#a huge bitch. and sure yeah he does think of himself as being strong and courageous and he doesn't think of anything

[light-wrath-paradise]

Ough i can't decide which of these 4 songs I should use as the relationship song of Billy and Eoghan

[cowboy-robooty]

Robooty Reviews: Royal Servant (3/10)

Read this way back in middle school... shared mangago lists with one of my friends and recognized this one and decided to reread. Lord. Who Likes This. The story is about Kyon and his master Lucaon and theres like some plot bullshit since in this world theres these guys who are royals and got these powers that they never fuckin use and live longer too and are strong n all that. and the only way to kill one tho is to give them this special poison that is completely undetectable and the only way to cure it is if the person who administered it fixes that shit. But yeah Lucaon hates servants and Kyon is a servant and Lucaon is a classic stoic scum gong and falls in love with Kyon but only starts being nice to him once Kyon literally spends 20 chapters on the brink of death lol bro got a fever and slit his wrists and fell into an ice pond and then got a fever again and pneumonia and Lucaon went "..... ok ill be nice to you now"

the art is good for this story dont get me wrong but its really really really stiff expression wise. maybe i'm just a little stupid and i need to see a huge cartoon tear drop to tell a character is sad but for realsies I do think that the art is pretty, but the expressions when bitches are fucking dying and shit could be a little more extreme. its okay to sacrifice their pretty boy looks for one pannel trust me..

The romance itself is just like whatevs. I will admit I am a fan of how kyon will just take anything like bro does not give a fuck okay cuz hes madly in love with Lucaon and doesnt care what he does to him. Im pretty sure in one chapter Kyon is just walking in the halls and Lucaon lunges at him and bites him until he bleeds and kyon passes the fuck out from the attack and its just like ok lol. LUCAON DOESNT GIVE A FUCK HES SO MEAN TO KYON UNTIL HES SUDDENLY NOT BECAUSE HE HAD HIS SCUM GONG REALIZATION WHEN KYON TRIES TO LEAVE HIM 15 MILLION TIMES AND ALMOST DIES IN EVERY INSTANCE OF TRYING TO LEAVE. the upside to kyon is that hes a simp and a pussy and he is a bit of a little bitch but he isnt a whiny bitch about it. like lucaon is his tormentor and he finds out that THERES A POSSIBILITY that he could be the cause of Lucaon's demise and immediately is like okay ill kill myself i need to get out of here and thats why he almost dies 10 million times trying to leave bc he only tries to leave bc lucaon's blonde ass brother is like dude. you might cause Lucaon to die since you're a secret spy with your memories wiped. AND ITS KINDA FUNNY BECAUSE HE STRAIGHT UP SEES KYON ALMOST DEAD IN BED AND GOES "GOD I WISH THIS BITCH WOULD JUST DIE ALREADY" LOL!!

When i was younger i was a fan of the pink haired guy (lucaons other brother) and his servant who is his boyfriend and treated as an equal and yeah younger me was right tbh kind wish the story focused on them instead. but ngl i hate the entire family drama thing bc like its the plot and all that but im like WHO GIVE A FUCK? this manhwa is just mid. mid as fuck. I'll admit when i was younger i re read the 20 chapters where kyon is on the brink of death like 50000 times over and over again because i loveeee suicide and i lovee when kyon tries to kill himself a million jillion times and Lucaon is like FUCKING STOP. theres like idk tiny hints of goodness. I can enjoy a good scum gong alright and I do like when Lucaon is like "brah... ive seen you cry more times than smile..... thats kinda fucked" MMMMMMM YES. FEEL BAD. FEEL REMORSE. but its just not worf it okay the manhwa sucks and its 100 chapters or some shit like that bruh moment. I also do like how at the end Kyon acknowledges that hes going to die before Lucaon and Lucaon needs to learn how to love other people than him because he doesn't want Lucaon to be stuck on him forever and ever. I think it was a nice bittersweet thing. In short. just not my thing. mid. equivalent to eating spoonfuls of peanut butter for dinner. Like you can... wont be very satisfying tho

[llycaons]

ep32 (2/3): sect leader yao: how dare you! murdering innocent people is wrong! wwx: are you FUCKING kidding me-

wwx continuiing to defend himself - HE was the one to get ambushed!

such a cool line his is so hot

the laughing-crying is another EXCELLENT part of this scene. 1. wwx as a character is strongly associated with mirth, but this is a miserable and twisted laughter that conveys and brings no joy, just expresses how far he's been pushed and how close he is to his breaking point. 2. villainous laughter is a part of so many cliches and fairy tales - how many disney movies have you seen with a darkly chuckling villain or cackling megalomaniac? it fits the perception people have of him as an uncaring and malicious demon

this is such a good point! I think for wwx especially, who's had a long life of sacrifice, or unfair punishment, and of serving others, this rankles him particularly. I don't blame him for being sick of it

this is so galling omg sect leader yao being like 'all those people who you killed were innocent! how can you be so callous!" and wwx responding like 'AND THE FARMERS WHOSE LIVES I WAS TRYING TO SAVE WEREN'T???'

and this is so fucking cruel, to wwx who cares SO much and who has such a strong moral compass. this is what myu attacks him with, what jc throws in his face. diminishing and disrespecting his values and his actions. he's not out to be a hero, he's literally just trying to do the right thing and stick to his principles and all he's getting is shit from every single person around him and that INCLUDES lwj he FAILED esp in this episode and he knows it

ASKING TO PROVE A NEGATIVE!! LOGICAL FALLACY YOU BITCH

this is kind of funny. who is this irrelevant bitch. it does open up wwx for one of his greatest lines tho

I wrote a whole post about this because I didn't want it to be hidden but I love this line and I think it demonstrates important things abt wwx's character and outlook that make his relationship with lwj extremely stable

also 'you're so insignificant why would I ever care what side you're on?' lmao

this is was badass I love this so much. IS he keeping himself alive with resentful energy at this point? fuck, who knows?

HELL YEAH THEY'RE BREAKING OUT THE FIREBIRD SUITE. I think. fuck

honestly I find this action scene extremely drawn-out and boring but oh god this hurt me so bad

this was kind of a funny shot where nmj was spinning around then the camera moved behind a post and then it just stopped for a second then went to a completely different shot. thanks for showing us the back of this post I guess

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!!!! wow the aesthetics here rule. the contrast. wwx is like barely holding on look at how red his eyes are

I wonder if lxc thinks that wwx is so far gone he'd hurt lwj

oof. obviously they don't want to but I don't think wwx in his paranoia and isolation sees another way out

I've complained before about it not making sense that postres wwx avoided lwj (because they were friends in the flahback!), but if I'm being fair, lwj did in fact attack wwx. with his sword. and I can see wwx waking up and being really leery about what lengths lwj would go to subdue him again.

I'm sure he knew lwj didn't want to kill him - after all, they have such a history and lwj did save him, at the very end. but there's a huge difference between wanting him dead and wanting to support and protect and hide him, and wwx wasn't expecting lwj to offer him that. because he hasn't, historically, look, he;s trying to fight him right here. and he's made it clear in the past that his feelings are secondary to his sect and the path of orthodoxy. so wwx is entirely justified in all his reactions, in fact

ALSO it's kind of hard to tell in screenshots but lwj looks extremely distressed in context I promise

JUST SAY A-YUAN IS ALIVE. JUST SAY IT. THREE WORDS. SPIT IT OUT. god. useless boyfriend

[leroleroleon]

I've been summoned. I'm a huge fan of Labor Striker Gi-hun. We need to talk more about him. it also helps that I have vast experience with parents like those, lol.

With the right headspace, I definitely see him:

Teaching his kids about their rights. These kids would be an absolute nightmare for their teachers—jumping at the slightest sign of abuse of authority.

Gi-hun himself would be a terror at Parent-Teacher conferences. If teachers already complain about teacher parents knowing the system inside-out, they’d complain three times as much about Gi-hun. But it's okay. He’s not risking his kids' well-being.

Teaching them the importance of caring for their peers, having a strong sense of community, and actually caring for that community.

Making sure they’re not afraid of differences. If one of his kids has a new immigrant classmate, you know he’s teaching them how important it is to be respectful—and to never let anyone disrespect them because of their differences.

When it comes to his daughters, he's all about self-defense. No way is he letting any of his babies get hurt, but he also knows the kind of world they live in.

When he takes them to protests, it’s always peaceful ones, and he sticks to where the families are. No matter how pissed off he is at injustice, his kids always come first. He knows cops don’t hesitate to hit children. He even makes sign-making a family activity—probably keeps some too.

And like OP said, I also don’t see Inhun happening much here. At best, they had a short fling when they were teens—maybe right before or right after Gi-hun graduated. But by then, In-ho was already set on becoming a cop, and that’s a huge no-no for Gi-hun. They probably reconnected after In-ho’s wife passed away, but it's very one-sided.

Jun-ho, though? Definitely had some kind of forbidden little puppy crush on Gi-hun. Not just because he’s his brother’s ex, but also because Gi-hun is very vocal about his opinions on cops, and Jun-ho is very proud of being one. Oh, to be in love with a forbidden Juliette 😩.

Labor Striker Gi-hun would absolutely have cold shoulders for Sang-woo, now that I think about it. Sang-woo would be out here trying to defend or justify the system, while Gi-hun is just staring at him like, "Bitch, are you serious? 🤨" Their mothers know not to let them spend too much time together—because while Gi-hun does love, adore, and is genuinely proud of Sang-woo’s achievements, he’s also way too down-to-earth to buy into that meritocracy BS.

And let’s not talk about The Salesman. That man wouldn’t have a single ounce of a chance with Labor Striker Gi-hun.

Honestly, the only ones who might have a shot with him in this AU would be Jung-bae and Dae-ho. Maybe. But even then, if Dae-ho is still an active Marine? Yeah, nope. That’s another big no-no for Gi-hun.

He’d be the eternal “One That Got Away” for so many men, lol. Meanwhile, he’s just out there, living his best life with his kids. Very Mamma Mia style.

Let's talk about labor striker Gihun as a mom. His kids would definitely want to follow in his footsteps, having hope for humanity, wishing to be on the right side of history - so they'd absolutely want to go protest for human rights and for the end of capitalism. I imagine Gihun would be scared for them, but most of all he feels very proud. He can't stop his children from doing what is right especially when they have so much interest in showing solidarity to the downtrodden & the exploited, the least he can do is give advice before they leave out the door. "Wear plain clothing and mask up at all times. Cover your tattoos, leave your phones at home, look out for your comrades, only use water instead of milk in case of tear gas getting in eyes. Never talk to the police. Ever. Stay safe my babies, I love you!" Mother knows best ✊🏻💯

we all need to talk more about labor striker gihun!! 🫶 it's such a huge aspect to his personality and the reason for all of his actions during the time the show is set on. honestly, sometimes i'm trying to come up with inhun au ideas and realize that they can't have their canon jobs bc there is no way that gihun, who saw a cop murder his friend during a peaceful strike and occupation, would ever date a detective like inho, no matter how good his intentions are.

but! he'd be so proud but so so worried, yet he knows he can't be in the way of them and their need for justice and equality!! that's what being a good mother is all about 😍

seeing these fight, like he fought, brings such powerful feelings to gihun! they are fierce, intelligent, kind children and he kinda pats himself on back for raising them to be people who defend those who cannot defend themselves.

[captain-kinda-trash]

Hi! I wanted to request some headcannons for rottmnt boys with a reader who gives great hugs and gets a plush hoodie this winter, so hugging them feels like hugging a teddy bear now

Of course!! Thank you so much for the request!!

Teddy Bear (ROTTMNT Headcanons)

This was what I had in mind while writing 🤔🤔⬇

Leo

Let's just be clear about one thing

Leo LOVES your hugs

CANNOT get enough of them

Long night of fighting for justice? Huggies

Gets into an argument with Donnie? More huggies

Hell, even walking past you in the lair, he'll do little grabby hands and act like a whiny baby until he gets his daily hugs 🙄 😩

But then you get a super soft, super fluffy, super warm sweatshirt?

Dead

He's dead

You're basically like a human heater for this cold-blooded blue boy

Since you've gotten it, you can hardly stop wearing it, because it's the most comfortable thing ever-

And Leo has gotten even more excuses to hug you

"Leo, im cooking!"

"bUT YOUR SOO COMFFYYY 🥴"

Will, without a doubt ask you to carry his lazy ass, just because he wants to snuggle into your sweatshirt

And don't even get me STARTED on movie nights with him

Because what begins as a cold-blooded turtle hanging onto your arm like a baby koala

Ends up being Leo curled up in your lap or somehow wrapped around you with this hot sweater

So while he's practically purring with comfort, you are sweating like a dog

Not to mention, this bitch is just heavy

like 200+ pounds of straight muscle, so I hope you don't have to use the restroom any time soon because it's going to take a while to pry this big baby off of you

I'd also like to mention, that you don't need to tell him not to steal your hoodie

because he’s gonna do it anyways 😎💙

You discovered this one day, when you slipped the article off to bake with Mikey

After a nice batch of cookies was made, your jacket was gone and you began parading around the lair to find it 

Only to see Leo, snuggled in his bed and playing on his phone, with your hoodie practically swallowing him whole

If he hadn’t looked so comfortable, you would have been angrier, and just settled for scolding him playfully for stealing it

it was hell trying to pry it off of him,  though...

This turtle knows how to wrestle and he will not hesitate to kick your ass over this fluffy sweatshirt 😤

These two things (hugs and your hoodie) combined just make Leo melt into a puddle, and he couldn’t be happier to have all of your teddy bear hugs :>

Mikey

um, have you met this turtle?

KING of hugs

It’s so great how both of you share the same energy

Though he’s more cold-blooded, like Donnie, he needs all of the hugs

It’s just your thing

With Raph, you have fist bumps, Leo, you’ve got a cool handshake, Donnie is more for high-fives 

And for Mikey, it’s hugs 

He practically tackles you to the ground in tight hugs whenever you get home from school/work and come to the lair, like a happy little puppy

Speaking of puppies…

That’s what he says your hoodie feels like whenever it first arrives in the mail.

Immediately, you throw it on, and Mikey is all over it, petting the soft fabric and squealing in excitement 

Can he please wear it?? 🥺

Little Mikey didn’t even have to ask before you shed the hoodie and let him try it on

And OH

MY

FLUFFY...

The amount of cuteness that this turtle radiates when he’s smiling like an idiot and flapping the oversized arms around is just-

He vows to get his own since it’s so warm and comfortable

But he’s very respectful and gives it back to you

Only to attack you in another hug and lift you off of the ground because you look so adorable

“You’re like a little teddy bear!” *excited squeal!*

Mikey 100% respects your space so if you’re ever snuggling, he’s instantly aware of your getting sweaty or uncomfortable and will let up or loosen his arms

Winter days?

Snuggles all day and night

when Mikey (politely) asks to wear your jacket, he’ll throw it on and give you piggyback rides around the lair, because we love fun

And for Christmas, you get him his own, and he’s IN LOVE 

Sweater buddies 

He gets one in his favorite color and little ears on the hood and once a week, when they need to be thrown in the washer, you’ll keep him warm while he waits.

(Leo gets jealous of all the attention you’re giving Mikey >:o)

Donnie

we all know that Don isn’t the biggest on physical affection

If he wants a hug, usually he’d be the one to initiate, which is totally cool, since usually he’s forced into a hug by his brothers (secretly loves it tho)

He does enjoy your hugs, though he can be a bit awkward and stiff with them at first

If he’s feeling down, needs to be warmed up a bit, he’ll immediately seek your comfort

Even out of his brothers, you’re secretly his favorite 

Sure he loves Dr. Delicate Touch, but sometimes Donnie would rather go to someone who isn’t very pushy with solutions, and is willing to listen

And we can also all agree that he has an immaculate fashion taste ✨💜

When he sees the fluffy sweater draped over your arm, he’s immediately running over, analyzing the fabrics, and rushing to get you to try it on

Why? Fashion show 

Loves the warmth of your hoodie

And I because “it’s so soofff”

Donnie’s blood runs the coldest out of all of his brothers and he has the most sensitive shell, so he just adores your sweater

Is definitely contemplating on getting one for himself, though he wouldn’t tell you at first, because you might think he’s trying to copy your awesome style, and that would just destroy his massive ego 😩💅

He enjoys it when you sit in his lab with him, maybe rested against his side with your hoodie on, as you play on your phone/read/draw

Also up for snuggles when it’s extra chilly in the Lair, or when his brothers aren’t around, because once again, damaged ego

Movie marathons?

Hell yeah

Donnie will always make sure your comfortable before he gets comfortable on the couch, so you won’t shift around while watching the movie

He’s also very vulnerable when he takes his battle shell off, and in more ways than one

You know he’s got real, strong trust when he does so and will let you carefully hug him from behind with your hoodie on, since it’s so soft

Donnie will also snatch your massive jacket if he gets the chance, and disappear into his lab for days with it on

And he’ll never tell a soul this…

But he loves it the most, because it smells like you, 💜

so it’s like having you right beside him while you’re gone, or when he’s busy building something 

Also, tries to use his classic and sarcastic charm when it comes to asking for your hoodie back

“Come on Don, it’s cold outside! I need it!”

“But would you take it from such a luxurious face as this?” 😏

“😒”

“Right, giving it back-“

He totally gets his own hoodie, by the way

Purple (obviously)

But it just isn’t the same as your own, so Donnie might just have yours on and then wrap his own around his waist

Yep

He sure does love his teddy bear 💜

Raph

Okay but Raph is an actual teddy bear-

A big, mom-friend, weapon-wielding teddy bear

He LOVES giving hugs, and most would recognize this, seeing the various pictures and instances where he pulls all three of his brothers in for a great big group hug ❤

He's constantly reminding himself that you are much much more prone to injuries than his brothers, so he holds you like a little baby when he hugs you

(Unless he gets super excited or has a really rough night, so just be aware that you might be restricted of breathing privileges in that case-)

Usually so gentle 🥺

Just picks you up and wraps those huge freaking arms around you like giant pillows

And he LOSES HIS SHIT when you come back with this fluffy ass hoodie

Has this infatuation with petting the fur and running his fingers over it

He has never felt something so soft in his entire life 😩❤

And then when he hugs you with it on-

aUGGGH ❤❤

"Why are you a like big teddy bear?!"

"Buddy, you're just getting a taste of my own world-"

Poor Raph, being the size he is and having such a spiky shell, can't just wear your hoodie like his brothers :(

I mean, sure he could take it so easily

But he doesn't want to disrespect your things, or make you upset, because this man is The Gentleman™

So, rather than asking to wear it, he'll ask to spend more time with you

Not just for the hoodie ofc, but because of your sweet gentleness and warmth

Better quit your job babe, because your new occupation?

Raph's cuddle buddy

He refuses to let you become uncomfortable, makes sure there are the right amount of pillows, blankets, and room for you to move around while you snuggle together etc.

Raph is also a heavy sleeper, so once he gets comfy and warm enough, he'll probably doze off and trap you in his big "arm cage"

Really, his nature is pure and gentle and everything you could ever imagine when it comes to hugging his little teddy bear ❤🐢

@getacactus @turtle-babe83

Hope you enjoyed this little ditty! I LOVED writing these!! 💜💜

[moonsprcngs]

like i do

a/n welcome to my first liam dunbar fic :)

pairing: liam dunbar x reader

warnings: swearing, season 6 spoilers, the fight scene in 6x14, blood, mentions of death.

word count: 2.2k

check out my masterlist!

liam dunbar. the school’s ‘monster’.

he looked around the hallway frantically, listening carefully to make sure the rumours spreading through the school weren’t too apparent. he was so focused that he jumped when you placed your had comfortingly on his shoulder. 

“just remember what we talked about. they don’t know you like i do,” you whispered against his ear, smiling softly when he turned around to face you with a nervous expression painted across his features. 

mason approached the two of you with a relieved sigh. “okay,” he breathed out, facing his best friend with a reassuring nod, “not bad so far. this might be easier than we thought.”

“maybe,” he nodded in reluctant agreement, clearly not convinced. as the three of you began to walk, you looped your fingers through liam’s. 

well, that was short lived.

the minute you turned the corner, everyone turned to look at him. glares and dirty looks were thrown towards the boy in between you and mason, and you saw his shoulders slump in defeat in your peripheral vision. 

the looks he could handle. not that he was happy about them, because he was far from it. they made him feel like a freak, like a monster. but, they were manageable. it was only when you reached his locker that the whispers started. whispers that he could hear all too well. 

liam tensed up beside you, and though you couldn’t hear the voices like he could, you could only assume the nasty words rolling off of their tongues. he turned to the source of voices, facing them with a hurt expression before frantically looking around as the sound of them built up. 

“hey,” you spoke softly, snapping him out of his panic, “just block them out. don’t listen to them.”

“they know...” he whispered, voice strained in worry. 

“they’re just rumours,” mason reassured, trying to calm down the anxious boy in front of him, “they don’t know anything.”

corey was then by mason’s side in an instant, bearing bad news. “they know everything.” 

you shot him a pointed look, squeezing liam’s hand tightly in your own to calm him down before the anxiety began to bubble up again. 

“two sophomores on the lacrosse team were there last night,” corey continued, referring to liam’s shift in front of the public the night before. 

mason lightly shoved his boyfriend with his elbow as a warning, and scrambled with his words. “yeah, but it was late! it was pitch black out, and there was fog on the road-”

“it was a clear night. full moon, and a well-lit intersection,” corey interrupted, once again ruining the attempts to console him. 

liam inhaled a sharp breath. “i have to get out of here.”

“no. if you leave, these rumours never stop. you need to convince them that you’re a regular kid, that you’re not the monster they think you are.” your words were hushed, bringing your other hand up to rub liam’s shoulder in a comforting manner. 

“i’m not a regular kid,” he countered, voice shaky and cracking. 

“remember what scott said?” mason added, “be clark kent!” 

“clark kent turns into a guy with a red and blue outfit and a cape. i turn into a monster with claws and fangs!”

“you’re not a monster,” you replied calmly. 

“just get through the day without shifting,” corey suggested, and liam nodded with a deep breath. he lifted an arm to drape it around your shoulders while yours found home around his waist. 

“okay. get through the day without shifting. easy enough, right?”

-

wrong. 

you watched helplessly as liam was thrown through the doorway of your biology classroom and hit the floor with a thud. a group of kids were gathered around, eager to watch a fight break out and potentially see the other side to liam dunbar. 

you struggled against the grip of an older boy, huge hands latching onto your upper arms and keeping you from running to your boyfriend. it seemed as though mason was in the same predicament, judging by his protesting shout. 

liam’s eyes flashed yellow for a moment, as his heavy breathing briefly sounded like a growl. 

“get up,” nolan demanded, “get up!”

he managed to push himself up to a kneeling position before gabe’s foot made harsh contact with his lower back, kicking him straight back to the ground.

“gabe, you sick little bitch! leave him alone!” you shouted through the crowd’s commotion, and the boy on the ground struggled to contain his shift. “your eyes, liam. c’mon, you can do this,” you whispered, voice so hushed you were sure that nobody could hear apart from him. 

this seemed to calm him down momentarily before gabe tugged him back to his feet by his shoulders. “what are you trying to hide, liam? your eyes?” he taunted, shoving his back into the chalkboard with a sickening crunch. “open your eyes.”

the room burst out into reactions and a cruel grin painted itself across gabe’s face. when liam slowly let his eyelids rise, you couldn’t help but let the corners of your lips turn up in a proud smile as the normal baby blue colour of his eyes shined through. 

the boys, however, were clearly not too happy with this, because nolan immediately reeled his fist back and let it smash straight into liam’s nose. 

your face fell as you thrashed around in the student‘s grip, furious grunts leaving your throat. 

your boyfriend’s head fell back against the chalkboard with a pained breath, hand lifting up to wipe the crimson liquid from his nose. 

“hey! let him go!” mason screamed, struggling against the crowd. 

“leave him alone, you sick freaks!” you added. 

“are you just going to let us do this to you?!” nolan continued, ignoring your protests as gabe landed another punch to liam’s face, this time hitting both his cheekbone and his nose. he dropped to the ground from the impact with a deep, painful groan. 

nolan grabbed the boy by his face and dragged him back up to look at him. 

liam’s nose was covered in blood, hair falling messily across his forehead as he screwed his eyes shut. 

“you know you can take us. all you have to do is change,” nolan spoke lowly, his grip on liam’s head strong as he shook it with every word. “does your little girlfriend know that you’re a freak? that you’re a monster?”

you felt the rage inside of your chest building every second. “nolan, you bastard! i’m going to kill you-!”

liam choked back a cough, blood rising from his throat and coating his teeth as he opened his mouth to speak his first words while being in their hands. “the sun...” he sputtered out. 

“what?” nolan looked taken aback, furrowing his eyebrows at the ‘freak’ in front of him. 

“the sun,” liam repeated, peeling his eyes open and staring back at nolan threateningly. “the moon, the truth...”

the mantra seemed to gain him a slight amount of control. “come on, li. you can do this,” you whispered, the sound evident in his ears and his ears only. 

“what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“who cares?” gabe responded nonchalantly, shoving nolan out of the way and sending another violent punch to liam’s face. 

this sent him flying to the ground, coughing and shaking in both pain and anger. his eyes glowed yellow for a split second before his head hung low and a guttural growl of agony burnt through his throat.  

that was the moment you decided, you wanted to break every single bone in both gabe and nolan’s bodies.

“can’t you see how badly you’re hurting him?! he’s in agony! let him go!” you screamed, the student holding you seeming unfazed to the thrashing around. 

“you’re fighting it,” nolan stated, ignoring you completely. the pained grunts and groans tearing through liam’s throat left the boys unaffected, and your eyes welled up in fury at the sight of your boyfriend withstanding such a beating. “but you can’t hold back forever!”

at that moment, your biology teacher, ms finch, pushed her way through the crowd, and all eyes turned to her as gabe and nolan halted their movements.

 “do something!” mason shouted. she took one look at liam’s quivering form on his knees, covered in his own blood and shaking from the pain, and looked away. 

“sometimes it’s best to let them work things out on their own,” she spoke, raising her hands in mock defeat. 

liam’s head snapped up to her, eyes filled with disbelief before sending you a pleading glance. 

“what is wrong with you?! you’re a teacher! he’s being beaten to a pulp and you’re just going to walk away?!” you screamed at her, gesturing to liam on the ground with a cock of your head. 

ms finch looked at you for a split second before making her way out of the classroom. “you bitch!” you shouted after her. she froze in her place for a single moment, and you almost believed she would turn around and stop the fight, but she continued on her way without a second glance. 

the moment she left, gabe grabbed liam by the hair, forcing his head upwards. his breathing was shallow, loud and forceful and agonising as gabe sent his knee flying into liam’s chin. 

he fell onto his back and coughed loudly, blood spluttering out of his mouth like a fountain as he choked on it, though the boys didn’t stop there. they slammed their feet down against his ribs, taunting him and laughing while doing so, allowing his bones to break under their weight. you let out a broken and angry sob at the sight, watching as gabe grabbed liam by his shirt and pulled his head up. 

liam’s face was completely covered in his own blood, tears were staining his eyelashes as he tried his hardest not to fight back. 

something clicked within you at that moment. you sent your foot flying back into your holder’s crotch, and as you felt him release you and double over in pain, you bolted into the centre of the fight. 

gabe’s fist was reeled back, about to land another punch to your boyfriend’s face before you grabbed his arm, effectively spinning him around. he still sent the punch, but this time, it was at you. 

you let his fist connect with your jaw, and felt the impact of another hit as his second punch landed on your nose with a crunch. 

“y/n!” liam croaked out, too weak to jump to your rescue. 

he clearly didn’t need to, however, because suddenly the coach was there, shoving people out of the way with corey right behind him. 

“what the hell is going on?!” he screamed, grabbing gabe and nolan by the shirts and shoving them towards the door. “back off! hey, get to the principles office now!”

your face throbbed in pain as you wiped the blood away from your nose with your sleeve, but you ignored it as you fell to your knees by liam’s form. his body heaved, and his hands gripped onto his (very clearly broken) ribs. 

“what the hell is this? get out, all of you! i can’t stand to look at your faces!” the coach boomed, clearing out the crowd. 

all that was background noise to you as you combed liam’s hair away from the fresh blood on his face with your fingers. he was still grunting in pain when the coach kneeled by his other side, a look of disbelief and sorrow evident in his eyes, which was a rare look for the man. 

mason and corey softly grabbed liam by the arms and hauled him up to a standing position, coughs tearing through his throat. 

you followed suit, lightly gripping his shoulders to help him stand. “oh my goodness, liam,” you muttered quietly, placing a hand on the back of his head as he caught his breath. 

“i can’t believe you did that...” mason sighed, holding onto his back to steady him. 

“clark kent, right?” liam breathed out, forcing a slight nod as a smile ghosted your lips. 

“yeah, clark kent,” mason agreed. 

liam’s head fell against your shoulder in exhaustion, and your hand laced itself into his hair as you silently cried with him in your arms. 

-

“feeling any better?” you asked him quietly, sitting down next to him on your bed. he had an ice pack against his cheekbone and he was clutching his ribs protectively. he was mostly healed by now, but his body still hurt like hell. liam nodded. 

“yeah. still hurts, though.”

you wrapped an arm around him, carefully avoiding his aching bones, and he let out a deep sigh before letting his head fall against your shoulder.

”i know you think you deserved that, but you didn’t. brett and lori’s murder wasn’t your fault.”

he shrugged, clenching his jaw at the mention of their death and shutting his eyes when you let your hand run through his hair comfortingly. a few moments of comfortable silence passed by before he spoke up again.

“you didn’t have to do that, you know. get punched for me,” he said softly.

you chuckled at that, causing him to look at you quizzically. 

“you literally got beaten to a pulp and you’re worried about the two punches i got to the face?”

liam breathed out a slight laugh. “obviously. you can’t heal like i can.”

continuing playing with his hair, you grinned at him. “i’d take a punch to the face for you any day.”

[starkiller-009]

i mean ok maybe i have NOT read through all the works available (i certainly did not) and i also dont want to disrespect authors rn who contribute to the fandom bc it really is a great thing and thank god u exist but i do feel like in this fandom obikin is more of a couple to project things onto them more than. work with the material really. i constantly see them being put in the situations and tropes really entertaining but missing their characters and their dynamics half if the time if not completely but severely. like this portrayl of anakin being that sassy alpha bitch top hovering over obi wan threatinin with a smile on his lips to plant his cock deep into obi wan's juicy ass like nO. NO. NO. NOT HAPPENING. well okay. why not? we all want it. but listen to me. lets take a look. i can see this kind of dynamics happening but the path it should take to reach this point in the development of their relationships for anakin to behave this way should be fucking huge. i mean yes he has that type of masculine very sure of himself behaviour with seducing capability but the only circumctances in which that could be expected are heteronormative and patriarchial? girls-deal? padme-thing? i see him as a person that is so fucking bad at getting social cues and figuring stuff about relationships on his own that he could not possibly navigate situations that are really different from stereotypical social scenarious. and obi wan is exactly that. anakin's relationship with his master to him is the most UFO thing possible. he just does not get it. he understands and thinks about it to himself in extremely binary terms of padawan-master relationships and acts upon this understanding but he also completely does nt fucking get it and he ALSO has no idea that he does not fucking get it. (if we talk about strong platonic and ESPECIALLY romantic stuff) well maybe. i still have not figured him out too sorry. but the thing is that he is fucking stupid okay. an he is not the one to rule the situation if he has feelings. any sort of feelings. he can navigate this stuff only through exploding and having that special person near him who would explain things and talk to him gently and honestly. he is A BIG QUESTION SIGN IN THE SHAPE OF A NUCLEAR BOMB. he is a loyal dog a rigid dog a dog who bites too much bc he does nt understand whats going on and what to do. like not out of stress but just basically. through his life. i dont know how to explain this. IN A OMEGAVERSE UNIVERSE HE IS AN OMEGA OKAY? so yeah. thats it. thats all wanted to say also this post could be complete bullshit since i did not go through original novelization but who cares im ok with getting tomatoes to my head it could be tasty. and yeah nobody is obliged to see characters or write about them in one special canonical way bc its silly and boring too but i still wanted to say my thing

did NOT expect it would be so hard to find psychologically thrilling obikin fanfiction. what a waste. for the first time in my life im considering wiritng a fic myself because no one can quench my thirst . the hell

[etherealino]

fake dating, skz.

ot8 scenario.

content/warning(s): fake dating au, just small scenarios. some are idolverse, some aren’t. swearing, hating on jype, nagging mother. tell me if i missed something!

note: i might do full length fics for each babies. what do u guys think?

chan. —

the one where he’s being pestered by his best friend to bring a plus one to his best friend’s wedding and it can’t be a random person but someone he’s actually dating.

minho looks at chan who just whines. “please?” minho says which is unusually gentle than his nagging teasing tone. “it’s been years and i think it’s time for you to finally go back to dating.”

“i will bring someone, i promise.” chan says, smiling lightly. minho could be annoying about this whole dating thing but he knows minho just wants him to be as happy as he was before.

“not just anyone?” minho says and chan nods. “someone you’re dating.”

chan looks up, eyes widening and minho frowns. what the hell does he do? chan knows how determined minho is, he won’t stop. “hyung, jeongin’s on the verge of asking his girlfriend of marrying him and—”

“y/n.” chan cuts him off with the first name that pops in his mind causing minho to raises his eyebrow. “i’m bringing y/n.”

“i said someone you’re—” minho cuts himself off, looking at chan with his eyes widening. he looks behind, seeing you having a conversation with his fiancé probably helping her with something on the wedding as she is showing you a sample from the magazine. minho looks back to chan who looks at him nervously. “hyung?”

“two weeks.” chan lies.

“why didn’t you tell me before?” minho asks and chan shrugs.

“i.. wanted to be sure.” chan says, seeing minho’s shock expression not going away and is probably not going away anytime so soon. “but now, i’m sure.”

“then, i’ll tell my girl that y/n will sit with you.” minho says and chan nods, mumbling a thanks. when minho’s fiancé pulls away from you to go to minho, chan immediately goes to you to explain the mess he has dragged you into.

oh, how frustrated you are going to be. chan could already see it.

minho. —

the one where you two are roommates and he can’t help but overhear how your mother would always bug you about not having a boyfriend among other things, so he decides to just save your ass because deep down you’re one of the few people in his list who he would do everything for.

throughout dinner, all minho has ever heard how your mom would pick on the littlest things that you would do and not do. minho was starting to get irritated because clearly, your mother doesn’t know how much of an amazing person you are (but of course, he’d rather go to jail than let you know that). 

as minho cleans on the table, you are still by the door with your mom.

“i didn’t want to bring this up earlier right in front of your roommate because it would be humiliating,” your mother says and minho rolls his eyes. as if she hasn’t humiliated you the whole night. “but do you ever plan on having a boyfriend?”

“mom, i just graduated college. i have a lot of things to focus on, i don’t have the time—”

“well, do it faster. no one is available forever.” 

that was it. minho couldn’t hold it any longer. he just wants your mom to stop and let her know how unbelievably amazing you are. as he puts the table rug down, he loudly says, “my love, can you help me?”

you turn your head to him, looking at him and minho doesn’t do anything but shrug. “y/n, love,” he calls again, walking to you and acting as if he was surprised to see your mother is still there on the doorway. “mrs. y/l/n, i’m sorry. i thought you went off already.”

“are you two together?” your mom slowly asks and your jaw drops, minho placing his hands on your shoulders. “why didn’t you tell me?” she asks and you look at minho.

“we decided to keep it between the two of us for now.” minho says and you let out a noise, eyes widening at minho as you pull away from his hold.

“you could have just told me, you silly girl.” your mom says and you look at her. “alright, i’ll be going. you help your boyfriend with the cleaning. remember the things i told you and bring minho by the house when there’s a gathering if he’s allowed to.”

you blink. “o-okay.” you stutter, leaning forward to kiss your mom on the cheek. minho does the same and your mom smiles. “take care, ma.”

“stay safe, mrs. y/l/n.” minho says and she nods, thanking the two of you as she walks to the elevator. you shut the door, glaring at minho. damn, this is going to be a long night of scolding.

changbin. —

the one where people think he’s dating an idol and keep insisting that that person is the inspiration behind his songs but in order to not drag that other idol into the mess, he drops the name of his non-idol best friend that nobody’s ever heard of.

changbin jumps when he hears the door of his room barge open and he sees you glaring down at him. “what. the. hell?” you grit your teeth, fuming at your best friend as you glare at him. changbin whines, knowing how fucked up did he do about the whole situation.

sure, he was thinking about the other idol who he never has exchanged at least one word with but he never though about his best friend. he was.. caught up in the moment.

“y/n, i’m really sorry. i didn’t think this would bring so much chaos.”

“you think?!” 

changbin whines. he may be all buff and strong and one of the most feared in stray kids but when it comes to you, he’ll fold even before you come at him. “y/n, i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking. plus, you’re profession is different from us they wouldn’t just..” changbin trails off when he sees you tapping your foot impatiently. right, dispatch could be a big bitch.

“y/n,” changbin calls, standing up from his bed and walking forward to place his hands on your shoulders. “just please, go along with it? just for a few months, i promise. i wil protect you from the reporters, i swear. just.. do this favor for me, please.”

you sigh, brushing your fingers through your hair. you wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him in and changbin returns the hug. “fine.” you say and changbin sigh in relief. “also, go take a bath. you stink.”

changbin laughs, kissing your temple.

hyunjin. —

the one where the company is being a huge pain in the ass by telling the two of you to pull a public stunt which is fake dating one another.

“what?” you and hyunjin said in unison. you looked at your manager in disbelief who just shrugs, shaking her head in disagreement as she turns away with a sigh.

“just for a couple of months.” the staff says in a gentle, manipulative tone. “just to get the heat off of the company.”

hyunnjin brushes his hand through his long locks, hiding his frustration even though he knows you feel the same just as he does. you sigh, putting your forehead on your palm as you close your eyes.

“it will help you with your upcoming comeback.” the staff says to you and you visibly scoff, causing your manager to lightly nudge you behind. you groan, looking away. “it will also help you with the votings and streamings.” the staff tells hyunjin and he only looks down, playing with his fingers.

silence takes over, everyone feeling your and hyunjin’s anger to the staff. but after a few minutes, hyunjin speaks up. “how many months?”

silence takes over again and you look at the woman in front of you who sighs. “12 months.” she sheepishly smiles.

“that’s a whole ass year.” you say and she smiles.

“we’ll send dispatch something tomorrow. so just be ready.” she says. “you’re dismissed.” the moment those two words left her lips, you and hyunjin immediately rose up to exit the office. when your manager closes the door, you went straight to the wall, covering your face with your hands as you lean against the wall with a groan leaving your lips.

you feel a hand on your shoulder and you look up to see the tall long haired boy. “hey.” you greet and hyunjin chuckles.

“we’ll get through this.” hyunjin encourages and you smile, holding your fist out.

“yeah, we will.” you said and hyunjin looked at your fist, blinking then back to your eyes.

“i’m going to be your boyfriend tomorrow and you’re giving me a fist bump?” hyunjin deadpans and you laugh, lightly pushing him as he laughs loudly.

jisung. —

the one where he’s your best friend and someone takes a liking on you but you’re too soft to reject someone so you randomly ask jisung to be your fake boyfriend.

“what do you want?” jisung says and you pout lightly, looking into his eyes.

“ji..” you softly call and jisung crosses his arms over his chest. “i think.. changbin’s going to confess tomorrow.”

“and?”

“i need you to swoop in and tell him we’re dating.” you say as you play on chips of his door. jisung’s eyes widen, laughing lightly as he blinks.

“come again?” jisung says and you whine, looking at him. “no!”

“why not?” you ask.

“just say you like me instead of pulling this stunt!” jisung says.

“hey, i don’t!” you say, scrunching your nose as you look down. “i just really don’t want to confront changbin about it and you know me. i’d just end up saying yes and—”

“it’s okay to say no.” jisung says but you only pout looking at him. jisung pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “y/n, i swear to god—”

“free cheesecakes as long as this goes on.”

“—you’re the bestest friend ever.”

felix. —

the one where you’ve been wanting to experience what’s it like to have a boyfriend so felix being the best friend, he lets you have the experience you deserve once you have an actual boyfriend. (got it from here.)

“lix,” you called and felix turns to you with a smile on his face. “i’m kind, right?”

“yeah,” felix answered. you truly are. whenever felix is in need of your help, you would always be there. and by always, i mean even if you’re about to do something for yourself, you’d put felix first.

“i’m not that dumb, right?” you ask.

“you’re actually really smart, y/n.” felix answers. you are. felix would always ask for your help when he’s having trouble with some subjects. and everytime you two would get into talking and there’s a test that’s to be taken by that day, felix knows you didn’t study. you never study. but how the hell do you still get high scores?

“i’m not that ugly, right?” you asked.

felix looks at you weirdly, eyebrows scrunched together as he shakes his head ‘no’. “everyone finds you extremely attractive, y/n. your beauty is simple, unlike the others.” felix says and you blush lightly, but still you want to continue with your drama.

“then why don’t i have a boyfriend?” you asked and felix just chuckles at you, continuing on doing his work. “hey,” you said with a pout. “i’m serious.”

felix softly smiles at you and places the slate and marker on his chair. “i’ll be your boyfriend,” felix answers and leans in to place a kiss on your forehead. your eyes widens, but felix continues to move as if nothing happened.

still with the soft smile on his face, felix grabs the slate and goes outside to seungmin.

seungmin. —

the one where you both decide to fake date for the sake of the annual movie fest happening in your university and the genre assigned to you is romance but seungmin, the director and you, the scriptwriter have no experience in that area which makes it hard for the two of you to bring it to life.

you softly sigh, rereading jisung’s text over and over again. seungmin gazes at you, noticing the expression that he was unable to decipher. “what did jisung say this time?” he asks and you look at him, turning the phone screen to him. seungmin reads the test and he leans on his seat, not removing his eyes on the text.

well, it’s not bad actually.

“what do you think?” seungmin asks and you shrug, softly sighing.

“it’s not a bad idea.” you softly say. “are you alright with it?”

“well, it is a good idea and we could work on it together.” seungmin says and you nod. “so, we’re doing this?”

“i guess?” you say, a bit unsure of it. you look at your wrist watch, seeing the time making you fix your things. “i have class in a few minutes, seung.”

seungmin nods, standing up as he helps you. when you sling your bag on your shoulder, he takes your laptop bag putting it on his shoulder and grabs your books as well. “what are you doing?” you ask.

“what kind of boyfriend lets his girlfriend go to class alone and on top of it, with so much bag as if she’s going to run away from home?” seungmin deadpans and you look at him.

“oh, we start now?” you mumble.

“we only have four weeks to pass the script.” seungmin says and you chuckle, nodding with a sigh.

“gosh, you need to be my boyfriend to help me with carrying my stuff.” you mumble and seungmin looks at you, pulling his tongue out.

jisung: this maybe stupid but also makes sense

jisung: date each other even just until you passed the script

jisung: just so you know what to do and stuff

jisung: just don’t fall in love

jisung: but if you do, please mention me in your wedding vows and speeches

jeongin. —

the one where he thought it would be a good idea to get his fangirls off his back by telling them he’s dating you in secret.

jeongin knocks into your apartment, giving you his charming cute smile. you raise your eyebrow, lightly chucking. “what’s up, yang?” you say, looking at him. jeongin gestures with his hands to go inside your apartment and you open your door wide to let him in.

“you know how were the bestest of friends?” jeongin asks, looking at you with his smile that not even a second did it fade.

you look at him. “no, not really.” you deadpan and jeongin sighs, frowning as he looks at you. “what do you need?”

“remember when you mentioned about the girls in uni going crazy about me?” jeongin says and you nod. “i kind of told them that i was dating someone in secret.” jeongin told you and you nod.

“you are?” you ask and jeongin shakes his head. “so you lied just to get them off your back?” you asked and jeongin nodded. “okay, so?”

“they wouldn’t let me go until i tell them who it is.” jeongin said and you nodded. jeongin just stares at you and you raise your eyebrow, not getting where the conversation is going. jeongin slowly tilts his head, staring at you and your eyes widen, hitting his arm. 

“you told them it was me?!” you exclaimed.

jeongin blinks at you. “ow?” he says and you groan.

“jeongin!”

“i know it wasn’t the smartest decision—”

“the smartest?” you repeat with emphasis because it wasn’t even smarter, it wasn’t smart. it was the dumbest. ever. “jeongin, those girls are oing to—”

“i’ll give you hyunjin hyung’s number after all of this is over.” jeongin cuts you off and you look at him. “it was obvious. he’s just... dense as fuck.”

you sigh, “you pick me up tomorrow at 7.”

“thank you, y/n!” he exclaims, hugging you as he presses your body against his. “thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“alright, go home.” you say and jeongin laughs, pulling away from you. jeongin giggles, kissing your cheek as he exits your apartment to go home.

make me do it a full length au thanks. lmAO SDHBJHS,, im going to !! tell me if u want to be tagged <3

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Moving day

Based on @lucywrites02's writing challenge, with the prompts "1. You're family" and "8. I have a surprise for you". I wish you a very happy birthday, Lucy!

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (Tony Stark's daughter, not Morgan)

Word count: 3.2 K

Warnings: fluff and pregnancy :) This was very adorable to write.

Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87,@jesuswasnotawhiteman, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7, @toe-vind-ek-jou, @t00-pi, @selfship-mishaps, @sallymagnoliaposts, @deadgirl88, @enderslove

Gif: @moonrainbow

It had surprised Thor greatly how quickly and intensely his brother had fallen for you. He was as committed and truthful as he has never been in his long, long life. He looked at you softly, in comparison with everyone else. As soon as you walked in a room, he followed you with his gaze and invited you to his conversation. It wasn’t a surprise that after a few months of this very silent flirting (that very few noticed, because it mainly consisted in batting eyelashes and repressing subtle smiles when the other was around) you’d come out of the shell and admit you started dating. Thor was ecstatic.

Tony, on the other hand, was not amused. Not amused at all; in fact, he hated the idea of you going around with that God. He said, explicitly “if you ever get in trouble because of him, you solve it yourself. Nothing of coming for daddy to help, clear?”. Pepper had told him to cut some slack, and observe at how happy you were together, but he, stubborn to the bone, had to take a few months more before accepting the fact that his little girl was in love with the God of Mischief.

But the months passed by; almost a year, and you grew closer and closer. You hated to sneak into his room every night, and get interrupted all the time by every single soul in the compound, or mocked to death every time you cuddled on the sofa, watched a movie or read a book together. So, it all boiled down to the same conversation:

“I don’t think he’s ready”, you said while pouring some milk on your cereal. Nat rolled her eyes.

“He’s even readier than you”, insisted Wanda. They were exhausted from having the same conversation over and over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do something about it. “He’s lived much longer, if any of you two were to be unready, that’d be you”.

“Do you think I’m not ready?”, you doubted yourself.

“God, Wanda. You’re planting unnecessary seeds here. The girl’s already anxious enough”.

“I just think… I want him to be with me for the rest of my life. I don’t know if he feels the same”.

“He totally does”.

“Yeah. No doubt about that. Just look at how he looks at you. What are you even waiting for?”.

“I don’t know, a signal?”.

“Of what? You’re impossible. Unless God themself comes down the sky and tells you textually just move in with him, you wouldn’t consider it a ‘signal’”, bitched Nat. But she was right. Commitment was not exactly your thing, even though you were as in love as you could be.

You heard an oncoming scream approaching the room. In silence, you three observed cautiously, and moved away from the middle. The screaming increased its loudness, until a body shattered the roof and fell to the floor violently. Loki laid still among the dusted debris until a second screaming started sounding from the sky.

“Oh, fuck”, he said, managing to get up quickly and making himself as a shield for you three. Thor landed on his feet over the same spot Loki had fallen. Dust flew everywhere and the floor cracked a bit more. “Don’t”, he alerted, pointing at his brother menacingly.

“I’m tired of your whinings, brother. Do something or I’ll do it myself”, spat Thor, grabbing Mjölnir and leaving the room. Loki sighed and sat on the couch, cleaning the remains with his magic. Wanda sighed and put it all back together.

“And what was that about?”, asked Nat, eating a candybar, still on the same spot as earlier. It wasn’t an unusual scene.

“I…”, said Loki, but desisted. You sat on the couch by his side and he laid, using your lap as a pillow. You took out a tissue and started carefully cleaning the blood off his cuts. He smiled softly. “We just had a fight”.

“I can see that. What did you fight about?”.

“He wants me to… well, talk to you”, he struggled to say.

“Well, we’re talking now”.

“Yes. No, wait, no. Like, talk talk”, he clarified, and Nat and Wanda nodded, leaving the room. You could still hear their chattery from the door.

Loki sat up and grabbed both of your hands, making direct eye contact. He was nervous, which only made you even more unsettled. He was never nervous. He was always calm, even in life or death situations. He was unfazed in everything and with almost everyone. Almost.

“What do you want to talk talk about?”, you joked, and he chuckled, releasing some tension.

“I want you to move in with me”.

“Oh. Wait. What?”.

“Like, move out. But with me”.

“To your room?”.

“Out of the Compound”.

“To an apartment?”.

“Yes”.

“Here?”.

“In Midgard, yes”.

“But like, in New York?”.

“Wherever you want, actually”.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, and Loki grew nervous again. You couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at you quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… a God just fell down the sky and told me to move in with you”, you clarified, which didn’t actually clarify anything.

“You… what?”.

“Yes, I’d love to move in with you, love”.

And in no time you were already packing things up and going together on apartment huntings.

Tony insisted on helping you out himself, which was hilarious, given the repulsion he had for the idea in the first place. So, you’d go to an apartment by yourself, check it out and talk to the owner for a bit; Loki would arrive later, tensing things up (the owners would usually recognize him, but after a little chat they’d find out he’s a fine man), and then, just after you’d be all calm and good, the owners would see in the papers you’re a Stark, and tense up even more. Easier to say, it wasn’t a normal neighborhood chat.

You had finally decided on a small but very cozy apartment near Central Park; far enough from the Stark Tower, but you could get there pretty quickly for every mission.

You found the place advertised on the papers, and when you showed it to Loki, in sickness and all, you insisted on going to visit it that same day.

“My love, my dearest… you need to rest. I’m afraid you might faint again”, he cooed, trying to get you back to bed.

“A little fever won’t do anything to me, really, I’m f…”, you said, but you felt like vomiting, so you stopped your words and sat on the floor. Loki sat by your side and rubbed your back.

“If you feel better tomorrow, we go, yes? Now, come on, I’m gonna call Banner and you wait on your bed”.

“No, but they might take it, we need to go to make sure…”.

“What about I go, call you on one of those animated images, and you can see it from here?”, he proposed, helping you up. He meant a video call.

“That… sounds about right”.

But you had no actual time to have that video call, for when he was in the apartment, Banner was delivering some more important news.

You’ve been to the examination’s room of the compound before. But this time it seemed brighter. The lights shone so strongly, you had to close your eyes a little.

“What would you like to do about it?”, asked Banner. You were sobbing and trembling.

“I… I don’t know, I’m sure Loki will leave me”.

“What? No, don’t base your decision on that guy’s opinion”.

“Well, I don’t want the kid to not have a father, you know?”, you said as he gave you a tissue. “I want to have it, I’ve always wanted a kid. I think I’m… ready? I’m probably not. Not by myself, and I can’t do this alone. He’ll leave me, won’t he? Why would he want to have a kid with a mortal? We’d die as fast as he blinks”.

“Look, I’m no one to talk about it, but this sounds more like your anxiety and less like something he would do. He really loves you, he has for like at least a year, and I don’t see that going away anytime soon”.

“I know. You might be right”.

“You’re allowed to doubt everything. This is a huge thing, y/n. Think this through, talk to people, talk to your friends, or your parents. Don’t let this eat you”.

“Thanks, Bruce. You’re really… you’re being really nice, I appreciate it”, you sobbed. He handed you another tissue as he rubbed your shoulder.

“This is your call, okay? You have time to think. Text me later how you’re feeling, and have bed rest now. And if you feel too bad, take this”, he handed you some pills, “it should be innocuous for the baby”.

One of those days, that same week, you had decided to make it the official moving day. So, you put every box in the van and drove through the city, to your new home. You haven’t told Loki yet what you knew, and you were terrified he’d get even more upset because you didn’t tell him before the moving. But, to be fair, you didn’t think he’d actually leave.

You had told no one about it, despite Banner’s indications. But it wasn’t eating you. You were enjoying it silently. You were glad; you had your doubts, fears… Hell, you were terrified. But you knew, if Loki wasn’t going to be a part of that, you could do it yourself. You hoped he’d wanted to, though.

Loki and you had started taking the boxes inside, all by hand (to be honest, he was a little scared of the neighbours watching him do things with magic and kicking you two out). You laughed through it, and played races to see who’d finish their boxes first. He was wearing one of those midgardians shirts and pants that melted you completely. He wore that for your anniversary dinner the week before that day, and he noticed how much you loved it on him, so he started wearing fancy casual clothes more often than not.

After about two hours, you were done and completely exhausted. You laid in the middle of the wooden floor, surrounded by boxes and a strong smell of floorwax and fresh paint, and looked at each other fondly.

“Welcome home”, you said, and he showed you the biggest smile he’s ever done.

“I think this place is perfect. It’s away, but not exactly far from your family for whenever you’d want to be with them”.

“Yes, it’s perfect”, you said, getting up and helping him up. “You know, I have a surprise for you”.

“Really? What is it?”.

“Tonight at dinner, shall we? In the meantime, what about we get something to drink before unpacking?”.

“Can’t wait for tonight, then. Would you like some tea?”, he said, surrounding your waist with his arms. You played gently with his hair.

“Yes”.

“I love you”, he said, giving you a small peck over your smile.

“And I love…”, you started saying, but the entrance got filled with noisy people, interrupting you. Four of your friends were already filling the place, giving you an idea of how a small party would fit in there. “... you”.

“Oh my God! This place is so well illuminated!”, said Wanda, marveled.

“And what’s that smell? Have you been cooking something weird?”, said Nat, less enthusiastic, but equally curious. Sam and Bucky were still on the door, and Sam seemed to have brought food. Like a cake, or something similar. Wanda and Natasha were quick to invade the place without further notice.

“Oh, you got one of those hidden drawers! What are you hiding in there?”.

“Probably sex toys”, guessed Nat.

“I’d say drugs. But, like, alien drugs. You know, from his town”, apported Bucky, now making his way in and leaving the cake over the counter.

“I thought drawers were supposed to be for clothes”, said Sam, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but hidden drawers? Sexy clothes”.

“Actually, I’m saving my daggers in there”, finally said Loki, kissing your cheek before pulling away from you, and appearing a cup of tea in each guest with a movement of his wrist.

“Boring”.

“So, guys, what do you think?”, you said as you started opening one of the boxes.

“I think it’s small”, said Tony, as he walked in. Pepper rolled her eyes behind him.

“Don’t listen to him, you guys chose perfectly. This place will look very nice once you paint it and decorate it”.

“It’s already painted”.

“Oh. Well, it… it looks nice”.

“Thanks mom”, you chuckled. “It’s small but we don’t need it to be big”.

“You better be actually saving daggers in here”, Tony peeped inside the hidden drawer. “Now that is not so hidden. I wouldn’t like to open it up someday and find a…”.

“Dad, please”, you rolled your eyes and went to Loki’s side. “Don’t worry, you won’t find anything weird. Just the daggers and knives of my very innocent boyfriend”.

“Well, you’ll have to think further about having knives so close to the floor, you know”, he muttered. Loki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?”.

Tony ignored him and walked to you earnestly, with the most serious face expression you’ve ever seen, and everyone observed quietly. He grabbed you by the shoulders, and inhaled a deep breath. All of the sudden, his eyes got watery, and you realized Banner had told him about the pregnancy. Your heart beat so fast you thought you’d faint again, right there. The corners of his lips formed a tiny smile, and he hugged you tightly. Loki was certainly confused now. As far as he knew, Tony didn’t like him, and why would he be so happy about you moving out? It’s not like you were his only child, either.

“I’m so proud of you”, he whispered, and then Loki had the feeling he wasn’t talking about the new apartment, but didn’t ask any further.

That night you managed to cook something special, even though you still hadn’t gotten the gas installed. You cooked together, and laughed at every minor inconvenience the house could give you. The doors of the countertop cabinets were the perfect height for Loki’s 6’4” ass to stump his head every time he tried to open it.

After some time of silent cooking, absorbed on each’s thoughts, Loki asked about your dad’s pride.

“Oh, he’s… well, he just, gets very emotional with these things”. He chuckled at your very obvious lie.

“No, he doesn’t. Certainly not with me”.

“Come on, he likes you now. He likes anyone I love, because you make me happy, and because he has no other choice”.

“Well… I thought he’d be less amused”, he admitted. “Hasn’t he? Other choice, I mean”.

“I don’t think so. He’d have to deal. Family is family”.

“Oh, do I know about that”, he said, cutting a carrot more strongly than before. You laughed.

“I meant it in a good way”.

“Well, your family is one thing, mine is another… I can’t push yours to like me, as much as I would like to. They’re very nice, and I wish I had a family like that, but I don’t”.

“Love, family is built”, you said, this time a little more serious. He repressed a smile, still looking at the vegetables. “You’re part of this, too, you know?”.

“Of this?”.

“You’re family”.

He didn’t repress the smile this time.

“You’re right. You’re my family, too, my love”.

“You…”, you took a deep breath. It was the perfect moment. “Do you ever imagine us in the future?”.

“Why yes, of course”.

“Really?”.

“I want to spend all your life with you. I didn’t want to rush into things because… I don’t know, scaring you out of anything, but I…”, he said, and the alarm on your phone went off, to take the rice from the fridge. You two laughed at how mundane this conversation seemed. “But I love you, and I want you by my side”.

“Okay. Well I do too. That’s good, right? That’s good”.

“Yes, of course it’s good, why so doubtful?”, he laughed, grabbing a tomato and stabbing it.

“Because I’m pregnant”.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, without actually realizing what you just said. And then, he fell. “Hold on, what did you just say?”.

“I’m… I’m having a baby. Yours, of course”, you clarified. You felt like you had to, but it wasn’t actually necessary. Silence filled the kitchen.

“Oh dear” he paused. He left the knife over the counter and looked at you, looking for any trace of a joke. You weren’t joking, and you grew nervous as he let time pass by without saying a word. “How could you not tell me this before moving in?”, he muttered, still in a bit of a shock.

“Oh. Well… I…”.

“I wouldn’t have let you carry those heavy boxes, love, I’m so sorry”, he said, and cupped your cheeks. “Are you really…?”. You sighed in relief. For a moment you thought of the worse.

“Yes, I am”.

His arms embraced you completely, hugging you as tight as he allowed himself to. He muttered how much he loved you, and how happy you had just made him, for the rest of his life.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, he cuddled you from behind with his hands on your tummy and his lips on your bare shoulder. You could feel his soft breathing grazing your skin, and his warmth keeping you safe.

“Loki”, you whispered, checking if he was still awake. You couldn’t sleep.

“Yes, love?”, he whispered back.

“Are you sure you want to be a daddy? With me?”.

He turned you around, and lowered his head to your abdomen. He sank his face and kissed all around your stomach and hips, leaving a trace of kisses up to your neck, and then your lips.

“How could I not?”, he whispered in a low voice. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, teased “besides, the word daddy comes out so well from your lips”.

You laughed softly, and after some more silence that was fairly filled with loving stares, a thought crossed his head and you saw the light of his eyes turn to dark.

“What is it, love?”, you put a strand of his hair behind an ear.

“I… I’m just realizing something bad”, he said, and you nodded. “I’m a Frost Giant”.

“Why is it bad?”.

“My actual form is bigger than this. And… colder. And if the baby were Jötun too...”.

“You think the baby might hurt me?”.

“They might. I don’t know. Oh no, what if they hurts you?”, he began to panic, and you shushed him, kissing his temples.

“Don’t worry, Lokes. If that’s the case, we’ll figure it out”, you reassured him. “And maybe it’s not. And we’ll have a little and very healthy half-Jötun running around this small apartment. When have we not solved our issues? We’re good at that bit”.

“You’re right. You’re right, my dear”. He sighed, and then chuckled. “Should we have gotten a bigger place?”.

“We’ll be a very close family”, you laughed.

“We already are”, he whispered, cuddling back to you. “We are a very close family”.

[beskarhearts]

Tangled (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

Word count: over

Warnings: lots of cursing (reader has the mouth of a sailor), a little ~steaminess~, mentions of canon typical violence/getting shot, sexual tension

Summary: You and Peña were no strangers to being at each others throats but this argument went a little different than any other had.

Notes: This was cliche and self indulgent but I loved it and I hope you do too. Let me know your thoughts and opinions!! (also probably not going to turn this into a series but it isn't impossible ig)

________________

You charged towards the file room, feeling every ounce of your body flooded with anger as Murphy trailed after you, pitifully trying the stop the damage that was just about to occur.

"It didn't come from a bad place!"

You sporadically came to a halt, turning on your heels and pointing a finger right in Murphy's face, who had nearly crashed into you at your sudden movement. "Don't you dare try to justify this!"

Murphy's face was crumpled into a hesitant type of acceptance, still following you as you continued walking towards the file room, your anger radiating even in each harsh step you took. Once you reached the door, you slammed it open and nearly crashed it into Murphy as you threw it shut again, your eyes trained on the man you were directing every angry, foul thought at.

"Javier Peña, you fucking asshole!" you yelled, your pointer finger now directed at him as he turned to face you. You felt even angrier when he appeared to look at you tiredly at first, face twisted into an expression that perfectly read 'What now?' It didn't change until he registered your rigid body language and the way your face was a shade darker and your brows that were scrunched up.

Then his face dropped slightly and he looked over your shoulder at Murphy, who looked like a kicked puppy with the way he seemed to cower behind you. "You told her?"

Murphy winced slightly, trying to shrug away his concerns but his voice coming out empathetic. "She kind of interrogated me."

"Yeah. Y'know, because interrogations are part of the job!" you spat, eyes shooting venom at the brown-eyed DEA agent that stood in front of you.

He dropped the file he had held in his hand back in a box, placing his newly unoccupied hands on his hips and sending you a plain look. "Listen, it was nothing-"

"You know what else is part of my job, Peña?" you interrupted, allowing him no room to throw around pitiful remarks and false explanations of why what he did was okay. "Let me tell you since you have clearly forgotten: part of my job is catching the bad guys. Meaning I am fully capable of being on the field and getting my hands dirty!"

You took in a deep breath, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from the rage coursing through your veins. Peña let out a small sigh, rubbing at his face and his mustache as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "I know."

You let out an agitated huff, throwing your hands up and looking over at Murphy, as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. You turned back to the DEA agent, clasping your hands together. "Let me get this clear then. You are aware that is part of my job. And that this fucking case has become my whole entire life. Yet you neglect to notify me that tomorrow you are going to arrest one of these motherfuckers and don't put me on the God damn team!"

You probably should of quieted down. Surely people could hear you outside the thin walls of the room you were in but you paid no attention to that. Hell, let them gather outside the door and listen to how much of an asshole Javier fucking Peña was. It wasn't like they hadn't heard you two bicker and yell at each other before - it was practically a daily occurrence. You were always at each others throats and the smallest thing could tick you guys off but today was different. Today your anger was completely justified and directed at the exact right person.

"Why don't we all calm down and talk this over calmly?" Steve gently tried to suggest, always the voice of reason during times like these. Sometimes you would entertain his ideas but today was not one of those days.

"Fuck off, Murphy!" you snapped.

Peña redirected his attention to the blond-haired agent. "Give me a minute."

"Oh, you are going to try to magically explain this one away?" you ridiculed as Murphy left the room quietly, shutting the door gently and leaving you two alone.

Javier looked back at you, looking calm as ever and unaffected in every way. It only made your blood bubble even more and as he spoke, you felt your whole body clench up. "You need to calm down."

You hissed at that comment, literally hissed. "Oh, fuck off! You have no right to tell me to calm down. If somebody did this to you, you'd be tearing into their ass and acting like a bitch."

Javier couldn't argue that point, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only was it true, but there was no way he could convince you it wasn't. It also was probably the worst thing to say in this given situation, always was something that tipped you off.

"I mean, the fucking audacity you have is unbelievable. Truly impressive." you started to ramble, still sending a deadly glare his way. "You think you are hot shit because you are Javier Peña and you are a DEA agent and the fucking man whore of Columbia. But I am just as good as you, Peña. Hell, I am probably fucking better!"

"You are right."

You froze as you heard his agreement, biting your lip as you tried to detect whether or not that was meant to be some sarcastic play to rile you up. But it appeared genuine which only confused you further. "Then why am I being excluded from extremely important events?"

"It's dangerous." Peña answered plainly, adding no additional details as if that was enough.

You scoffed, tilting your head at him. "No shit, Peña. No offense but no one becomes a DEA agent because it is a safe, secure job. So that doesn't explain why I wasn't included in this."

Peña shook his head, leaning against the rack of files as he looked back at you. You wanted to force him to look away, his stare making you uncomfortable but there was no way you were backing down. "It does. This one is particularly dangerous and I don't want you involved."

Your eyes widened as you took in this new information. "Oh, so you think I can't handle myself?"

"I never said that-"

"I can handle myself, Peña. I am a fucking adult and not to sound cocky, but a hell of a fucking agent. I am capable and I am strong!"

"I know."

"And I can handle this mission."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck did I have to find out from Murphy that I am not joining you guys tomorrow?" you yelled, feeling your body become slightly fatigued from all the anger but you still stood straight and tall.

"Because you care too much and you'll get yourself killed if that means nailing these guys." Peña said plainly. No hint of emotion or manipulation. Just an honest answer to an honest question.

You found yourself for the first time not feeling angry but slight bamboozled. It felt like the rug had been pulled under your feet. You were standing across fucking Javier Peña, who you were pretty sure had never seen take a single day off. "That is the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard."

Peña nodded. "Okay."

You rolled your eyes, feeling once again angry by the dismissal. "Well fuck off because I spoke to everybody and I am on the team tomorrow."

You began to turn towards the exit when the man firmly stated, "No."

You turned back around, an eyebrow raised. "Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"I'm in charge tomorrow and you aren't on." Peña said, a sliver of annoyance eeking out of his words as he looked back at you with a stern glare.

"Fuck off. If I want to go, I'll go." you fired back, arms crossing over your chest defiantly.

Peña stepped closer to you until he was a couple feet away, his voice lowering to a menacingly deep level. "I don't want you on tomorrow."

Your eyes were practically shooting bullets in his direction. "I know you don't fucking like me Peña, but stop acting like a school boy and get your head out of your ass."

"Maybe you are the one with your head up your ass, agent." Peña cooly said.

You tried to ignore the way he was looking at you (and the way you could smell his aftershave from here) and put your hands on your hips. "Fuck you, Peña. You don't want me on tomorrow because I am a better agent than you, you selfish prick."

"That isn't it." Peña said with a chuckle, shaking his head as if you were saying the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"It fucking is, isn't it? You don't want me strolling into your operation and doing the job better than you. Can't have your huge fucking ego tarnished by me!"

"That is not the reason why!" Peña shouted back, feeling himself lose his temper slightly.

This was the Peña you were used to, the one you egged on and led into a battle of cruel words and hateful glares. "Oh, fuck off. That is absolutely why!"

"Maybe, just fucking maybe-" Peña cut himself off, his chest now heaving as he copied your pose, hands on his hips and body stood straight.

You couldn't help the small grin that grew on your face. "What is it, Peña? Say it. Don't punk out now when things were just getting interesting."

"You are a child." Peña spat back.

You chuckled harshly. "Look in the mirror before you start throwing insults around, Peña. Now what were you going to say?"

Peña stared back at you, your eyes locked together in a visceral manner. "I don't want you to fucking die."

You couldn't help the throaty laugh that erupted from your very core, your head thrown back as you looked away from him for the first time to try to gather your composure. "Oh, fucking please! Spare me. You have never given a shit for me!"

Peña shook his head, looking slightly deflated as he looked away from you. "Fuck off."

"Oh, don't act like that. I am just supposed to stand here and believe that this whole time you've secretly cared about my safety and you don't have me on the operation tomorrow in order to keep me safe?"

Peña looked back up at you and you nearly wavered from the look in his eyes. You couldn't handle it if it were the truth, which the look he gave you said it was, so you continued on doing what you did best. "I don't need anybody to protect me. Certainly not you, Javier Peña."

"I'm not trying to protect you."

You lifted up a hand emphatically. "So you didn't not put me on this because you don't want me to die?"

"Fucking hell, you are so frustrating." Peña yelled back, face red and eyes throwing daggers as he stepped even closer to you.

You didn't dare take a single step back. You would show no fear or weakness. "And you are such a walk in the park? I forgot about how the man-whore of Columbia was always just a pleasant-"

You were cut off by Peña lunging forward and for a split second you thought 'Oh, shit. I'm gonna have to kick Peña's ass.' That was until you felt a pair of rough, chapped lips press into yours mercilessly and a pair of calloused hands grab at the side of your face.

You stood still for a solid few seconds, your brain seeming to short-circuit until it slowly registered the undeniable truth of the situation: Javier Peña was fucking kissing you.

Well then push him off of you!

Except you didn't. For all intents and purposes, you should have. You should of shoved him off of you, yelled at him for trying to pull his 'sex god' card on you, and maybe even delivered a striking slap to his face, just for dramatic effect. But you didn't. You stood there completely still until eventually your hands reached for the collar of his jacket, roughly pulling him in until he was pressed so tightly to you that you didn't think there was an centimeter of distance between the two of you.

You felt him turn you, pushing you back until your back hit the same file cabinet he had been leaning against earlier. Your lips finally caught up with the rest of you, lips fighting dominantly against each other in a frantic battle. It probably wasn't the prettiest kiss but holy shit, you couldn't think of a time you had been kissed like this. The kiss was so striking but also so passionate, both of you fighting each other in the most deliriously addictive way. You couldn't ignore the smallest voice in the back of your brain asking you why you hadn't done this way earlier.

Eventually your tongues danced against each other, begging for even the smallest taste of each other like you were both addicts craving even the slightest taste from the bottle. His hands drifted away from your face to your hips, clutching them roughly and tightly but not hurting you in any way. Just gripping hard enough for you to feel them and feel the emotion.

Eventually, after what felt simultaneously likes hours but also mere seconds, Peña pulled away and holy fuck, how did he look so good? His lips were puffed and red, slightly wet from the sloppiness of the kiss. His eyes were hooded and looking at you in a way he had before but you had never been able to place, always mistaking the lustiness for hatred (and hold up, had it just been lust this whole time?). His jacket was still clutched tightly in your hands and you should of let go. Anyone could walk in and see him standing up against you on a shelf with your faces red and chests heaving but you couldn't even bother to care, your brain still reeling and your body betraying you, yearning for more.

"I'm going tomorrow." you said, still slightly out of breath.

Peña sighed, his warm breath fanning over you and smelling slightly of mint gum and stale cigarettes. "I know you are."

You nodded, glad to see his slow acceptance creep in. You slowly released the jacket, looking at how it had crinkled from how tightly you had pulled him to you. He backed up slowly, one small step at a time as his eyes still traced each others faces.

Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him again, fight with him again in the most delicious way but the door opened and you both turned to see the tall, blond-haired agent you had both become closer with than you initially thought possible.

"Have you guys killed each other?" he asked, trying to joke but also hesitant to with how foul your mood had been.

You desperately pulled away from the shelf and shook your head, though not to answer him but in some desperate attempt to try to shake away the evidence of what just happened (despite the fact that it was imprinted on your mind). "No. I'm going tomorrow."

Murphy shared a weary look with Peña who just gave a short nod and began to walk towards the exit. "She comes. If she gets shot, its not my problem."

You and Murphy both watched him slip past, moving out of the room and down the hall, away from you. Murphy twisted his head to look back at you, shaking his head. "Based off his behavior, I'd say that went well." he sarcastically mumbled.

You tried to chuckle but it sounded fake and hollow, your mind too preoccupied. "Yeah. Super well."

Murphy gave a roll of the eyes, used to the two of you being frustrated with the other as he slipped away from the doorway. You followed him as you made your way out of the room, the room where you still comprehend what exactly had happened in it. "You must of really went after each other this time."

You nearly choked at Murphy's quip, your mind taking a moment to realize he was speaking rhetorically about your arguing. He had no way to know the violent dance your lips had done or the way you both had perfectly expressed arousal and hatred with your tongues alone.

You just hummed, pushing past Murphy to head to your desk so you could work and just forget what had happened. Forget it because it meant nothing.

[alwayshaveneverholdd]

REWRITING NARUTO ROMANCES SO THEY DONT SUCK

We all know that the romance in Naruto is trash and Kishimoto himself admitted to not knowing how to write female characters and getting embarrassed by romantic scenes…so let’s fix that shit

part 1: NaruHina

(I wrote this down as my notes for the post but I actually like it this way so I’m just copy and paste my raw thoughts lol if you get offended you can write a letter to your local congressman, prime minister, or whoever rules over provinces in other countries)

First let’s shit on the original ship shall we

Naruhina…

- what the fuck was the build up to this relationship

- “I respect naruto and I want to be like him! But I’m too shy to talk to him! I even fainted when I saw him after the blank period! JK I HAVE MEGA HUGE BALLS AND CONFRONTED PAIN TO SAVE NARUTO!!!! Confessed my love and got my ass kicked….then didn’t speak to him until the fourth great ninja war and now we’re married with two kids” what the Fuck

- Also can we just talk about how after Hinata confessed her love…and literally almost died for naruto…he didn’t say SHIT to her after he defeated pain, and it was like she never confessed in the first place Lmfao

- He still liked Sakura! But Sakura always loved Sasuke so wtf

- He even was like “YEAH YEAH” when Minuto asked if Sakura was his girlfriend during the war. Then ten minutes later he’s holding hands with hinata and their love and shit (ft the rest of the ASF) and going up against fucking madara obito whatever… what the fuck

- AND THEN BAM THEY GET MARRIED AWWWWWWWWBWBWBWBLEEHHHH

- It makes no sense bro—people say Sasuke never shows his love for Sakura,…to me, naruto never gave a shit about Hinata, at least not romantically (he literally acted like her existence was forgotten for 3/4s of the show; at least Sasuke always acknowledged Sakura from the start)

- It also feels like narutos crush on Sakura was never resolved (I know that they’re supposed to be shown realizing that they aren’t into each other in The Last but…bro isn’t that way too fuckin late to make sense lmfao) He just suddenly shacked up with Hinata???? Bc her cousin died….Idk man that’s kinda fucked up lmfao

So let’s fucking fix this shitshow

- I get that Hinata is shy and stuff but that bitch is a fucking hyuga SHE IS POWERFUL SO GIVE HER MORE SCREENTIME KICKING ASS

- And can we??? Give her more lines in the first part???? Other than “n…n…naruto….” “N-naruto?” “Naruto!” Like wtf was that dude that shit was way more annoying to me than anything.

- We all know Hinata has thoughts feelings and opinions (as humans do) so let’s have her voice them sometimes okay

- Being shy doesn’t automatically make you mostly mute and constantly stuttering

- That stereotype makes me want to crush skulls bro

- Can we give her some balls before pains fight bc that made no sense

- Like maybe standing up to neji even a little bit and defending herself more during the chuunin exams

- I’m not saying she has to be like “HEY SHITHEAD IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS” bc that’s totally out of character but she totally could’ve been like “Hey you’re kinda wrong and pls show me respect as a member of your clan and an equal leaf shinobi”

- Also I get that Hinata was inspired by naruto but can we stop making every female character’s rise to power and want to be stronger related to a dude?

- Like fine if she was inspired by him but I think it would’ve been way more of a credit Hinata as a person if naruto simply REMINDED her of that part of herself that’s dedicated to proving her family wrong

- I’m just gonna write this as if it happened this way

- She keeps par with Neji, and does ultimate lose but it makes Neji see that Hinata is actually strong and a formidable opponent

- No more shit eating grins from that ego maniac

- And after Hinata battles Neji, she confronts naruto and thanks him for reminding her of her inner strength

- Naruto, who’s surprised that Hinata is talking to him, is like “yeah, sure thing, hinata. You did great!”

- And that opens the door for their real friendship

- Hinata is someone naruto can confide in about Sasuke, and he trusts her

- Hinata becomes someone that gives naruto compassionate advice, and he cherishes her comforting nature

- Then in part 2 after they’re all a bit older, naruto is kinda like “o” when he sees that Hinata has come into her wOmaNhOoD and he’s attracted to her.

- During the blank period he worked through his feelings and realized he only liked Sakura bc of his rivalry with Sasuke. End of that crap

- But naruto is dense as fuck and doesn’t see Hinata in a romantic way until she stands up for him against pain

- Hinata holds her own against pain for a bit bc she’s powerful in her own right but does get her ass beat anyway bc yk rinnegan and everything

- Naruto loses his shit seeing her cut down in front of him and defeats the last pain

- After naruto gives one of his MOTIVATIONAL SPEECHES and changes nagato before his death, the entire village greets him as a hero

- Instead of Sakura running up to him to hug him in that strangely intimate way that’s out of character bc she doesn’t fucking like him that way

- Sakura gives naruto a good hug and is like “you did it buddy you’re pretty cool ig”

- Then naruto talks to Hinata bc she??? Confessed her love? And took a massive beating for him???

- And they start a sort of flirty relationship where they both like each other but like waaaay too much is going on to actually date

- Like they try to between pains assault and the five mage summit but with the news of Sasukes massive downfall and the bounty on his head naruto is like dude I can’t do this rn

- And Hinata is cool so ofc she understands even tho she’s a bit sad

- And during the war when minato asks if Sakura is narutos girlfriend he says “😅 no dad, we’re just good friends”

- Then he holds hands with Hinata and the village and sings kumbaya to kick the fuck out of madara obito

- Then they get married and shit proceeds as normal

- Except in boruto when everyone returns from the battle in the other dimension she doesn’t run up to naruto first okay she hugs her SON and says “thank goodness you’re safe!” And then hugs naruto and thanks him for his work

God fuck okay I’m done

[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.

[hail-dondus]

His Dark Materials - Season 2 Episode 7 *FINALE* (Thoughts and Rambles)

We have a LOT to unpack here oh my god oh my god

When I say I was screaming and yelling during the episode, I mean I was LITERALLY screaming and yelling

This post is mostly screeching and capital letters, you’ve been warned

“So cold” “life or death meant nothing” - well shit. Accurate description of a Spectre attack damn

I didn’t know what those creepy noises were at first and I was sat here absolutely TERRIFIED because it was creepy as fuck. Then I realized it was cliff ghasts because they said something that I recognized from the book and I was like “oh shit”

Pan and Will talking is the sweetest omg

The fact that Pan told him that Lyra thinks he’s as brave as King Iorek Byrnison :’)

“She’s the best friend I’ve ever had” “You’re her best friend too” - STOP, MY HEART

Lyra was awake and heard the whole conversation :3

“I’m no longer an aeronaut” :( “I’m an insect” - LMAO

Hester and Lee’s banter remains my favourite thing and now it’s bittersweet tbh...

“You could never be an insect, Lee” “Okay, hare” - bless them

Marisa finding where Lyra was staying and then finding Lyra’s coat?? And crying with it pressed to her face?? :’(

In case I haven’t mentioned it already, I am incredibly gay for the witches/their aesthetic/costume. Absolutely beautiful queens, all of them

Oh hi, it’s Mary and the two kids!

The fact that Mary helped them find their adults :’)

Also, “We like you miss” - BLESS

I’m kind of confused as to whether the blue flower petals are important or if it’s just her smelling them? IDK

“I’m close to my father, it’s time I found him” - OOF OKAY UMM ARE YOU SURE

“I let my best friend down” - Noooo Lyra, no you didn’t! :( Your dad is a terrible parent and killed him, that’s not your fault!

“Maybe this is how I let you down” - Well done, Asriel and Marisa, you’ve fucked up a perfectly fine child is what you’ve done

Will telling Lyra that she hasn’t let him down :3

That witch turning up because she was trying to warn Marisa about the spectres, only for Marisa to torture and kill her... oof

FUCKING MONKEY I CAN’T DECIDE HOW I FEEL ABOUT HIM

“She’s MY daughter” - Okay, damn, lady...

“EVE. She’s the mother of all” - OH FUCK YOU TOLD HER. OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK

THE SPECTRE ATE HER DÆMON OMG NO THIS IS HORRIFYING WTAF

Seriously, the way the witch went so grey and lifeless and just fell to her knees and down... Urgh, my stomach is turning

Just when I thought I hated the monkey again, he starts whimpering because he’s afraid of the Spectres :(

“Stop whimpering” - DAMN MARISA YOU ARE A STONE COLD BITCH HUH

Pan being the damn voice of reason and telling Lyra they should stay with the witches like yes, Lyra, listen to him for once!!!

Okay but why are the Magisterium soldiers lowkey dressed like German soldiers from one of the World Wars???

I’m not really surprised that BBC left out the detail of Ruta and Asriel fucking when she found him to be honest XD

So the witches think that the Æsahættr is a person but it’s actually the KNIFE. AND THEY DON’T REALIZE. RUTA YOU DON’T NEED TO GO ANYWHERE, IT’S LITERALLY RIGHT THERE

“...That’s not my dæmon.” “Run.” - OH SHIT OKAY MY WHOLE BODY JUST TENSED UP

So umm Lee got shot and FUCK NO FUCK NO I’M NOT READY FOR THIS EMOTIONALLY THANKS

I LITERALLY DO NOT WANT THIS TO HAPPEN OKAY

“You’re either with me or against me” Umm he’s your dæmon?!?!

THE WAY SHE SCREAMED AT HIM OH MY GOD SHE’S FUCKING TERRIFYING HOLY CRAP

“What are you frightened of?” - oh, I don’t know, Marisa, maybe because YOU FUCKING SCREECHED AT HIM. MAYBE HE’S FRIGHTENED OF YOU

Also I love the detail of Marisa getting onto her hands and knees, sort of crouching and mirroring the monkey’s body language. I just love the parallel

The way the monkey flinched from her when she went to touch him omg :( No dæmon should be THIS afraid of their person (or at all?!?!)

Honestly, I find this series’ portrayal of Marisa fascinating tbh

“We have to do whatever it takes to keep her safe” - Umm, like maybe drugging her and hiding her in a cave for months? 🤔

Also in case I didn’t say this before, the fact she has complete control of the Spectres is fucking scary and always has been from the very first time I read the books

Okay so Lee is fully aware that he’s going to die if he stays behind but he does it because he knows that it’s the best chance of making sure that Lyra ends up under the knife’s protection (because Jopari will find her). All Lee wants is for Lyra to be safe and that hurts my heart so much, he loves this child so much :’(

“I love that little girl like a daughter” - LEE STOP MY HEART IS ALREADY BREAKING AS IT IS

NO NO NO NO I AM NOT AND NEVER WILL BE READY

Oh hey Red PAN-da (sorry I know I keep repeating that joke but honestly LOOK AT HIM)

“Once I change, you’ll stop changing” - OH SHIT. So we’re having THAT conversation then

“What do you think you’ll be?” “A flea I hope” - LMFAO I LOVE IT

“Is it Will that’s changing you?” “I think” - FORESHADOWING FOR AMBER SPYGLASS ANYONE?!

All the meanwhile, while Lee is dying and shit is going down, Ms Mary Malone is just chilling in a cave on a mountain by a waterfall, just reading

I literally struggled to watch Lee’s final scenes. I literally didn’t want to watch it because I cried reading it in the book, and I knew I’d be the same here

The fact that Lee HATES taking away people’s lives but he says “it’s theirs or Lyra’s”... I love him. He loves her so much.

“Think about anything, think about bacon!” - LMFAO I LOVE YOU HESTER YOU ABSOLUTE GEM

THE BULLET CLIPPED HIS SCALP AND I HAD A HEART ATTACK 

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” - NO HESTER NO DON’T YOU DARE BLAME YOURSELF DARLIN’, YOU ARE THE BEST AND WE LOVE YOU AND LEE LOVES YOU

I do this everytime I read the book and I did here even though I know what happens, but I was praying mentally that maybe Serafina would reach Lee in time... just maybe...

I’m really sitting here crying over Hester and Lee on a Sunday night, love that for me

Hester limping :(

“Don’t you go before I do” - FUCK YOU BBC AND PHILIP I’M SOBBING MY EYES OUT

“Oh how far we flew” - STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW I SWEAR-

I literally yelled and cried out “NOOO” when Hester faded away and Lee died. I am so upset even though I KNEW it was coming. I am literally not okay.

Oh god no Will, now is not the time to be walking away from Lyra and that witch 

Also why is that witch asleep on guard?? Come on, love, do better, it’s not like these are the two most important children in all the universes.... 

To be fair to Marisa, I’d feel pretty invincible if I were climbing up a mountain while the Spectres were guarding me/on my side

WILL AND JOHN FINALLY MET AHHHH

“I was told I’d find my father here”  - YEAH AND THAT’S HIM WILL ASDFGHJKL;

I’m low-key disappointed that there’s no brawl between Will and Jopari here. Like they instantly recognize each other and... hmm. I know there has to be changes but still.

“Your mother, Will, where is she?” - Awww. John really didn’t stop loving her :’)

“My son... is the Knife Bearer” - oooooohhhhhhh

“You have a dæmon” - that’s right, Will. Don’t worry, you’ll get one next season

The way I audible went “oh shIT” when Mrs Coulter found Lyra fast asleep. Like I said, I knew what was going to happen but STILL

I’m not really surprised that those Spectres killed the witch who was supposed to be guarding Lyra and Will tbh like that’s what happens when only ONE witch guards two teenagers and that witch falls asleep

The way that Lyra panicked when she woke up and saw her mother stroking her cheek omg 

Off topic but I’ve only just realized that Jopari has a fucking man-bun LMFAO OKAY

The fact that Jopari tried to get back to Will and Elaine but couldn’t will always hurt me

“And you chose these people over your family?” - I MEAN-

“I’ve thought about you every day.” - Awww

So John tells Will that he has to go to Asriel and bring him the knife, and he tells him all about the war that’s coming and I have LITERAL chills because I’m so ready

“And then we go home?” “... And then we go home.” - RIP MY HEART OUT, IT WOULD HURT LESS

“I’m not strong enough” - yes you are, Will! I promise you, you are! And Jopari says, “Both of us were brought here” - exactly! You were brought there for a reason by fate or whatever you want to call it!

“Your duty was to be my father” - WILL REALLY CAME FOR HIS DAD LIKE THAT I GUESS

“Look what you’ve become without me” - Oh my god, just when I thought I wasn’t going to cry again

JOPARI HUGGING WILL, SEEING THE SOLDIER AIMING, AND THEN PUTTING HIMSELF BETWEEN THEM SO HE TOOK THE BULLET INSTEAD OF WILL ASDFGHJKL;

So in the book, Jopari is killed by a scorned witch who had once asked him to be her lover, but he had turned her down (because of Elaine and Will obviously), and she kills Jopari in front of Will and then he kills her (I think?). But here it’s just a soldier leftover from the Lee vs Magisterium fight, so... yeah. Kind of a little peeved about the change personally but whatever I guess.

“The night is full of angels, they will guide you now” - AHHHHH

Also, might just be me, but maybe that line would have been slightly more impactful if the scene had taken place at night

This show really said “fuck healthy parental figures” I guess

Except Will’s mum, she’s the best and if anything were to happen to her we’d all riot

SAYAN KÖTÖR FADING AWAY NOOOO I HATE SEEING DÆMONS DIE

Okay, last little gripe, but I just wanted to say that in the book, Will doesn’t realize it’s his dad until literally the last second before his dad dies - like they both realize and then BAM, Jopari is killed. And while I do love the father-son reunion, I am kind of annoyed by the change because it was such a huge punch in the gut in the book that Will searches for so long for his dad, only to lose him the second he finds him.

Serafina finding Lee’s body and kissing his forehead was yet another punch in the gut, thanks Pullman/BBC/BadWolf

The fact that Will had to bury his dad :(

Also, WILL WEARING JOPARI’S JACKET OH MY GOD MY HEART

Oof that shot of his amputated fingers...

So the narration, when it started I thought it was Jopari at first, like from one of his letters... but then as it continued, I went “hang on”, and then I said outloud “wait, is that ASRIEL?!”

DID MARISA REALLY PUT LYRA IN A FUCKING TRUNK?!? BITCH ARE YOU OKAY?!?

Will putting his hood up like his dad did just hits differently

Okay so um ASRIEL HI I WASN’T EXPECTING TO SEE YOU THIS SEASON OH MY GOD THE SCREAM I LET OUT

HIS MONOLOGUE BY THE WAY IS FUCKING ART AND A MASTERPIECE BUT I WAS TOO BUSY CRYING OVER JAMES MCAVOY TO WRITE THE WHOLE MONOLOGUE DOWN

Oh, hi Stelmaria!

It always makes me scream that this man is not only Lord Asriel now but he’s also fucking Mr Tumnus and MOTHERFUCKING BILL DENBROUGH LIKE HOW IS THIS MAN INVOLVED IN SO MANY OF MY FANDOMS?!?

ANGELS ANGELS OH MY FUCKING GOD-

“We stand with you, Asriel Belacqua” - AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“Let us prepare for war” - FUUUUUUUUCK

(I was deadly serious when I said this was just me screaming and crying by the way)

I’m still reeling over the fact that Marisa put her daughter in a fucking trunk. Like I get you can’t exactly carry a drugged child about in the open but Jesus Christ, love, really?!?

Also Ruth Wilson / Marisa Coulter in a headscarf? *chef kiss*

The way that the screen went to black as she put the lid on the trunk down - SHIT OH SHIT GOOSEBUMPS

THE CREDIT SONG IS SO BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE IT HAS FUCKING ANGELS NOW I’M-

I WASN’T EXPECTING THE POST CREDITS SCENE OH MY GOD

ROGER?! ROGER! IT’S ROGER I’M NOT OKAY-

BBC YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THAT ON US LIKE THAT FUCK-

“What is this place?” - I’M SCREAMING SO LOUD I CAN’T HOLD IT IN

For anyone unaware, the reason I’m screaming so loud over the post-credits scene is because in TAS, while Lyra is drugged and in a groggy sleep, she has these visions of Roger talking to her from the Land of the Dead, which then later leads to her and Will actually GOING to the Land of the Dead and... well, the rest is even HUGER spoilers but YEAH I’M NOT OKAY.

Honestly, I’m just so happy and emotional because I’ve been waiting over a decade for a decent adaptation of not only NL but for TSK and TAS too, and we’re 2/3 there now. Just one more book/series to go... I wish we could have it now. I really hope that filming for the final one starts ASAP because if we have to wait two years just to see the conclusion to this series, I might cry.

This series is so amazing, and this season especially has been so incredible to watch. It’s been the highlight of my week for seven weeks, and I have no idea what I’ll do with my Sundays now that it’s over. I’ve asked for the DVD for S2 for my birthday already (since it comes out 29th December and my birthday is 13th January... just saying), and words can’t describe how much I do love this series. I know it sounds hollow since I say it about so many things I’m into, but this was such a huge part of my childhood and it’s one of my favourite fantasy series of all time. It’s truly one of the most incredible pieces of literature and now it’s making for incredible television... I love it so much.

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate the way you drive my car

So, we’re ignoring the fact that it’s 4 am but here I am with the second part of 10 things I hate about you. Ignore typos, I’ll fix them at some point (maybe ?).

Also, this might be a little bit of, like, soft smut???? Unsure, but hey, stuff happens. I don’t know if this actually counts.

NOTE: the line about being ‘a pop-up book from hell’ I’m pretty sure that line is from Gilmore Girls that I used in here (I changed it a bit but still gotta give credit)

I hope you like it!

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

__________________________

“Because we both know that’s not true.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

----------

“I need to ask you a huge favor,” you hear him say on the other end of the call as you’re pacing around your apartment out of boredom. 

You groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him asking you for something at ten am on a Saturday. “No.”

“You don’t even know what it is!” he whines on the other end.

“But I know you and know that it’s probably not something I’m going to like if you have to call and ask me.”

“Can you at least hear what I need before you make a decision?” Matthew huffs, clearly a little bothered by the fact that you were dismissing him before giving him a chance. 

You can’t help but laugh imagining the pout he has on his face, the one he would be giving you in person that always, without fail, made you say yes to whatever he was asking of you. But you weren’t in person, so instead of conceding, you tease him with, “Hard maybe, but you’re going to tell me anyway, aren’t you?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not!” he whines again. You can hear him mumbling to himself about what other options he could think that he had, knowing that he had none as it was if you were the one he was calling.

“Why do you need my car? Where’s yours?” 

“We need alcohol and all the boys are busy. And my car is in the shop, the brakes were being a bitch. I didn’t want them to crap out on me when I need to make a sudden stop or something.”

“Yeah, because we both know you’re good at stopping even with good brakes,” you tease.

You hear him laugh on the other end, so strong and genuine that hearing him made you stop and smile for a moment. “What can I say, I pull out all the stops. And yet, I can never use them to get you in bed.” He closes his eyes, thankful that you couldn’t see him regretting saying something that stupid to you. If he kept up this shit with you, you would have a list of way more than ten things that you hated about him. “But, please, can I borrow your car?” You stop for a moment to think, really not wanting to hand over your keys to him. “Your silence means no?”

“You live two blocks from a liquor store. Are you fucking joking?” you let out.

“I never joke about fucking, especially with you,” he says, forcing you to roll your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. He really did mean it, no matter how oblivious you were to that fact. “But that one doesn’t have what we want and the nearest one that has our shit is too far to walk to.” 

“I do not trust you to drive my car,” you tell him, hearing the line go dead. You pull the phone away from your ear to see that he was trying to switch to Facetime, probably to wear you down with his stupid pout that always made you say yes. “There is no way I am letting you drive my car.” 

“Y/N, I am begging. I will do anything.” He juts out his lip, batting his eyes at you in hopes of convincing you.

“I’ll drive you there.”

“I feel like I’m two seconds from death every time I get in a car with you behind the wheel.” 

“Order an Uber.”

“But you’re cheaper!” 

Your jaw drops as you can’t help but scoff at what he just said. He can’t really think that saying something like that to you would work. He didn’t mean it like that, just that it was easier to buy you a bottle of wine than pay for the Uber there, back and the tip. But he wasn’t thinking about that enough to fully explain. You study the background behind him, clearly walking into a familiar building, not quite able to make out why you knew the building based on the angle he held the camera. “Wait, where are you?” 

“Bye!” he says, hanging up on you immediately without you being able to get an answer.

“Evie!” you yell, clearly frustrated with Matthew’s antics. You wait to hear her open her door, praying that she was awake. “Evelina!” you screech again.

You hear her door open and slam shut, her bare feet hitting the tile of the floor in the hallway as she makes her way to you, “If you go any higher, only dogs will hear you. Why are you waking me up?”

“I have another thing to add to the list.”

She groans, closing her eyes and dropping her head back as her eyes followed to the ceiling. “You know how to write. The list is literally on the fridge. This is not something you needed me for.”

“Well, Miss ‘They have to be legitimate reasons,’” you mock her voice, “I had to make sure it was a real reason by your standards.”

“What else could you hate about Matthew?”

“I hate when he drives my car.” 

“When the fuck does he do that?” 

“When I asked her if I could get alcohol from the store on the other side of the city,” you hear Matthew’s voice behind you, causing both of you to jump. 

“Jesus, you’re like the pop-up book from Hell. How the fuck did you get in here? The door was locked!” 

“Evelina gave me a key,” he says, waving his key ring in the air as if you could tell which one he was referring to in the mess of keys.

You turn back to Evelina, your mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Everything about your expression said, ‘what the hell?’ without verbally saying it. She shrugs, obviously still groggy from being woken up by your screaming. “He’s here all the time and you always happen to be busy when he’s knocking at the door. It was the third key our landlord gave us, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You open and close your mouth like a fish, unable to figure out what to say. Of all the people she could give the spare key to Matthew of all people. 

“So why do you hate when I drive your car?” Matthew cuts the silence out. 

“Well if it’s anything like the way you skate, then I don’t think I want to see it.” 

“I said I would do anything!” he whines, Evelina groans, leaving the two of you to head to the kitchen, presumably to write the new thing on the list. 

“And what does that entail?”

“I would prefer something in the bedroom,” he flirts, earning another eye roll from you.

“How about you start by getting my bag from my bedroom and then we’ll go,” you say, waving him off and practically running to the kitchen to find Evelina. “Matthew doesn’t know about the list, right?”

Evelina looks at you, hesitating to answer. Something tells her that him knowing the entire plan wouldn’t bode well with you. “Did you tell him about it?”

“No.”

“Then, no,” she lies. “And the car thing doesn’t count. You’ve never had him drive your car before. Plus, why would him knowing be a bad thing?”

“Because you know him. He’s just gonna flirt with me and try to make me forget that I hate him. You know I’m a sucker for a sweet guy.”

She looks at you for a moment, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Ok, I’m going to list all the reasons why you’re wrong, and then I’m going back to bed because I don’t want to deal with you anymore.” You roll your eyes at her, something you had already done a lot today, yet still feel the need to keep doing. “So, one. I really do not know him that well, all I know is that he’s clearly in love with you. Plus, I’m closer with Elias, remember? Two. You clearly do not know what flirting is because you two flirt with each other all the time. Every day. Every minute. It’s annoying. Three. You have a very specific type, and sweet isn’t always a given. I know you have dated three guys, and all three of them were hockey players who always got in fights, had curly hair, really nice eyes, and are always someone pest-like. Does that sound like anyone?”

“None of that is true.”

“All of that is true,” she counters, leading to the two of you going back and forth, bickering about the validity of her three point list. 

“Hey, is this it?” Matthew interrupts the two of you, holding up your bag.

“Yes, let’s go,” you say, taking the bag from him and pushing him out the door. “You head down and start up my car, the keys are by the door, Evelina just needs to finish the list first.” You swear you see his eyes go wide and look at your roommate before he darts out the front door. You could have meant the list of alcohol she wanted. Evelina wouldn’t lie to you about him knowing about the hate list. “You’re wrong,” you tell Evelina.

She throws her hands in the air, walking back to her room,  “Don’t bother me unless you finally realize you love him or you can actually add ‘the way he drives my car’ to your list.”

“I hate you,” you call to her in a sing-songy voice.

“Love you, too,” you hear her reply, closing her door. 

You go down to your car, hearing it before seeing it in your spot since Matthew had already turned the volume on your radio up louder than you ever wanted it to go. Your hand reaches for the volume button before you even put the seatbelt on, muting the music to tell him, “There is absolutely no way you’re listening to the music this loud. How can you hear yourself think?” 

“I’m honestly surprised you even believe I think. But did Ev give you her list?” 

“No, she left it on the fridge,” you say, without thinking.

“The fridge?”

You hesitate, not wanting to tell him about the list. You hated more things about him than you liked, so why did you have to keep reminding yourself about that? And why was it so hard to come up with things to put on there. “It was the grocery list, she’s buying the stuff after her nap and needed to know what I wanted for food,” you lie, hoping he would buy it. 

“Is whipped cream on the list?” he asks, pulling out of the garage. The smirk on his face tells you that you shouldn’t ask to elaborate whatever thought was running through his mind, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. “So you can spray it all over me and lick it off.” 

“You’d have to clean up my vomit right after,” you joke, hearing his laugh again. “Who’s to say that I wouldn’t want you licking it off me, instead?” you flirt back, knowing it would get something out of him.

Hearing you say that makes him stop breathing for a moment, letting his mind wander to the image of that scene. His entire body tenses up thinking about it, only to be snapped out by you yelling, “Brake, brake, Matthew, brake!” He slams on the brakes of your car, narrowly avoiding rear ending the person in front of you. “This is why your brakes are crapping out!” you squeal, eyes wide with fury at his nonattention to the road in front of him. “I’m driving home, you are not allowed to drive my car back.” 

“Calm down, are you dead?”

“I just died a little on the inside.” 

The smirk from before returns to his face, “We both know you die a little every time we go to work, I’m just helping move that along.” Still at the red light, he takes his eyes off the road to look at you, the smirk turning into a soft smile.

You can’t help but bite part of your bottom lip, the rest of your lips forming a smile. His eyes flick between yours and your lips, knowing that he wanted to kiss you. You tear your eyes away to look at the road, fully aware of his eyes still on you, “Green light.” 

The two of you drive the rest of the way in silence. Was that some sort of moment between the two of you? If he hadn’t been driving, would he have kissed you? And would you have let him? 

No, you wouldn’t kiss your best friend. Nothing would make you want to kiss him. You take out your phone, pulling up your conversation with Evelina. ‘Add the way he drives my car to the list. Or the way he drives in general. I don’t care.’ You sigh, hesitating before hitting send.

“You ok?” you hear Matthew say, hitting send before you can decide not to as you pull into the parking lot of the liquor store.

“Oh, yeah. My boss is just asking me some stuff about one of my projects at work,” you lie to him. Evelina responds, just with an eye roll emoji.  

“Alright,” Matthew says, leading you into the liquor store, “Get something for you and something for Evelina and I’ll pay for it.” 

You just nod, both of you giving an awkward smile to the other as you went your separate ways in the store. Evelina needed another bottle of her favorite wine, but you had no idea what you wanted. You eventually find yourself looking at a bottle of wine with Snoop Dogg on the label, of all people. “What’s that?” Matthew startles you, causing you to almost drop the bottle right on the ground.

“This wine brand called 19 Crimes,” you say, showing him the bottle, “Snoop Dogg is a partner in the company.”

“19 Crimes? Is that how many we’re going to commit in the bedroom our first time,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You smile and roll your eyes at him. “It’s a reference to British and Australian history, Matthew,” you tell him, admittedly leaning in a little to his touch. 

“Ok?”

“So starting in the 1780s or 90s, Britain, instead of killing their convicts, would send them to Australia as punishment. If you committed one of 19 Crimes, you would be sent there, starting a colony of criminals and eventually turning into the down under we know and love today.” 

“What are the 19 crimes?” He asks, leading you through the store.

“The first is grand larceny, or theft above the value of one shilling.” 

His hand moves from your waist into your back pocket, your breath hitching slightly at his touch. “Keep going,” he whispers into your air, still leading you around the store. 

“The second: petty larceny, which is theft under one shilling.” You feel his fingers start to tense up in your pocket, sending a shiver down your spine as his touch became more intimate. Without waiting, you keep going, “The third was buying or receiving stolen goods.”

He pulls you closer to him, tightening the grip he has on you as he starts to grab bottles from the shelves with his free hand and put them into the cart he was pushing. “What’s the fourth?”

“Stealing, buying, or receiving lead, iron or copper.” 

“Seems weird,” he notes.

“The fifth will really get you: impersonating an Egyptian.”  

He laughs a low laugh, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Weirdly specific, but keep telling me more.” You could be telling him anything right now, and he would probably be going just as crazy as he was now. Keeping you slightly in front of him, he was glad he couldn’t see how red in the face he was getting from the history you were telling him.

“Six would be stealing from furnished lodgings, so anything stamped with the London County Council seal would send you to Australia. Seven was setting fire to underwood, which is undergrowth in a forest.” You were doing everything in your power to restrain yourself, your hand taking his from your back pocket and moving it back around to the front of you. His fingers find their way into your front pocket, settling on your hip bone as his thumb hooks onto your belt loop.

“Eight,” you keep going before he can say anything else, feeling his gaze on you as you try to ignore the tightening grip, “is stealing letters, advancing the postage, and secreting the money, which is robbing the post office of mail. The ninth was assaulting with an intent to rob.”

You realize Matthew had led you to the back corner of the store, secluded from the other customers. Behind the stake of boxes and the shelves of bottles that surrounded you, no one could see you. Everything he was doing, you would have the same reaction to any boy, you tell yourself. It’s not because it’s Matthew, it’s because he’s just a guy. 

“Number ten?” he whispers in your ear, turning you so that you face him.

“Number ten is stealing fish from a pond or river,” you let out, his hands on your waist as he pulls you close to him. He presses his forehead against yours, your hands on his chest. You can feel his heart racing, almost in sync with yours as you keep going. “Similarly, 11 was stealing or destroying roots, trees or plants.”

“Eight more,” he says, kissing your forehead. 

Your eyes flutter closed, knowing that looking at him would only make this worse for you. “Because of the divorce laws that were in place, number 12 was common: bigamy, the act of marriage while already in another marriage.” He places another kiss on your forehead, his hands on the small of your back to pull him even closer to you, allowing you to feel everything he felt. 

“13 was assaulting, cutting or burning clothing. 14: counterfeiting the copper coin.” His kisses start to trail down the side of your face, tracing your jaw bone as you continue, “Clandestine, or secret marriage was 15.”

“I love that you know this. Four more,” you hear him say, kissing your collar bone as you try to stifle the moan that escaped from your lips anyway, praying that no one saw you two doing this. 

Your eyes still closed, you continue, “Stealing a shroud out of a grave was 16. 17: watermen carrying too many passengers on the Thames, if any drowned.”

You let out another involuntary groan before he pulls away, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his forehead is once again pressed on yours. You open your eyes to see his blue ones staring straight into your soul. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as he whispered, “I think it’s pronounced ‘Tems,’ babe.”

A grin on your face, knowing he was right, “Where I’m from, we say it phonetically.” His eyes flicked between yours and your lips, just like they did in your car earlier. “18 was incorrigible rogues, people who had already been convicted as a rogue or vagabond and resists arrest, who broke out of prison and person reprieved from capital punishment.” 

“What’s the last one?” he whispers again, his lips nearly ghosting yours.

“The nineteenth and final crime that would get a British convict sent to Australia was embeuling naval stores, or stealing naval supplies, in certain cases.”

His lips hovering against yours, not quite touching but close enough to be begging to connect. “In certain cases, would you want this?” 

You knew what he was referring to. Did he actually want this? You were trying to convince yourself that he didn’t, but it was hard to believe that. “Matthew. We...” you hesitate, denying that fact that you wanted to. It wasn’t because it was Matthew, you would be this way with any boy. “We can’t.” 

He exhales, pulling away from you. “Ok,” he says, a weak smile. He takes your hand, pushing the cart with the other towards the front of the store. You drop his hand, reaching for your phone to text Evelina.

‘I hate the way he teases me,’ you send her, not wanting to give her any more context. Ignoring the vibration that meant she was responding to you, you watch Matthew as he checks out the copious amount of alcohol that he had gotten for the guys. He bites his bottom lip as he pays, his chest now steadily moving up and down as his breath had calmed down from before. 

‘This list has to work for me,’ he thinks to himself. He couldn’t let something like that happen again. He couldn’t let you think of ten things. He didn’t even know how close you were to being done. 

The two of you get back into your car, the haul almost completely filling up your trunk. You hadn’t said a word to each other, but you did need to know how Matthew had planned on getting everything back to his place.

With Matthew in the driver's seat, you feel like you need to apologize. As much as you hate to admit it, you were definitely feeling something because of Matthew. Was it because it was specifically Matthew? No, no, it was just... you didn’t know. Something. But, did that just change anything between you? 

“Hey, Y/N?” Matthew snaps you out of your thoughts and back to reality. 

“Yeah?”

“Why did you know all that?” 

“We talked about the English colonization of Australia very briefly when I was in high school, but we never went in depth with it. Then I saw this video of a news report in Australia where a woman had submitted a comment saying that if they didn’t like having all the criminals in their country, they should just find another island to send them to. The news casters were laughing so hard saying that that was how Australia was pretty much founded. So I looked into what it took for Britain to send their convicts to Australia. I guess I liked it so much that I just memorized the list? I don’t know, it’s dumb,” you discount yourself. “Sometimes I feel like people forget that I’m actually a little intelligent.” 

“I think you’re more than a little intelligent; you’re the smartest person I know.” He turns onto his street, you finally realizing that he had driven to his place to make it easier to bring everything up. “I love y-” he starts, realizing he can’t say what he wants to, “I love that you know so much.” 

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, getting out of the car to help him carry everything up to his place. You do so in silence, needing two trips to your car to get his haul into his apartment. “I’ll see you later?” he asks, once it’s all in. After that, he couldn’t stay in the same room as you, knowing that he would want to do so much more than what had happened in the store. 

“Yeah, see ya,” you say, going out the door. You shut it behind you, leaning your back against it. You close your eyes, head touching the cold wood. You needed to finish that list as fast as possible. Seven more things before it was complete. “Fuck.”

[n0irrrr]

e m p t y / 14

shingeki no kyojin | series [various x male!amnesiac!reader] summary: [Name], an amnesiac boy awakes in a unknown place – trying to remember anything makes him have horrible headaches. Who is he? And why he can’t remember his own face? masterlist

chapter fourteen

seek

“Nothing is going to work, XXXXXXX.”

”Don’t speak so negatively— this kid is our future.”

”Our future? XXXXXX, we have no future! Yeah, he controls it, then what? Can we return from the death? Of course fucking not!”

”I believe in him. He will be one of the people who free us all— you heard him, didn’t you? This kid is strong.”

”Is that what you call strong? The brat can barely handle a headache, and that’s where he cries like a goddamn baby. This kid is not going to be a hero, nor a savior. This world is condemned to fail like in the beginning.”

”He wouldn’t suffer much if you weren’t so intrusive onto him,” they sigh, “the XXXX may have kill us all, but our destiny made us stay together— we have to protect this child.”

“How the fuck can we protect if we’re not there, and this kid doesn’t bear a damn headache?”

”He won’t try to remember— he knows the pain well.”

”That’s right, XXXXXXX. W——, stop being like this— [Name] will get a concussion or get ill like before. The child has had enough already.”

”As if I care. It’s not as if I have faith in the first place,” he sighs, “we should have stayed hidden... the X?#! was a son of a bitch for doing what he did. Why the fuck did we returned?”

”We can’t let the past repeat again— this world doesn’t deserve that.”

”Humanity deserves it.”

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

"—me]! Enough sleep!"

"Hmn...?" He opens his eyes slowly, recognizing Jean with an annoyed expression— [name] noticed he was already ready for training, "how tiring..."

"If you don't wake up now you will in three hours— so get dressed already,” he helps [Name] sit, getting his messy hair out of his face and talking to him to not fall asleep again. Marco was near to learn about how to wake up [Name] properly, as he was his partner. He didn't say it out loud, but [Name]'s sleepy and messy hair was a pretty cute and funny look.

The thought made him blush, looking at the side in shyness, "What I'm thinking?!" He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the side of his neck.

Successfully making [Name] getting off the bed, he stretches like a cat. Looks like Jean has already placed his uniform on the bed to not make it more difficult to him. "Thank you, Jean."

His friend sighs, gritting his teeth. Irritated by such careless attitude, Jean ordered him, "just dress already, okay?"

"Aaaah? Jean looks like a mom! HAHAHA!" Connie jokes, laughing with everyone else. This makes Jean's blush worse, not liking the spotlight one a bit.

This is what I was trying to avoid!!! DAMMIT!

"S-SHUT UP!"

“You are talking too loudly,“ [name] rubbed his eye, frowning. They were so loud in the mornings— he couldn’t wait for their day off to sleep as much as he wanted.

“That will be necessary to make you stay awake, don’t you think?" Marco chuckled sweetly, helping [name] to button his shirt. “[name] does look as cute as a kitten, but he is strong, or even stronger than Annie... For some reason, I feel... safe,” he thinks with a tint of scarlet on his face, finishing his actions. It was true— [Name] wasn’t an idiot, much less clueless. Marco believed his friend stood his ground with whoever, and if [name] noticed the true dark intentions of others, they would pay a big prize for it. He had to be just waken up from that slumber in which the freckled boy wouldn't leave him alone.

“That's annoying,” he yawns, "I can't wait to sleep in the woods again..."

“The woods? Wouldn't that be dangerous? You don't know how many wolves can be there! Or even bears!!"

"Bears are cute," [name] blinked, "I wouldn't mind."

"Don't say that!!! They are dangerous!"

"But cute," he chuckled, "do you think Reiner would win a fight with a bear? Bertolt is huge, but I think Reiner would win."

Marco blinked a few times as he processed the sudden question. Laughing, the freckled boy imagined such scene. "What was that question for?"

"Dunno— just thought about it," he stands up, seeing Marco finished buttoning his shirt. "What are we doing today?"

"Oh—! We are doing a training in the woods! I think it's a survival thing— so maybe we would be there for two days," he smiled, "isn't that exciting?"

"The woods?" [name] grinned.

"You won't find a bear, [name]!"

"If I'm lucky maybe I would be paired with Reiner..." he mutters, tapping his lower lip with his finger.

The freckled boy sighed, amused by such interesting person. [Name] could be incredible when he wanted— he sure said silly things, but when the situation was needed he was responsible and took things in a serious manner. Analyzing him was interesting and funny— it was as if Marco was watching a deer from a hide place, observing and taking notes. [Name] was sure different, but Marco couldn't pin point what was the thing that made him who he was— his unusual eyes? the mark he had on his shoulder? the stuff he said? his motivations? He couldn't describe it, but it was pleasant to spent time with him.

"—co. Marcooooo..." [name]'s voice filled his ears. He didn't even notice him losing himself in his thoughts, "what were you thinking about? Are you sleepy?"

Marco gently laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry— I was just thinking," he looks at [name], "we should go for breakfast— there's still time, so let's go!"

[name] blinked, tilting his head. It wasn't often Marco got lost in his thoughts, "...okay," looking at Jean, who was still fighting with Connie, [name] spoke out of him, "we are going to breakfast, Jeanbo!" and with that, [name] took Marco's hand to leave with a grin on his face. He didn't want to stay and hear Jean's yells at him— he could hear Connie's laughter as he repeated the nickname. Jean is going to be angry at me... Oh well.

Marco just laughed, amused. He really never wanted training days to end.

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

As breakfast finished, Marco left first to get ready with Jean— the both of them were eager for today's training. [Name] took his time to finish, leaving the barrack to find the others. Unfortunately, some other thing made him remember how unlucky he could be.

He bumped into someone else, making the poor victim fall on the ground. 

"I'm sorry— I didn't see you," [Name] spoke with worry, offering his hand to the other to take— it was a petite blonde girl. The boy blinked, tilting his head as he saw the resemblance of a pretty doll. Hmn... I know her. What's her name...?

But when their hands touched, an electrifying sensation passed trough arm to his eyes, making them freeze in the spot. It seemed the girl felt it too, because her friend quickly hushed [Name]'s hand from her, making them wake up from the strange daze.

P̷̟͑r̸̨̢̛͙͕͈̲̻͓͔͍̣̮͋̍͒̃̈́͜x̴̧̘̯̹̦͙̭̜͉͔̙͍̫͆͑̉#̴̨̢͉̲̥̞̤̣̦͕̹̙͌̾̅̏́͂͋̅ë̶̙̭͔̞̥͌̇̇̄͝x̷̮̺͍̗͍͖̟͙͛͜ͅx̶͙̭͗̂͛̌͝ ̵̢͚͍̙̪̜̙̜̣̭̮̦̠̅̑̅͋̈͌̈́̄ͅẍ̶̧̨̢̮͉̻̮͍̳͔͚̺̖̝̮́̂̄̋͌͆̏̆!̶̪͉̞̲͍͙̟̮͈̫̗͖̔̀̕#̴̱̠̄̑̂̈̍̈́́ ̷̨̡̢̧̥̜̼̪̐͌̂͊͊̐͌͘K̶̞̤͚̗̳̈́̏͗̚͠į̶̍̐̽͐̐ņ̶̝͕̮̺͓̄̋̊͜͝g̶͈̗̹̑͋͠ ̴̢̱̹̳̹̠̱̖̪͆̓̀̎̓̕f̵̳̤̮̒̇͂x̸̧̗̦͓̱̖͙̞̩̤̤̠̦̜͆̃̅͗̑̂̕x̶̧̤̖͈̥̰͎͇̻̙̰͇͇̠̉̂́̓̍͊͂͘͜͝x̵͈̲͖͕̺̘͎̤̠̳̪̋͌̃͑̉̈͌̃̍̚͝ ̵̛̪̝͔̖̖͓̠͖̖͕͒̎̏̐̽̀M̴̘͕̲̥̯̍̈́͗̒̃̑x̷̟̳̄̔#̴͔̣̺̭̯̪̒̄͌͋̔̃͐̓̍̃̊̽̚͝%̴̧̧̣͔̻͎̳̉̎͐̃̍͐͊̈̽͗̉͘̕͠͝x̸̛̦̬̦͇͙̲̙̻̙̜̊̈́͛̋͆̂̓͜͠ỵ̸̡̣̖̟͈͂͋̏̈́̑̓̈́̚!̷̢͉̰̯̳̺̪̟̪͓̰͚̖͖́͠

  "What the hell are you two doing? You look like weirdos," she narrows his eyes to both of them, curious about such strange interaction, "is this a secret code to make me not know what you are talking about, Christa?"

"Of course not! We just..." She sees [Name], who has the same unnerved aura she has. What was that? “We had an electric shock!” she chuckles awkwardly, trying to light the mood. 

It was strange, yet familiar. He had felt the same thing when he met Reiner back in the refugee— he had small electric shocks with other people before, but these two interactions felt much different. Nevertheless, [Name] doesn't think much of it and looks at the two girls who are staring at him intently. Blinking, the boy scratches his neck a little bit, feeling unnerved by the stare of the brunette girl. It looked like she was observing— it was an intense stare. [name] wanted to leave.

"Sorry, again," he speaks in a gentle tone, dusting the girl's clothes for her. Not liking him touching her one a bit, the tall girl slapped his hands off of her, surprising the boy by such rejection and force.

"Hey! Hands off of my Christa!" She spoke loudly, tightly hugging the blonde girl.

[name] frowns. ”Yours...?”

"Ymir! He's just helping out, let him be!" she spoke with a pout, turning to [Name], "don't mind her, she's always this dumb,"

"You break my nonexistent heart, my love,"

Ymir... What... a peculiar name was that... Ymir, Ymir, Ymir... Ymir?

  W̸̗̼̖̯̲̠͙̐ė̴̪̜̥̔͐̂̔̂̅͒̒͑̍͘͠͠ ̸̣̥͒͌̀͌͋f̵̣̫̥̼̠̟̪̏͒͆̃̏͒̈́̋͒͠͠ì̵̠̥̺̹̦̈́̅̊̽͒̐͝ͅġ̷̢̲̥̤̱̦̳͎̭͉͓̠̖͛̒͛̄͝ĥ̵̺̻͓̻̼̳̟̫͆̃̂͐̿̊̔͗̉͌̅̂̚͝t̵̢̞͚̥͎̭̗͍̖̂̿̆̉̆͛̕̚̚ ̴͉̣͕͍͇̎̑̋̓̽͆̋̾̓̈́͠f̴̺͎̦̖͕̪̳̹̅̒̒͌͆̆͗͑̊̂͋̽͒ǫ̶̲̰̣̣̤̩̈́͜͜͝ŗ̸̳̀ ̷̨̢͚̮̯͎̫̹̞͓͕̝̠̬̻̀̿̏̊ǭ̸̨̼͚͈͕̯̲̭̄͜͝ͅu̷̢͉̟̮̝̖͎̗̙͌̓̕͜͠ͅṟ̸̳̥̟̹̦̲̺͖̲̺͂̐͛͒̂̈̅̓̕͝ ̷̢̡͈̯̗͙̄̓̄̂̈́͘͜͝ͅğ̵͎͔̝͇̥̰̭͕̘o̷̡̳͌̍̓̓̅̍̆̆ḑ̶̹̬̯̿̆̐d̸̼̞̩̝̪̱͔̥̪̩̈ȩ̴̢̝̖̺̫̦̠̪̫̅̈́̅̀́͋͋͜͠͝s̶̲̜͕̓͌̕͝͝͠s̶̛̟̰͉͍͇̰̰̖͎̹̣̮̗̩͋̀̓͆͂̈̕ ̸̢̭̯̳̜̣̯͓̘̣͛̈̀̈́̑Ỹ̶͚͉̀͜m̶̡͖̜̤̻͉̟͂̉͐̈́̎̄̎̚͘ǐ̷͇͉̯̣̉̔r̷̢̧̛͇̬͖̫̝̤̞̦̲̥̱̃͊̒̎͝—̸̓͌̈̓͝͠��̗̲̞̺͇̥̬̝̼̩̻̓̎ͅ ̵̮͖͈͕̹̈́O̴̟̜̳̰̹͕̕͘ų̴̛̣̘̘͇͆͆͌̐̌͗̃͊̏̔͋͠ȑ̷̡̳̺ ̷̻̈́̏̔̂͒͗͗͋̓̕c̵͚̮̠͍̹̠̲͙̞̱̬̞͜͝r̵̨͈̗̰̞̳̤̰̦͇͎̥̱̮̦͒̅̄͑̕e̷̡͖̲͓̺̳̺̪͚̼͋̌̈́̃͒̏͒͒̐̀͑̎̆͜a̵̛̤̙͚̹̞͇̩̤͚̞ţ̸̛͔̤͖̺̖͇̀̀̇̐͊͑͒̎̎͒̕͜͝o̷̢͓̤̠̓̈̈͆̽̆̓͊͑͘r̸̢̼̈̎̐̒̋̊.̴͇͔̻͕̖̤̥͙̩̟͈̹͙̾ͅ

      There was an inexplicable feeling— he didn't want to leave them. No— not them, but her. The feeling told him to stand by the blonde’s side and protect her for any threat, even if they were in a safe place. [Name] didn’t understand— what threat would he protect her for? Why would he? Frowning, [Name] decided to just ignore these thoughts, not pleased by another weird thing happening to him once more.

”See you around, I guess?” He tilted his head, feeling the urge to leave already. He didn’t like this feeling— something inside his chest revolted, as if it wanted to be freed. Something whispered over his ear, a bodiless voice with no gender nor soul— something and not someone.

”Oh, okay! See you around!” The petite girl gave him a beautiful smile, and if [Name] could guess, it looked like one of his mother’s. The brunette frowned at him, narrowing her eyes and staring over her nose. Seemed she was observing whatever he was trying to hide— [Name] just wanted to flee, and that’s exactly what he did.

Already leaving, he clenched his shirt, frowning. His unnerving feeling didn’t go away— his chest felt like burning, the tip of his fingers shaking; almost feeling as if needles pinch trough his skin. What was that feeling? If [name] could describe it, he didn't feel himself. Or to be more precise, his thoughts and mind didn't feel his'. It was strange— he felt as if those thoughts had been forcibly inserted into his brain by someone else.

"I don't like this. It's scary," he muttered to himself, moving the tips of his fingers in nervousness. "Creepy, creepy, creepy..."

  Ț̵̛̰̥͔̞̪̱̈̔͋̽̈͑̈́͑͝h̸̡̛̤͚͉̞̠̦̠̞̹̥̞̽́͊͒͆̒͒͛̈̈́̚͜͝ḯ̴̥̗͋̋͋̉̃̓̆̃͜ͅs̴̨̳͚̮̯̰̻͈̥̤͈̐̿̃͌̐͘ ̶̻͎͗͌̒̌̎͋͑̊̋͒͠g̶̦̙͇͕̜̤͚̥̥̍̒̾̔̑͗̕͜e̶̫̰̿͋̈́̍̊̒̋͜t̵̨͇͕̯͖̬̮̞̙͔̬̖͖̺̉͒͒̈̑͌̉ͅs̵͖̞̭͇̑̾̃̍̈́͛̚ ̸̢̨̪͓̠̘̻̗̠̙͐͐͆͒̊͌̏͑̇́͋̇̓e̶̡̘͔͙͕̪̳̟̯͙͙̺̦̎̑̋̓͌͋͜v̷̰̫̼͎̝̾̂̊e̷̢̛̟͍̠̗͈̱̺̒̄͒̿͂͗̆͌̇̾͒̌̚͝ͅͅń̵̜̤͓͔̲̽͊̎̈̋̇͒̔ ̶͓̋͌̇͒̉̃͗̈́́͋͠͠͝b̸̛̺͇͖̙̟̹͎̫͔̮͎͉̒ề̶͈̮̱̞̚t̵̮̫͕͒̎̐̄̆̒͋̄̍͜ţ̵̧̢̫̭͓̼͕̲̜̼̪́̔̈́͆͒͐̓͑ę̸̢̯̮̓̇̅ͅr̸̥̰̭͐̏̓̊̂̅̑̐̏̀͒̈́̾͘͠ͅ,̸̡͕̲̱͍̭̩̲͍̯̙̈͂̏̂͠͝ ̵̢̤̳̬̺͙̙̳̣͚̺̟̘̂̆͗͋̇͑̽͌͛̏̈́͂͠ͅ—̵̖̱̪̳̦̅̄̔͠ͅ.̸̟̈́͂̄̓̑̋̃͘̚̚̚

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

"Today's training is simple— as simple for maggots like you. First, you and your team will have to go to point A to B to collect a flag, then C to A again. Teams are already been done, and if I hear you want to switch places I will throw you to the ground and make run laps until you pass out," the taller man watches, "the teams will be maximum of three— a backpack will be given to each member with different utilities. The test should be done in two days or three days, depending on how incapable can you be. Someone has to keep a record of any circumstances going on during your training. Now, we will say the teams, so pay attention— SPRINGER! STOP LOOKING LIKE AN IDIOT AND LISTEN!"

”Jean Kirstein, Eren Jaeger, Thomas Wagner,”

”Fucking hell!” [Name] could hear Jean cursing.

[Name] hides his grin. ”Fucking.”

”Stop!”

”Mikasa Ackerman, Annie Leonhardt, Mina Carolina,”

"Daz —, Marco Bodt, Sasha Blouse,"

”Bertholdt Hoover, Reiner Braun, [Name] Knight,”

[Name] blinked, looking for Bertholdt’s face in the crowd. When he spotted him, he waved enthusiastically with sparks on his eyes. Bertholdt gulped, returning the wave weakly with a nervous smile. The taller boy could notice [Name] seemed... a little eager when they paired up in training. He had deduced it was his height, since [Name] always liked to ask about how he got so tall. It was a weird topic of conversation, but that's how he was— an unpredictable and a bit strange guy. Nevertheless, the tall boy was lucky enough to have Reiner by his side this time.

As the teams were together, the three teammates took their backpacks as they conversed. Bertholdt took a look at the map, analyzing the directions they had to take.

”Looks like we are together this time,” Reiner speaks to him with a grin, “heard you got second place the other time, tho.”

”I think we were lucky,” [name] scratches his neck, “I don’t know how will I go with directions...”

The three of them walk trough the woods, Reiner sparing a glance at the other teams taking other directions. ”We are going to be just fine— leave it to me and we’ll be safe and sound.”

[name] tilts his head, staring at Reiner with fake innocence. ”And if we encounter a bear? Maybe wolves? If it rains?”

”Fortunately, it will rain before any of the others appear.”

”What if... the titans appear? What then?”

Reiner and Bertholdt quickly share a look, before turning to [Name]. The boy’s eyes stare at nothingness for a moment, awkward silence prevailing. Neither of the two say anything— it sounded... almost cryptic, if he was hiding the real meaning of that question. Bertholdt felt a shiver trough his whole spine, creeped out by the tone [name] used. It was quite frightening... how someone so... like him, used such tone at them.

“That’s too dark,” [Name] yawns, breaking the horrible tension as they walked again, “hope we can see a bear. They are cute.”

”You... can say pretty scary things, uh, [Name]?” Reiner laughs nervously, sharing a look with Bertholdt. That was... strange.

”Sometimes we have to imagine every possible outcome, don’t you think? We have to be prepared,” playing with his hair lazily, the boy looks at the sky, “mmmh... the sky... it sounds different.”

”Different...?”

[Name] hums, “raining’s coming, possibly.”

”How can you tell?” Reiner stared at the sky, looking as bright as ever. There was no difference from other days— it had stayed sunny.

[name] shrugs. “Dunno— it’s just sounds different. As if I was hearing... steam.”

”You really are something else,” Reiner laughs, amused by such ability. “How much can you hear anyways? Are you nosy, perhaps?”

”A lot, actually. And no, if I’m not paying attention I don’t understand what others are saying— if the topic takes my attention, then I would know many secrets others have,” [name] answered indifferently, taking a closer look at the map as he rested his head on Bertolt's arm. The taller boy blushed by the proximity, a bit intimidated and uncomfortable by the statement.

The last sentence did sent a shiver down their spine— [Name] could have spoken with such a laid back and careless tone, but the two couldn’t help but feel something personal against those words. Sharing a quick look, Reiner chuckled to lighten his own mood and relax his tensed shoulders.

”Are you willing to blackmail? A such cutie and small kitten like you?” 

“Well, this small kitten made you scream in combat training,” [Name] stuck out his tongue, narrowing his eyes in an offended way. “Blackmailing is bad anyways. I’ve read in novels that’s just the lowest of the low, and it’s such a pitiful tactic to use. So I will never use it. Roderick taught me that," [name] proudly spoke— as if he was telling them the entire truth of the world.

Reiner blinks, “you know, I’ve hearing you say a lot of things you learn on books— isn’t that a bit... unusual to say at our age?”

”Why? Books have a lot of answers I can learn. They speak the truth,” he puffs his chest in pride, “also they never disappoint.”

Reiner stares at him with narrowed eyes, debating what to ask. Should he go deeper or touch the surface...? He was kinda curious of [name]'s mind— he had heard him speak like this before, and his unusual behavior made him conclude something. Nah, let’s go in. “What’s sex?”

Bertolt chokes on his own saliva, calling Reiner’s name in a flustered tone. "R—Reiner! W—What?!"

As the blond expected, [name] said the same exact explanation he spoke to Jean back then. What he noticed was how sure [name] looked, not even embarrassed or unsure about the answer. Bertolt widened his eyes, blinking in amazement.

”...for the walls,” Reiner can’t help but laugh at such childish answer— where the hell was he in class? How could [Name] in this age say something like that? It amused him; even Bertolt averted his blushy face to hide his smile by such answer. It was a funny situation, really.

“Why are you laughing?” Jean didn’t laugh— well, his reaction wasn’t better. [Name] felt personally attacked by such reaction— was he really wrong? And for them laugh at him like that!

”I can’t believe this,” he passed a hand trough his face, “[Name], I’m not going to teach you something like that in a deep explanation. But I will say what you imagine what sex is goes much deeper than that,” even if he could be a horny teenager, no way in hell he could take more advantage than simple kisses [Name] gave him. Even when he looked so cute the other day— if [name] didn't even know what he was doing, then there was no fun in doing it. So that's why you don't fluster! Got you.

”Why won’t you?” [name] frowned, crossing his arms in irritation. 

“Grab a book about the human’s anatomy and then we’ll do the adult talking,” Reiner smirked, walking ahead of him without saying another word. 

As the amnesiac concluded he wasn't going to cooperate, he turned at Bertolt, who blushed like crazy because of the topic. ”Can you tell me why I’m wrong, Bertolt?” [Name] blinked repeatedly, trying his charms to get out an answer out of him.

“I—I will just say you are not entirely wrong, but not right either,” covering his mouth to stop a chuckle, the brunette couldn’t imagine [Name] being this clueless. Sometimes looking so tough, nobody could imagine such ideas from him— hell, he looked terrifying when fighting Reiner, so this situation was hilarious to him.

[Name] pouted, switching his attention to the path ahead. Was he that wrong? But he couldn’t just believe «Amelie’s Crown» lied with what it was... He had put his faith in Amelie! She couldn’t just betray his trust like that! How could you, Amelie?!

”I won’t believe Amelie lied to me...” he spoke to himself, lost in his own world filled with flower fields and frogs. His depressing aura was noticed clearly, confusing his two companions.

”Uh... you okay?”

[Name] huffed, irritated, "anyways," he turned his head to his companions, "who will take record of our training?"

"Ah! Good memory, [name]!" Reiner clapped his hands, "what do you think Bertolt? I can have the map and you can take record? Whatever you want, man,"

Bertolt timidly nodded, handing him the map. It was a nice change— the brunette didn't feel suitable for commanding directions, so silently taking record of what was going on was ok with him. [name] could just help Reiner in the leadership, but since his behavior went annoyed they weren't that sure anymore. 

Nevertheless, a long day awaited them.

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

[Name] nose crinkles, looking at the sky. He stares at the grey clouds, “I already smell the rain. We should find somewhere to stay before we get wet.”

”Can find another way to get you—“

”Don’t finish!!”

Eventually the teenagers found a cave deep in the woods, decently spaced to let them lay down. It was pretty wet— they couldn't find the cave before raining, so they were a bit soaked. At least they found a refugee; being under the rain was dangerous, even more with the chilly air. Reiner had [name]'s headaches in mind— breathing in cold was something bad for the head, and he had noticed [name] like rain, but acknowledged it was dangerous to his health. Both Reiner and Bertholtd could see annoying the headaches got at the point of being pretty mortal when doing training. 

Placing his backpacks on the floor, the soldiers took out what was enough to do their beds and eat their packed food. Thankfully they wore their green caps this time, just because [name] warned them about the weather. Their clothes were not that soaked, so [name] being with them was pure luck. 

”Sasha almost eat my stuff, man. One cannot know with that girl,” Reiner said, taking a bite of his bread. The gluttony girl went for everybody before training— they all knew food was precious this time, but Reiner had remembered the girl stated she was a hunter, so stealing other people's food was... a bit too much.

[Name] took his boots and jacket off, sighing in relief as the tight and wet fabric was off of him. He laid them on the floor, making sure they didn't get stained or ruined. He starts to unbutton his shirt, shaking a little bit because of the cold.

Reiner almost chokes on his food as he sees [name]'s exhibitionism, but coughs casually to stay unbothered. ”Hey, hey— you won’t strip, would you? I mean, I have no complains but Bertolt here will have a heart attack.”

”I’m just going to take this off. They are tight and that irritates me,” he answers, but stops midway to stare at the tall brunette, “didn't think it was death needed," Bertolt blushed, averting his eyes from [name]'s body, noticing the small drops of water falling on his flesh. 

"What is going on with me?!"

”Anyways, I’ve been pretty curious when we fought. You seemed to know what you were doing— who taught you?” Reiner stared at him in interest, remembering his movements back then. He had beat his ass with no much effort; even Annie lost against him. And that, was something amazing and incredible— a stance he never saw before in a fight.

Nobody, he wanted to say. But deep down he knew someone have taught him everything— or at least he could say that from his short memories. “...Someone.” He opted to say, neither a lie nor a truth. Someone had done it, but he didn’t know who. He didn't know when, where— he didn't know anything about how he could fight like that.

”And that someone is?”

[Name] shrugs, taking a bite of his bread. ”Dunno.”

Reiner raised an eyebrow, confused. ”Dunno? You don’t remember or you don’t wanna say?”

Swallowing his food, [name] answered unbothered. ”I don’t remember.”

Reiner frowned, trying to recollect something— he heard something about his situation back then. ”Ah, I remember. Connie had said you hurt your head, right?”

Was everyone this nosy? “Yeah. I don’t know many things about me.”

”Not even where you are from?” Reiner asked, getting more interest by the individual in front of him. 

Where am I from...? “...I’m from Shiganshina. I was raised there,” that was his home, thanks to Beatrice.

The blond raised an eyebrow, perhaps not believing the answer. ”All your childhood?”

”...Part of it.”

He wasn’t going to try and remember. The pain was very well known, making him stay away from even trying or think about it. He was tired of the same fate, and if nothing good came out of it, then it wasn’t something important to do. 

”What do you mean part of it?”

Would he be able to explain? Beatrice had told him to not say the truth about his whereabouts, since it could bring problems. But could he trust in Reiner and Bertolt? The only person he had tell the truth was Jean, and he didn’t say much about it... Well, it wasn’t as if the two companions were some infiltrates of the Military Police, could they? Perhaps answering something small wasn’t dangerous— maybe... they were friends? They were... nice, after all.

“I...” he blinked, “I was from somewhere else.”

The blond hums, interested about the answer. ”Somewhere where?”

He began to feel irritated. "Aren't you noisy?" Reiner seemed too curious about it— or maybe it was just to pass the time. Either way, [name] didn’t like talking about his blurry past. It was a reminder of things that were never returning, and being the center of attention wasn't something he enjoyed either.

The blond laughs awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that... you seem mysterious, and that cute face you wear doesn’t help my curiosity from stopping.”

[Name] stays in silence for some time. Now that he thought about it, if he ignored Reiner’s forced flirty behavior, he radiated a... strong, brotherly aura. He had read about human’s auras— some radiated confidence, some others terror, vileness. [name] wondered what kind of aura he had, but the reminder of his situation build that doubtfulness of himself, making him thought about that so called aura being nonexistent for him. “...My past... is foggy.”

”Wait, so you do have memory loss?”

”I guess.”

"How much you can’t remember, then?"

The amnesiac tilts his head, scratching the tip of his fingers gently. "The first thing I remember is about me waking up in a forest, then my mom taking care of me."

That made some sense, at least. "Then... you were raised in Shiganshina but not born there...?" he blinks, "and there’s no recollection of anything about your past... damn, that’s... a little upsetting, but you seem unbothered by it."

"It’s not that I’m not... But trying only hurts me, and the doctor who helped me said if I over-did it, my mind could collapse and I would have serious injuries, so my mom made me stop doing that," he closes his eyes, "well, it isn’t as if I’m missing something— the people who have been around me... have helped me a lot. And if I can’t remember my past, the present is more important."

Reiner smiles. "I’m... glad you are handling it well. You seem to be filled with courage— no one needs to give you the 'you can do it' talk, uh?"

[Name] gently chuckles, amused. That wasn’t true— if it weren’t for Beatrice’s help, he wouldn’t be here right now. Even now, the need of someone helping him to stand on his feet was important. Being truly alone was something scary, and dealing with heavy stuff alone was something [name] wasn’t sure of. "Sometimes. Receiving help... is important."

Reiner hums. Bertolt looks like he wants to say something, and himself decides to spit it out before regretting it. "Why... why do you want to join the Survey Corps? Even with being face to face with them... you want to fight them..."

The amnesiac scratches his neck this time. "That’s because..." don’t. You think giving your trust isn't idiotic, you idiot? But before he could answer, he frowns. His answer isn’t all genuine— the true meaning of joining is hidden, because of someone else shutting his mouth. "I just want to bring my home back. Being trapped and cornered... is unfair."

[Name] can notice how Bertolt shifts uncomfortably with his usual nervous expression. The boy narrows his eyes, and the taller boy can notice being under such scary stare. The unknown voice is right, but [name] doesn’t want to listen. What could they do anyways? They were comrades, and for years they had to gain each other trust. Why would he suspect...? It was... ridiculous— uncalled for.

They were friends.

  V̶͚͚͖͔͚̂̏̉͋̌̑͘ņ̶̱̻̱̝̠̞̣͙̱̿̆̑̓̒͜͠ĕ̴͍͔̺̲̲̝̲̲̣͙͋͐͝ǎ̸̢̡͎̻̖̲̫̜̩͆̕h̶̋̎̽͗̊͐̓͛͂̋͆͜t̷̜̪̳͍̰̞͕̐̑̓̀̽͒͜͝ͅc̷̹̱̤̠̩̭͎͍̹͂̽̄̆̀͊̀̈́̑̋̈́̄́͜͝ ̷̢̣̰̲̦͛̈̇̐̊̾̊̏̎́͠͠ỹ̷̢̧̡͍̣̘̼̪̫͔͖͎̗̙̓̈́͛̾͒͜͝n̴͇̲̪̤͇̼͙͜͜͠͠ą̵̘̳̦̘̙̫̣̘͇̬̤̞͉͜ ̷̡͚̰͎͕̜̤̻̮̼͊̿̀͗͐̿͘͠s̶̡͓̺̜̬̼̪͕͗̈͂̐̉͐̏̏́̀͒â̸̡̛͔̩̥͉̬̺̏̎̈́̊̐͂͌̈̇͌͒͂ͅy̶̡̗͎̱͓̦̫͙͕̺̍̿͒̒̅̕ḣ̵̯̀ḙ̸̢̛̺̝̝̎̆̄͛̾̋͝͝͝ͅh̵̜̩̤͕̖͕̺̔̎͂͌̈́k̵̙̙̻̺̮͇͉̞̋̊͝m̶̧̛̩̞̬̮̰͖̰̞̃̔̐́͋̄̍͂̋̂͒̍̈͜a̷̬̓̐̉̊̇̄̒͂̑͛c̵͙̭̰̞̻̗̯͇̦͒̈́̄̈́͆͜c̴̳̖͂̾͌.̷̤̔̒̈́̇̓͗̎̅̈́̅̅̓͘V̶͚͚͖͔͚̂̏̉͋̌̑͘ņ̶̱̻̱̝̠̞̣͙̱̿̆̑̓̒͜͠ĕ̴͍͔̺̲̲̝̲̲̣͙͋͐͝ǎ̸̢̡͎̻̖̲̫̜̩͆̕h̶̋̎̽͗̊͐̓͛͂̋͆͜t̷̜̪̳͍̰̞͕̐̑̓̀̽͒͜͝ͅc̷̹̱̤̠̩̭͎͍̹͂̽̄̆̀͊̀̈́̑̋̈́̄́͜͝ ̷̢̣̰̲̦͛̈̇̐̊̾̊̏̎́͠͠ỹ̷̢̧̡͍̣̘̼̪̫͔͖͎̗̙̓̈́͛̾͒͜͝n̴͇̲̪̤͇̼͙͜͜͠͠ą̵̘̳̦̘̙̫̣̘͇̬̤̞͉͜ ̷̡͚̰͎͕̜̤̻̮̼͊̿̀͗͐̿͘͠s̶̡͓̺̜̬̼̪͕͗̈͂̐̉͐̏̏́̀͒â̸̡̛͔̩̥͉̬̺̏̎̈́̊̐͂͌̈̇͌͒͂ͅy̶̡̗͎̱͓̦̫͙͕̺̍̿͒̒̅̕ḣ̵̯̀ḙ̸̢̛̺̝̝̎̆̄͛̾̋͝͝͝ͅh̵̜̩̤͕̖͕̺̔̎͂͌̈́k̵̙̙̻̺̮͇͉̞̋̊͝m̶̧̛̩̞̬̮̰͖̰̞̃̔̐́͋̄̍͂̋̂͒̍̈͜a̷̬̓̐̉̊̇̄̒͂̑͛c̵͙̭̰̞̻̗̯͇̦͒̈́̄̈́͆͜c̴̳̖͂̾͌.̷̤̔̒̈́̇̓͗̎̅̈́̅̅̓͘

  ”U—Uhm, [Name]...?” Bertolt timidly asks, gulping. [name]'s stare was lost— as if he was lost in the wonders of his mind, finally giving in into his wonderland. The taller wondered if the question was wrong to ask— after all, titans were a sensitive subject for some comrades. 

[Name] just blinks, staring at Bertolt. He finally hums, laying on the ground and turning his back on them. “I’m sleepy. Good night.”

”[Name]! But we haven’t finished talking!!” Reiner whines, but there’s no response. It seems [name] fell asleep as soon as his head rested on the ground, or maybe he refused to answer more of the interrogation, “unbelievable. How can you fall asleep so easily? I wanted to ask more...”

After falling in silence, the two remaining look at each other without saying a word. Their connection and bond is already deeply formed, as a look exchange communicate whatever they want to say.

[Name] is someone much different than them— he may appear just like them, but those eyes... those memories he has locked deep inside his wonderland... those actions, defined who he was going to be in the future. What was he going to face along with them— a future no one wanted, but was necessary to happen. Actions nobody wanted, but were destined by fate to get done.

The rain fills the silence, drifting them to sleep.

  T̴͉̤̬̝̃̄̅͐͜͜h̷̡̳̓̓̽e̷̛̛̹͖̜͈͕̾ỹ̸̧̌̔̍͑̅̇̆ ̶̧͍̙̣͚͚̟̙͇͠x̷̡̛͎̓̔̄͑̕͝ͅx̸̧̪̪͉̜̅̊̅̍́̕͜x̷͓̻̬̺̄͆̈́̐ ̸̨͖̝̗͆̾͛̌j̶̢̨̛͈̫͔̞̭͉͐̎̎͂̉̐̈́͋!̴̭̯̐͌#̵̝̫͉͇̰̦͈̝̇ͅ$̶̧̘̠̥̑̍̂̈͝ ̴̫̖̻̦͍͌͘̕c̴̡̬̯̻̦͚̠̯͗̈́̑̽̒́h̶̞͂͐̎̈́̍͠i̴̱͎͈̱̋l̴̯̽̎̉̒̈d̵̻̈́̾̑͛͆͠ŗ̸͔̪̖͒̿͋̊́̇̈́̇ḛ̵̝̪̄͊̐̽̅͊̕n̴̤̰͍̜͓̫͌͂̕ͅ!̷̡͔̍́̽̿͂̈́͌

x̴̡̓̋́̑̔͒̀͘͝x̷̨̹̫̳̗̙͈̠͚̿̏x̶͙̓̚͝͝͠ ̷̬͚͖̒͒̀ṭ̸̨̲̳̤͌͠!̴̻̲̯̠̘̪̩̈́͑̋͘͝͝0̸̧͉̤̞͊̽̈̓́͆̃̌́2̴̛̗͔̰̃̇̎̾̓ ̴̡̨̘̻̭̞̯͕̀̍̈͗͗͌̚͝w̷̫͎̯̫̌́́̃̽̉͒̾͌è̴̘̤͈̫̻͎̄̃ ̴̙̣̙̭̫̄̌̍̈́#̷̡̙̼̈́͆̈́ͅ!̴̡̬̣̜̜͚͐͗̋̍̂0̵̛̯̰̹̰̯̄̏̉̀͝e̴̲̙͒͑́͝ ̵̡̻̘̣̝̙͎̇͐̍́͑͆̓͑͋͜a̴̫͉͉̟̼̮̙̿͐̊ ̸̛̛͙̹̜̳̣͔̝̞͐̽̂͛̽͘͜ć̸̹͇͔̼̜̮̥̤h̴̛̤̄̂ǫ̶̨̼̗̮̔͑̓̉̚ï̷̧̪̹͂c̶̗͆̓͌͑ḛ̴͗̒̐̽͘̕ͅ?̴̥͇̳̘̗̩̲̇̒!̶̲̣̯̰̙̈́̇̋̈́͛

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

“There should be a flag around,” Reiner spoke, looking at both sides. They were already awake and ready for the day— it would be a long one, so they had to be prepared. Waking [name] was the hardest thing in the morning— Bertolt was easy to handle, thankfully. Nevertheless, [name] looked like he was in a deep slumber— an unconscious state that nobody knew how long would he be in if let alone. One of these days it could be a nice experiment to see how much he could sleep.

“You seem well prepared,” [Name] stated, noticing how independent and useful Reiner could be by himself. He seemed capable of doing anything— alone or with someone. It looked like he already went into some training before enlisting.

“What does that mean?” the blond raised an eyebrow, amused by the observation. He knew [name] was someone blunt and spoke his mind, so hearing his thoughts about him interested him.

”I can see you can do anything— are you going to the Military Police?”

”I’m that obvious?” Reiner chuckles.

”Not really. But it looks like you don’t have a hard time with anything, and many others want to get into the top ten,” he tilts his head, "I think everyone want to, so I guessed it..."

”Well, if it’s with you of course I will have a hard time,”

”And with Annie,” Bertolt interjected, holding his laugh.

"And, with Annie," Reiner roll his eyes, "that's my goal for now— just want to be... safe, working with the King. That's all. Hope you don't get bothered like Eren does."

"I don't judge," [name] speaks, "you can do whatever you want— Eren... is an idiot for telling others they are cowards for joining the other branches. Why would you fight something you don't want to? It's your life, so you are the one deciding. Not some ball of anger with spiky hair yelling like a crazy idiot..."

"Damn, that was something," the blond laughs, "ball of anger? haven't heard that before."

"But he's my friend, even when he's wrong sometimes," he looks at the sky, "have to make him don't forget where he is..."

The blond stares at him. The last sentence almost made him laugh— who guided who? He couldn't deny the strange friendship these two had; at first, it seemed as if Eren despised him by the amount of glares he sent to him. Then, something had to happen, since he saw the two sleeping together one night. He didn't strike Eren as someone needy, but Reiner noticed certain actions and expression only appeared when being with [name]. It was as if those actions were only for the privilege of [name]; things as holding hands, stare at his sleeping form, not shouting as loudly as he did... staring at him as if he was the most precious thing in the world... 

Reiner could understand Jean's jealously at Eren, since it was obvious how the horse-face acted around the amnesiac boy. If Reiner was honest, [name] was... someone interesting to be around, and knowing him more was something Reiner wanted to achieve. After all, making him flustered was one of his weird goals too— [name] never flustered, nor looked embarrassed. That, was something Reiner was going to change.

"Ah— I see the flag!" Bertolt interrupts, pointing at his left from behind his two companions. Both of them instantly turn their heads to confirm, and indeed, there was a red flag proudly standing in middle of the forest, intact.

"Good eye, Bert! Almost got away without it," Reiner begins to walk to the direction of the flag, "hope this is over with today! The rain did make me more tired, so—"

As Reiner talked, [name] deeply frowned. Just as that time, he heard something— heavy steps along with grunting. It obviously wasn't a person, so his conclusion was that it was a creature of the forest. Perhaps they went out of bounds here, stepping in a territory they didn't belong. It was far but it was coming closer— [name] stayed frozen as he stared at where he was hearing the thing, while Bertolt, far behind him, looked at him in confusion.

"Hmn...? [name]...?" Bertolt wondered, worried. 

"Wait!" 

[name] eyes widened— it sounded big. As fast and quietly as he could, he ran where Reiner was. “Get down!” He pushed Reiner down with him, both of them harshly falling on the ground. [Name] gritted his teeth as he felt Reiner’s body over him, and the blond shifted his position by placing his two arms at both sides of [Name]. Without [Name] knowing, the blond did have a tint of scarlet on his face. The amnesiac laid on his back, patting a little bit. Reiner averted looking at his exposed neck, trying to think about something else. There was an open area above, in the trees, letting the rays of the sun hit [name]'s body.

”So cute... adorable, even. Is this what a god looks like?”

Thankfully they were in the middle of the woods, where a lot of plants and bushes were a good hide place. [name] aimed to fall into bushes, a decent yet fast place to not get caught. “Don’t move or talk,” he whispered, covering Reiner's mouth with his hand.

This time both of them heard it— heavy steps approaching where the flag was. Time seemed to freeze as a deep grunt was heard, and it's cause came into view. At first glance it could be said it was a bear, but such... dark face and huge body said otherwise. It had black fur, and a red eye— his left eye was scarred, adding more terror into it's appearance. It's face was almost skeletal; long nails, broken horns? no tail... what the hell is that?

Reiner tried to get something out of his backpack— but the minimal movement made the creature alarmed.

The bear? stopped it’s tracks— it seemed it was smelling something. [name] took Reiner's arm tightly, not knowing what else to do. He hoped Bertolt was away from here— he couldn’t hear him anyway.

"We should do something against this bear— how can we get away?" [name] tried to whisper as lowly as he could, not even hearing himself.

“That ain’t a goddamn bear!” Reiner harshly whispered, scared to the bone.

Unfortunately for them, the bear had as excellent hearing as [name]. The creature turned at where they were, grunting lowly as it quickly approached the area.

Oh, FUCK!

”Damn— Run!” [Name] helped Reiner get up and started running. Whatever that thing was was fast and it was just on their toes— none of them dared to turn around to see it’s terrifying stare. The only way they knew that thing was behind was because of it’s grunt sounds— as if someone was breathing right over their ear.

”Any ideas?!” Reiner yelled, not daring to turn around.

”You think I have one?!” There was no plan— the only thing [Name] could think of was running as fast as he could. Good thing to not have their equipment this time around— it could have been a fast way to end this situation, but they had nothing on them that could help. 

“[Name]! If that thing gets to us we are dead!”

”Really?! Is that obvious?!”

”There’s no time for you being sarcastic!”

”Then don’t state the obvious, Reiner!”

They knew running wasn’t going to work forever. Eventually tiredness will overcome them and then they will get in trouble. [Name] had no idea what to do; if they took at least one second to do something else then that thing would get to one of them and surely die by being eaten alive. That didn’t sound pretty at all.

There was no other way— someone had to be the bait.

Reiner gripped his hand, eyeing it cryptically. “Okay, [Name]— I need you to—“

”I will run with it,” [Name] tried to speak between breaks, “I’m faster than you; I will lost it somewhere far away.”

Reiner blinked, dumbfounded. Trying to process such absurd words, the blond’s eye twitched in irritation, desperation and fear: he couldn’t help but scream. ”What the hell are you saying?! You can’t lose this shit anywhere! Look how close it is, for god sake!” The plan sounded stupid and worthless— it didn't solve nothing at all. If only Reiner got alone, then maybe [name] wouldn't get hurt.

”You think I don’t see it?!” The [hair color] haired yelled irritated, taking his backpack and throwing it carelessly to the creature’s head, successfully angering the creature by hearing a grunt, or whatever it was sent to him. “We’ll find each other somehow! Look for Bertolt!”

And with a last look, [Name] changed directions as quick as he could. He ran trough the woods, ignoring Reiner’s yells calling for him in desperation. His mind was going overdrive— he didn’t have a clue on what to exactly do against the scary creature.

Until he didn’t pay attention and his foot step on the weak ground, losing his balance and falling on some cliff. He tried to get a grip on anything, but he only hurt his fingers in the process. Nothing could be done as he fell over a small hill, until some bushes helped his fall at least a little bit. [Name] looked up, meeting the red eye of the creature who stated at him chillingly— the boy couldn’t ignore the chills on his spine, but eventually they broke connection when the thing turned and left, leaving [Name] alone in the forest as if he was unworthy of being eaten by it.

Breathing erratically, [Name] rested his head on the bushes, closing his eyes. “What the... hell...” His whole body hurt— his right foot, his left side (maybe bruised ribs?), his throat burned and he was sure there were many cuts and scratches all around his body. “How... unlucky...”

Laying there, [Name] changed his position to stare at the sky. It was orange, signaling noontime. He didn’t know how much time he was running from the thing, but it felt a good three hours.

He got up, and then he froze as he understood the situation he was in.

There was no backpack; so no supplies.

No map.

No food nor water.

No nothing.

He felt a laugh resonating at the back of his head; making fun of his situation— a laugh sounding so far yet just over his ear, as if someone was just behind him.

He remembered Jean’s words when something didn’t go as planned, or when he was stuck in a shitty situation—

“I’m fucked.”

  Y̴̢̦̫̞̦͔̅̾͋̄͗̊e̸͙̘̭̝̩̦̣͌̆̿̋̾͊̋͌̉͐̕̕͘ş̶̖͕̫̗͙̳͔̥̤̙͖̗̰̫̔͑̄̅̆͂̕̚͝ ̵̲̠̟̦͕̙̥̲̲̥̜̞͊͋̓͋̐̈̂̈̈́̑͋̈̕̕ỵ̶̖͈̱̝̯̳̞͈͍̼̯̟̆̐̄́̎̏ő̸̢̧̟̭͔̮̱͔͖̪̞̙̮̈́̾̚͜ȕ̷͎̤̱̱̬̻͛͂̇̈́̐̈́͝ͅ ̵̢̛̤̹͔̰͙̙͈̰̙̳͎̮̽̈̓͗̔̄̑͘a̴̢̪͍̫̫͔̹̫̱̹̩̓̃̒̊́͋̈͜ŗ̴̬̘̣̬̗̻̩͗̒̊̍͋͐͛̓̈͆̈́͘ͅë̸̛̛̙̥̤̥̯̰͇̬̰̑̓͗̊͐̆̂̋͝.̵͖̰̲͍̲̱̠͙̭͈̒̂̋̋̆͌̓̕

♛

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

           “They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

           “Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

           The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

           “I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

           She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

           Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

           “I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

           He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

           “Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

           Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

           You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

           “Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

           “Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

           He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

           You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

           “It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

           That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

           “I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

           “Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

           “I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

           Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

           A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

           “But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

           His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

           The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

           He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

           It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

           A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

           And you woke up.

           The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

           But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

           When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

           And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

           Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

           “How long have you been talking to Dean?”

           He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

           You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

           “For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

           “Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

           Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

           “He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

           He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

           You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

           “It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

           You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

           “I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

           He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

           “The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

           “Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

           “I’m surprised you remembered.”

           Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

           “Can I help?”

           After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

           You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

           Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

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