#so if I seem strange. please understand. im two bad days away from turning inside out

[bigfatbreak]

everything happens so much

[alygatorwrites]

can I request a lil something? during the end of the manga or after the timeskip if you haven't read it yet, reiner still has feelings for historia and reader has one-sided feelings for him.

pieck gives reiner a small hint, saying he's wasting time while there's someone close to him that cares for him and points to you. he doesn't understand at first and maybe is conflicted about his feelings for you because of historia. reader is cool about it as she doesn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings.

a rollercoaster of emotions later, maybe there is a happy ending tho? i am curious to see what you can come up with 😭😭 i have dreaming of this scenario before bed and i can't help but get jealous of his crush on historia abjdsndks maybe you can help reiner reciprocate reader-chan's feelings or not

thank u so much aly 💖🥺

reciprocation

pairing: reiner braun x reader

a/n: OMG yesss! honestly, i was kinda annoyed at how reiner still had a crush on historia. i know that isayama wanted to show how everything went back to normal, but i was hoping that reiner would have a bigger role in the allied nations instead of being "dumbed down" to having an obsession with her. MAYBE THATS JUST THE JEALOUSY SPEAKING LMAO 😭 i was hoping this would be longer, although school has been killing me so im really sorry!! i hope its okay 💗💕 thank you honey!

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as reiner is handed historia’s letter, you fold your hands on the table and watch him without a word. when he reads the lines and smells the parchment - jean saying something snarky afterward - you say nothing.

you want reiner to be happy: you want to see him at ease like this more, face soft as the leaf of the page flits from his pinched fingers.

and so you let the man speak about historia like she’s a damn goddess, gushing over her handwriting, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. ignore your jealousy. your feelings.

the truth is, you’re in love with reiner.

you can’t even remember how it happened, but you can remember the first time you looked into those hazel eyes, and how you knew that they were going to stick with you for eternity.

you’ve come to accept his crush on the queen, though. reciprocation was never an option in your mind.

when jean begins to chew reiner out for lusting after a married woman, and reiner says something about jean being a horse, pieck’s gaze lands on you. “you’re rather quiet,” she says softly, resting her head on her palm.

you shrug, turning away from her. “i’m just tired.”

pieck catches your chin between her lithe fingers, and turns you to face her with a tiny smile. the young woman is very perceptive, and you’ve known her long enough. 

that’s when you notice the twinkle in her eye. she’s planning something.

pieck releases your jaw then, sitting up in her chair. “you’re wasting your time, reiner,” she says suddenly. “there’s already someone you know who cares for you.”

you pretend to not hear pieck - and definitely pretend you don’t see her faintly point at you through your peripheral. the movement of her fingers is barely there, but you catch it.

damn you, pieck.

the way you’re now pinned underneath armin, jean, connie, and reiner’s stares makes your stomach tie itself into knots with bubbling reluctance. shit, this is awkward. you want to run away.

still, you peer over to study reiner’s reaction. he looks confused at first, the contours of his face unreadable. you swear you see connie facepalm at the man’s cluelessness.

then reiner’s expression slowly changes: his eyes widen in awe, lips parting slightly, and brows knitting together. he seems genuinely surprised - and conflicted.

conflicted? why?

there’s no time to explain yourself though, because the door creaks open and annie steps in. her words fall on your deaf ears, and when everyone stands up to leave, you’re the first one out of the room. work beckons you as always.

two days pass.

you’ve been busy filling out tons of paperwork pertaining to the allied nations, so when you’re finally given a day off, you take it with open arms. 

freedom at last.

you lean against a bench outside of headquarters, enjoying the salty breeze that flutters along your skin. it’s dusk, the sky covered in a gradient of neon colors as the sun dips below the horizon.

you haven’t seen reiner since that day in the conference room. you wonder how he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s holding up -

“hey.”

speak of the devil. you glance over your shoulder toward the voice, low and familiar.

reiner approaches you, clad in his uniform: the suit hugs his large frame perfectly, showing every flex of his muscles, and his blonde hair is neatly parted. the black tie looped around his neck just pulls it all together. it has you weak at the knees every. single. time.

“hey,” you answer, giving reiner a smile as he stops beside you.

and that’s when your heart lurches at the sight of him.

the sunset highlights reiner’s profile in gold, a heavenly shine that settles upon his blonde lashes and the flawless slope of his nose. the flecks in his irises sparkle – a beautiful mixture of soft browns and muted greens. the only thing you can do right now is admire the man. 

his words are what breaks you out of your daydream.

“work has been crazy lately, huh?” reiner says, focused on the candy-floss clouds and their fluffy shapes.

“well - yeah, pretty much. i don’t want to look at a pen or a piece of paper ever again.”

“that bad?”

“you have no idea. i almost regret marley and paradis reconciling.”

reiner chuckles gently at the joke, but it’s strained. his forehead remains creased, and he’s not really smiling. the emotion there is more … doubtful. it’s like he’s having some sort of inner conflict.

hopefully reiner’s not acting cautious because of the other day. you know he doesn’t return your feelings, and that’s totally okay. you’re happy enough being with him like this. “i’m not mad or anything, y’know.”

reiner stiffens at that. there’s a white flash of teeth when he chews on his lower lip. “i know.”

“good,” you hum, breathing out a sigh of relief. your core twists with envy when you force a grin. bite it back. tease him like always. “so about historia … ”

reiner’s eyes go wide almost comically, and you hear the breath in his lungs leave his firm chest in one exhale. there’s a light blush staining his cheeks now. it’s funny; he’s so goddamn big, yet he’s such a teddy bear.

“y-yeah,” reiner mutters. you observe the way his brows pinch together as he awkwardly shifts in place. it takes a while before the man composes himself again, which is strange.

is he scared or something? what the hell?

“pieck,” reiner hesitates for a moment. the golden strands of his hair ruffle in the wind and he appears ... well, lost. “was she being serious?”

the question is a shocker - jeez, he could have at least let you prepare yourself. a firm ‘no’ almost slips out, but you’ve never been much of a liar. not to reiner, anyway. crossing your arms against your chest, you inhale sharply and nod. avoid staring at him face-to-face. “yep.”

“ … why me?”

reiner says the words with a mixture of spite and anguish, a casual and rumbling voice. you immediately turn your head, frowning. “what?”

“i’ve done so many horrible things.” reiner exhales heavily and stares down at his hands; perhaps he’s imagining all the blood they’ve been stained with. “i betrayed everyone. i killed innocent people - all because i was selfish.”

it’s no surprise that reiner is broken after everything he’s been through, but it pains you to know that he continues to suffer in silence. whatever war is raging inside his ribcage tears him apart piece by piece, and you wish you could carry the burden. 

there’s probably nothing you can say to convince reiner that he was just a kid, a victim of circumstance. there’s nothing that can persuade him to see himself the way you do.

so you decide to tell reiner why you love him. 

you explain the amount of admiration you hold for him. tell him that you love the way he just wants to be someone his comrades can lean on, like a big brother. tell him that you think he’s the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen and how you think he deserves the world.

the way you spill your guts out snaps every nerve in your body. you don’t say everything you want to – but you tell him enough. a dark flush spreading across your face, you find the courage to look at him.

the world seems to stop on its axis when you find reiner staring right on back. the intensity of his eyes is stunning; they’re lit up with astonishment and affection.

god, the affection. you see it clear as day. maybe one of the greatest regrets in his life is how he forced himself to see you only as a friend.

that’s when he reaches out to you.

reiner retracts his hand twice, unsure, before slowly brushing his fingertips against yours. the touch is so feather-light that you almost can’t feel it. it’s a test - he’s waiting to see if you pull away. you can’t even move if you wanted to, because his fond gaze keeps you rooted to the spot before him. 

when you don’t recoil, reiner finally moves to gently hold your hand; his palm is so much bigger than yours, and your fingers slot together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle’s final piece. 

heart thrumming like a hummingbird has been stuffed into your chest, you’re almost at a loss for words and come to a realization.

this utterly amazing man likes you. always has. 

but reiner shoved away the feelings for one simple reason; you deserved ‘better.’ focusing on the old crush he had on historia was a distraction - an attempt to convince himself to stop thinking about you.

because looking at you everyday and not being able to act upon his feelings was too painful.

“is this okay?” reiner asks lowly. there’s a slight pinkness to his cheeks, the color of a selfless love.

by some miracle, you manage to nod dumbly. “yeah, of course. it’s fine.” it’s amazing is what you actually want to say.  

reiner squeezes your hand at the reassurance, a sigh escaping from his throat. “i really—”

you wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. reiner just searches your profile for signs of discomfort, and then untwines your hands to bravely swipe a thumb along the length of your cheekbone. 

there’s no time to speak because he’s already leaning down.  

the sensation of reiner’s lips pressing against yours lights your skin ablaze; you can feel the curling flames of passion sear your soul, made even more intense by the warmth of the sunlight on your back.

it’s natural, it’s tender, it’s warm.

reiner’s breath rattles into your mouth when you rest both palms against his solid chest and deepen the kiss. the musky smell of his aftershave and cologne envelops you completely, and fuck, it’s so good. your arms wrap around him, fingers passing over the sharp slopes of his shoulder blades.

as much as you wish the kiss could go on endlessly, there are people gathering outside. avoiding any unwanted attention from nosy strangers is very much appreciated.

you pull away to nuzzle your nose into reiner, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, protective arms moving to loop around your waist. it’s such an intimate caress that it sparks your brain into overdrive.

as the rushing sound of the breeze comes back to your ears through the quiet, you tuck the kiss away to be remembered forever. that’s all there is to it. being close to reiner like this - swaying together like wildflowers in the wind - is more important than anything else.

“i like you,” reiner murmurs.

the suddenness of it makes you laugh, and you can feel the upward quirk of reiner’s lips - a whisper of a peaceful smile and a sweet, sweet promise.

[a-libra-writes]

hello, i am here! Stannis with the prompt: a diary where you can communicate with your soulmate, please. it can be hc's or scenario; however you choose to quench my thirst for him, I will be grateful.

hi molly, thank u for giving me such a treat!!! bc this was my first prompt and it... uh ....................

really got away from me

(LOTS OF ANGST BUT ITLL BE OK I PROMISE MAYBE)

The first thing he felt about it was annoyance. The six year old second son of Lord Baratheon looked down and saw that someone had doodled all over his book. He figured it was Robert, though he'd never seen a quill in his brother's hand unless it was being forced by the maester. He set the leather bound book in front of his mother expectantly, silently waiting for an explanation. When she looked at it and gave him a curious glance, he finally spoke.

"Robert's been drawing in it," Stannis said. He placed it right on top of her embroidery so she'd see. Lady Cassana wasn't bothered, rather, she was curious. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages.

"Did you see him do it, sweetling?"

"No." The lack of evidence didn't deter him - no, this was evidence enough. He didn't understand what his mother was so amused about.

Lady Cassana stopped on one of the pages. She smiled at the messy drawing of what was probably a cat catching a mouse. Under that was a tidy little castle with a series of smiling figures. "I don't think it's your brother, Stannis."

Stannis frowned, ready to argue that fact, but she asked, "Do you know what a soulmate is, sweetling?"

“No.”

“It’s a special person that only you can speak with this way,” She touched the book. “It's a special thing, I did it when I was your age. It’s the will of the gods, my love. You should write something back."

He hesitated. “Do I… have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to. But perhaps say hello, give it a try.” Lady Cassana said. She was smiling broadly now. “Enjoy it while you can.”

"What if they're not literate?"

Maester Cressen looked up from his papers, surprised the usually quiet boy was speaking during lessons. Stannis repeated, “What if my… soul mate doesn’t know their letters? You said the smallfolk don't."

The Maester stood and walked over to the leather book. Two years later, and it still looked in good condition. Stannis took care of this things, especially this. As usual the page was covered in whimsical drawings.

“Have you tried to write to them, my lord?”

“Not yet.” Stannis was furrowing his brow already, wanting his questions answered. “What happens if one soul mate can’t write, but the other can? What if both can't?"

“My lord, there's no need to worry about things that are irrelevant to you.”

“What do the smallfolk do?” Stannis pressed on. “Draw pictures like this? How do they find each other? How do they know what the other person looks like?"

Maester Cressen was already turning back to his papers. “Soulmates don’t always find each other, my lord, nor should they expect to.”

“Why not?”

“Distance, lack of communication, familial duties.” The maester said dismissively. “If you’ll return to your lessons—”

“I finished. What’s the point of soulmates if they can never meet?"

Maester Cressen sighed. There was no escaping this anytime soon, he feared. “It’s the will of the gods, my lord, and a great mystery we maesters have studied for centuries. It’s best not to think much of it, however. Draw or write back in the book, if you wish, but do not spend too much time with it. It’s best not to get expectations of someone you will likely never meet.”

Stannis looked down at the book, startled by a new drawing already appearing. He couldn’t see them being made, only when they were finished. It was a school of fish, or maybe a flock of birds. Wouldn’t it be simple to ask where this person lived, and go see them? What was the point of all this if he was just meant to ignore it? He wanted to ignore it, but this mysterious person kept drawing all over his notes and it was distracting.

“Mother said it’s 'the will of the gods', too. Does that mean it’s bad to ignore it?”

The maester stood up and closed the leather book. He replaced it with a chart of various colorful coat of arms and a map. “I daresay it’s time to move on to the next lesson."

It took him a few days, but the lordling decided to write in the book. Stannis wasn't much of an artist, so Hello seemed like a good start. He was relieved when there was a simple ‘hello!’ written back within a few minutes, and later, a scribbly flower with a long stalk underneath. Seeing the words form on their own so quickly, and in response to him, unnerved Stannis. He closed the book and tried not to think about it the rest of the day.

He checked a week later, where more drawings were present, with more words: whats your nam?

He wrote back, Name has an 'e'.

And before his eyes, a minute later, there was a name… and a house, and a title. Caspian.

She was a highborn lady? Stannis looked at the page, not sure what to think about it. It’d be alright to write to a lady, wouldn’t it? Maester Cressen was the one worried about this soulmate business. Perhaps it was because a lord and peasant couldn’t be together? Stannis knew that rule already. He knew the decorum and niceties his parents rehearsed him through, even at his young age. He walked to the library to find a map, and in the time he finally located it and rolled it out, there was more on the page.

A drawing of something weird and arrow-shaped. this is our sigil. its a manta ray.

Stannis had never seen one, but he had a sense that wasn’t what they looked like. He tried looking through the map, but words kept appearing.

whats your nam where are you from? ?? are you a boy or girl do you like horses ? I like swiming and horses! im good at it

He considered closing the book again, rolling up the map, going back to whatever he was doing before. If there was no point, then why bother with this? ... Then again, he’d have to go back to the training yard, and Robert was there swinging around a huge wooden sword.

Stannis frowned, deciding this was the less annoying (and painful) activity for now. He found an ink pot and quill, held it tightly and wrote in a fine penmanship—

My name is Stannis Baratheon.

The last part smudged, and it didn’t look exactly how his father signed it, but it was his best. The response wasn’t immediate, and he quickly saw why. A drawing of a stag appeared on the paper before the words did.

Its good to meat you! lets be friends

Friends? Friends. He thought about it. Stannis didn’t have friends, just brothers. He didn’t think he needed any. This didn’t have to be so bad, though, he could try. If it was too tiresome, or too... strange, he could stop. Maester Cressen wanted him to stop, anyhow, and his mother said he didn't have to.

It’s spelled ‘meet’. We can be friends.

Lady Cassana patted his mess of black hair, and Stannis didn’t flinch away this time. Instead, he asked, “Were you and father soulmates?”

“No,” She answered honestly. She was always honest, and he liked that. His father joked too much. “Do you remember what I told you about duty? Sometimes we have to set aside our hearts to best serve our realm. Sometimes we have to set aside this.”

She gave the leather book back to him. Maester Cressen had taken it, and he was determined to accept the punishment, but it bothered him more than he wanted to say. He was grateful his mother returned it, though he was struggling to meet her eyes. His ears were still red from embarrassment, but she wasn’t upset, or teasing, or scolding.

“It hurt me to set my own down, but I knew it wasn’t meant to be. Your father had one that he never wrote to. The idea of having it and setting it aside was too much for him. And yet, we love each other very much, and we love our sons.” Lady Cassana stopped touching his hair when he finally squirmed away. Stannis ran his fingers along the leather spine and the uneven parchment bound inside the book.

When he took a long time to answer, she spoke softly. “It’s your decision, Stannis.”

That night, he wrote in the book, asking what she’d do when they grew up. When she'd stop writing. The response was instant. There was a drawing of a sad girl next to her words.

your my friend! i like writing to you. do you want to stop?

I don’t. Stannis decided, and that was it.

The talks still came, though. It happened before, several times, and here it was again. It didn’t matter that he stopped bringing the book to his lessons, or that he only wrote in the privacy of his room. Maester Cressen always seemed to know.

“It’s for your own good that you begin to set it aside, Stannis,” The old man said. He always seemed old, but when he was scolding it was especially so.

Stannis wasn’t one to talk back, but he still struggled to hide his scowl. This wasn’t the first time the maester made him set his jaw and tense it up. It wasn’t his business. She never discouraged it, so he didn’t understand why Maester Cressen had to.

“It’s not inappropriate,” He said. “She’s a lady. I never write improperly, it's like sending letters."

“Sending a strange lady letters is inappropriate,” The Maester sighed. “Especially without the knowledge of her family. What would they say?"

“She could tell them at anytime."

“Do you tell your lord father and lady mother all that you write, then?”

Stannis gritted his teeth and turned away. At ten and three, Stannis could already see over the old man’s head, and he didn't feel like a child, so he didn't appreciate being talked to like one. “You don’t speak to Robert about these matters.”

“Robert is at the Eyrie, no doubt being told the same by Lord Arryn. Stannis, do you understand why I say these things? Do you understand the trouble it could cause you, and worse, her?”

Maester Cressen often referred to ‘her’, or the girl, even if she was just as grown as Stannis. He didn't ask her identity, and Stannis didn't give it. He hated having to hear this conversation again. Of all the trouble Robert was already causing in the Eyrie — he saw those letters, it was his duty to attend to them while his parents were at sea — Stannis felt like his own actions were hardly important. There would be weeks where he couldn’t write to her at all, or she was busy as well. If anyone tried to read what they wrote, gods forbid, it was mostly idle talk and drawings.

Lots and lots of drawings, she still had that habit. She was getting very good at them. Stannis brought his mind back to the present. “I understand.” He said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t actually intend to stop.

Case in point, he pulled out the worn leather book that evening. It was the second, or maybe the third one. If she didn’t draw so much they’d have more room, but sometimes Stannis wrote a lot, too. She made it easy to do that. It was alright if she didn’t answer right away, or if at all. It was good to just write it.

He frowned as he moved to the most recent page. It was a short, curt sentences, which wasn’t like her. There were no pictures.

My cousin died this morning. We were riding together, and she fell from her horse. I couldn’t help her. No one blames me, but I feel terrible. I’ve been crying all day. I’m going to the Godswood tonight to pray for forgiveness. I might be quiet. I'm sorry.

‘I might be quiet’. ‘I might not write tonight.’ ‘I’ll write to you tomorrow’. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I can’. Those were phrases the two of them were used to. It was expectant. They may not write every day, or every week, but eventually they will.

Take the time you need. I’ll be here for you.

It made his chest hurt to write that, but he knew it was the right thing. It’s what she would always say to him, and without fail, he’d eventually come around and tell her. She was the only one he really told… anything. He wondered if the same was true for her. She mentioned visiting ladies now and again, a knight’s daughter she played with, and… this cousin.

He kept the book beside him the rest of the evening, knowing she likely wouldn’t respond. By the time she did, the earlier conversation with the maester had left his mind.

The longest they’d gone without writing was during the following year. It took months before he could pick the book up again, even look at it. It was months using all the willpower he had to get out of bed and carry on. There was Renly to look after, and Storm’s End to attend to, and the duties that Robert neglected when he returned to the Eyrie. He should have stayed, but he didn’t. So Stannis took care of it. He did what was right.

When he was finally able to pick up the book, when the choking pain keeping him up at night had dulled to just a constant ache that allowed sleep now and again, he hesitated.

The latest page was inquiries of how he was, where he was. There was a variety of pictures, black and some colors she’d managed to get ahold of. Her manta rays looked like proper rays, and so did the stags she had become so fond of. She drew some ships she’d seen in the harbor, a cat that liked to hide away in her bedroom. Then the pictures stopped.

My father told me what happened. Stannis, I’m here. You can write to me, whenever you can. I’ll always be here.

It hurt again. He closed the book, listened to the fire flickering loudly in the hearth in his room. It was becoming stuffy, but he didn’t want to open a window. He could hear the waves and the crashes against the rock from his window, and that would lead to the sounds of broken wood and screams in his sleep.

He moved closer to the fire, away from those sounds. Flipping through the old book’s pages, looking at the art and some of the sillier things she wrote. Apparently when he’d make her laugh, she’d screw up some letters. She told him as much. When he corrected any spelling, she liked to make the same mistake and circle it. She liked to draw little figures that were supposed to be them, but it was awful on purpose, and they were usually doing something ridiculous like riding a dragon.

Looking back on those gave him the strength to flip to the newest page. He stared at it, wondering if he should stop. He was acting Lord of Storm’s End. Wasn’t his duty even more important than this, and wasn’t her reputation in danger? ‘Willed by the gods’, they said, but he no longer believed in those. What gods would smash his parents and their great ship against the rocks of their own castle? The same stupid gods that would create this... this connection in a world where it would inevitably be severed.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain shoot up across his jaw and straight to his head, where a headache would start. The fire was right there. It would be easy to …

His hands moved on their own. The words were sloppy and left heavy ink blotches on the paper. I’m here.

I am too. I missed you.

The response was near instantaneous. Perhaps if she waited, he could’ve done it. He could’ve burned it, if she hadn’t wrote that. Maybe it didn’t matter what she’d say. The sudden longing and loneliness hit him all at once, but it was easy to respond.

I won’t do it again. Being gone for this long.

A pause, a heartbeat, and a tensing of his jaw that made his head ache again. He added in an anxious scrawl, I missed you too.

It was another sleepless night, but for once, it wasn’t because of the nightmares and the crashing waves. The sun came up as he wrote in the margins of the last page, promising to find a new book.

There was modest wooden box he kept them in, hidden under his bed. He was good at hiding it now. No one had bothered mentioning Stannis’ old habit anymore, assuming he’d grown out of it. He’d dated all of them to the best of his knowledge, though he rarely went back to read them. He used to, but that simple act flustered him horribly. They were still in good condition, except for one that had been partially chewed by a hunting hound. The one time he was careless.

The hound was no longer around, and he regretted that. He liked dogs. He liked that one, upset as he was when she chewed the diary years ago. She was still a good, loyal dog. He had to butcher her with the rest.

Stannis tried to remember when they ate the dogs. Thinking was a slow, laborious process now. He had to sit down to do it, and getting up was even worse. He stayed standing as long as possible, afraid of what would happen if he stopped. He couldn’t stop, not while his men needed him, and Renly, and Robert.

He moved slowly. It was hard to tell if it was to conserve energy or if he simply had no energy left. Stannis carefully unwrapped the small leather strap that kept the diary bound and closed. His shaking hands struggled to grasp the paper and turn the pages, but he managed. It was the writing that was the hardest. At least there was plenty of paper and ink, only because no one could eat it.

When he looked at the page again, the lighting was different. The candle was lower than before. He’d dropped his quill on the floor — no, he was on the floor, leaning against the cool stone. Stannis didn’t remember falling. He wasn’t sure if he passed out, or fell asleep. Again he turned to the proper page and picked up the quill. He tried to write before he remembered he needed ink. The ink dragged across the page as he wrote languidly, Are you there

The question mark was more of an ugly splotch that spread across the paper.

Yes, always.

Her family supported the rebellion, being sworn to Eddard Stark, and outraged at what the Mad King had done to his father and brother. Stannis told himself it made writing easier, not that he’d ever give her any information that could endanger her. Early on, they didn’t speak of it. Especially now, he couldn’t. He couldn’t…

He couldn’t… think. Stannis struggled for words. He mentioned what day it was, how many men he had left. A log that helped keep him grounded, something he hated to subject her to, but he needed the clarity. Sometimes she corrected him on the day, and that startled him. As he finished his short report, his hand trembled, and he dropped the quill again. Stannis exhaled, forcing the air through his lungs, then struggled to breath in again.

Not for the first time, he wondered if this was dying.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he looked at the page again. She wrote a lot, and he couldn’t remember when it was there.

When you make it through this disgusting siege — and you will make it, Stannis — I’ll be there. I swear it, I’ll sail down to Storm’s End with my family’s ships. I don’t care anymore. I want to be there.

She’d said as much before, when this started. Stannis discouraged her. He didn’t have the strength for that anymore. Instead, he fought to keep his eyes open, fought to think about it, difficult as thinking was. Thinking of their meeting used to be a surefire way of a day full of anxious thoughts, but now it was… grounding. He couldn’t see the end of the rebellion, or the end of this siege. He just had to endure it. That’s what Robert said: Endure it, brother. Hold it for me.

But he could see her, in his thoughts. He could try. Some years ago, she asked what he looked like, and he responded as such: Blue eyes, black hair, like his father and brothers. Asking the same of her felt… strange. She didn’t answer right away, so he panicked. He said she didn’t have to do such a thing. It was inappropriate. She told him to wait, which he thought was odd.

Several hours later, she took up nearly a whole page with a ‘messy’ self-portrait: her words, not his. It was only a bust, but it still transfixed him. It was clear from the drawing she had looked in a mirror, and it was messy, and it was surrounded by words describing her hair color and her favorite dress and her eyes. Stannis couldn’t look at the page for days after that. He’d break out in a sweat just thinking about it.

It was comforting to think about the old picture now. Maybe 'comforting' wasn’t the right word, but she was the one who was good with words, and pictures, and little fantasies like this. She liked to write about what they could do if they met.

Maybe he took too long to respond again. She had written more. We’ll meet and you’ll show me the drum walls around Storm’s End. You promised. I’ll bring my best paintings, I made one for you. I don’t care if it’s allowed or not, it’s a gift. I want to see you so badly it hurts.

Stannis touched the letters. He was startled by how his pale hands seemed to blend into the parchment. He didn’t recognize the knuckles sticking out. He wondered what she sounded like, and how she laughed. He didn’t think he could manage it now. Stannis glanced around for the quill, dipped it into ink with a great deal of effort, and slowly slid it across the paper. He stopped abruptly, ruining the words.

You’re the strongest, most noble man I know. You will make it through this and the rebellion will end, and I’ll be with you. I swear it before the old gods and new.

The ink seeped into the paper, the quill trembled in his hand as he tried to hold it properly. He was dying, he decided. Only dying men ate disgusting leather they tried to boil into water and infected rats. Even the latter was becoming scarce. He scrawled a response, struggling to pull the words together.

I miss you.

I miss you too, Stannis.

[tigerdrop]

so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go

i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack

anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath

Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.

"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.

Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else.  In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.

> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.

> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.

> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")

> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.

> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.

> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"

> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.

Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."

He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.

He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.

"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."

Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.

> Food? Nap? Bath?

> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"

> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.

> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).

> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.

> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.

> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."

He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"

> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.

> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"

Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"

What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--

No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"

He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.

> Benrey blinks.

> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.

> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.

> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.

> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.

> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.

> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.

> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.

Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.

He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.

Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.

"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"

> "Huh?"

> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?

> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?

> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.

> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."

"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"

Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.

...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.

> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.

> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.

> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.

> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."

> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.

> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished.  A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."

> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.

Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.

Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.

"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.

But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.

Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.

His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.

"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.

> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.

> "Cool."

> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.

> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.

> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.

> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--

> Click.

> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.

> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.

Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--

Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.

Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.

He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.

"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.

> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.

> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.

> Lower back.

> His ass.

> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.

> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...

> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.

> "Cute."

> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.

Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.

Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver.  He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.

It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.

Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.

"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?

After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?" Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.

> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.

> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.

> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.

> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."

Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.

At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.

"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."

Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."

As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.

> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."

> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.

> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--

> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."

> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.

> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."

Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.

That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:

Oh, God.

Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.

It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.

"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.

He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."

There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."

> "Wha?"

> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.

> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"

> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--

> Wait.

> "Privacy?"

> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.

> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"

> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.

> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."

Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.

Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.

"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.

The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.

As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.

Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.

> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.

> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.

> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.

> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.

> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.

> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--

> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...

> And...

> "Cute."

> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.

> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.

"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.

Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.

Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.

"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."

> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.

> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.

> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.

> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--

> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.

> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?

> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.

> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."

> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.

> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."

> The words come out before he can stop them.

> Goddammit.

Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.

Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.

The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.

The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)

"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."

> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.

> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.

> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.

> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.

> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."

> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.

> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."

> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.

A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.

In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".

Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.

Cute. Fun size.

"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.

This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...

Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.

Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.

"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."

> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.

> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.

> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.

> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"

> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.

> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.

> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.

> He is not a fan.

"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.

The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.

Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.

He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.

> Oh. Oh.

> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.

> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.

> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.

> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--

> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."

> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--

> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."

> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--

> "Uh."

> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.

> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."

Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.

And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.

Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.

"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.

He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.

Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.

"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."

> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.

> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."

> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...

> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.

> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.

> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.

> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."

> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--

> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!

> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."

> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?

> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.

> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."

Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.

Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.

So why did he stop himself?

When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.

Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.

That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.

Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.

Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.

That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.

It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."

> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.

> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.

> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

> Bathing Gordon.

> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."

> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.

> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.

> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."

> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.

> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...

> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--

> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"

Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.

Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"

After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."

> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.

> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.

> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.

> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.

> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.

> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.

> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.

> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.

> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.

"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.

It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.

That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.

Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.

Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.

After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."

And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.

> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.

> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...

> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.

> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.

> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.

> "Holy shit."

Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."

He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.

Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...

Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)

In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.

He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.

"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.

> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.

> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.

> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.

> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."

> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.

> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"

> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.

> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.

> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."

Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.

On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...

He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.

And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.

But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.

And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.

And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.

He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.

So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,

"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."

> Wait. Was that...?

> Was that admission?

> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.

> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.

> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"

> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.

> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."

> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.

> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."

> A pause.

> "Laugh, please."

Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.

Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.

Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.

"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"

> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.

> Their own secret language of want.

> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.

> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.

> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."

A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.

It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".

"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"

He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.

At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.

"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"

> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.

> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.

> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."

> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.

> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?

> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.

> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"

Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.

"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"

He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--

And--

Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.

"You know," he finishes weakly.

> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"

> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.

> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--

> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.

> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.

> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."

He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.

Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.

Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.

"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.

God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.

Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.

Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!

Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"

As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.

> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...

> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?

> Yeah. He feels wanted.

> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.

> Their game.

> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."

> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.

> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.

> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."

> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.

> His mouth snaps shut.

> Awkward.

Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."

Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.

Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.

But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."

> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."

> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.

> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...

> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."

> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.

> He sounds unconvincing.

> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."

Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.

"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.

The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.

But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.

But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.

> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.

> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.

> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"

> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.

> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.

> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.

> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."

Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.

"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"

> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.

> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.

> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.

> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.

> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.

Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.

"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."

When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.

And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.

And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"

And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.

Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.

Fuck.

> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.

> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.

> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."

> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.

> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.

Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.

When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.

"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"

His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.

His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--

He can't--

Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.

"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"

It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.

> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."

> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.

> Benrey likes to play with his food.

> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.

> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.

> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.

> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.

> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.

> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.

"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.

He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.

"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"

Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to.  Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.

Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.

Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"

He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.

> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.

> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"

> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.

> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.

> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.

> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.

> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.

Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.

It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.

Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.

Oh.

He's hard.

Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.

"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"

Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.

And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.

> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.

> "Huh?"

> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.

> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"

> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.

> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"

> A pause, a laugh.

> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."

Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.

"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.

Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)

And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Changkyun

Pairing: Im Changkyun x reader

Genre: lab technician – hospital au / romance / strangers to lovers

Warnings: medical terms, and the word “blood” is used a lot, considering Changkyun’s profession, illness.

Word count: 4417

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

Turning around to the next tray of samples to check, Changkyun stopped for a moment after reading the name on the adjoining paperwork. Working at MonX Hospital as a Laboratory Technician meant he could process samples from the same patients at least twice within his working week. It shouldn’t stand out as anything important to him, yet when he saw your name for the eighth time in the past two weeks, Changkyun found himself a little stunned. There were several other technicians in this department who could have processed your blood work but it seemed to always end up in his batches.

“Everything alright?” his co-worker Bora questioned and Changkyun snapped out of his thoughts, however, his brows remained furrowed.

“Yeah, I’m just getting familiar with this patient’s blood samples.”

Bora grinned. “That sometimes happens. I like to think of it as a sense of fate for a technician to see the same person’s samples during their stay. It’s a pleasure to watch as things improve for the patient through their continued testing.”

As Changkyun waited for the results from the automatic analyser to be transferred to the computer he was monitoring, he didn’t hold the same optimism as Bora did. He had been steadily watching the decline in your numbers over the past two weeks. And when the results appeared, his shoulders dropped.

“There’s an abnormality in these results,” he murmured, and Bora swivelled her chair around so she could see the screen. As a technologist, she was more experienced in looking at results such as these. Still, Changkyun could tell the levels to your iron and blood oxygen count were low.

You would no doubt need a transfusion today.

“Just remember that doing these tests are what will help this patient get the right treatment for a quick recovery.”

Changkyun nodded softly. However, your results bothered him for the rest of the morning and he even spent some time staring at a sample under the microscope just to find exactly where the abnormality was. He was invested for some reason and hoped he could find a way to see your numbers improving each second day instead of dropping.

Resigned, he stepped out for a coffee break in the hospital’s public cafeteria, watching as a patient rested her head against a windowpane. She looked far too pale to be away from her room, though she smiled when the sun danced over her skin.

He couldn’t help himself and sat at the table next to her. “Are you here for the sun?”

“After being locked up in this place for two weeks, I’ve finally found a spot where I can get direct sunlight. It’s too nice a weather lately to be cooped up inside so this is my happy medium.”

“I hate to break it to you but you know you can’t absorb vitamin D through a windowpane, right?”

The patient looked at him with a heavy pout which made him regret speaking the fact out loud. “Really? Is it only if I go outside? I’m not allowed out though…”

“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “I once was stuck inside recovering from a really bad virus and used to sit by the window every day until my father, who is a scientist, told me otherwise.”

Peering at his badge, she nodded. “I guess it’s now a bit of a like father like son moment then. He broke your heart and now you’re breaking mine, Im Changkyun.”

Changkyun cringed and waved a hand in dismissal. “I really didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, I’m teasing you. Are you a doctor?”

“No, I work in the lab.”

“Doing what?”

“Running tests on the samples we receive.”

“Like blood tests?” she asked and Changkyun nodded. She then smiled warmly. “Maybe you’ll have come across mine.”

“Maybe.”

“If you can figure out what’s wrong with me, I’d ask you out on a date, you know.”

Changkyun, having taken a sip from the coffee mug, spluttered it everywhere. “Wh-what?!”

“I’m kidding, of course,” she remarked, looking back outside. “The doctors keep saying that monitoring my blood samples will find the answer to why I’m so sick but all that keeps happening is-”

“Y/N!” a voice called out and Changkyun let go of the mug he was holding, gaping at the patient now being fussed over by a distraught relative, the wheelchair she was sitting in now being wheeled away.

Your wheelchair.

It was you, the person he had been staring at under a microscope all morning long. Well, your blood sample at least. He couldn’t believe that the mystery in the lab had appeared in front of him right now. It was his first time meeting a patient in the flesh like this.

“Wait!” he called out fruitlessly and you turned back, shifting around to grin at him.

“I hope you can find what’s wrong with me, Mr Technician! If you do, I’ll go on a date with you!”

Glancing down at the coffee starting to run off the side of the table and then at your departure, he groaned, reaching out for a stack of napkins to clean up his mess.

Changkyun was hopeful this wouldn’t be the last time he saw you outside of the laboratory.

His daily trips for the rest of the week to the cafeteria didn’t bring you back into his presence. Your samples hadn’t been as regular as before and when you did turn up in his batches on Thursday, he smiled when he saw he had predicted right. Your iron and blood levels had rapidly increased, indicating you had received transfusions of both. You would no doubt be feeling a bit better after receiving the treatment, though he couldn’t be sure since you hadn’t returned to the cafeteria since that day. Had his pointing out about the sun having no effect stopped you? Or was it the relative who acted as if you were too fragile to be around others that had prohibited your return?

It was strange. He had never found himself so interested in another human before like this. You weren’t someone who matched his typical type in women, but Changkyun couldn’t deny you captivated him either.

Was it the added bonus that he had seen what your cells looked like up close? Shuddering with the rather creepy thought, Changkyun tried to forget about you. He knew he couldn’t, though. He was too invested in helping find a reason for your illness, as a professional of course.

“It’s not because of the date offer,” he mumbled to himself, ears growing hot despite his outspoken stance.

Though, he wondered if you actually had meant it since you mentioned it twice.

Another two weeks went by and by that time, your samples were almost back to how they had been before the transfusions. The doctors hadn’t figured out anything, he concluded. And every time he ran the automated analyser or looked at a sample on a slide, Changkyun couldn’t figure what was causing your cells to be abnormal. Even after talking with a pathologist for better understanding, there was little to go on aside from having a type of anaemia. But even the more experienced people couldn’t decide on which type it was.

You were a mystery to everyone.

And strangely, he missed you.

“I know you’ve worked extra today, but reckon you could go pick up some samples for me? Dora fell down a set of stairs an hour ago and is in orthopaedics so can’t collect the samples from wards fifteen and sixteen that we need to test tonight.”

Changkyun nodded at Bora. “I can do that.”

“Good, after you fetch them you can go home.”

“How kind of you to let me go like that,” he cheekily replied and Bora laughed.

“Well, I could make you stay on even longer and-”

“Ten hours is enough!” he chimed, diving to door to the department. “I’ll get the samples and then get out of here.”

“Less talk, more movement, Changkyun!”

He chuckled as he headed to the elevators in the lobby to take up to the floor needed. He thanked the nurse after retrieving the samples from ward sixteen, heading across the foyer to the opposite ward. Whistling softly as he walked to the nurse’s station, Changkyun glanced lazily around the ward, skidding to a stop when he noticed your name on the wall. Blinking rapidly, he went towards the door when a nurse caught his attention.

“Are you here to collect the samples?”

“Uh, yeah,” he distractedly answered, smiling weakly. Tearing his eyes reluctantly from your door, he followed the nurse to her station and waited for the package. Changkyun went to walk off, only retracing his steps back to the nurse. “Is room three allowed visitors?”

“Miss L/N?” she spoke and he nodded. “She has restricted access at the moment due to a family request.”

“Ah, that answers that then,” he murmured and then smiled back at the nurse. Thanking her, he then headed back down the hallway, his feet dragging outside your door. He craned his neck as if that would gain him better access to seeing you again. Your blinds were shut and only a small window in the door allowed him a brief look into your space. Sighing, he began to move again when he spotted you coming back into the wardroom.

You were walking this time, albeit with the help of an IV stand. You grinned. “Well if it isn’t Mr Technician.”

“Changkyun,” he corrected awkwardly and clamped his eyes shut. “I mean, please call me Changkyun.”

“Are we one a first name basis now?” you wondered with an animated smile. “I guess you already know mine. Sorry about the other week. My Aunt is a bit over the top. I’m all the family she has left so me being sick has sent her into a perpetual meltdown.”

“It’s fine, though I did wonder if you went in search of other places around the hospital for vitamin D.”

“Do you know, they’re supplementing it through this bad boy to me,” you mentioned, patting the IV machine. “Along with a multitude of other things.”

“Still no definite answer to what’s going on?” he asked and you gave him a wry smile.

“That would be too easy, now wouldn’t it? Every day they propose something else, and then take it back. I wonder how hard medical school must be if they can’t seem to collectively come up with an answer.”

“I don’t blame you for being frustrated.”

You shrugged and then pointed at him. “What about you? How’re my samples looking?”

“I’m struggling to figure out the abnormally. My whole team has looked at it and have suggested a few things but equally can’t come to a conclusion.”

You giggled. “I feel so exposed. Everyone gets a look at me under a microscope except me.”

“Maybe one day you could too,” Changkyun blurted out without much thought, scrunching his face up in realisation. “Uh, I mean not many people would-”

“Can I? Would I be allowed to?!” you wondered, stepping closer to him with a bright expression. You seemed hopeful and who was he to knock you down for that. Changkyun was nodding before he even realised it.

“Sure. I’ll make sure you can.”

You grinned, patting his arm as you passed him to go towards your room. “Sounds like it’s a date.”

It took a lot of convincing and doing the dirty jobs around the lab for an entire week before Bora agreed to let you look at your own blood sample. Bora gave Changkyun a pointed look. “You’re invested in this case, you know.”

“I know.”

“Did you seek the patient out first or-”

“We met by chance, I swear. I’m not going to go against professional conduct and privacy clauses. Further, if you hadn’t of sent me to go retrieve those samples-”

“Okay, blame me, it’s my fault!” she concluded with a shake of her head, a loose grin spreading out her lips. “You’re lucky I’m a hopeless romantic, Changkyun.”

“Wait, I wasn’t, I’m not…” Flustered with his supervisor’s reaction to his request, he fanned a hand at his face, trying to express that it wasn’t anything like that. Bora didn’t buy it and when Changkyun went to collect you for the scheduled visit, he felt hot under his collar.

Why was his good deed being taken as anything more than that?

However, when he reached your room, he stopped in the doorway, finding you out of your pyjamas and in a floral dress instead. You spun around, carefree.

“What are-- I mean… Woah.”

“Thank you,” you said with a broad smile. “I hoped you’d like it.”

“Why did you get dressed up?” he asked hastily, glancing down at his usual work attire and lab coat.

You giggled. “You look handsome for our date too.”

“Oh, this isn’t a date.”

“Didn’t you offer me to come with you to the lab?”

“Yes, but-”

“And didn’t I agree and say it’s a date?”

He nodded quickly. “You keep joking around with that and-”

“Hospital life is boring, let me enjoy experiences like this, hm?” you pleaded and Changkyun bit at his bottom lip before nodding again, holding out his arm for you to take. You were delighted by his chivalry and swooped in around it, clasping his lower arm gently. And you practically skipped at his side all the way to the lab.

You were gracious during the visit. You complimented his team and made them smile, everyone becoming more comfortable with the idea of a patient in the lab. You asked questions and Bora was in her element answering them for you. You were engrossed by the process of their work and by the time Changkyun took you to the back office where he had set up a microscope for today out of the way from the rest of his team, you were buzzing.

“This is amazing. You do so much here!” you breathed, taking a seat next to him in awe. “I’ll never complain about getting another blood test taken again.”

Changkyun looked at your bruised skin around the underside of an elbow and instinctively reached out to run his fingers over it. “You’ve had so many.”

“Those aren’t even the places they get it from me right now,” you lamented, patting his hand gently all the same. “I’m okay if it means I’m helping you all find whatever it is you can in my samples to help me get better.”

“Speaking of samples, should we look at yours now?” he asked after a visible swallow, reaching forward to the equipment and turning it on. He looked through the ocular lens and fiddled with the machine until he was satisfied with the setup. Changkyun then gestured for you to take a look.

You turned timid as you did so, quietly staring into it.

“This is your most recent sample,” he told you and you didn’t answer. Feeling more confident than you in the situation, Changkyun expertly changed settings of the magnification for you and then took the slide out and replaced it with another. “This is a healthy blood sample. Can you see the difference?”

“Kind of. Can you swap them a couple of times so I can get a better understanding?” you asked quietly and he did that for you, hearing you sigh when you were looking at your own again. “So this is why I’m sick?”

“It indicates you have an abnormal cell structure right now, yeah.”

Lifting your eyes from the lens, you glanced curiously at Changkyun. “Are you allowed to show me the other blood sample like this? I mean, I get seeing mine, but another patient-”

“It’s mine,” he confessed with a short laugh. “So you don’t have to worry about any privacy clause.”

“You drew your own blood just to show me this sample?”

“Well, it made sense to have a second slide. In experiments, we always have a control slide when presenting variables and-”

Your lips cut off his explanation then, pressing softly into his. Before he could truly register that you had kissed him, you pulled away, covering your mouth with a hand.

“I uh, I was touched, that’s all,” you quickly told him, turning away from him to recover. Changkyun cleared his throat noisily and then stood up.

“Is there a reason why you’re not allowed to go outside?”

Frowning at his random question, you nodded. “Too many people are out there.”

“Tomorrow at lunchtime, don’t make plans,” he announced and you eyed him carefully. Changkyun, emboldened with your kiss, smiled warmly at you. “I know where you can get direct sunlight without anyone bothering you.”

Admittedly, it had taken Changkyun all this time to find a place where you could access the sun without technically leaving the hospital grounds or leaning out a window to do so. He hadn’t at first understood why he started searching, ruling it down to his logical side needing to find an answer to the question proposed in his mind. But as he helped you up the final metal stairs to the rooftop, Changkyun knew the reason he had searched for this was because he liked you.

A whole lot.

“Wow,” you breathed at the view when you came to a stop at his side, squinting under the bright midday sun. “It’s beautiful up here.”

“I checked with your doctor and also with some medical studies and its safe for twenty minutes for us to just sit here and soak in the sun,” he said and you grinned, going over to the bench on the rooftop and sat down.

You then removed your cardigan and offered your arms out to the light. “Heavenly.”

“I thought you might like this.”

“I should have kissed you sooner if it would lead to this,” you teased as he sat down beside you. “I also have a regret from yesterday’s visit.”

“You do?”

Nodding, you scooted around and promptly laid your head in his lap, dangling your arms and legs out to the warmth from above. You peeked through an eye at his evident surprise from your move and giggled. “You blocked the sun from that side.”

“Oh, so this is merely strategic?”

“And more comfortable,” you admitted, nestling into his thigh some.

Changkyun smiled. “What was your regret?”

“You’ll think I’m mad.”

“Well, you’re certainly not normal,” he quipped and you whined outlandishly. Chuckling, he found himself brushing your hair away from your face so the sun could reach that too. You stilled, looking up at him.

“I like you.”

“I like you too,” he admitted with a shy smile, your own splitting your lips until you were grinning giddily.

“Would you like me even if I wasn’t sick? I’m sure as a medical professional you probably find what you see under the microscope more fascinating than my actual form but-”

“No, it’s not like that at all,” he cut in, still smoothing your hair back from your face. “I like you. Not your illness, not what I see from my work. I can’t deny that I’m invested in seeing the changes to your tests, but that’s just because I saw them before I met you in person. I was invested before I found you trying to soak in sun through a window.”

“Don’t remind me of that embarrassing moment,” you exclaimed, mortified. Throwing a hand over your face to hide your emotions, Changkyun pried it away and held it instead. Your expression evened out and you started to smile again. “You knew my name before you knew me. And you knew a lot more too, I guess.”

“I’d rather get to know you like this though.”

“Me too.”

You sat up suddenly, almost bashing into Changkyun’s chin in the process. Sheepishly flashing him an apologetic smile, you held up your index finger. “That’s right, the regret!”

“You mean not telling me how you felt yesterday wasn’t the regret?”

“I’m pretty sure when I kissed you, it showed you,” you countered and Changkyun rubbed at his neck with his other hand awkwardly. You then looked at him and grinned. “I wanted to wear that!”

“What?”

“Your lab coat!” you explained, tugging at the sleeve of it. “I was in the lab and I didn’t once put one on!”

“Well, you looked so pretty in your dress, why cover it up?”

“Because! Oh, you won’t understand because playing dress-up as a doctor isn’t fun like it is for everyone else who isn’t in the health sector professionally.”

“I’m not a doctor,” he reminded and you rolled your eyes.

“Still, you get to wear a white coat of importance! Let me try it on now.”

“What about the sun?” he asked and you stood up, bouncing around impatiently, almost pulling it off of him when he shrugged it down his shoulders. Slipping it on, you giggled triumphantly and spun around in it. Of course, it was too big and made your child-like request even more obvious. He laughed heartily then, the magic of the moment making his heart soar further for you.

You were right. For him, the lab coat was simply part of his work attire, nothing more. He saw no joy or importance in wearing it since he did so every workday. However, watching you enjoy it made it feel special.

Until you stumbled in your excitement, reaching for your head as you continued to lose your balance. Changkyun lurched towards you, catching you before the ground did. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Just a little dizzy. I guess I went too far.”

“Let’s get you back to your room and get a nurse check your stats, hm?” he offered and you didn’t argue, leaning into his side as he helped you back down the stairs. Once back in your ward, you slipped off his coat and climbed under the blankets, smiling weakly.

The transformation bothered him. Upstairs you were carefree and empowered. Now back under your stark white sheets, you looked weak and tiny. Changkyun blinked back his emotions.

You smiled sadly. “Looks like reality came back for us. Go do amazing things, Changkyun. You’re the one with the power to do so. I’m back where I belong now too.”

He was determined to find a way to make you better again.

“I’ve got it!”

“You have?!” Bora asked immediately, scooting backwards to his station and taking a look at his findings. She grinned. “You bloody have too.”

“Pathology needs to get onto this right away and then the doctors will act upon it, right?” he asked, hope building within his chest. She nodded once and he sent the files through to the team, marching out of the department and over to pathology to follow up.

It hadn’t been easy, and after being in the hospital for over three months now, Changkyun wished he had been able to source the correct abnormality in your tests faster. However, the main thing was they had a definite answer now. You had an autoimmune disease that had triggered the mysterious illness. And whilst knowing that didn’t mean you would get better and be healthier than before, it did give answers. And answers could lead to the right medication to support your health to improve and to help you live with your condition.

Answers meant discharging once better as well.

You stood in the doorway of the department, grinning brightly at Bora who welcomed you in. Changkyun hadn’t seen you yet, still focused on his work. But he stirred as soon as he heard your voice.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you said, looking around the department until you caught his gaze. You slowly grinned. “I just happened to be discharged today and I need to thank the technician who found the answer for my diagnosis.”

He didn’t care about the rest of his team jeering at him right now, getting up from his seat and approaching you. Of course, you already knew of his findings since your treatment began three weeks ago. However, you attempted to keep a straight face as Changkyun stopped in front of you.

“You see, when I was terribly sick, I ran into a lab technician who I told I’d go on a date with him if he helped me get better. I’m here to collect on that date.”

“I thought you were joking,” he murmured and you grinned.

“Oh no, if anything, I asked for the date because you were handsome, not holding onto any hope that you would actually help find the reason for my illness.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and Changkyun walked you out into the hallway, closing the door and the deafening noise out behind him.

He leaned in closer. “Well, I guess I do deserve a reward for my hard work.”

“When can you leave?”

“I think I have some extra hours up my sleeve that I can use to leave work now.”

“Oh good because I want to go on a very long date with you.”

“How long?”

“How much time can you give me?”

Changkyun’s lips were so close to yours now, he merely hummed and you shivered with delight. “How about as long as you want.”

“I’ll be greedy, you know. I’ll want all of your time.”

“I have to work,” he mentioned sadly and you nodded.

“And I have a lot of therapy to attend.”

“But outside of those hours?” he wondered and you pressed into him, kissing him with demand.

It wasn’t his first or even his second kiss with you. And Changkyun knew it wouldn’t be his last either. However, it was one he knew he’d remember forever, the way you tasted so sweet from pure happiness to be leaving the hospital and with him as well.

Finally, you stepped back just enough to catch your breath and answered. “Outside of work and therapy, I hope you can give me all your time. I don’t want to stop repaying you for the rest of my life.”

“Can I ask a question?” he breathed and you nodded. “Did you really mean it about wanting to date me from the first day you saw me?”

“Now that would be telling.”

“So it was a joke!” he whined and you giggled, stepping up on your toes to kiss him again.

“No, I did think you were handsome. I just didn’t believe I’d get this lucky. A cure and a boyfriend. What more could a girl ask for?”

_________________

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[skzluvs]

Phobia; Han jisung

Genre: angst, fluff (if you squint)

Warnings: mention of nightmares

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: Hi! I’m back from my hiatus with another angst fic inspired by the drama it’s okay to not be okay combined with a little bit of phobia I hope you guys like it!

The girl who fed on nightmares

there was a girl who woke up every night by the nightmares, demons that haunted her dreams. She was twisted inside, held back by the painful memories of her past.

panting breath, irregular heartbeat, a cold sweat dripping from her forehand. she opened her eyes to meet with the darkness of her room. Terror washed over her. frightened.

"it's just another nightmare" she said trying to calm down the thoughts that were messing up her already deranged head.

a familiar setup, you might think she grew accustomed to the feeling after the third night but that's was not true the lingering feeling of numbness grew by the time she realized there was no escape from the chains that still cuffed her up.

the morning came earlier, with very few hours of sleep, she got up and got ready for work. the days turned into a monotone.

she arrived to bookstore, pure silence made her mind feel content. A moment of peace in the torrential rain.

"excuse me" a soft voice called her, almost as quiet as a whisper that's being shared between lovers.

she looked up to meet with a boy, with black hair and a mischievous smile, he looked cheerful with an undeniable strong aura that surrounded his slender figure, definitely not the type you would see in a library at 8am in the morning.

"yes" she replied politely to the boy who carried a handful on books on his arms.

"i want to check all of these out please" he placed the books on the counter.

As she took a look at the pile, she got intrigued by the peculiar selection.

children books.

but not the kind that you read to a child unless you want them to have nightmares, and she knew damn well about that.

"you like this gruesome stuff ?" she was never the kind to question other people's interests but for some strange motive she wanted to know.

" it's a children's book how can you call this masterpiece gruesome" the boy seemed rather offended by her words.

" the pictures make me want to cry my eyes out and I'm an adult, there's no way this book was targeted for such audience" she said

" it seems like you know nothing about this books not the author , therefore I won't be engaging in a discussion, you can continue to be ignorant later just let me borrow them so I can go" he said annoyed, taping with his finger on top of the dusty cover.

The girl refused to give out response and rather continued to do her job. she sure didn't get paid enough for that.

"here" she said handing him the books along with the returning slip. "you have 2 weeks to return them unless you want more time come before the deadline to extend the borrowing period"

"thank you" he left not sparing to look at her for the last time before exiting through the door.

the browned eyed boy who just happened to be named han jisung, she found out his name through his library card. Was all she could think about, not because she was interested, but because of the of his actions. Usually she evaded social situations, she found people not worth of her time, but there was something about that boy that made her wanted to crush him like a fragile butterfly with broken wings.

another meaningless night, it was tiring to get emptied out like that. Every time she closed her fears shaped into a reality. she was stuck with the phobia.

days passed by, a body that walks through the streets without a soul. There was nothing she wanted nothing she desired more but to fall asleep. So she lived her life longing for that moment.

going through the bookshelves placing them correctly by alphabetical order. A pair of eyes stuck to the back of her head.

a boy who watched her carefully from the other side of the room, and he probably thought he was being precautious, but she knew she was being observed.

Jisung. Who came everyday just to sit as far back from the main entrance as possible, hiding in a corner reading the books he so much loved. After the first encounter with the girl he could no longer sleep the same way. His thoughts circled around her small frame and the sound of her broken voice.

there was this thing about her, he called it despondency and he was drowned right into it. like the tales had taken over a human form.

by the end of the two weeks he stood there fidgeting, over the course of the last couple of days his little instigating got him nowhere. She repeated a daily routine, there was nothing to analyze in her vague movements and worn out expressions. However he knew she hides more than the human eye can perceive behind that weary facade.

The moment she clocked out he followed her outside.

"why are you following me" the girl stopped her tracks and made a spin over her ankles, just to meet with him.

"I needed to ask you something" He said rather shy. all the courage he build up over the weeks disappearing at the strong gaze that confronted him.

"I'm not obligated to respond, do me a favor and get lost" She turned around and continued to walk.

It was an expected reply exactly what made jisung decide it was better to come up with a different plan.

every day he would put a book of his collection on top of her desk hoping she would get interested enough to read it.

but instead she would just eye the cover and place it back to its shelf.

Not until one day she meet to something different, the book had a folded edge, opening the page carefully, her fingers ghosting over the words printed on the glossy paper.

"bad memories from the past that he wanted to erase from his head"

"were replayed in his dreams every night"

"and haunted him nonstop"

"the boy was terrified of falling asleep"

a creeping feeling went down her spine, and her trembling hands made the book fall. Her own monsters greeted her with a grin. Collapsing with the wooden floor.

jisung got petrified by the loud sound. He hurried his way to find the girl unconscious on the ground. it was all his fault.

a disturbing sound came from her mouth. She woke up in an oddly unfamiliar house. Her body covered by a thin blanket, the walls were closing like the screams that got caught up in her throat.

jisung who was downstairs making dinner ran through the stairs and opened the door alarmed at the high pitched noises.

"Are you okay?" He exclaimed trying to recover his breath.

"what am I doing here? where am i ?" she asked not trying to panic even more. She felt so dizzy the room kept on spinning.

"you're at my house, you passed out at the library" He said scratching the nape of his neck with guiltiness.

"I remember now, this was your deed, you and your stupid nauseating books" by the looks of it she had been gone for a while. Not to mention the longer she was in a slumber the longer the suffering.

"not my fault you got scared by a book for 5 year olds" He said shrugging, with an unprovoked expression.

"And you dared to call me an ignorant" she deadpanned.

"Do you fear anything?" He asked out of the blue.

what is the real meaning behind fear?. Fear is tangible. Is the anxiety, the desperation to run away and hide forever where they can't find you, it means to want to stab your eyes with a safety pin to blind the pain. Is the captivity of oneself.

"You're scared of yourself aren't you?" it no longer sounded like a question but more like an affirmation.

he had figured you out in no time. You couldn't let them see the vulnerable side, not to anyone and most definitely not this stranger.

"You said it yourself you know nothing so leave alone before it's too late" She threatened.

"Anyways I'm sorry for being so persistent, never intended to make you feel uncomfortable, I'll be downstairs if you need me, dinner is ready if you want to come and have something to eat before you leave" He knew it was better not to push it if he wanted answers.

But why was he so desperate to understand the world inside her head ?

Jisung felt the loneliness of her being. He came up to the conclusion that he wanted to be the person who brought the girl back to life.

After some time he grew a step closer to her, not to the point she would stop pushing him away but at least his efforts had made a very insignificant change.

She would let him read the books to her once in a while, she fed into the words, relating to every single one of them. But things were still the same at night, she would break down to the horrifying sight.

"Jisung why are you still here ?" she asked him unable to understand why the boy remained by her side even when she treated him like a piece of trash.

"Because im trapped under your spell" he confessed.

"You’re e going to end up in so much pain" she said looking into his eyes.

"You can't go to heaven before crossing the flames of hell" He responded with certainty. “ and If I have to burn I rather do it while still holding you”

"Would you still like me if you knew the kind of monster I am, not the one you read in books but the kind that hides behind a mask and transforms at night"

" I would still like you if you were the devil himself"

" The devil wont tear your soul apart like I would trust me" She knew she would drive him into despair. But she had warned him multiple times, from here she no longer take accountability, he would meet fear. She would make sure of that.

I'm stuck with the phobia although I want to stay with you I'm scared that you might disappear in between the shadows. How can I hold you when I was made to destroy you.

there was a girl whose world was a pitch black hole and her insides were dark and twisted, and a boy who fell in love with her repulsiveness swore to never leave her, but her darkness overshadowed the fugacious happiness of a spur moment and the voices in her head claimed that she was all alone. but the boy sang to her a lullaby that lulled her into a deep sleep and for the first time in forever there were no painful memories in her dreams.

She was the girl who fed on nightmares. The one he once read about and the one he was now holding on his arms.

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

Hi! Can I ask for a blurb where the reader is insecure about being in a relationship with someone bc she's afraid of getting hurt due to domestic violence that happened in her family so she tells Peter about it and he comforts her? I definetly get it if you don't feel comfortable about writing or if it's a trigger to you, hope you're having a great day/night 😊

A/N: what a heartbreaking request 🥺😢 but in this house, we always provide happy endings even when talking about harsh subjects. so here it is, dear nonnie 💕 all of you out there, care about yourself and never hesitate to talk about it, please. stay safe sweethearts 💖💗

‘Stay safe, Cheer up’ blurb event

A BIT ANGSTY BELOW (MENTION OF VIOLENCE), SO BEWARE! (FLUFF ENDING)

You’ve been in love with Peter since the beginning of secondary school but never dared to confess. Your shy nature always took over in anything you did, acting almost like a shield, a shield you slowly built around yourself year by year to protect you from a lot of things: stress, love and mostly violence.

But how were you supposed to know Peter would actually confess to you once in high school? You still recalled that day when the nerdy boy came to find you at the school library as he somehow knew you would be the only one there at that time.

And you accepting to go out with him definitely shocked your friends, and your own self. But you and Peter were undeniably the cutest couple that could exist, and anyone would agree on that. Two awfully cute teenagers in love.

But something was wrong and Peter felt it - not with his Peter tingle. Even after going out for now four months, you acted a bit strange towards the boy when he got rather close to you, like when holding hands or even sitting close next to each other. Your body seemed to stiff automatically, your facial features tensing as you then began stuttering about weird and nonsense words. As if maintaining some distance between you two on purpose. Mostly, you haven’t said to Peter the three famous words he magically told you to ask you out. He was always the one saying them, hoping you’d say it back to him too but without pressuring you.

I love you.

But still, you never did.

Despite whatever people say, Peter was really observant - this time thanks to his spidey senses - and he was determined to understand what was going on one for all. You already refused to hang out to his apartment multiple times, so the boy asked you for a date on Saturday, only consisting of sitting in the nearest park next to where he lived, to chill around like normal teenagers.

Arrived that day, you both casually sat on a bench drinking soda Peter brought along for the date. People were coming and going in the park, children running after each other on the grass and dogs playing at fetch. A normal Saturday. As you were talking about the next chemistry project of next week, Peter gulped before gently interrupting you, still not too abruptly.

“Err- (Y/N), can I ask you something?”

“Sure Peter, what is it?”

Peter took a deep breath in, hoping to gather some courage and finally spoke again.

“Alright- don’t take it the wrong way, okay? B-but like, I wanted to know- uh... does going out with me bother you? Like I know I’m kinda awkward- okay, a lot actually, so you may have forced yourself to not turn me down... But it’s like you’re building invisible walls around you when I’m near you, w-well that’s how I see it, so you don’t have to-”

Suddenly Peter’s rumbling stopped as he glanced back at you, since you didn’t say a single word. And that was when he noticed you, head low and hiding between your shoulder as if to disappear, and looking away from him.

“Oh God- I’m s-so sorry, (Y/N)! I didn’t mean to hurt you! A-At all! I-I just wanted to understand-”

Peter rumbled again, frantically moving his hands around because his intention was definitely not to upset you, and now he was scared he definitely fucked up any of his chance for you to open up to him.

“... I’m sorry.”

Your voice was like a shy whisper, barely audible but Peter caught it, and cut himself off, almost shocked but mostly confused. Still, he decided to let you talk.

“You’re not the one at fault here, Peter, but it’s me and only me. I just- I-I’m scared...”

You rearranged a strand of hair behind your ear, something you usually do when you’re stressed, your hand slightly trembling. When you finally dared to turn your head back to Peter, you could perfectly read in his eyes he wanted you to proceed in your explanations. So that was what you did.

At first, you were still torn apart from talking about that matter with Peter or not but then, the look in his soft coffee eyes almost screamed to know more. That was Peter, always here to help someone in need. And this time, Peter wanted to help you desperately, the one he grew to love more every day he spent with, to reassure you, to comfort you. At all cost.

So you opened your heart to Peter and exteriorised the morbid thoughts that settled deep inside your being long time ago. How trusting people and getting close to them became nearly impossible since your dad started beating your mum during harsh arguments. Even when you closed yourself in your bedroom, you could still hear her pleadings and cries mixed with your father’s screams. Closing yourself in your wardrobe didn’t change a thing. Your nights got more agitated, nightmares being more frequent than actual dreams, and you kept praying every night to not get hit in return. For nearly seven years, you endured all this violence towards your poor mother, who couldn’t do anything but only plead you between sobs to not say a word to anyone, at the risk of you being in danger too. Even when your dad left you both, your trust towards men was just inexistent and, as sadly as it sounded, Peter was now paying the price of this.

The boy listened to you until the end, carefully and quietly, his eyes never leaving your face. Each of your words etched into Peter’s mind, a heavy feeling soon growing inside of him as your story kept going on. Anger. Not towards you of course, but towards that person you still called “father” who dared to violate your mother in front of your innocent self for so long. Anger towards that paternal figure who made you fear men’s presence near you. An extreme anger because due to that traumatic experience, you were even scared of Peter, your own boyfriend.

But that anger slowly faded into sadness, because dwelling on your though past brought back some bad memories you tried to forget after all these years. And that was when Peter understood he would be the one left to pick up all the pieces of your hurt self, to gather them one by one and finally be able to put them back together.

“(Y/N), look at me please.”

With glossy eyes, your head slightly raised back to look at Peter again, cheeks also a bit red from keeping your tears in. Gently, Peter extended both his hands to you, palms facing the sky. Intrigued, you looked at him before slightly putting your hands on his to rest.

“No one in this word deserve to go through what you did during all these years, (Y/N), and for sure neither you deserved it at all. But remember that I will never raise a single hand at you, that my hands will only provide you comfort and warmth when you need it. And I promise to cherish and protect you from whoever would hurt you in any way. I want you to fully trust me, and I know it may take some time but I don’t care. We will take baby steps and we will make it, okay? Together. I can’t just let you deal with it by yourself anymore. You’re so dear to me and deserve to be happy. Please (Y/N), let me help you-”

As Peter basically forgot how to breath during what sounded like a second love confession, he got interrupted when you threw yourself into his arms. That actually caught the boy by surprise but he didn’t dare to circle his arms around your body, not really knowing how you would react. But he quickly changed his mind as soon as he felt your small hands tightly grip onto the back of his shirt, so his arms gently surrounded you to bring you closer. He rested his cheek on the crown of your head while yours lightly pressed against his torso, his heartbeats soothing your agitated soul.

This was during the embrace you finally knew what you needed to know after all this time: everything would be fine, as long as Peter was by your side.

“Thank you, Peter. So much.”

“I’m here, (Y/N). And always will I be for you.”

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[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

One Day

Pre-serum! Steve Rogers x Mexican!Reader

A/N: commission for the amazing @reina-shitposts​ (im so sorry it took forever to post.)

Summary: While your parents are away at work, Steve joins your sisters and you for dinner.

The kitchen smelled like frijoles and arroz, the area surrounding the stove was warm as you walked in to gather plates and cups for dinner. Your parents were working late again, and it was your job as the oldest of three to prepare the meals and make sure everyone behaved – it was a curse and blessing. The curse was that you were held responsible for anything and everything that happened while they were away from the apartment, the blessing was that it meant you could have anyone over for dinner if it pleased you – and tonight, once again, a special guest was coming over. 

Nina, one of your younger sisters, walked in, a book in hand. “Y tu novio?” 

“He is not my boyfriend,” you scolded, telling her to put away the book. “It is rude to read while we eat.”

“It’s rude to have strange men in our house, Papa would not approve.”

Turning off the stove, you looked at Nina, hand on your hip. “I’m twenty years old, I have my own job and one day I’ll move far away from you. But for now, what I say goes, okay?”

Your sister smiled sweetly at you and you knew what she wanted; rolling your eyes you sighed and told her to fetch your handbag from your room. “I will give you enough to go to the cinema, but that’s it.”

“Fine by me.”

Watching as she skirted out the kitchen, you yelled for her to get Maria washed up for dinner. “Wash your hands too!”

She shouted back something you could not understand as a sharp knock came from the front door; your heart leaped as you took off the apron from around the new dark blue dress you had bought with last week’s paycheck, the little you had left after helping your parents, and rushed to get the door. Taking a deep breath, you opened it up to see your long-time neighbor, Steve Rogers. 

He was a stringy little fella with the greatest blue eyes you had ever seen – who was wearing brown slacks and a white button up, a few books in hand and a small arrangement of flowers in the other. He grinned as you asked him to come in, closing the door gently as he walked in, turning nervously and holding up the flowers.

“I got these for you, Bucky helped me picked them out.”

You reached for them, fingers touching his as you thanked him. “They are so pretty; I should put them in water. My mom has an extra vase under the sink, they will look so nice on my bedroom window.”

The mention of your bedroom made Steve blush and you grinned, motioning for him to follow as you walked into the kitchen.

 He whistled and exclaimed how good it smelled. “You’re a great cook, any man would be lucky.”

Laughing, you explained that you liked cooking and did it for fun. “I wouldn’t want to marry someone who just wants me for my cooking.”

“Oh, no, no,” Steve backtracked, eyes wide as you pulled out a vase from under the sink. He nervously brushed away hair from his forehead and you laughed, explaining that you were just teasing him. He sighed in relief and apologized. “You – you have many attributes that would attract any man.”

His words were firm and sincere as he stood there, a good deal shorter than you – skinny and constantly ill, he was what the world would call fragile, but you saw beyond the layers. You saw the braveness in Steve’s eyes, the kindness in his laugh and his ability to see a person for who they were and celebrate their differences from him – it was hard being a Mexican family in this city, let alone the only one in the whole apartment complex. You noticed the dirty looks and assumptions, but it was Steve and his mother, Sarah, who welcomed the lot of you with open arms and it had been like that for years now. 

“Steve!”

It was Maria, your six-year-old sister; she rushed the man and tugged at his sleeves, begging him to take a look at his new baseball you had gotten her. Steve grinned and took the ball, tossing it up in the air a few times.  “Let’s take this ball out tomorrow, yeah? We can see how high it goes.”

The little girl agreed, and Nina stood there, eyes on the books Steve had in his hand. You could see the curiosity in her eyes as she turned her head to the left, hoping to catch the titles. Steve noticed too and held them up. 

“I picked these out for you, the bookstore had a great deal.”

Nina’s face perked up and she walked over to Steve, taking the books when he handed them off. You leaned against the counter and watched as she squealed in excitement, explaining that she had grown tired of reading the same old books.

“Thank you, Steve! I told my sister you weren’t so bad, I’m right!”

“Nina!” You yelled; eyes widen in disbelief. Steve looked over to you and laughed, his mouth pulled into a great teasing smile and you looked away, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks – he did that to you, made things stir inside and by the way he blushed, you knew you did the same to him.

Clapping your hands, you got everyone’s attention and felt Steve’s eyes still on you. “Dinner is ready, everyone take a seat, and Nina.” the young girl gazed up at you, books in hand. “You can have one book at the table, only one.”

This time you winked at Steve, who blushed again but walked over to you, taking the space up next to you. The two of you watched, backs leaned against the kitchen counter, as the two children settled at the table, Maria’s legs swinging as she held the baseball in hand and Nina, across from her, already reading the first page of the novel of her choosing. Most nights, it was just the three of you, but it seemed every time Steve came over for dinner, the kitchen felt warmer than ever. 

“This is nice,” he whispered, eyes diverting up to yours; that’s when you felt his knuckles brushing against yours and it was the sincerest feeling you had ever felt – it was the feeling of love blossoming and you knew then that this was the future you wanted with Steve, and no one would ever take that from you.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, shifting your hand to grab his. He held it tight and you gave it a squeeze. “This feels really nice.”

….

The morning sun broke through the sheer white curtains, warming the side of your face up. Opening your eyes, they went to the vase on the desk that stood under the window – the flowers Steve had gotten you last night were still glowing, and you felt a lightness in your chest. Your gaze moved to the left to the framed photo of your brother, Alberto; he was so handsome in his military uniform, he had enlisted a few months ago and besides the letters the family got every few weeks, there was no way of knowing how he was. Everyone in the family feared one day a knock on the door that would bring terrible news, so everyone kept busy – that was the way you all were dealing with his absences. Saying a whispered prayer for Alberto, you got up from the bed and began to get ready for the day – it was your day off and you planned on meeting Steve outside the complex building, the two of you were going to the cinema. 

You got dressed in a simple light green dress with some matching loafers, then walked into the living room to find the house quiet – the girls were at school by now, your parents usually dropped them off before heading to work. The apartment was quiet and nice as you tidied up a bit before grabbing a coat and your bag, heading downstairs to meet Steve. 

He was outside, hands tucked into his slacks, looking nervous as his eyes followed those who passed by the building. You watched for a moment before tapping his shoulder, laughing as he turned around with great relief on his face – he closed his eyes when you leaned down to kiss his cheek and asked if he was ready. 

“Always,” he whispered, motioning for you to lead the way. The two of you walked side by side, the cinema was only two blocks away, but your footsteps were slow and deliberate – you liked to cherish every single second you had with Steve. You listened as he talked about trying to get enlisted and how he failed. “Bucky left last week, I just wanted to join the fight.”

“I understand,” you said, stopping next to a bakery. Steve stopped too and blushed when you reached down for his hand, holding it tightly. “This is selfish, but I have to say I’m glad you are here. Alberto left and I fear for him every day, I cannot imagine you leaving me too.”

Steve’s eyes softened and he gave your palm a squeeze back. “I wouldn’t want to leave you.”

“Good,” you laughed, not letting go of his hand. “Shall we go see a film now?”

The two of you did and inside the theater, side by side, you held hands in the dark. Steve’s fingers were long and gentle, warm against yours as the movie flickered in front of you. Afterwards, you held his hand as you exited the playhouse and started toward the corner diner; tucked in a back booth, the two of you ordered shakes and fries, holding hands across the table and ignoring the rest of the world.  Once you were full, Steve walked you to the local market – you had to pick up some ingredients for dinner. Inside the market, he held the basket for you as you added things you needed and once you got back to the apartment complex, Nina and Maria were outside, home from school. 

“Steve!” Maria was the first to run to the man, grabbing his hand as the two of you walked toward the stairs that lead up to the second floor. She was going on and on about the mean boys at her school, and Steve listened until she asked what she should do.

“I don’t like bullies,” he reminded her, kneeling beside her. You watched as he shuffled the brown grocery bag from one arm to the other and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t let anyone push us around, we fight for what’s right.”

Maria gazed up at you and you nodded. “Steve is right, you need not back down from bullies. Show them how strong you are.”

She nodded and Steve got up, turning his attention to Nina. He asked her about the book she was reading, everyone following you up the stairs as you listened to them ramble on about the story. It seemed like everyone was talking at once as you got to the front door of the apartment; you unlocked the door and swung it open, telling the girls to get in. They both ran in and you held the door closed a bit to give Steve and you some privacy.

“I better get dinner going…”

“No worries,” Steve laughed, handing off the bag. “I had fun today.”

“Me too,” you whispered, hating the feeling of hiding him. He was such a good man; you knew your parents liked Steve but weren’t sure how they would feel about the two of you pursuing a relationship. You wanted to invite him in and were about to when the two girls screamed – Steve and you gave each other a panic look before running into the apartment. When you walked in, you nearly dropped the grocery bag in your hand because your parents were standing in the living room with Alberto.

Tears sprouted from the corner of your eyes as you ran into the arms of your older brother, who held you tight. Your mother was crying, and your father stood proud, as the two of you pulled apart and you asked what he was doing here.

“I’m on leave, for a week. I wanted to surprise you all.”

The two of you hugged again before Alberto eyed Steve, who was standing near the open front door. He looked a bit nervous, but Alberto removed his arms from around you and nodded to him.

“Rogers, what are you doing here?”

“He always comes over, he likes Y/N’s cooking,” Maria beamed, not realizing what she had done. Nina elbowed the little girl, but it was too late; the cat was out of the bag. You left your brother’s side and stood in front of your parents, standing strong as you looked over your shoulder to Steve.

“Please do not be angry,” you pleaded, reaching for your mother’s hand. Her face was tensed but you knew she was the one that would break easier. “I care about Steve and yes, he comes over occasionally, but Nina and Maria are always here.”

“That’s not the point,” your father said, sighing. He looked over to Steve and gave the young man a sympathetic smile. “Whatever is going on between my daughter and you, ends now. It’s not right.”

“Father,” you argued, casting a glance to your mother for support. But all she did was take the bag of groceries from your hand and call the girls to the kitchen with her. “You can not be serious. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own life choices.”

“What will people say? When the two of you walk down the street together, what would they think? I don’t want you to go through that.”

Unable to comprehend what he was saying, you held back tears and looked to Steve, who straightened up and stared at your father.

“I mean no disrespect, sir,” he said, stepping further into the living room until he was standing next to Alberto. “We walk down the street together just fine.”

The rebellion tone in his voice made you smile, and you watched as Steve stood taller than he had ever. Your father stared back at him and for a moment, you were afraid that this would all end; no more dinners with Steve and suddenly, the little future you dreamt of with Steve seemed to be slipping away until Alberto cleared his throat.

“Dad, come on,” he grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “We’re at war, isn’t life hard enough? Let the kids have their fun, and hell, if it ends in marriage our family will only get bigger. Plus, our little Y/N would be so lucky to catch a fish like Rogers, I never heard of a man who's gone through so much trouble to enlist.”

Alberto looked to Steve and whistled, patting him hard on the back. It nearly sent the man flying and even your father broke a smile. “They were fools to reject you, you’re a good man, Steve.”

You glanced over to your father, seeing his body relaxed and his arms drop from his chest. He sighed and shook his head, pointing a finger at you then Steve. “Know this, society might not accept this – if you marry and have children, they might be looked upon with judgement…just know, in this family none of that will matter.”

Your heart raced as Steve reached out a hand to your father, thanking him for his blessing. “I promise all my intentions are good.”

The two men shook hands and Alberto laughed, pushing you toward Steve, who caught you by the hand. Your father grinned and called to your mother, who apparently had been listening, along with your sisters, to the whole conversation – they were all smiles and Maria ran straight to Steve, asking if the two of you were going to get married. Steve blushed but gazed over to you with nothing but love in his blue eyes and he shrugged to the little girl.

“Maybe one day.”

His answer rang in your heart, because one day, whenever it may come, was all you would ever need. 

[benscaligraphyset]

Chapter Three

(Finally I’ve been able to update this fic! I got a little disheartened when the other chapters weren't getting much engagement and then my other pic, Unexpected, was getting attention so I focused on that a bit more but Im finally back with a new chapter if Starward! Hope it was worth the wait :) Please let me know what you think, I love reading your comments!)

Also! If you get the chance visit https://blacklivesmatter.carrd.co and sign their petitions and see other things you can do to help!

It had been a few months since your arrival at Luke’s training temple and you and Ben had already fallen into old habits.

His lightsaber skills had certain improved, you noted, but so had yours. You were constantly teasing him while sparring, trying to get him to break, but Ben was completely focused whenever fighting was happening. It’s like he slipped into a trance with the hum of his lightsaber driving him. You found it adorable, but it worried Luke. He said that he noticed him using Dark Side methods during his training, but it wasn’t as if all of those methods are truly bad, just different from Jedi techniques.

And there you were, back to defending him. But, Ben wasn’t alone in thinking that the Jedi had some major flaws. You think his mood would improve if he was allowed to express his emotions instead of keeping them bottled inside. That’s not to say you believe in the Sith’s way of using your emotions to fuel you and bring you power, but, there had to be some sort of healthy balance to these things. You wished Luke would teach you grey methods of using the Force, and not just the Light side that the old Jedi’s had preferred. After all, Darth Vader had started out as a Jedi and they allowed him to rise to power, so maybe their methods weren’t as perfect as Luke pretends they were. You just didn’t see what was wrong with a little Dark.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, though. Ben still struggled with his feelings of self worth and it was sometimes hard for you to convince him that you truly cared or that his family cared. His insecurities caused him to lash out and seek to self isolate instead of reaching out to his friends like you and Tai. You knew he also held residual anger at the fact that you left all those years ago, not that he’d admit it. 

It’s not as if Luke did much to dissuade these insecurities, and you made sure to tell him as much, but you didn’t know if Luke truly knew how to help Ben. He didn’t understand him like you did and for the most part, that wasn’t his fault.

The side that you had the privilege of seeing, the joking, carefree side of him, was not something everyone got to see. It was easy to see him as a resentful and sad boy if he didn’t let you in.

Overtime, Ben stopped showing this side to Luke as much as he used to. You don’t know what changed but at some point after you left their relationship deteriorated and you didn’t know if it could be repaired. If it could, you certainly weren’t the one to do it. You made a note to ask Leia about it the next time you spoke to her.

You both had also kept the habit of bickering like an old married couple. You were constantly butting heads and it didn’t help that you both were relentlessly stubborn. In Ben’s defense, it’s hard not to be stubborn after being raised by the two most stubborn humans alive.

“There they go again,” another student groaned.

“Shut up, Bactar,” Ben snapped before turning back to you.

You scoffed. “You’re honestly telling me, that you think you could beat me, in my starfighter and you, in your dad’s old light freighter—that’s constantly needing repairs— in a race?” you asked in disbelief.

“That ‘old light freighter’,” Ben retorted, using air quotes, ”made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at the phrase you’ve heard enough times to last a life time. You looked around at your audience in disbelief and Jannik shrugged. People had learned to not get involved in your petty disputes.

Ben leaned over to get back in your line of vision. “I’m not gonna say it’s not a piece of junk, because, it is, but I am saying that I am a good enough pilot to beat you any day, in any ship.”

You threw your head back in a loud, obnoxious laugh. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Okay, now I really know you’re messing with me,” you scoffed.

Ben came closer to you and you raised your head in defiance, but also because if you didn’t you would be staring at his chest. You know he uses his build to an advantage, thinking if he towers over you he has the upper hand, but you never gave him the satisfaction. Maybe this would work on his sparring opponents, but not you. And maybe you liked it a little too much when he was a little too close.

You looked up at the man before you through your lashes; you also knew your own strengths.

“So, what do ya say, Flyguy? You wanna test your theory?” you asked in a low voice.

You watched his adam’s apple bob nervously and you knew you were succeeding. You smirked up at him and his jaw shifted in irritation.

“Pick a time and place, Starward,” he replied cooly.

Your smirk grew and you opened your mouth to retort but you never got the chance. Luke’s force presence alerted you to the fact that other people do, in fact, exist and you had a whole audience watching your and Ben’s—well, whatever this was.

“Kriff, would you two get a room already?” Voe snipped and you instantly retreated from Ben, warmth flooding your cheeks.

“Language, Voe,” Luke said, finally arriving to the training grounds.

Students instantly straightened their backs and wiped the grins off their face at his arrival. Voe’s body crumpled at Luke’s sharp reprimand and you suspected her cheeks were also warm.

“Y/N, Ben, stop whatever ridiculous feud you have going on and get into a ready position,” Luke commanded and you both obeyed, along with the rest of the class.

Ben seemed...uncomfortable would be the only word you knew how to describe it. He kept shifting his legs in between forms and you caught him conspicuously moving things around under his belt. You knew boys had to move things around down there sometimes, but you’d never seen Ben quite this bothered.

Maybe you could press inside—

“Y/N, focus,” Luke snapped, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

“Sorry, Master,” you apologized and resumed the stance that the other students were in.

It might’ve been your imagination, but you thought you felt Ben’s eyes boring holes into you, but you didn’t dare turn and check.

After training you went straight to your water bottle, relishing in how good it tasted. You weren’t ashamed to admit you might’ve moaned audibly. You couldn’t help it, water after training was like spice. You felt Ben’s presence brush against yours and you went to greet him, but he was already hustling towards the huts and didn’t stop, even when you called his name.

“What the brix?” The question was really to yourself, but that never stopped people from butting into your business before.

“Oh, he’s got it bad for you,” Jannik quipped, suddenly next to you.

“What are you on about now?” you asked, too exhausted from your workout to deal with whatever he was saying.

“Come on, I know you’re not that stupid.”

“Can you get on with whatever you’re trying to say or move along?” you asked, taking another needed sip of water.

“Come on, everyone knows he’s practically in love with you.”

Water shot out of your mouth and nose and you suddenly couldn’t draw a proper breathe in, having sucked water into your lungs. Jannik instantly patted your back and asked if you were all right.

“I-I’m f-fine,” you sputtered, eventually gaining the ability to breathe again.

“Did you seriously not know?” he asked, incredulous.

“There’s nothing to know,” you croaked, risking another sip of water. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends who get hot and bothered when you argue.”

“What?” It was your turn to sound incredulous.

“You didn’t notice how he was shifting around during training? You had to have.”

You grabbed Jannik’s arm, much to his loud objection, and dragged him away from any prying ears.

“Of course I noticed,” you hissed. “But, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Wow...you really are oblivious,” he said and you punched his shoulder, hard.

“Ow! Well, you are—Wait!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up as you raised your fist to land another blow.

“I’m sorry! Listen,” he said, waiting for your hand to lower. Reluctantly, you did lower it and then gestured for him to continue.

“Look, I’ve hid many a boners before—“

“Jannik!”

“Well, I have! And trust me, that’s exactly what Ben was doing out there.”

“He was not. Besides, even if he was how do you know that has anything to do with me?”

“Because I saw how he looked at you. And when you moaned into that water bottle,” Jannik gave a low whistle, “he booked it to the huts.”

That would explain why he bolted just after that—no. What were you saying? Maybe Ben had feelings for you when you were both young and naïve, but now? It just wasn’t a possibility. You’d shut down any hope for that before you’d left.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you deflected.

“Ask anyone and they’ll tell you the same thing,” he insisted and you scoffed.

“I don’t need to ask anyone else’s opinion about my friendship, but thanks for the tip,” you replied sardonically and placed a hand on his shoulder before turning away.

“Come on, Y/N!” he called after you.

“I’ll see you at dinner!” you called back.

You laughed off his comments on your way to your hut. He doesn’t know Ben like you did, so who was he to tell you what he felt—hell, you didn’t even know what he was feeling most of the time.

But he was right that Ben was acting strange, and you needed to figure out why. You’d ask him at dinner, you decided. Right now you were in desperate need of a shower.

Dinner finally came and you went to your and Ben’s usual spot with a full plate of food. After today’s training you were famished and you didn’t wait for Ben to arrive before chowing down on what tasted like the most delicious meal you’ve ever had in your life. It wasn’t until you were almost done with said meal that you noticed Ben still hadn’t shown up. You pushed yourself up in your seat and looked around the cafeteria, hoping to spot that bushy head of black hair, but you didn’t see him. You slumped in your chair and pouted. Ben has never missed a dinner with you.

When it was nearly time for dinner to be over, you’d given up hope that he was going to arrive and had planned to wrap something for him to go, but then you finally saw him come through the doorway, Luke at his side. Your shoulders sagged in relief that Ben was okay, but why was Luke holding him up? He has always emphasized the importance of showing up on time to meal times so this was very out of the ordinary.

“Hey,” you said as Ben finally came to sit at your normal spot, looking disgruntled. “What were you doing with Luke?”

Ben gave you an unhelpful shrug. “He needed to talk to me about something.”

“Well, what was it?”

“If he wanted you to know he would’ve told you, wouldn’t he have?” He snapped.

You recoiled at his retort and you felt as though you had been punched in the gut. Your first instinct was to press and see what the other man was feeling, but you quickly realized he had shut you out completely.

You pushed away from the table. “Fine, I’m sorry I waited up for you.”

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the exit of the cafeteria, thrusting the doors open with the Force. Hot tears pricked at your eyes but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry because of him. You needed the sanctuary of your hut for assurance that you wouldn’t be disturbed.

“That, half-witted, nerd herder,” you spat, flopping yourself down angrily on your bed.

You let the warm tears slip down your face now, frantically wiping them away as if it would stop them from coming. You wished that you wouldn’t cry so easily, that a boy snapping at you wouldn’t cause you to crumble.

But, Ben wasn’t just any boy was he?

You relentlessly tossed and turned that night, desperate for rest. You just wanted to sleep and not have Jannik’s words flying around in your head. His comments shouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did but the thought of Ben having feelings for you turned your stomach into knots and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Ben’s words had also made residence in your head and you kept wondering what it was that had caused him to snap at you like that and what was it that Luke and him had been talking about.

Had you done something wrong?

The cover of your hut was suddenly thrust open and you instinctively reached for your lightsaber. You relaxed when you realized who it was.

“I can feel your anxiety from my hut,” Ben grumbled, making his way into your hut and coming over to the left side of your bed. He looked at you expectantly and you stared back at him blankly before he made a scoot-over gesture with his hands and you wordlessly complied, letting his large frame into the bed and under the covers with you.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a whisper and pulled the covers up higher to cover your body that was scantily clad in only your under garments.

“This is the only way either of us will get sleep. Unless you have a better idea?”

You were silent. You were inclined to agree with him, after all this had always worked when you were kids. But, after the way he treated you today? You weren’t going to just let him comfort you like nothing was wrong.

“I don’t want you here if you’re just going to be a dick.”

Ben stared at you without a response.

“Fine,” you retorted and started to push him out of the bed with the Force.

“I’m sorry,” he said almost so quiet that you missed it.

You stopped pushing. “What was that?”

Ben sighed. “I said, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“Are you going to tell me why you snapped at me?”

“I let my uncle get under my skin.”

“What did he say?”

Ben hesitated. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” he answered honestly.

“Well, that’s all you had to say,” you replied, shoving him softly. “I would’ve understood.”

“I know, I...I’m sorry,” he repeated and you knew he meant it.

You looked into his dark eyes in the pale light and communicated your forgiveness without even having to open your mouth.

“Are you going to tell me why you were acting strange after training?” 

You felt him tense beside you and he turned his gaze down. “What are you talking about?”

“Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s not like you to just bolt and not even say bye.”

“I just...” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You reached forward and grabbed his hand above the covers and his eyes flew up, surprised.

“I just want to be sure you’re okay, Ben,” you said earnestly. You didn’t want to press too much and make him retreat, but he needed to know that you were there for him.

He smiled that smile that fills your chest with warmth. “I promise, I’m okay. I was just in a rush to take a shower.”

You almost joked about the fact that Jannik thought he had a boner, but you thought better of it. After all, there's a good chance Jannik was right, just not about the part that the boner was because of you.

“What if Master Luke catches us?” you asked, back to the original topic.

“I’ll wake up just before sunrise and leave,” he answered simply.

You chuckled softly. “You haven’t changed at all have you?”

He raised a brow at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“As kids, you would always come lay with me if I couldn’t sleep.”

When you both were little and your thoughts got too loud for your head, you would sneak over to Han and Leia’s to find comfort in Ben’s bed. When his strength in the Force grew, he started to be able to sense when you were upset and he began coming to you when you needed him. His Force presence next to you always had a way of silencing the noise in your head.

On the other side, sometimes—a lot— Han and Leia would be fighting late into the night and Ben would sneak over to Luke’s hut to climb into bed with you. The first few times this happened, Han and Leia were worried Ben had run away, but then Luke would always come knocking on the door with little Ben hiding behind his legs.

If the voices in tiny Ben’s mind got too loud, either you would sense his turmoil and come to him or he would scurry over to you and vise versa. It was honestly a good system the two of you had and Han and Leia debated just making the guest room into your room, but Luke didn’t like the idea. He was over protective in that way, not that he could be blamed, given your past.

“Well, you obviously haven’t changed either if I’m still having to do this,” Ben teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Goodnight, Ben,” you said through a giggle and he smiled softly.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

When you woke up, Ben was gone, like he had said, but the other side of your bed still smelt like him. You took a whiff of the pillow he’d slept on and smiled.

He really hasn’t changed at all.

(Again I hope this was worth the wait!! Please let me know what you think and if you get the chance sign the petitions in the link I posted!)

Taglist: @lover1307 @bepo-is-sorry @snakelaufeyson @supervengerslock @shockwavee @kilo-wrench @ohhh-boo-tiful @serenityofbeingascintilla @ladyzirkonia @fandomshit6000 @i-am-lokii-of-asgard​​ @siren-queen03​ @dark-night-sky-99 @nickangel13​​ @girlyisthatweirdkid​ @edwardspaghedwardtozier​ @irreverent-dream​ @amberkay284​ @struggling-writer​

[ayanna-wild]

Please Don't Say You Love Me

Word Count: 1617

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, sad fluff

A/N: Request from anonymous

Summary: You always left, always changed the subject or cut him off, just before he could utter those three words. The three, not so little, words that would change everything, the words you feared you might not say back.

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

People gathered around as you downed another shot. The small crowd that had begun to steadily grow cheered as you slammed the now empty glass down on the bar. You smiled victoriously, turning to your opponent, who had finished his own shot only seconds after you.

"Pay up Morningstar." You grinned.

Lucifer laughed, handing you a wad of cash. The crowd, sensing that the fun was over began to wander away, resuming whatever they had been doing before you challenged the devil himself to a drinking contest.

"Are you absolutely certain you're human darling? That amount would have knocked any normal person on their ass." Lucifer said.

You shrugged, sliding onto the stool beside him.

"You're just upset I beat you." You teased.

Although it was seldom that you got drunk, but when you did, you could drink with the best of them. It's one of the first things that had drawn Lucifer to you. It was one of the rare nights you decided to party and you had drank three grown men under the table. More accurately when they hit the ground you were still going strong.

"Well I'm sorry my dear, not all of us can unhinge our jaws like a snake. Honestly it was a little mortifying to watch you drink those." Lucifer chuckled.

You moved to give him a playful shove but missed and almost tumbled off the stool. Lucifer was quick to catch you, your face red with embarrassment as he helped you to your feet. His chest shook with laughter, which you found contagious in your intoxicated state.

"Perhaps you're a bit more inebriated than I thought, we best get you home." Lucifer said.

Your laughter faded to a lazy smile, and you nodded. You reached for your keys in your pocket, common sense seemed to have abounded you for the time being. Luckily Lucifer was there, and he quickly snatched your keys from your hand.

"Oh no, I can just see the headlines now, Local woman dies in a fiery crash, honestly love did you think I was going to let you drive yourself home." Lucifer scolded.

You shrugged, laughing a little.

"Guess not."

You pinched his cheek, making him swat your hand away as you broke down in more laughter.

"I've got the best boyfriend, but that supernatural metabolism of yours is so unfair!" Your words began to slur as Lucifer helped you walk towards the exit.

He merely chuckled, agreeing with whatever your drunken mind decided to have you blurt out. The car ride was filled with you insisting you were sober enough to get home on your own. Then following it up with an apology for him having to cut his night short. Lucifer finally pulled into your driveway.

"You are beginning to sound like a broken record, honestly darling I don't mind driving you home." Lucifer assured you.

You smiled, a little more sober than you had been earlier. You swayed only slightly as you stepped out of the Corvette.

"Wait, wait, how am I going to get my car?" You mumbled.

"I'd hardly call that rusted deathtrap a car." Lucifer muttered.

"Hey I've got a lot of memories in Bertha. Besides, I didn't hear you complaining a few days ago, when we were fogging up the windows in the back." You winked.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, shaking his head a little.

"Please don't ruin that memory for me by referring that mutation as Bertha." Lucifer sighed.

"Oh you love those that car."

"The car no, you on the other hand yes, I lo-"

Lucifer let out a surprised noise when you suddenly leaned over the side of the car and pressed your lips against his. You pulled away just before he could start kissing back.

"Goodnight!"

By the time he came back to his senses, you were already inside your house. He sat there for a moment confused before pulling out of your driveway.

~

You watched the black as night car fade from your sight and you sighed. The sound of your jacket hitting the floor could be heard in the quiet house. You stumbled your way to your bedroom, falling forward onto your bed. You turned your head to the side so, you weren't smothering yourself with your pillow.

"That was almost bad."

The thing was you knew exactly what he was about to say. Knew exactly how that sentence would end, and you didn't want to hear it. You just couldn't let him say it. An almost inaudible sigh left your lips and you curled up into a ball, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

~

Lucifer had gotten back to Lux not to long after he left your house, however his desire to party had vanished. Instead, he went up to his penthouse, and settled into one of the tan chairs across from the couch. He placed a hand under his chin, thoughts swimming through his mind.

You had kissed him to keep him from finishing his sentence, to keep him from saying those last three words. The question on his mind though was why.

Why would you stop him?

Why was he just now noticing it wasn't the first time you had stopped those words from rolling off his tongue?

~

To say your head hurt when you woke the next morning would have been an understatement. It felt like there was a marching band playing in your skull, and you groaned pitifully. You almost considered just going back to sleep but immediately pushed that thought aside when you heard someone rummaging through your kitchen.

"Lucifer?" You yelled, almost instantly regretting it when your headache got worse.

"Just making you some lunch!" He called back.

Luckily his voice was muffled from being in a different room. You rolled onto your back staring at the ceiling a moment before swing your legs over the side of your bed. You almost cursed when you opened your bedroom door to be hit with a bright beam of sunlight pouring through the window in your hallway.

"Good afternoon, it's about time you got up." Lucifer smiled.

You weren't feeling particularly peppy at the moment so, you gave him a small smile that more resembled a grimace than anything. Lucifer resisted the urge to laugh at your miserable albeit funny state. He placed a bottle of water in front of you when you sat at the table, followed by a few pills. You smiled gratefully at him, taking it quickly.

"Oh I nearly forgot I made you lunch!" He announced a little too loudly.

You flinched at little, and he apologized as he stood to get you a plate. He sat it down in front of you, before retaking his seat beside you. The entire time you ate, Lucifer was silent and patient which immediately made you suspicious. Because Lucifer wasn't a silent nor patient person.

"Ok, what did you do?" You asked swallowing the food in your mouth.

He looked at you confused.

"Nothing."

You narrowed your eyes a little.

"What do you want."

"Nothing."

You set your fork down, sitting back a little, just staring at him. He was silent for a moment before finally caving in.

"Last night, why didn't you let me finish what I was saying?" He asked.

It was your turn to look confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Well cut me off, just before I tell you that I-"

"Oh right that."

Lucifer frowned at you.

"You did it again."

You forced a laugh, trying to play it off as if nothing was wrong.

"You're overthinking it Luc."

He didn't look like he believed your phony laugh nor your poor excuse.

"No, I over thought it last night, and you know what I realized my dear? You've never let me say it, you've cut me off or just changed the subject before I could ever even finish saying love. Why is that?"

Your body tensed and your eyes looked everywhere but at him.

"I... is it really that important?" You muttered.

Lucifer's frown deepened, and he began to get a little angry.

"Yes, we've been dating nearly two years, yet, you've never let me tell you that-"

You sat up, grabbing his hands to silence him. Lucifer peered into your eyes, you looked so vulnerable and so scared.

"Please don't say you love me. Please, because I might not say it back." You begged.

"Why, do you not love me?" He sounded hurt and you quickly shook your head.

"No, that not it! I do Lucifer, so very, very much, but if you say that, if you tell me that and I say it back, then this becomes something even more important to me than it is now. If it does then if I lose you, or something happens, it'll hurt so much more. And I just can't handle anymore heartache right now. I will say it to you one day because you mean the world to mean Lucifer. But for now please don't say you love me, because I can't say it back yet."

You weren't sure what response you were expecting from him. Maybe anger, or annoyance, maybe assurance. Lucifer however, simply smiled at you, and raised a hand to your face to lightly caress your cheek. He kissed your forehead.

"I understand Y/N, it's ok, I don't mind waiting to say it."

You pulled back to meet his eye, grateful tears blurred your vision and you laughed a little when he wiped your tears away. He pressed another kiss to your forehead, whispering just loud enough for you to hear.

"But although I can't say it, I want you to know that I do, very much."

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

Tag List: @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @adira-secrets @beththedemonhunter @shywriting @emiwrites3reads @gingernarwal @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @sallyp-53 @officalfangirl @cptgryps @mizzezm @measure-in-pain

[x-dolly-parts-x]

Jealous

warnings🖤: mentions of cheating

a/n🖤: this is my first story on here so sorry if the formatting is bad!! this is a quick story that is honestly not my fav. but I just wanted to put this out cause yea! also I just want to say this is in no way meant to hate on Ashley/Halsey!!! shes just so happens to be Dominics girlfriend, and in this story she is a sort of bitch. its just a prompt thing I like (a best friend gets a partner that's bad for them, their relationship ends and the best friends reunite. its just something I really like!!) I hope you enjoy kittens~ 

*

Jealousy.

Thats what it was.

The sight of him, with her.

She would ruin him, everyone knew. Everyone except Dominic.

That was his only fault, he trusted to much. He always gave the benefit of the doubt. And often it ended up screwing him over. Thats why when he brought her along we knew it would end badly.

Ashley.

Who knew a name could fill someone with so much jealousy.

Ashley.

She was a bitxh. She sleeps around. Sells everyone out for popularity.

Ashley.

She's a bully. Though when there's the slightest hint she might get in trouble she's suddenly an angel.

Ashley.

Worst of all?

She has Dominic.

Dominic. She, of all people has him. It wasn't fair. Jealousy is obviously a factor in the disapproval of their relationship. But more was that we knew she would break his heart.

Dominic is strong willed, and always speaks his mind. But he takes things directly to heart. Its one of the reasons we get along.

Maybe Adam can help me get through to him.

*

"So Dominic..." Adam dragged out. Seriousness laced his voice slightly.

"Whats up?" Dominic ask blissful unaware.

"Can we talk to you about Ashley?" Adam carefully asked

"Um sure I guess. I don't understand why though." He said slightly taken aback by the question.

Tension was already growing. It made my stomach knot. I shifted slightly hoping to ease some of the tension I was feeling. It didn't work.

"Mate, listen. We know you like her, but she's no good. Im telling you nothing good is going to happen in this relationship." Adam rushed out. Like he needed to say the words before they escaped from his mind.

"What? I thought we were friends! She said you would say something line this to break us up!" Dominic said angrily as he stood up to leave.

"Dom wait! We're just looking out for you! We don't wanna see you get hurt by her!" I said as gently as I could. Though it wasn't very gentle at all. I stood as well grabbing his arm lightly, thinking maybe I could get him to stay. He is my best friend after all.

"Don't want to see me get hurt?! Bull shit! You two are just jealous! I'm done talking! And let me go!" He yelled as he pushed my hand towards me.

I stumbled back slightly. Dominic had never done something like that to me. Me and Adam watched as Dominic stormed off. I had to fight with myself to keep from crying, why am I so damn sensitive?

"Well that went lovely." Adam sighed.

*

Dominic hadn't been replying to messages lately, mine or Adams. He would just read them. He hasn't been eating lunch with us either.

It was strange. We were so close weeks ago, how could everything change so fast? I was so used to having him around, I never even thought that one day he wouldn't be.

Things felt so different. Adam and I still hung out. But it wasn't the same. Something about Dominic changes everything. Adam knew it too. Neither of us were willing to acknowledge it though.

It was worse at night. I was so accustomed to late night calls with him when we couldn't sleep. Sneaking out to stare at the stars when it wasn't raining. Hearing his breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep next to me.

It hurts. He was always supposed to be there for me, and I for him. But now? He couldn't even pick up the phone.

Does he think of me still? I thought about that question a lot.

No, he doesn't he has her now.

A sob broke through my body. I missed him. I miss my best friend. Having him tell me I'll be ok. Our hugs, friendly smiles, inside jokes, and giggles. They're just memories now

He is my best friend after all.

*

About two weeks have passed since Adam and I had that awful talk with Dominic. It was still radio static from Dominic.

Adam had given up messaging him after a relatively short time, maybe four days max. His reasoning was that if Dominic wanted to talk to us he would. He was right, I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

I still messaged everyday. Nothing to over the top just 'hey' or 'hi'. Of course it never got a response. Adam was right, if he wanted to talk he would.

The first day I stopped messaging him was hard. I wanted nothing more then to pick up my phone and tell him I miss him. But I was worried he'd think I didn't care about him anymore. I'm just being dramatic. Im sure he doesn't even notice I haven't messaged him.

*

The day after I hadn't messaged Dominic, I saw him looking at me. I brushed it off, I'm was sure he was just looking around the lunch room and we just happened to make eye contact. Nothing more.

Later in the halls Ashley was glaring daggers at me. She seemed upset with me. But what had I done? I'm sure it's because I tried to tell Dominic about how awful she is, but that was weeks ago. Was she really still angry? Well I'm still upset over it, so maybe it wasn't a stretch that she was still mad.

*

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since I had spoken to Dominic.

My chest ached. He had moved on. Moved on from our friendship. Moved on from his friendship with Adam.

Moved on from me.

I was being selfish, I admit it. But who can blame me? I was truly worried he was going to get his heartbroken. But something wicked in me wanted him to feel like I did.

Heartbroken.

*

A few days later there was a quiet knock on my door. I was home alone, so I didn't open the door right away. I instead looked through the peephole to see Dominic looking down.

My heart stopped. He was here. I wanted to see him for so long. But now that he was here I had no idea what to do.

Carefully I opened the door. Neither of us speaking. Dominic still hadn't looked up.

After the initial shock faded I finally spoke, my voice barely louder then a whisper, "come in.".

He followed behind me as we went to my room. Like we had done thousands of times. But it was different this time. Everything felt heavy now.

"So..." I broke the silence turning to him.

He wasn't looking down now. His face was tear stained, tears still brimming his eyes threatening to fall.

"Hey, hey what's wrong?" I quickly pulled him into a hug. I couldn't stand seeing him cry.

He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing gently. Almost like he wanted to make sure I was real. I missed our hugs.

"God I'm so fuxking sorry! You were right! God I was so stupid! Please forgive me! I'm sorry! You both were right!" He rambled crying.

"Hey its ok. Tell me what happened." I say gently. I carefully pulled away from the hug, wiping a few tears from his face.

Then taking his hand so we could sit on my bed, which I assumed would be more comfortable.

"You were right. S-she cheated on me. God I'm so dumb. Why did I trust her? I should have listened to you. I just wa-anted to believe she was better then that." He let out, trying not to cry.

"You wanted her to be good. Its not your fault Dominic. You're not dumb." I say, gently rubbing his back, trying to calm him down.

"I am dumb. I pushed my friends away for a girl I barely knew. I pushed you away. God I'm so sorry, can you forgive me?" He asked looking at me with plea and desperation in his eyes.

"Dominic of course I forgive you. I could never stay mad at you." I tell him.

"Thank god." He said relived. Then quickly wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.

"I missed you." He said quietly.

"I missed you more." I said back. Returning the hug and resting my head on his shoulder.

"I'll never leave you like that again." He said.

"Promise?" I asked. I wanted to belie him but I was scared. Scared of losing him again.

"I promise." He said pulling away, looking me in the eyes.

His gaze was gently, a mixture of sad, relived, and something I couldn't quite make out.

He leaned in gently pressing his lips to mine. My heart flutter, heat automatically rose to my cheeks. I kissed back. The kiss was gentle, loving. Like he was scared he was going to break me.

"Its me and you. I promise I'll never hurt you again." He said.

Sealing his promise with another kiss.

[lilyevansreyjakku]

Evermore

A reylo victorian au

Sorry for late edits and short fics I have been very busy and tired 😔😌 but here I am to deliver more short reylo fic . thanks everyone for reblogging my fics and edits as well leaving comments . I appreciate it a lot everyone ! Thanks everyone for taking your time in reading it .

@bellaren18 @lilia-ula @atchamberlin @glitzescape @grlie-girl @infinitelyblackrose @sushigirlali @nancylovesreylo @reylocalligraphy @buffshipper8490 @bunilicious @winglessone @reyloisblessed @angelic-hellraiser @shaara-2 @xtaketwox @magicaldogs @cleverpudding @princeofdarkness15 @bisexual-dilemmas @michellestarswept @thebadjediandthegoodsith @leofgyth @pandoraspocksao3 @reyloarmy @emrys-girlwithasaber @nite0wl29 @generaloftheneworder @reydarcy @empressdarkren @rakefiree @rebelrebelreylo @antbee17 @unexpectedreylo @corariley @orkindofamazing @kinlovecody @practical-or-brave @iaintnosidekick @yuuyamiartist @millyslitterbox

Evermore

A reylo victorian

After rey gave the devistated news to her parents about captain Han Solo's death . her father general chewie didn't take it well .

"I'm sorry father , I didn't want to give you this news ." chewie embrace his daughter .

" it's alright my sweet child , captain solo was a dearest friend to me we always was on battles . we were together in the great and unpleasant moments ".

"I can imagine father , it's hard to lose someone dear to you ". Rey's cheat tighten , she didn't want to feel the pain from losing Poe again .

Ben was looking from the window, how the employees of the ranch kept their daily work . everyone in the big house was talking about his arrival especially in town . he didn't care what others thought about him , he come back for a reason which some how doesn't seem to quite understand . Ben knew he had come back after father lor san tekka told him about his father illness and his mother, maybe it was his conscience his dark and sick .."

"Master solo " cp3o said behind the door .

" come in "

"Master solo, unkar plutt has arrived ."

"Let him in "

"Of course sir ".

"So unkar plutt, you Have been in charge on my father's money I'll say fortune ?" Ben rised his eyebrow , Ben couldn't stand those that weren't honest or faithful to him . Benchecked the books somehow the numbers didn't add up he knew right away .

"Yes sir "

Bebthrow the book in front of unkar plutt " can you explain why have you stolen money from my father ?!"

"N..nnno sir I haven't !"

"Then tell me ! Where's the rest of it ! If you don't tell me ! I'll held you arrested ."

"No sir !please I beg you ! Not that ! I haven't stolen anything, I let master cassian borrow from your father's money, he promised to give it back . he gave me the documents from general chewie home , until he gives me the money back I'll give him in return the house documents !"

" you won't give him anything back those documents belongs to me ! Im the rightful owner of that house now . when he comes by tell him I have them ,if he wants them back he has to come and see me it's that clear !"

The ball was tomorrow rey didn't want anything to do with it. The dress maker had come to her home so she could wear the dress . her mother lady maz was amazed of how beautiful her daughter looked .

"You look beautiful rey , you will be the most beautiful girl in the ball my darling child ." Rey started crying ,maz's face turn serious she dismissed everyone from the room .

" what is it now child ! You been acting strange why on earth are you crying ?"

" it's nothing " , lady maz grabbed her daughter by the arm and turn her around "tell me ! Who is it ?"

"What ? Its no one mother !" Rey replied in surprised

" child you think I'm dumb enough to believe that , your going to tell me in this moment who is it !"

"Alright ! You want to know mother !" Rey shouted , tears running down her cheeks "im in love with someone else "

" who ?!"

"Poe dameron, he is a soldier for the resistance and I love him , but I don't know if he is died . A letter came in last time and it said that he was missing in action possible dead ".

"What ! Since when have you been seeing this boy ?"

" we meet in the church on takodana a two years ago "

" I don't want to hear anymore, enough ! The daughter of a general going out in secret seeing with a man who we don't know who is he ".

" Poe is a respectful man mother " .

"Respectful ? Seeing in secret with a young lady of good family ? That isn't respect nor did have respect for our family !"

"He was but I told him not to "

" your going to marry child ! And thats my and your fathers final word , don't even mention this to your father " , Rey watched as her mother left the room angry . Rey felt to the floor on her knees crying she didn't want to marry anyone she won't it was cruel .

The night of the ball came , everyone from great and prestigious family attande the ball. there was beautiful instrumental music coming from the chewie mansion .

rey didn't understand how her mother could afford the lavish ball. Her father was in bankruptcy she knew that the family was having encomic problem general chewie didn't say anything to her she knew her father didn't want to worried her . the general didn't attend the ball he had gone to see his ranch crops that he had outside takkodana and also see if they could loan him money .

"Rey you look like an angel !" Rose smiled at her friend rey just turn to face the window .

" I'm not marrying anyone rose , Poe is coming you'll see ".

" Rey you know deep down that he isn't , Rey you will marry one day it's your faith my friend ".

"Than what a cruel and trouble faith I have ". Rose caressed Rey's hand

" lets go you have a ball to attend to."

Ben was in inside general chewie mansion it's was beautiful lady maz had taste .

"Sir , may I take your belongings ?"

"Yes , of course ".

Ben looked handsome he notice many young ladies looking at him, he kept walking ,suddenly he saw miss rey coming down the stairs . she looked like angel from heaven she was beautiful . it was beyond anything in this galaxy she was beautiful but Ben saw more then that,since the first day he saw her. she smile at everyone in the room as she pass through the guest a young lady walked next to her she must be a friend from miss rey . Ben had to get near her he had to talk to her he wanted know everything from her .

Leia when to see lor san tekka at the church

"Lady leia , what a pleasant surprise ," leia kissed the father's hand .

"Father may I speak with you?"

"Yes of course lady leia you want something to drink ? ,"

" No I'm alright thank you "

"So tell me , how's everything going ? Has Ben doing well"

"Yes , he is very responsible takes very seriously his work and responsibilities at the ranch ,but my son has changed will of course he has what did I expect but I'm full of joy to have him home with me . "

" don't worry leia everything within its time will be better you'll see ."

" I know , I just wished that Han would have seen him more ,I hope one day my son finds someone that will love him make him at least happy . I know he had gone through things I know I was a ba... "

" No leia you weren't a bad mother if things happened the way it happened because it was the force that wanted it but don't ever blame your self for the actions or choses that your son and you know who else took ." Leia stare at father san tekka , leia just hope her son finds the light and leaves the dark .

Like always no drama my mean people don't like it don't bother on looking I don't want mean and hateful comments . peace ✌🖤

[interludcs]

          BENEDETTA   PORCAROLI   ,   CIS   FEMALE   ,   SHE   /   HER   →   according   to   the   school   records   ,   GIOVANNA   ELOISA   ARGENTI   has   been   attending   sacred   heart   for   the   past   two   years   .   i   last   saw   them   hanging   around   stan's   place   ;   i   think   they   were   tying   cherry   stems   into   knots   .   at   twenty   -   one   ,   gio   has   been   studying   classics   and   get   this   ,   i   heard   that   her   bloodline   has   long   been   cursed   to   succumb   to   inevitable   madness   and   it’s   been   the   cause   of   many   mysterious   deaths   in   the   family   already   —   figure   it’s   true   ?   everyone   around   here   always   associates   them   with   biting   into   an   apple   only   to   realize   it’s   rotten   ,   a   bloody   nose   dripping   onto   silk   stockings   ,   and   the   distorted   screech   of   a   violin   coming   from   another   room   .   in   the   time   since   these   strange   happenings   ,   they   have   encountered   unexplained   occurrences   .  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     QUICK  STATS  !

full  name  :   giovanna   eloisa   argenti

nickname(s)  :   gio   ,   gigi   (   although   she   likes   to   think   she   outgrew   it  )

zodiac  :   scorpio   sun   ,   gemini   moon   (  click   !  )

sexuality  :   bisexual   .

occupation  :   student   &   heiress   .

birthplace  :   rome   ,   italy   .

current residence  :   sacred   heart   academy   . 

pinterest   :   (   click   !   )  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     BACKSTORY  !  (   tw   :   depression   ,   murder   ,   suicide   &   drug   abuse   )

born   in   1953   to   one   of   the  wealthiest   families   in   italy   !   the   argenti's   posses   a   ridiculous  and   tbh   kinda   disgusting   fortune   because   of   their   distant   ties   to   the   old   italian   monarchy   ...   and   are   also   long   rumored   to   have   been   cursed   hundreds   of   years   ago   as   divine   punishment    for   the   sins   of   a   past    family   member   . 

the   family    has    a    long   and   gruesome   history   —   good   husbands   turning   into   killers   ,   more   than   one   argenti   woman    flinging   herself   off   one   of    the   many   balconies   in   the   family   estate   ,   children   who   hear   voices   in   the   night   .   more   often    than    people   care   to   count   ,   these   fits   of   madness   are   seemingly   inexplicable   .        

giovanna   was   born   on   chilly   autumn   night   .   she   would   be   her   mother’s   first   and   last   child   ,   but   lucianna   argenti   saw   her   baby   girl   as   anything   but   a   miracle   .   when   she   was   only   five   months   old   ,   a   nanny   discovered   the   woman   trying   to   drown   giovanna   in   the   bathtub   ,   stuck   in   a   trance   she’d   later   have   no   recollection   of   being   in   .   long   in   denial   of   the   family   curse   ,    marco   argenti   hired   nearly   every   notable   doctor   in   italy   ,   but   none   of   them   could   find   a   sound   explanation   for   the   violent   and   nonsensical   trances   his   wife   would   experience   for   the   next   three   years   before   ultimately   taking   her   own   life   .        

leaving   giovanna   to   grow   up   all   alone   in   the   too   big   family   estate   at   the   hands   of   nannies   ,   marco   argenti   would  spend   the   better   years   of   his   only   daughter’s   life   traveling   all   around   europe   ,   desperate   to   shake   the   ghost   of   his   wife   ,   but   never    succeeding   . 

despite   all   the   tragedy   early   on   in   gio’s   life   ,   she   had   an   almost   typical   upbringing   for   someone  in   her   socioeconomic   circle   .   a   childhood   devoid   of   the   love   her   parents   were   supposed   to   give   ,   nannies   who   gave   in   to   the   rotten   demands   only   a    wealthy   child   and   sole   heir   could   conjure   up   ,    a    house   that   never   felt   like   a   home   .

by   the   time   she   was   a   teenager   ,   gio   had   grown   up   to   be   a   different   kind   of   monster   —   not   the   madwomen   her   classmates   would   snicker   about   when   speaking   ill   of   the   blood   that   flowed   through   her   veins   ,    but   something   perhaps   more   dangerous   ,   a   selfish   girl   too   clever   and   too   beautiful   for   her   own   good   . 

on   the   eve   of   her   18th   birthday   her   father   makes   his   grand   return   home  ,   gone   so   long   he   mistakes   his   daughter   for   a   maid   before   a   groundskeeper   politely   informs   him   of   his   mistake   .   causing   more  tension   still   was   the   brand   new   gold   band   on   his   ring   finger   ,   as   well   as   the   announcement   that   he’s   selling   the   estate  ,   and   that   gio’s   to   come   live   with   his   new   wife   and   three   small   children   in   france   .

the   day   giovanna   argenti   turns   18   is   a   day   she   can   no   longer   remember  save  for   waking   up   in   the   remnants   of   a   burnt   down   home   ,   ash   caked   underneath   her   fingernails   ,   smoke   burning   her   lungs   .   servants   who   have   been   loyal   to   the   argenti   family   for   decades   will   later   testify   that  there   had   been   a   terrible   accident   lighting   the   birthday   cake   that   night   ,   that   marco  argenti   had   never   returned   home   the   night   before   ,    and   that   the   family   of   four   in   paris   crying   murder   were   nothing    but   scammers   after   the   family   fortune   .

gio   spends   the   next   year   scrambling   to   piece   together   the   mysterious   events   ,   a   tiny   voice   inside   her   head   insisting   something   wasn’t   right   with   the   story   she’d   been   fed   by   the   people   who  raised   her   ,   albeit   confused   as   to   why   they’d   hide   the   truth   if   something   sinister   had   indeed   happened  that   night  .  she   could   have   sworn   the   memory   of   her   father   coming   home   was   a   real   one   —   until   she   gets   a   letter   in   the   mail  ,   signed   marco   argenti   ,   polaroid  attached  ,   a   blurry   shot   of   a   man   who   bears   the   family   resemblance  standing   in   front   of   the   statue   of   liberty   .

cue   the   drug   abuse   (   coke   being   her   poison  of   choice   )   ,   the   reckless   and   dangerous   stunts   all   in   the   name   of   having   a   good   time   ,   the   mind   numbing   sex   with   strangers   .   heart   heavy   with   the   idea   that   she   was   indeed   going   insane   ,   following   in   the   footsteps   of   all   the   argenti’s   that   had   come   before   her   ,   giovanna   was   left   with   the   haunting   sensation   that   her   life   was   already   doomed   ,   and   so   she   might   as   well   make   the   most   of   it   .  on   the   flip   side   of   this   she   also   came   to   the   realization   that   she   could   pretty   much   ....   do   whatever   she   wanted   and   get   away   with   it   ?   people   already   thought   she   was   cursed   and   crazy   ...   might   as    well   act   the   part   ...   a    little    self   fulfilling   prophecy  ...   as   a   treat   <3      

in   a   feeble   attempt   to   save   her   from  an   untimely   and   rather   stupid   demise   ,   she   is   shipped   off   to   sacred   heart   academy   ,   a   place   a   distant   cousin   once   attended   .   mind   clouded   by   addiction   and   unresolved   trauma   alike   ,   giovanna   can’t   be   sure   the   strange   happenings   at   sacred   heart   are   real   at   all   or   just   a   product   of   a   dark   and   overactive   imagination   .   

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     PERSONALITY  +  TIDBITS  !

first   &   foremost   ...   gio   was   inspired   loosely   by   some   sexy   women   including   miss   effy   stonem   from   skins   ,   choi   sooji   from   tempted   ,   ludo   from   baby   ,   villanelle   from   killing   eve   &   lady   macbeth   minus   the   murder   (   ...   unless   ?   😏   )   ,   as   well   as   more   lana   del   rey   songs   than   i   care   to   admit   so   we   won’t   be   talking   about   it   aha   x

yes   what   i’m   trying   to   say   is   she’s   a   little   unhinged   ...   but   in   that   fun   sexy   way   like   when   amy   dunne   gives   the   cool   girl   speech   in   gone   girl   .

speaking   of    cool   girls   ...   gio   is   one   😌   you   would   think   growing   up   with   a   last   name   that’s   literally   famous   for   being   cursed    would   have   put   a   bigger    damper   on   her    popularity   among   people   but   there’s   a   certain   fascination   gio   holds   and   she   knows   it   .   this   isn’t   to   say   she’s   got   a   lot   of   friends   because   she   definitely   doesn’t   ,   she   just   knows   how   to   get   people’s   attention   .

at   her    core   she   is   clever   ,    charming   ,    everything   someone   who   grew   up   with   money   is   bound   to   be   .   but   unlike   the   selfishness   of    other   trust   fund   babies   ,   gio’s    operates   on   a   different   scale   .   she’s   self   obsessed   ,    not   because   she   views   herself   as   better   than   anyone   else   ,   but  because   she’s    so   haunted    by   the   idea   that   something   terrible   and   wicked   exists   inside   of   her   and   it’s   only   a   matter   of   time   before   darkness   takes   over   .

in   an   effort   to   counter   that   weight   ,    she   breezes   through   life   without   taking   much   seriously   .    toying   with   people   ,   the   mind   games   she   plays   ,    it’s   all   an   effort   to   distract   herself   ,   to   entertain   her   brain   with   thoughts   that   somehow   seem   lighter   in   comparison   to   her   own   inevitable   self   destruction   although   the   people   she   plays   with   might   say   otherwise   . 

consequences   should   scare   her   more   than   they   do   ,   but   honestly   she’s   got   a   penchant   for   doing   the   things   deemed   bad   for   her   .   on   one   hand   she   figures   little   matters   if   she’s   truly   cursed   ,    on   the   other   hand   she   figures   if    she   is   cursed   than   whatever   consequence   comes   her   way   is   deserved   .

flirty   ,    but   most   of   the   time   it   never   means   anything   .   she   is   prone   to   intense   infatuations   ,   however   ,   all   of   which   have   ended   tragically   so   far   so   proceed   with   caution   .

she’s   definitely   someone   most   people   would   know   of   ,    as    she’s   got   an   almost   bad   habit   of   striking   up   conversations   with   whoever   ,   but   ask   someone   to   name   her   favorite   color   or   any   profound   fact   about   her   and   they   probably   wouldn’t   be   able   to   .

very  nosy   due   to   her   childhood   of   people   watching  and   intensely   studying   the   adults   who   raised   her   ,   and   so   the   habit   has   carried   on   into   her   adult   life   .   she   won’t   outwardly   pry   ,   but   if   you   catch   her   interest   she’ll   unabashedly   observe   you   like   she’s   an   actor   trying   to   better   understand   their   part   .

tons   of   fun   at   parties   ,   but   also   in   class   ,   considering   she’s   snorting   enough   coke   on   the   daily   to   treat   school   like   it’s   one   big   social   gathering   .   life’s   a   beach   baby   <3

studying   classics   because   she   likes   how   intense   the   stories   and   history   are  ,   but   she’s   surprised   herself   by   being   rather   good   at   the   language   aspect   of   the   major   .

deep   deep   down   ...  there   is   the   desire   to  be   understood   and   loved   despite   whatever   uninhibited   thing   she’s   convinced   lurks   around   inside   her  but   that   is   constantly   in   conflict   with   the   idea   that   she’s   fundamentally   undeserving   of   real   affection   ...   just  girly   things  you   know    🥺

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     WANTED  CONNECTIONS  !  (  all  open  to  all  genders  )

 my   brain   is   quite   literally   all   rot   rn   im   just   gonna   list   stuff   with  minimal   elaboration  please   vibe   with   me   ...

people   she   gets   high   with  <3   

ex   infatuations   that   ended   tragically   lets   get   that   angst

spare   parental   figures   ...   any   professors   out   there   want   a   demon   child   who   will   idolize   u   but   not   know   how   to   deal   with   that   so   they   just   act   up   all   the   while   hoping   for   forgiveness   and   the   attention   they   never   got   from   their   own   parents   </3      

speaking   of   professors   i   will   play   into   the   problematic  trope   of   a   student   being   obsessed   with   a   professor   -___-   solely   because  i   would   lov   to   have   gio   go   full   throttle   crazy   ...   as   a   treat   ...   this   has   nothing   to   do   with   that   one   line   in   lorde’s   writer   in   the   dark   u   know   the   one   truly   this   does   not   have   to   be   reciprocated   at   ALL            

a   confidant   /    someone   she   probably   considers   her   closest  friend   who   she   is   constantly  disgusted   with   herself   for   opening   up   to   but   also   truly   not   able   to   live   without   so   it’s   a   fun  cycle   of   push   and   pull   but  truly  she’d   probably  die  for   them  just   don’t  ask   her   that   she’ll   say   no   

i   think   it   would   be   fun   to    have   someone   who   knows   about   the   supposed   argenti   curse   maybe   their  family   had   some   associations   to   gio’s   or   maybe   they   spent   some  time  in  italy   at   some   point   growing   up   and   met   her   there   idk   im   cute   not   smart   ...

we’ve  all   been   begging  and  begging   i   will   jump   on   the   bandwagon   and   ask   for   a   sexy   rival   doesnt   mean   anything   if   u   say   i   hate  u   after   hooking  up     

someone   she   keeps   bumping   into  when   she’s   sneaking   out   past   curfew   or   cutting   class   and   at   first   it   was   like   dude   seriously   do   we   have   to   start   alternating   but   now   it   turned  into   like   wow   i   really   hope   we   bump   into   each   other   again   would   u   like   a  cigarette   wanna   listen   to   some   music   together   

 someone   she   sees   a   lot   at   stan’s   place   .   perhaps   on   campus   they   have   a   very   different  relationship   but   off   campus   they  feel   free   to  have   another

current   hookups   we   love   to   see   it   there’s   so   many   directions   to   go   in    maybe   its   purely   a   casual   thing   ,    maybe   it’s   casual   for   gio   but   not   for   them   ,   or    maybe   gio’s   the   one   like   worm   maybe   i  would   like   more   than   sex   ,    maybe   it’s   like   a   we   only   hookup   when   we’re   high   at   parties   thing  ,   perhaps   it’s   a   secret   hookup   thing   so   it   gets   angsty      

maybe   a   rival   or   someone   she   swears   she   hates   and   they   swear   the   same   but   they   accidentally   bond   along   the   way   and   it’s   like   well   i   thought   i   hated   u   but   perhaps  we   are   more   similar   than   we   thought   but   also   we   only   know   how   to   be  enemies  so   how   do   we   even   move   past   this   ...

perhaps   someone   gio   goes   to   when   she’s   especially   fucked   up   and   they   take   care   of   her   /   start   to   resent   her   for   seemingly   caring   so   little   abt   her   own   well   being   and   she   resents   them   for   caring   too  much   bc   it’s   not   liked   she   asked   but   she   keeps   showing   up   at   their   door   and   they   keep   letting   her   in   

someone   she   can   be   in   cahoots   with   ...   go   absolutely   bonkers   with   knowing   they   won’t   judge   her   and   she   won’t   judge   them

perhaps   someone   she   can   be   a   bad   influence   on

also   someone   who   makes   her   want   to   be   a   better   person   bc   we   need   balance

a   group   of   girls   gio   can   be   like   men   r   disgusting   with   but   then   they  catch   her   hooking   up   with   said   stinky   man   and   it’s   just   a   cycle   like   please   get   some  help  luv   

a   dealer   mayhaps   ?   

someone   whose   favorite   pen   she   stole   but   blatantly   lied   and   said   she   didn’t   steal   it   but   she   uses   it   everyday  in   class   so   u   know   she   did   in  fact   steal   ur   pen

ok   she’s   out   of   juice   i’m   she      

i   wont   lie   to   u   ive   been   writing   this   all  damn   day   …   but   we   finally   made   it   baby   😭😭😭   im   sosososo  sorry   for   the   length   &  the   wait   …   also   i   feel   like   my   charas   always   change   a  lil   once   i   actually   start   plotting   &   writing   so   sorry   again   if   u   see   me   finally   writing   as   giovanna   on   the   dash   and   ur   like   lit   rally   who   is   that   …  JSDBWJBDWBDJ   also   side   note   i   promise   u   im   almost  done   word   vomiting   all   over   the   place   but   it   must   b   said   ...   u   know   how   there’s   that   trope   that   supposed   insanity   is   like   not   always  real    like   how   female   hysteria   was   a   whole   as   thing   or   like   how   in   haunting   of   hill   house   where   the   charas   weren’t   really   haunted   by   ghosts   at   all   more   so   by   their   trauma   ...   that   was   my   whole   inspo   with   the   argenti’s   like   are   they   even  cursed   at   all   ?   who   is   to   say   ...   PLEASE  come  message  me  on  discord  to  plot   !   @ you are my soulmate ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172   maybe  …   give   this   a   like   if   u   wanna   …   do   that   hehehe   thank   u   for   reading   all   this   ur   so   brave   for   that   stay   sexy   stan   loona  x  

[melodiouswhite]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 49

49. Her Ladyship's strange and remarkable Friends (tw: bad French and mention of violence and gore)

Just a few days later, Lady Summers informed them, that her old friends would be happy to meet them on Sunday. But they would have to come to them, as they had no housekeeper and couldn't leave their house alone.

Lanyon had major issues with permitting the Lady to travel across London in her state. It had been only three weeks since the incident and she was still very fragile.

But it was quite impossible to talk her out of this, so he gave up. He did however ask the coachman to drive as carefully as possible.

“Don' worry, Doc”, the Irishman replied gruffly, “My drivin' won't be the problem 'ere.”

This didn't make Lanyon feel better in the slightest, but he said nothing more.

And so it came that on Sunday, Lady Summers and the male quartet were on their merry way to Soho of all places and apparently not far away from where Hyde lived.

Of course Lanyon's greatest worry was that his Lady was fine. But deep down … he had to admit that he was curious.

He really wanted to meet those childhood friends she had been talking about so much lately.

After a while, the coach stopped and they got off.

Lanyon was surprised to see that they were standing in front of a corner bookshop, that seemed to share the building with a surgery. The house was in good shape and looked a bit out of place among all the other buildings that were anything but.

He read the sign above the door.

Flamel & Wife – Bookshop and Library, est. 1865

Antiquary books, textbooks and school utensils

And right next to it:

Dr. Faust, surgery

“Huh. I do know that house”, Hyde stated, “I bought a few books here. The bookseller was a Frenchman and he was really-”

“He's one of the friends I'm going to introduce you to”, Lady Summers told him.

Then she slowly stepped up to the door, but hesitated to ring.

“I seriously hope that they remembered”, she muttered, “Last time they thought I was someone else and the reception was … explosive.”

Lanyon swallowed and tried to ignore his sense of foreboding.

Now the Lady finally rang the bell.

Something moved inside and a chubby woman with auburn hair and brown eyes opened the door.

She recognised the Lady, gasped in delight and called something over her shoulder further into the house.

“Careful, careful”, Lady Summers told her, when she wanted to hug her, “I'm having a sick phase.”

The auburn-haired woman frowned. “Oh mon dieu! Je suis désolée¹!”

Lanyon's attention was up. That had to be the French proprietress.

Lady Summers stepped to the side, so the other woman could see her company.

“Perenelle, these gentlemen are-”

“Tell us all at once”, the other responded. “Entrez! Les autres vous attendent²!”

“Perenelle, speak English”, the Prussian reminded her. “Only two of my companions are fluent in French.”

Sheepishly, the Frenchwoman apologised and let them in.

About time, Lanyon thought. It's pretty rude to wait that long to invite people in.

“Cut them some slack”, Lady Summers responded telepathically, “They don't have guests that often and are quite apprehensive.”

The four men were lead into the parlour, which was a bit cluttered, but otherwise cosy enough.

A gaunt, platinum blond man with silvery eyes and a pince-nez fetched a few extra chairs. “Do sit down”, he invited them. That had to be the bookseller Hyde had mentioned.

And sure enough, they recognised each other.

“Monsieur Flamel”, Hyde spoke. “Quel plaisir de vous revoir³.”

“Mister 'yde”, the man returned. “Fancy seeing you again.”

Their tone was cool and they didn't look as pleased, as they claimed. Then again, no one was pleased to meet Hyde and the brunette naturally reflected the antipathy he was met with.

Then the man named Mr. Flamel turned to them. “Welcome, gentlemen. I'm Nicolas Flamel, the landlord and owner of the bookshop in the front and the small library upstairs. This-” He pointed at the auburn-haired woman, “-is ma merveilleuse épouse⁴, Perenelle.”

Lanyon tried to recall, where he had heard those names before, but then Jekyll solved the riddle for him.

“Nicolas Flamel?”, he cried, “The Nicolas Flamel? The man who is said to have found the philosophers' stone?!”

Oh. Now Lanyon remembered, but-

What the hell?! That man lived 500 years ago!

The Frenchman chuckled. “I'm surprised you know me. People aren't that interested in alchemy these days.”

Jekyll blushed a little. “I am”, he admitted quietly.

The other man, who was tending to the fire, paused. “Really? How nice! I'm an alchemist myself. Everyone in this house is, actually.”

The man was stocky and thin, had unkempt, ginger hair, a crooked nose and sharp blue-grey eyes with slight bags and frowning wrinkles. He gave Lady Summers a warm smile and said something in German to her.

She laughed: “Good to see you too, Johann. Gentlemen, this is Prof. Dr. Johann Georg Faust. Yes, that Dr. Faust”, she added, when she saw their incredulous faces.

They just had time to introduce themselves, before Hyde suddenly barked: “You! I remember you! You're the doctor I was forced to pay, when-”

“You trampled a little girl”, Dr. Faust finished icily. “Well, if it isn't Mr. Hyde! It's not a pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise!”, Hyde hissed, “You wanted to kill me!”

The ginger-haired doctor looked at him scornfully. “I didn't try to. Besides, what kind of reaction would you expect after walking over a little girl like she's a dirty rug!”

“Well, what was that brat doing out there in the middle of the night to begin with?!”

“Running from a creep her parents had sold her to! I know that, because-”

“I don't bloody care-”

“Don't lie to me! I have the same ability as Luise and some more. And if I didn't know what happened to you since then, I would-”

“What would you do?”, the brunette snarled. “Turn me into an animal?”

“Why not, I bet you'd make a beautiful cat-”

“Please!”, Jekyll cried, startling them, “This is not the moment to argue about this!”

“He's right. Pull yourselves together, girls! You're both pretty!”, Lady Summers agreed firmly.

The two squabblers stared at her. “GIRLS???”

“And please don't turn him into a cat, Johann. You know I'm allergic to them. Außerdem hat er viel gelernt in den letzten Monaten⁵.”

Lanyon stared at Dr. Faust in horror. “So what Marlowe and Goethe wrote about you is true?!”

Dr. Faust shook his head. “It's not. Don't wreck your brain, Dr. Lanyon.” A mischievous smirk. “I don't need a demon to do the fantastic! Do you want to see-”

“No, I do not want to see it! I've seen enough witchcraft in one year! This is too much!”, Lanyon spat angrily. Then awareness of his tone set in and he apologised: “I'm sorry. How rude of me.”

Dr. Faust shook his head. “It's fine. I'm accustomed to worse.”

Then he smiled lopsidedly. “I'm stoked to meet you. Not to sound offensive, but … you three went to school and finished it. So far I've been the only one!”

The Flamels coughed in the background.

“Oh shut up, you two have been home-schooled!”

Jekyll frowned. “Not to sound offended, but what is that supposed to mean?”

Two more men entered the room.

Dr. Faust sighed and pointed at one of them. “This is what.”

The one he pointed at was a peaked boy with long hair, glasses and amber eyes. He looked young, but his black hair was greying and tied up in a messy pony tail.

The other was huge (not smaller than 8ft), had yellowish, nigh transparent skin, creepy yellowish eyes, a black mane of hair and looked more like a huge rag doll than a living man.

“Oh, they're here! Hello, everyone”, the boy said, “It's a pleasure to meet you. Luise told us so much about you-”

“Did you clean up the mess?”, Dr. Faust asked.

“Yes, Doctor. I did.”

“Next time think twice, before you make a mess in my lab, do you understand me?”

“Yes, I do”, the boy said duly, but looked a bit agitated at being talked to like a child.

But Mr. Flamel jumped to his aid: “I don't see 'ow you're one to admonish 'im about making a mess, Jean. Do you remember that one time you almost blew up my bookshop in Paris?”

“That was 200 years ago and an accident! You can't still be angry about that!”

The Frenchman's silvery eyes narrowed.

“… I guess you can.”

Meanwhile the boy turned to Jekyll: “I'm Victor Frankenstein.”

Jekyll gasped: “What a surprise! I read the novel by Mary Shelley, but I didn't think that I would ever meet you! Charmed!”

Oh! The novel 'Frankenstein or the modern Prometheus' by Mrs. Shelley! Henry loves that one!

Victor blushed awkwardly. “Likewise. You must be Dr. Lanyon?”

“No, that's me”, Lanyon spoke up sourly.

Frankenstein blushed. “Oh! Oh Heavens, I'm so sorry! I didn't think-”

Dr. Faust facepalmed and groaned: “Of course you'd assume that Luise would love the man you would find most handsome in that group!” (Jekyll blushed) “Stop stuttering and introduce to them what you made!”

“Right, sure. This-” He pointed at the giant, “-is my creature.”

“His homunculus”, Dr. Faust corrected cuttingly, “And he has a name.”

Lady Summers stood up slowly and introduced the creature. “That's Adam. Johann named and adopted him – sort of – because Victor doesn't want to deal with him.”

It was Hyde, who first stepped forward, looking up at the giant in wonder. The creature named Adam stared back. Then he knelt down and Hyde placed one of his small, bony hands onto one huge knee. He looked even tinier and more fragile next to the black-haired giant.

Lanyon could tell in their eyes, that they were recognising each other, seeing the fellow artificial creation in each other, the suffering companion. There was something heart-rending and intimate about it and the bespectacled doctor had to hold back tears, when the two hugged each other (awkwardly, as Hyde wasn't used to giving affection, while the other seemed unused to getting it).

From the corner of his eye, he could see Mrs. Flamel wipe her eyes with a handkerchief.

Dr. Faust looked mollified at their interaction, seemed like he really cared about the giant.

After a while Jekyll joined his other half and held out his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir”, the blond said kindly. “I'm Dr. Jekyll. I'm his creator.”

Jekyll placed the other hand on Hyde's shoulder and rubbed it gently.

The giant blinked. Then carefully took the offered hand and replied: “The pleasure is mine.”

Lanyon and Utterson exchanged a glance, before following suit and introducing themselves.

“So, we 'eard about what 'appened at the royal gala”, Mr. Flamel brought up later.

Hyde and Adam were sitting in the library, while the rest of the group was still in the parlour, having tea and cakes.

“Such a barbaric thing to do to a lady. Seeing you in such a state around this time of the year, when you're normally fine … 'ow bad was it three weeks ago, right after it 'appened?”

“It was awful”, Lanyon told him, before the Lady could answer. “We needed to give her two transfusions, because she was suffering from severe anaemia …” He felt a lump in his throat and had to turn away to regain his composure. “I'm sorry”, he apologised.

Lady Summers grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

But Mr. Flamel shook his head. “Why apologise for love and care? It's the most wonderful thing in the world. And we don't just feel this way because we're French.”

Mrs. Flamel took her husband's hand and gazed at him lovingly. “We've been married for 518 years”, she told them.

“That's wonderful”, Jekyll replied, “I wish I had such a wonderful relationship.”

“You will”, Dr. Faust suddenly spoke up, “But you need to learn an important lesson.”

The blond doctor frowned at him. “And that would be?”

“To be careful with how you speak to and about the ones you love and, most importantly, consider the feelings of others!”, the ginger told him bluntly.

Lanyon could tell that Jekyll was offended and about to make a snappy retort. But a gentle look from Utterson silenced and pacified the angry scientist.

They all knew that Dr. Faust was right, but it was wiser not to say that out loud.

Still though, how the hell does that man know?

The eerie alchemist answered aloud: “I already told you, I have the same ability as Luise and some more. I can also predict the future and perform necromancy, but I don't use that to earn my livelihood these days. I'm tired of people insulting or trying to kill me.”

“Necromancy?”, Lanyon repeated, “You raise the dead?!”

Dr. Faust frowned. “No. No spell in the world can really bring back the dead, even though Victor here would love to tell you otherwise. I can only conjure their spirits and question them. And that alone is something that shouldn't be done.”

“Have people ever asked you to do it?”, Utterson asked curiously.

“Of course!”, the alchemist groaned, “In fact, it happens quite a lot lately. It's always the same kind of people. They can't get closure over the death of a loved one and want to get them back. This is so boring and tiring, that I just send them away. If they have an actually good reason and can pay accordingly, only then I consider it, maybe!”

“Uhm …”

Everyone startled, when Victor Frankenstein spoke up.

Right. That lad was still there too. He was looking at Jekyll in fascination. “So … you're in love?”

The blond Doctor blinked. But then he nodded and smiled. “Yes. I certainly am.”

Frankenstein tilted his head. “But you're not married. I see no ring on your finger.”

Jekyll shrugged.

Of course he could have replied something the likes of: “I would, if I could.” or “It's illegal”. But then he would have given away that he was loving another man (or two, because Lanyon was quite sure, that Jekyll loved Hyde as well) and that was more than dangerous these days.

Both Lanyon and Utterson knew that and that's why they weren't offended by his apparent nonchalance.

The Flamels and Dr. Faust seemed to get the hint as well, because they made no remark either.

But Frankenstein began to pry: “Who is it? The black-haired lawyer sitting-?”

Dr. Faust promptly elbowed him. “Shut up, Victor. It's none of our business, who he loves and it doesn't matter anyway.”

“But I want to know how their-”

“It's none of our business!”, the alchemist growled, “And even if it was, you wouldn't understand the emotional depth of it.”

The black-haired boy glared back at him. “How are you one to talk? In the 400 years of your life, you've never once been in love!”

“Neither have you”, the ginger-haired man retorted. “You claim that you were in love with Elisabeth, but you never confided in her, never were there for her, when she would have needed it and on top of that, you left her alone on your wedding night. Everyone in this room can tell you, that this has nothing to do with love and it's not how you treat someone you care about.”

The others nodded affirmatively.

But Faust wasn't finished yet – in fact, he seemed to be just getting started.

“And don't even get me started on how you treated your creature. You animated him and ran away, because you didn't like his eyes. And you still insult him and call him a monster, ugly and other charming things like that. I would have preferred dying over treating my little Gretchen like that, when she was alive.”

That caught Lanyon's attention. “So your alleged mistress was actually your daughter?”

“Mhm. My little sunshine she was!”

“'E was a good father too”, Mr. Flamel spoke up, “'E took good care of 'er.”

Dr. Faust smiled warmly. “She really was the best person in the world. But then she fell in love, married and decided to grow old and live a normal life with her family. Of course it broke my heart, when she died and I still really miss her sometimes. But she was happy and that's all I could ask for as a father.”

He pointed at an oil painting at the wall. “That's her. Nicolas painted that.”

It was the full body portrait of a beautiful, blond woman with grey eyes and rosy cheeks.

“She doesn't look anything like you”, Utterson pointed out.

“Oh, that's because I only adopted her. I met her shortly, after I had faked my death in 1541, when I was moving around with the Flamels (we were already a group back then) and she was sitting at the side of a road, begging for alms. She just looked so pathetic, I had to do something. That's how I got myself a daughter.”

“When did you become immortal?”, Jekyll asked curiously.

The German alchemist shrugged. “When I was 38 years old. Then I met the Flamels on a trip to Heidelberg and after some persuasion, they agreed to teach me how to make a Philosophers' Stone. For a while I could conceal that I wasn't ageing. There was no registry back then and as a wandering Doctor, I was always on the move. However … I was very famous in a lot of territories of the Holy Roman Empire, so it was only a matter of time, before someone would question my age. So I created a puppet, that looked like me and caused an explosion. It worked perfectly, they thought the Devil had claimed me.” He shook his head. “Of course I had to go into hiding after that. But I still nearly got killed countless times. Got accused of some vile stuff I don't even want to take into my mouth.”

“To their defence, Johann”, Lady Summers remarked. “You're rather unheimlich⁶.”

She had a point there.

Dr. Faust was obviously brilliant and charming in a gruff way, but he also seemed paranoid, difficult and – to put it politely – borderline creepy. Something was just off about him. Not as extreme as with Hyde, but it was unsettling.

Like Jekyll's science.

Yes, that was it. The aura of alchemy and dark magic was just oozing off him.

Totally someone people would pin to have a deal with the devil.

Suddenly Lanyon remembered, how Lady Summers had said that the two would get along famously. And he realised that she might be right.

“I can't decide, if I should be flattered or offended”, Faust drily responded to his inner musings.

The hoary doctor blushed at being caught red-handed.

The ginger-haired man turned back to Jekyll. “Are you interested in becoming immortal?”

That caught the Flamels' and Frankenstein's attention and they looked at the blond expectantly.

Jekyll considered the question.

But then he exchanged a look with both Lanyon and Utterson.

He smiled and shook his head. “No. I don't think I could handle watching my loved ones die, while I live for centuries. I don't want that. I'm fine with living a normal life, as long as the people I care about are in it.”

Lanyon grinned; he wouldn't have expected any other answer from their mad scientist.

Utterson smiled fondly, a rare thing to see in public.

Lanyon didn't need his Lady's telepathic abilities to know that the two men's feet were touching under the table.

These two silly lovebirds.

“That's coming from you?”, Dr. Faust's voice suddenly sounded in his head, nearly making him jump, “You call Luise your 'radiant angel' and you're her 'dear doctor'! So shush!”

Said Lady glared at her old friend. “Johann, stop that! The only one who's allowed to invade his mind is me!”

He laughed and stood to make a bow. “Of course. Do forgive me, oh Marchioness of Brandenburg, Princess of Hanover and Countess of Calenberg and Cornwall. Will I be granted mercy?”

“One last time, you lowly commoner”, she responded playfully.

The Flamels and Frankenstein chuckled.

Now Utterson spoke up again: “If you don't mind, ladies and gentlemen: how did you meet?”

The alchemist group and the mad scientist frowned.

It was Frankenstein, who answered: “Well, somehow that evil organisation found out about us and kidnapped us; that is, me and the Flamels. We were experimented on for weeks, they took quite a lot of our blood – to experiment on the samples, probably. One day they carried a half-dead ten-year-old girl into our cell. And that was Luise. That's how we met her. Dr. Faust and the Wre-” (he corrected himself, when Dr. Faust glowered at him) “-Adam came to free us. The Doctor blew up whole parts of the building and was totally shocked, when he saw the ill little girl with us.”

The ginger-haired man nodded. “Yes. But she wasn't too ill to get enthusiastic, when she looked into my mind and knew who I was. Seriously, I've never seen a little girl so happy to meet me.”

Lady Summers blushed and laughed awkwardly. “I'd never heard about the Flamels until I met them, but I had already read Goethe's Faust and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, so I was ecstatic to meet the men themselves – that's just how children are.”

Lanyon almost laughed at the Flamels' wry smiles and Dr. Faust's cocky grin.

He hadn't expected their visit to Lady Summers' old friends to be so strange, long or entertaining.

All the time their hosts had been nothing but friendly and well-mannered and Dr. Faust had quickly warmed up, when he had concluded that none of them meant harm to their mind-reading friend.

He even became friendlier to Hyde, after seeing how harmoniously the brunette and Adam interacted.

In fact, when the group came to pick the gremlin up, they found him dozing in the giant's lap.

Adam put a hand to his mouth as a sign to be quiet.

Jekyll broke into a huge smile, crossed the room silently and brought a gentle hand to Hyde's pale cheek.

“Hyde?”, he spoke, just barely above a whisper, “Hyde. Wake up.”

Lanyon saw those bilious green eyes slowly open and blink.

“Huh? Already time to go?”, he mumbled sleepily.

“I'm afraid so”, Jekyll replied and turned to Adam: “Sir, give him back to me, please. We have to go home.”

The giant was obviously extremely unwilling to let go of his “brother”, but Jekyll looked so friendly, asked so nicely and seemed to be so fond of Hyde (and he was, Lanyon knew that), that he finally gave in.

With a chuckle, the blond helped his alter ego up and helped him put on his coat.

“Let's go home, my dear other half”, he said fondly.

Hyde appeared too drowsy to really register it and just leaned into him.

They all said their goodbyes and left.

Of course not before Dr. Faust had threatened to blow Lanyon to bits, should he ever break Lady Summers' heart.

“I have nothing to fear, then”, the hoary man had calmly retorted, before saying goodbye and seeing himself out.

Jekyll and Hyde had been the first to get off the coach, when Mr. O'Connor had dropped them off one by one.

Something had concerned Lanyon though.

“Have you noticed something about Hyde?”, he asked the other two.

Utterson nodded. “Yes. He was so quiet, ever since he first saw Mr. Adam. And just now he was so clingy towards Jekyll. That's so unlike him. Something is making him upset and I wish I could do something about it. You have seen it, right, Milady? You know the answer, you have seen it inside his head!”

“Of course I have. But I'm not going to tell.”

Both men were frustrated.

But they knew: her silence meant that this was a matter between Jekyll and Hyde.

---

1) French: Oh my god! I’m sorry!

2) French: Come in! The others are waiting for you!

3) French: What a pleasure to see you again.

4) French: my marvellous wife

5) German: Besides, he’s learned a lot in the last months.

6) German: the feeling that something is off, without being unable to pitpoint it; uncanny valley; strange at best, a subtle kind of creepy/eerie at worst (sorry, I couldn’t contain myself XD)

Edit: I corrected the French grammar mistakes, in case it wasn’t clear. One of my followers was so nice as to point them out to me.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter Two

Author’s Notes: Holy crap, you guys are so kind! Im glad you all are enjoying this story so far! Just be warned, I’m kind of changing the timeline to days instead of hours in this. So they have time to rest and do shit. Its important to the plot ;)

Chapter 2

Upon entering the van, you realized right away that it was in fact a mobile home of sorts. On one end rested a leather couch, the area sized to be a small living space. It smelled of cigarettes and metal, yet also with a slight hint of something unmistakably feminine. A perfume or something. It felt cozy, albeit a bit messy. At that moment it was also pretty cramped. Nero moved to the front to sit by Nico while they discussed their course of action, V taking up a chair behind the driver's seat at a small table. His bird found its perch on an old jukebox off to the side, still looking pretty ruffled from his argument earlier. Did the bird and cat have names? You wanted to ask, but mister pretty boy goth was engaged in speaking to the other two about their plan of attack.

The panther settled down near V’s feet, still close enough to touch. You stared back at their piercing red eyes with silent longing. It looked so soft, and you were going stir crazy while waiting for the others to remember you were there. Gathering your courage and accepting the loss of an appendage, you slid to the floor and sat cross-legged, watching the creature’s pelt ripple warily now that you were closer. Upon further inspection, you realized the cat was a dark blue as well, although much more subtle. It growled lightly at you, ears flicking when kept looking at it hesitantly.  

V was still talking to Nero, discussing the Qlipoth roots they had to destroy. You already had the gist of what needed to be done, so you didn’t really have to listen in. You had always been easily distracted—how you had survived this long with a success rate that high you would never begin to understand. You came here to fix a problem and instead you were trying to win over a big cat, one that looked ready to bite you. You wouldn’t say you were stupid per se, but impulse control was definitely not at the top of your list of skills. Your emotions and desires often got the better of you, that was something very apparent even when you were just a human.

While the others continued to talk, you quietly summoned your Void power, murmuring a quiet incantation as you centered the ability on your palm.  

“From the Void into being.”

From that point energy glowed and weaved, creating the organic object you imagined. One of your many abilities, it was meant to be used when you had zero access to food. With the power you had, you could create something from the nothingness of the Void. That something usually just organic material like meats, fruits. If you absorbed something from a world you could easily replicate it. After going to so many worlds there were hundreds of things you could make, though the energy it took to do that depending on the item was too taxing. And it was only organic materials. Only medicines made from organic plants, only food and things of that nature. And here you were, expending energy to create fresh, raw red meat for this panther.  

Responsible, thy name is Y/N.

After you were finished, it occurred to you that the three had gone quiet. You blinked, and turned to see all of them staring at you. V looking curious and lightly bemused, the other two outright shocked.

“...Uh.” You cleared your throat, “Yeah?”

“Holy shit,” Nico whistled lightly, looking pretty excited all things considered, “How the hell did ya do that...?!”

You looked at the meat in your palm—it was even cold to the touch. Fresh, real and just as real as meat cut from an actual cow. You supposed it would be really fucking strange to people who didn’t have such an ability.

“It’s one of my skills,” You replied, holding out a piece of meat for Nero to take, “Here, touch it. It's real raw meat. I mean, I wouldn’t suggest eating it raw but...You could cook it if you had the time.”

Nero pinched the scrap between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose to sniff. You found yourself smiling at his reaction, patiently waiting as he and Nico both mulled over the meat like it was the most fascinating thing they’d seen all day. You remember being that entranced the first time you tried it, you still remembered the first item you ever made—A chocolate bar. You could still make one now if you wanted, but wasting energy was a bad idea and your dumb ass had already expended some.

“How does it work?” Nero finally questioned, handing the meat back to you and wiping a hand on his jacket.  

You fought a laugh, offering back a rueful smile, “I don’t know the specifics myself. I just know if I absorb an organic material, I can take it and remake it as many times as I want from my energy.”

He made an impressed expression, leaning on the inside door of the van, “That’s pretty damn neat.”

Before you could reply, you hear Nico let out a low hum, one full of mischief.

“Ohhh damn there, Nero. You already warming up to the new girl? Do I need to tell Kyrie?” She tsked, shaking her head as if filled with disappointment.

“Knock it off, Nico,” Nero frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and protesting indignantly, “Are you gonna say that any time I’m friendly to girls?”

“You ain’t friendly to me, pretty boy.”

“Give me somethin’ to be friendly about, you maniac.”

“Who’s Kyrie?” You interjected quickly, trying to diffuse a rising argument peeking over the horizon. And by peeking you meant inches from exploding in this small space you all were in. The pair looked at you when you questioned, and you instantly noticed Nero’s expression soften a little, just a slight difference compared to his cocky expressions you were growing to accept as normal. Clearly this person was special to him, no doubting that.

“Kyrie is his fiancé,” Nico answered for him, jabbing Nero lightly in the shoulder, “Focus, lover boy. She takes care of some kids at an orphanage in Fortuna. A total sweetheart—how she ended up with this punk none of us know.”  

She jabbed a thumb at Nero again, making him huff and release a little peeved “Hey!”

So, he wasn’t a twink?! This revelation both made sense and was vaguely disappointing. Was there a straight equivalent to a twink?

Regardless, you did have a task in mind when you summoned the meat. It occurred to you that V had said nothing during this entire exchange, and you glanced over to see him with a book opened in his hand, eyes scanning the page. Completely indifferent it would seem, which was pretty disappointing. If you were going to lose a hand to his pet cat, you at least wanted him to watch it happen, damn it. Still, you turned to look at the creature while Nero and Nico started to bicker a little bit again, completely distracted—you preferred it that way.

The cat looked at you again, nose twitching as you gingerly held out a piece of meat. A quick glance at the bird confirmed he was watching you like you were out of your god damn mind. That was pretty pleasing if you had to say so. You glanced at V again, and if you weren’t mistaken you thought he took a quick glance at you before delving back into his book.

You took in his appearance for a second--he was definitely an odd one. Long black pants, black sandals, black everything. Yet he carried himself with the energy of an old century poet longing for some lost love. Other than the fact that these two demons worked for him, he seemed pretty normal. The concept of familiars was not lost on you, many places you had seen touched on such things. Witches and warlocks often kept demons as companions and helpers, but you didn’t know if those things existed in this place.

Either way, you didn’t want to bother the goth in his musing. You instead turned to look at the bird on the jukebox, holding some meat out to him too.

“Hey, mister bird,” You quipped, “Do you and the cat have names?”

He looked surprised to be addressed by you again, and even more surprised that you seemed to be offering him food. You saw a gleam of interest in his eyes, but his feathers ruffled, stubborn and prideful as he tilted his head up.

“What’s it to you, princess?” He sneered lightly, clawed feet tapping on the glass top of the jukebox, “And no offense, I don’t wanna eat your weird magic meat!”

You sighed. That nickname again.  

“My name is Y/N,” You frowned in disappointment, “Come on I’m trying to be friendly here.”

He cackled a little, shaking out his tail feathers as the panther sniffed the air, still too wary to walk forward and take any food. You glanced at V again, expecting him to still be reading. You were instead startled when you found his dark green eyes meeting yours, a wry smile tilting his lips as you were caught in your expedition to win over his pet cat. If he was watching he might as well help you at the very least. Though you had to take pause—it had been a while since you found yourself dazed after staring at someone’s face. The guy definitely had the looks to make up for his bad fashion sense.

“Do they have names?” You asked him instead, since the bird was not cooperating at all.  

He closed his book with one hand, the soft thud very satisfying to hear.  

“They do,” He replied simply, much to the bird’s obvious annoyance, “The one you’re very determined to feed is Shadow. And the one you called ‘ten piece’ is Griffon.”

“V!” The bird, now dubbed Griffon, squawked indignantly.

He simply tilted his head, giving him an unapologetic look from underneath some long lashes. Boy, he had a smolder going on. It seemed like V was very passive and confident. His mannerisms were very strange, quiet yet carrying a sense of purpose and energy. You found yourself very fascinated in him—he was fairly mysterious to you. And you liked a good mystery. He also seemed fine with you trying to bribe his pet demons, which was always a plus in your book.

You looked at Shadow, holding out a piece of meat again as the cat twitched its nose at you.

“Come on, Shadow,” You said softly, desperately trying not to use the soft baby voice you generally used for cats. This was a demon and you were sure it was smarter than the average house cat and you didn’t want to insult it, “I swear it’s normal meat. I just wanna be friends.”

You heard Griffon snort loudly, head tilted toward you as he said mockingly, “How could you insult me at first chance but wanna be friends with the overgrown house cat?!”  

Oh jeez, he almost sounded offended. Griffon seemed pretty complicated—you had no doubts he hid behind a wall of insults and jibes to hide loneliness. You had seen it before.

“Don’t call me ‘princess’ and I won't call you ‘ten piece’,” You said with a genuine smile, offering some meat to him again while you felt V’s gaze burning into you from your right side, “Deal?”

He paused, and you swore you could hear the wheels in his head turning. You were a pretty patient person, and you could tell he was battling between pride and a million other things in that moment. You thought you heard a low chuckle from their goth master, your gaze briefly landing on him—he was leaning his head on one hand leisurely, watching to see how your little quest played out. Nico and Nero were arguing about Nero paying for his metal arms, but you couldn’t be bothered with that at that moment.

Suddenly you heard the scrape of claws, beak swooping down to quickly snatch the meat from your left hand. You smiled, incredibly pleased as you watched Griffon quickly slurp down the food you had produced as he took up his perch again. Then from your right you felt the brief brush of soft fur on your palm, a low growl sounding from Shadow as they too snatched some meat and slinked back away from you, curling around V’s legs as they chewed. You cheered internally, wiping your hands as you released a slow breath. You were easy to please it would seem—and pleased you were.

You heard V chuckle again, the man sitting forward and resting his hands on his cane as he grinned at you, eyebrow raised.

“Well now,” he remarked, tone so low and smooth it could have put you to sleep, “Don’t you look as smug as a peacock.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch and drawing your knees up to your chest, “It’s the little victories.”

“Oh?” He hummed in reply, fingers tapping on that cane, “An optimist are you?”

You snorted, “Maybe. I just find being happy about every little thing makes life a lot better.”

Before V could reply, Nico sat down behind you, her feet brushing against your side as she lit up what appeared to be a cigarette. You tilted her head back to look at her, wincing a little when you were met with a cloud of tobacco smoke. The sudden urge to stand and leave was pretty overwhelming, smoking was definitely not your favorite thing, as much as you liked Nico as a person. You saw V mimic your discomfort, waving a hand through the smoke to clear it away from his face.

“So, uh, Y/N,” Nico commented, blowing another cloud of smoke as she addressed you, “What other kind of funky shit can you do?”

You couldn’t really tell her your range of abilities. Not then at least, maybe later when you knew who was worth trusting. You had your limits like most creatures, but you drew energy from a strange and mysterious source—technically there was a lot you could do, but your body had limits. The power of the Void was heavy and chaotic, deeply hard to wield and a heavy burden at times. Too much at once could damage you, and you had an amount of energy you could use before you started to overextend. You’d be useless if you did so, and it damaged you physically so you avoided such things at all costs. You knew your limits; you weren’t meant to be a magic fix-all for these scenarios. Merely a guiding hand with enough energy to put the steps of fixing it into motion. Thus, why you had the foresight.

So you decided on the safest answer.

“I can provide energy and heal wounds depending on their severity,” You said, tapping your nails on your knees, “Plus I can use the energy to fight, and you already saw the creating aspect. I have a limit though, and passing that limit is dangerous for me.”

Nico let out a thoughtful noise, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and fascination.

“So like, what are ya then?” She puffed more ash, making a perfect “o” shape with her mouth, “You seem human. Are ya half anythin’? Maybe ya got a demon daddy somewhere down the line.”

You shrugged at that, offering an apologetic smile as you replied, “Nothing that exciting. I get my powers from a deity of sorts—someone down the line probably made a deal for magic and I get the sloppy seconds from that.” Kind of a lie, kind of not. They didn’t need to know you were the one who made the deal.

“Whoa, that’s pretty cool!” Nico blinked, staring at you like you had grown horns, “Never heard of anythin’ like that before.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but was interrupted by V slowly rising to his feet. He was still waving away the smoke, brushing past you toward the door of the van as his companions followed him.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” He said simply, offering Nero a half smile, “And If I don’t see you along the way...I’ll see you at the bottom of the Qliphoth.”

You felt a slight twinge of disappointment. You knew they were talking of splitting up earlier, but you were kind of hoping you could spend more time with the animals he kept with him. And, well...with him. He was a lot calmer and more collected than Nero, who’s heavy energy was a bit much for you if you were truly honest. As for Nico...the smoking was just too much. Brought back too many bad memories. The sensation of smoke in your face was definitely not welcome.  

You opened your mouth, unable to figure out how to ask if you could go with him. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

“V, take Y/N with you,” Nero put a hand on V’s shoulder, stopping him half out the door, “You could use the help.”

You saw V visibly pause, hesitation now showing in his frame as a couple seconds passed by.

“I assure you, I have the help I need,” He said simply, gesturing with his cane to Griffon and Shadow.

Nero crossed his arms, letting out an annoyed huff, “You’re pretty frail as it is, V. I don’t think your little bird friend can wrap a bandage and shit. You could use the healing energy and extra fire power as back up.”

There was another lengthy pause. Despite your mission here, you felt kind of guilty. You didn’t want to burden anyone or force your presence here—you had gotten the needed information, but this...You bit your lip, exchanging a glace with Nico as the silence stretched a bit longer than you liked. In theory you could have gone off on your own, did your own fighting. It would have been easier without hiding your powers, but these people made your foresight burn. They were a part of everything, at the very forefront of the conflict you were trying to fix. Whether with Nero or V, you'd still be getting the job done...but this was based on preference now.  

You nervously stood, brushing off dirt as you stepped up to address the two men.

“I don’t want to be forced on anyone,” You murmured, meeting Nero’s concerned gaze as you continued, “I’ll try to be useful where I can, but if V is uncomfortable, I—”

“Her presence is fine by me,” V interrupted you, despite how low and docile his tone was. Both you and Nero looked at him, but he met your gaze with one filled with calm curiosity, “I do have my moments of exhaustion. Nero is right, I could use a backup when that happens.”

Was that relief? Sure was. You tried not to let it show on your face.

Nero, however, released an obviously relieved sigh, “Perfect. I’m sure we’ll meet up somewhere along the way. Until then, Y/N, watch his back.”

Griffon let out an annoyed huff, raising a clawed foot at Nero’s face, “What are me and furball here for then? You don’t trust us, pretty boy?”

“Yep,” Nero replied simply, brushing past with an obviously fake smile and a pat on your shoulder, “Be safe, you two. Nico, I’ll call if I need anything.”

As you said that you felt a hand press a small piece of paper into your palm, your head turning to see Nico standing to your right now. You looked at the paper, seeing a phone number hastily scribbled there, along with Nico’s name.

“That’s my number,” She told you, tapping the paper twice, “Ya need anythin’ you find a phone and call, ya hear?”

You nodded, absorbing the paper into your palm after memorizing the number, “Thank you, Nico.” You would definitely call at some point, to see her if anything. Nico seemed friendly enough under the rough persona she projected. You liked that about her. It had been a while since you had any real friends, or friendly people to interact with. You had no idea how long you’d be there, but you were eager to savor every moment of it that you could get. So you patted Nico’s shoulder once and offered a kind smile, turning to meet V’s gaze again.

He gestured with his cane, that half smile still on his lips.

“Shall we?”

You nodded, following him and his companions out of Nico’s van. The door closed behind you, the sun still shining outside. You put up a hand to shield your eyes, but enjoyed the warmth regardless. It would have been a beautiful summer day if not for all the chaos in the world. You gave the van behind you a passing glance as you followed V away, unsure about how you felt about the whole situation. What the hell were you supposed to talk about? Would he even want to talk? Silence made you very nervous, but you didn’t want to be annoying either. You found yourself clasping your hands behind your back, taking small looks at V’s back when he walked. His shoulders were pretty broad for a guy so wiry. He had very slight muscle definition, and upon further inspection he did seem...frail.

Was he sickly? You frowned a little at the thought. He did walk with a cane, though you couldn’t tell if he had a limp or anything. His gate seemed steady, eyes fixed forward and...driven. He seemed very driven.

Or you assumed he was focused. He surprised you enough that you jumped when he spoke.

“There was always the option of staying behind,” He commented lightly, tilting that dark gaze to you with his typical wry smile. He never seemed to lose that little crooked smirk, like he was always in a state of constantly bemused. The only time he was without it was when he was reading that book.

“You seem very convinced that I wanted to stay behind,” You replied, jogging lightly to reach his side, “What’s that all about?”

He let out a light, thoughtful sound, tone light as he replied, “Merely an observation. You seemed to enjoy Nico’s company.”

You hummed quietly in response, taking in the buildings as you and V entered a part of the city still standing, albeit pretty damaged nonetheless. It looked like it would have been a nice city before the disaster. Gothic architecture with high windows, beautiful shops and what looked to be a market place in a city square. Or at least...they were beautiful once before. Now destroyed, bodies littering the streets frozen in their dying moments. You felt your heart sink as you passed them, seeing a child's form still holding a red balloon as ashes drifted from what remained of her.

Focus, the goth boy started a conversation.

“Nico is nice,” You replied after some thought, trying to shake off the images around you, “Nero is too. All three of you have been kind to me. But what can I say? I like animals and poetry.” You sighed softly, rubbing your arm as you added, “I also can’t stand cigarettes.”

He chuckled at that, tapping the book tucked away in his vest with light fingers. You took the time to observe that he had nice hands, elegant and beautiful.  

“That’s very understandable, although I am glad you find enjoyment in my musings,” He said, turning his head away once more, “It's going to be a long journey, so I’m sure you’ll be hearing a lot of it.”

You smiled lightly, running your fingers along a building as you passed by, “Can I ask about that? What’s up with the whole poetry thing?”

You saw him pause, both Griffon and Shadow stopping with him as he turned to look at you with a pondering expression.  

“...Strange,” He replied after a few moments, that half smirk coming back again, “You are the first person who asked me.”

Nero and Nico never once thought to ask? You blinked, wondering just why the hell no one had thought it was strange he just reads poetry at all times. Which, mind you, normalcy wasn’t your strong suit either, and you didn’t have a problem with his poetry reading. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense that they wouldn’t ask. From what you saw of Nero’s fighting style...he was pretty god damn extra. And Nico was not normal in the slightest. Everyone in the group was a bit quirky and odd in their own way, and you found that comforting.

“I was just curious,” You replied, scratching the back of your head, “Which, mind you, if it’s a private thing you don’t have to tell me.”

He let out a low hum, giving his cane a light twirl again.

“I find poetry clears the mind and brings focus in clarity in moments where there is none,” He still told you his reasoning, giving you a smoldering glance from under those lashes, “One could also argue a flare for the dramatic.”

Translation: He was just as extra as Nero, just in different ways.

You fought a laugh, clasping your hands behind your back as you replied, “Noted.”  

He hummed in response, starting forward again with a tap of that cane. Griffon soared behind you, landing his talons on your shoulders with a solid “oof” from you both as you stumbled a little to accommodate his weight. He wasn't light by any stretch of the word, he was a big bird. He just barely managed to settle, resting half his weight on your head as he trilled quietly and huffed.

“So, what’s your deal, Y/N?” His voice was loud in your ear, sharp talons scratching you ever so slightly, “Got all those fancy powers and shit, just wandering around a broken city? What were you doing there?”

Griffon was asking the questions you had hoped to avoid. You let out a low murmur of thought, inhaling softly through your nose as you formulated your response.

“I���m...kind of a drifter,” You decided to reply, grasping onto his clawed feet to help steady him as you walked, “I like traveling from place to place, and I like helping people. I had been looking in the ruins for anyone who may have needed help, and to see if I could figure out what was going on. In a way, it worked out." It wasn't a lie. You told yourself that.

You heard him let out a quiet “huh”, shaking out his feathers a little as his beak rested on your head. You smiled, enjoying that Griffon seemed more comfortable in your company now.  

“So, you have the gist of the situation right? Got any more questions?” He asked, tapping your head with his beak.

You winced a little, “From what I gathered...Urizen is a bad boy who did bad things and he needs a spanking in that big tree in the sky,” You pointed at the Qliphoth as you spoke, looking up at the towering behemoth with a disgusted gaze, “A guy named Dante may or may not be up there and need saving. Is that everything or am I missing something?”

Griffon snickered lightly, “Nah, that sounds about right.”

“Great. Then no, I don’t have any more questions.” That was a lie, you had several, but they were all more about personal things than the mission itself. You didn’t want to seem nosy and pry in on their business.  

You saw V smirk at you again from the corner of your eye, but by the time you turned to look he had turned away again. You frowned lightly, wishing you could even slightly begin to figure him out. He was full of mystery and intrigue, mild mannered and polite. But he also seemed easily amused, and pretty extra if you were being completely honest. He was a hard guy to read; mind you, you had only known him a few hours. You had plenty of time to figure it out, right?

You entered a small entry way tunnel of sorts, footfalls echoing as you both approached what looked to be an open back alley in the city. Griffon launched himself from your shoulders, causing you to stumble again and huff. You rubbed the skin there, feeling scratches through the think fabric of your shirt. You didn’t mind Griffon perching, but damn. His claws really did hurt. V looked at you again as Griffon glided ahead of you both, and you were sure you saw his gaze linger on the shoulders you had just rubbed. Upon further inspection you realized there was slight red on the fabric of your shirt from where griffon scratched you.

“Griffon,” He spoke, eyes meeting yours before he glanced at the bird, “Gentler.”

“Whoops, Oops, my bad,” Griffon trilled as he rounded back, seeing what V meant as he swept past you, “Girlie’s got fragile skin.”

You rolled your eyes, “I have normal skin, birdie,” You smiled again, looking at V as you said, “And don’t worry. I’m just happy he doesn’t outright dislike me.” You said that last part quieter, leaning toward V so only he could hear.

V chuckled, “Griffon is a simple creature. A mere bribe of food and he’s already on your side,” He tapped his cane along the concrete walls of the tunnel, the sound echoing hollowly in the space ahead of you, “As for you, Y/N...you don’t' really seem bothered by demons like Nero and the others.”

He was right, you weren’t. Sure, Demons were the enemy in this case and this scenario. But his companions were loyal to him, and in your travels, you had met plenty of kind demons and people who were labeled with bad stigmas. Making assumptions was bad, and you didn’t like doing that. Besides, neither of his creatures had threatened or wronged you—Griffon's taunting seemed harmless enough, and he was done with nicknames for the most part. As for Shadow, you were determined to get close enough to this cat to pet it, that's all you wanted. But V didn't need to know about that strange obsession of yours.

“I don’t make assumptions about people,” you replied, looking down at Shadow as it slinked along beside its master, “Kindness can exist in all manner of things, and your companions haven’t been outright unkind to me either. So why should I be unkind to them?” Empathy always came first before fighting—you much preferred making friends compared to outright hating literally everyone you met. Hell, some of the conflicts you had faced were resolved with just a little kindness and empathy. People would be surprised what you could accomplish if you just tried to help people.

V gave you a respectful nod at your response, a breeze traveling through the tunnel and sending his hair drifting slightly. You looked away, trying not to think about how nice that looked.  

Continuing forward, you and the group came out into the alleyway back into the sunlight. You looked around, seeing more debris and graffiti everywhere you looked. The hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up a little, foresight warning you something bad was about to occur if you kept walking. You held out a hand and grabbed V’s shoulder before you walked further, eyes scanning the area warily as that gentle breeze blew through again. Something was definitely here; you could tell that much. V looked at you, then looked around as well, gripping his cane tighter as Shadow growled and stepped forward, teeth bared and saliva dripping from its maw.

As soon as the cat entered the clearing, Demons began to appear, bubbling up from the ground and materializing into existence. The exit behind you was closed by tumbling rubble, and all other escapes blocked by...a shield of sorts? You stared in shock and confusion, sending what looked like red, magic veins and magic blocking any way out. This was a trap of sorts then. You and V exchanged a glance, and you were surprised to see he was incredibly calm, slightly bemused even. He walked forward slightly, your hand dropping from his shoulder as you warily waited to see what he would do.

Griffon swooped overhead, cackling as he said to V, “Oooh, genius says ‘be careful’! Yeah no shit, Shirley! Ain’t that right, V?” he swooped past your head, causing your hair to blow in that direction as he squawked, “I mean I know you’ve got girl wonder here now and all but you ARE still fragile, V! Wouldn’t take much to wipe you out in a sticky situation!”

You activated your Void power as he spoke, stepping up beside V as the sensation burned through the veins of your hands. You and V exchanged a look, you offering a light smile as you told him, “I’ve got your back.”

He inclined his head, giving you a small nod and twirling that silver cane.

“Excellent.”

Griffon made a noise of pain at your words, swooping by again as he continued, “Yeah well I’m just sayin’ running away is okay. It’s always okay to run away if you two aren’t up to it!”

You rose a brow, knowing damn well running away wasn’t really an option with how these demons were looking. In theory, you could use your Void powers to grab them all and yeet yourselves upward, over the shields and to somewhere safe. But these demons seemed easy enough. Squishy, one might say. The basic bitch of demons. You scrunched up your nose as one screeched at you, sending the stench of his breath your way. Yeah, that was definitely not your favorite thing.

On your left, V pulled out his book, opening it with one hand as he looked out at the demons with a half smile.

“He who desires but act not, breeds pestilence,” He read in that smooth tone, voice lilting and almost relaxing in the situation. He closed the book with a gentle thud, eyes tilting forward again as he inclined his head at the demons, “So it is written.”

You heard Griffon sigh, tone slightly exasperated as he landed on V’s outstretched arm, “Okay, Shakespeare, just remember this,” He shook out his feathers, a low growl in his tone as he continued, "You and I like to exist, so get rid of those demons quick, 'cause killin' them ain't my shtick!"  

You stifled a laugh, watching as he flew forward toward the demons, wings glowing with a bright blue mixed within the dark feathers.

“I got your back, ‘cause dyin’ is whack!” He finished his little improvised poem with a hefty cackle, Shadow stepping forward as well to punctuate it with a roar at the approaching creatures.

A second later, the battle began.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/42882122#workskin

Tagged: @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic

[slut-for-fandoms]

Paint me yours (kth x reader) PART 1

Pairings: Artist!Taehyung x reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (in the following chapters) 

Summary:  You are an art college student who struggles with finances. Until one day, on an exhibition of the arising artist Kim Taehyung, when the same boy offers you a job as his model. Would it be just a simple job or would it complicate your life in ways you have never thought it would?

Warnings: none in this one (perhaps my bad writing and lots of mistakes?) 

A/N: So here is the first chapter. I really don’t know what to think about it as i haven’t written anything in more than a year (so sorry guys but now I am back, yey) I really do hope you like it and please let me know what you think and whether you would like to be tagged in the series ♥ Enjoy 

Euphoria. Excitement. Happiness. Exaltation. A complete symphony of colors and emotions. Blue, purple, violet, azure - blended in such a way that glues you to the masterpiece. At places it seems unfinished, raw, as though the creator has been in a hurry. But at the same time it is so detailed that you wonder how long it took him to create it. It represents a woman, or to be more precise, a young girl. Long hair composed with ochre, amber, honey and a hint of gold, covers half of her pale face. Her lips are the perfect combination of red, cheery, wine and auburn. An orderly chaos of colors.

While everything seems just as raw painting, the most capturing features are the eyes. They are so detailed and express the condition of the girl. The sparks that make her look tangible grabs you on a roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and somehow makes you even experience the same state.  I move to the next painting.

Sadness. Affliction. Pain. Torment. The contrast between the used shades is much deeper. Pale yet dark. The more I look at it, the more it captivates me. All of the creations I saw were beyond amazing, complete masterpieces but this one… This one is different. One look and I got this strange feeling in my guts when we anticipate something bad, something that might hurt us.

The background is composed of dark shades, while the girl is sculpted of the pale range of colors. Again, the most detailed parts are the eyes. You get the feeling as if a soul was trapped inside the drawn girl that shows how much she suffers. The more you contemplate, the more you assume that the darkness around her represents the cruel world, while the bright yet shaded colors shows how fragile and broken she is. Is it from the world? What destroyed her? Who made her look like a shattered vase which parts are no longer going to form its beautiful shape?

Holding my glass of champagne I took some steps back and sat on the settee opposite the painting. Thanks god it wasn’t that low as they use to be in other galleries. I crossed my legs which caused the hem of my black dress to roll up slightly. As an art student, I tend to visit many exhibitions in order to get inspiration, gain knowledge of the new and unorthodox styles and improve mine. I can’t say I am complaining as we are given free access to any kind of such events. This is beyond amazing as now I am contemplating the art of one of the rising artists – Kim Taehyung. Honestly, I have never seen him but the critics consider him the new Van Gogh and now I understand why.

When I came I was so uneven about it, all the people here were rich and classy and I, a broken student with a cheap dress borrowed from her friend, had no place here. Everything was out of my league and I felt like garbage disfiguring this place.

“You seem really immersed into the picture.”, someone chucked, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw man in golden suit and two glasses of champagne in his hands. His smile was so bright, genuine, that it made me blush slightly, “May I?”, he titled his head towards the settee as if asking if it was free.

“Ye- yeah, of course”, I stuttered and put a lock of fallen hair behind my ear.

His smile grew bigger and he took the free seat next to me.

“Here.”, he gave me one of the glasses. I looked up at him confused, “I saw that you have already finished yours so…”, I looked at my glass which was empty. I might have stayed there for a way longer time that I have thought. I left the glass on the floor next to the settee.

“Thank you.”, I gave him a smile, although inside I was feeling embarrassed, “Very fond of you.”, I said after taking the offered glass.

“Well, I just wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I have left such a beautiful lady sitting here by her side. The champagne was just an excuse to approach you.”, I bit my lip and tried to hide myself due to the blush that crept on my face.

“You are even more appealing when blushing.”, okay, I have never believed I could become so red but here I am.

“Please, stop.”, I stuttered through the smile that just grew bigger on my face.

“Why?”, he tilted his head and asked me with that sweet smirk still placed on his face, his eyes never leaving my figure, “you don’t like honest people?”, as a response I chuckled and tried to gain my dignity and look at him. Why was I such a blushing mess around this… stranger…a handsome stranger?

“It is just that you are the first one to approach me this evening.”, a slight feeling of sadness made my stomach turn as I recall the events, pardon, the lack of them from this night. I started playing with my hands as something as pity overwhelmed me.

“Well-”, his deep baritone voice made me look at him. This time he was facing the painting in front of us which gave me the opportunity to survey him. Soft pink lips, sweet roundy nose, medium long light eyelashes. Skin in the color of bronze and a golden suit that make him look like a god. Aristocratic hands with long fingers, adorned with rings. The way he is holding the glass gives you the thoughts that a prince is sitting oppose you, “It is their lose.”, he states after locking his eyes with mine. And then I’m completely lost. They are just like the sad girls’ in the paintings – full of emotions. I see the same spark that leads directly to his soul. It captivates you. There is love, care, tenderness that make my heart skips a beat. But also you can spot something wild and intriguing. An abyss of feelings kept locked deep inside.

He took a sip of his champagne which caught my attention and made me break the eye contact. How could such a simple action as drinking makes me wanna grab the brushes and paint this gorgeous creature on the canvas?

“I can’t say I am complaining of that.”, I followed his movements and took a taste of my drink, “They seem like they are here only for talking. All of them are just chit-chatting and just at times spare a glance at the paintings. It – It just looks like a gathering of the rich and bitchy class.”, suddenly he burst into laughing. Oh that sound… It was like a soft melody for my years I could listen to all day. It was so infectious and addicting.

“What?”, I asked confused but with a smile plastered on my face.

“I couldn’t have said it more correctly. I’ve met everybody in the gallery and yet you are the only one contemplating the works.”

“Isn’t that what we are supposed to do on an exhibition? But apart from that, these paintings, these masterpieces…”, I took a breath like looking at the sad girl opposite me, “they are captivating. There is life in them, there is soul. Undoubtedly the artist is one of the best I’ve ever come across. Many have the ability to draw, few have the talent to create a masterpiece, something that makes you stop and think. And these here, they indeed convey more than a hundred words.”

“And where do you think that comes from?”, he asks me in that deep voice of his. I turn my attention back on him to see the man already looking at me with a stern expression showing nothing.

“The ability to make a painting live?”, he nodded his head in agreement, “Pain.”

“Pain?”

“Pain. It is always the pain. Why do you think the greatest artists are those who have suffered the most?  Sadness, sorrow, ache, agony… they are different than the other feelings. When something good happens to you, you are happy for a short moment. Usually those moments tends to be forgotten way easier than the moments that our soul was in pain. It is just that the affliction we bottle inside us ruins us in the end. The knots in our stomach, the suffocating feeling in our chest… they are tormenting us and we all need a way to express them somehow, to try to get them out of us. And the answer is always the art. It doesn’t matter whether it would be with a brush or a pen in our hands, if we are going to compose a poem, song or just draw something.  We just want the pain away. For its tight fist around our hearts to weaken, for its dark thoughts to leave us at peace at night, for the tears to stop rolling down and choke us.”, I paused in order to take a sip of my champagne, feeling his eyes following my movements, “That is one of the reasons why I like this one so much.”, I continued pointing at the work before us, “It look as if not only the model had been sad, but also the artist.”, when I turned around he had a sad smile on his face. For a moment I saw the abyss – full of sorrow and regret, pain and affliction.

“You can’t be more right.”, and once again, as he looked up, the door to his soul closed with that stern expression, “That is why I don’t know whether I like this work or not.”

“It recalls a bad event?”

“It recalls the day I painted her.”

My eyes were so wide that surely they were going to pop out of my head. I opened my mouth, then close it, then opened it again. I was so shocked that I could say nothing.

“I still remember how heartbroken she was.”

“You- you are the artist?”, my voice raised an octave higher and I cursed myself.

“Surprised?”, he asked smiling at my shocked expression.

“You just caught me off guard.”

And then the rest of the night kind of slips my mind. I don’t really know how long we’d been talking through various topics. Whatever felt like hours had only been half an hour once I saw the watch on my hand.

“Unfortunately, as a host, I need to make a speech. It was nice to meet you -”

“(Y/N)!”, answering I took his hand as he helped me get up from the settee.

“(Y/N).”, he said tasting my name and I could not miss the way his tongue rolled and the deep voice that sent shivers down my spine, “A beautiful name for a way more gorgeous girl.”

“Why are you trying to make my blush so hard?”, I asked trying to hide my face.

“I don’t know. I just like it.”, he shrugged with a smile, “Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?”, is it just me or he just lowered his voice on purpose while saying my name.

“O-Of course.”, out of nervousness I started playing with my own hands which only made his smirk grow bigger.

“Would you like to be my model, darling?”