write good songs. Oh yeah, and to be the biggest band in the world. A modest ambition, but it put Oasis on the road to greatness. "Me mam always used to say, God loves a tryer," Noel Gallagher says. "And I went, 'Why? Has he got a car?' She went, 'No, a tryer-Not a tyre." So the Gallagher boys did try, and if you want proof of how hard they tried then hear these tracks - B-sides, all of them, made by a band who believe a B-side is no excuse not to care. Outside of Britain it hasn't always been easy to hear Oasis B-sides. But in Britain or anywhere else, they sound majestic played back-to-back.

We open heroically with ACQUIESCE which is one of those all-time "shoulda been an A-side" numbers. (Creation Records certainly thought so, and who could blame them?) The song is about friendship in the widest sense and not, as often speculated, about the Gallagher brothers themselves. Noel sings the chorus because, he claims, Liam couldn't reach the high notes. Or he was in the pub. Whatever, it was written on a slow train to Wales and made possible because Noel likes to travel with his guitar. It's no surprise that Acquiesce is present: via the Internet, Oasis fans were asked to vote on this album's choice of tracks.

But the inclusion of UNDERNEATH THE SKY might have been "influenced" by Noel, who cites this as a favourite song. Its happy-wanderer feel was inspired by a pocket-book of travellers' quotes he came across, and the jollity's enhanced by a four-handed piano part courtesy of him and Bonehead (who tackles the tinkly bits, apparently).

TALK TONIGHT is another self-selecting choice, from Noel's acoustic repertoire. Beautifully tender, its thoughtful air derives from a Texas studio session: Noel was back after his brief flounce from the band on a US tour: "Me and Liam had a disagreement, probably about what shoes he was wearing, so I'd fucked off to Las Vegas." It was an Oasis fan in San Francisco who talked him down off the ledge. The same reflective interlude gave us another song, in HALF THE WORLD AWAY (which is Paul Weller's favourite Oasis track). The pressure was already building, though, when Noel began writing (IT'S GOOD TO BE FREE, at the start of those troubled American dates. He finished it in Las Vegas: "Cocaine psychosis," reckoned producer Owen Morris, detecting a Fear And Loathing vibe in that sinister guitar feedback. Accordion expert Bonehead donates the breezy coda, which lends a misleadingly cheerful touch to what was a deeply fraught Oasis session: "Believe me, it was horribe. it wasn't funny at all." The Morse Code segment, by the way, is meaningless so far as anyone knows.

The oldest song here is GOING NOWHERE, written around 1990 before the band was signed ("It's about what we were going to do when we got a shitload of money off Creation"); it was not recorded until after the Be Here Now album, when there was a hankering for something less massive. Noel and drummer Alan White are the only Oasis members involved, with piano, brass and horn players to bring a vaguely Burt Bacharach atmosphere. Noel only wishes he knew another rhyme for "car" and

"Jaguar." Nearly as vintage in its origins, however, was HEADSHRINKER: recorded for Some Might Say in '95, it was written about three years earlier, during the band's punkier phase. It's also one of Liam's greatest vocals, partly because of the freedom from pressure that doing B-sides can offer. Although a load of drug references were binned from the lyric, a manic edge remains to this tale of an early girlfriend Liam could not shake off. It may start out like The Faces' Stay With Me, but Noel says he was thinking of The Rolling Stones at the time. And ROCKIN' CHAIR dates from Noel's days in Manchester, planning to leave his own girlfriend and dreaming of the good life down in London.

FADE AWAY first surfaced on Cigarettes & Alcohol, and was probably elbowed off Definitely Maybe in favour of Slide Away. Since then the chorus alone has guaranteed its popularity with Oasis fans: "The dreams we have as children fade away...

It's about growing up but not growing old," says Noel, echoing a John Lennon belief that you won't get anything unless you've got the vision to imagine it. It's a classic Buzzcocks trick, this, placing a wistful lyric inside the most glorious rush of punk rock energy. That said, it was a relief for Noel to do a track like THE SWAMP SONG, which required no words at all. Alongside Roll With It, The Swamp Song was a warm-up exercise for the Morning Glory sessions; it was also used to set the sound levels at Glastonbury, which is where Alan White's thunderous drumming was taped. Later on, when Paul Weller turned up for Champagne Supernova, he added The Swamp Song's harmonica and duelling guitars: "Very rock'n'roll," chortles Noel, "but we didn't manage to stand back to back once, which I was very upset about!" Its working title "The Jam" was scrapped, tragically.

Contrary to previous credits, I AM THE WALRUS was not recorded at the Glasgow Cathouse, but at a conference of Sony executives, gathered to hear Creation's new signings. Oasis used to play it at gigs in Liverpool, as an act of bravado aimed at the local bands, even The Beatles never did this one live. Technical note: any "looseness" in Noel's guitar playing here is attributed to half a bottle of Sony-financed gin. Speaking of guitars, the soaring LISTEN UP used to boast a solo much longer than the one you hear in this version; Liam had wanted it shorter, so Noel had disagreed on principle ("If you don't argue with Liam he gets upset"). Four years later, Liam has got his way. The poppy STAY YOUNG, meanwhile, was first ear-marked to be "the Digsy's Dinner" of Be Here Now, until Noel wrote Magic Pie and dumped it. Stay Young wound up on D'You Know What I Mean?, and could have been another A-side if its composer had actually liked the song. But he doesn't. (Audiences, who have more sense than songwriters, all love it.)

But we end with a track that Noel Gallagher is definitely proud of. In fact he regards THE MASTERPLAN as his finest piece of work. Even Liam now wishes he'd sung it himself. The writing came easily, inspired in equal measure by a Japanese hotel corridor and a good, relaxing smoke. "I'm the best lyricist in Oasis, is how I like to say it," Noel shrugs. "But to me this sums up your journey through life. All we know is that we don't know." Is it, we might wonder, sung to Liam? ("Please brother let it be") Again the answer is No.

"We're all brothers and sisters," says Noel. And so we are, and so are Oasis whether named

Gallagher, McGuigan, White or indeed Bonehead. They're brothers and they're tryers, all five. They try for themselves and they try for the rest of us. No wonder God loves them.

[cherrycola27]

Idle Hands

Author's Note: I want to preface this by saying I know that this isn't my usual content. This mini-series is a result of my insomnia fueled rewatch of Outer Range, adhd, the high amount of Lew content we have been getting lately, and my dive back into country music. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, violence/ fighting, rodeo inaccuracies, smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

...........................................

Part 1: The Devil's Handiwork

Rhett hadn't planned to end up at the Handsome Gambler tonight, honestly.

But with Perry in jail, his parents on the outs, and Maria having left town, the Abbott house was just too—quiet.

So, he hopped in his beat-up old truck and headed into town. He had only planned to stay for one beer, really. But after he finished it, he realized that another one couldn't hurt. And boy, was he glad he talked himself into a second one.

Truthfully, Rhett was on his fourth beer now. But that was all because of you. Your band had been setting up when he first walked in and took a seat at the bar. Rhett had scoffed and rolled his eyes when he saw you.

You had on some well-worn cowboy boots, a flannel draped over you, and a pair of blue jeans that had to have been painted on because the fit you just right.

He figured you were one of those pop-country wannabes that seems to grace the bar more and more frequently.

But the minute you stepped on stage, Rhett knew he was wrong about you. You were different in the best way.

You didn't sing the songs that were all over the radio, that were upbeat, and full of life.

No. You sang songs about love and loss and betrayal. Songs that reminded him of the old country his father had raised him on.

And you were so convincing when sang them. Your words haunted him. The shake of your silver tambourine enchanted him. Drawing him in with every note. They bar must have had almost fifty people in it from here or there, but Rhett swore that you were singing right to him.

He was so bewitched watching you that he didn't realize how much time had passed. Soon, you were announcing your last song. It wasn't one he was familiar with, but he found himself tapping along to the beat as you sang

"Oh, lord, I need a little help."

You crooned into the microphone as you met his eyes.

"Oh, lord, come and save me from myself"

You sighed as you trailed your hand across you the tidbits of lace that peaked out from under your shirt and up your neck.

"And that devil's in the market for a pair of idle hands"

You finished with a wink and a crimson smirk across your face.

Rhett wiped his palms across his faded jeans as his very own hands, that had been setting idle just moments before, wrapped around the neck of his beer and brought it to his lips. He downed it in one gulp as you made your way off the stage and down to the crowd of on lookers, straight towards him.

Rhett fumbled with his wallet, trying to quickly pay his tab and leave, because in his head, he knew that you would be trouble.

He grabbed his hat from the bar and secured it on his head. He turned on his heels and collided with whoever had the misfortune to be behind him.

Rhett quickly caught himself and looked to apologize to whoever he crashed into, only to be met with you standing in front of him.

"Leaving so soon, Cowboy?" You spoke to him sweetly, voice flowing over him like honey.

"Y—yes ma'am." He stammered out.

You cocked your head to the side and clicked your tongue, not moving from your spot. You reached up and adjusted the hat that now sat askew on his head.

"Shame, I was hoping to have a drink with a thirsty cowboy, but if your whistle has already been wet, I guess I can find someone else." You sighed as you trailed your fingers down his bicep and looked up at him through your lashes.

"I—I suppose one drink couldn't hurt." Rhett stuttered. Your warm fingers on him was making it hard to think.

"Perfect." You smiled at him with a devilish grin.

Rhett swallowed thickly. He knew that this was either going to be the best or worst decision of his life. He just wasn't sure which one yet.

"So, Cowboy, you from around here or just passing through?" You ask him as the two of you settle into a booth tucked away from everyone else at your request.

"Born and raised here." Rhett answers you as he fiddles with the label on his beer before taking a sip of it. The hops of it dance across his tongue. Smoothe and familiar. It's a local brew, not something you can find at every bar and store. It surprises most people that Rhett drinks with when they see him order something niche.

"I've never seen this kind before. Is it any good?" You ask him as you gesture to his drink.

"S'one of my favorites," Rhett mumbles as you slide closer to him. Now your thigh is pressed against his. He can feel the warmth radiating off of your body.

"Wanna try it?" He offers as he tips the neck of the bottle towards you. "Sure." You grin at him.

Rhett expects you to take the bottle from his hand, but instead, you surge forward and connect your lips with his.

He lets out a surprise gasp, which allows you to slide your tongue into his mouth. Rhett relaxes into you. One of his large hands curling at the nape of your neck. But just ask quickly as you kissed him, you pulled away, leaving him breathless.

"You're right. It does taste pretty good." You breathe out as if nothing had happened. A laugh bubbles out of Rhett as he shakes his head and takes another drink.

"You're something else, darling." He chuckles. "Y'know, I just realized I never caught your name."

Now it's your turn to laugh. You smile at him sweetly before telling him your name. He repeats it back to you in his gravelly draw, and you think that it's never sounded better.

"You've got a mighty fine name, darling, but I think I'll call you Honeybee." He says.

"Oh, and why's that, Cowboy?" You challenge him.

"Because you're sweet with a little sting. And you can keep calling my Cowboy if you want, but Rhett works just fine, too." He smiles.

"Rhett." You draw out his name like the melody of one of the songs you just sang. Even though he's only heard you utter it once, Rhett can already tell he's addicted to the way his name falls from your lips.

"So where are you from? Because I know it's not from around here. I'd remember a pretty face like yours." Rhett asks you.

"You think I'm pretty?" You fire back. He cracks another smile and nods.

"I'm from Oklahoma. But I've been on the road for a while, following a dream." You tell him. "How the hell did you end up here?" He asks you. "My aunt and uncle have a ranch here. I'm spending the summer with them. Trying to reconnect with my roots." You explain.

Rhett shakes his head and realizes that your aunt and uncle's ranch is a few miles away from his family's. He hopes that means he'll get to see you more this summer.

"So what do you do for a living, Cowboy? Or do you just hang out in smokey bars all day?" You ask him. "I work on my family's ranch, and I ride bulls." He tells you with a shy grin.

"A bull rider. Guess that means you like to walk on the wild side?" You raise an eye brow as your hand comes to rest on his thigh. You trace lazy shapes over the faded denim.

"I've been known to take a few risks." Rhett says as he shifts closer to you.

"Is that so?" You ask him as you slide your hand along his thigh until it's resting atop of his obnoxiously large gold belt buckle that he won in his last rodeo.

"Yes, Ma'am." He replies calmly. You lean in closer to him. So close that he can smell the floral perfume you're wearing. Your lips are millimeters from his ear. "I may not be a thousand pound bull, but I sure could give you one hell of a ride tonight, if you're up for it, Cowboy." Your hot breath fans over him.

Rhett shutters at your words. And you smirk, proud of the effect you have on him. You go to pull your arm away, but he catches you by the wrist and places your hand over his bulging jeans. You cup his length through the fabric and press your thighs together.

"I think I might be the one giving you the ride of a lifetime." Rhett practically growls out.

"We'll see about that, Cowboy. I've been known to hold my own. I'm staying at the motel across the street for a few nights until my aunt fixes up the guest room at her house. I'm in room six. See you there." You wink at him before dropping a key onto the table and sliding out of the booth.

Rhett shamelessly watches you walk towards the exit. And when you turn back to blow him a kiss, he notices that the stetson hat that was once on his head now rests atop yours.

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