#listen i have gotten much better about bugs. to the point where i can reasonably handle a bug encounter i think without a catastrophe

[opportunity-strikes]

me encountering a post with a picture of a big high res spider in it: i must not fear. fear is the mind killer. fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. i will face my fear. i will permit it to pass over me and through me. and when it has gone past i will turn the inner eye to see its path. where the fear has gone there will be nothing. only i will remain

[parkitaco]

byler 50 for the ask game i need this for reasons

Will Byers is good with secrets.

He hasn't had much of a choice, honestly, given the types of secrets he has. When he was younger, his biggest secret was liking boys. Then it was liking one boy, specifically, and then it was monsters and hell dimensions and government-issued secrets that he legally wasn't allowed to tell anyone. He'd never admit this, but those secrets were far easier to keep than the first two. He’s spent a good portion of his days learning how to keep quiet, how to omit information when necessary, how to keep his lies, on the rare occasions that he needs them, simple and believable.

(Okay, there had been one exception to the simple and believable thing, last year in that godforsaken van, but that was an outlier, okay? He’d been overtired and probably contact high and Mike had been freaking the fuck out, so he’d- he’d gone a little overboard with that one. Whatever. Everything turned out fine in the end - better than fine, even.)

Mike Wheeler, on the other hand, is not so good at keeping secrets. 

Will chalks most of this up to his boyfriend’s general lack of a filter - Mike has never shied away from saying what he’s thinking, and a lot of the time, what he’s thinking happens to be terribly incriminating. He knows that Mike has had to keep secrets too - secrets that, as it turns out, line up almost exactly with the ones Will’s been keeping. And to his credit, Mike had managed to keep most of those for a decent amount of time, but the ways in which he kept them were significantly- well, there was a lot less delicacy, in Mike’s case. 

Will doesn’t blame him for any of it, of course, because he knows how Mike’s brain works and knows that he doesn’t mean any harm, but it does make being his boyfriend - more specifically, his secret boyfriend - a bit tricky.

Like right now, for instance. They’re sitting in the basement with the rest of the Party, and Mike’s all curled up against Will’s side in an entirely incriminating manner. He’s also wearing Will’s sweater, which he could maybe have gotten away with under normal circumstances, but throw in the fact that this is the third time this week that he’s showed up in public wearing Will’s clothes, and- well, Will’s pretty sure the Party’s onto them at this point anyway.

“Mike, what do you think?” Dustin asks, and Mike stirs against Will’s side, blinking blearily at him.

“About what?” he asks absently, shifting and wriggling closer to Will, who is barely suppressing an eye roll.

Lucas looks like he’s on the verge of laughter. “Dude, were you listening at all? We’re trying to decide what movie to watch.”

“Oh,” Mike hums, and Will can feel the sound from where Mike’s chest is tucked up against his arm. “Uh, whatever you guys want, I don’t care.”

At this, the entire Party levels him with matching looks of concern - even Will glances down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“You don’t care,” Max repeats slowly, staring at him like he’s sprouted a second head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not have an opinion on something.”

Mike’s face flushes adorably red, and he looks like he’s seconds away from hiding his face away against Will’s shoulder, which would probably seal their fate as the most obvious couple of all time. Will elbows him, bugging his eyes out, and Mike clears his throat quickly as he sits up a little straighter, less like he’s curling as close to Will as he can get, which was, of course, exactly what he was doing. It’s still not- an entirely platonic position, with Mike’s thigh still pressed flush against Will’s and his fingers brushing Will’s where his hand rests on his knee, like he’s fighting the urge to thread their fingers together, but it’s- well, it’s a slight improvement. Even if Will’s side is now upsettingly cold where Mike was just leaned up against it. 

“I’m, uh,” Mike starts, and Will immediately thinks oh, no, “I’m focused on more important things.”

Will resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. 

“What sort of important things?” El asks, looking entirely amused, and Will glares at her, willing her to stop talking.

“Um,” Mike says, looking more flustered by the moment. “You know. I was thinking about- world peace. College applications. The future. My history project due on Monday. How to get my Spanish grade up. The SATs. What to do about-”

“Okay,” Will cuts in, sensing an onslaught of true Mike Wheeler word vomit brewing, and he reaches over with one hand to clamp his palm over Mike’s mouth. “We get it, Mike.”

Mike looks, for all intents and purposes, entirely relieved at the interruption, and he slumps back against Will’s side, because clearly he’s learned nothing from the past few minutes. “We should watch Star Wars,” he says against Will’s palm, the sound muffled from the contact, and it’s all Will can do to repress the shudder that runs through him at the feeling of Mike’s lips moving against his palm. 

He must see the expression on Will’s face, or something, because all at once a gleeful glint appears in Mike’s eyes, and he presses his lips more flush against Will’s hand, kissing it firmly, because clearly he’s trying to give Will a heart attack.

Thankfully, the rest of the Party doesn’t seem to notice, having gone back to squabbling over movie options as soon as Mike stopped talking, and for once in his life Will is grateful for his friends’ short attention spans. Even so, he retracts his hand, sending Mike a burning glare that is probably entirely undercut by the blush in his cheeks, and Mike grins proudly to himself, turning to face the screen as it flickers to life. His leg presses against Will’s, firm and purposeful, and Will allows himself to be a little bit stupid about it when he presses back, biting his lip to hide a smile.

Mike’s pinky finger links through his, and Will forgets to worry.

It’s only later, when they’re standing in the kitchen together after the Party leaves, throwing out the last of the trash from downstairs and placing the popcorn bowl in the sink, that Will decides to make fun.

“I can’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head good-naturedly as he wets a sponge and begins scrubbing at the stubborn butter stains on the inside of the popcorn bowl. “Your Spanish grade, Mike, really?”

“Hey, I was doing my best!” Mike yelps, shoving the empty Dorito bag onto top of the already-full garbage can and walking over to stand beside Will at the sink. “You were no help.”

“I wasn’t the problem,” Will murmurs, smirking and not looking up from the bowl. 

Mike glances down, watching him scrub at it. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, reaching over to tug the sponge out of Will’s hand, and Will gives him a look even as his fingers go slack and he turns to face Mike, one hip pressed against the counter. “And don’t you want to know what I was actually thinking about?”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that it was-”

“I was thinking about you,” Mike interrupts before Will can finish being sarcastic, dropping the sponge unceremoniously on the counter and twisting around to mirror Will’s position, hand pressing against the top of Will’s against the counter.

Will presses down a smile. “You don’t say.”

“I was thinking,” Mike continues, not noticing Will’s facetious tone, or maybe he just doesn’t care, which is probably more likely, “about what it would be like to not think twice about sitting next to you on movie nights, and I was thinking about how much I like cuddling with you on the couch and how I want to do that all the time, and I was thinking- that I love you, basically.”

It’s nothing Will hasn’t heard from Mike before, but his face flushes anyway, and he shifts a little closer, the hand that’s not gripping the counter rising up to cup the side of Mike’s neck. “I love you too,” he says. “And- we will get to do those things. Eventually. Just- not right now.”

“Not right now,” Mike agrees, bobbing his head, because really, the whole secret thing had mostly been Mike’s idea in the first place. It’s almost funny, how in the beginning, Mike was the scared one who wanted to keep them a secret, and Will who willingly obliged, maybe a little selfishly, because he wanted Mike Wheeler all to himself for a little while, but this whole time, Will is the one who’s been better at hiding. Mike’s ready to stop hiding now, probably, if this conversation is any indication - almost, anyway. They’ll get there soon. Plus, the Party definitely already knows, so that takes some of the pressure off.

“You’re so pretty,” Mike murmurs, tilting his forehead to press against Will’s, and Will’s flush deepens, a pleased smile spreading across his face. “Have I told you that?”

“Yes,” Will laughs, as Mike’s free arm wraps around his waist and tugs him in closer, chests bumping.

“Oh,” Mike says, grinning teasingly, “Well, have I also told you that you’re my favorite person ever? And that you’re the smartest and bravest person I know, and that I’m so lucky to have you, and that-”

“Okay,” Will says for the second time tonight, laughing quietly, and he brings up the hand that’s been pressed against the counter and presses his fingertips against Mike’s lips gently. “I appreciate it, Mike, I really do, but I kind of really need you to shut up right now.”

“Why?” Mike asks around his fingers, feigning a pout, and Will grins as he slips his hand away from Mike’s face to cup the back of his neck instead.

“So I can do this,” Will murmurs, and tugs him in sharply, pressing their lips together firmly, and whatever fake-complaint Mike had locked and loaded seems to vanish instantly, his grip on Will loose and relaxed as he smiles into the kiss. He tastes sweet, like buttered popcorn and candy, these moments always made a little more special by the fact that they don’t get very many of them. Will would like to kiss Mike Wheeler more often that he does, maybe, like, all the time, actually, and the possibility that he could actually have that sometime soon has him smiling against Mike’s mouth and curling a hand through his hair, gentle and loving and sweet.

“You know,” Mike says against his mouth, pulling back a little, “If you had just said so, I would have stopped talking way sooner-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Will interrupts, hazy and kissed red and needing to be kissed again immediately. “Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

“Okay,” Mike says, and when Will goes in for another kiss, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

[jakowskis]

im SO pissed i didnt listen to believe for a fucking year bc i heard bad things about it. im never listening to anyone else's opinions again cuz THAT WAS BRILLIANT. THAT WAS EVERYTHING I WANT OUT OF TORCHWOOD i mean it was still a bit shit highkey but it was EXACTLY what i want out of this garbage show. sooo fucking season one core (aka my fav) all sorts of dark horrific connotations and unhealthy dynamics but no emotional weight or responsibility xD once again i cannot tell if the writer was even fucking AWARE of a lot of the things he was implying but what i interpreted as being implied is making me fucking tear up the floorboards im. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

that was so cynical and bitter and awful and miserable and edgy and shitty ITS EVERYTHING I WANTED. i love torchwood being goofy i do but what draws me into the show and the reason it's become one of my most, uh, aggressive hyperfixations ever (which is ridic btw) is cuz its FUCKED UP AND UNHAPPY and that? was fuuuuucked. obsessed.

cult leader jack cult leader jack cult leader jack U DONT UNDERSTAND IT MAKES ME RABID and they ran with it i. stick figure violence stick figure violence. feeling rabid. AND HIS FUCKING SPEECH AT THE END. DOES HE KNOW??? hes so fucking deluded I LOVE IT. ITS FASCINATING he thinks hes good.... he thinks hes good... hes aware n he feels responsible and yet he doesnt SEE he doesnt see he thinks hes doing his best. NOOO it had the be intentional literally "jack tell us what that was about" "later lol" "sure yeah always later" and then hes like "YOU HAVE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY" GRRR JACK. JACK. also faith n believing.... ianto's trust. ianto's trust. you believe me like a god FUCK MY LIFEEEEEEEEEEE

jack always being five steps ahead + being 10x more competent than the team always makes me fucking roll my eyes but at this point i just kind of perceive it as the way tw constantly paints him as a deity figure. he can do no wrong

GWENS CYNICISM. TORCHWOOD BREAKING HER. TORCHWOOD BREAKING HER!!!!!!!!! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK it's toxic... it's toxic... this job gets inside you THIS JOB GETS INSIDE YOUUU. torchwood thesis statement: this job fucking breaks you.

FINALLY some good fucking tosh x owen food. DONT GET ME WRONG THAT WAS FUCKING AWFUL but that was sooooooo much more compelling than the fucking bullshit that canon gave us. owen being a toxic abusive fucking manchild + doing smth bad enough to tosh that she FINALLY went "wow THATS the man im obsessing over" like g-d i would've killedddd for that to happen in the show i HATE that she wasted herself on him. i hate it. her disgust and anger at him was so THERAPEUTIC for me 😭 idk what it says about me that the way i was grinning when they were arguing n bitching at each other was probs the closest ive ever gotten to actually shipping them HFKJDSF theres smth wrong w me. i just think s2 tosh is too fucking sweet and good and probably naive and i think owen could so easily fuck her up, like i don't think there's a world where he wouldn't hurt her tbh, and i don't want that to happen i adore her too much. like i don't think he's irredeemable, i ship him w other characters who i think could handle him, but i don't think tosh could, and that was validation of that opinion, you know? i'd be more willing to ship them if tosh was firm with him and didn't let him walk all over her, and it sucks that she didn't do that and got herself hurt and THATS what it took to make her call him tf out and tell him how much he sucks. ig a lot of why towen bugs me sm boils down to the fact that im not comfortable shipping someone who's kind of awful with someone who idealizes them and doesn't seem to grasp the scale of how bad they are. that's a recipe for an unhealthy dynamic and if i didn't like tosh i might be intrigued by it ngl HFSKDF but thats my babygirl and the idea of putting her thru Being With Him disgusts me. she deserves better until he gets his fucking shit together. which he never does and she never gets to have something good bc she was waiting for his shitty ass lmao YAYY!!

owen was AWFUL in that btw. and i adored him in it. my fav owen is an owen who's spiraling and destructively fixated on something for selfish purposes to the point that he doesnt care who he hurts to accomplish it. he's so villain coded fhsdkfjdsk he redeems himself in the show and i love that but the audios further explore the fact that he's got such a darkness to him he SO EASILY can be pushed into destroying everything. hes constantly on the precipice of monstrosity and cruelty bc of his own hurt. it's like hes so full of rot it leaks out of him and infects others and he hates it but he cant help it. i will never get over the doctor with poison fingers oh he makes my heart ache. he's just so misguided. he's so broken.

which brings us back to jack's speech. (him talking to the cult leader lady) "They were broken, and you were the person they turned to for help. If you don’t accept their problems, then don’t offer yourself as a solution." literally im gonna think about this for months. HE DOESNT SEE!!!!!!!!!

g-d and ianto's orientation or whatever. that was Fantastic ianto insight. he's so much more interesting when he's away from jack it's almost impressive.

i am just. gdddddddddddddddddddddddd. i am so distraught. help meeee

[siderealscribblings]

“I am ninety-nine percent sure I know who Chat Noir is.”

It was a heck of a thing to drop out of the blue, but since Marinette revealed her identity to Ladybug, Marinette had gotten used to Alya texting or calling at odd hours with sudden revelations.

(“THAT’S how you knew Lila was lying?!”)

(“So when you skipped on our hangout sess a few months ago, was it because-”)

(“I’m just saying, I know I guy who might be able to doxx Hawk Moth.”)

Unlike her usual stunning revelations though, this one was not one Marinette already knew.

“Okay,” Marinette said, blinking to keep her eyes from completely bugging out of their sockets. “How do you-”

“I just felt like I should be honest, you know?” Alya chuckled. “Since...you know-”

“Yeah, no...thanks,” Marinette said, slightly dazed. “I...um...how do you know?”

“Well...let’s just say I noticed a pattern,” Alya said, chewing on the corner of her lip. “Do you want to know who-”

“No,” Marinett said, before quickly adding. “I mean...it would be better to keep things between us secret for now.”

Alya opened her mouth, an argument on the tip of her tongue, but seemed to swallow it with a nod. “Okay...yeah, sure, I get it.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Marinette said quickly, maybe more for her own benefit than Alya’s. “I do! I swear! I just-”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Alya said quickly.

“And he’s wanted to reveal ourselves to each other for a long time,” Marinette muttered, ignoring Alya’s easy-out. “I was the one who insisted we keep our identities secret and I’m just...really, really not looking forward to the conversation where I tell him I was the one to break our no-sharing rule...you think he’ll be mad?”

“You tell me ,” Alya said, throwing her hands up. “He’s your partner-”

“He’s going to be mad ,” Marinette moaned, burying her face in her hands. “And hurt and-”

“And...so what?” Alya asked.

“So he’s my partner and we already have this...trust...thing between us,” Marinette sighed. “Long story short the last Guardian wasn’t a very good teacher to him and he’s had to deal with being locked out of the loop before...I just worry that I keep asking him to trust me while constantly keeping secrets from him.”

“And he’s keeping one from you,” Alya said gently. “Kind of a crappy situation all around but...well, let’s just say I think he’s a really understanding guy.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who constantly has to just understand me though,” Marinette said with a wince. “Sorry, I don’t mean to keep dumping all my Ladybaggage on you.”

“I’ll tell you if I’ve had enough,” Alya said firmly, squeezing Marinette’s wrist. “I don’t mind; really.”

If she lived another hundred years, she would never stop trying to return the kindness and understanding Alya had displayed to her since revealing her identity.

“Thanks,” Marinette said,, the movie on the screen forgotten as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “So...n-not that I’m prying for details but...this guy you think is Chat Noir-”

“Sounds like you’re prying for details,” Alya snickered. “Don’t tell me you’re curious about him.”

“Of course I am!” Marinette huffed. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t need to be curious; I figured out my boyfriend’s identity by myself,” Alya said smugly. “You want covert deets?”

Marinette weighed her words carefully before speaking. “Is he...out of costume...when he goes home...is he happy?”

Alya’s expression was unreadable for a long moment. “Do you want the truth or...do you want me to say something that will make you feel good?”

“Well that tells me the truth probably sucks, doesn’t it?” Marinette sighed, rubbing her eyes. “He’s got...he’s got a lot of friends, right?”

“He has a...few really good ones,” Alya reasoned.

“And his family?” Marinette asked.

“His family...exists,” Alya said as diplomatically as she could. “Look, we’re treading on major spoiler territory here; can you tell me what you want to know so I can pull it out from all the other information?”

Marinette stared down at her hands thoughtfully for a moment. “...being the Guardian by myself has been one of the loneliest times in my life. I have you now; I had Master Fu for a lot longer than he did. It would make me feel better if I knew Chat Noir was...okay outside the suit. But I think you just answered my question.”

“Look, I can’t tell you how he feels,” Alya said, rubbing Marinette’s shoulder gently. “I can’t read minds, Mari...but-”

“You think I should tell him about me?” Marinette asked hesitantly.

“I think that’s your call,” Alya said. “Do you want my advice?”

“You think I should talk to him,” Marinette said, deflating a little.

“If he finds out from someone who isn’t you, it’s not gonna do wonders for the whole Trust thing you got going on,” Alya said. “And...look, I think it’s great you reached out to me. And I think whatever you want to do with your identity is your business...but I think he deserves the same opportunity to confide in someone. In fact...I think he really needs it.”

“But how do I know he’ll pick the right person?” Marinette blurted out. “What if he picks someone who Hawk Moth compromises and-”

“Didn’t you just say you trusted him?” Alya asked, stopping Marinette’s catastrophizing in her tracks.

“I do...I promise I do...but-”

“You either do or you don’t,” Alya said softly. “And telling him that you broke your rules and he can’t is not going to convince him you trust him. Saying you trust someone is like saying you’re going to work out; you don’t get the results unless you actually do it.”

“I could pick someone for him,” Marinette muttered, looking up at Alya. “Someone trustworthy.”

“Someone you trust,” Alya said. “This has to be someone he trusts. Or else what’s the point?”

“You already know though!” Marinette said.

“ Hey Chat Noir, I completely trust you with my life but also, I’m going to make the choice of who you can and can’t talk to about your personal business,” Alya said, watching Marinette’s nose wrinkle in irritation. “Tell me how that chat is going to go.”

“You know ignoring your advice is getting harder now that you know about me,” Marinette grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Ignore it if you want; just don’t be surprised if this pushes you apart,” Alya shrugged.

“It won’t, he’ll…” Marinette trailed off. “He wouldn’t stop being my partner over this, right?”

“And if he did?” Alya probed. “Just pick a new Chat Noir.”

“I don’t-” Marinette swallowed, shaking her head. “No...I don’t want another Chat Noir.”

“Then you’re going to have to keep this one,” Alya said, squeezing her shoulder. “That means being honest and fair with your partner; if not about your identity, then about his .”

Marinette nodded mutely, turning her gaze back to the movie as Alya stood up. “Want something from the kitchen?”

“I’m good,” Marinette said, fidgeting with her bracelet as she tried not to dread the conversation she knew she had to have.

---

To his credit, the storm of accusations she imagined would come out of Chat Noir’s mouth did not come; Ladybug might have felt better if they did.

Instead, her partner looked dazed, blinking and nodding as his gaze turned away from her. “...okay-”

“I swear this is not about you,” Ladybug said quickly, tugging on Chat Noir’s arm as he turned away from her. “And it doesn’t mean I don’t trust you! I swear I do.”

“No I...I understand,” Chat Noir said, the cheer in his voice becoming more and more forced. “Um...you know, I-I have a lot of homework to do tonight-”

“Chat...please look at me,” Ladybug said, tilting her partner’s face towards hers. Of course she had made him cry, but she tried to push down her guilt. This wasn’t about what she did; given the same choice, she would have picked Alya again, even if it meant hurting Chat Noir in the process.

“I know I don’t have a lot of opportunities to display how much I trust you,” Ladybug said, licking her lips. “So it probably feels like I just tossed aside a huge chance to show how much you mean to me...but this was about me doing what I needed-”

“You don’t need to...you’re the Guardian-”

“That doesn't make me your master !” Ladybug said emphatically, startling Chat Noir out of his daze. “That doesn’t mean I can control who you talk to and who you confide in! I still...I still think we’re too close and rely on each other too much to jeopardize our working relationship...but if there’s someone in your life you trust, I...I want you to have the same opportunity. To confide in someone you trust.”

“Not you though,” Chat Noir muttered.

“There has to be someone else,” Ladybug said almost desperately. “Tell me I’m not the only person in your life you can rely on…”

Alya had been such a positive force in her life since she had told her; she thought back to all the times they had stayed up late talking, all the times Alya had listened to her vent about akuma, all the nights she held her hand because she had watched Chat Noir die to save her yet again.

Was there no one Chat Noir could turn to when he was alone?

Chat Noir seemed to chew it over for a long moment, blinking back tears still as he tried to grapple with the fact his relationship with Ladybug had shifted out from underneath him yet again. “...do I have to tell you who it is?”

“I think it’s better if you don’t,” Ladybug said softly. “Sorry...if I knew who you trusted, I might be able to figure out who you are. This way...I’m not the only one keeping secrets-”

“I don’t want to keep secrets,” Chat Noir grumbled.

“I know,” Ladybug sighed. “And I promise, I swear, the minute Hawk Moth is gone, there will be no more secrets between us! This... mess of half-truths and half-lies will end and we can just be-”

The idea of being something to Chat Noir outside the mask was something not even Alya knew; a secret all her own that might never come to light.

“This is just for now,” Ladybug said firmly. “Not forever.”

Chat Noir nodded, once again resigned to a fate someone else had picked for him. “I get it...I do.”

“Are you mad at me?” Ladybug asked.

Chat Noir weighed the answer for a long moment. “...no,” Chat Noir said with a shrug. “Just...can we pick this up some other time? I wasn’t kidding about the homework.”

For the first time there was a real wall between her and Chat Noir and Ladybug was shocked by how much she detested it.

“I understand,” Ladybug said quietly. “But I meant what I said when I said you should find someone to turn to. I wish I could help you with everything, but-”

“For now...you can’t,” Chat Noir nodded, putting on a brave face. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Ladybug let Chat Noir slip out of her fingertips, momentarily reaching out to pull him back before thinking better of herself. She didn’t expect him to be sunshine and rainbows after telling him, but as firm as she was in her convictions, it still sucked to see him in pain.

Just deal with it yourself like he has to, Ladybug thought as she watched Chat Noir turn and dive off the roof of the building. Alya’s had enough on her plate...you don’t need to bother her with-

Her resolve lasted until she transformed, blinking back tears as she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

---

“Did I do the right thing?”

Alya said nothing, running her hands through Ladybug’s hair as she laid her head on her lap.

“Sometimes...doing the right thing hurts people as a result,” Alya said carefully. “It’s just a sucky part of life.”

“I hate it,” Ladybug sniffed, wiping her eyes with another tissue. “I think he thinks I love keeping secrets from him but...I really hate it. It makes me feel so alone...and I don’t want him to feel that way either.”

“And he can figure out how to feel less alone himself now,” Alya said soothingly. “This guy...I know he has at least one really great friend.”

“Like you?”

“...maybe a little better,” Alya said fondly. “I know he’d move earth to put a smile on Chat Noir’s face, so maybe let this problem fall in his lap instead of yours. You don’t have to do everything to make everyone happy all the time.”

“I want to,” Ladybug muttered.

“ Everybody includes you ,” Alya said firmly. “Take care of yourself first ; let Chat Noir take care of himself now.”

“I worry about him though,” Ladybug said quietly.

Alya glanced down at her phone, seeing a message from Nino flash on her screen.

Nino: hey babe

Nino: can’t make it tonight

Nino: adrien sounds really upset and said he wanted to talk to me about something

“Don’t." Alya smiled as she laid the phone on the bed beside her. “He’s in good hands.”

Ao3 

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || He Walks Out In A Fight [Request]

A/N: I tried to give them all different tropes/AU’s so that it could be different from my other works! I have a mixture of angsty endings and fluffy endings! Sorry guys no part 2 💞💕

SEOKJIN: (Non Idol Au)

Jin stared at you as you accused him of once again cheating on you, his phone was in your hand unlocked but he just stared at you. He knew for a fact that he had nothing to hide from you, that he would never cheat on you since you were the love of his life but no matter what you found a way to say he was cheating. Finding girls names in his contacts and not believing that they were people from work, messages from girls you'd never heard of before all messaging him and asking him questions about his day with flirty suggestive comments attached to them. 

"You have guys in your messages, do you see me kicking off like this?" He asked calmly as he stared at you, you shook your head at him. 

"I tell them I've got a boyfriend unlike you. You just thank them and then give them a compliment!" You yelled out, throwing his phone in his direction as he caught it, looking at the messages to a girl he was supposedly cheating on you with. "Ashley" a guy friend from work who he was going out for a drink with that weekend, 

"You're going out for a drink with her, so tell me. What's she like? Is she pretty?" Jin groaned as you continued to yell out questions about someone called Ashley who you were convinced was a girl when in actual reality he was the newest member of Jin's work. 

"She's a he and we're going to get drinks with work buddies. You're reading too much into this," He was starting to feel defeated as he stared at you but you shook your head. Adamant that he was cheating on you so you just stared at him. 

"It's fine if you want to sleep with other people Jin, I already slept with your best friend." Jin's mouth fell open as he stared at you dumbfounded that you would just openly admit to cheating on him when you had just been ranting and raving about him messaging someone else. 

"Un-fucking-believable," He grumbled as he began walking out of the house but you followed him over to his car, 

"Not nice when it's the other way around is it?!" You snapped as he got into the car and started up his engine, 

"The difference is Y/n, I never cheated." He drove out of the drive way and off into the night, going to stay at a friends place while he cleared his head from you.

YOONGI: (Reader is a Rich CEO)

There was no secret that your relationship with Yoongi wasn't always perfect, every small fight and debate between the two of you were splashed around the headlines since you were a famous CEO which meant cameras followed you everywhere you went. Including secret spending sprees when you told Yoongi that you had an important business meeting instead of a shopping spree. 

"I don't see the big deal with going shopping, it's my money." It was true that you could do whatever you wanted with your money but that wasn't what Yoongi was mad about. He was angry at the fact that you had once again lied to him about where you had been and it was starting to get on his nerves. 

"I've been at home waiting for you, the least you could have done was called." He snapped at you, making you roll your eyes as you shook your head at him.

"I'm too tired for this fight, can we just drop it?" You moaned as you sat down on the sofa waiting for this all to be over but Yoongi wasn't going to drop it this easily. 

"All you do is spend, spend, spend your money! Do you know the only thing you don't do? You never want to spend time with me. We could have had a nice day out but you never bother to!" You rolled your eyes standing up suddenly, 

"Do you have any idea how much of a bitch you sound right now?" The words flew out before you even had time to process what you were saying and Yoongi stared at you a little shocked, 

"You're just jealous because I earn more money than you'll ever make in four years. So yes! I went out and I spent money on myself because I fucking earned it! What's wrong? I didn't spend my money on you?" Yoongi grabbed his coat from the coat rack and you stormed after him, telling him not to walk out of the door or things would be over for good. 

"Great! Then I won't have to deal with you anymore," He yelled at you as you stared back at him just as shocked as he had been when you bought up the fact that you earned more money than him.  You knew it was his biggest insecurity while he was with you, all of the media portrayed him as a money-grabbing man and he was now sure that you felt the same way. 

"You're unbelievable," He told you before walking out of the door, shutting it behind him as he began his walk into the town not wanting to take the car that you'd bought for him.

The media was all over the breakup within days of it happening, everyone taking his side instead of yours as news broke out about what you had said to him in the midst of your fight. It was made clear that Yoongi wasn't going to go back to you even if you begged him to.

HOSEOK: (Non idol AU)

"We have to talk about this," Hoseok said as he stared at you, you were sitting across from him in your kitchen, a positive pregnancy test laid out in front of him as he glanced to and from it. 

"Talk about what?" You whispered as you looked back at Hoseok, you'd hoped when you told him you were pregnant you would be overcome with a wave of relief but you weren't, it only made you worry more and more about it. You'd gone through everything in your head, neither of you was ready to bring a child into the world. Neither of you earned enough to support three people and there was no way the tiny apartment you were living in would be big enough for you two and a growing child. 

"We're too young for this," You shook your head, sliding the test into the bin as you pulled out some papers on adoption, it was the one thing you'd had on your mind since finding out you were pregnant. 

"You want to give our baby away?" His question was laced with venom and you shook your head, 

"We could give a family a new start, someone that's been wanting kids for a while could finally have one." You tried to explain it but Hoseok wasn't listening to reason he began shaking his head, telling you that he wanted to keep the child with you and him. 

"We can be a family-"

"We aren't ready Hoseok! You still act like an immature child! We don't even own a place or car big enough to grow a family. Can't you see this is for the better," You had tears running down your cheeks but Hoseok was shaking his head, all he could hear was how you'd called him an immature child.

"I can provide for us all, I'll give us a good life-"

"I would love to keep them with you but With what? We don't earn enough, we're still too young for this Hobi." But he shook his head at you again, getting up and heading to the door. Further proving your point that he acted like a child whenever he could get his own way. 

"Just walk away like you always do," You mumbled as he slammed the door behind himself. 

A month later Hoseok showed up at your doorstep, flowers in hand with a box. 

"Is this your way of proposing?" You asked unimpressed as you stared at him, the two of you had only been in contact over text messages and neglected to bring up the pregnancy conversation with one another. This was the first time you'd seen him face to face since the fight. 

"Open the box." He sighed putting the flowers down on your counter and watching as you opened the box, frowning when you saw two sets of keys inside. 

"What's this?" You pulled them out and Hoseok smiled, 

"The first is the key to our new minivan and the second is the key to our new place...A house...Somewhere we can raise our little one together...If you want to." Your eyes lit up as you stared at Hoseok wondering how he'd gotten all of this in such a short amount of time.

"I've had the house for a while...I-I'd been doing it up and so I took some paid holidays and finished it. The car is on finance but with my promotion, we can do this." All you did was lean forward and kiss him deeply.

NAMJOON: (Mafia AU)

"Where have you been? I've been calling you all night long!" Namjoon called out as you walked through the door, all night? It wasn't even 5 pm yet. You dropped the bag you'd carried home from work and sighed as he rushed to your sighed, watching you closely. 

"I had a meeting, it ran late. I text you." You whined, hanging up your shoes and coat, not ready for the same long and boring speech that he always gave to you whenever you were late or not somewhere he could see you. 

"You could have gotten hurt, someone could have hurt you." He panicked, taking your face in his hands and turning it in different directions so he could see if you had been hurt or if you were even really you. Lately, he'd been more paranoid than usual and it was starting to bug you with the constant questioning about where you were every minute of every day. 

"I'm fine. I got a ride home with Jimin, Joonie I'm fine." You got out of his grasp and headed towards the kitchen, wanting to get a strong drink if you were going to have to go through the speech about you needing a guard around you. Namjoon was in business with the Mafia and he was dating you which meant you were a walking target, anybody could decide to grab you at any point in time but you didn't want a guard, you didn't want to be protected all of the time. 

"I don't need someone telling me when and where I can't do or go somewhere Namjoon!" You finally snapped as he brought up the idea of a guard once again. The glass was smashed onto the table as you slammed it down too hard and you let out a hiss as you saw some blood coming from a small cut. Namjoon instantly went into panic mode, grabbing onto you and trying to force you to go to the hospital but you backed away from him wanting to scream out. 

"You're so fucking overprotective! Leave me alone! I am fine!" You screamed as you finally reached your breaking point, Namjoon stared at you in silence as he waited to see if you were serious.

"I'm overprotective?"

"Yes! You never let me do anything, do you know how pathetic it is?!" That was all it took, he walked out of the house leaving you in complete silence and on your own as he went to clear his head. 

Namjoon came back to the house the next day to find you curled up in his bed wearing one of his shirts, tear stains down your face. 

"Babe?" He frowned as he walked over to you, dropping his keys onto the counter thinking something was wrong but as soon as you heard him you jumped up. Running over as you wrapped your arms around his neck, begging him not to leave you like that again.

"What happened?" He asked as he pulled away, holding your face as he looked into your eyes ready to kill whoever had hurt you but you shook your head. 

"I-I just realised why you're so protective...I-I should have been more considerate...Last night I couldn't eat or sleep because you weren't here," You began crying again but all he did was wrap his arms around you, kissing the top of your head whispering that he was never going to leave you again while you told him over and over again how sorry you were for what you had said to him.

JIMIN: (Vampire AU)

"I don't want you to spend time with him, why is that a problem?" Jimin questioned as he stared at you, you were staring back at him while shaking your head. 

"Because you're acting like a jealous teenager," You mumbled, folding your arms over your chest as you raised your eyebrows at your boyfriend who was being a jealous, overprotective and possessive boyfriend. 

"I am a teenager," You sprinted over to him with your vampiric speed and tilted your head to the side, 

"We're both 248 years old...How do you work that out," The two of you had been together for almost 222 years, both of you had changed into vampires when you were 26-years old after almost dying in a terrible accident. A doctor decided to change you both at the same time and took you in as his own, now you were acting as young as you could get away with. Ageing in different towns. Currently, you were portraying 18-years-old in a college together as a couple. 

"It's just a study session with Justin, he needs my help in biology," You reassured Jimin that there was nothing going on between you and Justin but Jimin didn't see it the way you did. He saw Justin as a threat, he was younger than both of you and human...What if you decided you wanted to be with Justin instead and changed him into one of you or worse. What if Justin found out what you were and threatened to expose you to everyone? Jimin's grip tightened on you and you stared at him, 

"I'll be fine," A car honked from outside the library and you looked out of the window, Justin was there waiting for you. 

"Don't go. You don't know him! He could hurt you," You rolled your eyes at Jimin before shaking your head, 

"You're so possessive and jealous, it's boring Jimin!" In all your years of being together, you'd never once called him boring or possessive or jealous and it hurt to know that's how you felt about him. As if you could see the dials turning in his head you tried to tell him you didn't mean it but he'd already run out of the building in the blink of an eye leaving you alone there.

Jimin could sense there was something wrong the second you walked through the door and it wasn't because you had blood on your shirt which he knew for a fact wasn't yours since you didn't bleed. 

"What happened?" He rushed to your side holding your face as you stared at him, 

"He knew. He knew about what we were...I-I had to take care of it," You mumbled as you dropped a bag down onto the floor, Jimin already knew what was inside from the smell of blood coming to his nose as he looked at it before looking back at you.

"I should have listened to you...You're always right," You mumbled as you told Jimin you both needed to get out of the city and fast since you didn't know if Justin had already told people what he knew or not. Luckily for you and Jimin it was just the two of you on the run, if you were with the rest of your family it would have been a lot harder.

TAEHYUNG: ( Friends with benefits trope)

It hadn't meant to come out this way, you and Taehyung were just supposed to be sex buddies but on what planet did that ever actually work out? None was the answer. It was a dumb idea to have if you thought it was ever going to work, 

"I told you I didn't want a relationship when we started this, what's the big deal?" You questioned as Taehyung began rushing around to find his clothes you'd torn off him earlier that night. He let out a tut as he shook his head disapprovingly at you, 

"I thought maybe you'd changed your mind, maybe you'd grown a heart and decided to let someone love you!" You rolled your eyes at him as if this was some sort of romantic movie or novel that would result in you loving one another. 

"We're friends! Nothing will change that," You tried to tell him but he just scoffed at you not wanting to listen to it all over again, 

"Last time I checked, friends don't fuck each other the way we do," You shook your head at him, 

"You're unbelievable! How could you think I would ever love you like that?!" The world seemed to stop moving and you were left staring at one another from across your bedroom floor. Taehyung's eyes were red as he started to cry but you didn't feel guilt. You told him from the start that you didn't want to deal with the emotions of being in a relationship, that what was going on between you was just sex. 

"Did you really just say that?" Tears rolled down his cheeks as he waited for you to answer him, 

"It's just sex. I don't like you like that," He nodded his head as he dressed himself, walking out of the apartment and slamming the door so hard your picture frame fell off the wall and smashed onto the floor leaving you to stare at it as he stormed off. 

Four months later you were walking around the mall with some friends when you bumped into Taehyung with a group of his friends, you locked eyes with one another and you didn't know if you should have waved or kept your head down but Taehyung answered it for you. Turning his face away from you and talking with the guys as though he hadn't even seen you standing there in front of him, you couldn't blame him after what you'd said to him though so you just kept walking, not looking over your shoulder.

JUNGKOOK: ( Idol x Reader)

You sighed as Jungkook continued to yell at you for going out when he specifically told you not to, it wasn't as though he was keeping you in the house all of the time or being overly protective of you. That weekend he had plans to spend the entire time with you, wanting to be alone for a while instead of with the boys or your friends but you'd snuck out the night before and didn't come back until the early hours. Still drunk as you stood across from Jungkook in the living room, 

"Can you stop yelling? I have a headache," You mumbled to him wanting nothing more than to head up to your bed and forget the night before even happened. 

"This was the first time we would have been alone together in a while, can you blame me for missing you?" Your back was turned to him so he didn't see you roll your eyes at the statement so you just walked up the stairs to the bedroom, falling down onto the mattress as you let out a huge sigh. 

"I just want to sleep," You moaned at him, rolling over so your head was buried between the pillows and the sunlight wasn't hurting your eyes anymore, 

"Didn't you miss me?" You stayed silent as Jungkook questioned you, walking back into the room with a sad expression written across his face. He figured you must have missed him as much as he missed you during the week, you hardly got to see one another thanks to his busy schedule at the studios. 

"It's just like when you go on tour. It's no big deal. I'm used to it," You drunkenly mumbled into the pillow, closing your eyes as you saw no problem with what you had said but to Jungkook it felt as though you'd taken his heart from his chest and stomped it into the ground. 

"You don't miss me? Do you even love me?" You let out a groan at his question, rolling over to face him. He had tears running down his cheeks as he stared at you, waiting for you to answer him he had fears running around his head at what you might say but nothing could have prepared him for it.

"Do you have any idea how fucking clingy you sound right now?" You grumbled before laying back down, staring at the ceiling while Jungkook stormed out of the room. Slamming the door behind him as he headed into the spare bedroom for the night, he'd heard enough from you. 

The next morning when you finally emerged from the bedroom you found Jungkook sitting in the living room eating lunch on his own, 

"Morning baby, what time did I come in?" You questioned tiredly as you sat down beside him, attempting to cuddle up beside him but he shifted away from your touch. 

"Babe?" You frowned looking at him as he continued to stare at the screen that had some old sit-com running instead of at you. You went to touch his arm but he got up, 

"I don't want to be too clingy for you." He snapped and that was when it hit you. Memories of the night before came flooding back to you as you groaned at him. 

"J-Jungkook, I didn't mean it, I was drunk-"

"Drunk words are sober thoughts," He snapped before heading into the kitchen to clean up but you weren't going to let him get away with that, you just rushed over to him. Wrapping your arms around him from behind and burying your face in his back, 

"I know you're going away s-soon...I was pushing you away so I wouldn't feel so hurt when you go on tour," You explained your backwards way of thinking and you felt Jungkook's body physically relax as he realised you weren't serious the night before. 

"It was dumb and I should have said something to you instead of just acting like a bitch," He nodded in agreement, letting you say everything you needed to say before the two of you spent the day with your hangover on the sofa together.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @innersooya @sweeneyblue1​ @sw33tnight​ @agustdjoon​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @that-anxious-bisexual​

[morgana-ren]

SUBMISSION: How about a nasty sweaty incel shiggy waiting everyday for his dad to go to work so that he could have his relief with stepmom? 

Excellent submission! Love that. Love that a lot! I find it only fair to warn you, however, that I won’t be doing mommy kink for it. Mommy kink is one of my squicks, and one of the very, very few I have. I’ll do the closest thing to it though: Daddy kink. Also I find the irony of him making his little stepmom call him daddy to be absolutely hilarious.

Also this one is a great concept and I love it but it’s going to have to be a multi-parter cause it got a little bit long. Lemme know if you like the concept and I’ll continue it. Also this posted under anonymous for some reason so cheers to tumblr and its endless fucking glitches that it never fixes or seems to make any better.

Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, sexism, really gross incel behavior, nsfl things, masturbation, violent sexual fantasies, nefarious planning, horrible suggestions from even more horrible friends, absolute LOATHING of family, and entitled bastard.

There is only one thing on this planet that Tomura hates more than his father.

Only one thing can even compare to the level of abject disgust he has for his dad. Everything about the man is abhorrent and degenerate, only tolerated because Tomura is, admittedly, a NEET, and had no where else to go after graduation. But if anything- anything- could hold a candle, it would be his taste in women.

All women are trashy on some level, but his dad really manages to find ones that pretend so hard that they aren’t. Vipers behind the veneer of smiling faces clad in red lipstick and smart skirts. Always “kind”, always “thoughtful”, and always fleeting. Fickle, stupid bimbos charmed by his dads surface level charisma to quickly realize just how shallow the pool became.

Even his own mom was like that: She fucked off once she realized staying with him meant staying with his dad, and that was a sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make. So she left him to rot in this cesspit with his worthless father and no other way out.

He figures he can’t hold it against her, not as much as he’d like. A few weeks with his shriveled up paternal figure and most women quickly figure out they can do so much better. It’s in their nature to seek out the best, and that certainly isn’t Kotaro; A bumbling idiot with nothing to offer on the best of days. They don’t know any better, so they never last long after being brought home to meet his son, and those are the ones that even make it that far.

So when he starts yammering on about meeting yet another skank and how ‘in love’ he already is, Tomura’s eyes roll so far back in his head that he swears his retinas will detach. He makes a point to be around as little as possible, but somehow still manages to catch an earful about his latest fling and how excited he is for Tomura to meet her.

Great.

True to his word, Kotaro brings you home one evening, eager to impress his son with his latest catch.

His father had a lot of nerve dragging him from his room to meet you- his latest glorified slut. Adding insult to injury, you had the unmitigated gall to talk down to him like you were an adult and he wasn’t. Even though you had to crane your neck to look up and greet him, you still talked at him like he was some child. So different from you even though you were so much smaller than he was- barely even a few years older than he is, if even that. 

So polite, introducing yourself and gently shaking his reluctant hand, making a point to smile at him and telling him how happy were to finally meet him and that you’d heard so much about him. Your hands were so soft, so little in comparison to his own. He dwarfs his pathetic father, practically towers over you, yet you still talk to him like you’re the adult in the equation.

So young, so pretty, though. Far better than anything his father had a right to pull. They weren’t exactly swimming in cash, the house was nothing in particular to gloat about, and he’d done enough eavesdropping around late at night to know his father suffered a particular… ailment, so it certainly wasn’t sexual satisfaction keeping you around. What was it then? 

Probably nothing. You’d probably run off in a few weeks like they all do.

Kotaro is a worthless sack of drooping skin and aging bones; A ghost of a man not worthy of the phantoms he’s seen pass in his years. No longer the dominant male even in his own home: not with a stronger, more virile son coming into his prime under the roof as well. A beta male at best, withering away while his own son eclipses him in strength and intellect and physique. Tomura is in his mid twenties and blooming- His father… who even knows. He doesn’t care- he doesn’t bother to keep track. 

So, maybe you really are just a dumb little whore. It would make sense. Father dearest always had been a dirty old man; A raging pervert with wandering hands and lingering eyes. Always sets his predatory sights on some cute thing too good for him. 

Then again, the poisoned apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it?

You’re cute enough you could have gotten some alpha at your beck and call, yet you’ve attached yourself to his worthless father who, in turn, parades you around like his most beloved trophy. Taking you to dinners he can’t afford despite your ‘insistence’ that you be allowed to pay, buying you things you claim you don’t need. Oh, how the moron dotes on his whores as if it’s enough to keep them anchored to him.

Strangely though, you don’t run off.

If anything, you sink your claws in even further, getting more and more comfortable and showing up more and more. Every time Tomura leaves his fucking room- which isn’t often- you’re there around the corner, smiling dumb and pretty and greeting him politely.

Fuck, he hates you. Hates your stupid voice, your shitty dresses, hates hearing his father happy for once.

It’s no surprise- but unwelcome no less- that he’d move you in sooner rather than later. Terrified to let you out of his sight for even a second lest you come to what little senses you have in your tiny brain and dump him. Of course, he’s quick to take on all of your burdens as his own, even if it means working overtime to support you. He’s always wanted another little housewife, and now he’s so close.

Tomura listens in on the whole conversation feeling sick to his gut.

You beg him not to- offering to pay your own way just like a good girl, but of course his dumbass dad will hear none of it. He��s more than happy to spend a couple of extra hours at work. His dad is so idiotic, so fucking blind. He’s playing right into it. He’s willing to be your workhorse if it means keeping you all to himself.

He’ll hear none of it. None of the fussing or the questions. You’re welcome in his home, he wants you there. It’s no imposition at all, he knows the house will be better with you around.

Except he forgets one crucial detail-

The son he leaves home alone with you every single day when he leaves. 

You’re nothing but a nuisance, something infringing on his private space. The time he used to get home alone to spend to his own devices is now split with you flittering around the house doing whatever it is bimbos like you do. Cleaning, cooking, pretending to read, whatever. He doesn’t have to see you if he doesn’t want, sure, but he still knows you’re there and that’s more than enough to annoy him.

It’s almost like you catch on to his animosity after a while. The way he won’t greet you back, the way he utterly ignores your existence. It bugs you, and as far as he’s concerned, good.

You try to slip him up, try to get close to him and make him like you. You always set a place for him at the table even after Kotaro repeatedly insists- truthfully- that he’ll never join for dinner. Even then, you always bring the plate to his door. He never bothers to answer- not after the first few times when he only opened it a sliver to see your stupid smiling face. After that, he didn’t bother answering. He’ll eat it of course- won’t pass up free food he doesn’t have to leave his room for- and then leave the dirty dish back outside where you left it. You brought it, after all. You can clean it up. 

All your efforts only get you mocked, and boy do you try so hard to get his affection. He even overhears you whining to his dad once or twice, not understanding why he doesn’t like you.

It makes him smile.

His friends- online of course, but still friends or comrades or kindred spirits or whatever- have more opportunistic ideas about it. His first post to the forum complaining about the new living situation was met with envy and awe- not necessarily the response he was expecting, though looking back on it, he supposes they were right. 

lmpwrst: Why u bitchin’? Ur living with a girl ur not related to and that’s closer than any of us have gotten u ungrateful ass

KingKockRool: Go jerk off on her pillow.

Stacystabber91: take a video hold her down and fuck her then idiot

KingKockRool: No wait till she’s sleeping and jerk it on her face

st8lker: Bet she’s ugly tho if she’s dating your dad lol

Oddly enough, he doesn’t agree. That’s one thing he understands about you, loathe as he is to admit it. His new ‘stepmom’, for all her annoyances, is pretty easy on the eyes. The kinda girl that would have caught his eye in an unrelated situation and earned a permanent spot in his spank bank. Thinking about it, the whole ‘dating his dad’ situation maybe threw off his judgement more than he realized.

He’ll let the jury decide: He finds a photo on your social media, crops everyone else out of it, and hits enter. Easy peasy. He saves it to his hard drive for later too. Might as well.

‘Here, you decide then.’

Thus the shitstorm begins. 

st8lker: Oh fuckkk fuck me mommy lmao

lmpwrst: Opportunity is wasted on u

Stacystabber91: you pussy punk bitch, i stand by what I said earlier. dont be a bitch and fuck the little cunt already

VolceliSwear: Whos the bitch

lmpwrst: Scratchy’s new stepmommy lol 

VolceliSwear: Nice. Hit it yet?

Stacystabber91: he hasn’t cause he’s a gigantic fuckin pussy like i told you all

VolceliSwear: Come on dude you actually have that gash sleeping in your house and you haven’t made a move? 

Stacystabber91: it’s not like she could say no cause you’re a big lanky bastard aren’t you? that’s one thing we got over the shortcels and you’re bigger and stronger than her so take what’s yours idiot or I will 

lmpwrst: I agree with SS lol U complain all the time about not having a hole to fuck and now u do

VolceliSwear: ^^ Isn’t your dad a limp-dicked prick who can’t get it up? Someone’s gotta do it so it might as well be you. Hit the bitch so hard and fast she doesn’t know what way is up

Stacystabber91: and send pics moron I want to see tits or I’m coming over there to do it myself

It’s an… intriguing thought. To be honest, he’s never actually considered fucking you before. Had the passive thought like he does with most girls he sees, but never stopped to think on actually doing it. For some reason, there was a mental wall between him and his father’s girlfriends. But why should there be?

Depraved little bastard that he is, he’s not above cornering a girl and forcing himself on her but he’s not keen on going to jail, so he’s never escalated past creepy photos and following the occasional broad a little too closely. Maybe a couple gropes in passing… okay, maybe a lot. But he’s never gotten caught- maybe the girls don’t report it or just couldn’t find him afterward. Either way, it’s all worked out so far because he doesn’t cross certain boundaries.

Most girls are repulsed by him and his repugnant behavior, so they stay far, far away. It’s like he’s a giant blaring warning sign that they tend to heed instinctively.

But you don’t. 

This is different. You live here, so close to him, so within reach. Just how close you are. How easy it would be for him to force you down and make you take it. Just how much time alone he really has with you since his father leaves and returns like clockwork. He’s got the entire day once his father leaves for work. And all night once he takes his sleeping medication. An easy, pretty little catch already wiggling in his web.

 ‘Maybe I will.’ 

That’s how it starts. 

Snowball into snowstorm.

With an idea and a lot of goading from his online buddies, a monster is born and weaned on his own depravity and escalates into something very real, and very dangerous.

Tomura is achingly familiar with the scene- he’s seen enough porn to give him ample ideas. But he’s got all the time in the world. It’s hard not to rush things considering how eager he is, but it’s safer to test the waters first. Get you nice and scared so you’ll keep your pretty mouth shut unless he tells you to open it for him. See how far he can get, how much he can toy with you before you finally catch on.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll fuck him willingly. You are a stupid little slut, after all. Most of you females are deep down beneath that holier-than-thou, stuck up bitchiness you hide behind.

So he starts with a time honored tradition. He steals your panties. 

The bathroom is cluttered with your shit. Your fruity shampoos and conditioners, your makeup, your perfumes. Tomura has a toothbrush and a comb he doesn’t use, a bottle of 3-1 for when he forces himself into a shower, and a singular gray towel, but the rest is between you and his father. Your body washes, your scrubs, your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s easy enough to fish out a fresh pair- only a couple of hours old. Some lacy contraption you must’ve been wearing beneath your clothes and carelessly left in the bin when you showered. It’s easy to pocket them before you hear him rummaging around, and maybe you’ll miss them, but that’s not his problem. Washer eats things all the time, doesn’t it?

He’s hidden back in his room, safely dodging you before he allows himself to indulge- Bringing them to his nose and inhaling the doubled fabric of the crotch so hard that it catches on the edge of his nostrils. 

Fuck, your cunt smell good- tangy and sweet but the tiniest hint of bitter. A couple of whiffs is enough to get his cock twitching, inflating into a painful hardness as he hears you walking around outside in the hallway. Shit, you’re so fuckin’ airheaded, walking around so oblivious as he tongues at the cloth that was nestled right up against your pussy until a few hours ago. He can taste you, sucking your left over essence through his teeth and he swears he’s going to cream all over the inside of his jeans if he doesn’t jerk off right now. 

He’s quick to drop his sweats and sprawl on his bed, thumbing the tip of his prick and licking gratuitous stripes up the slim of your discarded panties with his tongue. You’d look so good sucking his cock; On your bruised knees, face a slathered mess of cum and saliva and running makeup. Bulge in your throat from taking him so deep and trying so hard to please him like you always do- or maybe avoid a painful punishment because he isn’t above using his hands on you and you learned that the hard way.

The thought of your ruddy, soppy face makes him throb- fucking your wet little throat until you’re suffocating, pulling out to let you breathe only to cum on your face. Yanking you up to bend you over the stove and force you to make his worthless father’s dinner with his spend tacking across your face and his cock lodged deep in your cunt. Worthless fucking sack of shit that his father is, he’d spit in it too and make you serve it to him with a smile while your actual daddy watches you do it and rewards you later with his dick fucking you between your tits.

Fuck yes, that’s what he’ll make you do. He’ll make you call him daddy when he creampies you- the opportunity is too perfect to pass. He’ll fuck his father’s pretty whore as she screams and moans for daddy’s cock while his father is away at work to pay all her frivolous bills like the beta-cuck he is. None of the work and all of the reward- as it should be.

It’s not like Kotaro can fuck you, and his friends are right. Someone should. So why not him? Why not spread your legs for your boyfriend’s younger, more powerful son? Oh, sorry, did he give you the illusion that you had a choice? He’ll take what is rightfully his and there’s not a fucking thing you or his pathetic fucking father can ever do about it.

He plucks your panties from his face, moving them instead to work over his cock. It would feel so much better if you were wearing them- grinding your sweet little cunt against his dick, begging him not to fuck you but getting so wet all the same. The silky fabric feels so good against his hypersensitive skin, coupled with the clenched pumping of his fist as he daydreams about railing you into his filthy mattress until you’re too weak to even move on your own, his cum dripping from every one of your used holes. Limp, useless little whore too fucked out to even fight him as he fucks her in the ass again-

Fantasies swirl in his head, flashes of scenarios that tease him and work him into a frenzy. He’s going to cum hard to the thought filling you, your agonized face as the tip of him knocks against the opening of your womb, buried so deep in your cute pussy that he can feel the wall that keeps him firmly locked out of your guts. So close, so tight, so warm. He’s going to pump you full to the brim like the skank you are, fill you nice and thick full of his seed and then use you again and again and again-

He feels it in his spine, waves of pleasure furling at the base and congealing together impossibly tight, so ready to burst. His thighs flex, muscles in his stomach tightening and breath staggering. Searing white behind dry, clenched eyes and his cock twitches in his palm, knot bursting deep between his legs as his hand stills momentarily. His hands twitch, cock throbbing as thick ropes of cum spill over the slats of his fingers, splattering his stomach and the waist of his sweatpants and all over your adorable little panties. 

“Shit-” 

Shallow, shaky breaths, still seeing stars popping behind his eyelids. Fuck, he hasn’t cum that hard in- well, a very long time. Is it the thought of having something tangible soon? His very own cunt to abuse? Grinning, he looks down at the absolutely drenched pair in his hand, sticky with fresh seed.

He thinks so.

Instinctively, he wipes the excess off his fingers and onto his dirty, rumpled black sheets, swiping across his shirt and his skin. Just another ‘mystery spot’ among the rest, soon to become a crusty, flaked white stain on the fabric among all the preexisting ones.

With some effort on his part, he sits up, still trying to catch his breath. He thought post orgasm clarity might deter him from this path, but if anything, he’s even more determined now. Why should he sit and touch himself in a dark room when there’s a perfectly good set of holes to fuck wandering around freely outside?

Oh yeah, this should work out just fine.

There’s a knock on the door while he’s still wading through his gross thoughts, softly at first but then slightly more insistent. It jolts him alert, irritating him that he’s being bothered when he’s scheming. He’s already finished the dirty dead, all ready to put himself away for now but it’s still jarring none the less when someone comes around so closely to him wanking. A quick dash at the clock tells him it’s not dinner time yet, so what gives? Why are you bothering him now? Nothing is ready yet.

He tucks himself away and quickly buries your soiled underwear in the pocket of his sweats. Quickly wiping any remnants on the knees of his pants before swinging his door open, agitation palpable as he greets your stupid, sunny face.

Speak of the she-devil.

“Hi, Tomura! Just wondering if you have any laundry or anything you want me to take!” “N-”  He’s about to slam the door. About to. But you know what? You want his laundry? Sure. He’s got some for you.  “Yeah- yeah, sure.” 

He steps back from behind the door, letting it creak open a little as he rips off his freshly re-soiled sheets.

“Oh, good! Yeah, I’m throwing in my own so I’ll take your load too-“

Yeah you will.

Balling it up, he chucks it at you as you curiously peek your head in. You’ve never seen the inside of his room, but soon you’ll see plenty. He doesn’t know if you can feel the fresh cum on the sheets, but he’s willing to bet you can probably smell it. To your credit, you barely falter, even with the sheet cradled in your bare arms.

You’re probably having a moment of “understanding.” ‘He’s a young man with no girlfriend and no other outlet. Of course he’s going to wack off’ and all that. It’s cute, the way you pretend not to notice. That’s okay, he’ll give you something you can’t ignore.

He steps up to the door again, yanking his black shirt over his head and dropping it in your arms with a shit eating grin.

“Oh- okay, yeah-“

Your sentence halts completely as he starts to strip off his pants and you’re left staring in slight horror as your stepson strips down to his boxers in front of you before placing his sweats on the top of the pile you’re carrying- right by your face.

“I’ve got some more dirty boxers if you think you can handle anymore.” He’s grinning like a fiend, reveling in your poorly concealed discomfort as he leans against the doorframe, swinging out towards you. You’re backing away from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes up and away from his very exposed body, and especially the half hard cock tenting the front of his boxers. Your face is turning a viciously dark shade, stifling your breathing because he just knows what you’re refusing to see, you can almost certainly smell.

“Um- nope! This should be a full one! I’ll get them back to you soon!”

“Oh, take your time. No rush.” 

You scurry off down the hall much quicker than your usual casual walk, probably to scrub your arms clean with iron wool. Poor little thing, just trying to be nice and this is what it gets you.

He cackles something fierce as he shuts his door again, going to look for your ruined panties to post a pic but remembering they’re still in the pocket of his sweatpants, covered in his cum and saliva. A fun little surprise for you to find when you go through pockets to ensure nothing gets stuck in the washer.

And he notices, in the coming days, you stop leaving your clothes in the hamper- or even being able to meet his eyes.

Oh, this should be fun.

[jadedxrealityw]

-Rivals- Hermione Granger x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

    Kody: I’m using the owls grading system for the story so if that’s not right, sue me i guess idk. 

    Movie/Show: Harry Potter, ignoring the storyline

    House/Year: Ravenclaw / 7th year

    Request:  Can I request a bold ravenclaw reader (her attitude almost could pass as a slytherin ngl) she's been Hermione's rival when it comes to grades and they DON'T get along very well. Reader is the opposite of mione's reserved personality. But rivals don't kiss and make out with each other secretly in the lavatory 😭 pls enemies to lovers (with some tension;) ykyk and then one day, they walk the great hall hand in hand and everyone is like don't they find each other insufferable?

    Possible Triggers/Warnings: if you don’t like lesbians get the hell off my page, sexual tension, enemies to lovers trope, cursing

    ☼-☪-☼

    love came unexpectedly at times, you learned that at young age from fairy tales and such. Well all kids did, but kids eventually grew up and came to the realization that fairy tales were exactly what they were, fairy tales. Fiction. Not real. 

    people could call you cold hearted or rude, but you would describe yourself as blunt or brutally honest. Never afraid to speak your mind or point out injustice when you saw fit. To put it simpler terms, professors at Hogwarts preferred you didn’t speak at times. 

    “Your too outspoken Ms. L/n” 

    “Stick to your academics Ms. L/n”

    “You wouldn’t be in detention so much so if kept your mouth shut Ms. L/n”

    merlin, you were exhausted of hearing your own last name. You guessed the only reason you weren’t reprimanded as worse as the Weasley Twins was because you were one of Hogwarts brightest witches, always excelled in academics, in every subject. 

    you couldn’t explain it to others even if you tried other then it just came naturally. Your parents, when they were attended Hogwarts were both just as naturally skilled in there studies as you were. So you must have inherited there ‘big brain’ as your mother said many times before.

    you were never one to gloat though, it was never your style. You were more humble about what you could accomplish. That was until she got involved. That egoistical, hypocritical, Gryffindor girl. Hermione Granger became the bane of your existence early into your fifth year. 

   until then Ms. Granger had been the top of all her classes, no one even came close to her intelligence, naming her ‘The Brightest Witch At Hogwarts’ and Hermione wore that title with pride. Being a Muggle born put a target on her head as well as stereotypes.

    most students and some staff almost immediately came to the conclusion she wasn’t capable of achieving goals that regular half or pure bloods could. It was a terrible way to think, but it was unfortunately the reality of being involved with the wizarding world. 

   Hermione was lucky to have friends like she did that cared about her no matter who she was or what she became, but it didn’t stop her need to feel validated in her academics. It was the one thing no one could giver her shit for, because she was the best at it and no one else was. 

   until that fateful fifth year that was mentioned earlier. It was the time when you finally got your mind and heart into your studie. You blew past most of the student body rather quickly, earning the title of the fastest turn around at Hogwarts.

    it was nice

    then it wasn’t, for Hermione of course 

    ☼-☪-☼

    fifth year / past

    “It seems we have two students with an Outstanding this time around” Professor Flitwick spoke as the exams from the previous week had landed neatly onto the wooden desk in front of you. “congratulations Ms. Granger and Ms. L/n”

    Hermione’s head perked up like a cat who had heard a bag of hard food shake from the nest room over, eager. She had never heard that name before, it didn’t come as much as an surprise though considering how big Hogwarts was. She leant to the left where Harry Potter sat. 

    “Who’s L/n? Do you know her?” she asked, casually though Harry knew her better then most. He gave her a half hearted shrug “No clue, try Ron” he suggests. Hermione nods once before leaning over to the right, where the Weasley sat, scowling at his exam. 

    “Mum’s going to kill me” he muttered, bringing no reaction to Granger’s face. He never studied. “Ron, do you know who this L/n is?” she repeated the question she gave to Harry. Ron turns his head away from the parchment and to Hermione. 

   his brows furrowed as he searches the corners of his mind for where he had heard the name from, until the visible light bulb popped over his head- well not so visible actually. “Oh um- Y/n L/n. she’s a Ravenclaw, her parents are certified geniuses. They work at the ministry. Department of magical education”

   his words did not soothe the wracking thought in the young Granger’s mind. “Certified geniuses?” Hermione echos. “If that’s so how come she’s only getting Outstandings now? she must have cheated somehow” she thought aloud. 

    “I surely didn’t cheat”

   like an owl Hermione’s head turned over her shoulder, her two Gryffindor pals doing the same. In her sight was a girl, her age, in a Ravenclaw robe. She had S/C skin with H/L H/C hair and E/C eyes that were staring back at her. Hermione was almost stunned into silence- keyword being almost. 

    “the explain the good grade all of the sudden, L/n?”

   you looked rather confused. You had never met the girl and she was accusing you of cheating because you had never gotten an Outstanding before? Was this a prank of some sort or fever dream? “I studied for once. You have no right accusing me, i don’t even know you that well”

    Harry placed a hand upon Hermione’s shoulder, signaling for her to stop before she caused a scene. Looking back, she should have listened “No right? I have a right to point out people who are just trying to cheat their way through school while people like us actually care about our grades”

    what the Gryffindor girl wasn’t expecting was for you to start laughing. Her friend, Cho Chang joining in, finding it just as equally hilarious. Hermione’s face turned just as bright as Ron’s hair. “What is so funny?” you and Cho slowly come to a stop, breathing in and out. 

    “what’s funny is that your ego is so incredibly large, so much so that it can’t comprehend that someone, not a Gryffindor either was able to match your intelligence. Now shove off ” you said it all with a grin on your face, because you certainly knew you were right. 

    and from that day, you both despised each other

    ☼-☪-☼

    seventh year / present

    and with every exam, every questioned called on by a teacher, you fastly became Hermione’s rival. It was a term Cho used, but you didn’t really see it that way since you weren’t competing with her. You never studied harder to make sure you got the same grade, never tried to sabotage her in any way. 

    you didn’t care much about it actually

    but you did quite enjoy her face, the way her nostrils flared up an her cheeks turned a bright red in anger. It was cute seeing her so mad. Sending er a wink or sly grin when she glared at you became a daily routine as well. When at first you ignored her you now loved annoying her.

    never having to say a word was probably your favorite part. 

    that’s probably when feelings began to mix into it, but you either didn’t notice or refuse to acknowledge them at all. You genuinely thought you hated this girl, so why in the world would you ever think you liked her? Makes sense, right? Were not even going to mention the questioning your sexuality.

    “Sit still while i pass out your exams from yesterday. Once you recieve your paper you may get up and leave” 

    “You think if Snape got laid he wouldn’t be such a prick?” the Slytherin boy spoke, leaning towards you. turning your head ever so slightly, you lock eyes with Draco “Why are you even sitting here?” you whisper back, giving him a mock astonished look.

   he rolls his grey eyes, shrugging his shoulders “You never talk to me outside of class anymore” he grumbles. Is he- Is this- What is happening? “That’s because your a little shit and pushed Neville in the hallway yesterday” yeh, you caught his dumbass. 

    Draco’s eyes widen a bit, not knowing you had been in the hallway during the crime. “You saw that?- what are you his protector?” he says, clearly as an insult, but oh little did he know that you were indeed exactly what he just said and would say it with pride.

    “Yes-”

    “Ms. L/n, Outstanding as usual as well Mr. Malfoy. Good work, the both of you” Snape places the exams in front of each of you, but you were both to busy staring in shock. This bitter, old, mean, crude man just compliment you. Merlin, you had finally gotten fathers approval

    (what in the fuck am i writing)

    “Is this heaven?” Draco questioned, staring bug eyed forward. 

    “No”

    “How do you know?”

    “Cormac is here”

    “Yeah your right, feelings over” both you and Draco sighed, turning to look at each other before laughing quietly. He was a pretty chill dude sometimes. “What!?” the loud screech filled your ears. All heads turned behind you, so you followed that and saw the one and only Hermione Granger. 

    she was huffing and puffing. You feared for the stick and straw houses in the world for a moment. Harry quickly stood up and pushed her shoulders down, forcing her back into her seat “I've never gotten an Exceeds Expectations before” Hermione sputters out. 

    she

    got

    what

    now?

    oh this was rich, absolutely hilarious, so much so that Draco had already began to laugh. “Poor Granger, guess you really aren’t the brightest witch” he taunted. Hermione looked up, glaring daggers at the Slytherin. Merlin, he had such a big mouth.

    then her brown eyes strayed to you, but you only pursed your lips together, providing her no emotion to work off of. In a haste, she collected her things, leaving the cursed exam on the table nd rushing out the door, both Ron and Harry calling out for her. 

    fuck

    standing up, you grab your bag and look down at Draco. His laughter comes to an end and he looks up at you “What?” he asked. You copied his dementor singers from third year, making him look at your hands. You took that time to reach down and flick his forehead. 

    he pulls away, his palm rubbing his head in circles “Bloody hell, what was that for?!” he exclaimed. What an idiot. “This is why we don’t hang out” you deadpan before finally going to exit the classroom, leaving a grumbling, mumbling Draco. Something about you being  ‘mean friend’

    ☼-☪-☼

    only having ten minutes until Charms class you began to search the halls. Merlin where had she run off too? The school wasn’t THAT big- okay maybe it was. You had almost called quits, making a mental note to check up on her during lunch when you passed the restroom.

    sniffling and crys were heard. You’ll admit, it kind off hurt to hear. Taking a few steps backwards, you use the palm off your hand to slowly push the door open so it wouldn’t creak like the old shit it was. When it was open just enough for you to fit through, you slip in. 

    gazing around, you see Hermione bent over the sink, sobbing. You could hear her voice becoming rougher by the second as she destroyed her vocal cords. “Granger?” you say, staying a few feet behind her. Hermione looks up in the mirror, spotting you behind her. 

    her distraught expression quickly shifted to anger “You” she seethed. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion “Me?” you say back, crossing your arms. “Leave me the hell alone L/n!” she shouts, angry tears flooding down her cheeks. Raising your hands, you offer your surrender.

    “Shit, sorry. I was just trying to see if you were okay” you admit. Hermione turns on her heels, facing you directly this time before speaking “Oh so now your my friend, your a bully! All you do is step on my toes and try to make me look like a fool!”

    “Are you on fucking drugs Granger? Not once have i ever gone out my way to harm you of any sort. Your the one who is obsessed with trying to be better then me and i never gave a shit. I never wanted to be your rival for three years and i certainly never bullied you!”

    the words you spoke went out one of Hermione’s ears and out the other. For someone as smart as her, she could be quite dense when angry “You don’t get to play the saint, L/n! I have spent those three years studying as hard as i can and you don’t even have to try!” 

   throwing your hands up in the air a crazy person because she was honestly starting to make your brain hurt quite a bit, you laugh loudly “Oh my- no one asked you too! What is so wrong with us being the same?! ” you shouted, finally raising your voice as much as she had.

    “Because your not a Muggle! You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone you meet already assume your not worth their time just because your parents aren’t witches or wizards!” she crept towards you and which each step she took you took a step right the fuck back.

    this chick wasn’t going to hit you, right?

    “I have never judged you for your blood status Granger, i frankly could care less. What i do judge you for is you know, the giant ego thing” you spat back only causing her to gasp in offense “I do not have an ego!” she yells, stepping into your boundaries basically.

   you had tried to back up like before, but you were pressed up against a wall at this point. “Yes you do and it’s as big as Hagrid!” you reply. Hermione grabs the collar of your white uniform shirt, pulling you down a bit so her face was inches from yours, trying to intimidate you.

    “Take it back!” she threatens. In that moment your eyes scanned her face, noting her almost perfect skin, her brown eyes that looked more hazel up close then far away, and her lips. They looked so soft and inviting. You couldn’t quite understand why you were thinking like this all of the sudden.

    but it felt right, so right

    in a swift motion you place your lips on Hermione’s. You had thought she’d pull away, but only half a second later her arms were wrapped around your neck, pulling you as close as possible to her. You tangled one of your hands into her light brown wavy mess and the other pushed on the small of her back. 

    the kiss was messy and sloppy, not amount of anything really could make it appropriate. How did you two go from fighting to almost ripping each others uniforms off? A question no one could really answer but yourself as well Hermione. 

    it was over as soon as it began with Hermione pulling away, leaning her forehead against yours. You could make out the small smile on her face, it made you smile as well. “That was-” she started to speak, but was stopped by her own laughter. 

    “Yeah” you breathed out. What had just happened?

        ☼-☪-☼

    four months later

    ever since that day you and Hermione would casually meet up in the lavatory to kiss and feel up on each other after, btween, during classes. Anything really. You both had also not interacted at all outside of these visits. Just stayed away from each other as much as possible.

    most people thought you two had either made up after three years of rivalry or had decided to no longer interact with each other at all. Little did they know right? Speaking of that, you pull away from Hermione, panting for air “We have divination in three minutes” you spoke. 

   her face turned to worry instantly making you grin to yourself “Godric, i have to get out of here. Wait a couple minutes” she gathered her belongings and rushed out the restroom not even leaving you with an goodbye kiss. How rude. After about five minutes or so you leave as well

    once you get to class you look around the room and spot Hermione already sat with Harry and Ron on one side of the arch like sitting area for the students. “Y/n!” oh not again. Turning your head to the right, you spt the Slytherin boy with his mates.

   this guy just doesn’t quit. You plop yourself next to Draco Malfoy “I thought you were going to ignore me again” he admits. Ignoring his statement, you gaze around the people at your table “Where’s Parkinson? If i’m going to be stuck with you gits and Theo i rather it be with her” 

   Theo cracks a smile while Draco rolls his eyes “She’s sick, stuck in her dorms” he explains. You nod mindlessly and look over at Hermione. She was brushing through her hair with her fingers, trying to make it look like you weren’t tugging on it just minutes ago. 

    “What’s that on your neck?” Harry asks, moving the top part of Hermione’s robe with his finger, causing her to swat his hand away “It’s just a bug bite” she says with haste. quick thinking, that’s kinda cute. For some odd reason you liked seeing her explain her way out of a hickey that you gave her. 

    class soon started, but you kept your inventive gaze on her. It was adorable how she would catch you staring and turn a nice shade of red. It brought a smug smile to your face each time. Professor Trelawney had called upon Hermione to ask a question, but she seemed to be too busy avoiding your gaze. 

    “My dear, Ms. Granger” Trelawney said for maybe the third time until Hermione finally fell back down to reality. She looked at the Professor who gave her a kind smile “Oh um-” the Gryffindor put on a nervous smile, her eyes looking to you. You sent her a wink.

    merlin you were such an asshole

    Hermione looked at her lap, trying to muster up the words, any words actually. Her savior wore glasses “Hermione isn’t feeling to well. Can Ron and i take her to the hospital wing?” Harry asked. What a buzzkill. Trelawney nods, waving her hand to the direction of the door. 

    Harry tapped Hermione’s shoulder while Ron grabbed her things and off they went. 

        ☼-☪-☼

    a week later

    “I have to head to dinner, you should too. I saw that you didn’t eat during lunch” Hermione spoke, buttoning her uniform shirt. You smile, looking into the mirror so you could fix your hair “Watching me Granger?” you ask, turning away from your reflection.

    “You know i worry about your health” she said, which only made your smile wider “What is that stupid smile for?’ Hermione questions, an amused laugh in her tone. Shrugging, you lean against the sink counter “Stupid? I thought you liked my quote on quote ‘Goofy smile’” 

    Hermione shakes her head, grabbing her bag from the floor “I better see you at dinner or i’ll drag you there myself” she said playfully. An idea popped into your mind. “Then drag me” you smirk, tilting your head to the left. Hermione looks at you, shaking her head again. “You know i can’t”

    “Why not? It’s been four months. I would like to be your-” you stopped mid sentence. You both had never really gave each other labels before. It was always just the casual make out and flirting, but now you were much more. Fuck it “I would like to be your girlfriend in public”

    Hermione’s brow eyes went wide as she heard those words. It becoming a little too real. You saw her conflicted face and immediately felt some sort of shame. Averting your gaze to the ground, you take a deep breath. “Forget i said anything” 

    “No!- i mean. I’m ready. Plus i’m tired of being distracted by you during class” Hermione lightened the mood just a tad. You look back up at her, cracking a half smile “I’m most likely still going to distract you” you point out, making her chuckle. Cute.

    she inhales sharply “Let’s do this” she states confidently, letting out the breath. She reached out, opening her hand for you to grab. In that small gesture, you knew you would be with this woman for as long as you lived. Grabbing her hand, you intertwined your fingers with hers. 

    ☼-☪-☼

    hand in hand, you walk into the great hall. Heads turned and pupils dialated at the sight of you and Hermione walking in together. You honestly felt a little self conscious until you saw the bright smile of Cho and Luna as well as Draco who gave you a hidden thumbs up.

    both you and Hermione took  seat at the Gryffindor table. “So Hermione, how long as this been going on?” Harry asked. Hermione glances at you before her best friend “Four months, one week.” she said, gleaming with pride at her memory. 

    Harry looked taken aback at the time, but gave you both a smile “Well at least you both are getting along finally” he says, Ron nodding beside “Yeah- getting along” the Weasley jokes. You laugh a bit before leaning over to kiss the temple of Hermione's head. 

    rivals am i right?

        ☼-☪-☼

    Click here to join my Taglist so you never miss a new story from me!

    @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @queeriacs @marrymetheonott

    ☼-☪-☼

    Kody- Aye look its 10 am and i haven’t slept. Good night, my requests are open blah blah. Anyways, peace. 

[multiplefandomsblog]

Celeste x reader x Kirigiri SFW & NSFW head-canons

request; celeste x reader x kirigiri? :o

warnings; fluff, i really don’t think there’s any explicit warnings in the sfw part, nsfw section: handcuffs, edging, i didn’t put any explicit descriptions of sex nor scenarios, degrading names, gn!reader, vanilla, mention of vampire roleplay, biting, unedited.

note; sorry i took so long!! I had to study their wiki pages and shit to remember their characters, its been some time since I’ve played THH. anyway, thank you for requesting. also sorry if this was a bit lazy, i feel like i didn’t do this one as well as the others, i’m really sorry.

≈SFW≈

◊ Okay, I feel like Celestia would be the one to spoil the both of you rotten. She’s always buying all three of you matching clothes so you could go out together looking ✨fly✨

◊ If you or Kyoko ever tried denying her outfits, she’d be a bit flustered and upset though she wouldn’t show it. Buuut eventually, you both cave in because you can notice the difference in her attitude, however slight it may be.

◊ “S/o, Kyoko, my darlings. I may have gotten carried away, but I think you both would look wondrous in these- Oh. You don’t… want them? I see. *sad face* Alright then, I guess I’ll just… I..” Yuuuup, you broke her. Congratulations, you jerk. 

◊ Whatever gender you may be, it doesn’t matter, she will buy you a huge fluffy dress (But if you’re not comfortable with it, she’d totally be willing to get you something else).

◊ Celestia calls you both her darlings. She’s always saying hers, or mine in front of your names and/or pet names.

◊ Kyoko isn’t big on pet names, whether she’s on the receiving end or serving; though she doesn’t mind it when either of you calls her one. Just nothing too ridiculous, she’ll flush an adorable shade of red but scold you for it later. She prefers just calling you both by name.

◊ The caring one of the relationship would either have to be you or Celestia. Kyoko doesn’t take care of herself too well, as she’s very passionate about her job; so passionate to the point where she forgets that she’s human and that her very human body needs food and sleep.

◊ Celestia takes care of herself extremely well, I imagine she has a very strict skin routine and diet. But since she’s also passionate about her job, I imagine there would be times where a round of gambling goes extremely long or tie, but she’d be very adamant on winning so she’d go a little over the top and stay there for days, weeks if she had to. 

◊ That being said, they are both very passionate about their jobs so I feel that they are unfortunately prone to neglecting you at times. But don’t worry! They always make it up to you 10x more, and it’s always worth it.

◊ Kyoko would probably make it up to you both by trying to be a bit more affectionate with you. She is well aware that she isn’t always affectionate, so she thinks if she gives you guys a bit more affection, you’ll forgive her? ...Please?

◊ Bbgirl is trying-

◊ Most likely though, she’d talk to you first. A formal apology and everything, if you’re lucky, she’ll buy you a stuffed animal or flowers as she apologizes. 

◊ Since Celestia is just, a very fancy and aesthetic person, I feel like all dates with her would reflect that same fancy aesthetic. She goes out of her way to set up a fancy table at a reserved place where none of you can be disturbed. Expensive teas, china, scones, sweets, those little stands with the layers of pastries; she has it all ready for you two. 

◊ You’d all be sitting on cute chairs sipping tea in cute cups, butlers at your every need, it’s a really cute almost dream-like date. Kyoko would talk about her cases(leaving out things that are confidential of course,) you’d talk about everything and anything, and Celestia would just quietly listen to you both talk, a small smile adorning her face. She loves taking care of the both of you, the reason why she has dates like these are for, 

She wants to spend time with her darlings because she misses them.

She wants you both to relax and destress, she hates the idea of either of you overworking or forgetting to take care of yourself.

◊ Though if you’re not into that, the closest thing that isn’t fancy or organized(though it would take some time for her to practice not being organized) would be a picnic date. With a very very wide blanket. That’s thick. And lots of bug spray. 

◊ Dates with Kyoko would probably be short coffee breaks, she doesn’t have a lot of time sadly, so halfway through the date, she finishes her coffee and leaves early, leaving you and Celestia to spend the rest of the time together.

◊ Dates with her would mostly just be when all three of you go to bed, talking about each other’s days or just talking about stuff that has zero meaning as you all fall asleep.

◊ It kind of makes her a bit upset when you and Celestia have an inside joke or seem a bit closer; as much as she loves seeing you both happy with each other, she can’t help but want to be in on it too. She feels a bit guilty for being so busy with her job.

◊ So when she does feel a bit left out, I think a way to make her feel more included would be small little ‘I love you’ texts while she’s working or even better, surprising her by picking her up on her lunch date to get a quick lunch. 

◊ I think something domestic Kyoko enjoys a lot, is when either of you cooks a bento for her. You can really cook something terrible for her, or even ugly, she doesn’t care; she loves it so much. It’s the thought that you would cook for her that gets her. When she comes back home, the first thing she will do is thank you and hug you real tight. It’s one of the more rare moments where she actually displays feelings of love and gratitude.

◊ Despite getting judgemental looks from Byakuya and aw’s from Hina, in the end, Kyoko doesn’t care one bit. She will eat and enjoy the food in its entirety, she doesn’t care if it affects her reputation as a cold person, she just wants to eat the food.

◊ Though she is unfazed by practically everything, she gets a bit taken aback that you cooked food for her, the shock is evident on her face when you hand it to her before she goes, or drop it off at lunch hour. I don’t think she ever had anyone cook meals for her, or at least, doesn’t remember it; so she’s always pretty shocked when you do. She feels her heart palpitate a little louder and maybe smiles a little smile when you’re not looking. She appreciates it a lot.

◊ Though Celestia doesn’t cook, I think you’d have to be the one to cook for Kirigiri. Celestia enjoys gyoza a whole lot, so if you were ever to cook gyoza for her… well, she’d probably be brutally honest about what she thinks about it. Though she’d give you constructive criticism, and eventually you’d get it right through trial and error and Celestia’s taste buds.

◊ Celestia isn’t big on public areas for dates, like movie theatres, for example. If you ever wanted to watch a movie, she’d probably rent an entire movie theatre for just you three to chill in. As you can see, she’s not too big on being with large groups of people, or just anywhere that isn’t exactly ‘clean’. 

◊ I don’t think either of them would be one for PDA either. Other than mild flirting from Celestia, you all don’t do PDA at all. But there’s this intimate vibe that you all seem to share that has people assume you’re all on a date together. It’s like this bubble, it’s quite peculiar. 

◊ Celestia would never lose her cool because of you both, only for you both. But even so, she avoids losing it in front of your eyes. If she ever had to fight someone for you or intimidate them, she would probably ask you to go occupy yourselves with something else so she could go off without hesitating.

◊ Though if she was ever about to lose it and either of you notices it, a simple hold of her hand calms her down immediately. Her rage wordlessly disappears. She’ll even give you guys a small little forehead kiss in thanks.

◊ Kyoko’s an ‘it’s the thought that counts’ kind of person. So whenever you or Celestia spoil her with expensive gifts, she’ll enjoy it but she’s a bit concerned about how you’re spending so much money on her. She honestly prefers handmade gifts; whether they’re crafty or a bit imperfect, she cherishes them more than you know. 

≈NSFW≈

◊ Oh boy. *cracks knuckles* here we go.

◊ Kyoko hides her moans and expressions, she was raised not to show any unsightly emotions and so, that(sadly) comes into play in bed.

◊ Oh but Celestia teases her until she does, to get that satisfying plead out of Kyoko Kirigiri of all people, it drives her near mad in love. 

◊ Kyoko is definitely vanilla, and would probably want to stay vanilla. There aren’t many things she’s into, as a result of not knowing any kinks. I don’t think she’d be too willing to try any kinks either. Unless you explain it to her, then maybe. Just maybe. 

◊ Kyoko is a soft dom- HAH just kidding! The moment you admit just a little bit of top energy on her, she submits easily. Not in the typical way you’d think, but she’d let you do all the work, you’d have to guide her. I don’t think she has any sexual experience, so she’d have sex relying on you both(for once). 

◊ That’s where Celestia comes into play. I don’t know if this is canon or you know, but I head-canon that she has a surprising amount of sexual knowledge and kinks. 

◊ Kyoko isn’t the biggest fan of you and Celestia having intercourse without her, as I mentioned earlier, she does get a little left out, so knowing that you left her out of something as intimate as sex gets her mad for a couple of days. Even holds a small grudge. 

◊ But it wouldn’t last long, you both would eventually make it up to her since she doesn’t exactly enjoy discussing her feelings, you would have to be the one to speak up first. 

◊ Celeste would definitely ask you both if you were ever interested in trying out role-play with her, specifically; vampire role-play.

◊ Speaking of vampires, she really enjoys it when you lightly bite her. Not enough to leave a mark, if you leave marks on her she’ll get mad. Though she enjoys leaving marks on you both, she enjoys those short moments where someone stares at you guys’ hickeys and she just,, gives them a knowing, intense glare.

◊ Celestia isn’t big on degrading you both unless it’s something like, “My good little mutt.” Degrading names, sure. But not full-on degrading. She lies all the time but lying about this doesn’t sit right with her, she doesn’t want to hurt you both in any way. 

◊ Celestia enjoys being praised, it definitely gets her to spare you an orgasm if she’s edging you. You really have to praise her about everything about her for her to actually let you get off; although Kyoko is known to be silent, Celestia somehow gets her to plead for her. As a result of teasing lies like, “If you don’t obey, you won’t get to get off darling.”

◊ Celestia dominates both of you, simultaneously. Kyoko doesn’t have enough confidence in her ability to please you both to top, and unless you are somehow able to overpower her, she’s always going to be the one who orders you to do things. 

◊ I can totally imagine Kyoko littering millions of butterfly kisses on both your bodies, but they’re so soft and cute you both start to giggle a bit. “Why are you laughing? Is it bad?” She looks genuinely confused and a little sad- and then that both shocks you into showering her with reassurances, any leftover lick of laughter completely vanished.

◊ Celestia is a huge tease- like, just, the biggest tease. She’ll hover her lips over yours, blow at where you need it most, foreplay lasts longer than you would want it to, but in all honesty, it definitely makes the first stroke of pleasure well worth it. All that anticipation, build-up, is all worth it as she finally gives you what you want.

◊ Kyoko is more intimate, every moment with her is just, so full of love it gives you whiplash from Celestia’s little fun. She always has a hand on your back. It’s such a soft and fleeting touch, you both sometimes wonder if it’s even there.

◊ Something I could imagine happening is Celestia just- pulling out soft hand-cuffs from nowhere as a surprise for the two of you, asking you to tie her up. Seeing as how Kyoko is usually around handcuffs often from her detective work, she’s a little confused as to why people would get turned on from that or even introduce that to the bedroom. It’s the last thing she’d expect. She’s a bit nervous to use them(receiving and serving), and doesn’t see the purpose, but when she caves in and says yes anyway, she finds she actually likes them? 

◊ She wouldn’t admit it though. And it definitely ruins her image of handcuffs; any time she sees a perp in handcuffs, she can just see the pleased looks on your and Celestia’s faces.

◊ Celestia would look down at you with this red gaze that leaves the two of you utterly speechless and aroused, even as she’s bottoming, her piercing gaze reminds you who’s in charge.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Fake It Till You Make It - Rose Lavelle x Reader

Prompt: Hey. What about Reader & Rose, where R is basically Rose's best friend outside her soccer bubble. Sam and the other youngins were getting on Rose's nerves talking about her love life so that Rose in affect says that she's in a relationship so that they stop. Anyway, Rose is still single and Sam and the others want to meet her GF, so that she convinces R to pretend to be her GF. (Spoiler: Ending could be that they realise that they don't just pretend to be in love)

 “Stupid, so stupid,” Rose muttered to herself, “please don’t answer, please don’t answer,” she kept mumbling to herself waiting for her call to connect to Y/N.

“Well hello to you too,” Y/N smirked when she connected the facetime call.

“Fuck,” Rose’s eyes went wide when she saw her best friend on the screen, blushing a little bit.

“Oh Rose, you say the sweetest things to me,” Y/N continued to smile at her friend.

“Y/N!” Rose exclaimed, almost surprised to see her.

“Rose!” Y/N mocked, the two sat and watched each other, Y/N grinning and Rose’s expression shifting to guilt, “you going to tell me why you called?”

“Oh, uhh, yea, I missed you?” the soccer player attempted

“Of course, you did, I’m awesome!” Y/N continued to smile at her friend, “but you and I both know that’s not the only reason you called me,” her tone softened.

“I kind of did something stupid,” she started hesitantly, eyes off the screen.

“This is my serious face,” Y/N stared back with a blank expression, “what did you do Rose?”

“Uhh everyone was bugging me about not being in a relationship for so long and I was tired of it, then Linds said something about maybe I’m just not telling them. And I wasn’t paying attention just kind of agreed, so now they think I’m seeing someone.”

“Alright? I don’t see the problem,” she looked at her friend.

“Well, the problem is, I was texting you and they asked for a name, so I said yours,” Rose bit her lip, tugging her sleeves over her hands and covered her face.

“Aww Rosey, you want to date me?” Y/N started teasing her again.

“Stop! It just slipped out.”

“I’m not easy Rose, I expect to be wined and dined, flowers, the whole thing,” she smirked, “and I definitely don’t kiss on the first date, maybe the second if you play your cards right,” she ended with a wink.

“Y/N, stop,” Rose begged, her cheeks completely pink.

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she softened again when she saw how flustered the brunette had gotten, “it’s all good if you drop my name when you need.”

“Yea…” she trailed off, “they kind of took your name and already creeped your insta.”

“No worries,” Y/N shrugged.

“But yes, worries Y/N,” Rose said exasperated, pulling her shirt collar over her mouth, “they think we are dating. They know who you are and want to know why they haven’t met you yet.”

“Rose, it’s all good, pretend for a bit, then you break my heart or whatever you need to get them off your back.

Rose nodded but wouldn’t look up.

“That’s not all is it Rosey?”

Rose shook her head, “they want to meet you. They couldn’t stop gushing about how hot you are and how cute we look together, so yea, they’re kind of expecting you to come to the game or supper or something this week.”

“Ahh now I see the worries,” Y/N nodded, smiling softly, “I kind of thought I was going to your game already, you gave me a ticket to sit with your family.”

“But now everyone wants to meet you, so you can’t just leave after and they will hunt you down if you do escape. Mal was ready to message you herself to make sure you were coming to the game.”

“Rose it’s all good, I’ll meet the team after the game. And I’ll be the best damn girlfriend you could want.”

“You don’t have to Y/N, I can tell them I fucked up and just said it to shut them up.”

“Really, Rose, it’s all good. I’m sure you do enough other stuff to get teased,” Y/N shrugged casually, giving her best friend a dopey smile.

“You’ll really come meet them?” Rose lowered her hands from her face slightly.

“Of course! How else will get some of the embarrassing stories they have?”

Rose had never dreaded the three long whistles more than she did that game. She knew Y/N was in the stands with her parents, which was fine, her parents loved Y/N and had know her for years, but now Y/N would be meeting the rest of her team. She could dodge it, say she had some crazy fan encounter or Y/N couldn’t make it, but she knew that would only delay it.

This is clearly payback for teasing all her friends for years, logically she knows its fair, that it her turn to be teased, but that doesn’t make it any better.

“Where is she Rosey?” Sonnett shook the brunette’s shoulders as they all cleared the field.

“She’s with my parents,” Rose grumbled, leading the blonde over towards the family section.

“Ahh come Rose, be more excited to see your girlfriend!” Lindsey joined the teasing, pulling her into a quick head lock.

“Trust me, I’m excited to see her, its you with her I’m not excited for,” she continued to scan the stands to find her family and current fake girlfriend, “at least try and behave while we are in public, I don’t need the whole world knowing about us.”

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Lavelle!” Sonnett pulled away when they got to the stands, her southern charm coming out, no hint of her teasing left, “you must be Y/N! Rose has told us so much about you,” she shot the midfielder a sly wink, reaching a hand up to shake Y/N’s hand.

“And look! You’ve met Y/N, time to go see your own families,” Rose gently nudged the blonde away.

“I’m Sam,” the tall blonde reached over Rose to shake Y/N’s hand as well

“Where did you even come from?” she turned around quickly, seeing a few other players approach them.

“Be nice Rose,” her mom began to chastise.

“Yea Rose, be nice,” Y/N winked at her, reaching down more to shake another hand, introducing herself.

Rose could feel her body blushing already, this was a terrible idea, she was regretting ever opening her mouth, she knew better than to not listen when her friends are all teasing her.

A few the players talked with her parents before continuing into the tunnel, her core group remaining, making small talk with Y/N and her parents. Y/N was seamlessly talking with the few that remained, including her parents and giving everyone their desired attention. Her mind continued on how much of a bad idea this was, it was hard enough keeping her feelings to herself as it was, but now watching how flawlessly Y/N interacted with her friends challenged her even more. This was such a bad idea.

The group continued to talk before a staff came to collect the players, ushering them away, Rose telling her parents she would call them after and meet them for dinner.

“Why’d you keep her hidden so long? She’s awesome!” Sonnett shook Rose’s shoulders again, “worried one of us would steal her from you?”

That was exactly what she was worried about. She knew Y/N would hit it off with everyone on the team, and with her inability to be open about her feelings, Y/N was bound to connect with someone on the team, someone that wasn’t her.

“You’ve seen her, and you’ve seen me, she clearly upgraded,” Rose did her best to sass back, hoping her face matched her tone.

“Sure she did,” Sam rolled her eyes, gently nudged the brunette.

“Did you see her arms? Those alone are an upgrade compared to you,” Lindsey teasing squeezed Rose’s bicep.

“And you wondered why I didn’t invite any of you to meet her,” Rose rolled her eyes at the trio, frustration beginning to leak out, “now you’ve met her, you can find something else to make fun of.”

“Still you,” Sonnett nodded.

“Tomorrow at lunch,” Lindsey added.

“After recovery,” Sam joined, tilting her head to the side, “weren’t you listening?”

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, “uhh guess I didn’t hear it.”

Rose now started at the ceiling, she had gone for supper with her parents, Y/N joining them, she was practically family at this point, had been for years really. And she loved watching how Y/N interacted with her parents, her sister, grandparents. She seamlessly fit them all, laughing at her dads bad jokes, her grandmas old stories she’s repeated multiple times, returned her sisters relentless teasing, she charmed her mom into letting her sneak bits while she cooked. Rose loved it all, she had hoped being away for soccer all the time, that distance would ease some of her feelings.

But it didn’t. They only seemed to grow. Every time Y/N would ask about soccer, let Rose rant about her injuries, lack of playing time with Manchester City, was easily the best friend she could ask for. For some reason though, the friends never talked about their relationships, so Rose had no idea how to navigate her feelings.

The entire time for recovery the next morning she was interrogated by everyone on the team about the secret girlfriend she had kept hidden from them all. Rose could easily answer them all, as much as she knew it was a fake relationship, it was nice to imagine that it was true, she could pretend for the day.

Y/N tentatively entered the restaurant she was meeting Rose and her friends for lunch, giving them all a smile when she saw them.

“I’d like to keep my lunch down, so if you could tamp down the disgustingness, that would be great,” Lindsey sassed, smirking over the lip of her coffee cup.

Rose blushed, and forced herself to look away from Y/N. She knew she had a dopey smile on her face as soon as she saw Y/N walk in, but she just couldn’t help it after spending the morning talking about her fake relationship with the woman.

“Hey guys,” Y/N greeted, waving slightly before pulling a chair out next to Rose, “hey babe,” she leaned over kissing Rose on the cheek, causing her to blush even deeper.

The group all laughed at how flustered the midfielder was. But quickly got over it, the waiter coming over to take their orders. Each taking turns to ask the newcomer the same questions they asked Rose, turning the conversation to embarrassing Rose stories as soon as they could.

“So picture this smooth human being,” Y/N sarcastically gestured to the brunette, “goes on an entire date, not knowing it was a date. Then had to awkwardly explain to the poor dude after that not only did she not know it was a date, but did not want to date him even if she did.”

The table burst out laughing, Rose shrinking in on herself, blushing again.

“How many dates-not-a-date, did you go on before they became real dates?”

The fake couple made eye contact, both thinking about their response, deliberating what the other might say.

Y/N bit her lip and looked at her plate, before looking shyly back at Rose, “too many,” looking back down, pushing some food around on her plate, “I don’t even know how many hints I had to drop, how much ass kissing to her family I did, but she never got it. I kind of gave up, was just going to be the best damn friend I could be. Then I got lucky,” she blushed, watching Rose as she kept talking, “she gave me the opportunity of a lifetime, invited me to a game, got to meet her friends. But, she’s worth the wait.”

Rose’s eyebrows shot up, Y/N telling her everything without saying the words. Y/N slid a hand to rest on Rose’s thigh. The pair made eye contact, neither knowing what to say, Y/N’s feelings were in the open, but Rose’s weren’t. And now Y/N felt incredibly exposed, the rest of the table didn’t know the truth behind her story, but Rose did, and she wasn’t saying anything.

“I’m not even surprised, that sounds exactly like Rose,” Sam chuckled across the table.

“I’ll catch up to you guys,” Rose stopped outside the door if the restaurant, motioning her friends to go ahead so she could talk to Y/N alone.

Y/N shuffled on the spot, nervous about Rose would have to say, she hadn’t said anything at her confession during lunch, “Rose I’m sorry, that was a little too honest, I should have just made up some kind of story.”

“Was it true?”

“Uhh yea,” Y/N nodded, “I get you probably don’t feel the same way, and that was why you weren’t engaging anything. That’s fine Rose, I accepted a long time ago I would just be your best friend.”

Y/N tried to show how sincere she was, staring at Rose.

Rose shook her head, “no, I’m an idiot,” she took a step forward, closing the distance. She wrapped both hands around Y/N’s cheek, firmly pulling her in for a kiss.

Y/N was shocked, not immediately responding, when she felt Rose begin to pull away, she curled her arm around Rose’s waist. The kiss escalated quickly, teeth clashing, both too excited, unable to slow them selves down.

“We’re in public!” Sonnett yelled at the couple.

They both pushed apart, taking a couple steps away from each other, both blushing and looking at their feet.

“Uhh I guess this means you feel the same?” Y/N shyly asked.

Rose nodded, “I just thought you were a really good friend.”

“I am, but I want to be more than your friend,” Y/N took a step forward, “I’m going to kiss you again, then I’m going to take you on a date.”

She waited for Rose to nod before stepping forward again, closing the distance and cupping the back of her neck.

This kiss was much softer, more controlled, both trying to convey how they felt. They pulled apart when they both couldn’t contain their smiles anymore.

“I really fucking like you,” Y/N rested her forehead against Rose’s

She giggled in return, “I really fucking like you too,” she tilted her head and kissed Y/N briefly again.

The group, unaware of the change in relationship, cat called from down the block.

They pulled apart, Rose taking steps towards the other soccer players, “I’ll call you.”

She took quick steps, kissing Y/N quickly again before running away to her friends.  

[kitkatopinions]

Nitpick Number 11 - In honor of Red (Taylor’s Version) dropping in ten minutes, let’s talk about the music in RWBY.

You know, I might consider this *not a nitpick* considering that the music can make or break a scene, but I do remember seeing a post talking about how RWBY critics who criticize the music in the last couple of seasons clearly just don’t understand it, so yeah, I’m counting this as a nitpick out of pure pettiness.

So! The music is one of the first things that made me like RWBY, it was used well, it was super iconic, and most of the songs were enjoyable, with none that I just out and out didn’t like. Admittedly, from the start, there have been moments where I thought “they tried way too hard here,” like the rap in Burn or... Dream Come True, which is my least favorite song in the first three seasons, but the occasional hokey-ness and cringe kind of weirdly fit the show? Like, it wouldn’t be RWBY if you didn’t occasionally go “Oh no, what is that?”

But, there were some annoying things about the music from the start, like Red Like Roses being so Summer-centric while the writers forgot to make Summer matter to Ruby for six or seven years of show, or all of Pyrrha’s songs being centered around Jaune, or making From Shadows hit hard when they had no intention of properly addressing the mistreatment and oppression the Faunus had dealt with forever. But on the whole, great music that I still love listening to! Season four had some really good songs too and I think they’re all good, even though bmblb makes me annoyed, so I skip it every time. Season five? More good songs, though sometimes used weirdly or not quite fitting situations or with the occasional line I didn’t like, but on the whole, good. I’ll tell you what, though, at this point I’d started to get annoyed. How come there were at least four clearly Weiss centric songs and all Ruby had was still the Red Like Roses songs, one of which was clearly just about all four mains and the other one heavily featuring themes that at the time still didn’t connect to Ruby, because we’d had no reason yet to think she even remembered Summer and they were even neglecting her in Yang’s storyline? How come so many mains like Jaune, Ren, and Oscar still hadn’t gotten a song of their own, and Nora’s only song was just tied to her romance? And then there were songs I didn’t really care much for, like the Triumph and Ignite that were fine and I liked well enough, but weren’t anything special.

And then season six hit. And I liked exactly three songs that weren’t remixes of old songs. Miracle, One Thing, and Forever Fall. And ‘Forever Fall’ bugged me even though I like listening to it because it was still a Pyrrha and Jaune song when neither of them had gotten a non-romance centric song. And One Thing and Miracle were good, but not great, nothing extraordinary, and I might’ve just liked One Thing because I was so happy to get Neo back and it was tacked along to one of the better songs we’d gotten in seasons. The other songs? Not so much. I hate Big Metal Shoe, Lionize just makes me mad, Nevermore is ugh, and Indomitable and Rising are just... There.

And guys, I swear, I’ve tried and tried to listen through the whole volume seven soundtrack and every time I try, I end up bored, annoyed, missing the old RWBY, and turning it off to listen to something that isn’t going to grate on my nerves. I can’t think of one song off the top of my head that I really enjoy, and I especially dislike all the ‘fun’ songs. And as for volume eight, I actually haven’t heard any of the released songs in full, because I haven’t liked any of what I have heard but for Awake, and I was so put off by volume seven’s music that I can’t find it within me to care about anything but that one song that my sisters listen to still. I can’t care about Nora’s first none romance driven song, I can’t care about Penny getting a song that I’ve heard is heavy on the Pinocchio references and Ruby worship, I can’t care about the possibility of a new Qrow song, I can’t care about whether or not Ruby actually gets a song that matters to her or if Oscar or Ozpin or Ren or Jaune finally get a song that’s about them... This show managed to kill my enthusiasm over the music, and while I had eagerly looked up RWBY songs trying to hear what was new in season six before the album dropped, now I’m just...

I’ll also point out that some of the songs are a bit out of place in volume seven I feel like. For example, why is Trust Love the theme song in the volume where they abandoned and betrayed their allies after distrusting one of them for the better part of the series, going behind his back, and still showing nothing but coldness, disinterest, and a complete lack of sympathy towards Ozpin? Also, that song is grating. Why is Brand New Day allegedly a song about Blake and Qrow becoming better when Blake was pushed to the sidelines and made into nothing more than ‘Yang’s potential gf’ while Qrow’s actual recovery was rushed and then he was just thrust back into despair?

Also can someone please rescue me from the song ‘Celebrate?’ Gross. And I also would like to formally say, on the record, that Let’s Get Real makes me upset. The music in RWBY used to be one of the things I liked best about the show.

[shoichee]

ok hear me out. aomine x f!reader who’s on the tennis team and is amazing at it. for a while the reader and her team need to share the gym on the same days as basketball practice. during the days they share the gym aomine notices the reader. somehow aomine finds out the reader is also good at basketball, practically at aomine’s level. you can decide what happens!! it can be a head cannon or a type of one shot :)

I AM HEARING YOU OUT ANON, WE HAVE ANOTHER BANGER REQUEST THIS IS FIRE look inhale, what a genius, okay so i don’t play tennis myself, but I have a lot of friends who do... and trust me.... it’s a lot more exertive and difficult than what it appears to be

Aomine x f!Reader

[Headcanons]

if Aomine was a monster on the basketball courts, you were a monster on the tennis courts

the only reason why he hasn’t heard about you until he first saw you was because tennis tends to be not as a popular and broadcasted sport as basketball // the tennis games themselves are often single-player (doubles exist too but still less people on the same court) and relatively quiet with few audience members watching too

it was a MIRACLE that Aomine was there at the gym today (thank Wakamatsu for threatening to burn his porno mag), and luckily for him, he didn’t even had to practice as hard because the tennis club had an agreement with Touou’s basketball coach to occupy the other half of the gym

enter you, putting down your duffel bag and stretching before you do a few warmup tosses and hits against the gym wall while the nets were being set up

for the first half of practice, both sides were busy with their own practices, so Aomine hasn’t really noticed you

it was until the team got a break to catch their breath that Aomine noticed that the tennis team were still doing drills and practice matches; every single eye was drawn to you

Sakurai immediately comments on how your movements were too similar to Aomine’s, and Imayoshi is equally intrigued that you might as well be the tennis-version of Aomine

at the chatter, Aomine slightly perks up and looks to where everyone was pointing at (you), and quietly watches you while still looking “bored,” until he realized how right they were

your agility is top-notch and your instincts to immediately sprint to the right direction were insane; your change of pace from 0 to 10 in acceleration were even more seamless than Aomine’s at times, especially when you stand at a ready position and suddenly burst to the other side of the court to save the ball from the corner

not to mention you have your own fair share of trickshots and unpredictability in trying various ways to tire out your opponent in chasing after the balls you hit

Sakurai loudly wonders that if you played basketball, would you even be able to defeat Aomine?? and the entire team STARTS ANALYZING AND DISCUSSING amongst themselves and doing bets LMAO

Aomine’s impressed, but he’s still somewhat “meh” about it, since “the only one who could beat me is me” is still an attitude he carries around, and you do give off a vibe similar to Kise where you could easily copy techniques easily if you do play basketball other than tennis

little did Aomine know, you also noticed his exceptional skill with the ball and how he can do trickshots and dunks with ease… you turn to your friend and ask if that’s even possible

your friend stares incredulously at you and asks, “How do you not know? He’s one of the Generation of Miracles!”

of course you didn’t know if you’ve been focused on tennis all your life, but being in the sports world, the title of “Generation of Miracles” does ring a familiar bell

your friend (who’s also your partner during doubles matches) also plays a little bit of other sports on the side, including basketball, and during breaks, your friend would often ask you to play a small game together because seeing the Touou basketball team playing got them pumped up

your athletic ability would translate very easily into basketball, since having reflexes, agility, instincts, and change of pace would all be advantageous in sports that require mobility (just like how Koganei’s instincts from tennis were very useful in Seirin)

so whether or not you played basketball didn’t matter dramatically because you had skills and abilities that would be universally beneficial in most sports anyways

you always gave your friend a run for their money when you kept stealing their ball, did fast breaks, or pulled off agile maneuverings that no beginner player would be able to do, and whenever your tennis teammates did their “ooh’s” and “ah’s,” the basketball team would peer over to see what the commotion was about

they were LOSING their shit at how naturally talented you were at basketball, and Imayoshi has a bad great idea of inviting you over after practice to do some quick one-on-ones with Aomine for his own entertainment

Aomine is kind of excited if he was being honest, and his blood is kinda pumping and he’s a bit giddy to find a potential rival other than Kagami

Momoi is a little worried for you because Aomine might be a brute and hurt you, especially since you’re a girl, but she’s just as excited to see someone potentially knocking down his ego a shit ton if he loses

Momoi and Imayoshi both walk up to you on the last day of “shared” practice at the gym and ask if you can spare some time to do some one-on-ones with Aomine, and you agree because you don’t have much to do anyways

your friend is super excited for you but a little nervous at how you’re so casual in going against a GoM, but nevertheless, both the tennis and basketball teams are in the audience watching Momoi throwing up the jump ball (Aomine is giving you an arrogant smirk and you’re just standing there more focused on the ball than him LMAO)

as expected, Aomine easily grabs the ball (since he knows the rhythm in jumping for this a lot better) and immediately starts dribbling down the court at an inhuman speed, expecting a swift victory

nope, you immediately reacted to his speed and immediately cut off his drive when you’re right in front of him… and you immediately swiped for the ball, Aomine almost didn’t react fast enough to switch handles to escape your reach

but you immediately reacted and reach for his other dribbling hand and slap the ball away, and then you bolted with the ball down your court

Aomine is right behind you, shocked out of his wits, and everyone else is in HYSTERICS in the background

“HOLY SHIT, did you see that?!”

“(y/n), kick his ass!”

“Ho? Aomine, you’re letting her beat you so easily?”

“I knew those porn mags didn’t do anything good for him.”

“U-Um, Wakamatsu-san…”

Aomine thinks it’s a fluke that you got the ball from him, but he’s shocked because you weren’t exactly a Kise, and you even had a reaction time similar to Akashi’s on top of that

he tries to steal the ball back, but you did something unpredictable: using a similar movement when you hit the tennis ball with your racket, you slapped the ball to bounce (at an unfamiliar speed/rhythm) through his legs before you sprinted to dribble the ball in a normal drive again

shooting was a different story though because Aomine is always blocking your shots or stealing it before you can even get into a shooting position; after all, shooting requires use of muscles different to when playing tennis

even so, you made it equally hard for him to score

ultimately, Aomine’s superb shooting abilities expectantly made him won the short match, but he even had to resort to some crazy trickshots, so your reflexes would kick in slower than normal to register those shots

for those who have no clue about tennis (spoiler alert: me), a tennis racket is a lot more bulkier and heavier than it appears to be (much different than a badminton racket), and it takes a lot of arm strength to play with it very fluidly without wasting energy

thus, dribbling was easy for you, and your ball handling was pretty unique but still very hard to keep track of

now Aomine won, but everyone is losing their shit at the fact that you managed to get him to sweat so much and putting in effort (cue Wakamatsu and Imayoshi trying to recruit you to join as Aomine’s practice buddy to get the Touou ace to practice for once)

now, if it was a two-on-two match, you and your friend would definitely destroy Aomine and whoever would be unfortunate enough to be his partner (cough, Sakurai), for the sole reason that your impeccable teamwork in tennis doubles carries over to basketball matches, where Aomine has always been a solo star player

you damn know well that Aomine would constantly bug you to do one-on-ones with him, but he’s secretly whipped for you and doesn’t know how else to ask you to hang out with him other than a match LMAO

you do remind him that you’re a tennis player first, and you prioritize your team above all else; that means if there’s tennis practice, you’re going to those no matter what

that just reminded him of Kuroko (nostalgia, angst, and feels enter here)

he reluctantly shows up to watch your tennis practices along with Momoi because sleeping on the roof has gotten “boring,” and Momoi finds incentive in finding any techniques she can pick up from you to use for basketball strategies

he may have secretly watched your tennis matches, both singles and doubles

you definitely have watched Aomine’s matches, noticing there’s something odd with him at times, like he wasn’t trying his best like he did with you

after a heartfelt talk with Momoi, you do feel like he needs to get out of that mindset on his own, since his stubborn personality wouldn’t listen to you and you knew that from the amount of one-on-ones you played with him

then the Winter Cup came and Seirin won in their “revenge match” against Touou, and you were captivated by Aomine going ALL OUT in that match (you also took some notes to use for your own tennis matches)

Aomine drags both you and Momoi to buy some new basketball shoes after Touou’s loss, and from that point on, both of you are technically practicing basketball together, but like… you’re not complaining because you’re getting extra cardio in

you get better at basketball, enough to even beat him once in a blue moon in one-on-ones, but then he wins the rest of the matches against you tenfold LOL

Momoi loves you because you’re one of his main motivators to practice

when Aomine himself tries to play tennis singles with you, it’s quite hilarious to see him missing the tennis ball every time when he serves because it’s so TINY but it’s so heavy?? so it falls to the ground quite literally if he’s not precise in hitting it LOL

gauging distance between the net, back of the court, the ball, and his arm positioning is a nightmare for Aomine because he’s used to grand courts and GIANT distances and TALL hoops, and him being precise and meticulous in a much smaller area feels so restricting

of course you whoop his ass in tennis, that’s a given

give him some time though, he’d be really good at it really quickly once he adapts to his surroundings

bonus: Koganei FREAKS out seeing you in the Winter Cup in the audience because you’re a literal tennis legend, and the entire Seirin team is going ???? at him // he totally fanboys a bit and asks you to meet with his Seirin teammates, and you agree because you wanted to meet the team who gave Touou and Aomine a run for their money

you do one-on-ones with Kagami because you’re curious, and when Aomine hears of this… it’d be a CHAOTIC scene once he storms over to drag you away from Seirin

extra bonus: it’s not unusual to see you use your tennis racket to thwack him in the head when he gets any funny ideas of staring at your teammates’ shorts/tennis skirts or when he’s doing anything dumb in general

[thelittleboyfromloveactually]

Two Shorten the Road

part 1

joel dawson x reader

warnings: cussing? idk, bad writing.....fluff, cuteness, monsters(is this a warning), mentions of death, SPOILERS

word count: 2154

prompt: when your best friend decides to leave your colony to go find the love of his life, you decide to join him on his journey even if you aren’t so happy about where this journey is going

Welp I did it, I took it into my own hands. I am writing a joel dawson series. Because we👏need 👏more👏joel👏fics👏 it’s basically the movie, almost the same script but obviously slightly different…ENJOY! <3

No one in my generation or later had a typical upbringing, I mean some of us did but then the world ended. This type of thing sounds straight out of some apocalyptic movie, but we basically live in one now. Agatha 616, an asteroid heading straight for earth, I know, so original. So we all came together and did what we do best, blow things up. Yup, we blew up teh asteroid, and humanity was saved! We thought. But here’s the thing about rockets, they are made of a bunch of chemical compounds which eventually rained back down on earth. Suddenly there were these Aileen creatures that mutated and started eating us. Ants, lizards, roaches, crocodiles, you name it. Our president was even killed by a giant moth. Ya….not so original now huh? We suddenly need tanks to kill ants, oh man I remember the good old days when a shoe would do just fine. Sometimes even the tanks didn’t work. Eventually the really big ones and our military took each other out and we lost 95% of the human population in a year! Those of us who survived hid, bunkers, caves, panic rooms, all around the world. So for the last seven years I’ve been hiding in an underground bunker. It’s really not as bad as it sounds, and it’s better than getting eaten alive. It’s a great group of people and we all love each other.

“Are you sure they’re asleep?”

“Who?”

“Y/N and joel!”

“Oh ya I’m sure”

“Joel? Y/n?”

“He’s asleep”

Actually we are both awake. Me and my best friend joel have kinda mastered faking being asleep. Our beds are right across from each other so we normally just lie there and make stupid faces at each other. We are the only two single people in our bunker. Nice huh? Joel is my best friend. I met him when I joined the colony. He’s the sweetest. It’s funny cause everyone thinks we should just have sex already because that’s literally all everyone else does. But we are way above that. Anyway, joel is in love with his girlfriend from before the colony, her name is Aimee. With one “I” and two “e”s. He loves to talk about her, he writes her letters. So in reality, I am the only one who is not in love in this bunker. I’ve never had a boyfriend, ever, even before the world ended.

We don’t really get any sleep. The moaning kinda keeps us awake. I got up and out of my bed and headed for the kitchen. I heard Joel’s bed creak and then his footsteps as he followed behind me. Another annoying thing about being down here is that to get to the kitchen from my room, you have to walk though other people’s bedrooms. Oh shit, they are busy, why would they leave their door open. Me and Joel stopped.

“Oh” joel and I said in unison

“Hey Y/N! Hey Joel!” Ava said

“Oh hey Ava” Joel said, we didn’t dare look over to our left.

“Y/N how’s it going?” Tim asked

“T-totally good tim, h-how are you doing” I asked

“Yeah, good” he responded

“I uh we couldn’t sleep” said Joel looking at the ceiling

“Ya we know the feeling” Ava said with a laugh

“Yeah probably not for the…..same reasons” joel said looking straight ahead

“Your guyses door was open, did you…did you know that?” I asked

“Yeah we know” they said

I shook my head and knitted my eyebrows together

“Okay” joel trailed off

Ever since Tim’s parents were eaten by a swarm of termites he and Ava have gotten really close, in every way.

“Okay, goodnight” joel said as we walked

Basically everyone is coupled up down here, a baby was born last winter! Welcome to the apocalypse kid. Ok if we ever get out of this, that would be an awesome story to tell your kids. “Oh ya I was born in an underground bunker doing a monster apocalypse” “yes exactly like World War Z but with bugs bigger than a 5 story building”. I mean come on.

So your probably wonder how the hell we get food, we’ll we have a cow. Gurdy. Gurdy is great. We also have a hunting party that brings back whatever they can from the surface. It’s gotten harder and harder, cause we ran out of bullets. And facing one of those things with a handmade weapon is just as hard as it sounds. It’s very very difficult. I go with them….sometimes. I still get scared. But I’ve been out quite a lot, especially compared to my man joel over here. I’ve been out maybe 30 times, he’s been out…maybe once, or not even. He’s the chef of the bunker. He makes super good Minestrone.

Me and joel like to hang out with Mavis. A robot. Yup. Not much for conversation, her batter is shot. Just like every other mavis I would imagine. When I’m not hunting we hang out with her. But sometimes I just go read. Reading and joel keep me sane. I mean sometimes joel drives me insane but I still love him. I have quite the collection of books too! I’ve got Emma by Jane Austen, a couple random ones that we found, all the hunger games and Harry Potter books, some mysteries that stopped being mysteries after a while, and then of course some smutty romance books for personal entertainment.

Joel likes to say that his thing is target practice. He has never hit the target but ya know, gotta entertain yourself. I think his thing is drawing though, he has this book that he draws in from Aimee. It’s really cool actually. He’s really good.

I sat watching Joel as he tried to hit the target, laughing a little every time he missed. It was cute how hard he tried.

“Shut up” he said shaking his laugh away

I laughed again, but then suddenly the lights started flickering. You could hear screeches and creeks echoing through the bunker. Joel turned to look at me. Worry and determination in his eyes. We both scrambled out of the room and into the kitchen where everyone was preparing.

“Hustle, hustle people we’ve gotta move”

I turned to look at Joel but then realized that he wasn’t next to me. Where did he go? Worry flooded through me. Suddenly the clanking of our weapon started behind me.

“Hey guys!” Joel said as he rammed into the railing, I shook my head. “Guys! I’ve got the weapons” he smiled at me

A few people walked over to him taking them out of his hands

“Stay” said Tim

“W-what?” Joel asked looking around in confusion

Everyone was talking and barking orders “grab what you need and let’s go! Y/N you coming?”

My eyes shot open “yes! Yup!” I jumped up and grabbed the bow and arrow from Joel.

“W-what's happening?” He asked innocently “what’s going on?”

“There’s a breach” said Tim

“What do you mean? Like inside the bunker breach?!” He asked

“Yes joel! Now come on!” I told him, patting him on the pack as I followed the others

He followed me and watched the plan get arranged

“Anna, Y/N and I will engage. Anderson and Tom plank him”

“Plank him, ya ok where do you guys need me? You want me to uh come through the rear or..?” Joel asked eagerly

“I don’t think your going to pass this joel” I told him

“Pass what? You guys need help, let me help” said clutching his crossbow

“You gonna make me say it?” said Sam

“Say what?!” God he was so adorably clueless

“You can’t handle it joel, your shook” said Sam, we all began getting into positions

“Ya ok, yes so you guys don’t get scared..ever?” He asked still getting ready to fight

“We get scared, we all get scared joel, but you get really scared” said Sam

“They are trying to make you feel bad joel” I said sweetly, trying to calm him down

“We love you joel”

“But your a liability”

“Ok why did that speech feel so rehearsed? And what about Y/N? She’s like…ya know?” He said bobbing his head

“Joel-“ suddenly the bunker shook and the lights flicked again

“Ok 30 meters out! Let’s move!” And we were off

Leaving joel and some others behind. You could hear the growling of whatever we were up against

I followed the others and listened carefully. I was freaking shaking. Don’t ask how I got sucked into becoming one the the hunters. Kinda just happened and I was just-

“OH SHIT!” I heard someone yell, it was too dark to see. Someone was gone, that thing took them. I couldn’t even see it. Oh fuck my life. Everyone began scattering, running away from the monster. I stopped running to take a breath, when I realized I was alone. Nicely done Y/N. The lights kept flickering. I heard something blow up in the distance.

“Conned? Conner?” I heard a whisper, one I knew all too well. Shit, joel. I ran toward the sound, and had no idea I was also running toward certain death. I stopped running. There it was, that thing. I’d never seen this before. I didn’t recognize it. I stayed silent, not moving at all. It slowly crawled over a shower curtain. Oh fuck. He was going toward joel! I quickly grabbed my bow and arrow and shot it. Right though the face. Next to its….eye I guess you could call it. Joel stood there, frozen.

I slowly walked over to him “Joel, hey are you ok?” I asked as I slipped my hand into his. He was trembling. Tears ran down his cheeks. He has a bad freezing problem, so I've been helping him work on it.

About an hour later I sat with Joel, still holding his hand as he stared out into space. We could hear everyone talking. How could this have happened?

“It ripped through steal”

“Anderson and I resealed the Breach point, nothings getting in that way again”

“But why did it happen?”

I tried to toon it out, and I hoped Joel did too.

“Joel, do you wanna talk about it?” I asked squeezing his hand, he looked so sad, which just crushed me

He shook his head

“Ok….” I nodded, I leaned into hug him but was interrupted by his voice

“How far away is Aimee's colony?” He asked

I pulled back, looking at him confused. The talking stopped and everyone look at him

“What?” Tim asked

“Aimee’s colony, how far away is it?” He repeated

“About 85 miles” he said as he furrowed his brows

“How long will it take to get there?”

“What do you mean joel?” I asked leaning closer to him

“Just humor me, how long?” He insisted

“7 days” said Tim

“Someone who’s armed and trained would hardly last 50miles, but you…joel” Ava said, I felt bad for him, he really didn’t deserve any of this

“Alright” Tim continued “now I need volunteers”

“I’m gonna go” joel said

No one said anything, they just stared

“It’s an impossible journey joel” said Tim, crossing his arms

Joel stood up, moving around my chair. “No im serious…I love you guys but there’s only one person in this world who ever truly made me happy and she’s only 85 miles away” he said strongly “I’m gonna go see her” I could see his mind was made up

God he was such a romantic, how could you not love this guy? Sure it hurts when your best friend tells you that you didn’t make him truly happy. Especially when you maybe sorta kinda have a crush on him.

He let out a breath “woah, that felt awesome” he said as he walked off to start packing

I stood there for a second processing and thinking, but then suddenly my mouth took over and well….

“I’m coming with you!” I said, he froze “I mean you can’t leave me here with these middle aged people, and your my best friend so” I shrugged

“I’ll come back for you I promise” he walked over to me “I can’t let you put yourself in even more danger” he said grabbing my arms

“I can’t let you put yourself in danger knowing that I could have helped protect you” I said, he stared blankly at me

I smiled “o-ohK…then I guess…” he trailed off

“Cool I’ll go pack” I skipped past him. Was I scared? Hell yes. But like I said, I needed to help joel and protect him in every way I can. And sure I wasn’t so happy that he was returning to his long lost love but if it made him happy then I would live. And anyway, two do shorten the road.

[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.

[enhyupn]

the perfect date! four

masterlist | previous | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned, jealousy, arguments + there might be grammatical and spelling errors in this 😞

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n i should really make a masterlist BUT!!! okay i’ll edit this properly soon my eyes aren’t working rn since i’m on the road also it’s taking a while to get to the actual date 😩 Bit so wait for that everyone

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush @penghoons @min-arya @sunooflowerss @badroseee @cha-raena @ghjasksdk @strawr @jaypen @nanachuu @nikisboxysmile @softkons @kisshoons-main @enha-woodzies

you had felt as if your feet were about to fall off by the time you had reached the gate of your well loved home. with heavy breaths you could see the outline of a figure standing almost a meter away from you. a scowl on your face when you saw the almost semi-permanent smirk placed on jay’s face as he stood proudly in front of your home. you let an exasperated sigh out as you lean against the cold metal gate, not able to find the energy to open it up. the lack of daylight surrounding you only really added to your draining energy. you roll your eyes before fixing your school blazer into it’s proper appearance and adjusting your school bag to fit comfortably on your shoulder. you look up once again, your eyes meeting the blonde dyed boy’s eyes. a smile placed in his eyes, something that showed you that had been waiting for you.

your mind couldn’t help but remind you that this was one of the few moments where you had really taken the time to look at jay’s face. your time in middle school didn’t really give you any opportunities due to the fact you were so shy and bashful in front of the boy that you couldn’t even properly look at him. you just so barely properly spoke to him and exchanged messages to even form some sort of connection. you never really questioned until then why he had a crush on you in middle school, a time in your life where you had thought you were going to be alone forever. as much as you wanted to question him you knew you’d accidentally expose your own past crush, something you desperately didn’t want to explain.

“are you gonna greet me or are you just gonna keep staring at my face?” he teased, letting out a hearty laugh. you shook your head, not approving of his statement. you unlock your gate as you send him another glare. the wind added to the already dramatic yet heart warming scene, loose cherry blossom petals from a nearby tree flying around you almost romantically.

“i was not” you murmured as you had gotten closer to him, the sound of the grass lightly flattening as you walked over it with care. you might of even stepped on a bug in the process, none of the surrounding light exposing itself onto the lawn meaning your vision was very little. “as if i’d willingly do that”. the boy only laughed in response as you leaned against the wall, very eerily close to him. you eyes dart to the small space in between the two of you, unexplainable heat rushing to your cheeks. the boy sends you a look with his eyebrow raised, unsure what the problem was. “anyways, what was that call even for?” you manage to shift the attention back into your words.

“hmmmm” he pretended to think, the joke only causing you to snort quietly to yourself. his head suddenly twists towards you, the previous view of your sad looking garden not doing him any justice in your conversation. from your point of view, your eyes only widened in surprise when you had realised just how close your faces were together. his nose was almost touching yours and, if you wanted to, you could of even touched foreheads together. “i don’t know”.

“what do you mean i don’t know?” you move your face back, jay not noticing the small movement from your sudden bashfulness. “who calls saying i’m at your house, come home quickly before i break in without a reason?” you continue, hands flying around you as you try and theatrically explain his excuse.

“maybe i do?” jay laughed in between his words. you roll your eyes at his playfulness, a small smile forming on your lips when you looked down at your feet. as much as you wanted an explanation, hearing jay finally for the first time in years joke around with you simply just felt better.

“veeerry funny jay” you spoke breathily, leaning further against the wall of your home. you knew your parents were waiting for your arrival, probably sitting in their room asking themselves when you’ll eat your dinner. however, you weren’t entirely really sure if they knew about jay’s sudden visit outside your door. with a quick sigh out you turn to him once again, the boy only mirroring your action with a grin spread across his face. “how did you know where i live? or remembered my number?”.

“jake, for both of your answers” you seem raise an eyebrow at the mention of your best friend’s name, suspicious on what had happened between the two of them.

“you two are buddy-buddy now?” you tease, your fingers wiggling in front of his face playfully as you let a squeaky laugh out. jay lightly swatted your hands away, a low chuckle escaping him mouth as he turned away from you to look at the bland scenery in front of him.

“not exactly, we just both relate to things i guess” he replied quietly, the sound of crickets chirping and wind slightly breezing through following the sound of his voice. your lips morph into a small smile when you had listened to his words.

“that’s nice to hear” you sigh out blissfully, your head nodded in agreement while turning to the front of you too to look at the same scenery his eyes were trained on. “no more fighting then, i suppose?”.

“can’t promise that one” jay awkwardly let out, his head replaying the memory of earlier that evening. he bit his lip in guilt, feeling yet again apologetic about the whole situation. “hey i’m sorry—”

“—it’s fine” you interrupt him abruptly. you had already predicted what he was about to say, knowing jay’s personality you knew he would feel incredibly guilty about it. you knew it wasn’t either of their faults, from every way you’ve looked at the situation you understood that the two of weren’t the best with handling any sort of feelings they felt. “you two were just emotional, plus i wasn’t giving you enough attention today too”.

“give me attention?” he laughed, a growing blush scattering across his face. his brain almost blew up at your slightly affectionate comment. “why would you say it like that?”.

“oh shut up” you nudge him lightly, biting your lip in slight embarrassment when you had realised what you had said. “you know what i mean! i haven’t seen you in forever and of course you would wanna catch up with me”. you glance at him while your feet tapped slightly, “right?”.

“how cocky of you to think i missed you” jay jokingly rolled his eyes. you could tell from his playful tone that he was just teasing you, although it didn’t stop you from lightly elbowing him in the side.

it felt nice, talking so freely with the boy you’ve probably spent a good chunk of your life thinking about and as well as even missing. the brain of middle school you would of never even thought this would of happened, with you thinking then that the two of you were on two completely different levels (with jay being on the significantly higher level, even during those middle school years). you wish you could of told your younger self that those times spent silently admiring your school crush wasn’t a one sided thing as much as you had thought.

“don’t go thinking i missed you either too then!” you pout. the action setting jay’s brain into haywire, you had such an affect on him but you were the only one who couldn’t realise it.

he abruptly swivels his head forward, not wanting you to catch his embarrassing slip up. your own action caused him to clear his head completely blank, not having any snarky comebacks for your reply.

“remember the jeju day trip in middle school?” jay changed the subject, it caused you to raise an eyebrow before taking a glimpse at him.

you didn’t really understand why he had brought it up, it wasn’t anything significant. you can vaguely even remember the day, the only real memory you had of that day was your aunt dressing you up for it. she had wanted you to look your best, you can’t really thank her for anything since that whole night was truly just unmemorable.

“no” you paused to rack your brain in hopes to find anything to add to his question. “why? was there something worth remembering?”, yet another pout formed on your face from his puzzling question.

“the plane ride there?” he mentioned, trying to jog your memory in hopes to find what he was trying to say. “do you seriously not remember?” he laughs unexpectedly, his voice only sending your heart beating rapidly.

“n-no” a stutter had caught up to your words. you had no idea why he was still giving you this affect. i mean you’ve gotten over him over the course of his absence, right?

“well, remember earlier today, what i told you in front of sunghoon and jake” he rambles on, completely ignoring your embarrassed state. you glance back at him, noticing he was awkwardly playing with his fingers with tinted red ears. you smile to yourself, the boy setting your cheeks on fire with small actions that you didn’t think would even affect you.

“yeah, what about it?”

“i said i had a crush on you” he continued, his words only sending butterflies to your stomach as you tried to put on a calm smile. you only nodded silently, unable to find the correct answer to reply to him with. “on the plan ride to jeju, we sat beside each other” you watched from his side his hands ran through his hair, “you were so talkative and just so bright— happy? something like that. i remember only wanting to talk to you that whole day after we got off the plane, my friends kept teasing me about it and wouldn’t stop asking why i kept glancing at you throughout our whole trip”.

“you’ve liked me since then?” you let out; quietly questioning his comment, your hands cupping your mouth in realisation at your slight mixup of words. “i mean— you started liking me then? up until whenever you’ve stopped liking me? you get what i’m trying to say—”.

“who said i stopped liking you?”

if words could kill, his would of definitely made you drop stone cold onto the ground. you open your mouth, and without surprise nothing came out due to your speechless state of mind. did he really just— was he being serious? that’s all you could think as you blankly stared at his face, eyes slightly widening as a small smirk laced through his lips. you would of comically checked your pulse in front of him as a way to ease this tension but you were too star struck to even move an inch. what was going on?

“h-huh?” only a noise came out of your mouth, desperately yelling at yourself to just even let out a single word. jay only seemed to find humour in this situation, chuckling at your frozen state as he straightened his back. with a step forward he looked back at you, his face being illuminated by the cheap porch light in front of your door. you could only gulp at his figure, somehow looking more like a pictorial pose than a casual pose regular people would normally do.

“you heard me” with his head whipping back to the front of him. he placed both of this hands behind his head, an audible yawn coming out of his mouth to express his drowsiness. “it’s getting late isn’t it?” he had professed quite randomly, a completely different choice of topic than your original one.

“well, yeah...” you replied, your words sounding confused. if someone had asked you what the two of you had been talking about that whole evening, you wouldn’t of been able to tell them anything.

“i should get going then” he stretched his arms gently, an action now raising your eyebrow in suspicion. with your arms crossed you watched as he took a step further away from you, his figure almost disappearing in the darkness of your garden.

“you’re just not gonna explain your last sentence?” you nervously informed the boy of his previous words. the boy only continued his walk down the small pathway in front of the two of you, a laugh being heard even with the distance.

“what do you mean explain?” he taunted, finally reaching the cold metal gate you had earlier made in contact with. the creak of the gate caused you to flinch in shock, you watched as he swiftly made his way past your gate, his feet stopping as he closed it again. staring back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “the explanation’s right there”.

“but—”

“see you tomorrow y/n” he put a stop to your attempt, a small smile dancing happily upon his face as he took off on his journey home. “sweet dreams!” you could faintly hear him as he made his way deeper down your street.

“what— what was that about...” you spoke hesitantly. your words coming out quietly unable to really understand what had happened, something that was happening far too often that day. you understood what he said definitely, but at the same time what did he say? he said the explanation was there but as much as you wanted your brain to believe his words, you couldn’t allow yourself.

you stood there for a good few minutes, your brain trying to come up with reasonable answers; ones that weren’t pointing towards the conclusion that jay park could possibly like you. as in like—like romantically! there was no way you were going to let yourself believe in something as unbelievable as that. letting out a loud sigh you finally make up your mind to go inside your house, not having the energy to even try and make up an excuse to your parents on why you were arriving home so late.

with your hand on the door handle you felt a surprising quick vibration coming from your right pocket. you sweat instantly on the spot, your brain instantly scattering the word jay in the blank spaces in your mind. cautiously, you dipped your hand into your pocket, bracing yourself for a very awkward message from the blond boy.

park sunghoon (3-A) added you to “booth @ festival”

you sighed happily at the notification, until you had realised the previously mentioned boy was also in this group chat. your eyes drifted at sunghoon’s contact name, the formality of it almost begging you to change it into something more casual.

sunghoon: Meeting tomorrow at 7:30AM sharp, please be there on time.

jakey: sure! no promises though

jakey: the bus run’s on it’s own time sometimes

sunghoon: I can excuse that.

jay: why do you type so stiff

you couldn’t help but agree at jay’s off topic tease, sunghoon’s way of typing seemed very formal for a group chat with your classmates. a quiet giggle escaped your mouth as you walked into your house, “i’m home!” you informed your family as you raised your voice one step into your home.

sunghoon: What do you mean?

jay: ok nvm

y/n: i’ll be there!! see you three tmr 🤍

with your hand forcefully taking your shoes off, you lazily typed your reply with one hand with little to no attention on your screen. you felt your heart race rapidly when you realised, out of habit, you send a white heart to the group of boys. cursing to yourself you threw your shoes onto your shoe rack, the position of them awkwardly almost falling off the shelf they were on. you swiftly typed out a reply, trying to explain your small accident without further embarrassing yourself.

y/n: i didn’t mean the heart .

jay: sureee you didn’t

y/n: shut up

jakey: this is like the third time you’ve done that

y/n: STOP IT PLEASE FOR MY OWN SAKE

sunghoon: I think we should stop embarrassing Y/N.

y/n: thank you sunghoon

y/n: ummmm anyways goodnight!

you groaned loudly, knowing it was more than likely that jake and jay would tease you about it the following morning. you felt yourself dramatically falling on your bed, your face being engulfed by your bed sheets as you ran your hands through your head in frustration. the only thing stopping you from screaming your embarrassment out was the fact someone in the room beside you scolded you for making noise so late in the night.

“sorry!” you replied back, your face warm from your burst of energy. “can’t wait for tomorrow” you sarcastically whispered to yourself, bringing yourself to sit properly at the edge of your bed.

in the whole course of a day, nothing had gone to plan. first jay showing up? jake confessing to you? sunghoon (kind of) walking you home? all of this just on day one, you couldn’t even imagine what day two was going to be like.

“cannot wait!”

[broadstbroskis]

our love lasts so long | william nylander

a/n: oh hello!! am i here with yet another childhood friends to lovers fic?? why yes, yes i am. one (mildly) based on a taylor swift song, as the title would suggest (seven, a underrated folklore BOP)? yes again. the biggest of shoutouts to anyone who let me talk about this over the past few days but especially to @brockadoodles who listened to many many things and to @danglesnipecelly for reminding me about my childhood friends to lovers brand

word count: 7k

-----

The girls are being mean to her.

They’re older than her, a lot older than her, like already in grade school, and they all have friends here already, because they’ve all been here for a while. Noah frowns. It’s not her fault her daddy just got sent here. Florida’s too hot anyway; she still doesn’t understand how this ice rink even stays cold!

She shuffles her feet along. The Christmas songs are loud and there are a lot of people here but Daddy promised he’d take her around really fast after he finished working on shooting the puck with Jake. She just has to be super patient-she thinks that’s the thing Mommy always tells her to be-while she waits and then Daddy will play with her and those stupid girls won’t even matter.

(And yes she can use that word; she just can’t tell Mommy.)

The ice feels funny, not like she’s used to back at home in Canada, but before Noah can start to look for her Mommy to ask her, someone crashes into her and they both end up on the ice.

The boy who flew into her isn’t crying so Noah sucks her lip between her teeth and fights back her tears. “Hey!” He whines over to someone and then says something she can’t understand.

“Hey!” She whines and shoves him. “You’re s’pposed to say sorry when when you hit somebody!”

“I know!” His eyes widen. The blue is a pretty blue; it’s like the ice and Noah likes it. “My sister pushed me first though.”

“Oh.” Noah says. Jake is always pushing her around and he never gets in trouble for it. It’s not fair.  “Well she should say sorry to you then.”

The boy nods in agreement, his blond hair flopping everywhere. “Yeah but she’s older so she thinks she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Noah scowls. “So does Jake.”

The boy’s face lights up. “Well then we should be friends and we could fight them together!”

Someone else who’s going to help stop Jake from shooting pucks at her? Deal. “Okay.” Noah grins. “I’m Noah.”

He smiles back. “William.” 

-----

Willy’s at practice when he hears about the trade, the one that’s bringing Barrett Evans to the Blackhawks, and he hears it mostly because the boys think it means Jake Evans is going to join their team.

Willy’s playing a couple years up here, and there’s an argument going on during practice about if Jake’s doing the same; if he’ll join their team, how soon he’ll be able to get there if he is. That they’re more excited about the potential of Jake Evans joining this team than any discussion of his dad joining the actual Blackhawks is one of the reasons Willy likes this team so much. They’re all chill; no one cares what his dad does or where he plays. 

He’s just another one of the boys.

In about a week they find out Jake is joining their team, his mom quickly setting up a carpool to the rink with Willy’s, who is more than eager to agree, with the new baby taking up (in Willy’s opinion) too much space and time.

(What’d they need another sister for? Wasn’t two enough?)

Jake comes with two sisters of his own, another baby just like Willy’s sister, and then, even better, a dark haired girl that Willy only remembers from pictures and dreams, but a face that he recognizes instantly.

“Hey.” He taps the glass in front of where she’s sitting at his practice, writing something- probably homework. He’s supposed to do his in the car on the way to practice, Mum says so, but he never does, because he hates doing it, and like really, what’s the point if he’s going to be a famous NHL player anyway? 

Noah looks up, a little annoyed, but then her face breaks out into a smile when she sees it’s him. “William!”

“Willy.” He corrects.

She pulls a face. “Ew, like a wet willy?”

“No,” He laughs. “Like my name!”

“That’s dumb.”

“No it’s not!” It’s what everyone calls him.

Noah’s still frowning at him. “Yes it is, Will.”

“No dumber than the ark you’re named after.” He counters. If she’s going to be like that, he can play too. 

“At least I get cool animals on mine.” Noah huffs and then turns away from him, like she’s mad. 

“No hockey on it though.” Willy says and she turns back to him just to roll her eyes at him. “Not really worth it then, yeah?”

“You’re the worst.” Noah says, but she’s back to facing him and smiling again, showing off a couple missing teeth. “Don’t you do anything else?” He shakes his head, grinning. “That’s gonna change because I’m not playing hockey with you all the time.”

“Well I’m not playing dolls with you all the time.” Will says quickly. He has to do that enough with his sisters; he’s not doing anymore of it.

She rolls her eyes. “Stupid boys.” She mutters and goes back to her work.

“What does that mean?” Willy demands but before he can get an answer, his coach is calling them all back to practice and his break is done. He’s just going to have to bug her at the game tonight. 

(He does bug her at the game that night, but she annoys him right back, and by the second period, they’re laughing and grinning, friends once again).

-----

“Ok, but did you lose Alex or just like, misplace him?” Noah looks around her, searching for a head of blond hair in the crowd of people rushing around them in the mall.

“What’s the difference?” Will hisses, using her shoulder to stand on his toes, head turning as he searches for his brother.

“Like, are you actually asking because of a two language thing or are you just being a jerk because we lost your brother?”

Will glares over at him and drops down flat on his feet again, swearing as he does. “Mum’s doing to kill me.”

“Why?” Alex asks, reappearing suddenly with a soft pretzel in hand, and Noah screams, throwing her arms around him. “What happened?”

“We hate you.” Will says and Noah nods in agreement. “That’s what.”

“What’d I do?” Alex protests.

“Disappeared!” Noah cries. “With no warning.

“I told Will I was going to get a pretzel.” He defends. “He can’t listen and that’s my fault?”

Will reaches out like he’s going to pull his brother into a headlock-or worse, Noah’s not going to risk the two of them going at it like they do in their basement here in public-so she reaches out and grabs his hand, intercepting him before he can even make it to just ruffle his hair, or something. “Come on, Alex.” She teases, even as Will drops his jaw at her for stopping him. “We both know Will hears what he wants to hear.”

Alex laughs, looking as pleased as she knew he would, but Will’s jaw remains dropped. “Screw you” Will says, and because she’s still holding his one hand to keep it from going for his brother, she’s defenseless against the finger he pokes into her most ticklish spot.

“Stop!” She squirms away, or tries to- he won’t let go of her hand. “Will! Let go!”

He stops poking her side, but squeezes her hand and grins. “Nope, you chose this; now you’re stuck with me.”

“Your hand is sticky!” She whines. 

“I was testing tape.” Will grins, swinging their hands widely. “Now yours can be sticky too.”

Noah looks down at their hands, joined and still swinging wherever Will moves them. She hopes that’s all that’s on them but you never know with the DC Metro.

-----

There’s a girl giggling behind him.

Willy turns and she stops, but as soon as he turns back, she’s giggling again and this time, so is her friend.

He tugs at the blazer of his uniform, looking down at his shirt. Is his tie done funny? He’d gotten called out for that last week. But it looks fine, just like everyone else’s did earlier. He pulls out his phone. Hurry up. He sends Noah, watching the dots appear on his screen, like she’s texting back, but then she appears, right in front of him. “Finally.” He grabs her and tugs her away from this school, those girls, even more of them giggling at him.

Willy wipes at his face. Maybe there’s something on it? But nothing comes off on his hand and he frowns harder.

Noah’s biting her lip, like she’s trying not to laugh, and it only works for so long. “She has a crush on you, dummy.”

“Oh.” Willy says blankly, trying to sneak a look back at the first girl. 

“Oh,” Noah parrots. “Honest to god, Will, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Hey!” He forgets all about the girl, in favor of knocking his shoulders against hers-not hard enough to send her falling into the dirty snow of this New York suburb, but hard enough to make her laugh. “I’m athletic too!”

Noah bursts into laughter, this loud thing that’s bright and contagious and only serves to make Willy join in with her- not that he’s trying hard to stop himself. He’s always laughing when she is. “Sure bud,” She pats his arm. “You tell yourself that.”

-----

“Iced tea.” Noah hands a cup over to Will and then slides down so she’s sitting next to him, dangling her feet in the pool. It’s really too cold to go in, but that hasn’t stopped Will, who’s been swimming all afternoon on and off- and it hasn’t stopped him from pulling her in with him.

“How much sugar?” Will asks demandingly, as she rolls her eyes, like he’s not already taking a sip.

She’d normally answer with a snarky comment, just because he deserves it. But the nostalgia’s setting in; it’s been hitting her at random moments all week, and she’s inclined to just be nice to him, leaning against him as she says, “Come on, like I don’t know how you like your iced tea by now.”

Will sighs dramatically, taking her weight and pressing back against her. “Guess I’m going to have to make my own coffee now too, huh?”

“Two creams, one sugar.” Noah reminds him gently and he laughs, but it sounds kind of hollow, not at all like the honk that usually sends her into fits of giggles right along with him. It’s quiet after he stops, the only sound the pool filter a few feet away and the crickets just starting to chirp, and she hates the silence. In all their years of friendship, they’ve never been quiet people, never had to do an awkward dance while they figured out who they were each time they met. They fell right back into easy friendship, laughing and giggling, dragging each other into their favorite things and places, until one of them was leaving.

It feels different this time. “Are you really leaving?” There’d never been a doubt in her mind when her dad left DC that she’d see Will again. Maybe not for a few months, maybe not for a few years, but the day would come.

“For now.” Will shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“It’s Sweden.” Noah says quietly. She doesn’t have that same feeling this time. Sweden’s their home. Why would they leave? 

“It’s hockey.” Will says, like hockey, Sweden, and home- they’re all interchangeable. 

And maybe they are; hockey- the people Noah meets because of her dad’s team, the friends she’s made, Will, his family- hockey, as a concept, has been more of a home to her than any of the houses she’s known, than these temporary places she embraces every two years or so. 

But she’s been around long enough to know what comes after hockey and it’s the only thing that changes home. The offseason home becomes the main home. Dads start picking up carpool duties and volunteer coaching positions. The spotlight shifts to the kids and their dreams. 

It’s hockey and it’s Sweden and it’s home and whether they’re all different or the same, Noah knows this is the last time she’ll be seeing Will.

-----

Willy has minimal complaints about being a rookie, even if Reemer and Naz think he should have more. 

He’s, like, the definition of living the dream. He’s got a sweet apartment that he shares with one of his best friends. He’s on a dream line with two more of his best friends and they’re absolutely tearing it up. 

His team’s incredible, even if they’re a bunch of assholes sometimes (Willy is too sometimes, he admits), but they’re fun and they’re funny and they like to let loose and have a good time, for as often as they’re really fucking serious about the goal they’re all there for. 

Like today. Practice had been brutal and then there’d been a lift before a video session, but there’s nothing on the schedule for tomorrow so there hadn’t even been a question of if they were going out that night. Suggestions for where had been tossed out the second practice ended.

It’s a good night, things are going well and drinks are flowing (as they should be) and then Matts rolls back to the table, weirdly dejected after coming back from the bar trying to talk up a pretty girl, and he takes his chirps with as much grace as the worst loser Willy’s ever met can, but Willy looks over and he knows that girl. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere, even if her hair is longer and maybe darker? So he gets up, even as Matts calls after him, “Fuck you Willy,” and the rest of the boys laugh.

He leans his weight against Noah, laughing at the look on her face when she realizes it’s him. The annoyance leaves her face pretty quickly and a smile slides right in its place, like she’s waiting for him. “Matts is pretty annoyed you turned him down.” He teases, bypassing hello altogether.

“Yeah well,” She huffs and it’s like she’s trying for annoyed but Willy can see the smile that she’s hiding. “Matts needs to learn that just because he’s a big shot hockey player doesn’t mean every girl is going to drop into bed with him at the sound of his name and a free drink.”

“He’s a lot nicer than that.” Willy defends. “Usually. I didn’t mean it like that.” Because, well, Matts can be an asshole, but it’s not about bringing a girl home.

Noah looks at him skeptically. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve never led you astray before .”

She bursts into laughter. “Yeah, okay.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, even through the laughter.

Willy pokes her but it only makes her laugh harder. “Name one time.”

“Sledding in DC, winter skate in New York, ditching school to go to the mall that one time in Westchester, taking the train into-“

He covers her mouth. “I said name one.”

When he removes his hand, Noah’s grinning up at him, and suddenly he realizes what’s different. It’s not her hair (which is darker, he’s sure now that he’s up close), or her smile (still bright and laughing), or her eyes (bright and green and unforgettable). It’s the oh fuck running through his brain, because he’d definitely take her home.

-----

Falling back into friendship with Will is easy; it’s pretending Noah doesn’t want more that’s hard.

It’s always been easy to be friends with Will. She can’t remember a time when they didn’t click, when things felt weird or uncomfortable between them. 

But that was before he started dragging her everywhere around Toronto- to the greatest restaurants she’s ever eaten at, to the Christmas Market, to breakfast on Thursday’s every week he’s in town because he knows that she doesn’t have class until the afternoon. 

The flutter in her stomach is so unfamiliar, something so unassociated with Will, that it takes her a while to place it. And of course he’s doing something so normal, so innocuous, so casual, it shouldn’t even register on her radar. He’s buying coffee, for Christ’s sake!

But he’s remembering that she likes oat milk in her iced coffee, even though she hasn’t really actually told him that; it’s just the order she always gives when they go for breakfast. And he’s ordered her a size up from what she usually gets, without her even asking, just because she’d mentioned being up late last night with homework.

“Here!” Will chirps happily, passing her the cup grinning, and there’s that flutter again, deep in her stomach, and it’s that, that small gesture that means so much, just knowing that he’s looking at her enough to know that she needs this extra large iced coffee with oat milk without even being told, that tells her what this feeling is.

This is a crush.

“Thanks.” She’s gonna tamp this baby down and fast. Why is she even crushing on Will at all? It must be, like, the years they’ve spent apart; she’s been desensitized to him or something. Suddenly, his hair’s all beautiful and his eyes are pretty and shit. Unreal.

“You’re welcome,” Will smiles. “But I didn’t just get this for you just because you look exhausted.”

“Is this a bribe?” She demands.

Will laughs. “Kind of.” She side-eyes him until he caves. “We’re all going out this weekend after the game and the team wants to meet you.”

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “That’s it?”

“You were expecting worse?”

She nods. “Much.”

“Well, nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “Just gotta come hang out with me.”

“Ugh.” She complains. “Maybe that is worse.”

“I bought you that coffee. I’ll take it right back.” Will threatens.

“Never.” Noah cradles it close to her chest. “Not allowed.”

Will’s watching her, smiling, like he already knows she’s going to say yes, but he says anyway. “So you’ll come?”

“Of course, I’ll come.” It really wasn’t even a question. She would have come even if he hadn’t bribed her with the most amazing coffee she’s ever had to drink, but he sweetened the deal with that, so that’s how she finds herself slipping into the VIP section of a club on a Saturday night, eyes scanning to find him.

It’s not too hard to spot him and she soon finds herself sliding into a group of teammates and significant others, fighting back a laugh at the look on Auston Matthews’ face. “Hi!” She drapes herself over Will’s back, actually laughing at the look on his face and clinging tightly to make him work at pulling her off.

“God, you’re a pain.” He announces, finally tugging her around. 

“Always.” Noah laughs, because this is easy, this is normal. Teasing Will just like always. “It’s what I strive to be, a thorn in your side.”

“You don’t have to try.” She miscalculated this gravely. He’s in the perfect position to dance his fingers into her most ticklish spots. “You just are.”

“Are you going to introduce us, Willy?” Someone asks dryly, one of the guys across from them. “Or just stand there pretending the two of you are in your own little world?”

Will’s cheeks flush-something unusual for him, he’s never embarrassed- but he says, “This is Noah.” Simply; like everyone should know who she is to him just from that alone, and it kind of seems like they do. A bunch of their faces light up and a few of them lean into each other and start whispering together. But she doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he has said about her, what kind of talk he’s been talking, before he’s listing names off of everyone around them, like she’s going to remember all these people.

There’s immediate chatter from almost everyone around her; it’s as if each one of them have been dying to meet her for a different reason. “Willy’s kept pretty tight-lipped about you.” Connor-James-Matt?-She’s already forgotten every name Will’s told her- says, almost too casually. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”

“Before or after you turned Matts down?” Someone else adds eagerly, even as Auston groans, a little embarrassed.

Will’s fighting back a laugh next to her and she wants to kill him, honestly, she really does. But she settles for the next best thing, plastering her hand over his bicep, playing up a part that she isn’t. “Oh, you know. Fifteen years, on and off, right, babe?”

“Fif-what?” That’s Naz that’s narrowing his eyes at them; she’s pretty sure.

And now Will loses it, at either that, or the faces the rest of his teammates are making, and she pulls her hand away, laughing right with him. “What the fuck?” Tyler says flatly. “You really are just friends.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Will insists.

“He’s a terrible liar.” Noah says. “You’d know right away. His face gets all-”

“Nope.” Will pulls her away. “Think it’s time for a drink, don’t you?”

“Gets all what?” Someone calls. “All what?” 

She winks over her shoulder; she’ll get back to him later.

Noah doesn’t get around to him until much later, dragged to the bar with Will and then out dancing where they’re joined by a few of his fellow rookies. There might be times when they all go out looking to pick up, but this clearly isn’t one, every one of them out doing each other in the most ridiculous ways (Mitch wins; Mitch wins every time).

She gets back to the table a while later, when she’s dying of thirst and Will’s gone to the bar for refills, but it’s been long enough that she’s kind of forgotten she’s somewhat on the hot seat in this group. No one pounces immediately, but two of them- Morgan and Jake- move away from the team’s argument about a podcast they’ve been listening to and slide closer to her.

“So what’s the tell?” Morgan asks and Noah frowns for a second until she remembers earlier, laughing and declining. “Fine, sure. I admire the loyalty, I guess.” 

“It’s too easy for him to return the favor.” Noah laughs.

“Ok, so you’ve known Willy,” Jake says slowly, like he’s trying to calculate in real time. “For 15 years now?”

Noah nods. “Since we were four. Our dads got traded to the same hockey team and,” She shrugs. “Then again, and again, and again.”

Morgan kind of lights up, like this is the best news he’s heard all day. “What exactly was Willy like as a kid? Like has he always slept this much on any flat surface available? Or is that a weird thing he picked up in Sweden?”

“Always.” She laughs and then shrugs again. “I don’t know, I think he’s a lot like he is now. I don’t-I don’t think much has changed.”

And before she can even say anything else, the man himself is slipping in beside her, carelessly throwing his arm over her shoulders and gluing himself to her side. “Don’t talk to them.” Will demands. “They won’t have anything nice to say about me.”

“Rude.” Jake throws a wrapper at him, and it tangles in his hair but Will just shakes it out.

“Actually they’re asking me about you.” She tells him and he gasps dramatically.

“Don’t talk to them.” He demands again and she laughs.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you ruining my image.”

“What image, pretty boy?” Morgan drawls, and Noah just laughs as Will retaliates by throwing the straw wrapper back at him but he doesn’t leave her side after that, remaining a comfortable weight pressed against her for the rest of the evening.

She doesn’t hate it. Stupid crush.

-----

“Happy Birthday.” Willy slides the gift across the counter but Noah doesn’t even reach for it, still looking down at the textbook she’s highlighting. She’s new-semester stressed still, the kind of stressed where her hair is constantly up in that bun for a few weeks and the bags never seem to leave her eyes. He can’t wait for another week or so, when she’ll finally crash and sleep for like, two days, a break she’s in desperate need of.

“What is it?” She asks skeptically and like, sure, the wrap job’s a little sketch, but Willy did it himself, no help from Mum or sisters. She should be, like, proud of his job mediocrely done. 

“Was I unclear?” He asks, and she gives him a look, reaching for it with an eye roll. 

“My birthday was last month.” She reminds him. “You sent me flowers.”

Willy knows. The flowers had been a placeholder because he’d wanted to be with her when she opened her real gift, to see her reaction, watch the smile grow over her face when she sees what’s in the box. “That was never your whole gift.” 

She smiles. “It could have been! It was just nice to know you were thinking of me.”

Willy stops just before he says something stupid, like that he’s always thinking of her. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since they reunited last year and he probably won’t stop thinking about her, even after she finishes up with school and figures out her next step. It seems inevitable that fate will follow its same path they’ve travelled their entire lives, and they’ll end up crossing paths three times a year when Willy travels to whatever city she ends up in, knowing before they even meet for dinner that it’s not enough time, never enough time.

Instead he smiles and nods. “Come on, I’d never miss your birthday. Even if we have to celebrate late.”

Noah laughs. “Fair.” She says, finally reaching for the gift he’d laid out for her. And he knows what she’s going to find first, but that doesn’t change how nice it feels to know he nailed it when she opens the box of Swedish candies he’d brought back, a box of all her favorites. “Ohh!” She immediately pops one of her favorite chocolates into her mouth. “I don’t even care what the other thing is; this is amazing. Thank you!”

Willy laughs, kind of nervously. “At least look at it before you decide to stick it in a corner and never look at it again.”

She’s already pulling it out, peeling back the corners of the wrapping paper, and then looking up at him when she realizes it’s a jewelry box. He smiles encouragingly, feeling like he barely manages to get a full smile up before she’s opening, and then it stretches out fully in relief when she gasps. “Will.” She says finally, looking up at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. 

“Do you like it?” He asks hesitantly. He’d bought it on the spot the moment he saw it, the green of the peridot the exact shade of her eyes and her birthstone-or at least, it was, according to his sister. The necklace itself, a delicate chain dropping into a teardrop stone, this easy beauty that he couldn’t help associating with only her.  It’d felt too perfect to pass up. 

“I love it.” She says immediately. “This is-it’s-it’s perfect!” She gets out finally, and Willy breaks out into a smile, watching her lift the chain up to her neck. “Will you-” She breaks off, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh!” Willy gets it now, stands up to step behind her and gently takes the ends of the necklace. “Yeah, of course.” Noah lifts her hair and for a moment all Willy can concentrate on is the whiff of peach he gets suddenly. He fumbles the clasp for a second before he finally gets his shit together. “Why does your shampoo smell so good?”

She laughs, letting her hair tumble down again- another burst of peach to his nose- and turns to face him. “I switched it this summer. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? Maybe it’s because he spends all his time in a locker room with 23 other dudes, but it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He feels weird, knows it’s so not friends to want to pull her into his arms, just so he can hold her close and breathe in that smell, so he just nods.

“Yeah.” Willy says and his eyes are immediately drawn to her smile, to her fingers dragging the teardrop along the chain, and he- he flickers his eyes back up before he can go any lower. “It’s nice.”

-----

“You ready yet?” Will picks up his wallet off his island, where Noah’s been sitting for the last hour trying to tweak her resume one last time before submitting it to another job interview. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“I’m going to kill you.” She says flatly. She’s only been calling that concern out to him since she walked in the door.

Will grins, throwing his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close into his side. If they weren’t about to spend the entire summer apart, maybe she’d fight it more, afraid that she’s taking too much from him to satiate her more-than-just-a-crush. But Will’s pulling his stupid Sugo hat on his head with the hand that’s not squeezing her close, and he’s about to leave her for four months, fresh off the devastation of the Bruins loss, so she curls in, greedily taking anything she can from him. “Save some cap space,” He hums. “If you did.”

“Oh my god.” She shoves him away. She takes it back. She takes it all back. She feels absolutely nothing for him; he’s the worst human she’s ever met.

Will pulls her back in and his arm stays around her the entire walk down to his car, when he only removes it so they can pack his bags in and then slide in their seats. As soon as he starts it and gets on the road, he reaches over again, just resting his hand on her knee.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to let me drive your car all summer.” Noah says, so she doesn't say something she regrets instead, like I love you, or worse, something about his hands and where else he can put them. 

Will glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road and Noah’s already grinning before he responds. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shifting in her seat to better face him seems like a good idea until she actually does it and it means that his hand just moves further up her leg. She has to stop herself from looking at it, his fingers on the skin of her thigh. “You’ll still have a car when you get back.”

“The same car?”

“Maybe with a dent or two in it.” Noah teases, mostly just to annoy him. It works; he flickers his eyes over toward her in a glare. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

“I’d totally get it fixed.” She continues, smiling when Will laughs. “Pristine condition. You’d never know.”

“Just how I want it.” He pulls up to departures and puts the car into park, so they can both step out; him to fly out and her to switch sides, meeting at the trunk. “Please don’t crash you or my car.” He says softly, pulling her into a hug.

“Please come back soon.” She counters, muttering the words into his chest.

It’s apparently not as quiet as she’d intended. “Wedding season.” He squeezes. “I’ll see you then.”

But that’s not what she meant at all. Noah doesn’t want him back for a weekend or two. She wants dry ink on a contract, locking him in to Toronto.

-----

When the start of the season comes around and Willy’s contract still hasn’t been signed, he can’t say he’s surprised to get a Snapchat from Noah, featuring her, Auston, and Mitch all pouting. 

“Come on.” He frowns at her, when they’re facetiming later that day- well into the night for him, actually. “You know why I’m doing this.” 

She pouts again, even though she’d been smiling only seconds before. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Why can’t you be in a standoff with management from here?”

“Why can’t you come work from home from here?” Willy counters and she actually huffs at him, but changes the subject.

When his holdout continues to last though, she does, finally, agree to come work from home from his place in Sweden, at least for a little, and Willy has to physically stop himself from fistpumping in excitement. It’s been too many months of seeing just her pixelated face through facetime, of conversations broken up by timezones, and late night calls that make him want things he knows he can’t have. 

It’s only a few days later but it feels like forever by the time that Noah is throwing herself into Willy’s arms the second that she exits the Stockholm Arlanda airport, and it’s only years of core stability training that don’t send them both flying to the ground. 

“How’s my car?” He teases, because it’s been a lot longer than the four months he promised and he just wants to see her smile, in person, without a lag from their stupid iPhones.

It works. “1 door left.” She chirps easily. “Don’t worry, Auston’s helping me fix it.”

“I’m sure he is.” Willy says darkly, because it was really no secret Matts still thought she was gorgeous, even if Willy was sure he’d never actually do anything about it. Pretty sure. At least 50%.

Noah laughs. “You’re hilarious.” She pats his arm a few times and pulls away to get in the car, but he wants to know about what. About Matts? It’s a legit concern, he feels. Maybe he’ll just fire off a text to Matts, just to be sure. “Will?” Noah’s leaning out of the passenger side. “Are we leaving or are we going to spend my whole trip here at the airport?”

“What if we are?” Willy shoots back, but he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“If it meant that you were coming home?” Noah gives him a small smile. “I don’t think I’d even be mad.”

Willy gives her a tight smile. “Not yet.”

“Is it-” Noah makes a noise and then continues anyway. “Are you going to come home?”

“I want to.” She knows this; they don’t talk about his contract situation often, but they do, occasionally. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” She says softly. “I just-it’s getting close, yeah?”

Yeah, it was. The deadline was creeping closer and closer, with still no deal. He didn’t...love that, he’d say that for sure. He wanted to be back with the boys, playing; was ready to be back with Noah, for any time she’d give him. “Yeah.” He says, and then switches the topic completely, because he doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to do if this is the only time he gets with her until next fall. “You want to go to dinner with my family tonight?”

Noah’s eyes light up. “Yeah, oh my god!”

Willy laughs and takes the next exit on the highway, instead of driving further into town to go to his own place. Dinners with his parents and sisters is usually a quick cure to any spiraling thoughts about the signing deadline, and having Noah there today is even better. She’s a comforting weight against his side; a laughing presence with his mum as they gang up against him; a friend to his sisters after dinner, as they sit curled together in a corner of the living room whispering secrets and waving him away when he gets too close.

It’s a lot of things Willy doesn’t let himself think about, doesn’t let himself want, because Noah’s never given any hints she wants the same. And she’ll always fit with his family, because she grew up with him, with them, but one day she’ll find another guy who she just seamlessly fits into the side of, whose family she can easily laugh and joke with, because she’s that charming and friendly and nice. How could anyone not love her?

“I remember your sisters begging me to braid their hair at games all the time.” Noah says fondly, once she leaves their circle of secrets to come back to him. “God, I can’t believe how old they all are now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Will says darkly. His youngest sister just announced she has a boyfriend, her first boyfriend; he hates it the most.

Noah cackles, as if she knows what he’s thinking about, which, well, maybe she does, after the last hour. He doesn’t even want to know what they said about him (except he does, he really, really does). “If you promise to be nice to him, maybe she’ll let us go one a double date with them before I leave.”

Willy about blacks out when he hears her mention the word date and he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “Really?” It’s the only word he can get out. Everything is wonderful; thank God, thank Jesus, thank who-fucking ever. This is the greatest-

Noah laughs. “Well I don’t think she’s going to let you meet him by yourself!” She nudges him with her shoulder. “But we could all go to dinner together!”

He takes it back. Everything is terrible and this is not even close to the greatest day ever.

They end up going for dinner with his sister and her boyfriend anyway-whatever, it’s fine.

“He was more than fine.” Noah protests, when they’re walking back to his place from the restaurant. It’s her last day here and Willy’s trying to soak up every bit of her that he can, so if that means walking to a restaurant in the cold, then so be it. “He was really nice!”

“He was, like, moderately nice, at best.” Willy pulls a face. 

“Don’t be that guy.” She shakes her head at him. “You know what guy I’m talking about.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. 

She nudges him. “You know, if you came back to Toronto with me, you’d never have to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He wants to. He wants to so badly. He just...can’t. “You know I can’t.”

“But I don’t!” Noah says, frustratedly. “I don’t know why you can’t at all. You want to be there and they want you there. I don’t fucking get this!”

“Money. Terms.” He shrugs, sounding a lot more casual than he feels. “My agent’s taking care of things. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Well maybe it’s time to take care of things you want for yourself.” Noah mutters.

“What?” Will asks; he’s sure he heard her, but the bitterness is really unlike her.

“Nothing.” Noah curls into him and Willy wraps his arm around her shoulders without question. “Just cold. Left or right to get home?”

-----

Will’s text comes through in the middle of the afternoon, that they’re just ironing out the fine details and that he’ll be on a redeye that night.

You don’t even need to buy me a Christmas present this year. Noah sends in response. Best gift ever. 

When he doesn’t respond, though, she gets a little concerned. He always sends something back, always, whether it’s just a little emoji or some kind of quip, and that was prime for the taking. Call me at the airport? She follows it up. Do you need a ride when you get here? I still have your car.

Matts is grabbing me, going right to practice and meeting w kyle. Catch up later.

She actually startles at the response. He’s never, never been so short with her. It’s not even that the response itself was rude; it just...didn’t even feel like him. It feels like he’s pushing her away and the only thing she can think of is that he is. That he’d realized how she’d clung to him in Sweden in departures, the way she hadn’t been able to stop herself from running her hand down his back before pulling away, and he’d connected it to the fact that she’s definitely in love with him and was pulling away.

It’s the worst thought she’s had since she realized he was staying in Sweden for a while. She’d drunk a bottle of wine then to cope and she does the same now, but then she’s only more cranky the next morning when she’s still over thinking and she has a headache.

The knock on her door only makes her more annoyed, at least until she opens it and sees Will standing in the hallway. “Hi.” She breathes. She’d pictured him coming back to Toronto so many times, and look, she knows she doesn’t need to impress Will, who has seen her at her best and worst, but not once was she wearing sweats and the biggest sweatshirt that she owns. 

“Hi.” Will grins and she’s about to tell him to come in, but then he’s cupping her cheek and ducking down and it’s like time stops as he kisses her.

Noah can’t quite believe she was ever scared that Will didn’t love her. She doesn’t need him to say it, but he’s the one to pull away first, resting his forehead on hers, and they’re the first words out of his mouth. “I love you.” He kisses her again and god, she could do this forever. “You told me if I want something, to just take care of it myself, and I’m doing it. I don’t want to sit back anymore and let someone else love you. I love you.”

Will brushes his thumb over her cheek and Noah tries to gather a thought, any thought after a kiss that turned her brain to mush. “I don’t know when I started loving you,” She says, smiling when she sees the grin grow across Will’s face. “But I think it was before I even know what love was, and I don’t ever want to stop.”

The next kiss is the worst one yet, the smile still on his face (and hers), but that’s okay, Noah muses. They have time. 

[janetbrown711]

“   it’s  okay ,   i’m  here .   i’ll  always  be  here .   ” Wakko yakko dot

Wakko wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. 

He was barely holding on as it was, always trying to keep on a happy face for his sibs, make them believe everything was okay. Dot was a lot easier to trick than Yakko, but even he could be swayed with very little effort. After all, it was very clear that their parents were never going to come back...

It had been almost a year. Wakko still missed them every day. He missed their protection... Yakko was trying, that was true, but even he could get distracted. Sometimes he’d be studying off in the library when Wakko needed food, so he’d have to figure it out on his own because God knows he couldn’t ask his grandmother for anything. Wakko figured it out for the most part, but it was easy to say he missed quite a few meals over the years because of fear of disturbing Her. 

Wakko knew she placed his room by hers for the specific purpose of making his life a living hell without his sibs. After all, she hated him. The only reason she’d want to be near is if she wanted to keep an eye out, or if she wanted to hurt him somehow. Well- she succeeded on that end anyway, though perhaps the better word was torture. 

Sure, sometimes Wakko could manage to sneak past if he crawled on his hands and knees and put socks on his feet and hands, but he was filled with anxiety that simply wouldn’t leave him the whole time. He was terrified of getting his sibs in danger- a trait he knew he shared with both of them. 

They were all putting on a happy face, he supposed. 

He couldn’t say it was all bad... he was getting better at reading. Dot read easy stuff which helped him boost his confidence, while Yakko read more difficult stuff to make sure he was actually learning, which- while Wakko kinda hated it- he couldn’t deny worked. He was getting better- he was actually learning things, which felt nice. 

Though they had had a few close calls here and there...

Wakko wasn’t sure what would happen if they got caught, but he was pretty sure they’d get into serious trouble. For whatever reason, Angelina really hated the fact Wakko was stupid but hated him trying to better himself even more. It was like she wanted a bug under her shoe to squish just for fun... the thought made Wakko shudder. 

So... the year had its good moments, but... a year had really taken it’s tole. The only major good part was that Angelina stopped wearing that stupid veil and pretended to be grieving. Now you knew what she was thinking and saying, which... well... good and bad. 

Good and bad. 

“What’s this word, Wakko?” Yakko asked, pointing to a particularly long one on the page in front of Wakko. He frowned at it. 

“I dunno,” he shrugged. 

“You’re a smart kid, sound it out,” Yakko said. Wakko winced a little and looked at the page. 

In truth, he sometimes debated with himself whether it was better to be stupid or to be smart. He wanted to know things, but at the same time knowledge seemed like a burden more than anything. At least- that’s what he got from observing Yakko. Yakko always had something on his mind, something big, while Wakko hardly ever thought about things other than food or some imaginary story he likes playing on repeat to keep himself busy while his sibs were gone. 

“in... for...ma...ti..own?” He looked at his elder brother. 

“Close. Information. Tion sounds like shun,” Yakko pointed out. 

“Right, that’s information,” he nodded. He knew the words, he was nine after all, but reading just make them look unfamiliar. 

Yakko was then going to make him read the full sentence again, but a familiar shout was heard right outside, and the boys froze as the door swung open. 

“Yakko- calm this child down,” Angelina shoved Dot, who was crying, towards Yakko, when her eyes feel upon them. 

“What on earth is going on here?” She glared at Wakko, and he felt his heart beat faster. 

“W-well I-i was just-” Yakko tried to think of what to say as Dot went to him, but Angelina yanked Dot back, before going to Yakko herself and slapping him across the face and he slammed into a bookshelf, books spilling out onto him.

“What did I tell you?! You are not to educate that bastard creature, lest you and him face serious consequences,” She fumed. 

“No!!! Don’t hurt him!!!” Dot continued to cry. Wakko growled and just about lept out of the chair, but Angelina grabbed him by the ears. 

“This is on you,” She spat, and began to drag Wakko out of the room. 

“No! It’s my fault! I forgot the dress type! Please! Punish me instead!” Dot insisted, stepping out in front of Angelina. 

“Oh Angelina,” The queen shook her head, placing a soft hand against Dot’s face. Dot froze.

“If you get in my way again I assure you his punishment will be increased ten fold.” She whispered harshly. 

“Now be a good girl Angelina, and run along now. You have much to study,” She smiled sweetly. 

“My name is Dot,” She muttered to herself, bearing her teeth.

“Dot, no,” Wakko pleaded with her. Angelina tightened her pull on his ears. 

“It’d be wise for you to listen to him for once,” She smiled more. Dot growled again, but stepped backward, and looked back at Wakko. 

“Angelina. Move,” She ordered. Dot looked at the arm holding Wakko, a very obvious thought popping into her head. Angelina growled. 

“I expected more from you,” She said, before kicking Dot to the ground and moving on, giving Wakko’s ears a massive tug before continuing on. 

Wakko heard Dot get up from behind, trying to keep her distance, but her tears made her noticeable. 

Quickly and painfully, they turned around halls and owners of the castle, before Wakko realized she wasn’t going to be putting him in his room, and he was filled his dread and terror. 

“Wh-where are you taking him?!” Dot shouted at her, once she had the same thought. 

“That is none of your concern, Yakko.” She said coldly. “I’m teaching you three a lesson.”

“Let go of him!” Dot shouted again as Angelina started to go up the enormous stairwell. The queen ignored her, climbing higher and higher. 

“I said let him go!” Dot shouted, pulling on her dress like she had a year ago. Angelina froze, before turning around, dangling Wakko off of the stairs above the at least 20 foot drop below, only holding him by his neck.

“Shout at me again young lady, and I will,” She threatened. Dot gasped, covering her mouth. 

“Wait- please! Don’t hurt him-!” She begged, and Wakko did his best not to be terrified for his life but uh- 20 ft drop. 

“Go back downstairs, Angelina. You’ve done enough today,” She spat in her face. Dot wanted to protest, but the queen lifted Wakko higher and Dot backed down, lowering her head in shame as more tears streamed down. 

“Good girl,” The queen smiled, and patted her head, before turning around and continuing to drag Wakko up, Dot’s sobs echoing as they went all the way to the top. At this point, Wakko was pounding and kicking against her best he could, but she proved herself to have gotten wiser about that, as her long silk gloves prevented scratches or bites to her skin, and her pure gold bracelets also didn’t help. 

Eventually, she reached the top of the familiar tower, and she tossed him in like an animal. She closed and locked the heavy iron door and the sound made Wakko’s head hurt. 

“How long do you plan to leave me here, huh?!” He demanded, running to the door. However, to his horror, she left without a word to him. He listened closely to the door, still hearing Dot’s cries when he heard her yelp in pain. Wakko pounded on the door, but since it was no longer wood, all that ended up doing was hurting his hand. Wakko cringed in the pain, but knew there was nothing he could do. 

He was locked in here... for who knows how long. Could be days, weeks... months...

If she even bothered to keep him alive, which was something she was clearly starting to debate more and more as time passed. Wakko didn’t want to die-

At least... not yet. 

Perhaps it was foolish, but he did still have a shred of hope for his future, though it only got cloudier and cloudier as days passed. He tried to remember the advice and optimism of his dad, but that only brought up the painful feeling of him being gone. The same thing happened when he tried to imagine his mom comforting him too. 

After awhile of him just sitting on the cold and filthy floor in shock and pain, he heard pounding on the door. 

“Wakko? Wakko? Are you in there?” Yakko called from outside. 

“Y-yeah!” he replied, wiping his eyes. 

“We-we’re gonna get you out Wakko. I promise,” he declared. 

“Yakko, you can’t promise that,” Wakko frowned. 

“Yes I can Wakko. We’re going to get you out,” He asserted. 

“She’ll kill you- she’ll kill me if you try,” Wakko pleaded. 

“I know... but... w-we’ll escape. Run away to a far off town where no one will find you two. We’ll be safe,” Yakko said, becoming more and more desperate.

“You’ve said it yourself: a place like that doesn’t exist,” Wakko crossed his arms, leaning against the cold door.  He heard Yakko do the same. 

“We... we could...” Yakko tried to think. 

“Yakko... you should just forget about me. You and Dot would be fine without me, I hold you two down. I should just- stay up here and- and die,” Wakko pulled his knees to his chest. 

“Wakko!” he gasped. “Don’t say that!” he said, much softer. 

“Grandma will never care about me, a-and mum and d-daddoo are gone s-so... it would just be easier for me to stay here... away from you two... just like she wants,” He suppressed tears best he could, but choken on the lump in his throat. 

“Wakko, no.” Wakko heard him turn around to face the door again. 

“No matter what happens, we are not going to give up on you. I’m here- I’m always gonna be here, Wak,” He spoke softly. 

“Mum and Dad said they’d be here too...”

A painful silence hummed through the air. It hurt to even breathe after he spoke. Wakko gave in and cried. 

“Wak... I-i... I don’t know what to say...” Yakko said. 

“Just go away- before you get locked away too,” He sobbed. 

Yakko didn’t respond, staying there for a long, long time. 

Wakko didn’t say anything either. 

“We will rescue you Wak... I promise,” Yakko repeated, before standing up and going. 

Wakko stayed on the floor the rest of the day. 

.o0o.

Angelina hadn’t been sending servants to give him food, only water. 

Wakko had been up there for three days and it was easily the most miserable he had ever been in his life. 

He knew his mother had been sent up there at least once. He could see her carvings in the wall, and scratches on the floor, which he traced over his finger and slowly read. 

“Yakko? Slacky? Wacky?” and “Harold the 9th” were written beside the bed. There was a tally for what he assumed were days next to the broken mirror. Other random words he couldn’t quite read were sprawled all around. 

Yakko came up to talk every now and then, but he never could stay long. Wakko kept meaning to ask him for food, but he knew Angelina was strict on eating hours, so it was unlikely he could sneak into the kitchen to grab anything anymore. It just... wasn’t that simple any more. 

He also promised he was thinking of an escape. Wakko thanked him for the effort, but his hope wasn’t high.

Dot came at one point too. She cried and apologized and explained how it was her fault their grandmother got mad, saying how she hadn’t read the page she was supposed to the night before and didn’t know the types of dresses and she got mad, which made her cry, which made her take her to Yakko, which caused everything else. Wakko told her not to blame herself, but he knew that wasn’t going to resinate. Just another way their grandmother tightened her grip around them. 

But for the most part, he was alone. Utterly and perfectly alone...

He had his little imaginary games in his mind, but even those ran out eventually, mostly due to the cold. Stupid early winters...

One particularly cold night, Wakko said “screw it” and went to the window an looked out at the stars. 

They shined a lot better all the way up here, at least that was nice...

As he looked up, a chill ran through him and he was reminded of just how hungry he was. He cringed in the pain, and looked up at the stars, having run out of tears days ago. 

“I... I wish mum and dad were still here... If they were alive everything would go back to being okay...” he whispered weakly to the brightest star he could see. The stars twinkled back. 

Wakko sighed, lowering his head, continuing to look when he noticed that the star appeared to be growing larger- that wasn’t normal, right? And if it’s not, was it actually happening, or was he just seeing things because he was hungry?

It also appeared to be growing closer- that wasn’t good. Too close and it’d probably destroy the whole castle. Wakko scrambled back from the window and pounded on the door for help, but nobody heard or came. Wakko braced himself as the light got brighter and brighter and eventually filled the dark tower. 

However, nothing crashed or burned or turned him into goop, so Wakko slowly turned around and opened his eyes, and he saw a glowing figure in a really poor looking rope, cheap wand, and wings. 

Well- that was interesting. 

“Uh- who are you?” Wakko asked, really uncomfortable with the idea of a stranger popping into his prison out of nowhere. 

“I’m your desire fulfillment facilitator, Pip,” the desire fulfillment facilitator said dryly. Wakko blinked. 

“Uh- hi, Pip,” he said. 

“Congradulations Wakko, you did it. Out of all of the stars in the night sky, you made your wish up the wishing star,” He said, so monotone Wakko wanted to tears his ears off despite the fact that he was saying good news. 

“The Wishing Star? I’ve never heard of a Wishing Star,” He frowned. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stories?” He asked. Wakko shook his head. 

“Hm... doesn’t matter. You did it anyway. It was your request for a wish that brought me here,” he said. 

“Wait- so- you can bring my parents back?” Wakko realized. He nodded, and Wakko almost passed out. 

“You’ve decided on your wish?” He asked. 

“I just said-”

“Right, right. Welp- here it goes,” Pip snapped his fingers, and ball of green light shot across the sky, and crashed far, far away- behind the mountains in the horizon. Wakko frowned. 

“Hey, what gives? It couldn’t be any closer than that?” He frowned. 

“Oh whoops, too late to fix now,” Pip scratched the back of his neck. Wakko gave him a look. “Looks like you have quite the trek ahead of you.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” Wakko couldn’t be sour for long, now entranced by the bright light. 

“And you better be going if you don’t want competition to build up,” Pip added. 

“What?! How am I supposed to reach it if I’m stuck in this tower! These rules are completely unfair,” Wakko crossed his arms. 

“Don’t worry Wakko, your siblings will be coming to get you soon, you’ll just have to tell them where to go,” Pip explained. 

“Huh?” He tilted his head when he heard footsteps not far away from the door. 

“I must go now- just remember this: the one who touches the fallen star first gets their wish. If you aren’t first, you don’t get it,” He said.

“What’s the point of me wishing on the star then, if it’s just up for grabs? that’s lame,” He crossed his arms. 

“Whoops- I gotta go, bye,” He waved and turned to star dust before disappearing completely, right before he heard a knock at the door. 

So much for that guys help. 

“Wakko?” It was Yakko. 

“Yakko? What’re you doing here?” Wakko asked. 

“We’ve come to break you out,” Dot chimed in, and a very, very, very long rope made of several sheets was pushed through his “meal slot”. 

Wakko didn’t know what to say. 

“Tie one end to the hook by the window and climb down- my advice is to not look down and pretend like it’s just training with Dad. Plus, me and Dot will be waiting for you at the bottom,” Yakko explained. 

“Wait- I have to tell you,” Wakko interrupted. 

“What?” Yakko asked, surprised Wakko wasn’t protesting. 

“I-i made a wish at a star tonight and well- apparently it was the wishing star so now we have to go- like... really actually go so I can make my wish and then everything will be okay and happy just like it used to be,” Wakko said. 

“The... wishing star? I thought that was just some kiddy bedtime story...” Yakko said, mostly to himself. 

“Well- apparently not,” Wakko said, taking one end and tying it to the hook like Yakko said. Yakko sighed. 

“We’ll talk about this once you’re down. Me and Dot are gonna wait at the bottom,” He said. 

“Okay... see you on the other side,” Wakko said, making the mistake at looking at how far away down was, but was surprised the rope actually went all the way down. 

That was a lot of sheets. 

“You got this Wakko!” Dot encouraged, before he heard the two of them go. 

Right. He had this. 

He may not have been very smart, but he was a good climber. He could do this...

At least, he hoped anyway. 

He promised right then and there that if he was going to make it out of this alive, he was definitely going to go to the Wishing Star- it couldn’t be more dangerous than climbing down a 50 foot rope made of tied sheets, 

...Could it?

.o0o. 

Lena despised being in recovery more than anything. She had been rendered practically immobile because of her broken leg, and her weakened muscles took months of physical therapy to rest and recover. 

Every day she thought of her children, and missed them dearly. She knew when all of their birthdays were and was overcome with grief as each passed. 

She was supposed to be there, with them. Celebrating, laughing, protecting.

Instead?

Now she was in William’s hometown, mooching off of their generosity because of her title, feeling utterly and totally useless. 

After months and months of healing and resting and physical therapy she was finally back to semi-functionality. Sure, she could now go for strolls at night with William (it was part of her physical therapy- stupid leg injuries), but she knew she still couldn’t actually do anything- she still couldn’t go back to the castle and put an end to her mother’s reign. They’d be caught- called imposters and possibly be killed. 

Lena couldn’t imagine making her children go through them dying twice. 

“Lena..? What are you thinking about this night?” William asked softly, and Lena remembered where she was. 

“Just... everything,” she sighed. William kissed her hand. 

“We’ll figure it out, I promise,” He said. Lena closed her eyes and tried to believe it. 

“A year William... My mother must’ve done numerous unspeakable things to them by now...” She looked away at the plaza. He squeezed her hand. 

“I was thinking of the same thing...” he said. Lena put her head on his shoulder. 

“I miss Wakko’s jokes... I miss Yakko’s wit... I miss Dot’s smile,” Lena said, smiling a little at the memory. 

“We’ll figure it out soon, i promise,” he kissed her head and closed his eyes as they sat on a bench outside the hospital.

“Soon...” she echoed. 

Soon her ass. 

Soon was a ridiculous unit of time. No matter how much time had passed, everything seemed to be “soon”. The word drove her mad. 

She was going to say something about this, when suddenly a bright green shooting star suddenly soared through the sky, grabbing her attention as it went all the way down before suddenly crashing down behind the Acme Mountains. 

“William- did you see that?” Lena tugged on his arm. 

“See what?” He tilted his head. 

“That star- it crashed just behind Acme Moutains,” She shook him so he opened his eyes and he quickly saw it. 

“That’s- no... that couldn’t be..? Could it?” He squinted at it. 

“I think it is...” Lena said. 

“You think the Wishing Star could actually be real?” He asked. 

“My father taught me about it when I was a little girl, the books are still in the library. My mother never approved of fictional books- it has to be true,” Lena quickly stood up. 

“Careful Lena, you’re still-”

“Oh hush William. Don’t you know what this means?” She asked. “This is our chance- we reach the wishing star we can reunite with the kids- and take down my mother for good.” 

“And everything would be perfect again...” William couldn’t help but smile. He stood and kissed her. 

“C’mon- we haven’t a moment to waste,” Lena said. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Lena, it’s very late. We need to go to sleep,” He said. 

“But- William- it’s right there,” She frowned. 

“Yes, but we’ll have to get a horse or two to share and it’ll be a long and treacherous journey- those mountains aren’t exactly easy to get through,” William warned. Lena sighed. 

“But... it’s right there... Our kids...” She looked at it. 

“I know... but I promise Lena, it’ll still be there in the morning. Wishing Stars aren’t common knowledge, and we’ll have the distance advantage,” William said. “So please... let’s get some rest before we go out, alright?” 

Lena sighed. “I hate when you’re right.”

“You love me,” He teased. 

“I know,” She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. “But.. tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow. We’ll head out first thing in the morning.”

“To the Wishing Star...” She smiled. 

They were going to see their kids again after all. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14