#these... are painfully unorganized... kinda

[corrieguards]

Cody x reader Summary: Cody's in a sour mood, injured both in pride and flesh. So when a cute medic comes to check up on him, they are faced with one grumpy Cody. Word Count: 1,9k T/W: none, just Cody being a little shit

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Today had not been a good day for Cody.

His first misfortune of the day happened when General Kenobi was transferred over to reinforce another battalion, right in the middle of his own raging battle. Not only that but he also took both his medics along with him, leaving Cody as the sole commander of 600 men, some of them seriously injured.

To make matters worse, when he sent a request for backup, the Council replied by dispatching the only other available battalion. And when the gun ships arrived, a relieved Cody rushing to meet them as they landed, who did he see stroll out of them?

Anakin fucking Skywalker. 

Hopes crushed, he reluctantly began to brief the general on the current situation and offer up some of his own opinions on counter attacks only for Anakin to dismiss them. Plans he has spent all kriffing night making replaced with another one of Skywalkers idiotic ideas that was probably going to get them killed.

Then, to add salt to the wound, half way through the battle he got caught in the crossfire of a thermal detonator that some shiny had accidentally thrown too close to him. Not only did he get thrown across the room, but a piece of shrapnel hit him in just the right spot between his armour platings, getting firmly and painfully lodged into his side.

So here he now sat, safely in hyperspace on the way back to the capital. His dignity wounded not only by the fact that Anakins' stupid plan had actually worked, but also because he, Marshal Commander Cody, had got wounded in battle. And not by a clanker or a seppie, no. By a fucking shiny.

All he wanted to do now was take a weeks long nap, but instead he was stuck in the med-bay of the Resolute waiting impatiently for a medic to show up. But apparently even the medics of the 501st were horribly unorganized.

Scowling at the time display on his wrist comm, he scoffed, already itching to get up and leave. Maker, how much longer was this going to take?

He didn’t even need to be here for kriff sake, he was fine. He still had piles of reports to sign off and injured men to check up on. But Rex had made him promise that he would at least let one of his medics take a look at him and Cody was nothing if not a man of his word.

Sensing a movement out the corner of his eye he turned lazily towards the door a bored look on his face.

“Hi, I’m here to be your medic” you smiled as you made your way over to your patient.

“Fucking finally” he muttered under his breath. Your head shot up from your datapad, raising an eyebrow at the trooper in front of you. What was his problem?

Brushing the comment off you plastered on another smile, admittedly less genuine that the first one.

“Ok then, let’s get started shall we?”, you introduced yourself to him, telling him your name and finishing it off by offering him a handshake.

He glanced down at your outstretched hand then back up at you face, eyebrows raising before slowly accepting your offer. His hand engulfed your own as he gave it a small shake, pulling back almost as soon as your hands had touched.

A couple beats of silence passed as you looked at him expectantly. His frown deepened “We gonna get this over with or what?

Your eyes widened, taken aback by his bluntness. Seriously, what was this guy's problem?

“I was waiting for your name...” you said, but this only made him look even more confused.

“Y’know, I tell you my name, you tell me yours…” you explained hesitantly “at least that’s how introductions usually work.”

“I know how they work” he scoffed “I just assumed you already knew who I was. Most people do.”

“Oh. Well I’m kinda new around here. I haven’t even really worked with other battalions outside of the 501st yet”

“Clearly.” he grumbled “The name’s Cody. Marshal Commander Cody.”

Ok so he was definitely wayy to full of himself.

You flashed him an awkward smile “Ok then Cody, how about you lay down for me and we can get started?”

Turning, you started rummaging through ypu med pack when he scoffed, making you look up abruptly only to find him still sitting on the edge of the bed with a bored look on his face.

"How long is this going to take?" he asked harshly.

"Well, that really depends on how bad your injuries are commander, I-"

"Great" he cut you off "then I believe we're finished here” He jumped of the bed, wincing slightly and clutching his side but quickly recovering and playing it off

You caught the movement and opened your mouth, beginning to protest “But commander, you're obviously injured-“

“I’m perfectly fine” he said, pointedly cutting you off yet again “Now if you’d just sign me off I’ll be on my way.”

He held his hand out expectantly, already looking down at his comm as he waited for you to hand him the med report card.

This guy was getting on your last kriffing nerve.

When you didn’t react he slowly looked up at your face “I said-“

“I know what you said” this time you cut him off. He raised an eyebrow at you before straightening up to his whole height and taking a step closer to you.

“Good, then how about you follow orders and hand me that report card, medic”

Oh so this is how this was gonna go. Ok then, two can play that game Cody.

Matching him you took a step closer, now almost chest to chest “I don’t care if you’re Marshal Commander or the fucking Chancellor, when it comes to medical care I outrank you”

He looked taken aback by your outburst but maintained his firm gaze nonetheless. Refusing to back down you glared straight back up at him. Eventually he scoffed “Fine, but make it quick.”

“It will take as long as it needs to take Commander," you replied snarkily “Now please if you would be so kind as to lay down.”

He let out a small huff of disbelief, but settled back down onto the bed anyway. You had balls he’d give you that.

“Not many people talk to me like that y’know” he said as he watched you set up your supplies.

“Yeah? Well maybe they should” you scoffed, making him narrow his eyes at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem like you could be taken down a couple notches is all." You shrugged, gentle hand begining to detach the armour plating covering his chest and stomach. Then as an after thought you added “No offense.”

“How the hell is that not offensive?”

You smirked, an odd satisfaction at getting under his skin.

He sucked in a sharp breath as you carefully peeled up his blacks, your own breath hitching as it revealed the wound hidden underneath.

“And you said you were fine?”

“I am fine” he replied through his teeth. “Minor wounds are an occupational hazard. I’ll live.”

“Cody. This isn’t a ‘minor injury’. This is an open wound that, if not treated correctly will get worse”

“S’nothing I haven’t dealt with before”

“I don’t care if you’ve dealt with it before, right now it’s my job to take care of you and you’ve got to let me do it”

He shot you an annoyed look but settled down nonetheless “Fine”

You nodded satisfied and walked over to the sink, Cody’s eyes following your every move as you picked up a cloth, letting it soak completly under the tap before carefully wringing it out.

Turning around, you jumped slightly upon seeing the commanders gaze watching you intently. You cleared your throat, walking back over to him and taking a seat on the stool next to the bed. Gently, you pressed the cloth to his skin but quickly pulled it back when he hissed. 

“Sorry” you mumbled “Is it too hot? Too cold?”

“No, no it’s fine, just stings a little”

Nodding you carried on rubbing of the dried blood and dirt spread around his wound, making a conscious effort to be as soft as you could. Once you were satisfied you lent in, taking a closer look at the now clean wound. You hummed and began rummaging in your med pack as he watched you closely.

“What? What is it?” he asked almost as if he was... nervous? No, it couldn’t be.

“It’s just gonna need a couple stitches that’s all, nothing to worry about”

He swallowed as you carefully threaded your needle and lined it up near the start of his cut. Taking one last glance up at him to make sure he was ok you found him clenching his fists tightly by his side, eyes firmly shut and chest rising and falling quickly. 

Who knew he would be so nervous about a tiny needle. You shook your head smiling softly at his nervousness before slowly pushing the needle in. Immediately he flinched, sucking in a breath and clenching his jaw. 

You stilled, glancing up at him again “Hold still for me please.”

“I’m trying” he muttered angrily, “but you’re fucking stabbing me”

You chuckled, focusing back on your work “On come on now, I thought you were ‘big tough Marshal Commander Cody’. People won’t find you nearly as intimidating when they find out you can’t handle a little needle and threat”

“I can handle it.” he growled. 

“Sure doesn’t seem like it” you smirked finishing up the last stitch and tying a careful knot. “But no need to worry Cody, I wouldn’t dare tarnish your reputation like that”.

Taking out a bacta patch you ripped the wrapping off.

“It can be our little secret” you teased, sending him a wink. He rolled his eyes at you, only making you smirk wider when you saw him trying to hide a smile. Huh, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

You lined the bacta patch up, before giving him a warning “This is gonna sting a little”

He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as you pushed it down, looking up at him apologetically and muttering a quiet “Sorry”

Finally you straightened up, dusting off your hands “Okay the Cody, you’re as good as new” 

He groaned as he sat up, watching you fill out the report card before finally signing it off and handing it to him. He took it from you muttering out a quiet “Thanks”

Smirking, you put a hand behind your ear teasingly  “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that”

He rolled his eyes at you, ghost of a smile gracing his lips “I said” he enunciated each word carefully “Thank you”

“My pleasure Marshal Commander” you grinned, giving him an exaggerated bow. He let out a small huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh before re-attaching his armour and heading towards the exit.

“Oh and Commander” you shouted when he was half way out the door. He hummed, turning to look at you.

“I’ll see you around Cody” you winked playfully. He shook his head, rolling his eyes but not trying to hide the smile rising on his face.

“Sure, I'll see you around” he replied, winking back before slipping out the door.

You stood, staring dumbly at the empty space where he’d just been standing, feeling a blush slowly creep up to your cheeks.

Did- did he just wink at you?

---

Pt.2 here

A/N: I can't shake the feeling that I didn't get Cody quite right in this? Idk something just feels off. So please feel free to send me some constructive criticism. Key word being constructive. I will most definitely cry if you are mean to me lmao

Anywho, hope y'all enjoyed it anyways ❤️ :D

my masterlist

[voltronisanobsession]

Yandere Keith Headcanons

Again, this might seem a bit unorganized, oh well😔 i wanted to add more to this but I realized it was getting too long💔💔

Keith is lowkey a bit intense as a yandere

When he first met you, he was a bit standoffish, just like he was with everyone else

But the way you looked at him with such soft eyes listening to him speak had his heart beating a bit faster, which honestly confused him

This guy has no idea what to do with his feelings

He knows that his feelings aren’t normal when he starts to grow possessive of you as Lance stands a smidge too close to you

Or how you tend to pay more attention to Pidge when she begins speaking, her sarcastic comments making you laugh

I mean come on, he just met you!

Keith grows frustrated because he doesn’t understand why his feelings for you are growing so rapidly in a short amount of time

Because of this, he lowkey kinda takes it out on you, blaming you for making him feel these feelings he didn’t even want in the beginning

And boy do you notice his more aggressive behavior towards you as compared to the rest of the group, even Lance!

Keith ignores you in hopes the weird feelings will go away

Whenever he does need to talk to you, he gets straight to the point not wasting time on small talk

Definitely gives you a harder time trying to work with the group, he’s always pointing out what mistakes you did and just attacking you about it

You didn’t understand cuz damn, you just met the dude💔

You try to build a better relationship with him even though you have no idea what you’ve done to him, often trying to make small conversation in hopes to loosen his nerves

You still choosing to be around him even though he makes it a big problem makes his obsession grow just a bit more

After countless efforts and days of your persistence and his feelings growing more intense the longer he denied his feelings, Keith finally decided to just give into his never ending obsession

Which backfires on you in the end

You’re confused on the sudden change in behavior but hey, at least he isn’t so tough on you now

Follows you around like a lost puppy

Keith has this need to constantly be around you, so he tries to be lowkey when trying to follow you around the castle

He tries not to make it obvious that he’s following you but you definitely notice

“Keith are you following?”

“What? No… no, you just so happened to be going where I’m uh, going. Yeah.”

“You’re trying to go to my room?”

“No-“

You brush it off, a little weirded out, but you think it’s because he hasn’t really had a lot of friends seeing as he was mostly an outcast in the garrison

He’s so painfully awkward around you he finds it hard to talk to you

So he settles with just intensely staring at you, wherever you are

Even if he doesn’t talk to you often, you do try your best to still talk to him now that he isn’t constantly ignoring you, though the way he stares at you unblinking makes your gut twist

During missions, Keith always DISCREETLY offers to be your partner if you guys were to ever split up

Is constantly hovering over you, telling you what to do, saying you have to follow his lead or else you might mess the mission up

This obviously does not sit right with you, your whispering arguments always making you guys lose your cover

“Keith, you can’t always control what we do in these missions!”

“You don’t even know how to fight y/n, how do you even expect to get the mission done? Just follow my lead and stop getting in the way.”

“I know you did not just say that-“

Cue shooting noises

It starts becoming a problem once Keith actually begins gaslighting you into thinking you need him if you want to survive the galra

Keith basically tries to establish his ‘dominance’ over you, claiming he knows what’s best for you

This leaves a nasty taste in your mouth, so you start fighting back, while the rest of the team is left in confusion

They care for you, yes, but Keith does have a point in needing to keep you safe

Sometimes you can get a bit reckless which is no bueno in their eyes, so they choose to side with Keith on this issue

He’s so controlling over what you do, afraid that you’ll hurt yourself

I think at one point, Keith would get so frustrated with your constant resistance against him that he’ll purposely put you in danger just to prove his point

He needs you to see that you need him, just like how he needs you

After that incident, he saves you and that’s when you realize maybe you aren’t as good of a paladin like the others are

I think you would talk to Keith about it since now you realize what he’s said might be true

He would lowkey feel bad but is happier that you finally see things from his perspective

Kinda would begin to isolate you from the others, i mean you need to start focusing on training instead of worrying about the team, they’ll only distract you!

Spending so much time with him will bound to make you catch feelings for this guy, which is the last thing you expected

Keith notices this and would just purposely try to make you flustered to confirm everything

When it comes to finally securing you in his grasp, Keith is not shy when asking you out

His body sings with joy once you accept his feelings, now knowing he’s been able to influence you this much

Missions go much more smoothly in his eyes with you following his very last instructions and constantly following him around now

I feel like he would expect you to go and stay with him during his blade of mamora missions

Gets mad when Shiro tries reasoning with him by saying there’s no way you’d be able to keep up with the fast and intense nature of these missions, which makes you relieved to say the least

OMG QUANTUM ABYSS KEIITTTHHH

THATS when his yandere tendencies really make its debut since he wouldn’t have seen you for two years but that’s a whole different post for a different time!!!!

Overall, Keith is the controlling one in this situation, he’s always watching you and making sure you stay within his line of sight

Doesn’t want any harm coming to you, but Keith might not realize that he’s the one causing you real harm as you begin fearing the thought of you alone without him

He does strive to be a good boyfriend for you but with the way he’s easily influenced by his own obsession, you’ll start to feel more like an object than an actual lover

[straightuppotato-art]

Rambling, unorganized thoughts about Book 3 (lots of spoilers for all routes)

The A route romance scenes were delightful and I’ve never felt so insane over a fictional character :))) The car date was adorable, the pre-mission begging made me SICK, AND THE “YOU ARE STRONG” SCENE!!!! I AM ON THE FLOOR!!!!! I do think the ending should have been pushed to the next book, though, it did feel fast. Let me build more of a connection before messing up the relationship! But overall? THE ROUTE DID MAKE ME SOSOSOSO NOT NORMAL OMFGGGGGG!!

The M brainrot is STRONG!!!!! There’s so many little bits and pieces that I just think about and giggle. BUT THE SHOWER SCENE. I AM NEVER RECOVERING. Also “Just fucking make sure you come back” hehehe 💕💕 I dooooo wish the bakery came back up, maybe? Idk though. Also the Tina dinner was simultaneously hilarious and embarrassing. Also also the antique shop <33 Lovely route, I can’t wait for M to figure out their feelings <33

F ROUTE COMES IN CLUTCH AS THE SWEETEST AND EASIEST ROMANCE <3 I was sickeningly in love the entire time <333 “I’ve never been so happy to be so tired” made me put my phone down and just. Happy idk how to describe it lmao. Also I thought F discussing their past was the most natural of the bunch, so props for that!! I also was surprised by the intimate scenes 👀 Also that they haven’t confessed to being in love with you! (Unless they did and I can’t remember)

N route was fun if a little… shallow? Idk, I just don’t feel like it was as emotional or organic as the other routes? It was very sweet, but idk. Something felt off. The Verda dinner date was very cute though and I did LOVE the bath scene <33333 Also N connecting their phone to the Bluetooth was very funny!!

The Love Triangle…… I forgot that the poly au only exists in my head. I thought it was good, though I did end leaning towards A throughout because of N’s aforementioned ehness. The fight at the end was kinda hot ngl lmaooo. I very much want and Do Not want to see this all blow up <333

The plot comes second to the romance, I’m aware. I just wish that it was handled with the seriousness it deserves. I genuinely forgot that we were dealing with kidnappings because I got caught up in the cute routes. So yeah. I would’ve preferred a tone adjustment. I thought it was fine overall, but the blood drive was :/ Not utilized well.

The reveal that Douglas was turned into a supernatural was so off??? Like, obviously, I thought that’s what it would be, but the Detective is never surprised?? I thought this was very weird + I was bothered that the Detective doesn’t seem to feel guilty? Like you have the option of feeling guilty for like literally everyone else BUT Dougie?? That’s my son, ofc I feel bad!! Let me feel guilty and bad!!! <- Okay, for the guilt part of that, that might be a code error? Idk did anyone get the options to blame yourself for what happens to Doug? Please let me know!!

Also I don’t understand the new stats for the combat and research options at all??????

Also I thought some things were painfully obvious and were not revealed quick enough/the detective was too shocked by them. Primarily, Rebecca’s connection to the chamber + Elidor being kidnapped (though I believe it’s only on his route where it is infuriatingly obvious that he’s kidnapped, and not even because we get Sin’s POV)

Also the constant “we’ll drain your blood and sell it!!” was annoying because it’s so illogical lmao. Kids, if you ever need someone’s blood supply, keep them alive so that they make more 👍

I AM PRAYING THAT THE DETECTIVE GETS THERAPY IN BOOK 4 OMFG. LIKE IM NOT KIDDING I WILL BE SO UPSET IF THEY DONT. Even just an offhanded “yeah, I talk to someone” idfc. I felt so horribly bad for the detective all throughout and I need the crap they go through to be acknowledged by the narrative in a way other than “oh, do you want your RO to comfort you?” YEAH but also professional help!!!!

Overall, it was a fun and entertaining read, the brainrot is strong, and yeah!!!!!!!

[lemondoddle]

I’m intrigued, you gotta elaborate on that

HELL YEAH OKAY these thoughts are largely unorganized and don't necessarily imply heavy meaning but again pattern recognition makes brain go brrrrr so color theory time! Easy start is Tim and Jay having complimentary color schemes, they are opposites both in Canon and on the color wheel,  and yet they go so well together and are always paired (Jay also wears a lot of red and brown((red+green)) in canon). they are different and yet so painfully similar

Hoody and alex were very close to being compliments (yellow and purple/ blue and orange) but just slightly missed the mark with blue and yellow. However they are both needed simultaneously to create green i.e: dragging Jay into this. all of these intermixing colors are surrounded by the threat of the operator, that which is black and white.

tim/masky and hoody are toften referred to as "the twins"(better represented when tim is in the masky jacket matching hoody's yellow) and are also analogous (close by on the color wheel, red orange and yellow are all analogous), however one color stands between them on the wheel/ Brian hiding his identity and Tim's memory issues prevents them from true connection.

jay and alex are also analogous, having been close before and jay still harboring some type of connection towards alex which has been separated by alex going off the deep end. while both alex and hoody have no compliments, alex is the most isolated in his journey, never working with anyone (like hoody teaming up with masky) and only using others as a way to tie up loose ends.

In entry 86, Tim and alex swap colors as Tim wears a blue flannel and alex gets covered in blood lol

I didn't have a way to fit it into the composition but also masky's palette of a black and white mask + yellow jacket (back to the twins bit and also his history with the operator) kinda gives conflicting vibes at first which matches how we perceive them early on, unclear (for both hoody and masky) if theyre working for or against the operator

OH and Tim Alex and hoody are all primary colors (cant mix anything to create them) and have heavy connections to the operator while Jay is a secondary color (still affected but somewhat less involved, makes sense considering how protagonists are often stand-ins for the audience)

[paramliv]

hi hey welcome to blair unhinged where i ramble about my story stuff for posts and posts and posts. if you wanna read it feel free! i just have it down for reference and just to get some thoughts and opinions. also! im not going to twist anyone’s arm to rp my version of palmer’s story, this is just how i went about it. I’m more than happy to do just about anything! Okay? Okay. 

so their story begins with joining the zarosian army due to sorta being lost future wise at the age of 20

they put five years into the military service and rose to the rank of tribune and was assigned to a mahjarrat  by the name of Zemouregal. at this point the zarosian empire was mainly just monster races so it was kinda anti-human in the aspect of 'humans are lower life forms thus stupider' so zemouregal made palmer's life a living hell, they were used as a test dummy for his necromancy projects and was usually assigned busy work rather than going out to fight they lost the respect of a lot of soldiers due to zemouregal spreading rumors, never being able to fight along side them, and always appearing rather 'weak' so there was a lot of shit spread within the barracks palmer then went to find different outlets like going to plays and having their own sword be blessed by a priest just to sort of get some joy out of their military life when they were going to a play that was usually narrated by Sliske (their crush) thats when they would try to take control and own their rank again but it resulted in a lot of soldiers getting hit and stuff like that. it was a lot of SLAP 'im the tribune here, you listen to what i say. do you understand that? you will not walk all over me.' everything sort of came to ahead when zemouregal struck at palmer during a war room discussion and palmer blocked his claws with their sword and a fight broke out they fought for four whole hours until zemouregal was on his knees and they started punching his face in, their knuckles getting bloodied in the process since mahjarrat are like, almost made out of stone and p jagged they had been arrested and had spent three months in solitary confinement and also forfeit of pay for assaulting their legate however, they got reassigned to wahisietel who was much nicer but still stern. he definitely built their confidence back up and also became a good friend to them. it was sort of shaky at first since wahisietel didnt know how to interact around humans and palmer was sort of stand offish because zemouregal had treated them so shitty they spent two years working together and being friends, in that time they had made friends w/ several other mahjie during their time especially when they had swallowed their courage to ask sliske out on a date after talking a few times with him he accepted! and they hit it off pretty well actually, and date in secret due to their ranks, them being a tribune while he was head of senntisten's secret police and its a whole new layer of messy cause sliske is wahisietel's younger brother also im spark noting this all, this is not EVERYTHING that happens in this but you know SO. two years under wahisietel's command and then zaros gets assassinated by the legatus maximus zamorak who then ascended to godhood and that takes us into the God Wars wahisietel gets a scar that he says is from some attack during battle during the God Wars, palmer is not that convinced and presses him about it to which he gets angry and whips an ink pot near their head which pretty much killed their friendship.  there is talk about zamorak planning something, palmer asks sliske if shit hits the fan does he want to run away with them which he asks about if wahisietel will be alright, and theyre like he'll be fine im sure. but really think about it cause we could finally be together out in the open and hes like ok i'll think about it. so the day rolls around where zamorak brings lesser demons to wreck the city of senntisten and thats the day sliske and palmer go into the shadow realm area  and make their escape. they could see all the carnage happening on the streets, its just that no one could see them. so they keep going and sliske seeing palmer hesitate sometimes is like 'come on we need to keep moving' and then theyre stopped at the gates by zemouregal who summons a bunch of undead to swarm palmer, while he tries to land hits on sliske and he does! he breaks sliske's nose and palmer goes through pushing undead out of the way to stab zemouregal straight through the knee with their sword they take sliske by the hand and book it into the woods where they wipe the blood off his chin and comments how its a dull night and there's no stars in the sky and he mumbles something then gets hit with a surge of divine energy that disrupts his magic and its akin to being tazed for five minutes and palmer gets crystalized and taken by zamorakians to daemonheim where they'd be for thousands of years until getting thawed out meanwhile sliske is just, passed out for days till his brother finds him END OF ACT 1

[iamnotparticularlyproud]

PPB Square: Kink Discovery | @peterparkerbingo

word count: 2.7k rating: mature warnings: none ao3 link: https://bit.ly/3xpiBdx

Summary: Bucky and Peter have been together for a while, but Peter can’t bring himself to talk to his boyfriend about how their sex life is a bit - uh, well, boring. Instead, Peter searches Bucky’s laptop while he isn’t home for any sign of kink whatsoever. To say it doesn’t go as he planned would be an understatement.

Bucky’s amazing. So, so amazing, and Peter could go on about it for days - about his silly nicknames, the way he makes the Brooklyn drawl sound adorable, his unexpected dorkiness and razor sharp wit, how his hands are so calloused but he holds Peter so softly--

Days, Peter could come up with these for days. 

So, it’s not like there’s anything he wishes he could change about their relationship. It’s - they’re - perfect, everything’s been perfect. Bucky’s just so nice, and after Beck, Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever be in a relationship again, let alone one so - so good. So healthy, and so supportive. 

It’s just--

Their sex is so vanilla. Painfully vanilla. The most unconventional Bucky gets is with his dirty talk, and, yeah, Peter loves how his boyfriend will call him his sweet lil boy, and tell Peter how good he takes a thick cock in his tight ass, but that's about as far as Bucky ever goes. 

And that - that isn’t a bad thing, Peter knows that, it’s just. Boring, sometimes, is all.

Peter wishes he could talk to Bucky about it, because the man always stresses communication and talking problems out, but it’s just so embarrassing. Peter’s just thinking about it and he’s flushed, so how could he say the word kink out loud? 

He can’t. He really, really can’t.

So Peter does the only other thing he can think to do.

He steals Bucky’s laptop and rummages for any signs of kink - anything to suggest his boyfriend isn’t as vanilla as it seems. Peter knows he doesn’t have long - Bucky’s out getting takeout from their favorite Thai place, and it isn’t too far - so he doesn’t waste time as he searches all the keywords he can think of in Bucky’s unorganized folders, his internet history that’s never been cleared, the hard drive Peter got him because he complained about memory but Peter was 99% sure he never touched - he was right - and then tries his luck with the recycle bin, but--

There’s not just no sign of kink.

There’s nothing. There’s no porn at all.

Peter’s mind is blown. He hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t find porn, he thought that everyone watched porn - and unless Bucky knew how to delete specific pages from his browser history, which Peter heavily doubts, because, c'mon - but apparently, Bucky doesn’t.

He considers that, maybe, since Bucky is nearly a decade older than him, he consumes his porn in a different way. Maybe physical movies or, godforbid, magazines.

Peter’s considering looking through Bucky’s drawers and closets until he finds proof of pornography consumption, but then someone’s clearing their throat behind him.

“Jesus, how do you--” Peter exclaims, because it’s nowhere near the first time this six foot hunk of a man has snuck up on him. Then, he glances at the clunky computer in his lap that is obviously not his, and back at Bucky, who’s looking at the laptop, and then at Peter.

“What’re you doin’ with my computer?”

Peter panics, not because Bucky seems upset, because he doesn’t, just - confused, but it’s such a weird thing to be doing, and he can’t lie at all, and this isn’t--

“Does that say porn?” Bucky asks, suddenly leaning over Peter’s shoulder, and he just sounds amused, but Peter goes on the defensive anyway.

“I-It’s just, you never, and I - this isn’t me wanting you to change, or--”

Bucky moves quickly when Peter starts that familiar stress-ramble; he circles around the couch, puts the plastic bag filled with food down on the coffee table and sits next to him, wrapping an arm around his back and shushing him kindly.

“Slow down, doll.” Bucky smiles, sincerity etched in his crow’s feet, “Can’t understand you when you’re talkin’ too fast, remember?”

Peter stops. He nods, then he takes a breath. When he lets it go, Bucky tells him to take a deeper one, so he does, and as he breathes it out, he feels the alarm fade.

Not completely, though. Not with the evidence of his snooping in his lap.

With a glance back at where porn is still typed out in the recycle bin’s search bar and a chuckle, Bucky asks, almost laughing, “What were you doin’, sweetheart?” 

Peter doesn’t expect it, but the fight drains from his body. It’s him accepting his fate, he realizes belatedly.

“I, uh,” Peter pauses, because it’s still so difficult to say the words, “was looking for porn.”

Bucky laughs for real this time, and Peter closes his eyes with a sigh. That wasn’t what he meant to say, at all.

“No - I was looking for y-your porn, like, what you watch,” Peter explains, and Bucky is still laughing, but he waves a hand.

“Yeah, I got that.” He says, making an effort to curb his laughter, “Why, though?”

Peter bites his lip. "Do you watch porn?”

He was scared that meeting Bucky’s question with a question would frustrate the man, but he only looks more amused.

“Why would I?”

Huh?

“What?”

“Why would I watch porn?” Bucky sounds genuinely confused, “We have sex almost everyday.”

Almost, Peter nearly stresses, but catches himself. Obviously, he’s dramatically misread the situation. 

“Y-Yeah, but,” Peter tries to come up with something, anything, “like, maybe, before we dated?”

“I know it’s kinda old, but I got the thing not too long before we met, actually.”

That bit of information also sends Peter reeling, and he almost argues about it - because the laptop isn’t 'kinda old,' it’s ancient - but Bucky speaks before he does.

“Were you lookin’ for the kinda porn I’m into?”

Peter nearly sags with relief. How does he always manage to get it before Peter has to explain? 

“Yeah.”

Bucky’s smile shifts, and it’s - he likes that, Peter notices, and, it’s - it's sexual.

“What, did you wanna tease me?” Bucky licks his lips, “Rile me up?”

Oh. That works, and it’s pretty true, even. Peter can work with that.

He nods. Bucky continues, and he looks so pleased.

“It’s you, sugar,” Bucky brings his hand to Peter’s cheek, and his hold is so gentle, but the calluses are rough, and it’s such a satisfying dichotomy that Peter can’t help but lean into it, “You get me wild.”

If only. Peter’s never seen him be wild. 

But he couldn’t say that. Not when Bucky sounds like he absolutely means it, and it makes Peter’s heart flutter.

Peter has been a bit weird lately. 

Well, Peter is always a bit weird, but it’s a part of his charm. He’s been acting extra weird lately, Bucky’s noticed, and while it’s just as endearing, it’s confusing, too.

He almost calls Peter out on it after he’s found him searching for porn on his computer - more than he had already, anyway - but he just gets so tense when Bucky tries to make him really talk about something. He doesn’t want to bring up that energy - not so late, anyway. 

So Bucky plans to talk to him about it tomorrow.

And Peter thwarts that plan as soon as they wake up. Usually, he’s eager to spend the last day of their shared weekend off together, but before they’ve even had their coffee, Peter’s rushing out the door with the excuse of meeting up with his college friends at a cafe. Not too long later he texted they were going to do an impromptu study group for an upcoming quiz, then, after five hours, texted him they were going to hang out more.  

Bucky tries not to be suspicious of or retaliatory to Peter even more than he’s learned to be with his partners, because the kid’s not had a great track record with boyfriends, to say the least, but this is ridiculous. When he’s been gone for a whole seven hours, under the guise of shoddy excuses, Bucky decides his curiosity needs to be sated more than Peter needs to be coddled, and his new plan is to snoop into Peter’s computer like the kid tried with him. Obviously, if he assumed Bucky would have porn on his laptop, Peter’s got some on his. 

Bucky doesn’t plan to look until Peter texts that he’s on his way home, though. He thinks it’ll be funny if the kid finds himself where Bucky stood last night.

So, after Peter texted that he’s omw, Bucky pulls out his computer. It’s so sleek, thin and light, yet wide, and he hates using it, but he’s dying to know. How much porn could Peter possibly watch, considering how much they have sex, and how busy he’s kept as a student and part-time employee?

Not very much, Bucky assumes.

And holy fuck is he wrong.

He takes a wild guess and searches porn in the convenient - but too bulky, and ugly - search engine in the toolbar, and a stupidly obviously labeled folder, not porn don’t look, comes right up. There’s several subfolders - distinguishing the videos by kink, dear God - and dozens of videos in most of them, over a hundred in a few.

What the fuck.

Bucky’s surprised - Jesus Christ, so surprised - at so many things, but - where the fuck does Peter find the time to watch so much porn? What does it mean that he’s amassed such a collection? How has Bucky never walked in on him watching it? Is there a way to see how many hours of it there are, because it’s a stupidly high amount, definitely--

Bucky takes a breath. He leans back, too, because the little previews are too much to look at, and he takes a moment to appreciate just how understandable it was that Peter was so confused yesterday. It must be unthinkable, to not watch porn, to him. But - Peter’s never even mentioned porn before, not in the half-a-year they’ve been dating, so what was so different about yesterday?

The question has Bucky sitting back up, ready to delve deeper. He starts by reading the names of the folders closer, finding it’s not just organized by kink, but by his favorite pornstars, too. The kid’s got several, all with typical pornstar names, and according to the previews, he’s got a type for big and buff. Checks out.

With another deep, grounding breath, Bucky clicks on the folder name Ultimate Favorites. It’s only got thirteen videos in it, but all the titles are a fuckin’ doozy. It’s shit like Small Twink Fucked Hard, and Daddy Pounds His Boy Until He Cries, and - Jesus fuck - Dom Verbally Abuses Sub While Anally Abusing Him. 

Bucky’s nauseous just reading that last one. He never would’ve guessed Peter was into such rough sex. Not just because the kid gets all wide-eyed and stuttery whenever sex is even mentioned, but because Peter’s just so - soft. In all the ways a person can be, really.

Bucky doesn’t know how to reconcile what he knows Peter to be like with this new information about him. He distantly knows that he doesn’t have to - that Peter’s kinks don't reflect anything about his personality, and acting like they do is only reductive - but the instinct is so strong, he can’t help but fruitlessly try.

Before he can reconsider, Bucky’s clicking on one of the more mildly titled videos - not that any of them are mild at all - just to understand better what Peter’s so into. 

The video loads almost immediately, and it doesn’t waste time with any kind of introduction - there’s suddenly two men on the screen, their size difference resembling Bucky and Peter’s to a ridiculous degree, and the larger one pushes the smaller onto a bed carelessly before climbing on top of him. It’s a bunch of shoving and aggressive groping along with cruel words and name calling, and Bucky’s never been more turned off in his life. He can’t believe this porno is among Peter’s favorites - his boyfriend’s never once let on that this is the kind of sex he’s into.

While he’s staring, Bucky’s on screen lookalike finally quitting with the rough teasing and moving onto the brutal fucking, he hears Peter enter his apartment. Bucky doesn’t mute the video, and Peter’s light footsteps stop immediately. Bucky can just see the look on his face - that caught-in-the-headlights one that makes Peter look more like a deer than Bucky thought a person could - and he stifles a laugh as the steps pick back up, this time much more hesitant. When Peter’s a good foot into the living room, Bucky turns around, acting as if he hadn’t heard him coming in.

With the computer filling the room with sounds of slapping and exaggerated moans, Bucky greets, struggling to keep a smirk off his face,  “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

Peter doesn’t answer him and - yep, there’s that look. Instead, he gapes like a fish at where his computer is steadied on Bucky’s lap, eyes wide and frantic.

“Why’d you never mention this, doll?” Bucky asks, dropping the act as Peter keeps looking like disaster is seconds away. He pauses the video and sets the laptop to the side, motioning for Peter to join him on the couch.

Peter does join him, albeit uncertain and his eyes still trained on the graphic image on the computer screen. He’s quiet as he sits as far as he can from Bucky.

“I--” Peter starts, gaze transfixed on the laptop. “Can you - close that?”

Bucky does. Peter keeps looking at it.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, chuckling.

Peter finally looks at him. He seems scared, Bucky realizes. He closes a bit of the distance between them, leaving some incase Peter feels suffocated, and puts a hand on the back of his neck, a touch Peter always leans into.

He does this time, too. He relaxes some, and Bucky prompts, “Were you scared to tell me?”

Peter relaxes even more, his shoulders falling. He nods. “I know you probably don’t care--”

Bucky interrupts to confirm with a nod of his own, “I don’t.”

“But it’s just--” Peter huffs, eyebrows furrowing, “Embarrassing.”

Bucky nods more. “It doesn’t change how I think about you.” He reassures Peter, “At all.”

“That's good.” Peter breathes, and Bucky can’t help but laugh softly. “I was starting to think it would gross you out.”

It kinda does, but Bucky doesn’t say that. It isn’t important how the porn he’s into makes Bucky feel. 

“No, baby. It doesn’t.”

Peter leans into his side, and Bucky shifts to embrace him. Silence attempts to settle around them, but Bucky can’t help his need to tease.

“So… where’d you find the time to make such a collection?” 

Peter cringes. “I, uh, started it years ago.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t know why he didn’t assume that - it’s a seriously massive collection - but thinking of how far back years suggests, and how Peter is just twenty-two, he can’t help but ask for clarification.

“How many years you talkin’?”

“Uhh…” Peter trails off, seeming to really think about it. Bucky can see the moment he finds the answer, and his expression closes.  “...several.”

Bucky decides to wager a guess. He doesn’t really know why he wants to know this answer, but he thinks it might help him understand just how into kink Peter is.

“Sixteen?”

Peter whines. “Jamie.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Fifteen?”

Peter pulls away a bit to cover his face with his hands, and he whines unintelligibly this time.

“Christ, it wasn’t younger than thirteen, was it?”

Peter shakes his head. “N-No, I--” His words are muffled by his palms,  “I was fourteen.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Peter can’t lie for shit, so Bucky can tell he isn’t just appeasing him. 

Then it hits him just how long Peter’s been fantasizing about this kind of sex.

“You’re really into this stuff, huh?”

Peter burrows further into his hands. Bucky rubs his back, and considers his next words carefully.

“If you want, we could explore some of the tamer stuff you have in there.” 

Peter drops his hands from his face and he looks excited for all of two seconds. Then, his expression falls. “None of it’s… tame. I mean, I guess--” Peter cuts himself off to cough, wincing as he tries to get the words out, “uh, im-impact play isn’t, you know, hardcore, I guess.”

“Spanking and stuff?”

“...and stuff.” Peter says with a flush. 

“We’ll start with spanking,” Bucky laughs, adding just in case, “if you want to.”

But it wasn’t necessary, because Peter brightens immediately. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” 

Peter smiles wide, and Bucky can’t help but return it with one of his own.

[josies-fanfic-stuff]

Kiralfonse - Helping with Work

After like a month it’s finally finished! It ended up being a bit longer than i expected and actually took a slightly different turn than i originally planned but i’m still pretty satisfied by the result. I’m noticing that my Alfonse is a bit more timid than how most would imagine him but I like to think that it’s because he’s a little shyer than most versions of himself because of his conflicting feelings towards his sexuality, if that makes any sense. I think I just need to practice with him a bit. Either way I’m just glad i finally finished!

Hope you guys like it! 

It was late at night in the kingdom of Askr, as young prince Alfonse made his way down the relatively empty hallways, save the occasional palace guard and night owl hero that would cross his path every so often. Since he was off duty, Alfonse had removed his iconic armor, leaving him in a simple cloth tunic and pants with matching boots that clicked with every step as the prince walked down the hallway. Finally, Alfonse arrived at his destination, a simple oak door, the entrance to his tactician and trusted Summoner’s office – which also doubled as a meeting room. The prince stared at the door for a moment as nerves began to twinge within his stomach. “Am I really about to do this?” Alfonse thought, as he reached out a shaky hand towards the door knob. Taking hold of the knob, Alfonse let out a sigh in an attempt to calm himself and finally push open the door in a slow, gentle, manner.

Looking in, the rather large room was quite dark with only a few measly candles, the light of their small flames causing shadows to dance along the stone walls. In the day, the room often felt inviting and warm despite the grim topics that were discussed there, but at the night, the room’s imposing size and lack of light brought a sinister, foreboding quality to it. This trait alone caused the dread that had formed in the blue haired boy to intensify to a higher degree as he made a feeble attempt to calm his ever worsening nerves. Once his nerves had been hastily collected, the Askran prince finally stepped into the dark room and shut the door behind him in that same gentle fashion. Looking to the left, at the far end of the room, Alfonse spotted his unhooded tactician and lover, Kiran, sitting at his large desk with a pen in hand, gazing up at the prince with a look of surprise on his face. The prince’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his handsome, half Latino – as Kiran had called himself- boyfriend with the orange glow of the candle lights illuminating his tanned skin, his dark eyes – and his facial piercings- shining from behind his thick square framed, black glasses. Despite the fact that the two had been dating for a good few months now, it was still mind blowing for Alfonse to know that he was dating Kiran, the young man he had fallen in love with after mistrusting him so strongly when they first met. The very idea that his tactician had returned his feelings made the prince’s heart throb painfully in his chest with just a simple look.

The tactician’s face lit up with a huge, childish smile - the goofy look he was well known and loved for - when he realized who had come to visit him. “Hey babe!” Kiran chirped, setting his pen down and rearranging a couple of the many papers strewn about his messy desk, before giving his lover his undivided attention, eyes clearly sparkling with a look of complete and total adoration. Alfonse’s pale cheeks turned a deep shade of scarlet, forcing him to break eye contact before his heart had the chance to melt out of his chest. “Good evening, Kiran…” the prince replied in as formal a tone as he could muster while trying his hardest to keep from visibly shaking. Kiran’s deep brown eyes widened slightly and his lips parted with concern. “Alfonse, is there something wrong?” The prince looked back at Kiran with a small start at his lover’s reaction, confirming that he was failing miserably at trying to look calm. “Not at all!” Alfonse hurriedly replied, noting how Kiran’s shoulders instantly slumped back to a relaxed position. “I was just on my way to bed and noticed you were absent…” the prince continued as he stepped closer to his lover’s desk. The Summoner gave a guilty smile, knowing how worried Alfonse would get whenever Kiran broke routine, especially their nightly routine. “Sorry about that, babe…I got kinda caught up in my paper work.” The tactician explained, gesturing to the mess of papers nearly consuming his already unorganized desk. Alfonse’s heart sank as he glanced down at the chaos, causing him to bite his lower lip. “Will you be long?” the prince asked, already dreading the answer. “’fraid so…” Kiran sheepishly replied, hating the look of disappointment glowing in his lover’s clear blue eyes. “Commander Anna will kill me if I don’t get this done!” he added in an attempt to justify his procrastination habits. Alfonse broke eye contact again and let out a heavy sigh. “I see” was all he could muster.

The tactician’s heart shattered at the sight, cursing his inability to stay organized! Why was procrastination the only thing Kiran was good for?! “Are…Are you alright, sweetheart?” Kiran asked in a timid voice, unsure of what to do. Alfonse seemingly snapped back to reality and gave his boyfriend a fake smile, trying his best to put up a brave front. “Yes! I’m perfectly fine…” the prince exclaimed, in a fake cheerful tone as he turned to leave. “Well…good night Kiran…”

However just as he started for the exit, Kiran leapt up from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process. “Alfonse, wait!” the man exclaimed. Alfonse turned around just in time to see his lover approaching fast before he was pulled into a tight hug. The smaller male gave a soft gasp but quickly hugged back and buried his face in Kiran’s deceptively strong chest. “Would you prefer to stay and sit with me? I certainly don’t mind the company~.” Kiran’s voice was gentle and reassuring, which greatly helped calm the prince’s frazzled nerves. A strong blush appeared on Alfonse’s face as he nuzzled further into his lover’s body. “I-If you don’t mind…” Kiran smiled as he leaned down and kissed Alfonse softly on the top of his head. “Not at all~.” Then he released the prince from his grip and started back towards his desk. “Just go ahead and pull up a chair” he added, gesturing to the meeting table at the other end of the room, plopping down into his own chair in the process. A bright blush returned to the Askran noble’s cheeks as he stared down at the floor in a shy manner. “A-Actually I was hoping to join you…in YOUR seat…” The prince quickly regretted these words and covered his face with his hands to hide his embarrassment, his scarlet face showing prominently through his pale fingers. Now it was Kiran’s turn to blush, a bright shade of red as he looked up at his boyfriend with wide eyes. “Wait really?!” the tactician squeaked, completely caught off guard by his lover’s forwardness. In the couple months that they had been dating, Alfonse had proved that he was actually quiet timid when it came to being a couple, in fact the only time the prince had ever taken the initiative for physical contact had been their first kiss. However, this had only been a knee jerk reaction brought on by sheer joy.

After a brief pause, Alfonse lowered his hands far enough to reveal his eyes. “O-Only with your consent of course…” A huge grin slit across the other man’s tanned face as he pulled out his chair and patted his lap. “Of course you can, baby, I’m always up for cuddles!” Kiran exclaimed with a look of pure unadulterated happiness. The prince finally lowered his hands fully to reveal a small, shy, smile as he timidly approached his lover. “Thank you, Kiran” Alfonse chirped as he clambered awkwardly onto his lover’s lap so that their chests were pressed together with the prince’s legs hanging down to just above the floor and his head laying on Kiran’s broad shoulder. Then he wrapped his arms around Kiran’s chest and nuzzled into the other male’s neck. The Summoner let out a giggle and hugged Alfonse tight as he scooted his chair back to the desk. Once they were situated, the tactician leaned over and kissed his prince gently on the cheek, receiving a soft chuckle from the blue haired male.

Kiran continued to hold Alfonse for about a minute before finally freeing up his right arm and wrapping his left arm securely around the prince’s waist so he could get back to work. Alfonse pouted into his lover’s neck at the lack of attention, but he stayed silent, not wanting to distract his lover any more than he already had. In all honesty, the fact that Kiran was allowing him to sit like this at all, made the prince feel extremely special and far happier than he’d willingly want to admit. Kiran was his safe place, a person that the prince could trust without question, even with his weaker, more feminine side – a side he was far too ashamed of to show to anyone else. Luckily, the Summoner seemed to understand this and always made sure to treat the prince with gentle care whenever he needed the support.

Suddenly, Alfonse was brought out of his thoughts by the familiar feeling of Kiran’s warm fingers and well-kept nails scratching his scalp at the nape of his neck. The blue haired male let out a groan as a pleasant shiver ran down his spine and a warm glow began to well in his chest almost out of reflex. This was a relatively new gesture for the couple, something that Kiran had done at random in the afterglow of rather passionate sex. Alfonse had melted on contact in his overly sensitive bliss with a groan of pleasure that only ever left the prince’s lips during moments of intimacy. For Kiran, seeing Alfonse react with such clear enjoyment from such a simple gesture, filled the Summoner with a strong sense of pride and adoration, knowing that only he could make the young prince feel this way. After that, the gesture became a source of comfort unique to the pair.

A small chuckle escaped the tanned male’s lips as he felt his lover’s body go limp in his arms, finding Alfonse’s conditioned response to his touch utterly adorable. “Feel good?” the taller male purred as he glance over just in time to see a look of pure contentment etched on his boyfriend’s face. However a bright blush quickly stained the boy’s pale face when he realized Kiran was staring. “Y-Yes…”he mumbled with a curt nod, tensing ever so slightly under his lover’s gaze. A loving smile pulled at Kiran’s lips as he leaned in to press a tender kiss into the prince’s heated forehead. In the meantime, the fingers resting on Alfonse’s neck slowly began to move up to lace themselves into the boy’s soft blue and gold tipped hair, allowing a warm palm to cradle the back of the smaller man’s head. “That’s good~.” Kiran whispered, keeping his lips pressed to Alfonse’s skin, making his breath feel warm and tingly against the prince’s ever reddening face. Finally, the Summoner pulled away only to meet his prince’s lips in a kiss that was just as tender. Yet another moan escaped the blue haired man’s lips as he allowed Kiran’s tongue to enter, becoming acutely aware of the pleasant sensation in his scalp thanks to the gentle needing motion of the Summoner’s finger tips.

After nearly a minute, Kiran pulled away, leaving both males panting and red faced as Alfonse tried his best to not openly drool while catching his breath. In the prince’s opinion, Kiran had always been an amazing kisser, a trait that Alfonse loved and envied at the same time, especially when Kiran would leave him drooling – an action that humiliated the prince quite a bit, no matter how many times Kiran said it was cute! The taller male was the first to catch his breath, allowing him to give his lover a closed mouth and loving smile as he tightened his grip on the prince in his lap. “I like making you feel good, baby, especially when you’re acting like this…” The Summoner cooed in a voice just dripping with adoration for his lover. Alfonse went scarlet and nuzzled back into Kiran’s warm and inviting neck to hide. “I thought you had work, my love!” he squealed, quickly becoming overwhelmed with all the attention he was finally receiving. “I do,” Kiran chirped, focusing his attention to the hand that was still in the prince’s hair, allowing him to give Alfonse a rather pleasant head massage. “But I thought I could use a snuggle break, especially since you went to the trouble of coming down to spend time with me…plus, that usually means you’re looking for a little attention~.” The Summoner explained in a calm voice as he began to gently comb his fingers through his lover’s silky, soft, hair. Alfonse gave a soft hum and nuzzled further into Kiran’s neck in embarrassment. “I-It has been a while since we were able to…cuddle like this…” The prince admitted in a sheepish manner. “I’ve missed seeing you…” he added. Kiran gave a guilty smile and tightened his grip around his lover’s waist. “Yeah I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever since we’ve been so busy lately!” The other agreed.

A comfortable silence fell between the two as Kiran continued to comb his fingers delicately throw his lover’s beautiful hair. As the minutes passed, the Summoner noticed Alfonse’s breath had begun to even out, leading the taller male to believe that the prince was beginning to doze off. “Feeling sleepy, Love~?” The Summoner purred with a teasing hair ruffle. The prince jumped slightly but quickly relaxed again. “Just a bit…” he replied. Kiran gave a soft hum of understanding and kissed Alfonse’s temple with a gentle smile beginning to pull at his lips. “It’s alright, little prince, it’ll be better for the both of us for you to get some rest while I finish things up.” Said the Summoner in a half teasing, half serious manner, a manner that the young prince had become quiet fond of. Alfonse chuckled and snuggled further into his lover’s warm, comforting body. “If you insist, my love” the prince replied. Then he pulled away from Kiran’s neck and kissed him lovingly on the lips. “Good night, Kiran…don’t over work yourself.” Kiran leaned in for another kiss and pressed their foreheads together when they parted. “Isn’t that my line?” The summoner teased with a grin. Alfonse gave a laugh and nuzzled back into his lover’s neck.

“I suppose you’re right…”                                    

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Counterpoint, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 4

Summary:  After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

The space Ienzo chose was the one where he’d been taught as a boy. It had good, natural light from the wide windows, and was far enough away from the bedrooms that the noise wouldn’t bother anyone. It was also close enough that they could easily get back for water or tea, or the washroom.

Like everywhere else, it was full of some ten years’ of dust. When Demyx saw it he groaned, and privately Ienzo agreed.

“Well, we shouldn’t shirk,” Ienzo said. “Let’s clean up.”

“It’s not like we have Dusks to do it,” Demyx muttered.

“I’d rather not work in filth, would you?”

“No,” he agreed. “Let’s just get it over with.”

He helped Demyx sweep through the worst of the dust. Even with the windows open, it made them sneeze. Once it seemed to be mangeable, he left Demyx to continue on and started retrieving books that might be helpful. Rune dictionaries, copies of the fairy tales with scholarly annotations, theory and music history (for context on the composer’s life), typical history. The composer had to be from Radiant Garden; how else would it have gotten here?

When Ienzo returned with another load of books, Demyx gave him a droll look. He was doing, surprisingly enough, a good job of it, and the original color of the floor was actually visible again. “For how insistent you were with the cleaning, I figured you’d be helping me,” Demyx said.

“It’s more efficient if we split our labor,” Ienzo said. “I hate to break away from my work once I’ve started. I’d rather be overcautious with materials than not.”

Once the floor was dry, Aeleus and Dilan brought the piano in. Admittedly it was a sorry sight to see, scratched and wobbly. Demyx stabilized it with a few blocks of wood. He looked at it like he might an old friend, with a sort of hazy nostalgia. He pressed the first sour key and flinched.

Ienzo knew he could not really be of help in this case. He watched Demyx as he propped open the old top, armed himself with a pair of pliers, and steeled himself for the work ahead.

He didn’t think he would find it interesting to observe, but he did. Without even use of a tuning fork, Demyx managed to get the keys back towards normal range with only a few delicate twists. And once it sounded more-or-less perfect to Ienzo, he kept adjusting.

“You must have a very good ear,” Ienzo remarked quietly. “To tell such minute differences.”

He seemed unsure of how to take the compliment. “Well, I would hope so.” He rolled his right arm. “We wouldn’t have to do all this if I just had my sitar,” he said bitterly. “That’s about as good as it’s going to get.”

Ienzo touched one of the smooth ivory keys. “Much better.”

“Still a bit flat, but I was afraid to pull much harder, especially on the higher notes. I doubt there’s any spare piano wire hanging around. It’s not exactly a commodity.” Ienzo noted, chastising himself slightly, that he’d never heard Demyx speak so deeply or knowledgeably about a subject and has assumed he’d been unable to. Then again, before now he’d never bothered to listen. Demyx played a chord. “It’s bearable, at least.”

Ienzo nodded. “Shall we get to work, then?”

His expression slipped. “Now? Don’t you want to take a break first?”

“Why? There’s still so much of the day left.”

Demyx rolled his shoulders again. “My arms kinda hurt.”

Ienzo sighed. “I could do with some lunch.”

It ended up being good that they took a break. He changed out of his dusty clothes and saw the room with a fresh eye. In his urgency, he’d left his books in a mess.  “I didn’t realize I left these so… unorganized.”

With a notable hesitation, Demyx sat down on the little old bench. His posture for practice was good, but he looked tense anyway. He played some scales that sounded like they came easily, but there was a furrow in his brow.

“You look uncomfortable,” Ienzo said.

He shook his head. “Just trying to warm up.”

Ienzo turned back to his books. He wasn’t sure what the best way to keep them organized was. Subject? Date? Relevance? Of course he’d brought too  many; he always had. The steadiness of the scales became a sort of background noise that was easy to tune out, at least until he heard Demyx play a sour note. Ienzo saw him flex his injured hand. He’d attributed their early break to laziness, but honestly Demyx was likely in pain. “Is your wound bothering you?” Ienzo asked. He began to wonder how often people had assumed the worst of Demyx, only to have the behavior come from a perfectly logical place. Moreover, why had he let people drag him down like that?

“Just a bit stiff,” he said, with an odd smile. He kept playing scales, gradually letting them vary in rhythm and complexity, while Ienzo continued to get himself organized. Once he was happy enough, he sat in a chair close enough so that he could also see the score.

It was so dense and complex; honestly it looked to Ienzo more like a drawing than a song. At least the runes were legible, but that didn’t help Demyx. Even so, he seemed to sight-read with relative ease, making sense of the chaos and playing a beautiful, melancholic song. While he did made a few mistakes Ienzo noticed, Ienzo would have been more surprised if he hadn’t.

But instead of looking relieved, or at peace or happy, when he got through the first part of the score Demyx pressed his hands between his knees anxiously.

“It’s lovely,” Ienzo commented. “But--rather sad. I wonder what it means.”

“Could just be what was on their mind when they wrote it.”

“Perhaps. We’ll know more when I translate. Keep going. I’ll try to remember the rhythm of the sung phrases.”

For a long time--it was hard to tell how long exactly, but the sunlight in the room was starting to darken--Demyx kept pressing forward. It was all woefully complicated. Looking at the notes made Ienzo dizzy. Instead he watched Demyx’s hands work across the keyboard, surely and competently. He was utterly, completely, and almost painfully focused as they passed from movement to movement, only pausing ever so slightly to turn the page. This was talent, raw and simple, and Ienzo felt a wave of guilt when he thought of how they’d all belittled Demyx for his obsession with his sitar.

This guilt broke his own concentration, and he noticed the bandage on Demyx’s hand was no longer clean and white, but soaked through with blood. He grabbed his shoulder. “Stop. Your hand.”

Demyx looked down, startled. The keys were faintly bloody. Ienzo grabbed one of the cleaning rags and tied it over the first bandage. Demyx did not seem concerned about his hand; he was more worried about the blood on the piano. He started wiping at it with another rag, discordant clangsreplacing the previous melodies.

“Leave it. You probably need stitches,” Ienzo said.

“It’ll get stained if I don’t,” Demyx said. A sharp, anxious edge crept into his voice.

“That’s all right.” It was a very old piano. That would be the least of the damage. “I’m going to get a first aid kit. Put pressure on it. About that much.” He squeezed Demyx’s right hand to demonstrate. He could feel the faint scratch of the thick calluses against his own soft, unweathered hands. He set off. He’d never seen Demyx’s hands without gloves, had never paid much attention to them before. In a way they were quite graceful when not hidden behind the Organization’s uniform.

Why was he thinking about this?

He found the first aid kit in its usual place, still well-stocked with sutures. Ienzo washed his hands meticulously, twice, and returned quickly. He crouched down and took the injured hand.  “Bleeding seems to have stopped. I suppose i must have misjudged how deeply the wound ran the other night.”

“Even did too,” Demyx said weakly.

“That’s odd,” Ienzo said. “I usually trust his judgement with these things.” He unwrapped the bandages and saw why. The wound was narrow but ran deeply. He cleaned it gently, but Demyx still hissed in pain. Then he prepared the sutures. “I��m sorry, this will hurt. But it won’t heal correctly otherwise.”

The needle had barely pierced the skin before he was cringing away.

“Steady,” Ienzo said. He tried to move as quickly and lightly as possible, but even so it took nine stitches to close the wound. The irony of this was not missed by Ienzo, and while he did not believe in luck, he considered adding a tenth. He changed the bandages out for clean ones. “Nine stitches. Rather auspicious.”

He wiped at his eyes. “It fucking kills.”

“I can’t see how it would be… pleasant. Nonetheless, I think you should let your wound heal before we continue.” He sat down next to Demyx. “Of course, I should like to do some translation work. If it’s all the same to you, I can translate, and you can rest. For today… I think this is enough.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” More than anything, he looked exhausted, and he cradled his injured hand.

Did his anxiety keep him awake as well? Ienzo nearly asked. Instead, he said, “I am curious, though. How many instruments can you play? I shouldn’t have assumed your mastery of piano, though you are rather skilled in that regard.”

The question seemed to startle him. He exhaled, clucking his tongue a little. “Well, I mean I don’t really know. Sitar, obviously. Stringed instruments tend to come really naturally to me. I don’t have much experience with brass or woodwind, but if I looked at it for a little while, I could probably pick it up. It just seems to make sense to me. You know?”

How Ienzo envied that skill. Nothing, not one little thing, had ever come so easily to him. Except perhaps overthinking. “Fascinating. So you’ve no formal training?”

He shrugged. “Not that I can remember. I mean, some one must have taught me how to read and write music.”

Ienzo blinked. “What else can’t you remember?”

Demyx whistled, a low, strange sound. “Well, I mean, a lot, really. My past is… kind of blurry.”

That made no sense. If he were whole now, he should have all his memories. Ienzo wondered if there was a reason why Demyx hadn’t revealed his true name. “That’s… peculiar. Did you remember your past as a Nobody? The first time you were one, anyway.”

He twitched a little, and a hand went up to his head as if in pain.

“Demyx? Are you alright?”

Demyx breathed shakily and audibly. His eyes were glassy, vacant; without warning, he fell forward in a dead faint.

“Oh, goodness,” Ienzo said. He crouched down next to him and shook him, but he didn’t wake. He reached back into the first aid kit, looking for smelling salts of something of that ilk, but Even usually considered such medicine old-fashioned and didn’t stock it. Ienzo took Demyx’s pulse, noting it was uncomfortably high.

What on earth? Was this some sort of reaction to his questions? Why? Had Xehanort deliberately withheld the vessel’s memory from them?

He tried to lift Demyx’s body, but of course he was too weak. He sighed, more frustrated with himself than anything. He picked up his gummiphone. “Even? I need your help.”

It took both of them, but they were able to get Demyx into bed. Through all of this he didn’t stir in the slightest. Even took some blood, hurried out to run some quick tests, and came back some half hour later. In the meantime Ienzo waited nearby, afraid to stray too far lest something even worse happen. Despite himself, he was worried. It was hard not to feel at fault somehow.

“Well, I’ve check his blood count,” Even said wearily. “Everything is normal but the sugar and iron were low. I’m sure that explains the fainting. What you consider a trigger is no doubt a coincidence.”

Ienzo shook his head. “I’m not so sure. He had mentioned something about lacking memory. Why is it that when I tried to prod, he had this reaction? Roxas was similarly knocked unconscious when he strayed to Castle Oblivion.”

Even wrinkled his nose. “Ienzo, you know as well as I do that Demyx has a bit of a flair for the dramatic. Perhaps he just wanted some attention. Your worry is misplaced.”

He didn’t care for Even’s callous tone. But at the same time, he was the only person who had become human the same way Demyx did. “...Even, do you have all your memories?”

“Of course I do! I think I would know if that were not the case.”

This did not make things any clearer. “How odd. How odd…”

“His heart is not yet complete. That may have something to do with it.”

“I’m going to take a look at my notes regardless.” He’d never heard of such a thing. Was it perhaps a trauma-induced amnesia?

“Still, this brings up the matter of our diet. I had suspected it is somewhat lacking, too high in carbs. Perhaps we can go down to the marketplace and find something more nutritious…”

Ienzo found it strange that, despite having studied memories and hearts for the majority of his career, this was what he was hyperfixated on. “Aren’t you at least a little curious?” he asked in a low voice.

“I am. But at the same time, it’s still so early on. We know now that this recompletion process favors entropy. If we woke with our physical wounds, wouldn’t it make sense to wake up with psychological ones as well?”

“I… suppose.” He sighed.

“He will recover,” Even said, with just the slightest bit of warmth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two bottles. “This is just some medication for him. Iron and a painkiller for that hand. I should have noticed how bad it was.”

“I’ll bring it to him. Thank you, Even.”

“I’m the only one here with a doctorate in medicine. My burden to bear.” He actually smiled a little, and set off back to his studies.

Ienzo got some water for the pills. He himself was feeling dizzy and achy, and desperately tired. The last thing he needed was to fall ill. When he went back to Demyx’s room, Ienzo found that he was awake. “Oh good, you’re conscious. How are you feeling?”

Demyx was a touch less pale, but didn’t look good. “...Weird,” he said. “I don’t know why that happened.”

“You’re a tad anemic. And your blood sugar was low.” He set down the pills and water. “Even recommended you take some supplements. And I brought some mild painkillers for your hand. No doubt it’s several weeks’ of malnutrition catching up to you. I’m sure it was hard to come by good food when you were hiding.”

He took the pills and water. Ienzo considered leaving, to get some rest of his own, but then he caught sight of the plant on the window. The soft, silver-blue-purple evoked something deep and startling within him. “That’s a lovely illumina plant. Where did you get that?” Pinpricks of memory, vague and faint--his mother, seeming impossibly tall, gently pruning the buds by the light of the full moon.

“Oh. Someone at the marketplace gave it to me. Aerith, from the restoration committee.”

Of course. Aerith was one of the few people in Radiant Garden who actually knew all of the local blooms. She used quite a lot of them in her healing. “Ah, yes. That makes sense. They’re a good group of people. I’ve been keeping in touch with them about Sora.” Demyx must not have known about its properties; in direct sunlight, the plant was slowly dying. “You needn’t leave this in direct sunlight, you know. They grow at night.”

“Did you study botany, too?” Demyx asked.

Another fuzzy memory of his mother, surrounded by plants in her study. ““Not quite. A specialty of my parents’.” He took the plant off the windowsill. At least it seemed well-cared for, other than the sunlight. “Can I see your stitches? I want to make sure you’re healing properly.” The wound had stopped bleeding, and looked to be healing well. He could feel again the warmth of Demyx’s skin like his own had memory. Ienzo didn’t understand. Had he been touched so rarely that it felt odd? Was that what this was?

“Thanks. I’m sorry about earlier.”

He shook his head. “That’s quite alright. I forget that you’re still adjusting. You should use the rest of the day to get some rest. I’m going to go and see what translation work I can get done while there’s still good light. Aeleus is making stew. I’m sure he’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

So Ienzo returned to the study room alone. He settled down with some tea and the papers and bent to study the first line of runes. It was not going to be as straightforward as he thought. The composer was using odd colloquialisms. After an hour or so, he’d barely gotten through one line, and even that was a guess.

Dawn town is a fucking mess. Or maybe they meant Dawn, town? So Dawn, and town is a fucking mess. Unfortunately, the swear was the only part he was really sure of.

With a splitting headache and just his memory to rely on, the melancholic music made the space seem even lonelier. The unbidden thoughts of his mother didn’t help. He’d been incredibly young when they’d passed--five or so--and his memories were blurry and ill-formed.

Ienzo realized for the first time how brief his time at the castle had been as a human. Only three years. In his mind it felt like ages and ages. He’d learned so much, and when he was a mere seven years old the experiments had kicked into high gear. Xehanort had spent more time with him, encouraging him with ideas until he had toddled over to Ansem, tugged the hem of his coat, and asked, “Master, what makes a heart?” And Ansem had said, “why, Ienzo, we’ve been wondering the same thing, what do you think?” And he had said, “People who bond.”

That had given them enough fuel and questions for the test subjects.

Ienzo wouldn’t make it as far as the washroom. He vomited in the kitchen sink. His head ached so badly he thought he might faint as well. Instead of cleaning up his mess, he had to sit down for several moments.

Ansem came into the kitchen, likely to gather him for dinner. “Ienzo, is everything all right? Are you ill?”

“I think so, Master.” To his horror, his eyes were watering. The panic was hot and sticky in his breast. Thin, sharp memories stabbed him. The others, telling him lies, or what they thought was the truth-- Ansem’s gone mad, he’s been experimenting on children . He remembered the faces of the people they’d questioned, remembered questioning them himself, remembered the screams when they felt their bonds being ripped apart--

He jumped up and was sick in the sink a second time. Ansem rubbed his back and he nearly recoiled from the touch.

“You must get to bed,” he said softly.

The tears were hot and salty on his face. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and started to run water over his mess. Xehanort had lied, had turned them all against one another for his own purposes, made them think that casting their hearts off was a choice. You will be free of all fear, of all guilt.

“I shall take care of it. Let us go.” He guided Ienzo back to his room and waited until he had lay down. “First Demyx, now you. We might all catch it.” He touched Ienzo’s forehead. “You don’t have a temperature. Maybe you ate something poorly?”

He couldn’t find the strength to say it wasn’t an illness.

“I’ll get you some ginger tea. That’ll settle your stomach.”

He shouldn’t feel guilty that Ansem was taking care of him. He pulled the covers tightly around him.

“My dear boy. Go to sleep, alright?”

In the silence and stillness of the room, he curled around himself. He tried to hold back the tides of emotion and memory, but they battered him again and again and he couldn’t help but cry, weakly and pathetically, until his abdominal muscles ached.

He didn’t want to be Ienzo. He didn’t want to be anybody.