#hey op I’m a puddle now

[incendiobrock]

Surprise! {Damon Salvatore}

Summary: When no one is answering y/n’s calls or texts, they try their best to figure out what is going on in their friend group. Unaware of some supernatural issues, y/n is met with a surprise that changes their life forever. *This imagine is meant to be set somewhere in season 2ish*

A/N: The ending wasn’t where I was planning on leaving this imagine but I’m trying to clear out my drafts and this was written a year or so ago, so I’m going to leave it like this. Hope you still enjoy!

Warnings: fighting, slight language, mentions of blood, dying (stabbing), graphic

GIF ISN”T MINE CREDS TO OP (for the sake of this imagine pretend that’s Katherine and not Elena)

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You knocked lightly on the big wooden door, wondering why no one had been returning your phone calls. No answer, you should’ve known… You tried the metal door knob and shockingly it was unlocked. The heavy door slowly opened into the foyer of the old Victorian mansion. Your shoes made sounds that echoed through the house as they made contact with the wooden floor boards. You glanced around, noticing the deafening silence that filled the space normally filled with chaos. Something wasn’t right.

You were now standing in the living room, taking in your surroundings. Your brows furrowed as you noticed the fire smoldering in the fireplace. There was a dried puddle of blood staining the carpet, nearly three feet in front of you. A full glass of Damon’s bourbon sat discarded on a table.

“Hello?” You called out, now looking down the hallway and towards the stairs to the upper level of the house. You jumped, suddenly hearing a faint bang coming from the opposite end of the hallway. You walked quickly over to the door that led down to the cellar. As you went to push open the door it flew towards you revealing Elena who must’ve been coming back upstairs. “Jesus Elena! You scared the hell out of me!” You yelled, grabbing at your heart as you tried to steady your breathing.

She looked at you slightly confused, “What are you doing here?” Her voice was nearly a whisper. You went to answer her as she made her way in front of you, heading back into the living room. You followed quickly behind, “I have been calling you guys, no one answered me. I started to think something was wrong so I wanted to come see if you guys where here. Where’s Stefan?” It wasn’t unusual to see Elena without Stefan right by her side, but with all the vampire stuff surfacing he tended to try and stay close.

She sat on the sofa, propping her legs up on the table in front of her. “Uh- I think him and Damon went to go help out Bonnie. Something about her needing a grimoire.” She said, swirling around the glass of bourbon in her hands. Was she drinking this early in the day? You walked over and sat down beside her, copying her and placing your feet up on the table as you sunk into the back of the sofa.

“They found the grimoire yesterday, are you feeling okay Elena?” You slightly laughed, leaning over and placing the back of your hand on her forehead, checking for a temperature. Her eyes widened slightly, watching as you retracted your hand from her cold forehead. “Here, you’re freezing.” You said, handing over a blanket that always sat on the back of the sofa. “I’m going to go make you some hot tea.”

As you made your way into the kitchen you shook your head trying to clear your mind. You couldn’t shake the idea that something wasn’t right. After searching through cabinet after cabinet you finally found some tea bags. Chamomile should do, you thought. The metal tea kettle was placed onto the stove top, heating up the water. The buzz of your phone vibrating in your pocket pulled you out of your thoughts.

Elena: Hey, where are you? Sorry for not answering your calls, Damon, Stefan and I have been all around town today.

You felt your heart sink instantly, if Elena was out with Damon and Stefan, who the hell was in the house with you? The tea kettle began to squeal as the water reached a boil. You rushed over and removed it from the stove, dumping the water straight into the sink. You needed to get out of this house immediately.

You reached for your phone once more, trying to quickly send a message to alert your friends what was going on back at their house.

“Someone is here at the house.” Was all you got to type before you heard footsteps come up from behind you. You hit send, letting Elena know before you whipped around to be faced with Elena?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She asked you now, walking over to you and studying your facial expressions. You took a step back, your back making contact with the cool granite counter top, trapping you between the two.

“W-who are you?” You shakily whispered, tears forming in your eyes. This didn’t feel real.

“Y/n, it’s Elena.” She reassured, holding her hands out to you as if she was cautiously trying to calm you down. You pulled out your phone, showing her the message that “she” had sent you saying she was out with Damon and Stefan. She blinked quickly, shaking her head side to side. A lump formed in your throat waiting for her to speak again. “I don’t- I don’t know who sent that. I don’t have my phone. I promise it’s me. It’s me y/n, please.” She begged. Tears fell down your face as you pulled her into a tight hug.

In the matter of seconds you were shoved up against a wall, Elena’s hand cutting off your air as she squeezed your throat. Dark veins grew beneath her eyes as she smirked, revealing sharp, white fangs. Her teeth sunk into the wrist of her free hand, keeping the other wrapped tightly around your neck. You gasped for air, struggling against her strength that was holding your feet off the ground below. Her head flew back up as her wrist dripped fresh blood onto your shirt, “Drink up.” She grinned as she shoved her bitten wrist into your mouth, forcing you to drink her blood.

Your body dropped to the floor as she released you. You coughed, gagging on the hot, coagulated blood that poured down your throat. “Well, this will be fun.” You heard her voice ring through the air once again. Looking over your shoulder you saw her spinning a knife through her fingers skillfully. She grunted as she pierced the knife straight through your back, causing you to scream out in pain. The knife sliced through you as she yanked it back out. Blood began to spill out of your open mouth as you dropped to lay on your side. She then kicked you in the stomach causing you to lay straight on your back.

“P-please stop.” You cried, pain rushing through your entire body. The last thing you remember was her driving the knife straight through your heart.

—-

A ringing in your head pushed you awake. It was pounding in your skull as your eyes peeled open. Sun poured in through the window of kitchen, burning your skin like a thousand tiny fires. You screamed in agony, practically flying across the room to a wall that was void from the direct sunlight. The dryness you felt in your mouth, along with the pounding of your head and the intense feeling of fear overwhelmed you. Your body shook as you laid down, curling into a ball against the wall. Tears wracked through you as you remembered everything that happened, all the pain that you felt when Elena stabbed you with a knife. Elena stabbed you…

“Y/n?” Through your blurry vision you made out Elena’s form.

“Get away from me!” You screamed, crying loudly as you backed further into the wall. She rushed over to you, concern written all over her face as she knelt to your level. She quickly noticed the blood stains all over your shirt, paying extra attention to the dried blood around your lips. “Leave me alone! Stop it!” You thrashed around as she reached out to touch you. Stefan ran around the corner, watching as you coward away from Elena. She listened to your cries stepping away, and turning towards Stefan, silently asking him for an explanation. Before he could speak Damon used his vampire speed and zipped to your side, pulling your disheveled body into his strong arms. He heard your cries from outside the house and he felt the biggest rush of adrenaline to get to your side immediately. “Hey, hey, I got you. Shhh.” He whispered, stroking your hair as you cried into his shoulder.

Stefan and Elena watched painfully as you were cradled in Damon’s arms. “What’s happened?” Damon softly spoke up again. In between sobs you tried to inform him why you were so terrified, “E-Elena tried to- to k-kill me.”

“Oh shit.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to the top of your head as he continued to rock you gently. He glanced back at his brother, knowing that they were thinking the exact same thing. “Katherine.” Damon said.

Damon carefully helped you stand up, insisting that he take you up to his bed where he could explain to you that Elena wasn’t the one who initiated this attack. You weakly clung to him as you hobbled towards the stairs. Passing through the living room, your skin ignited in flames again as you passed by a window. You let out another blood curdling scream, Damon swiftly picking you and placing out of the suns harmful ways. His eyes softened as he examined your face closely. That’s when Damon realized that Katherine hadn’t tried to kill you, she did kill you. You were dead, and it was all his fault. He hadn’t answered your calls or your messages asking where he was earlier in the day. By the time he made it back home, it was too late. You were a vampire.

“Come on sweetheart, let me take you to my room please.” You nodded in response as he re-scooped you into his arms, rushing you into his room where he laid you on the bed, using his vamp speed to shut all the curtains before the light caused you anymore pain. Damon made his way into a small box that he had hidden away in a drawer in his bathroom. He pulled it out, removing the lid carefully as he sifted through the jewelry inside. Being alive for a hundred plus years has caused him to come across a decent amount of antiques, including some jewelry. One of these antiques being a ring that originally belonged to his mother which he held closely to his heart. It was silver, with small engravings throughout the band. Damon had been saving it for someone special.

“Damon?” You spoke up, as you watched him intently. His crystal blue eyes made contact with yours, “I’m so hungry.” Was all you could get yourself to say, feeling your stomach twist into knots at the thought of being fed. Although, you weren’t too sure that it was food you were craving.

Of course, how could he forget? You needed blood to complete your transformation. Not that he had ever wanted you to go through this... He sighed, placing the ring down on the bathroom counter, dreading that he would have to tell you that you didn’t “almost die” but rather were unwillingly turned into a blood sucking entity like himself. He had come to terms with being a vampire, almost not being able to think about living any other way. However, he remembered how he felt back when he was freshly turned and how long it took him to accept his inevitable fate. That was something that he would have never wished upon you.

“I’ll be right back okay, stay here.” He demanded, leaving you behind and coming back with a blood bag. You sat up in his bed as he sat down besides you, handing over the bag. The smell that filled your nose was almost irresistible. It smelt like the sweetest, richest dessert, like the biggest Thanksgiving feast. Veins began to ripple under your eyes as your fangs sprouted for the first time. Hesitantly, you brought the blood bag up to your lips, sucking in the contents of the bag. You moaned at the taste as the blood trickled down your throat. In only a couple seconds you had finished off the bag, pulling it back from your lips. Then, it hit you. The burning in the sun, the intense emotions and feelings of pain, the sudden insatiable hunger…

“I’m dead.” You gasped out, dropping the empty blood bag onto the bed sheets. Damon placed his hands on either side of your face gently, turning you to look at him.

“I’m so sorry y/n… I should’ve been here to save you.”

You felt like a monster. Sure, you didn’t think that Stefan and Damon were monsters, but you didn’t know how to control yourself the way that they could. The veins began to form under your eyes again as you thought about blood.

“Katherine isn’t going to get away with this. I swear to God, she’s dead next time I see her. How dare she take away your life like this…” Damon ranted, feeling the rage that you did about your unexpected death.

A knock on Damon’s bedroom door made you both look towards it. “Damon?” It was Stefan. Damon let his brother in, Bonnie following closely behind. Bonnie was your good friend, and it took everything in you to not rush over and drink her blood. Not because you wanted to drink her blood, but because you felt so hungry and something almost caused you to do it anyways.

You focused in on your breathing to distract you from your hunger, watching as Damon passed Bonnie a ring. She took it in her hand and went and opened up a curtain, light pouring in and landing a few inches before you in bed. Bonnie began to mumble out a spell as the ring sat in the light. “Done.” She said, reopening her eyes and tossing the ring back to Damon. You could tell she was upset, she had blamed Damon for everything supernatural that was happening to her and her friends. To her, he was bad news. She couldn’t even look at you in your state, feeling as though the friend that she once knew was long gone.

After she rushed out of the room, and Stefan rushed after her, Damon came back to your side. “Here, let’s put this on.” You placed your hand in his as he held it out to you, using his other hand he gently slipped the ring onto your finger. Damon hated his mother, but he had to admit that giving his mother’s ring to you made him feel a certain type of way.

“I don’t know how to do this Damon…” You whispered, admiring the new daylight ring that you were given.

“That’s why I’m here. I left you once, I’m not doing it again. I’ll help you get through this… I love you.” The latter end of his sentence barely made it past his lips, he had never shared his feelings for you out loud. He wanted to tell you how he felt for months, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He couldn’t help but notice though that your heart would always beat a little bit faster when he would arrive, and how your face would flush when he playfully flirted with you.

“You what?” Maybe you were hearing things, although you considered it was highly impossible due to your new hearing abilities.

“I love you y/n. I have for awhile now.” He said again, this time at a normal level which proved that you hadn’t misheard the words that had fallen past his lips. Before you knew what was happening, you leaned in connecting your lips together. The way you both melted into the other was almost enough to kill you for the second time today. It was passionate, and desperate, but so gentle at the same time. As you pulled back apart you couldn’t help but smile, resting your forehead against his.

“I love you too Damon.”

“Well, isn’t this just the sweetest. Now you guys can truly spend the rest of eternity together.” Damon shot up out of bed shoving the girl you now know as Katherine into the wall behind her.

“What are you doing here? I told you to leave.” He spat out, a death grip held around her throat. You watched as she chuckled to herself, amused that she got such a rise out of him. He felt his knuckles growing white as he squeezed the life out of her body.

“Surprise!” She said hoarsely, an evil grin still etched onto her face. This all felt so eerie to you, Katherine and Elena looked completely identical. No wonder you thought that she was Elena, anyone would without some extra context. 

[jesenslapetitemort]

@usbotthrills what I was saying about Daniel Solace!!!!! He’s just a wet cat that drowned!!! I want that wet cat!!!!!

love characters that just walk around looking like sopping wet pathetic messes

[in1-nutshell]

MORE SG BLACK ARACHNIA BUDDY

I'm stuck on a retelling of the episode where meltdown and black arachnia work together. But it's just meltdown pulling some extremism by essentially kidnappy buddy and saying, "I'm either gonna fix it by turning it full organic or kill it, which ever comes first". And Buddy is desperately on the phone with Optimus like

Op - look, I'm coming, but don't you have Decepticon allies that you can call?!?!

Buddy who knows that if Megatron knew she was in danger, then the island would simply be collateral damage - ...no

HAHAHAHA! I love the little description of the call there!

Here is the unintentional, intentional, after math of the Sentinel and Elita reunion.

Hope you enjoy!

Elita One's Twin sister gets kidnapped by Meltdown

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Hinted romance, kidnapping, slight mention of torture, mention of burns, Cybertronian (techno organic) reader

TFA

How did Buddy end up here?

Strapped to an experimental table, shock collars adoring her neckcables and servos, too many muti-colored patches one her frame while a disgusting Puddle Man taking notes on a weird looking monitor.

Buddy would have to start from last week to be able to tell you that.

Buddy had stayed on Dinobot Island for the night trying to calm down from that night’s events.

The Dinobots were more than happy to have Buddy over though they were worried about what happened the night before.

Buddy is sitting and patting Swoops head as Snarl keeps guard of the cave entrance.

Grimlock is sitting behind her.

“Buddy ready to talk?”--Grimlock

Buddy continuing to pat Swoop.

“No.”--Buddy

“Why?”--Grimlock

“Because I said so.”--Buddy

“You say that not real answer.”--Grimlock

“Well—”--Buddy

“And that way to—erm—avoid question.”--Grimlock

“… When did you get so smart?”--Buddy

Grimlock puffing chassis a bit in pride.

“Grimlock smartest of Dinobot’s!”--Grimlock

“Yes, you are.”-Buddy

“So… Buddy talk, now?”--Grimlock

“No.”--Buddy

Buddy made sure she went back to the base as soon as the next boat had arrived near the island and beelined straight to the base.

To her surprise and slight hurt, no one had noticed she had gone the night before.

Not even Megatron.

Then again, she couldn’t blame him.

The Elite Guard was still on Earth after all, he had more things to worry about.

After a week, Buddy decided to do something she hadn’t done in a while.

Buddy walking towards the exit of the base.

“And where do you think you’re going at this early in the morning?”--Starscream

Starscream leans against the cave wall with his arms crossed.

“I’m taking a walk outside.”--Buddy

“Don’t you have a med bay to re arrange again?”--Starscream

“I’m taking the day off.”--Starscream

Starscream’s wings slightly perk in question.

“You? Taking a day off? Has Megatron finally grabbed his bearings and asked you then?”--Starscream

“Asked me what?”--Buddy

“Ask you to—”--Starscream

Megatron appears behind him scaring the two.

“Go one Starscream what were you going to say?”--Megatron

Starscream chuckles a bit nervously.

“Ah he isn’t doing any harm now Megatron.”--Buddy

“Yet.”--Starscream

“Shh! Anyway’s I was telling him that I was taking the day off today. I sent the message through the link, and I was going out for a walk—”--Buddy

“You are… taking the day off?”--Megatron

“Yes? Why is it so hard for you two to believe that.”--Buddy

“Lugnut wouldn’t believe you.”--Starscream

“Oh that’s a bit of a stretch—”--Buddy

“Hey Lugnut!”--Starscream

Lugnut stops walking with Blitzwing by his side.

“Why is everyone awake? No one is up by this—”--Buddy

“Buddy says she’s taking the day off.”--Starscream

Random starts laughing hysterically while Lugnut looks confused.

“Buddy…taking the day off?”--Lugnut

“OH, COME ON! I am not that bad! I can take a break when I want to.”--Buddy

All the Decepticon’s having flashback’s of dragging Buddy away from her work or to sleep at a decent time, some getting out with injuries.

“…”—All the Decepticon

“…Look I’m going out today for a walk. No one is going to call me unless someone is dying.”--Buddy

Buddy hops off the ledge and swings away from the group who is left astounded.

“…So this is the future you have in mind Megatron?”--Starscream

“Starscream I swear…”--Megatron

While on the walk someone pinged her on her commlink.

Despite what she had just told the entire team an hour earlier, she still took the call.

Blame the anxiety and bad habits.

It was Prime.

“Hello?”--Buddy

“Prowl where—Buddy?”Optimus

“…Hey Prime…”--Buddy

“Wait don’t hang up, please!”--Optimus

Buddy pauses a bit.

“Go on…”--Buddy

“How are you?”--Optimus

Buddy lets out a shaky vent.

“As okay as I can be Prime. I take it you didn’t call me on purpose?”--Buddy

“No—I mean—that came out wrong…”--Optimus

“…Hey Optimus… I never got to tell you how sorry—”--Buddy

“No.”--Optimus

“What?”--Buddy

“You are not going to say sorry. You had good intentions that night. It on them now. If we are going to blame anyone it should be me—”--Optimus

“And I’m going to stop you there too.”--Buddy

“Wait no, I’m still stopping you.”--Optimus

“But now I’m stopping you.”--Buddy

“No, I am.”--Optimus

“No, I am!”--Buddy

“No, I am!”--Optimus

Silence.

Both friends on the line end up laughing.

They both knew it was going to be okay.

At least with them.

Sentinel and Elita were still another story.

“Why did you originally call for anyways Prime? You didn’t want to speak to your friendly neighborhood Spider?”—Buddy

“What I—I mean—”--Optimus

“I’m just messing with you Optimus. Tell away.”--Buddy

“I was trying to get a hold of Prowl. So much has been going down on the base. Mainly everyone has been a bit more… chaotic than usual. I was calling because I have a lens Prowl wanted.”--Optimus

“What kind of lens?”--Buddy

“His nature camera lens on Dinobot Island had gotten cracked last week and he has been… a bit moodier without seeing his birds.”--Optimus

“Well Optimus today’s your lucky day. I have the day off and—”--Buddy

“You have the day off? Really?”--Optimus

“Why is everyone surprised about this? I can take breaks.”--Buddy

Optimus having a flashback to the Academy were Elita, Sentinel and him dragging Buddy out of the study room with dents on them all.

“… Right…”--Optimus

“Anyways I can go to the island and fix it myself.”--Buddy

“I don’t want to interrupt—”--Optimus

“You’re not interrupting anything Prime. Anyways it gives me an excuse to go see the boys.”--Buddy

“Thanks Buddy, you’re a life saver.”--Optimus

“You got it Prime.”--Buddy

Now she was on Dinobot Island.

She managed to find the camera, but its lens wasn’t just broken.

It had some sort of … burns…

Buddy needed to inspect this more. Nothing on the island could have done these types of burns. Nothing organic at least.

She grabbed the camera when she heard some familiar pede steps.

Buddy turns to see the Dinobots coming towards her.

Buddy waves hello.

“Hey, guys!”--Buddy

Dinobots running faster.

“Hey, you slow down now…”--Buddy

Dinobots run even faster.

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—”--Buddy

Dinobot’s tackle Buddy to the ground.

“Guys…as much as I love you all… I’m not…as durable…as you…”--Buddy

“Dinobot’s get off Buddy who is just lying in a silhouette crater.

“Ow…”--Buddy

Grimlock picks Buddy up with one servo and dusts her off a bit.

“Thank you—Hold on what is that?”--Buddy

Buddy looks at a familiar looking burn on Grimlock’s thigh.

Grimlock shivers a bit as Buddy’s servo comes near the wound.

Buddy turns to see the others have similar burns.

“What happened?”--Buddy

“Dinobots… umm… Me Grimlock…”--Grimlock

“Is something hurting you?”--Buddy

Grimlock shaking his helm.

“…Is someone hurting you?”--Buddy

A hesitant nod from all three.

Buddy got out her med kit to look at the burns while gently petting them.

Buddy asked what happened to them after caring for each burn the best she could with her supplies.

They told Buddy that some puddle man hurt them.

Buddy’s optics harden.

Someone was hurting her friends.

They were going to pay.

Pay dearly.

Buddy finishing up the last injury.

“By any chance, do you remember the last place the ‘Puddle Man” was?”--Buddy

“Yes, it near gorge.”--Grimlock

Buddy nodding her helm slowly.

Grimlock suddenly looked nervous.

“Buddy not going to go see ‘Puddle Man’, right?”--Grimlock

“I just want a talk to the ‘Puddle Man’.”--Buddy

Buddy begins to move forward, but Grimlock quickly blocks her.

“No! Buddy no go! Puddle Man hurt Buddy!”--Grimlock

Snarl and Swoop nod their helms in agreement.

“I’ll be fin—”--Buddy

“No!”--Grimlock

Buddy shoots a web upwards and swings out of the Dinobot circle.

“Sorry guys! But someone’s going to pay for this!”--Buddy

“Buddy!”--Grimlock

Buddy quickly disappears into the bush.

Grimlock turns to Swoop.

“Get Truck bot.”--Grimlock

Swoop nods hurriedly and flies off.

As Buddy swung towards the gorge, something cut off her webs making her tumble to the ground. She slammed her helm on a sharp rock causing her to black out.

That brings us back to the present.

The Puddle Man had introduced himself as Meltdown.

Some wannabe scientist that got himself into a bit of an accident making him look like this, ‘Puddle Man’.

Buddy had tried to get out of the bonds but after a couple volts of electricity and a couple dozen acid burns to the pedes later Buddy decided that it was going to be better to wait it out for an opportunity to show up.

“Let me get this straight. You want to make me fully organic… so you can figure out how to turn yourself back to human? Am I missing anything?”--Buddy

“That sum everything up, yes.”--Meltdown

“Do you take constructive critic?”--Buddy

“…I’ll allow it.”--Meltdown

“That is the dumbest thing I have heard today.”--Buddy

“WHAT?!”--Meltdown

“You’re trying to turn me, someone who isn’t organic by nature, to become fully organic. We both have different biology and not to mention the methods of—”--Buddy

Meltdown cranks the electricity collars on making Buddy scream.

“I’d watch your tone if I were you. If I don’t find out a way to make you fully organic, you’ll be discard like the rest.”--Meltdown

Buddy giving him the stink eye while side eyeing the mismatched bones and fur in the corner.

“You can’t even dispose of your own garbage Meltdown.”--Buddy

“I’m going to enjoy this.”--Meltdown

“Enjoy whaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”--Buddy

The collar sparks with more voltage than before while Meltdown looked down at her with a sadistic smile.

Buddy didn’t know what was more surprising.

The fact that her original frame and organic frame was still intact from the electricity and burns or the fact that Meltdown had to leave his lab to use the bathroom.

Buddy wasn’t going to push it any further.

She managed to get a hold on the com link that was still in her audial and pressed on it.

“Optimus—”--Buddy

“Buddy where are you!?”--Optimus

Buddy wincing a bit at the volume.

“Shush! Prime, you’re going to get me caught.”--Buddy

“Caught?! Caught by who?”--Optimus

“You familiar with ‘Meltdown’?”--Buddy

Optimus paling on the other end of the line.

“Yes.”--Optimus

“I’m in some lab of his and I can’t exactly get out.”--Buddy

“I’m already on my way.”--Optimus

“That’s—urgh—fast.”--Buddy

“One of the Dinobots came and asked for me. We’re half way to the Island now.”--Optimus

“Oh, thank the Allspark.”--Buddy

“Did he hurt you?”--Optimus

“…Do you really want that answer?”--Buddy

“Buddy…”--Optimus

“I’m just trying not to look at them and get nervous.”--Buddy

“We’re almost to the shore.”--Optimus

“Good.”--Buddy

“Buddy, have you tried contacting your… team?”--Optimus

Buddy already having the vision of the island engulfed in flames.

“…No, I haven’t but there’s a good reason—”--Buddy

Toilet flushes.

“Prime I have to go! Find Me Prime!”--Buddy

Buddy releases her commlink silently tensing when Meltdown comes in.

“Shall we continue?”--Meltdown

Now all she had to do was stall Meltdown until Prime came.

Meltdown came back and began fiddling around with some of Buddy’s buttons near her helm.

To her horror she saw him press the mainlink to the Decepticon base, the one that would radio into the main computer.

While he was prodding around a few drops of acid fell on her.

She screamed as the acid met her chassis.

Buddy heard someone in her audial talking to her, but she couldn’t quite put her digit on it.

Mentally and physically.

Meltdown had somehow managed to figure out the link was something important and decided to play around with it.

He smeared more acid on her chassis.

She wailed in agony.

There was a bunch of noise in her audial now, but it eventually faded away as she blacked out from the pain.

When Buddy woke up again into was slow and painful.

Her optics were hazy and unfocussed, mainly seeing giant blobs.

She tried focusing on her senses first before dealing with everything else.

Buddy’s back was still on the table, but the patches were gone and so were the collar around her neck and servos.

Speaking of servos, something or someone was holding onto one of them with a death grip.

Strange enough, the touch felt familiar, nostalgic even.

Buddy tried focusing her vision on what was holding her servo and nearly had a spark attack right there.

It was Elita.

Okay this was surely a dream or Meltdown had failed to make her completely organic and this was her mind making a scenario to ease her into death.

She finally had enough consciousness to finally look around the room and was now fully convinced she was dreaming.

Next to Elita who was looking sadly at their intertwined servos was Optimus and Sentinel with Ratchet.

The three mechs seemed to also be looking across the room to…

Oh, Primus, why were they doing here?!

And how where the Bots not dead!?

On the other side of the room was Megatron with Blitzwing and Starscream glaring at the other Autobots.

Buddy gave Elita’s servo a squeeze making her snap up to look at Buddy smiling weakly.

Buddy gives Elita’s servo a bit of a squeeze.

Elita’s helm snaps up to see Buddy smiling weakly at her with barely opened optics.

“What’s with the look? Someone died?”--Buddy

Elita practically launches herself onto Buddy, hugging and crying on her neckcables.

Everyone else in the room finally understood that Buddy was awake now and tried to reach for Buddy.

Buddy gives them each a smile before motioning the door.

Motioning for privacy.

Her team was hesitant to leave, but eventually followed the Autobot’s out.

Elita finally released Buddy.

“Buddy, Buddy I’m so sorry—hic—I’m so sorry!”--Elita

“It’s okay Elita—”--Buddy

“No, it’s not! Look what happened to you! You nearly died here and…and--”--Elita

Buddy slowly takes her twins servo in her own.

“Things…things happen Lita…”--Buddy

Buddy pauses waiting to hear Elita tell her not to call her that.

She doesn’t.

“Somethings are out of our control, and we can’t just stick in one place for the rest of our lives. I got turned into a techno organic and made peace with it. This is a part of who I am now, and I accept it. Imagine if I didn’t and was bitter about it? I wouldn’t want to live a life were the only thing I have to look forward is revenge or something.”--Buddy

Elita sniffs a little bit.

“You took my place though. Aren’t you a little bit mad at me? At Optimus? At Sentinel?”--Elita

“I did at first. I wanted to blame everything on you guys and those Spider’s. But you know what Lita? It isn’t any of you guys’ fault. I made my decision back at that cave and I don’t regret it. Not for a nanoclick.”--Buddy

“But—”--Elita

“If I had the option of going back to that moment, I wouldn’t change a thing. I…I love Lita, and nothing’s going to change that.”--Buddy

Elita now fully sobbing on her twin.

Buddy starts bawling too as she hugs her back.

“Hey, I know this is off topic, but what happened to Meltdown?”--Buddy

Elita scowls.

“He got away. But don’t worry, I don’t thinks he’s coming anywhere near you ever again.”--Elita

“If you say so…”--Buddy

Buddy clung to Elita’s side as they both made their way out of the lab.

Buddy found it a bit funny how everyone was outside on their respected sides some silently glaring more than others.

Turns out the Dinobot’s had taken liberties to act as mediators between the two factions if things got out of hand.

Buddy waving at the group.

“Hi!”--Buddy

Dinobot’s waving back happily.

Buddy’s view was suddenly blocked by Megatron’s chassis.

“Are you all, right? Why are you even standing? Did the doctor do a good job? You shouldn’t be standing.”--Megatron

Megatron scoops Buddy up into his arms and walks back to his side.

Optimus looks relieved.

Sentinel too but tries to hide it in front of the Decepticon’s.

Ratchet also visibly relaxes a bit.

Starscream and Blitzwing stand close to Megatron nearly shielding Buddy from the other’s view.

“If there are any further complications—”--Ratchet

“I know where to find you field tech.”--Megatron

Megatron nods at the Autobot’s before taking off with Buddy in his arms with Starscream and Blitzwing following suite.

“Do you think she’ll be all right?”--Sentinel

“Of course she is. Don’t count her out of anything kids.”--Ratchet

Ratchet’s right. We’ll see her again, maybe not soon, but we will eventually.”--Elita

Optimus smiles at his friends.

“Let’s go home.”--Optimus

Meanwhile at the Decepticon base.

Megatron walks straight to Buddy’s room closing the door behind him.

He gently places Buddy down on the berth.

He sits down next to her.

“…Megatron—”--Buddy

“Not now.”--Megatron

He gently grabs her smaller servo in his.

Buddy slightly blushes at the action.

“…We can talk about this later.”--Buddy

“Yes, but now…”--Megatron

His servo lets go of her’s and pulls her into a side hug mindful of the injuries.

Buddy leans into his frame venting softly as exhaustion starts taking a toll.

“Buddy… there is something I need to tell you. I—”--Megatron

Megatron looks down to see Buddy fast asleep.

He chuckles a bit and gently places her on the berth.

His servo lingers on her’s before letting go.

He goes to the door and quietly walks out.

[tv-g1r-l]

hi! i hope you doing great! <3

can I have male genshin matchup and hcs please? i’m a girl, aries, enfp, my pronouns are she/her. i could be really shy sometimes due to my bad anxiety, but mostly i’m very sweet and bubbly person, i deeply care about my friends, and i’m super affectionate with people who i love. also, my love language is physical touch!!! i’m also very sensitive and emotional person, but i’m fully open with my feelings only with close people in my life. my height is 5’5, i have a petite figure, have some boob, long brown hair and green eyes, i would describe my style as a hyperfeminine, but i also love to dress cozy! i’m polyglot and i speak 6 languages, and i’m studying linguistics in uni. my other passions are makeup, cinematography and music ofc! i’m obsessed with rabbits and bunnies and all the bunny-themed items! i love cute things, such as clothes, accessories, makeup, stuffies and etc. my ideal partner is someone tall and protective (sorry I have daddy issues) who would take care of me and be attentive to me and my feelings! and also someone who would cuddle me a lot <3

hope it’s okay! sorry for my grammar, english isn’t my first language. i hope you have a nice day <3

Hello hello OP! Of course you can, here they are!!

I match you up with..

ARATAKI ITTO!

HEADCANONS + MATCHUP

Itto met you while he was playing rock paper scissors with a child in inazuma city.

He almost won.. until he saw you. He got so flustered that he shouted and had to be dragged away by the Tenryou Commission!

You later met him outside the city, you guys talked for a while and he asked if you if you wanted to go out. (For onikabuto hunting, of course)

You agreed and you guys hunted onikabuto all day.. that is until a samurai attacked you.

You didn't have your catalyst on you nor any weapons your dendro vision could work on.

..well, no need, Itto quickly took out his claymore and destroyed them. All in a day's work for him!

But uh, one problem, now he protects you from everything- which is not entirely a problem but..

"Y/N! Y/N!! WAIT- LET ME PUT SOMETHING ON IT!"

"Itto, it's just a puddle.."

Both you and Itto are open with your feelings toward eachother. Cuddles are common since it's a way for you guys to comfort eachother.

Itto says the randomest shit ever though

".. if you want, you can squeeze my tiddies!" "WHAT??" "Cmonnn! It'll be like an exchange thingy!"

He loves shopping with you cause, despite being comfortable in his gender, he finds hyperfeminine fashion really pretty!

He always points out dresses and the link for you to try on!

He also noticed your affinity for bunnies

So one rainy day, when Itto came in like a soaking wet dog

"Hey, Y/N! Look at what I found!" "Huh- IS THAT A BUNNY???"

The black bunny's name is now pepper and you both love her with all your heart

Itto also loves how you speak each language

Literally you could say a swear word at him and he's like "oh my god you're so hot"

Despite being the life of the party, he likes to hide away with you due to your anxiety- usually if it were any other person, he'd complain, but with you- it seems like it's the best moment of his life!

All in all: Arataki Itto loves you so much and would do anything to protect his girl! :)

[i-need-air]

Oh-- I really really -really- liked your wolf hybrid Bakugou and-- if you don't mind, can you do one on Kirishima? Just the general headcanons, if this is too bothersome then you can ignore this once again- thank you

Just general headcanons you say? Okay, I had this written 2k words in before I got this ask and now it's at... ehem, let me take a deep breath for this;

Word count: 3.5k 💀 [of HCs 💀💀💀]

Why do I keep doing this to myself aksdjkd I love Kiri so much, my god! Thanks for the ask!! 💗

[ Masterlist ]

Hybrid!AU Kirishima Eijirou HCs

× i mentioned him as a dog hybrid and we're sticking with it because it just feels right, yano? anyway!

× you found out about how the new hybrid shelter in your city helped bust a fighting ring

× which was horrifying to think about

× one of your friends explained the process to you and you were definitely interested in helping someone out

× shelters were still underfunded and didn't provide much to help the hybrids adapt to society

× so you found yourself in front of the shelter without a plan

× just a dream and a spare couch that could thankfully convert into a bed

× before you could chicken out you stormed through the doors like a mad person, catching the attention of the guards and the front desk man

× it surprised you how disinterested they were though; were they seriously the people that dismantled a whole illegal fighting ring?

× they called a sweet old lady to accompany you

× when you explained your situation her eyes sparkled, looking you up and down and nodding her head

× she took you through some hallways, showing you around the precinct, questioning you about what type of hybrid you'd want

× to which you honestly didn't know how to respond, like anyone you could help????

× it kinda pissed you off how she spoke about the hybrids like they were pets, suggesting you'd get a kitty or a bunny, since [her words] they were low maintenance

× is this really a good shelter?

× you looked around, finding prison like cells left and right, some with people that looked at you curiously, some covering from your glance

× they were locked in...

× some growling could be heard far away but the woman shook her head at you, disapproving gaze turned to the side as she took you further into the building

× another room, this time cells were bigger, a few occupied, yet covered from you, indiferent and uninterested

× a man was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair

× "Kirishima, boy, get up to greet someone"

× his red eyes snapped up, whatever he was thinking about slowly forgotten

× he blinked curiously as you hugged your frame, feeling uncomfortable, even ashamed to be there

× but a sweet smile took over his features

× "Hey! I'm Kirishima Eijirou!"

× it's really all it took for you to grow fond of him; he got up and came closer to the entrance of the cell and introduced himself in such easy-going manner you forgot about everything and anything

× he calmed you with his presence, even if it was very disheveled, with old ripped clothes and hair messy, painted red with obvious dark roots showing

× he had a black fluffy tail waving slowly behind him too

× you introduce yourself with his encouragement and mumbled how you wanted to help someone out today

× he just smiled at you, taking you in

× let me tell you something about dog hybrids: they can sense emotions and intentions so Kiri would be a very good judge of character and he really, genuinely took a liking on you

× the problem is how the fuck do you say out loud that you wanted to help him out

× because you sure as hell weren't going to say you'd adopt him; he's not a child? we're talking about a grown ass man here? literally looked like 6'4ft/1.95m?????

× it was so shameful, your gut turned as you cursed society and he sensed it, expression changing, falling a little as he saw you look very out of place

× "Hey, hey, everything's gonna be fine!" he said

× he told YOU that

× instead of YOU telling HIM those words;;; you almost burst into ugly crying, forgetting about everything else, your minuscule problems or shame or whatever and just nodded at him

× "Would you like to come home with me, Kirishima?" you said, ignoring the happy clapping the old lady was doing, watching carefully how his expression, clear as water, switched from easy-going and reassuring to shocked then hopeful

× "I'd like that" he breathed out "—a lot."

× as you went out the lady was telling him it was a shame they separated his group of friends, something about being sent to different shelters, how he had to be a good boy, to behave, yada-yada and seriously;;; he was taking it so lightheartedly, as if he was so used to this behavior or even was thankful for it?

× it was starting to get annoying, specially when they gave you a collar for him, like no fucking thanks, but you'd take care of it later

× since it was very random and unplanned, you were making mental gymnastics to figure out what to get and what to do first, like clothes, food—

× journey home was pleasant as he walked close to you, asking you questions about yourself with a gentle smile on his features

× meanwhile people got out of both your ways because he was intimidating and big and large but his smile screamed sunshine

× all while he never really mentioned anything about himself

× you made a point to ask him if he was hungry, to grab a quick bite at any restaurant you could get at then go buy some clothes and necessities

× you were so casual and this guy was so shocked

× i swear, looks at you blinking stupidly then ✨beams✨

× spoiler alert; big boy was hungry

× it didn't matter honestly, just seeing him eat without a worry [even if everyone at the restaurant was wary of him but got a stink eye from you] was a relief

× since you answered his questions about you, you decided to ask some about him; you were going to be roomies soon so might as well get to know each other

× shocked again

× stops mid-bite when you ask him something and stares wide-eyed

× doesn't answer but you can see he wants to and you're confused??

× "did I—... did I say something wrong?" you'd press, scared you'd spook him away or something

× he just gulps down and looks ashamed

× casually tells you they've been told at the shelter owners don't care about them

× 🙃 say what now bby?

× he kinda starts apologizing because he understands why you wouldn't wanna know and you put your hand on his; kinda mutes him for a second

× "Kirishima, we're gonna live together and hopefully be friends in the process, right? I'd like to know about you, as much as you're willing to tell me"

× [ falls in love right then and there ]

× he's met humans before, many actually—

× even in the short weeks he's been at the shelter he's seen people come and go and none talked to him like you did

× stares with stars in his eyes and chuckles awkwardly, blush on his face

× "You're really nice, [Y/N]" he said before eagerly answering your questions; course, it leaves you confused lmfao but you brush past it

× okay! shopping next, long story short it was very hard to find hybrid clothes for his size so you pick to change human clothes and adjust them for him

× as you again mention this stuff casually he's just awestruck

× when you got home, bags in hand, you were explaining to him how you really didn't have much; you were working to get a promotion soon but for now you had a couch that could open up into a very comfy bed, which he assured you it was enough

× you were lowkey unsure if he fit it because like i mentioned, big boi is big

× he does! so that's a relief but you started considering giving him your bed; you mostly fell asleep on the couch anyway and to be fair, it was really comfortable and you mention it as he looks around

× his head snaps at you, wide eyed, yet does not talk

× so you ramble bc that's something fun to do! "I mean I went to the shelter without a plan and uh, I want you to feel as comfortable as possible and maybe the bed is a better fit and—"

× Kirishima Eijirou sees: 💕💞💕💞💕💞💕

× has never been treated like this, like he's an... equal... something he'll take months to share with you, but we're getting ahead of ourselves

× the thing is this boy will fall pretty hard pretty fast, but will definitely take time to make a move

× bc he is respectful

× so he thanks you for the offer and tells you it's probably the best place he slept in all his life

× can your heart stop breaking for him? i mean it's a good couch but it's no luxury hotel bed???

× [ we need to pause, OP made herself sad ]

× ok, so he's really helpful around the house, and he knows how to cook!

× takes no time to talk about his friends, special his best friend that cooked for everyone at the fighting ring and forced them all to help and that's how he was pretty decent at cooking himself

× wasn't the best though, but followed instructions like a boss

× he lives for your compliments

× literally his tail wiggles with no shame

× seriously;; tell him he did a good job even at the dumbest thing and—

× puffs chest

× wiggle-wiggle

× "Thanks!"

× 🥺💕💞 make him stop, he's so cute

× did i mention he has like floppy black ears? Omg his earsssssssssshnnngggggggggg

× because they move whenever he walks and they're mesmerizing

× and one day that you're observing them for science [not because your heart was like 💘pom-pom💘] you noticed his roots

× remember when your heart broke for him? hah, have some more because as you asked him, he started telling you that he was pushed into dying his hair red for the spectacle, diversity and what-not

× reassured you he grew to love it now, being part of who he is

× also gets a little bit shy when adding he wouldn't want to change the color in hopes of finding his friends someday and for him to be easily recognizable

× you bought him hair dye that same day

× WHICH! apart from gaining extra 🥺💕💞 from him, it created a nice routine between you two!!

× you offered to dye his hair and it was such a great time; he made you laugh, conversation going just as easy whenever you talked, you got to know each other a little bit more and—

× heh

× at the end, after applying all the red hair dye, you massaged his scalp gently

× guess who melts in your hands? yes, giant ass dog-man melts into a puddle under your hands and it's the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen

× I'm serious, he sighs and leans into your gloved hands with zero [0] shame, eyes closed and peaceful expression on his features apart from a small smile

× you tease him and he laughs it off, but promise him you'd give him head scratches when he was finished with the dye, washed off and hair dry

× and you better deliver

× "Don't think I forgot!" he'd say as he'd hop on his make-shift bed in the living room by your side, tail moving from side to side

× as you start playing with his locks, he falls into your lap and starts snoring

× move an inch and he opens his eyes to look at you confused

× puppy eyes questioning you if you're leaving 🥺

× yep, you fall asleep together

× you point out to yourself that those puppy eyes will be the death of you

× he's a touchy guy, okay? since he's been touchy with you from the very start you never questioned it, even read on the internet that many hybrids descended from house pets need physical affection, like hugs, pats, scratches, all the bag, so it wasn't a big deal for you

× except it was a big deal because he's been around for a month and you're already catching feelings and that's bad because you did not bring him there to fall for him but to help him start a new life and—

× oh my god, what if he thought you were one of those people from the horror stories about hybrid adoption that only wanted them for one thing—

× no, no, no, nO, NO.

× anxiety was getting to you as the guilt of catching feelings for him, plus the fact that he was financially dependant on you for the time which would've made it even worse if he found out, PLUS he comes from such a rough life, he definitely needs a break and doesn't need his first human friend in forever to be a piece of;;;

× Kiri catches on this really constant and increasing feeling of anxiety; he starts to send you worried glances but doesn't know how to proceed

× in such a soft voice he asks if you're okay, if something is on your mind

× and since you weren't sharing anything but acted as if everything was alright even when he felt you lied, Kiri started to get worried too

× why were you anxious? why weren't you talking to him about it?

× oh, god, was he a burden? because he felt like one;;; did you want him out? he felt like an extra weight for you and wanted to do something about it but maybe you got sick of him? he felt unmanly...

× the fact that he knew he cared about you as more than just a friend made him even more anxious and it didn't help that whenever he touched you he heard your breath hitch or your heart beating louder; he got his hopes up then down because

× you smelled like people; people he didn't know, people he wanted to know because he needed to know why did you smell like them? were they a treat? were they potential partners? he really did not want to ask bc Kirishima felt like it wasn't his place to know

× as tension grew in the house you decided to gift him a new phone, ready to give him some news that reached your ears

× it seems Kiri himself liked to do sports and mainly jog to keep himself active and he's started to pass by the local dog-park to play with the dogs

× imagine your surprise when a few neighbors asked you if he'd be willing to train their dogs bc he's been teaching them stuff like once a week and the dogs listened

× big time dog whisperer; he says "Sit" to one dog and all dogs in the neighborhood sit too, you get me?

× so you said it would be nice for him to have his own money; not like you didn't help him without care, but you saw his face every time you bought something for him and really felt like he needed some real independence

× he's in ✨awe✨ because you came up with clients already that were very eager for dog training sessions, which he loved??? and suggested hours, wages??????

× and you gave him this new phone to help him with it if he's interested too?

× "Well, the normal price on the internet around the area is—"

× "[Y/N]."

× "Hmm?"

× "You're really amazing, you know that, right?" he'd have his lips curled into a sweet smile

× which makes your heart go crazy and this man notices how you get flustered

× loves it

× get ready for compliments; a lot of compliments just expecting your sweet flustered reactions

× he's slow at realizing your feelings for him because he beats himself down and seems himself as less of a man but tests the waters nonetheless and a d o r e s every time you struggle to thank him for said compliments and don't know how to continue functioning

× catches on and gets his hopes up

× and so you do

× listen, this is hilarious because you're both dumb idiots and want to be respectful towards the other meanwhile he hugs you tighter and for a little bit too long, loving how you melt into him, kisses you on the cheek and sees you get all flustered, looks at you like you're the only one to ever matter until you stop talking, turning everything into a giant mess of silence until you both grin at each other???? I'm getting second-hand embarrassment, just kiss???????

× and it happened with an accidental kiss

× you greeted him as he walked through the door, excited to tell him about your promotion, rambling about the take-out you ordered while he smiled at you

× and it started to be usual for you to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, right? just what normal roomies do, you know [mhmm~]

× he's taking his shoes off and knows the kiss is coming, but just before you press it on his cheek you whisper/squeal "I got the promotion!" to which he turns his head in surprise at you making your lips press together by accident [mhhhmmmmm~~~]

× cue both of you apologizing, looking like a mess

× he's blushing

× you both loved it

× why are you standing so close to each other?

× why did he lick his lips in daze while staring at yours?

× which one of you was leaning in for another kiss?

× it didn't really matter because he's kissing you slowly, taking you into his arms like you were made of porcelain

× glues his body to yours and breathes you in, lips locked, neither believing it was real

× lifts you up in his arms with no difficulty and smiles, both inches separated from another; "Congratulations..." his breath would fan over your face;;;;

× yeah, okay, he takes no time to confess, resulting in a mess of manly words skdjekldj you guys talked that whole night while cuddling and stealing kisses, you on his lap

× [ his nose brushing your neck; he loves your scent omg ]

× it becomes official pretty much instantly and then all your worries wash away

× all the anxiety, all the stress and overthinking, they've all been sorted out in one night and trust me, afterwards this man is pure honesty and loyalty

× he won't hesitate to talk to you about anything and will be such a patient sweetheart with you, listening to every word you say without judgment

× loves cheesy stuff? as in the most cliché stuff seen in movies? that's his shit right there; whenever you two see each other after some time apart [sometimes 5 minutes apart] he'd pick you in his arms and spin you around, then expect you to kiss him

× if you don't, i will skfjdkfk step aside 👀

× skin contact; please, touch him

× if you're not he sends you those famous puppy eyes and we all know they're killer

× sighs, happy to hold you tight against him, engulfing you into his big frame; yeah, you're where you belong, in his arms.

× everyone in the neighborhood loves him; it's ridiculous, seriously, because you find out he helped around all the time when you were at work and gained everyone's love

× makes an instagram account to teach people how to train their dog and becomes an internet sensation, a small celebrity

× also bc he's hot and sometimes posts working out pics

× skdksjs imagine this: makes dinner for both of you, lits up some candles, goes all in, then fucking posts it on ig saying "waiting for my baby to come home #surprise" forgetting you can see it lmfao

× you see the story on your way home and 🥺💞 "ye i love his oblivious ass"

× soft gasps when you tell him after dinner

× has the audacity to be surprised, like babe????

× Kaminari finds him through social media and this baby cries in relief for a good half an hour

× both team up to find all the gang

× guess who talks praises about you all the time? mhm, this guy right here is proud to have you

× and Denki has to deal with it;

× anywho! want to break him for good? tell him you love him for the first time

× GETS. SO. EXCITED. AND. EMOTIONAL.

× but forgets how to speak

× finds his words to say it back after staring at you entranced, grinning like an idiot, taking you in his arms and giving you a bone crushing hug while shaking in place

× he's never felt this loved and adores every second of it

× you're like a drug and he's deep gone, man

× tells you he loves you every single day

[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.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 01

(Masterpost) (Next Episode)

Warning: This is **FULL **of spoilers, not just for this episode but for the entire series. If you haven’t finished all 50 episodes, please don’t read it! 

Intro: 2020 continues to be much much too much while also being incredibly boring, and Im done with Shen Wei’s Lewks, so now I’m doing a deep meta dive into the Untamed. Let’s roll! 

Prologue: The Battle of Mordor

The Demise of our Protagonist

Unlike some other shows I won’t name, The Untamed kills its suicidal queer protagonist immediately, rather than waiting four seasons, so we know what we're in for. 

This is Wei Wuxian, who is about to yeet himself off of a cliff. He is having a bad day. 

Note: if mouth blood bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing. 

Reasons for mouth blood: a sampler

Anyway...cliff time

Note: if (fictional) suicide bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing. 

To be fair there are hardly any suicides in The Untamed. No more than ...five? As long as you don’t count the entire population of the Wen Corporate Headquarters in Yiling or those wall bandits in Qinghe or Madame Yu or all those Wens who supposedly threw themselves into the mud puddle or that Mo guy who broke his own neck. Plus watching Wei Wuxian’s cliff drop several more times from multiple angles. So, you know. Hardly Any Suicides. 

This is Lan Wangji, who is about to have his first losing encounter with physics. He is having a bad day.

In fact, if it is possible to have a worse day than the guy who is currently falling to his death, Lan Wangji is having that.

This is Jiang Cheng, who is feeling extra stabby from this camera angle. He is having a bad day.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me? 

(Much, much more after the cut!)

The Amulet Situation

This is the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Yes, by all means, (Netflix) subtitles, let's use a 12-dollar word, “Stygian,” that every English speaker who is not a Shelley/Byron shipper will have to look up. Let’s not use a normal word like "deathly" or "corrupt" or you know... "Yin" which is clearly what they are saying on screen.

Why does this tiger amulet look like a chameleon crossed with a remora? Wei Wuxian can paint photorealistic bunnies on a flimsy lantern while sitting in a field having distracting teenage lust, but two months of meditating with super magic gets him a tiger that looks like a chameleon. And don’t try telling me this is a traditional-Chinese-art vibe because this jade tiger from frickin 1000 BCE is way more tigerish than Wei Wuxian’s attempt. 

Try harder next time, Wei Wuxian.

This is thousands of cultivators having a battle.  What do you mean, it looks like about 40-60 dudes?

 Any time someone in The Untamed refers to a number of people, it is like when you do your high school play and look off into the wings at nothing and say “Hark, A Ship Approaches!” and everyone’s parents nod indulgently.

Jin Clan Mountain Hunt:

*viewership nods indulgently*

This is Captain Blowhard, over on the right, courtesy name Clan Leader Yao. His job is to talk smack about Wei Wuxian and stick up for whoever is the biggest asshole in any given scene.  

He represents mainstream cultivation-world values so here he is shanking one of his allies to take the deadly amulet of evilness.

The Present Day

Spilling All That Yiling Laozu Tea

Down at the Exposition Tea Shop, the Lan juniors are chilling and listening to Tea Dude tell the story of Yiling Laozu. 

How did they get permission to take this field trip? “Principal Qiran, we want to go downtown to hang out with the local rabble and learn about your favorite person, Wei Wuxian.”

Waiting in the wings is the man with a fan and a plan, Nie Huaisan(g), who is paying tall loot to get these stories told.  

...Why? Is Mo Xuanyu having tea here and listening? Or is Wei Wuxian being summoned back by hearing all this smack being talked about him? *Shrug.*

Gank Your Soul

Drunk flag guy out here talking about spirits. Wikipedia tells me that In one school of Daoist thought, a human being has a collection of physical souls (魄 pò) and ethereal souls (魂 hún). Drunk flag guy is saying “hún ” at the moment. 

The many types of souls don’t translate well into English, where spiritual vocabulary has always been shackled connected to Christian beliefs, and is too limited for this context. So when the subtitles have conversations like “Is it a soul eater? No, no, it’s a spirit taker!” just roll with it. (Speaking of hún, if you have any interest in linguistics, do yourself a favor and go read all the wonderful meta @hunxi-guilai​)

The spirit-carrying flag looks a lot like Raava and Vaatu from Korra which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

The Demise of our Trill Host

Suicide #2 happens about 8 minutes in. 

Mo Xuanyu is that hippie roommate with the annoying wind chimes and bead curtains and blood spatter.

He is super mad at his terrible family and also at Jin Guangyao, who sent him home to his terrible family. I wonder if Fan Man Nie Huaisang influenced Jiggy’s decision-making there. Mo Xuanyu’s choice to die for revenge might be excessive, given how easy it actually is to murder the Mo family.

Being Alive Is Fine I Guess As Long As I Get To Fuck WIth People

Wei Wuxian starts his new life by splashing a little water on his face, which instantly makes his hair go from this

to this. 

He looks at his reflection and wishes he was dead, which--mood--but he gets over it as soon as he finds someone whose day he can fuck up.

And he is ALL in on being crazy. 

OP wishes she had the Wei Wuxian kind of crazy instead of the kind she actually has. 

Meanwhile, this is the sane Mo cousin:

This asshole is wearing one of the best fabrics in the whole show, incidentally. Asshole.

My favorite bit of Wei-Mo craziness is when Wei Wuxian does a meaningless 360 all the way around this dude before ducking in the opposite direction, which is like when I make 4 right turns around a whole block to avoid making a single left across traffic.

Perhaps I Do Miss One Thing In This Life

Wei Wuxian has pining thoughts about Lan Wangji, so he plays WangXian on a fucking blade of grass well enough for Sizhui to recognize it from his dad's guqin jams. 

Wei Wuxian is a better flautist than even Inspector Gadget BeatBoxing Flute Guy (Google it).

Our Many Many Spirit Lure Flags have Lured A Spirit, Oh Shit

Lan Clan has a Plan and Wei Wuxian is a Fan

Having one single lure flag stuck in Wen Ning’s torso caused spirits to basically eat him alive, so to catch one evil spirit, 6 disciples holding flags on the roof plus 8 more flags on the ground seems like a good amount. Wei Wuxian is like “yep, a single one of these will lure every spirit for five miles, carry on, younglings.”

Baxia Does the Heavy Lifting

Wei Wuxian is supposed to kill four people because of this curse situation, and in the course of the series they all die, and he kills exactly zero of them. The curse on Wei Wuxian’s arm should be called the scorekeeper curse. 

Baxia’s spirit pinballs around the Mo clan, rapidly killing three people on Mo Xuanyu’s list plus a couple extras for good measure.  Who's a good blade? Baxia is! Yess you are! Yes you are!

This here is the exact point in the show where your friend, who has listened to you squee about The Untamed for three months and finally agreed to watch it with you, will say “what the fuck am I watching?” and try to get up off the couch. Tackle them! 

This also the point where we all realize that the prosthetic and practical effects in this show were probably not made by the people who made the clothing, because the quality is...variable. The white eyeballs are pretty good, but the glove of death is ridiculous.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

While Baxia goes to town on the Mo clan, the Lan Clan babies...watch? And tie up the various victims after they are already goners. 

Narrator: Her son is dead.

Meanwhile, 

Wei Wuxian, you motherfucker. You’ve been alive for like 7 hours and you’re already building a new zombie army. No wonder you don’t want them to call Lan Wangji.

Hanguang-Jun Cut It Up One Time

Lan Wangji shows up and very slowly kicks zombie ass with his guqin. If you are used to Hong Kong action speeds, you will find The Untamed very peaceful.

 All of the baby Lans fan squee up at Lan Wangji like he's the cultivation world's David Bowie and...they're not wrong. Jesus Fuck, he’s charismatic.

Lan Wangji is soft boi when he discovers this murderous sword full of dead-bastard energy, because it reminds him of his true love.

Like the talk about souls, the conversations about the nature of the murderous entity really don’t survive translation into English.

Servant: it’s a ghost! 

WWX: it’s not a ghost, it’s a spirit

Babies: It’s a spirit

LWJ: it’s not a spirit, it’s a [...] ghost

Our Protagonist gets the FOH

Wei Wuxian is soft boi when he sees Lan Wangji, but not so soft that he considers actually, like, sticking around. 

Wei Wuxian is also clueless boi, noting Lan Wangji’s white clothing and thinking, as in the past, that he looks like he’s dressed in mourning. The term he uses is 戴孝, which google tells me means the type of outfit worn by Jiang Yanli after Wen Ning rips her husband’s heart out someone who is in mourning. 

Actually, Wei Wuxian, you dumbass, he is in actual mourning, actually, for you. Dumbass. He probably packed away all of his blue outer robes 16 years ago and only takes them out occasionally to reminisce about that nice date you had on your mountain of corpses. 

On his way out the door Wei Wuxian manages to find a red ribbon for his beautiful hair, so things are looking up. 

Where to go next...hey I know, how about that one haunted mountain with the killer statue, you know, the one that all my executed friends and child came from? That’ll be fun and a great way to put the past behind me!

Episode 02 Restless Rewatch is here!

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IV

Word Count: 1,925 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. Ben Affleck. Panic attacks. Bullet wounds. Smut (not explicit but it's there). A/N: Your kind words mean literally everything to me and I have been sobbing between the warmth shown to me over this series and also how much I love Francisco Morales and want the absolute best for him.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Gif by: @uuuhshiny

Luna hasn’t stopped wailing since Sunday, the one and only day Frankie said he wouldn’t be able to call.

It’s Thursday and both their lungs are close to giving out.

One Morales woman hyperventilating herself into fitful sleeps, the other only sobbing through held breaths in stolen lonely moments of peace and quiet.

Kristyn had taken up residence in the spare room, making sure Leah slept and ate. She was the one who cashed in Leah’s sick days with the school, forging a bullshit sick note when she went into work.

Leah is currently distraught because her husband might be dead in South America, we don’t know.

That’s what the first one said, dashed out on the keyboard in a petty moment of frustration. She might be the only one of Leah’s sisters who didn't want to lob his fucking head off every time she shed a tear but it didn’t mean she never wanted to do it.

Patient is suffering from a prolonged migraine and intensive nausea. Follow up appointment scheduled for next Thursday at 9am.

That should fucking do it but she’ll have to start checking off the vacation days soon. Dip into family leave for Luna.

Alexa held her on that first Monday, talking her through the panic in a puddle of spilled coffee. The paper cup splashing across their knees in the hallway as concern emanated from the AP Lit room at their backs.

Somewhere at the base of the Andes, her husband was being pried out of a crashed helicopter by the only other men she’d ever truly loved. William was shot, Benny was reckless. She felt it all in her body as she was driven home, helped into the shower, held in her bed but not by the arms she craved.

“He's coming home,” Deana brought dinner that night, her big sister cutting into her steak like she was a child at risk of choking again, “he will do anything he can to make sure of that.”

“What if he doesn’t, D?” Leah’s taken on the stare, everything and nothing all at once, “what if he doesn’t come home this time?”

“I promise you, Lee, okay?” She reaches out to push aside hair damp with tears, “I've never seen a man so in love.”

“Yeah…” she’s quiet, “he promised me too.”

And she told him to stop making promises because he doesn’t keep them.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

The tears well over her eyes, spilling onto already salt stained cheeks.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He poured his entire being into her, drunk off the feel of their bodies together. She could feel him in the hollow of her ribs, an aching that called out for the comfort of his beating heart against hers again.

Would that be so bad?

She sobbed out, startling Luna’s own ragged cries again, afraid that she would never know warmth against her cold hands again.

—————

“Hey,” they're huddled against the onslaught beneath a barely-there cliff, labored breathing in tandem, “you still with me?”

Frankie’s panic attack came on slowly, a rolling storm in the distance the moment the helo crashed in the valley.

Bad landing.

His fight or flight response has his lungs in a vice grip but he still manages a laugh, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“You know it’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to fuck me off,” he’s smiling but Frankie knows how much blood he’s lost, how long it takes for a wound like that to clot without medical intervention.

It’s true, it’ll take a lot more than a stray bullet to take William Miller but that was before, when they had back up. Out here, though? Surrounded by his brothers in arms? Having done what he just did?

Francisco Morales has never felt more alone.

“Fish,” William hits his knee against his, “where are you?”

His eyes refocus on the tepid water pounding all around him, the world coming back as he takes a deep breath, “are you afraid, Will?”

“You gotta be more specific, Frank, I’m terrified of everything.”

He’s quiet when he speaks, “me too,” barely above the downpour.

He sees Will nod in his peripheral, “I know.”

“Will, I’m afraid I’ll never see them again,” and when he chokes, he realizes he’s been crying.

“No, you can’t think like that.”

“I know, but I can’t stop it either, like…” trailing off, he lifts his face to the pressure of the water; it’s the sweetest thing he’s felt in days, “what if this is the last shower I ever take?”

“Fish…” Will reaches for him but he’s cut short.

“No, listen to me. If anything happens to me out he—“

“Nothing is going to fucking hap—"

“Shut up and let me finish,” his rage and sadness is burning hot through him, it takes everything within his being not to choke on air as he speaks again. “If anything happens to me out here, Will, take care of my girls. Please.”

The blond nods his head, heavy with exhaustion and pain, “until the very end of my life, Frankie.”

The relief that spreads through his body is better than any drug he ever tried, he feels himself slipping into an upright sleep, his heart at peace for the first time since he left his bed.

“But,” Will’s voice catches him on the edge of consciousness, “I would also face down the end of my life to make sure you see them again, do you understand me? If the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me, don’t fight. Leave me there and run like hell. You’re going back to your family.”

“But if I don’t make it…”

“Fish,” Will's laugh is drenched in the space between them, “are you saying it’s your last will and testament for me to marry your wife?”

“Fuck off,” his words are clipped, strained, “and don’t call me Fish.”

—————

They still, eyes up to the screen of the baby monitor as they hold their breath for another sound from Luna’s room. The baby settles back into silence, her small chest rising and falling on the grainy feed.

He remembers Leah opening the military grade surveillance equipment at the baby shower, the shake of her laughter as she held onto Benny’s shoulder to anchor herself to the chair.

“Should we check on her?” It’s small, a rushed question of a concerned mother.

“I said a baby monitor, Benjamin, not a prison security camera.”

“Absolutely not,” Ben grabs her hand, “This is better than any of that shit you’ll find at Target. Video means there’s no wondering either, you can just look up and assess the situation, more rest. That’s important, you’ll need to savor the little that you get.”

He pushes a lock of hair from her face, damp with the tears of the day and the sweat of the night, “no, baby, we don’t want to disturb her.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, his beer bottle held loosely in his hands, “Frankie should’ve been training you on sleep deprivation this whole time, you’re spec ops yourself now.”

“But what if she wakes up?”

“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts to close the fan at the corner of his eyes, “it’s a good thing she can’t see us through that thing, right?”

“Francisc—“ the irritation of his name is finished in a heady moan lured from her body by another slow drag of his hips.

The crook of his nose slots against hers as he finds her lips again, the warmth of the room around them is nothing compared to their mouths on each other. Bathing in shared heat, her fingers entwine into the curls at the crown of his head, the other hand palm up to his chest. And as the beating of his heart races towards her burning touch, he submerges himself once again.

His firm grip holds the hinge in her leg, fingers digging into the sensitive skin that fills her lungs with fits of laughter and light. He braces himself against the bed, the aching in his forearm dulled by the soft, breathless whimpers intoxicating his entire being.

His voice is washed out when he finds it, “mi sol,” lips dragging across her own, “mis estrellas.”

Her eyes find his, heavy with admiration and trust. “Francisco,” she is drunk and drowning in the love of this man, “finish me.”

He shifts to cradle her jaw and as he trails his other hand up her thigh, he sinks within her once more. Finding his release against her own, he is convinced they’ll never be able to fully untangle again.

He presses a kiss to her nose.

My sun.

Her forehead.

My stars.

Her lips.

My whole sky.

—————

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He snaps back to reality, Santi and Tom’s voices echoing all around them.

His head is hot, he’s pushing past Will with concern set so deeply in his eyes he fears he’ll break right there.

Would that be so bad?

“Fucking bullshit!” Tom’s face is red, Santi having finally said what all of them are thinking.

He feels the weight of Leah in every fiber of his being, slotted perfectly against his body.

“We're all on the hook for this, are we not?”

I should’ve said no.

“God damn this fucking horse! Stop it!”

All those years blinded by loyalty to authority, Frankie never talked back to his leader but the man in front of him isn’t a leader. He’s a whiny child who’s lost his toys and Frankie hates him.

Biting back what he wants to say, he holds his hand up in a show of camaraderie, “Relax.” His finger quirks up as if he’s scolding a tantrum, “Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay?”

Tom stares him down, like he’s weighing an argument against him too but Frankie’s done. He meets the taller man’s gaze, this man he would’ve died for.

“One foot in front of the other. Come on.”

This man he almost has died for.

“Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ.”

His true allegiances don’t lie to this man anymore or the gun at his hip. Not the money or the mules. He left that splintered fantasy about twenty feet back.

He’d throw this man over if it meant going home right now.

The money too.

None of it is worth a goddamn thing to him if it means he’ll never see the way that the light bounces off the gold in Leah Morales’ eyes ever again.

The same honeyed flakes in the brown of his daughter’s bright gaze.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He wanted to pour his entire being into that woman, ensure that he would live on if lost to the Colombian jungle off a narco's bullet.

Would that be so bad?

He was scared but, truly, would it be so bad?

But it would be because he could truly leave her with nothing. No money, no husband, no father to her babies.

He lost count of the days he hadn’t called.

He makes his way up the mountain, following Tom’s bitching, wishing it was Leah leading him home instead.

TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @empress-palpat1ne​

[pretty-face-breaker]

Cold, Humourless

Hey guys! I’m back from finals week(s) and here with a followup to this piece. After this, I want things to be linear for a while as the boys finally escape both with Nick’s help and dubious intentions.  

c.w. restrained with ropes, caning, pretty brutal beating, death threats, talk of murder, whumpee thinking he’s going to die, fucky guilt-tripping, possessive whumper, possessive touch, abusive relationship

—

“I’ll admit, you got good at lying to me, but only because I let you.” 

Muddied droplets trickled to the ground from a pipe across the warehouse. The leak was his clock, the puddle of water forming on the ground his indicator of how long it had been going on. Besides his ragged breathing, there wasn’t much else to listen to but if he tried very hard, he could hear angered mumbling behind the door. Eladio, signing his death warrant. 

Hayko lowered his eyes as Nick passed by him again and raised the cane. He tried to suppress the shudder as sweat rolled down his nose and fell to the ground in a perfectly translucent drop - one he was grateful couldn’t show him his reflection. The lower he looked, the worse the pressure on his wrists became. Suspended tight in the air with his toes barely grazing the ground. Shivering in anticipation of the next hit. Setting his teeth to avoid biting his tongue when the pain came, biting and merciless. 

He-... couldn’t remember anything from before. 

How had he found out? 

Does it matter anymore? 

The edges of his vision were darkening, portent, and an answer. Nick struck him in the stomach and he cried out but the noise seemed so much further away than before. Shaking as he felt the thrill against his skin, Hayko thought of how familiar this dance was for them. It was just like old times before he had gotten on his good side, moreover before Nick had realized just how precious his little pet was. 

How many other uses he actually had. 

Just like old times. The thought came affectionately, though tainted with delirium and pain and terror, because it hadn’t been like this for a long time and here they were again, dancing again, and he was suffering beautifully and Nick had to be enjoying it as much. Except now, he wasn’t. The hit came without warning and Hayko threw his head back and whimpered high in his throat as it bruised a deep cut where he felt blood slowly starting to well.

“Three months in, I thought I had beaten the disobedience out of you but you kept proving me wrong, again and again.” He lined up the cane over one of his shoulders and cracked it down, expressionless as he bucked and screamed. “You know, I found it endearing from some point.” Nick leaned in and Hayko flinched, hearing the grinding of teeth.

On instinct though, he looked up. “Never did any of it for y-you.” 

Nick’s eyes were on him in an instant, beneath them boiling something different, colder. Anger. Overwhelmed by the intensity, Hayko looked behind him instead and closed his eyes like he had before Nick had beaten that out of him too. Hoped he could shut out the blistering pain in his back, the pressure on his wrists, hoping he could just disappear.  

 “Hayko,” he purred. “All this time and looking away from me never did you any good.” So miserably, he lifted his head. 

“You fucked up,” Nick hissed, and he meant it. 

Hayko trembled in earnest now, realizing that this wasn’t at all their old dance. A chill bore deep into his core and wiped over the pain. It was too fast and he couldn't pull back, only choking down a scream as the cane hit his chest again and again until he was gasping for air and pulling at the restraints that would creak but wouldn’t give. Tried to hold himself up through it but each one made him reel, the force behind it, and all of a sudden, he recognized that this wasn’t sadism but simply anger. Real anger.

Nick wiped his forehead, just as Hayko prayed he’d gotten enough, and laughed  before his eyes widened and he wound back his arm.

This time, Hayko threw his head back just in time to muffle the pained noise, refusing to hand himself over. He could take a beating from time to time, but he’d only ever apologize if he’d done something to Nick personally. This was far from those times. It wasn’t as personal as it was targeting everybody at once and now, every gun was turned on him. 

Then again, maybe he had wanted it to be that way. 

Nick gripped his jaw hard, digging the dull ends of his nails into the skin. “Don’t ever say you never resisted for me. You resisted plenty. You did it to test how far I would take it and I let you know. over. and over. again.”  

He hit him beat on beat and each time, Hayko’s fists clenched and pulled at the bar his wrists were tied to but it only creaked, never giving. 

 It’s been an hour since it began. 

About eight hours since he had helped Santiago disappear from this life. Eight hours since he had fled these horrors and possibly less than one left before he could leave the horrors too.  

Hayko grimaced and weakly tilted his head up, his tongue suddenly bleeding from fighting the screams. “H-He deserved to get away from you and that fucking-” The hit caught him off guard and he gasped, savoury iron spreading in his mouth. “He’d been trying to get away for months. You didn’t even know-” The slap pulled a whimper from him. 

“Of course I knew, you fucking idiot,” Nick hissed, closer than before. “I know everything about you and that miserable shit. But rest assured, your efforts paid off. I knew you lied because I always do. He’s probably halfway out of the country already but you? You’re here and I get to do whatever I want to you.” 

Hayko blinked away the spots dancing in his vision. “I-I won’t- won’t tell-.” 

“Yes, you will.” Nick fixed his stare on him for a few seconds, until he shifted from whatever terror that look could still incite. “You will, baby, because when Eladio tried to reach him tonight and he didn’t answer, and when they turned up to his doorstep and didn’t find him ready-to-please as he always fucking is, you’re going to give me his location so they can rip him apart.” 

Hayko bared his teeth, feeling a twinge in his chest. “Santiago isn’t-” He got no further before Nick brought another lash down and stunned the words. 

Nick’s voice comes with a cold, cautioning cadence. “Talk again and I’ll cut your throat.” 

He should have killed him when he had the chance. For months, all the nights he lay beside him, an open target, and let him sleep and live to see another day. Somehow, he had him convinced that he wouldn’t kill him and how fucking stupid had he been to believe that? 

How stupid had I been to do something like this and think I would live? Live to do what? This is what I am now. 

And Nick had let his guard down, not because he was careless but because he knew he’d be too weak, too desperate and miserable to even try. He had been there where Nick had needed him to be for months and watched him kill, torture, and break everything he sunk his claws into, and had watched Santiago break at the same time, and done nothing because he was no better than him.

Saving Santiago had been an attempt at repenting. 

I’m still an accomplice.  

Nick spoke through venom, jolting him back to reality. “They’re hunting him now. It probably won’t take long because when they find him, he’ll be cut to ribbons on sight.” He snorts. “Faster fate than I’ll be giving you.”

His heart pounded and then froze all at once. 

The cane hit the ground with a half-hearted clatter and the shadow on Hayko’s face grew as he approached. He let his eyes slip shut, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Nick muttered. “You know what they expect me to do now, right? He’s a rat because he ran away and by extension, so are you.”  His face was contorted with disbelief sooner than anger now. “Why, Hayko?” 

Hayko couldn’t respond because the answer wouldn’t mean anything to him. He had done it on a principle only he understood between the two of them and lord knew that didn’t mean a fucking thing to whatever Nick was. 

At the start, he was looking around the empty warehouse in search of a distraction. Now, he looked for a saviour. He dropped his eyes for a moment, still wide with a renewed horror. “Y-you can’t.” He stated it like a fact and realized then how ridiculous it sounded in his mouth. 

Telling a killer that he couldn’t kill. 

“Oh, I can.” Nick reassured with a cold, humourless laugh. 

Hayko didn’t see the next blow coming, not from the cane but from his fists. Nick couldn’t restrain himself as he closed to lunged onto Hayko and piled on the blows, raining hits down onto his face and grabbing him over the shoulder to land one in his stomach just when he thought he could escape to breathe. Skin broke from the rings on the sight of the punches.

“I did everything for you,” he hissed, driving his fist into his stomach.  

“Sto-op-” Nick tore his hair back when Hayko turned away, “Pl-ea-,” breath knocked out as another punch sank into his ribs. “Ple-nngh.” The next hit nearly spun his vision black and he wobbled on the balls of his feet. He had to breathe in gasps through his bruised lip, trying to keep up with the rapidity of the hits, trying to make sense of the world through his swollen eyes but the hits came like a shower. Unceasing.

Nick grabbed his bloodied face rough enough to hurt. “I did everything for you and now they want you dead.”  

He couldn’t even pry his arms in front of him to defend himself. 

When Nick eventually stopped, he hung between wake and consciousness. Everything hurt and it was going to hurt all the while and up to- 

Hayko teetered, trying not to succumb to the restraints that were beginning to numb his wrists. There was a painful shifting in his chest that brought a new wave of agony each time, neurons firing away at the categories of damage and the overwhelming taste of iron sat rich, heavy on his tongue.  

“Wai’, Nic-...” he slurred at finding an opportunity, catatonic, barely there, and uncertain whether this was really it. Whether the past few months had been real. Whether he was really lying when he told him he loved him, and again and again and kissed him and told him he was perfect for him, that he’d never let him go. “Before you k-... Please... don’ let him die. I was just trying to s-” 

Silence. He could faintly hear ragged breaths, hushed by his ear and made a strangled noise in his throat when a hand touched his bare chest and another hooked under his armpit. His thoughts swam with the introduction of the gentle touches until he registered that Nick was holding him up from the pressure on his wrists. He choked with relief. 

“Save him?” he said dismissively. “Idiot.” 

Despite every word out of his mouth nearly seething, Nick did his best to alleviate the pressure on his arms. Even with the effort, his grip still hurt. Hayko winced as his nails dug into the flesh of his arm. “I did everything I could to keep you alive. Do you even know what measures I had to go to, how many people I had to kill just to keep you alive for this long? Can you take a guess of how many fucking liabilities I tied up so I keep you-” 

He wasn’t listening, or couldn’t rather. All he knew was that this was it. Maybe whatever God still watched him, the one he had chosen to abandon years ago, held some mercy for him still to let it be quick when the finishing blow came. The guilt almost choked off his breaths when his mind supplied that he had only saved Santiago to save himself from all of this. It might be for that reason that it wouldn’t be painless. 

I should feel the pain they’re going to put him through if they find him.  

As the restraints were loosened, Hayko moaned in pain, trying to keep his wrists still despite hardly registering his surroundings let alone figuring out what Nick was trying to do to him now. Though the sudden surge of pain as his arms fell finally tipped him over to a scream. 

Nick caught him as he collapsed. “You should have thanked me every day of your miserable life that I got you out of what you put yourself into. I saved you. Don’t ever fucking forget that.” 

Hayko held onto his shoulders, not knowing where else to turn that didn’t hurt. “Tha-nk-” Nick’s scoff cut off the attempt at gratitude.  

“I don’t want it now.” He held him tightly for a moment and his arms jerked from haphazard holding to fully circling his back, pressing him tight into his shirt. Possessive. “No, I want you grovelling at my fucking feet for what I’m about to do to save you for the tenth time already. Even though you don’t deserve a bit of it.” 

A hand grabbed and jerked his hair to turn his eyes upwards, blinking away tears, and Hayko groaned but met Nick more willingly now. Suddenly, it appeared that Nick had fixed his posture, collected himself and his raw anger had been replaced with smugness, almost relief. It was still there though. What set it apart was that it was now eagerly calculating as if…

This had been his plan. 

Nick sighed, shaking his head with thinly veiled pity at the wide eyes, beautifully lost despite his own rage. “Even though you don’t fucking deserve it, I’m going to save you from them too.” He tightened the hold on him, not that he would have been able to move anyway. Hayko felt the outline of a gun in his jacket.  

“Told you I’ll never let you go, right, love?” 

 —

Tagging @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome--hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp 

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[z-1-wolfe]

Parhelion Headcanons (sir this is all for you) @greenbeany

Putting 'em under the cut because they got very long O.O

I- the gnome is Neon I take no criticism. They are often good-natured souls with a more mischievous side, and if that doesn’t describe Neon I’m not sure what does. Playful, funny, good intentions, that my good Bean is our lovable cat personified. Okay Parhelion dnd au with gnome Neon please /j.

I AM SMACKING THE GUN OUT OF YOUR HANDS [runs into a glass wall] dammit,, guess I gotta talk now

I- oh no,, time to fail the exam I guess (turns all your head canons upside down)

Okay they do sleep yes they do. Actually that’s a lie only Ciel sleeps, the other two are insomniacs. Ciel has all of her day to day life planned out to the minute, so she heads to bed at a certain time and wakes up at a certain time, the other two are more of a “we’ll sleep when we’re tired” kinda duo. Unfortunately due to Ilia’s night terrors and Neon’s ADHD they almost never rest. No they do not sleep in a SANE bed, ha why would they have a bed? They sleep in a hammock all tangled up with each other. It’s hard to tell what order they sleep in when they kinda curl into each other. They do not use a duvet, why have a duvet when Neon is a space heater? There are no pillows on the hammock X). OKAY THEIR ROOM, THIS I GOT, it’s a funky mess that is somehow organized thanks to Ciel. Ilia doesn’t own a lot in general but it was her life’s dream to paint her bedroom rainbow so guess what they have now. The other two are too soft and they supported her efforts and they love her despite her poor design sense XD.

I- why closet ASDFG I mean— No they do not share a closet they all have completely different fashion sense and if that was all in one place people would be genuinely terrified. But since they’re broke they had to make do with one walk in closet that they partitioned off into sections. YES THEY DO HAVE MATCHING OUTFITS THEY ARE SO CUTE LIKE THAT. They tend to be like those cute couple outfits with a few variations to match their own personal style. But their favorite matching outfit are these duck hoodies they own courtesy of once again Ilia living out her childhood dreams. No they don’t own many outfits because like I mentioned earlier they are broke x). Hmm thinking about each other’s styles… Ilia think both of her girlfriends have great taste, she loves the well, neon of Neon, and the prim and properness of Ciel. Neon just doesn’t care XD. And Ciel is just, she’s just standing there wishing she could help their fashion sense, but she holds back because “It does suit them in an odd way.” Ciel gets the most compliments on her style hands down, she looks organized and you can bet she saves money to buy outfits that actually accentuate her cuteness. They don’t wear makeup no time for that (in which you learn Z has little to no knowledge in how to apply makeup and doesn’t know how to answer that question)

OH OKAY I LOVE VIDDY GAMES. Ciel likes real-time strategy games because she’s insane and that’s literally all she knows in life thanks to being raised in an upper class family in Atlas. Neon likes open world games, something something she likes the chance for adventure and determining one’s fate for themself. Ilia has never once played a video game until after she defected from the White Fang but I can see her playing something light like Stardew Valley, low stakes kinda games. Hmm, they might play Animal Crossing together? Since it has aspects they all enjoy. They each have an individual switch (Ilia has a coral switch lite) and one shared PC. Okay game with most hours, maybe Minecraft? They still haven’t beat the enderdragon because Neon keeps getting distracted XD. Neon is the bomb at party games though, you can bet she has a perfect score on all the songs in Just Dance. Ciel is a sharpshooter, god knows who taught her how to shoot like that. The biggest splatoon fan is unfortunately not Neon it is Ilia, she loves all the colors in the game ^^. But she and Neon have wracked up quite a few hours in co-op.

Uhhh books!! Ilia likes fanfics :) it’s unfortunately one of the only ways for her to see positive representation of herself. Neon for some reason reads Epics?? Like her favorite is the Epic of Gilgamesh what is up with that?? Ciel reads webtoons :), she reads enough serious stuff for school work and such, she likes to just kick back and relax after all that. Yes they have schedules reading time courtesy of Ciel :). Uhh, they relax by baking together. None of them had many chances to indulge in sweets while growing up so they make full use of their time now. ?? SPOON?? Cuddle hours happen on a whim, the one thing that Ciel can never schedule because she never knows when it’ll occur. They relax the most in the kitchen x) because that’s where they bake, it’s not unusual to find Neon asleep on the counter while she waits for their sweets to rise. They read in the light, Neon is afraid that by reading in the dark that they’ll all ruin their eyesight. Ciel likes the sunrise because she’s up the earliest and is the only one to see it, the other two prefer sunset because that’s usually when their day is about to begin XD.

Favorite spot for dates! The park ^^, they like to go on picnic dates with all their baked goods. There is no plan, usually one of them will randomly pull the other two out of the house because they haven’t touched grass in a while XD. There are no ideas, they share one braincell and they spend too much time doting on each other to use it. Uhm favorite movie genre,,, they like comedy movies :). Their favorite place to eat is this tiny store on the corner of their street that makes mean gyros, they heccin’ love them. Coping with horror, Ilia is desensitized to horror because of the things she’s seen in life, Neon treats it like a game because she knows it’s not real, Ciel, is okay with it, but she gets shook more easily than the other two and they often have to reassure her. No they do not like theme parks, there are too many people around for Ilia and Ciel and Neon respects their boundaries so they tend to go to more quiet places. Uhm heights, Ciel is used to heights because she’s friends with Penny and woah can that girl toss her in the air like she’s a couple of grapes. Ilia doesn’t mind heights but she would prefer to have her feet on the ground. Neon loves the ground so damn much if it leaves her she will cry because man she can’t roller-skate in the air can she, what will she do if the ground is suddenly gone? They like evening dates because it’s normally the only time all three of them are awake enough for it XD. They end a night by sleeping I am not quite sure if there are other ways to end it lmao. They absolutely despise Neon’s roller skating dates but they love how excited she gets about them so they end up becoming as good as professional roller skaters because the smile on Neon’s face when they join her is dazzling.

I am slowly going insane. Yes each girl has a hobby I sure hope they do. Ilia knits, Ciel paints, and Neon writes. I would like to imagine that Ciel would try to schedule time for their hobbies she ends up giving up because all their sleep schedules are wack. Designated chef is Neon (probably made food for FNKI back in atlas), designated driver is Ilia (I mean I like to imagine she stole cars and stuff in the White Fang XD), designated decorator for stuff is normally Ciel though Neon does try to hijack a few of her plans occasionally, designated shopper is Ciel because the other two have no concept of Saving money, and they all work together to clean :). They don’t work together, they believe in keeping their work life and home life separate to prevent their feelings from getting in the way. They do not have pets, none of them have the energy or responsibility to do that, but Ilia did once bring a moose home one day for some reason.

I am nomming on your arm sir. Ilia and Neon get along with Penny surprisingly well, though I do think Ilia would get along with Weiss better? Ruby and Weiss look at Ciel and see a beacon arc Weiss and more or less adopt her despite Ciel being older than the two of them. They might like.. play board games together? Like some of those more team based board games I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, may the best polycule win. I cannot see them in a cuddle puddle to be honest ajcnjsanjs I am so sorry— hmm Ruby and Neon do not know the meaning of formal, as far as they are concerned these are their girlfriend’s friends and that means that by extension these are their friends. Weiss would like nothing to do with Neon after Neon insults Yang during the Vytal festival but she begrudgingly goes on outings with her and hey, now they’re make up buddies for some reason. The parhelion gals take the fs gals to the gyro place they like :). Parhelion gang Is a lot more vocal on their dates because their love language happens to be words of affirmation while the fs gang’s happen to be physical touch. Both polycules are very very affectionate though I will die on this hill.

DARN IT TUMBLR ONLY LETS ME HAVE 10 IMAGES PER POST THIS IS FINE IT WAS JUST ONE MORE PROMPT DARN IT

(Parhelion angst! How do Neon and Ciel react to the news about the dust mine? How do they find out about Ilia getting expelled? Do they find out about the white fang? Is there any faunus stigma afterwards? How does Ciel react to people bullying her Faunus GFS? Does Neon talk to Ciel much after? Do they ever reunite? Does Neon attempt to help Ciel while she grieves Penny? Where the fuck is Ciel now? Is Neon still alive? Does Ilia ever think about them? Does Blake know about them from Ilia?)

BUDDY I CAME TO THE LAST ASK AND NOW ONLY DID I REALIZE YOU MEANT PARHELION BACK WHEN THEY WHERE IN BEACON THIS WHOLE TIME I’M CRYING. (This ask is answered under the assumption that they are already dating back in Atlas Academy) Ciel is fiercely protective of her girlfriends, though people only know that Neon is a Faunus because Ilia masks her traits during her time at the academy. Neon and Ciel are horrified about the news about the dust mines. They know that Ilia is a Faunus and that her parents were working there so they rush to see her as soon as possible. But they’re too late,,, Ilia’s already been expelled for attacking her fellow students. They don’t hear from Ilia for a few years after that and the two slowly drift apart, each blaming the other for not getting to Ilia soon enough. They don’t find out about the White Fang until they reunite with Ilia unfortunately, but they feel sad that Ilia had felt that they only way for her to get revenge for her parents was by joining a militant group (I’m working under the assumption that Sienna only took control of the White Fang shortly before Ilia joined). When Neon learns that Penny didn’t make it after the Fall of Beacon she hesitantly reaches out to Ciel for the first time in a year, and she does try to help. But for Ciel it’s blow after heccin’ blow and she pushes Neon away in a rage. Ciel leaves the Academy after that and goes rogue, working as a huntsman without a license for the poorer parts of remnant. Ilia is unaware of all this drama during the Beacon arc. The next time she hears of any news is during the Fall of Atlas, and she’s scared, scared because she’s still recovering and she just heard Ruby announce to the world that Remnant is under attack, and oh my gosh her ex girlfriends live in Atlas. Neon makes it out alive, though not entirely in one piece, she now has a prosthetic leg. Ilia is the first person to see her, it’s a tearful reunion and they haven’t fully made up yet, but hey it’s a work in progress, now they just have to find out where Ciel is, but when they do they’ll BOTH be there to greet her. Blake has no idea who the fuck Ciel and Neon are lmao, Ilia never told her anything about her past romances when she was in the White Fang.

Oh gosh I think that's it-- And that is it thank you for listening to me ramble about Parhelion you get a juice box for making it this far. Sir I am sincerely sorry for turning your ship upside down please forgive me.

[teamhappyme]

my world is grey without you

pairing: nick amaro x reader

warnings: tissues. this is not happy.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is pure sadness. i am so sorry, it is all hurt and the smallest pin point of comfort. my first nick amaro fic, and it’s gonna be ~heartbreaking~ but this idea has been in my head for weeks. hope you enjoy some of the pain im serving. 

****

You think Mother Nature must be in tune to your emotions, when you wake up that early May morning. The clouds were grey, rain pouring from the sky, collecting in puddles on the cracked sidewalks of New York City. If you had to describe to someone how you were feeling today, you would just tell them to look outside. You felt as gloomy as it was in the city today. 

Normally, your walk to the coffee shop was bright and full of sunshine, especially during spring. The flowers were starting to bloom, the sun was staying out longer, and the weather finally started to reach past sixty degrees. Instead it was filled with droopy tulips and black umbrellas covering everyone’s faces. 

You got your usual order, and one black coffee to go, hailing a cab across town to your destination. You planned on walking yesterday; the half hour walk would help clear your head and calm your nerves. But today, it would only leave you wet and cold.

Once you pulled up to the brick apartment building, you paid the driver and quickly ran up the stoop and into the entrance. You buzzed apartment 3G, and after a few seconds, you were let in. You rode the elevator up to the third floor, your foot tapping against the linoleum floor the entire time. 

You stepped out and took a right down the hall, stopping at the fourth door on the left. After three knocks, the door swung open, and there stood the man of the hour.

“Hey, Nick.” you gave him a small smile, lifting the black coffee you got for him on your way here. “I know it’s early, but I figured this may help you with any last minute packing.”

“I,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “what are you doing here?”

“What, you think you can just leave without a proper send off from your partner? Besides, I’ve owed you this coffee for three years. I had to pay up before you left.”

That got a smile out of him, as he reached for the coffee, and opened the door up a little wider. 

“Come on in,” the foyer of Nick Amaro’s apartment usually greeted you with an onslaught of pictures of Zara and Gil, accompanied by many drawings and art projects from the young girl. Now on his last morning here, the walls were stark white, void of anyone ever living here.

“I can’t believe you got this place packed up so fast. It took us a whole day just to get that giant brown couch into the apartment.” You said, as your eyes looked over what was once the living room. 

“Well, that’s what movers are for.” He followed in behind you, taking in the apartment he called home for the last two years. He moved in to the first place he could find, not wanting to spend another minute thinking about living without his baby girl. “I would offer you a seat, but my furniture is in a u-haul, probably crossing Kansas right about now.”

You smiled, as you crossed your ankles and sat criss cross applesauce on the hardwood floor. “That’s alright. I prefer the floor anyways, keeps me grounded.”

You were ready for the pointed stare you got from him, only making you laugh harder at your awful pun.

“Three years we’ve been partners, and you still have awful jokes I’ve never heard.”

“Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes, Amaro.” he sat down next to you, leaning back on his hands and crossing one foot over the other. You knew there wasn’t much time before he had to head to the airport; you purposely gave yourself a small window to minimize the hurt. “How long do I have you for until you head for the sunshine?”

He looked down at his watch, letting out a small sigh as he checked the time. “My cab will be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Alright. Then we have twenty minutes to make the best cop movie script out of our careers together.”

And for the next twenty minutes, you remembered almost every moment you spent with Detective Nick Amaro. From the first day you met, which had a rocky start, to the day he turned in his papers to be with his kids. There were stories of stakeouts that always included pizza and blaring rock music to keep you awake, monday morning bets on who would be in the precinct last, and endless amounts of coffee runs to keep the other person going. 

There was a lot of trust built between the two of you over the last three years. Nick had been through hell and back in the time you were partnered together, and there was no choice but to trust each other. At work, he needed somebody he could trust without any doubt, and you made it so easy for him. The kindness and empathy you treated him with from the beginning, even when he didn’t deserve it, made a difference in his life. There was no one else he’d trust with his life more than you.

After some time, you two were in sync with one another. You always knew what the other person needed, whether that was a coffee, space, or comfort, the two of you knew what to do. It made work that much easier, it made the bad days that much better, when you didn’t have to tell them how you were feeling; they just knew.

You had just finished the story about your first undercover op together, when his phone lit up.

“My ride is five minutes out.” he said, the trip down memory lane coming to an end. Your smile morphed from a shiny grin, into a small close mouthed line. It was time to say goodbye.

“I’ll walk you out,” you got out, barely above a whisper, as Nick stood up. He held his hand out to you, helping you onto your feet. 

You watched as he grabbed his backpack from his room, patting his pockets to double check he had his phone, wallet, and boarding pass. He took one last look around the place before walking out and closing the door behind him for the last time. 

The elevator ride down was quiet, you spent those thirty seconds regulating your breathing and swallowing the growing lump in the back of your throat. This wasn’t about you.

Once the doors opened to the lobby, you felt soft fingers inching their way into your palm, lighty holding you together. You looked over at Nick, slowly, but he was looking straight ahead. You saw the twitch in his jaw, and the bob of his adam’s apple, and you knew he was holding back his own tears.

Moving your hand the slightest bit, your fingers fell into place with his. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, before following him out.

The rain had subsided considerably since you arrived, the downpour now more of a spring mist. You stood at the edge of the sidewalk with him for a few minutes, until he got the notification that the car was only five blocks away.

“Well, are you ready to turn into a Cali boy?” you asked, finally turning to see his face. 

“I’m ready for no more New York winters. I am gonna miss just about everything else, though.”

“But you’ll have Zara, and Gil, and that’s all that really matters.” you said with a smile, while gently letting go of his hand. “Besides, I’ll make sure to send you endless videos of me shoveling myself out of my apartment building, just to let you know you made the right decision.”

“Please, please keep that promise and send me those videos. There is nothing more amusing than you swearing at snow.” you rolled your eyes, and nudged his shoulder in annoyance. 

Instead of bouncing back off his body, you felt his arm snake around your waist. You leaned into his touch, letting your head rest on his shoulder. You felt the exhale of his breath before you heard it, along with the rapid beating of his heart.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” he started, as you focused on the way his fingers were moving up and down along your hip. “I wouldn’t have made it through everything without you.”

“I was your partner,” you said, the past tense already tasting like bile on your tongue. “I would’ve done anything for you. And I know you would’ve done anything for me.” You turned your head the slightest bit, just enough to see his face. “I’m gonna miss you too. More than I already do.”

He looked down at you, his brown eyes full of emotion and tears. His eyes flickered to your lips for the smallest moment, and you nodded, giving in to the moment, and the man you cared so much for.

His lips met yours in a chaste kiss, just long enough for you to remember what it felt like to hold Nick Amaro this close. 

He pulled away, gently resting his forehead against your own. You let the moment last as long as it could, before the inevitable beep left Nick’s phone. They were here.

You pulled away from him, your waist growing cold without his arm wrapped around you. There was a beep from a blue car a few cars up, and you let out a sigh.

“Your ride’s here, Cali boy.” you said with a smile, wiping away the stray tear that traced your cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t. Call me, whenever you need me, alright?” you nodded, trying to memorize the smile on his face. He found your hand one last time, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

“I will. Now, go, you’re gonna miss your flight if you hit any lunch traffic.” He looked up the street to the cab, before looking back at you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, and then your lips one last time. 

“I’ll see you later, y/n/n.” he said, and you watched him walk down the streets of New York City for the last time. 

But you knew you would cross paths with Nick Amaro again one day.

****

tags: @hurricanejjareau @qvid-pro-qvo @crazyshannonigans

[milkacchan]

Reuqest for anon: Mina w a bruh girl gf

Requests are now open!!!!!

• Y'all met

• By her staring at you in the hall

• And you literally squaring the fuck up "fuck you looking at? You wanna fight? Because I'll take you right fucking now pretty girl,"

• And Mina said 😳 "you think I'm pretty??"

• and her friends said 👀

• After two weeks (of her shamelessly flirting) you two exchange numbers

• and thus it begins!!!

• Mina is also a bruh girl but she has the urge to provide you with attention and affection and praise

• and that's exactly what she does

• but she has to wait for soft hours for you to actually accept them

• otherwise you'll just insult her in response

• You're refusal to accept affection amazes her

• like?

• "I like your shirt-"

"Don't mock me, whore."

"Babe I wasn't I like your shirt-"

• She likes to watch you squirm when she does compliment you

• or hold your hand

• or just be soft

• she gets sof when you get sof

• and the only time you get soft

• is when you've had a bad day, it's past 12, or you're sleepy

• NOT TIRED

• She learned the hard way that tired and sleepy were not the same thing

• One time, she texted you back kate- like 3am late bc she randomly woke up

• and it woke you up

• and you were full on sof girl at this point

• let names left and right, expressing your feelings in your half asleep state

• Minas almost in tears bro it's so fucking cute

• And then you're like 'I'm falling asleep :(- I missed you tho, I'll talk to you tomorrow baby'

(Insert love reaction image)

• and you regretting it in the morning

• and being utterly embarrassed that night

• if you've had a bad day tho- and the urge to be held overwhelms everything else, it doesnt matter

• you'll walk into her arms and out your head on her shoulder

• She'll stroke your hair or run her fingers through it as she holds you

• You're not in the hero course- you're in a support course that leads to a special team of fighters

• detectives and hand to hand combat and junk like that

• like special ops

• and she thinks it's the coolest shit EVER

• Because training there can be just as harsh as hero training

• and theres not really the use of quirks on a large scale

• but she's seen the bruises and scrapes from training

• she'll always ask the story behind it

• one time, training ranged the school

• and you were in the fucking ceiling

• you just happened to be above 1A (unbeknownst to you) when your target was pinged

"Keep damage to a minimum and take your target out,"

"Sir yes sir-" and through the ceiling you go. "Target sighted!"

And boom :)

You didn't even know it was her classroom until after the man you just knocked down was taken care of.

"Mr. Aizawa, " you nod, "sorry for the interruption,"

"No problem, you teacher told me it was happening."

You nod again, habitually looking behind you. "Oh, hey Mina."

"Hey babe," she smiles. "That was really cool,"

"I know, because I did it."

A few moments later theres someone at the door. "That's a pass cadet, let's go."

"Bye Mina, see you later."

• so this means Mina doesnt see you in class :(

• That makes her sad :(

• So instead she just rambles about you

• and how great you are

• And your dates

• Your dates consist of-

- Museum trips bc you're a nerd

- Park trips

- Hiking

- movies

- arcade trips

- Mall trips

- going to a thrift store and picking out dumb outfits and then going to dinner

- Sitting and cuddling in eachother respective dorms

• speaking of that

• its really cute actually

• yall live in different dorm buildings

• does that stop you?? No.

• depending on the day yall will visit.

• You'll walk up the steps of the Class 1A dorm, ignoring the people sitting on the chairs on the deck

• she's usually waiting by the door, practically vibrating with excitement

• and when you open the door, she's jumping in your arms

• everyone's always 🥺

• secret jealousy

• And when she comes over

• she hums as she walks the path to your building

• you're usually waiting on the porch for her

• sitting in a rocking chair, feet up and against the pillar

• she'll grin from the path and bound up the stairs

"Hey baby,"

"Hello hello," you stand up and meet her lips for a quick kiss

"Good day?"

"It'll be better in a little bit," you mumble, taking her hand

• You've got plants on your dorm porch so sometimes Mina likes to just chill outside with you

• especially when it's raining

• PLAYING IN THE RAIN

• P L A Y I N G IN THE RAIN

• Running around, occasionally slipping, laughing your asses off

• just all around campus

• splashing and jumping in puddles

• which will eventually lead to kissing in the rain (absolutely initiated by mina)

• it's always fun getting drenched

• cuddling w her is always fun

• she's the softest cuddler in the world

• she plays w your hair

• Rubs your back

• she's very handsy

• she'll tell you how pretty you are and how happy she is with you

• and then she'll roast you

• it's a prefect balance!!!

[twistedtranslations]

Ortho Shroud - Something weak characters do

You can unlock this story by getting Ortho’s Sports uniform

Translation under the cut

Ignihyde - Dorm Lounge

Ortho: Aah, look brother! They’re playing football in the schoolyard. Doesn’t that look fun.

Idia: You think? I will excuse myself.

Ortho: Everyone is covered in mud, and kicking and running after the ball....how fun... You know I was thinking, I’m always flying. Sometimes I want to try walking on the ground like that!

Idia: No. I refuse. Floating is impossible for humankind, and the trademark of OP characters!

Ortho: Huh~? Is that so?

Idia: Walking on the ground is kind of like being analog, something weak and lame characters do. Strong characters can gracefully float.

Ortho: Umpf~.... But it looks so fun...

Library

Ortho: I’m fed up with my brother. He’s so hung up about the strangest things... Uhm, it should be in the archive of fashion magazines... Ah, there it is, “Sneaker collection”. Aah, there are so many cool sneakers... Ah, this page has a lot of stylish ones! They might all be sneakers, but the shape is so different. I didn’t know about these until I saw them. What’s this...”The design, made by human engineering, of this sole will definitely absorb the impact of the ground and protects your feet from being worn out...”

Ortho: *sigh* Walking seems so nice after all. I also want to know the feeling of walking on the ground... 

Floyd: Ah!

Ortho: Aaah!

Floyd: Oh, I love the designer of those sneakers as well~

Ortho: You really surprised me... Floyd Leech. And Jade Leech as well.

Jade: I prefer the sneakers listed on the page next to it. This brand always produces high-quality shoes that don’t come loose that often.

Floyd: Well, those shoes kinda fit you, Jade. I just like simple things.

Jade: Is that so? I think these sneakers, where the upper part is vividly colored, would suit you greatly...

Ortho: And they took the catalog. They seem to enjoy themselves. Hey. Is choosing shoes fun?

Floyd: Of course! It would be a waste if you didn’t wear your favorite shoes after you finally get legs.

Jade: You too seem somewhat interested in this merchandise... ah. But you cannot wear normal sneakers with those legs.

Ortho: Yeah... That’s right.

Ortho: I too wanted to try walking on the earth but...my brother said ”Using your legs is for weak characters! That’s lame and no good!”

Floyd: ... Heh, for “Weak characters” huh. Aha! What a funny thing to say.

Jade: And “Lame” as well. I see... hehehe.

Ortho: I really wanted to try jumping in puddles and kicking stones around... Are you two still listening?

Jade: We cannot overlook such a thing. Right, Floyd?

Floyd: That’s right, Jade. I wonder if we can make him understand how mistaken he was in saying those things.

Jade: If it’s about Idia’s private information... Perhaps I can... fufu...

Ortho: ? You guys are being really weird with all that grinning and smiling.

Sports Field

3 days later

Ortho: This is like a dream... My brother made me a body so I can exercise like a human! I don’t have an anti-gravity apparatus! Look, I’m stamping on the ground! Now I can finally do everything I wanted to do. Brother, thank you. You’re super kind after all!

Idia: Haha, I’m glad you like them, haha, ha...

Floyd: Yeah, aren’t you cool. Using springs on the feet, how interesting.

Jade: They do say that being fashionable starts from your feet. What a terrible prejudice for to have, thinking that people who don’t float are small fry. Hey, Idia. You think so too, right?

Idia: Y-Y-Y-Yeah... I-In, any case, uh, a-a-about that story...

Jade: Do not worry. Just like promised, you made Ortho “legs”. I will leak nothing about the matter we’ve been talking about.

Floyd: You’re pretty cool for making them in only three days. You must be happy your secret didn’t get leaked. Aha.

Idia: Ugh, how did you even know such a thing...If that got leaked... no that’s too embarrassing...!

Ortho: Hey, brother, let’s have a race. Floyd Leech and Jade Leech as well! With this body my brother has made for me to use during physical exercise. I will definitely not lose!

[pink-imagines]

reach me behind your voice

chapter 1: harmonize

summary: Shoto, your childhood friend, has grown distant towards you despite your history and Bakugo, the seemingly no-good rebel, has an interesting secret.

a/n: i’m not great at summaries, but you get the jist. this chapter is shorter since it’s more of a try-out. the other chapters will probably be longer and therefore take longer time to make.

warnings: none, yet

masterlist

requesting rules

You can remember clearly how throughout your childhood you’d always be dancing, no matter what the situation. It easily gained you nicknames like “ballerina” or “sugar plum fairy”. As soon as you could, you took any dance class that was available to you. Street dance, break dance, jazz, modern and, your favorite, ballet.  So of course when you heard someone playing the violin solo from the Swan Lake theme, Op. 20: No. 18, in the house next to yours you tried to find out who it was. The neighbour who lived next door was the Todoroki family, you had seen little of them at all but knew that they had a son the same age as you. Your eight year old self made it a mission to figure out if it was him who was playing. Luckily, your window to your bedroom faced his so it wasn’t hard to figure out. The hard part was getting him to notice you. Knocking as hard as you could on the window didn’t seem to help, he was probably wearing ear plugs.

The first time he noticed that you were there was when he for once opened his window. It was a hot  day so your window stood wide open as well. Shoto had never thought about looking into his neighbour’s window before but the music made him look a bit closer. You were playing some sort of hip hop song, practicing for your latest recital. He liked watching you move like that, it seemed as if you had fun. But as soon as you caught him he went to close the window. “No! Wait!”, you exclaimed and almost threw yourself out the window, “Could you play me Op. 20: No. 18?” He didn’t answer, he could only nod. With an eye still on you he started playing, and of course you started dancing. His smile grew and grew, sure you messed up at some parts but it was still fun to see someone dance to his music. “I’m not great at ballet but I’ll practice more if you play for me!”, you promised.

That promise was kept until the present of today. Shoto and you became close friends, first from your windows and then up close. Soon enough you did everything together, you had even fixed a can and string phone between your windows. The phone was still up, but rarely used- seeing as you had real phones now. You had been through a lot with Shoto, and you had supported each other every step of the way. Music is what kept you together, and it seemed as if other people could see that too. The two of you put on a lot of shows together, and whenever either of you needed to practice the other would be there too. Shoto would play for you and you would dance for him. 

Your senior year of high school is when you started drifting apart. Shoto had too many competitions and you had too many performances... other than that it seemed as if he wanted to give up on his talent, and was only hanging on a thread made by his father’s approval. Dancing had become a thing that only happened in a studio or on stage, and playing the violin had become a thing that was only supposed to be played in his room or on stage. 

From time to time you’d walk to school together. You made sure he was eating, and he made sure you didn’t have to walk home alone later. The smallest reasons gave you hope that you still cared about each other. “We’re having a live performer during my next ballet recital.”, you told him on your walk to school, “Kind of like how you used to play for me.” You knew it was useless to try to grasp at something so far away, but you couldn’t help but to try. The chilly air only fueled your want for the warm feeling of Shoto’s embrace. You never thought about how much you’d miss his hugs, but the late-September weather only made it worse.  “Oh really?”, Shoto kept his eyes on the road, “What is it about then?” Of course he completely ignored your last statement, but there was nothing to do about it unless you wanted to make things worse. “The pianist had composed it himself, we’re gonna get to know about it today.”, you explained. “What’s the pianist n-” “Hey, Y/N!”, one of your close friends interrupted Shoto mid-sentance. “Hi, Mina.”, you waved at her but she still engulfed you in a hug. “Cute scarf, it even matches the uniform!”, she smiled and then looked over at Shoto, “Sorry, I didn’t interrupt anything right?” “No, I was on my way anyways.”, he put on a charming smile, “Have a good day- and don’t walk home alone if it gets too dark, Y/N.” “I won’t.”, you waved and watched him walk away. “I totally interrupted something, didn’t I? You look disappointed-” “Just forget about it, Mina.”, you smiled at her even though you were kind of disappointed. “I told you, you should tell him that you have a crush on him. Then he’d totally pay more attention to you.”, she wrapped her left arm around your shoulders. “I don’t have a crush on him!”, you exclaimed even though she gave you a very unbelieving look, “Even if I did, it doesn’t mean that he’d actually like me back.”

School went on like usual; you had your morning classes, ate lunch with Mina and Kyoka and then had your afternoon classes. During the entire day you didn’t talk to Shoto, whenever you tried he always had somewhere else to be. So it was like every other day, though at the end of the day he approached you. It was right when you were about to leave, you has just taken out your outdoor shoes from your locker. “It says it’s gonna rain later.”, he held out his umbrella to you, “You shouldn’t be catching a cold before your performance.” “Thank you.”, you took the umbrella from him and gave him a soft smile, “Are you sure you shouldn’t have it though?” “I’ll be fine... just take it.”, he scratched the back of his head and looked away from you, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” “Sure.”, you nodded. “Bye, then.”, he huffed and walked away. “Bye, Shoto.”, you said and followed him with your eyes as he left.

Like Shoto said, it started raining. It wasn’t a lot of rain but he was overly careful like that at times. You skipped over the puddles forming on the uneven road and hummed the tune to singing in the rain. No one was out on the road so you lost yourself in your own imagination as you danced down the lonesome path.  You were thinking about why things with Shoto had turned out the way they did, if you really just did fine different friendgroups. He couldn’t be completely blamed for the distance that had been put between you since you had taken a few steps back when you realised you had feelings for him. You didn’t even want to think about it, your own feelings could ruin your entire friendship. He probably just distanced himself because he saw you did the same... You didn’t have time to think much longer as you bumped into someone. “Hey, watch it.”, the boy hissed. “Sorry!”, you quickly backed up and looked up at him. It was the boy from your school, Bakugo. You didn’t know much about him, just that he seemed kind of rude and that he hung out with the very nice Kirishima. You never quite understood their dynamic, they were really the opposite when it came to personality.  He let out an irritated sigh before he kept walking... in the same direction you were going. After a while he stopped suddenly, making you accidentally walk into his back. “Are you following me or something?”, he turned around to you. “No, I’m going this way too.”, you huffed and walked past him. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked, and honestly it grew tiring. “Do you have a staring problem or something?”, you turned around to him. “Huh? Why would I look at you?”, he walked up next to you, “You skip when you walk, of course you draw attention to yourself when you walk weird.” “Oh, sure!”, you shook your head and kept walking, faster this time. Bakugo quickened his pace, making it obvious that this was some sort of competition. So of course you walked faster.

This lasted until you were both power walking to your destination. You hadn’t even realised that you got to the dance studio until you almost walked into the door. You pulled out your card to open the door, but Bakugo already had his out and opened the door. “What are you doing? Why do you have a key card?”, you asked. “I’m working here.”, he looked away from you as he held open the door, “Are you gonna walk in or what?” You skeptically walked in, keeping an eye on him during the entire time. He wasn’t a dancer, was he? If he was then you’d know it. He wouldn’t look you in the eye no matter how hard you stared and his ears were turning slightly red. “What are you staring at!?”, he exclaimed. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re a dancer.”, you muttered. “I’m not a dancer.”, he said. You stared at him with squinted eyes, trying to see if he was lying. “Fine then.”, you said and walked to the changing rooms, “I wouldn’t care if you were, you know.” “I’m not!” “Okay, okay!”, you walked into the changing rooms.

When you got out into the dance studio you saw Bakugo talk with your dance teacher. You pulled your pants up higher over your leotard, making sure that they sat at just the right place, and went to stretch. While stretching you kept an eye on Bakugo, noticing the piano in the background... slowly pieces started to fall together. As soon as they stopped talking the teacher walked out of the studio, probably to get changed, and Bakugo walked up to you. “You better do well, I’m partly in charge of choosing the roles today.”, he grinned. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”, you sat down in a split and looked up at him, “Whether you like me or not, it has nothing to do with my dancing and I’m sure that my teacher wouldn’t be fond of you picking favorites because of their personality.” “Whatever...”, he huffed and walked over to the piano.

When all the dancers had gathered the teacher walked back in and quickly counted all the students. “Seems like we’re all here. I hope everybody has warmed up and stretched, we’ll begin immediately.”, mrs. Takahashi said in a stern tone, “This is Bakugo Katsuki, a well known pianist whom has won many competitions.” You looked at Bakugo as he bowed in a greeting... you had no idea that he had won competitions, let alone that he was well known. Then again, you never really cared about where the music came from unless it was from Shoto. “He’s composed a few pieces, which put together becomes an hour long performance.”, she explained further, “So it won’t be the longest performance we’ve done, but it’s new and exciting. I’m expecting all of you to do your best at these auditions, but for today we’ll be learning the parts.” Mrs. Takahashi motioned for Bakugo to start playing, which he did. It was quick, nothing that you hadn’t done before but it’d always be harder to learn when the beat is quicker. There was no time for slacking, and your interest had peaked. “That was a part of the introduction.”, mrs. Takahashi said as Bakugo stopped playing, “As you can tell, it’s quick. This is a story of tragedy, a young boy who’s invisible to everyone around him no matter what he does. He falls in love with a girl, and though she cannot see him he still tries his best to save her from different situations. I’ll be giving you a short story, so that you can read through it later. For now, let’s get to work.” And so the practicing started. Bakugo never looked away from the notes, he was extremely focused... it was probably the first time you had seen him this quiet and calm. You couldn’t let yourself be distracted, though- afterall, hadn’t you kind of challenged him. Details were to be perfected, steps were to be remembered, and your energy needed to be focused on doing the best you possibly could.

At the end of the lesson, while you were stretching before you got to go home, mrs. Takahashi gathered your attention by clapping harshly twice. “Listen up! You all did fantastic today!”, she sounded proud for once, “Next time we meet will be in two days, for our next lesson. You’ll get an email with the right location, that’s where you’ll audition and that’s where we’ll later hold the performance. Be on time, alright?” “Yes, ma’am.”, all the students answered. “Great work, you’re free to go.”, she nodded and everybody made their way to the changing rooms. You went to grab your waterbottle and when you stood back up mrs. Takahashi stood beside you. “You did well today, Y/L/N.”, she said, “I’m expecting a lot for you in the near future.” “Thank you, ma’am.”, you bowed your head and walked over to the changing room. Before leaving you grabbed the last pile of papers, which had the story written on it. It felt unbelieveable that Bakugo Katsuki had written his own short story, let alone composed music for it.

When you got out you were just about to call Shoto to tell you about it, but then you saw Bakugo standing by the entrance. “I’ll give you this, Bakugo.”, you said as you walked up to him, “You’re pretty good at piano.” “Pretty good?”, he scoffed, “You sure are cocky, aren’t you princess?” “What’s with the nickname?”, you folded your arms over your chest. “Prancing around like that in the studio, I might as well call you a princess.”, he chuckled, “Or do you prefer idiot?” “I’d like to see you ‘prance around’ like I did.”, you huffed. “I didn’t say you were bad.”, he looked away from you, “Whatever, I’m leaving. I’m counting on you to get the lead, princess.” He started walking away.

-

Now it’s your turn to choose: follow Bakugo or call Shoto? Click here to choose

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac |

[navegandoaciegas]

the love you deserve II

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: almost 3k, ops

Summary: “He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve. Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly. Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

Warnings: soft!bucky, hurt!reader, angst, fluff, lying, cheating, drug use, alcohol consumption (including mentions of underage drinking), language that Steve Rogers wouldn’t approve of.

A/N: AU where Civil War and Thanos never happen, Tony forgives Bucky and he retires. This is my very first attempt at writing in English, I’m not a native speaker, so forgive me for any mistakes :)

This is part 2, please comment and reblog and let me know what you think of it :) feedback is always appreciated! I plan on writing at least another part, maybe two.

What do you think of the reader?

Part 1

The day before

Las Vegas, Nevada

Vegas is hot and dry as hell. It’s also a lot of fun, so the movies did not lie about that at least. They did exaggerate how fun the casinos would be tho.

You’re at a pool party, sipping on a drink, silently judging the moves of the sweaty people who are dancing around you.

You just got off a facetime call with Jaime, and god you miss him and Alpine too, but life is good and you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, your best friend is getting married to the man she loves and you’re having the time of your life with your girlfriends.

“So, you’re not having cold feet, are you?” you hear Hannah question Jade.

They’re basking in the sun around you.

Jade hesitates as she douses herself in sunblock.

“I gotta say I’m kind of scared but I’ve been dreaming about this for three years, so no? I guess. I don’t know. I love him.”

“That didn’t answer the question.” you observe.

“Are you sure you’re ready to commit to one dick only for the rest of your life?” Raven asks, and you all laugh and roll your eyes playfully.

Ever the commitaphobe, just like you. Well, like you used to be before you met Jaime.

You hate rush hour after work, you hate it so much in fact that you’d rather go to your work’s gym and workout even though you’re exhausted than catch a packed train.

By the time you get to the station most people are home already.

He’s here today.

You’ve seen him quite a lot in the past few weeks. The first thing you noticed about him is the way he seems to fold in on himself, his hunched shoulders and lowered head.

His bad posture aggravates you beyond reason, and you just wish you could go there and straighten his back without looking like a weirdo. But you can’t, so you just admire from afar like the good creep you are.

He’s always wearing a baseball cap over luscious but questionably greasy hair, huge winter jackets and leather gloves; still, underneath all that it’s clear he’s handsome. You always had a thing for men built like brick houses.

Today is the day, you think, today is the day I finally strike a conversation with the guy, it’s now or never.

Truth is, the loneliness he exudes breaks your heart and the way people avoid him like he’s got the plague enrages you for no particular reason. Somehow the ever indifferent New Yorkers would rather stand on a moving train than sit next to him, and that something about that that irks you way too much.

You really don’t understand why. Sure he’s intimidating, he’s a huge man, but he’s quiet and calm and he smiles softly when he spots a dog on the train. He gets off at same stop you do and no matter how isolate the station and the streets are by the time you get home, even if you two are the only ones there, you’ve never felt uneasy.

So you go and sit next to him, you smile when he looks up in surprise and you say hi.

He stutters an ‘evening ma’am’ and you’re proud of yourself because you’ve got it in you to made the big scary guy blush like a schoolgirl.

“Not to be a creep or anything but I’ve seen you around quite a lot, we commute together almost every day.” You chuckle and you introduce yourself.

“I uhm-” he’s cute when he furrows his brows “ I’m Jame- Jaime. I’m Jaime.”

You smile at the memory.

Jaime turned out to be a lot less shy than anticipated. He was a stuttering mess on the first few dates but the more you got to know him, the more he opened up to show his true sarcastic, snarky nature, whilst still being a gentle giant and an absolute sweetheart.

He’s thoughtful, cocky and sweet at the same time. He makes you melt in a puddle whenever he snuggles Alpine on the inside of his jacket, and the rumble of his voice is enough to make your brain short circuit and your panties dampen.

“There goes that look again, you’re such a love sick fool.”

“Oh God, you should see her when she’s with her precious Jaime, they literally have heart eyes, they’re so cute together it makes me sick to my stomach.”

You laugh and shake your head at Raven’s and Jade’s teasing.

“Hey, it’s not that bad, you should have seen yourself the day you met Matt, bitch, you looked like you’d never seen a man before. I ain’t forget.” you retort.

Hannah laughs and adds “When are we going to meet mystery man? It’s not fair that Jade only to got to see him. And word on the streets is that he’s real pretty.”

“When you three learn how to behave. But I can show you a picture, just please don’t be weird about it.” you finally relent after five months of avoiding the topic.

“He’s very, very hot ladies.” Jade quips.

You send her a side glance (goodnaturedly of course) and show them how pretty your sweet boy is.

Raven’s jaw goes slack as she clutches your phone and gawks at the picture.

“Lucky bastard, he’s literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, where did you find him and how did you convince him to be with you of all people?”

You laugh at Raven’s blunt remarks. They playful banter between the two of you has been going on since freshman year of college.

“Now I get why you have that dumb love struck face on you at all times.” Hannah adds.

Grace tho, she’s unusually quiet, and she stares at him with a scowl on her face. Her eyes travel slowly from your phone to your face, and the anticipation to know the reason why is killing you.

“Uhm, you’re dating him? And you said his name is Jaime?” she hesitates.

Whatever is going to come out of her mouth, you already know you’re not going to like it.

“Look, maybe I’m wrong and I’m mistaking him for someone else but I’m pretty positive I’m right and, ah” Another pause, you’re about to faint. “There’s no way to break it down to you in a way that won’t hurt but” she sighs “he’s lying to you.”

Ice fills your veins. You can feel dread crawling up your spine.

Is he someone else’s boyfriend? Are you the other woman or is he cheating on you? Is he a professional scammer?

“What the hell are you talking about Gracie?” Jade almost shouts, and you’re one heartbeat away from fainting.

Grace looks at you with all the pity in the world and you want nothing more than to erase that expression from her face.

“He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

The world around you stops spinning for a second as the ring in your ears get louder. You just wish the ground could open up and swallow you whole.

All of a sudden you start laughing hysterically like she’s told the funniest joke you’ve ever heard, you laugh so ugly that a few heads turn in your direction and give you funny looks, so loud that your friends are startled and even more worried.

Jaime, your sweet baby boy who adopted a three legged blind cat no one else at the shelter wanted to save him from being euthanized.

Jaime who volunteers at the VA with his pal Sam to help war vets reintegrate in society after they get back home, because he knows what it’s like to have your life turned around, to find yourself with no commands to obey all of a sudden and more trauma than you know what to do with. He knows what it is like to know no peace, to sleep a couple hours a week until you’re hallucinating so bad you’re begging the universe to just end your suffering.

It can’t be real. Your Jaime visits and plays with lonely, sickly kids in hospitals because he remembers what it was like growing up with his asthmatic, diabetic friend Steve.

Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly.

Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

He goes grocery shopping for the elderly couple next door whose kids never visit, because they are too weak, too sick, too tired to leave the house.

“I’m sorry sweetie, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have know.”

Grace hands you a phone, open on his Wikipedia page.

Jaime’s sky-blue eyes stare back at you.

You really let him play a number on you, didn’t you?

You feel a hot surge of blinding anger and you want to tear the world apart, you want to take Jaime- no, not Jaime, James and bitch slap him in the face so damn hard you convey the humiliation you’re feeling right now, knowing that the man you love and thought you knew lied to your face for five fucking months.

Did he ever consider coming clean, revealing his true identity?

Was he ever planning on telling you? Or would he move in with you, wake up and go to bed with you every day feeding you lies upon lies?

Would you end up married to a man that doesn’t exist and have kids with a ghost?

Grow old with a guy who said he was 33 but is actually 99?

Would he never get undressed in front of you? How was he planning on hiding is metal arm? Surely one day you’d be intimate and you would see it? The whole “I want to wait cause I’m old fashioned like that” would eventually need to stop.

Or maybe it wasn’t a serious relationship at all for him, not in the way it was for you. Not in the way you wanted to spend the rest of your days loving him and making him the happiest man alive. Not in the way you were ready to commit to him, body and soul, for all eternity.

Now the endearing terms he used to call you, his babydoll, his little doll, they taste bitter on your tongue.

A doll, literally. A little toy to play with and toss aside once he got bored of his little game.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out like this?

It reminds you of that time in your junior year of college, you were dating this guy back then, and you liked him, he was fun, the sex was good, he supported you in your endless hours of cheer practice.

One day he told you he was sick and couldn’t make it to your afternoon study date. That same night you ran into him at a frat party with his friends. Wasn’t so sick after all.

You broke up on the spot, shed a few tears while your teammates held you and moved on with your life with your head held high, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life no matter how many curveballs the universe throws your way.

You vividly recall what hurt the most: the feeling of being lied to and toyed with. The hot humiliation that burns your cheeks and makes your eyes water when you realized you have yet again misplaced your trust. The inevitable question that plague you for days on end: what else did he lie about? How could I be so damn stupid?

His name was Tommy, and sometimes in the following years your first instinct when a man told you anything was to obsess over whether they were being honest or not. Until Jaime, that is, you trusted Jaime with your life, you would never question him, and look where that got you.

You’re aware you’re overthinking and maybe overreacting at this point, and that wailing in your own misery while your girlfriends are out having fun in a club is doing you no good, nor is it changing your current predicament. But you never listen to the voice of reason, and you won’t start today.

The room feels too hot and too cold at the same time.

You’re sweating but your body is shaking. You’re breathing but the air you inhale won’t reach your lungs. You’re blinking your eyes frantically but you only see darkness. You hear your own heart beat out of your chest.

It seems like the room you’re in is closing down on you and there’s no space left, you’re being crushed by those walls around you, you’re drowning, you’re suffocating.

Is this what heartbreak feels like, or is it just a heart attack?

Turns out it’s a panic attack, you know because you typed your symptoms on Google.

You are painfully aware you’re spiralling out of control.

Get a grip.

All you can think about is how you want him to suffer, you want him to feel the same humiliation you’re feeling right now. You want him to feel his chest compress, his throat tighten, you want him to know what it’s like when your heart is breaking in a thousand pieces and you can’t even breathe.

You want his world to come tumbling down on him and crush him under the weight of his mistakes.

You don’t care why he did it. You don’t give a single fuck about his reasons.

Because the truth is, no matter who he was in his past life, no matter how many he killed or tortured, you would have loved him all the same. You would have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders if it meant he could sleep soundly at night.

But he didn’t give you a chance to.

And because you never fucking think before you act, you put your best dress on a join the girls at the club they’re at, and you hope the tequila is going to drown your sorrow and dull the pain burning you from within.

Tonight you don’t want to feel anymore.

Four months ago.

Brooklyn, New York.

Every morning, Bucky wakes up at 5.30 am and joins Steve Rogers on his jog around the neighborhood, and every morning without failure Bucky is grumpy about it. He hates the early mornings, especially in the winter, but he can’t find it in himself to refuse Steve anything.

Steve is smart and too observing for his own good and he knows that something has changed. He knows it in the way Bucky’s steps are louder and bouncier, his back is straighter, his smile is easier, his eyes shine brighter.

He knows it because underneath the sandalwood scent of Buck’s deodorant and the musky smell of his sweat, he can sometimes detect the less pungent fragrance of coconut and peaches.

“So, who is she?”

The question catches him off guard. Bucky stops dead in his track and looks at his friend like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

At that he has the decency to blush.

“She’s- she’s perfect. I met her on the ride home from the shelter. ‘member when we were kids, we used to dream about the future? I swore I’d get myself a pretty wife and love her for the rest of my days and have a bunch of kids?”

“Yeah, I used to tell you you’d have to stop dragging me in those god awful double dates, or else you wouldn’t get any of those pretty girls to stick around.”

The two share a bittersweet smile as they reminisce how their life could have been.

“She’s pretty, you know, she’s sweet, she’s a bit of an asshole but the good kind, she’s so damn smart, you know all those science things I used to like before the war? She knows them all. She’s an engineer. I know my Ma would have approved of her, and Becca would have died to have her as a sister.”

“So why’s that long face?”

Bucky snorts.

Of course, how could Captain America understand? People don’t avoid him like he’s got some infectious disease, they don’t give him dirty looks, girls don’t cross the street when they see him, mothers with kids on their hips don’t cover their children as if he was the Boogeyman. “She didn’t recognize me, and well I- I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t want me, and I like her too much to mess this up.”

“Buck.” Steve gives him his best stern look. “You have to tell her, she has a right to know who she’s seeing. If she’s the one she’s going to love you all the same, but don’t lie to her. These secrets can only backfire in the long run. It’s going to ruin your relationship.”

Bucky nods absentmindedly and continues running without uttering another word.

No one could ever love his true self, he thinks bitterly. No one could help him carry the weight of his past on his shoulders.

If only he had known back then how right Stevie would be, he would have told you everything four months ago.

[samcrobae]

Wine, Part III (crossover?)

WARNING: mention of miscarriage, language, mention of abortion.

“Keep him close, kid” Bishop tapped EZ on the arm. “I’m outta here. Gilly, Coco, Creep, with me.” The three walk out the front door with Bishop. “What’s up Jefe?” Coco asked.

“This is going to break him. Find her. Get her to come back. I’ve had enough of the Reyes family bullshit and I want it done. The guys a fuckin flight risk.”

“Yeah aight” coco replied. She works at that law firm on the corner off 9th. I’ll stop by there tomorrow see if she shows.”

“No, I want you on her. Creep, find out if she has any other contacts in Santo Padre. Surrounding cities, towns, I don’t care. Gilly, you go to her office tomorrow see if she’s there. Let me know what you find.”

————————————

Coco pulled up outside of your old condo as he saw you getting into your car. He followed you for a couple hours, sure to stay far enough behind so that you wouldn’t notice. Passing up the town sign he let out a “Charming? what the fuck?” He stopped just half a block away from you as he watched you pull into the lot. “Teller-Morrow Automotives”.

“What the fuck are you doing with SAMCRO girl...” coco whispered to himself. He waited about 45 minutes til you pulled out of the lot and left. “Shit.”

————————————-

Coco had followed you for a few days, everything was as normal. You’d leave your condo everyday at 8:15, stop for coffee, head into the office, and head home at 4:30. Back at the scrapyard Coco, Creep, Gilly, and Bishop talked amongst themselves.

“I don’t know Jefe, something ain’t sittin right with me, her going to SAMCRO. For what? If Angel knew about this-”

“He won’t know anything til he needs to. Coco, Creep, go down to Teller-Morrow, pay our white boys a friendly visit. Gilly, check up on the prospect and Angel. Hey- I mean it Coco. Friendly visit.”

———————————————

Pulling into the lot, Quinn notices the uninvited visitors. “Jax! Mayans.” Throwing on his kutte he walks out with Chibs at his side. Coco and Creeper park their bikes and cut the engines. “Think you’re lost, Ese. Little Mexico’s that way.” Jax says as he takes a cigarette between his lips and lights it. Coco steps forward and Creeper puts his hand on his arm and shakes his head in disagreement.

Coco lets out a sigh , “Looking for Y/N. I know she’s been here. Why?”

Jax takes a step toward Coco and looks at Chibs. “What the hell does a Mayan want with Y/N?”

“Need to talk to her. Family shit.”

“Family? Well you’re lookin at it Vato. Now get back on your bikes and go home to your beans and tortillas. I’m sure whatever she has going on doesn’t concern you.”

Coco and Creeper look at each other, a look of confusion drawn on their faces.

“You sure bout that Guero?” Coco asked. “Might wanna talk to the father of her child about that. Since she’s got a little Mayan in her.”

Chibs and Jax look at each other, a look of worry and confusion spread on their faces. “What the fuck?” Jax’s neck vein about to burst, he motions to Chibs. “Find Lyla and get her out here now.”

“Aye. LYLLAAAAAAA” Chibs shouts from the parking lot. Lyla and Chucky come running out of the clubhouse and see the Mayans stopped in front of Jax. “Shit.” Lyla whispered under her breath.

“Can I help?” Chucky asked.

Jax looked at Lyla before replying “Chucky take a walk.”

He nods his head. “I accept that”. And walks back into the clubhouse. Jax looked at Lyla and placed his hand on her arm. “Now I’m only gonna ask you this once darlin. When Y/N came in the other day she was looking for you. Why?” Lyla nervously looks at coco from the corner of her eye. “WHY!!” Jax yells.

“She came in and told me she was pregnant. With a Mayan’s baby. Said shit was heavy.” Lyla began. Coco spoke up “yeah what else she tell you? She go into detail? Tell you anything she shouldn’t have?” He clenched his jaw together.

“Hey!” Jax shoved Coco, “if you lay a fuckin hand on Y/N I will cut your Mexican heart out and have Coco tacos for dinner.” “Jackie...." Chibs warned.

Lyla continued, “she didn’t say anything I swear. Came in looking for the name of the doctor I used for my abortion. I gave her the info but I haven’t heard from her since. She’s torn. But wanted the information so I gave it to her. She’s not returning my calls or my texts.”

“Jesus Christ you’re swapping recipes and abortion secrets now?” Chibs asked. Creeper looked at Lyla. “You got a number for her?”

“Yeah it’s in my phone I’ll go get it.”

Coco looks at Jax, who now looks hurt and mad at the same time. “Sorry Ese, hope you didn’t have a chubby for Y/N. Guess she just liked that chorizo sausage a little more eh?”

Seconds later Lyla returns with a piece of paper in hand. That’s her cell. She took the next few days off work. So she might be at her condo. She was supposed to sell it but I don’t know if she ever even put it on the market.”

“Yeah thanks. You fellas have a nice day.” Coco and Creeper get back on their bikes and head out of charming and head straight to your place.

————————————-

You get to the top of your stairs when something doesn’t look right.. your lock had clearly been messed with. There was a screw on the floor. Nervous, you slowly crept into your front door, nothing seemed out of place , nothing taken. You head to your living room and see Coco sat on your couch. You let out a quick scream and realize it’s him. “My bad.” Coco said.

“What the fuck Coco! Why are you here?” You and coco went back and forth like spitfire, question after question thrown like darts at a dartboard.

“Why did you leave?”

“Did Angel send you?”

“Why were you at TM?”

“Are you following me?”

“Did you get that doctor info you needed?”

“How long have you been following me?”

“Why did that guy at TM have no fingers?”

“What do you want coco?”

“How the fuck do you know Jax Teller?”

Silence hung in the air as Coco basically spit that question out to you and if his words could slap you across the face, those would have. You sat down on the ottoman diagonal to your couch. “I need some answers here Chiquita. You destroyed my hermano and I had to watch it happen. We all did. You need to start talking.” Coco sat back in your couch and placed his hands behind his head.

You let out a loud sigh and placed your hands in your lap. “I was feeling... off. Not myself for a few weeks. I tried to ignore it but I couldn’t shake the feeling. My periods are funky so I didn’t think anything of it. Angel and I had been seeing each other a few months, but man. We fucked like rabbits. I took a pregnancy test and for a small moment Coco, I was excited. I have loved Angel for so long and there’s no doubt he’d be such a good dad. But when. Realized we’d be raising a child in the middle of all of this..."

“You panicked.” Coco finished the sentence for you.

“I know who he is, the shit happening in the club. And I accept it. All of it and I accept him. I know this is who he is. I can’t ask him to choose. Anyway, I went to talk to Lyla to get the doctor she went to for her abortion. I went to the doctor and I’m further along than I thought. 13 weeks. And , as soon as I saw that baby on the screen, coco I left. I couldn’t do it.”

“And SAMCRO?” He asked.

“My mom was a friend of the family. But when she left me, Gemma took me in. Made sure I had a roof over my head, went to school, got a job and stayed off the streets.”

“Teller?” Coco looked at you.

“Jackson and I ... we.. we were a thing for a minute. I loved him. And he loved me. We wanted to get married, have kids. I got pregnant my junior year of high school. Jax was already out by then. He was over the moon. Then one night I woke up in a puddle of my own blood. I lost the baby. But I was a kid ya know. I don’t know. Then a year after graduation, I left. Didn’t say a word to anyone about it. I kept in contact with Jax but we didne share the intimate details of our lives anymore. I had no idea how deep he was in it with the club, had no idea I was with Angel. Didn’t know I’m pregnant”.

“When you went to see Lyla, was he there?”

“Yeah, we kept our distance. I just needed to talk to someone who had been through it. Someone who isn’t Gemma. Lyla had Ope. She understood.” You felt the tears roll down your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt Angel. Embarrass him in front of his family. I didn’t know what to do."

“Walking out ain’t it Chiquita. This shit with the club is enough to fuck anyone up. Angel? He’s seen some shit. He’s done some shit. All he wants in this life is a place to call home. That’s you. This ain’t for the faint of heart. If you’re gonna be in this, then you’re in this. There’s no half in, half out, get advice from other MCs, walking out on my viejo, not knowing what you wanna do shit. If you’re in this, go home. To Angel. Fix this shit eh? But you need to know that you pulling this shit is never an option. If you ain’t, then get rid of that baby and just leave. And if what Angel said is true, YOU asked him to stay. He did.”

Coco sat up and motioned at Creeper it was time to go. He looked back at you before leaving out the front door. You dropped your face in your hands and sat in silence for what felt like hours before grabbing your keys and purse and heading to your car.

@mrsamaroevans @cind-in-real-life