#anyway if im weird lately this is probably why. because it's weird in here (taps head)

[creekfiend]

I have been having a really weird experience this summer, which is that I fell in love for the first time. I'm 36, and if you'd asked me if I had ever been in love previously, I would have said "I don't know, maybe? I used to think so but now I'm not sure? What's it mean to be in love?? how would I know if I had or not???" I thought that because I had not experienced it myself, the people who were always saying "oh no, trust me, You Would Know" were all lying or otherwise mistaken. I DID NOT BELIEVE THEM. I was fully like "this is some sort of mass delusion, there's no way that's a thing"

Now that I know that this is something that Exists even if it doesn't always Look Like They Tell You, there's SO many things that make sense to me!!! Whenever I encountered Romance Stuff before, I had no desire to do any of it AND could not comprehend why anyone else would ever want to either. It was this really large experiential disconnect for me. Whether or not I want to do any of those things, I now understand why other people would, if they Were In Love. LIKE I GET IT NOW. IT MAKES SENSE TO ME. I still can't relate to things like people in movies falling in love instantly, but now it's like "oh right, that's a potential state of being that exists," rather than "pretty fucked up that hollywood made Being In Love up to sell more flowers or whatever."

I feel like I'm constantly 24/7 running a software update on my brain that's been overdue to be installed for years or perhaps decades. It's just like "OK YUP UPDATING ALL THESE PROGRAMS AND FOLDERS. THIS WILL TAKE SOME TIME AND DATA BYTES OR WHATEVER, BUCKLE UP!" Pretty sure there's actually one of those little rainbow spinning icons above my head the whole time I'm conscious, like I am some sort of very confused Sim.

This happened to me REALLY SLOWLY, too, so it was like a big blockage in a river, and more and more stuff was just piling up against it, and then the dam broke, and now I'm sitting in the shallows of a giant basin lake under a massive waterfall wringing my hat out and going "woah. they got never before seen types of fish in here"

Who else knew about this??? Unfortunately the answer is: a majority of human beings over a certain age DID in fact know about this, it's just that every time anyone said "this is a way people feel about each other sometimes," I said "hmm. sounds fake." In-cred-i-ble.

Turns out that being in love is just an experience that people can have!! It's just a thing that happens sometimes! Some people have had it happen to them a bunch and some people not at all. It's just A Thing That Can Happen To You. Wtf. WHAT WILL I DISCOVER NEXT????? IT COULD BE ANYTHING !!! WHAT WOULD BE THE FUNNIEST POSSIBLE NEXT THING FOR ME TO REALIZE EXISTS? ONLY TIME WILL TELL. (Can you fucking imagine having this happen to you when you are in your seventies or eighties rather than your mid thirties ????? THAT WOULD BE THE WORLD'S MOST DISORIENTING EXPERIENCE.) (I also thought that "having chemistry" was fake.) (Do not diagnose me, I PROMISE I already know)

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you so much for the tag lovely and brilliant @goodways @louis-ii-reyes-strand @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @orchidscript @whatsintheboxmh 🧡

'Chapter 6: One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor' of Where All This Love Comes From will be up on Sunday, and I'm excited! Here, our heroes are about to have another important chat:

Behind the counter, Mandy fiddles with a switch that dims the lights, softening the place now the evening has shifted into true-black night. TK turns to his right, sees their reflections in the dark window appear near-sepia. It’s like he’s watching old, rickety footage of them having this present conversation in the past. Late visits to retro diners will make time feel peculiar. Elastic, electric, glitchy. The big window could be an old TV screen about to blink on and fill with static fuzz.

"He made me eat an entire loaf of bread before mom got home,” Carlos says. “Then I had three Pop-Tarts. Kind of worked wonders."

TK peels away from the window, facing his husband in all his vividness of burgundy sweater, gold-brown skin, black hair, deep brown eyes slightly honeyed in the softer light. "So, your mom never knew?"

"Never. Not to this day." Carlos swings his head and bows it in shame. He faces the pure creamy surface of the table, tapping his finger nervously over the laminate. "And maybe that's why I never told you, either.” He flicks his eyes up for a second. “Because it was just between me and Dad. Our secret."

"I know what you mean."

"It mattered to me. I felt exhilarated in a weird way, even though it was bad."

“Carlos. Look at me.”

Carlos doesn’t. He appears fascinated by the plain, dull table.

“Your dad saw some pretty worrying texts from both Michelle and Iris, and he just…ignored them? He gave you your phone back, like there was nothing going on?”

“Yep,” Carlos says hurriedly. "Probably thought it was some dumb teen drama. Anyway, I didn't get drunk again until I was twenty-one. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but I never drank tequila straight–"

“Oh. Yeah. You’d always have it in a cocktail, if you have it–”

“–until you and I broke up,” Carlos says definitively.  

The words ‘you and I broke up’ go through TK like he’s a hollow frame of a man. “Jesus.”

“I got shit-faced.”

These words catch TK in a different way. It’s morbid, but he laughs. His husband doesn’t usually sound so uncouth in public. “Want to talk about that?”

“Don’t know.”

“Come on.”

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Tagging with love: @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @eclectic-sassycoweyes @lightningboltreader @thisbuildinghasfeelings @reyesstrand @welcometololaland @bonheur-cafe @paperstorm @strandnreyes @liminalmemories21 @ladytessa74 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @fitzherbertssmolder @noxsoulmate @chaotictarlos @chicgeekgirl89 @taralaurel @carlos-tk @wandering-night19 @inkweedandlizards @jesuisici33 @three-drink-amy @redshirt2 @mikibwrites @herefortarlos @sugdenlovesdingle @freneticfloetry @theghostofashton @sanjuwrites @never-blooms @rmd-writes - if you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[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.

[thisdreamplace]

making deeper connections

i feel like i havent really updated in a while but i guess if you keep up with my asks, you probably get some type of random updates that way. lmao also this post is messy and informal warning!! lol

so anyway, i guess this is almost like a midpoint check in because i do have another challenge im doing thats coming to an end soon, which will constitute as yet another update on my experience. yall i ramble too much im sorry lmfao

anyway!!!!!!! things have been good. i haven't really shared much of my recent success because i tend to be a bit private about things that really mean a lot to me. on top of that, i am really trying to get it drilled into my head that i am the most important manifestation there is in my reality, as in a successful change within me is the most important manifestation there is for me. its really all about mastering my inner world and that is my motivation/focus right now. however, i will be sharing some of my successes soon!

which seems weird in hindsight because its like we all come here to get things. but then we stay because we find this journey is much deeper than we thought it was. but thats besides the point

thats why i started listening to dylan james' affirmation tape in the first place. im moving into week 2 and things started feeling a lil like a rollercoaster since the end of last week. i felt really amazing/confident the first few days and then kind of got wobbly towards the end of last week. but dylan said when going into week 2 it's a good idea to play the tape throughout the day as background noise so ive been doing that and it's been helping me feel a bit more stable.

yall!!!! can i just say tho!!!!!! my connection to trust/faith and the way life is unfolding rn since i started listening to the tape is just...... amazing to say the least.

but i wanna say something about my experience thats going to be hard to explain but im going to try!! so lately i keep having these glimpses. i talked about this in my 30 day challenge i recently completed, and that was when the glimpses started. ever since starting this new challenge and especially since listening to dylan's tape, they happen much more often and they're lasting for longer.

so basically its like i am starting to be able to tap into these states that i really feel connected with who i really am? it's often either really peaceful/calm/comforting or sometimes it exciting because i can see that this world is mine and its just one big game-like dream for who i truly am.

because of these glimpses i got this thought: "i am at peace with XYZ" and omg it was such an intense be still and know type of moment. basically i was having a lot of anxiety and then i thought, "i am at peace with this anxiety being here" and reminded myself that it actually doesnt mean anything. then i had a glimpse of understanding from tapping into my Godself, like i truly understand that this identity and this feeling of anxiety doesnt mean anything and isnt an obstacle to my true self. this is why we can have anything we desire no matter what. anyway, then i just actually felt at peace. because i didnt feel like this anxiety meant anything or like it was getting in my way. like we can co-exist and it doesnt mean anything bad or that im doomed. its just here for the passing moment and thats okay.

so that brought on relief. but i'll say man, things manifest in such strange ways sometimes. this rollercoaster has been something lmfao. but even so, every so often ive been getting a little excited? because i feel like omg this is my chance to reject the old story and persist in the new one! and that can feel kind of exciting at times? sometimes it feels like a drag lmfao but sometimes it feels kind of liberating. so thats cool.

and yeah so thats where im at right now on this lil journey. also idk why in my personal posts i dont use punctuation but in my asks i use proper everything like tf lmfao

also i be excited to sleep at night bc i love listening to the affirmation tape. i havent easily slept so early in so long haha

as always!! there is no one to change but self.

happy manifesting!! 💖🌈💫🌺

[wonderland-in-bloom]

all for one but not for another

[malleus draconia x fem!reader]

anon asked: Hi ! I Hope you're well ! Can I have a one shot with a Fem! reader who is I love with Malleus. Sebek do not like it because she is a simple human and he keeps pushing her away from Malleus. Thank you !

yellloooos anon! i hope you’re well as well :)) 

p.s. THANK YOU ALL FOR 900+ AAAAAAA NANI IS THIS EFOWEFEWOFJOWE WHAT IS THIS ;-; im so sorry i havent been publishing as much and as frequent as i did in the past, because i really want to write quality content for you guys -w- quality over quantity i guess ? lolol BUT THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH I LOVE YOU ALL AAAAAAAAAAAAA

p.p.s ik this story is supposed to be the reader x malleus (and i promise there are parts of that), but i feel like he only appears a tiny bit oops. btw this story has a little bit of a...twist ;)) watch out for all of the foreshadowing and hints <3

♡

THE sunlight beamed through the framed windows of the classroom, casting a perfect highlight on the features of your beloved senpai. your hand glided through your notebook as you aimlessly doodled small roses and flowers while just staring at him. different scenarios if him and you just appeared inside your mind, satisfying your daydreams. oh you wished to just confess to him behind the school, surrounded by petals of flowers floating around the two of you as he accepts your love, and thus both lived happily ever after. malleus draconia managed to capture your heart. practically everyone in the school knew, probably even the headmaster knew, except for your crush himself. with the whole school knowing, this meant that malleus’s number one fanboy, sebek zigvolt knew about this too.

in classes all he can think about are ways to make you stay far far away from malleus. all the plans that he has thought of so far didn’t manage to work for whatever reason like he was jinxed. he really thought to go as far as to come crying and begging to the one and only azul ashengrotto to make a deal with him. just to keep you away from malleus. however, he kept debating with himself, was it really worth it? didn’t he have to give up his magic to make a deal with the infamous ashengrotto? well he wouldn’t have to resort to that for now. besides there were no rumors blooming around the school about you trying to confess to malleus anyways, so he could stay calm. sebek sighed as he roamed the hallways, trying to find the young master. his eyes lit up when he saw the familiar horns. “MALLEUS-SA-” before he could finish his sentence, he saw you trailing behind him as you tried your best to approach him. you were an inch close to tapping his shoulder before you felt a force pushing you back. you shrieked slightly and fell back. 

malleus was about to turn his head to see what the ‘thud’ was before sebek rushed to him and made him turn his head away. “malleus-sama! we best not be late for lunch! the cafeteria will get full!” hesitantly malleus followed sebek. the two diasomnia students walked away, leaving you trying to stand up from the cold floor of the hallway and brush the dirt off your uniform. “(y/n)-san...are you alright?” you heard a familiar voice call out with a flowery scent like someone spending too much time in the botanical gardens. it was jade leech. “yes. i’m fine. i think..?” he extended a hand and gladly pulled you back up on your feet. “ehhh did that first year really push koebi-chan?” you heard floyd from behind you. “no! it’s not like that...well...maybe...? i’m not sure.” you sighed. jade placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “(y/n)-san, perhaps you might feel better if you sat with us in the cafeteria today.” floyd cheered as this sentence left jade’s mouth. “yaaay! koebi-chan’s sitting with us! come on, koebi-chan! that’s a yes right~” 

well...what could go wrong? besides it was better than sitting alone and just thinking about ways to approach malleus and avoid sebek. “mm, okay. i guess...” jade chuckled while floyd took your hand and dragged you all the way to the cafeteria. he sat down right beside you as jade sat down beside azul. “oya..? it’s a rare occasion seeing you sit with us, (y/n).” azul commented after taking a bite from his salad. “ah...yeah. jade and floyd invited me. i hope you don’t mind.” azul shook his head. “not at all!” he smiled, however there was a change in his expression and a change in the aura around you. “(y/n)...” he trailed off. “you look troubled.”

“eh?! troubled? what...what do you mean...?” azul chuckled. “not meaning to pry, but is everything alright? you seem a little...off.” jade and floyd agreed by nodding. “and a little distant.” jade added. “you look a little sad too.” floyd spoke. a hint of confusion struck you. how did they..? why did they even..? you weren’t feeling like being sentimental at the moment so you wanted to brush it off. “what? me? really? no, you guys i’m fine! really.” you gave them a little smile. they didn’t buy it at all. how fake the three of them thought. “(y/n)-san please...we only want what’s best for you.” you faced jade to see his face plastered with compassion and worry. “you know you can trust us right~” floyd smiled and grabbed your hand, trying to reassure you. “please, (y/n). if there’s anything wrong, we want to be here to help.” azul finished. the octavinelle trio worked wonders with their ways of persuading people, almost like putting them under a hypnosis. “i...” their eyes sparkled. “yes?”

“i just feel slightly weird.” you shrugged. “ah, is this about draconia-san?” your ears perked up at jade’s comment. “well...kind of..? it’s related to that but it’s not entirely...” floyd pouted. “koebi-chan why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” this time it was your turn to pout. “look it’s not that easy. i don’t have the courage to tell him and besides if i did, then there’s no way i can get past his bodyguard.” azul, jade, and floyd eyed each other. “ah, you mean sebek zigvolt?” to be completely honest you didn’t mind him when the year first started. sure he was clingy to malleus but he didn’t really bother you that much. only as the year went on and as your love for the diasomnia dorm leader blossomed, he became much more annoying and hostile towards you. he sure could be very irritating at times. “is that why you fell today?” you cursed jade for being so damn attentive. 

“well i’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose. maybe it was just an accident...” floyd rolled his eyes. “really koebi-chan? you really think he didn’t do that on purpose?” you bit your bottom lip. well you were in an extremely close proximity to malleus so...maybe it was on purpose. but no! he couldn’t have done that...could he? “ah i’ve been hearing about these things. sebek zigvolt would stop at nothing to keep at others away from draconia.” the three exchanged glances once more and all chuckled. “i’m surprised he hasn’t come running to us for a contract.” azul joked. you tried your best to chuckle with them but your mind was too busy with the thought of sebek purposely harming you just to keep you away from malleus. “(y/n), he can be a very irritating first year and dangerous even! he means you harm...all for his senpai who doesn’t even consider him...so are you sure he’s not the root of all your problems?” 

“i mean yeah...but still-” floyd cut off your sentence. “i heard he pushed someone off the stairs last time.” those words rang in your ear. what? “oh no, the audacity. a rumor circulating the heartslabyul dorm said that he tried to curse the first year, deuce spade, for helping draconia-san fix something.” huh..is he..? what are they..? “how scary.” azul shook his head before facing you. “do you see how much of a threat he is, (y/n)? i don’t mean to scare you...but imagine if you tried to confess your feelings to your love, malleus draconia? surely he would do something unspeakable...” you held your own hand, feeling it tremble. “eh?! koebi-chan!” floyd put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “you three really think...he’s a threat..?” azul sighed hesitantly. “as much as we hate to admit it, (y/n), we think so.” 

“we only want your safety. we only want you to be safe. we only want you to be safe while getting what you want...” jade trailed off. “winning the heart of malleus draconia.” floyd finished jade’s sentence. “getting your beautiful dream come true as spring is in bloom.” azul added. “then..what should i do? i really don’t want to be hurt, but at the same time...i want to be closer to malleus-senpai.” you were close to tears. your mind was clouded with different thoughts circling around and making you overthink. “(y/n) we would be happy to help. we really want to help you find and get rid of the root of this issue.” you failed to realize the hidden smirk on azul’s face. “meet us in the mostro lounge tonight at seven pm.” the clock struck one, time for the next class. the three stood up, with smirks and grins which showed the leech twin’s razor sharp teeth. “remember, we only want what’s best for you. we’ll teach him that he’s barking up the wrong tree. so please consider our offer...you can get your happily ever after easily.” azul spoke in a hushed tone before leaving you there in a state of dilemma. 

a contract with the sneaky octopus, for the sake of satisying your never-ending blossoming dreams of a happy ending and your own safety...

AT the end of that same week, sebek anxiously paced to the mostro lounge. “oh...we have a visitor!” floyd cheered. “welcome to the mostro lounge, sebek-san. what is it you need?” jade put down a pair of scissors after snipping flower stems and arranging them in a vase. “i want a deal with azul ashengrotto!” he barked. “you’re in luck...he’s in the vip room right now. please head inside and we can discuss this...civilly.” sebek gulped loudly while stepping inside the vip room. “ah! if it isn’t sebek zigvolt. talk about you has been spreading faster than weeds in a garden...” azul chuckled as the door behind him closed. “please have a seat. what is it that you want?” sebek didn’t even bother sitting down as he barged to azul. “i want to make a deal with you! i want that pathetic human to stay far away from malleus-sama!” azul’s eyes widened before chuckling. “how straightforward...how desperate...you poor unfortunate soul. trying your best to protect the young master...”

“so?! is it a deal?” jade interrupted. “if i may ask, why in such a hurry?” floyd snickered. “it’s like you’re whining ‘cause you got a thorn stuck in your foot or something...” sebek clenched his fist. “i heard a couple of rumors that...that human is going to confess to malleus-sama tomorrow after school ends in the meadow behind the school!” jade and floyd’s eyes widened as they exchanged glances. so you did decide to confess...”so please! i beg of you!” azul placed his pointer finger on his chin, thinking for a while. “well...i can’t turn a client down. especially not with this kind of opportunity...” a bright, glowing contract appeared in front of sebek. he anxiously took the pen and inched his hand closer to the contract as azul explained all the terms and conditions including the collateral. “do we have a deal?” sebek nodded confidently. he was sure he was going to beat you, in a way. he was positive he was going to stop you from confessing to malleus. “yes. we do.” azul chuckled evilly. “excellent.” oh how happy he was. he was going to get everything he wanted both from you and from sebek...oh how he was one step ahead of the both of you.

the next day, you anxiously waited at the meadows. just waiting for love. when you saw him step towards you, a huge smile was plastered on your face. “malleus-senpai!” your eyes widened when you saw a gentle smile being reciprocated. “(y/n). pleasure to be here.” you swallowed all your fear and anxiety and tried your best to plant it in the back of your mind. “i have something to tell you...” meanwhile sebek started running to the back of the school, ready to scream with all his might to distract malleus away from you and so he wouldn’t accept your confession. in the middle of the way, he felt his legs becoming heavy...what’s going on?! he felt weak...surprisingly not in pain...he looked down to see his legs...withering away into a bunch of flower petals. no NO NO NO! “as collateral for this magic amplifier, all of your magic will be given to me. if he however, somehow manages to accept (y/n)’s feelings, then all your magic will be mine.” sebek knew he was confident in beating you to it. so he agreed. but he didn’t know that you were one step ahead of him...that you signed a deal with the cunning octopus before he did!

sebek looked down at his hands which were now withering away. the magic amplifier fell out of his pocket as they started to disappear as well into a bunch of flower petals. meanwhile you poured your heart and soul into your confession as you were ready to accept whatever answer he was about to give you. you were expecting rejection...but all malleus did was chuckle. “oh (y/n). i knew this whole time. you really ought to be better at keeping secrets.” your jaw dropped. “eh...eh..? I’M SORRY! I’M REALLY SORRY! I’M SORRY IF YOU THINK I’M A CREEP OR-” he leaned down and landed a kiss on your lips, stopping your sentence midway. so this means...yes huh? your eyes widened as you were surrounded by multicolored petals dancing in the wind. this was everything you dreamed of. this was everything you wanted. this was your happily ever after. just like azul promised...

“we ensure you your happily ever after, (y/n). we’ll give you the scene you’ve always wanted. we’ll give you your fantasy. we’ll ensure your safety as well. as for your collateral, all you need to do is just confess to malleus draconia by sunset at the end of the week. that’s all...see. you can trust us. we wish for his love to bloom to ensure...all of our happy endings.”

♡

okay this was long, which i didn’t expect it to be...? anyways idk if the foreshadowing worked or not but probably didn’t lol. i just inputted a bunch of words and scenes related to flowers and plants hinting at the ending lol so sorry if it sucks. i’ll try to write more stories like this to improve it ;w; okay ik it was supposed to be a malleus x reader thing but it’s very heavily focused on you and the octavinelle bois...hmmm

but hey, at least you got your happy ending...

love, a♕

[fresafresitawrites]

paloma’s cards and water

my latest creative writing assignment! adding onto the next series of my vignettes! involving my oc andrew as the main boi. u can find them all here  this one is a lil long but my prof really liked it so im happy w it. rest is under the read more! id be so happy if anyone reads this slkajf inspired by tarot reading, my grandma, and that one chapter in the house on mango street w the tarot reader 

I was on the first floor of my building getting the mail when I heard my downstairs neighbor sweeping her entrance mat.

“Buenos días, m’hijito.” Her voice was like the strum of a guitar.

“Buenas, Señora Paloma.” I replied. I gave her a quick glance as I skimmed a letter about my academic probation from last semester.

She set the broom aside and looked up at me.

“Ah, so formal now that you’re older, and taller too. You’re always getting taller and taller.” I’m only five foot six, five foot eight when anyone asks. “I haven’t seen you too much lately.”

“Oh, disculpe.” I crammed the envelopes into my messenger bag. Most of them were junk anyway, like dollar store advertisements or auto companies offering me a car loan. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind, a lot going on with school and work and everything.” I closed the mailbox unit.

“Ay, perdón, Señor Ibarra,” she teased. Somewhere after I turned eighteen, I went from calling her Mama Lola to using formalities. “Do you have some time, actually? I need help with something, si puedes.”

I checked my phone. I had work in an hour. “Sí sí sí, yeah, whatdya need?” I cracked my knuckles. Usually, she just wanted me to move furniture or get something from the top shelf of her kitchen cabinets, like the blender she used during the summer to make watermelon juice. Her oldest son also bought her an iPad for Christmas three years ago when he visited from Buffalo, and I’ve memorized the passcode after troubleshooting it for her so many times.

Paloma waved me inside her one-bedroom apartment, two floors directly underneath my family’s. We lived in an old house with four floors that probably used to belong to one rich family in the nineteenth century but was now broken up into several apartments. Paloma’s door was the first one on the ground floor across from the staircase. Her apartment always smelled like dryer sheets, and the television was always on some Spanish talk show, and water was always boiling over the kitchen stove because she didn’t trust the pipes. The yellow walls were adorned with Mexican folk paintings, plastic floral garlands, and family photos attached with Scotch tape. In every corner there were figurines of Catholic saints.

A few years ago, I asked Paloma to watch Sofi and Eli for me. I had tickets to see The Strokes at Madison Square Garden and only that morning did I double check the date of the concert. My mom was at a student’s piano recital, and I agreed a week earlier to watch the girls that night.

I was carrying Eli in one arm and held Sofi’s hand with the other outside Paloma’s door. The girls were four at the time, so I just gave them each twenty bucks to never say anything.

“Hmm!” Paloma lifted her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “And you think your momma won’t find out?”

I thought about it. “Well, don’t tell her.”

Paloma laughed, squinting her dark eyes like a fox.

Thankfully, Ma’s train got delayed on the way home that night.

In Paloma’s kitchen, two Devil’s Ivy plants sat in the sink with their vines trailing over the edge, hesitating to touch the tile floor. On the left was the glass door to her own small patio, where a few stray cats lay across the concrete. Paloma pointed to her wooden breakfast table, leaving her broom aside, so I pulled out a chair.

She sat down across from me, laying a purple and gold silk cloth between us and placed two tea lights on each side.

“Oh, is this what you wanted me for?” I sat up, surprised. She tied her long, gray-brown hair into a bun.

Paloma has never tried to use her cards on me before. I was never interested in these things. Hemera was the one who came to visit often after her break-up during freshman year with this film studies major, Vladimir, who played the accordion and was originally from Portland. Hemera and Paloma would lean over the tarot cards, speaking low, like candleflames. I usually sat on the couch and watched Looney Tunes, since Boomerang was one of the only channels on Paloma’s television other than the news or Telemundo.

“How’s your friend?” Paloma asked as if she read my mind. “Is she your girlfriend yet? Or has she found someone?” She pulled out the deck of cards from her apron pocket and shuffled them.

            “Oh, no, she’s okay. She’s doing okay.” Hemera told me two weeks ago she was “focusing on herself” which meant she deleted Tinder and would reactivate it within the next week. “And nah, she’s like a sister to me. That’d be weird.”

            Paloma watched me. “You cold?”

            “What? No…” Well, now that she mentioned it… ‘Actually, yeah, kind of, maybe.” I zipped up my wool sweater. Was there a breeze?

            “Good.” She spread the cards out with her delicate hands. “That means the spirits are here.”

            “Uh, okay. Sure, Paloma. They are.” I tried not to sound too sarcastic.

            I closed my eyes and hovered my left hand over the fanned-out cards, mimicking how Hemera used to do it. I tapped three random cards and Paloma flipped them over.

            She read them out loud. “El ermitaño, la rueda de la fortuna, y la muetre.”

            The late February sun casted a soft glow over the kitchen like a dream.

            “Your past, present, and future cards.” Paloma’s tone shifted into something softer, as if her words descended from the clouds. “Ah, look at you. Always keeping to yourself, always, always. Like the old man here on the card… alone on the mountain, holding a lantern trying to illuminate his path.”

            I tilted my head.

            “Right now, you’re in a critical position. It’s a marvelous position to be in! See all the arrows on the wheel going in all directions? They can lead you anywhere. You just steer the wheel like the helm of a sailboat and go wherever the wind takes you. How exciting!”

             I leaned forward. I examined the card that depicted what looked like a large, gold coin covered in strange symbols and surrounded by hybrid animals and angel figures.

            “And here, look, don’t be afraid of this last one. Everyone’s always afraid of this card, but don’t take it too literal. This card means transformation, it means upheaval, it means purging, it means endings.

            I picked up the card, fixated on the small boy kneeling before the skeleton-knight riding a white horse. I put the card back down.

            “This sounds… vague.” I leaned back in my chair, half skeptical and half on edge from her reading, but I didn’t want her to know the last part. “I thought you’d tell me something terrible would happen, or something like who I’m going to marry or whatever. Not that I would believe it, but I’m just wondering why you wanted me here right now.”

            Paloma smiled and crossed her arms. She’d been expecting this reaction. “It’s not like that. It’s not a math test, like in school. There are no right or wrong answers here. I know you don’t like that. Frustrating, no?”

            “Yeah, a little.”

            “Half of the work is you. It’s like looking at art or reading poetry. You’re participating. You’re drawing your own conclusions.” She placed the deck back into her pocket. “You have to marinate on the words, m’hijo. Everything will reveal itself.”

            I took a deep breath, swung my bag over my shoulder, and checked my phone.

            I had work in five minutes.    

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: XY tries to steal Luka's non-existent gym badges.  Instead, they both end up making a new friend.  (For @luxyweek day 3: Pokemon)

Word Count: 2071

XXX

Luka woke up to a stranger rummaging in his bag.

He should’ve known better than to fall asleep in the Pokémon Center, especially in a city as big as Lumiose.  Exhaustion after a late concert was no excuse to be careless.  Even if crime was rarer after the takedown of Team Flare, there were still unorganized thieves around.

Like this idiot who thought Luka was an easy target.

“C’mon, he’s gotta have at least one…” The idiot was mumbling.

Without opening his eyes, Luka slowly moved his hand to his pocket.  He pulled out the one pokéball he had on him.

“Who the heck carries so many metronome items…?” 

While the thief was distracted, Luka pressed the button on his pokéball.  One click, and his Loudred burst free.

“GWAHHHH!!!”  She boomed, and the thief jumped back with a shriek.

“Wh-h-hey!” he stammered.  Luka finally got a good look at him.  Tall blonde hair, tacky outfit—was this some remixed Team Flare grunt after all?  He was wearing purple rather than red, though.

“That’s an, uh, nice dude you got there.”  He eyed Luka’s Loudred dubiously.

“Symphony is a girl.”  He scratched her behind the ear, and she made a low rumble.

“Uh.  Nice babe then.”

Luka snorted.  Why had this thief bothered to stick around?  He thought he’d have run off by now.  Luka really hoped he wasn’t going to have to battle.  Symphony had worked hard enough tonight.

“Why were you looking through my bag?”

“Pshaw, I wasn’t doing that.  Besides, you don’t have anything useful.”

Wow.  This guy really was an idiot.  The Team Flare grunts were never too smart, either.  Just a bunch of kids who got mixed up with the wrong crowd.

Well, Luka was no trainer like the ones who’d busted them up last year.  But maybe he could keep one kid from following down that road.

“What do you count as useful?”  Luka asked.  “Money?  Items?  Pokémon?”

“Maybe Pokémon would be useful, if they’d stop being haters and listen to me.”  The guy crossed his arms and pouted.

“...So you’re not a trainer?”  Luka glanced around the Pokémon Center.  Everyone else was very determined to mind their own business.  Not that Luka needed their help to deal with a guy who couldn’t even use his own Pokémon, but still.  Someone could’ve tried.

“I’m going to be a trainer.  Just as soon as I steal a badge and get this Zorro dude to listen to me.”

Luka raised an eyebrow.  “Zorro dude?”

“Yeah.  Dark type?  Sick red ponytail?  Likes to copy me and make me look stupid?”

He sat up straighter.  “You have a Zoroark?”

That Pokémon was rare enough to border on legendary.  They didn’t even live in the Kalos region.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”  The guy looked at Luka like he was stupid.

“How did you catch a Zoroark if it won’t even listen to you?”

“Dad gave ‘im to me.  He wants me to get famous here, but it’s harder to fake battles than I thought.”  He sighed dramatically and sunk to the seat next to Luka.

Clearly the ‘get famous’ plan wasn’t working.  Luka had no idea who he was.  At least he was pretty sure he wasn’t a Team Flare grunt, though.

“And you’re telling me this… after trying to rob me… why…?”

“Cause you asked.”

Luka blinked.  “Touché.”

He gave Symphony one last pat, then returned her to her pokéball.

“Traded Pokémon won’t listen to you without badges,” he told the would-be thief.  “And I don’t have any of those, if that’s what you were looking for.”

“Really?  But you look—”  The guy gestured to all of him.  “Y’know.  Cool.  Tough.”

“Thanks? I guess?  I’m just a musician, though.”  He patted his guitar next to him.  It was pretty telling that this guy hadn’t tried to steal that.  “I only battle if I have to.”

“Huh.  Well that’s pretty cool too, I guess.”  The guy shrugged.  “I did Pokémon Contests in Hoenn for a while.  Before I got banned for using holograms.”

Luka raised an eyebrow.  “Any other international crimes you want to confess to?”

“Crashed my boat into a herd of Luvdisc in Alola.  But that was an accident.  How was I supposed to know they were endangered?”

“I was being sarcastic, man.”  Luka shook his head.  “Nevermind.  Come on.”

He stood and hoisted his guitar over his shoulder.

“Huh?  Where are we going?”  The guy trotted after him.

“To catch you a Pokémon.  Before you get yourself kicked out of another country.”

XXX

The stranger’s name was XY.  It stood for Xavier-Yves.  It didn’t sound like an Unovan name, but that was still the least weird thing about the guy.  Maybe that was just a pseudonym.  He probably needed one after all of his criminal acts, accidental or not.

“Alright, XY.”  Luka stood knee-deep in the grass of Route 4.  “You’re going to be borrowing Symphony for this.  Borrowing.  If you run off with her, she’ll suplex you into the ground.”

XY eyed the Loudred next to him.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Got it, Mr. Couffaine.”

“Just Luka is fine.”  He sighed.  This was such a weird way to be spending the night after a concert, but it was still better than going home.

“Got it, Mr. Luka.”

Close enough.

“Alright, now follow me into the grass.”

“I can’t do that!  That’s where the Pokémon are!”

Luka rolled his eyes.  “That’s the point.  You’re going to catch one.”

“I thought you were going to catch me one.  Because you’re cool and sexy like that.”

“Flattery’s not getting you out of this.”  Luka grabbed his wrist and tugged him into the grass, Symphony following behind them.

XY squealed again.  “But what if they eat me!”

“We’re on Route 4, dude.  The biggest Pokémon out here is a Skitty.”

“...Those things eat meat, right?”

“No.”  Even if they did, they would probably know better than to eat XY.  They didn’t know where he’d been.

“If I die, you’re paying for my funeral,” XY grumbled, even though he’d already gone off on four tangents about how rich his dad was.  Luka didn’t even bother responding.

Suddenly XY screamed again.  A few Fletching flew out of the red flower patch.  At this rate, they’d never catch anything.

“What is it this ti—oh.”  Luka blinked down at the tiny Pokémon clinging to XY’s ankle.  “It’s just a Flabébé.”

The little girl seemed to have mistaken XY’s socks for a flower.  She was shuddering, cowering against the fabric even as XY tried to shake her off.

“Dude, cut it out.”  Luka gripped him by the shoulders.  “This is perfect.  She already likes you.”

“Y-you think so?”  XY set his foot back on the ground.  The Flabébé tentatively looked up.

“You might not even need Symphony to weaken her.  Here.”  Luka took out a pokéball, but hesitated to hand it over.  “Are you going to take good care of her if I give you this?”

“What gives, man?”  XY snatched the ball.  “You were gonna teach me about catching Pokémon, not about, like, parenting stuff.”

Luka hadn’t thought this through enough before seeing the little Flabébé.  He couldn’t in good conscience condemn her to a life with XY without knowing that he would treat her right.

“Are you staying in Lumiose?  I live at the edge of the city.  I could come check on her.  Just to make sure she’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna want joint custody.”  XY smirked.  “But sure, whatever.  Can’t complain if you want to do half my work for me.”

He knelt down and tapped the Flabébé on her head.

“You are just a little thing, aren’t you?”  He let out a nasal laugh.  “How do you feel about me being your new dad?”

“Please don’t say it like that.”  Luka groaned.

The Flabébé fluttered into XY’s palm and nudged the pokéball.  Wow.  She must really have no standards.

“Sorry.  Me and Lu are gonna be your new dads.”  XY grinned.

“Aaaand that’s even worse.”

The Flabébé looked at Luka.  He looked at her.  She looked at him.  He looked at her.

“...I’m not being your other dad.”

Symphony blasted out a honk of laughter.  He glared at her.

“Don’t make me put you back in the pokéball.”

She just smiled innocently.

“Okay, okay.  Shut up.  We’re doing this.”  XY took a deep breath and pressed the button on the pokéball with his thumb.  It split open, sucking the Flabébé into its light.

The ball glowed red while rocking back and forth.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.

Then it went still.

“I—I did it?”  XY stared at the ball in his palm.  Luka swore there was wonder in his eyes.

Hopefully this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

“You did it.”  Luka clapped him on the shoulder.  “Why don’t you let her out now?  She should get used to you before you take her home.”

After fumbling for a moment, XY popped the ball open.  The Flabébé flashed back out and hovered in the air.  She quickly zipped down and plucked a red flower, hugging it close.

“Aww, our first date and she’s already giving me flowers.”  XY laughed.

“It’s not for you.  Flabébé has to keep one close for protection.”

“Ah. Like a comfort blanket.”  XY nodded sagely.  “That’s okay!  I’ll pick my own flower.  Then we can match!”

He snatched up another red bloom, then tucked it behind his ear.

Luka was surprised to find himself smiling.  Who would’ve thought XY could actually be cute?  When he wasn’t trying to steal Luka’s non-existent gym badges, anyway.

“Are you going to name her?”  He asked to keep his thoughts away from that tangent.

“Huh?  Oh.  Uh… hmm.”  XY’s brow furrowed.  He stared at the Flabébé, who had fluttered back into his palm.  “You can’t tell me your name, can you?”

She let out a tiny squeak.  

“Hmm.  Yeah.  I feel that.”  He nodded.  “How about Cheeto?”

“Cheeto?”  Luka burst before he could think better of it.  Who named their Pokémon Cheeto?  

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s got that yellow dust all over her.”  XY rubbed a tiny bit of it off with his fingertip.  Flabébé almost seemed to purr.

“You mean… pollen?”

XY raised an eyebrow.  “Ew, gross.  What kind of name is Pollen?  Sounds like Pole-men.  And she’s a girl.”

Luka wanted to smack his forehead.  Symphony gave him a sympathetic pat.

“Well.  Have fun with Cheeto, I guess.”  He sighed.  “I’m going to go get some sleep.  You’ve got my Holo Caster number.”

“Wait!”  XY jogged after him, cradling Cheeto close to his chest.  “I didn’t get to say—thanks, man.”

Luka looked back over his shoulder, surprised.  “No problem.  This is better than stealing gym badges, right?”

“A lot better.”  He looked down at his new Pokémon fondly.  “Uh, sorry about that, by the way.  I—I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Yeah?”  He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!  I’m gonna—take you to the hotel I’m staying at!  So you don’t look homeless!”  XY grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him back towards the city.

“I literally told you I live in town…?”

“Then why were you sleeping in the Pokémon Center like a hobo?”  XY smirked.  Symphony laughed where she was lumbering after them.

You’ve turned my own Pokémon against me.  Luka scowled.

“Didn’t feel like dealing with my mom,” he said under his breath.  

It was stupid, running away just because he’d finally found out about his dad.  His whole band was here. Including his sister.  Lumiose was a big city, but he couldn’t play guitar for Kitty Section and dodge his parents at the same time.

“Perfect!  There’s no moms allowed in my hotel room!”  XY beamed.

If staying out was stupid, then even considering XY’s offer was downright moronic.  XY had tried to rob him just hours ago.

But the dude was rich.  Luka didn’t have anything else he could want.  And whatever hotel room they ended up in was bound to have a more comfortable couch than the Pokémon Center’s.

“...Alright,” he finally agreed.

XY’s holler of joy could probably be heard in the next route over.

“Sweet!  Bro co-parenting slumber party, here we come!”

Luka let Symphony laugh at him.  He deserved it for ending up in such a ridiculous situation.

But somehow, he felt better anyway.

[mulletcal]

words with friends - ashton irwin blurb.

a/n: okay so i got this dumb idea when i saw lau ( @sexgodashton​ )’s tags on this post pls forgive me 

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: none

****

At first, Ashton thought that the lockdown with his 14-year-old niece wouldn’t be so bad - he’d have someone to talk to, crack jokes with, and binge Netflix with.  But about a week into them being told they couldn’t leave the house at all is when things started to get a little rocky.

“Uncle Ash, your WiFi is the absolute worst.  This is the 10th time it’s buffered for this episode of Peaky Blinders.  It’s too much,” she sighed, pausing the TV so that she could turn to him, “You need to look into getting a better service provider.”

Ashton frowned, glancing up from the game he had just lost on his phone, “Is that why I just lost this game of Words with Friends against Calum?”

“Probably! You both have terrible WiFi - so it was one of you,” On her screen, Ashton could see her looking up potential service providers that could be newly set up without them having to enter your home.

“I think it’s his, I’d put my money on it.  My internet’s been fine all this time,” Ashton typed up a message to Calum that said ‘bro your wifi is shit get it fixed’. 

“Fine, or were you just never home long enough for it to become a problem?” 

“Wow, hard hitting facts for a 14 year old.” Ashton’s phone pinged, a simple middle finger emoji as a response from Calum.

“Look, I found one that has contactless set up, and their reviews are great.  Just think about it - you don’t know how long this is going to last, and you don’t want to be in the middle of kicking Calum’s ass--”

“Language!” He laughed, placing a hand to his forehead, “Alright, alright. I hear you.  Send me the number so I can contact them about it.”

Within a few hours, everything had been arranged - Ashton realized he had a weird sense of attachment to his internet service provider, feeling guilty that he was cancelling on them, especially during a hard time like this.  Some reassurance from his niece helped though, and he accepted that his life would likely be better if when he was home he could watch a movie straight through without needing to pause it, go make a snack or two, and come back to see if it had loaded enough.

The next day, the new router arrived on his doorstep, and the man who delivered it was outside in his van, phone at the ready so he could walk Ashton through the setup.  Overall it was easier than expected, everything ready to go in less than an hour - he had expected some type of all day event; but much to his delight he was back settled into his couch, underneath a cozy blanket as he opened Words with Friends once again.

He was eager to be able to call his friend out on his poor WiFi, now knowing (hoping) that it would go rather seamlessly.  Unfortunately though, Calum was busy at the moment, so Ashton was left to select playing against a stranger the game suggested was his match of the day.  It wasn’t often he did that, trying to keep it to just the people he knew - but just this once couldn’t hurt.  What did hurt was the fact that this person was absolutely kicking his ass, making his jaw drop with every word they made.

At the end of their game, Ashton frowned when he realized he lost by almost 100 points - how was that even possible? His phone notified that this person wanted to go again, and he wondered for a moment if they wanted to face him again because he seemed like an easy person to win against.  His competitive side came out tenfold for this round though, trying his best to think of words that would give him the most bang for his buck, as it were.  He almost had them, a few points ahead - but then they put down a word that completely obliterated him.

Ashton almost threw his phone, he did, not used to losing so easily against someone.  He liked to think of himself as a wordsmith, he was a songwriter after all, he should be able to be better at this. Tapping the ‘chat’ option, his fingers hesitated over the keys before typing out ‘HOW?’.  Aggressive? Maybe, but he needed to know what their secret was.

Their reply was quick, a casual ‘😇’ and somehow that frustrated Ashton more.  Maybe he needed to go for a walk.  There was no reason why he should be such a sore loser about a game, maybe being on lockdown was driving him slowly stir crazy. His phone buzzes with another notification and the person asked ‘Another round, or are you too scared to lose again?’.  Oh, now it was on.

A couple hours, and many rounds later with some occasional banter back and forth between the two of them, Ashton finally needed to stop - his eyes felt like they had gone dry from staring at his phone for hours on end.  His niece came into the living room, her head cocking to the side.

“You’re in the same position that you were when I last came down here - have you finally turned into a couch potato? Should I call mom that I’m gonna have to start using you as our produce?” she asked, a grin on her lips.  His niece was a mirror image of his sister, and it made him frown - missing her more and more every day. “Why is your face so red? You feeling okay?”

Ashton hadn’t even realized that his face was warm - was he getting sick? Or was it the witty banter back and forth with the person from the game that had gotten to him? He hoped it was the latter, he’d feel incredibly guilty if his niece was stuck in his house with him while he was fighting what was likely the common cold, but the times were uncertain.

“D’know, doesn’t matter.  What do you want for dinner?” He asked, brushing off her questions as he followed her into the kitchen.

***

Days later, Ashton had kept up the banter with this stranger.  Their conversations were more frequent, and their games less so.  It was kind of nice to talk to someone new, someone who didn’t already know what to expect from him, or things to say.  His stranger friend seemed off today, and it made him frown slightly, thinking that maybe they were growing tired of talking to him.

‘Your wittiness is off today, friend, you doing alright?’ He typed out, pausing for a second before he pressed send - was it weird to ask that of someone? 

It wasn’t long before his phone lit up with a response, ‘Sorry, just tired. My neighbour likes to stay up until ungodly hours playing music, or drums.  Sometimes both at the same time.’

Ashton was mid-yawn as he read the words, a small laugh falling from his lips as he recalled his night; staying up until 3 am in his studio playing drums.  ‘Wow. Sounds like me and your neighbour could be buds, you should put in a good word for me.’

‘Would if I knew them, I moved in not long before all of this started.  Didn’t get a chance to be the weird neighbour that pops by with cookies.’ 

Ashton bit his tongue at that, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, ‘Do it anyways, be even weirder and leave them on the doorstep, give em a scare and a treat.’

‘Should I leave a nice note saying ‘please keep any and all banging prior to midnight’?’

‘I’d leave out the banging part, but that sounds like an amusing idea.’

Ashton left their conversation at that, figuring he could continue with his day.  Not that his day would consist of much, just attempting to write songs, and test out new recipes with his niece that she always ultimately hated, but it was worth a try.  She decided they should go for a walk around their neighbourhood in the afternoon, and after some contemplation he agreed.  He never ended up going for a walk the other day like he had meant to.

The sun was warm on their skin as they walked, and his nose picked up the faint smell of apples, making him smile.  He thought of his Words with Friends friend, hoping their baking was going well too if they had decided to bake a treat for their new neighbour. 

Ashton hadn’t realized how long he and his niece had been gone until his phone buzzed with a new notification from his RING app, alerting of someone at the door as well as making him aware of the time.  Wasn’t uncommon, he was waiting on a couple packages - but when he opened the app, he saw someone set something down on his doorstep before walking away.  They didn’t appear to be dressed in any type of mail carrier uniform, and Ashton grew a bit distressed by the idea of a foreign item being left on his doorstep.

In an attempt not to worry his niece, he didn’t voice his concerns, instead voicing they should head back.  It wasn’t much of a ways away, them already on their way back - but when they arrived Ashton saw a small red tupperware container sitting there with a note on top.

“What’s that?” His niece asked, leaning down to pick up the note - a smirk spread across her lips, eyes flickering towards Ashton, “Seems like your neighbour doesn’t appreciate your late night drum covers,” she spoke, handing him the note.

Reading over the note, Ashton made the connection almost instantly, his heart racing.  

“What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“That person that’s been annihilating me in Words with Friends, apparently they are our neighbour.  We were talking earlier and they mentioned making cookies for their neighbour since they’d just moved to the area.”

His niece nodded, a knowing smile on her lips, “Seems like you guys talk about more than just what is basically Scrabble.”

Swatting at her arm gently, he shooed her inside, picking up the container and opening it - he realized then that the smell of apples that had invaded his senses earlier was them, and it made his heart warm at the thought they were so close.

Taking out his phone, he snapped a quick picture of the container to send to them, simply adding a ‘Thanks for the cookies, I’ll try and keep it down.’ Below it before tucking his phone into his pocket to enjoy one of the cookies they had made.

That’s one way to socially distance meet new people, he supposed.

tag list: @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​ @atlcalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @wokeupinjapanisabop​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 3130

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: Guns / blood and violence

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: Chaos catches up, causing trouble for everyone involved

A/N: sorry for the slow updates, but with the event (tysm btw ily) i’ve been busy. i have a few more requests, and i promise im getting to them. anyway! feels weird, only 2 or 3 parts left. tysm for all this support <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

JJ woke up before you. His face felt stiff from the tears he’d shed the night before, and the corners of his eyes were filled with sleep. He rubbed his eyes, phosphenes decorating his mind as he pulled them open. The window was wide open, curtains fluttering in the light breeze and the sun decorating the room with a natural glow. He became aware of the towel thrown over the dresser and the wet clothes hanging in the window sill, the memories of last night returning. He looked down at you.

You were curled up, one of his tops and a pair of his joggers covering your body as you gripped his arm lightly in your sleep. He blinked, admiring the lock of hair falling over your face, the curve of your lashes and the relaxed smile that adorned your sleeping frame. He brushed the hair out of your face and let it fall. He realised that he was in deep. Somewhere across the room, the ping of a phone notification pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, seeing the bluish light coming from the floor on the other side of the room. He slid his arm from your hold, careful not to wake you as you unconsciously pulled the pillow into your grip instead. He rose from the bed, careful not to let the bed creak as he left you. He padded across the room, picking up the phone from the wooden floorboards.

The phone awoke as he lifted it, a series of fresh messages lining up under the time. 

Tyler: hey

Tyler: ik i fucked up with us, but i cant stop thinking abt seeing u when u visited

Tyler: can we try again?

Tyler: ik u said u were seeing someone and dont wanna fuck it up, but i still love u

Tyler: let me know. I miss u

He almost choked, heart beating in his ears as he looked back to your sleeping frame, rising and falling with oblivious breaths. He looked back at the phone, placing it on the dresser softly. He left the room, clicking the door shut as softly as he could, and making his way to the kitchen. He rinsed a mug and put the kettle on, rummaging through the cupboards for the instant coffee granules. He pulled the silver pot from the shelf, peeling the cap off and tapping it on the side of the mug so the granules tumbled in, the dark brown contrasting the light ceramic. He poured the contents of the boiling kettle in, watching the hot water consume the granules and turn brown. He stirred and sipped, hissing as it burnt his tongue. He never had the patience to wait for it to cool down.

He studied the cupboards again, finding no edible food, not trusting the bread after his previous experience. He sipped the coffee again, allowing himself to look back at the closed bedroom door. He wanted to know what happened when you went back, but knew he wouldn’t like the answer. After last night, he knew Tyler was an asshole, and wanted more than anything to fly to California and punch him in the face, but couldn’t understand the text. Thoughts were flashing through his head, ideas rushing to his head. He wondered if he should ask, or leave it and wait for you to tell him. He knew you had no obligation to him, but he also knew that you two had something going on. Whatever that something was. He sighed. 

He thought about how he felt when he saw you smile, how much he’d spiralled after your argument, how vulnerable he was around you. It hit him suddenly, an epiphany that took all his air away but made him feel alive, made him feel broken and brilliant all in one moment. He loved you.

Down the hall, on the other side of the door, he heard the bed creak. There was a pause, and then he heard the floorboards moan. Another minute, and he heard the ping of your phone notification. There was another pause, then the door opened and you stood in front of him, hair tousled by sleep and eyes fresh. You smiled at him, reaching out and pulling him in, kissing his temple and stepping away to make your own coffee. His heart pulled, not letting him push you away and reaching out as you left his arms, but not wanting it because of those stupid texts. In that moment, he fights his impulse and decides to wait for you to tell him. Would you tell him?

He draws his attention to you, hopping back onto the counter next to you. He watched you, enamored with the way you moved, the way you brush against him, the way you seem so carefree in the moment. He wants to kiss you, but he knows he won’t until he knows what’s going on. 

Faster than he wants to admit, you’ve finished your coffees and Kie and Pope are awake, moving about after leaving their slumber on the pullout couch, and then setting up the pulley for the well. Your mood changes when they’re up. You’re more talkative, brushing over any mention of the night before, helping when you can. You look back at him a couple of times, and each time his heart flutters.

You can feel blisters working on your skin as you help Pope with the winch, the rope burning at your skin in the force of the friction, but you don’t pay it any mind. You finish with the mechanism, stepping away and sitting down next to JJ, passing some witty banter with Kie, and opening a bottle of beer, the cool glass soothing the hot skin on your palms.

“What does it feel like?” Pope asked, watching Kie as she sat in the can hanging from the pulley.

“Feels good.” she confirms, pulling the rope slightly.

“John B’s pulling a Houdini.” JJ stated, putting his own beer down.

“Yeah, where is he?” you asked.

“I got my scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded, “We gotta get this done.”

“Speak of the devil!” JJ grinned as John B strode past you all without so much as a ‘hello’. “Hey! Dude, I put up the entire winch to pull up the gold and everything.”

“No he did not.” You laughed.

“We did that.” Pope said, gesturing between you.

John B ignored you, and Kie called after him as he entered the Chateau. “Okay, that’s it?” you muttered.

“What’s that all about?” Pope asked, walking to you and JJ.

“I was gonna ask you the same question.” JJ said, you and him getting off the hot tub and following him into the Chateau. When you entered, John B was pulling the house apart, searching.

“You alright, man?” Pope asked, “What’s up?”

“What are you looking for?” Kie added.

“Bro, what’s going on, man?” JJ asked, following him as he pulled the gun from under the cushioning on the sofa.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” You and JJ stepped forwards, both reaching to take the weapon. John B grabbed your shoulders, pushing you over and shoving past JJ as you all yelled for him to chill and talk to you. Pope tried to block his exit.

“What are you, JJ, now?” Pope asked as you and Kie yelled for him to calm down. John B pushed Pope back into the table as you followed him out, asking for him to explain, or calm down. You ran down the steps, the others close behind. He mounted the dirt bike, looking back at the four of you.

“John B, what the hell?” Kie yelled.

“Ward knows about the gold.” John B spoke for the first time. “He killed my dad.”

You ran as far as the dirt track, watching the bike disappear as JJ swore.

--

“What now, we just go up to the front door and ask, ‘Hey, have you seen John B’?”

The night felt dark, cold, and your boat felt fragile next to the stupidly big boat across the pontoon from you. The shape of the Cameron house was huge and adorned with golden windows on the other side of the lawn.

“Look, he lives in Tannyhill now, it’s plausible.” Kie reasoned, but you could tell she was just grabbing at loose ends. “We can play dumb.”

“Play dumb?” you frowned.

“It’s pretty late.” Pope added.

“Look, I’ve never seen John B like that. We should honestly be going to the cops.” Kie countered.

“The cops? And say what, Kie?” you almost laughed, “‘We’re worried about our friend because he’s going off on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John’? They’re not gonna believe us!”

“Hey, I see Ward.” Pope interrupted you, binoculars up as he watched the house. Kie took the binoculars, checking for herself. “Doesn’t look dead to me, let’s go home.”

“What?” Kie turned, shocked and offended.

“Uh, okay. Obviously Mr Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay? Plus, I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours.”

“Yeah, well our friend is in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days! My dad’s probably put all my shit on the street by now.”

“Okay, so that’s it? In a time of need you’re just gonna bail? You’re just gonna walk away?”

“Okay, yo, guys.” You spoke from the other side of the boat, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Hey, I have a scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded Kie.

“Okay, well what about John B?” Kie asked.

“Why is it always about John B?” Pope questioned, and you sighed, looking away as Kie looked around, caught off guard.

“It’s not always about John B. You’re so stupid! It would be any of you in this situation.”

“Bullshit!”

“Guys.” JJ tried to stop them.

“This is about friendship!” Kie powered on.

“Bring it down.” said JJ.

“This is about pogues for life!”

“What about forensic pathology, huh?” countered Pope.

“Forensic pathology?” Kie scoffed.

“It’s my life! It’s everything I’ve worked for!”

“That’s your priority?”

“Would you stop with the moral high ground bullshit?”

“Pope, come on.” you cut in.

“No.” he rejected, “No, no. She has no room to talk.” You looked down, knowing you didn’t either. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B. You weren’t there for any of us! Remember your kook year?”

“Dude.” JJ tried, again, to stop the argument.

“Yeah, you forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.”

“Give me a break.” She pushed him, and he staggered but held his ground, you and JJ were up within seconds. “Is that what you need? You need a break? Move!”

You and JJ pulled them away from each other, shouting for them to stop, to cut it out. You held Kie’s shoulders, the both of you breathing heavily. She stared straight ahead, holding eye contact with Pope as JJ looked between them.

“If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom.” JJ sighed. You dropped your hands from Kie’s shoulders. She sat down as you sent Pope to the bow of the ship, sitting down as well.

“Pope, we’ll drop you off.” You said, JJ steering the boat. 

--

You sat, facing away from the group, water washing around your ankles, arms propped up on the wood as you stared at your phone. You were aware of the conversation - the gold was gone - but you weren’t really listening, or paying attention. Your mind was plagued with worries that felt trivial compared with what was going on, but still felt like the world would implode if you didn’t sort them.

Tyler was rejecting your refusals, insisting you humour him. You turned around briefly to look at JJ, who was watching you. You wondered if he had worked out that you’d slept with Tyler, even though you hadn’t mentioned it. But, of course, you hadn’t mentioned it - he couldn’t know.

You broke from your thoughts as Pope came blundering down the path. “Guys!” he halted when he reached you, and you picked your legs up, swinging around to face the group. “Oh, God, I ran all the way here.”

“How was the interview?” you asked.

“Don’t ask.”

“Promising.”

“JB, look, I’m sorry dude. About everything.”

“It’s fine.” John B disregarded.

“But - but I don’t have a lot of time, and I have information that is tactically relevant. So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron’s big plane. Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I’m there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, ‘Hm, why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?’”

“Gold.” JJ turned.

“That’s right.” John B confirmed.

“Exactly! Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go.”

“We can’t give up now.” Kie smiled, jumping down from where she was balanced.

“What’s the plan, big man?” JJ asked.

“We’re gonna steal that shit back.” John B stated.

You smiled, this was going to be a shit show.

--

“We go in there, guns-a-blazin’, make Ward Cameron beg for mercy, abscond with as much gold as possible, and vámanos, get the hell out of there.” JJ summed up.

“Send that shit right down the intracoastal.” John B added.

“Wait for the weather.” Kie reminded.

“Exit to Cuba.” Pope finalised.

“Cuba?” JJ sounded offended at the idea, “No, man, Xcalak, the jewel of the Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, no word for money.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hummed, sitting up from where you lay across the back seats, “Let’s do this shit.”

The VW rattled on for a few hundred feet, John B curving into a break in the thicket, the lot of you leaping out of the car to a wire fence.

“What’s the plan?” Kie asked. “Broad strokes.”

“I don’t think we got that far.” John B admitted, Pope pulled out his binoculars.

“They’re loading up the gold.” Pope pointed out. 

John B took the binoculars, watching the scene before him. You were all pressed up to the wire fence, and you could see a car rolling up to the plane. You watched the figures exit, faintly recognisable without the binoculars. John B lowered the black instrument, Kie asking him what was going on.

“It’s Sarah.” 

You looked back at the plane. They played out like a scene in a play, little figurines moving around, until Sarah was being dragged onto the plane by the shape that must have been her father. John B disappeared from your side as the engine began to whir, loud enough to be audible from your spot behind the fence. Behind you, a car door slammed, and you shouted for your friend as he started the engine, forcing all of you to step back as he smashed through the gate, JJ’s “Don’t be a hero!” resounding in the air.

Still shouting, the four of you ran through the gap as he accelerated towards the moving plane, your shouts fracturing the air. Upon the realisation that whatever stupid, reckless thing John B was doing couldn’t be stopped, you waited in baited breath. You watched the van swerve in the plane’s path, the screech of the brakes reaching your ears. You heard and watched the second squeal as the plane halted, barely feet away from the pogue.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard the sirens.

“Guys, I can’t get arrested.” Pope spoke, breaking the shocked silence you had been standing in.

“I’m on probation.” JJ added. 

“We’re no good if we’re all in jail.” Kie confirmed, and you turned to the three of them.

“You serious?” you almost laughed.

“Y/N,” JJ started.

“Go, if you have to.” You nodded, “I’ll step in if he needs me, God knows what’ll happen.”

Kie and Pope nodded,setting off, but JJ stood. “You can’t-”

“JJ, you said yourself - you’re on probation. But they don’t know I’m here, I’ll be fine.” You smiled, stronger than you felt, “Go.”

He followed your friends, and you stepped back into the trees, the sick feeling in your stomach foreboding a turn of events. The blue and white police car was racing down the runway, and you could almost feel the panic in your friends.

You saw the Sheriff get out, and the exchange that led to Ward’s arrest. You watched her get him on the floor, gun pointed at his face, you heard a bang.

The scene froze for a second, but suddenly time sped up, the Sheriff collapsed, and there was another figure. The gun was pointed at John B. You felt yourself move forwards, but the figures were moving - Sarah’s crumpling onto the floor, Ward standing, John B’s moving to help Sheriff Peterkin. You watched Ward and the new figure. Fuck it.

“John B!” you screamed, and he looked up. He was sprinting towards you as the three Cameron’s started fighting. You jogged, the pair of you breaking into a sprint as you got to the woods, fighting your way through the thicket as more sirens joined the melee. Shots were fired, but they sounded numb to your racing mind. He was slightly ahead of you, faded hoodie flashing as you both ran flat out. Before you registered the road, the horn was honking and John B was rolling over the bonnet of a car. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up, the pair of you running as the driver shouted for you.

You needed to find the others.

You ran for a while, slowing to a walk as you discussed where the others would be. The junkyard, you thought.

After five minutes, you stopped, forcing him to prove to you that the blood on his arms was only Peterkin’s, and that he wasn’t injured.

Somewhere above you, there was a plane. 

You were walking slowly now, approaching the junkyard. You felt numb, knowing that everything was completely different now. You turned the corner, seeing the three other pogues gathered, Pope taking a hit from JJ’s juul. Weird.

They ran to you, seeing the blood in John B’s hands and your shirt (from your attempts to check his injuries) and immediately began to panic, giving you once overs.

“Who’s blood is that?”

You all ducked behind the clutter to avoid the approaching sirens, allowing yourself a moment to breathe. You glanced at the blonde boy next to you, but as you went to speak, he turned away harshly. What the fuck?

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​ @thoughtsofthestars​ @obxmxybxnk​ @jjmaybankswife​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @sxcretinhuman​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @angvelics​ @badwolf00593​ @coloradogirl07​ @mendesmaybank​ @jiaraendgame​ @5am-cigarette​ @emerald-xcd​ @haharudy​

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

01 - You’re Familiar

This chapters songs:

Daughter Of A Cop; TV Girl

I Hope To Be Around; Men I Trust

Weird Fishes/Arpeggi; Radiohead

—

— Y. L. Perspective

My breath got louder and louder each second I ran. With my bento box hitting my hips, bag tossing around, and my skirt flying up, there was no way things could get any worse.

But luckily just around the corner, I spotted students climbing onto it, which made my feet run even faster.

Near late on my first day? Damn, Y/n, way to start your year.

   Just then, I heard the sharp hiss of the engine, sending me faster towards the vehicle than I had been pacing myself before. But still, the driver was ignorant, obviously not caring how much I needed this. It wasn't like my parents would take me anyways.

"WAIT..! PLEASE WAIT!" I started on the side of the bus, running side to side with the wheels. After a few seconds of loud disruption, it finally stopped. The break was hard, and students inside were heard making remarks of protest.

Sure, I felt bad for the people who had to get a brake check, but I on the other hand was completely out of breath and near dead. Couldn't they spare me?

"I'm, I'm so.. I'm so sorry I.." My breath is short, and loud while I breathe in and out, trying my best to try and explain my tardiness to the driver. He simply sighs, gesturing for me to seat myself already.

While I stumbled down the aisle, I received a few weird glances from fellow students. Some familiar and some new. I couldn't tell if it was because of my reputation, or because I looked like a hot mess. Either way, it was too early in the morning for one to give a damn. And so, I seat myself next to another student, finally resting from the marathon I had just run.

I sighed, rolling my head back, and placed my fingers on my temples. 'I probably look like a mess right now.' I thought, letting out a huge sigh. Once I sat my fingers back down onto my lap, I observed more of the people I was surrounded by.

Some third years I was familiar with, a few that wouldn't dare speak to me, and some that were strangers. Other second and first years I didn't know at all; throughout high school, I thought it'd be best to stay hidden and introverted, especially if I were to become popular in the music industry. Lots of young stars still went to school, and usually got dirt easily thrown onto their title and that's exactly what I would avoid this year.

Bringing me back to reality, I capture a peek coming from the boy I was seated next to. He had fluffy gray hair and seemed just as tired as me. But the bus was so dark, I couldn't completely make out his features.

"Something wrong?" I said to him.

He jumped a little, adjusting his eyes back down to his phone. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to stare. I just- I think I know you from somewhere."

"Lots of people know me, buddy—" I lifted my head, facing him. 'Hey, this guy does pretty familiar. But there's no way I'd forget a face like his. Then again, I have the memory of an 80-year-old woman.' I think to myself, examining his features in an awkward mood.

"Wow, it is you. (Y/n), it's been quite a while!" He smiled widely, reaching a hand out to me. I only froze, too confused to comprehend the situation. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you're doing well!"

"I-Im sorry?" I question, wondering why a stranger would confront me this way. But something was off— I knew him, I just couldn't remember where from. Maybe from previous classes, or from a concert?

He turns slightly, growing a smile on his pale face. "I was trying to figure out if it was you or not, but it is! It's great to see you're better. How are you?"

"Who are you?" I ask back, a bit frightened.

"Uhm, well, I sat next to you in math class during my first year. Remember? I was a little ditzy, kind of annoying, I never shut up about volleyball..?" He asks, hoping to get a hint of nostalgia. "Come on, you've gotta recognize me, right?"

"Wait, Sugawara!" My finger jumps out, pointing to his sitting figure. "I'm sorry I couldn't recognize you! It sure has been quite a while. But I definitely remember you, now! You were one of the people who talked to me during my first year.. thanks for that. Anyways, how've you been?"

"I think that's my line, L/n." Suga pats my shoulder, then places his hand onto his lap. "You've changed so much! I've gotta know how you're doing!"

"I-I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing in your perspective, but thanks anyway. I've been doing just fine." I explain before a yawn escapes my mouth. Sure, this conversation was energetic, but I certainly wasn't.

"Again, so very sorry for being so forgetful. I don't remember much from first year, especially not anything in math, but I sure do recognize you now." I say, hoping my rudeness from before wouldn't have any effect on how he viewed me. Not that I cared, of course.

Luckily, Sugawara was forgiving that day. With a wide grin, he replies, "No need to apologize. People change drastically during high school; we're no exceptions. Although, I would've enjoyed being mutuals with you throughout most of it! I wonder why I haven't seen you around until today... I believe the last time we had talked was around the last day of first year."

"Yeah, we didn't have any classes together. If we had, I'm sure we would have stirred up a discussion. You seem very kind. " I gently smile, rubbing the nape of my neck. I tend to forget any bad memories, and the beginning of high school sure was a fat one.

"What a shame, you too seem wonderful.." He comments, gazing towards me for a split second, before reverting his focus. "A-anyways, it's a bit of a surprise I saw you here. Have you always ridden the bus? I usually take it in the mornings as well."

"I've actually just moved into this neighborhood. My parents work more hours than ever, so they decided it's best if I'm closer to school so that I can get to school and back quickly." I explain, tapping the sage green bento in my lap, before setting it on my side.

Sugawara nods, understanding the circumstances. "That makes sense. I'm sure you'll enjoy it now that you've got a friend in the neighborhood. Although, a girl like you must be quite familiar, right?"

'Is that intended to be disrespectful, or am I just tripping?' I think to myself, asking him to spell out the meaning of that remark. "I'm sorry, what? A girl like me?"

"Oh, crap! I didn't mean that to sound rude— I meant because of your band! I understand you guys are the talk around school, considering you're getting pretty popular in the field."

A sigh of relief leaves my lips, preparatory to my correction. "Oh, my band. I'm not sure I necessarily make friends, more like connections and acquaintances. Only a couple of students know about the band, and usually just the down-low ones. But enough about me, what about you, hm? I assume still volleyball obsessed."

I had obviously steered in the wrong direction with our conversation, for Suga's aura quickly altered at the mention of the sport. "Eh, I'm not as excited about it as I used to be." He says, along with a hint of dissatisfaction in his raspy voice.

"No way. What happened to cheerful Sugawara who asked me, the lamest, to join the girls' team?" I ask, hoping a bit of that childish personality was still inside the older version of Suga. The one which was taller, more masculine, more of a man than before.

"Honestly, can't tell you. 'Teams has been a mess ever since I've joined." He leans back in his seat, stretching his arms out, before placing them around his neck from behind. "We're hanging on my a very thin thread."

"Dang, that really sucks. You never know, things can always turn out better." I say, doing as he did, and resting against the leather seats.

"Yeah, of course. I guess it's pretty hard to keep going after so many fails, haha." A sad chuckle leaves his mouth, as he sighs.

"Anyway, nice talking. I'm outta take a quick power nap; I barely got sleep last night. Mind waking me up when we get to school?"

"Yeah, of course," Sugawara replies. With that, I'm left with laying music in my ears like always, and nodded off to slumber.

—

"Hey, sleepyhead. We're at school," I hear someone say, feeling a tap of a cold finger on my nose. Almost immediately, I shoot up from my position, standing directly above Sugawara while students leave the bus with their bags, having loud discussions of excitement. Was there anything more embarrassing than falling asleep on someone who ghosted you as a friend?

"Dear God, I'm terribly sorry." I panic, brushing down my blue skirt. "That happens on rides, it was a mistake."

"Oh, it's no big deal! Don't worry—" Suga chuckles, standing up from sitting. But before I could let him talk anymore, I started making my way towards the exit of the bus.

"Uhm, I've gotta go! Great talking, though. I'll catch you later, have a good day," I mumble, before frantically leaving the vehicle. 'What a morning.'

— K. S. Perspective

Before I could grant Y/n a polite goodbye, she'd disappeared in just a few seconds. But even so, the measly to,e I'd discussed with her was quite enjoyable. I couldn't believe how much she'd changed.

Long ago, the beginning of high school, Y/n was the type of girl you could barely see, as if she were invisible. I think the only reason I ever even noticed her was because we were seated next to each other in math class, and she immediately caught my attention. But thank goodness I had at least tried making an effort to talk to her, or else we wouldn't have had our conversation this morning. But it wasn't her fault she was so gloomy; supposedly she had lost someone close to her the year before.

Although our talk was brief, it still meant a lot to me. Especially since I was informed that she was finally happy. Looking down at the seat she used, there was a small box with a handle at the top, and a few anime stickers covering it.

'Is this what was making that loud tapping noise on the way here?' I asked myself, examining the box more. Small initials marked 'Y.L.' We're at the bottom, informing me it was Y/n's. At first, I considered handing it to our bus driver, but for the few years I've known him I learned he doesn't return lost things. And so, I leave the bus with it in my hands, ready to start my morning.

"Suga!" I hear a familiar voice call out to me. Looking up, I see my friend, Daichi, and another fellow behind him, Tanaka. The two of them jog towards me, with their scarfs unfolding in the wind. Both I had met in volleyball, and they've been my buddies ever since.

"Hey, Sugawara!" Tanaka exclaims, roughly slapping my back. The bento tosses in my hands, thankfully not spilling onto the floor. Unfortunately, he notices the box and snatches it right out of my hold. "Wow, feeling a bit girly, are we?"

I laugh in response, quickly taking it back. "It's not mine, it belongs to the person who sat next to me today. Hopefully, if I see her again I can give return it."

"Hopefully?" Daichi teases, as we all begin our walk towards the school doors. "Do you know her name?"

"Yeah, her name's Y/n. Know her?"

He lights up at the mention of their name, replying "Oh, I know her! That girl you never shut up about I in first year, correct?"

"Ha, yeah."

Tanaka doesn't understand, digging deeper into the situation. "What?! I've never known good ole' Suga to genuinely have feelings for a girl, unless it was some fling."

"I don't! I used to. There's a difference." I say, as we enter the building.

"If she rides your bus, then why don't you just give it to the driver? She'll probably go looking for it later at the end of the day. That is unless you wanna see her again.." Daichi teases me.

"You see, I would. But the bus driver is sort of a thief, and this girl has had a rough morning as it is. I just wanna be nice." I explain to him. Though a part of me did want to see her again and hope that we could talk longer than we did before.

"Sure you do," Tanaka says, patting our backs. "Listen, this is my stop. I'll catch you guys at practice?"

"Sure thing, bye." We say our farewells, and make our way towards the third-year halls. "What about you, Daichi? Got anything exciting happening this hour?"

"If stressing about volleyball counts, then yes! Most definitely.." He says, clearing his throat. "Watch, like, two people show up."

"Actually, Kiyoko informed us in the group chat that we've got at least four! That's better than last year, right?" I try my best to cheer him up, but it only made him even more nervous. I couldn't blame him. Too much was even more of a burden, but too little was a disappointment and would leave us exactly where we left off.

"It's okay, Suga. I have a lot of faith in our team. I know it's been rough lately, but as long as we try our best, we'll work this out." Daichi smiles, turning towards a separate hallway than mine. "I'm off to homeroom. See you later!"

"Yeah, see ya!" I'm left by myself, giving me more time to focus on what should happen today. - 1st, I have to go through each class and say hi to a couple of familiars, and hopefully not see anyone I've had a conflict with.

- 2nd, I had to give Y/ns bento back to them, but that could only happen if we happened to have a class with each other before, or if we had the same lunch.

- 3rd, volleyball tryouts were this afternoon. I had to make sure and represent myself as a role model, and make it clear I was vice-captain. I wanted nothing more than for the new players to feel safe.

But internally, I knew none of those plans would work out. Especially if I wasn't focused on them. Currently, all I could think about was Y/n, and how refreshing it felt to be around her again. When I was first around her was at the same time when things in my life started to fall apart, and my little crush on her made me feel better about it all. I guess you could say she was my comfort corner, even if she talked to me only once or twice during the week. And sometimes on her bad days, I would be able to at least get a laugh out of her, even if it meant making a complete fool out of myself.

All I wanted was for her not to harm herself or feel lonely, which took a quick turn towards me once the year had ended. Not only had my thing for her end, but my family soon fell apart after my mother had passed away. Of course, I still had my responsibilities like volleyball club and helping my younger sister and my father get through it. But it seemed that everyone would do their own thing, so I did the same. And for a while, I was lonely and didn't cope with the loss very well. Just like Y/n, I distanced myself.

This went on throughout my entire second year of high school, while she on the other hand started to get her life together. She started her band, made and covered a couple of songs, and finally healed from her hard year. Honestly, I didn't even really believe that she was in such a good state, but I was proven wrong today. Ultimately, she truly inspired me to pick myself up and start fresh. And now that she popped up so suddenly, I was back to square one.

'It's been a while, Y/n'

—

HEYYY SHAWTYYYS.

Give me notes.

SO, I've finally rewritten the first chapter of my fanfiction!! It took a while, but I did it. If you didn't know, I started this story about eight months ago, and I had no writing experience. Now that I'm reaching the climax of this story, I decided I should edit the chapter, especially since they sucked ass! Nothing much was changed, just far more detailing and extra feelings.

Overall, thanks so much for reading the first chapter. Please vote if you enjoyed it!! It helps others know that it's worth reading. And if not, no worries. Thanks anyways. I love you all so much!

- your friendly Suga simp

[resilientdolan]

Drown (G.D)- part 4

A/N: IM SO SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE FKSJSJS IVE BEEN BUSY AS HELL WITH WORK AND DEALING WITH MY SEPTOPLASTY SHIT BUT IM HERE AND FEELING BETTER!

Word-count: 1.5k

Summary: You went out to get some coffee with Ethan, which led you to find out that he knows about your crush towards Grayson. And later on, you discover something else that you don’t even want to know.

T/W: Angst

Tags: @bingexdolan aka my loyal ass reader, thanks for bearing with my ugly writing bye <3

———————————————————————

“Is he mad at me?,” Bianca mumbles before she takes a small sip of her iced latte, with her eyes locked with Ethan’s.

It’s one fine afternoon, and Bianca decided to spend some time with Ethan to catch up with him. He’s usually pretty busy, but apparently today’s her lucky day that he agreed to get some coffee with her. So here she is, with Ethan sitting in front of her. But just him, Grayson’s not coming.

Ethan tilts his head aside for a bit, with his brows scrunched. “It’s not like he’s mad... Maybe more like upset because you chose Declan,” he shrugs.

A soft sigh escapes her as she sets her plastic cup of iced latte down on the table. “But why? He knows Declan. Okay, what if— he’s no longer a douche?,” She replies.

Ethan shakes his head as he shifts his gaze from her, to the view outside the window. “You know, the point is, he doesn’t like Declan. Douche Declan, or Nice Declan, still no from him,” Ethan says.

“True, though,” She replies lazily. “Anyways, where is he?,” Again, she shifts her gaze back to Ethan.

His shoulders rise and fall into a shrug as he speaks. “It’s August 1st. Grayson and Isla’s second anniversary.”

Oh. She can feel her heart shattered into pieces as soon as he mentions that girl’s name, followed with the word ‘anniversary’.

“So they’re going out?”

Jesus, Bianca, why are you so nosy—

“Hmm, I don’t know. He mentioned about having a dinner with Isla to celebrate their anniversary, but also he’s been watching a lot of cooking shows on TV. Maybe he’s chefin’ up?,” Ethan guesses.

He’s willing to cook for his girl? God, if only that lucky girl was her.

“Such a gentleman...,” Bianca mumbles to herself. Ethan chuckles.

“So... they’re probably at your place?,” Again, she asks.

“No, I think they’re going to celebrate it at Isla’s. Mom doesn’t really like Isla and her bitchy attitude,”

“Wait, does Grayson know?,”

“He knows. Mom told him about it like few weeks ago. She told him that Isla’s vibe is just a big no, and I agree,” Ethan explains.

And he’s still keeping her? Such a gentleman, right?

Yes, but not hers.

“Anyways, thanks for helping me with the Biology last night. I finished my test real quick, thanks to you,” Ethan out of nowhere decides to change the topic.

Bianca just gives him a slight nod. “You’re welcome, I’ll try to help you as long as I can,” She shrugs.

Ethan gently taps his fingers against the cold surface of the table lying between them for a while before he finally says something that she has never expected.

“Why would Grayson choose Isla when he got you, Bi?”

Ethan—

“What do you mean?,” Bianca furrows her brows.

“Like... You’re beautiful, you’re nice, and he has known you for years, so why did he have to choose Isla over you?”

She keeps her mouth shut.

“And you’re smart. Like, you can be his tutor slash girlfriend but he ended up dating a seeking attention whore like Isla? God,” Ethan grumbles.

“Ethan—“

“Bianca, he’s dumb! He should’ve picked you instead of Isla,” he mutters.

Bianca shakes her head as she arches her brow. “What if... I’m not into your brother?”

Ethan quickly shifts his gaze back to her the moment she says it. A sarcastic chuckle comes out of his lips, followed with another unexpected thing.

“Don’t be silly, Bianca. You’ve been crushing on him all this time.”

She remains silent, shaking her head. “I told you that I’ve been talking to De—“

“My ass.” Ethan cuts her off real quick. “Yeah, like lately, but how about years ago, Bi?” he attacks her.

Silence.

“Everybody knows that you’re into Grayson. It’s not that I’m mad at you for crushing on him, but the fact that he’s acting all blind makes me sick,” Ethan doesn’t even give her a chance to defend herself.

“E...”

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands.

He knew it all. And there’s nothing she can do to cover it up anymore. Her crush towards Grayson is no longer a secret.

Bianca nods her head slowly as she brings her hand up to run her fingers through her dark locks. “Maybe we’re not meant to be, Ethan,” she mumbles.

“What if you’re actually meant to be with him?,” Again, another strike back from Ethan.

“I—I don’t know...” she mumbles. She can feel her cheek burning red and her eyes start to water.

Don’t cry, Bi.

“I believe so, but my brother’s just dumb,”

She loses it.

She brings the back of her hand up to her face to wipe the tears away, trying her best to act that Grayson and Isla ain’t shit to her, but she just can’t.

“Ethan, I want no one but him...” she sniffles. “But maybe the wait is over, I gotta move on. If he’s happy with Isla, then I deserve my happiness too,” she adds.

Ethan lets out a soft sigh as he reaches his hand out to tuck a strand of hair to the back of her ear. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he coos softly. “But, you know... I got your back. If you feel it’s the time to let go, then do it, Bi. I want nothing but the best for you,” he adds once again, this time, with a small smile in his face.

“We’ll see, I just hope talking to Declan can help me to move on, you know? Starting fresh...”

“I understand,” he nods.

That’s when exactly Ethan’s phone beeps. He quickly checks the latest notification popping into his phone. Turns out it’s from Lisa.

“Hey, I know a way to brighten up your mood,” he grins.

“Huh?,”

“Don’t you miss... this?,” Ethan hands his phone to her, showing a picture sent by Lisa.

Her home made cinnamon rolls. Bianca’s favorite.

“I’ll drive you home later, but right now, let’s get you some of your all time favorite one, Dolan’s home-baked cinnamon rolls,” he chuckles as he gets up from his seat.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe some cinnamon rolls can help.

———————————————————————

“Thanks, Auntie Lisa,” Bianca speaks once she finish her second roll. Lisa gives her a quick nod as she sits on the couch in the living room, joining Bianca and Ethan.

“Hey, no need to thank me. You’re just in luck,” Lisa replies, taking a small sip of her hot chamomile tea.

“Well, I think I need to thank Ethan for dragging me here, then,” Bianca nudges Ethan’s rib playfully as he leans against his seat.

“I know you love Mom’s cinnamon rolls, soo,” Ethan replies quickly.

“Anyway, Ethan, where’s Grayson?,” Lisa asks.

“At Isla’s, I think?,” the twin brother replies lazily. “It’s their anniversary, so I think they’re celebrating it there, maybe?,” he adds.

“He didn’t tell me about that,” Lisa sighs.

“Because we all don’t give a damn about him and Isla. So he thinks he has nothing to tell about when it comes to their relationship,” Ethan rolls his eyes in annoyance.

Bianca’s just there, sitting in complete silence as she tries to process the fact that Grayson keeping his relationship private from his family, all because they dislike Isla.

“He’ll come home soon, Ma. No worries. If you’re tired, get some rest, I’ll wait for him,” Ethan suggests.

“How about Bianca?,”

“Easy, I’ll drive her home later,” Ethan convinces her once again.

“Ah, alright. Let me get some rest, it’s been a tiring day,” Lisa stands up from her seat as she gives Bianca another smile. “Thanks for coming, dear,” she adds.

Bianca gives her a thumb up and a smile as she watches her heading upstairs to her room.

“Relax and have another roll if you want, Bi,” Ethan points at the last cinnamon roll on the plate. Bianca lazily shakes her head as she lean against the seat.

Her mind wanders. Thinking about him.

Grayson.

And that’s when the door opens, and she can hear the sound of a light jog.

It’s him, he’s home.

“I’m home!,” Grayson’s voice echoes.

“You didn’t tell Mom about your anniversary plan?,” Ethan replies.

Bianca chooses to remain silent, to observe his reaction at the fact she’s there post the argument night. He walks into the room and sits on the vacant spot next to Ethan, all smile.

God, there he is. Making her weak with his smile, though she doesn’t even know the reason why.

“Oh, hi, Bi!,” he finally greets her, with a cheeky grin across his lips.

“Are you on drugs or what, Bro?,” Ethan frowns.

“Why?”

“Being all happy like this? Kinda weird...,” Ethan hums.

“Just, excited about the anniversary” he replies.

Oh, one knife thrown to her chest by Grayson Bailey Dolan.

“Mhm, dinner?,” Ethan asks.

“Yeah, yeah, we cooked, and had dinner together. And I gave Isla a necklace, the one that I showed you few weeks ago, remember?,” Grayson continues.

“I do remember,” Ethan nods.

He gave her a necklace? Second knife.

“And... you know... we did it,” he lowers his voice that it nearly sounds like a whisper.

“Did what?,” Ethan’s brows furrow.

“That...” Grayson rolls his eyes, getting annoyed at Ethan being lame.

“You and Isla...,” Ethan mumbles.

“No worries, protection, bro,” Grayson replies.

Protection?

“Wait, you and Isla had...” Ethan turns his gaze to Grayson, then back to Bianca.

“Yes, Ethan. We did it,” Grayson exclaims proudly.

Third knife to her chest.

[getdeatjgrops]

internet boy.

shigaraki x reader one-shot

Summary: You are on a popular video chat website late at night. After many disconnects, you come across a dusty-blue haired boy. You wait for him to say “show your tits” to skip him, but strangely enough he didn’t say anything. To this, you become intrigued, and stay to chat with him.

Warnings: swearing, slight yandere tendencies.

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Word Count: 4680

You yawn. You check the time on the corner of your laptops’ screen. 2 AM. Why weren’t you sleeping? Well, you were on Omegle for almost two hours, and you didn’t realize how fast the time flew by. You were bored and couldn’t sleep, so you chose to talk to strangers online who were also up late at night. Maybe you were the strange one.

You haven’t gone on Omegle for a long time, so you forgot about all the dick showing and the dudes asking to either show your tits or your ass. If you didn’t comply they’d call you a bitch and disconnect. Sometimes if you got lucky, you connected with someone sweet and you’d chat a bit until they needed to go. At least there were still some people who just wanted to talk.

You sighed as you disconnected from another penis on your screen.

If I see another dick one more time, I’m getting off.

You tapped your fingers on your laptop, waiting for someone to connect.

And someone did. It was an odd looking guy. He had shaggy light blue hair and deep, red eyes that you could hardly see. He had a tightened black hoodie, so you couldn’t see his full face; only his eyes and nose. He was leaning against a white wall behind him, and his camera only showed his torso and up. The only light was from his own screen, illuminating his face.

You furrowed a brow. He didn’t say anything, so you started typing.

You: hey

You notice his eyes move to the chat, and down to his keyboard. He started typing, and you heard the sound of the keyboard clicking. So he did have a microphone.

Stranger: what’s your name

You: (Y/N). what’s urs?

At this point, you expected him to ask something vulgar, so you hovered your mouse over the “Really?” button to disconnect if he did. But shockingly enough, didn’t.

Stranger: uh. you can call me Tom.

You smiled a bit. You found the name “Tom” funny considering the fact that maybe he was using a fake name, and to add onto your suspicion he added an “uh” in the beginning.

You: cool. i hear that u have a mic. do u wanna talk? i’m too tired to type lol

You: or do u have to be quiet because of your parents loll

You watch him read the chat, and hear a “tch” noise come out of his mouth before he aggressively starts typing.

Stranger: i can talk. but you aren’t talking, so i’m not talking. wouldn’t it be weird if i was the only one talking? weirdo.

You huff and roll your eyes. “The whole point of me asking if you want to talk is so we could talk instead of texting each other. Watch who you call a weirdo, weirdo.” You retorted. He furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes back.

“Whatever. Anyways, what time is it for you?” He asked. You noticed his voice was slightly gravelly. You squint your eyes. “Aren’t you a curious one. With the blunt questions and everything. It’s 2 at night here. You?��� You smile slightly. “It’s 2 am here too. Why are you up so late?” He plays with the strings attached to his hoodie.

You sigh. “Dunno. I’m tired but can’t sleep. Why are you up so late?” You ask back. He makes his hand through his hair and hoodie and scratches his neck. “Well, I’ve been thinking about stuff, so I can’t sleep either.” You hum in response, and there’s a minute of silence between you two.

“Well, what’s on your mind then?” You ask, trying to break the awkward tension.

He grumbles. “It’s nothing. Just have a few people that I don’t like on my mind. No, hate. Deeply hate. They are terrible.” He growls, and continues scratching his neck. You frown and look at him. “Hey, don’t worry about them okay? Don’t let bullies effect you and how you feel. They’re dumb.” You comforted. You felt a bit weird comforting a person you just met online about bullies, but you really did feel sympathy for him. He probably has a hard time with them.

He looks away and nods slowly. “Yeah.. bullies..” He stops scratching his neck and puts his hand down. He looks back at the camera. “Do you have anything we can talk on?”

You giggle. “We’re talking on something already, idiot.” To that, he just looks at the screen with an annoyed look. “I’m just playing. Here’s my instagram. Or, if you prefer-“

“Instagram is fine.” He cuts you off, seconds after pulling out his phone and searching up the username you put in the chat. You pressed your lips together, and pull out your phone yourself.

tomxrxow.s has requested to follow you!

“So, Tom.. your name is an abbreviation of Tomorrow?” You ask, quietly chuckling as you accept the follow request. “Uh, sure.” He mumbled. You requested to follow him back, and in an instant he accepted. You notice he has no posts and the only people he follows is a few pro heroes and you. He only has about 20 followers too. You found it slightly uncomfortable, considering that you had a few posts of you and a couple hundred followers. You look back at the screen and see him holding his phone up and moving it to look at you.

“Hm, you’re kind of weird looking right now compared to your posts.” He shows one of your posts of you in a restaurant. You looked pretty in that photo, until you realized that he insulted you. You gasped and furrowed your brows. “Hey!” You pouted. He smirked and put his phone down. “I’m just ‘playing.’” He says, quoting you from earlier. You squint your eyes and scoff, but silently smile to yourself. You like this guy.

“Well, you got my instagram, so we could chat more. I’m feeling kind of tired, so I’ll text you tomorrow morning okay?” You smile. He sighs through his nose. “Alright, good night.” He puts up a backwards peace sign. “Don’t let the villains bite.” You roll your eyes, and to that, you disconnect and shut your laptop.

What a strange guy.

You lay down and close your eyes, and soon enough you drift to sleep.

—

You stir your cereal, waiting for Tom to finish typing.

You and him have gotten close the past 3 weeks. He was quite nice to talk to. He talked about his problems, and you talk about yours. I think it’s safe to say that you guys were great friends, and were there for each other. Not in real life, but through each other’s screen. And you were okay with that.

txmxrxow.s: i haven’t got much sleep last night.

You: ahh well you should go to sleep earlier today!

You smile to yourself. You and Tom stood up late at night talking. Sometimes you guys would call, sometimes you guys chose to just text. In the beginning of your friendship with him, you guys first went from talking for an hour, to a few hours, to the whole night. You found him interesting. The way he talked, what he talked about.. he was just nice to talk to.

txmxrxow.s: but i want to talk to youu :’(

Your heart fluttered as you read his text message. You smile goofily.

You: and i want to talk to you too! but if you don’t go to sleep early then you might just fall asleep while we’re talking, and i’ll get worried that you’re not responding. how about this, we can talk all day today and you can go to sleep tonight so we could talk tomorrow. deal?

You sigh happily. You haven’t had someone to talk to this much in a long time. The world is in a middle of a pandemic; it’s not like you can go out and hang out with your friends when everyone is in quarantine. You walk to your living room with the bowl of cereal in your hand and put it on the coffee table. You sit down on your couch, and turn on the TV. You put a spoonful of cereal in your mouth and lean back to watch what the news is for today.

“Breaking news. The League of Villains attacked the city unexpectedly last night! Heroes came late due to the fact that it was at 4 am. But thankfully, we can never not trust our strong heroes! They were close to defeat, but they struck back with all their might, leaving the villains running away! Thank you for your service Pro-Heroes, for keeping us and the city safe!”

The T.V showed footage from a helicopter above of the villains running away into a dark alley. They all disappear as they enter a purple portal one of the villains created. The camera then showed the pro heroes panting in exhaustion, walking away from the scene like it was nothing. You couldn’t blame them, it was late at night- they were tired. They weren’t willing to have an interview this late.

txmxrxow.s: Did you see the news? Smh. Pro heroes this, pro heroes that. It’s getting tiring.

You take another bite of cereal and pick up your phone to reply.

You: Yeah, but at least they keep us safe. And on that note, im glad you’re safe, but I mean we were literally up at that time just texting each other lmaooo

txmxrxow.s: haha, yeah :)

You pick up the remote control and switch the channel to something else. You were getting tired of hearing about villains and heroes all the time too.

You: anyways, i’m bored. wanna call?

txmxrxow.s: sure

You: i mean like, video call? we haven’t video called since omegle lolol

txmxrxow.s: hmm.. nah.

You frown. Didn’t he just say sure a few seconds ago?

txmxrxow.s: but i miss your cute little face. so, get on discord.

You blush and furrow your brows. Who does this guy think he is?! You huff, and pull out your laptop and open discord. Seconds after, you receive a call from Tom and accept it.

“Hello. Guess you couldn’t resist my cute ass face.” You teased. He chuckles in response, and turned on his camera. Again, he’s wearing a black tightened hoodie, so you could only see his eyes and nose, along with his messy light blue hair. “I really couldn’t.” He responded flatly. You blush and roll your eyes. “Shut up.” You grin.

You and him talked about random things. You would occasionally take a bite of your cereal, and he would snap a photo before you eat the spoonful of Froot Loops. “Hey!! Delete that!” You pleaded, covering your mouth full of milk and cereal with your hand. He laughed in response, showing his phones’ screen to the camera, which was the photo of you about to put the spoon in your mouth. You swallowed the food in your mouth and crossed your arms. “Not funny! I’m turning off my camera.” You huffed, and turned off the camera.

“Nooo! Come back!” He pleaded, exaggerating the “No.” You laughed, and turned on your camera just as fast as you turned it off. Needless to say, you enjoyed talking to Tom.

—

You and Tom were on call for the past five hours. You didn’t get bored of his company, and although your laptop was heating up, you wanted to stay.

“Hm.. say,” He started. You hummed back. “What’s up?” You didn’t lift your eyes from your phone. You were scrolling through your instagram feed and occasionally were sending Tom funny cat photos and videos.

“Do you want to meet up?” Your heart skipped a beat. You looked at your laptops’ screen with wide eyes. “Now?” You ask. He shrugged, twirling his hoodie string between his finger. “Sure. Or, if you want we could meet up later this week. Or later tonight, so there isn’t much people, especially with the whole virus thing going on.” You nod.

Should you go today? Later tonight? I mean, he seems pretty real to you. And you really liked talking to him. You liked him in general.

“I um, have to talk to you about something too.” He said, slightly choking on his words. Your heart rushes. You look at the time on your phone. 3 pm. Wow, time flew by fast.

“Sure. Let’s meet up at 10 pm.” You smile. He sighed in relief. “Okay, cool. I’m.. excited to see you.” He blushed. Your heart continued pounding against your chest and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m excited too.” You guys sat in silence, scrolling through your phones. You gulped, feeling uncomfortable.

God, why is everything so much more awkward now?! It’s fine. You’ll meet each other, and talk. It’ll be your first time seeing each other in real life, and it’ll be fine.

You turn to your laptop screen. “Well, my laptop is heating up really badly, so I’m gonna go. We can still text if you want.” You put your index finger on the trackpad, hovering it over the hang up button. “Alright, see you soon.” He puts his phone down and waves. You smile and make a silly face before hanging up. You needed to get ready, even though it was only 3 pm.

— *Time skip to 10 pm*

You didn’t want to appear to extra and flashy on the first time meeting, so you went with an oversized (F/C) sweatshirt and jeans. You let your hair down, and put on mascara. Your heart was beating loudly. You were excited, but nervous. What did he want to talk about? You had an idea, but you dismissed it.

You heard a notification go off and checked your phone.

txmxrxow.s: let’s meet over here.

After he sent that text, he sent a photo of a building that you passed by occasionally.

You: okay. see you soon! ^^

You smile to yourself. You breathe in and out to calm yourself. You turn off the lights and put your phone in your pocket. You grab a mask and put in on your face, and put on latex gloves. You shut the door behind you and start walking towards the direction of the building. You decided to listen to music to calm yourself.

What a weird coincidence that you met a person on Omegle that lived in the same country as you. Matter of fact, in the same city as you. You couldn’t believe it. And you fell in love with him? Truly strange. But, you don’t hate it. You smile happily. You realize that you shouldn’t be nervous. You guys have been talking for three weeks. He was comfortable with you, and you were comfortable with him. You guys were friends.

You hummed to the song that was currently on, and you noticed that you were close to the place you guys were meeting up at. You just had to cross this street and you’ll be there. You patted your hands on your jeans, realizing how sweaty they got from you being anxious. The street sign turned to a walking figure, and you slowly crossed.

You took out the earphones in your ears, and put them in your jean pocket. You squeeze your hands into fists as you see a figure a few yards away from you wearing a black hoodie. He was facing the other way, but you noticed that they were on their phone. You decided to walked up to them. This was Tom, it had to be. You looked at the building next to the figure. Yep, it is Tom.

You walk until you’re a few feet away from him.

“T-Tom?” You let out, almost as silent as a squeak. Their head looks up, and they slowly turn around. Your eyes made eye contact with their deep, red eyes. Their shaggy light blue hair was sticking out of their hoodie, and they had the strings tied together like you’ve seen on video call.

You smiled in joy, and went to wrap your arms around him. You pressed your face on their chest. He slightly stepped back, not expecting you to do that. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, careful not to touch you with all five of his fingers on each hand.

“(Y/N), you came.” He smiled, sighing. He didn’t want this moment to end; and neither did you. You moved your head up to look up at him. He was looking back down at you. “Are you always in these clothes? You have the same exact outfit from when we called on Omegle and video called today.” You teased, furrowing your brows. He grunted in response, and rolled his eyes.

“Haha, so funny. No, I don’t. But, I wanted to meet you because I wanted to talk to you about something.” You unwrapped your arms from him and slightly stepped back. You put your arms behind you and tapped the floor with the tip of your shoe. “What did you want to talk about?” You had a faint blush on your cheeks. He rubbed the top of head awkwardly and looked to the side.

“Well.. I know it’s only been three weeks but..” He started, taking a deep breath. You felt your heart beating loudly against your chest. You rubbed your lips together. You fidgeted with your hands. This is it.

“I feel like I’m the most comfortable with you. You let me talk about my problems and you help me with them. I calm down when you’re talking to me. After ending our calls at night, I wouldn’t be able to get you out of my mind.”

You felt your blush grow redder, and your breathing gradually increased. He’s doing it. He’s doing it.

“You’re.. simply to say.. the best thing that has happened to me. Nobody has acted this way to me besides you. Life makes sense when I’m talking to you.” He blushes, and grabs your shoulders. His pinkys don’t touch you. You widened your eyes at this, not expecting him to do that suddenly. You look at his eyes in a daze, feeling your heart almost explode out of your chest.

“(Y/N).. I..” He swallows, his throat dry.

“I love you.”

He finishes it at that, and there’s a silence. You blink, feeling fireworks explode in your stomach. You slowly smile. You raise your arm and move your hand through his hair and hoodie to his cheek. “Tom.. I love you too.” You felt your legs shake. Honestly, you never felt this way about anyone. So why do you feel this way with someone you met online? You didn’t know, but you didn’t feel bad.

He moves one of his hands towards his hoodie strings, and pulls them so they untie. His hoodie loosens, and you finally see his lips. They were chapped, colorless. Scarred. But you smiled. He moved towards you and placed his lips on yours. You close your eyes slowly. Carefully, he moves his hand down to your back, and pulls you closer. You felt yourself going crazy. You moved your free hand and placed it on his shoulder gently. Both of you deepened the kiss, feeling the passion between each other.

After a few seconds, you guys moved away from each other. You breathed silently while you stared at each others eyes. He smiled at you, but then his smile slowly went away. He sighed, and looked down.

“(Y/N), There’s something else I need to tell you.”

You look at him confused, but you still smile. “Yes, Tom? You could tell me anything.”

He lets go of your body and squeezes your hands in his hands. They were cold. “Will.. will you look at me differently? Will you still love me?”

Taken back by this, you didn’t know what to say. “Of.. Of course I will still love you. We’ve come this far, why would I stop loving you?” You ran your hand across his arm, trying to reassure him. He sighed, and suddenly looked up at you in all serious.

“My name is Shigaraki Tomura.” He spoke. “I’m.. the leader of the League of Villains.”

Your eyes went wide. Your whole body froze. You slightly squeezed your hand on his arm.

Leader of the villain league? Him? How? You couldn’t believe it. The same person you talked to about problems you believed to be normal; were just problems of a villain?

He noticed your fear, and his eyes went wide. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you in panic. “You still love me right? You won’t leave me, will you? You know I love you right? I would never do anything bad to you.” He tried reassuring you, shaking you slightly.

You couldn’t help but be startled by him now. The same person you called insults and teased, could’ve easily lost control and killed you? Right now, you in the grip of his hands; if he lands his pinkies on you, you’re done for.

Do you still love him? You thought to yourself. Just the other night, he went out and attacked the city with his league of villains. That was the same night you guys were texting. You believed that he was at home, in his bed, just texting you. You couldn’t believe this.

“Tom... ura...” You choked. You realized that Tom wasn’t a fake name. It wasn’t an abbreviation of tomorrow. You gulped. Were you in his hands of delusion all along? Since the beginning?

Shigaraki gritted his teeth. “Please... (Y/N).. I’ll- I’ll change for you! I promise! Please.. me meeting you is possibly the most life changing thing that has happened to me. For the better! I love you so much! I would die for you!! I would disband the League of Villains for you! If- If you want, I’ll just kill them instead! The world could be in peace! (Y/N)-“

“Tom. Err.. Tomura. Listen.. this is a lot to take in right now. So please, just calm down. I don’t know your intentions, and I just can’t believe that... you’re a villain.” You let out, frowning. You looked down at the concrete below your feet, debating with yourself. What do you say next? Now knowing his true identity, you felt that if you say something wrong, you’re done for.

You squeezed his hands. Suddenly, you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing his hoodie between you hands. “Just please... change for me. Stop..” You blinked back your tears.

“Stop killing people.”

You heard his breath hitch, and he slowly wrapped his arms around you. “(Y/N).. I love you.” You closed your eyes. This is real life. The guy you met online, someone you felt was a normal person, turned out to be a villain.

You felt him move your hair away and moved it over your shoulder with his fingers. You looked up at him. He had an indescribable facial expression.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. Just know I love you. But this is for our safety.” You furrow your brows in confusion, until you felt a sharp sting on the side of your neck. You widened your eyes. “Tomura..” You felt drowzy. An injection. You looked at him one final time, reading pain on his face. “I love you.” He said once again, but his voice was muffled. You felt darkness consume your vision, and fell onto your knees.

—

Leather. Your wrists were binded together with leather. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light.

You slowly realized that your chest and your feet were binded against the chair you were sitting on as well. Your mind felt fuzzy, and you felt sick. Where am I?

“Aww, look guys! Shigarakis little girlfriend is starting to wake up!” You hear a girls voice. What is going on? You look up slowly. You see many figures. There were men, and distinctly one girl. You blinked a few more times to adjust your vision, and you looked to the back of the room. You felt your memories slowly start to come back as your eyes landed on Tomura. You widened your eyes, and felt tears run down your face. Tomura had his villain costume on, the hand on his face making it harder to see what his face looks like.

He got up and walked towards you. Fear pulsing through you, you kicked and pushed- trying to get out of the chair. Your quirk wasn’t much help, so you felt hopeless. Trying to fight back was your only option right now. Tomura bent over and put his hands on your shoulders. You rapidly shook your head. “Don’t touch me! Get off me!! You lied to me, you lied to me!! You never loved me!! You lied.. you want to kill me!” You screamed hysterically. More tears ran down your face. You weeped, noticing that Tomura hasn’t done anything yet. His pinkies were up like last time, and he didn’t harm you yet.

You sniffled. “Why.. why are you doing this?” You whimpered. He took one hand off your shoulder and carefully took off the plastic hand that was on his face. He was unreadable. Is he regretting what he is doing? Is he angry at you? Or does he simply not care at all and is just waiting for you to stop fighting so he could kill you already? He stands up straight and turns to the other villains. “Leave. We need privacy.” He demanded. They nodded, and with that, the villains walked out and left. Where? You don’t know. He turned back to you and put his hands back on your shoulders. You gulped in fear, feeling your breathing quicken.

“Wh-What do you want, Tomura.” You choked, sniffling. He frowned, and sighed. “(Y/N), I’m doing this for your safety and mine. If I just let you go after telling you who I am, you could’ve easily told the police about your connection with me, and they could use that to their advantage to track me down and arrest me. And we can’t have that, can we?” He stood up straight and walked to the wall to the right.

“And for your safety, if someone saw us talking, they would take the chance of kidnapping you themselves. They would try to get info from you and use you to their advantage.” He turns to look at you. You were still silently crying. You bit your bottom lip in anxiousness, until you heard footsteps from him walking towards you. You widened your eyes and quickly shut them, afraid of what is going to happen next.

You felt him cup your cheek softly with his hand. You flinched, realizing you lost all trust for him. “S-Stop..” You whisper. He frowns. He crossed his arms. “(Y/N). Look at me.” You didn’t comply, and still had your eyes closed. He furrowed his brows, frustrated. He banged his fist on the arm rest next to you, making you jump. “Look at me goddamnit!” He yelled. You looked at him with fear in your eyes. He widened his eyes slightly. He didn’t want to scare you. He just wanted you to understand. He softened his eyes and sighed in frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose and continued looking at you.

“Look. I never lied to you. I still love you, (Y/N). Truly, I do. I meant everything I said in my, err, confession as you may call it. But things are too dangerous right now. I can’t change for you just yet. You understand that right?” You looked down in hopelessness. “I hope you can realize soon enough that what I’m doing is protecting you. Trust me, I won’t let the rest of the villains lay a single hand on you. I’ll treat you with good care.”

He held your chin up with his index finger, and you looked up at him in defeat. He smiled gently. “Alright princess?” --

My first fanfic in a while!! Hope you enjoyed! Hopefully there is more to come ;) this was requested by my amazing friend @crabziee-writez <3!

[grasslandgirl]

oooo i sent it more as a fix prompt but also from one adhdhead to another i’m glad we agree!! thinking about sam and peter study dates

ahhhh fvbjsjvkbjf im so dumb i’m sorry i saw “adhd sam” and my brain just yelled YEAH. RADICAL. and that was it kjdvskfj 

that being said i’ve been haunted by ricky montgomery’s Line Without a Hook + eldonado since yesterday so........ hmmm.... (oh no this got wildly out of hand)

-----------

Peter threw himself wholeheartedly into anything he worked on. It was just how he was built. Peter was either on or he was off, and it was hard to get him to change course once he was en route. Head down, eyes narrowed, his whole body angled down at his computer like if he got his face close enough to the screen, it would start streaming information right to and from his brain. His hair would flop, unnoticed, into his eyes and he would shove his glasses so far up his nose that Sam would worry he was going to bruise his nose. 

All this to say, of course, that study dates were something of an occupational hazard when you were best friends with Peter Maldonado.

And also secretly in love with him.

Well, mostly-secretly. Secretly to Peter, and probably only Peter, because Sam was 90% sure everyone else was in on the secret and knew how hopelessly gone Sam was for his oblivious best friend. Gabi was the only one who ever said anything to him about it, though. So, little victories. 

Finals were looming over their heads like a dark storm cloud. Looming on the horizon, fucking with barometric pressure just enough to make everyone jumpy and nervous. Peter worked well under pressure- which was a good thing, because Sam knew Peter put more pressure on himself than anyone else did- but he would always show up the night before a big exam and demand that Sam help him study. It was so commonplace after seven years of friendship that Sam didn’t question it anymore. Mostly.

There was always that small, hopeful, and nervous voice in the back of his head asking why Peter always studied with Sam when he studied just as well on his own. The only answer he could think of was that Peter knew Sam studied better with him there. But that wasn’t- that couldn’t- Sam always shut that annoying little voice down before it spiraled any further.

It didn’t do anyone any good to overcomplicate things that were objectively very simple. Peter liked routine, they were best friends, Sam was the only one who could talk Peter down from an academics-induced panic attack at 2 in the morning the night before a final exam. 2 + 2 = 4. Simple math. 

Sam was slumped on his back, halfway falling off his bed with his head and shoulders draped over the side of his mattress. The notebook he was supposed to be reviewing was abandoned, sitting on his stomach. Peter was sitting at Sam’s desk, leaned over and scowling at his laptop. 

It was unfair, really, how pretty Peter looked illuminated by the blue-white light of his notes document. Sam had the perfect view of Peter’s upside down profile, all furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw and dark hair that’d had hands run through it too many times. It was late and Sam’s brain was wrung out and exhausted, only able to focus on Peter’s expression as he mouthed whatever obsolete moment in history he was trying to commit to memory, and the looping chorus of a Carly Rae Jepsen song he’d had stuck in his head for the last two hours. 

A big part of being friends with Peter Maldonado was knowing when to draw the line. 

“Pete, dude.” Peter looked up, blinking away the lines of notes Sam could almost see in his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Either we know it or we don’t at this point.”

“You think we should cut our losses?”

“I know you can survive on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, dude, but I can’t.” Sam tapped himself on the forehead. “This baby needs r&r or I can’t fucking function.”

“Right, right. What time is it?”

Sam sat up- an impressive showcase of his abs that Peter didn’t notice, of course- and dug around in his rumpled comforter for his phone. “12:30.”

Peter sighed heavily, tipping his head back against the headrest of Sam’s computer chair. “I should go home.”

“Dude. Just-” Sam was his own worst enemy sometimes- “just spend the night.”

“Yeah? Your moms won’t mind?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they assumed that’s what was happening when you showed up after dinner.”

It was probably just a weird reflection from the computer light on one of Sam’s posters onto Peter’s face. There was no way that Peter was blushing. 

“Anyway,” he continued, shoving his textbook and notes off of his bed instead of looking at Peter, “I’m gonna drive you tomorrow anyway, right? Saves me a trip.”

Peter closed his laptop with a soft click. “Yeah, sure, if it’s not-”

“It’s cool, dude, don’t be weird. Just two bros-”

“Chilling in a hot tub?”

Sam prayed Peter couldn’t see the hot blush he felt rising to his cheeks. Five feet apart cause they’re not gay. “Whatever you want, dude.”

Peter knew Sam was gay. He was the first person Sam had come out to- followed closely by Gabi and his moms. But there was a difference, Sam was sure, to having your best friend be gay versus having your best friend be gay and in love with you. An invisible line in the sand that would shift their relationship forever. Sam didn’t want to test how that shift would happen. Didn’t want to risk losing his best friend on the off chance that he wasn’t alone. 

“Right.” Peter repeated. 

They went to bed in pieces: Sam pulling on an old pair of sweatpants and throwing one to Peter, Peter neatly stacking all his notes on one corner of Sam’s desk, Sam kicking all his schoolwork to the edges of his bedroom floor as opposed to the middle of it, Peter brushing his teeth with the same toothbrush he’d kept in the Ecklund house since they were ten, Sam turning off all the lights, Peter wandering back into his bedroom, Peter’s hair turning to gold and ink in the faint streetlight coming in from the window, the two of them curling up back to back in Sam’s bed just like they always did.

And then it was dark and quiet and all Sam could hear was the faint sound of Peter’s breathing beside him. The warmth from Peter’s back mere inches from Sam’s. They’d fallen asleep next to each other a million times, but Sam still felt electric with the proximity. How easy it would be to just- stretch his legs out and wind his feet with Peter’s, to flip over and press his nose into the soft place where his hairline met the back of his neck, to whisper something hopeful and mortifying into the still night air and hear Peter’s breath catch in silent response.

Sam stayed still, held himself perfectly motionless lest he finally show his hand. And eventually, they both fell asleep.

-------------------------

Peter woke up surrounded by Sam. The pillow he’d pressed his face into smelled like Sam’s hair and the sheets on his bed were the same tacky Star Wars ones he’d been so proud of in the seventh grade and the bed was warm with Sam’s body next to him. For an instant, Peter let himself consider it: waking up next to Sam like this every day. Falling asleep with his arms wrapped around Sam and waking up with his head on his chest. 

He squeezed his eyes shut against the glaring dawn light, and against the daydream that quickly threatened to spin out of control. He could still hear Sam’s sleep heavy breathing behind him.

Slowly, Peter sat up in bed, pushing his hair out of his face and scrounging the nightstand as quietly as he could for his glasses. He allowed himself a single glance at Sam- sleep soft and sprawled out on the bed, his hand inches from where Peter’s shoulder had been, like he’d been reaching out in his sleep- before standing up and grabbing his phone from where he’d left it charging on the desk.

“Sam.” Peter poked his shoulder. “Sam.”

He groaned incoherently, but rolled over, which was a good sign. 

“You have to get up, dude.”

“Breakfast?” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah,” Peter laughed a little, “I’m sure your mom’s making breakfast.”

“Urrgghhh.”

Peter grabbed the clothes he’d left in the corner the night before and pulled an old t shirt out of Sam’s closet. “I’m stealing a shirt.”

“Oh,” Sam said, half sitting up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah- good, okay.”

“I’m gonna go-” Peter gestured weakly towards the door, and beyond it, the bathroom. Sam peered up at him, the light from the window hitting his face in a single pane, like something out of a sun-soaked French movie. Like this was the moment where one of them broke the uncertainty, the silence. Peter could see the scene unfolding in his mind’s eye, like he’d seen it a hundred times. He’d say something like, did you sleep well? And Sam would answer, better with you here, and Peter would oh-so-slowly close the distance and drop his jeans to the floor and Sam would arch up and meet him halfway and the camera would pan away, leaving them both washed in the golden early-morning light. “Bathroom. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Peter said, and closed the bedroom door behind him. 

He splashed water on his face and combed through his hair with his fingers, throwing on yesterday’s jeans and Sam’s t shirt under his sweatshirt and hoping it wasn’t obvious to anyone else how badly Peter wished every morning could be like this. 

He left the bathroom quickly and perched on the edge of Sam’s bed, scrolling through twitter while Sam did his hair in the bathroom. 

Breakfast was quiet and normal and filled with the usual mini-dramas in the Ecklund house. Kara didn’t want PB&J for lunch and one of Sam’s moms left the flat iron on in their bathroom and Leah almost burned the eggs and Sam spent half of breakfast finishing the math homework he’d almost forgotten he had. 

Sam drove them both to school early for the Morning Show, laughing and singing along to his “perfectly composed drive to school playlist,” and the rest of the day went on normally. He took his history test and saw Sam in math class and they sat with Ming and Randall and Phil at lunch. 

But all the while, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. He’d had... feelings for Sam for a while, unquantifiable and nebulous. He’d categorized them all: the way his stomach twisted when Sam smiled at him crookedly, the skipped beat of his heart when Sam slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, how his hands got clammy when he caught Sam watching him out of the corner of his eye, how he always found ways to hangout during and after school. But he’d never dared to name the feeling. Defining it meant- meant he should do something about it. Made it real. 

But that morning, waking up next to Sam, borrowing his t shirt to wear to school, falling asleep next to each other- they were all things they’d done a million times before. Peter’s chest ached with the normalcy, the domesticity of it. 

Peter’s fingers itched to try and piece it all together, his feelings and Sam’s and their history together. String it all together on a corkboard until it made sense. But Peter knew it wouldn’t work. Not without Sam there to see the bigger picture in the first place. It’s why they worked so well together; Peter would gather and organize all the information, but Sam was the one that knew how to put it together, knew how to see the forest from the trees in a way Peter never could on his own. Even if he tried to map out the snarl of feelings in his chest, Peter knew he’d be left with a labyrinth of post-its and red string without Sam there to untangle it for him.

Dramatic irony, he supposed.

Peter caught the bus home, Sam had something for theatre after school, and spent the entire ride with his music turned as high as it would go, trying not to think about Sam as he stared out the window. 

The problem, Peter realized, with being a self-professed movie lover, is that your brain starts to treat life like a movie. He could imagine a dozen different ways his life could spiral out from this moment, a dozen different movie time-lines he could find himself in. The tragedy, where he never tells Sam and lives his entire life in uncertainty. The drama, where he tells Sam and it tears their friendship apart. The tragic love story, where he and Sam are together and happy until they’re not. The comedy, where Sam laughs him off and they go back to their friendship with a tiny crack between them, spackled over with laughter that’s just a little strained. 

The romantic comedy, where everything goes perfect and they ride out into the sunset. 

Life wasn’t like the movies, though, nothing ever went as simple or as straightforward or as cinematic. There isn’t a director behind the camera who can call cut and change the scene halfway through. There aren’t any sweeping cinematic shots with atmospheric indie pop playing in the background.

It was just Peter, and Sam, and the creeping uncertainty hanging between them. 

Right before dinner that night, Peter got a text from Sam.

sam: thanks for the study help last night, felt good about the test today

sam: don’t stress i know youre freaking out about it too

sam: you did great on the test pete i know it

Peter blinked at his phone, at the unspoken I know you hidden inbetween the lines. Sam knew him better than anyone, knew his habits and his worries and his annoying little tendencies. And he was still there. 

And that, Peter realized, said more than anything else.

Love wasn’t a panoramic of a passionate kiss at sunset. It was knowing someone, learning them backwards and forwards, all the good and the bad pieces of them. It was staying, not despite everything, but because of it.

Peter loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

--------------------

The doorbell rang at the end of dinner. Sam rushed to get to the door before his sisters- if he was lucky, it was their batty old neighbor Mrs Gorschtt and she would prattle on for fifteen minutes about her cat, shove a cake into Sam’s hands, and get him out of having to help clean the kitchen.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Mrs Gorschtt standing on the front porch, it was Peter. 

“Hey, dude, what’s up? We don’t have like a math test tomorrow I blanked on, do we?”

“Huh?” Peter blinked at him, “No, no.”

“So, what’s up?” Sam stepped out onto the porch beside Peter, closing the front door behind him. Maybe he could still get out of washing the dinner dishes. 

“Uh- so, the thing is-” Peter muttered, twisting one of the strings from his hoodie between his fingers. Sam’s stomach dropped; something was wrong. Peter was nervous, uncertain about something. He wasn’t looking Sam in the eye, and he had one arm wrapped around his stomach like a shield. His head started spinning with a million different things Peter could be upset about, but the thing Sam kept coming back to- he knew.

Somehow, Peter had finally figured him out. And he was coming to tell Sam- what? That they couldn’t be friends anymore? That Sam had made it weird? 

“Pete-” Sam started, trying to cover his bases, trying to fix this before his best friendship in the world went up in flames.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.” Peter interrupted, finally looking at Sam.

“What?”

“Pete. You’re the only one.”

“I- we’re friends, dude, I’m allowed to have nicknames.” Sam tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, even to his ears.

“I- I know,” Peter’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was staring at Sam like he was a page of history notes he was trying to memorize. “I got your text.”

“Oh, uh okay.”

“Sammy, I uh, I have to say something, and I want you to promise you’ll let me finish.”

Sam’s stomach dropped even further. Here it was. The end of everything. “Right,” he tried to smile at Peter, “sure dude, whatever you need.”

Peter nodded. “You’ve been my best friend since the fifth grade. You know all of my secrets, all the bad things that I don’t tell anyone else. You know that I don’t like orange-flavored things because I had too much orange-flavored medicine as a child and that I stay up too late studying the night before a test and I panic after I finish taking it. You watch movies I recommend, even though you think High School Musical 2 is the best movie ever made, you- god-” Peter scrubs his hands through his hair, clenching his eyes closed briefly- “this would be so much easier if I could just- you can see the big picture. Like with this you could just- take the words, the discrete pieces of data and put them together. Make it cohesive, coherent. I’m not making sense,” he muttered.

“Pete-”

“I don’t want to just spend the night after study dates.” Peter blurted out abruptly. His face froze, like he wasn’t sure what he just said, like he was terrified Sam was going to misunderstand. “I- I mean. I want to do real dates. With you. And spend the night and wear your clothes and have my hoodies smell like you and watch you spin around in the morning show chairs without having to worry about you catching me and I want to see you without gel in your hair and I want to lean against you when we have movie nights and-”

“Pete.”

“Sammy,” Peter said, kind of breathless. “Go on a date with me.”

“Like a study date?” Sam said, also kind of breathless.

“Like a date-date. Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, just- come here-” and then Sam’s hands were on either side of Peter’s face and his fingers were in his hair and Peter’s hands were caught in Sam’s sweater and then-

Peter kissed like he didn’t know all the answers, for once, and he was okay with it. Peter kissed like he was memorizing everything about the moment. Peter kissed like he was planning on replaying it like an old video tape, over and over until the tape wore thin and tore. Peter kissed like he could hear the orchestra playing behind them, like they were in some cheesy made for tv rom com and were about to get their happy ending.

Peter kissed like Sam was his happy ending.

Finally, they broke apart- more to catch their breath than anything else. 

“Hell of a study date,” Sam breathed, unable to stop smiling.

“Shut up.” Peter was smiling, too.

And, leaning back in, Sam did.

[hatsukeii]

hello! can i request a scenario where the reader is a manager along w/ yachi and kageyama and tsukki have like the PHATTEST crush on them but what they didnt kno is that yachi and the reader are dating bc they thought they were just Rlly Good Friends and the reader is vv affectionate? and like how would they react once they found out that theyre dating? IDK IF IT MAKES SENSE IM SO SORRY I THOUGHT ABT THIS AT 3AM HSKDJDD ANYWAYS THANK UU AND IM SORRY AGAIN

OKAY I HAD SO MANY PENDING REQUESTS AND UNFINISHED DRAFTS BUT THIS THIS IS TOO GOOD TO PROCRASTINATE ON ABHAHAH-

And DON’T BE SORRY BEBY, 3am is when our inner Voltaire shows.

Btw if you wanna be tagged in this scenario just comment or pm me!!

You guys seem to be very good friends//Kageyama x Reader x Tsukishima

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: mild swearing

Summary: Tsukishima and Kageyama decide to ask their crush out, not knowing about her own relationship status.

“You’re not asking her out, I am. She said she likes darker hair more when I asked her last week.”

“Back off you Oompa Loompa, she’s gonna be mine by the end of the month. You’re too dumb for her anyways.”

“No way in hell would she want your salty ass.”

“You wanna say that again to my face you little bitch-”

“Hey guys.”

The two boys jumped up in surprise, blushing wildly at your unexpected arrival to the gym.

It’s been about two months since THE incident. You know, the time when the volleyball team decided to play truth or dare at Daichi’s, and both Tsukishima and Kageyama were dared to text their crushes “You are less shitty than everyone else, just saying.” It wasn’t until (Y/N) called Kageyama asking why both him and Tsukishima sent her such a weird text, did the two members of the team find out that they shared a crush with their archenemy. From that day on, the two have been trying even harder to irritate and taunt each other during practice. The both of them were determined to beat the other at confessing their feelings and taking her out. This day was no exception.

“O-oh hi (Y/N), what brings you here? It’s like 7, practice just ended.” Tsukishima questioned, awkwardly scratching his head as he tried his best not to sound like a stuttering idiot.

“Yeah, it’s late, uh- you shou-should ho gome- I MEAN GO HOME.” The blond smirked as the raven haired setter completely stumbled over his own words, slapping a hand to his mouth while his face continued to burn crimson.

The tiny girl in front of them gave the two that godforsaken amazing adorable heart melting smile, chuckling angelically, before explaining. “Ah, I’m actually here to pick Yachi up, she told me she was staying behind to help clean the gym out because I had plans after school. I promised her I would pick her up at 7, would you happen to know where she is?” The two boys looked at each other, before racing to the storage closet, competing to be the one that brings the blond manager to the girl of their dreams. “You could’ve just told me where she was, but okay! Thanks!” (Y/N) yelled after them.

“Jesus Christ you tyrant king, how’d you get here quicker?” Kageyama smugly grinned at Tsukishima as he approached Yachi. “Yachi, (Y/N)’s outside, she said she was picking you up.” The blonde manager’s face lit up, dropping the last volleyball into the basket. “Oh! Oh shit, I have to go now guys, see you!” Kageyama followed Yachi out of the storage closet, purposely shoving Tsukishima back with his shoulder on the way out, earning a scowl. “I got Yachi, you two head home now, stay safe!” “Thank you so much Kageyama, you two stay safe when you leave too!” The shorter manager waved the two boys off, lacing her fingers with Yachi’s as they walked out of the gym. “Tch, let’s see who gets her now shitty glasses. I helped her when she needed it.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, letting out his shit eating smirk as he snickered. “Mhm, ho gome, very good grammar you got there. The only somewhat smart thing you’ve done is get her best friend. Sis probably still thinks you’re stupid.” Kageyama went silent for a moment, before lashing out at the middle blocker, grabbing his collar and shaking him violently. “Oi, we never speak of that again! Ever!” “Whatever you say baby dick. I’m still gonna ask her out to the festival, you’re not gonna stop me.” Tsukishima gave Kageyama a sneer, before packing his stuff and leaving the gym without turning anything off, just to piss Kageyama off. “Annoying ass shittyshima.” 

Throughout the next week, the two boys have tried relentlessly to grab (Y/N)’s attention. From secret love notes, to chocolates in her locker, to a full blown necklace. To say she was intrigued, but unbothered, would be pretty much accurate. “Hm? (Y/N)? Another love note? Who could it be? They’re getting on my nerves....” The shorter manager waved her hands, stuffing the letter back into her locker as she tried to explain to the blonde. “I don’t know who it is, but this is the third day in a row, and there’s chocolates too.” Yachi huffed out, before wrapping an arm around her. “Those scrawny ass boys better not be hitting on you!” (Y/N) chuckled a little bit, before tapping Yachi’s nose. “Even if they were, it wouldn’t matter to me.” The two of them continued to walk down the hallways, gaining occasional stares and glances along the way as they chatted.

Kageyama and Tsukishima watched from their lockers, anticipating her reaction to their love notes and chocolates. “Not even a glance?” “It’s been three days, she’s ought to be the slightest bit curious, no?” They watched as you frantically shoved the letter back into your locker as Yachi stood with her hands on her hips. The blonde then proceeded to wrap an arm around you as you tapped her nose. “Hm, they sure are close aren’t they? (Y/N)’s constantly looking for Yachi, and she always comes and picks her up if she stays until late. They’re so comfortable with each other that they even hold hands.” Tsukishima analysed, pushing his glasses up as he glanced at Kageyama, who was still completely confused with what had just happened. “How are we supposed to get through Yachi? She seems to never approve of anyone that dares confess to (Y/N). You remember Hiroyama from a few months back? He tried confessing, and ended up getting scared away by Yachi. He looked like he was about to piss his pants. He wouldn’t get anywhere near (Y/N) for weeks. I don’t wanna end up like him.” The blue haired setter recalled, slightly nervous about his plan to confess. “You know what? Screw it. I’m gonna go ask her out now.” Tsukishima jogged towards you and Yachi, Kageyama trailing closely behind him. “LIKE HELL ARE YOU ASKING HER OUT BEFORE ME SHITTY GLASSES!”

“Me? You’re asking me?” Tsukishima was now blushing furiously. “I- I just- ye- tch, yeah, I-I’m asking if yo-you wanna b-be my date for the s-summer festival.” Kageyama’s face fell. Oh god no, Tsukishima’s attempt better fail, or I won’t have a chance at all. “Oi, Tsukishima, back off. She’s not going to go with you.” Tsukishima gave his iconic sarcastic smile. “Yachi, maybe you should just let me ask your best friend out? I’ve been pondering over it for weeks, and I’m not about to let this opportunity slip. Maybe you should stop scaring guys away when they confess to her, that way she’ll actually have some form of freedom.” He slightly snarled, cheeks still completely red. Kageyama approached the three. “So, Shittyshima, you got rejected and now you’re salty about it? Told you she doesn’t want you, she’d be much better off going to the festival with me.” “Wha-” “Oh yeah Kageyama? Go back and coddle with Hinata first-” “OI YOU LITTLE BITCH WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME-” “Guys stop.” The two boys stopped their bantering instantly, now embarrassed and flustered. “I’m not going with either of you. I’m going with Yachi.” The blond middle blocker scoffed. “Well you guys seem to be very good friends indeed. Deadass the whole point of the festival is that it’s for people that want to ask someone out, at this point you two should just get married. Plus, Yachi literally scares away anyone that tries to ask you out, maybe she should stop controlling who you’re together with?” Yachi gave (Y/N) a weird look, before they both burst out laughing like madmen. 

“AHDHHDHAHAHAAH YOU REALLY THOUGHT I SCARED THOSE PEOPLE AWAY BECAUSE I DIDN’T APPROVE OF THEM?”

Kageyama raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah. What could it possibly be anyways?”

The two girls continued to cackle.

“TSUKISHIMA, KAGEYAMA, THE ONLY REASON WHY I WON’T GO OUT WITH ANYONE, AND WHY YACHI DOESN’T LET PEOPLE CONFESS TO ME, IS BECAUSE WE’RE DATING!”

What in the name of hell?

“YOU WHAT?” The two boys screamed, eyes now wide with shock.

“Yeah, we’re dating, now back off. You may be my friends, but if you do anything to my dear (Y/N) I won’t hesitate to make you piss your pants!” Yachi puffed out her cheeks, putting her hands on her hips. They continued to stare at them in shock, trying to take in all this new information. “(Y/N), you never told me that you were- that you were lesbian?” (Y/N) laughed heartily at Tsukishima’s question, taking a deep breath, before continuing to cackle. “I’m not lesbian, I’m bisexual, but Yachi’s lesbian. We’ve been dating for an entire year by now! How have you two not noticed at all? Everyone in the volleyball team knows!” The two boys looked to the ground out of embarrassment. “O-oh, I take back all the love letters I gave you, I-I didn’t know.” Kageyama mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. “Ye-yeah same, but you can keep the chocolates.” Tsukishima twirled his earphone jack around his finger in an attempt to calm himself down. “We’ll be going now, see you two later!” The manager yelled, waving them off. “What the hell just happened?” Kageyama whispered. “I think we just got rejected-” “YEAH NO SHIT WE GOT REJECTED SHITTY GLASSES.”

“HINATA!” “Yeah Kageyama-” “WHY DID YOU NEVER TELL ME (Y/N) AND YACHI WERE DATING?” The spiker went silent, before snickering to himself. “So you finally found out.” Kageyama zoomed towards the orange haired boy. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBASS!” “AHAHHA I’M SORRY BAKAGEYAMA! YOU WERE JUST WAY TOO DENSE, I HAD TO SEE WHETHER YOU WOULD FIND OUT EVENTUALLY OR NOT!” “YOU LITTLE SHIT, WHAT THE HELL KIND OF THOUGHT PROCESS IS THAT? I TALKED ABOUT CONFESSING SO MANY TIMES AND YOU NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT INFORMING ME OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP?”

“Yamaguchi.” “Hm, Tsukki, what’s up?” Tsukishima’s face darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me (Y/N) was taken?” Yamaguchi shrunk away from the blond’s tall figure. “I thou-thought you knew already? It was super obvious!” The taller boy sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I made a complete fool of myself because I didn’t know she was dating Yachi.” Yamaguchi’s mouth hung open. “Don’t tell me-” “Yes, I tried to ask her out.” “TSUKKI I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!” “YEAH WELL YOU REALLY THOUGHT I WOULD LISTEN TO SOMEONE THAT TOLD ME NOT TO ASK MY CRUSH OUT WITH NO APPARENT REASON?”

From afar, the two girls observed amusedly. “Hm, I wonder how Hinata’s gonna die? He was the first one to find out about us.” Kageyama was still chasing Hinata around wildly, trying to grab at his club tee. “I honestly wonder what Tsukishima’s gonna do to Yamaguchi. Poor guy. Tsukishima had his headphones on as he went through his phone, his ears still red from bringing up the issue. Yamaguchi was next to him, trying to calm him down, but to no avail. “Ahh, out of everyone, I least expected these two to not realise early on. I thought Tsukishima was good at reading people.” You stated to Yachi, laughing a bit. “I know right? I swear, that was hilarious. Did you see his face? Mans looked like that strawberry on that cake he had for lunch this afternoon! God, I would literally pay to see that face again.”

I guess the two boys now know not to hit on (Y/N) ever again.

Yesss I love this request so much oh my god thank you-

[dumbofassjoey]

POWERSLIDE

WHO: @dumbofassjoey​ & @angel-alexanderr (mentions of frankie, jake and marley)

WHERE: puckerman household

WHEN: friday, december 4th

WHAT: Joey goes over to the Puckerman household to apologize to Xan, ends up having dinner with the Puckermans and then talks to Xan.

JOEY: Joey didn’t really expect for this night to turn out the way that it did, but for some reason, it did. After two weeks of being suspended and grounded, Joey was finally free (at least to some extent, he still had a curfew), so he decided to go over to the Puckerman’s household, somewhere he was familiar with and had been tons of times, not only with Frankie, but also Xan. The reason he was there was pretty obvious, he wanted to apologize to Xan – the two weren’t on best terms right now and Joey was kind of tired of it. He was tired of being angry and mad at people, so he decided he should change that. As soon as he arrived there, he knocked on the door and was hoping for Xan to open, but was surprised when he saw Marley on the other side. The next thing he knew, he had been invited to have dinner with the Puckerman family – Joey felt a little weird and he mostly talked to Frankie and Marley, sharing looks with Jake and Xan from time to time.

Once everyone was done with dinner, Joey and Xan made their way upstairs to Xan’s room – another place Joey was familiar with, but it was a place that Joey had grown to like and it was for the best if they talked there. Once they were alone, Joey turned around to look at Xan with a small smile, before nodding his head slowly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come over for dinner, I just… wanted to talk to you. But at least, your mom is nice! And so is your dad, but it didn’t seem like he really wanted me here.” He said with a small nod. “I’m sorry.” He just blurted out, before shrugging his shoulders – he didn’t know what else to say.

XAN: Xan wasn’t normally the biggest fan of family dinners. He felt like his mother purposefully put extra food on his plate. Maybe it was his own anxiety, but he felt like everyone around him was watching him take every bite. Worse, lately family dinners just reminded him that in a few months they’d be happening without Frankie. But tonight was going pretty well so far, the mood was pretty light. Xan was helping his dad set the table when there was a knock on the door. Seconds later, Joey was suddenly part of a Puckerman family dinner. Xan mostly spent the meal stuffing his face to avoid talking to Joey, making accidental eye contact with him, and getting up to use the bathroom (just to scream).

After dinner Xan and Joey walked into Xan’s room. He didn’t really care about his mom’s open door policy...he knew he could get away with shutting his door. She probably was oblivious to the sexual tension between the two boys. Xan listened to Joey’s words with raised eyebrows. “Yeah my dad made me explain what happened between us to him. He’s just...bad at not being weird about stuff like-“ Xan started to explain while rolling his eyes. He was cut off by Joey apologizing. Xan scoffed. “You’re gonna have to refresh my memory on what you’re apologizing about.” He teased. It had been some time since their fight...and even though they had a MULTITUDE of weird interactions since then, he figured that was the main thing Joey was saying sorry about. He sat down in his bed and patted the space beside him for Joey to sit too.

JOEY: Once Xan explained that his dad knew about the two of them, Joey nodded his head slowly, but he didn’t expect for Xan to talk to him about the two of them anyone, especially not his dad – Joey couldn’t remember a time where he had talked about any of his dads about boy problems, but there was a first time for everything. Once he saw Xan sitting down on the bed, Joey looked at him for a while before deciding to sit next to him, trying to organize his thoughts on what to say next. “About the wedding… And about everything that happened after the wedding.” Joey said with a sigh – he should have apologized for this earlier, but the two had sort of avoided each other for a while after the wedding and their interactions were sort of weird after it, so of course Joey didn’t apologize earlier. “I just miss being with you, I guess. I don’t know, it’s kind of weird to think about it. At first we hated each other but now I miss talking to you.” He said with a small chuckle, before he was looking over at Xan. It was true, Joey did miss talking to Xan almost every day, even if most of the times they were teasing each other about the glee club or on who was the most talented out of the two of them – but now, after two years of teasing, it felt like things had changed. “It’s okay if you don’t forgive me, I just really needed to apologize. I haven’t felt like myself for a while now, but I’m trying to make up for what I did… To everyone, you know?”

XAN : Xan didn’t really know what he expected when he invited Joey to his room. It was the same thing for him...he really missed be around Joey. He had talked to Finn about it and even sang songs about. Heck...even when he rehearsed All I Do with the rest of the warblers it was hard to not picture Joey. So when Joey apologized, something just clicked for Xan. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me...because I’m about to be really cheesy and honest.” He admitted. Xan took a deep breath. “I think part of what made me so angry at the wedding was...I don’t know, the fact that I really like who you’re becoming. And also who we are when we’re not at each other’s throats. We’ve grown a lot since we first met, I think. But I saw annoying freshman year Joey that night and it made me mad cuz I really like who you are now.” He rambled. “I want to...” he paused before looking down at legs. He couldn’t do it. “Nevermind, Im being dumb.” He said, counting all the ways this could go wrong.

JOEY: When Xan spoke, Joey raised an eyebrow at the other – he wasn’t sure about what he was talking about, but the worst part was that he didn’t know what Xan was going to say. He didn’t know what to expect what was to come from Xan being honest; he didn’t know if he was about to be mean or not, but it didn’t seem like it. As he looked over at him, he nodded his head slowly. “Okay… Just say it.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, before bring his hands together and looking down at them. Whatever he had to say couldn’t be that bad, right? As he heard him talk, Joey nodded his head slowly, letting out a few chuckles at what he was saying – it was true, Joey had changed a lot since freshman year and so had Xan. It was kind of surprising to hear, especially since Joey didn’t believe that could change that much, but apparently he had and so had Xan – and they were better people now because they had changed. “I just really don’t know why I got drunk like that… I guess I was just nervous about the whole Darcy situation and I ended up being caught anyway. And I almost lost someone I really like because of it.” He said, turning his head to look at Xan, raising an eyebrow when he stopped talking. “C’mon, you have to tell me now… You can’t just leave me like that.” He said, before taking Xan’s hand. “What is it?”

XAN: Looked over to Joey as he grabbed his hand. Xan’s foot started to tap lightly beneath him as he charged himself up to speak. “I don’t want to hook up anymore.” He said firmly. He let that sink in for a moment before talking again. “I actually like you as more than a fuckbuddy and until we figure that out...I think it will be too messy for me.” He looked at Joey with expectant eyes. This would be the moment where he found out if everything he had been stressing over was mutual.

JOEY: Those were probably the last words Joey wanted to hear, but luckily he heard what Xan had to say until the end - and he was not disappointed to what he had to say. "Oh." Joey said with a small smile forming on his lips, before he looked down at his legs for a few moments. He really didn't know what to say to stuff like these, he couldn't remember the last time he was in a relationship or had feelings for someone. "Sorry, I just don't really know what to say... I'm really not used to talking about feelings with anyone because, you know... I just sleep with them. But I like you too." He said with a small nod. "I know I do, because I'm never sure about a lot of things... I'm not even sure if I can trust my own fish, I'm pretty sure he's smoking again. But I know that I like you." He nodded.

XAN: Xan hung on to every word Joey said next. He had to actively convince himself that he was doing the wrong thing in the brief pause after Joey’s reaction. He nodded gently as he heard the other boy talk, fully ready to backtrack on what he just said...until Joey said he liked Xan too. “Really?” He said with a little smile. Xan and Joey were vulnerable with each other physically...but this was the first time Xan could remember them doing it with their words. “Geez I thought this was gonna end up really awkward...but I can work with that.” Xan said while gripping Joey’s hand.

JOEY: Joey didn't know if he was ready for a relationship, mostly because he wasn't sure how one worked either way. But of course he was willing to try, especially since he liked being with Xan a lot; so would it really hurt to try being in a relationship with Xan? As he smiled over at the other, Joey nodded his head before moving forward so he could give Xan a small kiss. "I'm glad that it isn't awkward... But you should know that I have no idea what to do now... I'm really not used to doing something like this, but I don't want to ruin it. I really didn't like being mad at you."(edited)

XAN: Xan couldn’t resist returning Joey’s kiss. He didn’t really know what it took to be in a relationship either. Just like Joey, Xan’s experience had been limited to hookups with either Joey or gay warbler groupies. He was glad there was a possibility of something more. “I mean...we can figure out. We don’t have to have to like move in together or buy a dog. I just want to go on dates with you and pick you up after school for fully clothes activities.” He added. “I missed kissing you by the way....”

JOEY: Letting out a small chuckle, Joey nodded his head as he agreed to what Xan was saying. However, he couldn't stop thinking about what everyone's reactions would be once they found out that Joey was actually dating one of New Directions' competitors, but he figured that would be a problem for later. "Now I kind of want a dog though..." He said, thinking about it, before smiling over at Xan. "But that sounds nice! And I did miss kissing you too. And I missed your room." He said with a chuckle, moving in closer for another kiss

XAN : Xan laughed at the idea of actually being dog dads with Joey. The thought was just way too silly for him, and he ended up laughing right back at Joey. It was nice to be kissing him again. It almost felt like everything was finally feeling like normal between them. As they began to make out, Xan lightly tapped Joey's shoulder. "There's like a 10% chance my mom is listening outside the door...so let's cool it for now." He laughed. The last thing he needed was to get walked in on the night of a family dinner.

JOEY: As they started to make out, Joey was happy that everything was okay between the two of them now. Sure, they still had some things to work out, but everything seemed to be going on the right path. As Xan patted him on his shoulder to stop kissing, Joey let out a small chuckle at what he said next, before shaking his head slowly. "Okay, okay, that's fair... Well, listen, at least we already went through that phase of meeting each other's parents, right? At least I think your mom likes me and your dad... I guess I'll just have to show up at your zumba class again so he likes me again." He said with a chuckle. "Can we at least cuddle?"

XAN: Xan tilted his head in a mix of agreement and surprise. That was definitely fair. Knowing each others parents would make that bit a little bit less awkward. "I'm pretty sure your dads like me too right? I'm hella charming and they were both warbler so..." Xan teased. He was sure if given the opportunity he and Blaine could could talk for hours about Warbler history. Xan gave Joey a nod and fell back onto the bed beside him, snuggling up close to him. "This is nice." He said gently.

JOEY: "Sometimes it's weird to think about that I'm the only person in my family that hasn't gone to Dalton... Besides my grandpa, I guess." Joey said with a small shrug, before he was snuggling Xan - it felt nice, but it was weird at the same time. Not that he was going to complain about it, he was thankful that he had figured things out with Xan before they completly stopped talking, it was just something Joey had to get used to. "It is... Feels kind of weird though, we're usually naked when we do this." He said with a chuckle.

XAN: Xan smirked to himself. He couldn’t even imagine Joey in a stuffy little dalton uniform. “I don’t think we would have ended up here if you were were a Dalton kid. No offense but in your case distance definitely made the heart grow fonder.” He teased. Xan laughed at Joey’s joke. Xan didn’t know if weird was the word he would use. “Once my mom knows about us we’re gonna be naked a lot less....at least in my room” he pointed out.

JOEY: "I look better in the Cheerios' uniform either way, so it's all good. Don't need to worry about that, I'm not going to Dalton anytime soon." Joey said with a small chuckle, before shrugging his shoulders and closing his eyes as he cuddled Xan. Once he heard Xan talk about his mom, he opened his eyes as he thought about it for a little. "Right... Well, what exactly are we though? Like, are we dating? Did this dinner count as a date? Does cuddling you like this count like a date? I'm just confused, that's all." He said with a small sigh.

XAN: Xan bit his lip when Joey asked to define what they were doing. He wanted to be Joey’s boyfriend...he just didn’t know if it was too soon for that. He decided to deflect the question instead of racking his brain for answers. He whispered in Joey’s ear, “I want whatever you want.” He kissed Joey’s neck gently. “But....i wouldn’t count dinner with my parents and sister as a date.” He joked.

JOEY: As he waited for Xan's answer, Joey sighed again as he thought even more about it. Maybe it was too soon to talk about all of this and maybe he shouldn't have asked, especially since Xan was taking too long to answer. As he heard the other whisper in his ear, Joey let out a small chuckle as he shrugged his shoulders. "I kind of want pancakes..." He said with a smile. "But listen, we can talk about this some other time, you know? Go on a couple of dates, you can buy me food and then we'll talk about it... Sounds good?" He asked.

XAN: Xan buried his head into his pillow to hide his laughter. Of course Joey wanted pancakes. He didn't feel to insecure about Joey not chomping at the bit to be with him. He figured it wouldn't be too long before things were official. "Sounds good." Xan said with a little bit of a nod. "Are you down to stop talking and just makeout now? I wanna get some kisses in before you leave."

JOEY: "Good, good... But just so you know, I can't have dates in Breadstix because I've been banned from there since sophomore year... But there are other places we can go." He said with a small chuckle, before nodding his head at the other's suggestion. He knew that the kisses was the best thing that he was going to get that night, but he wasn't complaining. "I'm always down for making out." He said, before pulling Xan into a kiss.

THE END.

[girlwithshipsshitshow]

Part 11

Misaki: (Runs hands through his hair) Sorry Takahiro, I was going to call you, but i've been a little preoccupied with my fiance here..

Takahiro: I had to hear it from this guy (Taps Isaka's chest) Luckily he didn't sound worried so...

Takahiro, Isaka: Wait did you just say Fiance?

Misaki: Oh yeah, we got engaged saturday.

Isaka: (Walks over to Usagi, salps usagi on the shoulder who groans in pain) Congrats man, you finally asked him!

Usagi: (Raspy voice) Uh, actually Misaki asked me, and please don't hit me I just has surgery.

Takahiro: Are you okay Usagi-san?

Usagi: I'm fine

Takahiro: (Walks over to Misaki and Usagi) So, you guys are getting married?

Misaki: Yes, Yeah we are.

Takahiro: We'll congrats.

Misaki: Yeah, you don't seem so happy about it.

Takahiro: I haven't even gotten used to the idea of you guys dating and now you're engaged?

Misaki: Yeah, we'll my plan was to propose after we told you and before I graduated, so I don't really care if you've gotten used to it, we've been dating for years without you knowing and now that you know we can fully be happy, and if i'm sorry if you can't get on board.

Takahiro: I can, I just need time to processes all this.

Misaki: We'll right now, we need to focus on Usagi, so this conversation isn't happening right now.

Takahiro: (Nods walks over to the sofa and sits down beside Aikawa).

Isaka: Well I'm happy for you. (Smiles awkwardly, and goes to sit on the sofa).

(Nurse Rose walks in and smiles at Aikawa causing her to blush, she sits on the arm of the sofa causing her to blush more, her heart was beating out of her chest, hopefully no one could hear it.)

Nurse rose: Looks like we have a full house.

Misaki: Yeah, my brother Takahiro is beside Aikawa, and beside him is the senior manager at the publishing company where Usagi's work is published, his name is Isaka.

Takahiro, Isaka: Hello.

Nurse Rose: So how is everyone doing? Usagi the cafe is about to close so if you want anything to eat you should place and order now, otherwise I can get you some liquid broth and tea from up here.

Usagi: I'll just take whatever's up here.

Nurse Rose: Sure, the four of you should probably go grab some food.

Misaki: I want to stay here

Usagi: No, you need to eat.

Misaki: (Sighs)

Usagi: I'll be fine for an hour, I promise.

Isaka: (Stands up, walks over to Misaki, Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder), Come on Misaki, he'll be okay.

Misaki: (Stands up) Okay (Softly places hand on Usagi's cheek and and leans down to kiss him, he softly whispers "I love you" against his lips, before giving him another kiss.

Nurse Rose: Okay, so I can take you guys up to the cafe, (confused look) It's on the fivthteen floor for some reason, never understood that, shall we go everyone?

Misaki, Isaka, Takahiro, and Aikawa: (All follow Nurse rose out of the room, and onto the elevator).

Nurse Rose: Alright fun ride! I'm on my break before going into my night shift, do you guys mind if I eat with you?

Misaki: (gently nudges Aikawa)

Aikawa: (Slants eyebrows and mouths "what")

Misaki: (Nods at her)

Aikawa: Um, Nurse Rose?

Nurse Rose: (Smiles) I'm on break, you can just call me Rose.

Aikawa: (Blushes). Um you can join us for dinner.

Nurse Rose: Oh, that's cool! Thanks. I want to get to know you more.

Aikawa: (Clears throat) Uh, a- all- all of us.

(Elevator dings, they all get off following nurse rose to the cafe, They all get a large plate of shrimp tempura to share, and chicken broth, options were limited, since it was late and the cafe would be closing soon. Isaka, and Takahiro followed Nurse Rose to a table in the far corner of the restaurant, while Misaki and Aikawa trailed behind.

Aikawa: When she said she wants to get to know you, she meant all of us right?

Misaki: (Laughs) No, she wants to get to know YOU.

Aikawa: What does that mean?

Misaki: It means she likes you.

Aikawa: So you're engaged and suddenly you're the relationships expert? Isn't Usagi your first relationship?

Misaki: (Scuffs) And how many relationships have you been in?

(They approach the table, Nurse rose grins at Aikawa)

Misaki: See she's smiling at you.

Aikawa: No, she's Being friendly

Nurse Rose: Aikawa, I saved you a seat. (Pats the seat)

Misaki: See, (Walks over and sits beside Isaka.

Isaka: CHIBI!! (Throws arms around Misaki)

Misaki: What!?

Isaka: What's happening, how are you handling this?

Misaki: (Takes a bite of the shrimp). As well as I can be

Isaka: Good, so tell me , what's going on with those two?

(Across the table)

Rose: So how long have you known Akihiko?

Aikawa: Oh many years, he's a pain in the ass, but he's a good guys, he's like my brother.

Rose: So you've never had any sort of feelings for him?

Aikawa: (Snorts) Oh god no! He's never been into girls and the one person he's "loved" before Misaki didn't feel that way about him. Misaki's the love of his life.

Rose: (Touches Aikawa's hand) And what about you?

Aikawa: (Blushes) What about me?

Rose: (Chuckles) You ever been in love.

Aikawa: I'm in love with my Job.

Rose: Ah, one of those people.

Aikawa: One of what people?

Rose: Your life is your job and you never dedicate anytime to yourself, or anything else.

Aikawa: That-

Rose: Not true?

Aikwawa: (blushes) I need to make some time for myself?

Rose: How about tomorrow?

Aikawa: Tomorrow?

Rose: I get off at 5, we can get dinner?

Aikawa: I-

Isaka, Misaki: SAY YES!

Rose: (laughs)

Aikawa: Um, Yes!

Rose: Okay, cool. Um can I get your number?

Aikawa: Oh, um sure. (takes phone out of pocket, the two exchange numbers), Um you can call me Eri.

Isaka: Whoa! You never let anyone call you by your first name.

Aikawa: Isaka, hush.

Rose: (Laughs, we should probably head back, Im sure Akihiko is hungry, and it's almost seven so visiting hours are almost over, everyone has to head home. Except you Misaki, legally you can stay.

Isaka: What, why does he get to stay.

Rose: (Raises eyebrows),Misaki's his fiance.Don't worry the rest of you can come back at six am. Anyway we should get going, you have thirty minutes to say goodnight to your friend, and Misaki I can bring some sheets and a warm cover up so you can fix up the sofa, it pulls out into a bed.

Misaki: Thank you Nurse Rose.

(Misaki sat with his arms crossed and a foot up in the chair,he watched as Nurse rose fixed the sofa for him,she was smiling and humming, apparently she was happy about her date with Aikaw,it was around seven-thirty and everyone had already left, Usagi flipped through the tv channels and sipped on a third cup of tea, his seaced IV bag had been replaced when they came back upstairs and he had his second round of antibiotics, his vitals were still looking good, and he would have labs drawn around three in the morning, his bandages had been replaced and his surgery area looked good, other than the labs, and nurse rose checking on them throughout the night they should be good).

Misaki: You didn't have to make up the sofa, I could've done it by myself.

Nurse Rose: That's okay. It's my job.

Usagi: Misaki, relax let someone do something for you for once, plus don't you have an exam to study for? maybe do that for an hour huh?

Misaki: Fine. (Walks over to table near the window, grabs laptop, walks back over to Usagi and starts to work on study guide.

Usagi: Is this for German?

Misaki: Uh, Yeah.

Usagi: How do you feel about that?

Misaki: Good.

Usagi: Your grades are still passing?

Misaki: Ugh, yes Usagi, god you're in the hospital and you're still nagging me?

Usagi: (Reaches hand out) I just want you to graduate, you've worked so hard.

Misaki: (Smiles, takes his hand) I know, thank you.

Nurse rose: (Sits on the armchair of the sofa, she smiles at them). Do you Guys always banter like this?

Misaki: (Chuckles) Yeah kinda our thing.

Nurse Rose: So how long have you guys been together?

Usagi: (Moves bed up): Um, almost five years.

Nurse rose: How did you meet.

Misaki: He used to be my tutor, and was in love with my brother.

Nurse Rose: Really?

Usagi: Yeah, Kinda a long story.

Nurse Rose: And that doesn't make it weird.

Misaki: Um, there were times early in our relationship when I was worried he was still in love with him but-

Usagi: His brother means a lot to me, but Misaki's the love of my life, I love him so fucking much, I'll never love anyone as much as Misaki, he's my everything.

Nurse Rose: Wow, That's so sweet.

Misaki: (Sobbing) Usagi, stop saying stuff like that, I need to study.

Usagi: (Smirks) You already know that's how i feel about you, I say it to you all the time.

Misaki: Yeah, but i'm studyyinngggg.

Usagi: (Laughs). Get back to studying.

Misaki: You know i feel the same way about you right baby?

Usagi: Ahh, did you just call me baby? Do it again.

Misaki: Mmmhm, can't studying, watch tv or somthing.

Nurse Rose: Well (stands).If You need anything, you know how to get ahold of me.

Usagi: Yes, thank you.

Nurse Rose: (Exits).

(Misaki slams laptop and places it on the table in front of Usagi before pushing it out of the way, surprising him).

Usagi: Misaki, what are you doing? because we can't have sex if that's what you're trying to do. I mean I really want to, but we can't.

Misaki: No, I know that, but I have news.

Usagi: What news makes you act like THAT.

Misaki: Nurse Rose and Aikawa have a date tomorrow!

Usagi: Awe good for them.

Misaki: Why aren't you more Excited!

Usagi: I'll be more excited once you pass the test!

Misaki: (Grabs laptop) You're no fun.

Usagi: I-

Misaki: You just want me to graduate BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH!

Usagi: Misaki

Misaki: I'm studying, I'm studying.

Misaki: Done, are you happy? (he looked beside him, it was ten, Usagi was out cold, he placed his laptop on the table, turned the lights off, and changed the channel to some dumb sitcom that would give him a good laugh and walked back over to Usagi, he softly ran his fingers through his soft grey hair, and leaned down softy giving him a kiss on the lips). Goodnight my love (He walked over the the sofa and sighed as he crawled under the covers, it felt weird not cuddling next to Usagi, they've been doing it a lot more recently and he knew he would have a hard time sleeping not wrapped in Usagi's arms, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.