#it really helps to refine my thinking

[my-deer-friend]

Homosocial – homoromantic – homoerotic – homosexual

A lot of people who talk about 18th century queerness treat these concepts as existing on a linear scale of "straight" to "gay", or as a progression of increasing queerness.

But that kind of framing isn't accurate. There's no line that we can draw here beyond which things become definitively queer. There were homosexual acts that had very little queerness to them, and homoromantic relationships that were fundamentally queer without ever (to our knowledge) straying beyond the emotional.

[rabbitprincessthief]

gog i still can't get over minish cap vaati's Everything. He is So Fucking Stupid (affectionate)

Like. This guy's establishing character moment is, in order:

he's introduced as having won an entire tournament to get to touch a magic chest and get a cool sword, which was the prize for said tournament

turns around and does a goddamn evil soliloquy TEN FEET AWAY FROM THE GUARDS who were about to hand him his macguffin on a platter

(like this man fucks up his own horribly planned daylight heist because he cannot keep a lid on the dramatics for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES, IN PUBLIC)

(THE BAR WAS ON THE FLOOR VAATI, FUCKING GANONDORF PLAYS THE PIPE ORGAN FOR HIS OWN BOSS INTRO AND HE STILL KNOWS BETTER THAN THIS SHIT)

proceeds to fight the guards (it is, admittedly, a curbstomp for him, but it still clearly wasn't his plan, because otherwise why bother with the tournament)

gloats evilly

opens chest, unleashing a whole bunch of monsters

exposits out loud about Zelda's powers like a nerd while she is actively charging up her magic powers to kick his ass

RECOGNIZES and IDENTIFIES said magic as the special power carried by the female royal line

completely fails to recognize it as the light force he is currently trying to get his hands on (he spends like 99% of the game not figuring this out.)

petrifies her

(i have no idea if link could have deflected this spell if he had managed to get the right angle with his shield but i like to think somewhere there is a very short and very funny alternate timeline where it happens)

(more importantly: no part of vaati's original presumed plan would have involved doing this. he 100% created this situation for himself by being an dramatic idiot and picking a fight for no good reason.)

looks in the chest

there's no light force

considering his stated goals he might be as confused as you are about the monsters tbh

uhhh

evil laugh

teleports the fuck out

He then proceeds to spend the rest of the game trying to figure out where the light force is and ends up having to wait for Ezlo and Link to figure it out first because he was, as far as I can tell, GENUINELY stuck on this part. He fucking kidnaps and impersonates the King, not for access to Zelda, but to… send guards to go look for the Light Force, presumably because he was either running out of ideas or genuinely thought that would work.

None of the guards even had any idea what he was talking about. He's not even good at impersonating the King. He's already sent like twenty people to the dungeon by the time you get there and it hasn't even been a week. Somehow the game spins this as a cunning plan and clever manipulation or something.

(Meanwhile the guards are just. Poking around in random bushes and shit hoping to find the light force. One of them asks you what you think it might look like.)

Zelda is literally right next to the throne and Vaati does not figure it out until you find an actual honest-to-goodness LORE TABLET spelling out that the Light Force is Stored in the Zelda, at which point he's like "ahahaha you've done my work for me this was definitely my plan all along" and takes over the castle and throws a bunch of monsters at you to stall for time while he figures out how to extract the force from her. Somehow he still doesn't think to actually lock the fucking door.

[fortune-maiden]

Thinking about An Le again and all the potential everything with him...

Lang Qianqiu's best friend who befriended him specifically as part of a rebellion plot

Mentored by Qi Rong, and was probably pretty close to him (QR seems to have been around since before XL became LQQ's mentor so it sounds like QR practically raised him since he was a kid)

HIS DEATH WAS ACTUALLY REALLY BRUTAL (deserved but yikes!)

Still really want to know what his dynamic with QR was like. Did QR feel anything about his death...

Was he seen as a champion of the Xianle people? We know how pure and heroic LQQ is, so I feel like An Le would have had to outwardly be like that too for them to be close friends

Was LQQ there for his death or did he learn of it later... (probably the latter because he had no idea An Le hated him and I doubt that's something An Le would conceal on his death bed. He's dying, may as well stick the knife into his bestie as deep as it will go!)

Anyway it is just thinking about An Le hours and I really hope the donghua expands on him a little the way it did for Pei Xiu & Banyue's backstory before

[retrogradedreaming]

I need to start thinking of ideas for the prompt list I made to get myself to sketch more in October, but instead I'm drawing self-indulgent comics about cats 😭

[cuteniaarts]

2 hour rough drawing of Ehuang, my precious Green Opal child who I don’t draw nearly enough <3

[archersartcorner]

Was thinking about the fact that Zac’s last two (main campaign) characters have been Rogues (or the SW5E rogue equivalent) That Are Creatures. And what if they met :) bop slug

[makeitlookdecent]

somethin's not right...

i did it!! anyway the song i used for inspiration for this piece is "bugging!" by brakence. tbh i've been thinking of this au on and off for a bit, but that night when the full album of hypochondriac dropped and i listened to it everything fit!! it all made sense!! and i liked it so so much!! i could not focus for days/weeks when i put it all together, i was soooo excited!!! i made a thing!!!

its a shame im no good at animating (i could learn but i wanna be good. right now.) because in my head i thought of like, cool pv's for each song in that album. it was soooo cool!!!!

--

anyway in this first part our "Sig" demon is staying at the temple his benefactor, "Ms. Goddess" works at. while it's lovely staying there with her, (even tho the other people of the temple keep a good distance from him, for reasons he's not quite sure of) as time passes he cant help but feel like something, everything is wrong. his memories are fuzzy and he's not sure how he even got there, and it feels like something is calling for him beyond the temple grounds.

At first he ignores it because it seems like no big deal, but he keeps waking up in places he doesnt remember falling asleep in, and he starts seeing someone that he swears he knows from somewhere. but it seems like no one else sees that person. its not long before he starts seeing places he doesnt remember going to, overlapping with the reality that he's living. its getting real disorientating. everything is fuzzy, nothing feels real anymore but that damn calling sensation.

He also starts to notice the weird things "Ms. Goddess" does and tells him, that contradict with what he thinks he knows about the world and himself.

[foggieststars]

tho u feel stuck and not good abt ur writing right now, i just wanted to remind u that u write beautifully. ur fics have moved me. AND many other people. maybe this a signal for u to take a break and try to detach urself from writing. it will come back eventually. maybe that will be tmrw. or maybe it will be in 2 weeks. try to be patient and focus on other things that bring u joy. or bitch abt it here. take care darling <3

thank you lovely!! maybe you're right it's just difficult bcs writing has been such a fun escape for me during the last year so the fact that i'm hitting a wall with it is. very frustrating </3 but i have spent the evening cross stitching and watching brooklyn 99 so i'm trying to put less pressure on myself <33

[jils-things]

hai hai good morning

[hikarinokusari]

I tried to tone down all the hate I bear for Barov but I called him a bastard just before introducing him IRP, and apparently, played him like a bastard.

Hopefully I hold Ravenovia in higher esteem so she was more like-able.

Also elves because I'm definitely assuming I'm addicted to elves. They're their own kind of lovable bastards.

[yelloworangesoda]

i hate the food situation at my house so much for the love of god. theres only so many times a man can eat ramen with nothing or tuna with nothing

[zhongrin]

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒) 2

You woke up with a headache, feeling your head throb painfully. For a moment, you really thought you were in your real-life home until you looked up and saw the bed canopy, adorned with fine, luxurious fabrics. A typical bed of ancient nobility, you couldn't even sit up without your head pounding from the pain. Who would have thought that crying so much could make you feel this bad?

In pain, you turned, now looking out of the bed. For a moment, you began to notice that the furnishings in the room were more refined, even though they were of a different color. You started to think that this room wasn't, in fact, yours. Looking at the door, you noticed the luxurious details that accompanied it, making you realize that you were neither in your real-life bedroom nor in your noble bedroom in this world.

You started to think a lot, which made your head hurt even more. But you finally managed to understand what happened last night and how you agreed to go with the young man. Now, finally turning to look at the ceiling, you sighed, knowing you were probably not in extreme danger and that being kidnapped was off the list since you had agreed to the situation.

Placing your hands on your face, you thought about the situation at the ball, now considering how your family in this world would probably disown you. What initially seemed like a simple matter turned out to be much worse. In this world, being disowned didn't just mean being removed from the family's inheritance; it meant being officially regarded as not part of the family at all. It was as if they erased you not only from their will but also from their lives. In more extreme cases, it could even mean being expelled from the house.

"Are you alright? You were quite warm last night; you had a fever," said a familiar voice. Turning, you confirmed it was the same young man from yesterday.

Forcing your aching body, you managed to sit up in bed, placing a hand on your forehead as the dizziness from the headache set in. "Yes, it's nothing serious. I apologize for my manners," you said. It was evident that simply lying in a bed that wasn't yours while the host stood by was considered almost impolite in this world.

"Liar… please, miss, don't push yourself too hard. You still seem unwell," the young man said, his voice calm and concerned. If you could look now, you would see the care and worry in his eyes.

"I've been sick many times before," you found yourself thinking, almost mocking your own situation. The boy seemed to sense your sadness and silence. He raised his hand and gently placed it on your shoulder.

He had already felt he was violating your space by touching you the night before, but the pain of seeing your sick body had pushed that feeling aside. Now, with you safe, he felt he needed your permission, but he couldn't help trying to comfort you, the same person who seemed broken and exhausted when he brought you here.

"Forgive me… you went to the trouble of bringing me to your home because of my actions. This is not appropriate behavior for a girl like me. I apologize profusely for invading your residence like this," you said, lowering your hands to your lap and bowing your head in a formal gesture of apology, even while lying in bed.

Nomura noticed that you referred to yourself merely as a girl, not as a lady, which would have been more appropriate. He understood that what happened yesterday had deeply wounded you, so much so that you began to see yourself as inferior, no longer worthy of being called a lady.

His free hand clenched into a fist as he thought about the castle and the ball from last night. He knew who was responsible for this, and he couldn't help but feel anger. At that moment, all he wanted was to drive a sword through the heart of the crown prince, the first prince, and especially his former best friend.

"Please do not apologize, miss. The events of last night were not your fault, and bringing you to my residence was my decision. I had every right to do so, especially when I saw you in such a vulnerable state," he said in a sweet and gentle tone. You turned your head to look at him, observing those kind eyes that looked at you as they had last night. But just making that movement caused your head to throb again, and you placed a hand on your head, wincing in pain. This made him place his hands on your back, gently guiding you to lie down on the bed.

"Please, miss, you are not in the best condition. Lie down and rest. I will accept nothing but your rest," he insisted. With your eyes squeezed shut from the pain, you allowed yourself to lie back down, sighing as you felt his touch slowly fade away.

Nomura watched as you complied, stepping back slowly. He looked at you with sadness before leaving the room. As he walked down the corridor towards his office, he couldn't help but look at the floor, feeling nothing but anger. Calmly, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. His teeth clenched in fury, and only one thought filled his mind: "I want to kill him!" Finally, he sighed, running his hands through his hair before sitting in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"Even after countless times, or timelines, you remain the same Prince Luka."

"Miss? Your tea." An maid entered the room with a cart carrying a teapot and a white porcelain cup. She sat down on the bed, and you were beginning to feel a bit better. Before you could say anything, the maid delicately placed a tray on your lap and set the cup on it.

You pondered for a moment. You couldn't stay here forever, even if your parents had disowned you. Eventually, you would have to return home just to gather your belongings, assuming your country in this game had indeed expelled you. If so, you needed to plan where to stay, especially since the Diamond Wars were looming.

"But what stage of the game are we in now? I mean, why should I worry? She's the protagonist and a princess, not me. She can handle things on her own," you thought to yourself as you glanced down at your lap. Your head still ached, but it was less intense compared to when you first arrived at the lord's house.

"Miss?" the maid's voice called out, and you lifted your head to look at her. She was pointing to the cup of tea. "Your tea, if you don't drink it, it will get cold." You turned your head, picked up the cup, and murmured a thank you before taking a sip. Lowering the cup, you continued to stare down, then glanced back at your lap.

"If I may ask, do you know of a good area where there might be houses? Preferably in the countryside," you asked calmly, surprising the maid with the sudden question.

"With all due respect, ma'am, why do you ask?"

"I need to find a place before I'm kicked out of home all because the protagonist is a little princess with her harem on her side, not to mention they humiliated me and literally labeled me a liar in front of high-status people and people from other regions," you thought of saying, but bit your tongue and shook your head. "Forget about what I asked," you said, looking down at the empty cup in your hands.

A few minutes of silence passed before the maid carefully took the cup and bowed respectfully before leaving with the cart.

"It's what she said," the maid recounted the situation to the man in front of her, who could only look thoughtfully out the window. "Poor Lady," Nomura thought, watching from the window as the carriage took you back to your home.

"I apologize, my lord, but do you think Lady might be considering moving away?" The thought of you being away from him was making him nervous.

"I need you to deliver a letter for me…"

pt1

"I'll possibly do Part 3."

@aiimee9 @chlov @uhkaey @notleclerc @taylorazureeee @sassykitkat22 @zuumaa @mononlogue @party-9 @endaculi @heartless-tate @mel-vaz @poptrim @kitty-chan33 @surprisemodafakas @reni502 @slowlysweetnightmare @hotnbloodied @yandereoverlord @mel-star636 @aphrodit333 @hotvinimon  @cupidsgift @bien-bonjour14 @l0v3rrl @heraxochi @yamekocatt @lovorette @acenby-weirdo @kisalovesoobin @wutap @ron000 @lazydelusionsimp @kthehoeforfictionalmen @forbidden-sunlight @bubbles2416 @rosegracewood09 @b2mmyy

@julietdelamare @snowlotr @kitkatmochi @happydeertraveler @lem-hhn @crazytacokoala @mitzukichan18 @hey-im-bored504 @resident-cryptid @thefbiiswatching @beardedblizzardexpert @mymemd @smilefortae @emperatris-rinaka

@pinkrose1422

[servicpop]

✶ ﹑ㅤi only have eyes for you ﹏

NOW STARRING : CEO (Vallen Carter) x jealous sub male reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤVallen's assistant is hot and reader can't help but feel jealous!

✙ warnings — reader is kinda insecure, office handjob (reading recieving), getting caught

notes ,, finally wrote about vallen.. not proofread!

"Your assistant, would you ever date her?"

You were currently sat on the plush couch Vallen had in his office behind his desk. Sometimes, you would invade his workplace and lounge in his office when you were bored and wanted to simply be in his presence. At your time here you've noticed a few things, one being Vallen's super hot assistant. To say she was just pretty was an understatement. She was refined, spoke smoothly and elegantly, always dressed proper, and was smart on top of all of that. Anyone would fall for someone like her, including Vallen.

Typing away on his keyboard, Vallen had his back facing you. "Why would I date her when I have you?" He replied, his voice as husky as it always was and carried little emotion in it. You huffed, turning around to face him— his back, as you took a moment to think about your next words, "Because she's really hot and— she gets to see you more often, and she's so elegant," you mumble, your words were quiet from the slight embarrassment you felt in admitting this.

You see Vallen pause in his typing, his body stilling before he let out an exhale that visibly made his shoulders fall to a more relaxed position, "Is that really what you're worried about?" His statement was firm, almost scolding. You couldn't help but keep quiet. The room was silent — besides Vallen's keyboard tapping or mouse clicking — before he decided to speak up, "Come here," he said, his tone on the boundary of stern and soft; it was always hard to tell which one he was leaning more towards. Of course you oblige, getting up from the couch and walking over to where his chair was.

"If you're that worried about my assistant, there can be a few arrangements made," He hummed, loosening his tie slightly before looking up at you. You stand there like a child getting scolded — that was usually the case when you were with Vallen, he was just so overwhelmingly mature it surprised you that he was only a few years older than you — as you fumble with your fingers, your gaze casted down to your feet. Yeah you were jealous but she undoubtedly did her job well and you didn't want to burden Vallen from a stupid little feeling.

He seemed to pick up on your discomfort, letting out a heavy huff from his chest as he leaned back in his chair, earning a small squeak in return. "Seems like you are simply too sweet to do that," He chuckled softly, patting his thigh firmly before his eyes met yours. You take the iniative to sit on his lap, settling yourself ontop of him as you wrap your arms around his waist in a small hug with your face squished in the crook of Vallen's neck. You seemed to melt in his embrace as he hooked one arm around your back and slid the chair forward so he could continue working.

The familiar sound of keyboard tapping resumed, and you rested ontop of Vallen with your eyes closed, relaxing in his company. After awhile, Vallen's hand made its way to your thigh; his large hand squeezing it firmly before sliding further up your leg. This draws your attention back down to the present as you look down, "What are you doing?" You ask. Vallen doesn't respond with words, he responds with a hand cupping your pants instead, rubbing you through your pants with his knuckles. A small groan slips out between your lips as you find yourself grinding against his palm. Wasn't your fault Vallen had such warm hands.

"I just want to prove how much I love you, and that I would never leave you for anyone," Vallen replied, his voice becoming raspy as his lips meet your earlobe. His slender fingers tug at the waistband of your pants and your boxers, slipping his hand underneath the fabric. You flinch upon feeling the warmth of his lips press against your ear and your body jerks when his hand unexpectedly grabs your now hardening cock. His hands are like magic, the way that they make you feel like you're about to implode with butterflies is honestly impressive.

Vallen pushes the fabric of your clothes down more so he could have better access to your body, letting a deep chuckle out as he stared at the way your cock practically weeps for attention in his hands. Like the good man he is, he gives you that attention. His thumb glides over your blushed tip, teasing your slit as his other hand grips your waist, keeping you stable on his lap. "You're already twitching," he comments with a small smirk on his face. Vallen deems that your poor, red tip has been tortured enough and decides to move his hand to the base of your cock, squeezing lightly before working his way back up to your tip before sliding back down to the base. He repeats this action almost painfully slow, watching your face intently to catch any facial expressions you'd make.

It was embarassing how needy you felt in this moment. Your back arched with every movement of Vallen's hand and your hips stuttered as you tried to grind into the pleasure. Your small whimpers and gasps filled the office, accompanied by the lewd, wet noises of Vallen jerking you off, "I'd deal with you in a more— proper way if I wasn't in the office right now." You could tell he was enjoying this as much as you did; it was evident by the bulge in his pants poking you. However, you knew Vallen was far too disciplined to want to partake in such activities in his workplace, but that was his personal preference, he loved seeing you crumble during work.

You couldn't help but gasp out his name, your fingers curled around his wrists, trying to stop the movement but it just felt so good. Your body was leaned back and your head tilted down, watching Vallen's slender, veins hands rub your body like he was sculpting a delicate clay figure. A hand gripped your trembling legs, holding you still as Vallen focused on pleasuring you. He knew you were close by how vocal you were getting now.

The soft click of the door opening fell deaf to your ears, your brain fogged with lust and Vallen's hands. His assistant had entered. You picked up that something was wrong from the slight twitching of Vallen's eyes as he rose his head to look at whoever interrupted his session with you. Nonetheless he didn't stop, he kept moving his wrist up and down, curving his palm more at the head before returning down to grip the base of your cock, using your precum as lube.

"Vallen, who—" you tried to speak but Vallen's fingers shoved past your lips and into your mouth unexpectedly. The foreign feeling of his fingers pressing against your tongue for some reason sent shiver down your spine and to your dick. "What better way of proving I wouldn't leave you than to start with getting rid of the root cause?" Vallen cooed in your ear, glaring at his assistant before speeding up his hand. You tried to protest but your words were blocked by Vallen's long fingers shoved deeply into your throat, bits of saliva dripped down your chin and he took the courtesy to wipe it off with his thumb. What a gentleman— obviously despite his indecency by jerking you off infront of his assistant.

It was getting to that familiar point where your hips began to chase your release and your legs felt numb. You were oblivious to the fact that Vallen's assistant was forced to watch him push you over the edge in pleasure. Vallen groaned quietly as his fingers were enveloped in warmth from your mouth, oh how he wished he could fuck you over the desk right now but he couldn't bring himself to embarass you like that. Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself finally cum; white sticky liquid painted Vallen's hands.

Heavy breathing — from you — filled the awkward tension in the room before you finally turned around to see what was happening behind your back.

"You were watching the whole time?!"

"Unfortunately."

notes ,, not too happy with this one but I wanted to get something out to you guys. Also, I'm kinda liking the assistant, maybe she'll be like a side character in the future (not as a love interest, im planning for her to be a girl kisser)

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 7: The Realization

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s enjoyed this series! When I had the idea for this, I had NO idea it was going to be as well loved as it’s become. I love and appreciate every like, follow, reblog, and ask!

As Bruce walks down the staircase and steps foot on the foyer’s marble floor, he realizes that something’s wrong. Well, he’s known that something’s been wrong for four years now, but he’s attributed it to his pile of never-ending cases, particularly the murder of the Joker and Harley Quinn, which has been eating away at him ever since that night and has occupied every corner of his mind. It’s been four years since he discovered their remains and he’s still in the dark, the only piece of evidence he has is some strange substance reminiscent of mold found within Joker’s remains.

What he’s currently feeling, however? It’s not the need to solve a case that threatens his city. It’s as if something is wrong with the manor itself, like there’s something missing. Something that he’s never paid much attention before but has always known is there, and now that something’s wrong, he can’t help but rack his brain for what it could be.

As he tries to thinks, he walks to the kitchen to find a snack (something pre-made, Alfred’s permanently banned him from ever cooking in his kitchen ever again) when he hears voices. Three voices, to be precise, and they’re definitely amused by something. As he gets closer, he can make out what they’re saying.

“I can’t believe he of all people would have this,” Tim says, an obvious smile intertwined in his tone.

“Hey, we’re all free to do what we want in our spare time,” Dick responds. “And if anyone in this house has earned spare time, it’s Alfred.”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do stuff he likes on his time off,” Tim quickly counters. “I’m just saying that I never would’ve expected him to be into stuff like this.”

“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian, the third voice, interjects. “Pennyworth is a man of refined taste. For him to indulge in this childish entertainment is entirely unexpected. Only mindless buffoons would subject themselves to this drivel.”

“Hey,” Time exclaims, offended. “I happen to enjoy this ‘childish entertainment.’”

“My point stands. Once again, you prove your inferiority and poor breeding, Drake.”

That’s when Bruce decides to step in before a fight can break out in the kitchen (again) and enters, all three of his sons, who are crowding around something on the kitchen island, turning to him.

“Hey, B,” Dick says with his usual smile adorning his face.

“Hey,” Tim adds, glaring at Damian.

“Hello, Father,” Damian says, not sparing a glance at Tim and a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Hello, boys. Is something wrong? I heard something about Alfred.”

“No, we just learned something amazing,” Dick answers, practically buzzing with joy. “You’ll never guess what Alfred’s into!”

This certainly catches his attention. He’s known his faithful butler his entire life and likes to think he knows everything about the man who raised him after his parents were killed. To find something out about the man he didn’t know before is something that’s definitely worth his attention.

“What,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The three of them part, revealing a laptop on the granite top. More specifically, it’s Alfred’s laptop. It’s strange enough that the man who takes the care of his kitchen as gospel would leave something like his laptop out in the open (especially since he’s always on their case about snooping on each other’s personal lives), but what really blows his mind is what’s on the screen: the menu for what appears to be a video game. It features what appears to be a derelict ship floating in space with soft music playing in the background and several options on the lower part and what he’s assuming is the title on the upper part: Salvage Rights.

“Alfred plays video games,” he asks, completely bewildered at the discovery.

“That’s what I said,” Tim exclaims. “I mean, I think it’s great if he wants to do that. I just didn’t expect him to be a gamer.”

“Don’t group Pennyworth in with your group of pathetic mouth breathers who don’t know what is fiction and what is reality.”

“So, what’s it about,” he asks, trying to stop a fight from breaking out in the kitchen that will net all of them in trouble.

“I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, but from what I can tell you, it take place in the future after the sun imploded, forcing several fleets of ships to flee to a nearby star cluster, but only a few planets in the cluster can support human life naturally and several of them hold valuable resources, causing a war between three different factions to break out for control over the cluster,” his explains excitedly, making Bruce smile at the sight of his third son acting like a young man his age should. “You play the captain of a prospecting vessel that salvages derelict ships and during a salvage of a ship that dates back to before the sun imploding, you find something valuable that could determine who wins the war.”

“How absurd,” Damian mutters. “That story is utterly ridiculous. Whoever wrote it should be ashamed.”

“Who should be ashamed, Master Damian,” Alfred asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Whoever wrote the story for this absurd game you are apparently fond of,” his youngest son retorts.

“None of us thought you were into video games, Alfred,” Tim adds.

“I wouldn’t say that, Master Timothy, but I know its creator and I know he worked very hard to make the game you see before you. It makes me so happy that he finally achieved his goals and I want to do my part to support him. I hope he gets all the acclaim and recognition he rightfully deserves deserves.”

“Whoa, you know who he created Salvage Rights,” Tim asks, mesmerized. “Who?”

“It’s someone you all know: Master Y/N.”

Y/N? All of a sudden, he realizes a mistake he made earlier: Tim isn’t his third child, Y/N is. Wait, when was the last time he talked to his firstborn? Hell, when was the last time he talked to you? Wait, what do you even look like? How old are you?

This starts a cascade of realizations: he’s never celebrated your birthday. Or Christmas. Or even had a gala for you like all his children got to welcome them in his family.

“Y/N’s a video game developer,” Tim asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, that’s because none of you have ever had a conversation with the poor lad,” Alfred retorts, his look of disapproval returning. “I never knew it was possible to not say a single word to someone you’ve lived with for years, but you showed me such a thing was possible.”

Bruce looks to his sons and upon seeing their expressions, he knows that none of them have talked to you, either. This definitely doesn’t bode well for them. Or you.

“Well, we should go talk to him,” Dick pipes up, trying to stay upbeat, but he’s obviously upset at this realization. He moves to leave the kitchen. “Is he in his room?”

“His room isn’t in the family wing,” Alfred responds, stopping Dick’s stride.

That’s when Bruce realizes that he’s never seen you coming or going from any of the bedrooms in their part of the manor. If your room isn’t with theirs, where do you sleep?

“His room is on the other side of the manor,” Alfred says, as if he read Bruce’s mind.

And with that, he leaves the kitchen and all four of them follow the butler, their steps heavy and slow from guilt. Bruce’s guilt only grows as they walk through corridor after corridor, eventually replace clean and pristine for dirty and decrepit. With a manor as large as Wayne Manor, cleaning is a battle, requiring an army to maintain it, but with Alfred being the only one, Bruce told the man to leave the uninhabited wings alone and only clean them when they have guests, which Bruce tries to keep to a minimum as someone in his position in Gotham’s high society can get away with.

Have you been staying in this forgotten part for the manor ever since you came to live here? With only dust and pests for company?

After he talks to you, he intends on moving you to the bedroom next to his; it’s been empty for years and has been going to waste. When you move into that room, he’ll check on you everyday, waking you up himself and walking you down to the dining room for breakfast every morning.

“Why is his room so far from ours, Pennyworth,” Damian asks.

“Well, when he first moved in, none of the rooms in the family wing weren’t fit to be slept in,” Alfred explains. “By the time I prepared a room for him, Master Timothy came to live with us and Master Y/N said he could have that room. Every time I finally got a room prepared for him, Master Bruce had a new addition to the family. By the time you joined the family, he insisted he remained where he was.”

That stopped all further questions, leaving them to process the new information in silence.

“Here we are,” Alfred announces when they reach a door on the far side of the manor.

Bruce decides that he needs to be the one to talk to you first, so he knocks on the door.

“Y/N,” he says after knocking once. “Can I come in?”

That’s when Alfred opens the door and before Bruce can say anything, he looks inside to see not only you not in there, but your room’s the size of a broom closet compared to the rooms all of them enjoy. One thing he notices is that the room’s surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the wing it resides in; based off the lingering smell of cleaning products, Alfred must’ve cleaned it recently.

“What a hovel,” Damian remarks as they enter, looking around.

“Indeed,” Alfred responds. “This is a guest room we specifically use for guests who are unwanted.”

Those words hit Bruce harder than Bane ever could. When Damian first moved in, he complained that the size was “insufficient” and he needed more room; so, he had a perfectly good bedroom be added on to his room, doubling its size to accommodate his pets, weapons, art supplies, and whatever else he keeps in there, instead of going to you and leaving you to rot in a guest room they use for people that aren’t wanted here.

He looks over at the bed to see the painfully small mattress is definitely past its prime, worn out from years of use. The bed frame isn’t a better, either based on the fact it looks like it’ll break at any moment. He presses a hand on the mattress and winces when he feels the large indention and hears the loud squeaking.

Good god, how did you even sleep on this thing for a day let alone for years? Not only does it look uncomfortable, but it’s barely big enough to hold a child, let alone… whatever you are.

“It’s pretty empty in here,” Tim remarks as he examines the dresser. “Guess there’s not a lot of room for decorations.”

“While there were very little decorations in here while he was living here, he took almost everything with him when he left, Master Dick. Very little was left behind. He told me I could destroy everything he left behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away anything of his.”

Every second in here makes Bruce feel more horrible at how he’s treated his son. He needs to find you. Immediately.

“Where is he, Alfred,” Bruce asks, eager to find you and find some way to make amends.

“I’m afraid he doesn’t live in the manor anymore, Master Bruce. Master Y/N left us some time ago.”

Once again, Bruce feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, leaving him breathless. You moved out?

“When,” Dick asks, clearly upset.

“Four years ago. The night he graduated from Gotham Academy.”

“That’s when I graduated,” Tim realizes.

Bruce remembers that: four years ago on the night Tim was set to graduate, he and all of his children (well, all except you) were busy combing Gotham for Joker and Harley’s killer, listening in on countless criminals celebrating the Clown Prince of Crime’s demise.

Christ, he can remember that, but not his own son? He knew he wasn’t the best father in the world (despite the mug that says otherwise courtesy of Dick), but he had no idea he had failed one person so much. How much he failed his firstborn son.

“Wait,” Bruce spits out. “If he graduated and none of us were there, who was with him?”

Oh god, if Alfred says no one was with him, he actually cry in front of all of them. To know that his son had no one to celebrate his big night would drive him off the edge.

“I was, Master Bruce.” Hearing that makes him feel a bit better, but not enough to really do anything about the pit of guilt building in his stomach. The butler pulls out his phone and types on it before holding it up for them to see. “This is him walking with his classmates.”

He watches the video of you (fuck, you’re so much older than he remembers) wearing the traditional black and gold gown for all Gotham Academy graduates (he sees the usual black and gold cap has been decorated, but he can’t see from this angle), walking in line with your fellow classmates, all of them wearing caps and gowns.

That’s when he realizes that there’s no pictures of you anywhere in the manor. He instantly thinks of the last family portrait he had commissioned (around the time Damian moved in) hanging above the mantle in the living room, which has him sitting in an elegant white and gold trimmed cushioned chair in the center with a ten-year-old Damian on his right, Barbara in her wheelchair on his left, and behind him from left to right is Cass, Steph, Tim, Jason, Dick, and Alfred.

A family portrait that he treasures not including you. Right now, it feels like he can cry and throw up at the same time.

“Here’s him receiving his diploma,” Alfred says as he swipes right, displaying another video.

Sure enough, the video playing shows the headmaster calling your name (Gould, not Wayne), you walking to the man and receiving your diploma with your left hand and shaking the headmaster’s hand with your right, and walking back to your chair. Each new revelation about you makes the cavern of guilt he’s standing in even deeper; finding out that your last name isn’t his and must be your mother’s, telling the world that there’s no connection between you and him, even though half your DNA came from him.

“A staff member was taking pictures of the graduates as they shook hands with the headmaster and she was kind enough to send it to me,” Alfred says as he swipes again, revealing a picture of you and the headmaster.

He only needs a split second to commit your details to memory. H/c sticking out from your cap that he can tell you’ve decorated and e/c that must come from your mother. And that’s when he realizes that while the color is different, their shape matches his mother’s perfectly. And isn’t that just twisting the knife in his gut.

“And this picture was taken after the ceremony.”

That’s when he sees you as perfectly as he can, standing next to Alfred, who is at an event that he should’ve been at, not looking to arrest someone who killed the man who’s terrorized Gotham for two decades. Nothing happened that night, he should’ve taken the night off to see both of his sons graduate, cheering them on and hugging them after receiving their diplomas.

“Is he still in Gotham,” Damian asks, his voice even, but Bruce can tell his youngest son feels guilty, something he’s only expressed a handful of times during his stay here.

“No, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Y/N went back home.”

“‘Home,’” Dick exclaims. “This is his home!”

On one hand, Bruce wants to agree with Dick, that the manor is the only place you should call “home,” but on the other hand, he knows that with the way they treated you, he would understand why you’d want to leave him. Leave all of them.

“I’m afraid he felt differently. He told me that he’d been looking forward to going back to the home he lived with his mother. Apparently, the lack of affection and attention from his so-called family made him plan to move back when he turned eighteen, but I was able to convince him to stay so he could graduate.”

It made sense. After being ignored for years, why would you stay when you could leave? Bruce knows this, but now, all he wants is for you to move back in so he can give you all the love you can handle. He wants to have inside jokes with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on when the world overwhelms you, to take you out on quality time with just you and him.

He wants to do all the things for you that he does for his other kids. Things that he should’ve been doing for you from day one. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts only to find that you’re not only in his house, but you’re not even in his phone. He hasn’t had a single conversation with you in person, why would he think he’s had a conversation with you over text?

“Where is he now,” Bruce asks, his voice hollow and empty even to him.

Right now, all he wants is to learn where you are and try to find some way to make his transgressions up to you.

“I was led to believe Batman is the ‘world’s greatest detective,’” Alfred retorts, an eyebrow raised. “Are you unable to find your son on your own?” Bruce looks at him, making the butler sigh. “He moved back to his home in Goodsprings, Nevada.”

He didn’t even know where you came from before coming to live here. If there was an Olympic event for shitty fathers, Bruce would take home the gold in a landslide right now.

“Of course, you may have a golden opportunity to see him tomorrow night.” Alfred pulls his phone towards him, types something on it, and shows it to them again.

On the screen is a website for something called the Gamer’s Gala, a massive event held yearly where gamers go to see what new video games are planned to be released in the future and where game developers have an opportunity to win the “Golden Joystick,” a trophy given based off their game’s success during the year.

He scrolls through the website to find all the games up for awards and sees Salvage Rights by Gould Games in top contention for Indie Game of the year! He’s so excited to see you’ve found success in your passion and wants to see you walk on stage and accept the award, cementing your place as one of the greatest developers in the world.

According to the website, it’s being held in Metropolis this year due it being hosted completely by Lex Corp and that gets his blood boiling. No doubt this is some attempt to win public favor after yet another failed attempt to kill Superman and he thinks by doing this, people will forget all about whatever illegal activities he was up to his neck in. Had he known this sooner, he would’ve pulled the right to host the event out from under Lex’s feet, sparing no expense to ensure it was the biggest ceremony in the event’s history.

And of course, he’d invite you to stay at the manor the entire time, a room prepared just for you. Right next to his.

“The event is tomorrow night. I believe Batman can take one night off so Bruce Wayne can attend.” Alfred pulls something out from his pocket and holds it up to Bruce. “Master Y/N was kind enough to send me a ticket so I could be there for the biggest night of his life.”

Bruce takes the ticket and looks at it closer. According to the glossy golden ticket, it’s awarding the recipient special seating at a section of the hall reserved only for the friends, families, and special guests of candidates and offering them access to the Developer Lounge, a section of the convention center that only game developers and their guests can enter, where they can eat and drink all they want for free, all of it paid for by Lex Luthor.

When he gets back to the office, he plans on making that man’s life hell. It was bad enough that he somehow came in four years ago and undercut WE with products that he knows for certain were based off his company’s but he has no idea how Luthor was able to get his hands on classified technical specs, costing him and his company several contracts and millions in revenue for that fiscal year, but now, he’s gone and made the biggest night of his son’s life even better, something that he should’ve done.

This ticket is not way of witnessing the greatest moment in your life, but to try to repair his relationship with you.

“Why don’t we all go,” Dick pipes up, looking very uncomfortable. “We should all be there with for him. You know, as a family!”

“I agree with Greyson,” Damian adds. “We should all be there.”

“I’ll get us tickets,” Tim says as he pulls out his phone and begins to type on it.

“I think Master Bruce should go alone,” Alfred says, making all of them look at the butler. “This is a very delicate situation and if the entire family goes, it could make things worse. For now, allow your father to speak to your brother by himself.

The pained looks on his boys’ faces makes him feel even worse than he already does. He knows that they want to make up for how they treated you just like him, but right now, he’s not even sure how you’ll react seeing him, let alone the entire family.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home so they can show you the love you deserved back then. And then, they’ll all be one happy family.

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as he carefully tucks the ticket into his coat, treating it like a precious artifact and not a flimsy piece of paper. “I have to get ready.”

As he leaves, he makes a note to give the butler a pay rise. Not just for giving him the ticket meant for him, but for helping him realize his mistake and for being there for his son.

As he heads to his room to pack a bag, he makes arrangements to stay at a penthouse as the hotel connected to the convention center so he can get there quickly and hopefully get to talk to you before the award ceremony. He also purchases your game in order to have something to talk to you about, hoping you’ll be touched by him supporting your career as a developer (he’ll also carefully analyze the game to high heaven in hopes of learning more about you) and starts drafting plans for Alfred to prepare your new room, allowing the butler to buy anything and everything he thinks you’d like, from furniture to decorations.

He briefly thinks about calling Clark and asking him to monitor the convention hall for any trouble from Lex, but quickly decides against it. Y/N is his son and he’ll protect him with his own hands, not relying on the Kryptonian. If Lex tries any shit during the ceremony, he’ll pull every underhanded trick in the book to buy out Lex Corp only to raze it to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood.

Whatever it takes, he’ll see you accept the trophy you so rightly deserve and after that, he’ll talk to you fact to face and beg you to forgive him, take you into his arms and apologize for not being the father you needed him to be. And after that, he’ll bring you back to the manor, where you’ll stay in a room next to his, where him and your siblings will keep you company from day in to day out. And when he brings you home, he’ll commission another family portrait that’s large enough to take up an entire wall and has you in the center with all of them surrounding you.

At last, they’ll be the family you deserve. The family you should’ve had when you became a part of their family.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bellethesleepypotato @exactlynumberonekryptonite @fantasyhopperhea @bronanitf @ellaprime7 @justwannabecat @ratchetprime211 @bunbunbread

[louiseolivier]

08x06 Delulu

Tevan are at the Italian restaurant. The Hot Waiter flirts with Buck. Buck's kinda oblivious. He unintentionally flirts back. Buck pays this time, and inside the folder with his card and receipt is Hot Waiter's phone number. Buck is a little weirded out because he feels like it's obvious he and Tommy are on a date.

For the most part, Tommy watches Buck and Hot Waiter's interaction in amusement. He jokes whether Buck is he's going to call him, and Buck is taken aback. Then Tommy gets serious.

"We haven't really talked about the kind of relationship you want."

Buck's confused. "What does that mean?"

"Just that there's more than one way to be in a relationship. I've been in a couple that were open."

"Open?"

"We were allowed to sleep with other people."

"I know what it means, Tommy. Is that what you want?"

"I want you to be happy. I want you to know I'm amenable to that if you're interested. Truth be told, Evan, the most important thing is that you're in my life, whether we’re together or not. 

Suddenly, the Ironside siren goes off in Buck’s head, and he’s spiraling.  

Tommy clasps his hand and looks at him like he’s the goddamn sun, moon, and stars. “Think about it. It’s not like it’s something you have to decide today.”

Cue Buck, going to Bobby. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck, but I’ve seen you two together. I don’t think breaking up is something Tommy is even thinking about. The other stuff...you should talk to Tommy. Be upfront. Be honest. 

Cue Buck, going to Maddie. “Buck, he kissed you while you were still covered in boils. I saw that with my own eyes and wished I hadn’t. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but he does seem very committed to you. And to be perfectly honest, the open relationship doesn’t sound like something he’d suggest out of thin air. Maybe you said something...”

“You’re blaming me? Come on, Maddie! You know damn well that’s not how I roll. I slept around, yeah, but not while I was in a relationship - and don’t you dare bring up Taylor! Besides, an agreed upon “open” means consensual. I just - how did I miss that this was something he was interested in? Why would he wait six months to bring it up?”

A sound of disgust emanates from the corner of the call center's breakroom, and the Buckley siblings' heads swivel to its location. Josh is sitting at a table, sipping his coffee and rolling his eyes. “You sweet naive baby bi.” He gets up from his chair, sidles up to Buck, and eyes the donuts he brought for Maddie. “I don’t suppose there's a Bavarian cream in there?”

“There’s a jelly,” Buck says. 

“But jellies are my favorite,” Maddie complains. 

“Too bad. I’m about to help your chaotic brother out, so I deserve it.” Josh bites into the donut and gives an appreciative moan. “Oh god, I haven’t had refined sugar in three days. How I missed you.”

“Back to me, please,” Buck says with a whine.

“Look, it’s pretty simple. There are only two types of guys who want to open up a relationship after the six-month mark. Assholes carrying multiple red flags or..”

“Tommy’s not an asshole,” Buck tells him firmly. 

“Considering he’d whittle a rocking chair if you asked him to, I’d agree. Buck, my guess is he’s scared. He's worried that if he doesn't give you a free pass, that you'll get bored with him and leave.”

“That’s so stupid,” Buck cries in dismay. 

Maddie lays a supportive hand on his bicep. 

“It is,” Josh agrees. “But just because your man is a solid L.A. nine doesn’t mean he’s not carrying around a lot of insecurities. Talk to him. Tell him. And hey, if it all blows up on you, send him my way. I’d love to be that man’s shoulder to cry on.”

Buck shows up at Tommy’s door. Tommy is supposed to come to his after finishing his laundry, but Buck doesn’t want to wait that long. “Hey,” Tommy greets him with that scrunchy smile Buck loves so much. 

“I don’t want to have sex with anyone else,” Buck tells him as he barges through the door. 

“Oh-kay,” Tommy says, closing the door behind Buck. 

“Do you want to have sex with other men?”

Tommy crosses his arms, and his head tilts towards the ground. “No. I’ve come to learn that’s not an ideal situation for me.”

Buck scoffs. “Then why suggest it?”

The buzzer on the washer goes off, and Tommy moves towards it to switch out the load. “I don’t know. I’m pretty used to you flirting with everyone.”

“You think I flirt?” 

“Evan, you told the waiter you liked his chinos while eyeing his ass. Most of the time, I think it’s cute how you rile people up without realizing it, but then I have a thought like, what if Hot Waiter would be a better match for you? So I panicked and threw out that suggestion.” 

“Jesus, Tommy. For the past six months, my brain has been consumed by nothing but you. Yet you think I can be swayed by some guy in a comfortable pair of pants? I only want you.”

“I know. I do. You prove that to me every day. I didn’t suggest it because I don’t trust you.” Tommy tosses one of Buck’s hoodies into the dryer and starts it. He can’t keep eye contact with Buck for more than a few seconds, and he looks paler than when Buck first arrived. Tommy’s also picking his middle fingernail with his thumb, and that’s Tommy’s tell that he’s feeling overwhelmed. “Uh, so like, I’m in this for the long haul. I think you’re it for me, Evan, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve settled or...”

“I love you,” Buck tells him with a certainty he doesn’t think he felt even eight hours ago, but it’s the god’s honest truth. “Just seeing you makes me feel so full I could combust. ”

Tommy’s eyes are glossy and he blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He finally locks eyes with Buck. “Loving you has been living in the back of my mind since...I honestly don’t know how long. I’ve been trying to temper my expectations because I haven’t been super successful in relationships. But then you started leaving clothes here, and suddenly you’ve infiltrated my life like no one else has been willing to. Next thing I know, I’m at a funeral for a long dead cowboy. I watched you embrace the memory of a forgotten man, and I realized I couldn’t love you more, Evan. Boils and all.”

Aaaaand that’s it. I’m tapped out.