#but once it turned into “let's invade” and shit it became very much less funny

[redysetdare]

I wish the denmark joke has stayed dead. it is literally the most unfunny asexual joke we got.

[umiarumi]

fucking three houses | prologue/claude von riegan

afab she/her reader, originally posted on my ao3, myukyu <3

Twirling my sword, an excited grin fell upon my face as I jogged alongside Dorte and Marianne. "Hah! Marie, ya think I can keep up your old steed's pace?" I asked excitedly, huffing slightly. The academy had really buffed your stamina, shit, enough to keep up with a damn horse.

"Oh, (Y/N)! I-um, don't strain yourself since we have nearly reached the monastery." She hesitantly called out, brow furrowing. I laughed it off, nodding as I slowed my pace to meet Raphael jogging, carrying a very unamused Lysithea.

"What's up, you two?" I asked, grinning. The behemoth of a man beamed back, motioning his head to the pouting smaller girl in his arms.

"Lysithea here was starting to struggle, so as a good big bro- I mean, uh, friend! As a good friend, I'm helping keep up!" He cheered, laughing.

"I'll remind you, you thoughtless fool, I am not a child! I am quite the opposite, now." Lysithea barked out at Raphael, folding her arms.

I chuckled, shaking my head. I missed these guys, and once we make it to the monastery... well, teach better have kept his promise and not died on us. ~~~~ ~~~~ PROLOGUE END ~~~~ ~~~~ "Ahh... now this one is gonna fill the spot, thanks, prof!" You cheered, excitedly flicking your eyes between your delicious meal of Beast Meat and your slightly concerned professor.

"That smell... it's amazing! My fav, in fact. Do you like it too?" Claude nodded with you, looking to Byleth out of curiousity. Easygoing, huh?

"I like it."

Usually, you'd laugh at your teacher's blunt speech, yet that meat was begging you to devour it and hey- who are you to deny its wishes? Being back at the monastery with your class and teacher as much as you'd loved being back in your home country, you had a soft spot for the Golden Deer. But five years had changed the lot of you, various glowups being noticed, by the way. Yet, Claude caught your attention the most. Which, being honest, wasn't out of the norm, hell, for anyone!

As you tore through your meat, you caught your former classmate stifling a chuckle at your pure ferocity.

"Oi! Got thomething to thay," You quickly swallowed. "What's so funny!?" You annoyedly accused, slamming a hand on the table. He let out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Easy tiger! You just looked awfully cute with your cheeks stuffed."

You felt your cheeks darken, clicking your tongue as you went back to your meal. "Smooth, dickhead..." You mumbled as your teacher let out a sigh at the two of youse antics. As you all continue to eat, a comfortable silence fell upon your trio.

"That aside, I am glad to see you also returning. I heard from Lorenz that you had disappeared for a while." Your teacher finally spoke, looking to you. Your eyebrows rose in surprise as you let a crooked grin creep up your face.

"Funny you say that. How about yourself, five years asleep! Did any lucky gal or guy come to give you that awakening kiss~" You cooed, switching the topic onto him. You had no idea what you could say without getting yourself and Claude in an unknown amount of trouble.

He raised a brow at your dodging of the question but ultimately let it go. "I did not get kissed, no."

Claude piped up from his suspicious silence, leaning in to pester teach. "Ya sure? You were pretty popular back at the academy!" You snickered after this comment, nodding to egg him on.

"I believe we've finished the meal. I shall see the two of you later." He promptly stood up with his plate and cutlery, returning them to the kitchen before strutting off in his usual stern demeanour.

"Aw, we scared him off!" You jokingly whined, leaning onto Claude. Teasing your no-nonsense teacher was great since he's as clueless as Seteth with three times the patience.

"How will we ever apologise?" Claude moaned alongside you, resting his head on yours melodramatically. You tittered together before recovering and bringing your dirty dishes to the kitchen. Leaving the dining hall, you two walked in silence.

You walked with no aim for a while until Claude stopped. You turned to him, intrigued. Tilting your head, you asked him a question.

"Something up?"

He smiled softly, shaking his head.

"Nah, but I would like to ask you some things." He said, and the lack of a comedic tone set off a minor alarm in your brain. You were no stranger to his inquisitive nature, having known him for a good portion of your life. Yet, you had a feeling this related to before. Even Claude wasn't aware of your whereabouts.

"Sure thing, here?" You asked, folding your arms defensively.

"No... let's go somewhere more private." He said, walking off. You jumped, quickly following him.

~~~~

Following Claude up the spiralling stairs of the Goddess tower was quick, that you could confirm. Nearly stumbling over your steps as he transcended so damn fast, you couldn't even call out for him to slow the hell down.

As you finally made it to the top, avoiding the rubble which had gathered after the battle at the monastery, you had leant against the wall, quickly regaining your breath. Yet as soon as you blinked, Claude seemed to have moved from the centre of the room to a few inches away from your face.

"C-Claude! What the hell...?" You jumped, backing fully up against the cold, stone wall. Feeling the cool stones against your back, you shivered as your former leader stared at you.

"Answer teach's question for me, friend? Where were you while we were stopping the whole damn alliance from being chipped away by the Empire?" He asked, frustrated. He took a step towards you.

You gulped, shaking your head as your eyes darted around the tower, looking everywhere but him.

"That's not the answer I was looking for, (Y/N)."

Your breath hitched as he grabbed your chin to look you in the eyes. His voice lowered, a conflicted emotion on his face. A crooked grin tugged at his lips and yet his brows were furrowed, annoyed.

||Translation: فاک - Fuck||

"I-I was in Almyra!" You yelped, quickly realising what you said as you cursed under your breath, "فاک..." You hissed, embarrassed.

"First, you avoid our questions..." Claude listed, cruelly running his thumb across your lip. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes finally set on his figure.

"Second, you leave us... breaking our promise," He continued, striking your heart where it hurts.

You bit your lip, eyeing him as he let his hand drop to your shoulder. He pushed you further against the wall. You shivered, yet not from the freezing stone this time.

"I-I... even you said you had no attachment to Fodlan! I thought you wouldn't..." You trailed off, searching for an excuse.

"Everyone thought you died! I thought you died! And yet..." His voice rose, yet less out of anger. He finally brought his face to your extremely red own.

"Where was I? Oh yeah, finally..." You stiffened, knowing what he was going to bring up.

"Leaving me hanging."

Before you all reunited, you had made a short trip into Fodlan to grasp the situation. Yet, your undercover mission soon became an open one as a fateful night in Derdriu occurred.

~~~~

It was a warm evening the night you had made it into the lively streets of the city. Even after the effects of war, the city still seemed to bustle. Unassumedly passing by citizens happily talking, you looked for any Knights of Seiros stationed nearby or even members of the Leicester military. Noticing a particular armoured woman, you tapped her shoulder.

She turned, giving you a pleasant smile. "Do you need anything, ma'am?"

You nodded, playing with the sides of your bodice. "I live a while from the military posts, so could you please tell me... um, how is the war going?" Embarrassed, she laughed softly before explaining.

However, you were unaware of a keen eye watching you. The familiar bobbing of unruly hair, gleaning of sun-kissed skin tied in with a confident stance clued Claude onto just who it was he saw. He waited patiently behind market stalls, keeping an eye on you as you bid the woman goodbye. And oh-so luckily for him, you headed his way.

You passed by him, oblivious to the archer's presence. A sudden hand on your shoulder caused you to jolt, your hand reaching to the hilt of your sword. Whipping around, your eyes soon met the green ones of a certain Alliance leader.

"C-Claude!?" You shrieked, hand still cautiously resting on your sword, unsure if he would take well to your sudden appearance.

"So you decided to show up, huh?" He remarked, and if you knew him any less you'd think that easygoing smile meant he was happy. But that smile never reached his eyes.

Yet, despite his obvious inner conflict, you expelled a breath as he pulled you into a hug. You soon wrapped your arms around him. It had been four years since you left after Edelgard and her forces attacked. You felt his grip loosen as he rose a hand to your chin, that oh-so teasing thumb brushing against your lip.

"May I?" He muttered, and in response, you leant into him, lips locking. What started innocently quickly grew messy and needy, your lips growing red.

As you pulled back, you felt the hard pressure as your fronts brushed together. You blushed before turning your head away.

"I'm sorry Claude, I have to go." You muttered solemnly, pulling yourself together.

"Wait, what? Showing up randomly after four years and then blue-balling me?" He teased yet yearningly reached out his hand.

"I promise, I will return and finish what I started!" You called out, running off into the night.

~~~~

Your face grew hot at the memory. Shuffling nervously, you looked into his eyes.

"Then, will you finish what we started, miss?" He asked, running a hand across your face.

Inhaling, you nodded and answered him. "Yes... please."

With your consent, he pushed himself against you, lips squishing as he brought you upon his own. He soon ran his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission.

You parted them quickly, his tongue invading your mouth as your tongue danced with his. He began to unclasp your armour as you shifted to help them come off easier.

Before you knew it, you had both shed to your undergarments, all knowledge of this being an open area quickly leaving your mind.

His hands reached behind your back to fiddle with your bra for a few moments, soon letting it fall to the cold, stone ground. His eyes fell to your breasts, your nipples perk from a mix of the cold air in the Goddess Tower and the heat of the situation.

Quickly, his hands began to fondle and grope your tits, your hand slapping on your mouth as to not alert any patrolling guards.

"These really are great. Your armour disguises you, a good thing that is since you'd probably take a few hits otherwise." He commented cheekily, observing your tightly shut eyes and fluttering breaths.

God, he'd tease you even now!?

One of the hands dropped from your breast, the other continuing to squeeze and roll it like wet clay. The forgotten breast soon regained heat as the scruffy head of the brunette quickly moved to suckle on your aching nipple, causing you to let out a quick yelp.

"How cute." He mumbled into your tit, the vibrations sending a delicious shiver up your spine. Whilst you were focused on the pleasure at your chest, your throbbing cunt soon found a welcoming hand cupping it through your underwear.

"Soaked! Were you wanting this all along? Hah! Pretty slutty for an Almyran warrior." He cooed, fingers running against your clothed slit.

"A-ah... fuck you!" You hissed, deciding on paying back the offer. Your free hand reached down to cup his hidden boner, hand rubbing slowly.

"Ffffuck... fine, you want to do it right here, against this wall sweetheart?" He asked, grinning.

You nodded brashly, slipping out of your drenched underwear. He too shed his remaining clothes and your lips locked in a short kiss before he pulled away.

Grabbing onto your thighs, he lifted you as you hooked your legs around him. Pushing you against the wall, he angled his dick at your pussy. Rubbing slowly, teasingly. The two of you groaned, as finally, he stuck his dick in your needy cunt.

You gasped, feeling it stretch you out, slowly, inch by inch. Bottoming out, the two of you stilled for a moment, catching your breaths. Once you adjusted, signalling him with a nod, he pulled out to the tip, before slamming back in. You moaned unabashedly, eyes fluttering open to see Claude's face scrunch up.

He looked up to you coyly, smirking. "Do you want all of the monastery to find us? Would you like them to see you like this?" Your breath hitched.

"Sweating, being fucked against a wall by your former leader? After five long years, you decide to help." He hissed, continuing to thrust as you gasped with each thrust.

The fulfilling feeling of Claude's dick rubbing against your inner walls gradually inched you to your orgasm, the added brushing of fronts stimulating your clit.

"I could get used to this, you'll really help the war efforts this way. Those poor, exhausted knights who you could've helped. A nice cocksleeve like you, you'll do more by getting fucked than you have the past years." He grunted, venting his frustrations.

Yet, despite all the guilt you should've felt, it only made the aching buzz of your clit all the more stronger.

Your cunt spasmed with each thrust, the routine rubbing and brushing working you towards your end as you felt Claude's dick shudder every time he bottomed out.

"Maybe you could motivate Ignatz? He'd be shy though, but a girl so open like you would be perfect for that." He mumbled, watching your face darken.

"Or Raphael? He could use you as training. You'd be spent by the time he was even finishing, yet a slut like you would be okay with that, right?"

His dick continued to twitch in your pussy, your walls clamping around his cock like a vice. Fluttering as you were so close to your end.

"Shit... even Lorenz... he could use you as practice for his- ngh, noble duties!" He choked out a laugh, breath stuttering.

"But I think I like you best as my little runaway slut, yeah? You fit so well on my cock!" He emphasised the last word with a sharp thrust, your walls clamping shut on his cock, your head hitting the wall as you moaned in ecstasy.

He quickly pulled out, dick spurting ropes of cum on your chest and stomach. As you both caught your breath, you caught Claude smiling at you.

"It's good to have you back, my friend."

[itcameuponamidnightqueer]

fake dating 10, any pairing you want

damie + “please just hold my hand, that person’s basically undressing me with their eyes.”

trope prompts

//

It’s not that Jamie doesn’t want to be at this school function, it’s just that—

No, that’s a lie. She definitely doesn’t want to be here, and wouldn’t if she weren’t part of the staff. Wouldn’t be here if Dani hadn’t tricked her, really, because Jamie’s usually pretty good about saying no even at work. 

“Rebecca’s back from traveling,” Dani had tried, and Jamie said no because who knows how long that’ll last. 

“Owen said he’s gonna ask Hannah out,” she’d tried next, and Jamie had actually laughed in her face. 

“Someone is actually going to have to physically force those two together,” she’d replied, and Dani’s eyes lit up, prompting her with a quirk of an eyebrow.

In no world does Jamie want to be that person.

Dani had sighed. “Free booze,” she’d grumbled, desperate. Jamie had rolled her eyes and opened the door to her well-stocked liquor cabinet.

Dani had pursed her lips together and turned her face away, almost quick enough for Jamie to miss the grin she was failing to suppress. 

If Jamie weren’t constantly on the lookout for that smile, she might have succeeded.

Dani had sighed again, raked a hand through her fluffy, perfect hair, and flopped back on the couch.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “You win, don’t come, we’ll hang out over the weekend and I’ll just tell you all about how lonely I was at the party—my first party without Eddie, which everyone will probably be asking me about and I’ll have to field awkward questions all night—”

Jamie scoffed. “And you think I’m going to magically make them not be awkward?”

“No,” Dani answered, a little too quickly. “I think you’d glare at them so hard they wouldn’t even ask me in the first place.”

“I think I’ve just been insulted!”

“No,” Dani laughed, “you just have that whole—” She scrunched her eyebrows together and set her shoulders, curled her lip upwards into an unmistakable hint of a sneer. Her voice, when she spoke, was half an octave lower and at least six countries away from Jamie’s accent. “—’Don’t fuck wiv’ me’ vibe going on,” she finished.

Jamie had taken a few long moments to blink away the urge to kiss her. 

“You’ve gotten worse,” she’d finally said. “Almost a year and a half working together and you’ve gotten worse.”

“Come to the party and you can spend the whole time teaching me.”

“Dani.”

“Jamie.”

Her eyes weren’t wide anymore; they’d shrunk back to being shy and vulnerable, the stormy kind of blue that Jamie didn’t ever see unless they were alone. Jamie had spent the better part of a year not acknowledging her feelings for Dani, and she was good at it. Not always good enough to escape Hannah’s shrewd gaze, but enough to where it was a genuine friendship, and she only felt the roar of devotion flare up in the quietest, most private of moments.

Jamie was excellent at controlling her emotions. She’d spent an entire lifetime honing that skill, protecting herself from the surprisingly large amount of people who seemed destined to hurt her. 

Jamie had nothing on Dani Clayton.

Dani could suppress any negative feeling until it almost ceased to exist; she had an incredible way of just...willing things not to happen. It had taken months for her to reveal the cracks in her relationship with Eddie, and even then Jamie sat by and watched, completely blown away, by how quickly and how sincerely Dani put the mask back up around people who only wanted to see silk and porcelain. The crazy thing about it was that Dani meant it; Dani gave all of her attention to everyone who asked for it. She didn’t have an insincere bone in her body.

But, god—Jamie’s life had been shit before, and still nothing made her sadder than watching Dani perform.

If all it took for her not to do that was one party, well, she could table the rest of it for later.

She’d picked up her phone and opened up the group chat they had with Hannah, Owen, and Rebecca.

“Right,” she’d groaned, “guess we’ve gotta coordinate who’s driving because the only way I’m getting through this is if I’m very, very drunk.”

.

And so Jamie finds herself at the not-yet-Christmas, ambiguously-winter end-of-semester party, sticking to Rebecca like a leech while she regales groups of coworkers with the same six stories of her very impulsive, wildly successful trip around the world. Dani, meanwhile, hasn’t been answering any awkward questions, from what Jamie’s heard, and is instead relaxed and popular as she chats with all of their friends.

Jamie almost turned around ten minutes in, once it became clear what the tone of the night would be. But there was no sense in bailing when she was already there and hadn’t driven herself, and—

Who would be there for Dani to look at, every twenty minutes or so, just for reassurance or to check in or whatever kind of comfort she might be seeking. (Jamie doesn’t know for sure what it is. She knows what she hopes it is. But that’s something else for the ‘later’ bag.)

She stays. Jamie stays and drinks and laughs and eventually gets sucked into the party of it all, which is why she’s five minutes into her best story of youthful shenanigans that didn’t end in a visit from the cops, and absolutely doesn’t notice the anxious blonde rushing at her from across the room. 

 “Hold my hand, hold my hand, hold my hand,” Dani urges, arm outstretched as she speeds closer. She hits Jamie’s elbow when she gets close enough and finally manages to wrestle Jamie’s hand into an iron grip.

Jamie, sufficiently interrupted, stops talking and looks down. “What’s going on here, then?”

Dani takes a deep breath and plasters on the worst attempt at a smile Jamie’s ever seen, which is still pretty good by most peoples’ standards. “Remember all those awkward questions I thought I’d get about Eddie?” she says through clenched teeth.

“Yep.”

“Thought they’d be full of pity, not flirting.”

Jamie’s head shoots up, trying to pick out the offenders, but Dani slaps her elbow again.

“Don’t look!” she hisses. “We have to make this convincing.”

“Make what convincing?” Jamie narrows her eyes and takes a long sip of her drink. “You’re pulling me into some kind of scheme, Poppins, and I know I’ve told you what happened the last time somebody did that…”

Dani laughs, high and fluttery and nervous in the back of her throat. “Please just hold my hand,” she implores. “Nathan is basically undressing me with his eyes but I think you can scare him off if he sees us together.”

“Nathan?” Jamie starts to scan the room again, a little less obviously this time. “Nathan Ford, the school’s sluttiest social studies teacher?”

“Mhm.”

“The same Nathan Ford who’s walking over right now?”

“What!” Dani straightens up, rigid and spooked like a deer in the road. “I can’t believe—I was so careful; is he stalking me?”

The anxiety is short-lived and replaced very quickly with anger once Jamie can no longer hold in her laughter. 

“You,” Dani says, prying Jamie’s drink from her other hand, “tricked me.”

“You tricked me first,” Jamie winks.

“I don’t even think he’s in here anymore.”

Jamie shrugs. “Probably not.”

“You made me think I was in so much trouble…”

“You’re always safe with me, Poppins.”

Dani finishes the drink.

.

The funny thing is, neither of them lets go. 

Nathan Ford isn’t the only slutty teacher and it doesn’t take Jamie long to get a glimpse of what Dani’s been dealing with, the men—single and married—who look at her just a little too long, a little too presumptuously. Dani, of course, handles it with grace and charm, and Jamie thinks that maybe she didn’t need her grumpy buffer after all.

She holds tight anyway, just in case.

It’s a dangerous thing to do, parade a fake relationship in front of all of their coworkers, but it doesn’t feel wrong or forced. They’re going on a break soon, Jamie rationalizes. School is going on a two-week break and everyone is drunk and no one is going to remember the scandal of the fourth grade teacher clinging all night to the newest member of the art department. If they do...well, everything can be laughed off or pushed down or forgotten eventually.

So they cling and they talk and Jamie expertly lets every too-interested man know, with absolute certainty, that their efforts should be directed elsewhere. She tickles her fingers against Dani’s, throws in a few isn’t that right, love’s every once in a while, rubs a hand on her back when the moment feels right. And Dani—

Dani invades her space—presses their shoulders together, scratches at the inside of Jamie’s wrist, wipes a stray bit of liquor from the side of her mouth after an untidy sip. Jamie feels all of this and lets it wash over her, lets it sink under her skin and warm her body until she feels like she could start a fire with her hands.

The night winds down and people filter out and eventually there isn’t anyone left to fool. But Dani’s hand is still in hers and Jamie is more than happy to be slow and soft with her. She stays, for the tenth and fifteenth and hundredth time.

It’s just the five of them left, eventually, and they migrate to the bar when the party room in the back seems too large for such a small group. They situate themselves on stools in the corner, and the conversation flows without a hitch. It always has with this group—Owen, Hannah, and Rebecca first, then Dani, then Jamie. She’d tell them all how much it really means to know them if anyone got enough drink in her.

Until then, she’ll scoff at group texts and drag her feet to parties and settle into the fact that they all know it’s for show anyway.

She props her head on her hand and listens, quickly approaching the sleepy part of drinking. She tries not to watch Dani too much while they all talk but it’s difficult—Dani is noticeable at a distance and absolutely striking up close. The curl of her lips as she smiles, the way they overtake her entire face if she means it enough (and she usually does); the laughter that pours out of her and directly into the hearts of anyone lucky enough to be listening; the way her ears look bigger when she hooks her hair behind them, how she only does that when she’s in very comfortable company.

After about thirty minutes, Jamie gets up to retrieve their coats before she does something stupid, like playfully tug at Dani’s earlobe or reach in to straighten the collar on her shirt.

She returns shortly, holding her leather jacket and Dani’s very puffy winter coat, and sits down without a word, content to wait for a natural break in the conversation. She folds the coats over her lap and fiddles with a coaster on the counter.

Dani absently reaches back to still her fingers after about a minute. A simple gesture—resting her hand atop Jamie’s, perhaps swiping her thumb across the back of her hand. Nothing like the displays they’d been putting on earlier. So unlike them, in fact, that Jamie doesn’t notice it at all.

Owen, Hannah, and Rebecca can’t take their eyes off it.

“So, what, were you waiting to tell me until I got back?”

Jamie nurses the dregs of her beer. “Tell you what?”

“This, what is this!” Rebecca exclaims, fluttering her fingers in the direction of Jamie and Dani’s still-clasped hands. “I go gallivanting around the world for an entire year and neither of you mention that you’ve shacked up?”

Jamie and Dani look at their hands, look at each other, and start speaking at the same time.

“We’re not dating, it was just a stupid thing for tonight—”

“Jamie’s doing me a favor since Eddie’s gone and men are creepy—”

“Right, sure.” Rebecca squints and fixes both of them with a sly glance. “It’s just for tonight, to ward off creepy men, which is why you’re still doing it since there are so many of them around now.”

“Must have just gotten used to it,” Dani offers weakly.

“Of course, which is why you still haven’t let go.”

Jamie lets go and tries not to telegraph how much she misses the weight of Dani’s hand.

“You’re definitely not dating,” Rebecca continues, “which is why Jamie got up and got her coat and Dani’s, and left the rest of us hanging.”

Dani looks down and finally notices the coat in Jamie’s lap. “You got my coat?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah,” Jamie shrugs. “Seemed like you were ready to go.”

“Yeah, but I was—I was still talking.”

Jamie waves a hand. “You were telling the piano lesson story; you always tell that when you want the night to wind down.”

“No, I—” Dani frowns and retrieves her purse from where it’s hooked around the stool; she rummages through it frantically, her movements loose and messy. “How did you get my coat check ticket?”

“Took that from ya ages ago, Poppins,” Jamie answers. “You were so nervous you were gonna rub the number right off it, and then we’d both be shit outta luck.”

Jamie watches as the expression on Dani’s face morphs, unfurls from stern, puzzled ridges and relaxes into fondness, into twinkling eyes and soft cheeks, a mischievous affection that floors Jamie every time she sees it. Every time, she wonders how many people have been lucky enough to have been on the receiving end of this look, and hopes that the answer is ‘very few’.

“We should, um, probably go,” Dani whispers.

Jamie smiles. “We all drove here together,” she reminds Dani, just as quietly.

Dani slumps back. She reaches for her coat but instead of grabbing it, simply rests her hand on top, like she’s waiting.

Jamie breathes deeply and avoids looking at Rebecca.

“Owen, mate,” she says, daring him to tease her, “maybe you could drop off Dani and me first.”

[four-rabbit]

The Last Piece Left

This was supposed to be fluff the first time I had this idea. But then I decided that it could be fluffy with angst in the end. But then I got to actually write it and it became angst with even more angst in the end, so... hope you enjoy

I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: For the first time since he left the Others, Virgil reunites the courage to talk to an old friend, but neither of them seem to know how to feel about each other. Or how to not make things worse. 

Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Warnings: swearing, mentions to death and dead bodies, angst (does that count as a warning?), fight, sex mention

Word Count: 2287

“I told them my name” Remus looked away from the canvas in front of him, just to see who he once called a friend standing in the middle of his room, with an expression as abstract as the paint Creativity was trying to finish. So many feelings in such a small space it became impossible to understand. 

“Ok? Good for you, I don’t give a fuck” replied, focusing his gazes on anything except Virgil’s eyes, doing his best to keep his emotions simple. We hate each other. He abandoned us. That should be enough. Virgil stayed in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. “What do you want, emo?”

“Thomas painted his hair” he started.

“Yeah, I noticed. Purple doesn’t really go well with green. Unless we’re talking about a wound. Or a dead body. Nevermind, purple and green are awesome together”

“Yeah, I really liked the hair, actually. I was thinking… I mean, you and Deceit have green and yellow. The core sides also have colors. I’m kinda tired of the black” 

“Are you? I think it matches you, boring, quickly establishes that you’re the villain, having been washed in at least some months”

“I just want you to teach me how to sew,” Virgil replied, already starting to lose his temper. Calm down, he said to himself,he may be hard to deal with, but you are here to help, not make things worse. 

“Roman knows how to sew, probably way better than me. Do you think I should add like, blood red or more like a wine red?” He pointed to the canvas, answering his own question before Virgil could do so “Yeah, blood red of course, the classic”

“I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, I don’t think Princey’s style really matches mine” Remus wishes he was as honest to himself as he was with other people. He knew deep down it would hurt more to do that. He knew that getting a bite of what used to be their friendship would just make him more hungry for something that didn’t even exist anymore. He knew it would probably hurt both of them even more. But someone wanted his help for the first time in… well. Virgil wanted his help. 

“Ok, get out of my room” said, finally turning to Anxiety, who tried to pretend those words didn’t send a wave of disappointment though his body. 

“Of course... This was a mistake” mumbled, starting to sink out.

“No dude! Fuck, I mean, like, intrusive thoughts and anxiety is never a good mix, let’s go to your room or a neutral room” quickly explained. 

“Oh” Virgil came back, seeming surprised “I can take your room just fine, dude, I’m used to it”

“It got way worse since the last time you were here, trust me, Gerard Gay” Virgil looked around. The view did look messier, if it was possible. The floor felt like skin, but with something off. He could hear whispers in the back of his consciousness, to which he could never identify a source. The smell was less like trash can and more like a trash can on fire where a corpse had been discarded some days ago. But he could take all that. He could take hours in that room, the same way Remus could take hours in his room. 

“I don’t see how”

“As much as I would love to see Thomas hyperventilating because his anxiety can’t stop thinking about how people are going to invade his house and slowely murder him if he doesn’t check all the locks at least five times, I’m pretty sure you don’t want that headache. And it will be a hell of a headache as soon as the room reaches your mind”

“Fine, My room, then?”

“Yeah, I’m in need of some new spiderwebs anyway” 

Virgil’s room didn’t change much since The Duke was there for the last time, except for some new Disney posters, probably from Roman and a drawing on the desk right beside anxiety’s bed. It was terribly colorful and childish, with all the three core sides and Virgil. Patton, then. Of course it was Patton. Anxiety immediately took the gift out of Creativity’s sight. 

“I’m not gonna eat it or anything, y’know?”

“It’s personal”

“Of fucking course it is” He could see how Patton seemed better compared to Janus. But they didn’t need a stupid - and shitty, let’s be honest - card to prove how much they cared for, everything was just so fucking stupid and boring with the core sides, why would Virgil fucking chose to be with them?! What was wrong with him?! What did Remus do wrong?! “It’s really shitty, but I guess daddy has always been bad at everything he did”

“Could you keep it down? For at least thirty fucking minutes?” Virgil snapped, clenching his fists and looking at Remus with pure danger in his eyes. 

“Do you have a… “He looked around, wishing he could just stop fucking talking for at least one damn second “A sketch. For how you want your hoodie to be? 

“I do, actually” Virgil kept his eyes away from his old friend, the tension in the room so heavy it could be cut, grabbing one of the drawings on the same table Patton’s gift was and giving it to the duke. It was… a concept. Remus conjured a pen, turning the paper and using it’s other side to make a more clear image, giving it back to anxiety.

“How about this?” Virgil tried not to smile, but his eyes betrayed him by shining. It was perfect.

"It 's cool”

“Great” he then started to reunite all the materials. One of Virgil’s older hoodies, purple fabric, white and black threads and…

“Why a spinning wheel?” 

"It 's cooler” replied, shrugging. 

“If I touch the needle will I also sleep for one hundred years?”

“Who knows? Now sit your ass down, emo, this will take time”

“Ok, what do I do first?” said, sitting on his bed and waiting for instruction. Remus flinched until the realization struck him. 

“Wait, you actually want me to teach you? Buddy, I’m the worst teacher ever and you know that” And also I’m a selfish motherfucker who knows very well that if you never learn it every time you need to fix it you will have to ask for my help. 

“It can’t be that hard”

“If you actually want to do something decent, it will take at least some days. Do you want The Duke in your room for days? I wouldn’t mind it, we could even have some fun” He smiled maliciously. He was right. Virgil wouldn’t want any of the core sides to know he still talked to Remus. Especially not Roman. 

“Fine. How long will it take for you to do it?”

“One hour” He could do it in a couple seconds, actually, but sshhh. 

“Ok” Virgil looked down, seeming almost… embarrassed. Creativity grabbed all the materials, conjured a bench, sat down and started to work. He tried to stay in silence, but it was almost painful to do so

“How are the core sides doing? Anything interesting, if that’s possible?”

“Are you trying to do small talk?” Virgil almost smiled. The only one of the Others good with that was Deceit and they all knew that. 

“I’m trying to keep it down like you said to protect your now light side ears or whatever” Virgil chucked, rolling his eyes. 

“What was that painting about?”

“Oh… I was trying to do an abstract representation of the emotions decay and rottenness bring”

“Sounds like you. How was it going?”

“Like shit. Not literally, even though that’s a good idea, did you know that when we die our whole body, like, relax, including our stomach muscles and all? And yeah, we shit ourselves, so go to the bathroom before you die, I guess” Virgil flinched with that unwanted information.

“I feel like you told me that before”

“I probably did, it’s pretty basic. I don’t know what the fuck is happening, I haven’t being able to paint anything good”

“I thought it was pretty nice” For Remus’ standards. 

“Sure you did. But really, how are those dorks? Did someone already explained to Daddy what sex it or nobody had the courage yet?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Of course!” 

“Nobody did, obviously, but I’m considering, I like Patton, but if he refers to adulthood as adultery one more time I’ll lose it” Remus snorted. 

“He does what?”

“Long story, dude”

“Holy fuck” He laughed “He’s definitely doing that on purpose”

“What would he win by doing that?” A couple of answers came to Remus’ mind but he was sure VIrgil would hate all of them. Still, he had to choose one, that how things work “Maybe he likes fucking with you guys”

“Not everybody finds it funny to manipulate the people around them like Deceit” Oh, here we go again. 

“Patton and Janus are not that different”

“Name one thing they have in common” fortunately for Remus, the first answer that came to his mind was not that bad. 

“Well, if you’re right, they both don’t know where babies come from” Virgil seemed divided between keeping arguing and smiling. He went with the second option. You can do it, Virge. You can not screw everything. 

“I guess so. But Patton is definitely better with hugs” 

“Which one of the light sides would you fuck if you had to chose?”

“Where did that come from?!” Remus shrugged.

“Just curious”. 

“I won’t fucking answer that!” exclaimed, his face starting to get red.

“For me it would be Logan. Or maybe you. Do you count as a Light side already?” Anyway, Logan must be amazing. It’s almost like fucking a teacher and I always wanted to know how it feels like” Virgil was about to order him to shut up, but he knew Remus enough to know it would only make things worse, so he went with a more effective technique.  

“How is Deceit doing?” Remus raised his eyebrows, the question surprising enough to stop his line of thought. 

“Fine? Why do you care?”

“I mean… are you guys good?” 

“As always”

“Haven’t he been… hurting you or anything like that?”

“Janus never hurted me, dude, what the fuck?”

“Except that he did. Except that he does it everyday. You just don’t want to admit it” Remus looked into his eyes, frowning.

“Emo, what is this all about?” 

“What do you mean?” Based on how he focused his gaze on the floor, Remus raised his eyebrows even more. 

“This is not just about the fucking hoodie, is it?” Virgil stayed in a seeming never ending silence.

“They accepted me, Remus.You guys said it was impossible for the core sides to accept us, but here I am. They could accept you too” Oh, so that’s what this is about. Remus went to one of his rare silences, which were always scarier than his loudest noises. 

“We already talked about this, emo”

“But that was before! When we thought they all hated us! But they don’t! Logan is welcoming and Roman is trying and Patton… Patton is willing to receive us with his arms open”

“No, he’s fucking not. Patton hates me so fucking much I’m pretty sure he would get rid of me the second he had the fucking chance and would still convince himself it was the right thing to do” He got up without realizing, putting all his efforts into not crying like a pathetic child. 

“I think you’re mistaken him for Deceit” Virgil also got on his feet.

“Janus, his name is fucking Janus, why can’t you just call him for his fucking name?! He yelled. 

“He’s a liar, Remus! He doesn’t care about you or any of us! He just wants to… Follow his plans or whatever”

“Oh, do you think Patton cares about you?!”

“Actually yes, I know he fucking does”

“Well, yeah, maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but if I get there? Not only will he get scared and kick me out, he will also be angry at you for bringing the freak here into his perfect little world of sunshine and rainbows, so thank you so much, but Janus at least was there for me when I needed it, unlike those dicks or you!” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“I should have known this was a mistake” Virgil said, letting his shoulders drop with the height of defeat. 

“Yeah it was. Here is your fucking hoodie” He finished it with a snap of his fingers at threw it at Virgil, sinking out right after. “Have fun with your new friends, Virgil” 

Slowly, anxiety grabbed his new costume. It was amazing, Comfortable, spooky, creative. And it was so… detailed and clearly done carefully, It was… He started crying.Ugly crying, with the tears scratching his throat to came with violent sobs, their warm burning as they fell down his face, wetting his own clothes and the new one in his hands, the pain in his chest seeming like a monster was tearing apart his whole soul, trying to destroy his heart, it hurted more than anything that he ever felt. 

He knew, deep down, it was impossible to have a real famILY like that. But he also knew he was a hypocrite and it was easier to pretend things were simpler. It was easier to pretend he didn’t need Remus. Or Janus, by that extent. It was easier to pretend they weren’t family. But not easy enough for him to not hold on to all there was left from what they once called a friendship.

 He held the hoodie tighter.

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 9

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst if you squint.

W/c: 2.5 k

A/n: Thank you so much to all of you have have given this fic so much love. And thank you to @cutie1365​ for all her help and support! Hope you all are having a great week! Also I promise more Y/n x Bucky interactions are coming soon! 

It had been exactly five days since the three men left on their recon mission to see what Zemo knew. Five days. Besides the occasional report on Natasha’s part, you haven't heard from Bucky again since that night. 

This was a good thing, you thought. Maybe he was respecting your space. Maybe he had come to his senses. Maybe he meant that text for someone else. Ouch, You hurt your own feelings with that one. 

In any case, the time away from the Super Soldier had given you the clarity you needed to think. You and Natasha trained almost every morning and in your spare time you would work out with Sam. He was a good trainer, besides the lingering eyes when he asked you to do squats. You didn't really mind though. You weren't really sure why you were training. It's not like anyone knew where you were, or even cared at that point. The Avengers in New York had their own problems and as far as the rest of the world knew, Y/n L/n didn't exist. 

Everytime you would ask Nat what this was all for she would only shrug and say something about ‘Avengers must be prepared.’ The idea that you could even be compared to the world saving team was insane and frankly terrifying to say the least. You were just Y/n. Sure Hydra had pumped you full of some mystery serum but without your memories you weren't even sure what that meant. 

Speaking of, since that fateful day at the market, you had no sign of anything else coming back to you. You felt like you were letting everyone down. Especially Shuri who had been working tirelessly to help try and regain something, anything that would make you remember. A part of you worried that no matter what she did, you would never truly know. And a small part of you was maybe a little thankful. The idea of your past life terrified and fascinated you all at once. 

 Over the past few days, Wanda helped teach you that little mind trick of yours. Once you got the hang of it, it was hard to say out of people's heads. Though you had more control over your ability than before, sometimes your friends were just too loud; you couldn't help but pick them out of a room. 

“Hey good lookin'! You ready to hit the gym?” Sam's voice echoed through the kitchen while you poured yourself a tall mug of coffee. You signed, still sore from yesterday's workout. 

“Don’t you guys do anything other than workout?” You asked, eyeing him sceptically. 

“What's it look like?” He winked, flexing his bicep. 

Guess that's a no. 

“Okay, okay. Just let me enjoy this small fleeting moment of peace while I drink my coffee. I’ll meet you there in fifteen.” You spoke, exasperated. You weren't getting out of this one. You knew that, and so did he. 

“Fine, but if you're late, we’re sparring. And you know damn well I fight dirty.” He smirked, jogging out of the room. God, he was insufferable. Over the time since Sam had come back you both had spent a lot of time together. He was a flirt and you were awkward as hell, but the two of you became close friends. Plus, he liked to shit talk Bucky as much as you did. 

You brought your mug up to your lips and took a big sip, letting the rich aromatic smell of coffee invade your senses. While the others would lay down their respective lives to save the world, you would do it just for this moment. Were you a junky? The thought made you giggle. 

“What's so funny, dear?” Nat strolled into the kitchen, eyeing you while you only shook your head. 

“Oh, nothing.” You paused as she looked through the fridge for her usual morning orange juice. 

“Top shelf, on the left.” You spoke.

“Got it. Thanks. What are your plans for today?” She questioned, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. 

“I’m heading to the gym in a few, if you care to join me. Besides that, I’m open. Why what’s up?” You asked, bringing the mug back to your mouth and finishing what little coffee you had left. 

“No reason… the boys are coming home today and-” the coffee that once resided in your mouth spewed out in an almost cartoonish spit-take. Your hand flew up to your face, but it was too late. You choked on the fluid over coughs and apologies. 

“Wait- What?” You asked dumbfounded. 

…………..................................................................................................................

“Wait- what?” Steve asked in shock, his eyes almost bulging out of his face. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's delayed reaction. 

“I kissed her Steve” He reiterated again, “… Or maybe she kissed me- I don't know, it just kinda’ happened.” Bucky huffed, rubbing the back of his head as his eyebrows knitted together. It didn't matter now anyways, he had ruined it. He knew he had to, but dammit, that didn't mean it hurt any less. Knowing no matter who actually initiated the kiss- it happened, and in turn, completely altered their relationship. Whatever it had been in the first place. 

“How could you let this happen, Barnes?” Steve barked, knocking him out of his train of thought.

“Don't give me that ‘Captain’ bullshit, punk. Not with me. I don’t know, there's something about that girl. She just-”

“She's just nothing. No Buck, absolutely not. Do not go down this road. I’m warning you.” Steve pointed a finger at Bucky's chest, the sheer strength pushing him back a few pases. He held his ground though as to not let on that little Stevie was capable of such strength.

“Well it doesn't matter, I called it off anyways.” Bucky mumbled. Steve only sharply nodded in confirmation. 

“Why do you care, anyways?” Bucky asked, watching his friend carefully.

“I- I don't. I don’t care. I mean- yes! I care, of course I do. You're my best friend… I don't want to see you get hurt…”  Steve stuttered.

After all these years Bucky would have thought he’d get better at lying but, wanting to drop the conversation he nodded, accepting his failed attempt. 

“I’m glad you broke it off with her, Buck. There's so much you-” He coughed, though it sounded like more of a choke, “We. there's so much we don't know.” He finished, obviously staring at Bucky’s forehead, rather than his eyes. 

Damn he was bad at lying. 

“Anyways…” Bucky started, desperate to change the subject from Y/n to something less gut wrenching. “When’s ship out?” He asked, as the two men walked back to their motel. 

They had landed in Berlin five days ago. Five excruciatingly long days. Bucky had called and hung up on Y/n seventeen times since they got there. He prayed to whatever God he believed in the calls never made it to her end.

Meeting with Zemo took a lot out of Bucky. The man knew the deepest parts of himself. The parts that shamed him, and caused him nothing but heartache and pain. T’Challa had helped to sneak Steve and him into the Joint Counter Terroist Center, giving them a little less than thirty minutes to interrogate the man.

Bucky wasn't sure about any of this. Why would Zemo want anything to do with Y/n? Unless he was just a cog. The whole thing made very little sense, but then again, he trusted Y/n. With every fiber of his body he trusted her. Even if Steve wasn't quite as sold. 

That's only because he hasn't kissed her sweet lips. God, if he only knew how you tasted. 

Ouch, he hurt his own feelings with that one. 

The memory for Zemo’s twisted smile knocked him out of his daze. 

“The prodigal son returns, it seems,” He chuckled, sadistically. Even his voice sent a shiver down Bucky's spine. The idea of this man's hands on Y/n in any capacity was enough to send him into a blind rage. But they hadn't come to tear his head clean off his body, though Bucky knew he could do it without even flinching. 

“Here to ask you some questions. And you're going to answer them.” Steve barked in his most authoritative Captain voice. Zemo chuckled, never once taking his eyes off Bucky. 

“The Winter Soldier and his boyfriend. What a pleasure…” Steve only huffed in response causing a sadistic smirk to tug on the prisoners mouth. 

“Twenty minutes.” T’Challa spoke into their coms. 

“What do you know about Y/n L/n?” Bucky spoke this time. He hoped Zemo didn't see his harsh expression falter as the mere mention of her name. 

“Ah, Agent L/n… Quite a specimen, wouldn't you agree, hound?” Zemo practically spit the word. Steve reached his arm out, gripping onto Bucky’s shoulder, holding him back. 

He wouldn't even flinch. It would take seconds.

“Answer the Question.” Steve boomed.

“Yes, Y/n and I go way back. You have her don't you? Found her triggers yet? Does she even remember her own name?” He laughed, almost maniacally, like something out of those old comic books Bucky was so fond of. 

“Steve…” Buck warned, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to hold it together much longer. Steve nodded, turning his gaze back to the small man in the cell.

“What's in the serum, Zemo. What exactly did you give her?” He asked, stepping closer to the glass case he was sitting in. 

“Couldn't tell you if I wanted to. But she knows… And when she remembers, oh. What. A. Day.” He smirked, tapping on the glass with every word. 

“What does that mean? What are her triggers?” Steve questioned. When Zemo only shrugged the Captain’s fist flew against the glass, sending a booming echo through the room. 

“Ten minutes.” T’Challa’s voice ran through their coms again. It was now or never. They probably wouldn't get another chance like this. The men were fugitives. The mere fact they crossed the European border was a god send.

“Why didn't you just kill her? Huh? Why go to all this trouble...Why give her the serum?” Bucky asked, trying, truly trying to keep his voice level. The idea of never meeting Y/n made his heart ache. 

“We tried to clone the serum. She's a smart one, мой ребенок. Made it so that without being mixed with her blood and exposed to radiation, it would be useless. Her fail safe. I don't think she ever thought...” He chuckled, shaking his head from side to side. “Tell me, did her arm heal okay?” 

Bucky gritted his teeth. The smug bastard. The thought of the torture Hydra must have put her though made him feel physically ill. Worse than anything they could have ever done to him. They touched her. He could practically hear her screams ringing through his mind. 

He wouldn't. Even. Flinch. 

“We must leave. Someone's alerted a guard.” T'Challa's panicked voice shook Bucky out of his rage. Zemo seemed to notice. 

“Give my regard to мой ребенок.” He flashed a toothy smile, taking a seat again.

“Get out of there!” The king's voice boomed, but Bucky didn't move. Steve yanked on his arm, pulling him towards the doors. 

“They know where she is.” Zemo spoke so quietly the two men almost didn't hear. But they did. 

“Who?” Bucky snapped. The man only chuckled, and waved as Steve yanked him out of the room. 

…………..................................................................................................................

You met Sam and Nat in the gym, fifteen minutes later.

He was coming home today. You always knew eventually he would, but you were hopeful you'd have a little more time. Time for what, you weren't sure. All you knew is your heart still ached with his final words. 

The idea of seeing Bucky’s face again made a lump appear in your throat. You weren’t ready. I mean, truthfully, you weren’t sure you'd ever be. 

You had dealt with rejection before, sure. Your freshman boyfriend asked Angie Cordillia to the winter formal instead of you. You cried all night. But this- this was different. You knew it. You felt it, and it ripped through your heart like a chainsaw to paper. 

“You're late!” Sam shouted from the treadmill going full speed. Well, not full speed- it was made for Steve and Bucky after all. 

“I am not. Right on-” You looked down at your watch. “Time…” Oh shit. One minute past ten. 

“I’m just warming up, and then I’m coming for you… Ya ready, beautiful?” Sam asked, sending a wink your way. 

You looked to Natasha who only sent you a smirk while she stretched on the gym mat. 

You huffed, tying your hair back into a ponytail. “Listen, Sam, I know what you said but I’m just really not feeling-“ 

“You know why you’re here?” Sam suddenly interrupted. All joking tones had melted out of his words as you approached him. 

“Well, do you?” He repeated. 

You thought about that for a moment. Yeah, you knew why. The team needed to find out whatever serum was in your system before Hydra would clone it. You were a means to an end. You were of course willing to be that cog, if to help right the wrong you had done in your past life, but that’s all it was. 

“You’re here because Y/n, the old Y/n was the best of the best. She was a fighter. And whether you remember or not, she’s in there. Maybe there’s a way to take that serum out of ya, maybe you can just start over. But if you can’t, whatever you believe in has put it in there to make you stronger. So you decide, are you just here to be here, or are you a fucking Avenger?” His words hit you like a ton of bricks. 

Sam was never the sentimental type. Far from it, in fact. You’d never heard him speak with such passion. You wanted to believe he meant it, but a gnawing feeling in the fit of your stomach kept you from fully retaining his worlds. 

“I- I’m not an Avenger.” You signed, wanted nothing more than to be the kind of person to spring into action after his speech, but you weren’t. You knew that was because you were no hero. 

“Maybe not officially. The bands kinda broken up at the moment. But lemme’ just say this,” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “You’re here for a reason. So we’re not going to sit around in Shuri’s lab all day. We’re going to train and maybe, if I kick your ass enough, you’ll realize just how special you are.” He gave you a little shove, knocking you back a little. You tried to speak but your voice betrayed you. 

“Dammit.” You finally spoke. 

“Yeah, I don’t know where that came from either…” Sam chucked. You wanted to protest, to argue that you weren’t the person he thought you were. But you didn’t. 

You weren’t sure if it was the look in his eyes, or the intro to Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC that came blaring out of the gym speakers, but in any case, you believed him.

“Fine, Give me your best shot, Wilson.”

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please remember to leave a like or reblog <3 Your validation means to much to me lol Hope you all are having an amazing weekend! Remember to take some time for yourself and practice self care! Lord knows we all need it right now.

@kalesrebellion​ 

@projectcampbell​

[everythingoesnk]

Once in Rockfield Farm (2/5)

summary; just roger being a cute little shit. hang on there because things will get spicy after this one i promise

word count; 5 365

warnings; none i believe?

part 1

********

After a hideous long day dealing with a professor about why he should consider giving extra credit in the assignment you presented, you came home feeling resentful.

The only goal up your mind now was to take a hot bath and shut out the world.

Exhausted, you yawned and headed to the dining room to greet the boys with Sherlock on your heels, finding extremely satisfying to hear the flames of the fireplace rustling.

The scene you encountered filled you with tenderness: Freddie, John and Roger were sitting on the carpet, playing Scrabble already in their pyjamas devouring a huge pizza with the fire glowing in their precious sleepy faces.

"If you're gonna cheat you can leave the way you came" Freddie noted, clearly irritated.

Roger clicked his tongue, bored. He knew from experience Freddie was a sore loser.

His eyes fell on you as soon as you showed up.

You smiled timidly and looked away when you saw him roaming your figure, baffled that you liked the attention. His lack of precariousness, too absorbed in your curves to even care if you caught him, made your stomach flutteri n a sweet way.

“Oh, darling, hi. I didn’t hear you come in” Freddie was gathering the tiles up to start a new game.

“Hello, (Y/N)” John smiled and stretched his legs.

“How was your day?” Roger questioned in a throaty voice, still recovering from how your entrance got him weak in the knees.

You placed a slice of the pizza on top of a napkin, watching with desire the cheese melting.

“Awful. Where’s Brian?”

“He’s asleep” John explained.

“It’s only nine p.m.” you replied, surprised that he went to bed so soon.

“We’ve had a tough day”

Ah, you didn’t need to hear more. The last few days for them in the studio had been nothing but intense and frustrating.

Freddie offered you to join the game, but you preferred to observe. Seeing them mess with each other was much more entertaining.

You laughed till your belly and cheeks hurt when Freddie threw a pack of cigarettes at Roger’s face, accusing him of cheating again. The other became defensive pointing out how many suspicious words Freddie tried to make them believe they existed. Poor John tried to get in between the discussion to hurry things up, but knowing very damn well they wouldn’t listen, he came to sit next to you on the sofa.

The look he was giving you was nothing but perturbing.

"When are you going to perform for us?" he asked, straight down to business.

You too, John?

Sherlock jumped and plopped down on his lap.

“Roger told us you have a wonderful voice. He said more things actually, but I don’t want to embarrass him”

Aggressively, your face turned a weird shade of pink. You hid it burying your head in your hands and peeked out at him through your fingers.

“Shut up”

John cackled.

“It’s rude only Rog got to listen to you. You’re not that good at hiding your favouritism, let me tell you” Freddie taunted.

“She’s awful at hiding her favouritism, but you two need to cut it off” Roger instructed, and sent a cocky grin your way.

“Yeah, leave me— what?” his eyes sparkled with playfulness. “I never said you were my favourite, don’t flatter yourself. And for the record, you were acting the same the other day”

He licked his lower lip, a not so innocent smile plastered on them.

“It didn’t take me more than two minutes to convince you”

“Oh, shoo” you laughed, covering your mouth. “He said I sounded like an angel, did he tell you guys this?” you asked, playfully peering at Roger from the corner of your eye to confirm if he was still looking at you.

He was. He couldn’t not to when you were around.

John wanted to say that he did, repeatedly, and that when he mentioned how enchanting your voice was, Roger himself sounded so proud and utterly devoted to it.

Freddie exchanged a look with his disco friend that spoke volumes. The latter had a small smile ghosting his lips as he watched the scene develop.

“What are you trying to imply? C’mon, I see how you look at me when we’re rehearsing” Roger provokingly pointed out, emphasizing his words with the most coquettish smile, messing with his hair.

His eyes felt so heavy on you, stare loaded with… something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be confused, I look at Brian” you assured, resting your chin on your palm, one big grin on your lips.

“Do you? Well, you leave no other option but to get rid of him. Where could I hide the body? I’m lucky you have plenty of land”

You giggled genuinely, and Roger felt the need to get up and kiss you.

“(Y/N)” John called.

You didn’t even realize he left your side until you saw him at the door.

“Someone’s asking for you” he stated, gesturing to the rotary phone in the entrance.

You stood up, and as you walked past him, a pouting Roger grabbed you by the ankle, earning a chuckle from you in return. He was upset you had to leave to answer the call. That little teasing game with you was making his day.

Boisterous chaos of voices erupted from the living room when you were gone, the boys annoying Roger with comments about his soft behaviour towards you.

Disappointment rushed over you when you heard who was on the other end of the line.

“Hi, dad”

“What kind of circus have you put up at home?” he asked in a rather unpleased tone.

You didn’t tell your parents about your decision to have a rockband move in. It had nothing to do with them anyway; it didn’t affect their day to day.

John probably had to properly introduce himself since he picked up, giving a little away about who he was and why he answered his daughter’s call. You were embarrassed about what your father could’ve said to him, knowing he could turn out to be very austere and unfriendly.

“It’s a long story, dad, but don’t worry. Everything’s fine, they’re not staying forever, y’know”

“How would I know?”

He had a point.

“We don’t want you near that kind of people, you listen?” he protested into the receiver.

You found it funny and exasperating at the same time that your father, being as clever as he was –you’d grown to know that being clever didn’t necessarily mean someone was intelligent—, heard the word "rocker" and instantly related it to a person with poor hygiene and an IQ below average. A beast whom you just aren’t able to have a normal conversation with because the only thing they know about is sex.

He probably assumed they lived half their life in prison as well, because why not.

“We’re coming over on Saturday” he continued.

“Okay”

“And they better be gone”

You had to control the urge to scream at him for being so stubborn.

“They’re staying as long as they need, period. My grades are as excellent as ever, by the way” you enunciated, hanging up on him in the middle of a word.

That hot bath was very much needed now.

//

Saturday came sooner than you thought.

And you were terrified.

Since it was pretty noticeable how stressed you were about the reunion with your parents, who were coming all the way from America, the boys volunteered to set the table and save you the work.

The temperature had dropped a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant either, so everyone voted democratically to eat outside next to the pool.

Brian and John were busy placing the cutlery, Freddie and Mary stayed in the kitchen keeping an eye on the chicken.

"I knew I’d meet them someday, but not so soon. I didn’t even ask you out yet" joked Roger, approaching you from behind.

He waited for a reaction to his attempt to make you laugh and hopefully go red like you always did when he made that type of comments.

A line appeared between his brows when you exhaled, your languid gaze stuck in a random spot in the distance, huddling to the door frame. Roger loomed closer to you, thoughtfully, as you two watched Sherlock chasing a rabbit from the front door.

“Are they that bad?”

“No, ‘f course not. They’re also vain, self-centred, insensitive, hostile,” you sighed in despair, “and horrible parents”

Roger opened his mouth but you weren’t done.

“Just let me do the talking. The less you interact with them, the better”

You closed the door with your foot, turned around and paced back and forth, biting your nails.

Roger couldn’t help but stare.

Despite how anxious you were and the permanent meditative expression in your face, he cocked his head as he stared at you with a teeny tiny grin on his lips.

How did you manage to look so truly gorgeous all the damn time? That question kept coming back to haunt him.

Roger got used to it, yet he didn’t found an answer. Perhaps you were just the prettiest and most stunning living creature he’d ever seen.

“Chill out, love”

You checked the clock hanging on the wall and spared Roger a glance.

He chuckled at you crossing your arms across your chest, finger tapping them nervously.

“When you meet them you’ll know what I mean”

“Everything’s ready” Brian announced, walking in. “I’ll check how’s the meal going, I don’t trust those two with anything”

John followed him, hands shoved in his pockets, and sent you the sweetest reassuring smile.

You were so glad and grateful that you had these people with you. Whenever you were alone with your parents you felt overwhelmingly depressed.

As you jerked your head in Roger’s direction for he hadn’t said a thing for a good minute, you saw him massaging his temple and eyeing you. Your heart began galloping like crazy. He looked fucking handsome like that.

Like if he were debating where to start devouring you.

“W-what?”

Roger walked up to you until he was just mere inches away.

“It’ll be alright, okay? We’re here”

A now familiar tingling feeling to your closeness invaded him when he slowly extended his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch, craving for him to don’t even considerate walking away now.

Tongue-tied, unable to produce a word, you were sure you were more than ready for him to do whatever he wanted to do with you at that very moment.

Roger rubbed his thumb against your skin, the only effective way he could think of to make you relax. What he didn’t know was that relaxing wasn’t in your dictionary at the moment, not when his docile fingertips were so incredibly soft, delicately and tenderly brushing your anxiety far away.

“How long’s it been since you last saw them?”

You sighed dramatically, disappointed when he dropped his hand to the side.

“One year, one and a half. I don’t remember”

Roger jabbed your side with his elbow.

“I don’t know if you know, but they have the most amazing daughter” he muttered, gaze fixed somewhere else, nodding to himself. “She’s about to graduate and has an enormous beautiful heart. And enough talent to end careers if she wanted to. Don’t tell her, but thank God she’s not releasing any records or we’d be screwed”

Every word he listed genuine, he expected more than anything to make you smile.

Hopeless to compliments as you were, you didn’t know what to respond. He was being so disgustingly sweet. It sent your heart rate beyond the damn Milky Way.

“‘Bottomless pit’, that’s what they said when she mentioned her intentions to become a musician”

Roger huffed.

“Fuck them, then” he spat without thinking,

Soon he regretted it, upsetting you being the last thing he wanted now, but he visibly relaxed when you snickered, making his stomach flip.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em”

Roger laughed and you laughed too.

He looked at you warmly.

“There you go. That’s what I was longing to hear, your cheeky and charming laugh”

It started to fade away moderately at his comment, and you furrowed an eyebrow.

“What?”

He grinned cheekily looking down at you.

“Nothing”

“My love, what are you doing?” Freddie asked Mary, who’d been peeking out the kitchen door for a while.

"Shh," she waved Freddie off, staring at you and Roger sharing a moment. She then returned to meet Brian, John and Freddie. "I didn't know Roger and (Y/N) were getting along this well”

A dark thought clouded her mind within milliseconds.

“You don’t look very pumped about it” Brian pointed out.

“We all know how he is”

“He won’t use her that way”

“How are you so sure?”

Brian raised an eyebrow when he found out he didn’t have a coherent answer for that. He just felt it in his guts that Roger wouldn’t treat you like one of his groupies.

“I just know”

“I second that” Freddie spoke, a little bit annoyed that Mary was so quick to jump to conclusions. “And honey, you were the first one to tell (Y/N) he’d bang her. I heard you two, you planted the seed”

“I never imagined she’d be into him, I thought she had a type. She prefers them a few years older… or used to” she added in a low voice.

“That’s just stupid, Mary” John interrupted.

The other two turned their heads and looked at him as if they were seeing John for the first time. Brian nodded; Freddie grinned.

“There’s no such thing as a ‘type’. When it comes to being attracted to another person you can never tell”

“I’m just surprised” she coughed, and grabbed a bowl to make a salad. “They do, then, like each other?”

“Roger’s into her, I think it’s obvious? I can’t read minds, so I’m-“

“Did he tell you?”

“-I’m not entirely sure about (Y/N). And no, he hasn’t. There’s really no need for him to verbalize it. One day I had to go get him because these two were arguing again,” he loitered around the door in case one of you would come, not wanting you to know they were talking about this, “and when I found him in the studio they were together”

“But that doesn’t mean anything“

“Mary, listen, if you’d seen what I saw, Roger’s face. I don’t know. I don’t know what they’d been talking about, but the way he was looking at her… I don’t know how to explain it”

“Try?” Mary glanced up at him.

He hesitated for a bit.

“Like if she were special”

Mary’s brows knitted.

The sound of the bell made your throat go dry.

You’d been listening patiently to Roger explaining that they were supposed to head to London for a meeting with Rheid the next day in the morning, hence why you didn’t hear them pull over.

“Please make sure everything’s good over there while I attend them”

Roger nodded and left, concerned on the inside when he noticed how the colour evacuated your face.

It felt like a kick in the stomach, the emptiness of where he stood seconds ago.

You needed him but you felt you couldn’t let him know, ‘cause it would be weird. Why would you need Roger for, exactly? To be by your side to welcome your parents? Stupid, right?

The relationship with them was… there wasn’t. One in which they fulfilled their function, better or worse? No. They never filled the mould.

With your father it was bad. With your mother, hard to explain.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t admire them as individuals for their accomplishments: your father was the owner of a law firm based in New York. Hadn’t lost a case in years, and that sure was the main reason behind the reputation of ‘untouchable’ he had. Your mother’d been a pilot for the USAF, but she was involved in an accident and in a wheelchair for life now, forcing her to retire earlier than suspected.

Awkwardly, you collected yourself, palms blooming with sweat as you twisted the handle.

Only your mother laid eyes on you when you starred their field of view.

“What were you up to? We’ve been waiting for a good five minutes”

Ignoring your father’s sharp comment, you tilted your body forwards for your mum to embrace you.

The thing about her was that deep down you were sure she was on your side about your inclinations concerning your future (she knew you inherited her father’s talent), but she wasn’t brave enough to let you know from her in case you’d use it in your favour against your father.

You wished the relationship with your future husband wasn’t based on the same pillars as their marriage.

“My sweet child”

Your father pushed her wheelchair inside and you hurried to close the door behind him.

"Father," you said politely, almost in a robotic manner, not really wanting to go through this.

And also because he didn't like hugs nor kisses on the cheek you kept the distance, conscious that that was what he expected from you.

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll get the others”

You turned around and quickly withdrew to the kitchen before they could say anything that challenged your nerves.

They looked at each other and you heard your mum whisper to him to “please behave”.

They seemed to loosen up a little when they recognized a familiar face, Mary’s, amongst the five people that followed you.

After introducing Queen, you offered everyone to take a seat at the table so you could start to serve lunch.

A sincere microscopic smile settled on your mother’s lips, but your father had his stern gaze upon Roger, who held his hand out to shake his.

“Hello, mister. It’s a pleasure”

With Roger’s hand still hanging in the air, your father looked at you stony eyed.

What was it about Roger that got him so creepy?

You took a fast glance at him to see what could possibly be your father’s source of irritation, and your eyes grew wider.

Father and Mother were wearing expensive, chic clothes, as per usual. Not a single wrinkle in his suit, her dress impeccable. Roger’s sense of style was everything, actually one of the many things that first attracted you to him. Regardless that, seeing him now made you close your eyes to internally pray for the ground to swallow you.

With a quick hand movement, you covertly gestured him to button up the blouse with floral motifs he was wearing, since he had his torso totally exposed.

A Mona Lisa expression was all he could pull off while working on getting it done.

At the head of the table sat your father, your mother next to him in the corner. Then Mary, Freddie and Brian, you in front of your mother, Roger on your left and John to conclude.

Uncorking the bottle of red wine, you listened as your mum and Mary established a pretty basic conversation to catch up. Luckily you had Mary to ease the mood.

You asked Freddie to help you with the starters and walked to the kitchen.

“They seem nice”

“Freddie I swear to God”

“We could always kick them out or have an orgy in front of them. Would that meet their standards of what rockstars do for a living?”

“There,” you handed him two plates, “do not drop ‘em, I plead you”

Freddie could finally settle down from going back and forth carrying things when you brought with you Roger’s and John’s food.

John muttered a ‘thank you’ and Roger scratched your back when you plopped onto the chair.

Maybe you were imagining things, but it sort of felt… different to a simply friendly rub.

You shook your head, shut up (Y/N).

“When’s the graduation ceremony?” wondered your dad before putting the first spoon of hummus in his mouth.

“The 19th”

“That���s around the corner, aren’t you excited?” your mum said.

“Very”

“I’ve already chosen my outfit. I won’t give any details away, though. Do you have yours?” Mary cheerfully interfered.

“Eh… no”

“Well, you should really go shopping with Mary. She has an eye for fashion” your mum remarked.

“Thank you. I’ve learned a lot from Freddie, I must say” she turned her head and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“M, make sure you bring the Nikon to take good photos. I don’t want them to miss a detail of such important day in my life” you sneered without mincing.

They wouldn’t make it to the ceremony and it made your blood boil that they were looking so forward to it. What for? They wouldn’t even be present to witness it themselves.

Mary’s smile turned into a grimace, and she suddenly found the bread positioned next to her fork the most interesting item her eyes ever registered.

"Shade's unnecessary, don't even begin," your dad said severely. "We won't be drinking fucking cocktails in Barbados; we've got responsibilities in the States"

“And I’m sure you tried by all efforts to make it possible” you took a sip of the wine, still not making any eye contact with them.

Instead, you looked at Mary. She was begging for you to take it easy; you knew her too well to be able to communicate without words.

“(Y/N)” your dad warned.

“No, it just shocks me that being the powerful businessman that you are you cannot pull strings out to be there”

Shit, you needed to stop. Your eyes started to water out of bitterness and that wasn’t fucking cool. You’d cried too much over the years because of them and were able to stop the tears from falling at this point, but it was infuriating.

A promise is a promise, and you promised yourself to not shed more tears when it came to them. They didn’t deserve it.

Towards the end of the meal things cooled down a bit thanks to Mary again, that kept everyone distracted talking about… you didn’t even know what the hell she was talking about, lost in your own world.

Your breaking point reached the verge when your dad came at Brian.

At motherfucking Brian. The sweetest human to walk the Earth.

“Apart from playing the guitar, is there anything else you can do? In case the band flops”

That was it. That was fucking it.

You slammed the table, palms settled down against it.

Roger wrapped his hand around your thigh below the table.

“What the heck? Who do you think you are? Do you really think you’re superior to them? To anyone sitting at this table?” you were all noisy breathing.

Shaking your head in disapproval, you were about to put him in his place, and neither your mother or Mary would make you back down.

Alongside a high chin and flaring nostrils, you dad’s eyes burned as he scrutinized you. The thing he hated the most was when someone embarrassed him in public –which didn’t happen often—, but he knew if he dared to speak now it’d only make things worse.

“Brian owns a PhD title in Astronomy, Freddie a diploma in Graphic Arts and Design, Rog a bachelor’s degree in Biology, and John a 1st Class Honours Degree in Electronics. Shut your ugly clown ass mouth for once”

“(Y/N), please…” your mum begged.

Your dad stood up, and you pulled yourself to your feet to not give him the satisfaction to appear bigger, which’d psychologically help his ego.

Roger rose from the chair and pressed his lips together at the wounded look in your face. He grabbed you by the waist instinctively and pulled you closer to him.

“Why don’t we go inside…” Mary recommended the rest in almost a whisper.

You screwed your eyes shut, and when you felt like opening them, thankfully it was only you and Roger.

"See what I've got to put up with? Fuckin' surreal. You may think I exaggerated but he's a crackhead and I wasn't going to let him say anything nasty about any of you. I'm only sorry for my mum, she doesn't deserve— I keep thinking about the what-ifs. What if they divorced. What if grandpa was still alive. Oh, Rog. You'd love him, he was a gift from heaven"

The world stopped together with your talking when you felt Roger’s arms enveloping you in a hug, drawing you into his chest.

“Shut up for a bit and breathe”

Roger’s scent induced you in a daze that wouldn’t allow you to collect your thoughts.

In hopes of helping, he stroked your hair and yet pulled you even closer to him, kissing the crown of your head.

What you didn’t know was that Roger was as stunned as you were, completely blown away by how gratifying it was to be attached to one another. You nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. The ringlets in his hair tickling your forehead.

Seconds, a minute, half an hour, a day, centuries, you didn’t know how much time you spent like this, with him leisurely clutching at your body.

Slowly, you physically distanced yourself a little from the warmth that his body irradiated. Not too far away, though, still safe in his arms.

Locking eyes was probably the worst choice for your well being you could’ve had made: he’d been searching your face for a sign that you were less anxious, but once you looked up at him through your lashes, he was entirely yours.

Foreheads quite close but still at a reasonable extent, none of you looked away.

“Hey” Roger mumbled.

"Hi," you uttered, voice barely audible.

“You okay?”

“I’ve had better days” you laughed mirthlessly.

“How can I help?”

“You’re doing enough coping with me now”

His fingers slipped around your upper arms. Roger watched you, unsure about your very questionable answer.

You flashed a tired grin but he wasn’t buying any of it.

“Rog, I’m okay. It’s not the first time I quarrel with my dad, and it won’t be the last”

“Then why don’t you talk to him and lay cards on the table?”

“Do you really think I haven’t done that already? It’s like talking to a wall. And whenever I bring up the subject, he encourages me to stop with the bullshit because ‘it’s not funny anymore’”

Roger shook his head in disgust.

“Enrolling for university was my choice, anyway” you muttered.

“They brainwashed you! Goddammit, if it wasn’t for them you’d be filling stadiums with a sea of people singing your lyrics back at you” he said, raising his voice.

Nibbling on your lower lip, you dragged your gaze back to him. Did he really mean that?

“Do you… you believe so?”

“If everything you’ve written is nearly as good as what you sang to me the other day… yes, I do. You’d be ruling the world”

“Overdoing it much, ay?” you gave him an affectionate nudge, unable to stop a large smile from appearing.

“Am I?”

“A bit”

He smirked and bit his inside cheek. You giggled watching him looking up to the clouds, pretending to think of an answer.

“I’m your number one fan, what can I say”

Looping your arm around his neck, you pulled him close to your side.

He stared meaningfully at you, watching you ran your thumb over his cheek in admiration.

At that very moment, if it weren’t for the fact that you were an insecure and doubtful human being, you’d have kissed him without a second thought. And if it weren’t for the fact that he knew you deserved better than him, he’d have crushed his mouth into yours and told you he was madly crazy about you from day one.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Rog. You’ve been nothing but supportive. It doesn’t go unnoticed” you revealed, tipping your eyes up to him.

His heart skipped a beat.

During the first weeks, he wasn’t certain about why his heart kept skipping any beats because of you. That answer he’d been searching was most likely unleashed by now.

Building the courage to suggest you to go to dinner someday, he got interrupted by Mary, who reemerged from the sliding glass door that connected the backyard to the living room.

She couldn’t manage to speak for a moment, somewhat surprised and unpleased at the sight of you and Roger so relatively close.

“Your parents are leaving”

You frowned, freeing Roger from your grasp, and then put on an “I-Don’t-Really-Care” mask on.

“Fine”

They were already at the door. You sighed.

Mother had an expression of concern, and Father didn’t even bother to cover his discomfort and willing to get the hell out of there.

The farewell with your dad was short and full of negative energy, so you were relieved when he hurried out to the car after saying that he wished you well, with the “until next time” plain line afterwards. Your mum took your hand in hers, blinking her tears back.

You whispered a low apology, but she shook her head.

Why everything had to be so difficult with them?

Tears threatening to escape your eyes at the sudden jolt of sorrowness, you wiped your nose with the back of your free hand, since the other one was still being held steady by your mother’s.

“Your boyfriend…”

“Roger?” you lifted your eyebrow, dazed. “You mean Roger? He’s not my boyfriend”

Her eyes crinkled. If he weren’t at least someone important to you beyond the friendzone, you wouldn’t have been so quick to know she was referring to him.

“How he rushed to protect you from your dad back there… I thought he was. My bad”

By the mischievous half smile she had, you could tell she was implying that whatever the situation was, it wasn’t as innocent as you thought.

“Okay…” you trailed off.

“I love you, baby. Take care of yourself, please”

//

A series of busy sounds awakened you.

Sullenly checking the clock on the nightstand, you swore to the angels you'd kill whoever was making so much noise so freaking early.

You snarled and covered yourself aggressively again.

Someone opened the door, and just enough to see, you stuck your head over the top of the sheet.

That person didn’t turn on the light so they wouldn’t blind you, but you immediately sat down and turned it on yourself with the switch next to the headboard, in which you subsequently supported yourself against.

When you realized it was Roger, still with a face of drowsiness and hair without combing, the upset he’d caused you decreased precipitously.

It was unfair. He was so cute it hurt.

"Rog?"

An annoying heat rose to your cheeks. You were sure your look wasn’t the most flattering.

"Sorry, sorry"

"What’s it?” you asked, worried.

"Nothing bad, sorry I woke you up like that. But I have an idea"

"An idea? At six in the morning? It better be bloody good"

He smiled, visibly thrilled, and sat at the foot of your bed.

"Remember what I told you yesterday?"

"No, I don’t. Don’t make me think now" you groaned, wishing you could go back to sleeping.

"We have a meeting in London, we’ll spend the whole day there. I want you to come with me. Us… us”

"Me?” you rubbed your eyes, tired and surreptitiously having to fight back yawn after yawn. “What for? I’d be completely out of place in a Queen meeting"

"You cannot attend it. Though I wouldn’t mind"

"So? I have finals, and—"

"Jesus, (Y/N). I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer"

"Why do you insist so much? I simply don’t understand what the purpose of me going is"

"Please, come"

The glint in his eyes was irresistible.

It’d been a while since you’d mentally agreed, but you were dying to know what he was up to. Apparently it was a surprise, and knowing Roger, he wouldn’t give anything away.

If you wanted to know, you’d just have to trust and follow him.

********

hope y’all liked it. a reblog would help me a lot <3

tagging: @sweetdaisys @multifics @incorrcctqueen @namelesslosers

[aliceslantern]

Retribution, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 7

Newly a person again, Ienzo is weighed down by guilt and his humanity. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to atone... only to find unexpected solace in a familiar face. With more insight into the bonds between people than ever before, Ienzo reaches for a dangerous element from the past to help Kairi and Riku in their search for Sora. What is his life if it means saving another, brighter light?

Post KH3 and Re:Mind, Zemyx

Chapter summary:  Ienzo tries to come to terms with his and Demyx's newfound connection, on top of continuing to strengthen his magic.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

On a purely literal level, this was all so… bizarre. Not only was it physically and emotionally jarring, but there was also the not-so-minor fact that the object of his attraction was Demyx. This had to be in part--he thought (did he hope?) because he was Ienzo. Zexion would never put up with this.

(Or would he, had he felt such things earlier? Then again, Zexion couldn’t feel--that was the difference between his selves, wasn’t it?)

It didn’t help that this all was a fantastic way to silence the noise of his various ongoing existential and identity crises, considering they constantly invaded when he wasn’t at work.

Stranger still, to have things to look forward to other than some form of self-sacrifice for the greater good. The greenhouse became a neutral space, a created space, where he could shed his masks and simply be , and feel. Ienzo suspected Demyx may do the same.

For a while after that kiss, their touch was purely chaste. The handholding became embracing, became true cuddling, something he hadn’t experienced since he was a very small child, and truly this was much different than that, though innocent in its own way. To simply hold and be held overwhelmed him, and often he found himself shaking, his skin unused to contact. They would sit against one wall, Ienzo in Demyx’s lap, leaning against his shoulder. His smell was comforting, grounding. Sometimes they would talk, but often they just sat in silence, absorbing one another almost with embarrassment.

“...This feels nice,” Demyx said. He was stroking Ienzo’s hair, and Ienzo wondered if this was how cats felt when they purred, though no noise left him.

“I’m afraid it’s through no effort of my own. My hair simply does what it wants. I gave up wrangling it years ago.”

He laughed a little, and Ienzo could feel it. “No. Sitting here like this.”

“It… is.” He felt the blood rush to his face. “Touch can be… incredibly reassuring. At least for humans.”

“It’s like my skin is thirsty.”

“...I know what you mean. As social creatures… we need people.” He scowled. “Much to my chagrin. It is entirely natural… and wholly irritating.”

Demyx laughed again. “You even resent things that feel good?”

“...I resent feelings in general. I do so wish I had control over them.”

“Turn them on and off at will?”

“Mostly off, but quite. Or at least… lower the volume.” He wrinkled his nose. “After so much numbness this is almost more than I can take. My heart is quite literally a child’s. To suddenly be shoved into an adult mind and body… makes me feel so tenuous.”

“...I don’t know. I like you as you are.”

Ienzo looked up, pulling away just the slightest. “Why?”

He seemed genuinely startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why should you?”

He furrowed his brows. “I dunno… now that we’re not constantly sniping at each other, I can kind of see… the person peeking out underneath.” He touched his cheek. Ienzo shuddered; it had nothing to do with the content of their conversation. “You’re so--funny.”

This was the last word he expected Demyx to use. “Am I,” he said dryly.

“Witty. Thoughtful. Selfless.”

“No, no. Please. Fluff up my ego, why don’t you.” He scowled.

“Why are you so hard on yourself?”

“Why am I--” He sputtered. “All the things I’ve done--”

His eyes took on an intensity Ienzo had rarely seen. “Is in the past. As you keep saying.”

Ienzo had to look away. “Do you forgive yourself, for what you did?”

“I’m trying to.”

“I want to.” It was a revelation to himself. “But I… I don’t know how to let go.”

“Maybe settle for feeling first.”

Demyx had a point. All this tamping down and derailment of emotion was not going to make it go away . If he felt it--let it all come up--maybe he’d be in tatters, but there might just be something left underneath. Someone who could still do good. “You’ve become--painfully insightful,” he murmured. “I suppose you always were, and I was none the wiser.” Ienzo shook his head. “Where do you propose I start?”

He ran his thumb over Ienzo’s lower lip, a touch that brought with it another shiver. “I can think of one thing.”

Ienzo kissed him. It was easier this time than before, less awkward; they’d both caught on at this point. He felt Demyx’s hand on the small of his back and noted it, too, was shaking. To let this all in took conscious focus, an unraveling of the barriers which so far had kept him upright, functional. To melt and cede to his body and heart, rather than the mind and will.

It helped that kissing felt rather lovely. Demyx kissed back with more insistence, and Ienzo matched him, his hands reaching up to grasp at the blonde hair (softer than he would have thought?). He was breathing hard, a juddery, unstable sound. This was not a terrifying breathlessness. This might be something worth testing, experimenting with, all of the sensations breaking over him new and yet somehow so old. Genetic, the desire for this sort of thing, he figured in brief snatches of consciousness. People were wired for it. He let this impulse run, and it should not have felt so liberating to give into something for once, instead of his normal restraint. Ienzo ran his tongue along Demyx’s lip and heard the shallow--and not completely promising--sound of surprise he made. He pulled away. “I’m… sorry,” he said.

He was flushed. “Don’t be sorry.” He touched his mouth. “I just--”

“Should we set boundaries?”

The flush darkened, reaching his ears. Curious, the power Ienzo had in that moment, to make him feel that way--but a power used for pleasure instead of pain. Definitely something worth toying with. “I wasn’t expecting it… but I…” He seemed to make some kind of decision, and rather abruptly pulled Ienzo close again. He wondered if Demyx, too, was just trying to feel. This time he parted his lips, and let Ienzo in, and much like that first kiss it was awkward for a moment or so as they tried to learn. Ienzo’s hands, caught in the fabric of Demyx’s shirt, trembled. This was a deeper sort of pleasure, one that threatened to bleed into other places in his body, and the simple shock of this was enough to make him break away.

A normal result of such activity, he knew, but something completely unfamiliar to him. How interesting , to feel this, the flush and flood of his own hormones, so long hidden by quirks of Nobody biology. It made him feel warm, strangely vulnerable, but also free. Like a chick about to take its first flight.

“Are you okay?” Demyx asked. He was breathing hard.

“I was merely… taking a second to observe these feelings,” Ienzo said. “Do forgive me.” And kissed him again. He shifted his weight a little, so he was fully facing Demyx, thighs against hips. Hard to tell exactly with their clothing, but Ienzo was fairly sure he felt his--

It didn’t happen all at once, but he felt his own body reacting, hardening, and the shiver that passed through him was less pleasant than the last, this effortless freedom giving way to a pain of overstimulation.

“I… I’m afraid I have to stop here.”

“I… feel the same… I’m dizzy.” He sounded it. “I didn’t think--”

“It would feel like this?” They both said almost at the same time.

“It feels… good,” Demyx said. Ienzo pulled away from him, acutely aware of the new pressure between his legs. “But at the same time it’s almost like I can’t take it.”

“Too much too fast,” Ienzo agreed. He tried not to drop his eyes to his lap, to observe it. “Have you ever felt such things?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Felt--? You mean--?”

Embarrassed and glad for the curtain of his hair, he nodded.

Demyx cleared his throat. “Not that I can remember, at least with someone else,” he admitted. “But it’s not… so unfamiliar? I guess? The, uh.” Ienzo prayed he wouldn’t say it, but he did, rubbing the back of his neck. “Boner?”

He flinched. All of these terms so crass and inelegant. “What you said when we first kissed. Did you mean it?”

He furrowed his brows. “I haven’t gone off and gotten laid in the meantime, if that’s what you’re asking. Think I would lose my shit--not in a good way.”

“I just don’t know how cautious to be. That is.” He swallowed.

“How fast to take things?” Demyx offered. He nodded once. “Let’s play it by ear. Don’t think about it too hard.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Ienzo's ear. "But I'm definitely willing… to experiment with you."

The pressure worsened. "Can we change the subject?" He asked. "The more inconsequential, the better."

---

And it did feel like playing with fire. These feelings were quickly getting too large, too embodied. He wanted. Ienzo had longed to be an adult for so long; he'd never anticipated it having its own challenges. In his rare moments alone, he found himself fantasizing about such things, about what it might be like to touch and be touched, take and be taken. Completely normal thoughts to have, he knew logically, but at the same time, alien. Distracting, embarrassing. (Delicious.)

He never gave into the temptation to explore on his own, which he found odd given that would likely make things much more bearable. He tried to a few times, but the sight of his own body quickly caused self-consciousness to kill any longing. Easier to feel this way if he had someone else to focus on.

Not that it was all physical, between them, but it was easier to think that it was. He feared there may be something below it, the kissing and the joking, something new and startling. Why was it he felt more comfortable being himself around Demyx than around the men he’d known for ages, the ones who’d raised him? Especially those he’d forgiven so far?

Demyx was also familiar with facades.

This realization came to him as he was trying to sleep. Much in the way Ienzo had feigned maturity, stability, tamping down hard on emotions, Demyx had feigned stupidity, obliviousness, kept himself under the radar. Neither of them had been their true selves in a long time, and allowing those masks to fall aside only deepened the bond between them.

He could stop this, he knew, stop these budding feelings in their tracks, let it all be about sex, or what have you. But did he want that? It was no doubt bad for his mental stability, already tenuous enough as it was. Would it truly be so terrible, to bond with someone? To trust them?

(Then again, all the people he’d trusted had betrayed him, or been pulled away from him.)

Demyx was so flighty. Who was to say that he, too, wouldn’t leave Ienzo? Why allow vulnerability when it would only grant pain? He did not need yet more angst. In all this, after all, he still had a job to do.

It was so… grueling.

During one of these endless hours training, he’d actually had to sink to his knees, his chest splitting like he’d run a marathon. Ienzo tried to catch his breath, his fingers working along the fabric of the cover of his lexicon. The magic fought him hard. Of course it should; pursuing this was unnatural. But if he didn’t, what else could he do? Work and  work in supposed “research” while nothing continued to be found? Despite returning to more-or-less a normal schedule, through gradual increases, nothing happened. If he had the power to make change, he was going to do something. No more sitting quietly in the background, refusing to dirty his hands.

The illusions refused to gather strength; they remained weak, flickery, intangible, no matter how hard he pulled or how much he tried to strengthen his other magics. Was this all he was really capable of?

Ienzo cried out in frustration and tossed the book. It splayed loosely on the stone floor of this room. A heat gathered in his face, equally from the embarrassment of losing control and a vague self-loathing.

Calm yourself. Focus.

He crossed his legs and shut his eyes, which were hot and ached. He tried to take deep breaths, focus on the way the air felt in his lungs. Calm, as ever Zexion was. Smooth, steady breaths. Let the memories run. Imagine how they may feel.

He pretended a patch of grass, so like the grass in the gardens he used to play in as a child. The smoothness of the blades against his fingertips, the coolness and dampness of dew. Keep breathing. Push the sensation outside of the body.

The first thing he thought was, it’s small. Maybe two meters square. He reached down and touched it, feeling that familiar dissonance of knowing this was fake and made, but at the same time, his own mind was fooled.

Perhaps the key was not using Zexion’s memories, but Ienzo’s. But there were so few of those--years he’d been too young to remember, and only some months since he’d been here again. How to gather data for use in his memory, and ergo illusion?

A stab of pain in his head shattered the illusion. He needed rest. “Zo… you look…”

Ienzo glared at Demyx, daring him to say something. He sat down weakly on one of the cushions. His body felt so heavy, despite the fact that he was fairly sure he’d lost weight. He'd been trying to keep up with his caloric intake, but the illusions seemed to require pure vitality.

“ Terrible ,” Demyx asserted, despite the harsh look. “Did you get any sleep at all recently?” He craned his neck a little, to get a better look at him. “And what are--” He brushed his fingers along the inside of his wrist. “You’re all bruised.” He grasped Ienzo’s hand and pushed the sleeve up farther, despite Ienzo’s efforts to pull away. Demyx was physically stronger than him; hauling packages would do that. “How--”

“I’m afraid you got a little carried away the last time we were intimate.”

Demyx shot him a look which indicated Ienzo was full of shit. “Those don’t look like hickies.” In the lamplight, Ienzo had to admit the bruises did look gruesome; they were small, perhaps the size of coins, splotches in random places all along his body. He was infinitely glad there were none on his face. They were just bruises--not darkness, as he’d initially feared. Some were already yellowing and fading away. Demyx handled his wrist gently, then grasped it; Ienzo realized he was trying to gauge if someone had grabbed him. The bruises were finger-sized, he realized, if a man had large hands.

“I was not in any fights, if that’s what you were wondering,” he said quickly. “I bruise easily--I always have. Must’ve knocked into something and not realized it.”

“These aren’t contact points,” Demyx said. His gaze was sharp. “Cut the crap. What really happened?”

He sighed. “I almost miss the days you pretended to be oblivious.”

“Ienzo.”

He huffed through his teeth--and gave him part of the truth. “I’m trying to strengthen my magic,” he admitted. “It was greatly weakened during my reformation. The… training is having odd effects on my body.”

“Because you’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said. “You work like a million hours during the day, and if you train at night--” He put a hand to his forehead. “Of course without sleep the magic is going to literally suck the life out of you.”

“Since when are you a medical and magical expert?”

Demyx scowled. “You know I listen to you guys when you talk, right?” He took both of Ienzo’s hands. “Zo. Please. You need to be easier on yourself. You don’t need magic right now.”

To his surprise, he felt tears in his eyes, tremulous and hot. “But I do.”

“Why? You were never a fighter.”

He had two options, each of which seemed equally arduous. He could tell Demyx the truth and force into the open his own recklessness; or he could lie and risk damaging the one bond he had. “I--”

He was almost funnily serious. “Ienzo.”

“I’m trying to get my power back.” Like opening Pandora’s box.

Demyx's eyebrows shot up; then he turned pale. " Can you?"

"It's coming back weakly--but it is coming back. It's simply exhausting. I wish to… use it to help Sora. I have power over memory, to see it--that's part of how I created illusions. If I can see the bond's of Kairi's heart…" He exhaled. Demyx didn't need to know of the inevitable price.

"Will it hurt you?"

"It's unclear." The closest his conscience would let him get to a lie.

"Ienzo--"

"This was my decision, Demyx. I want this. I wish to help, however I can."

He still looked worried. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He was so exhausted. "You could hold me," he said.

Demyx touched his face. "Will you let Even look at you?"

Ienzo blanched. If Even found out--

"Or Aerith? She's a healer."

He hesitated. "That would be prudent, wouldn't it?"

"I could go with you."

"Perhaps… I could use the air…" He settled back against Demyx and felt him slip his arms around Ienzo's waist. Demyx took his bruised wrist gently and kissed along the marks, making him shiver. "That's nice."

"Why don't you nap for a little while?" Demyx asked. "I'll stay with you."

"Yes… maybe…" His eyelids were so heavy. "Fifteen… twenty minutes…"

"Just sleep."

Ienzo drifted.

When he woke, it was light out. He was wrapped in blankets and on a mattress of cushions. He'd slept hard, hard enough to not notice any of this, a rarity. There was a handwritten note by his head in Demyx's neat, painstaking writing--

Zo,

To be fair, I did try to wake you, but you just wouldn't. I would've stayed until you woke up, but I had to get to work. I left some ether and water for you. You should finish it.

Please get some rest. And don't be mad.

See you,

D

He groaned a little as he sat up. His head was pounding, though the drinks he'd been left helped. The worst of the bruises began to fade as the ether seeped into his system. He checked the time and felt his heart jolt; it was a little after noon, meaning he'd been unconscious close to sixteen hours.

He was late.

Ienzo groaned again, more in frustration than anything. Very well.

"Oh, Ienzo. So kind of you to join us," Even said, when he got there.

He ignored the barb and walked over to the computer, to pick up a tablet. "I thought I was working too hard," he said instead.

"Yet--you've again been stepping up your time here. Don't think I haven't noticed, boy."

He sighed. "I am very much well."

"That so."

"Yes," he said. "It is."

"I'm sure Ienzo had things he needed to wrap up," Ansem said diplomatically. "If you feel you are well enough to work, then you are. Yes?"

"Quite." He went over to Kairi. He'd done some reading recently, about ways to channel magic through touch; he wondered if this might help his floundering power. As casually as possible, he reached for her wrist, as if to take a pulse. Help me.

He tried to let his power feel for her; and to his shock and delight, he could sense her light reaching back, beckoning. She'd been waiting for this. He gave her hand one more gentle squeeze. I'll come back later, he thought, and hoped she got the gist of the sentiment.

He did, too, weathering another not-quite-argument of Even and Ansem's. Once they had finally, finally left for the day… he approached.

Kairi grasped at him with the same willingness as before. Ienzo shut his eyes. It was imperfect, weakened, painful, but he could see snatches of her memory--the island, the bright saturated color, days and days of playing in the sand and surf, adventuring as they may, and Sora--

Ienzo was abruptly thrown from her mind. His head was aching and he could scarcely breathe. Was Sora's disappearance to blame? Was he simply too weak? His nose was also bleeding rather heavily, and he thanked the stars he actually had a handkerchief with him. I'm sorry. I'm not yet strong enough.

She slept.

[candyclan]

Coming out letter to my mom. (FTM) At the start of my transition, I wanted to go by a name that started with an “A”because my birthname did. All the rest of it is basically the same.

THE TRUTH:

I didn’t scream “I am a boy” at my parents. Honestly, my mother (specifically) controlled a lot of what I did, who I hung out with, and what I wore as a child. I believe she has/had an idea about what she wanted out of a daughter since I was born, and really just lived through me. I think she eventually had to give me room to make my own decisions, later in life. I didn’t come out until I was 16, although I had spent 6 months prior to even coming out thinking about my gender identity. I was extremely sheltered. I want you guys to know that I didn’t know what being transgender was until I was a freshman in high school and met my best friend (who is STILL MY BEST FRIEND TODAY) who identified as Non-binary gender fluid. I had never really met someone AFAB that lived to be anything other than female. With that came the knowledge that sometimes, men don’t necessarily have to have penises and I can wear whatever I’m comfortable with. I used to be religious in middle school (raised Christian) but I never found god. It never made sense to me how so many people can put their faith in other people’s ideas of what god is (the Bible) but not listen when their real CHILD comes to them and tells them that they feel uncomfortable in their gender identity. I also came out as bisexual in middle school, after meeting a girl I had a fancy for. To which my mother sobbed and cried and asked how she had failed as a parent. I remember loving pink, it was my favorite color. Pink, purple, blue. My top 3. Now it’s blue, pink, purple but basically the same. I had a pink room, loved hello kitty, let my mom curl my hair with little curlers at night so I could wake up and be somebody different the next day. My brother played with carebears and my Barbie dolls more than I did as a child. I remember a toy gun and handcuffs. I was fairly experimental as a child, I did: Girl Scouts, swimming, piano, soccer, ballet, cheerleading, and more honestly. I always got “boy” toys at McDonald’s (I mean cmon they’re cooler) I just was kinda everywhere. I feel like that’s easier for someone AFAB to be. My brother was harassed by my family for liking girly things but I was never shown that I couldn’t like stereotypical “boy things” by extended family. My mother however in the line at McDonalds I could never forget, turned and looked at me (baseball cap backwards tank top and shorts)and said “So, what?” “Are you batting for the other team” implying that because of the clothes I liked to wear I would be a lesbian. My mother (like I said, kinda controlling and extremely narcissistic) when I was allowed to cut my hair super short for the first time I was 16. Afterwards she has said things like: “but you’re so pretty how could you have cut your hair” “you looked so nice with long hair” I never felt akin to femininity. I was actually VERY uncomfortable with it. I hated being the “weaker” gender. I never wanted my nails painted. It was torture. I acted like makeup and and nail polish was torture, the hairbrush was my enemy. I used to just put my hair up in a low ponytail every day as I got older. I knew she’d never let me cut it all off. Basically, other than wanting to grow up strong and tough and not liking to be treated like a female, I was female. There were parts of being female I didn’t really have a problem with, and honestly that’s why I didn’t come out for so long. I wasn’t in a house or raised by people I knew would accept anything other than me being their “little girl” I was a daddies girl. So between my lack of understanding of where my feelings towards my gender roles were coming from, being encouraged by my family to be girly, not being exposed to gender diversity (or anything queer), and my controlling mother, I remained in the dark about who I was.

TRIGGER WARNING:::(abuse)::::: I was never close with my mother, and actually hated her growing up. To this day she is the most judge mental, self-centered woman I know. My father was funny, charismatic, and lost his shit sometimes. I like to say, 90% of the time he was amazing. We made jokes and could literally finish each other’s sentences. But honestly my father, 10% of the time was abusive. Most of my abuse in my life was covert (narcissistic abuse from my mother) and verbal/emotional/barely physical abuse from my father. He’s 6”3’ 350 lbs and very loud and scary, especially to a young child. He punched a hole in my wall, he threw a remote at a wall and shattered it to pieces, he threatened to kill my dog with a baseball bat in front of me. Which I swear to god he would have done if I wasn’t holding my dog, protecting him. These moments were few and far between, but they were riddled with insults and almost always left me with less than I started with. My father did spank my brother and I, and one time he clapped my brother so well that he left a purple hand mark on his butt. My mother told my father she’d take us away if that happened again. My father never left marks. He never had to, he was so big and would just get up in my face and scream at me. He made me feel helpless. Because he was invading my space I felt physically threatened, and he never actually had to touch me and leave bruises because that threat was already implied by invading my space. I was so young, but I always knew my family wasn’t right. Finally at 16, I stood up to my father for the first time. I didn’t care if he was bigger than me, I didn’t care if I would lose, I was willing to fight for me. Anyway, long story short the police were called because we were screaming at each other in front of his apartment building. I’m not going to say I didn’t fuck up as a teenager, but I never deserved the pressure and the abuse he was dishing out and had dished out my whole life. I knew that. I cut him out of my life just after turning 16, by then I had been questioning my identity. It became easier after leaving my father to fall into who I was. My father is FAIRLY religious and my mother claims to be but she never talks about god, she never prays, and now that my father and her are divorced I don’t think she’s been inside a church since. Losing my father was a lot, despite his abuse he and I were really close and had really similar personalities. The reality of abuse isn’t “well, now I see them as an abuser so now none of that good stuff is left it’s all tainted” I had to struggle with losing someone very important in my life at a young age, for myself.

Arguments against me being trans:

My family has been a bit divided in responding to me coming out. By now, it’s been about 4 years.

My mother and her side of the family are in denial. They don’t understand how I can’t be a “lesbian that just likes boy things”. They don’t use my name or pronouns.

My father, what little communication I have with him now, is bewildered. He and I had a discussion this past Christmas where I brought up what his abuse did to me mentally and he apologized but then tried to say “well what about your part in all of this” and said that I was hanging out with crazy depressed people, cutting myself, doing drugs, (I was smoking weed and I’ve tried acid like once piss off) and was sneaking out. Yeah. I did do all of that BUT GUESS WHAT. IM 20. I go where I wanna go. I fuck who I wanna fuck. I smoke what I want and guess what? It’s not any different from when I was 16 except now I don’t have parents up my ass telling me what to do. His argument basically was that I need to own up to what I did too and that fucking angered me. You don’t apologize and then go “well what about you” that’s not an apology. That’s deflection and honestly I don’t think I need to apologize because my parents were super controlling. I was just trying to do what I wanted and they didn’t like it. He and I have talked about me being trans and he pretty much thinks I’m certifiable. Doesn’t use my name or pronouns.

My brother: Ethan, my brother and I have always been close. He’s 17 now, and he had a different reaction to me being trans. Of all of my family he was the most receptive to my pleas of gender dysphoria and he suffers with anxiety so he gets stuff. But alas, after asking him if he’d call me by my name and pronouns (after 4 years of being out) he thinks that I am the one that has an issue with society. I told him I was starting T soon and he said: “Hrt won’t lessen all the things that come with being transgender. If you feel like doing hormones is the best for you then do it, but from a logical standpoint I think there just needs to be more thickening of skin” he claimes that if I try hard enough I could be fine living as female. Doesn’t use my name or pronouns.

None of my family supports me. None of my family understands. And none of them ever will. I have been out for four fucking years. I can’t tell you how frustrating family rejection can be. I have cried so much at the idea of not having a supportive family. I feel like I was ripped away from a beautiful life somewhere and thrust into this mess.

Honestly though, it doesn’t matter, the world keeps spinning and I keep finding people who love and accept me for who I truly am. I have made peace with my family’s lack of acceptance. It’s made me stronger and more compassionate towards others. Made me want to be better than them. I am actually going to start hormones soon, and on top of other fears I have, will be cutting my family out of my life. I can’t be 25 with a full beard and getting misgendered by my family. I can’t do it. They may feel like I’m going too far, that I don’t have to do this, but I do. I’m not doing this because I didn’t get too much attention as a kid or my mom favored my brother over me, I’m not doing this because it’s cool, I’m not doing this because I’m bored, I’m not doing this because I hate myself or anyone else. This is AFFIRMATION. Sometimes, cutting people who can’t see you for who your really are out of your life is affirming too.

Guys, girls, people, keep your head up. Things get better, I know. I thought life was never going to get better so I know that’s what it can feel like. But it does. Never ever let someone control your life or who you are. You’re beautiful/handsome/amazing! You deserve to be comfortable in your own skin and to love who you are. I am getting there, we all are.

Love,

Tanner M.

[their-destinys-writer]

Misadventures in Reporting - Christmas Special 2017

About the series: Misadventures in Reporting is a series of short stories about the adventures of a normal reporter living in an abnormal world.

Rating: PG-13 for mild cursing and one very drunk superhero

Word count: 1,782

I want to dedicate this to my best friend who’s been living in the United States for several years now (love you, bestie) and to every Puerto Rican living abroad. We miss you over here. Merry Christmas to you all.

Calling Home

It was the first day of snow. Normally, it wouldn’t fall until closer to Christmas, and sometimes not even then. But this year, Chicago was already filled with icy patches anywhere water had leaked days before Christmas Eve. That meant the citizens had to watch where they stepped. While the city’s maintenance employees had done their best to keep the sidewalks as safe as possible, there was only so much they could do. Everyone knew this. But Melinda was too focused on her phone to remember.

It was the third time she tried calling her family back home, but the call still wouldn’t get through. Each time it went straight to voicemail. She growled at her phone, her ungloved hand already hurting from the cold. Although she had been living in Illinois for several years already, she still couldn’t get used to the cold.

She switched her phone to her other hand, flexing the exposed one in hopes of unfreezing it. Once mobile enough, Melinda tried calling for the fourth time. This time, it rang twice. Her heart skipped a beat. Yet, once again, she was met with the familiar: “You have reached to voicemail box of; seven, eight, seven—”

“UGH!” she growled as she crossed the street. “Just work, you stupid, useless fu—ARGH!”

Melinda fell flat on her butt, but was not given the chance to properly register.

In a split second, a honk resounded in her ears, at the same time that a shooting pain invaded her shoulder. But the pain was not from the incoming headlights. Instead, Melinda had the time to look up to see someone had grabbed her arm, and was now flying her up to a nearby apartment building.

Ungracefully, what looked like a young man dropped her on the rooftop, making her fall face-first on the ground. She got up to her knees, groaning and looking for her clumsy savior. Only eight feet away from her, the man landed, staggering further away from her. He bent down and then…

Threw up.

That’s not what I expected, she thought, covering her nose and mouth.

“Ugh, I regret everything,” the young man slurred, holding himself up from a wall. He gagged again, like he was still nauseous.

That’s my savior? Melinda wondered, skeptical. She looked closer at the young man, who looked no taller than five feet and several inches. He was dressed in several layers of sweaters and jackets, the one over all colored black. He also wore a thick, red beanie that covered his ears, and large sunglasses, making it hard to make out his face. Yet, his very tanned skin was still visible.

“Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“I feel like shit,” he mumbled, dragging his feet away from the bodily fluids he had just expelled. “I’m never—” He stopped on his tracks. He swallowed hard and deflated. “I’m never drinking again.”

“You’re drunk?” Melinda deadpanned. “First time I get rescued, and you’re drunk?”

“Sorry—hic—to disappoint, lady,” the young man snapped.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” she asked, mulling over his short stature.

“I’ll have you know that—hic—my height doesn’t define my age,” he complained. He then took a deep breath. “Whatever, you’re fine. I’ll leave.”

He waved dismissively at her, but just as quickly as he took flight again, he was back down on the rooftop.

“Nope,” he managed to get out, covering his mouth again. “Bad idea.”

Melinda frowned, staring at the imbalanced man. Flying wasn’t a common power superheroes had. Which was ironic, considering all the comic books she had read while growing up. In fact, there was only one super she knew of who had that ability. And one of the traits people mostly described of him was that he was shorter than you’d think.

“You’re Hermes,” she let out. “You’re one those heroes that travels around the world.”

The young man became still, hand still on his face.

“I’m not sober enough for this,” he breathed, slowly sitting on the floor.

Meanwhile, Melinda’s heart started beating erratically. These international heroes were not easy to catch. Most of them denied interviews, or didn’t speak the language of whatever country they were visiting at the time. Only once she had managed to see one, and it ended with her trapped in a cage of dirt.

This guy was drunk and unable to fly. He was easy prey.

Yet, she found herself struggling between her journalism instincts and her human ones. It wouldn’t be fair nor ethical to take advantage of someone who had saved many lives. Much less of someone who made his first public rescue back home, where her family resided.

“Do you need anything?” she found herself asking.

Hermes merely shrugged. As softly as possible, she moved closer to him, until the tips of her feet almost touched his knee.

“Why are you drunk?” she couldn’t help but ask. “You sound like a kid.”

“Where I’m from, I’m old enough to drink,” he slurred.

“But we’re not in wherever you’re from,” she deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Hermes shrugged again. “Debatable.”

Melinda frowned. What was that even supposed to mean? This guy wasn’t making much sense. She could just leave. She wasn’t her babysitter or designated driver; she didn’t have to stay. But what if someone came out into the rooftop and found him like this? Not everyone was a kind soul. They could end up taking advantage of his state to find out his real identity, or worse.

With an exasperated sigh, she collapsed next to him, crossing her legs for warmth. At least the rooftop was kept as clear of snow as possible.

“Why aren’t you in costume?” she asked.

“Wasn’t working,” he whispered. “Didn’t have time to change. Much less in my state.”

The journalist hummed. “And why risk your identity, if you were not—”

“Are we playing twenty questions?” Hermes interrupted. “I may be—hic—drunk, but I can still keep my secrets.”

“No, I wasn’t—” But she stopped abruptly, sighing instead. “Sorry. I ask questions for a living. It’s like second nature sometimes.”

Hermes grunted. They remained quiet for several minutes. In that time, Melinda stole several glimpses his way, still processing the fact that she was sitting next to a very famous superhero outside of work. In those glances, she noticed a pin attached to his jacket. It was a flag, with a blue triangle and five stripes. Three stripes were red, while the other two were white. And inside the triangle, there was a lone, white star.

It was the flag of her home.

“What’s with the pin?” she couldn’t help but ask, despite her previous apology.

For a moment, Hermes hesitated. Yet, eventually, he responded.

“My mom gave it to me,” he said. When Melinda opened her mouth to ask further, he continued. “She wanted me to have a piece of home with me always. To remind myself from where I come from. Like I could ever forget it.”

Melinda could almost feel herself vibrate with excitement. Who would have thought one of those famous superheroes was Boricua, like her? She wanted to jump up and scream, or start talking in Spanish. However, the melancholy in his features held her down, feeling it was not the time to freak out about it. Instead, she went another route.

“I miss home, too,” she said quietly. “I was trying to call my mom when I fell on the street. Cellphone service had been kinda bad in Puerto Rico lately, so I wasn’t paying attention to where I was stepping. Thank God there was a fellow Boricua to save me, huh?”

This time, Melinda turned her head to look fully at Hermes. As for him, he was already staring at her, lips parted. Slowly, a grin replaced his surprise.

“My cousin thought—hic—it would be funny to give the coquito and extra kick,” he responded at last, basking in the fact that he could talk about the Puerto Rican eggnog without having to explain himself.

“And, what, you just kept drinking?”

“It was so good!” Hermes defended.

Melinda snorted, trying to hold back laughter. They then proceeded to talk about Christmas food and drinks, arguing about which was the best part of their traditions, and other things. After a while, they fell into silence.

“I miss the stars the most,” Melinda said suddenly, looking up at the sky. “I could see so many of them from home. Here, it’s lucky I can see at least one.”

“Me too,” Hermes sighed, starting to sober up. “But did you know you can see a lot more stars out in the sea?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Melinda shrugged. “I’ve never been sailing or on a cruise.”

“You should someday,” he said. “It’s one of the coolest things you’ll ever see.”

“Maybe someday.”

There was another pause, finally broken by Hermes starting to rise from his sitting position.

“Welp, I’m feeling much better,” he announced. “I should get going before my cousin freaks out.”

“Right,” Melinda agreed, standing up too.

Hermes was starting to climb the low wall, when he suddenly stopped and turned back to her.

“By the way, could you not tell anyone about the stuff I told you? Keeping my identity secret is very important to keep my loved ones’ safe. I’m sure you understand.”

The journalist waved a hand over her mouth in a zipping gesture.

“My lips are sealed,” she assured. “Not everything needs to be reported on.”

“Reported on?” Hermes whispered to himself. “What’s your name again?”

“I’m Melinda Martínez,” she responded, as if stating her name for an interview. “I’m a journalist, so you’ve probably read my name on a byline of the Chicago Metro Times. But don’t worry,” she added hastily when she noticed him become still. “I’m not the paparazzi type of reporter. I can keep a secret. Besides, you never consented to an interview, and I take my journalism ethics very seriously.”

“Oh,” Hermes breathed. “That’s nice of you. Well, see you around, Melinda.”

With a stiff wave of his hand, he bid goodbye to her and jumped into the air. Melinda took a step closer to where he had been, watching the fading figure in wonder, imagining how it felt like to fly. She gave a wistful sigh, right before looking at her phone again. She took a deep breath and tapped at the contact that said ‘Mami’. She waited several anxious seconds, until, at last, the phone on the other side rang.

After only two rings, a woman responded: “Hello?”

“Mami!” Melinda sighed, with the widest smile she’d had all day, despite the freezing Christmas cold.

[smashbuddies]

They Came From Outer Space: Pt. 15

For the last week, it felt like Daniel did nothing but sleep. Or play games. Or work. And okay, so maybe that was all he did back on Earth. But at least he got to leave his house, feel the sunshine on his face, see other people even if he didn't really want to talk to them. He missed making himself piping hot fresh cups of tea while the birds sang outside. He missed ignoring his moms calls.

He missed getting fucked.

That was a leap, but listen. Snail insisted that they couldn't have sex for the duration of the trip. Something about focus or whatever- that didn't matter! It was torture! Whatever bullshit they had about needing sex must've been contagious, because he sure as hell caught it.

So maybe he lied earlier. Maybe he also spent a lot of time, well... Railing himself with a dildo until he was satisfied enough to continue with his day or too tired to keep going.

In any case, it fucking sucked. And he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

"Are we getting close?" he asked, slung over Snail's shoulders like a needy feather-boa. "Or do we have to do another week of this bullshit?"

"Should only be another day and a half." Their hand reached up and lightly scratched his scalp, sending pleasant tingles down his spine. "Not too much longer."

He pouted when they stopped giving him that sweet attention. "'Not too much longer...' What bullshit."

They snorted. "Yeah? Is that what you really think?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, how about you bee a good boy and keep yourself busy for a bit? I gotta keep an eye on things here and I don't need your cute face distracting me."

"How about my cute ass?"

"You horny or something?"

"Maybe."

Their eyes widened. "Oh. Didn't think you'd be so upfront about it."

"I'm really horny," he admitted, face burning hotter than the sun. "It's... Almost unbearable, to be quite honest."

"I'll fuck you as soon as we land, promise."

That was that. Dejected, he slunk out of the room and made his way to the little corner that had become Daniel's Spot. Snail was kind enough to get a comfortable bed put in place, with piles upon piles of blankets and pillows to cushion his delicate physique. Throwing himself onto it, he let out a deep sigh and stared up at the ceiling. What was he going to do for another day?

Jack off.

...Now that was an idea. He glanced over at the dildo half tucked under his pillow. Time flies when you're having fun, right?

With that thought in mind, he went right for it. Five minutes later, he was sprawled out and filled with seven thick inches of said fun. He'd found that after making the transition to toys more... Aligned in shape to his particular tastes, jacking off became a lot more enjoyable. Turns out, once you got stuffed with a slew of tentacle dicks, you could never go back.

Daniel drew in deep, ragged breaths as he got lost in pleasure. If he closed his eyes real hard, he could pretend that Snail was fucking him. That was all he wanted. Just once before this trip ended.

God, he could imagine how feral they'd be. How they'd pin him down and growl in his ear, fuck him raw until he saw stars. In and out, in and out.  He was tempted to go out there, bend over the console, and demand that they finally give him what he wanted. Though he knew that wouldn't work. They liked to hear him beg.

"Please..."

Shit. He needed to be quiet. Or else he'd 'distract them'. So he threw a hand over his mouth and worked the dildo harder. It made him wiggle, whine, squirm, whimper, squeeze his eyes shut as hot shame rushed his face, and it was amazing. The thrill of getting caught brought him closer to the edge.

In hindsight, maybe he wanted them to hear. Then they'd have an excuse to come in there and call him a needy little slut. Show him what a good pet like him was best for.

With a muffled "fuck!", he came all over himself. No touching his dick necessary.

...Though that wasn't going to stop him from adding that to the mix for orgasm number two. In a couple quick motions, he'd stuck the dildo to the headboard, got into face-down-ass-up position, and gotten his hand exactly where he needed it. Now his hips could go buck wild, letting him rail himself so wonderfully.

"Such a whore," he muttered to himself, unable to keep it all inside. "Fuck...! Can't even go five seconds without... Without filling your needy hole..."

This was his favorite position. It really made him feel dirty. How a good pet should feel.

For his third round, he stood against the wall and fucked himself like that. The fourth, letting the toy sit in his ass while his hands toyed with his nipples and took turns pumping his dick. After that, he started repeating positions and methods, mixing and matching on a whim. Each orgasm wracked his sensitive body with almost too many good feelings, making it easier for the one to follow to take its toll on him.

Around orgasm number seven- how much time had actually passed, he sure as hell didn't know- his romp came to an early end.

"Hey, Daniel, you hungry? I was thinking we could... Uh..."

His eyes locked with theirs, which was a bit of a feat considering his face was pressed into the mattress. Frozen in place, he swallowed down as much cool air as he could so he could answer them.

"Yeah, um, I could... I could eat."

Silence. Damn it all. If he had more shame, he would've gotten the dildo out of his ass and tried to pretend like he wasn't just jacking off like a fucking horn-dog. If he had less, he would've just kept going and ignored this little hitch. 

Unfortunately for him, he was right in the No Man's Land of suffering, unable to do either.

Snail's face grew a dark purple. Hell, he could almost see them drooling over themself. Then a grin slowly made an appearance and they said, "So, uh... Did I interrupt something?"

He nodded, biting his lip.

"Want a minute to finish up?"

"Um... Yes, please."

"Okay. Just one thing before I go..."

In a flash, they were in front of him, one strong hand under his chin as they lifted him up and invaded his mouth with their tongue. He eagerly returned the kiss until they pulled away.

Pop!

"A little something to think about," they purred, giving him a wink as they left the room.

Needless to say, their kiss worked wonders. Only a few short minutes later, he met them in the little kitchenette with shaky legs and a bathrobe hastily thrown over himself. Did he remember to clean himself up beforehand? Well, he didn't want to say.

"Hungry?" they asked, all sharp teeth and humor.

Carefully, he took a seat at the table. Ouch. His ass still hurt a little. That was fine. Bitterly, he muttered, "Do I really need to answer that?"

They laughed. "No. Your red face says enough."

"Oh, shut up."

"Why don't you make me?"

"What, you didn't get enough earlier when you shoved your tongue down my throat?"

"I just know that you didn't."

He huffed and tap-tap-tapped his fingers against the table. "Dinner?"

Snorting, they got up and ambled over to the little oven they'd had put in. "I'm working on it. It's nothing fancy, just so you know."

"That's... Fine..."

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be at such a loss for words. But he was completely baffled. You see, when Snail stood up, they showed off, well... Something they had just stuck on to their front, right where their tentacles would come out. The dirtiest part of his brain first saw it as a flesh-light, but that couldn't be right. Why would they have a flesh-light stuck to them while they made dinner? 

Though he had no other idea what it could be. Should he ask?

"You're staring an awful lot."

He blinked several times. "Hm? What? I'm not staring. You're staring."

Snail raised an eyebrow at him, back leaned against the counter. "Maybe, but you were staring first. Like what you see?"

"Of course." His eyes shot up to meet theirs. "I'm also a little curious..."

"About what?"

He took a quick breath. Oh, come on, he could say it out loud. Just say it! Ugh, he hated post-sex brain.

"That thing on your dick..."

"...Yeah?"

"Um... What... What is it?"

"A flesh-light."

Ah. It was almost funny how blase they could be about proving him wrong and right. He pressed a hand to his cheek and hoped that his thoughts couldn't be read on his face as he said, "Oh. Well, then. Can I ask... Why you have a flesh-light just on your dick?"

They grinned. It was almost predatory. "I mean, isn't it obvious?"

"No, not at all, actually," he refuted dryly.

"Hm. I just got horny, seeing all messy and desperate. This bad boy-" they gave the flesh-light a very gentle pat- "is making sure I don't get too worked up and rail your sensitive ass. 'Cause I really fucking want to."

His eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to scrutinize it again. "Wait, so it's... It's jacking you off right now?"

"More or less," they said with a casual shrug. "But in a way that kinda keeps most of me from getting too into it. The tentacles are having a hell of a time all by themselves and I get to keep an eye on the ship."

As they turned back to check on dinner, his addled mind got to work. He had an idea- not the best one, really, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to finally feel satisfied. And maybe also give Snail the chance to have a little real fun. Just not consciously.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The time had come. Had Daniel put a little too much effort into preparing for this? Probably. But he needed to go to bed early to make sure he woke up before Snail did. Plus he was already fairly exhausted from his solo escapade earlier. So really, it was two birds with one stone. And what a bird it was.

Though waking up all cozy in Snail's arms almost had him reconsidering. Did he need to get fucked right now?

Yes.

Alright, well, he could still afford to just... Lay for a bit. One little fun thing he'd learned was that Snail ran particularly warm while they slept. And with how they liked to curl on top of him, a leg thrown over his own for good measure, it made all but the thinnest of blankets a little excessive.

After a few minutes of lightly dozing and daydreaming, he managed to free himself from the haze and began the slow, tedious process of slinking away.

Careful... Careful... Don't wake them up, or else your master plan's a bust...

There. Admittedly, he could've afforded to be a little more reckless, but better safe than sorry.

Preening himself on his success, he got out of bed and turned the lights to their lowest setting. Just enough to let him see Snail's peacefully sleeping form.

For a moment, he just stood there. Enamored.  Maybe now wasn't the time to get all sappy and romantic, but he couldn't help it. That was his Snail. Their soft, handsome face, the hints of muscle he could pick up on, and the stripes that decorated their skin were all his to enjoy. Just like he was theirs. God, it felt so good to just bask in their presence.

But enough of that. Time to get horny.

With a few careful nudges and pushes, he managed to get them on their back. You know, he never thought he'd be happy about the fact that they slept naked. That made it easier to get his hand right where those wonderful tentacles rested. Now, this next part was vital. He kept his touches feather light, until one little tentacle sluggishly wormed its way out. It curled in the air, questioning.

Daniel sat back and, with a broad grin, spread his legs. For a moment, it didn't move. Then it began to wave aimlessly through the air. Quietly, he beckoned it with an outstretched hand. When that didn't work, he let out a harshly whispered "hey!"

No response. But why?

...Oh, god damn it all! The tentacle couldn't see him. Or even hear him, he bet. Of fucking course. Why would it be able to? Snail was asleep.

A little change of plan was needed, but fine. To make it easier, he stripped out of his pajamas and tossed them off to the side. Then, when the tentacle began to blindly inch forward, he gently course-corrected it with a guiding hand. It immediately pushed more into him, practically quivering in what he could only assume was recognition and delight.

"There we go," he whispered fondly. "You wanna have a good time?"

It readily went along as he guided it down, down, down toward his dick. His breath hitched at first contact, which turned into a heavy moan when it wrapped around him fully. Quickly, he threw a hand over his mouth to stifle his noises.

One pump, two, three. Daniel was losing his mind already. Shaky breaths and muted sighs escaped between his fingers, and his whole body coiled with pleasure. It was wonderful.

Until a couple unexpected guests made an appearance.

"Excuse me, no!" he whispered, gently papping away the two extra tentacled that had snaked out of Snail's body. "This isn't a fucking orgy, get back!"

That didn't work, to no one's surprise. Those two tentacles trailed up the length of his arms and grabbed his wrists in a vice-like grip, forcing them up into the air where he couldn't interfere. No matter how much he pulled and wiggled, he couldn't get free. Though to be fair, he couldn't do much of that thanks to the lovely dick attention and Snail.

"Fuck," they mumbled in their sleep, one claw twitching against the bed as they turned their head to the side. "Feels... Guh..."

In short, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Mercifully, he wasn't given much of a chance to worry about it. The rest of the tentacles came out one-by-one, each searching his body for a role to play in this fuck-fest. Two on his nipples, one on his thigh and three right in his-

"Oh god!"

It was a miracle that his outburst didn't wake Snail up. Another miracle happened in the following second: the one remaining tentacle shoved itself into his still-open mouth and began to face-fuck him. Sure, it didn't really stop him from trying to talk with his mouth full, but at the very least it reassured the small, anxiety-ridden part of his brain that his noises wouldn't be, you know, that loud.

Beep-beep-beep!

Fuck, not that too! God. To think his plan could fail so spectacularly. That's what he got for being so desperate for it, he supposed. A dirty slut, trying to get dick from his owner while they slept.

His whole body lit up with heat. Hungry for more, he rocked against the tentacles that roughly fucked him, giving them no choice but to ramp up the pace. 

Meanwhile, the one in his mouth forced itself down further while the one on his dick completely wrapped around, giving him a facsimile of a hole to fuck.

Harsh squeezes, pulls and tugs, gentle touches, tender brushes against his skin, so many different sensations were gifted to him by the rest of the tentacles. The one assigned to his thighs seemed to be putting in a little extra effort, too. 

Snail's voice even gave him a little jolt of delicious fear once again. At first it started off in broken sentence fragments he could pick up. Half of a "good pet", a couple curses. Then it switched over to their language, fill of harsh sounds and groans that perfectly suited their sleepy, husky voice.

It was hot. That was the only conclusion he could come to. Mostly because he was cumming to it.

Coated and filled to the brim, he took the first chance he had to catch his breath. Though it didn't last long, with the gaggle of tentacles that decided to wiggle around in his face.

"Okay, okay!"

He really couldn't have a little break? Oh well. At least he knew what they wanted. All it took was ten quick kisses- all pressed to the tips of eager recipients- to settle the hoard and get them tucked back into Snail's body. It was cute how they'd all started demanding his affection like that.

Once he'd cleared the stars from his vision and stretched out the tension in his back, he slipped out of bed and padded his way to the bathroom. All he needed was a good scrubbing and all the evidence of his debauchery would disappear. This night would be his little secret. After all, how the hell would Snail find out? They'd probably think they had a wet dream or something.

Like the cat that caught the canary, he went to bed content and curled up in the arms of his owner.