#i do have my own private word doc keeping track of it but i want to format it differently for the blog

[fairytale-poll]

In the next day or two (depending on how much time I have) I will be putting up a list of characters who have been submitted thus far, so I would ask anyone who wanted to send an ask seeing how many times [x] character has been submitted I would ask you to wait until that sheet is up so you can check it yourself :)

[fabaulti]

I think most of us should take the whole ai scraping situation as a sign that we should maybe stop giving google/facebook/big corps all our data and look into alternatives that actually value your privacy.

i know this is easier said than done because everybody under the sun seems to use these services, but I promise you it’s not impossible. In fact, I made a list of a few alternatives to popular apps and services, alternatives that are privacy first, open source and don’t sell your data.

right off the bat I suggest you stop using gmail. it’s trash and not secure at all. google can read your emails. in fact, google has acces to all the data on your account and while what they do with it is already shady, I don’t even want to know what the whole ai situation is going to bring. a good alternative to a few google services is skiff. they provide a secure, e3ee mail service along with a workspace that can easily import google documents, a calendar and 10 gb free storage. i’ve been using it for a while and it’s great.

a good alternative to google drive is either koofr or filen. I use filen because everything you upload on there is end to end encrypted with zero knowledge. they offer 10 gb of free storage and really affordable lifetime plans.

google docs? i don’t know her. instead, try cryptpad. I don’t have the spoons to list all the great features of this service, you just have to believe me. nothing you write there will be used to train ai and you can share it just as easily. if skiff is too limited for you and you also need stuff like sheets or forms, cryptpad is here for you. the only downside i could think of is that they don’t have a mobile app, but the site works great in a browser too.

since there is no real alternative to youtube I recommend watching your little slime videos through a streaming frontend like freetube or new pipe. besides the fact that they remove ads, they also stop google from tracking what you watch. there is a bit of functionality loss with these services, but if you just want to watch videos privately they’re great.

if you’re looking for an alternative to google photos that is secure and end to end encrypted you might want to look into stingle, although in my experience filen’s photos tab works pretty well too.

oh, also, for the love of god, stop using whatsapp, facebook messenger or instagram for messaging. just stop. signal and telegram are literally here and they’re free. spread the word, educate your friends, ask them if they really want anyone to snoop around their private conversations.

regarding browser, you know the drill. throw google chrome/edge in the trash (they really basically spyware disguised as browsers) and download either librewolf or brave. mozilla can be a great secure option too, with a bit of tinkering.

if you wanna get a vpn (and I recommend you do) be wary that some of them are scammy. do your research, read their terms and conditions, familiarise yourself with their model. if you don’t wanna do that and are willing to trust my word, go with mullvad. they don’t keep any logs. it’s 5 euros a month with no different pricing plans or other bullshit.

lastly, whatever alternative you decide on, what matters most is that you don’t keep all your data in one place. don’t trust a service to take care of your emails, documents, photos and messages. store all these things in different, trustworthy (preferably open source) places. there is absolutely no reason google has to know everything about you.

do your own research as well, don’t just trust the first vpn service your favourite youtube gets sponsored by. don’t trust random tech blogs to tell you what the best cloud storage service is — they get good money for advertising one or the other. compare shit on your own or ask a tech savvy friend to help you. you’ve got this.

[eternalmink]

Don't believe chellyscatbox/iychodon/zinzo's "apology"

In the first sentence, chelly says it will explain how it will make up for its actions, yet it never does nor does it ever even say it will never do these things again(besides keeping tabs, which that's the bare minimum. It never says it won't continue sexual harassment) This may sound like nitpicking, but it's because these things are all stuff that chelly has done multiple times. Some things it still does even after supposedly "apologizing". One example being sexualizing people it's mad at (calling them names or slurs or talking about their privates) or invading their privacy and boundaries("accidentally" stumbling upon people's nsfw accounts).

Not to mention it tries to downplay its actions in the document as well. "no physical action happened during this encounter, therefore it classifies as cyber sexual harassment, not sexual assault as that is something physical."

"but he isn't exactly innocent either as he has fakeclaimed us and has used one of our alters to the point he became semi-verbal along with other allegations which we will not discuss in this doc." This is supposed to be an apology and an explanation, yet chelly itself admits it doesn't go over everything.

"all of me either being really mentally unstable or having psychotic/manic episodes and taking them out on people. because you see, i can't think rationally when i have episodes like these, and i can't track them either. but even then i fully take accountability for my actions. " just because it says it'll take accountability (it doesn't even say how) doesn't make this "apology" any less awful. It just sounds like it's using disorders and mental illness as an excuse yet again.

Also, the stuff here is only a few months old. There are also things that chelly simply just did not go over, either.

Once again, chelly sexualizing people it dislikes, and the person in question is triggered by things like this too. When chelly deleted it, it apologized to its followers for having to see this. Not the person being spoken of.

Notice how chelly gets defensive for being called out instead of apologizing as well. If it's really sorry, why react like this to being caught?

If it has really changed as a person, why does everyone continue to get the hell away from it?

If it has really changed, why does it keep doing these things? Why does it keep needing chance, after chance, after chance?

i doubt I need to explain this but: chelly confesses to someone it doesn't even know whether or not has a partner, proceeds to lash out them.

This was a private thing, yes, but it still wasn't addressed anywhere as if it never happened and makes it seem like chelly only apologizes for things it actually gets in trouble for.

Chellys words underlined above contradict stuff in the doc

To this day it is still in denial that it can't use the n word. Its own brother said it couldn't use it during call.

There's still more that will never even be put here because its victims have left the internet, and the ones that haven't— as said in the doc— don't want to be bothered anymore. And most of that is because Chelly will never be able to provide the proper closure they all deserve, and they know it.

Chelly says it wants to move on and do better, but it's said that before and now look where it is. It's had so many chances. All the way since 2021. Three years. It's had three years, yet it expects us to believe it has changed within the past few months.

Not only is this so called apology garbage, it lacks sincerity.

[chxrrydrxp]

this is a little teaser of my project "Doc" please enjoy!

Disclaimer: barely edited..and just a teaser of my project, feel free to comment your thoughts

"Doc" Jason Todd x female! Reader

The lock clicked, following the loud slam of Jason's apartment door. His heavy footsteps could be heard, thumping through the living room all the way to the kitchen. You were in the bathroom, pulling out your first aid kit, preparing to tend to any reckless wounds he got from his 1am patrol.

You walked in on him slamming open a cabinet, grabbing whatever old bottle of whiskey was there, no matter how dusty. He tossed his red helmet on the table like it was nothing. He made no effort to look up at you, simply extended his arm to you. "What happened out there? This burn looks really bad." You glanced down at him. His lack of response didn't faze you as you stood in front of him. You placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jason what happened? Was it Firefly?"

Your cold hands examined his arm, turning it around to get a better look. A second degree burn covered his arm. "You couldve gotten really-", Jason cut in, pulling his hand away. "You're not my mother. Wrap me up and do a good fucking job, Doc."

Your eyebrows furrowed in anger. This was getting old. Ever since you accepted this 'job' you had to deal with his attitudes. Of course there were times where things were peaceful and even what someone would call normal. But on days like this, he turns into an asswhole, and suddenly talks to you like how he talks to the degenerates he beats up everyday.

Your hands slammed against the dining room table. "You can't keep me here forever like some private nurse and treat me like shit!" Jason sighed, absent-mindedly fidgeting with the bottle. He stayed silent like this for a minute while you could feel the anger slowly build up. He turned to you, tipping the liquid into his mouth. He set the bottle down firmly, avoiding eye contact. You opened the med kit with a click, pulling out a wipe and a sterilizing spray. You began moving over to him, and he tipped his head up towards the door.

"...No one's keeping you here. Leave for all I care." You stopped in your tracks. "You really want me to?" He continued fidgeting with the bottle, not giving you a response. "You know what- fine. I will leave. Patch your own wounds," you hissed throwing the wipe at him. It landed atop his head and slowly fell down to his lap. His lack of reaction sparked anger in your chest, and you whipped around, making your way towards coat hanger near the kitchen. Your mind flooded with contradiction. You knew it was immature, but you didn't care. You didn't want him to let you leave. You wanted him to stop you and apologize for being a dick. But he wouldn't do something like that. He'd have to care to do that. And he clearly doesn't. You took your time in grabbing your things, praying, begging that he cared enough to stop you.

...

The cold nights of Gotham engulfed your bare arms as you strolled the dark streets, with no set destination. Your face had softened, the anger slipping away and being replaced with hopelessness. The ambience of the loud city brought back a familiar feeling that was somewhat comforting. You tried to let the police sirens and loud winds distract you from the ongoing thoughts that raced your mind.

Jason on the other hand had thrown himself on his bed, wishing he never said anything at all. On the contrary, he wished he could've just told you what happened. How a man almost burned to death under his watch. How Firefly set a trap right under his nose and he had no clue. Or..the chilling words the man in the fire suit had said to him as he held his life in his gloved hands.

But he's not obligated to tell you what exactly goes on during those cold, midnight patrols from which he comes home covered on bruises, cuts, sometimes bullet holes, and most recently- burns.

You're just his nurse. A mere employee. Hell, he's paying you for goodness sakes. Gradually, a deep feeling of anxiety welled in his stomach. The slow realization creeps in that she's alone out there with no protection. Don't get her wrong, she can put up a fight for sure. Jason knows this. It doesn't stop him from throwing on a dark red leather jacket, with a black hoodie under, and making his way towards the front door. He halted. Turning away from the door and leaning on it. He looked up at the ceiling contemplating what he'd say to her. "Sorry for being a jackass," he imagined himself saying. He turned back toward the door, reaching to open it. The second he grabbed it, the door swung up revealing you with your hands shoved deep in your pockets. "Back so soon?" Jason teased. A wave of regret migrated through his body upon seeing your emotionless, cold face. You attempted too much past him but halted as he moved his broad figure in the way. You avoided his stare. "Jason, move," you mumbled looking down. "(Y/n) I'm sorry. I was being-" You cut him off, shoving him lightly with your hand. "Move," you said sternly, followed by a soft, "Please Jason." After a fleeting painful silence, he stepped out of your way. You walked over to your bag of medical supplies and your bag of clothing you had for when you had to sleep over to monitor his condition. His footsteps treaded behind you as you bent down to grab the bags.

[ironstarker]

Tony gets injured during a mission, and his Omega, peter is not happy about it.

Notes: It’s pretty angsty at first but I tried to give it a little extra fluff and warmth at the end for you. Sorry this took me over a year to finish 😅Here’s to hoping this means I finish the other drafts of prompts I got ages ago.

Warning(s): ABO Dynamics, Light Angst, Peter Cries ______________________________________________________________

It wasn’t coming together right.

Peter stared at his sad attempt at a nest with tears swimming in his eyes. After Tony had been called away on a mission, the omega was left to his own devices. The rest of the Avengers wouldn’t let him do a thing in his “condition” (even saying the word made him want to roll his eyes), least of all his alpha. Tony had taken his possessive jealousy to a new level the minute he’d found out Peter was carrying. So, while he went out and risked his neck, Peter was stuck at home, staring at the pathetic lump of pillows and balls of Tony’s shirts that he’d tried to make into a nest in the closet.

Why the closet?

It smelled the most of his alpha, and was small (well, smaller than the bedroom) enough that he felt safe. He missed his alpha, much as Peter didn’t want to admit it, and kept asking FRIDAY for updates on the man. She’d tell him things like, “He’s fine, Peter. The boss asks you to please not worry so much about him.” It didn’t help. Nothing helped, because his alpha was off risking his neck while Peter was left fidgeting over blankets and fussing about his broken nest.

He wanted to cry.

It was frustrating, the hormones that his bump was making him go through. The omega had never thought he’d be this kind of omega. Sure, Peter preened under his alpha’s eyes and he got a little too snippy and possessive when other omegas were around his mate, but the raging hormones were something else. Peter had bawled over a Dodo video of a baby bird being returned to its mama the other day. He’d cried so hard that he’d hyperventilated, and spurred FRIDAY into sending an emergency alert to Tony. When the alpha came home and found his omega in such a state, the man had all but lost his mind.

Needless to say, Peter loved being pregnant. He loved his bump and couldn’t wait to meet his baby and have her in his arms, but for the moment, he felt like a burden.

A burden who couldn’t even make a proper nest.

Before he knew it, Peter was crying again. He curled in on himself (as best he could, given he was approaching seven months along and the swell of his tummy got in the way every time he tried) and sat there near his nest, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He wanted his alpha. Peter sniffled, reaching for one of the shirts he’d strewn across the nest. It was an old Black Sabbath shirt of Tony’s, one that had seen plenty love itself and came with a smattering of tiny holes near the neck. The omega pushed his nose against the fabric and nuzzled it, stifling the sounds of his sobs in an effort to make sure FRIDAY wouldn’t alert Tony to his distress.

His senses and his hormones were supercharged. It had been hours since Tony (and a few of the others) had rushed off to fight some super powered sea monster. Truth be told, the reason that Peter was crying in the closet was because his alpha was gone, not because of his nest. He bit back a wail as he thought of his alpha, hating how Tony was so quick to rush into danger. Peter had tried to convince him.

“If I’m not allowed to go on missions, you shouldn’t be, either!”

“Baby, that’s ridiculous. I’m not pregnant.”

Peter had stared up at his alpha. They were tucked away together on the couch, Tony with one arm draped around him, his attention on a hologram that FRIDAY was projecting. Peter was nestled into his alpha’s side, desperate (he hated it, how needy the pregnancy was making him) for attention after his alpha had been away all day. The words stung. Peter bit his lip and looked down. It was archaic, the way that Tony treated him now that he was pregnant, and it made him want to scream about how unfair it was.

He hadn’t felt like such a child since before the whole Adrian Toomes incident.

“But alpha, you could get hurt,” Peter tried, and he gave a hopeful glance to Tony’s hand, hoping his fingers would stop moving where they hovered near the hologram.

Instead, Tony sighed. “Peter, this isn’t a discussion.”

“It should be! You’re just as important as I am — ”

“I’m going, Peter. End of discussion.”

In his mess of a nest, Peter whimpered as he remembered how his alpha used that tone on him. It wasn’t often Tony used the deep, alpha baritone to give him commands or bark at him. The thought of it now was enough to bring the boy to near tears. His bottom lip wobbled, and he sniffled and another wave of hiccuped sobs came over him. 

“Peter?”

The sound of a warm voice made his breath hitch in his throat. Boggled as his mind was, his first thought went to his alpha — to Tony. But the person standing in the doorway, disheveled and exhausted, was a different alpha. Steve Rogers must have come straight from the battlefield. He had flecks of shrapnel on his uniform, which looked tattered and soaked. His hair was wet, matted down onto his forehead, giving it a dirty blond look. Steve hesitated, and Peter knew it was because of the waves of distress he was letting loose, flooding the air of the bedroom.  “Where’s Tony?” Peter whispered.

Steve’s hesitation was all he needed to see to know something was wrong. “Don’t panic,” he started, looking like he wanted to step further into the room and then thinking better of it. “He’s in the med-bay right now, but was knocked unconscious by — ”

Peter did sit around and wait for Steve to tell him the rest. He was on his feet surprisingly fast (at least he had his spider dexterity when it counted), brushing past the alpha. He heard Steve calling after him, but Peter shook his head and didn’t wait around. If FRIDAY had granted Steve access to the private room he shared with Tony simply to relay the message in person, it had to be bad. All the way down to the med-bay, Peter thought about the breathing exercises he’d learned for delivery and practiced them in real time, one hand resting against the side of his belly. The elevator took him down without waiting around for Steve, and Peter’s toes wiggled impatiently against the floor as he waited for the doors to open. He looked down, realizing he’d forgotten to put on shoes.

When the elevator slid open and left him free to rush down the hall (he didn’t waddle, dammit), his feet sounded noisy to his own ears, like the slapping sound was echoing and bouncing all over the place. He was on hyper alert, his senses going haywire. But everything stopped when he saw his alpha through the glass, attached to all sorts of wires and machines. Dr. Cho was hovering over him, using a penlight to check the dilation of his pupils. Peter rushed into the room. She looked up at him, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Peter, there’s nothing to — ”

But he cut her off, letting out a noise that was somewhere between a wail and a croak as he said, “Alpha.”

Tony’s eyes flickered open. He offered Peter a lazy smile. “Hey there, omega-mine,” he said, holding his hand out for Peter to clutch as he neared the bed. “The doc here’s got me on the good stuff. Says I took a pretty serious knock to the head.” 

Peter’s attention was diverted briefly to the bandage wrapped around his alpha’s forehead. He pressed his lips together. He knew his alpha could sense the emotions rolling through him. Peter hadn’t even noticed Dr. Cho excuse herself. “You can’t keep doing this to us,” Peter whispered, letting go of Tony’s hand to cradle his bump. There were tears in his eyes again. They clung to his lashes, and his bottom lip quivered. Standing up to his alpha wasn’t something that came naturally to him, but this time it was too much. “I — I can’t stay here all the time, worried about you. You’re going to be the father to my pup Tony. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

The alpha blinked, looking caught off guard by the sudden emotion flitting across his mate’s face. “Of course it does,” he said, his voice quiet. “But you know the responsibility I have as Iron Man.”

Peter shook his head, squaring himself up a little, stubborn in his concern and hurt. He reeked of it, he knew. “Alpha, you’re hurt. You keep getting hurt. You have a responsibility to us. To our pup.” The tears that had built up spilled over his cheeks, creating fresh tracks. “Please,” he whimpered, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the alpha’s stare. Peter knew Tony was hurt. As an omega, he knew it was his job to care for his alpha. 

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, the tips of his fingers twitching, coaxing Peter towards him. “Come here. Omega-mine, look at me.” Once Peter did, the alpha met him with a tender expression. “Alpha’s sorry. Come lay with me?” Again, he wiggled his fingers.

Unable to resist, Peter scooted closer to the bed, until he could crawl into it with his alpha. He curled up against Tony’s side, his bump forcing the alpha to scoot over some so they both had enough room. His alpha kissed the crown of his head, where he knew Tony could breathe in the scent of his shampoo. His alpha always said it comforted him, and knowing that brought Peter peace. He settled down, soothed by his alpha’s presence and his warmth. “I built a nest,” Peter said after a few moments of silent cuddling. 

“Did you?” Tony sounded vaguely amused, like he already knew where this conversation was going. “How did it turn out this time?”

A long pause. “It — it went okay,” Peter said.

His alpha’s chest rumbled with a quiet laugh. “I’ll donate a few more pillows to the cause.” 

Peter smiled, giggling and nosing at his alpha’s jaw. “Thank you for the generosity, Mr. Stark.” He rubbed his hand over his belly, thoughtful. “I love you, alpha.”

“I love you, too.”

[watermelonlipstick]

The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

This is a request for anon, who asked: 

i don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do one where the reader has tattoos that dean doesn’t know about and then he sees them when he has to stitch them up after a hunt? (maybe like season 1 or 2 dean) thank you!!!

And then wrote to me privately that they have a dragon tattoo on one shoulder.

It was a lot of fun to write; tons of opportunities to slip in some good classic rock references! I miss in the super early seasons when Sam and Dean seemed to rag on each other pretty much constantly. I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Title: The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2589 

Summary: Dean is surprised to discover the reader has tattoos.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence/mention of blood, swearing, fluff!!

           Sam moves to the middle of the front bench to shuck off his coat as Dean is getting out of the car, and gives it to you with a long arm over the leather. “Can you hand me that blue jacket?”

           You have to over-rotate to use your other hand to grab it, keeping your grip tight on your own shirt in the most bastardized version of a sling. Sam, of course, notices.

           “You think it’s broken or dislocated?”

           A hard chuckle blows out of your nose. “Really hope it’s just dislocated, I’ll tell you that.”

           He gives you a sympathetic smile as he throws on the blue jacket and zips it all the way up to his neck. It looks like he’s covering something up and naturally, he is, thin hoodie and t shirt underneath drenched with enough werewolf blood that it’s clinging to his chest almost pornographically. But his face is untouched and he has use of both his arms which is more than can be said for you or Werewolf Shiner Winchester, making him the only reasonable choice to send for gauze and ACE bandages at the closest pharmacy.

           Dean stops his grimace-covered stretching just outside the car and opens your door with an outstretched hand as Sam slides into the driver’s seat. “You coming?”

           Taking his hand with your good one, you let Dean close the door behind you without any of the normal grumbling about treating you like you’re made of porcelain, in an effort to keep your face neutral around the jolts of pain through your shoulder. Sam pulls out of the motel parking lot ultra-gently like it’s his first day with a learner’s permit the way he does when he knows Dean is watching. It makes you smile to yourself as exhaust dissipates across the cracked blacktop.

           Crossing the asphalt with tired strides Dean opens the motel door for you too, and you walk in before him. “Is that yours?” he asks, dropping his coat on the cheap couch and wincing through the removal of his flannel. In the light of the room you’re better able to see his black eye and realize it’s going to take weeks for that to go away, not relishing another inevitable conversation about makeup to sell a G-man cover story. It makes it so much easier for the families of victims to believe you’re legit when none of you look like you’ve been in a bar fight, but getting Dean to believe cover-up is in the name of the greater good is an uphill battle on the best of days.

           “Is what mine?”

           “The blood you’re covered in like nacho cheese. Dude, if that’s all over the car—”

           He deserves credit for trying not to smile as you try to look over your shoulder like a puppy chasing its tail, but he does guide you over to the mirror on the wall to see. He’s right, blood has seeped all down your coat, sticky and shiny like syrup. It’s far too wet to be from near 30 minutes ago when you got in the car. “Fuck, I really like this jacket.”

           “You have like 5 just like it taking up space in my trunk; you’ll live. Here, take that off, I’ll stitch you up.” Dean starts rifling through his bag for supplies, rolling some kinks out of his neck.

           “It doesn’t even hurt, I just need you to pop my shoulder back in so I can take a shower.”

           “I don’t give a shit what hurts, slugger. You’re going to pass out in the tub if you keep up the stuck pig act.”

           You roll your eyes and reluctantly try to slide your arms out of the jacket, wincing when you jostle the dislocated arm. Dean takes the sopping coat from you and tosses it into the kitchenette sink from where he stands, the concern coloring his face when you look back at him not reassuring you at all. He puts the floss-threaded needle he’d had in his hand between his teeth and starts pulling on your collar.

           “Shoulder first,” you insist, done wiggling and writhing out of clothes before your shoulder is where it belongs.

           Dean’s mouth tightens into a firm line but he backs up to give himself enough room to shove, an exasperated hand beckoning you. “Okay, you ready?” he says around the needle, looking like a farmer field medic with a piece of hay.

           “Yeah just let me—FUCK,” you grunt when he catches you off guard without any preamble, clutching at the shoulder for a moment until you could take a deep breath. You do a test rotation and are happy at the relative lack of pain, trying not to be frustrated that Dean didn’t warn you so you wouldn’t tense up.

           “Shirt off.” Dean’s tone is firm and precise, no room for discussion, as he gets out a lighter and watches intently to heat up the needle.

           “Wow, you sure know how to make someone feel special,” you hum, feeling much looser without the shooting pain from your shoulder. The buttons of the flannel come undone relatively easy, but the fabric makes a sickly wet thwack as you snap it down to rest around your elbows.

           From his spot at your side, you see Dean’s face contort in surprise and watch as he reflexively reaches out a thumb to rub the skin of your shoulder.

           “Ow, what the hell?” you flinch.

           “Has this always been here?” he asks, partly amazed but mostly incredulous as his eyes trace the inky lines of the dragons where they wind around your skin.

           “I wasn’t born with them if that’s what you mean.” You can tell he’s truly shocked because he doesn’t even react to the jab, just hovers a gentle fingertip over the tattoo. “Earth to Dean? I thought you were all scared about me bleeding out.”

           He gulps and clears his throat before covering with a smile that’s a combination of cheeky and shy. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just didn’t realize I was in the presence of The Tattooed Wonder.”

           “Hardly, I only have a few. Now start stitching before I change my mind and wait for Sam; his are way neater than yours anyway.”

           “Few? Where are the other ones? Girls on the back of your leg that hula when you walk?”

           “Nice try.”

           He bites his lip before shifting the strap of your tank top off and sponging the back of your shoulder with a wet towel. When he unceremoniously pours a slug of whiskey over the wound you feel it for the first time and hiss, adrenaline and distraction of the joint pain worn off.

           “Sorry,” he murmurs, already dragging floss tight on a stitch with his teeth and moving on to the next as quickly as he can, half-humming that old Queen song, “gonna get me on the track, got a dragon on my back.”

           You weren’t lying earlier when you’d said that Sam’s stitches were usually cleaner, but Dean is being very careful in a way he usually isn’t—Chicks dig scars, Sammy! Stopped the bleeding, didn’t it?—and you tip your head back to check his work. The extra time he’s taking is to match up the back of one of the dragons, ripped open by a werewolf claw and currently held together by the delicate pinch of Dean’s index and thumb.

           It’s tough, but you manage to grab the reins on a smirk. Dean doesn’t notice, too focused on trying to keep the damage to your tattoo at a minimum. The gesture and the concentration are impossibly sweet, even though you’d long accepted that ink injury was inevitable with your lifestyle.

           When he’s done, callused fingertips tugging the last knot in place, Dean grabs the whiskey again. “Hold still,” he breathes, close enough you can feel it dance across the skin of your neck, and you hope he can’t see the goosebumps trailing down your arms like ivy. “That should do it. You can grab the first shower, but it’s big enough that some gauze on top for a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

           “Thanks,” you answer, startled and annoyed at your own voice when it creaks a touch. The flannel feels gross and heavy with blood, so you pull your arms out entirely and reach to drop it in the wastebasket.

           “I can deal with that if you want,” he offers, ruffling the velvet-short hair at the back of his neck. “The coat too. Not the first time getting blood out of clothes.”

           “Oh, okay. Uh, thanks. That would be really nice.”

           Dean only meets your eyes for the most fleeting moment when he takes it before biting his lip again and nodding to himself. You get to your feet and gingerly slip the displaced straps back over your shoulder, feeling the shift in energy in the room and not knowing what to do with it. Settling for a jocular little punch to Dean’s bicep, you grin at him. “Thanks for putting me back together, doc.”

           Sam comes back a couple minutes after you’ve closed the bathroom door with a translucent plastic bag full of first aid supplies. “In the shower?”

           Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch and hands Sam the beer he’d already gotten out of the fridge in anticipation, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Yeah. They have everything?”

           His younger brother nods and accepts the bottle, taking a sip before laying out his haul on the coffee table and tossing the bag. “You okay?”

           He glances up with a quirked eyebrow. “Just tired, man.”

           Sam waits a silent beat, giving Dean a chance to spill whatever it is.

           “Did you, ah—did you know Y/N’s all inked up like a friggin’ sailor?”

           Sam chuckles and runs his tongue over his teeth. “A sailor? Y/N’s only got a few tattoos, dude.”

           “You knew?”

           “Of course I knew, some people like to learn things about their friends. That’s why you’re acting weird?”

           Dean scowls over the glass lip of his beer before taking a long pull. “Not acting weird, sue me for being surprised we’re working with the goddamn Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo.” His voice is low and surly like a kid on the edge of a tantrum even he knows isn’t worth it.

           “Y/N can do whatever they want, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you like the tattoos, you’re not their dad.” Sam’s barely keeping the giggle out of his voice, enjoying Dean’s frustration the way only a little brother could.

           “No, I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like them,” Dean stammers, the end of the statement fading off as a flush starts rising in his cheeks. He knows he’s said too much and Sam jumps on it.

           “Wait—you do like them, don’t you?” He crashes onto the couch, long limbs just enough in Dean’s space to be irritating. “I bet you loooooove knowing about those tattoos—I bet you’re dying to see them.”

           “Shut the fuck up,” Dean growls, kicking Sam in the thigh with a socked foot. Sam blocks him and starts laughing hard enough it makes him rattle all over like he’s on a rickety rollercoaster. When he finally catches his breath Dean is still pouting to whatever syndicated sitcom he’d thrown on. Over the tinny TV speakers they hear the shower turn off.

           “You know, if you’re feeling shy I could say something for you.” Sam’s grin is ten steps past cheeky, firmly planted in devilish, and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively over top of dimples perfectly sliced into his cheeks.

           Dean’s eyes widen like a cartoon and his voice is a gravelly hiss as he grabs a tight handful of Sam’s t-shirt, now crisp with dried blood. “Sam, I fucking swear to God—” but the threat is ineffectual, sheepish panic clear as anything on his face. The glint in Sam’s eye brightens and he twists out of his brother’s grip before he can react, crossing the room in a few huge steps so he’s nearly face to face with you when you open the bathroom door, Dean leaping off of the couch to chase him and slamming into Sam’s back when he stops short.

           “Whoa, Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, one hand on top of your fresh t-shirt to still your racing heartbeat, fistful of dirty laundry in the other.

           “Just need that second shower, didn’t mean to freak you out!” Sam smiles, warm and light and genuine. “Thanks! Gauze is on the table if you want it.” he says as he slips past you with a friendly and familiar kiss on the cheek, wink that you can’t see to Dean over your shoulder as he closes the bathroom door fast enough that the mirror next to the frame barely even steams.

           “Hey, could you—” you start.

           “Hey, do you—” Dean says at the exact same time. You both chuckle, and you can’t tell if you’re annoyed or not that the little charge in the room didn’t dissolve while the dried blood on you had rinsed down the shower drain. Dean holds up an open palm to indicate that you should go first.

           “Could you cover those stitches for me? The skin is kind of catching on my shirt.”

           “Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

           Shaking your hair loose and hanging the towel it was in on the back of a kitchenette chair, you sit on the edge of the bed to tug the collar of your t-shirt as far onto your shoulder as you can. Dean snatches some medical tape and a couple 4x4s from the table and sits down next to you, the heat coming off of him soothing the chill of the few remaining drops of water cooling on your skin. “I’m gonna need more slack than that,” he says, trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite covering the gooey softness around the edges that are making his voice more sultry than gruff. You try to pull harder on the collar but it’s already digging into your neck. The hand holding the gauze floats down to Dean’s lap while he rubs his jaw with the other. “Do you—could you just take it off?”

           You roll your eyes at him.

           “Or live with it, see if I care.” He holds your gaze, and that stubbornness you recognize.

           Reluctantly, you move your arm inside the shirt and slip it out from under the bottom hem, squirming in a way that covers your chest while exposing your shoulder. When he sweeps the shirt back you reflexively jolt away from him like you’ve been shocked. “Not being fresh, just don’t want to tape it in,” he murmurs.

           “I noticed you put the lines together really straight; thanks for that.”

           “Only took an extra second.” He rips another piece of tape off a roll with his teeth and is being so deliberate that now you’re sure he’s stalling for another few seconds to keep touching you but you don’t care; the feeling of his fingertips on your skin is tender and delicious.

           “If I knew you were going to be that careful, I would’ve been letting you do my stitches this whole time.”

           “Guess I’m just a regular damn seamstress,” he smiles, finally smoothing the last tape and only surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of his eye as you tuck your arm back into its sleeve. “So seriously, what’re the other tattoos?”

           “I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough,” you whisper as you stand up, committing to memory the way it makes Dean’s pupils flare as you ease under the scratchy motel sheets on the opposite bed.

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[redstainedsocks]

Wrong

I've had this half-written in my docs for a long while, under the heading "doorstep collapse" so I think it was for a prompt or whump event but I don't remember which one...

Normal story this time, not the AU!

Content: sick fic, fainting, delirious whumpee, hospital setting, use of sedatives, reference to noncon drug use, mentioned death threat and manner of death, overwhelmed caretaker

[Masterlist]

One or two of the team had taken to sleeping at the office at a time so that Zach was never there alone. Archer wanted to stay every night, always eager to be nearby in case something happened, but he’d been convinced to go home at least one out of every three nights.

He’d spent last night at home, sleeping guiltily in his own soft bed, miles and miles from where his best friend was holed up in a sparse, grey room that was as far from homely as Archer could imagine. Though he knew for Zach it was probably the most comfort he’d had in years, which made Archer feel even worse.

He’d slept well at home, exhausted from late nights and stress, but he would much rather have been here. The pull out couch in the break room was lumpy and not long enough for his tall frame but he still preferred it these days. Zach was just down the hall and it soothed a tightness in Archer’s chest to be close by. To know he could walk down the corridor and lay eyes on the person he thought he’d lost.

He was still untangling his own mix of grief and disbelief, but he knew it was easier to bear the guilt of having left Zach with his kidnappers if he was at least around to make sure it didn’t happen again; if he could be there to help Zach feel safe now.

It was easier not to have to examine his emotions and thoughts at all, if he was so exhausted that he couldn’t think straight.

Zach had gone to bed a couple of hours ago and he had sat up flicking through paperwork, trying to keep busy even as his eyes itched with tiredness. His ‘bed’ was made up ready for the night but he was sprawled on top of it, putting off the moment of sleep until he could close his eyes and be instantly drawn under.

He was surprised to hear a soft knock at the door, tentative, the sound of someone off balance slumping on the other side. Maybe Zach couldn’t sleep either? Maybe he’d finally had a nightmare and come for company—something none of them had seen him do yet.

“It’s open,” he said, half sitting up.

The door swung inward and Zach teetered on the threshold. His eyes roved across the room, landing on Archer but darting away again.

“Zach?” Archer was up and off the bed in an instant, but paused a meter or so away, as Zach looked flighty and liable to flinch at any contact.

“Ar-cher.”

“Yeah?”

“I think,” Zach spoke and it was slurred and he clung to the doorframe. “I think something is wrong.”

Archer barely had time to react before Zach’s eyes rolled backward and his body crumpled underneath him. Archer caught him just before his head hit the floor.

Time was standing still and moving too fast all at once. The ambulance had taken what felt like hours to arrive, while Archer sat there cradling Zach—delirious, feverish, burning up and shaking like a leaf.

The private hospital they were in now was clean, clinical, and calm. Quiet. Discrete. It was a good place to keep Zach hidden and secure, but being there still set his teeth on edge. He paced the corridor-like waiting room back and forth, glad that no one told him to stop. The team had all been called; Sasha had been the one who turned up and stayed. She was a quiet, steady presence. And though he could tell from the line of her tense muscles that she was as worried as he was, she let him be the one to fall apart while she held it together.

Zach had a fever, something was infected. The doctors just couldn’t find where or what. They hadn’t been allowed to see him. Yet. Archer hoped that would change soon.

He rubbed his face tiredly. “I should get more coffee.”

“I think coffee is the last thing you need,” Sasha replied, calmly. “Come sit down.”

He glanced at her and shook his head. He needed to be moving, doing. “If he—” Archer couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “After everything, if this is too much for his body to handle…”

“Nothing is going to happen, the doctors are gonna fix it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” She levelled him with a look that could surely make a mountain bow down and grovel.

“How didn’t we notice something was wrong?”

“He doesn’t let us near him, not really.”

Finally, he slumped into a seat beside her. “I should’ve watched out for him more carefully, checked he was okay. I should’ve… I owe him. We just… we can’t let him down again, we have to do better.”

“Archer, we’re doing everything we can,” she said gently.

“It’s not enough!” He snapped. “We abandoned him! We just left him there and now we can’t even take care of him? Can’t even tell what he needs?”

“Montgomery Archer, sit. Back. Down,” she hissed.

He hadn’t even realised he was standing. He looked down at her, the unfairness still burning through him, how could she not care? Until he saw her face, eyes glistening, and realised the strength of will it was taking for her to hold it together.

“This is a goddamn hospital and this is not the time,” she said, squeezing her hands between her knees. “We thought he was dead, and there’s shit all we can do about it now. You can have a breakdown about it later, but not now, not like this.”

He took a seat, sheepishly. “Sorry. I… seeing him collapse like that has me all churned up.”

“Don’t apologise, you big oaf. Just breathe, and know they’re doing everything they can, and give yourself some damn slack while you’re at it.” She sniffed and turned away.

He scooted down in his chair and leaned against her shoulder, glad she didn't shrug him off, and relieved not to be alone.

*

They were finally allowed in the room once Zach was stabilised. Allowed in because, in the doctor’s words… Zach was resistant. Archer hadn’t really understood the implications of that, his mind taken up with thoughts of he’s fine, he’s alive, they’ve got it under control.

But now… he could see what they meant. Zach was fighting the sedative, semi-conscious and struggling, suffering. He couldn’t really move, but his eyes were open and he was frightened, terrified, but so obviously not-really-here, either. Whatever had happened these past two years Zach had built up some tolerance to the drugs they’d given him and it was heart-breaking; seeing him foggy but alert, unsure of where he was and unable—but so desperate—for something he couldn't name or do.

“See if you can get him to remain calm, he needs to rest,” the doctor said, arms crossed in concern as his eyes roved over Zach’s prone form. “We can’t try him on anything else until this one is out of his system but even then… He’s been asking for someone, we assumed, well, it might be you?”

Archer nodded, cleared his throat. ‘Right, yeah. He knows me, I can—I’ll do what I can. Anything I should be careful of?”

“Just mind the IV line, and call us in if he gets more agitated or anything changes.”

“Okay, I’ve got this. Thank you, Doctor.”

He did not have this. Not even a little bit. He felt completely out of his depth. He loved Zach like a brother, had loved him and mourned him, and now… felt like he barely knew him. What qualified him to take care of Zach like this? He wrung his hands and stepped closer as Sasha sidled around to the other side of the bed. Zach’s eyes tried to track her, and lost her somewhere along the way. His breathing sped up again, bloodshot eyes wide and aimlessly roving as his fingers twitched on the bed sheets.

“Please, please,” Zach murmured. Whispered, almost. It was slurred but unmistakable.

Sasha gave Archer a look, and nodded to the bed. He shook his head. She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms and they stared each other down.

I can’t do this. He hoped she understood what his look implied.

Her answering look seemed to say you’re not even trying.

He threw his hands up in defeat and stepped closer. Zach’s eyes landed on Archer’s face and he twitched feebly, shivering in his sparse hospital bed.

“‘M good, I’ll be good, please.”

Archer leaned against the bed, trying to look reassuring, confident. “Yeah, you’re doing really well, okay? We’ve got you, nothing to worry about.”

Zach’s hand jerked and his mouth opened and closed before he whined. “Hurts.”

“I know, buddy, I know.” He looked at Sasha who nodded, so he took Zach’s hand and lightly squeezed. “It’s alright.”

“Please, you promised. Promised.”

That took Archer by surprise and he sucked in a breath, biting his tongue.” I know, I-I said nothing else bad would happen to you, I didn’t know this would happen…”

There was a frustrated look on Zach’s face and his eyes filled with tears, his head flopped a little, side to side. “You promised.”

Archer did the only thing he could think of, he squeezed Zach’s hand tighter and dragged the chair by the bed closer so he could sit and be a calming presence. He wouldn’t abandon Zach, not again, no matter how much Zach yelled and cried at him, broken-hearted though it made him to know he’d let Zach down another time.

“I’ll do whatever--ever you want. Sir, please,” Zach’s voice cracked and he mumbled into incoherence, all in a pleading, painfully placating tone.

Archer’s eyes shot up and he met Sasha’s across the bed, looking as concerned as he did as realisation dawned on them both. Zach wasn’t here.

“Where do you think you are, Zach?” she asked quietly.

Zach--who had flinched at sound of his own name--whimpered. “Can’t--don’t know.”

“You’re safe, we’re here, me and Sasha, and the team has our back. You’re in hospital,” Archer said.

Zach looked at him, clearly, finally. “Promise? Keep your word, like you promised?”

“What did I promise you?” It was a calculated risk to play into whatever Zach thought he was seeing, but he needed to know, didn’t he?

“You said… said you wouldn’t lemme die like this. Not like this. A bullet, you promised, not--not sick, not slowly.”

Archer couldn’t breathe, he blinked furiously to try to keep the tears at bay. “I promise, no-one is dying, not here. Not like this.”

Zach breathed out and tears ran down his cheeks as he closed his eyes and rested his head heavily on the pillows. “Promise. And I’ll be good.”

It seemed to be enough to make Zach settle, and he fell into a fitful doze. Sasha brushed hair back from his forehead and checked the lines in the IV on his right hand. Archer brought Zach’s left hand to his face and kissed the back of his wrist, rubbed his thumb in a circle and then laid it down on the sheets and sat back to bury his face in his own hands.

He jumped when Sasha touched his shoulder and scrubbed hastily at his eyes. “We don’t leave him, one of us stays with him until he’s himself again,” he said, voice thick. “We can’t let him get lost in his own head.”

“I’ll get us something to eat,” she said. “We’ll see him through this.” She left quietly, slipping out the door with graceful ease so they kept their privacy.

He nodded. They would. But really… what could they do in the face of all this?

“What the hell did they do to you?” he whispered to the quiet room.

Zach was too far gone to answer.

@haro-whumps @whumpthisway @hurting-fictional-people @lonesome--hunter @crowned-avery @extrabitterbrain @firewheeesky @outofangband

[jamie-leah]

War of Wolves (22) Finale

Season 1

Episode 22 - Everything Has Changed

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 1634

Warnings: Cliffhanger, swearing

A/N: Its the end Lovelies, I can't believe the journey its been with these characters! If you don't like cliffhangers I would advise not to read this part and take the previous episode as the last. I want to thank you all for the love and enthusiasm for this series and for loving them as much as me.

<---Previous Episode

WoW Masterlist Series Masterlist Oneshot Masterlist

The weeks of recovery were long but you knew you were in the best hands. Bucky put work on the back foot to look after you despite your protests.

You had been having a hard time sleeping though, ever since waking up and finding Bucky in the hall. Dreams of the past and a future that sometimes scares you.

It got so bad that you went to med bay to talk to the Doc about it, to see if he could give you anything. He was reluctant and I was too. He suggested talking about it, professionally. But no matter who you chose, you didn’t think they would quite understand the type of life you lead. You could never be totally honest with them and that would defeat the point.

You didn’t acknowledge how bad or strange it all was until you woke up with a start. The room was bright, the one you shared with Bucky. He was nowhere to be seen but a note was left on his pillow

“Come to the reception room when you’re awake”.

Which is odd, we only usually use that room for certain Client’s. Either way, you were distracted. You had a dream last night that felt more than a dream and it was starting to become troublesome.

The dream itself was nothing bad, in fact it was happy, lovely. Bucky had thrown you a surprise party, balloons and friends and family celebrating your recovery. It was lovely, one of the best dreams you had had for a long time, but it still left you with a sense that something was off.

You get dressed and make your way to the reception room lost in thought, that’s why when you open the door and hear “SURPIRSE!” you almost scream the place down.

Hand on chest, you take in the sight of balloons, banners and food. Everyone you love a few others were smiling broadly at you, Steve, Sam, Peggy and the kids, Darren even made an appearance. But your eyes were on Bucky and his wolfish grin.

“Did you do this?”, you ask.

Bucky shrugs casually, “maybe”.

Bucky walks across the room to you, holding you close and leans you down in front of everyone to kiss you deeply. Love and passion sweeping across the both of you, the sound of howls, whoops and cheering the only thing keeping you from tearing into each other.

Bucky pulls back with a broad smile before lifting you back up and turning to the crowd, “everyone, as you know we’ve been through a lot over the last year. We’ve lost good people, and parts of ourselves while trying to keep the organisation going and keeping each other safe. But we’ve also found new love, and welcomed another member into our family, Tommy”, Bucky gestures to the sleeping baby in Peggy’s arms.

Everyone cheers at the shout out before Bucky continues, “I wanted to celebrate Y/N’s recovery. I wanted to celebrate the people that made it possible for her to be here today. I also wanted to give everyone a reprieve. Things will only be more difficult for a while. We have Isaac and Harry to track down and we have other enemies to prove we’re still the strongest enterprise out there. They will be coming for us, but I wanted to take this moment to say we’ll be ready. I also wanted to take this moment to thank you all, for standing by me through it all.”

Bucky looks down at you with something fierce in his eyes, a love and devotion that you’ve never seen in another human being before, “to us!”, he shouts as he raises a glass to the room.

You wake up with a start, panting from feeling yourself trying to wake up. The dream was so vivid, it felt real…

You look to the pillow next to you and you see the note from your dream, the exact placing, the exact wording from Bucky.

You don’t even bother changing out of your pyjamas as you rush from the room. You make your way to the reception room as fast as possible, almost bashing into people trying to get to your one goal.

You mumble apologies until you make it to the doors of the reception room holding your breath. You hesitate with your hands on the knobs, you didn’t want this to be true, but hiding from it wouldn’t make it not true either.

You swallow despite your dry mouth and swing the doors open to “SURPRISE!”…

All through the party you convince yourself that it’s a coincidence. You don’t tell anyone, not even Bucky what you’re thinking but its all you can focus on until Peggy catches you on your own.

“Is everything okay?”, she asks, concern etched into her friendly face.

You nod, “yes”, and distract her by fussing with Tommy for a while.

By the end of the day, as night creeps in you feel exhausted by going through all the possibilities in your head.

Bucky takes you away into a private corner with another grin on his face just like he did with the surprise and for a moment you forget your troubles as you smirk back, “what is it Buck?”, you ask.

He grins wider, “I have another surprise for you.”

You shake your head with a small smile, “I don’t think I can handle any more surprises right now Bucky.”

He strokes your cheek for a few moments before saying, “I came close to losing you and having you here, happy and healthy is something I wanted to celebrate with everyone but I also wanted to celebrate with just us…so I booked us a night away in a hotel underwater.”

Your grin splits into a dazzling smile as you jump on Bucky murmuring your gratitude and love.

You arrived at the underwater hotel the next day. Checking in with Lisa at the counter as Bucky finishes checking in he asks her, “the extras I asked for…?”.

Lisa didn’t look up from the computer in front of her as she answers, “they should be in your room.”

We make our way to the room, our overnight bags in hand. Bucky steps into the room first looking around at everything.

But you barely pay any attention as you look out into the water and all the fish, your fingers are touching the glass when Bucky comes out of the bathroom, “none of the extras are in here”, he says with annoyance lacing his tone.

He starts towards the door before turning back to you, “did you detect the lie at all?”.

You shrug, “she probably believed it, so go easy on her Buck”.

You hear the door close behind you and you pray for a normal night of sleep or perhaps you could convince Bucky not to sleep at all. You stand there thinking about all the ways you and Bucky could ruin the room when you finally hear the door open.

You turn as you say, “hey Buck, I was thinking-“

Bucky is looking at you with shock and confusion on his face and that horrible feeling you had the night of the crash comes back in the pit of your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything for the longest time as he stares at you. Finally, you couldn’t stand anymore silence as you say, “what?! What is it Bucky? What’s happened?!”.

He clears his throat, “she knew the stuff wasn’t in the room.”

You pause before laughing at his statement, “Jesus Buck, I thought something was seriously wrong, like danger level wrong. You need to stop giving me heart attacks.”

But Bucky never starts laughing and so the smile slowly fades from your face as you say, “okay…so what if the extras aren’t in the room, we can ask for them or you can get a partial refund.”

He shakes his head as he finally steps in the room and closes the door behind him, “you’re missing the point Doll, she lied.”

You scrunch your face up, “yeah Buck, people lie-“

You stop the sentence dead in its tracks as you look at Bucky in alarm, finally realising what he’s getting at.

You have no words. Bucky is the one to fill the silence, “I’ve noticed it a few times over the last few days. The fact that you haven’t clocked some lies and have become more shocked at some of the things that happen around our home. I thought it was just because so much was going on. Your recovery, us never getting moments alone these days, but you never picked up the lie today, you even said so yourself.”

You shake your head, “wait a minute, we’re jumping to conclusions here, this is a new place and I wasn’t paying attention-“

Bucky interrupts you, “my favourite flavour of ice cream is mint, I’m wearing boxers under my pants, my mothers name was Sarah.”

He says all the lies he told you when you first met in quick succession and you never detect a single one as a lie even though you know they are.

Your stomach lurches and you feel your hands shake by your sides, you look up at Bucky as tears well in your eyes, “I’ve lost it Buck, I’ve lost my ability to detect lies.”

You sink to your knees before Bucky can reach you. He joins you on the floor as he wraps you in his arms trying to protect you from the truth that has become a truth in a long line of truths in a never ending nightmare.

You try to will this not to be true as you question your worth not only as a member of Bucky’s organisation but also as his partner and your ability to keep him safe. And you know, everything has changed.

WoW Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @scuzmunkie @loving-life-my-way @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate @kalesrebellion @booktease21 @whatinthyworld @flyingbabyunicornnamedangel @asapkyndall @yaszx @amoredashley @aveatquevale- @putinovertime @melimelbean @valsworldofcreativity @lokilokilokilokilokilokilo-blog1 @vesper852 @littlenerdgirl16 @wiccanmetallicrose @aya-fay

I have an entire plan for Season 2 and written some too. If you want to see more of this please let me know. The more people wanting more the more likely it will happen. Taglist for all things Season 2 are OPEN <3

[benedictsvestcollection]

Toepick!

Bucky Barnes x female reader AU

Summary: Bucky’s a hockey player turned pairs figure skater partner for reader who’s kind of a pain in the ass. (aka this is a Cutting Edge AU if anyone’s seen the movie)

Chapter warnings: Cursing, mentions of hockey violence, reader is a brat, Bucky is a sarcastic asshole (just like in the show!)

Author note: Unbetaed chapter, I don’t have a taglist for Bucky fics but send me a DM or ask if you want to be added to it I’ll make a taglist for my Bucky fics! Please reblog this and tell me what you think in my askbox! 

Also thanks to @pisss-offf-ghostt​ for her hockey insight b/c I don’t know shit about hockey.

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes sat in a doctor’s office, two weeks after taking a puck to the face in a Winter Olympic game. It had hit him way too close to his eye and Coach Pierce had benched him the rest of the Games. 

What’s worse is that it was his own fucking teammate who’d given him the injury. Brock Rumlow, their Enforcer, had always had it out for Bucky. God knows why, but maybe Rumlow had never forgiven his NHL team for beating theirs in the playoffs the year before. Or that Bucky had scored the winning goal of that same game. 

Steve and Sam had always said Rumlow was a bad apple in the NHL and his Olympic spirit sucked too it seemed. So now, he was waiting on news from the doctor, telling him when he could start training for the next NHL season.

The doctor entered the room with Bucky’s file. “Well, doc? When can I get back on the ice?” He asked. 

The doctor frowned at him and put his x-ray up on the lighted board to show him. “Son, I’m afraid you won’t be able to play hockey anymore.” He told him frankly. “You took quite a hit to your occipital bone and it hindered 80% of your peripheral vision in your right eye.” 

“What?” He asked, unsure if he heard him right. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go into retirement from hockey.” He told him, looking at the man with sympathetic eyes. He was a great player, had a lot of years left in him. He had watched that game, this wasn’t his fault.

Bucky sat there, shell shocked for several moments before slowly rising and putting his coat on. “Thanks doc.” He muttered before finally leaving the office and building. Fucking Brock Rumlow. He had seen the smirk on his lips after he’d opened his eyes from taking the hit to his face. 

He pulled out his phone and dialed Steve’s number. “Hey, meet me at the usual place?” 

“Everything okay Buck?” He’d asked his childhood best friend and now teammate.

“Just… I’ll tell you at the bar.” He growled out and then made his way to their favorite haunt. “Call Sam. I have news.” 

Thirty minutes later, Bucky was nursing a beer at their favorite New York bar. Sam and Steve stared at him, shocked. “So what, now you have to retire? That’s bullshit man.” Sam shook his head. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Bucky growled at his teammate. “My publicist wants to make an announcement soon.” He told them. “But I told her to hold off. I want some time to just… Absorb this.” He ran his hand through his hair frustratingly. 

Bucky loved skating, how could he give it up? And Brock Rumlow gets to just keep playing? What a load of bullshit. 

“Rumlow should be fined for that shit he pulled on you at the Games.” Steve shook his head. 

“You really think being fined is what he deserves? Everyone knows it was a dirty move but Pierce is his coach in the NHL, he’s not gonna do shit about it.” Sam reminded Steve. 

It was true, even the announcers had called it a dirty shot, and everyone who followed the NHL knew that Brock Rumlow had it out for Bucky Barnes. But Rumlow was Pierce’s guy and he wasn’t going to do anything to his player to jeopardize the next season of the NHL. 

“Speak of the devil.” Sam whistled out and Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Rumlow entering the bar with his flavor of the month on his arm. Some up and coming model or something. Not that any of them kept track anymore of them. 

“Hey boys! How’s the post-Olympics life treating you? As good as me?” He winked at his newest companion. “She’s a model.” 

“Shocking.” Sam snorted from behind his beer. Smirking when Rumlow shot him a dirty look. 

“So Barnes, how’s the eye?” Rumlow asked him casually, as if he hadn’t given him the very injury that now forced Bucky into early retirement.

Bucky’s grip tightened on his bottle. “It’s fine.” He ground out and gave him a hardened stare. It was true, physically he felt fine. But, he was about two seconds away from beating Rumlow to a pulp though. Hell, Steve and Sam would probably help him if he asked. But he also didn’t want any added press than the impending ‘early retirement’ announcement in the coming days. 

“Look man, sorry about that. Guess the puck just got away from my stick, you know?” He said easily. 

Holy shit, he was really just going to pretend it wasn’t his fault? Guess he shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Yeah, you seemed real torn up about it.” Steve snapped at him. “The whole hockey world knows you have it out for Buck.” All four men, stood. All imposing figures as hockey players. “And everyone knows that was a dirty shot you took. The Olympics are supposed to be about coming together but you just used it for your own personal gain. You’re a disgrace.” Steve told him. 

“You letting your pals stand up for you Barnes? What’s the matter? Too chicken shit to say anything yourself?” Rumlow taunted him. 

Bucky stepped closer to him, almost chest to chest with the Enforcer. “Nope, I just know you’re not worth my time. You never have been, not even on the ice.” After several tense moments, Bucky finally stepped back. “I gotta go. I have a call to make. I’ll talk to you two later.” He looked at Sam and Steve before leaving some bills on the table for his beers and he purposely bumped into Rumlow before leaving the bar. 

Once he was safely in his Brooklyn apartment, he called his publicist. “Mel? Hey, let’s just…. Make an announcement. Tomorrow. Just get it over with.” He told her. “There’s no point in delaying it.” 

“Sure thing, we’ll just say you’re mulling over your post-hockey playing options. Maybe take a year off and figure out what you want. Book deals, coaching job, hell even a sports commentator.” 

“Yeah. I’ll think about it, Mel. Thanks.” He hung up and tossed his phone on the counter and sighed. 

Fucking Brock Rumlow. 

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

“What part of locked arms don’t you fucking get?” You snapped at your latest partner ‘audition’ as you got up off your ass from being dropped again. “Where in the hell are you finding these idiots Maria?” You snapped at your coach as you skated away from the latest guy. “You’d think none of them knew a simple lift.” 

Maria Hill, your coach for several years now was at the end of her rope. You’d rejected partner after partner for the past month and a half after you’d parted ways with your Olympic partner, from a disastrous showing at the Winter Olympics. 

“Probably doesn’t help that you berate them before they even get their skates on.” She called from the side of the rink as Tony Stark, your guardian since you were fifteen years old (although you were in your twenties now and didn’t need a guardian anymore) and practically your big brother, entered with his five year old daughter Morgan in his arms. 

“How’s it going?” He asked. 

“You’re insane.” Your latest pairs auditioner told you as he hastily removed his skates and shoved his feet in his sneakers and grabbed his bag. “Good luck finding someone willing to put up with the ice princess.” He snorted and left. 

“That good huh?” Tony asked with a sigh and watched you skate around the private ice rink on their property. 

“I can’t help that they’re all idiots.” You told him and Maria sighed, rubbing her temples as Morgan giggled at your comment. 

“You know, unless you work with any of these guys and Maria. You’re going to have to go to singles skating.” Tony warned you, knowing you hated singles skating. It always felt too lonely for you out on the ice alone. You had trust issues since you were a kid. Which was a double edged sword because you also had trouble trusting partners to not let you down. 

“Alright, let’s just call it for the day. I have some calls to make for some more options.” Maria told you as you continued to skate. She turned to Tony. “Talk some sense into her. I don’t have many options left.” She muttered and then left. 

Morgan sat at the edge of the rink putting her skates on to get ready for her private lesson. “Ice Princess, come on… Work with me.” Tony called to you. 

You shot him a glare at the nickname but skated over to him, stopping promptly and showering his legs with ice. “Yes?” You asked him innocently. 

“Don’t give me that shit. What’s your deal? You’ve rejected nearly eight perfectly good skaters in the past almost two months. And always over stupid shit.” He told you. “They’re either not strong enough, not fast enough, not graceful enough. None of which have been true.” 

You wanted to curse back at him but knew Morgan was beginning to repeat everything and Tony was being hushed and you really didn’t want to hear Pepper ask why Morgan learned a new curse word from you. “I’m just particular, that’s all.” You defended yourself. 

“Is that the word we’re using?” He snorted at you. “I know you have trust issues because of what happened. But you can’t keep using that excuse for skating. Not all those men are going to let you down. But they will if they pick up on your attitude and tension. You need to start giving some of them an actual chance.” He glanced over at Morgan who was starting to warm up on the ice before her lesson. “Just… Think about it, okay? And you’ll bring Morgan to the house after her lesson?”

You sighed and nodded at him. “Yeah okay, fine. I’ll think about it. And yes, I’ll stay here during her lesson.” You promised as you got off the ice and changed shoes while Morgan started her lesson. 

“Thank you. Dinner’s at six.” He reminded you and kissed Morgan goodbye before leaving for a meeting. 

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

Maria Hill was looking over all the options she had on her desk. None of them would be able to take any of the shit that you were dishing out. She needed someone who could dish it right back to you and who could skate. “Jesus this is a nightmare.” She muttered to herself. 

“Might have a suggestion for you if you’re interested in hearing it and going to meet with him.” Nick Fury’s voice came from her office door. Nick was the trainer for you. Responsible for keeping you in shape and healthy. 

“Yeah?” She asked him curiously and leaned back in her chair. 

Nick walked over to the television and turned it on, turning it to the sports network talking about Bucky Barnes’ retirement and what his options were now. The news had been out for a week now and everyone was speculating what he was going to do now. 

“Barnes? You expect me to get a hockey player to be her new partner and not have her throw another fit?” She asked incredulously. 

“Hear me out Hill.” Fury told her and sat across from her. “He’s strong, a phenomenal skater. Actually graceful even in hockey. And, he won’t take any of her shit lying down. Everything else, you can teach him.” He mused with a shrug. “Besides, rumor has it that he wants to keep skating. Sure, this ain’t hockey but it’s better than nothing.” 

Nick had made several good points. He was a great skater. And he was disciplined. It meant that he would stick to any regime of training and skating they threw at him. 

“She won’t like this.” She told him bluntly. 

“Does she like anything anyway?” He countered with a snort.

He had a point. You hadn’t liked any of the partners they’d brought you till now. So throwing Barnes into the mix wasn’t going to make it much worse. 

“Fine. Let’s go talk to him.” She relented.

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

“You want me to what?” Bucky asked Maria and Nick. The two of them sat across from him in his Brooklyn apartment. Staring at them incredulously. 

“We heard you wanted to keep skating. And while this isn’t hockey, we’re training someone who wants Olympic gold just as much as you do.” Maria told him. “I’ve seen you skate. You’re talented as hell and strong.” 

Bucky looked back and forth between the two of them, expecting this to be some kind of joke. “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch. You’ll be paid, there’s a guest house at the Stark estate for you if the audition goes well. So you can live and train and not have to commute. You’ll be well paid.” Nick told him as he casually leaned back in his seat. 

Bucky snorted. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know that there’s always a catch.” 

Maria and Nick exchanged looks before looking back at him. “She can be… Difficult to get along with.” She told him carefully. 

“So she’s a pain in the ass.” He clarified flatly and snorted again. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a pain in the ass on my team.” He muttered to himself. 

“So you’ll come try out?” Maria asked him curiously. “Look, I know you don’t take any shit from anyone. So you and her might work because you can dish it out. You won’t put up with her attitude.” She explained. 

Bucky considered his options. He didn’t want to stop skating. And it’s not like there were any open coaching positions currently. And he sure as shit didn’t want to write a memoir or work for ESPN while all his buddies were still skating. This was something for him. Plus he’d get to work with some hot girl instead of staring at Rumlow’s ugly face everywhere he went. 

“When’s the tryout?” He finally asked.

Bucky Barnes’ fic taglist: @pisss-offf-ghostt​ 

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[heyheshi]

"Baby, we're going to have our own family!"

2.9k words

written and uploaded: July 13, 2020

🦋 - fluff

🌙 - angst...?

Please like and reblog! Also please don’t post my writings anywhere!

Also this was supposed to be really short, like just about 700 words but I couldn’t help it!

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

_________

"H, are you sure you want to go to the doctors with me?", you asked your husband for the third time in the last 30 minutes.

"Baby stop doing that!", furrowing his eyebrows as he looks at you accusingly - talking about how you're asking him that question again and about your food as you toy it around your plate using your fork.

Earlier after he woke up, Harry made sure that your day starts off as great as possible. He's so giddy. He knows that this day is going to be wonderful. He can just feel it - and so he made sure to wake you up with his kisses and a huge variety of healthy breakfast.

By "huge variety of healthy breakfast", that meant different slices of fresh fruits and organic vegetables, whole-wheat bread, cereals, yogurt, scrambled eggs, bacon (your absolute favorite and he cannot forget to add that), freshly squeezed orange juice, fresh cow milk, and mixed nuts.

He really went all the way with your meal and you're really thankful for that. 2 months ago, you would think that the two of you can't finish all of this food in just one sitting but how wrong could you be? Harry ate a lot but you're kind of having almost the same portion as him, not that he minds, he wants to keep you as healthy as possible for the baby on the way even though you told him that you're not certain about it just yet.

He made sure to talk to the hotel's head chef just to prepare your breakfast and strictly said "just the best and freshest once for my wife and make sure not to add any preservatives, just all-natural", and that's how you got here.

He even insisted on not ordering a coffee for you. You LOVE your morning coffee but H said that it's not good for your heart - which is true. You think he's being kind of dramatic and overprotective but you like it a lot.

It seems like everything he does is way too great; hormones. But it's not like you're gonna admit it to him anyway, it'll boost his ego more, your husband is narcissistic.

"Babe, babeeee, baby??!", you came back into reality. You didn't even notice that Harry has been snapping his fingers in front of your eyes.

"Sorry, just got ca-"

"Too caught up in my handsome looks, huh?", your husband winks at you, he always teases you!

You just rolled your eyes at his antics, "course not!", you said defensively. "Was just thinking! Plus, I wasn't even staring at you!"

"Yeah sure lovie. What's on that pretty little head of yours, hmm?", he leaned his elbows on the table and put his head on his hand.

"Just thinking 'bout how you took my morning coffee away and thinking 'bout what my lunch's gonna be."

"Stop bein' grumpy", he just chuckled at your answer, knowing your sarcasm really well, "just finish your breakfast so we can leave. Already called the clinic for our appointment. It's at 10 a.m., I don't wanna be late.", he just continued eating his part but you're the exact opposite - you froze.

"You what?"

"What? Said finish your food... and that I booked our appointment...?", he asked uncertainty. He's really confused right now and you are too! You're not even sure why you're confused, you just are. Maybe over the fact that H is so excited about this and you might not even be pregnant.

Of course, you're happy with how he's acting. You're just worried that this might just be a false alarm and it will crush him so much.

"Why did you?", you looked down at your plate then quickly stuffing your mouth with the rest of your food while Harry answered.

"Just wanna be the best dad and husband you could ever ask for", he sounds sad, he really thought that you would be happy, you already talked about going to the doctors last night anyways!

"Okay.", you shortly replied and stood up to your seat rounding the table. Harry felt his chest tightening - too much - he thought, until he felt your arms around his neck from behind and tucking your face on his neck. He quickly interlaced your fingers with his.

"I love you", you quietly whispered to his right ear. "You don't know how much this means to me, you're already the best, gunna be the best dad.", you pressed a kiss on his neck. "I just don't want you to get hurt if I'm not pregnant.", your voice seemed to get quieter with each word.

Harry just stood up from his seat and faced you, "whatever happens, we're going to be okay, alright? If we're not pregnant then it's fine, I'm not going to lie and say that I won't be affected by it because I know I will be, but let's always keep in mind that God already has better plans for us, okay?", he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

You just squeezed your face in his shirt, "I'm scared of another heartbreak. I really want this with you.", you said and Harry felt his shirt getting damp.

"Nothing's going to change. I'll still love you more than ever and will always be here to take care of you", he's now whispering while wiping your tears. Everything about this is so intimate. "I love you too, so much Y/N", with that, more tears fall as you kissed him like your life depends on it.

---

"Patient 104, the doctor is ready to see you.", you heard the nurse called your number.

With shaking limbs, you managed to stand up and walk to the doctor's office while Harry assisted you.

"Mister and missus Styles! It's so nice to meet you in person! I'm Doctor Amelia Welsh, just Doc Amy", your doctor looks friendly and it eased you a bit.

"Harry", your husband shook the doctor's hand then slowly turned to you, "and this is my wife, Y/N.", you smiled as you shook her hand.

"Such a lovely couple! Anyway, you called last night, right Harry?", Doctor Amy asked as she sat on her spinning chair while you and Harry take a seat on the opposite side of her table.

"I did, yes. We wanted to have a check-up on my wife", your husband did all the talking, you know he can sense your nervousness.

You're eyes slowly observed the clinic. It almost looked identical to yours, with the office table on the middle and a medical bed on the far left side of the office and a rack full of different medical supplies, the only difference is that your clinic has so many baby pictures and toys for your patients to play around with.

"Okay, so what seems to be the problem? I already got a hold of your medical records, Mrs. Styles, or should I call you Doctor Styles too?", Doctor Amy joked and it made you chuckle a bit.

"I'm a patient right now so I'll just stick with Mrs. Styles", you felt Harry squeezed your hand that he's holding and you smiled to yourself. He always loves it when you claim your self as "Mrs. Styles". He said it makes him all warm and fuzzy and makes him just wanna love on you all day, every day.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"Ummm okay, so I've been eating a lot - more than usual, it can be because of stress since I'm a stress - eater...", you took a deep breath and look at Harry then back at her, "also I've been feeling nauseated and often having sickness, but in the afternoon not morning so I thought it might be my eyesight."

"Hmm okay please continue", the Doctor continues jotting down on her note pad at a fast pace, you understand it tho, you do the same stuff every day.

"I'm more often bloated than not but this one's different, my abdomen looks bigger than usual..."

"When was the last time you had your period? I know your period is irregular but I still need to know", the doctor pulled her glasses down on the bridge of her nose.

"I think it was November...", you're really not sure, you gave up on tracking your period when it downed to you that your period is never gonna be regular at all.

"Last time you had sexual intercourse?", your face feels hot but you know that these kind of questions are relevant, on your side you can see Harry's ears become reddish.

As if your husband can sense that you're not going to answer that question, he stepped up even though he's shy about it, "last night."

It's not that the two of you are embarrassed about your sex life, it's the opposite actually, you just want to keep it private.

Doctor Welsh just smiled at both of your embarrassment, "well how long had you been feeling this? Did you took a pregnancy test?", she looked back down and continued scribbling.

"Just this January, I never really paid much attention, and I did, a couple of weeks ago, 12 positives and 3 negatives."

"Okay well, why don't we take a look? You can change into this gown and lay in there", she said giving you the gown and pointing at the bed on her clinic, "I'll be back in a few."

You looked at Harry and as if he can hear the voices inside your head, he pulled you into him and kissed your cheek, "we'll be alright", he smiled at you but you can tell that he's really nervous too.

You both are, this is the break it or make it time of your lives. You're not sure if you're ready for it but you shook your thoughts out of your mind and changed into the gown and went to the bed, Harry hot on your heels, quickly took a seat beside the bed and held your right hand.

"I love you", he whispered, he thinks he's as nervous as the first time he auditioned on the X-Factor, when he asked you to become his girlfriend, or when he asked you to become his wife, all combined.

"I love you too", you kissed his knuckles as he smiled at you.

It didn't take long for the doctor to come back.

"Ready?", she asked and you nodded. She set the machine up and made sure you're comfortable before putting the gel on your tummy.

Nobody dared to make a sound and you never dare to look anywhere besides Harry's eyes as he presses his lips on your palm.

"Okay...", you hear the doctor mumbled that made you whip your head up to her.

You looked at the monitor and saw it, there's a heartbeat. You knew what exactly it was but your husband doesn't since he never accompanied someone to an ultrasound appointment before.

And then the silent room heard it, the heartbeat.

"Wa- was that...", Harry slowly looked at you with red eyes.

"Yes", you whispered while nodding your head.

This is it.

"Oh wait", the doctor said suddenly, you froze, this can't be happening! There's nothing wrong with anything! Everything is fine!

You never dared to look at the monitor and Harry too, much too scared of hearing the next words that will come out of the doctor's mouth.

You're finally pregnant and you're going to love your child with everything you have and you just hope there's nothing wrong with your baby.

"What was it?", Harry asked in a croaked voice, still not looking up.

"Well, I'm seeing... not one, but two heartbeats!"

Both of your heads snapped back at the monitor and there you see it! From a different angle are two little heartbeats, two blips, two fetuses, two babies in the future!

You almost felt your heart stop from so much happiness!

"Congrats you're having twins! You're about 8 weeks pregnant!", Doctor Amy rejoiced but you still cannot move, neither can Harry until...

"I- oh my God! Is this real?! Is this really happening?! Oh God Oh God Oh God!", Harry jumped from his seat covering his face with his hands.

"Baby, we're going to have our own family!", H crouched down next to your bed while slowly kissing your nose and that's when it finally sunk in! You're pregnant! And with twins! This is more than you could ever ask for!

You're nodding your head repeatedly with tears running to your cheeks rapidly while Harry tried to catch everything.

"Happy, I'm so so happy, H."

"Me too my love, me too... twins?! I- thank you so much baby, you're so wonderful to me and I-", you didn't let him finish talking as you kissed him, not caring if the doctor is still in the room.

After you pulled away, you only smiled at him and pecked his lips once again. Harry helped you clean up the gel on your tummy and go back to your seat earlier, the doctor is already there typing on her computer.

"Congratulations again! Twins are hefty but I'm sure you can both handle it!", you thanked her and proceeded to talk about the pregnancy.

"I'm assuming you already know what to expect, what to do, and not to do, and what to eat mostly, yes? Hopefully, you didn't consume any alcoholic drinks during the last at least 10 weeks and no birth control at all", Amy asked.

"We do know, yes. And no, I didn't drink, and no, none at all.", you're smiling so big, mirroring H.

"Well then, there's really not much to discuss other than your next ultrasound. You two would be great parents! Do you have any questions?"

"Not for now, I think...", and Harry agrees with you.

"If you do then don't think twice of calling me. I'll print the pictures and have my assistant help you with the next appointment if you need to be transferred to another country then let her know, I'll have her recommend you on my pals", the doctor smiled and almost left the room but...

"Can you make it 5 copies?", H asked suddenly.

The doctor looked back and laughed, "of course, you'll just gonna need to pay extra on your way out", she replied.

"That's won't be a problem, just make it 5 please!", Harry looks and sounds like a child asking for another cookie.

"It's settled!", with that, the doctor finally left the room.

The silence is really comfortable as you change back into your normal clothes.

"H, why 5 copies? We don't need that much!", you laughed as you slowly approached your husband to leave the room.

He only smiled and simply answered, "one for you, one for me, one for your parents, one for mines, then one for their album - I'm getting it enlarged and framed."

You just melted as his answer so you just hugged him tight, “I’m having your baby, and it is your business”, you joked and he laughed, exchanging "I love you's".

---

You're back at the car now, looking at the ultrasound pictures. You can see on your peripheral vision how big Harry is grinning.

He faced you and lifted up your shirt, the car still in the parking lot of the hospital. Thank God you managed to be discreet as possible, not seeing any paps insight.

"Hello bundles!", he greeted your tummy with a kiss.

"See, I know you're both there, daddy can sense it. Can't wait to hold you both and protect you from the world", he looked up at you. "Please don't give mummy a hard time, especially now that there's two of you and daddy's gonna be away a lot, but I promise to be there while you two bake in there as much as possible!", he kissed your tummy once more and pulled down your shirt.

You can't help but grin at him, "bundles? And bake?", you asked your husband while laughing, your shoulders shaking from how many laughs you're producing.

"Bundles, they're two, that's what you call it baby! Like the buy one take one thing on the store, bundles! And bake cause they're a bun in the oven, your tummy's the oven and they're the buns! Bundle buns!", he looks so excited while explaining his shenanigans to you.

You face palmed yourself but can't help but to fall in love with him more, if that's possible.

"Know what baby? Let's just get lunch, yeah?", he only nod but he didn't find your response offensive.

You secretly loved his terms "bundles" and "bake", it makes your heart warm.

"What're you all craving, tell daddy!", you slapped his arms at his double meaning!

You answered either way, "we want pasta, daddy!", then winked at him.

"If pasta is what my babies want then pasta is what we'll get!", his hands found your lap to hold your hand but yours isn't there.

He then looked at you holding your tummy with a fond smile on your face and he joined your hands with his, both of you caressing your babies.

"32 weeks baby, 32 weeks.", you said to H and he smiled at you, looking back on the road.

"I'm already thinking of getting us a customized Gucci family clothes for when they arrive!", H cheekily said to you but you know he's not kidding so you just agreed along with him.

You know you're gonna love this pregnancy already. Not only you got one, but two babies! You're more blessed than ever! Plus, you're sure that Harry's going to be giving you everything you crave for! Midnight ice cream sessions, here we come!

_____

[snarkwrites]

01 & 02 | home; juice ortiz.

Notes:

.... and apparently, my brain yearned to write angsty and kind of tragic things. I really haven’t written much for sons of anarchy beyond a few little short things here and there so.. be warned. I’m gonna loosely follow some of the things that happen on the show timeline, but.. this one might take longer to write / post / update because I’m going to try to watch SOA again as I do this. Try being the operative.

So uh.. buckle up?

Also.. I haven’t made a cover for this yet. or a soundtrack. And this is c

Pairing:

Teller Morrow OFC x Juice Ortiz.

Summary:

“Home is where love resides, memories are created, friends always belong, and laughter never ends.” “A house is made of bricks and beams. A home is made of hopes and dreams.” “Home is not a place…it's a feeling.” 

“Home is wherever I’m with you.” 

Years ago, Hazelynn Teller (Morrow) left Charming behind. She turned her back on everything in search of something.. anything that felt like it fit. But nothing ever did. After a series of events cause her to re-evaluate and she finds herself returning to Charming, can she fix everything she broke when she left?

And again I ask.. why must my summaries suck? I swear this might possibly be better than the summary.

Warnings:

Injury / accident tw - for this chapter only. Mentions of a genetic heart defect / a newborn in NICU. fighting / violence tw - duh, this show was pretty damn violent and there’s no way I can escape having at least some of the major stuff that happened present. slow burn and angst. because people don’t just fall back together and feelings aren’t magically healed. eventual filth. any other triggering  things that arise I’ll warn in those chapters. These are just the ones I can think of, immediately, right now.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ] 

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@rampagewriting 

@sassymox

@twistnet

                                      ONE.

The phone ringing had Jax Teller sitting up in bed. He grimaced at the pounding hangover and he reached for his cellphone, answering.

“Are you family of Hazelynn Teller Morrow?”

“She’s my baby sister, why?” Jax wasn’t getting a good feeling at all. The woman on the other end of the line sounded so formal and her tone was so clipped. Unconcerned. It was his own personal experience that usually, when you got a call like this in the middle of the night, nothing good ever came of it.

What the nurse told him next left him reeling.

“There’s been an accident. She’s been admitted to Santa Monica General. Her daughter is in the NICU.”

“You said Santa Monica General, right?” Jax was sitting up in bed now, trying to get his heart down out of his throat. He was slipping out of bed, grabbing for his jeans on the floor. “Are you sure there isn’t some mistake? My sister, she… She doesn’t have a kid. Not that I’m aware of..” He was hoping against hope that there was a mistake somewhere, but the nurse spoke again.

“Your sister was in labor and on her way here to give birth when the accident occurred. We had to induce labor. Given the state your sister is in, we’re calling the family since we have no way to know who the baby’s father is… Just to err on the side of caution.”

Jax’s stomach rolled. Tara hugged against him from behind. “What’s going on, Jax?”

Jax shushed her, listening to the nurse detail his sister’s injuries and the fact that while they were trying to save his niece she slipped into a coma and had yet to wake up. When he hung up the phone, he swung at a wall.

“Jax?”

“I have to go pick up my mom.” Jax grabbed the keys to his bike and rushed out of the house, firing it up.

The entire drive across town to his mother’s house passed by in a daze. He didn’t even remember what color the stoplight had been when he went through it, only that he was sitting in his mother’s driveway only three and a half minutes later. Rushing to his mom’s front door. Pounding on it to wake her up.

Gemma threw the door open, a brow raised at Jax when she saw him standing on the other side. “Jax?”

“Mom, it’s Hazelynn… The hospital in Santa Monica called me.”

Gemma’s mouth opened only to close again. It was probably one of very few times over the course of his life that Jax Teller had actually seen his mother speechless. Or about to cry.

“What happened? Jax, talk to me. Talk to me now.” Gemma demanded, her voice shaky. Jax took a few deep breaths and put his arms around his mother, explaining what the nurse told him when she’d called. Gemma’s tears started to fall and she bolted back into the house, shaking Clay awake.

Clay grumbled at the early hour but sat up.

Looking as if he’d vomit as Jax repeated everything the nurse told him for a second time that night.

“I’ll drive. Neither of you are in the shape.” Clay was up and getting dressed on auto pilot, stopping at one point to question, “They say whether she had anybody there with her?”

“The whole reason the nurse is calling family is because she was coming to the hospital alone because she’d gone into labor. They can’t track down a father.”

“Oh, I’ll find the bastard.”

“Clay…”

“I’m not kidding Gemma.” Clay’s fists clenched and he took a few deep breaths.

“We’ll just get there and assess the situation. Go from there. She needs us.” Gemma gave Clay a firm look of warning and it seemed to get him reasonably calm.

The next few hours were sitting in silence in a waiting room. Endless pots of shitty break room coffee. Gemma jumping every time someone coded.

And finally, around 9 am, a doctor got around to them.

Hazelynn was awake. And her vitals seemed steady. 

“Can we go back to see her?”

“In an hour. We  want to make sure she’s up to it.”

“What about my niece?”

“One at a time. I’ll send a nurse over to get you prepped to go down to NICU.” The doctor promised, setting off to go and track down a nurse.

The nurse showed up a few minutes later and Gemma stood, the shock starting to subside but only slightly. As they walked back to the NICU nursery, the nurse told Gemma that they’d detected a heart defect and Gemma explained that both herself and her granddaughter’s uncle suffered from similar. 

“We’re not supposed to let anyone back here that isn’t a parent until 8 pm.. But given the circumstance…” 

Gemma thanked her and stepped into the room, taking a seat in the chair in the corner. The nurse brought over her granddaughter and Gemma took her in her arms.

“Oh sweetie. Everything is going to be okay.”

But Gemma was afraid. So very afraid.

XXX

“ You don’t have to leave town, Haze.”

It was the last thing my brother said to me. He’d hugged me. Then my mom hugged me and wiped at her eyes. Made me promise a thousand times to call and come back to visit. I promised her I would, even though I knew deep down I’d be limiting myself to calls only.

If I went home to visit, I might not ever leave again.

And I didn’t want to be like all the other girls I went to school with, settling down and settling for whatever came their way.

I left town with all these big ambitions and plans. And one by one, life knocked them right out from beneath me. Life tried again and again to break me but I was too stubborn to be broken. 

But this last blow.. This last blow was too much.

The nurse came in to check on me and the first thing I demanded was to know if my daughter was alright. The second and a half it took the nurse to tell me that my daughter was alive and currently down in NICU was the longest second and a half of my entire life and the second I heard the nurse tell me that my daughter was alive and I hadn’t lost her, I broke.

Sobbing. Grateful.

If I’d lost her… I shoved the thought out because I just couldn’t.

“Wait.. NICU… What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my baby?”

“The doctors detected a heart defect.”

I took a shaky breath. I’d been warned by my mom that there was a possibility that any children I had could end up with the heart defect, even though it managed to skip over me. At my last checkup, my doctor had been concerned about the genetic heart defect present in my brother and my mother. Nothing had shown up in any of the tests they’d been able to do at that point, so I’d been hopeful.

I nodded. Taking a few deep breaths. Moving to sit but wincing when a wave of pain washed over me.

The door to my private room opened and my brother stepped in. My birth father Clay standing behind him.

Jax rushed over to the bed, putting my legs back into it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going to see my daughter. I.. She needs me, Jax.”

“She needs you healthy, darlin.” Clay spoke up quietly.

Awkwardly, I let him hug me. Things had always been tense between us. More so when the truth came out that he was my actual father. It had thrown my entire life in a tailspin back then and while I’m not proud to admit it at all, I’d went full on rebellious. Refusing to acknowledge him.

But he’d kept trying.

“I couldn’t even keep myself from crashing a fucking car. I failed already. She could’ve died.” I was full on sobbing now as everything hit me. I looked from Jax to Clay and asked quietly, “Where’s mom?” I.. Need to see her.”

“Your mom’s down in NICU.” Clay explained, doing his best to give me a reassuring look. Wincing at the way my forehead was stitched. “Least you got the Morrow hard head, huh?” he tried to joke. Jax gave him a warning look, but rather than stubbornly refuse to go along with it like I used to in all of Clay’s past attempts to bond with me over the years, all I could do this time was nod. Mutter quietly, “Thank god.”

My brother cleared his throat.

“What about the father?”

“What about him? He’s married. Dropped me like a bad habit when he found out I wasn’t getting rid of the baby. Only after he tried to pay me off.”

Jax’s fist clenched and I shook my head. “I’m better off… I.. I mean I think I am.” my words fell away and I leaned my head back against the pillow behind me gingerly. 

“You didn’t have any friends you could get to drive you?” Clay questioned. I shook my head, not bothering to open my eyes. “I’d just moved here. I was.. Working up the nerve to come home. I didn’t really know anybody.”

“So the kid’s dad is elsewhere?” Clay questioned further. I could just tell by his tone that he was already thinking of the best way to make the situation right. To make the father of my child pay for being an actual piece of shit.

“Clay, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Leave it alone, sir. Not everybody has to pay for their wrongs your way. The bastard will regret it one day when she grows up and she’s amazing and she didn’t need him. I don’t want the guy near me.”

It didn’t stop the look in his eyes and I sighed. Appealing to the last card I held that I thought might work. “If you care about me at all and you still want to be a part of my life, sir.. You’ll leave this alone. I just… I want to put it behind me.”

I let out a ragged breath and searched his eyes. When he seemed to relax and grumble while shaking his head, I relaxed. It felt as if he were going to let it go as I asked. Maybe going away had changed things just a little.

Jax spoke up quietly. 

“ You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Try being me.” I muttered quietly, letting my brother hug me, holding on just a little tighter.

The door to my room opened again and my mother stepped in. She didn’t look like the same carefully put together woman I remembered. She looked like she was drained. Scared to death.

Suddenly, I wanted to go back in time and punch my younger self in the throat. How could I have ever thought that just because I was a reminder of the affair my mom started with Clay Morrow before Jax’s father passed away that she cared less.. Or that me being around was just painful for her to begin with?

I felt worse than I’ve ever felt before.

Jax stopped my mom, asking if she thought they’d let him go back and sit with my daughter. My mom led him back out in the hallway, probably to go find the NICU nurse on duty and find out the answer, and this left me and my birth father alone together.

“I know we never got along real good, kid.”

“I’m sorry.” I blurted it out before he could say anything else. “I was messed up, okay? The way it came out… The way it made everyone fight… I just.. I don’t know.” I dropped my gaze to the thin white blanket over my legs and Clay sighed.

“If you want to come home… It’d make more sense, I’d think. Gonna be damn hard to help out with my grandkid when you’re all the way in Santa Monica. And I’m not about to let my daughter take all this on by herself. We clear, Red?”

I mulled it over. It wasn’t something I’d already been heavily leaning towards for the better part of a month now. I’d just been too scared to pull the trigger and do it.

“Yes sir.” I answered, managing a smile.

My mom stepped into the room, door shutting behind her quietly.

“I cannot wait until you are away from this hospital. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to get anybody to answer a simple question?” my mom muttered, leaning down, hugging me tight. Fussing over a stitch on my forehead, grumbling “They didn’t even attempt to close this properly. I’ve seen bikers at Sturgis do a better sew up.” and making me laugh. Just a little.

She pulled away from the hug and brushed some hair away from my forehead. “Sweetie, I..” she started to say something but I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mom. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t know you felt the way you felt until your brother threw it up right after you left. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Don’t start crying.” my mom was reaching for a tissue, gingerly dabbing it at my eyes. “The important thing is it’s behind us. Okay?”

I nodded.

“You’re moving back to Charming.”

Normally, my mother making demands would’ve set me on edge. But I wasn’t that same angry rebellious girl anymore. And deep down, I was starting to realize just how much I loved and needed my family, especially right now.

Warts and all.

“Okay.” I managed a weak smile.

“Was she okay?” I asked quietly after another tight hug that had me wincing just a little and reminding her gently that I was one giant ache. My mom smiled and nodded. “She’s as beautiful as you, sweetie. And despite the family flaw striking again, I think she’s a fighter already. Have you got a name?”

“ Emma Sophia.”

My mom smiled at that. I figured she would because Emma was basically just Gemma, shortened. And Sophia in tribute to all the old movies she used to make me sit through with her when I was younger, after an actress named Sophia Loren.

“I like that, sweetie.”

When she was sure Clay wasn’t actively listening, she whispered quietly, “And the father?”

“Is not an issue. Nor will he ever be one. I got him to sign away paternal rights.”

“You’re sure.” My mom asked again and I nodded. “He was married, mom, I... “ I trailed off, waiting for a lecture. Instead, my mom sighed and nodded. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

And for the first time in years, I really believed she was right. Maybe everything really would be okay now.

The doctor came in to check on me again and check my vitals and after doing that, he turned to address my mother and Clay.

“Mother and baby’s vitals are holding strong and steady. I’d say that if the pattern continues, we can release Mother by the weekend.”

“What about my baby?” I spoke up quickly.

“We want to keep your daughter for observation. I’d say at least another two weeks.”

I took a few deep breaths, starting to panic a little. Wanting to cry. My mom grabbed hold of my hand and repeated calmly, “Everything will be fine. They kept your brother just as long.”

I nodded, even though the thought still scared the hell out of me. 

                                                    TWO.

The Welcome to Charming sign passed by and I smiled a little. Emma was sleeping in the carrier. I was almost home.

And hopeful.

Just as I turned down the road my mom lived on, my cell phone buzzed. I switched the call so that it went through my radio to answer.

“ Exactly how big is too big for a stuffed animal?” Jax asked and I groaned, shaking my head at the question. “What have you done, Jax?”

“There was a unicorn.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.. Remember that one Clay won you when you were twelve? This one makes two of that one.”

“Where the fuck am I putting this?”

My mom spoke up from the background. “We got it in the nursery. Barely. I told your brother he’s not allowed near the stuffed animals anymore.”

“In my defense ma, it’s my niece.”

I parked behind the motorcycles lining my mother’s driveway. Tensing just a little when I recognized Juice’s Dyna Glide parked next to Tig’s motorcycle.

And as soon as I saw him, it was like everything froze. I wasn’t ready to face him. Especially not when I considered that it felt like someone had just knocked the breath right out of me. As I walked past him, I didn’t dare look over.

I couldn’t do it, no matter how badly every part of me wanted to. My brother and Opie came over, arguing about the unicorn, Opie nearly lifting me off the ground in a hug. I reached back into the car, killing the engine and shutting the driver door. Making my way to the backseat and unbuckling the carrier.

“Awww. She’s even got the same chubby little cheeks, man.” Opie chuckled, elbowing Jax who nodded. I smiled and as soon as Emma started to wake up and cry, I dug around in my diaper bag for the bottle I’d pumped for her at a rest stop.

Sitting the carrier on the trunk of the car, I unfastened Emma, pulling her out.

Instantly drawing over at least ten gigantic bikers. Watching them fuss over her had me laughing and smiling a little.

Juice hung back. Leaning against the tree in the yard with a tire swing. Watching. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to come over with everyone else.. Near me. Or whether he wanted to just leave.

When he started to make his way over after Chibs stopped to whisper something in his ear, I swallowed hard. The guys had gone back to the grill set up behind the house by now. It pretty much left me sitting in the passenger seat of my car finishing up feeding Emma. Humming softly as I did so.

Humming what used to be the song that Juice and I dubbed ‘our song’.

“Visiting? I’m surprised your man let you come by yourself.”

I glanced up at Juice, taking a deep breath. Bracing myself for all the anger and bitterness I thought I’d find waiting in his gaze. Surprised when all I found instead was concern. Maybe a little hurt.

But deeper down, the same way he always used to look at me.

“Juice..” I started, but I went quiet. I didn’t know what to say. There was so much I wanted to say but it was probably beyond too late for that.

More than anything, I wished I had a rewind button.

What if I hadn’t left town? Ran from the way I felt about everything back then?

“I had a while to get over it.” he muttered, gazing at me. Going quiet. “Jax told me why you had to go. I fuckin hated it, but I had a while to get over it.”

I nodded.

Somehow I got the feeling that he was pretending it didn’t kill him. To save face.

Kind of exactly like I was right now.

“You could’ve said somethin, ya know?”

“Juice..”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. Leaning against my car. Staring up at the bright blue of the sky overhead. “It’s over and done with though.”

My stomach churned. I wasn’t sure if what he was saying was a good or a bad thing. Seeing him again after all this time, I wasn’t even sure I wanted it to be over.

Because when I left it all behind, I hadn’t just left behind a family that actually loved me, I’d left him behind too.

And looking at him now. With a more adult perspective… I suddenly found myself wondering if leaving him behind had been the biggest mistake of my life…

“Do you want to hold her?”

Juice eyed me but nodded, reaching out for her. “Hey pretty girl.” he muttered, smiling a little. After he held her for a few minutes, he placed her back in my arms.

And as he did so, the touch lingered as we locked eyes.

“I missed you.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“I barely survived.” Juice answered, biting his lip as if he wanted to say something else. He turned and walked away and I spent a few minutes trying to pull myself back together again.

It had been harder seeing him again after all this time than I thought.

Harder to resist him. Harder to shove down the surge of emotions. Harder to try not to think about just how much I still loved him and harder to swallow the fact that by now, it was probably too late.

I got the feeling that it was only going to get so much harder.

And I sighed, because every part of me wanted to hold out hope that there was still something there but I had to accept the fact that I’d probably lit a match and set everything on fire when I left town back then. That there wasn’t any hope to be had.

That Juice was done with me.

And that hurt more than I was prepared for.

I shoved it all out of my head, wandering over to where my mom sat. Giving Tara some serious side eye.

“He had to bring her.” my mom was glaring in Tara’s general direction. Rolling her eyes as Tara carried Abel around. Everything Tara Knowles did annoyed my mom. That much hadn’t changed at all.

“In his defense, mom, she’s kind of his old lady.” I pointed out quietly. Taking a sip of the pink lemonade she’d pushed in my direction.

My mom shrugged, grumbling under her breath. Probably something to the effect of she wouldn’t be if my mom had her way about it. I sat down next to her at the picnic table and she peeked in the sling I had Emma strapped into. “Hey sweetie.” she cooed.

Emma grinned up at her, sleepy eyed. After a few seconds, my mom spoke up.

“Speaking of old ladies… If you’re wondering. Juice doesn’t have one.”

“Mom, I.. we both know I ruined everything there when I left.” I sighed, shaking my head no. Trying to cut whatever crazy idea she was formulating out before it took hold. Somehow I got the feeling that it was too late for that. My mom, being the meddling mom she’s known to be at times, she was going to try to shove me right through the ‘healing process’ over the end of my last breakup.

My mom shrugged, shaking her head. Quick to protest, “You never know.”

I didn’t say anything. For one thing, I was trying to get my head around my mom seeming to push me towards Juice. I hadn’t really thought she liked him all that much back then. I know Clay didn’t particularly care for him.

XXX

Juice wasn’t listening to a word Chibs said. Chibs caught sight of the direction he was staring in and he chuckled to himself, nudging Juice in the side, nodding in Hazelynn’s direction. “Go over n’ try t’ talk.”

Juice shook his head. “Every time I think about it, I remember that she’s the one who thought she was too good for any of this and left. Without a good bye. What’s done is done. I wasn’t good enough for her then, why do I wanna be good enough for her now, huh?”

“Maybe it wasn’t that at all.” Chibs butted in. Grumbling as he took a drag of his cigarette. The kid wasn’t listening. He wasn’t stopping to think about everything that unfolded prior to Hazelynn’s decision to leave. Chibs went quiet. He knew better than to try reasoning with the kid. Juice was a hard headed little shit.

“Look at me, Chibs. We both know it was.” Juice insisted, shaking his head sadly. “I tried to be good enough man.. I just fuckin wasn’t.”

Chibs brushed off the statement, putting it down to Juice’s recent downward mood swing and tension. The guy had been down about a lot lately. Like he had a million things on his mind. If Chibs ever tried to bring it up, Juice dismissed it. Stating he didn’t want to talk about it.

Juice bit his lip. Staring at Hazelynn. Sighing as he stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking. Every part of him was still drawn to her. If he could, he’d go over. He’d tell her that he still loved her, he’d never stopped.

But there was so much going on right now.

The biggest part of it being the secret he was being forced to keep. Just the thought of the betrayal he was currently being forced to carry out against men he thought of as brothers was enough to have him tensing up all over again. Any second, they’d figure out it was him. None of the guys in Samcro were that stupid. Even the ones who acted like they were.

Sooner or later, everything would come out.

And Juice Ortiz was living with the weight of that dread and his secrets and decision every single day.

,, I just have to stay away. Keepin her at arms length is keepin her safe.” the solemn thought weighed heavily and he tore his eyes off of her.

Somehow, he got the feeling that would be easier said than done.

[entomjinx]

Here's 1554 words on Why Gray/Juvia is toxic for both parties + receipts and a small personal anecdote about why I'll never shut up about this: 

Google doc Or click keep reading:

Firstly, Juvia gets very little growth as a character, to the point that even by the end of the series, she is still entirely obsessed with Gray and it's basically her only character trait(in canon). Everything she does is in someway related to Gray. Had she gotten real character development, I think I really would have loved her, but instead she was made to be nothing but someone who has an obsession with Gray. (Which clearly stemmed from hero-worship, and had it only lasted a short time with her coming to her senses and apologizing for it, then it might have been a good subplot!)

Secondly, even if she had gotten better, that would not erase the fact that she is a stalker and never even apologized. Even if she had apologized, Gray isn’t obligated to forgive her. Gray rejected her multiple times in canon(see bottom), and she continued to come on to him. If their roles were reversed, and it was Gray doing this to Juvia, everyone would be disgusted by the ship. There's a double standard around it. During the one year time skip when she forced him to live with her for 6 months while he was emotionally compromised, there was emotional manipulation similar to what is found in  Stockholm Syndrome patients. In several fields of psychology, it's been tested(and confirmed) that in 99% of cases where a person dates their stalker, it is because of their manipulation during moments of high emotion(typically negative, chapter 416) often caused by the stalker themself but sometimes by outside elements(like with Gray(chapter 416), and yet again, is similar to Stockholm Syndrome). They only thing that happened between them is that she emotionally manipulated Gray into being complacent. 

Thirdly, SHE WAS A STALKER. Period. There is NO justifying that for any reason. She made him uncomfortable in canon. He openly said he was uncomfortable IN CANON. She followed him around to places he thought he was safe, and made those places unsafe, and it affected his mental state in a visible way. 

Fourthly, Gray is someone who cares deeply about his nakama, which makes him ignore a lot of his own problems if that means helping them, which is why he tried to let her down easily at first. He still protected her, because even though she made him uncomfortable, she's still a member of Fairy Tail. 

Fifthly, she has several delusions about Gray, as are shown in canon, which are vastly different to how Gray actually is. Which means she's likely in love with her own idea of him, and not Gray himself (Again, this stems from the hero-worship and obsession). So while the delusions are played up for comedy and don't accurately depict Gray, they do accurately depict Juvia's VIEW of Gray. 

Sixthly, she freaks out anytime he so much as speaks to another girl, which is a red-flag. That's not the kind of relationship anyone wants to be in, because it's over controlling and there's no real trust. It also speaks volumes about her codependency issues, which shows that being with Gray(an extremely independent individual) is also bad for her! The ship is toxic both ways. 

Receipts

(and please note I only used a few for each because I could have pulled out more.)

Point 1 (little character growth):

-chapter 48: Juvia's debut chapter. She's depressed after what has clearly been years of abuse and is later reinforced in the few flashbacks we get of her (people leaving because of the rain and other reasons.) 

-chapter 116: this is during the battle of Fairy Tail arc, and while Juvia has a little bit of character growth here, she goes right back to being overly jealous of everyone and trying to control who Gray interacts with as soon as the arc is over. Character development isn't development if it doesn't stick.

-Chapter 424: Juvia is in the exact same headspace as before, making herself sick over someone who rejected her multiple times. She could have gone to others for help! Lucy had a lead on Gray, so refusing that help and keeping to herself only shows that she was obsessed with the idea of doing things herself. This is a toxic mindset and would big a massive red flag in a real relationship, as it shows a desperate need for control over the other person. 

-ft100 chapter 1: she still gets into the same headspace when Gray leaves. This is further proof that the relationship isn't just toxic for Gray, but for Juvia as well. (Extreme codependency is terrible)

Point 2 (emotional manipulation): 

-Chapter 340: Juvia tells Gray that he's rude for being upset. She tells him that he should be smiling! She's blatantly ignoring his feelings and trying to control him. 

-chapter 416: Gray is obviously distraught over what happened, and Juvia tries to make her guilt more important than his grief. She says "Juvia doesn't have the right to love you anymore," which is an obvious guilt trip. She's attempting to get him to respond positively instead of getting the negative responses she usually gets from him by using his grief weakened mindset against him. And that's not even mentioning that she stalked him to his parents grave all the way in Isvan. He clearly didn't invite her. Gray's too private of a character for that, and he obviously expected to be alone, considering his surprise when she shows herself. ("juvia! You followed me here?")

Point 3 (stalking, general abuse)

-see 416 above (how else would she have known he'd have gone back to an entirely different country when he obviously didn't tell anyone, let alone her.)

-episode 50: Juvia attempts to drug Gray with a love potion. This would make him love her regardless of his own feelings, basically making him a slave to her whims. 

-chapter 67: she's clearly shown stalking him before joining Fairy Tail, and she never apologized or grew enough as a character that we can definitely say she wouldn't do so again. 

-episode 129: Juvia stalked Gray when he went on a job with Erza.

-chapter 432: Gray's "why are you here?" Is a clear indication that she shouldn’t be there, and that she most likely followed him.

-there's also multiple sexual harassment issues, such as when Juvia asks Gray to punish/spank(depends on translation) her on Tenrou(chapter 249: "I don't have those kinds of hobbies!" Gray says, and then she responds with "I do") and when she admitted to sleeping with him without his knowledge during the Avatar arc(chapter 424: see Gray's rejections for the quote)

Point 4 (Gray is a softie and tried to let her down easy before being blunt):

-literally the entirety of Fairy Tail.

-Lullaby arc: he protects Lucy and Happy from some of the Eisenwald guild members, and openly worries about Erza pushing herself to hard to finish the mission.

-Galuna arc: he protects Lucy, Natsu, and Happy from Lyon, and he attempted iced shell TWICE to protect them from Lyon's plan.

-Phantom Lord arc: Gray is so adamant about protecting Lucy from Phantom that it's literally what starts Juvia's obsession with Lucy as her "love-rival."

-Tower of Heaven Arc: he's incredibly anxious about getting Erza when she's captured, and arguably the most urgent to get her back to protect her

Do I need to keep going or do you get the picture here?

Point 5(delusions):

-Do I even need to track all these down? There’s one ever dozen chapters or so, so we’ve all seen them.

Point 6(abuse and mistreatment of other characters): 

-Lucy: chapters 77, 79, 86, 103, ect (there's so many more, all for the sake of getting rid of her "Love-Rival")

-Chapter 202: Juvia's is rude to Lisanna even when she's being kind and offering to be Juvia's partner, because she thinks Lisanna might "take" Gray. Gray isn't an object and shouldn't be treated like one, and that shouldn't be Juvia's priority here anyways. She can't see past her obsession to be nice to anyone else.

-chapter 208: Juvia puts Gray's safety over everyone else's and intended to lie to everyone so that she could go find Gray on her own to be his savior. 

Some of Gray's rejections: 

-chapter 271: This is one of the gentler rejections. Juvia brings a sleepy bag for her and Gray, and Gray says "No way am I getting in that." 

-chapter 322: Gray asked her to let go of his hand and she refused.

-chapter 338: "Gray-Sama! I love you!" Was met with Gray's "I don't."

-chapter 424: "slept together.... well tried to. He kicked me out." Quoted Directly from Juvia. 

One last thing: As someone who has been stalked TWICE, I can attest for how it fucks up your mental state. While it was still nowhere near as extreme as some of the lengths Juvia went to, it STILL has lingering effects on me. I still have difficulty even talking about it at times, because of how much it's fucked me up and given me paranoia. I literally live out in the middle of fucking no where and the though of my window now being covered terrifies me. What Juvia does is not okay, and I refuse to shut up about how toxic they are.

[simonxriley]

For the get to know your author:

1. 3. 11. 17. 19. and 25.

Thank you!

1: is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

A few actually. The prequel and sequel to Jade Helm and a fic for my other R6 oc Cooper. The prequel to Jade Helm is just the first 5 months of Skylar being apart of Rainbow and her blossoming romance between her and Tachanka. The sequel I can’t start because of spoilers. And the Cooper fic I’m holding off on because I have enough unfinished fics as is. 

3: what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Chronological, it’s just easier for me. 

11: what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Describing things? Maybe. I don’t want to say I was bad at per se but I wasn’t good. How I picture scenes in my head don’t always come out easily on paper, but the more I write the more I improve. 

17: if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Don’t post the first chapter to a fic you only wrote because you had the motivation/inspiration for it. Because you’ll lose that inspiration fast and it’ll just sit there on you Ao3 unfinished for who knows how long. 

19: when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

A lot of thinking and planning. When it comes to Jade Helm I’m always thinking of the outline, characters, development, and timeline, just incase things change along the way. To make some things a bit easier I do keep an outline of the important stuff like the outbreak chapters in my docs. But everything else is in my head or written down somewhere. 

25: copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

There’s probably like a bunch from Jade Helm but I’m too lazy to go through all 150k words. So I’ll post a little snippet of Rorke and Logan telling Elias off in my fic When The World Falls. I’m pretty proud of this and I don’t know why. 

“What’s your problem Elias? Liz has always been disciplined, she has always been a team player. I’m starting to think you don’t like that she’s better than Hesh.”

She glanced over to Merrick and Keegan whose mouths were slightly gaping, as was Liz’s. She never expected Rorke to call him out like that in front of everyone, but she would be lying if she said it didn’t feel good.

“What are you even talking about?” Elias crossed his arms and acted like he didn’t know what Rorke was talking about.

“You don’t know? Let me tell you then.” He pointed the paper at Liz, but kept his attention on Elias. “I had a little conversation with Liz yesterday, after I overheard her talking with Corporal Dunn and Private Ramirez about how you critique her on everything she does ‘wrong’ after a mission and how she should watch her brothers’ more. It almost made her want to get reassigned to Foley’s squad. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Merrick and Keegan glanced over at her, making her feel a little bit awkward. The look on Merrick’s face though indicated he felt sorry, Logan must have told him everything from their teenage years. Keegan’s face was unreadable, which wasn’t shocking, but his eyes conveyed a little sadness or pity. She couldn’t tell.

Elias’ glanced over to Liz, anger taking over his face. She knew he would be angry about bringing Rorke into ‘family’ issues. She didn’t care, she was done with being treated like the family disappointment. Hesh, for once didn’t know what to do or say.

“It’s true dad, you do critique her a lot more, and it shows that your wrong because you only do it when she’s alone. Not when Rorke, Merrick or Keegan are around, just her. She’s not Hesh and she’s not me, she’s her own person and has a skill set that is suitable for her and only her. Forcing her into someone she’s not is only going to push her away. Do you really want that? Having one of your own kids hate you?”

[the-ss-zemyx]

PVP(umpkin Spice Lattes)

Zexion and Arpeggio are Discord friends. They chat in private messages, raid in Verum Rex together, and may or may not have feelings for each other.

Ienzo and Demyx are college roommates. They hate each other, for the most part. At least they can both agree on pumpkin spice lattes.

Happy 2nd Zemyx Day of 2020!!

Specifically for today, the S.S. Zemyx Discord Server hosted a collaborative fic-writing event! Over the course of the past five days, four of our writing members teamed up on a Google Doc in one glorious, inspirational, chaotic, frankenstein-esque fic-writing bonanza! That's right, the fic you're about to read is the product of -four- people's efforts!  Enjoy!! :D

(A HUGE thanks to my co-writers: Aliceslantern, Ennarcia, and Carbonpixel. This was a hell of a lot of fun to do and I'm immensely proud of us!! - Mod Arxsia)

Also available on AO3!

__________

      Demyx hated his roommate. Okay, no, hate was a strong word, and Demyx did his best to be a friendly, outgoing sort of guy, so ‘hate’ was definitely too strong a word. He liked to make friends. Having friends was nice. Having friends was very nice, and so, he tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But his roommate was a different story, and Demyx did not like his roommate very much at all.

At least he was easy on the eyes, because everything else about him got on Demyx’s last nerve. His name was Ienzo, but his name might as well have been "Jerk," with a capital J. When he wasn't hogging the Internet bandwidth doing God-knows-what on a chunky Alienware laptop, he was lecturing Demyx on the virtues of keeping the floor free from dirty clothes and giving empty soda cans a proper burial in the plastic wastebasket by the door. Lame. Also, he was a little condescending. That jerk . 

One day, Ienzo burst into their dorm room with the gusto of a hurricane aiming to speak to a manager about a botched coffee order. He swung his laptop bag onto his mattress. It bounced when it landed. "Out," he commanded.

Demyx looked up from his phone. He sat with his legs crossed on his own bed, his Discord app open to a private message thread on his phone. In a few minutes, one of his server friends, a guy with the display name "The Cloaked Schemer" but going by his Discord handle, Zexion#1309, would be starting a voice call with him. It was kind of a big deal--they had been chatting in their shared server for almost a year, and in private messages for almost as long, but they had yet to actually speak to each other. "I'm actually busy," Demyx said.

"I don't care. Out."

It turned into an argument, of course, neither yielding and probably disturbing their neighbors with the yelling. Yep, Demyx didn’t like his roommate one bit. 

He ended up in the lounge by the kitchen, utterly fuming, cursing his idea to “go rando” with a roommate all the while. It’s the best way to make friends, Demyx , his mother had told him. What better friend than a roommate?

Very funny.

At least he’d been able to grab his phone. Of course, Zexion was wondering where the hell he was. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you need to reschedule?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: roommate’s being a dick and kicked me out. Sorry!

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, I too am having roommate troubles. I can sympathize. I know too well what it’s like when one’s privacy is denied.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: he’s driving me NUTS! 

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you tried talking to him about it?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: He didn’t exactly uh seem receptive to talking

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s always a good idea to try for maturity first.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I did! Not my fault the guy wasn’t having it.

Anyway. Id hate to let that guy take up any more time.

Hru?

The Cloaked Schemer: Doing as well as I can, I suppose. I’m enjoying my classes so far. It seems a little easy, but then again, it is only one of the first weeks. Things should pick up more by midterms.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ure too smart zexy. And didnt you skip a grade?

The Cloaked Schemer: A year, yes. I don’t think they call them grades in college.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Considering some of the people ive met, couldve fooled me.

The Cloaked Schemer: If I’m hoping to have a grad degree within five years, I have to fast track it. I’d rather not spend much more time in undergrad than necessary.

Though I am especially resentful that, despite the fact that I am technically a sophomore, I’m considered enough of a freshman to still be required to dorm.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: That blows

But dude, ure here. Might as well try to enjoy the journey, yaknow?

The Cloaked Schemer: Oh, Arpeggio. Your naivete is too obvious sometimes. It’s sweet, I think.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: har har

The Cloaked Schemer: I am disappointed though. I was looking forward to meeting you--in a manner of speaking. You’re probably one of the most sane people from our Verum Rex server.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Issa game, bro. Some of them, idk, take it a little too seriously

The Cloaked Schemer: Well, aspects of it are worth being taken seriously, but I understand what you mean.

Though the ship wars are grating.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha! Yeah.

The Cloaked Schemer: We’ll have to find some other time, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Mann i was hoping to see if you sound as smart as you type

The Cloaked Schemer: You flatter me.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do you think if we lived near each other we would hang out?

The Cloaked Schemer: If it’s all the same, I’d prefer to keep my location anonymous.

At least for now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know. Just a hypothetical question

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d like to say yes.

But for all I know, you’re actually a forty year old serial killer who lives in his mother’s basement.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: harsh

You listen to 2 many true crime podcasts 

Anyway, I g2g. See if the roomie will let me back in. Got homework.

The Cloaked Schemer: Enjoy your night, Arpeggio.

Hopefully one of us has a good one.

Demyx closed the app and repocketed his phone. He flopped back on the lounge couch, eyes squinting at the fluorescent lights above and his limbs ragdolling in uncomfortable directions. A good night, huh? It’d be better if he could spend time in his own room without having to engage in guerilla combat whenever he wanted to exist in his own space. Wishful thinking, he thought.

__________

      Ienzo stared at the chatlog open on his computer screen. The circle next to Arpeggio’s icon turned a dull gray, and the remaining bits of Ienzo’s hope for decent conversation dulled with it. He had finally caught up enough with his classwork to have some free time to spend, finally arranged to voice chat with Arpeggio, finally gotten Demyx to leave the god-forsaken room so he could have the one conversation he’d been looking forward to for weeks , and now… nothing. All that planning, gone to waste. Another wave of irritation hit him, and suddenly he was out of bed and grabbing his keys. He needed some tea.

Ienzo didn’t get tea at the coffee shop, despite his plans. The alluring, hipster scent of pumpkin spice hit his nose instead, and he caved before he could stop himself.

The college employed students as baristas in the campus coffee shop, as part of the work-study financial aid, so it wasn’t uncommon to see one’s peers at the shop. “Hey, Ienzo,” Riku said. It was getting late; chairs were already on top of all the tables. They’d met in Ienzo’s anthropology class.

“I’m not too late, am I?”

“I can bend the rules for you.” He went back behind the counter. “What’ll it be? Your usual?”

He blushed guiltily. “Pumpkin spice. Please.” Curse that glorious, wonderful scent.

He smirked. “Coming right up.”

“I know it’s dreadfully popular.”

“Yeah, cause it’s good ,” Riku said. “As long as you’re not one of those “half-caff, no whip, vanilla and almond, five shots” type of people.”

“Why complicate coffee so much?”

Riku handed him the paper cup. “At that point, just drink coffee-flavored syrup.” There was a pleasant lull for a moment. Riku began cleaning the espresso machine. “So why are you out so late? Don’t you have an early class tomorrow?”

Ienzo grimaced. “My roommate and I got into a fight.”

“...Again?”

“We are not well suited for each other.” A sigh. “I went to the Residence Life office to try and apply for another room, but the period for that is over. I was told, and I quote, “unless he’s hurting you, tough it out.””

Riku chuckled. 

“He is simply-- obnoxious ,” Ienzo continued, the pressing need to vent taking over. “Slobby, loud, and always around at precisely the most inopportune times. I was supposed to have a call with a good friend of mine, and it took some doing just to get him out.”

“Right, your Discord friend.”

“You have a good memory.” Ienzo swished the coffee around a little; it was slightly too hot to drink.

“The one you have a crush on,” Riku said with a grin.

Ienzo flushed painfully. “I do not have feelings for him,” he said.

“Dunno. You managed to bring that call up in almost every conversation we’ve had. If he was really just your friend, would you be that excited? Enough to hype about it for weeks?”

Ienzo shrugged. “I do not know where he’s from, I don’t know his real name, I don’t even know what he looks like. For all I know, he only uses he/him pronouns online.”

“And?”

“I just… see no reason to desire something I cannot have.”

Riku wiped at the counter. “Oh, don’t be so doom and gloom,” he said. “If the call matters so much, it’s going to happen eventually.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Well, thanks for the tea and sympathy. Er, coffee and sympathy.” 

“Any time.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too. Play nice.” 

“Just promise to bail me out if things go awry, will you?”

“Ha, on my salary?” Riku winked.

Ienzo left the coffee shop. He didn’t want to return to the dorms yet, but the fall night was calm and quiet. He checked his phone (maybe Arpeggio was free? Though he did say he had homework…).

As a stroke of luck, he had a message waiting for him.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I have a room again! \o/ 

the jerk was gone when I got back!

The Cloaked Schemer: How fortunate for you. I assume you’re flying through your homework now?

Mel0d10us N0cturn3: nope! :p 

this science paper is kicking my ass!

Im really no good at this sort of thing

The Cloaked Schemer: Do you have any tutors available? Ordinarily I’d love to help but it might be easier and more private to go there instead.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: \o/

We actually do have one of those tutoring centers I think! Thanks for the idea!

Don't want you to waste your special brain-powers on little ol’ me lol

The Cloaked Schemer: I’d hardly call helping you a waste of my “special brain powers.”

It’s not a bad idea to check your local resources though.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7

Don’t think I’m gonna make any progress on this paper tonight tho lol

The Cloaked Schemer: Giving up already? I didn’t have you pegged for a quitter.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww, come on! Don’t guilt meeee

My poor brain!

It’s mush!

;-; will you not spare some mercy for my poor mushy brain?

The Cloaked Schemer: I suppose just this once, provided you use your resources and go to the tutoring center.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: o7 Yes sir !

First thing in the morning!

My mushy brain thanks you for your mercy and endless kindness!

Ienzo’s cheeks grew warm, but whether it was from the message on the screen or the sip of pumpkin spice coffee currently running down his throat, he neither knew nor was willing to explore.

Despite the late hour, there were plenty of students milling about campus, taking up their little spaces. It had taken him some time to find an empty bench to sit on, but one eventually caught his eye and he claimed it immediately, sitting down with his coffee in one hand and phone in the other.

The sky was inky black, dotted with stars, the sun long gone by now. Nights were starting to grow just a tad chilly, the beginnings of autumn seeping into the atmosphere. It was Ienzo’s favorite season and the aroma of pumpkin spice wafting past his nose was just what he needed to make up for the disappointment of having his voice call with Arpeggio abruptly cancelled.

Well, maybe not entirely. He’d been really looking forward to hearing Arpeggio’s voice for the first time, but this did nicely enough, he supposed. It was better than sitting around stewing in annoyance over his damned roommate anyway.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so what are you up to right now?

The Cloaked Schemer: It’s a lovely night out. I needed some tea. Got coffee instead.

What is it about pumpkin spice that’s so irresistible? 

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Never wouldve pictured YOU as a devotee of the PSL.

The Cloaked Schemer: Guilty pleasure. 

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: theyre so good. I can’t have that many of them cause caffeine makes me SLEEPY

The Cloaked Schemer: Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: whats that supposed to mean?

The Cloaked Schemer: Nothing derogatory, I assure you.

Though the idea of you being hopped up on caffeine amuses me.

You seem like one of those people who has energy all the time.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: i wish

The Cloaked Schemer: I should--begrudgingly--head back to my room.

You should try working on that paper.

I mean it about the tutor.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: yeah, yeah. I hear ya

Hopefully your roommates not being a dick anymore

The Cloaked Schemer: Fat chance. M3l0d10us N0cturn3: enjoy your coffee~~

__________

      Demyx sat for a long time looking at that exchange. He could’ve heard Zexion say those words. He was just so painfully smart, but Demyx could listen to him say anything. About anything. For hours.

He showered and got ready for bed, hoping that Ienzo would stay gone. But as it was, he was back. Ienzo scowled in greeting.

“Nice to see you too,” Demyx muttered. He noticed the coffee cup Ienzo had set down. Ienzo seemed to live on caffeine and spite. 

“I needed to clear my head, as I do not have the luxury of privacy.”

“Well I gotta sleep somewhere,” Demyx said. He crawled into bed. Ienzo rolled his eyes. Demyx saw him grab his own shower caddy and head out to the communal bathroom. He thought he smelled--he blinked. Slowly, ever so slowly, he got up, crossed over to the cup, and sniffed it.

Of course he likes pumpkin spice lattes, Demyx thought bitterly. Ugh.

He went back to bed and fell asleep listening to music.

__________

      The universe thought it was just so funny. Demyx had taken Zexion’s advice and the tutor he’d met with was his jerk of a roommate. At least Ienzo was unhappy too, if the scowl on his insufferably nerdy face was anything to go by.

“What are you doing here?” Demyx blurted before he could stop himself.

“I work here,” his jerk of a roommate answered in response, “as a tutor, for my work study. I take it your procrastinating finally caught up to you and you need some last-minute help?” Did he really have to be so damn condescending though?

Demyx hiked his backpack strap a bit higher on his shoulder and rapped his fingers on the tutoring center's reception desk. Ienzo could glare daggers at him all he wanted from his seat at the computer behind the desk, but the curious eyes of the other tutors and students around meant that he would have to maintain decorum. They both would, lest Ienzo lose his job and Demyx lose his tutoring privileges. He took a deep breath. "I need help with a biology paper."

Ienzo's expression tightened. "Would you like to make an appointment?"

"No? You said it yourself: this is last-minute." Demyx tapped on the desk. "I need to talk to the science tutor on duty, please."

"It seems like we're both out of luck tonight, then," Ienzo replied dryly, absently clicking at something on the computer monitor. "I'm the science tutor on duty at the moment."

"You? Gross." 

"I'm not particularly happy about it right now, either."

Demyx considered his options, and cringed at his conclusions. His paper was due in two days, and it was only half-drafted. Without a passing grade on the assignment, he would set himself up to fail the class. Petty squabbles were not worth the hit to his GPA. He sighed. "Well, can you help? I'm kind of desperate, here."

Ienzo returned the sigh. "Fine. Follow me."

Demyx followed Ienzo around the reception desk to a square table in the far corner, a plastic chair on each side. Ienzo alighted onto the seat closest to the wall. "This better not be a waste of time."

Demyx pulled his laptop out of his backpack before sitting down across from Ienzo. "Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent people skills? Because if they did, they lied to you."

Ienzo rolled his eyes. Yep , Demyx thought, amazing people skills. They were off to a great start. Getting through this paper was going to be agony. "I'm paid to tutor, not practice social niceties."

The laptop screen lit up as Demyx swiped one finger over the trackpad. A screenshot from one of his more memorable raids in Verum Rex guarded the rest of his files behind his login password. Demyx typed his password as quickly as he could, shooing the image of his and Zexion's avatars away before Ienzo could ask any unwanted questions. Evidently, he did not type fast enough. 

“Verum Rex? You're familiar with it?” 

Demyx nearly jumped, shoulders tensing. He knew Ienzo was there; that shouldn’t have startled him as badly as it had.

“Duh? It's only the best MMO on the market right now. Not that you would know, since you're so committed to the whole 'smug asshole' thing,” He snarked on reflex, feeling slightly guilty about it afterwards. Ienzo was being friendly for once, or was at least making something of an attempt at it. Yikes. Demyx wasn't usually one to make low blows like that. He opened the Biology folder on his computer and selected the draft of his paper, making an effort to get along with Ienzo while they were forced to sit together. "Please help me with this? If you would be so kind, please?" Demyx made praying-hands in Ienzo's direction in apology.

Eyebrow rising - was it just one, or both? - Ienzo shot him a look, obviously unamused in the slightest. “If you’re trying to be cute, it’s not going to work.”

Demyx pouted and opened up his biology paper, turning the laptop toward Ienzo. “Fine, fine, just help me?”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Ienzo was just about to lean in to read what Demyx had so far, when the familiar sound of a Discord ping had Demyx scrambling to turn the laptop back toward himself. Shit. He’d forgotten to close his Discord window before showing up at the tutoring center.

While Demyx closed the Discord app, Ienzo watched him carefully, contemplative. “You use Discord?”

Turning the laptop back, Demyx gave him a look, half in disbelief because surely Ienzo was too much of a nerd, but not in the cool way, to know what Discord was, and yet he did. Shit, it would be really awkward to end up in a server together. “Yeah, who doesn’t use Discord these days? I mean, especially if you play games or are into, I dunno, any fan community stuff.”

For a moment, Ienzo said nothing, slowly turning to look at Demyx’s biology paper on the screen. “Alright, let’s see what we have to work with so far, if anything.”

Demyx sighed. Asshole.

__________

      Was this some kind of joke? Ienzo was being pranked, wasn’t he? Any moment now Demyx would start laughing about wasting his time and walk out, like the lazy slacker he was. Halfway through, he half collapsed on the table.

“This is impossible,” Demyx whined. “You don’t really understand this stuff, do you? You’ve gotta be lying.”

Ienzo felt his eye twitch. “Not all of us are lazy fools who give up after 15 minutes. Why are you even here?”

“Because my friend said I should, and I trust his advice. He never leads me wrong, so even if I have to spend time with you , I’m gonna do this.” 

"Your friend sounds like he has the sense that you very much lack," Ienzo deadpanned, scrolling through Demyx's paper. He took stock of the misformatted section headings, missing in-text citations, and the off-center data table in the middle of the mess. The topic of the paper did not appear in any of Demyx's written work. "Can you tell me what this assignment is supposed to be? I can't tell from what you've given me."

"It's…" Demyx shrank back in his seat. "I don't know what it's supposed to be. My professor gave us all a table of data-results-things and told us to organize and analyze them. I don't know what he wants, exactly."

Ienzo huffed, and almost slammed Demyx's computer closed on the spot. Thankfully, his better faculties kept him from breaking Demyx's laptop. "There's your problem. You can't complete an assignment if you don't know what the assignment is . Email your professor for clarification and request an extension. If you do it early enough, they might grant you leniency."

"Really? That's your advice? Beg my way out of it?"

"Not begging. Requesting. It shows forethought, self-awareness, and emotional maturity, even if you don't actually possess any of those things. The adage of faking proficiency to gain proficiency has some truth to it." Ienzo pushed the laptop over to Demyx. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

Demyx's arms crossed, and his expression took on the quality of a betrayed toddler. "You didn't even help me with what I came in for, asshole."

Ienzo waved away Demyx's indignation with a dismissive hand. "There's only so much I, or any tutor, can do without having a good idea of what your professor expects. Emailing is the best advice I can give right now."

"So if I email my professor, you’ll help me?” 

“I give you my word.” A promise made in haste, if only to appease the barest responsibilities of his job. Hopefully Demyx wouldn’t make him live to regret it.

Not long after Demyx was gone, Ienzo checked his Discord app, surreptitiously on his phone behind the reception desk, to find a message from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy, this worst thing ever just happened!

My roommate is my tutor!

Save meeeeeee

The Cloaked Schemer: That is peculiar. Though colleges are small worlds, so I hear.

What did he have to say re: the paper?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Ugh he couldn’t even help

Because I had licherally no idea what the professor wants

I mean, the dude has an F on ratemyprofessor so

He said to email and beg for clarity and an extension

The Cloaked Schemer: ...That is sound advice, actually.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Youre taking his side???

The Cloaked Schemer: Not exactly.

But in academic situations, it always looks good on you to take the initiative and seek help when you need it.

I guarantee the professor will work with you, and perhaps be able to refine that same assignment in the future.

If he’s worth his salt, he’s seeking to improve himself the way you are.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I GUESS

You wanna do a raid tonite? 

The Cloaked Schemer: Alas, I, too, am a college student with coursework.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: RUDE

Ienzo leaned back in his chair in the campus library. How coincidental, he thought. He’d just given Demyx the same advice. Then again, college papers--especially in the sciences--were not always diverse on the gen ed level. He recalled Demyx’s paper; he should’ve asked him to see the email, or post, or handout with the assignment on it. Chances are the moron had merely misunderstood.

Demyx liked Verum Rex. Perhaps they could have this to talk about. Ienzo wondered who he mained. Probably Yozora, he thought with a sneer. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Actually, I can do one raid.

ONE. Brief. Raid.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Thats more like it! \o/

One raid turned into two, then Ienzo ended up staying in the library, at the tutoring center, until it closed.

__________

      Demyx begrudgingly took Ienzo’s advice. After his marathon raid session with Zexion, he sent a brief email--agonizing over the wording--to his professor, who responded almost instantly with an apology. Several students had already asked him about the assignment, it turned out, so he was going to extend the entire class’s deadline. But if Demyx needed a few days after that, he could have it.

“You were right,” Demyx murmured out loud, as he read the email the next morning. 

“Of course I was,” Ienzo said, not looking up from his desk. “See? All it takes is a little maturity.”

The irony. Demyx grimaced. He looked over at him. “So you’ll help me?”

“When--and only when--I am on duty,” he said. “I have a life outside of work, you know.”

Demyx wondered how true that was. Ienzo spent a lot of the time in the room if he were not in class or in the library. Did he have friends? Did he go to societies? He nearly asked. Then he looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in weeks. He had bags under his eyes, and was washed out, books spread in a circle around him. “Outside of studying, too?”

Ienzo opened his mouth, then shut it. “I am not here to socialize. I am here for a degree.”

“But don’t you… have any friends?”

“Of course I do,” Ienzo said, just a little too quickly. 

Like he would honestly tell Demyx. “Sure,” he said, shutting his laptop and tucking it into his bag. “Well. I got class. I’ll see you at the center later?”

“Much to my chagrin,” Ienzo responded evenly.

Demyx’s day was ordinary other than that. After the professor clarified what he wanted in class (and, to Demyx’s immense relief, it was much less daunting than what he’d thought), he stopped by the library to check out some books which might point him in a vague direction. Ienzo could tell him if they were any good. He stopped by the coffee shop to grab a croissant and a coffee, and, on impulse, got one for Ienzo as well. The idea of it made him nervous. Maybe I’ll say they made an extra by mistake, he thought. He already knew Ienzo drank them.

There Ienzo was, sitting in the office. “It’s you,” he said in an unreadable tone.

“It’s me.” He cleared his throat. “Um…” He thrust out the coffee without saying anything else.

“Is this for me?”

“Uh, yeah.” He felt his face heat--though why? 

Ienzo took it, looking confused, and sniffed the small hole in the lid. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked--”

“No. I do. That was kind of you.” He blinked, his expression odd, slackened; Demyx realized it was without malice. “Let’s get to work, shall we? I don’t want this to take any longer than it has to.”

Ienzo helped him structure the paper, and reviewed proper citations with him. It would take a little work, but seeing it outlined, Demyx felt a lot less overwhelmed. Something he thought was a mammoth project would maybe take an hour or two to write.

“Once you have it written, come back and I can help you with grammar and syntax,” Ienzo said.

“Awesome.” He took a deep breath. “I feel… a lot better now.”

“One typically does when one stops procrastinating,” Ienzo said. He leaned back in his seat. For a second--but just one--he sounded like Zexion, all firm and proper, genteel without being rigid.

__________

      "You got your grade back already?"

Demyx beamed as he held his laptop screen-out, his browser logged into the university's online grading system. One score was listed under BIO 101, labelled "Paper 1." The percentage displayed next to the assignment name was higher than Ienzo expected from Demyx. "I didn't completely fail!" he practically cheered.

"So you didn't," Ienzo agreed, nodding slightly at the number from his desk. "It's amazing what a bit of work will do."

Demyx dropped himself onto his bed and turned his laptop. He bounced on the mattress a few times while he looked at the number. "This is the best news I've gotten all semester and it's the best feeling. Is this what it's like to be a genius and get good grades all the time?"

Ienzo returned his attention to his own laptop, where a half-drafted essay mocked him with its blinking text cursor and nonsensical thesis statement. He clacked another line of bullshit into the document. It was for English class, he reminded himself. Any answer was correct if it could be argued well. "No, not really. You get used to it."

"I… I should thank you," Demyx said, after a beat of silence. "For your help. I wouldn't have had anything to turn in at all if you hadn't told me to email my professor."

Another line of bullshit trailed across the screen. Ienzo squinted at it, unsure of what he had typed. "Don't mention it. It's my job."

"But still. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ienzo could hear Demyx shuffling on his bed. "So… you play Verum Rex?"

"Fairly regularly, yes."

"Do you do raids or multiplayer at all?"

Ienzo shot Demyx a warning glance. "I already have a raiding group. I'm not looking for another one."

Across the room, Demyx had tucked himself into bed, his Star Wars sheets pulled all the way up to his chin. He blinked at Ienzo unceremoniously. "Jeez, forget I asked. No need to be snippy about it."

Demyx's head disappeared under the covers, and Ienzo returned his attention to his essay. At least, he tried. The Discord notifications in the corner of his screen kept distracting him.

Eventually, Ienzo admitted defeat and opened Discord. All of the messages were from Arpeggio.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: hey, do we have an opening on our raiding party?

Zexion?

Oh nvm he said no

What are you up to?

I'm taking a victory nap after getting a good grade on that paper I had to 

write a while back

My roommate is typing something and he's so loud

What is he writing that makes him so angy

The Cloaked Schemer: I am also typing angrily at something

It is a universal collegiate experience

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: still so angy tho

Are you angy atm?

The Cloaked Schemer: I am… frustrated

I'm meant to be dissecting the themes in a short story but I feel like I'm only spewing garbage on the page

Perhaps if I present the garbage with enough conviction, I will be able to maneuver through this class

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: if youre writing it, it's definitely not garbage :P

you need to have more confidence in yourself, Zexy

The Cloaked Schemer: Ha. I think my roommate would disagree

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: well then he's a bum

Tell him that

Arpeggio says so

Ienzo looked back at Demyx, cocooned in spaceship bed sheets and doing who-knows-what under the cover of bed linens. He thought he saw the flash of a phone screen through the fabric, but the light disappeared as quickly as he caught it.

The Cloaked Schemer: I'll pass. He seems busy.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Busy doing what? Bum things?

The Cloaked Schemer: I certainly hope not. We're in the same room right now.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: oh. Awkward

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ll say.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: so you know ive been thinking

The Cloaked Schemer: Have you? What a concept.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: ha ha.

Its been a while since we tried voice chatting

Maybe we could try again?

The Cloaked Schemer: You would want that?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I want to hear your voice. To see if youre actually as smart as you write

Maybe youve got, like, a transatlantic accent, or something. Thatd be cool

Ienzo blinked, staring hard at the screen. His heart beat a little faster. It was so hard to determine tone through text. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Maybe I’m not as cool as I seem.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: highly, HIGHLY doubt it

Youve kept me sane

I really appreciate our

Ienzo saw him type “thing” and then frenetically edit to “friendship.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

The Cloaked Schemer: The feeling is mutual.

A long, long pause. Ienzo did not know what else to say. His face was burning.

The Cloaked Schemer: Normally I’d rather be caught dead than admit this.

But it does get somewhat lonely here.

It’s nice to have someone to talk to.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: I know what u mean

Sometimes i feel like i dont really know who i am

And like college is supposed to be about finding that

But its hard.

The Cloaked Schemer: You don’t have to tell me twice.

Part of why it’s so easy to exist in online spaces, in games. Appearance doesn’t matter. It’s like being a more concentrated version of oneself.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Do u feel like a more concentrated version of yourself?

The Cloaked Schemer: When I talk to you.

Ienzo’s heart was pounding. He thought he heard Demyx sigh across the room. Was he typing too hard?

Arpeggio started and stopped typing several times, just making Ienzo more nervous. What is he going to say? Did I push it too hard? Was I too forward?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Me too, Zexion

I wish we knew each other. Like, irl

Getting to do raids in person

That would be so fun

And i dunno, maybe do other things

Go out to eat. Go to the movies. Maybe go dancing.

Do u like clubs?

The Cloaked Schemer: I’ve never been.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: it takes some getting used to

But the energy of a crowd is electric

Especially with people you know

Oh god oh god oh god , Ienzo thought. His hands were trembling. 

The Cloaked Schemer: Where would we go to eat?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: anywhere you want

Well. on a college students budget anyway

-laughs in poor

The Cloaked Schemer: Ah, so, five star cuisine, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Just dont order the lobster

In all seriousness. We need to vc sometime

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes.

There’s going to be a raid event on Saturday. Perhaps then?

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Depends on if i have the room :/ 

Wanna say yes so bad

The Cloaked Schemer: I know the feeling.

I suppose if I get desperate enough I can rent out a study cubicle in the library.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Awww you’d do that for little ol’ me?

The Cloaked Schemer: Yes, I

His finger slipped, hitting the enter key a moment too soon before he could even finish the thought in his head. His hands felt almost clammy, the inner mechanizations of his mind working on overdrive, as if trying to race against the pitter-patter beat of his heart. Shit. Perhaps… Riku was right after all? Had Ienzo, usually so level-headed, actually developed a crush on Arpeggio? It was utterly nonsensical, and yet he couldn’t deny that he felt a comfort with Arpeggio that he didn’t feel with anyone else he knew, online or offline. Was it possible to fall- ...to develop a smattering of feelings for someone based on typed text alone?

Well, wasn’t that a theme in literature? Two people falling in love over written letters? For all Ienzo knew, there could very well have been instances of it happening in real life, in the days of old, long, long before the age of technology and the internet. A pair of penpals, miles and miles of distance between them, communicating through the written word; it could happen, couldn’t it?

Hold on. When the hell did he turn into a sap ? Frowning, Ienzo ran a hand over his face, feeling like a lovestruck fool.

No. No, this couldn’t be a crush. Just because it was so easy to talk to him, just because they’d been talking for a year or so by now, it didn’t mean-

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Zexy?

You ok?

Shit, how long had he zoned out for? 

The Cloaked Schemer: Sorry. Got distracted.

But regardless, I think we should aim for Saturday.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Great!

Hoping we don’t get interrupted by our dick roomies

The Cloaked Schemer: Quite. It’s a date, then.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Yes :3

Ienzo took a deep breath. Regardless as to whether or not this was practical, it seemed that Arpeggio reciprocated his flirting.

Wait. Ienzo looked at the screen, cheeks heating up as he realized he’d typed the word ‘date,’ and Arpeggio said ‘yes .’ He couldn’t deny the little flutter of his stomach in that moment.

__________

      Demyx set his phone aside, his heart beating heavily in his chest, his face bright red. He swallowed. There was no way sleep would come easily now, and it probably wouldn’t be until Saturday.

He thought about the nature of crushes. He’d never seen Zexy’s face, or heard his voice, but he was so adept at weaving words in the way Demyx wanted to be with music. He tried to imagine him, what he might be like.

He rolled onto his back. Ienzo’s frenetic, noisy typing had stopped. Demyx sat up, rubbed his eyes, and pretended he’d been napping the whole time. “You good?”

Ienzo shut his computer quickly, like he’d been doing something questionable. “Yes. Fine.” He was a little out of breath. What the hell had he been writing?

Demyx blinked. “I’m gonna go get a coffee,” he said instead. “Want me to bring you one back?”

“Sure,” Ienzo said, his face flushed.

Demyx shook his head. Well. If Ienzo needed to take care of that he had at least a few minutes now. “Cool.”

The whole time he was at the coffee shop, he kept thinking about Zexion, all their little conversations. It was evolving, and evolving fast. Demyx knew from brief experimentation with dating apps that just because a person sent you some flirty words didn’t mean anything would come of it. For all he knew, Zexion lived in New Zealand, or something.

That didn’t stop him from wanting it.

He drew a deep breath, exhaled. Well. Saturday he would find out.

Demyx wasn’t going to let Ienzo ruin his chances of meeting Zexion. He decided to strike preemptively, pausing at the door of their dorm room and sucking in a breath, steeling himself. He could do this. He could ask his roommate for the room for one night, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Hey, so, I have a thing Saturday,” he said vaguely. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t coming off as strongly as he intended, but he could still try. “Mind if I hang here alone for a few hours?”

Ienzo glanced up. The flush was gone, and he seemed much more composed. “Yes, that’s fine. I was going to go study anyway.”

“Study? Don’t you ever have any fun?”

“Perhaps I find studying fun,” Ienzo said.

“Suit yourself.” As he passed on his way back to the bed, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Ienzo had Discord open.

__________

     Friday night, Demyx barely slept. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. Crushes didn’t usually… hit him this hard. It’s dumb. It’s so dumb. His loneliness was getting to him. Even Saturday morning, there were some hours until the events started. He looked at his DM history with Zexion. They’d spoken briefly, only to confirm a time and place for their characters to meet and chat. He sat at his desk, his hands trembling, as the game booted up.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: You ready?

The Cloaked Schemer: Of course.

M3l0d10us N0cturn3: Cool.

My mic isnt like great

But you can still hear me

He was shaking. He was shaking. “Get it together,” he muttered to himself.

The Cloaked Schemer: You’re a broke college student. I’m not expecting a professional setup here.

Though I will say my booth is pleasantly soundproofed.

Let me connect.

And Demyx thought his heart might stop. I’m so gay, he thought. A second later he heard that familiar call connection. He twitched a little, and his mic clattered loudly on the floor. Shit!

“Arpeggio? Are you alright?”

“I just dropped the--”

A long, long pause.

He knew that voice.

“Zexion?” He picked up the mic and set it down.

“Arpeggio?”

“I dropped the mic.” Demyx swallowed.

“You…” Zexion fumbled for words. “Speak a little more, please.”

“Is that really you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re in a library right now.”

“And you had an event… Saturday.” 

“Ohh my god,” Demyx mumbled. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, just that he was feeling a lot of it. “Ienzo. You’re Zexion?”

“It’s an anagram,” he said, his tone numb.

“Seriously, this whole time--”

“Evidently.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but at the same time, there was something warm in his chest.

Wait, no. No. This was Ienzo, and they hated each other--

Demyx realized he was panicking. He also, vaguely, in the back of his mind, realized the call had disconnected.

Demyx spent the next few minutes desperately trying to control his breathing, trying to not focus on how Zexion- No, Ienzo- was so disgusted it was him that he’d immediately dropped the call.

Of course. Of fucking course. The universe hated him. The universe had it out for him, surely. Why else would this have happened? He finally meets this sweet, smart, wonderful guy who takes him seriously and actually likes talking to him, on a regular basis , and then… And then… It turns out to be the very same roommate who hates him. That would just be his damned luck, wouldn’t it?

Grabbing his pillow, Demyx face-planted into it, pressing it furiously against his eyes to stop them from burning, to stop the tears that threatened to spill. Of all the people it could’ve been. Why Ienzo ? 

Demyx had been nervous enough as it was, afraid the person on the other end would think him annoying - his voice, his tone, the way he just couldn’t fucking shut up sometimes when he got excited about something. Alternatively, the filter between his brain and his mouth was immensely weaker than the filter between his brain and his fingers, and he could’ve said the wrong thing, unable to stop himself in the same way his hand can catch itself on the enter key before hitting it, or quickly delete the message before Zexion could read it.

But this was so much worse, because Ienzo already knew him, already had an impression of him, and that impression was far from good. It’s no wonder he disconnected the call so suddenly. He likely couldn’t stand hearing the truth any longer, stomach churning with disgust, head filled to bursting with regret, and not just regret over the voice call, but everything .

An almost entire year’s worth of conversations, soiled now, because Demyx was, well, Demyx . A slob. A slacker. An idiot. He wasn’t worth Ienzo’s time, and now he knew he wasn’t worth Zexion’s.

A sharp ache spread over his chest, cold and numbing, all of him tense with it. He… liked Zexion. He very genuinely liked him, so excited to get to talk to him, his bristling nerves aside. All week he’d thought about it, daydreaming, wondering what the person on the other end would sound like, if he’d love that voice as much as he loved the text on his Discord screen.

It no longer mattered, not when it was now clear that Zexion - no, Ienzo , was utterly disgusted with him.

It was over. It was all over - their friendship, a year’s worth of personal conversations, these budding feelings he was beginning to have, or that he’s been having for a while now…

On the flipside, was Demyx disappointed that it turned out to be Ienzo? He… didn’t know the answer to that, still reeling in the fact that Zexion, his dear friend and crush, hated him. The pillow was starting to suffocate him and he instinctively pulled it away from his face, eyes still burning. He sucked in some deep breaths and just when he was finally on the cusp of calming down, his door swung open so fast Demyx feared it’d break off the hinges. 

Ienzo leveled him with a determined stare. “You.”

__________

      Ienzo sat.

And sat.

And stared, and sat some more.

He was dizzy. Slowly, so slowly, all the pieces clicked together. The coffee. The references to Verum Rex. How they were always just missing each other. The whole tutoring scenario. Good god . So this person he’d been harboring feelings for this whole time was--

He pressed a hand to his forehead. And yet, a small part of him… was relieved?

It could be…

No, it couldn’t be anything! They hated each other! They’d complained to each other about each other more times than Ienzo could count. They had--

Ienzo felt the walls of the study booth begin to close in around him, pushing the breathable air out of the room. His ribcage constricted around his lungs, and his heartbeat pounded at his temples. He gathered his laptop and microphone in his arms and burst out of the room, chest heaving.

He braced himself against the outer wall of the study booth and willed himself to breathe normally, his head tilted all the way back to rest on the door. This was real life, and he was fine. He would be fine, anyway, with a bit of finessing. Okay, perhaps a little more than a bit.

Ienzo retrieved his backpack and stowed his equipment inside as he analyzed the situation. Arpeggio and Demyx were the same person. A strange revelation, but not world-ending. He could find another raiding party. He could join another server. There was more than one person with whom to play Verum Rex.

But--

Ienzo caught himself zipping and unzipping the top pocket of his backpack, more forcefully than necessary each time. A new server didn't sound appealing. A new raiding party, even less so. He would have to chat with new people, learn their idiosyncrasies and fighting styles, learn their pseudonyms and remember how they differed from their usernames. It all sounded so… hard, and boring, and unnecessary. 

He zipped his backpack closed for the last time and held it at his side by its tiny top handle. Its back straps kicked at his calves as he raced out of the study area, through the main lobby, and into the courtyard. His mind was set. His choice was clear. The only thing to do was follow through.

Ienzo made a beeline back to the room. He found Demyx sitting cross-legged on his own bed, his computer accessorized with a small budget microphone and his face awash with something that looked like guilt. His eyes widened when Ienzo crossed the threshold. 

"You." Ienzo's statement rang out like a gong.

Demyx swallowed. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk." Ienzo shut the door behind himself. It slammed closed, though Ienzo had not intended for that. 

"...yeah." Demyx turned back to his computer, fiddling at the USB port where his microphone connected to the rest of the machine. "Ienzo, I--"

"Shut up." Ienzo stalked into the room, single-minded. He stopped at the edge of Demyx's bed. "Shut up and listen, for once."

Demyx's shoulders rose to his ears. He stayed quiet.

Ienzo dropped his backpack to the floor. Though his fingers trembled, his resolve held firm. The moment of reckoning was upon him. "Did you know?"

Demyx shook his head.

"Did you want to know?"

He responded in a whisper, pained and hushed. "I wanted to meet Zexion."

Ienzo's hands trembled faster. He balled them into fists to compensate. "And now that you know," he said, "do you regret it? Wanting to know? Learning the truth?"

A tear trailed down Demyx's downcast cheek. "No."

Something deep inside Ienzo wanted to reach out and wipe away the tears that followed, while Demyx's breath caught in gasps over his laptop keyboard. Ienzo steeled himself. "I… don't regret it, either."

"You don't?" Demyx looked up and met Ienzo's gaze with caution. Aside from the red tinge at their edges, his eyes looked almost hopeful. 

Ienzo softened, relaxed his fists. "I don't want to find a new server, or a new raiding party."

Sniffling, Demyx nodded. "I don't, either."

"I don't want to stop talking to Arpeggio," Ienzo continued, his heart playing timpanis in his chest. "He is a close friend of mine."

"He's also your lazy roommate." Another tear escaped, this time going down the side of Demyx's nose. Demyx wiped at it with the heel of his hand. "Ienzo, I--"

"We've had differences. We've also had commonalities, albeit in virtual space. There's no reason we cannot bring the two together."

"Ienzo--"

"There's no reason we should be at each other's throats. We--"

"Ienzo!" 

He blinked. The drum performance in his chest missed a beat, then started from the top at full speed. "Yes?"

Demyx unplugged the microphone from his computer, sighed, and tossed it to the far edge of his bed. "I don't think that will work."

Ienzo frowned and crossed his arms. He was beginning to remember why he and Demyx didn't get along in meatspace. "Why, pray tell, is that?" he asked.

Demyx swallowed again, more conspicuously than before. "It's just… I…"

Ienzo leaned forward, his head cocked to the side. "You what?"

"I, um, I…"

"Go on. I don't have all night."

Demyx pushed his computer aside and drew his knees into his chest. "I… shit. I had a thing for Zexion." His shoulders hitched with sardonic laughter. "Shit. Fuck. This sucks." He reached behind himself for his pillow and buried his face in it. "This is so embarrassing," he whined, his voice muffled.

Ienzo's budding anger deflated. "You… you did?"

Demyx nodded into his pillow. "Uh-huh. And now you know, too."

Ienzo opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't make the words in his head form coherent phrases. His throat sputtered with half-formed consonants instead. Words. For fuck’s sake, wasn’t he good at words? Why was this suddenly so damn hard?

"This is the worst," Demyx groaned. "Just kill me now. Make it look like an accident. Tell my family I loved them. Don't let my sister take my bedroom at home."

Ienzo's faculties returned in the bumbling, clumsy way that drunkards stumbled home from dank local pubs. "I... don't think that will be necessary," Ienzo managed, through his own confusion.

"No?" Demyx put his pillow back in its place, and faced Ienzo with dried saline clumping in his eyelashes. "What, are you gonna torture me instead? Make me regret being born? Because you're a little late on that front, buddy, I already do."

Ienzo took a deep breath. His crossed arms dropped to his side, then held each other at the elbows. "I may have developed… similar feelings. For Arpeggio." Ienzo's mouth went dry. The drum performance upgraded itself to a full marching band drumline, twenty-five snare drums pounding paradiddles and rolls in synchronized sweeps. 

A silence consumed the space between them, interrupted only by Demyx's sniffling and Ienzo's heartbeat. It stretched into the abyss and the stratosphere in equal measure, and stung more acutely than the idea of never speaking to Arpeggio again.

Demyx broke the silence by clearing his throat. "So…"

Ienzo coughed. "So..."

"Are we…" Demyx unfolded his legs and swung them over the side of his bed. His hands grasped at his mattress, and his head hung from his shoulders  "Are we, y'know… do we still, like…"

"Do you want to be?" Ienzo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Friends, cohorts, party members, server mutuals? Or…"

"Or what?" 

"Or…" Ienzo trailed off. Or what, indeed? Friends with benefits? Significant others? Boyfriends? The mere thought made Ienzo's palms sweat. "Or…"

In the moment between Ienzo's efforts to name his emotions and act on them, Demyx had sprung up from the bed and slipped his hands around the sides of Ienzo's face, his thumbs resting just below the apples of Ienzo's cheeks. His breath tickled at Ienzo's nose and lips. "Or… this?"

Heat seared at every inch of Ienzo's face. If he could feel Demyx's breath, Demyx could feel his as well. "...I suppose, yes."

"In that case," Demyx murmured, somehow purring and wavering at the same time, "tell me no." He rested his forehead on Ienzo's. "Tell me no, and we won't. I promise. Things can go back to normal."

A whimper, wholly undignified and unbidden, escaped from Ienzo's higher register. "I can't," he whispered.

Demyx leaned forward, and Ienzo followed. At some point, they met in the middle, and the world's axis shifted two degrees to the left. It was a tentative press of lips, but Demyx’s hands on his face kept him anchored. It didn’t feel like Ienzo thought it would, and self-consciousness invaded. Suddenly Ienzo felt very young and immature; vulnerable .

But… after a moment or so, not so much. Demyx was so warm against him, and Ienzo realized it was a learning curve, one he was picking up with his usual speed. He was shaking a little in disbelief. It was so-- nice.

Demyx pulled away and brushed his fingers across his cheek. "You're trembling."

"Forgive me. I--" He swallowed.

"No, it's cool." Demyx pulled away and smiled, brighter than Ienzo had ever seen someone smile before. "Do you… want to go again?"

Ienzo did, very much so. "I'm not opposed, per se, but I think we should… explore our relationship a bit. Perhaps starting with our mutual interest in pumpkin spice flavors." 

“Sounds like a plan to me, Zexy,” Demyx grinned.

__________

      Riku set the pair of pumpkin spice lattes down on the little square table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, glancing at Ienzo, then Demyx, then back at Ienzo, one eyebrow shooting up into his hair. “Is the world ending? Did I miss a memo on the corkboard in the back room?”

Ienzo coughed. He was vaguely aware of the heat rising in his cheeks. Damn it all to hell. Of course Riku was here, why would it have been anyone else? Sighing, he gestured to Demyx, bracing himself for the inevitable bit of humiliation, courtesy of the one friend who knew about his very apparent crush on his Discord friend. “Riku, meet Arpeggio.”

Riku’s other eyebrow shot up into his hair. “You’re shitting me.”

Demyx looked across the table at Zexion, clearly trying to fight the incoming of a shit-eating grin. “You talked about me to people?”

"Only the unimportant ones," Ienzo said, picking up his cup and sipping loudly.

“Psh,” Riku spat with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, and every damn minute of the day. If I had a dollar for every time you made heart eyes at the ceiling while talking about him, I could quit this job and pay off my tuition.”

Ienzo balked at that, nearly choking on his latte. “It was not that often.”

Waving a hand, Riku corrected himself, looking pointedly at Demyx. “Wait, no, he’s right. I’m forgetting that half the time, he’d be complaining about his horrible room-”

“Shouldn’t you be behind the counter?” Ienzo hissed, glaring at Riku. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Demyx’s gaze flicking between him, like he was watching a game of ping-pong. “Or should I text Sora and Kairi about all those little hearts you like to draw around their names on the garbage receipts every time they come in?”

"Go ahead. I'm ninety percent sure they're both into me, anyway."

Ienzo pulled his phone from his pocket and brandished it at Riku. "Are you willing to test that theory?"

"Make sure you write it down," Demyx chirped, blowing into the hole in his drink's lid. "If you write it down, it's science. I learned that in Biology this semester."

"I'll do more than that," Ienzo said, tapping on his phone screen with both hands. After his phone played a short 'whoosh' sound, he placed it face-down on the table. "Images sent. Now we wait for our results."

Riku scoffed, then balked, then turned beet-red. "You're an asshole," he hissed through his teeth.

"Relax. I was just kidding,” Ienzo said with a glint in his eye that Demyx barely caught.

"Forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical." Riku scowled for a moment, but eventually softened into a smirk. "Whatever. Enjoy your Discord date, Casanova." He knocked on the table once before returning to the checkout counter.

"Discord date?" Demyx asked, taking a swig of his pumpkin spice latte. "I thought we were hanging out in real life."

"Let's not split hairs. We're about to see a show." Ienzo jutted his chin in the direction of the cafe's front door. As if on cue, Sora and Kairi burst through it like a duo on a mission.

“Oh Riiiiiiiiku!” they chorused in sing-song at the top of their lungs.

"Sometimes," Ienzo said, turning back to Demyx, "I like to watch the world burn."

“Yeah, I know. That’s actually kind of hot,” Demyx admitted, taking another sip of his latte. "Remind me not to piss you off again, though."

[drawbauchery]

The First Session

(fic by cartoons-tothemoon)

Skipper couldn’t believe he was doing this. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

It had been a few months since he had gotten kidnapped by the odd bird that made him Denmark’s Public Enemy #1, and now, was he really sneaking out for a THERAPY session from the guy? It seemed downright insane of him.

He knew that Rico wasn’t convinced of any of his excuses, but didn’t care enough to question him.

Kowalski was suspicious, but that was only because Skipper never went out for casual reasons. There was always a mission to be had with him, to go out for a night on the town by himself…pretty uncharacteristic to begin with.

And Private seemed to know all his odd tics and tats as is, so lying to the kid never seemed to register as believable, even if all his ducks were in a row to begin with.

Regardless, he was out of the house, and that was all that mattered at this point.

Or so, Hans said.

“What matters is you’re here now.” He said with a smile. “You know, when I suggested it all those months ago, I thought you had forgotten, or disregarded the idea entirely.”

Skipper wasn’t really sure what lead to him being stuck inside a periwinkle room about as big as a walk-in closet, one that was lined with wooden cut-outs of boats it looked like Hans picked out from the craft store, but undeniably, he was there. Physically anyhow.

He didn’t even know what lead him here to begin with, it’s not like he really WANTED to be here. The last thing he’d want to be on a night like tonight was schmoozing with Hans, or any night for that matter. And besides, that was the past. This was now. What was he doing there?

“Well, what can I say, doc.” Skipper said. “I already have an in with a therapist with you AND you work for peanuts. It’s a win-win don’t you think?”

“Consider it a…friends and family discount?”

“So do you consider us friends or family?”

“That depends. What do you consider us? This is all about you, you know.”

Skipper rolled his eyes at that. He wasn’t attending this therapy session actually looking to be HELPED. He just knew that if he took him up on his offer he might get some insight into what was going on with him. Not for his sake, of course, but just so Skipper didn’t have to deal with him all the time. Sometimes, it was easier to concede than it was to fight all of the time.

It was the same reason that he’d sometimes watch those girly cartoons with Private sometimes. It wasn’t because he liked them, it was because Private would pout if SOMEBODY didn’t, and that usually fell on him.

“What’s the difference?”

“I’d say that’s defined by you, but we don’t have to go down this train of thought if you find it uncomfortable.”

“I don’t. You’re just boring about it. Your job is to talk to sad sacks for a living, I’d hope you’d be just a tad better at it.”

“So, are you defining yourself as a ‘sad sack’ under that definition?”

He crossed his arms in defiance and scoffed at such an idea, refusing to look at him. This whole therapy thing was irritating to him. It felt like Hans was getting away easy, only asking questions of him, waiting for him to reveal more and more so he’d have enough info to use against him. Well, loose lips sink ships, and he wasn’t going to talk any more than he was required.

Even if the scribbling pen scratch of “defensive posture” and “erratic eye-contact” in his notes made Skipper’s skin crawl.

“Let’s get back on track, there is a structure to all this after all.” Skipper’s eyes darted back to his, suspicious and squinty to Hans’s relaxed and half-open. “Normally, during first sessions like this, you would introduce what you consider a form of normalcy to me. Your family, childhood, home life, etcetera, etcetera, but I understand that you wouldn’t want to share that with me. I also know that given the basis of your life, your…missions, and whatnot, you probably don’t want to share that information, let alone with me.”

“Huh. So I guess you found yourself in a rock and a hard place, doc.” Skipper couldn’t help but let a smirk crawl onto his face.

“I guess I have.” Hans said, gravely. “Now, there are two ways we could go about this. You could share with me what you’re dealing with, just cut out any details you wouldn’t want me to hear about-“

“-Hard pass.”

“OR, I could give you a psychological profile now based on previous interactions, and what you’ve displayed in here tonight.”

“Displayed in here tonight?” Skipper asked. “We’ve only been at this for 15 minutes. What could you have possibly learned within 15 minutes?”

“Would you like to know?”

Hans knew this was the best way to get through to Skipper. He was a stubborn bird, a strategist, and rather cunning, but he was also rather short-sighted and narrow-minded. Skipper probably wasn’t ever going to see Hans as an emotional outlet for anything, let alone overnight. However, if he framed this competitively, as a tip of “hey, this is what I learned about you, keep this in mind so others don’t learn this about you,” he might concede at the very least. Well, never concede, but compromise.

He liked a lot of these things about Skipper. He couldn’t help but wonder if Skipper liked anything about him, or knew him just as well. He probably knew the answer to that, deep, deep, down, but such is life.

“Let’s start with a foundation for us to work from. You’re neurotic.”

Skipper looked as if he was going to raise his voice and object to that.

“Ah, ah, ah. Let me elaborate.”

Skipper slumped back into his seat, rolling his eyes. He had been doing that a lot tonight.

“You’re known for being a rather neurotic, paranoid individual. You go through life looking over your shoulder, assuming the worst, probably because for most of your life there has been something over your shoulder. That vindicates you, but also leaves you short-sighted in the long-term as the most minor of stresses can lead to fits of anxiety that can carry on from the span of hours to days or even weeks. However, your anxiety manifests as more often aggression or insomnia than the idea most people have of anxiety of rocking back and forth in a ball in the corner, so it generally goes undetected as anxiety in the first place.”

“On some level, it’s likely that you’re paranoia comes from your over-independence, in which you believe that you are the only capable person in the room, which is kinda rich coming from the leader of a team. Sure, you’re able to work off your team’s strengths and you strategize both around and for them, but, when you can work alone, you often do. The team is well aware of your solo missions, and I’m well aware of our time together in Denmark. On some level this comes from your egotism, but I’m guessing even that masks insecurity, but more so, I believe that somebody must’ve let you down in the past, and they, or you, suffered immensely for it. You took it as a lesson. So, to protect others as well as yourself, you act out. When a mission isn’t going your way, you separate. You believe in the idea of strength in numbers, but you also believe you can be that strong alone on some level.”

“How am I doing so far?”

Skipper looked stunned. He wasn’t looking at Hans at all, his arms had long since uncrossed, but now his fingers danced at his sides. He wanted to fidget, to pull at his lip, but the last thing he wanted to do was give Hans more ammo against him.

“If you want me to stop, let me know. Nod your head yes if you want me to stop.”

Skipper hesitated, but shook his head no. A look of derision was sent Hans’s way, but he ignored it.

“Well, then. Let’s continue, shall we?”

“I suppose there’s only so much left to say. I could talk about how often you act outside of the law, thinking that it doesn’t apply to you, but we both know that we’d be calling the kettle black at that point, even if Officer X’s no tolerance policies are so goody-goody they fall into lawlessness. My knowledge of your interpersonal relationships is slim, so trying to characterize them at all would be more assumption than astute knowledge, but I do pick up on the fact that you don’t have many friends outside of the people you’re working with, however, by choice or by circumstance, who’s to say. However, your relationship with Private is fascinating, as you seem to show more open positive feelings or affection with him than anyone else on your team, or anyone else for that matter. Affection is a strong word, but I’m going to use it. You act kinder, more patient with him, and in return, he seems to make you more vulnerable.”

Skipper twitched at that. Must’ve touched a nerve. He’s certain he’s probably touched a lot of nerves, but he’s probably used to at least some of them being poked and prodded. Just not this one. Or perhaps it’s a more sensitive flesh wound? Semantics.

“Again, I don’t know enough to make assumptions.” Hans shrugged passively, back-tracking.

“But let’s move onto what I was able to learn in the first fifteen minutes. You’re not supposed to be here. Or, at the very least, you lied about being here. You were very hasty and fettered, and took you a few moments to relax, even if you still haven’t fully, it’s more than you were when you first arrived. You then proceeded to lash out at me and crack wise, indicating that you were defensive, though this would later be supported by your posture. You’ve given every indication from the moment that you walked through the door that you do not want to be here, everything from belittling my salary to belittling my profession to belittling me. You don’t make eye contact, you don’t sit up straight, you don’t show me so much as an ounce of respect.”

“But, here’s the thing. You still came here. Even if it was only out of curiosity, or just to make fun of me on my own turf, you still came. I’ve been transparent this entire time about what I planned to do if you came here, and that is my job. And you came anyway.”

“I think that means something. I think on some level, you’re self-aware. You know what people think of you, and you know what you think of yourself. Somehow, you must’ve put two and two together, and realized something about yourself that you wanted to change. Or, at the very least, wanted to fix.”

“And so, you came.”

Hans took a sip from his water bottle, and looked to Skipper. He looked tired. He also looked like he wanted to cross his arms again, but worried about what that would say about him. Hans couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.

“Skipper, I want to help you, and I think you want to be helped as well, but I can only give as much as you yourself give me. If you give me nothing, I’ll have nothing to work with, and this’ll be a waste of both of our time. Speaking of which, looks like our times up.” Hans said, looking to his watch. “You can pay at the front desk, I’ll walk you there.”

Skipper stood. He felt like he was more troubled than when he walked through the door. He didn’t know what he was looking for from therapy, but the last thing he was thinking would happen was for Hans to do his job. Maybe he was hoping he’d just look at him and be like, “wow, you live like this?” and prescribe him some Xanax, and then he’d be on his way. But no.

This was the one time Hans wasn’t going to be easy.

He settled for crossing his arms behind his back, at last. It looked formal, but also gave him a way he could hold himself after having his defenses utterly ripped from him. Hans noted this, but didn’t say anything. Skipper dropped the $35 to the lady behind the desk who seemed far too enamored with her computer to even register the wad of bills being dropped onto her keyboard. The two left the office complex together, something Skipper knew he wouldn’t have done a mere hour before.

The sky was pitch black, and based on the lack of light that usually seemed to crowd their view, it looked like the city that never sleeps finally decided to take a breather. If only for this brief moment as Hans and him looked up at the night sky and Hans pulled a lollipop out of the pocket of his pants.

When Skipper looked at it, seemingly inquisitively, Hans merely remarked, “had to quit smoking some time.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes.

“I wonder what I’m going to say to the boys when I get home.”

“That’s on you, bud. You don’t have to tell them you’re seeing me, but what’s wrong with telling them you’re seeing a shrink in the first place?”

“Save that for the second session, doc.” Skipper elbowed him, smirking. “You’ve already deconstructed my main personality traits, at least let me have this while I can.”

“Does that imply there will be a second session?”

Skipper was still smirking, though the light from his eyes seemed to dim.

“I guess we’ll have to see.” He shrugged. And that was that. Skipper began his covert walk home. There was no goodbye, no “drive safe,” not even a “I’ll get you for this” like they had in the good old days, things just seemed to…end. Hans noticed it, but didn’t take it seriously. Skipper wasn’t that kind of guy, though he wondered how he’d be able to even be in a relationship with the cutesy doe-eyed Private if he couldn’t even vocalize the slightest bit of care to an old friend like himself. He wondered how he even planned on going about such a thing in the first place. He had to, right?

(We had to see the return of therapist Hans sometime, right? I should’ve titled this “Skipper gets psychoanalyzed” or “Skipper gets vibe-checked by his psychiatrist twink ex,” but…why do that when I can just choose A Sentence I Use Within The Text To Really Pull The Piece Together. “…somebody must’ve let you down in the past, and they, or you, suffered immensely for it” was about Manfredi and Johnson!! I hope you guys were able to catch it. Also I’m so sorry, I don’t usually hear the dialogue in the character’s voices when I read it back but imagining all that psychoanalysis in Hans’s voice is so funny I’m sorry.)

(I’ve also been considering making an ao3, just so I can archive a lot of these fics. What do you think?)