#nothing like suggesting me something from a fandom that i have been into since i was what? 4?

[mae-gi-writes]

let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (4)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

taglist: @patpatspatz @matchagirliris @multi-fandom-fanfic @alittlebirdahgaselx @kuroos--little--kitten @menacejelly12 @aeshiue @dreamlessnight @altheades @loonalockley @not-your-average-fangirl @bertqut1 @sunlixfl-blog @nabboo007 @astolary @biancatomlinson @lauraagrace

a/n: enjoy! <3 thanks for all the love given to the first part of this story! here's the second part. Third part is coming soon ~

---- previous | part four | next part >>>

"I think I need a drink."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," your cheeks flush bright red. It's bad enough you don't know what to wear to your date with Kuroo, worse now that your blonde cousin is here to make fun of you until you're nothing but a squealing mess of embarrassment. You have half a mind to kick Atsumu out of your flat and call Osamu for help.

Alas, the grey-haired counterpart is busy with his restaurant these days. So it won't be fair to put that kind of responsibility on his shoulders. Definitely not when his twin is currently on vacation.

Atsumu just sends you a lazy smile from the living room couch, "aw c'mon Y/N. This is probably the first time since Aoi left that you're finally interested in someone. Isn't that something worth celebrating?"

"It's just dinner," you argue.

"And dessert," Atsumu winks.

You throw a pillow at him. He cackles even when it slams right into his face, "I'm joking!" he wheezes like a child high on sweets, kicking up his legs like Sakura would when she's excited, "I just can't believe it! And with someone I can vouch for!"

"What does vouch mean?" Sakura asks from her seat. She had been so glued to the tv screen ever since her uncle had the greatest idea to watch the reruns of the two Frozen movies. Little does he know he'll be stuck re-winding it again and again until he knows the lyrics by heart.

"Vouch for, means like to confirm something, from personal experience," Atsumu replies.

"Hm," Sakura frowns, as though an adult trying to contemplate his words, "I don't understand."

"`It's like if you tell me that you won third place at the egg race," you lean over the couch to rearrange your daughter's hair, "and I say that's something I can vouch for, that you won third place."

You watch, heart melting as Sakura's lips form an 'o' shape. She blinks up at you, "I still don't understand."

Atsumu guffaws, "it's okay sweetie. You don't have to understand it yet. You want some more of those marshmallows?"

You slap your cousin's hand away from the half-empty bowl, "that's exactly why her teeth are rotting," You snap at him, "why don't you give her real food?"

"I will! Once you get off my back and go have some incredible se--"

You toss another pillow at him and his yelp makes you let out a small chuckle. Thank god Sakura can't really put two and two together yet, and for that you're glad. At least it's possible to shield her innocence from Atsumu's wide mouth.

"Can you just go?" mumbles the said man himself from behind the pillow, "I thought your date was at six."

"Yeah but it's--" and that's when you realise it's not half-past five like you thought it was five minutes ago, "Oh shi--I mean shoot," you cut a glance at Sakura while grabbing your bag off the kitchen counter, "I'm off. You take care of her and--"

You round the couch, plant a quick kiss atop your daughter's head before heading towards the door, "--you keep her safe 'Tsumu!" you holler while tugging on your loafers, "and Sakura? Eat your veggies!"

"But I hate them mum!"

"They're good for you, and--"

"Y/N," Atsumu cuts you off with a shooing motion, "go. Now. Bye bye."

"Yeah--Yeah okay," you blow a raspberry and throw a final wave, "right. Bye then."

The dining place which Kuroo has suggested a few days back -- right after the incident in which you'd found yourself into his arms -- is tucked away into one of the corner streets, not quite far from the main road, and yet unnoticeable to passerby's with just one glimpse.

It's modern and cute, casual in a way that unconsciously makes you relax slightly as you walk through the olive-coloured doorway and take in the sight of rusty brick walls adorned with green ivy running along the ceiling, the wooden furniture and the cozy bar at the far right.

Kuroo is already seated at one of the smaller, circular tables, and raises a hand in greeting while you make your way to him.

"Hey," he's dressed differently today. Not at all how you usually see him; a dark v-neck and some dark trousers to match.

The sight makes your tummy tighten deliciously, "hi," you manage to croak back.

"I really thought you were going to bail on me," he has on a teasing smile, "guess I was wrong."

"That's the impression I gave you?" your eyebrows raise.

"You always surprise me," his grin widens at the heat flushing through your cheeks. Cute, he thinks, "anyway, I've never been here but they have good cocktails. Or so google says."

"You're that kind of person aren't you?" You take a menu from the centre of the table and scan the options, "the kind that reads a hundred of reviews before deciding on a restaurant?"

"That's what it's for, isn't it?" he tilts his head at you. That same, cocky grin that turns your heart to mush.

Jesus. He really needs to stop doing that.

You look back down at the menu, "I don't know. I don't eat out much."

"Then let me be your official guide," he says it with a wink, and you can't help the chuckle that bursts out of your mouth.

As per Kuroo's recommendation, you decide to opt for a seafood pasta while your host decides on a pizza to share. The food comes right as you're halfway through your glass of wine and by then you're comfortable enough that the conversation seems to flow easily, gathered in a cocoon where only you and Kuroo exist and where everything -- even reality -- seems to fall away piece by piece.

Oh god. You're already in a bit too deep.

And the fact is, it's not even that hard to fall for Kuroo. Because he's just so nice and kind and gentle and everything that you've ever really wanted in a man. He's bashful in a way that reminds you of a pop in need of attention, careful with the way he handles your feelings, and seems forever wanting to please. And maybe that's something most girls would find off-putting given the fact that mysterious men are all the rage nowadays.

But you're not like most girls. You like this golden retriever energy coming off him. You love that he asks for your opinion and is as soft as a marshmallow on the inside.

You also love how he talks to Sakura. Not just because she's your daughter. But it had been clear from the very beginning that your daughter was a little bit in love with him.

By the end of the dinner you're not surprised to find that your leg is brushing against his casually, comfortably, as though you've been friends forever. And when you catch his golden flecked eyes from across the table, the twinkle of fire in them, the small sprinkles of molten golden mixed into warm maroon does something to your heart.

He fights to pay the bill like a true gentleman, but then splits it with you when you throw him a scowl and protest that he's done more than his fair share.

"I just wanna tell you I'm not happy about this," he grumbles as you are handing the waiter the rest of the cash for the night, slipping on his jacket with his bottom lip jutted out like a child, "I will take you out properly one day."

"Then I'm going to look forward to it," you tease.

Kuroo looks down at you, "you--you mean that right?"

"What?" you glance at him, noting the uneasiness, the surprise on his face, "that you can take me out again? Or...did you--I mean, I won't mind if you don't--"

"I don't mind one bit," he breathes and your chest exhales in relief. Gods, you thought he was going to tell you there was to be no next time.

Because again, who wants to be tied down to a single mother with a four year old toddler? Most of your tinder dates would've already blanched and snuck out of your date by now.

"I'll take you home," Kuroo is already going to unlock his car door, but your hesitation makes him falter as he takes in your hesitation, "what is it?"

"Uhm--well, Atsumu is there tonight. He's babysitting Sakura," you send him a sheepish smile, "Unless you don't mind going back there, but I--I thought we could maybe ...spend some more time alone...together?"

Heat is spewing across your cheeks by the end of your sentence, but the fond look that Kuroo gives you doesn't go by unnoticed as he cracks a grin.

"Sounds good to me," he gestures for you to get in, "wanna go get some ice cream then? Or a drink?"

That is how you find yourself sharing a couch with the sports coach, nursing a cucumber cocktail in your hand while he has a beer in his. You tease him about drinking when he's supposed to be the definition of health, and he answers that you're supposed to keep this little secret under wraps.

"I wasn't allowed to drink at all, until I left my volleyball team," Kuroo mentions then as he takes a swig of his drink.

"That sounds like a lot of sacrifice, especially for you."

"What does that mean?" he teases with a grin.

"While other boys are out there raving, experimenting with stuff," you answer and tilt your head towards him, "didn't you get jealous of what they could do and what you couldn't?"

"I suppose to an extent," he shift his legs and it brushes against your thigh, shoulders pressing to yours as warmth suddenly seeps into your right side, "but I had a lot to gain. So I never thought I missed out. Plus, all my good friends were on the team. So we suffered together if that made sense."

"Yeah," you smile at the thought of Atsumu and Osamu being deprived of house parties and clubbing when you were all younger, "it does. Actually, I was quite envious of Atsumu and Osamu when we were younger. They both knew what they wanted -- well, until Osamu decided to quit and become a chef."

"What did you want to be when you were younger?"

"Me?" your lips curled into that same crooked smile that caught Kuroo's heart into a mid-spin every single frickin' time. He knows how to breathe, just forgets to whenever you're around, "I wanted to have my own cake shop. Got the diploma, never got round to actually doing anything about it."

"How did you end up in the event planning business?"

So you tell him. About one of your neighbours asking you if you could help decorate their son's first birthday party. You didn't have the heart to say no and from there onwards, your clientele grew over the months. At some point, you'd realised this job could make ends meet, all while giving you some flexibility around Sakura's schedule.

Your diploma was stuffed at the back of a drawer at some point, forgotten and useless. You'd never gotten around to framing it.

Now, you wished you had. It brings back a bitter wave of memories, ones that are tied to Aoi and that echo with pain whenever you think for too long.

"I could start all over again but--" you think of Sakura and her sweet, smiling face. The way the light would bounce over her eyes whenever she looks up at you full of trust and honest love, "I don't think I can. I'm a bit past my prime."

Kuroo shakes his head, "okay, hear me out but--right before all this PE coach thing came my way, I was actually just a waiter."

You blink, "huh?"

"Yeah. I quit the team a few years back right after I left university, and for someone with a degree in Education and with no experience, jobs are hard to find these days," Kuroo chuckles as he takes another swig of his drink, "so I had to find part-time work while I waited. It took a few years and well-- I landed my first job just a year ago. Quit when I realised the environment was shit, and then here I am now," he lifts his shoulders in a half-shrug, "what I mean is--I don't think there's ever any real timeline for anyone. You just--do the best you can, with what you have. And if you gotta start at thirty, then that's fine too."

The bittersweet smile that fills your face is enough to render him breathless, "thanks Kuroo," you murmur softly, "I'm not sure I'm as brave as you though."

"uh--No, you're managing a four-year old by yourself," he sends you a pointed look, "that in itself is an act of courage. Not everyone can do it, especially the way you do it."

Your cheeks flame, "you flatter me--"

"But I'm not," he interrupts gently. His hand lifts up, pushing a stray strand of hair from your face and your breath hitches when his touch seems to linger there for a beat longer than he's supposed to, "I actually really do think you're like one of the bravest people I've met."

"Stop it," now you're really embarrassed, hands coming up to hide your face.

Kuroo lets out a soft laugh, "I'm just telling the truth."

"Or you're just sweet-talking me."

"Okay maybe I am, but I'm not a liar," is it your imagination that makes you believe there's a little blush scattered along his cheeks? Maybe. But you tempt yourself into believing that's your effect on him.

Kuroo looks away, though he has a smile on his face as he toys with his beer, "so did it work?" he asks.

"What?" you finish the cocktail. The alcohol stings as it slides down your throat, before it warms you up from the inside.

"The sweet-talking," and he's back with that grin of his, dashingly courageous, dashingly cute and he knows it.

You whack him playfully along his shoulder, "you're an idiot."

Kuroo mutters something that might've not reached out ears if you weren't paying attention. But you swear that he says something along the lines of "only for you" which has you blushing down to the tips of your toes all over again.

It's past two in the morning when you manage to reach your flat, now a little tipsy from all the alcohol humming through your veins. You're both laughing about something -- something stupid -- when the door to your flat flies open to reveal a grinning Atsumu.

You straighten, though wobbling in your heels. Kuroo presses a hand to your back, grounding you.

"Hey 'tsumu," you say breathlessly, feeling heat sting your spine spreading from Kuroo's fingertips.

"Well someone's tipsy," Atsumu tips his head towards the raven-haired man, "hope you didn't do anything stupid--"

"Who do you take me for?" Kuroo retorts as he prods you towards the entrance.

"Yeah I know, just checkin'," your cousin eyes the proximity of your bodies, the way Kuroo stands almost protectively behind you, and something in his eyes softens, "alright then. I'll take my leave."

"What? This late? Why don't you stay over--"

"And what?" Atsumu raises a brow at you, "watch you both suck face? No thanks. By the way," his grin widens when you turn beetroot and Kuroo almost strangles himself with surprise, "Sakura's already asleep, so no matter what, don't go wakin' her."

"I'm so sorry," you whisper out to your date when your cousin's out of earshot and Kuroo's managed to manoeuvre you into the flat, "he's not usually that annoying--"

"I know," Kuroo's lips twitch in amusement at the way you worriedly look up at him, "what? What's gotten you looking like someone ran over your pet cat?"

You gasp, "that's not nice, Kuroo sensei!"

"Kuroo," he emphasises his name. One arm going up to press against the doorframe, he leans in towards you, "actually--you can call me Tetsurou."

"Tetsurou," your head cranes up to look at him and --wow, he's tall. And he smells good. Like boy perfume and something woody, something musky you can't quite place, "That's a nice name."

"Thanks," his words trail off, body unconsciously leaning towards you. it's only then you realise how close you are, chests almost touching, noses bare millimetres, his entire frame practically engulfing your tiny one.

He's so close that you can see the way light bounces off his orbs, or the small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes that deepen whenever he smiles.

Something in your chest tightens. You swallow thickly.

And that's when you feel it; his hand skimming your waist.

You let out a sharp breath at the same time that the young man pulls you to him. Gently.

Falling against him like a puppet, hands splay out to press against his shirt and heat permeates your skin and makes you sweat because--Kuroo is ripped. You can feel it, feel him, underneath your palms. He's built like stone and you wonder briefly what he must look like without them--

Oh god.

Your face flames and that doesn't go unnoticed by the raven-haired man. He grins wickedly, his other hand reaching out to cup your jaw so that you cannot look away.

"What?" his murmur is soft like melted chocolate. It makes you weak in the knees and you're glad he's holding you up against him, "what's with the face?"

"N--Nothing," you try to steady your racing heart, "uhm...you're..." he's unconsciously leaning in towards you, as if drawn like a moth to a flame, "...you're really close."

"Seems like it," he murmurs huskily.

"I--uhm--" you shake your head slightly, biting down onto your lower lip as your eyes flutter back up to his. You notice how his pupils have darkened with something else, something that makes your stomach knot deliciously, "Kuroo?"

"Hm?"

"I'm--" you try to scramble your thoughts together, but it's hard when he's so close and when he's looking at you like that, "I'm too old for you."

His body stills, "what?"

"I'm--" shame fills you up and you look away with embarrassment as you repeat, "I'm too old for you."

"Do you really think that you're too old for me?" Kuroo asks, "or is that just an excuse?"

"I have a daughter--"

"--It's only three years' difference--"

"--And you have your whole life ahead of you to figure out what you wa--"

"--I know exactly what I want--"

"I have responsibilities and I can't--"

"Can't what?" with one tug, you fall against him. You let out a sound of shock but Kuroo's hand is insistent as he presses your spine to his body, his palm splaying out and practically enveloping all of your back, "I have responsibilities too, Kosuke-san. And yet," his eyes seem to search yours for a minute, "I can't seem to stay away."

"Like I said," you're not quite sure whether he can even hear you, because your heart seems to be galloping so hard you feel it vibrate through your ears, "I'm too old for you, you should find someone of your own age, someone who's just as ambitious, with no strings attached to them--"

"I want you."

"--and like I said, I'm a mother," you're babbling now, "and I need to put Sakura first, no matter what. I'm sorry, I don't know why I decided to come out today. I shouldn't have, this is a mistake and--"

Kuroo's hand slips to your cheek. He tugs you up, and his lips land on yours.

You freeze.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Oh shit shit shit.

Shit.

This isn't happening.

This isn't supposed to happen!

And yet...it is.

His mouth parts slowly, sliding over yours in such a sweet way that you let out a restrained sound from the back of your throat. Gods, even his mouth is delicious. His hand sifts through your locks to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer by the waist as he kisses your next breath away. Your chest stutters and you all but melt into him, surprise and shock overrun by the sudden desire shooting through your veins.

Your hands, initially at his chest, make a grab for his shirt as your lips follow his in a dance that leaves your heart stuttering and has you gasping for breath. But still Kuroo doesn't relent. He kisses you again and again and again, mouth weaving between yours and teeth nipping at your lips like he knows exactly what you want. A soft whimper bubbles up your throat and he grunts in satisfaction, tugging your hair down and tilting your head back to ravage your lips like there's no tomorrow.

You part after what seems like forever, a small gasp falling from your lips. But Kuroo's slides against your jaw, "god Y/N," he groans out, nipping at the skin along your jawline before slowly pressing butterfly kisses along your neck. You jolt at the suddenness of the action, mouth parting as heat bubbles up in your lower stomach while the young man presses you even closer if that's possible so that you feel every single inch of him against you.

A surprised yelp echoes out of your throat when he finds a sweet spot at the junction between your neck and collarbone. Kuroo smirks against your skin, nipping the area gently with his teeth as your hands trickle up to entangle in his locks, grabbing at them and making him grunt.

The hand along your waist flutters up your spine like a caress and you fold like leaf with the softest whine. Kuroo moves up to claim your mouth once more, kissing the rest of your logic away until you forget why you're here in the first place.

It's not until he's pressing you up against the doorframe that reality crashes back into you. You push him away gently, so gently that your mouths part with a soft sound and as you gaze up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, your heart jumps at the way he's looking at you; desire and tenderness and affection and lust all mixed in together. His chest is heaving just as much as yours is, and when you bite down onto your lower lip the growl that rumbles through his chest makes you all weak in the knees.

"That mouth," he mutters, thumb unconsciously going up to trace your lower lip. He pulls it away from your teeth so that he can trace its outline.

And then he's back to kissing you like he never stopped.

You kiss back with just as much ardour, getting lost into him and for once not caring that all sense of logic and self-restraint are now gone, evicted by the pure selfish need to have him close, closer.

His hands are everywhere; on your hips, in your hair, tracing your abdomen and making you gasp with every searing, scalding touch of palms against skin. But you press closer still, your own hands roaming his back and feeling up all the muscles that tense under your touch.

Kuroo suddenly draws away so quickly that you can't help but whine and tug him closer.

He resists with a groan, nose brushing yours as he furrows his brows, "Kosuke-san, I really cannot."

"What?" you're half-way out of focus at this point, more interested in kissing the soft skin at his jaw.

Kuroo lets out a sound between a moan and a grunt, making your insides twist with desire as his hands find your hips to pull you away, "If we continue, I won't--I don't promise I'll be able to hold back so--" he breathes out raggedly, "for the sake of my own sanity, we--we need to stop."

"Oh," you blink. It takes a moment for the words to make sense. When they do, your eyes widen on their own accord and you push him away, embarrassment flooding through you, "I--Oh, I'm sorry--"

Kuroo drops a firm kiss onto your mouth, grunting in satisfaction when you make a surprised sound, "I told you," he murmurs against your lips, "to stop saying sorry. It's gonna be the death of me."

He finally draws away and pushes your stray strands away from your face, a force of habit, it seems. Your eyes flutter up to meet his, flushing at the gentleness lying in those beautiful pupils. Throughout your relationship with Aoi, you're not sure he's ever looked at you with as much intensity as Kuroo has for the past five minutes. It does something funny to your heart.

"Right," for someone who'd been previously so adamant on not making out with the said man, you're quite frazzled. Your hands are latching onto him like you're a baby koala and he's your tree trunk, and you slide them down to your sides like a shameful kid, "yeah, I--" but you quickly retract the apology in your mouth.

Kuroo grins crookedly, that smile sending your heart into spinning cartwheels, "I'll be off then," he murmurs. His hand smoothes over the back of your head affectionately, and he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your temple.

"How far away do you live?" you have to ask. You feel bad for making him drive all the way out here, it's practically morning at this point.

"Not far," Kuroo sends you a comforting smile, "don't worry, I'll text you when I reach--"

"Do you--" the words blurt out of your mouth before you can stop them, "--do you want to stay over?"

Kuroo blinks. His mouth parts. Closes. Parts again. And then, what seems like a blush litters his cheeks.

He shakes his head, "ah--I think that's a bad idea Kosuke-san--" he spares a glance at your lips, "--especially today."

"Oh," realisation dawns and you flush, "right. Okay. Okay then."

"Don't worry. We have all our time," he grins cheekily.

"I'm still too old for y--"

Kuroo interrupts you with a kiss, "enough of that," he murmurs, "or I'm gonna have to kiss you again."

"That sounds--" your nose brushes against his, "--promising."

"Don't tempt me," he presses one last kiss right above your eye, cups your face for an instant, before he turns away towards the corridor, "goodnight Kosuke-san."

"Goodnight Kuroo," your heart melts, "can you--can you text me when you're home?"

He sends you a grin over his shoulder, "I thought you said you were too old for me?"

"I am too old for you," your face is so red you feel like you could cook an egg on top of it.

"Nah, never," he winks and before you know it, he's gone.

Leaving you and your poor, stuttering heart.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

@memoriesofafallen just so you know.

You have awaken a freaking sleeping dragon in my brain, and now I am brainrotting SO MUCH I will probably end up doing BOTH version of what you suggested.

NOTHING

and I mean

NOTHING manages to take me by the neck and hold me like freaking nostalgia!!

NOTHING.

fml.

I am done for, because the brain is braining HARD.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k

Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends

Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'

Graphic by me and Canva, dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing. 

First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes. 

Which brought Steve’s thoughts to the man himself. Bucky had been so odd since he’d returned. For a day or two, he’d been something like his old self, despite the awful situation they found themselves in, he’d joked with Steve and reminisced with the few memories he had. They’d enjoyed a beer together and he’d even met with Tony during their mediation and patched things up. 

Then, they’d all climbed onto the jet and he���d become distant, pacing like a caged animal until they’d landed. As soon as the doors were open he’d vanished for forty-eight hours and sent the entire compound into mayhem before strolling back in as if nothing had happened, bruised and covered in blood. Judging by the bandages he sported later that day, his cuts and bruises spread under his shirt and trousers too. 

Steve knew that he’d changed during his time with Hyrda, back in the 30s they’d both been betas, happy to plod along ignoring the madness of the few alpha’s in Brooklyn. It had been a rare thing then, to be an alpha, now they were considered a dying breed, so when Bruce’s tests had revealed that Bucky was an alpha now, they’d tried to take it in their stride that he might go off on his own sometimes, especially since omegas were even rarer. But there was still so much they didn’t know, so much to unpack and discover about the Bucky they’d rescued, and Steve was so desperate to spend time getting to know this new man that all the time apart was making him worry. 

“You okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, leaning in to hand Steve a hot cup of coffee. 

“Just doing a stock check.” 

“He take something else?” Sam stepped into the small room, lined with shelves and shelves of tents, camping stoves, parachutes, it seemed to go on and on. The bare grey shelves where stock was missing was stark against the white washed walls. 

“He?” 

“Barnes,” Sam sipped his coffee, matter of fact, and Steve confronted the worry that had been plaguing him. 

“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve dropped his head heavily and Sam patted him on the back, still sipping his drink. 

“Sorry man, told you, he’s not right yet. He’s not hurting anyone though, if he hates his bedding, who cares, if he hates your lunches, who could blame him.” 

Sam sidestepped Steve’s halfhearted swipe with a grin on his face. 

“But what’s he doing with it, Sam? Where’s it all going?” 

“Hell, I don’t know, have you asked him?” Sam raised his eyebrows. 

Had Steve asked his best friend, who flinched at his touch and shied away from any conversations? Bucky who vanished for hours at a time and came back looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge? No, he hadn’t. He’d been too scared to confront what might be going on, what latent part of his programming might be at play. 

“Look, if you’re too scared to ask why don’t I?” 

Now it was Steve’s turn to raise his eyebrow, it wasn’t that Sam and Bucky didn’t get along, they just didn’t get along yet. Steve was working on it. 

“What if we…followed him?” He offered instead and Sam laughed again. 

“Who knew Captain America was scared of his own friends,” he couldn’t contain the chuckles. “Fine, fine. Let’s keep an eye on him.” Sam turned to the ceiling, more comfortable with the AI than Steve was. “FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes leaves his room, please can you alert us - privately?” 

“Of course,” the soft voice answered and Steve gave his friend a weak smile. 

FRIDAY’S alert went off twice a day, every day, over the next week. But despite their best efforts neither Steve nor Sam managed to catch up with Bucky. 

It wasn’t until the following Saturday that they managed to follow him. Bucky was supposed to be at a training session to get his official certifications but they’d both had a feeling he’d try and skip it. As predicted they’d spotted the blue of his new henley edging around the side of the compound, a full backpack strapped to his back. 

Bucky ran across the grass and towards the thick forest. His still uncut hair was tied back but tendrils fell out as he sprinted into the wind. 

He was surprisingly loud, as he strode quickly between the trees, snapping twigs and branches that Steve knew he could’ve dodge even before the serum and his training. Sam looked at him, both of their feet silent as they followed. 

Bucky’s speed increased as he turned his face up into the breeze, his backpack jostled against the trees, bouncing when he began to run. 

Steve kept up, sending Sam wide, into the breeze, in case Bucky doubled back. 

Just as he was starting to feel lost in the repetition of trees and ferns, Bucky burst into a clearing and Steve slammed to a halt. 

The pine trees gave way to a small patch of clear sky, shining down on an old shed. Unlike the other abandoned guard houses, this one had obviously been cleaned recently. The small porch was swept and a pair of Avengers camping chairs were arranged neatly facing into the forest. A line had been strung between the cabin and the trees where one of the missing blankets fluttered in the gentle wind. 

Steve crouched down, motioning to Sam on the other side of the clearing to stay out of sight. 

Bucky approached slowly, “Cățeluș, are you here?” 

At first there was nothing and then a wolf nosed its way out from behind the door, it’s chestnut brown fur almost gold in the sunlight. It leaped forwards from the porch and shot across the clearing, leaping into Bucky’s arms. 

Steve whipped his head up to try and find Sam and by the time his eyes found Bucky again the wolf was gone, replaced by a woman pulling on a large t-shirt from Bucky’s backpack. 

“James!” Her sweet voice rang out in the otherwise quiet forest. 

Swamped by Bucky’s familiar red henley, you shot from the door and into Bucky's waiting arms, the back pack dropped to the floor and forgotten. 

She was swamped by Bucky’s red henley and he wrapped you in his arms, one large hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his neck. The other supported your legs, now wrapped around his waist. 

In the clearing Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he sank into your embrace, kissing and nipping at your neck. In return you tipped your head, practically purring at the attention and wriggling in his arms. 

“Have you been okay, baby.” Bucky asked, pulling away enough to look you over. 

“I'm okay, I missed you though, James, please don't leave me again.” You begged cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands. 

Bucky turned into your palm and kissed it, “I know, I know, I’ve been making sure it’s safe for you.” 

Steve's heart sank. Bucky didn't feel safe? 

“You trust me, don't you, my little omega.” Bucky rubbed his nose into your cheek and you giggled, holding him even tighter, your hands in his hair. 

An omega? 

Sam stared over at Steve, eyes wide. 

It was clear to them both that this was no chance encounter and all Bucky’s odd behaviour suddenly started to make more sense.

Steve motioned for Sam to leave, they could sneak back to the compound and perhaps bring this up tentatively. Perhaps leave some items you might like lying around in the hopes that Bucky would take them and understand that his secret was out, but it was safe. 

Sam moved swiftly round the clearing as Steve continued to watch Bucky. 

Bucky vanished into the cabin, leaving you on the porch alone, snuggled into his shirt and pressing the collar to your nose. 

“She’s cute,” Sam whispered, squeezing up against Steve, still hiding in the overgrown ferns that lined the edge of the cabin. 

“We can’t let her sleep out here. She must be hungry and cold.”

Bucky emerged from the cabin carrying two of the missing mugs, balancing them carefully on the railing before scooping you up into his lap. His hand hovered by his mouth, sipping in slow motion as his eyes scanned the tree line and Steve took a breath, sitting back quickly. 

“Stay here, Cățeluș,” he was up in a flash, eyes always on the tree line even when he reached into his boot to pull out a familiar gerber knife. 

Instead of flipping it into his palm, he balanced it on the arm of your camping chair. Eyes still on the trees he placed his metal hand on top of your head, “stay here and stay safe, follow the plan, do what you need to.” His voice was low, series, almost a growl. Far away from the happy, loving tones he’d been speaking to you with before. 

You nodded, and as soon as he felt your head move he was up and off the porch. 

Steve and Sam looked up in time to see a wolf leap towards them. 

It was true then, the experiments had worked and Steve had the cold feeling that returned every time he discovered something new about his friend during a fight, but he had no time to worry about it now. Not when the wolf was closing in on them. 

It was huge, its white fur dusted with fallen leaves, but its teeth gleamed in the afternoon sun as he pounced, snarling. His paws the size of dinner plates slamming into the ground in front of them, teeth bared and snarling. 

Steve rolled away, pulling Sam with him and covering his body, regretting not bringing the shield. 

“Bucky!” Sam shouted from under Steve’s arm

“Bucky it’s us we don’t want to hurt you!” 

The wolf pulled back from the two men pinned beneath him, and something like clarity passed over Bucky’s icey blue eyes and he sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side, ears floppy. Then it stood, rounding the bushes and, in a blink, the man had reappeared still hiding before the foliage to cover his naked body. 

“Steve -” Bucky looked thoroughly confused, 

“Bucky, we’re so sorry we shouldn’t have followed you.” 

“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice wavered, his body cold without his fur and with his clothes left behind in the cabin. 

“We were worried about you, man, you’ve been so weird - stealing stuff, going missin’, can you blame us for getting creeped out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and Bucky’s brow furrowed. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to -” he gestured back towards the cabin and, as if remembering he’d left you behind with no way of knowing he was safe he turned and ran back to the clearing. 

Steve and Sam jumped up, chasing after Bucky once more. 

The cabin porch was empty when Steve picked his way down the slope of mud and rocks into the clearing. 

A howl rang out as he got closer to the little house, a high, pained sound and then the response came, low and level. 

There were two wolves now, hidden at the side of the cabin in the shadows.

The white wolf kept itself half turned towards Steve and Sam, who kept quiet and still, barely daring to breathe, allowing its companion to approach slowly. 

The brown wolf dropped in front of the white, ears flat back against its head, and then rolled over, showing a soft belly that the white wolf nuzzled gently before turning back to Steve and barking sharply. 

Steve held his hands up and the wolf barked again, turning tail and returning to the cabin. 

It took only moments for Bucky to show himself on the porch, pulling his henley back down over his now dirt streaked belly. 

“Come in,” he gestured up the stairs and vanished again. 

The cabin, though run down, was well kept. The porch was swept of leaves and there was even a little mat by the door. 

“Shoes,” you whispered, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve as you entered the main living space, making an attempt to hide behind him. You’d dressed again too, also in one of Bucky’s henleys and a pair of leggings that Steve recognised as Avengers recruit issue. 

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked while Steve and Sam stared between you both. 

“Shoes,” you turned to look up at Bucky again, eyes pleading in one moment and then flicking to the two new men treading mud into your home. 

“Your shoes, take them off.” Bucky helped them arrange their boots neatly by the door while you pottered around the fireplace. “This is her nest,” he whispered, making sure the doormat was straight and the little curtain was neat over the window. “It’s important to omegas, to her,” you turned shooting a glare over your shoulder, “to us-that it’s kept just right and she hates shoes inside.”

In the small living space a camping stove had been set up with a kettle, a portable fridge, and an assortment of mugs, both Avengers field regulation and novelty, which were set neatly on the mantel. You chose four, and placed them next to the kettle while it steamed happily away. 

Bucky spoke softly to you in a mixture of English and Romanian, but you didn’t come any closer to the strange men. You’d seen them before, on the television and in Bucky’s notebooks, but now that they were here, so large and imposing, you couldn’t bring yourself to even look over. 

“This is Cățeluș, well, that’s not her real name but we couldn’t find that. She - uh -” you watched Bucky struggle for words and lay a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly up at him. Your Winter, your James. “-I don’t want to say the word, it upsets her, but she was with me when I was - him - part of the experiments.” 

You poured the tea quietly, watching the steam rise into the darts of sun making their way through the broken knots of wood in the wall, and you took a deep breath. With shaking hands you gave the first man, Sam, a cup. He had a gentle face, a wide smile and he didn’t look at you with pity, as you feared, only interest. 

The second man held his breath as you approached, keeping his hands as close to his body as possible until you pushed the cup towards him. Steve. Bucky had lots of pictures of Steve in his notebooks and had told you more stories than you could remember, but he didn’t look sickly, he looked too big for the space, his shoulders drawn in, slouched. You appreciated that he was trying not to look scary, even though your every nerve was on edge.  

Bucky took the proffered mug from your hands with a kiss to your forehead and you sighed, allowing him to steer you to the only arm chair in the room and then passing you your own tea. 

“We got out, eventually and - I brought her here.” Bucky sat on the rolled arm of the chair, draping his own arm over your shoulders and fitting you into his side. 

Steve and Sam could only stare. 

“Why didn’t you bring her to the compound? She can stay -” Steve turned to you, “you can stay, either in Bucky’s room or you can have your own room if you’d prefer.” 

It took you a moment to process the offer, but eventually you shook your head, turning into Bucky’s side. 

“It was awful - in there, with them she, we both -” Bucky struggled for the words, the desire to protect you rising inside 

“It’s okay,” Sam said carefully, “I know the transition’s been rough on you, Bucky, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, how you even got her out here. But there’s nothing to be afraid of, maybe she’ll come with you? If you suggest it?” 

Sam kept looking at you, his eyes soft and encouraging but you turned away, pressed your face into Bucky’s ribs where his scent had soaked through his shirt, reassuring and primal, chanting in your head Alpha, safe, Alpha, safe. You did miss him, when he was gone, but how could he keep you safe in that place. 

You’d seen it, once or twice, through the trees when you took a walk, looking for whatever you could find in the forest. Guards left lots of things behind, bottles and coats and jackets, useful things. You collected them all, skirting around the edge of that horrid white building and hoping to never see the terrifying things that flew out of it, men in suits and robots, it was too much. 

“You can bring whatever you like with you, and maybe Nat and Wanda could help you with some new things, if you liked?” Steve followed Sam’s lead, keeping his voice steady and low. 

“James - my nest.” You mumbled, gripping his henley in your fist. 

He dropped a hand onto your head, “we can do whatever you like, baby. You want to stay here, we can stay, you want to go to the compound, we’ll go.” 

You felt Bucky’s heart rate pick up, its beat hammering and your anxiety grew too, your breathing more ragged, you turned even further into him, practically climbing into his lap, the henley you’d taken from him riding up. 

Instantly you knew it was a mistake, the scars of your time in Hydra were still visible, raised on your skin, yellowing patches of healing bruises and calloused skin from repeated bouts in the chair. 

Sam and Steve could barely conceal their inhale of breath. 

“Bucky, did you get her checked by a doctor or…” Sam trailed off, Bucky looked angry again, his arms fully surrounding you. 

“And what would I have said, Sam?” He growled, “I know she looks like she’s been kept in a cage and beaten but please don’t arrest me, I promise it wasn’t me? Her social security number? Sorry, I don’t have it, we don’t even know her name. I did the best I could.” His anger tipped over into a resigned sadness. Bucky cupped your face in one hand and forced you to look up at him, “I did the best I could, baby, I really did.” 

You nodded and his grip loosened so you could nuzzle into his chest again, your own tears running down your cheeks at the memory of those early days. Bucky’s shaking hands patching up your burns and cuts, the whisky you’d slugged before he pulled out a stray bullet from your arm and stitched it with floss. Every touch had been gentle though, every time he’d changed your bandages or cleaned you up, it had been gentle. It had been everything he could give you. 

“We didn’t mean it like that, Buck,but we could help, get her checked over and then you can come back here.” Sam’s voice was plaintive, deliberately soothing and it made Bucky’s blood boil. 

“I’m not taking her to that place.” He bit back, there was no mistaking the way he curled you into his body, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around your back. 

It didn’t hurt anymore, to be touched, but then it’d never hurt to be touched by James. His hands had always been careful with you, his strength used only for protection and it was for that reason that you lay your trust in him completely. 

“Don’t make me go, Alpha.” You whispered, your lips brushing the base of his neck where you’d marked him, right over his scent gland, your teeth marks an eternal brand. You nuzzled into him, your chest rumbling again. 

“I won’t make you go,” he looked back at Steve and Sam, the finality of his decision sat heavily in the air. 

“Can we at least bring some medical things here? Would you let Sam check you out?” Steve offered, he was increasingly concerned by the way Bucky had retreated into the chair, his own legs now curled up on the overstuffed cushion.

Above you, James nodded once, “just you and Sam, don’t tell anyone else. I’ll know if you tell anyone else.” The panic edging Bucky’s voice had Steve raising his hands in surrender. 

“I promise, Buck, just Sam and I.”

Sam and Steve left the cabin at dusk while you and Bucky watched from the deck. As soon as they were beyond the trees he pulled you even tighter against his chest, his heat warm. 

“Everything is going to be okay, baby, I promise, no one’s going to ever, ever, hurt you again.” His hands slid down your arms and across the slow swell of your belly. “But we should consider their offer, make sure we’re making a choice that’s good for you and me, as well as them.” His palm pushed up under your shirt, splayed on your tight skin and, deep inside, your pup pushed back. 

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 5 – The One About the Distorted Phone Screen that Sent Half the Fandom into the Ocean

I had no intention of writing about last week’s phone screen debacle, mainly because I found it obnoxious and a smidge infuriating. Not because I believed Jake to be on the phone screen but because people were SO QUICK TO BELIEVE it was Jake on the phone screen.

Honestly, I didn’t even need to see the “cleaned up” version of the picture because I would have sworn then – and would still swear now – it was Luke on the screen. White guy, dark hair, left hand touching his face (or, as it’s been suggested, removing sunglasses), signaling to me that the person in the photograph was left hand dominant. Add that in with all the information Luke and Nicola have laid out before us over the past three months (and, honestly, probably even before that) and there is no other answer: it’s Luke. The end, right? Nope, not even close. Like I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, we’re not allowed to have nice things.

The image comes from a video of Golda giving Nicola her WOTY award. People started taking screen grabs and dropping it into apps that claimed to clean up blurry images.

*Fun fact – I did this once to the picture of Nicola on the boat in Malta. I used three separate apps, in fact, and each time I got this frightening image of Nicola back. Do you remember the scene in Shrek where he picked up a frog and blew it into a balloon for Fiona? The frog’s eyes protruded out and his face was all puckered. That’s what I got back from these apps – a bulging-eyed monstrosity that looked nothing like Nicola. It was froggin’ weird (my Colin-Dad joke of the day), especially since, in the original image, you couldn’t even see her eyes as she appeared to be looking down at her phone.

Okay, back to what I was blabbing about…

People started adjusting the lighting on the screen grab of Nicola’s phone to extreme levels. And, there were even rumors flying around that people had superimposed Jake’s face on to the image and sent it out into the black abyss that is social media. I think I saw six different versions of the image within the first four hours of it dropping on X.

But, guess what, each time, I still saw Luke. Well, I take that back. One time, I swear I saw Johnny Bailey, which, if that had been true, I would have given Nicola a huge round of applause for being so hilariously catty about it all.

My advice, if you want to see the picture, pull it yourself. Go to YouTube, take a screen grab of it, and figure it out on your own. Do not put it through an app and don’t play with the lighting so much that it distorts the image. You may have noticed that I did not repost any of those images here. That was intentional. Form your own opinion about it.

Now that we have that out of the way – the part about me believing it was Luke on the phone screen and me suggesting you form your own opinion about it – I’ll move on to why I decided to write about this topic today.

It was because Luke did something yesterday that piqued my interest.

It wasn’t anything necessarily out of the ordinary. But, it also kind of was.

Simone Ashley posted to her grid yesterday a series of photographs. There’s nothing special here; she’s a beautiful woman putting her lovely image out into this world. It was the last picture in this slide deck that left me intrigued, though. It’s a picture of Simone – but, at the bottom left of the image, is a damn phone screen. Initially, I was a little confused by the image on the phone screen because it appeared to be Simone’s hands but also not Simone’s hands. What it was, is that the angle of the phone made the angle in which the image was depicted slightly different. Why not crop that phone out of it? Or, use a different image? Okay, whatever. I’m not sure I would have thought much of it – except Luke liked the post.

Why would this activate my little grey cells? Because it’s the first post of Simone’s in over a year that he has liked without Nicola also liking it. All throughout 2024, Luke has only liked the posts also liked by Nicola. Now, Nicola could very easily come back and like this post today or tomorrow or a week from now. She does like Simone’s posts frequently and, by Simone’s own words, Nicola and Simone are close. But, remember what I mentioned the other day. It’s the little changes that make people start giving the side eye. When taken collectively, Simone’s post, Luke’s like on the post, and the recent phone screen debacle seem, well, fucking connected in a damn funny way.

Kinda? Maybe?

I swear, I’m becoming one of those people who now plays Six Degrees to Lukola. What have I become?!

But, hey, let’s keep playing this game because, you have to admit, it IS kind of fun to speculate.

On November 10, Netflix UK dropped a post to its grid captioned “ME AND WHO???? [red heart]” The first slide in the deck is of Colin and Penelope’s wedding kiss – the one where Luke had his eyes open – and there is a red heart drawn between their chests (awe, their hearts). The remaining seven slides also include kissing couples but the red heart is drawn around their heads. The Luke and Nicola (like how I used Luke and Nicola, not Colin and Penelope this time?) picture stands out in this deck. It’s the first slide and the red heart is different than the others. And, what about that caption: “ME AND WHO????” Well, it's definitely NOT Nicola and Jake.

Is it a bit too far down the Delulu Rabbit Hole to believe Netflix would be in on a dig about “Who’s on Nicola’s phone screen?”

Perhaps.

But, remember this is also the same parent company that dropped “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” on August 28 (via Bridgerton Netflix IG), right smack dab in the middle of the Jake Festival Pap Disaster. Do you remember that? The fandom was bouncing all over the place. New festival pictures of Nicola and Jake had dropped the day before. Shondaland had also dropped a “Friends to Lovers” story that seemed oddly like Luke and Nicola. Melissa Dezarate dropped old Luke and Nicola pictures on her IG stories. Then, on August 28, Bridgerton Netflix dropped its “Cutest Moments,” and Melissa Dezarate shared more Luke and Nicola pictures on her IG stories. The “Cutest Moments,” pretty much entirely on its own (the rest was just extra frosting), turned our day right side up again. I salute you, Netflix.

Are we burrowing deeper into the Rabbit Hole? Meh. Let’s keep going.

Also on November 10, we had Dougie posting a mirror / elevator selfie to his grid with the caption, “I know it’s out of focus don’t tell me that.” Maybe he means something, maybe he doesn’t. Any ways, Jake liked this post. Now, I will admit, in the beginning of this Jake Side Story Extravaganza, I wasn’t keen on Dougie. He seemed aggressive on X – especially after those New York pap pictures dropped – but then I realized that his annoyance might be due to the narratives being spread about Jake, i.e., that he was being “hard launched” with Nicola. Recall that within a few hours of the Jake London Pap Disaster, Dougie posted to his stories an image of Jake looking at his phone with the “Mike/Sully Face Swap” meme superimposed over Jake’s face. If you research what this meme means, you’ll find that it is similar to a face-palm reaction or used for “overly ironic situations that leave you confused and perplexed.” Kind of funny, right? You’re welcome to take Dougie however you please, but over the past few weeks, I’ve become rather fond of him. He seems like a mischievous bloke, which is right up my alley.

I always have this feeling that the USS Lukola is surrounded by people who, after the ship hits a rogue wave, help to steer it back on course. The “people” come in the form of Nicola and Luke; cast, crew and friends; interviewers with their old edited-out snippets; and Netflix & Co. I’m sure I’m failing to name someone.

I shall wrap this post up with a quote from Jonathan Van Ness – who, by the way, is one of the most entertainingly funny and intelligent humans to watch. Earlier this week, JVN posted to his IG stories and Tiktok about “bobs.” With JVN, I never really know if he is being serious with what he puts out there or if we’re expected to read between the lines. Regardless, his comment was impactful to me:

“All this shit is just someone on Tiktok decided this was going to be the new name and tried to make that a trend. And that’s cool and that’s great and I love that. I just don’t want y’all getting confused. You know what I’m saying? This is just another variation of a bob.”

Take that as you please.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Arrest Me, But Make it Sexy

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly! Part 2 Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: Tim recruits you to aid in a Metro op. When you ignore his direct orders, you dare him to arrest you, but you have a request.

Warnings: this is pure fluff and banter!! the song reference part is a teeny bit suggestive I guess, but it's completely clean/sfw as always!

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

cop cuties, cute and on duty. navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up. arrest me, but make it sexy.

You’ve been a patrol cop since you completed your rookie training with Tim Bradford. Throughout the last few years of working alone, you’ve trusted him enough to ask for advice, offer to work for him and reach out when he was injured. Most cops don’t stay close to their TO, but Tim was always more than that. Somehow, against his will, you think, you and Tim became friends. He knew from the beginning of your training that you were going to be a great cop, which is why he decided to recruit you for a new job.

“Officer,” Tim greets as you walk into Wade’s office.

“Sergeant,” you reply. “I take it I’m here to see you and not be yelled at by Grey.”

“Why do you need to be yelled at?” Tim asks, raising his brows as he crosses his arms.

“Absolutely nothing, sir.”

“Sure. Metro is working a forgery operation, and we need an extra set of hands. I think you’re the right cop for this job.”

“You do?” you ask, suspicious of why he chose you over the hundreds of other choices.

“Yes. But you get to decide. Do you want to join the team and complete your first Metro op?”

“Yes, sir,” you agree. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“You still have to prove that I’m right,” Tim reminds you. “Gear up, we’re leaving in ten.”

You nod before you exit the office. Working with Tim is something that you’re used to, but not in a Metro team.

“Get to the corner,” Tim orders.

You stay in place, watching the forger. He’s in plain view, waiting for something and checking his watch every minute or so. That makes him dangerous and reckless. The overview that Tim gave you and the Metro squad at the station didn’t place the suspect outside of his studio.

“Corner, now,” Tim repeats.

“He’s outside,” you radio.

“And you’re not in position.”

You huff and move your hand off of your radio. There’s no chance of catching this guy if you move from your current position. Tim is still going off the original, incorrect intel. Not to mention, moving could spook him and ruin this operation.

Tim says your last name over the radio, and you wait for him to continue. “Get in position.”

“There’s no point,” you argue.

Tim radios for someone else to cover his position as he moves toward you. His approach is nearly silent, but as he squats beside you, you don’t look over at him.

“You have to follow my orders out here,” he reprimands quietly.

“Even if they’re stupid orders?” you reply without looking away from the suspect.

“That’s not your call. This isn’t rookie training where you get input because you’re learning. You do what I say or you’re off my team.”

“I understand that.”

“Then get in your position at the corner,” he orders again.

You don’t listen but remain quiet rather than argue with him again. Tim sighs beside you and clenches his jaw.

“Do you remember where you’re supposed to be?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

“Then get into that position and be ready for the next phase of this op.”

“No, Sergeant Bradford.”

Tim looks at the side of your face. He’s had enough of you acting like a partner who can argue with him. As much as he trusts you, you’re still his subordinate and this is unacceptable, especially in the middle of a Metro operation. Leading Metro is the most rewarding yet challenging position he has had as a cop, and he won’t let you compromise his position or the trust his team has in him.

“You know I can still make arrests, right?” Tim asks harshly.

You raise your brows and turn toward him to snap, “So, what; are you gonna arrest me? For what?”

“For disobeying direct orders! I can arrest you now and put you on desk duty and break room fridge refills for the rest of the month.”

You look back at the suspect before you stand. Tim follows your movement, and you lean toward him to push your finger against his chest.

As you crowd him, you dare, “Arrest me, Officer Bradford. But make it sexy.”

Tim looks between your eyes before he grabs your right shoulder. He spins you quickly and pushes you against the cinder block wall behind you. He wraps one hand around both of your wrists behind your back as his other hand rests against your hip, just above your holster.

“You want to say that again?” Tim asks.

“Not that I expect you to know what a real Degas looks like, Officer,” you taunt loudly, “but the gallery you just destroyed is worth more than your life!”

“What are you doing?” Tim whispers in your ear.

“Go with it,” you request.

“Excuse me!” the suspect calls as he approaches you and Tim. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m an art connoisseur, of sorts. What seems to be the problem?”

Tim pulls his handcuffs from his belt and puts them loosely around your wrists. He pulls you away from the wall and against his side as he turns to face the art forger.

“This woman is an art forger,” Tim answers. “So, unless you purchased a Degas painting from her, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“I fear that’s impossible,” the man replies. “Degas is nearly impossible to forge. The paint age and brush strokes are dead giveaways.”

“Spoken like a true enjoyer,” you say.

“Shut up,” Tim demands. “Sir, if you’d like to have your art checked by our experts, I’d be happy to make that call for you.”

You nod, a small movement you hope will make the man trust you. The art experts know his signature, so if they can get a look at his work, Tim’s work will be done, and another forger will be behind bars. The crime itself seems too white-collar for Tim’s skills, but a successful arrest is a successful arrest.

“I would appreciate that, Officer,” the man answers. “I can give you access to my collection now.”

Tim radios for the art experts waiting nearby to come in. He keeps a hand around your wrist, his pinky occasionally brushing between your skin and the metal cuff. After the experts enter the warehouse, it only takes two minutes before they radio to Tim that they have the evidence they need.

“You’re in luck, sir,” Tim tells the suspect. “Looks like the only forgeries in there are yours.”

Tim moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls your handcuffs from your belt.

“You’re under arrest for art forgery, possession of stolen goods, and unlawful sale of property,” Tim says as he secures your handcuffs onto the suspect.

Another Metro officer rushes past you and takes the man from Tim to lead him to a waiting patrol car. Tim turns to face you and pulls a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket before he puts them on.

“You’re welcome,” you tell him.

“There are better ways to tell your superior officer that a different approach may be better,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ignoring orders isn’t it.”

“You weren’t listening!”

“I listened at the end. You did well, but don’t ever do that again.”

You smile and step forward until you nearly hit Tim’s folded arms. “Scared I’ll take your job?”

“You are stubborn, uncompromising, and have no respect for authority,” Tim lists. “My position is safe from you.”

You tilt your head to the side and shrug. Tim radios a code 4, then walks away.

“Are you going to take these cuffs off?” you call after him.

Tim turns and stops a step away from you.

“You’re the one that wanted to be arrested,” he replies. He shrugs and asks, “Was that sexy enough?”

“I mean, yeah, it worked,” you answer. “But defying your orders got you the arrest, so…”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Tim begins.

He continues reciting your Miranda rights as he leads you to his car. His hand trails down your right arm as he puts you in the backseat. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, you realize that the handcuff on your right wrist is loose enough you can get your hand through.

“Defying direct orders is wrong,” you muse. “What if I start a verbal flirtation while you take me to your station?”

“I will arrest you,” Tim threatens.

“With what cuffs?” you ask, spinning his on your finger. “You gave yours away and took mine.”

Tim shakes his head and pulls over. He opens the back door, and you hand him his handcuffs as you climb out.

“If I had to get arrested, I’m glad it was with you,” you say before you round the back of the car to get in the passenger seat.

“I was considering mentioning you for a Metro promotion,” Tim begins as he drives back onto the road. “But after that stunt today…”

“You’ll never see me the same?” you guess.

Tim looks over at you, though you can’t see his eyes past his aviators.

“Something like that,” he murmurs.

“You liked it,” you accuse playfully. “Admit it.”

Tim adjusts his sunglasses and says, “Maybe.”

[diminuel]

Crocodad analysis~

I've finished my reread of Impel Down and Marineford and spent most of today typing up this Crocodile analysis applying Crocodad theory ;3

Under the cut I went through Iva's threats, what info we have on when they met and what Iva might have done for him, then I go on to track Crocodile across the battlefield of Marineford. It's just text, no images, but it does have the chapters mentioned so you can go check it out.

I tried to structure these 3000 words a bit but don’t expect a clean essay.

Also, there is nothing new under the sun, I'm sure all of his has been said before by Crocodad scholars, I'm just sorting through it for myself.

(Disclaimer: I read an English scanlation so there’s a chance that there is a mistranslation or missing nuance.)

Iva’s powers

I'm generally someone who likes to work within the parameters provided by canon. But in terms of Iva's power I have been letting fandom (which displays an interest in a more real world depiction of transitioning) guide me more than canon. But Iva’s powers are not a reflection of the real world (other than maybe wishes that it could be so easy), neither do they even try to be.

Iva says that they can rework a person from the "inside out" (chapter 538) and there doesn't seem to be much of a limit to what they can do to someone’s body, apart from the cost of the healing powers.

If we go with the idea that Iva used their powers on Crocodile, it's likely that it would have been an instant effect. Therefore, the potential switch from female to male would have been complete and it would have been a one time application of Iva’s powers. Since we know what Crocodile looked like as a child, we know that they did not completely change his appearance.

The blackmail

When Luffy protests the suggestion that they free Crocodile, Iva says that they knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540) and that they are aware of one of Crocodile’s weaknesses which they will use against him/ reveal if he betrays them. Let’s first look at this secret weakness.

Since I have seen it mentioned before, I checked out the vivre card information that has been provided by thelibraryofohara (https://thelibraryofohara.com/2019/01/12/vivre-card-databook-vol-5-all-the-new-information/) in the January 2019 card releases. I quote:

“[Crocodile]’s got a “weakness” when it comes to his past that he can’t oppose. He definitely owes something that Ivankov gave him.”

I don’t know if the word choice is a matter of translation but it is rather ambiguous. That weakness is in quotation implies that it is most likely not an actual physical weakness like his weakness to water. Instead, it might be comparable to how Dragon calls Luffy his weakness. Additionally, what does “oppose” mean in the context of a weakness? Does it mean that if Iva revealed it, he would have no chance to refute it. Does it mean that the weakness is of such a nature that Crocodile would do what he can to avoid Iva from saying it? Maybe both? Considering the context the threat was uttered in, this would mean that he will not betray Iva and Luffy’s interests. (Which he doesn’t. When he goes off to attack WB and Luffy stops him, he calmly states that they had an arrangement (chapter 557). While Luffy forbids him from touching WB, Iva doesn’t threaten him into obedience, so Crocodile does pursue his attack on WB once Luffy is gone.)

Continuing with the vivre card quote, there’s also the fact that Crocodile owes something that Iva gave him – which can either mean that Iva gave him something that he’ll have to give back or that Crocodile has something that he only has thanks to Iva. I assume it’s the latter. What could Iva possibly have to give to Crocodile more than 20 years ago that Crocodile doesn’t want to be known (and can expect not to be known unless Iva shares it)? And, maybe more importantly, is it something that Iva can take back?

I am going to say yes, a reveal of the secret might as well come with Iva taking back what he has given Crocodile. Considering that Crocodile in prison has pretty much nothing but his hook, we can assume that what Iva gave this young pirate just starting out, was something to do with their powers. A change to his body in one way or another which of course means that Iva can undo it, revealing things about Crocodile that he doesn’t want to be known.

Considering what we’ve seen Iva’s power do, it does not take a big stretch of the imagination to wonder if he might have been a girl in the past. There’s of course the option that Crocodile has always been a boy, aware of his transness from the beginning. But even if that wasn’t the case, there are other reasons to want to change. The seas of One Piece are tricky to navigate and while there are successful female pirates, we have also been shown certain limitations and prejudices. How was it nearly 30 years ago, when Crocodile was just starting out? When there were pirates such as WB who would not have women on his crew? What did other men’s limited faith in a girl’s capabilities do to a teenager who wanted to chase her dreams? But that’s another layer of speculation. Let’s just assume that Iva gave Crocodile the body he now has.

Timeline

The complete female to male switch makes sense with Iva’s skills as I’ve mentioned above, but the timing is arguably tricky for Crocodad purposes. To repeat: Iva knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540). It’s unclear to me whether Iva’s comment that they know Crocodile “a little” is meant to be taken as an understatement and they do know each other well or if we should take it at face value. But even the offered time “when you could still call him a rookie” is very vague.

If they only knew each other when Crocodile was a rookie, then Iva would most likely have used their powers on Crocodile back then, turning him before he had properly ended up on the marine’s radar and before he could have had Luffy. What exactly counts as Crocodile’s rookie years isn’t particularly clear. At this point in the manga we do not know anything about Crocodile – his age, how long he’s been a Warlord, when he used to be a rookie, etc. However, we do know now that he became a Warlord in his 20s and challenged Whitebeard and lost to him shortly after (SBS, Volume 78). So his rookie years must refer to the time before that where “similar to Luffy (…) Crocodile's name spread across the seas with incredible momentum.” (SBS, Volume 78) It’s possible that at that time, due to the vastness of the ocean and the slower spread of news, people in general did not know what he looked like (even 30 years on it took a while for all the Strawhat crewmembers to get recognizable bounty posters). Due to that it’s possible that the meeting with Iva could have taken place during the time that he was gaining fame, but before he really got on he marine’s radar enough to make him a Warlord in his early 20s.

Interestingly (for me), around the same time as Crocodile’s was starting out, Iva and Dragon gained notoriety with their Freedom Fighter group (according to the Wiki’s timeline, it became the Revolutionary Army after the Ohara Incident, when Crocodile was 24), so it is likely that when Iva and Crocodile knew each other, Crocodile also met Dragon. (He might even have been part of the Freedom Fighters, but I think if his name was spread across the sea in connection to the Freedom Fighters, a link between Crocodile, Iva and Dragon would have been mentioned or taken into consideration by Sengoku. Sengoku did know of the history between Crocodile and WB and thought it would work in their favor. If he knew about a potential connection between Crocodile and Luffy – via Iva and Dragon – he would have been more wary I assume.)

As an aside, how did they even meet? Did Crocodile hear about Iva’s powers and seek them out? Was their meeting purely by chance and Crocodile seized the moment?

Long story short, if Iva only knew Crocodile while he was still a rookie and used their powers on him then, it would have been years before Luffy was conceived.

However! One could argue that Iva did not have the same control over their powers 20 years ago as they do now, so that the change was mostly external, affecting how Crocodile presented without changing him “inside out.” Which would still have meant that he could get pregnant if Dragon and Crocodile continued seeing each other (or at least saw each other one more time, 19 years ago.)

Now, since Crocodile at Marineford is somewhat of a part 2 of the Crocodile theories, I kept my Crocodad goggles on.

A look of Crocodile’s movement across the battlefield

One of the main arguments for Crocodad are his actions on the battlefield. Judged by the reactions of the other characters, all of Crocodile’s actions on the battle field of Marineford apart from his attack on WB are surprising.

The reason we are given by Crocodile for joining the prison break is that he wants to take Whitebeard’s head. (Crocodile could have escaped from the holding prison, but chose to go to Impel Down instead. However, Iva claims in chapter 538 that Crocodile isn’t too happy about ending up in level six.)

We know from the above mentioned SBS that Crocodile challenged WB shortly after he received his Warlord title. During this battle Crocodile was “completely and utterly crushed by him.” Whether that defeat is the main motivation to challenge him is unclear.

Just like he announced, the first thing that Crocodile does after posing for a group shot, is to go straight for Whitebeard’s head.

So far so predictable.

What are often seen as hints for Crocodad is a series of events that go like this: Dragon is revealed to be Luffy’s father (chapter 558). Everybody and their pet clown gets to have a reaction shot to that, but Crocodile does not. Crocodile is one of the first after Luffy to charge into the plaza after they’ve got the siege walls up and stops Ace’s execution (chapter 566.) He orders Daz to protect Luffy and one Daz is down he himself stops Mihawk from attacking Luffy (chapter 570). After Ace’s death he steps in between Akainu and Jinbei, making Luffy’s escape possible (chapter 578). He eventually joins a line of Whitebeard pirates to protect Luffy.

Now, Crocodile’s change of plans doesn’t present as an instant switch the moment Sengoku announces who Luffy’s father is. While he might have had an off-screen “oh shit, that’s my baby” reaction, it didn’t immediately make him drop everything to protect him.

I do of course believe that Luffy IS his baby because I find joy in that, but I generally see Crocodile as a pragmatic character. On one hand there is Luffy, a reckless but resilient kid that shares his blood (that he spilled and Luffy used against him) that is charging across a battlefield with a group of people protecting him. On the other hand here is Whitebeard right in front of him and other than the baby that has slipped out of his fingers, he held on to that grudge for 20 years.

Tracking Crocodile across the battlefield leaves plenty of gaps, but it still offers insights into why he changes direction. I’m presenting it here and then we can think if this hurts or helps the Crocodad agenda.

Tracking Crocodile

As mentioned the first thing we see him do on the battle field is to go for Whitebeard who is on the ship next to them. Luffy stops him and then he is approached by Whitebeard pirates, their weapons drawn. Luffy then leaves and takes the point of view away with him. When we see Crocodile again, two chapters after the reveal that Luffy is Dragon’s son, he is on the ice in front of Whitebeard’s ship. He must have been pushed back or retreated to join up with Daz, as they are fighting off masses of WB pirates, trying to get closer to the man himself. After he sends a lot of them flying with a sandstorm he is stopped by Yozu. The force of the attack makes him fly back (he is injured and loses his cigar) where he lands right next to Doflamingo. The man is of course not passing up the opportunity to be chaotic – he stops Yozu and asks Crocodile to join up with him which Crocodile rejects (chapter 560 – 561). When we next see him he is fighting off some invisible force (most likely more WB pirates) but at least he has a new cigar.

When WB is stabbed in chapter 563 he is still on the ice in front of WB’s ship. He has an agitated reaction, revealing that he has lost to Whitebeard in the past (“I didn’t lose to such a weak man!!!”)

Even though Sengoku tries to get the other fleets under WB’s command to turn against him, WB proves his integrity and power. And he also gives a speech about how even if he is attacked by his son, he still loves him and he also explains that the son does not bear the sins of the father. It is either this absolute display of love and appreciation of his sons no matter whose blood they have and what they do OR it is his display of power and integrity that Crocodile reacts to, visibly distressed, but no longer showing the explosive shock and anger of his previous outburst (I’m not horrible at reading facial expressions but I’m not great at describing them. Look for yourselves in chapter 563). Also, following right after the panel showing Crocodile’s face we get Whitebeard thinking to himself: “A “weak man,” am I…? What an insolent man… I’m only one man, with one heart… And you’re the same… They call me a demon and a monster… But I won’t always be the “strongest” out there…!!! If I can bring one young life into the future, isn’t that enough…!?” And then he joins the battle.

He now focuses on bringing that young life into the future (saving Ace) and this is the point where Crocodile’s unusual actions start. After a talk about unconditional love for his sons and the statement that protecting a son is worth much more than being the strongest. Could Crocodile too have decided that protecting Luffy (his son?) and Luffy’s interests is more important than his grudge against Whitebeard?

The answer seems to be yes, because in chapter 566 he is the first one to follow Luffy across the siege wall and into the plaza where Ace’s execution was supposed to happen. And he stops it after Luffy is pushed back by the Admirals. The reason he gives to Sengoku for his unexpected action is that he “wants to wipe the smile from your faces.” After Doflamingo chops off Crocodile’s head they engage in a fight.

It is after Luffy uses conqueror’s Haki, which again seems to confirm his relation to Dragon, WB gives the order for everyone to support Luffy in chapter 570. Whether Crocodile has chosen to follow Whitebeard’s lead or if he is acting for himself, he gave Daz the order to protect Luffy. Daz stops Mihawk’s attack and once Mihawk cuts him down and goes for Luffy again, Crocodile is there to stop him and allow Luffy to continue one. He must have shaken off Doflamingo in the meantime.

And then Ace and Whitebeard die (chapters 574 and 576 respectively).

And while the battlefield descends into further chaos and Luffy is unable to protect himself, we get a panel of Crocodile (chapter 577), apparently standing still in the chaos that is around him. He does not seem to face the same way as the retreating WB forces or the Warlords and Pacifista in pursuit of the retreating pirates. Maybe he is looking at Whitebeard one last time.

And then he’s off, apparently crossing the entire battlefield in an instant to stop Akainu from dealing Luffy the killing blow. And after that he gets physically between Akainu and Jinbei and Luffy before he sends them flying out of reach with his sands (chapter 578.) He yells the order for someone to grab them and get them to a ship, followed by one of my favourite lines directed at Jinbei who has tasked himself with protecting Luffy: “If you want to protect something, do it right!!!” Since we generally speculate that Luffy’s parents (or Dragon at least) chose to sacrifice their chance of raising Luffy in order to protect him from exactly what is happening on this battlefield, that line suits the Crocodad theory well. Whether Crocodile left behind his child to protect it from being punished for the sins of his fathers or if he left him behind because a child would get in the way of his ambitions, right in this moment protecting Luffy is all that matters.

He then joins a group of Whitebeard pirates, forming a protective barrier against Akainu. Akainu taunts them that all of them are willing to give their lives for Luffy. Marco repeats what Whitebeard thought earlier: they will see this boy off into the new age.

All of these actions could also simply point towards Crocodile maybe having been part of Whitebeards crew at one time, but the timeline has some difficulties. It does not seem like anyone who is on the crew now treats him like they knew him or at one point cared about him like a brother. We have also not seen Crocodile or someone who looked like him in the Wano flashbacks. Teach, who joined when he was 12 (and Crocodile would have been 18) doesn’t seem to know him as a crewmate either. If he ever was on WB’s crew, he would have left as a young teenager. (And as a sidenote, WB was an old-fashioned guy, he did not want any women on his crew apart from medical staff. This would not have been a good environment for Crocodile if he had been a girl before meeting Iva. And he clearly was making a name for himself as a rookie without being attached to WB’s crew.)

It could also symbolize how great of a pirate Whitebeard was that even Crocodile, bearing a grudge against him, shows him respect by following his orders. But that seems a little bit boring to me.

That said, I do think a Crocodad reading of his actions is rewarding.

After this battle we also get to see Crocodile read about Luffy’s actions so he clearly is interested in him now. And there’s this great exchange between Daz and Crocodile in chapter 593 where Daz comments that Luffy’s scars take a while to fade which Crocodile takes as a comment on his own (old) wounds. Crocodile insists that his scars are “fully healed” and that he’s ready to return to the New World now. He has put the old wounds of his youth to rest, he is ready to return to tackle the New World once again.

And maybe any wounds and scars left on him regarding Luffy’s birth have started to heal too. The kid will be fine.

If you read through all of this you have my respect X’D

And if you have comments, additions and objections let me know~

[sinsofbeauty]

Red Stained Sunflower

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Use of Pet Names, suggestive nsfw content, Johnny being “nice”, minor kidnapping mention

Requested?: Nah

Overview: The only car breaks down and your father can’t afford to fix it. He doesn’t have many options, but when you suggest a certain someone to take a look at, he can't help but feel uneasy. Little did you know that decision will lead to a whirlwind of trouble.

A/n: Thinking about making it into a series, so let me know what you guys think! Enjoy!

Your father was very upset this morning, and you couldn’t quite figure out why. He was stomping around the house huffing and puffing, mumbling to himself as you fixed up some breakfast. Up the stairs, down the stairs, back into the work shed. It made you furrow your brows, bewildered by his behavior. You set the table and sat down hoping to find out the cause as he made his way into the room. You haven’t really seen him this irritated in a long time, and he moved around restlessly despite him taking a seat for the first time this morning… still quite agitated.

"The car is acting up again," he complained, shoving a forkful of egg and toast into his mouth.

“Again?” You ask, spreading butter on a piece of warm toast. “Daddy I told you it was bound to break. Why don’t you take it to the shop?”

Your father looked up, annoyed, and shook his head. "It's too expensive," he explained after swallowing a bite. "The fence is falling apart and the shed needs repairs. I can't afford to manage all that work on my own, and it would cost an arm just to get in there."

“You could always have Johnny take a look at it.”

Your suggestion made him pause, his gaze incredulous as you shrugged. "Johnny Slaughter?"

“Yes Daddy, Johnny Slaughter.” You replied.

His eyes dropped into something more serious than before, and you could notice the changes in his facial expressions. If he didn't appear to be worried about it, that is. "What's going on between you and that boy Y/n? People in the community are always talking about that family, you know.” This was his technique of lecturing you, making you look at him with utter boredom. "He and his family are equally dangerous! What happens if the rumors are true?” Indeed. Rumors. The ones where members of the Slaughter family kept individuals in a cellar to later consume them? Or the ones that they were ferocious and would try to eat anyone who approached their house? Yeah, those.

“What if they aren't though?” You retorted while arching your brow. “Given how much time I've spent with Johnny, I figure something would have happened by now.”

"You're still spending time with him?!"

Oops. Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that. As your father flailed his arms around, you were slumped in your chair, picking at your food. So, as he lectured you about your decisions, you carried on eating your meal silently. He mentioned the potential damage to your reputation and the possible consequences for your family. Although he had legitimate worries, you also knew that he had a history with them, which probably contributed to his strong opinions.

“Relax,” You said, waving a hand. “It’s been a little bit since I’ve seen him anyway. If he really wanted to eat me he probably would’ve come by the house.” Your father gave you a disgusted look, making you smile nervously before setting your fork down on your empty plate. "On a… serious note, just this once," you attempted to negotiate. "Let Johnny take a look at the car; maybe he won't charge much."

“Johnny Slaughter is nothing but trouble.” Your father mumbled.

"You already mentioned that," you retorted, raising your brows. "Daddy it could save us money if we give it a shot." You stood up from your chair taking your dirty dishes and shrugging your shoulders. By the look on his face, you could tell your father was debating long and hard about it.

Letting out a sigh, your father rubbed his temples. He shook his head once more in thought before lightly thumping the table. "Just this one time," he asserted. “I’ll check with them after breakfast.”

“I can always go now while you fix the fence.“

“I don’t want you standing mere feet in front of the Slaughter boy,” Your father said standing with his empty plate in hand.

“You really think he’s gonna do something?” You say, raising a brow at him before transitioning into the kitchen. The long pause caught you off guard, considering that you expected your father to say something snarky or a short insult about Johnny. Though nothing came.

Your father had made his way into the kitchen, dumping his plate into the sink with his utensils. He gave you a firm look, his jaw clenched together tightly. "Check with him after the dishes while I try to fix the fence. If you're not back by lunch, I'm calling the sheriff."

You smiled and nodded while placing your own dishes in the sink. You hadn't seen Johnny in some time, primarily because your father didn't approve. Though he undoubtedly had little choice given the circumstances, you knew he would keep his word.

——

You arrived at the Slaughter House after what seemed like a never-ending trip. Having taken the back way since it was a little faster, it led you to the backyard which seemed for the most part unoccupied. You peered across to check if anyone was working yet as you leaned on the wooden fence. If it wasn’t Johnny it was most certainly Sissy prancing around here, roaming the sunflower fields in her bare feet. You briefly blinked, but you couldn't make out a single individual anywhere. It could have been simpler to go the long way to the front. However, just as you were ready to walk away, Sissy appeared from one of the back sheds. She doesn’t notice you right away, but when she does she approaches the fence, face once stoic turning into something… unusual. Almost like a fake smile, nothing enthusiastic whatsoever.

“Oh that’s who it is,” She said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lookin’ for Johnny?”

Your eyes swept the surroundings as you furrowed your brows and nodded. “Uhm yeah… I wanted to talk to him. Is he here?”

“Of course ya’ do,” She said, looking at you up and down. The woman had turned her back to you before calling out his name, walking away completely as she made her way towards the shed she was just in.

Your eyes avert back to the shed, seconds later seeing Johnny peek his head out. Sissy gestures behind her and says something that you couldn’t quite hear, but it prompts Johnny to tuck something away and head over. Never have you seen a man jog so fast in his life.

“Hey sunshine!” As a silly grin developed on his face, his voice resonated in your ears. He walked up to you with his head tilted to the side and his thumbs in his belt loops. “Finally came ta’ see me hm? I thought I’d have to kidnap you from yer old man.”

You smile softly, watching as you take a step away from the fence. “The old man is the reason why I didn’t come.” You spoke to him. “I thought you’d be mad about it.”

“Mad?” Johnny chuckled as he leaned his arms on the fence. “Bein’ honest? I knew ya’d come crawlin’ back, ya’ can’t resist me~.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a smirk, making him cackle in response. Johnny had a tendency to be quite… charming. Flirtatious if you might say. He was a very attractive man and he knew that, with a simple snap of a finger he could probably get a dozen women on their knees. Maybe it was one of the reasons why he would get so many lingering stares when he’s in town. It’s not like you haven’t seen him there getting stuff like tools or groceries. The man could be persuasive as well. If it wasn’t for his good looks and deadly charm, your intentions would probably be… elsewhere.

“I suppose the reason you’re here isn’t jus’ ta’ see me, is it?”

You suddenly look up at Johnny, who is grinning slyly with his thin lips. Before shrugging your shoulders, your nose lets out an amused huff. “You can say that’s part of it,” You reply, making his grin widen. “Though I needed to ask a favor.”

“Anythin’ for you doll,” Johnny said to you. “What is it ya’ need?”

“Well the car is out of commission, not sure why. Was wondering if you could take a look at it?”

Johnny nodded his head and looked over his shoulder, gazing at Sissy who had just walked into the house. “Oh sure, it shouldn't be too hard now should it?” He said looking back at you with a raised brow. “Did ya’ tell yer old man?”

“I made the suggestion.”

“How’d ‘e take it?”

“You know daddy doesn’t like you all that much.”

Your sentence caused Johnny's eyes to flinch suddenly, and his jaw to clench slightly before briefly relaxing. “I could really care less ‘bout what ‘e thinks.” He replied with the small shrug of his shoulders. “But ‘e agreed did ‘e?”

“With a little convincing yes,” You replied with the nod of your head. “I was hoping you could possibly stop by today?”

“I can go righ’ now if ya’ want to.”

“That would be great.”

Johnny nodded his head and pushed himself off the fence. “Alright, I’ll go get the truck. Comin’ inside?”

You shook your head no. You expected yourself to be swarmed with his family. They did ask a lot of questions and you didn’t want to be bombarded to answer. Which honestly made you curious, considering what they ask is quite… strange. “No but thanks, I'll start heading home. I’ll meet you there.”

——

The lemonade you had prepared hadn’t been long. It was sweet, and tasted amazing. You hummed taking a sip from your own cup, setting it down on the counter before pouring another glass. Transitioning to the back door you take a glimpse through the window, which made you stop completely in your tracks.

There he was, the Slaughter boy working on the car out back. His slicked back hair came undone while little strands stuck to his forehead, the one he wiped sweat off from due to the heat from the Texas sun. Gloved hand reaching down to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to wipe his drenched face. Those muscles, his toned frame as he turned slightly, all so shaped with scars of an unknown origin. It made your face heat up, cheeks dusted with a bright blush that only darkened when you stepped away from the window. Johnny was a fine looking man, and there was no doubt in his mind that you had some hidden feelings for him.

You opened the door to the back porch, a glass of cold lemonade in hand. Your thin flats make way to Johnny, strolling in your shirt and shorts. Jeez it's hot out. The closer you got to Johnny just showed how drenched he was in sweat.

“How’s it going?” You ask, finally approaching Johnny with the glass. “I got you this, you look like you need it.”

Johnny’s brown orbs flicked over to you, his brows raising in an instant. “You’re a sweetheart ya’ know that,” A smile spreads across his cheeks. Taking the glass from you he sighs, putting it up to his lips and taking large gulps from the beverage. You couldn’t help but stare, and when he was done he licked his lips before looking at you. Look at him all smug, the man chuckling as he took the hood of the car and slammed it shut. “Like whatcha see darlin’?”

You pucker your lips and blinked in shame, realizing you had been staring at him intently. Then you grunted and crossed your arms as the person in front of you laughed. Such a confident smile on a man. It surprised you that you didn't seem to care about it as much as you implied. “I’d like to see if the car is fixed,” You replied with the simple roll of your eyes, making Johnny take the keys from his pocket and wave them in your face. With that, you went to grab them but he pulled his hand back.

“I have a question for ya’.” He blurts, the keys still in his possession. “I remember the las’ time ya’ said somethin’— when ya’ came over. ‘Bout the sunflower fields, yeah?”

You blinked at his question, nodding your head in response. “Oh… yeah, I think I remember.” Raising your brows you thought about it for a moment. “I think it was how pretty they looked in the evening. Though I didn’t get to stay for long.”

You recall it clearly leaving at that time. In your short sundress, you stood next to Johnny as he leaned his back against his truck while you spoke. The man had just finished his cigarette, leaving a difficult day at the back of his boot. Before you arrived, the brunette and a member of his family got into an argument. In any case, that is all he told you. You had just mentioned the sunflower fields and how much you cherished the scene each time you visited. How lovely they appeared in the garden in the waning evening light.

During that time you had caught Johnny staring, his brown orbs gazing from where he leaned at on the side of the car. You had made a comment, making him smirk and push himself off the vehicle. “You’ve got some nerve sunshine,” His voice all teasing as he took your wrist. The man had pulled you close to him, the heat from his body signaling your proximity. “We’re all alone out here. If I wanted ta’ ‘stare at you all night’, I know jus’ the way to do it~.”

The reality that was only intensifying your blush had slowly crept back into your thoughts. Johnny had drawn nearer to you, which you suddenly realized. His face was incredibly close to yours—just inches apart. You raised your head to see him as his eyes played with a sly sparkle.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it too?” His tone of voice was playful. Given that you didn't react, he laughed. “I know ya’ are darlin’, considerin’ I have it on my mind.”

Your breathing quickened, and it seemed as though a simple step or downward lean would practically close the distance between you. You couldn't speak because your stomach was churning with butterflies.

“I almost had ya’, if it wasn’t for Sissy butting into what didn’t concern her.”

Johnny didn’t have to say much to make you feel flustered, let alone so excited by him. His words had made your thighs press together slightly, in an attempt to hide that feeling which pooled in the pit of your abdomen. Oh and did he notice. He was observant to say the least, so of course he noticed the subtle movement of your thighs just clamping together. Pressing together at his words that you knew in some ways were true.

“How cute,” He teased, making your eyes widen slightly. “And ta’ think— you didn’t want me, but look at cha’. Holding those cute little thighs taa’ hide what I do to ya’.”

“No! That’s not true!” You fought with him, taking the keys from his hands while he was so distracted. Johnny chuckled as you moved quickly to the driver’s side door, opening it and hopping in. Putting the key into the ignition, you look over at the man who was gesturing you to roll the window down. With a loud huff you did. Set his arms on the opening of the window, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” He responded. The young man watched as you turned the car on, the engine running to life and your face lighting up in the process. “Good as new. Jus’ a couple loose wires and bolts.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” You thank him, turning the car off. “Now I don’t have to walk miles just for a carton of milk.”

“You’ve been walkin’?”

“It’s been an on and off issue.”

Johnny raised his brows at that, but shrugged his shoulders moments later. “Well if it breaks down again, come by and see me.”

“Why thank you,” You roll your eyes and open the door to the car, making Johnny step away as you pull yourself out. “It’s getting close to lunch time, would you like something to eat while you go home?”

When it was time to close the door, you noticed that Johnny had been creeping up again. When you turned, he was as close as he had been before. It was like a predator stalking his lonesome prey, all alone with nowhere to go. He wrapped his thumbs in his belt loops, eyes glancing at the house before his full attention on you. “Shooin’ me ta’ leave already?” He grinned, making you roll your eyes again.

You cross your arms, this boy had some nerve. Standing so dangerously close and making those remarks. “I was trying to be nice.”

“So sweet,” Sarcasm poured from his lips as a large smile curled. “But sure, as long as it's as sweet as you~.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You could feel your face start to heat up again, oh did it amuse Johnny. His charm worked without even having to break a sweat.

“Playin’ dumb hm?” He had a cheeky smile on his face. “If ya’ want, I can get inta’ more detail.”

You were hesitant, feeling the raw stare of questioning eyes from afar. The tilt of Johnny’s head fuels your hesitation but only momentarily. “Johnny you shouldn’t be so close,” You say, your eyes wandering to the window who you expected your father to be watching. They widened and went back to Johnny immediately. “Daddy’s watching us.”

Johnny’s eyebrows come close together, making the bridge of his nose scrunch light folds. “And?” His voice lowers an octave, eyelids lowering to a half lidded stare. “Could stare all ‘e wants.” His eyes lower into a half lidded stare, his smile fading away. He looked… dangerous. “Ya’ liked those sunflower fields huh? Why don’t cha’ come by this evenin’ after eatin’?”

“You know I can’t do that…”

A hint of disappointment sparkled in Johnny’s eyes. “Why not?” His voice sounded almost monotone.

“Because—“

You hear the back porch door open, turning your head to see your father walking out of the house. Johnny took the opportunity to step back from you, moving his way to the front hood of the car. Despite your father’s efforts, he still had a suspicious look on his face. He approached the two of you, his hands once shoved in his pockets now out as he moved around to the side of the car where you were.

“Is she fixed?” He asked, Johnny nodding his head.

“Yessir, jus’ a couple wires and bolts.” The Slaughter boy replied. “Shouldn’t be any issue fer now, but yer more than welcome ta’ stop on by if it happens again.”

Your father nodded, inspecting the vehicle and getting the keys from you. “I’mma take her for a drive, see if she’s running properly. I… appreciate your help… Johnny.”

The grin on his face told you plenty. “Anytime.” Johnny said to your father.

The man who raised you had given you a side eye, taking a sigh before going to the car. He had hopped in and both you and Johnny moved away. “Did you want to come?” He had asked you.

“Oh no, I’ll get dinner ready.” You said waving your hand. “You’re just going to town right? It should be almost done by the time you get here.”

Your father had indicated that it wouldn't be long by nodding. He was aware that leaving you with Johnny could lead to problems, but since you were an adult, he couldn't stop you from doing it. After saying that, he drove off the property while you closed the fence in his absence. You watched as he proceeded down the road until, at last, the car was no longer in view.

“So… about the fields.” You turn to Johnny, who you had heard from behind you with his heavy boots. He’d been smoking a cigarette, the bud stuck in his mouth while his hand shoved something in his back pocket. “You said after supper?”

“Ohhh, are ya’ considerin’?”

“Shut up,” You scoff, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you say please… I might consider it.”

“You’re kiddin’?” You smile and shrug your shoulders, making Johnny roll his eyes with the click of his tongue. “Please?”

“You could do better.”

It made him laugh, shaking his head with a malicious smile. He had cleared his throat, leaning in close to you before he purred a low, “Please~?”

It made you blush deeply, before coughing softly to look away. “Okay… you’ve convinced me.” Side eyeing him, you smirk. “Could’ve been better.”

“Cheeky lil’ thing aren’t ya’?” He scoffs. “I’ll see ya’ later then, sweet pea.”

Tags: @optimsluv

Part 2 is up! >> RSSF PT.2

[withlove-xixi]

— SUCCUBUS: chilchuck x reader

ᥫ cw: nudity + suggestive (nothing explicit), spoilers for chapter 58 (kinda not really) ᥫ wc: 794 ★ finally reading the dunmeshi manga and i have reached the . succubus chapter (i had been dreading it BECAUSE SOMEONE TOLD ME CHILCHUCK GETS HIS .. THING .... SUCKED ON) anyway, i'm here to do my job and add one more succubus fic to the dunmeshi fandom cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— WHEN A SUCCUBUS ATTACKS, YOU SHOULD NEVER BE ALONE.

[♡]: chilchuck knows that from unfortunate experience. when laios announces to the party they're facing that dreaded monster, chilchuck's blood runs cold as flashes of his past encounters and the images of pretty blonde girls flicker in his mind. but his issue now isn't of what he's seen them become before, it's that he isn't quite sure how they'd appear now.

HALF THE PARTY WAS OUT OF COMMISSION, passed out with pleasured faces, all shriveled up like raisins no thanks to the succubi. That half the party included you because you foolishly ran after Laios when he had gone to get milk (ever the caring friend, worry had clouded your sense of judgment and both Chilchuck and Marcille realized a bit too late to stop you).

Now they were down to two since Izutsumi had run off too and Chilchuck can't lie, he's getting a bit worried. While he was confident with Marcille's magic and his skill with the bow, he wasn't keen on the idea of being two people left to fight against what could be thousands of succubi. One wrong move and they're both dead.

"Marcille, I'll take out the ones that go after you, so you should take out the ones that go after me," Chilchuck says, index finger pointing at Marcille then at the entrance of the room.

The elf nods, readying her staff as she braces herself for an attack. And as if on cue, a naked blonde half-foot steps out of the entrance, rushing towards Chilchuck who stares at it wide-eyed. Marcille is quick to send an explosion at it, successfully killing the succubus.

It freaks Chilchuck out for just a second (thinking it was a real person and not a monster) but otherwise he's finally broken free of its charm.

The cycle repeats as more blonde half-foots emerge from the entrance, all different features and bodies, but all blonde. It's enough to make Chilchuck blush when he's conscious, he was a man after all, he wasn't going to deny the faces the succubi took on beautiful.

"They're all blondes, huh?" Marcille says the obvious and Chilchuck's face reddens a bit more. "Was your wife a blonde too?"

"Can you shut up about that?" He snaps back at her, brows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Marcille giggles, smiling innocently at him when they both hear a voice call from the entrance.

"Ch… Chilchuck…"

Chilchuck makes the mistake of turning back. Because he hears your voice call for him, he doesn't quite realize the fact you were knocked out and shriveled up next to Laios at the moment.

He only realizes his mistake when he locks eyes with you — no, the succubus' image of you.

His mouth hangs ajar, his heart rate rises. Chilchuck takes a step forward without even realizing it. Because in front of him is the image of you, not just any image of you, you’re practically naked with that you’re wearing and you’ve got such a tearful expression on your face. Had it been another situation, Chilchuck would’ve been pissed something would’ve chosen to portray you in such a dirty way, all dolled up and innocent looking with puffy lips and fluttering lashes, not to mention that God forsaken outfit it had you in, some tight looking outfit with frills at the ends that nicely exposed your shoulders and thighs and nearly half your chest. It felt disrespectful. But this was all from Chilchuck’s mind after all, so if he had anyone to be pissed it, it would be himself.

“Does… Does this outfit look good on me?” Your voice coos, pressing a dainty finger up to your lower lip as you pout.

Marcille calls out to Chilchuck, but it’s left unheard, the half-foot is far too enticed by this tantalizing image of you, far too hooked in by the succubus’ charms. It sways its hips (your hips, really) and beckons Chilchuck to quickly come closer.

“It’s too tight, Chil…” Your voice says, all whiny and soft, as your hands fumble at the hems of your outfit, fingers gracefully brushing at the frills of it. Your breath is huffy, cheeks growing the faintest bit of pink. “Take it off for me, please?”

Chilchuck has half the mind to nod and reach both arms out, eager to tear that wretched piece of fabric off you. He takes another step forward before sudden heat flushes against his skin, blinding light shunning his sight. Then there’s a loud echoey thunk that reverberates against the stone walls of the room and suddenly he’s clutching the top of his head in pain.

Chilchuck cusses in another language before turning around to yell at whatever hit his head, but he only faces a flustered Marcille, face bright red up to the tips of her ears. She wears a mix of disappointment, embarrassment and annoyance.

“Get yourself together, Chilchuck.”

[verycharismaticdragon]

Okay, I promised a writeup of Luo Binghe voter fraud meme, and as Luo Binghe is currently in the finals of the poll this happened on, I figure now's a good time.

So! It all started when Luo Binghe, our beloved half-demon child, was submitted to @/hybrid-battle tournament - or rather, as it was called at the time, @half-being-battle. He won his first poll easily enough, but round 2 was a close battle where he and his opponent, Shantae from eponymous game, took the lead from one another a few times.

In the last ~12 hours, Binghe was losing slightly after a popular blog rb'd the poll with a call to vote for Shantae. However, SVSSS fandom caught this in time and passed the poll around some more. The poll ended with Luo Binghe winning with 51% of votes - or, as simple calculation will reveal, 14 votes lead.

We breathed out a collective sigh of relief, but too soon - as half a day later, someone sent this ask:

(x)

Initially the pollrunner wasn't intending to do anything about it, but then someone suggested a teamup option, and the poll for the option was made (x). It was rb'd by some SVSSS fans with the general sentiment of 'free our boy he did nothing wrong', but didn't gain real traction until:

@gaywarcriminals reblogged it with a small rant in Binghe's defense

@piosplayhouse rb'd said rant with addition of the image from vol.3 cover, of Shen Qingqiu holding Luo Binghe's hand, edited to look like SQQ is the one saying the text above.

This version of the post was circulated in fandom overnight, leading to 'Luo Binghe moves on alone' option winning by a large margin - and, ofc, to the birth of "Luo Binghe voter fraud" meme.

Though aside from this particular post being funny, there was another factor contributing to the meme catching on: how damn in-character it all was. The following sentiments were all repeated more than once in the post's notes:

Luo Binghe getting accused of crimes he didn't commit? Omg just like in canon!

Shen Yuan would absolutely buy bots to get his most beloved blorbo to win an internet poll.

It's just Luo Binghe's protagonist halo!

All of which made the situation fucking hilarious.

Then, the next day, tumblr user verycharismaticdragon (whoever they might be 😉) made some fanart about it, which possibly aided the spread of the meme too.

Also, SVSSS fandom surprised the mod with our chillness 😅

(x)

Since then, Binghe has been going strong in that poll - and now, he's in the finals! So make sure to vote for him; as we all know now, the real voter fraud is the friends we made along the way. And I do recommend checking Luo Binghe's tag on the poll for some fun propaganda we've been making, including a family tree by Pio and some more art by yours truly <3

But wait! There was also another layer to the voter fraud iceberg. The tl;dr:

At about the same time Luo Binghe vs Shantae ended, Hua Cheng was losing in round 1 of @/the-ghost-bracket, with something like 39% of votes to his name. In a desperate move, I linked his poll under my bingqiu voter fraud art, which gave him a boost to get close to a tie, but didnt flip the poll. The next day, I was explaining the LBH voter fraud meme to my friends, and mentioned Hua Cheng's poll too - which was when inspiration struck me, resulting in...

this post. [ID: art of Xie Lian with a wooden board which reads "Puqi shrine accepting donations in the form of votes for Hua Cheng in the ghost bracket", captioned "please help dianxia, he doesn't have the money for voter fraud"] Which gave the poll enough visibility for Hua Cheng to win with over 62% of votes in the end. (The link in the post is currently changed to round 2 poll, which HC was also initially losing. Srsly besties we gotta follow the tourneys to get our babygirls to win!)

So: LBH voter fraud meme had even helped little bro Huahua out.

And thats about it! Since then, the scum villain fandom has been joking about voter fraud on all of our polls 😂

(Aaaand the last reminder to vote Bingbing in the finals. His opponent has been gaining lately and I think we shouldn't leave it to the protagonist halo this time.)

[cha-melodius]

Can I request firstprince alternative first meeting in Rio for your fandom fest? Thanks! ❤️💙

(Yes, I'm still working on these! I'm guessing this isn't exactly what you had in mind when you sent in this prompt, but it fit in very well with the Olympics, and it IS a (very) alternative first meeting lol. I hope you enjoy!)

Tonight, You're Gold

(M, 6k, read it below or on AO3)

Henry wasn’t expecting the Rio Olympics to be particularly eventful, all things considered. These weren’t his first games, after all, and if he’s honest with himself, he’s not a favourite in the men’s Laser sailing fleet this year. Coming back from a knee injury has been hard, and he’s proud of what he’s achieved this season. If he can make it into the medal race, he’ll be ecstatic. Mostly, he’s been enjoying the experience. Enjoying watching the different sports. Enjoying the city of Rio. Enjoying the other athletes.

As one does.

Normally, he wouldn’t have gone out tonight, but Pez had cajoled him into it, saying even if he wasn’t going to find a hookup he could at least take his mind off his impending first-round race rather than stewing alone in his room. Henry had to admit he had a point. That was before this, though.

One minute Henry’s listening to a ridiculously gorgeous American beach volleyball player with big brown eyes and eyelashes that would be a handicap in many sports complain about how his room was the victim of catastrophic flooding thanks to a burst pipe, and the next, all of his common sense simply deserts him.

“…and Liam ended up finding a place with this diver named Spencer, but I got fucked over because the only extra bed right now is with Hunter,” the American, whose name is Alex, is saying. He pushes a mess of gorgeous dark curls back from his face, only for several of them to flop back and curve just under his ears, framing a jaw that could cut glass. “Who— I mean, you don’t know him, and you should be thankful for that because he’s insufferable. But the real problem is that he snores like a chainsaw, so how the fuck am I supposed to get a decent night’s sleep?”

“You could stay with me,” Henry says before he can properly think it through. Across from him, Alex raises his eyebrows. Christ. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Only, my roommate’s already done competing, and he’s moved out. So I have an extra bed.”

Alex laughs, his curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to just move into Team Great Britain territory.”

Henry shrugs and takes a sip of his mocktail—he’s not dumb enough to drink with a race tomorrow, even if he is dumb enough to make this suggestion. “Given the revolving doors on some of these rooms, I don’t think you’ll draw much attention.”

Henry should know, after all. He’s had more than a few overnight visitors since Basil finished on the second day of the games. It’s been incredibly convenient having a room to himself—Fabrizio the Italian gymnast had been a highlight, to say nothing of half the Dutch rowing team—and now he’s about to give that up for a mouthy American that he’s pretty sure is straight. Because he’s a bloody idiot, apparently.

“I mean, people would probably assume…” Alex trails off, the darkening of his cheeks obvious even in the low light.

“That we’re fucking?” Henry finishes bluntly, and Alex chokes on his drink. Definitely straight, then. Pity. “It's true, they might. I understand if those kinds of rumours are not something you’re willing to risk.”

For some reason, that makes Alex look slightly stricken. “No, I mean, I don’t care if a bunch of random athletes think I’m queer. That’s not, like, a problem.”

“So it’s just me that’s objectionable, then,” Henry quips.

Alex is stunning when he laughs. It’s becoming a whole problem. “Have you seen yourself?” he scoffs. “Fuck, man. I should be so lucky.”

Henry only narrowly resists suggesting that he could be. Even if he thought Alex would be interested, he’s offering a place to stay. Not a quick shag.

“I should… probably get to bed. Races start early tomorrow,” Henry says, offering a little smile. “The offer stands, if you decide you need a break from the chainsaw.”

Alex draws his full lower lip through his teeth, which is supremely distracting. “Fuck. We do have a match tomorrow. And it’s against the Italians who are fucking good this year.” He squints sceptically at Henry. “Are you sure you don’t mind? You just met me. For all you know, I could fuck up your sleep.”

It’s insane to say he almost wouldn’t mind, so he doesn’t. He thinks it, though. “I doubt you’ll be worse than my roommate at the London games. And if you are, I’ll just kick you out.”

He says the last bit with a teasing smirk, which makes Alex laugh again, and Henry knows already he has no hope of surviving this man. Perfect. Just what he needs while he’s competing on the world’s biggest stage.

~~~~~

Alex is a wonderful roommate, as it turns out, which is lovely but also terrible. He’s considerate about noise and the odd hours they all have to keep between training sessions and competitions. He’s a chaotic whirlwind, but he’s also incredibly organised—“My brain is enough of a mess,” he’d told Henry on the second day—and always knows where everything is at any given time. He always makes sure there’s hot water in the kettle for Henry’s tea whenever he makes himself yet another no-doubt-coach-unapproved coffee. He’s an excellent conversation partner whenever their schedules line up, but he seems to intuitively know when Henry needs some time to himself. Today, he woke up before Henry’s third day of opening series races to hype him up, even though he had no reason to be up that early.

That’s not even considering what he looks like when he comes out of the shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his curls onto some of the most well-sculpted shoulders Henry’s ever seen.

Henry is well and truly fucked.

“Hey, do people watch you guys compete?” Alex asks as Henry goes through his pre-race morning routine. “Do you have spectators?”

Henry hums, sipping his tea. “Not really. Most of the courses are barely visible from shore. They’ll put us reasonably close in for the medal race, but it’s still not much to see.”

“That’s the 15th, right?” Alex says, looking to Henry for confirmation even though he’s clearly already pulled the schedule up on his phone. “Maybe I could swing that. Our game should be late. You know, assuming we make the quarterfinals.”

Henry doesn’t quite know what to say to that. No one comes to see him compete, primarily for the aforementioned reasons of it not being the most scintillating or comprehensible sport to watch in person. Bea, at least, watches the televised races where the cameras, graphics, and commentators make it much easier to follow and texts him about a hundred times saying things like I can’t believe that asshole crossed in front of you and that Australian fucker stole your wind, which make him laugh as he reads through them once he’s back on shore.

“You don’t have to do that,” Henry demurs. “It’s really not worth it. Plus, I might not even make the medal race.”

“You will,” Alex says confidently, even though he knows next to nothing about sailing or Henry’s capabilities. Henry’s done pretty well in his first four races, but there are still six to go. “And anyway, it’s not really about watching the race. You guys deserve to have people to support and cheer for you too.”

Henry’s throat is tight. “Right, well, one step at a time,” he mumbles. Best to change the subject. “Tell me about your match today?”

Alex smiles like he knows what Henry is doing, but he lets it go, and Henry spends the rest of the time before has to depart for the race listening to Alex go on about digs and float serves and line shots. It’s a surprisingly effective way of soothing pre-race jitters and getting out of his own head, even if it’s one he knows he shouldn’t get used to.

~~~~~

Henry’s not sure he’s ever watched a beach volleyball match before, which was clearly a significant oversight on his part. He is sweating and not only because the sun is beating relentlessly down on him as he sits in the stands. It’s certainly not helped by the USA’s uniforms, which feature shorts a full hands-breadth shorter than seemingly any other team’s and vests with deeply scooped arm holes. Alex’s teammate, Liam, is wearing a white ball cap, but Alex has eschewed a hat, instead pushing his curls back from his face with a blue elastic hair band, which is more endearing than it has any right to be.

“Christ, would you look at his arse,” Pez says appreciatively from his position at Henry’s side as Alex leans over with his hands on his knees.

“You say that like I’ve been able to look anywhere else,” Henry returns. There’s no shortage of hot people in minimal amounts of spandex at the games, yet the way those shorts cling to Alex’s arse is somehow more tantalising than all of them. “I’m convinced he was specially sculpted by the gods explicitly to torment me.”

Pez tsks and slants a sideways look at him. “Still haven’t gotten him into your bed, then?”

“I’m not his type, Pez.”

On the court, Alex spikes a ball over the net, scoring a point, then runs over to Liam to celebrate. Which involves smacking each other vigorously on the arse. They’ve been doing it all match. Once, after a particularly exceptional point scored, Alex kissed him enthusiastically on the cheek.

“You’re certain about that?” Pez asks sceptically.

“You know straight men and their homoerotic sports rituals,” Henry sighs.

“Mm,” Pez hums. “I wouldn’t mind testing that hypothesis with his partner. Those arms.”

Henry snorts. “Godspeed, my friend.”

“Never underestimate my charm, Hazza,” Pez chirps, watching as Liam dives for the ball and knocks it back over toward Alex. “They really are very good at this.”

It’s not like Alex has been modest when he’s talked about their performance, but it’s very clear that he’s still managed to undersell it. The US men are practically putting on a clinic, dominating every set of the match. Both Alex and Liam are clearly exceptional players, operating like a well-oiled machine, but Henry admittedly can’t take his eyes off Alex. The way his muscles ripple under bronzed skin as he stretches to make a save. The raw power behind his serves. The brilliance of his smiles when he turns away from the net to celebrate after each point. Of course it wasn’t enough that Alex had to be gorgeous and kind and thoughtful and funny—he had to be absurdly skilled, too, even taking into consideration that everyone here is at the top of their game.

Alex is clearly still hopped up on adrenaline when Henry catches up with him after their decisive win, talking animatedly to one of the other Team USA athletes. Henry does his best to feel nothing about the way Alex lights up when he spots Henry lurking by the sidelines, immediately ditching his conversation partner to jog over to him. He’s glistening and flushed and Henry wants to lick him.

Christ, he needs to get a bloody grip.

“Did you see that save in the second set?” Alex chirps excitedly. “When I did a fucking flip and just caught the ball, and then”—he mimes a jump—“Liam slammed it into the corner?”

“It was hard to miss,” Henry tells him indulgently, biting down on his too-wide smile at Alex’s antics. “You were incredible, Alex.”

“So how’d you like your first beach volleyball game?” Alex asks. “Think you’ll come back?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Henry admits. It’s too honest by half, but entirely worth it for the truly brilliant grin he gets from Alex in return.

~~~~~

The thing about sailing is that there are no crowds you can see, no cheering you can hear. There’s just you and the boat and the wind—and nine other guys trying to cut a tighter path on the course to shave off a few seconds.

The wind is gusty during the medal race, and Henry ends up drenched in spray within the first ten seconds of getting out on the water. He loves these conditions, though, the way they push a sailor to their limits, the way it feels like you could take off in flight at any moment. The boat is responsive under his hands, skipping across the water like a stone, and he finds good angles to the wind that send him rocketing forward right off the starting gun. His luck holds, helped by the French competitor nearly capsizing in a gust and the Italian having to do a penalty turn at the second mark, and in the end he crosses the finish line at the front of the fleet in a cluster so tight it’s impossible to tell the final rankings from the water.

It probably won’t be enough to medal, even if he managed to score in the top three—his previous finishes were just a little too far back in the fleet—but frankly, he can’t find it in himself to care. Because when he finally gets back to shore, there’s an extremely excitable American who practically launches himself into Henry’s tired arms before he can even check the scores.

“Second place, you motherfucker!” Alex yelps in his ear.

Henry blinks, pulling away to look at him properly. “Are you serious?”

“They just announced it,” Alex confirms breathlessly. “What does that mean? Do you get silver?”

“No, the final scores are cumulative. It’ll depends on how the leaders finished, can you look—”

But Alex already has his phone out, looking up the scores as Henry’s coach hurries up to them, his eyes wide.

“Burton and Sheldt were both over the line at the start,” Shaan tells him urgently. “They were disqualified. With your second place, that means—”

“Fucking bronze!” Alex shouts, like he’s just won the medal, and abruptly Henry’s knees don’t feel steady enough to hold him up anymore.

It takes several minutes before Henry’s breathing returns to something like it’s normal rate, and he finds Alex sitting next to him, chewing on his thumbnail as he reads something on his phone. A short ways away, Shaan is taking care of putting away Henry’s boat for him, leaving the two of them in their own little bubble.

“This scoring system is bonkers, I hope you know,” Alex tells him. “I can’t believe it’s cumulative over eleven races.”

“I can’t believe I won a medal,” Henry replies, staring off into the distance. He can see the women’s Radial fleet on the course already, the colourful flag-patterned spinnakers cutting across the horizon. Nothing quite seems real yet.

“Yeah you did,” Alex says, grinning as he bumps his shoulder into Henry’s. “You were right, by the way. I couldn’t see jack shit. But I’m glad I was here.”

Henry’s not going to cry. He’s not. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, focusing on the connection between their shoulders like he can draw strength from it. “I am too, Alex.”

~~~~~

“Shouldn’t you be out getting wasted?” Alex asks when Henry eases the door closed behind him.

Henry really thought Alex would be asleep at this point, given that the semifinal games are tomorrow. Instead, Alex is sitting up in bed with his iPad laying on the mattress in front of him showing a paused beach volleyball game and a notebook next to that. They’d been out with a mixed group of Brits and Americans celebrating Henry’s medal and Alex and Liam’s quarterfinal victory, but Alex had begged off early to come back to their room, leaving Henry in Pez’s clutches with too much champagne flowing.

“Maybe I’m going back out,” Henry says, more defensively than is probably warranted. He is, actually. Just not to party. He walks over to his bed and pulls his medal over his head, laying it carefully on the side table where the bronze glints softly in the low light from Alex’s lamp.

“Hm,” Alex hums doubtfully as he looks Henry up and down. “You’re up to something. I can tell.”

“It’s nothing.” Fuck. He probably should have denied that.

“Henry,” Alex says flatly, giving him a Look. “I’m not gonna judge you.”

Henry sighs and leans against the wall, letting his head thunk backward. That might have been a mistake, because everything is spinning now. “I was going to sneak back to the marina and take my boat out,” he confesses.

The room is silent, and when Henry opens his eyes again, he finds Alex frowning at him. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Best time to see the stars,” Henry says with a weak smile.

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous? And against the rules?”

“Hence the sneaking.”

Alex stares another beat, then he nods, turning off his iPad. “Ok, let’s go.”

“…What?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you go out there by yourself,” Alex says firmly. “What if you slipped and hit your head or something?”

“If we got caught, you could be kicked out of the games,” Henry argues.

“And they could take away your medal,” Alex counters, folding his arms over his chest. “Whatever this is, it must mean a lot to you if you’re risking something like that. So if you’re going, I’m going.”

Christ, but he is stubborn. “My boat isn’t exactly built for two people, Alex.”

Alex shrugs. “We’ll make it work.”

Against the odds and all good sense, they do. Sneaking into the marina is easier than expected, thanks to shockingly lax security, and they find Henry’s boat amongst the other Lasers slumbering by the waterside in their cradles. Henry is well-practised at launching it by himself, so they just have to make sure Alex doesn’t capsize it when he climbs in—a near miss that leaves Alex white-knuckling the edge of the cockpit and Henry trying to hold back his laughter as Alex glares at him. The breeze has slackened now that the sun is down, just strong enough to take them out into the bay, where Henry drops the sail again and they both cram into the tiny cockpit with their knees bent and their legs weaved together.

“So,” Alex says, once they’re settled in and staring up at the stars, “are you gonna tell me what this is really about? Because I’m guessing it’s not just stargazing. Not that they aren’t amazing out here, but still.”

There’s a reason Henry didn’t put up much of a fight about Alex coming along, and it’s not how unspeakably beautiful he is with the pale moonlight in his curls. They might have only met a week ago, but he feels safe with Alex in a way he rarely does around anyone, able to share parts of him that he usually keeps buried. He takes a deep breath, letting every point of connection between them ground him.

“My father taught me how to sail,” Henry finally begins. “When I was small, we used to go out on his boat at night—a much larger one than this, mind you—until you almost couldn’t see the shore, just so we could see the stars better.” He swallows against the lump in his throat. “He died when I was eighteen. All of this—the racing, the Olympics, coming out here after regattas to look at the stars no matter where I am in the world—everything I do. It’s all for him.”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the soft lap of the water against the hull of the boat, but then Henry feels Alex’s fingers against his, his hand pushing into Henry’s loose grip as he twines their fingers together and squeezes. “He’d be so fucking proud of you, H.”

“I know,” Henry whispers, not trusting his voice.

“Absolutely no pressure, but…” Another squeeze. “Do you want to talk about him?”

For the first time in a long while, Henry does.

~~~~~

“What do you think?” Alex asks as he emerges from the bathroom. He turns in a slow circle, holding his arms out to the side, to show off his outfit—absurdly tiny shorts that are practically painted on and a lacy shirt that he’s seen fit to close with only a single button just above his navel. There’s a gold Olympic rings pendant laying over his collarbones, and his dark curls are shining with whatever product he’s put in them to tame them just so.

Henry narrowly avoids swallowing his tongue. “I think you’ll be very popular,” he manages.

Alex’s nose wrinkles as if that is not entirely the point. He’s been invited to a party at some extremely exclusive club in the city hosted by the Brazilian women’s beach volleyball team, who happen to be two stunningly gorgeous women that seem to particularly enjoy flirting with Alex. Not that Henry can blame them, but that doesn’t make him feel any less grumpy about the whole situation.

“I’m not trying to be popular,” Alex says as he turns again, twisting around to look at his arse in the mirror. He frowns, and mutters, “Only one person’s eye I’m trying to catch.”

Henry isn’t sure if he’s meant to hear that, or respond to it, but he swallows against the disappointment that wells up in his chest. So Alex does have someone in mind. He should have expected it, really—there’s no way someone who looks like Alex could go the whole games and not find company eventually. Not to mention he’s going to be playing in the gold medal match in a day’s time, and is thus guaranteed no lower than a silver medal. There are always plenty of participants at the games who consider bedding an Olympic medalist the next best thing if they’re not going to win one themselves.

“Well,” Henry says, trying to appear as if he’s reading and not surreptitiously ogling his roommate, “whoever it is, they’d have to be an idiot not to notice you.”

“Ok, but I’m asking what you think,” Alex says, a little petulantly.

Henry sighs and closes his book on his thumb. “You look incredible, Alex. Truly.”

That makes Alex beam, and Henry’s stomach flips. Christ, he’s hopeless.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Alex asks, casting his eyes over Henry’s slightly ragged joggers and Team Great Britain hoodie from 2012. “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to let you into the club like that.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, Alex,” Henry says. “I’m not going to any club.”

“Uh, yeah you are. You’re coming with me,” Alex says, like it’s obvious.

Henry scoffs. “I think my invitation got lost.”

“You’re a medalist,” Alex points out with an unnecessary eye roll. “Medalists have an automatic invite to every party. I thought this wasn’t your first Olympics?”

Henry pointedly looks down at his hoodie then back up again. “I know how these things work, Alex. I’m also certain that none of them are interested in having me there.”

“Well, I want you there, so.” He cocks an eyebrow, like he’s challenging Henry to deny him.

Like he knows Henry won’t.

Henry refuses to bring his medal with him because he’s absolutely not going to risk getting mugged for it, but in the end he doesn’t need the proof; apparently, he’s somehow on the list already along with Alex. And also, perhaps unsurprisingly, Pez, who’s already inside and practically shrieks when he sees Henry.

“Hazza! It’s a miracle!” he shouts as he looks appraisingly at Henry’s sedate trousers and the button-down shirt, which Alex had insisted he leave open down to the middle of his sternum. “I thought we had big plans to sulk in our room tonight.”

Henry glares at him and ignores Alex’s curious gaze. “I wasn’t aware having a quiet night in was a crime.”

“It’s the Olympics, H!” Alex puts in, clapping his shoulder with enough force to make Henry nearly stumble. “You can have all the quiet nights you want after the games.”

“See, this man knows how it’s done,” Pez agrees, then turns his attention to Alex. “I don’t suppose your dashing court partner is going to be here tonight…?”

Alex shrugs. “He said he was coming.”

Pez claps delightedly. “Wonderful!”

Alex says he isn’t drinking tonight, given his ongoing competition, which is understandable. Henry, on the other hand, is fairly certain he’s not going to survive the night watching Alex dance with scantily-clad women without significant assistance. He starts with a gin and tonic, but Pez keeps on appearing in a whirlwind with a myriad of brightly-coloured shots, so it’s not long before he’s very much feeling the loosening effects of the alcohol thrumming through his veins. When Alex reappears some time later with a sheen of sweat on his skin and an ipê-amarelo in his hair, Henry even lets himself be dragged out onto the dance floor, pretending his heart isn’t hammering in his chest when Alex pulls their bodies close with his hands on Henry’s hips.

“Hey, that first party we met,” Alex asks, his voice low and husky in Henry’s ear, just audible over the thumping bass, “were you trying to hit on me?”

Henry can’t help it; he laughs. “Well, yes, at the start,” he admits despite himself, his lips thoroughly loosened by all those shots. “I wanted to talk to you, so I did. I figured out you weren’t interested, but…” He shakes his head. “It didn’t matter. I was happy just getting to know you. Then I heard about your room situation, so it was kind of moot.”

Alex’s hands tighten on his waist. “Right.” There’s an odd note in his voice as he pulls back to stare up at Henry with those big brown eyes, the lights of the club painting multicoloured patterns on his face. “And if I wasn’t not interested…?”

There are far too many negatives in that sentence for Henry to be able to parse in his current state. He blinks at Alex, frowning deeply. He might also be slightly cross-eyed. “What?”

“Fuck, you’re really drunk, aren’t you?” Alex says with a huff of laughter. He pushes a lock of hair back from Henry’s forehead. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to the room, yeah?”

“Sensible,” Henry says through a yawn, and contentedly leans against Alex’s side as he steers them toward the exit.

~~~~~

The American women take bronze in beach volleyball, and Henry sweats out the rest of the alcohol in his blood as he sits in the unrelenting tropical sun at the match. Next to him, Alex is in high spirits and seemingly all too happy to add to Henry’s torment.

“Did I tell you about the time we protested the beach volleyball uniforms rule at a tournament match?

Henry squints at him behind his sunglasses. He doesn’t remember much about the  previous night, which he suspects is probably for the best. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“You know the women have these rules that they have to wear these skimpy bathing suits while the men get shorts and tank tops, right?” Alex explains. “Well, Liam and I made a deal with the women’s team to trade uniforms.”

It is frankly in Henry’s best interests not to picture such a thing, and he tries valiantly, but Alex already has his phone out and is shoving a photo in his face. In it, Alex and Liam are posing next to each other, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, wearing nothing but huge grins and matching tiny red bikinis. It’s actually absurd how well Alex’s pecs fill out the top, but the bottoms are another matter entirely. A women’s bikini contains decidedly less fabric than a men’s suit would, and the tiny scrap of fabric is stretched to its absolute limits, leaving precisely nothing to the imagination.

“The officials made us go change before we could play the match, of course,” Alex continues, oblivious to Henry’s suffering. “But it was worth it.”

“Quite,” Henry nearly whimpers.

“We still have the suits, actually. Said we’d wear them again at the medal ceremony if we won gold this year. Guess we’ll see tomorrow, huh?”

Henry has to close his eyes and breathe through his nose, and hopes desperately that Alex doesn’t notice.

~~~~~

Somehow, Alex manages to finagle Henry a seat in the front row for the final match. It’s a little awkward, sitting with Alex’s family, all of whom eye Henry with confused suspicion when he tries to explain how a British sailor ended up as a special guest of their son and brother. Apparently, Alex hadn’t bothered telling them about his altered living arrangements, a fact that has his mother—who Henry understands is some sort of American politician—pulling out her phone to have words with the US Olympic Committee and possibly the IOC as well, before her daughter tells her to cut it out and watch the match.

Alex is spectacular, of course, even when the Brazilians give them a run for their money, forcing the match into a nail-biting third set. Henry ends up with each of his hands crushed in the matching grips of Alex’s sister and her girlfriend (also Alex’s best friend), a statistician who has apparently run all the stats on this game and keeps rattling off numbers and percentages that Henry admittedly doesn’t quite follow.

It comes down to the final match point. Liam serves the ball, and they end up in a spectacular volley that seems to go on and on—the Brazilians make an incredible save that keeps it in play, somehow blocking a spike that Alex sends rocketing over the net, and Liam dives to prevent a ball from going out of bounds that Alex already touched. Finally, the Americans set up a shot, winding up like they’re going to drive it to the back of the court, but once the Brazilians have moved backwards to counter it, Alex softens his strike and the ball falls weakly into the Brazilian zone on the other side of the net.

The resulting cheers are deafening as Alex and Liam crash together in an ecstatic hug, knocking Liam’s cap off and nearly sending both of them down into the sand. Then Alex is running full-tilt toward them, barely pausing to accept an American flag from someone in the stands, which he throws over his shoulders like a cape as he gets enveloped in hugs from his family over the railing. It’s incredible, and Henry is so bloody happy for him, and—

And Alex grabs him, Henry assumes to drag him into a hug, but then Alex is pulling back and putting his hands on either side of Henry’s face and kissing him soundly on the mouth. Henry can see at least five cameras out of his peripheral vision, all crowding in to try and get the shot, but his attention is quickly torn away because Alex is kissing him, full and deep and claiming, and Henry can do nothing but cling for dear life as he kisses Alex back.

Alex presses their foreheads together when they finally part and says something, though Henry can’t quite comprehend it over the roar of the crowd. Only later will the words finally resolve themselves in his head, once Alex has been drawn away to be congratulated by others and Henry is still sitting dazed and touching his lips as people ask him questions he doesn’t know the answers to.

“I’m interested, baby.”

~~~~~

Alex and Liam do not, in fact, wear bikinis at their medal ceremony. Henry finds out later that the US Olympic committee’s emphatic directive that athletes wear their official Team USA track suit or else was, in the end, enough to spook the two men into behaving.

“That, and I’m pretty sure my mother would murder me,” Alex tells him once Henry manages to steal him away from the numerous well-wishers and endless press after the ceremony.

Henry has no clue where they’re going, having never been in the non-public parts of this stadium, so he lets Alex take over, leading them into the bowels of the training areas and locker rooms. By now it’s nearly three in the morning, and Henry is slightly delirious, though that’s less from the fatigue than the fact that he still hasn’t recovered from Alex kissing him in front of the entire world. They could have gone back to their room in the Village, except that apparently neither of them are willing to wait any longer.

“We should talk,” Henry says when Alex finally pushes him into an empty training room and closes the door behind them with a soft snick.

“Counterpoint,” Alex says, grinning wickedly as he crosses the room. There’s a swagger in his stride that really only comes when there’s a gold medal hanging around a person’s neck and, unfortunately, it’s devastatingly attractive. He backs Henry up against a wall, sliding his hands up Henry’s chest as he leans in so close their noses brush. “This now. Talking later.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Henry breathes.

“I know I do, sweetheart,” Alex says smugly, and Henry has no choice but to kiss the smirk off his face.

This kiss is nothing like the one they shared after the match. Henry takes his time, luxuriating in the slide of their lips and the cut of Alex’s teeth, licking into Alex’s mouth to feel their tongues slip against each other. He gets his hands into Alex’s hair like he’s wanted to since that first night, letting the curls twine around his fingers as he tightens his grip in a way that makes Alex moan into his mouth. Alex’s body is a firm weight against him, nothing but solid, corded muscle clenching under Henry’s palm. His hips rock forward, so subtly that Henry’s not even sure he knows he’s doing it, but the effect is unmistakable all the same.

In one smooth movement, Henry turns them, pressing Alex back against the wall and dropping to his knees, and the sight of the hard length of Alex’s cock straining in his trousers is enough to make Henry’s mouth water. He looks back up to find Alex gaping at him, his chest heaving and his knuckles going pale where his hands are clenched into fists by his side.

Henry licks his lips and slides his palms up Alex’s thighs to the elastic waistband of his trousers. “Can I blow you?”

“Fuck, please,” Alex exhales, a gratifying tremor in his voice.

Grinning, Henry hooks his fingers into the waistband and yanks downward to reveal—

“You’re a bloody demon, you know that?” Henry huffs as Alex’s cock twitches against the skimpy red spandex of the bikini bottoms.

“I said I was gonna wear it on the podium, and I keep my word,” Alex says, grinning, only to swear loudly when Henry leans in and presses his open mouth to the damp spot on the fabric.

Thank god this area is deserted at this time of night because Alex is loud as Henry shows off his not inconsiderable skill. He teases Alex through the bikini until he’s trembling all over, and when Henry finally sucks him down to the root, it takes no more than a few swirls of his tongue before Alex is coming with a shout and a fist tugging on Henry’s hair hard enough that Henry sees stars.

“Gold medal,” Alex breathes, his chest heaving and his thumb pressing at the corner of Henry’s mouth as Henry gentles him through the last aftershocks.

Henry doesn’t have the heart tell him that he’s not the first person to say that at the games. If cock sucking were an Olympic sport, Henry’s medal count would put Michael Phelps to shame. None of that matters now. Alex curls his hands in the front of Henry’s jacket and drags him back up to kiss him deeply, and the way they fit together is simply… perfect.

Alex doesn’t miss a beat in the rhythm of the kiss as his hand slides down to palm Henry’s cock through the front of his trousers, but Henry catches his wrist. “Later, love,” he murmurs against Alex’s lips. “What I want, we need to go back to the room for.”

They have two days before the end of the games, and Henry intends to make the most of it.

[gerardpilled]

I want to say thanks for acknowledging and being critical of racism done by MCR band members and racism in the scene in general. I just recently got into MCR a year ago on a deeper scale and I have found many things off putting and kind of yikes. It's nice seeing someone who is critical of what the band members have done in the past and not excusing them and addressing that it was an issue as a whole. I used to be very hateful towards Lindsey but now I realize that it would be hypocritical (I still do not like MSI just due to it not being my taste in music and I don't care for that shock value type lyrics). I was wondering if you know any resources that talk more about racism in the scene? It's something I'd like to know more about

Oh it’s no problem! Thank you for thanking me, but I don’t see myself as doing anything special. I was raised in an environment where I was fortunate enough to be around people and friends who have made me aware of implicit racism -from my self and others- since an early age. Hearing “well, that’s cause you’re white” is a playful joke but it also made me aware of stuff! Just from what I’ve seen in recent years, the shortcomings of white people who are the focus of fandom are often ignored. There’s nothing wrong with pointing out a racist thing your fave said or did because it doesn’t necessarily make them A Racist™️ (sometimes it can). It also helps people recognize the issues before they get worse. POC aren’t a monolith - there are plenty of things disagreed on amongst any community - but there are definitely over arching sentiments.

Anyway, I’m basically just reiterating a bunch of talking points made by poc on here. As for further reading, I feel like the best sources for me have been mutuals’ posts. First hand stories. Being receptive when people share how certain things make them feel. Racism in this particular scene is also sort of a new and emerging topic as the people who lived through the heart of it are just now reaching authorship age. I look forward to seeing what comes out in the next few years.

What I have right now:

My Chemical Relaxer - a short autobiographical story about growing up Black and emo

News story about how the current state of hardcore is looking much more diverse

Sing It Zine - zine made by fanartists a few years ago!! It’s great, I bought a digital copy myself. It’s filled with art and short essays about how it felt to grow up in a scene that often ignored non white people. Also a bunch of tumblr users participated, so it offers a great follow list if you’re interested.

If anyone else has any suggestions, add them in a reblog, or send them and I’ll do it!

[greyspirehollow]

Vesuvia weekly ; First kiss with the courtiers 🎉

Pairing : The courtiers x reader

Fandom : The Arcana visual novel

Warnings : none. Just fluff.

Valdemar:

You're the one who initiated the idea of a kiss. You had noticed how affectionate gestures didn't come out naturally or often on their part (at least not in the conventional way) ; and so you wanted to try and gently suggest it.

Confused at first ; They had forgotten what a kiss felt like, or how to do it properly.

They will need to practice by just kissing your cheek from time to time, just to get used to the way they need to purse their lips and the feeling of something against them.

A week or two later, they will gently grab you by the arm and drag you somewhere quiet ; they will slightly push you against the wall, their eyes never leaving yours as they paused, and eventually, they lean in carefully to meet your lips with their own

it's pretty calculated and thought out to begin with, almost mechanical. You didn't blame them ; it must have been a while. As they part away, you gently whisper : "try not to think about it. Go with the feeling..."

And you both go in for another one. This time, they manage to make their lips dance with yours softly for a while, before parting away. You could swear their cheeks had tinted in a warmer hue than usual.

Vulgora:

uhm... Force.

Prepare to have your breath taken away.

They are the one who brought up the idea. Ever since you've been together, you've had your fair share of energetic and violent displays of affection. Whether it was carrying you around while chuckling like a madman or threatening anyone that made you upset ; or having your cheeks pampered with tons of kisses when no one was looking.

They are all jumpy when you agree to come with them in a less crowded corner. They look at you with a wide excited toothy grin as you rest your hands onto their shoulders and start to lean in. You barely have time to process it ; their lips crash into yours with passion.

It's heated and full of energy, yet you can sense they're afraid that it might be a bit too much for you. That doesn't stop them from kissing you so agressively ; but not aggressive in the painful sense, more the overwhelming way. They are so excited, have so much love to give you that they can't think of any other way to convey it all.

Once your lips part, you gasp for air, looking at them, baffled. You know they were a handful, but damn. Not that you minded. "Phew, that was... That was something else." you breathe out, their contagious grin spreading across your own face. Before you know it, your face is getting attacked with kisses again.

Will brag about it in an argument ; "AND I KISS MY PARTNER SO WELL THEY'RE ALWAYS BREATHLESS AFTERWARDS, TWAT!!" or something similar.

Vlastomil:

He has kissed before, he's just not exceptional at it. He's not bad at it, don't make me say what I didn't say ; he's simply good.

You nearly brought up the idea at the same time ; and yet none of you said it out loud. One night, sitting next to each other, you just looked at one another and leaned in at the same time, closing your eyes and meeting your lips with surprising harmony in your timing. This was the moment. This was right. It's as if things had fallen into place : nothing pushed you or held you back.

His lips are surprisingly soft. You'd expected them to at least tingle because of their little beard, but not even. They were a tad moist, but that was to be expected.

Once your lips part you can't help but look fondly into each other's eyes, your hands intertwined, as you just let the moment sink in.

Volta:

The idea had been swirling around in her head for a while now. But she never brought it up. She was much too shy. Holding hands was already making a stuttering mess out of her, so a kiss?? It doesn't mean she doesn't want to, it just flusters her beyond what's reasonable.

When you bring it up to her, the sweet potato will go bright red, nod, and look at you with big expectant eyes.

You have to lean down to bring yourself to her level and she has to be on her tippy toes to reach you. She'll close her eyes tightly, purse her lips and go in for a smooch. It doesn't last too long, maybe half a second, but it seems to be enough for her.

She'll never dare to do anything too involved in terms of kisses, so take it slow with her. But after that, she will tug at your sleeve and timidly ask for a kiss more often (and how the hell could you even think about denying her?).

Valerius:

The most skilled out of everyone. And believe it or not, you didn't even have to think about introducing him to the idea. Ever since you've confessed to him, he knew he would kiss you. And that didn't seem to be negociable. But when would be the right time...?

It was during a party. Just a small annual gathering. But he'd noticed how the nobles seemed to gravitate around you. He didn't like that one bit. He frowned, walking towards your little group, before swiftly snatching you away with a defty hand to your waist and a kiss to your lips

Oh. Gods. You had not expected that at all. His lips linger on yours, the warm taste of wine sweeping across your mouth as he moves his against yours. You can't help but hold onto his shoulders, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. The other nobles, after a while, seemingly uncomfortable, leave you and the Consul alone.

After your lips part, you look at him with a cheeky grin "Did Lucio teach you?", you ask. He groaned, rolled his eyes and swirled his wine before taking a sip out of it "I taught Lucio" he replies, avoiding looking at your eyes.

[destinysbounty]

Ever since Crystalized came out, there's been this theory circulating that the reason the Overlord somehow managed to manifest crystal power seemingly out of nowhere and with no explanation (at least, none that I can find/remember), is because his fight with Zane affected his power in some way.

The main evidence for this is that:

Zane was the last person to fight the Overlord

Ice is technically a crystalline structure, depending on how it's formed, and Zane is the master of ice

When Harumi was first resurrected, she found the Overlord's spirit imbued into a purple crystal

As evidenced by past seasons, the Overlord's power seems to be influenced by his circumstances and environment in the wake of his last defeat. During Rebooted, a tech center was built over his resting place, and he ended up taking on the abilities and limitations of a computer virus. And in this case, the theory suggests that the Overlord's power was then influenced again by all the ice surrounding him as Zane destroyed both of their physical forms.

This does, to some extent, seem to fall in line with everything else we know about the Overlord. The Overlord is a being of shadow and darkness, and the shape of a shadow will always be influenced by the light around it. (And if we want to get into the theory that the Overlord was created as a result of the FSM trying to purge the oni blood from his veins, then you could even bring up the fact that the oni are shapeshifters sooo).

Now, I'll be the first to admit that this theory is ultimately pretty circumstantial, and there's nothing in canon to point to it being explicitly true. BUT, the cool thing about this theory is that it does also retroactively solve another big fandom mystery: that is, it explains how Zane survived his fight with the Overlord.

Let me explain.

When Zane came back to life after his fight with the Digital Overlord, while it was never outright explained how he did so, it was implied that he came back the same way the Overlord had: by spiritually manifesting within the systems at Borg Tower - specifically, the Digiverse. But that doesn't really answer the question, does it?

Like, the Overlord coming back as a spiritual manifestation makes sense. He's a regenerative being, an immortal abstraction of all the evil in the world. And Zane, as far as we know, is very much not that. So what could have happened to cause Zane, a nindroid, to end up being resurrected in the same way as the god of darkness? Why did he come back to life, instead of passing onto the afterlife? Even Lloyd, the special-est boy in all Ninjago, made a quick visit to the Departed Realm and only came back because the FSM said he could.

And true, it's certainly possible that Zane had a similar encounter with the FSM. Or that his power source is responsible for his resurrection, and just as we may never know how his power source works he may also never know how it brought him back to life. Those are all very possible solutions, and you're welcome to just accept those ideas and move one.

But if you're like me and you don't find those answers particularly satisfying, here's another possibility:

Just as Zane's power has influenced the Overlord, the Overlord's power has influenced Zane. In the explosion of Golden Power that caused both of them to be destroyed in unison, their souls became intertwined. So yes, Zane was meant to die. And judging by his account of the situation in Decoded, he did die. And maybe a peaceful afterlife was well within arm's reach, maybe he was just about to grab the FSM's hand...but then something pulled him back. His soul, chained to the Overlord's dark power, dragged him to the land of the living once more.

And if you really want to get into it, then you could even theorize that this connection ended up influencing Zane's power as well. During the Ice Chapter he was capable of turning people into ice samurai zombie-things kept under his control, as well as creating ice constructs like Boreal. These are not abilities that have been established in the ice power-set, nor are they logical powers for an ice elemental to have. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but the Forbidden Scroll doesn't give you new powers, it just enhances and turbo-boosts what you already have. Which is why it did nothing when Kai held it, as his power had been stolen from him at the time.

(Now before you ask why Pixal could use the Scroll despite seeminlgy not having any powers, there are very subtle implications that she had developed a very, very minor sixth sense due to her inheriting some of Zane's power. If anyone wants me to explain that in greater detail, I'd be more than happy to.)

And yes, Aspheera is also capable of creating elemental zombie/mummy things and other such constructs, but she did all that before she found the Scroll. This is a power-set she had by virtue of her being a powerful sorcerer, not something granted by wielding the Scroll.

And yet somehow, the Scroll did seem to give Zane these powers. Powers that so far have only been exhibited by two people in the series: Aspheera, and the Overlord. So if we submit to the theory that Zane and the Overlord's fight have caused their powers to mix a little, and the Scroll magnifies your power....well, it suddenly becomes very possible that the Scroll amplified some of the dark energy he inherited from the Overlord and awakened some of the Ice Emperor's more unique abilities.

And if that's true, then that really just kinda makes the whole Ice Emperor sting that much more. All of the good things Zane has done, all of his biggest sacrifices, all led to this moment. To him becoming the Ice Emperor.

I dunno. It's just something to think about.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ FASCINATION.

fandom. tears of themis

pairing. vyn richter x gn!reader

content warnings. suggestive, making out, vyn is down bad, heavily inspired by the 3rd anniversary cards, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.9k

notes. so. 3rd anni cards. i still haven't recovered. and as a piano player, vyn's card really did smth to me.

Ever since you saw the grand piano in Vyn’s house, you’ve been fascinated by it. The sleek edges, painted white and always shining— it was a beautiful instrument and truly suited your lover. Despite being built for concerts, the expected sound being loud and rich, every time Vyn played on it, it brought forth the gentlest melodies. 

Maybe it was because of him, fingertips barely touching the keys, hands gliding over the instrument while he gently swayed to the music he played. Half lidded eyes following the notations, filling the empty silence in the house with wonderful tunes. It must be, you tell yourself, the absolute mastery he held over his instrument was astonishing. 

Hours could pass by and you would be never bored, listening and watching Vyn play, completely immersed in his own world. Too rarely it happens, where he would sit down and play in front of you. You yearn for it, to see him like this— content, happy, peaceful. 

So of course you were fascinated by the instrument, the white grand piano in Vyn’s house. An important part in his life and with that, in yours as well. Sometimes you would press some keys as well, your own melodies much simpler than his, but every time you sit down, you feel even more connected to him than usual. And every time you sit down, you’re once again reminded of your thoughts about this instrument.

This is why you don’t hear Vyn entering the room and watching you with a small smile on his lips. You’re completely lost in your own thoughts, gently easing some accords from the piano and stringing them together in a song. 

You almost scream, when he’s suddenly besides you and compliments your skill. With a racing heart you gaze up to him, arms crossed and leaning against the piano. And that knowing smile, having you caught in your ‘act’. He knows of your fascination and he always loves to remind you about it. 

He’s close to teasing you, confident he can make you flush in embarrassment. And he’s right, the piercing gaze of his turning your cheeks red and making your fingers tremble. Vyn notices, of course he does and lowers his head. 

“If you ease not only your fingers but your entire hand, you won’t cramp up so easily,” he murmurs right next to your ear, making you shudder. You know exactly what he wants, and if it were any other day, you would’ve followed his lead easily. Instead you lift your hands from the piano keys and catch his, pulling them downwards and pressing his body even closer towards yours. 

With a coy smile on your lips you turn your head, catch his eyes and slowly ease your fingers across his. “Show me,” you murmur back and lean closer towards his face, so close that you can almost feel his lips on yours. His breath hitches and you can’t help but smirk triumphantly. He hadn’t expected this, you being so bold tonight. 

Placing your lips onto his, latching on them, gasping when he presses closer— he’s at your mercy, something that happens too rarely. You release his hands from your grip, while wiggling on the seat to turn towards him, but it’s still uncomfortable to kiss him with your neck craned. You would’ve stopped, had he not gasped against your lips oh so wonderfully, responding oh so eagerly. 

You endure and almost forget how you’re in an uncomfortable position, lips flush and hands pulling hair and then clothes, tugging at seams— anything to touch the skin beneath. And there is nothing more beautiful than the wrecked man you’re kissing right now, flushing beneath your attention while you devour him. He shudders when his shirt finally falls open, your hands eagerly exploring the exposed skin. And the noises— god, the noises he makes are heavenly and sinful at the same time. 

The sudden sound of wrinkled paper pulls you from your daze, pulling you away from his lips to catch your breath. You glance at the mess he made, throwing the notations that have previously rested on the stand across the piano and floor when he rested a hand on it. 

“What you do to me,” he pants, still out of breath and oh— Vyn has never looked so delicious, so eager, so greedy for more. It makes your mind spin, seeing him so flushed, so affected by you and you can’t help but want for more. 

Mind made up, you rise from your seat and push him against the piano, watching Vyn tense when the instrument fills the room with random notes. It almost hurts in your ears, the noise still ringing but everything fades when you catch his pleading eyes. He wants more and who are you to deny him?

“Let me hear you, Vyn,” you say while towering over him, chest heaving at the sight before you. “Let me hear every noise you make,” you murmur, lips latching on his skin and leaving marks behind. And the sounds that leave his mouth, the gasps, the moans, the whines— they’re the most beautiful thing you’ve heard in a while. 

taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @auraxins , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @gnosticneko , @peace-for-levi

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[lucysarah-c]

Second question!

(sorry for the delay, work got in the way >___> Once again, there is absolutely no rush to reply to these <3 Especially because I know I will make a mess of this ask in particular lol) I think you mentioned in one of your previous posts that you think Levi would very much be of the opinion "my past is my own, and just because we are together does not mean you are entitled to know it". Or something on those lines.

Now, imagine Levi and Y/N have been together for a while and, despite not pressing him, she has made clear that she is interested in where he comes from, in understanding "all of him". Do you thin Levi would still be tight-lipped about his past? Or do you see him randomly dropping things whenever he feels comfortable, like he told Nifa about Kenny?

And finally... do you think he would ever talk voluntarily about Furlan and Isabel? How would that conversation go? And, how do you see Levi replying to Y/N saying somethig like "I think they would be proud to see how far you got"?

That's it, I promise my questions should be done for a while uahahaha I know I did it in my previous ask, but thank you very much for taking the time to read these and for the patience you have when replying to all of us and for putting up with the fandom in general! I wish you a lovery day Lucy and I send you a heartfelt hug <3

Hi, Feris! It's always a pleasure to see you in my inbox, sweetie <3

I love it when I have clear answers for asks, haha. I think Levi would first start by casually dropping little details about his life. Like, maybe one day they’re both lying in bed, and she’s playing with his hair when she notices a scar on his head. She could ask about it, and Levi would just go, “Oh, that? It’s from when Farlan and I stole our first 3DMG. It was so broken that even after I tried to fix it, it went berserk. I hit the corner of a roof and left blood everywhere, haha. But Farlan couldn’t stop laughing long enough to help me—the idiot.”

I imagine Levi doing this a lot—sharing the most heartbreaking stories like they’re funny memories. And she’d be there like, “…sweetie, that’s actually traumatizing and sad.” I feel like, as you mentioned, he’d drop these things randomly when he felt comfortable enough.

This next part is based on personal experience since one of my parents is really secretive about their life. I don’t think Levi would avoid talking about Farlan or Isabel, even on a daily basis. If he’s comfortable with her, I feel like he’d bring them up in conversation more often than we might expect. But I don’t see him sitting down to explain everything in detail, you know? Like, Levi wouldn’t act like they never existed or try to hide them, and the same goes for his mother or Kenny. He might mention them casually in conversations, but I don’t think he’d willingly go through the vulnerability of talking in-depth about the experience of losing them. If that makes sense?

Levi’s past would be like a puzzle she’d slowly piece together. He’s the type of partner who would share the most character-defining story on a lazy Sunday while making pancakes, all because something in the moment reminded him of it, as if it were nothing.

As for the comment you suggested Y/N make, I think he’d definitely be touched by it. He’d probably go quiet for a moment, breaking eye contact as he tries to process the feeling. Then, in a quiet voice, he’d murmur, “Thank you. But I’d still prefer it if they were here… those idiots.” Softly, almost under his breath. If they were close, maybe he’d squeeze her hand or rest his forehead against hers for a moment while he gathered himself, not wanting to show too much vulnerability.

Thank you so much for all your sweet comments, T-T! Truly, I appreciate them. Sending you a big, tight hug back!

[captainsophiestark]

Nothing Wrong With Emotions

Platonic!Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024! Requested by Anon! Hope you like it, Nonnie, and thanks for being patient through the delay!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day Twenty-Six Prompt: "You were the first."

Summary: Anakin's at the beginning of the worst two days of his life. Thankfully, his best friend is there when he needs them, and they're more emotionally intelligent than some of the other Jedi.

Word Count: 4,903

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

My mind whirled as I marched through the halls of the Jedi temple, the length of my to-do list rapidly creeping towards overwhelming. This war had been going on for far too long, and even worse, there'd been a growing disturbance in the Force that had been nagging at the back of my mind for days. I kept glancing outside, expecting to see dark storm clouds through the windows to reflect the storm I felt coming with every fiber of my being, but the bright blue sky was unobstructed.

Something was wrong. I knew it, and so did the entire Jedi Council and then some. But none of us could quite figure out what.

Until anything more concrete could be figured out, we all still had mountains of work to accomplish. I needed to visit Jocasta in the Archives, check out five different books, bring a few to the Creche, meet with Master Windu-

My mind and body came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the hallway like I'd physically run into a wall. My to-do list, the lurking low-level disturbance in the Force, and just about everything else in my mind had just been shoved violently to the side by the feelings being put out by my best friend, who was apparently just down the hall from me.

Anakin Skywalker and I had met when he became a Padawan. We'd crossed paths regularly enough and spent enough time together that we'd bonded quickly, and now, he was probably my closest friend in all the worlds. As a result, I could usually read and feel him through the Force better than anyone else. But with the knot of negative emotions he was putting out right now, I was betting a Jedi in the Outer Rim would be able to notice.

I frowned, dropping my data pad on the nearest table and turning to go after Anakin. I had no idea what could've caused the hornet's nest of energy my best friend was putting out, but there was no way I was going to go about my day and ignore it.

I had to jog a little to catch up to him, since he was walking away from me. I caught him at the end of one of the Temple's hallways, seemingly headed for the hanger. I grabbed his elbow before he could round the corner, and he whirled on me with such a fierce scowl that, had it been anybody else, I would've flinched.

"Ani? What's wrong?"

Anakin practically growled, his shoulders up by his ears and his jaw clenched. Still, he had the gaull to say, "Nothing."

I scoffed. "My friend, I've never seen a more obvious lie in my life. I know you much better than that, although you apparently don't think so."

That negative air around Anakin instensified. He was clearly hanging on by a thread. I glanced around the hallway, and although no one else was around, I knew from first-hand experience that the Jedi Temple wasn't always the best place to process strong emotions.

"Alright, how about we go somewhere else?" I suggested, gently taking Anakin's arm again. He kept his glare trained on me, the swarming storm still clearly raging, but he didn't try to pull away from me either. Gently, slowly, I led Anakin away from the Temple, and thankfully, he followed.

"Where are we going?" Anakin barked, the first words he'd managed since his lie in the hallway. I glanced back at him with a smile.

"A place that's good for processing shit. Just trust me for a minute, okay?"

Anakin didn't respond, but he didn't make a move to leave, either, and the dark cloud centered on his chest didn't get any bigger. We climbed into my speeder, and after a short ride, parked at the top of one of the tallest buildings on the planet. The sun had just started to set, painting the sky in beautiful colors that didn't match the lurking darkness at all.

I hopped out, and when Anakin didn't immediately follow me, I motioned for him to do the same. After another moment's hesitation, he slowly climbed out of the passenger seat, glaring doubtfully around us.

"What is this place?" he asked. His tone had lost some of its gravel, which was a relief. I smiled and spread my arms wide, gesturing to the rooftop before us.

"This is paradise," I said. "A smaller, separate loction to the Coruscant Gardens. I made friends with the gardeners here a while ago, and they agreed to let me come up here and hang out whenever I wanted, as long as I don't hurt the plants. It's become my favorite place to be when I need... space. From the rest of the Jedi, to process things, from the war and the senate and whatever else... for anything, really."

"What do you mean, when you need space from the rest of the Jedi?"

I turned back to Anakin with a raised eyebrow. The set of his shoulders alone told me he knew exactly what I meant by "space from the Jedi", but they also told me he might not be in the mood to be teased about it.

"Well... you know, sometimes the Council and everybody can get a little... stuffy. And they taught me a lot of great techniques for managing my emotions, but meditation takes a lot of fucking practice and doesn't always work for me, especially in the middle of a storm. So, I've found other strategies for when the regular Jedi ones don't work. And from the energy you're putting out into the world right now, I thought you could use something like that."

Anakin frowned, but he took a few steps closer to me, away from the speeder. I gave him a tentative smile.

"Are you saying meditation doesn't work for you? That... that what the masters have taught us doesn't work for you?"

I shrugged. "A lot of the time, it does. More and more the more I practice. But sometimes, no, Ani, it doesn't work for me. The feelings are too strong or get too built up, and I need another way to bleed off steam before the kettle boils over, so to speak. Like this!"

I turned from Anakin and raised my hand, using the Force to start the program I'd put together up here years ago. To the side of the garden, in the empty parking space next to my speeder, a plate shot up and into the air. I used my blaster to shoot it before it could come back down, and I grinned as the thing shattered to pieces. Then, I turned back to Anakin with a smile.

"It's more satisfying to smash the plates by hand, but I can't do that from a distance, and I wanted to show off."

Anakin just stared at me for a long moment. To my relief, his surprise and confusion seemed to be taking over some of the space his anger had been occupying before.

"Are you really telling me that when you're angry... you come up here and smash plates?"

"When I get angry enough, yeah. It's not a fix, though, it's just a pressure vent. When I really feel like I'm going to lose it—like when I heard about what General Krell did, and all I wanted to do was go kill him in his cell—I come up here and let some of that rage vent off. Then, it's easier for me to use other, less destructive strategies to manage things. But Ani, I don't think I need to tell you, trying to mediate when you feel like your blood is boiling and every nerve in your body is screaming? It's... not the easiest thing to do."

"No," he said, voice grim and the scowl back on his face. "No, it isn't."

"So then let's smash some plates! Come on, I promise it'll help. And then maybe you can tell me a little bit about what's wrong. Talking usually does wonders for strong emotions, too."

Anakin looked dubious, but we'd been through so much together that he trusted me enough to try.

Anakin moved into the space I'd specfically designed as a sort of protected area for plate-smashing, picking up the first thing he saw. He held it up, but paused briefly and turned back to me. The rage swirled around so strongly, I swear it almost manifested physically around him.

"And you won't tell the Council about this?"

I snorted. "No! Fuck the Council! Smash some plates!"

Anakin huffed, then didn't wait another second to do as I said. He moved like lightning, grabbing one plate and then another, hurling each one into the ground. He kept going, getting more and more worked up, the anger rising up and around him as he let it all out. He became more and more frenzied, then slammed one last plate into the ground so hard that parts of it became dust, before letting out a long, loud scream.

I just watched him, being careful not to let my emotions bleed out through the Force too much. Watching my best friend clearly in so much pain was tearing me up, but I knew Anakin would hate the pity, so I needed to move past it for both our sakes.

Finally, as the scream died out with the last of Anakin's air on that breath, he slumped forward, breathing hard. Still, his shoulders were lower than his ears for the first time since I'd found him in the hallway, and that roaring wave of anger had quieted a little, being joined with frustration and sadness.

I gave him a second, then slowly approached when I was sure he wasn't going to reach for another plate. I put a hand gently on his shoulder, and when he turned to face me, I found him with tears streaming down his face and the same fierce scowl he'd had earlier.

"Anakin," I said, trying to strike the right balance of calm and firm. "Talk to me."

"I can't," he ground out. "I can't talk to you!"

"Why? I swear, everything stays between us. But the plates are just the first part, Ani. The second part is talking things out and finding a way to move forward-"

"No!" He'd been shaking his head for most of my speech, but he broke in when he couldn't take it anymore. "There are things you don't know, that I can't tell you!"

I studied his face, trying to figure out what exactly he might be referring to. I had a couple of theories, but Anakin still didn't seem to be in a good place to respond to theories, so I decided to take a different approach.

"Okay... is there any part of what's bothering you that you can talk to me about? Even something smaller, that's been part of the buildup? Or you could just tell me about the feelings without talking about the cause."

Anakin took a few deep breaths, clenching his jaw as he took heavy breaths in and out. He looked to be at war with himself, so I just concentrated on putting out calm, non-judgemental energy and hoped for the best.

Slowly, Anakin straightened. I let my hand drop back to my side, but I didn't take a step back. A lot of the manic energy had disappated from Anakin, but none of the emotions had yet.

"Master Windu doesn't trust me. I- I found the Sith Lord."

"What?" I cried, leaning forward and grabbing Anakin's forearm. "Anakin, are you serious?"

"It's Chancellor Palpatine."

I just blinked at him for a few moments, trying to take that information in. Then it was my turn for some fear and negative emotions to take root in my chest.

"Shit. Are you sure? Of course you're sure. Oh, this is the absolute worst-case scenario. Anakin, did you tell Windu? What did he say? If he's not going to do something, we-"

"He's going to confront the Chancellor with Masters Fisto, Tiin, and Kolar. I told him that the Chancellor is very powerful, and that they might need my help. I offered to go! But he refused to let me come. Told me to sit and wait for their return in the Council Chambers."

I frowned again, my mind racing a million miles an hour. I didn't let go of Anakin, and I could feel just how carefully he was watching me. Knowing that Windu and other Jedi had gone after the Chancellor was simultaneously scary and a relief, but in both cases, it meant he was currently someone else's problem. I could put that on the backburner to pay attention to my best friend, at least for now. I took a deep breath and shook my head.

"You think Windu told you to wait in the Council Chamber because... he doesn't trust you?"

"I know it. He told me himself I'd earn his trust only after he returned from confronting the Chancellor, only if I was correct."

I narrowed my eyes and huffed. "That's fucking ridiculous."

"You sound angry."

"I am angry. You've been here for a long time, Anakin, and you've done so much for the Order and for the galaxy as a whole. If Windu has a problem, he at least could've put it a little more diplomatically."

"I don't think I've ever seen you angry before."

The shock of that statement was enough to shake me out of my thought. I met Anakin's eyes with surprise.

"What? Yes you have."

"No, I haven't," he said, a bit of irritation in his voice. Thankfully, it was the kind I normally heard from him whenever we bickered, not the more serious kind. "Jedi don't get angry, just like you, and just like Obi-Wan, and just like every other damned Jedi but me!"

"Anakin... what? Of course Jedi get angry! Do you not remember me threatening to kill Kenobi when he threw out the Outer Rim delicacy I tracked down while we were out there because 'he thought it looked spoiled'? I literally almost punched him in the nose!"

"No, I don't remember that!"

"Kriffing hell! You must've been training or something with Ahsoka. Whatever. The point is, Anakin, everybody gets angry. Everybody humanoid, at least! It's emotion, which all of us have. Even Obi-Wan, who I'll admit, is remarkably good at not letting anything get to him."

Anakin just stared at me, looking absolutely thunderstruck, so I continued.

"We also, like you and everyone else, get sad and scared and exhausted and irritated. And happy and excited and impatient! It's normal to feel, Anakin. I'm sorry if somebody made you believe otherwise."

He started shaking his head, slowly and then much more quickly and frantic.

"No. No, that's not the Jedi way. The Jedi aren't supposed to feel, we aren't allowed to feel."

"If that were true every last one of us would've been kicked out years ago! Anakin, you can't control your feelings. You can control how you handle them, and that's what they're always trying to teach us at the Temple. But there's no amount of training or pratice or meditiation or whatever that can just magically make you not feel anger, ever again."

I saw Anakin's mind working as it processed what I'd just said. He seemed to accept it, at least, before I could feel his attention shift in the Force, and his fierce scowl returned.

"Even if you're right, no amount of 'handling' would help me."

"What are you talking about? Come on, Ani, I'm your best friend! If you can't tell me, who can you tell?"

"No one! I already told you, no one! I'm... I'm running out of time..." The sharp storm of anger changed abruptly into one of fear as Anakin's attention shifted away from me and back to the city. "We've been here too long. I need to go, now!"

He started taking off for the speeder, and it took my brain a few moments to catch up to his 180 degree shift. Once it did, I ran after him.

"Anakin, stop! Please, talk to me!"

I caught the edge of his robe and pulled it back. The moment I did, Anakin whirled on me, his expression a storm that threatened to bowl me flat. Still, I didn't flinch, and I didn't give up an inch.

"I can't be here! I'm running out of time! Padmé-"

He stopped abruptly and scowled even deeper, but the name was already out of his mouth.

"I knew this had something to do with her! Come on, Ani, talk to me. What's wrong? Is she okay? Is she mad at you? Is somebody coming after her again?"

"It's... It's none of your concern!"

Anakin whipped around again, pulling his robes out of my grip, but I called after him.

"If something's wrong with my good friend and my best friend's wife, then it's absolutely my concern!"

That got Anakin to stop dead in his tracks. He turned back around to me, his expression wild as the wind from up here blew his hair. I just stared back with a raised eyebrow.

"How do you know about that?" he demanded. I scoffed.

"Anakin, please! I'm your best friend, and the two of you are absolute shit at hiding it! I literally walked into the kitchen on one of the Cruisers and found you guys making out."

"When?" he demanded, sounding indignant.

"You'd know if you'd had an ounce of awareness! You were so busy making out with your wife that you literally didn't even notice I was there. I turned around and walked out because I did not want to see that for another second, and you clearly wanted to keep it a secret on some level. But this was months ago."

Anakin looked like I'd just shoved him over. I put a hand on my hip and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to recover from his shock enough speak again. When he'd just about got there, I continued.

"Now seriously, Ani. If something's wrong with Padmé or your future child that you conveniently forgot to tell your best friend about, I want to know about it. I want to help you."

Anakin blinked a few more times, then finally sighed. He took a few steps towards me (and away from the speeder), his shoulders slumping.

"I... I've been having these dreams. I haven't been able to tell anyone but Padmé about them, and she keeps telling me they're nothing. But they weren't nothing when I was having dreams about my mother."

I closed the rest of the distance between us, putting an arm around Anakin as I eased him into sitting on one of the garden's benches, close to the edge of the parking lot. His hands shook as he held them up to emphasize his speaking, and the second he noticed, he shoved them between his legs.

"I keep having nightmares about Padmé dying with our children, as she's having them. There's something very wrong, but she won't believe me, and I can't talk to anyone else about it without telling them about our relationship. It's on me to save her. The Chancellor seemed to know, seemed to want to help me... and I don't know that I have another choice anymore."

"...Anakin. You just told me yourself that he's a Sith lord."

"But what other choice do I have?" he cried, exploding again. "I won't lose her. I won't let her die! I was too late to save my mother, I won't be too late to save Padmé. Master Windu says he doesn't trust me because he can feel my fear, but how else am I supposed to feel?"

I nodded, taking a deep breath as I put my hand on Anakin's shoulder again. He was seething, but he tolerated it.

"Your fear is valid, Anakin. If I had recurring nightmares about losing you, I'd be sticking to you like glue on missions. And that's without the factor of children! But if you starting taking rash, drastic actions as a result of that fear—like trusting a Sith lord who's been lying and manipulating his way through the Jedi for years—it might just cause exactly what you're scared of in the first place."

"So what are you saying? You're telling me I should do nothing, too?"

"No! Just... take a few deep breaths, and make your decisions with as rational a head as you can. From what I remember you telling me, Anakin, the dreams about your mom were actually visions happening in real time. And I'm sorry to remind you of that at all, but that means they were different than your dreams of Padmé. I saw her walking around the senate chambers today. She's not already dead."

Anakin took a deep breath as, to my relief, my words seemed to manage to get through to him, at least a little bit. When he spoke again, it was at a normal volume despite the words being a bit strained.

"That doesn't change the fact that she's in danger. Just because she's alright for now doesn't mean that she won't be-"

He broke off, clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes shut tight. I moved my hand from his shoulder to take both of his hands in mine.

"Has Padmé gone to her doctor lately? To check out whether anything is wrong? She's due soon, isn't she?"

"Yes. She's due soon. I don't know if she's been to a doctor since the dreams started. The Jedi... things have been keeping me from her recently."

"Well, okay then. For Padmé's sake and your own, let's sit up here and take a few deep breaths. I know that sounds like what everyone else in the Order's been telling you, but we did smash plates earlier, so I'm hoping you'll trust me. Then, once we're acknowleding the fear but making it take a backseat on decision-making, we can go see Padmé. We'll talk to her, and go see her doctor, just to check everything out and make sure it's all okay. I'll go with you to maintain the 'friendship' cover as much as possible. With all of the technology and medicine available to us, Anakin—especially since Padmé serves in the senate and you're a Jedi—any complications should be completely treatable and preventable. Then, once you're feeling alright about that, we can make a choice."

Anakin narrowed his eyes, then raised an eyebrow at me.

"And what choice is that?"

"If you want to stay with Padmé, we stay with Padmé. If you want to talk to Windu, we work together and come up with a plan for you to talk to Windu. Hopefully, by the time we get back to the Temple, he and the others will have defeated Palpatine and we can put all this behind us. But one way or another, we can practice and work out a conversation starter for you to discuss with him why he doesn't trust you, and how that makes you feel. It might not change his mind, but I really think it'll make you feel better to get it out there and talk about it with him. Calmly, though. As much as you might want to yell at him, and as nice as it might feel in the moment, it'll only make you worse off in the end. Which is why we come up here to smash plates first."

To my immense relief, that last part made Anakin crack the smallest of smiles. The knot of fear and lingering anger was still there, but much smaller, and confined to just a part of my best friend. That overwhelming knot I'd noticed earlier was almost entirely gone.

"I... think I like that plan. At least the first part of it."

"Good, then let's go do it. Just remember, Ani: I'm here for you. Odds are good that you're going to feel really scared and really angry again as we deal with the next few days. And that's normal. We just have to practice managing it, and I'm here for you whenever you need help with that."

"...Does that mean I officially get access to this place whenever I want it?" He gestured to the garden and smaller plate-smashing station around us, and I smiled.

"Sure. But you're gonna have to do some shopping for cheap plates before you come up here again. Believe it or not, I'm just about out."

"Seems like a pretty low number of plates you had up here. Aren't you supposed to be more prepared than that as a Jedi Knight?"

"Plate shopping was on my long list of errands for today. But... I ended up having more important things to do with my day."

The two of us shared a smile, and although Anakin's was weak, it felt like the sun shining down on us to me. We weren't out of the storm yet, but looking at my best friend in that moment, I knew we were both going to get to the other side okay.

****************

"Oh... my stars."

I grinned, my feeling echoing Obi-Wan's as the two of us and Ahsoka were led into the delivery room. Padmé laid in the bed, a baby cradled in her arms, and Anakin stood beside her with the other baby in his.

After Anakin and I's long talk on the roof, and after getting through some of the immediate aftermath of dealing with Chancellor Palpatine being a Sith lord, he'd finally decided to share his and Padmé's "secret" with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, along with Rex, Cody, and a few of the other clones we'd been to hell and back with. Literally all of them had already known, but everyone other than Obi-Wan pretended to be surprised for Anakin's sake, and the knowledge meant a lot more to all of us now that Anakin had voluntarily shared it with us.

Even after all the doctor's appointments and support from his friends, I could feel the weight that had lifted from Anakin's shoulders with Padmé sitting in bed now, tired but healthy, their babies just as healthy and delivered in their arms.

"Wanna hold her? Her name's Leia," Anakin said, gently holding the baby in his arms out to Obi-Wan. He looked about knocked flat, but gingerly held his arms out all the same.

"Of course I do."

Anakin smiled, gently putting Leia into Obi-Wan's arms. Ahsoka headed over towards Padmé, and I was about to follow her when Anakin caught me, taking my arm and gently pulling me aside.

"Do you have a minute?"

I nodded, following Anakin as he led me just out of the room and into the hallway. I raised an eyebrow, but I could tell from Anakin's energy and the smile on his face that this was nothing bad.

"I have something to ask you."

"Okay... spit it out then. Dad."

Anakin's smile was enough to outshine the sun, and it warmed my heart to see him like that.

"Well, Padmé and I talked, and... since both of our lives are so dangerous, and since I may or may not be able to continue in the Order depending on how well we can continue to hide our secret..."

I scoffed, but Anakin ignored me.

"We wanted to make you the honorary, support-parent of the twins. I'm not going to let anything happen to us, but if something ever did... we want you to take them. And either way, we want you to be involved in their lives as... a mentor, of sorts."

"Anakin... I don't need a title or an official invitation to do everything I can to be in their lives. Frankly, not even death could stop me. Since Force ghosts exist and all."

Anakin grinned. "I know that. But I want you to have the title anyway. I mean, who better to help guide my kids through life than the person who made sure I didn't let my fear ruin any shot at actually seeing them?"

"...Surely someone else has told you that emotions are a normal, healthy thing for you to be feeling?"

"Believe it or not? You were the first."

I smiled, then moved forward to wrap Anakin in a tight hug. He didn't waste a second returing the gesture.

"I would be honored to play a role like that in the twins' life, Ani," I said, not letting go of him as I spoke. "Thank you for trusting me with it."

"Thank you for helping me get a hold of everything. I love Obi-Wan, but... he never managed to teach it the way you did. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't found me when you did."

I squeezed Anakin tight, letting the seriousness live on for another moment before pulling away with a grin.

"Are you kidding me? I'll always find you, whether you want me to or not. I'm your best friend. You can't get rid of me, and you can't hide anything from me. And don't you forget it."

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes, but I could see how genuine the smile on his face was. I clapped him on the shoulder and took a step back towards the delivery room.

"Come on. I'm honorary guardian of the twins, and I haven't even met them yet. Obi-Wan's been holding Leia for long enough, it's my turn now."

"Good luck getting her back. Did you see the look on his face? I think I'm going to have to force him to let her go."

The two of us shared a laugh as we reentered the delivery room. The past few years of the war and the past few weeks especially had been brutal, on all of us. And there was still a lot of work to be done putting things right. But some very, very good things had come out of it, too, and no matter what came next, we'd always have each other.

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