#my dogs not supposed to be eating bugs but maybe i should just let him >:( /j

[hatt0ris]

i love that no animal in my house has enough brains to hunt bugs for me

[roscgcld]

HEADCANON + VARIOUS || daydreaming!reader turning into a toddler

request: Okay you know the turn into toddler on but with bimbo reader, she'd be so cute ❤️❤️as a toddler and they have an excuse to use the leash because children are fast

note: this was originally going to be an ask, but then I decided to write headcanons for our daydreaming!reader - so this was born lmaoooo. i hope you enjoy cx you can find all the original prompts for this under the hashtag daydreaming!reader on my profile!

also - yuta is going to be in this because let’s be honest - stressed yuta is lowkey really cute lol

pronouns: she/her

daydreaming!reader masterlist

let me say this - when she was first turned into a child, it was absolute chaos

the worse part was it happened mid battle - one moment she was charging to the curse with her katana in hand, next thing the rest of them knew she had shrunk and she was freefalling from the jump she launched herself into

yuji, who was the closest to her, widen his eyes before he ran towards his senior and caught her before she landed on the ground, holding her against his chest as he stares down at the girl with wide eyes; who blinked up at him as well

“Y-Y/N-senpai?” yuji mutters in shock as he stares down at the young girl in his arms, who just smiles back before she reaches up to cup her tiny hands on his sweaty cheeks. 

“doggy.” 

after the curse was exorcise, the rest of the first years gathered around yuji, since they were supposed to accompany their senior out to exorcise a curse in a nearby hospital

how are they going to go back to school carrying a child with them? 

they did - and the first person they ran into was gojo, who waited by the door to greet his students; only to freeze when he saw the child staring back at him in yuji’s arms

“wait a minute,” gojo mutters as he pulls his blindfold down as he narrowed his sapphire eyes at the young girl, who just blinks and smiles up at him in delight. “holy shit - it really is her.”

the first stop they visited was ieiri, who held the giggling child in her arms after running a few tests. “it’s not permanent - it’s a cursed technique. I can’t reverse it since it’s not an actual wound, so the best remedy is waiting.” she stated as she bounced the young girl in her arms, who was busy playing with her hair in her tiny hands. “my guess is that it’ll last no more than 24 hours.”

24 hours wouldn’t be that hard, right? i mean, they already take care of her on the daily - what’s another 24 hours?

well - the fact that she runs on pure energy. fushiguro looked down as he pulled out a tissue from the packet he was holding in his hands for one second, and when he looked up again, she was missing 

it took the three first years and their tall teacher a solid 10 minutes before they found her

she was curled up in inumaki’s arms, the cursed speech user just cuddling her without a care in the world while maki looked mortified that her already handful classmate was now a child

and she hates children with a burning passion

 after getting the brief rundown by their teacher, they just watch how the little girl, who was now set down on her feet, ran about their legs as she giggles to herself; as if she was trying to traverse an endless maze. “what an idiot.” 

the next person who saw her was yuta, who returned from a meeting with the higher ups

he had entered the campus, just in time to see gojo running past with a child on his shoulders, giggling to her heart’s content

that sight alone was confusing to yuta, but when gojo noticed him and came over with a grin, yuta got a good look at the child resting on his tall teacher’s shoulders

and then almost past out from the shock of seeing his fellow classmate blinking down at him, her small hands gripping onto gojo’s hair as she smiles down at him

after a cup of tea and a lengthy explanation, yuta watches the young girl play with the strap of his weapon’s bag that resting on the ground, making a noise 

“at least now we have a reason to use the child leash.”

“..now that you’ve mention it - we should break it out.” maki stated simply before she got up and left, leaving yuta to explain to the confused group of people how him and maki had purchased a children’s leash to use on her whenever they go out to tokyo so they never loose her

they never really had a chance to use it; but since she is the way she is now, it was probably the better option then running around chasing her

so now there was maki, with one end of the leash wrapped around her hand whilst the other was wrapped around the young girl’s wrist as she ran about 

feeding her was an absolute pain - it took a solid 30 minutes to get her eat half of the food since she kept getting side tracked and forget to chew her food. so it just sat in her cheeks as she played with yuta’s fingers or tried to catch a flying beetle 

poor maki got the scare of her life when the little girl gifted her a squirming beetle that refused to crawl off her uniform; her grossed out expression evident as she flicked it off with her fingers

nobara and yuji were laughing their asses off as gojo recorded the entire incident. inumaki was biting his fist as he shook with laughter while yuta grinned and told the confused girl how she shouldn’t be picking up bugs at random unless she ‘wants them to give you an owie’

for once they had a relatively normal day - cloud watching, flower picking, feeding the koi fish in the pond on the school grounds, playing tag in the huge field. she forced everything to do the more mundane somewhat normal things as well, forcing everyone to take a well deserved break 

by the time the evening arrived, many of the students and gojo were laying on the grassy field of the school compound, watching how the sky slowly started to bleed with different shades of reds and oranges as the sun started to set

“is it bad that i enjoyed this day?” fushiguro muttered as he closes his eyes, one arm covering his eyes whilst the other was petting his Devine dog that he had summoned to track the little girl down earlier 

she had escaped to go and pick flowers in the wooded area, almost giving everyone a heart attack when they couldn’t find her. 

“nah, it was nice.” maki said with a tired hum as she watches the clouds, her head laid against panda’s side whilst yuta laid on the ground beside her, watching the clouds with a content sigh. “who knew it took a brat to make us relax.” 

said brat was fast asleep in nobara’s side, who cuddled the sleeping girl close. “well, whatever the reason may be - i enjoyed it a lot, and it will be fun to look back on in the future.” 

somehow they managed to clean her from all the sweat and dirt before tucking her back in her room, and somehow had to read a few bedtime stories after she whines and refuses to go to bed until she was read to

by the time the others went to bed, they were pretty much dead to the world - having the best night’s sleep after having been worked to the bone by one child 

when the next morning arrived, and maki saw a sleepy Y/N walking about tiredly as she tried to fill her bottle of water from the water fountain, she just sighs in relief

to the point where she goes over and hugs the sleepy girl, who just yawned and hugged her back with one arm while the other filled her bottle of water

“good morning to you too, maki.”

when she saw all the videos and pictures of what happened yesterday, she just smiles over at the tired students, clapping her hands softly in delight

“at least you guys had fun, no?”

her simple answer had everyone pausing as they shared a look with one another before they all just agreed, since yesterday was definitely fun 

maybe having her as a child wasn’t that bad after all

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[nagipops]

KONOHA ELEVEN IN A ZOOM CLASS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, hinata, kiba, shino, neji, rock lee, and tenten

WARNINGS: mentions of food

NARUTO

definitely has forgotten that he was unmuted multiple times

or his camera was accidentally turned on

you could just see him sprawled on his bed with a bowl of instant ramen on his lap and a blanket wrapped around himself

EARRAPE SLURPS!! rip headphone users.

sometimes he notices that his camera’s turned on and you can see him freak out and scramble to turn it off

but he accidentally unmutes himself too and so you just hear panicked yelling

his device topples to the floor with a loud crash and he screams so loud istg

the next thing you see is naruto’s face hovering over the camera in fear just before his camera turns off and he’s muted again

the teacher is so confused?? naruto should i call an ambulance

but when he’s not eating in class, he’s sleeping in class

too busy sleeping to leave the zoom at the end of class so he’s always the last one left in the meeting besides the teacher

always asks sakura what happened during the zoom and she is FED UP

SAKURA

enters the waiting room 15 minutes before class is actually supposed to begin

spends the next 15 minutes rearranging her work area, making sure she’s prepared for the day

sits properly at her desk with her hair smoothed down and her face positioned perfectly in frame

if no one else has their camera on, she’s the only one with it on

seriously, she ALWAYS HAS IT ON

and she never leaves the screen somehow

diligently takes notes, uses the “raise hand” feature every two minutes to ask a question

sometimes it can get a bit annoying, even for the teacher

but she almost always gets perfect marks

acts like in angel in class, but after class... no promises, naruto!

SHIKAMARU

this man can barely stay awake during missions, so during a zoom? HECK NAH

shikamaru is literally me,, half asleep during lessons but somehow gets amazing grades

everyone’s either pissed at or envious of him (especially naruto)

obviously does not have his camera on

and rarely ever unmutes

uses the chat feature to answer the teacher’s questions but this man is basically asleep so its so incoherent

“shikamaru, what is a hyperbole?”

in chat: “a hyeprbole is a exsaggerayed phras,e”

teacher definitely thinks he’s cheating on tests

INO

either a) daydreaming about boys or b) checking herself out in the zoom camera OR c) secretly fuming at sakura’s know-it-all behavior

the two girls definitely compete to see who can raise their virtual hand first

"ahem, ahem- sensei? could i answer this question?"

her voice gets all sickly sweet and sakura HATES IT

the two of them totally got caught insulting each other in the private chat

100% the type of student to rewrite her notes after classes with various markers and colored pens and pretty fonts and patterns and whatnot

loves doodling flowers in her notebook during boring lessons!

CHOJI

another strong contender for the Loudest Student award!

not on purpose though, he just forgets that space bar = unmute, and plays some jumping game in another tab (like the no internet dino game!)

also,, rip headphone users

c r o n c h munch munch munch

are you kidding this man's chews are loud enough in person, but with a HEADSET?! hoo boy.

has conked out several times during class

just imagine the name Choji Akimichi with a profile picture of a bag of chips light up with the green box around it with a thunk

the teacher and class is so confused

but then you hear mumbles of "barbeque... chips... barbeque..."

and you realize that the man fell asleep onto his keyboard

he sleeps through the rest of class

HINATA

shy bb has never ONCE turned on her camera

the only time she's ever unmuted was to say "here" during attendance on the first day of school

if the teacher ever takes attendance again, she just uses the raise hand feature

what if naruto-kun thinks my voice is ugly? what if i accidentally turn on my camera? what if the teacher thinks i'm not paying attention? what if-

poor baby is too busy worrying about showing herself on zoom to actually pay attention

actually gets good grades though and her classmates wonder if she’s even there

her zoom pfp is definitely just a purple google “H”

KIBA

has the CUTEST zoom pfp hands down

it’s a selfie of him grinning cheerily with baby akamaru

100% has his camera on the whole time to show off his pup

he loves seeing everyone’s faces on screen melt and aww at the lil big doggo

sometimes akamaru just walks in front of the camera and blocks kiba from view and you just see a massive wall of white fur on screen LMAO

even though kiba’s muted, you can see him and akamaru bickering about who knows what

or even play fighting,, these two get into full on BRAWLS during class

just imagine akamaru shoves kiba into his desk and his camera crashes to the ground overturned so you see the ceiling and the occasional dog tail wagging in the corner

seriously, can the teacher ever catch a break with this class?

the answer is no.

SHINO

his zoom pfp is just a tick.

a singular tick

totally answers questions in chat with proper capitalization and punctuation

shikamaru’s improper answers tick him off

“A hyperbole is an expression that is greatly exaggerated. They are used in order to create emphasis.”

has never unmuted in his life either

he’s so unfazed by everything that goes down in class that it’s funny

if anything the slightest bit RELATED to bugs comes up during class, in 0.00238 seconds this man has an entire essay about them posted in chat, almost like he had it copied and READY to paste

everyone's definitely shocked that there’s actually a human listening behind a tick profile picture

NEJI

a very diligent note taker

seriously, this man writes like a printer; perfectly even handwriting that looks like a font, a million words per minute

everyone asks him for his notes after the zoom because they’re so neat (especially naruto, to neji’s dismay)

he gets excellent grades since he’s so organized and focused

just wishes the zoom would be over so he can work alone in peace

really hates unmuting so he often gives one-word answers in the chat

“Yes” “47” “Present” “Goodbye”

has used a zoom reaction ONCE in his life and he has never wanted to crawl into a hole and perish more

it was a complete accident,, mans was just trying to open the chat to type in his answer, but in a cruel twist of fate he clicked on the 😂 reaction

and he just sat there for ten excruciating seconds in complete and utter shock and shame for ten excruciating seconds as he prayed for it to disappear

tenten would never let him live that down

ROCK LEE

Zoom Reaction Enthusiast

😂😮👍🎉❤️ 24/7

naruto accidentally unmutes himself? 😮

choji falls asleep on his keyboard? 😂

neji answers something correctly? 👍

tenten received the highest score in class? 🎉

akamaru appears on screen? ❤️

unmutes whenever he needs to, but he thinks the little emoticons are so silly and cute

otherwise, he is EXTRA FOCUSED and EXTREMELY DETERMINED to learn all of the things

he’s the first to unmute whenever the teacher asks if the class can see the screen share, hear them correctly, etc.

never takes his eyes off the screen!! he could be missing out on important information

I FEEL LIKE,, i feel like he would totally keep his camera off when he’s muted but whenever he unmutes he would also turn his camera on

so when he says a quick “yes!” his camera turns on but before his camera can adjust properly to the light he mutes and turns his camera back off so his face is just super dark for a split second LMAOOO

tell me im wrong

TENTEN

exasperated by this entire class

thinks her and neji are the only sane ones in the class and it’s true

wants to tell sakura and ino to stop competing and just focus on learning, since they’re the only other girls in the class besides hinata

plus she’s just fed up with all the lazy boys

takes great pride in passing every assignment, test, or exam with flying colors

teachers pet, but the quieter type who stays after every zoom and sends lots of emails regarding assignments and grades and whatnot (unlike sakura and ino who rub it in the teacher’s face)

doesn’t like helping other people besides neji, girl’s got a soft spot for him since they have a mutual respect for each other

but if you’re a handsome prince, maybe she’ll help you out!

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[amesstm]

dates with the boys

Characters: Kita, Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Kageyama, Kenma, Kuroo

✨Kita✨ and you decide to go pick some blueberries at a local farm. The date was very peaceful, especially since he made sure you wore bug spray so you weren’t attacked. By the end of the date, you wanted some pictures, which Kita hesitantly agreed to do for you. “I’m not good at this like Suna is,” he warns as he lifts the camera to photograph you. You giggled, “It’s fine. I just want to remember this moment.” After several shots of you, he decides to pose with you when a nice old lady offers to take pictures. When you look back on the pictures the next day whilst eating some delicious blueberry cobbler that Kita made, you groan, “Of course he’s also good at taking pictures.”

✨Atsumu✨ has begrudgingly remembered the time that you said his singing was bad for a while now. “Tsumu, maybe you should just stick with volleyball.” Being the competitive person that he is, he drags you to karaoke to show you that his singing has - at least - improved immensely since the last time he cried out “Sweet Caroline.” So, was his singing better? Shockingly, it was. Once Atsumu sets his mind on something, the need to succeed consumes him. When all the scores showed up for accuracy, he was jumping around from beating you. With arms crossed, you turn away from him, “Hm, sounds like someone isn’t getting kisses.” Atsumu proceeds to sing “Break My Heart.”

✨Osamu✨ has had a cooking date in mind that he has wanted to do with you since you two met. When you two are at his house to make bento boxes for a picnic, Atsumu makes sure not to disturb the peace unless he wants Osamu to murder him. “Am I doing this right?” You ask as you hold up the onigiri to your boyfriend. He smiles and pecks your forehead, “It’s as perfect as you.” Once you two are done, you and Osamu walk to a nearby park to eat your own creations. After you’re done eating, his head is resting in your lap so you decide to braid his hair. If anyone were to see this, they would think that Osamu was a completely different person, but he only ever shows this side of him to you.

✨Suna✨ plans a low-energy date, where you two stay in, order pizza, and watch Netflix. No, you two don’t do any funny business because - again - it’s supposed to be a date. If anything, that’d be for later. It’ll take you a few minutes to figure out what you want to watch, though. A series that your friend recommended caught your eye. “Can we watch ‘Don’t Fuck With Cats’?” Suna looks at you like you’re crazy, “Do you want me to cry tonight?” You give him a smile that he can’t resist, so he sighs and gives in. For the first time in a while, Suna shows an abundance of emotion to you. “Yeah, don’t mess with cats,” he mutters with conviction and anger. He holds you even closer during this documentary-series.

✨Kageyama✨ insists on taking you to the Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory. He’s so excited about it that he does a little dance because he can’t keep still. You think it’s so cute that you go just for him. As expected, Kageyama is in heaven as he looks at all the cutely-packaged milk-based products. “Do you have just milk?” He asks the worker, with sparkling eyes that you can’t possibly deny him. “Uh- yes, we can do that for you!” The worker says quickly, trying to maintain her composure. Once he has his milk, Kageyama is in a childlike joy for the rest of the day. “It’s so creamy!” He comments happily. You buy a whole pack for him, just so you can see that same smile more often.

✨Kenma✨ takes you to the arcade, which he insists won’t become a competition… but it does anyway. “You’re just choosing all of the PVP games!” You whined once you saw that Kenma won again with a KO. Although Kenma doesn’t want to admit it, he knows that he has the advantage since he’s a pro-gamer. “Do you have any suggestions, then?” With an evil grin spreading across your face, you drag him towards Dance, Dance, Revolution. He frowns at you with a glare, “How could you do this to me.” You laughed, “Let me just have one win!” He obliges you because he’d willingly get sweaty for you. After all, you made his heart race regardless.

✨Kuroo✨ insists that he’s a dog person, but he still pulls you to a cat cafe. “Y/N, look! He’s so cute!” He tries his best not to pick up the cat as you were instructed not to do that. Still, his hands are all over the cats, petting them everywhere. The cats seem to like you better, though, as they pounce away from the clutches of Kuroo to curl up next to you. “This isn’t fair!” The tall man pouts like a child. You chuckle, “I thought you liked dogs better? I think the cats can tell, too.” He sits next to you and pets the cat that rested itself on your lap, “Please love me.” “Here,” you say, lifting the cat so that it’s on his lap instead. “You need Sir Whiskers more than I do.” Seeing your tall, goofy boyfriend act soft makes your heart warm.

©amesstm on tumblr // pls do not plagiarize, steal, or repost my content w/o permission!! BUT likes & reblogs are highly appreciated :)

[five-rivers]

Auction

For @skellagirl

.

“Hey, Jazz,” said Danny, leaning into Jazz’s room, one hand on the doorknob, the other braced against the jamb. “Wanna help me mess with Vlad?”

“Do I?” responded Jazz, pushing her chair back. “What’s the plan?”

“Well,” said Danny, “Vlad left one of his creepy spy bugs in the kitchen again, and I was thinking we could have a loud conversation in front of it about how Mom’s going to that charity bachelor auction.”

Jazz frowned. “But she isn’t. She’s married.”

“Yeah, that’s the point. Vlad’s delusional.”

“Ah, I see,” said Jazz. “Yeah, let’s do it. Should we write a script?”

“Maybe just a backstory. I work better with improv.”

“I’ve seen your fights, Danny. You definitely do not.”

“That’s cold.”

.

Maddie was not here, and Vlad was going to commit murder. Just a little bit. The victim was already half dead, after all.

His teeth squeaked as he forced himself to smile at the vapid, crowds of rich single women below him. He could not, unfortunately, back out now without losing quite a bit of face. The only consolation he had was that he had already communicated the need to eliminate the wealthier bidders, so that Maddie’s bet would win, to his ghostly servants. If only he could get away from the crowds and duplicate himself to take care of the others…

But that would be suspicious too, wouldn’t it? He had to let at least a few bids go through. And some of them had to be high, otherwise he’d never hear the end of it from his ever-aggravating business associates.

Curse them and their golf-playing buffoonery. He didn’t even like golf. It took so long.

When his name was called, he went out onto the stage like a man expecting to be hung. Why did anyone think this kind of thing was a good idea? This was humiliating. Ninety percent of the people bidding were after his money one way or another, he was sure.

Not like Maddie.

He sighed and refused to make eye contact with anyone in the crowd as the auctioneer called higher and higher values. Finally, the number stopped climbing, and Vlad lowered his gaze to see who, exactly, he would have to waste a day with.

Well. At least it wasn’t someone who was after his money.

.

“So,” said Harriet Chin, not even bothering to hide the recorder she held in her hands, “Vladimir Masters. Do you have a statement regarding the Whole World Mission scandal?”

“Harriet,” said Vlad, “please, we’re supposed to be on a date.”

“Yes, and I get to decide our activities. And I want an exclusive interview with the elusive Vlad Masters. That’s what I paid for, after all.”

“And here I was, thinking that it was my ravishing, good looks.”

Harriet snorted. “Maybe for someone who didn’t see you and Jack in that ridiculous hot dog eating contest. Although,” she leaned back appraisingly, “you did fill out since then. Actually… I’m sort of surprised at how early the bidding topped out. Was the room filled with bitter exes, or is there some scandal I don’t know about?”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “I confess, I’m as surprised as you.”

“Now, that’s a lie,” said Harriet.

“Excuse me?”

“You still have that tell from college,” said Harriet, smugly.

“Excuse me? I do not have a tell.” If he did, he had to identify and get rid of it as soon as possible.

“You do,” said Harriet, still grinning.

Vlad weighed the pros and cons of simply overshadowing her and making her lose the day. She’d probably claim that he drugged her or something. Curses.

He sighed, heavily. “At least let me take you out to a restaurant instead of,” he flicked his fingers at his surroundings, “just standing here.”

“Oh, I don’t know. A person’s house can tell you a lot about someone. Didn’t your Wisconsin home blow up? What was up with that, anyway?”

“I released a statement regarding that some time ago,” said Vlad.

“Wasn’t it also raided by the government?”

“That was a misunderstanding. And I also released a press statement about that incident. It shouldn’t take you more than, oh, an hour to look it up online.” This wasn’t entirely true. Once it was out of the immediate spotlight, Vlad had spent quite a bit of money to have the whole story scrubbed. “Dinner? I am paying.”

Harriet looked thoughtful. “Alright, but I’m picking where we go.”

“Of course,” said Vlad, graciously.

.

He regretted everything.

“Harriet, I know Amity Park is small relative to, say, Chicago, but, really… There are good restaurants here.”

“Yes,” said Harriet, “but I wanted to eat here.”

Vlad grimaced and tried not to look at the booth where Daniel and his juvenile delinquent friends were sitting and filming him with a handheld camera.

“Of course,” said Harriet, apparently unbothered by the stickiness of the booth bench and the screaming of children in the other part of building, “if you wanted to go back to a more private setting so that we could continue our interview—”

“No, no, this is quite alright. I said I would get you dinner, and here we are, eating…” He glanced at the menu with derision. “Food.”

He could, just barely, call it that. Even if he’d discovered during his short-term ownership of the chain that certain of its condiments could be used as mid-grade explosives. He didn’t know how Daniel could stand it.

(On the other hand, he had to admit he was enjoying this. Just a little. He so rarely got to match wits against a competent adult.)

(Maddie didn’t count—He was trying to woo Maddie, after all. They were practically on the same side.)

Valerie Grey, looking intensely weirded out, brought their order to their table. Harriet, unperturbed by the grease leaking through the paper wrappings, began to sort though the offerings for the cheap chicken burger she had ordered. Vlad, meanwhile, stared down at his sandwich.

Someone had put an ectoplasm antagonist in the dressing. He glared at Daniel. He didn’t know how the boy had done it, but he was going to pay for it. Along with setting him up for this ridiculous ‘date.’

“Aren’t you going to eat?” asked Harriet.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, stop being such a snob. I remember you and Jack living off of instant ramen.”

“That was then, this is now,” said Vlad.

.

“Seems to be going well,” said Tucker, adjusting the lens on his camera, “all things considered.”

“Kind of surprised they’re here of all places, though,” said Sam.

“I think Ms. Chin’s just trying to get a rise out of Vlad, to be honest.” He’d stopped looking at them, though, instead frowning at the kitchens. “I think Valerie put something in his food. Do you think we should do something?”

“Not really,” said Tucker.

“Yeah, I’m going to choose Valerie every day over the old rich white guy who wants to kill your dad,” said Sam. “Even if she has some slightly homicidal tendencies regarding you.”

“Fair enough,” said Danny. “Want to stalk Vlad and his date until they drive home?”

“I don’t have any other plans,” said Sam, easily.

“Same,” said Tucker.

“Cool,” said Danny.

.

“Are you frequently stalked by teenagers?” asked Harriet.

“No,” said Vlad.

“And isn’t that Jack and Maddie’s son?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh ho, there’s a story there, isn’t there?”

“A private matter, I assure you.”

“When you’re as wealthy as you are, Vlad, nothing’s a private matter anymore.”

“I fear I must disagree with you on that count. Where are we going, anyway?”

“It’s a surprise,” said Harriet. “Unless you want to give me that interview.”

“Ugh. No.”

It was a miniature golf course. Of course it was. He could never escape from the accursed ‘sport.’ At least the miniature version was marginally more tolerable. Or it would be, if Daniel and his pack of friends weren’t able to follow them in.

… Or maybe they wouldn’t follow them in. The trio veered off suddenly right before the exit. Vlad smirked. Not enough cash for the little badger to get in, hm?

This assumption was disastrously disproven when a ghost fight tore through the Astroturf that covered the third hole.

Harriet was very nearly thrown into the pond, but Vlad managed to catch her at the last moment.

She was blushing.

Butter biscuits.

.

“Well,” said Harriet, “that wasn’t the interview I wanted, but it wasn’t a total waste of time. Same time next week?”

“Fine, fine, whatever you want,” said Vlad. Then what he said caught up to him. “No. One date. One date was all you paid for.”

Harriet pretended not to hear him.

[britishassistant]

I accept your adopted reporter!Yuu au, but what if they ran away from the families and got adopted by Crewel's sister. Like, Yuu just gets overwhelmed with being starved and abused by Miss Rosehearts, always being pitied for not having magic like the rest of the Kingschoolar family, having to basically be bellow the Asim all the time, or be prepared to die in order to protec Malleus Draconia. So they just run away. It was such a cold night when they left their "home". They were shivering, trembeling, maybe from the cold or fear they didn't know. In the midlle of nowhere they heard a loud bark, then the sound became higher and for some reason it multiplied, the fragille child just gave up after hearring it, laying on the ground accepting their fate, when the dogs got near the kid they closed their eyes, only to be licked multiple times in the face, confused they made a decision to open their eyes. The dogs were just puppies, they signed in relief, the adorable fluffy balls started guiding the to a house, where there was a woman and her husband frantically looking for their dalmatians, when they look at the entrace of their house and see their small angels with a shivering child they immediatly take them in. Since the previous family didn't even bother to search for them, the lovely couple just adopt the child.

(Sorry for the long ask and bad grammar, English is not my first language)

-Lz

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

(And don’t worry about it! Your English is fine! I love long asks anyways!!)

And oooh, there’s so much potential here!

Especially for Divus coming to visit one weekend and just spiderman pointing at experiment #Y26 sitting in the center of the living room in a puppy pile, like “how did you get here?!?”

While little Yuu is just bug-eyed at being pointed at by a stranger, hugging a puppy close.

Heartslaybul:

Yuu tries to get Riddle to come with them when running away from the Rosehearts household. Riddle refuses point blank. Running away would be against the rules. He can’t break the rules. Yuu breaks so many rules and gets so hurt...and Mother was so angry when she realized they’d broken the rules together on Riddle’s birthday. They have a fight about it, with Riddle screaming that Yuu should just go if they’re going, or he’ll tell Mother! That’s the last conversation they have as Rosehearts siblings.

Yuu sends back letters, constantly coaxing Riddle to join them, telling him he’d love the puppies, that he could eat all the strawberry tart he wanted, that there’s always room for one more in the Radcliffe family. Mrs. Rosehearts found the tenth one while Riddle was reading it. She tore it up, confiscated all his others, and destroyed any new ones that came in, telling Riddle to forget them, that he had no sibling. It’s telling that when kidnapped by Royal Flush, Yuu recognizes Trey first before figuring out who the supervillain now holding them hostage is. Riddle for his part is hardly able to keep his masquerade together when he realizes who was the one involved in the destruction of his precious fertilizer.

It’s a very awkward reunion, not helped by Chen’ya deciding to ‘save’ them at the most inopportune moment and dropping them off a balcony. Yuu makes an effort to stick their nose into Royal Flush’s schemes and get kidnapped by his minions more on purpose. They refuse to leave him behind again. Riddle won’t say he’s grateful for the clumsy attempts to make up lost time, but he’s more irritated when other supervillains keep kidnapping his sibling and putting them in danger, especially when none of them are suitable for Yuu!

Savannaclaw:

It doesn’t help when everyone tells Yuu that they’re not cut out to be a Kingscholar. Yuu tries their best, tries so hard, but it always feels like it’s not enough, never enough, when even Leona-nii tells them it’d be better if they weren’t in this family, if a powerless human like them just disappeared. So they follow his advice. It hurts them badly when no one even comes looking, when their ex-parents send them a letter later in life forbidding them from attending the celebration of Farena-nii’s first child, their nephew, saying they’ll have them arrested for trespasssing if they don’t turn down their oldest brother’s invitation.

They try to stay away from news of the Kingscholars, only exchanging brief letters and emails with Farena-nii, Leona hasn’t even replied to the first letter they sent him. They do well, becoming a fine reporter and shining on their own merits and hard work. They get embroiled with Royal Flush, becoming far more entangled with a supervillain than their common sense says is wise. And then they get kidnapped from Royal Flush’s lair by a rival, have a selfie taken with this new villain’s minions.

They recognize Leona-nii’s drawl as they’re set down in a cheap chair. He at least looks as rudely surprised as they do when the bag is pulled off of their head again. A very tense reunion, with accusations about abandonment and cowardice and not replying to letters being thrown back and forth. Ruggie, Jack and the other minions very much wish they weren’t in the room for this. Then Royal Flush and his Card Guards show up to rescue Yuu, and Leona decides now is the best time to play the overprotective big brother, much to Yuu’s exasperation.

Scarabia:

Yuu wouldn’t run from the Vipers just because they were constantly being told they were lesser. They could endure that, even as it slowly broke them. But if they failed to protect the Asim they were supposed to guard with their life? If they couldn’t stop him from getting hurt, and were deemed a failure as a bodyguard, not as naturally clever and cautious as Jamil and his sister? Then they would run, for fear of what the Asim would do to a failure of a servant who couldn’t fulfill their duty.

Jamil’s the one who tells them to, and has Kalim create a diversion so they can get out. He burns every letter they send back without reading them—they’re proof his sibling is alive, but also a potential way for them to be tracked down and cause problems. Yuu recognizes Snake Charmer within a minute of being kidnapped, because who else would do that tongue thing he always did when he was winning at mancala when they were kids? And then they realize to their horror who that means Water Boy is. Cue furious muffled whispering between the pair about why he would rope Kalim into becoming a supervillain, he can’t keep a secret to save his life, that it wasn’t his idea, Kalim just invited himself along for the ride, you know how hard it is to get him to quit when he’s set on something!

Kalim is just really happy to see Yuu-chan again! They’re alive! And okay! And look good! And not dead! He’s really, really glad they’re not dead! And feel so nice to hug now! Jamil, don’t they feel nice to hug now! Jamil feels many, many alarm bells going off in his head, and it’s not just because of all the other supervillains who are sniffing around his sibling.

Diasomnia:

The one family that lets Yuu go willingly and stays in touch with them after they end up with the Radcliffes. Lilia is upset when comforting Yuu about their persistent nightmares about being incapable of protecting Malleus, cleaning them up when the stress makes them physically ill and strains their previously excellent relationship with the young master and the other guards nearly to the breaking point. It’s breaking Malleus’ young heart to see his ‘younger sibling’ push themselves like this, only to hate themselves when they fall short. He wishes they could go back to before, when he’d walk around with them as a chubby little baby in his arms and all they worried about was whether he was mispronouncing the gargoyle terms in his architecture books.

Maleficent is also sad when Lilia reports that he doesn’t think Yuu’s cut out for the type of work the Silver and Sebek have taken to with such ease. She’s fond of the child, so she personally searches out the best family she thinks will take care of Yuu while being safe enough for Malleus to visit if he wants to. The Radcliffes are an unexpected gem, relatives of an old acquaintance who already has a vested interest in Yuu’s survival and who knows better than to cross her. Plus Malleus and Yuu both seemed very taken by the puppies, which scored major points.

Malleus, Silver, Lilia, and Sebek will often visit Yuu on weekends and certain holidays when they’re growing up. Anita and Roger need to stop Maleficent trying to pay for everything when Yuu’s growing up. Yuu is initially concerned when Malleus becomes a supervillain, especially when he takes the childhood nickname they gave him as his supervillain name, but does their best to support him. Malleus, for his part, is having the time of his life, enjoying his late night walks and tea parties with his sibling now they’ve both grown up. But his colleagues’ interest in the little reporter make him and his closest lieutenants worry about Yuu, especially when the love potion and marriage contracts come into play...

[misfit-fics]

Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

all rights reserved © misfit-fics

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

[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.

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 29 – Truth Will Out

Chapter 1     Chapter 28

Marinette slowly, carefully closed the bedroom door. She waited next to the door with her hand on the knob for a few seconds just to make sure Rob really had fallen asleep and wouldn’t start crying again.  Hearing no noise for a full minute, she let out the breath she had been holding in case the sound from her breath woke him up.  

She gently removed her hand from the knob and silently padded toward the library, which had quickly become their regrouping center, much to Jason’s annoyance.  However it was right across the hall from the room their family was staying in while at the manor and it had almost immediately been annexed as a place where she and Dick could relax and talk to people while still being close enough to hear the twins when they woke up.  For quick naps and showers while the twins were sleeping, they used Dick’s room, which was just a little further down the hall.  But the library offered a place that was more open to the whole family.

“And thank you two for not meowing or trying to sneak past me,” she cooed at Kismet and Alfred as she walked.  All of the animals in the house had taken a liking to the twins and more often than not, Marinette or Dick were woken up by one of them scratching at the door to get into the bedroom so they could curl up with one of the twins or lay down at the base of one of the cribs.  

As long as they were quiet about it and didn’t wake up the twins, Marinette thought it was absolutely adorable.  However, those rare times when their scratching or barks or meows woke up the twins, Marinette would send them a glare that had the dogs running with their tails between their legs and the cats… well, not really reacting at all until Marinette got the water bottle.

“He sleeping?” Dick asked looking up as she came in and chuckling at the line of animals trailing behind her.

“Welcome home.  And yes. We have a little bit of time before they wake up again,” she smiled at him, slumping onto the couch next to him.

He hugged her into his unbandaged side, chuckling into her hair.  “You want to take a nap?”

Marinette made a vaguely groan sounding noise and pushed away from him just enough to angle her head up to look at him with a sleepy smile.  “I’ll do that during their next nap.  I think I should eat during this one.”

“Do you want me to talk to Alfred?” he offered, half getting up as he spoke.

“I can make something for her,” Adrien offered, waving him down.  “Or let Alfred know so he can.  You can rest if you want.”

“Thanks, Adrien,” Dick gave him a grateful smile. “Actually, I think I’m going to shower. Get the Academy off of me.”

Marinette pulled her shirt away from her body and eyed it suspiciously.  “Yeah, I’m not sure when the last time I took one was.  Maybe I should do that during the next nap time instead.”  

Dick chuckled and pulled her closer.  “You know, you could always take a shower with me…” he whispered into her hair.

Marinette blushed deeply and pushed his face away.  “Yeah, not there yet.  Food, sleep, nap, shower.  Those are my priorities right now.  And I’m extremely negotiable on the shower part.”

“Two of those were the same thing, Bug,” Adrien shook his head.

She narrowed her eyes and pointed at him as if challenging him.  “All four can be the same thing if I try hard enough.”

Dick rolled his eyes but laughed in spite of himself. “You’ve been hanging out with Stephanie too much.”

Marinette scoffed.  “If anything that’s Alya’s influence…” her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh God.  They can never meet.”

Adrien scoffed this time.  “Alya got that from you, not the other way around.  You and Steph are the danger duo.  Although you, Steph, Cass, and Alya… I’d be afraid for Gotham.”

Dick shuddered at the thought.  The sheer chaos of it.  “Just make sure I’m not on duty that night, please.”

Marinette giggled and rested her head on his shoulder. “How was the first day, Cadet Grayson?”

“Eh,” he shrugged.  “Boring.  Introductory stuff.  Not that I’m expecting it to get better.  I’ve known more about police procedure than most officers since I was eight.  I can already pick out some of the cadets who joined as a power play.  I also recognized a few people I bus…” he looked over to Adrien with a grimace, “…who I know I’ve seen on the news after the bats busted them.  Which means either the person in charge of vetting entrants didn’t do their job, ignored the records, or someone on the force expunged their records.  I already let Gordon know,” he gave out a tired sigh.

“You sound like you need a nap,” Marinette poked him in the cheek.

He hummed noncommittally as he caught her hand and brought it up to his lips for a kiss, causing Marinette to blush again and bury her head in his shoulder.  If he kept doing little things like that, she didn’t know how much longer her resolve was going to last.  But it had to last.  They had to wait until they figured out their issues.  They couldn’t rush it.  

“Shower first, then we’ll see what the twins allow for,” he smiled at her.

“How long will Clover and Hood sleep?” Adrien asked too innocently for his comment to not be intended to get a reaction.

“I hate you,” Marinette grumbled into Dick’s shoulder, but made sure it was loud enough for Adrien to hear.  Adrien laughed hard at her reaction but immediately tamed it down after the glare Marinette shot him.  If he woke up the twins, she really would hate him.

“Clover and Hood?” Dick asked unsure, looking back and forth between Adrien and Marinette.

“Lucy, Lucky, Four Leaf Clover, Clover.  Robert, Rob, Robin, Robin Hood, Hood.” Marinette elaborated into his chest.

Dick stared at her for a few seconds, letting the logic train sink in.  He glanced over to Adrien in time to catch his smug grin.  He leaned down to whisper in Marinette’s ear.  “We can’t let him call him after Jason.”

Marinette gave him a flat look.  “You explain it without telling him who you are,” she whispered back, working hard to keep the smirk off her face.  She knew Adrien knew who Dick was, but Dick didn’t know and was still trying hard to keep it a secret.  Adrien knew that too, which is why he was having so much fun pushing his buttons.

“You can’t call my son ‘Hood’.  You can’t go around yelling ‘Hood’ at a kid.  People are going to think he’s a thief or that you saw Red Hood,” Dick finally reasoned.  Marinette pouted at how he handled it.  It was entirely too quick and well thought out.  She was hoping for something more dramatic.

Adrien pouted at him.  “Fine.  That makes sense.  I’ll come up with something else.”

“Good.  That was subpar effort, K…” she suddenly woke up slightly and blinked a few times. “Uh… sorry.  That was a terrible effort, Adrien.”  Adrien gasped dramatically, pulling his hand to his chest in mock offense.

Dick laughed.  “Okay, I’m getting up.  You’re going to have to find another warm pillow.”  Marinette mumbled something that might have been an objection, but made no move to stop him.  He scooted out from under her, kissing her on the head as he left.

Adrien was trying to get Marinette to tell him what she wanted to eat and keep her awake as he was leaving.  Dick shook his head and wished him good luck with that.  When Marinette crashed, it was hard, a bit like Tim after a bender on a case.  A tuba couldn’t wake her up.  And yet, the slightest whimper from one of the twins would.  He shook his head.  Must be a hormonal thing.

He let out a deep sigh as he made his way to his bedroom to take a shower.  He wished they were going to take a shower together, or a nap together… or something more, but they weren’t there yet, and he knew that.  They were still figuring out some lingering trust issues. Marinette trusted him, but not when it came to not lying about something he thought was important, which was fair, because that was something he needed to settle with himself.  

He was so used to deceiving people to cover his vigilante work and to do what needed to be done, he was having a hard time remembering he didn’t have to do that with Marinette.  It had been ingrained in him that he was the leader and therefore took the brunt of the decision and all the worst of the consequences, so he forgot he was supposed to be sharing responsibility and decisions with Marinette for the rest of his life.  The things he was doing were the way Batman would do them and he wasn’t Batman.  He didn’t want to be Batman.  That wasn’t his dream.  His dream was having a loving family, preferably the one he had already started.  He wanted to be Lucy and Robert’s father.  He wanted to be Marinette’s husband, someday.  He had to change how he thought to make his dreams come true.  He had to retrain his brain and it was taking time.  

He turned on the shower and started to undress before remembering he left his shower things in the bathroom off the family bedroom. He groaned, dreading the idea of going back into that room while the twins were sleeping.  Lucy was like her mom, she could sleep through most things, except the animals making noise.  Robert however inherited his father’s tendency to wake up at the slightest sound.

He anxiously looked around for something else to use, but there wasn’t anything in his bedroom or bathroom.  He groaned again, turned off the shower, and padded back to the family bedroom.  He paused outside the room to prepare himself and plan how he could be as quiet as humanly, or possibly even more than humanly, possible.  His whole body went rigid when he heard talking in the room.  Nobody was supposed to be in the room.  Marinette had left it with just the twins.  She would never have left so calmly if anyone else were in it, even a family member.  

“Come on, Sugar Cube.  This is offensive.  Look at this long nosed monstrosity.  It should be a cat.  I should accidentally destroy…”

Dick stopped listening at the word ‘destroy’.  He tensed for a fight and burst into the room with a yell.  The two figures hovering over the cribs squeaked in surprise and the elephant stuffie Marinette had made, which seconds before had been in the black one’s hands… paws? In the black one’s grip suddenly evaporated in a stream of dust and ash.  Dick froze in surprise unable to make sense of the image in front of him.

Marinette and Adrien rammed into Dick in their rush to check out what was happening.  The push broke Dick of his paralysis.  He moved between the floating figures and the twins.  “Who are you?  What do you want?”  He quickly picked up Robert when he started fussing at the sudden noise.

“Plagg… Why is there a pile of ash on the floor?” Marinette glared at him.

“Pla… you know what these creatures are?” Dick whipped around to stare at her.

“Yes,” Marinette admitted with an annoyed glare at Plagg.  “Let’s get Robert back to sleep and talk in your room.”

Dick looked at her incredulously.  The red figure obediently flew through the wall into the next room, but the black one stared at him as if challenging him.  Adrien silently moved over to it and grabbed it by the tail to fling it out the door with a huff.  Dick slowly turned to Marinette, staring at her questioningly. She gave him a strained smile and gently took Robert out of his arms.  She laid him in the crib, gently rocking him in his swaddle in the crib and turned on the mobile above his bed.  It took a few more minutes, but Robert was soon sleeping again.  She motioned out of the room with a comforting smile.

Dick glared at her, but followed her to his room as requested.  She carefully closed the door behind them.  As soon as she got to his room she glared at the black figure.  “Plagg, what the hell just happened?”

“Hey!  It’s not my fault!  Pompous circus boy was supposed to be in the shower in his room.  Instead he’s sneaking around like a fox and scared me.”  He flew toward Dick but Adrien grabbed his tail again to stop him. “Talk to the annoyance, not me,” he grumbled crossing his arms over his chest.

“I am talking to the annoyance,” Marinette gritted out.

“That hurts, Bug,” he responded in a mock hurt voice.

“Not as much as it’s going to.  No camembert for a month,” she growled.

“A month!”  His eyes suddenly were as large as the rest of him.

“Are you kidding me right now?” she exclaimed loudly. “You’re objecting to a month? You’re lucky it isn’t six!”

“Bug, have mercy on a poor, innocent, protective cat,” he bent his knees and brought together his hands as though he were praying in front of her.

“It was my nursery!  And my pompous circus boy you just exposed yourself to,” she threw her hands up in the air in frustration.

“Hey!  I have no idea what’s going on here, but I’m fairly confident I’m justified in objecting to that,” Dick interjected.

Marinette looked over to him as if just remembering he was in the room.  She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “It would have been so much better if this happened after a nap.  I…” she collapsed on the edge of the bed.  “I don’t know where to start.”

“You knew those things were here.”  It was a statement not a question.

“Yes,” she confirmed with a short nod.

“And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” he questioned, skepticism lacing his voice.  This wasn’t some small thing, some small secret.  These were magic, probably, creatures roaming around his kids and his home.  Creatures Marinette knew about and never discussed with him.  Creatures Marinette exposed his children to and never discussed with him.

“You didn’t think your nightly activities were worth mentioning when you were missing half the pregnancy?” Marinette raised her eyebrow with a pointed look.

Dick grimaced slightly.  “Okay, point taken.  But I remember getting yelled at for keeping it from you.  I remember you breaking up with me for keeping it from you and you were keeping something just as big from me.”

“No, you got yelled at for lying.  We broke up because I couldn’t trust you after all the lies.  I was asking you questions and you were lying in response.  We were still finding out about each other, figuring each other out, deciding how much to trust one another.  I told you before, you were and are allowed to have secrets and that I had some too. This is one of them.”

“Okay fine.  I don’t know that I agree with that logic, but okay.  Let’s shelve that to come back and bite us later.  But can someone explain…” he motioned toward the floating figures.

“Well you see…” Adrien started, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think he means me,” Marinette interrupted.  The exhaustion seeping out of her voice and listless posture.

Adrien looked between the two of them.  “Oh, right.  Why don’t I…” he looked around uncertainly.  “Why don’t I leave you to it then?”  He turned to look at Marinette sincerely.  “Unless you want me to stay around, just in case.”  He eyed Dick suspiciously.

“I’ll be okay, Kitty,” she assured him.  “We were going to have this conversation soon anyway. This just pushed it forward by a few weeks.”

“I’ll stay, just in case,” Plagg insisted, floating up in front of Dick’s face with a malicious grin.

“No, you won’t.  Not if you’re going to threaten my babies’ father,” Marinette chastised sternly.

“Fine!  No threatening him.  I’ll just stay… and keep Tikki company,” Plagg offered petulantly.

“No.  I don’t want either of you here,” Dick objected.  Plagg looked affronted but Tikki gave him a look of understanding and started tugging him toward Adrien.  “I don’t want creatures with unknown powers, actively destroying things, to be around my children.”

“Why don’t I take them both tonight?  You guys should be pretty safe here in the manor.  If you need us, we’re just a phone call away,” Adrien assured her.  He opened his pocket for the kwami.  Tikki zipped over to him but Plagg held his position, attempting to stare down Dick. He was fuming from the suggestion that he would ever hurt the twins.  He’d been with the twins more than Dick had and yet Dick was kicking him out!  The unmitigated gall!

“Thank you, Adrien,” Marinette answered quietly.  “Plagg,” she spoke up.  He kept facing Dick but his ears twitched indicating he had heard her. “Plagg, thank you for everything you’ve done.  Let me speak to Dick alone please.”

Plagg huffed at her.  “I don’t wanna.”

“I know,” Marinette moved over to him and scratched between his ears.  “But, Adrien’s right.  We’ll be safe tonight.  You’ve been on babysitting duty for seven months straight.  You can take a break for one night.”

Plagg huffed at her again, still refusing to move. Tikki flew out of Adrien’s pocket to tug on him.  “Come on, Stinky Sock.  Let them have some time alone.”  

Plagg finally acquiesced, but sent a final glare to Dick.  “Fine. But if he hurts her…”

Tikki pushed him again.  “He won’t hurt her.  Come on protective cat.  You’re causing more damage than good.”

Adrien let out a relieved sigh and nodded to them. Just before leaving the room he turned and gave a pointed look to Marinette before shifting his eyes down to his ring with a nod.  Marinette smiled at him with an understanding nod at his wordless permission to divulge his identity.

She slowly turned back to Dick.  She shifted anxiously from foot to foot, her entire body tense. This was not the way she wanted to tell him, but then again Dick hadn’t gotten to dictate the terms of either of his reveals either.  Neither of them got to prepare for the deep, meaningful conversations.  But, even if timing might be against them, she had faith they could do this.  They had always been able to communicate, excepting the lying portion, they had always been able to talk through their concerns and worries.  She just had to breathe and be honest.  They could do this.

Dick studied her carefully trying to read the situation from her body language.  She was nervous, but not at all about the creatures.  She was completely at ease with them despite the stuffie incident. And Marinette was one to catastrophize. She was more likely to anticipate the worst than just blithely accept it.  Which meant she is thoroughly familiar with them and their powers.  She was completely confident they did not pose a threat to their children.  No, that wasn’t what she was nervous about.  She was nervous about him and how he was going to react to the situation. He sighed and leaned against the desk. Their lives were a complicated mess. “Let’s start slow.  What did you mean he’s been on babysitting duty for the last seven months?” Dick finally asked.

“Plagg has been with me constantly since the pharmacy incident,” Marinette answered quietly.  “That incident scared Adrien and the kwami a lot.  They wanted Plagg to be with me too in case something else happened.  I wouldn’t transformed while pregnant, especially not with Plagg, but he could do other things, like let Adrien know where I was if I got kidnapped and lead him to me.”

Dick stared at the door Adrien had left through, the clues slowly starting to click into place.  “Because Adrien is Chat Noir.  That’s why Chat is so protective of you, because he’s Adrien.”  Dick’s mind was racing through all the implications, missing the way Marinette winced in response to his wrong assumption.  He looked over to her as something else clicked into place.  “When Chat said he had you bugged, he meant that thing.  That that thing…”

“A kwami named Plagg,” she supplied.

“That… Plagg was with you,” he finished.  She nodded.  “And that creature… Plagg, how dangerous is he?”

“Depends,” she bobbed her head to the side in a wishy-washy motion.  “Kwami are the physical embodiment of concepts.  Tikki is the embodiment of creation and good luck.  Plagg is the embodiment of destruction and bad luck, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  I haven’t discussed it with Adrien, but I’m pretty sure the destruction of the Court of Owl base where they were holding me, was Plagg.  I don’t think Adrien could have done it that completely.  It had to have been Plagg.  They are linked to physical objects that a person can wield, when transformed their power is a lot more controlled by the wielder.  But Plagg has control too.”

“He accidentally destroyed a stuffie,” he gave her a pointed look.

She waved off his concern as she rolled her eyes.  “That wasn’t accidental.”

“You can’t know that,” he said cautiously.  She may be comfortable with having a creature like this around his children, but he definitely wasn’t.

“If it was accidental, there would have been a whole lot more damage and no ash trail.  The destruction would have been complete.  When he accidentally destroys things, entire cities disappear.  Entire orders of animals become extinct.  That was a controlled, focused use of his power. Likely because Robert was showing a bit too much attention to that stuffie rather than the black cat stuffie.”

“Okay…”  He eyed her suspiciously, not entirely convinced.

“Also, I should warn you.  Intentional use of his power to punish can result in destroying a cult’s stronghold or… sinking a city,” she gave him an overly wide, tense smile.

“Like Atlantis,” he nodded in realization.

“Like Atlantis,” she confirmed.  “Apparently he still holds a grudge too.  Your friend Garth, he’s Aqualad, right?  He has to be.  Plagg was acting up all night when I met your friends.  Every time Garth came near me, Plagg was pitching a fit.  I couldn’t figure out why and he wouldn’t tell me.”

“That’s what that noise was!” Dick gasped.  He had thought something was going on.  Some emergency at the office because her purse had been buzzing constantly.  “I thought your phone just kept going off.”

“No, just Plagg being overprotective and not wanting him near me.  I had to keep hitting my bag.  I’m surprised your friends didn’t think I had muscle spasm problems,” her eyes widened in embarrassment remembering that part of the night.

“Okay… so that’s why you had Plagg, because Adrien asked you to keep him.  Is it the same for the other one Teachi?  Did her wielder ask you to keep her too?” He cocked his head to the side, a slight furrow marring his brow as he tried to force the pieces together.

“Tikki.  No.” She looked away nervously and ran her hands up and down her arms to try to calm herself down.  She knew there was no reason to be nervous.  Dick wouldn’t reject her or be mad at her for having been a hero.  But he was the first person outside of her team to know.  The first new person who would find out and she could never take it back and that was terrifying.  She had to be absolutely sure of him.  

But she was.  She was sure about him.  She wasn’t sure if they would end up together.  She wasn’t sure if they would get married and have more kids, but she was absolutely sure she could trust him, at least with this much.  And she was absolutely sure she didn’t want to keep it from him any longer.  “Tikki is with me because she’s my kwami.”

“Your…” he stared at her.  His eyes suddenly widened in surprise.  “You’re Ladybug!”

“I was.  That’s why Adrien was so protective.  We were partners.  When I said we were always together during attacks, that’s why we were.  When I said we died for each other… that’s why we did,” she finished quietly.

“You were a hero,” he breathed out, barely above a whisper.

“I was,” she confirmed again with a slight laugh.  He had the most adorable gob smacked expression on his face like it was the last thing he would have ever thought, which, with the magic glamour, might be the truth.

“Oh my God!” He slapped his forehead and fell onto the bed next to her.  “I was wearing a Ladybug shirt when we first met.  You were wearing a Nightwing shirt!”

“Yeah,” she giggled.  “You’re where I was a few weeks ago.”

“That’s why Adrien and that… Plagg kept calling you bug. I thought it was because you are so small.” Marinette scowled at him but he was so caught up in the revelations and puzzle pieces finally coming together.  “But that didn’t make sense that Plagg would call you that until now.”

He turned to her, a glint of awe in his eyes.  “I remember seeing video of you in action.  I checked out Ladybug and Chat Noir after you mentioned them when we first started dating.  You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” she bowed her head graciously.

“I mean you still are.  I didn’t think I could think you were any more amazing than I already did, but you were so impressive in action.  Your moves and your confidence, your compassion and your creativity.”  He looked away to process the new information and come to grips with his newfound admiration.  He thought through some of the fights he’d seen footage of, some of the moves he remembered.  She had been absolutely amazing.  Everything he admired about Marinette but amplified because of the extreme situations. He shook his head at the fights he remembered until one of them caught in his head.  One incredulous, ridiculous, asinine move.  “You jumped into a dinosaur’s mouth!”

“I… did,” she grimaced at the reminder.  Not her best moment, but it worked.

“Oh God.  No wonder you and Jason hit it off so well.” He shook his head at the thought of the two of them fighting together.  Jumping into a situation relying on luck and determination to get them through.  They would fit far too easily together in a fight.  “Oh my God, the rest of the family is going to go insane when they find out.  Wait,” he looked over to her with a questioning look, “were you planning on telling them?”

“I… hadn’t decided yet, but I don’t think so.  I thought I might eventually tell them about being Multimouse or the dragon, but not about Ladybug.”  Dick frowned slightly.  If anyone could understand being a hero and weighing normal life with that life, it was them.  They could understand her in a way few others could.  “It isn’t that I don’t love them and trust them it’s just… you know our villain, Hawkmoth?  He wanted our miraculous because combined, it gave him a wish.  One wish that could rewrite reality.  Could destroy a continent, or a planet, could bring perpetual wealth, or health, could make one immortal or bring someone back from the dead, but at a cosmic price.  I just… I don’t know.  If your brothers knew of that power.  If your brothers lost someone and knew all they had to do to get them back was take the jewels and make a wish, but if they did there would be a price.  Do you think they would restrain themselves?  Or do you think they would find a way to sneak them away from me and Adrien to make the wish, whatever the consequences?”

Dick stared at her, a concerned frown on his face. She was right.  He knew she was.  If they lost Bruce again, he had no doubt Damian would do anything to bring him back.  If Tim ever lost Kon…  If any of them had a child that was lost…  He massaged his forehead trying to ward off the migraine he knew wanted to start with all this new information bombarding his brain.  

“That’s why I took so long to tell you.  There’s so much damage that can be done.  I’ve never… we’ve never… neither of us has ever told anyone else.  The core members of our team know, but nobody else.  There’s six people in the universe who know who we are… now seven.”  She looked at him gravely.

He took a few deep breaths and eyed her apprehensively, letting the seriousness of the situation settle over him.  Finally he nodded in agreement.  “So we don’t tell the family.  Is there more I should know?”

“If we’re going to stay together, yes.  But I don’t know if I’m ready to go there yet.  Things only Chat… Adrien knows.”  She studied him carefully for a moment before one side of her mouth quirked up a bit.  “I’ve had it drilled so thoroughly into my head that I can’t let anyone know, it feels strange to be able to be honest with someone else.  I’m glad you know.”

“I’m glad I know too.” He moved closer to her and cupped her face, gently stroking her cheek.  “I can’t wait until we both know all of each other’s secrets,” he whispered, slowly leaning toward her.

Marinette smiled.  “You have more secrets to tell,” she whispered back with a teasing smile.

“So many.” He nodded, his eyes focused entirely on her lips as he leaned closer still.  “I’ll make some up if I have to.”  He smirked at her eye roll.  He was close enough now that he could feel her breath fanning out across his face and she wasn’t backing away.  She wasn’t pushing him for space and that fact alone was making his heart soar.  

He was just about to close the gap when she quirked her head to the side and sighed.  “That sounds like Lucy, which means Rob will be up too.”  She gave him an apologetic smile and moved to go nurse them.

Dick let out an exaggerated sigh and fell back on the bed. He suddenly shot up as a thought occurred to him.  “He knew I was Nightwing and Jason is Hood when he suggested the nickname for Rob.”

Marinette laughed at the offended look on his face. “Oh, definitely.”

“That bastard.  I’ll show him.  I’ll introduce him to Wally as a punishment.  He’ll never be able to get another word in again.  Hey, wait up.”  He jumped up and rushed over to her, slinging his arm around her waist and planting a kiss on her temple.  “I’ll change their diapers for you.”

Chapter 30

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin @thewitchwhowaited @redscarlet95 @jayjayspixiepop @alessialeone6997

[cdyssey]

Holiday

Summary: Grace and Frankie have a heart-to-heart after 7x03. | AO3 Link

—

Grace makes margaritas that night to celebrate Grankiekuh, the new holiday that she and Frankie just made up to celebrate the fact that Frankie doesn’t feel the need to make up holidays to avoid her anymore.

“You just squished our names together and threw the -kuh from Hanukkah at the end,” Grace accuses, chuckling. 

Light.

Playful.

Simply exuberant.

Just an hour ago, she was guzzling martinis on the couch with her ex-husband trying to figure out the quickest way to apologize to Frankie for a twenty-year-old mistake.

And now they’re planning a fake holiday together, and everything is somehow right in a world that also features her current husband sleeping in a jail cell.

“You have to admit—it has a certain ring to it,” Frankie hums determinedly. “We could be the new Shefani, the octogenarian Bennifer!”

“Well, don’t expect me to passionately hold your ass on a speedboat anytime soon,” Grace teases as she carefully measures tequila in a cylinder and then pours a little more than the recommended amount just to be safe.

“Nah,” her partner winks conspiratorially. “Just my hand across a candlelit table will do.”

And so they light a scented candle on the dining room table and drink incredibly boozy margaritas and eventually eat Del Tacos takeout that arrives half-an-hour late because the DoorDash driver couldn’t find the beach house. And Frankie laughs about Grace tearing the poor delivery kid a new one. And Grace quietly admires that Frankie still gives the twerp a twenty dollar tip anyway.

“At least he’s got a stronger constitution than Bugs Bunny,” Frankie snorts as she closes the door on yet another shell shocked human being who has encountered the wrath of Grace Hanson.

“That isn’t an impressively tall bar to surmount,” Grace replies, wrapping a fond arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

They talk, they eat, and then they talk some more when all that’s left at the bottom of the brown paper bag are tortilla chip crumbs. They talk a little bit about everything, really—the surprisingly pleasant weather these past few days, Bud’s apparent penis problem, Robert being useless at the dishes, and how delicious Del Tacos is. 

And between them, talking about everything is certainly not the same as talking about nothing.

Because even if they’re only talking about the weather or the dishes or the abysmal states of their children’s genitalia, it’s because they enjoy each other’s company enough to implicitly understand that it’s nice to just sit together at the end of a long, hard day and hear each other’s voices.

Because the little things are nice sometimes.

The day-to-day minutiae and routine of living with another person.

Sharing space with them.

Being present.

Being kind.

And in experiencing another’s unadulterated kindness, becoming whole.

When Grace gets salsa on the corner of her pink mouth, Frankie reaches over and thumbs it off with a kind of casual intimacy that was hard won between them, fought for and so lovingly, so painstakingly earned. 

They love each other.

They’ve surpassed the point where they constantly have to say it aloud.

I love you, Frankie says when she takes extra care to clean the dishes just the way that Grace prefers—something Robert Hanson never quite learned after forty goddamn years of marriage.

And I love you, Grace replies when she unthinkingly puts Frankie’s phone on charge because she realizes it’s on four percent, and her friend can’t fall asleep until she’s listened to meditative whale noises on YouTube for an hour.

And I love you, Frankie doesn’t say when she extends her palm to Grace and tells her that they should stargaze tonight because “Saturn’s vibin’ in the sky.”

And I love you, Grace replies when she threads their fingers together so snugly that their rings clink and replies—without sarcasm, without judgment, without weight, “Sure.”

And I love you, they tell each other as they slowly stagger their way out onto the deck, Grace assuming the right cushion and Frankie taking the left, arm in arm until the very last moment when it makes more sense for them to let go, to find their own equilibrium as the sea breeze sweeps gentle fingers through their hair.

The sky is star-freckled tonight, blushing purple and inky blue.

In the natural silence that follows, however, the moon and the stars and the supposedly vibin’ planets don’t particularly captivate Grace’s attention for very long, so she finds herself staring at Frankie, who’s staring off into space, her tall features bathed in amber porch light.

Something has shifted in her expression in the few elapsed moments since they’ve been outside, her thin brow furrowed, a frown threatening to tug at her lips where there had once been an easy smile. Her slender hands are clasped below her chin in a gesture that Grace has come to associate with introspective thoughtfulness, tinged with a kind of subtle melancholy that Frankie has always maintained that she detests and tries to consciously avoid. 

“Frankie… are you—?

“We only fought for two hours this time,” Frankie interrupts softly, nodding towards the outdoor dining table where the Hanson-Bergsteins had yet another disastrous brunch together. (At least no one broke a bone or got hit with a wiffle bat this time.) “Ha, that’s a new record if I’ve ever heard of one!"

But the joke doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Grace’s heart sinks somewhere beneath her ribcage. It throbs in her uncomfortably full stomach. She had naively assumed that three margaritas in a piece, the two of them could just skip the part where they rehash the day’s events and openly reflect upon them—but she should have known.

These emotional reckonings are Frankie’s chosen form of healing.

She’s always processed better aloud.

“Fighting with you is the most uninspired pastime I can think of doing these days,” Grace tells her truthfully. “I’d rather resolve our conflicts in five minutes than five hours, so we can catch Jeopardy! together without sitting on the couch in passive aggressive silence… I think we’ve reached a point in our friendship where we can do that… yeah?”

The question comes out a little more vulnerably than she would have liked.

Open-ended and hesitant, it requests an equally honest answer.

And while she knows that Frankie has no qualms about being emotionally honest, Grace also innately understands that she has chronically shied away from honesty about all matters pertaining to herself. 

(When she initially told Nick that she wanted to redefine their relationship, she couldn’t have even told herself what the hell she meant either. She supposes she wants to have her cake and eat it, too—to be in a relationship with Nick and go home to Frankie. But maybe that means she doesn’t really love Nick, that she’s just using him for the ample entertainment he provides: the romance, the easy companionship, the sex. And maybe, at the heart of that unsettling hypothesis, she’s just as much of a stone cold bitch as everyone around her seems to think. Her husband is in jail, and she doesn’t lose any sleep about it. In fact, in her queen-sized bed in the beach house she shares with Frankie, she’s slept better than she has in all the many elapsed and miserable weeks since she said, “I do.”)

“Of course!” Frankie exclaims, her brows arching in surprise. “You say tom-ay-to, I say tom-ah-to, and then we kiss and passionately makeup. That’s exactly where we are nowadays.”

“Then why do you still look like a kicked puppy?” Grace asks shrewdly, folding her arms across her chest. “Or like Sol after his supposedly well-trained dog shit in his Birkenstocks.”

“Does being marginally tipsy on tequila count as an acceptable answer?”

“Nope.”

“Fine then and damn,” Frankie sighs, waving a defeated hand around the empty air. “But don’t hold it to me if I’m not making sense, Grace. I’m thinking rabbit trails tonight. And not, like, rabbit trails of criminally-tampered-with poop, but circles and other weird thoughts that don’t seem to be heading anywhere.”

“Hey, I'm not going anywhere—I’ve got all the time in the world to listen,” Grace replies easily, and this is love, too, without ever uttering the word.

Twenty years ago, she did everything short of making up a holiday to not spend a single moment alone in a room with Frankie Bergstein.

And now, she's done everything short of divorcing her husband to ensure that they're never apart.

Frankie's eyes briefly widen in pleasant surprise at this seemingly unexpected gesture, her parenthetically enclosed mouth curving into a gentle smile—tender and sweet.

Lord, she’s beautiful, Grace thinks to herself as Frankie mulls on her next words.

She thinks this at least twice a day and chalks it up to passive jealousy that someone can look so radiant without ever really trying, by just simply being herself.

“Mm, okay... so I was just thinking about how my thing might actually be worse than yours… and you killed my son’s beloved rabbit,” Frankie says bluntly.

And so clearly!

Like she already fully believes it.

Grace blinks rapidly, not entirely computing what she just heard.

“How the hell did you come up with that conclusion?” She asks, nonplussed. “Like you said, I killed your kid’s rabbit and lied about it for some twenty-odd years. You and Sol just played an elaborate game of hooky.”

Frankie looks torn on whether to laugh or shake her head in clear exasperation of Grace not getting it.

“But the ethical jury in the sky isn’t in on me creating a religious holiday just to avoid you,” she protests with a half-smile. “Or even worse, admitting that’s the reason after all these years. I hurt you, Grace, and I don’t wanna hand wave that away just so we can watch Jeopardy! in peace. I want to check in with you and make sure you’re really okay.”

Even after many years of slowly but surely becoming acquainted with Frankie’s uncanny sensitivity to her emotions, somehow, it’s always still a pure shock when Grace is met with the unadulterated and unconditional extent anyway. She’s still unlearning Robert’s idea of emotional care, which largely involved having a stockpile of generic gifts to placate her various moods and whims.

And frankly, she’s not the most empathetic woman of the year herself.

I hurt you, Frankie said candidly and made no attempt to defend herself, to excuse her actions.

I hurt you, she declared, and it was an I love you at the exact same time.

Grace can hardly swallow, her throat a hundred emotions thick. 

“Hey now,” she eventually rasps, “don’t go all revisionist on me now. I was so fucking mean to you. We don’t play wiffle ball anymore at waffle-and-wiffle brunches because I hit you with a bat.”

“You told me there was a bee in my hair,” Frankie rubs the back of her head wistfully. 

“There totally was,” she grins painfully, “but the bat was a highly unnecessary measure.”

“Grace!” Frankie groans. “Don’t get me sidetracked. I’m trying to be real with you here—I wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination! I could be shitty to you, too.”

But Grace firmly shakes her head at this, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her rebuttal already locked, loaded, and innately known to be true.

“Not as often as I was to you, and rarely did you instigate because I’d already started it,” she insists, venom in her voice, raw and undeniable self-loathing. “If I’d been you dealing with me… God, maybe I’d have needed to make up a holiday, too…”

And even as she says it, the uneasiness in her stomach suddenly solidifies into sharp clarity and even crueler pain as she realizes what’s really been bothering her these past few days—a burgeoning feeling that she’s every bit as “harsh” and “vindictive” as Robert told the FBI lady she could be, even though she’s sworn she’s changed, even though she's wanted to be better.

God knows she's tried to be.

Because of Frankie.

Or maybe even for her.

The two reasons are interchangeable in her mind.

“I… I wasn’t like you, Frankie,” she eventually continues, glancing away so she doesn’t have to face the other’s expression—fearing confirmation of all her awful feelings, monstrously craving pity she’s sure she doesn't deserves. “Hell, I’m still not like you. The fact that my ideal marriage includes my husband being in jail more or less proves that.”

Grace Hanson doesn’t tip confused delivery boys thirty-percent after botched deliveries.

She doesn’t make up fantastical stories about magically disappearing bunnies for her kids so they believe in themselves.

She rarely apologizes for her mistakes.

And she makes a hell of a lot of mistakes.

“Robert called me harsh and often vindictive,” she chuckles humorlessly. “Well, I guess he’s got my number almost better than anyone.”

The ensuing silence following this proclamation stretches long and thin, like a tightrope strung precariously taut, and Grace is about to cave in to the temptation of looking at Frankie again when all of a sudden—

“Bullshit!” Frankie exclaims ferociously. “That’s a whole lot of bullshit, Grace Hanson.”

“Frankie, don’t defend—“

But she quickly reaches over and tightly curls her palm over Grace’s spiny knuckles, demanding her attention and getting it.

In so many years and throughout the span of them, she has been the only one to ever truly earn it.

Grace turns her head and finds Frankie’s oceanic eyes inches away from her face, storm-like in their intensity, piercing all over.

“Robert doesn’t get to use the present tense with you because he doesn’t live with you anymore,” Frankie insists when she knows she has Grace, when Grace can no more look away than a rabbit can actually disappear in a hat. “He doesn’t get to see you the way I do. And let's be honest here, I'm not sure he ever really has."

“And how do you see me?” Grace can barely breathe, only dimly aware that this is yet another needy question, one that can only engender a frighteningly vulnerable response.

Her heartbeat quickens.

She feels the exact striation of Frankie’s finger that is resting on the quarter of a million dollar wedding ring Nick bought for her in Vegas.

In the semi-lit darkness, Frankie’s sharply hewn cheeks feather themselves sunset pink. 

Grace blindly assumes it’s the humidity.

“As someone worth discovering,” she murmurs, “and by discovering, understanding that you’re a pretty darn amazing person to love beneath all those expertly erected walls.”

Frankie leans forward then and presses a chaste kiss on Grace’s head, quick and habitual, like she’s done it a hundred times before. Her floral perfume wreathes her like a warm embrace. Beneath the perfume, she smells like acrylic paint and sea breeze and strange but rich incense—complex and earthy and full of so many vibrant notes.

Heat rises to Grace’s face.

This must be the humidity, too.

“Some people don’t get that,” Frankie continues, moving back to her own cushion again, “and that’s their loss. They’ve never had to carve a pretty statue outta stone before, have never had to work on a relationship with you over time.” 

“So what you’re saying is that it takes work to love me, huh?” Grace raises a teasing eyebrow, even though she's not exactly sure that this is the appropriate time and place to make a joke. But the alternative to lightly joking is to internalize the words that Frankie just said, to truly contemplate what it means that there's at least one person in this world who'll wait for her—despite her many walls and damn them.

“It takes work to ever love anybody, really,” Frankie shrugs easily. 

It’s an unsurprisingly sage take—Frankie’s always been good at emotions and relationships and all of the other important and dauntingly human stuff—but it’s also one that gets Grace to thinking about Nick again, about his kindness and his persistence and about his dedication to wanting to make things to work.

She’s beginning to get an inkling of what it might mean that she doesn’t want to meet him halfway, kind and persistent and dedicated though the man might be.

That if she had to choose again between husband and home, there would be no contest.

There would be no hesitation.

So perhaps there are two people in the world who would wait for her, but of those two, Grace knows there's only one whom she would invite to stay.

“Happy Grankiekuh, Frankie,” Grace says, leaning her head against her best friend’s shoulder. “I like discovering you, too.”

“Well, you should! I’m a fucking delight.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Ha, never.”

But in the end, Frankie intertwines their hands together, and the silence of this action is its own unmistakable and resonant reply.

I love you.

Grace Hanson is loved.

[since-it-must-be-so]

Choujin X: Chapter 1

So I'm really excited to read more of Sui Ishida's newest manga, and I'm arriving just in time for the front seats! I don't want to let this pass without writing down my thoughts on the first chapter and possibly look at it in the future as the story progresses. You can read it here:

Having said that, please note there will be spoilers ahead!

Tomato Girl

The chapter starts with this cute little girl with that native(?) farmer-like hat, who supposedly grows big fruits (it's huge in Japan, look it up!). I think she will also be a main character since she's the first person we see. From this point I'll call her Tomato Girl. She is obviously from a rural area and is a farmer. We see her motivation is money (and that big dog... which, I think we will see in the future lol). She also wants to marry a "handsome goldilocks hubbie", lol. Wonder if this means she's going to be a love interest of the other cast? She also wants to have 9 kids. Naki and Miza, is that you?! Lol. So here, we have a girl with lofty aspirations! We shall see if any of this will happen or if it will change or if she's lying!

Also an observation - Tomato Girl is also close with her granddad, since she said she's going to the contest in lieu of her granddad (whose back was hurt). She obviously has this strong personality, standing up to the creepy bad guy, who was going to hit the old lady.

Bad Guy

The Bad Guy (since this guy doesn't have a name yet) is obviously a terrorist-for-hire. Also seems to be obsessed with beauty and elegance. I would guess his power lies in blowing things up?

I think, though, that Tomato Girl is a choujin herself, considering she didn't immediately get blown away. Plus, Bad Guy was on fire, and so was she. So, it doesn't necessarily mean Tomato Girl is already dead. She also seems to be reaching out to the Bad Guy as that scene ends.

It's later revealed that despite the plane crash, there were 200 survivors. Hmmmmmmm. Maybe they were turned into choujins?Only the hull was burned but the frame wasn't.

Tokio Kurohara and Azuma Higashi

Yes, the MC! He's notices the plane catching fire. Then, for some reason, Tokio's teacher (Ms. Bazonkas) has a weird voluptuous design. BUT, I think there's something afoot there. She might actually also be a choujin. Possibly a mentor role for Tokio? She seems to be very knowledgeable.

Anyway, going back to Tokio. He's introduced as a sixteen-year-old high school sophomore from Tsuru High. Like any high school kid, he finds studying math to be useless. We're also shown that lives in a district which has destroyed buildings. Possibly dystopian future?

We next find a girl getting harassed by a Mohawk guy and his 2 honchos. Tokio calls for someone, turns out to be Azuma. I just thought it's funny how he called for Azuma, he sounds like a police officer. Haha. But right after, Azuma is introduced, flying from a building.. a very dramatic, heroic entrance. He kinda looks like a hybrid of Haise and Armin from AOT for me. Haha. He's so cute and tiny but he's strong and is apparently the town hero. He breaks the arm of the thug, which Tokio thinks is going too far.

The girl seems to be a pretty girl, and I think she will play a role later on. She's a lot older than them, since she said she's going to an interview. She will possibly a love interest or a villain, but I think more of the latter. I just read CSM so I'm wary of pretty girls lol. Anyway, I think there's something there to link her with Azuma, considering, Azuma introduces both Azuma and Tokio but she only seems to thank or acknowledge Azuma. Tokio even says "don't mention it" even if the girl didn't even thank him, lol.

Azuma and Tokio talk about the plane crash, and it's revealed that choujins seem to abuse their power, and that the attack is kinda normal. We look at their hometown which is really wrecked. Buildings are dilapitated in an abnormal manner -- one building looks like it was done in with a circular force... They live in Yamato Prefecture which is described as an ordinary, self-governed prefecture with some areas partially destroyed. Wonder what self-governed means, but my guess is that it's kinda like a state and the national government is different altogether.

Roly-Poly

Well I never really thought of pill bugs or rolly pollies until I read this. Azuma talks about how roly polies roll around in dry areas and when they find a damp rock, they hide under it. He questions if the roly polies like damp places. And Azuma wonders if choujins are anything like roly-polies. Tokio is confused, so am I. I'm not going to make solid convictions what he means by it, but I think... what Azuma is driving at is that, roly polies and choujins DON'T like damp places. I don't know, I have no reason for this, it's just a guess. We'll see what Azuma means eventually. Haha.

It also appears that choujins are generally bad guys, since Azuma wonders why they don't use their power for good. Maybe something about being a choujin corrupts? Just a guess based on the succeeding events.

They end their conversation with Azuma thinking if he can help with the plane crash. Tokio comments, "seems noble of you" and Azuma says, "it's just a habit". Wonder if Tokio finds Azuma pretentious or if he's genuinely impressed. Azuma's answer is also quite concerning, "just a habit", a question arises if he's sincere in helping in the first place.

The Mohawk Guy

So this guy is supposed to be a funny, evil villain, now bent on exacting revenge from Azuma. Then, a guy (possibly gay guy because he is wearing a lipstick?) with a briefcase offers him an injection.

Tokio's Family

So Tokio has a bigger sister and a dad who seems to be very quiet. Not sure if that's their dad though, it wasn't clear. It's possible they don't have parents anymore and that guy is just an associate. Anyway, it appears that the sister pays Tokio's tuition and she's the breadwinner.

Tokio and his sister talk about Azuma. Azuma is apparently very smart, very athletic (proficient in judo and karate), girls love him, and that his dad is a big shot in the police. The sister questions why Tokio is so proud, and Tokio funnily admits that it's because he feels popular because Azuma is popular. A leech!

Vulture

I just finished re-reading Tokyo Ghoul and :re, and I was blown away by Ishida's art and story. To say I love Kaneki is an understatement. I think I'm going to love Tokio too! I also want to discuss the cover.

So it appears that the cover is the Tokio with an image of a vulture. Tokio is naked and it feels like the vulture is seducing him. From here, I get the vibe that Tokio might be corrupted by the power. "It's something of an affliction" is a dead giveaway. It feels like becoming a choujin or superhuman also corrupts, in a way?

Also since, there seems to be a commentary on the negative view on vultures being scavengers or "steals prey". (Though TBH I always thought vultures wait around for the predator to finish eating and then it eats the scraps??)

On the other hand, Azuma, Tokio's best friend who's mighty strong and brave (almost to a fault), is viewed as a lion by his peers. Also, an uncanny observation is the when Tokio cries about while sitting on the floor, above him is a hyena. Hyenas are known to prey on the carcasses of lions' prey.

It's almost uncanny when Tokio himself says, "I can be a lion too". But Azuma makes Tokio feel better by telling him that buzzards can fly higher than any bird -- telling Tokio to focus on the strength

But even if Tokio admires Azuma, Tokio thinks of telling Azuma when he's going too far. I think this comes from a place of concern. But maybe secretly he's also jealous?

Tokio also even tells Azuma that maybe they should hold hands so Tokio can be more like Azuma, implying that Tokio wants to be like Azuma.

Praying Mantis

Just before Flexi Choujin attacks, Tokio mentions that he bought an insect guidebook and was about to say a factoid about praying mantis near water. I wonder what Tokio was about to say? A search on the internet about praying mantis and water shows this disgusting video of a parasite exiting the praying mantis leaving the mantis to die. Ew. Let's see if this is the factoid Tokio was thinking of. If so, who's the mantis and who's the parasite? Is it Azuma and Tokio, respectively? Hmm. Also, love the insect symbolism. Throwback to Kaneki's centipede!

Flexi Choujin Attack (Johnny Kiyoshi Takeyama)

Mohawk Guy, now a choujin, is a flexi monster who's now more resistant to hits. He attacks Azuma indiscriminately with his new powers. He also kinda goes crazy... His subordinates fear his super violent side, begging him to go back to his "kinda naughty mama boy self", but he ends up snapping their heads off.

For some reason 2 injections fly up into the air?! Maybe someone tossed it. Because as Tokio brought Azuma to the water and brought him back out, he sees the 2 injections. Azuma wants to use it on himself.

Tokio hesitates to have Azuma use it but Azuma insists. Tokio remembers how Azuma saved him from bullies as a kid, and they agreed that Tokio will help Azuma beat the bad guys... Tokio gets the other injection and points to himself. Azuma says Tokio can't but Tokio insists because he feels that it's the only way to stay friends with Azuma. They also promise each other that they will have no regrets over this. This is kinda alarming for me!! Let's see what it will mean in the future.

But instead of both of them transforming into a powerful choujin, only Tokio transforms into one. He looks like a vulture, very beast-like. Looks even like Kaneki's Centipede! I think the other injection might have resulted in a bad/weak power, or maybe it's empty, or maybe Tokio didn't inject Azuma? But I doubt the last one. Anyway, Tokio's choujin look is amazing!

Can't help but feel this scene is related to the praying mantis thing... Maybe my hunch is correct? The parasite exits the mantis when near water, which is why Tokio manages to muster up some courage on his own?

We'll see!! I'm really excited to see this develop. It will be the first manga I will be able to see from the start to finish!

[theprofessionalrpthingsmaker]

Murder-y Starters (Pt. 2)

Back by Popular Demand!

(Part 1: The Original) + (Murder Family Version)

TW: murder/homicide, guns, cannibalism, torture, kidnapping, death, assassination, poison, etc. [the usual]

IMPORTANT NOTE! I am not stealing some of these from @theprofessionalpromptmaker <- I run both blogs.

Change pronouns as necessary.

“Aww! You wanna help me with my murder plot? You’re a peach!”

“I love nature walks! The sound of the birds, the scent of the breeze, the weight of the shovel in one hand and the canvas bag filled with chopped up body parts hanging over my shoulder…It’s just so relaxing!”

“I love long walks on the beach — the sound of the waves, the smell of the sea, the feel of the sand, the weight of the corpse swung over my shoulder…It’s just so relaxing!”

“Look, if I was trying to kidnap and murder you, I’d be acting far more charming and convincing. So you can trust me.”

“Should I kill them all now or do I at least have time to finish my book first?”

“He called himself a snack but I doubt he’s even USDA approved.”

“That asshole called me heart-less! But I have 10 hearts in my fridge at this very moment!”

“You are a dead man. I will hunt you like prey and then I will feed your dogs your well cooked flesh, I will turn your organs into dog chow and can it for them so they can feast on your body for weeks to come, I will give them your bones to use as chew toys, and I will make your last moments painful and excruciating and make you beg for a mercy I shall not give.”

“It’s my life purpose to help people leave behind beautiful corpses. And sometimes that means they have to die before they may have planned too.”

“I’m her maid, of course I know how to work an AR-15. How else am I supposed to keep the house clean and free of pests so she can do her important work in peace?”

“I hate to be the only friend in our group who’s down with murder. I need more friends who wanna kill people.”

“Letting a human murderer stab or harm or attempt to kill you, for a demon, is the equivalent of simping for that murderer.”

“I’m a serial killer but I’m not a yandere, so don’t compare me to one ever again. I would only kill someone who my partner told me was bugging them as a favor, not out of jealousy.”

“My girlfriend is so fucking cute and it’s annoying sometimes. Like if she batted her eyes at me and smiled and asked me to commit genocide for her, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I’m thinking of anniversary gifts for my boyfriend so I’m trying to find out the names of everyone who bullied him in high school and I plan on surprising him by gifting him their heads on silver platters. Or is that too small a gift for a 5 year anniversary?”

“Anniversary gifts? Hmm, how about kidnapping her ex who cheated on her and locking him in the basement and letting her have at him with your full arsenal of torture toys?”

+ “Family Friendly” Version Starters

“Don’t eat that, sweetie. Those are for your grandma, I laced them with arsenic specifically for her and I only have a pit big enough for her corpse prepared.”

“Sorry, it’s my mom’s birthday today, so I’ve promised to spend the whole day helping her torture prisoners for information. I know, total yawn-fest, and I’d love to join you for your murder spree, but I already gave her my word. Maybe next week?”

[barnesandco]

Eat the Rich: Chapter 1

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt, with the dialogue prompt “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing, running around with the end of the world on her his arm?” in bold in this chapter.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, memory loss and recovery, brief mentions of Bucky’s Winter Soldier days, and canon-level violence. Lots of frustrated Avengers. A bit of flirting.

A/N: I can’t decide if I want this series to make people laugh or cry, so good luck. Please comment and reblog! 

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers​!

The Avengers are confused. Perplexed and far out of their depths, they’re strewed about the meeting room with variants of displeasure on their faces. Bucky wears the biggest scowl of all, sitting ramrod straight in an armchair intended for postures far more comfortable. The source of their malcontent hovers in a hologram above the conference table, somehow managing to look bored while handcuffed and bound to a steel chair in the most secure interrogation room in the Compound.

You’re a thief. A crook who has been stealing big money from bigger people, in a slew of prominent heists that eventually led to the Avengers’ recruitment to your case. High stakes burglary isn’t their field, but when certain people threw their weight around, demanding a serious investigation, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes had no choice but to play detectives to one elusive criminal.

A flirtatious one, too, Bucky thinks, remembering your first confrontation, as he traces the seams of his metal arm with the softer pads of his flesh fingers. 

Sam, Nat, and Bucky had tracked you all the way to Paris, where, one night, Sam gave chase while Bucky waited to intercept you on the predicted escape route, in an alley behind one of the classiest bars in town. Their prediction had proved accurate, and you had pretty much run straight into Bucky’s waiting arms. 

The ensuing fight should have been an easy one, and Bucky made the awful mistake -- the mistake he hadn’t made since meeting the Widows in the Red Room -- of underestimating a woman, and he ended up paying for it. 

His fists clench in his lap at the memory of how you had pulled a very Widow move on him, and he had wound up on his back with your thighs around his neck in a chokehold almost gentle. You had leaned over him to tie his hands together, and left him panting, out of breath, and with the taste of rust in his mouth. Clambering off, and wiping away the blood at the corner of his lip, you had then said, “I look forward to our rematch, handsome,” before disappearing into the dark, French night.

“Barnes?” He hears Stark call, and he blinks. “You still with us, or are you daydreaming about your girlfriend?” The room grows silent, and Bucky can sense suppressed smiles and silent glares, the latter aimed at Stark from Steve.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he grouses, letting his metal fingers dig into his kneecaps.

Sam, coffee abandoned on the table in front of him, eyes twinkling says, “We heard her through the coms, Barnes. In Paris, and in Buenos Aires.”

“And Oslo,” Peter pipes up, and Bucky falls back into the memory of autumn frost crunching under his feet, the reverberations of the orchestra in the opera house as he followed your coat-tails -- you played violin, because why the hell not -- down the busy street. Power-walking turned to running, and you had ended up in a crowded, posh bar with Bucky backing you into the wall in the hallway leading to the restrooms, holding your hands in one metal fist behind you.

Still, you had been unperturbed, trying to distract him with gemstone eyes while he called backup -- Stark, soaring in stealth mode above the fjord. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing, running around with the end of the world on his arm?” You had asked, gesturing toward his metal shoulder, no struggle, no flight or fight. 

Red-lipped smiles, you had given him, and he had been so close to pulling out the handcuffs until a trio of burly security guards had appeared, your backup, apparently, and engaged him in enough combat to allow you to escape. 

“She seems to like you,” Sam finishes piercing the haze of another battle lost, less violently at least, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like her,” is the best he can come up with, and he stands, moves towards a window overlooking the grounds, addressing the bulletproof glass, next. “What I would like is for us to get the money back so we can all go on our merry way and pretend this ever happened.”

The room falls quiet at that. Every person here is acutely aware of the fact that they’re no closer to getting the money back -- nobody could ever spend the amounts you’ve stolen recently, so quickly; FRIDAY’s run simulations on it -- and you haven’t budged under the interrogations you’ve faced thus far.

Barton enters the room as soon as he gets off the quinjet, still in his typical Bed Stuy uniform -- ripped jeans and purple t-shirt -- and Bucky, alongside Natasha and Sam in the observation room behind the one way glass, can see the angle he’s going with. 

It’s almost cliché, or maybe it’s just Clint, so relaxed and loose-limbed with too much pizza in his system and likely smelling of one-eyed dog -- Bucky adores Lucky, but he’ll never admit it -- the way he turns his chair around and sits, resting his chin on folded arms atop the back of the chair. 

For a moment, Bucky worries he’s fallen asleep right there, until his blond head lifts ever so slightly and he says, “Would you like something to drink?” 

You quirks a smile. “I’d like a proper introduction. What, were you raised in a barn?” The smirk is teasing, but there’s no bite, like you’re greeting an old friend with an inside joke. Barton traces the edge of the table.

“Almost. Ever heard of Waverly, Iowa?” He asks. 

You shake your head, and then, grin, informing, “No, but I have heard of you, Clint Barton.”

“So you didn’t need an introduction.”

“I’m a prankster, can’t you tell?” Bucky thinks of the navy blue dress in Prague, the tiny but powerful stink bombs you had kept in a thigh holster, how you had left them coughing. 

“Jokes are all well and good but, uh, stealing isn’t so funny,” Clint answers., sitting up, and Bucky can hear in his hardening tone that he’s starting to get serious. 

“Depends on who you’re stealing from,” is your flippant response.

“Also depends on who has to get the money back, too, and let me tell you, we’re a little tired of playing games.”

“Then I guess I win, right?”

“Are you sure you don’t recognize her? Her tactics seem familiar,” Sam says, and the sensation that has been aggravating the nerves in an unlocatable part of his brain since he saw her for the first time worsens, but Sam’s question is addressed to Nat.

“She’s not Red Room, if that’s what you mean. The Widows were trained to be merciless. She avoids getting more physical than she needs to,” Natasha answers, retying the band on her braid, flaming red hair coiled over her shoulder.

“She broke Bucky’s nose,” Steve points out in protest. 

Nat shrugs, leans forward to doodle on the notepad resting on her knee. “If it was me, I might have knocked some teeth out. Maybe pulled a knife or garrotte.”

“You have to tell me where you get those sting-y things,” you say the moment Nat enters the room, eyes sparkling and wide with awe. Bucky winces as he remembers the short-circuit from that little electric disc. The engineers in the bank had been pretty troubled by the thought of what could’ve caused that kind of damage to the internal systems, until he his fist around one of their necks gave them something else to worry ab--

Steve’s hand on his shoulder startles him back to the observation room instead of Hydra’s clutches, and he says, “Hey, Bucky, how’s it going?” with a nod to the room in front of them. Vibranium cuffs peek out from under the large, green hoodie that envelopes your form, making you look deceptively soft.

“She wants to know where Nat gets her taser discs.”

“You’re eager for those even after you’ve felt how much they hurt?” Nat asks calmly, and Bucky imagines an ice-cool smirk on her lips as she reminds you of how exactly you were captured. It was the tasers that brought you down, after Sam, Steve and Bucky flew and ran you to exhaustion through the streets of Algiers, costing Stark some collateral payments. He hadn’t minded too much, just been happy to have you in custody, finally.

“They look like they’d be fun to use. Pretty handy around certain metal armed men, too,” you suggest playfully.

“Yeah, he isn’t going to talk to you, but I’ve been looking forward to this chat of ours, so why don’t you start by telling me your name.”

“I don’t have one. I’m a ghost story,” you say, and Bucky assumes Nat is looking unimpressed, because you press forward with the joke. “You’re going to need a medium to talk to me.”

“And where do you suppose I find one of those?”

“You have one. Isn’t Bucky Barnes a ghost story, too?”

Sam’s about to name what is sure to be another way to cause unnecessary injury when Bucky butts in. “It doesn’t matter how she hurt me or how she could have hurt me,” this, with a glare at Natasha, who smiles down at the paper. “We have a burglar with billions stashed away and a buncha angry billionaires breathin’ down our necks to find it.”

“Well why don’t you give it a go if you think it’s so easy?” Looking up from the hangman sketch, Nat fixes emerald eyes on his, reminding him, once again, of the unusual interest you’ve taken in Bucky. One that started with mid-battle conversations of a different nature, and that has extended into custody. Something that’s been bugging Steve, his protective instinct whirring into overdrive -- Bucky sees his eye twitch from across the room at Nat’s remark -- no more so than during Steve’s turn to question the captive.

“You guys are all taking your turns playing Good Cop Bad Cop, but I haven’t seen Robocop yet. Why is that?”

“You left him tied up in Paris–”

“There’s an innuendo in there somewhere,” you sing-song, head tilting rhythmically from side to side. Bucky clenches his fists in the observation room.

“–so he isn’t much obliged to see you,” Steve finishes, bypassing your interruption.

Playful eyes with laser determination, unperturbed by locked rooms and handcuffs, focus on a spot just above Steve’s shoulder, almost looking through the glass, even though Bucky knows it’s just a mirror for you. “What a shame. I was hoping our little back alley tussle wouldn’t scare the big, bad White Wolf away.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Are you going to tell us where the money is or do you want formal charges and a jail cell?” He asks, shifting so he blocks your line of sight, folds his hands on the table, and broadens his shoulders, all-Captain and no-nonsense.

“Giving up on me so easy?”

“I wouldn’t call it easy, miss. We’ve been looking for months and tried just about everything to get you to cooperate.”

“Not everything.”

“She’s yawning,” Sam proclaims indignantly, glaring, shocked, at the hologram where indeed, the source of their troubles is yawning, like you could fall asleep, tied up and all. “Unbelievable.” He shakes his head, and Bucky stops a snort from escaping. He’s seen all kinds of interrogations, faced a fair few, too, and this woman is just warming up.

The ensuing discussion and debate continues for hours, until the sun sets behind the window Bucky’s standing by, and what silences them is the thump with which Clint puts his hearing aids on the table in front of him. Sam’s coffee wobbles dangerously, and everyone sighs as Clint wordlessly tells them to shut up. Murmurs of agreement to rest and get a fresh start tomorrow echo through the room, and Bucky catches Barton’s eye, and receives a wink. 

Later that night, in his room, Bucky knows he’s not going to get a minute of sleep. It’s just an intuition, something his very bones are telling him, and he sees no reason to dispute it. Under the throbbing ache in his head, there’s an itch in the grey matter of his mind, somewhere he can’t reach, and he twists and turns. The feeling is recognizable as the vexation inflicted when he’s on the verge of a memory, but those return either by dream or by sense these days.

Dreams are for the bad memories, the days of the Winter Soldier, his subconscious loosening whatever locks his mind placed to compartmentalize the pain, to stuff it all away. The nightmares, the terrible memories leave him shaking, but therapy helps. By a few percent, but when the load of pain is as heavy as his is, every small burden taken off his shoulder helps.

Sense brings back the time before Hydra, although it’s sometimes hard to believe there was one. Steve’s face buried in his shoulder, be careful, Buck; Romanian take out, his mother’s hands; faucet dripping, water running out; oranges exploding on his tongue, a month’s salary plus overtime from working at the docks for that sweet rush once a year. The Depression, the first war -- trench memory brought back by a rainy run in Central Park, the scent of muddy petrichor in the air -- snowfall in the Alps, Dugan’s cigar. His body remembers, and then shows his mind the way.

However, this, this infuriating personality that has him incensed and restless, she isn’t in his mind in any capacity, but Bucky thinks he knows her. Or that he might have, once. And he needs to know her, again, because he hates not knowing. The nightmares hurt, and the memories of what he’s lost do, as well, but not knowing, existing in the strange limbo between certainty and loss, it’s unbearable. If this woman knows him, if she’s another key to another past, another piece of him, he has to talk to her.

“FRIDAY?” He asks groggily, sitting up. 

The screen in the wall across from him blinks blue in acknowledgement, along with a “Yes, sir?”

“Is Steve up?” 

“Captain Rogers is awake and having a cup of coffee in the kitchen, Sergeant,” FRIDAY tells him, and Bucky curses at the idiocy of consuming caffeine at this hour of night -- whatever’s in that shit works even on the serum and that can’t be good -- replacing his sweatpants with jeans once more and heading out to find his friend.

Steve has his back to the entryway, deep in thought -- dumbass, anyone could sneak up on you like this -- when Bucky comes in and clears his throat. The mug in Steve’s hands looks comically small, and Bucky sits down across from him at the island, reaches forward to take it from him, and downs the remaining half.

It’s just one more testament to how disturbed Steve is -- as if the careless consumption of coffee at midnight wasn’t enough -- that he lets Bucky steal his coffee. Blue meets blue in the silver dusting of moonlight, and Steve tries to locate Bucky’s purpose in his eyes before asking him for it verbally. “What is it, Buck?” He’s tired, too many missions weighing on those eyelids, but too worked up to let them close, to find rest. What Bucky’s going to say won’t help.

“Let me talk to her.”

[twstarchives]

This Happens, and I...

Card: Lab Coat - SR Characters: Epel, Crewel, Jack, Cater, Vil (mentioned) Notes: Connected to Lilia Lab Coat

Chapter 1

—ALCHEMY WORKSHOP—

Crewel: The lambent flower, as its name suggests, is a plant that radiates light.

This plant is able to convert various nutrients into magic power and store them.

When it blooms, it releases all of the magic it had saved, making it give off a radiant shine.

Its petals won’t stop giving off that magic after it blooms, so it withers very quickly, and it’s difficult to breed them.

In fact, our own school’s botanical garden has hardly any at all.

For our Magic Potions lab today, we’ll be using nectar from lambent flowers.

Obviously, this nectar is extremely valuable. So be very careful when you take some from the jar with your droppers, puppies...

(Shatter!)

Epel: AHH?!

Crewel: The puppy that barked just now...

You’re Pomefiore’s Epel Felmier, yes? If you have a question, then quietly raise your hand.

Epel: I don’t have a question, I just... um...

I hit the jar of lambent flower nectar with my elbow... and broke it.

Crewel: You what?! ...Y-You spilt more than half of it!

Epel: I-I’m sorry... I-I was careless...

Classmate A: Oh, no... You really screwed up. See you on the other side, Epel.

Epel: Huh?

Jack: I heard from one of my seniors that if you make Professor Crewel mad, your life as a human ends for good.

They said he “disciplines” any student who makes some stupid mistake till they’re bowing on the floor crying their eyes out.

Epel: Th-They’re just exaggerating...

Crewel: Exaggerating. Yes, exactly, only exaggerating. That comment made it very clear what your stance is on this.

First you waste valuable lab ingredients, and then brush it off like that...

You’ve got some nerve, you mutt!!

          (Crewel brings out his whip)

Epel: Ahh!!

Jack: Th-That had a lot of force there.

Epel: I-I’m sorry... I really am! It wasn’t on purpose...

Crewel: Be quiet! Bad boys who make excuses must be punished.

You spilt one teacup’s worth of nectar. Collect that much again, and don’t miss a single drop.

I’ll give you... yes, two months to do this. If you don’t have it all collected by then...

You know what’ll become of you, don’t you?

Epel: ...*Gulps*

(W-Well, he gave me a chance to make up for myself. I gotta break my neck tryin’!)

Yes, I understand. I’ll go and get back all the nectar I wasted.

Classmate B: ...No way Epel’s really gonna be able to do it. He looks like seeing a bug would be enough to send him screaming bloody murder.

Classmate C: He should just call it quits and tell him “I can’t do it” while he still can. That pretty boy’s got too much pride.

Classmate A: Oi, cut him some slack!

What are you going to do when that sheltered little boy starts bawling his eyes out? Hahaha!

Epel: ......

—BOTANICAL GARDEN - TEMPERATE ZONE—

Epel: I’m getting that lambent flower nectar no matter what!!

...It’s been a week since I promised myself that. I’ve been coming to the botanical garden to check on the flowers everyday, but...

I only planted five flowers, and they’re still just buds. I can’t get their nectar if they don’t bloom...

But even if they did bloom, I still only have five flowers—I wouldn’t even be able to get a whole spoonful of nectar.

And I have to get an entire teacup full? How am I supposed to do this?

Cater: What’s this~? I see Mr. Cutie from Pomefiore over there!

Epel: That voice... That’s gotta be Cater-san.

How many times do I have to tell you? My name’s not “Cutie,” it’s Epel.

Cater: Yup, yup, you’re as cute as ever today ♪

Have you thought about starting a Magicam yet? I could show you how.

I’ve said this before, but I think someone as cute as you could absolutely be an influencer~

Epel: ....Hah. Right now, I don’t have the time for that.

Cater: What’s the matter? You look glum.

Epel: Well...

Cater: So Professor Crewel told you to bring him one teacup’s worth of lambent flower nectar... I see.

Epel-chan, you poor thing. Wasn’t it obvious this was impossible from the start?

Epel: Huh?

Cater: Lambent flowers take about two to three years to bloom after they bud.

Epel: Whaaat?! T-Two to three years?!

Cater: That’s how long it takes to build up enough of that magic power they need to bloom.

So I don’t think there’s any way you could get a whole teacup in two months.

Epel: S-So then why did Professor Crewel tell me I only had two months to get the nectar?

Cater: Well, he lives by the motto “Discipline your dog till it stops biting the hand that feeds it.”

Epel: Discipline...?

Cater: He’s probably waiting for you to come crying “I can’t do this anymore~!” to him.

Epel: S-So, you mean... He was just being mean from the start?!

Cater: You got it~♪

Well, maybe it’s better to say it’s just his teaching style.

Huh? Epel-chan, are you listening?

Epel: ......

I... I’m not the best at studying... and yeah, I make a lot of mistakes... but... I always try to fix them...

And I... just want to be acknowledged...

So when he gave me a second chance, I thought “I have to put in everything I’ve got”...

But he was just being mean... My classmates were making fun of me too... I can’t believe this...

Cater: Wait, you’re actually really shocked?!

Epel: This happens, and I... I... and everyone got to... ah!

Cater: Hey, don’t cry, Epel-chan...

Epel: ...I want to prove them all wrong!!

Cater: That option?!

E-Epel-chan, you’ve actually pretty competitive, huh?

Epel: I'm not a mutt... or a pretty boy!

Cater: I think it’d be better if you apologized while you’ve still got time. ‘Cause this was an impossible game from the start...

Epel: It... can’t be impossible. I’m going to outsmart all of them!

Chapter 2

—INTERIOR HALLWAY—

Cater: Oh~? Are you heading back now, Epel-chan? Then let’s go to the Mostro Lounge together ♪

What do you say about making your Magicam debut by taking a selfie with me against a super aesthetic café backdrop?

Epel: Cater-san... Sorry, I can’t today, I think. I have to go to the botanical garden.

Cater: Botanical garden... What?

Are you still collecting lambent flower nectar because you want to prove yourself to Professor Crewel?

Epel: Yes, of course I am!

This is compensation for the valuable nectar I spilt. I’m going to pay it back.

Cater: You sure are stubborn. But remember we talked about how this was impossible from the start?

Apologizing ASAP will make everything sting less.

If you’re scared of Professor Crewel, want me to come with you?

Epel: C’mon! I thought I already told you “it can’t be impossible.”

Cater: Huh? What do you mean...?

Epel: Hehe... Here, come with me. I’ll show you something cool.

—BOTANICAL GARDEN - TEMPERATE ZONE—

Cater: Epel-chan, where are we going? We’re already really far into the botanical garden...

Epel: We’re almost there. Oh, here, I can see it.

Cater: Huh? Is something here...? Wait...

Whaaaaaat?

The flower bed is full of blooming lambent flowers!

Huh? You only had like five before, right? How many hundreds is this?

Plus they all look strong, and they’re already blooming flowers... No way...

How’d you do this?!

Epel: Hehe, it was as easy as a can of—er! It was very easy!

Remember what you told me, Cater-san?

About it taking time for lambent flowers to build up enough magic power to bloom?

Cater: Oh yeah, I remember.

Epel: Hearing what you said reminded me of something the teacher told us during class.

Crewel: This plant is able to convert various nutrients into magic power and store them.

When it blooms, it releases all of the magic it had saved, making it give off a radiant shine.

Epel: And in that case, if I just keep giving it nutrients, it’ll collect more and more magic and bloom quicker!

...Maybe? That’s what I thought.

But the store-bought soil you use for growing regular flowers wouldn’t work at all...

So I decided to give it a special fertilizer packed full of lots more nutrients everyday.

Cater: A special fertilizer?

Epel: I made it myself!

Cater: You say that in such a cute tone, like you just baked some sweets... but fertilizer, huh? You made some?

Epel: Yeah! It’s all inside this bag...

Cater: THAT STINKS!!

*Cough*... Wait... It’s making my eyes and nose burn!! What’s that disgusting smell?!

Epel: Ahaha, isn’t it normal for fertilizer to smell?

Cater: This is not normal!! This doesn’t bother you at all, Epel-chan?

Epel: It’s not that it doesn’t bother me, it’s just I’m used to field wor—wait, no, um... I’m used to gardening.

There’s so much fertilizer right at your disposal at this school! You could get as much food scraps as you want in the cafeteria.

Cater: Food scraps?!

Epel: And the most important thing to make this special fertilizer is...

Horse shit!

Cater: Horse... huh, what?

I just heard a word I never thought I’d hear coming out of the mouth of our delicate Epel-chan...

Epel: It’s horse shit. A horse’s dung. I’ve been getting some everyday from the horse-riding club.

The horses at this school eat really well, so they make loads of it everyday. It really helped me out.

Horse shit doesn’t just help grow the plants; it nurtures the soil too. It’s really the best fertilizer you could get!

Cater: D-Do you have to keep saying it so many times? Cay-kun is getting shaken up...

Umm, so, you’ve been collecting food scraps and horse dung everyday for two months...

Then mixed it together to make a suuuper smelly fertilizer, and that made the lambent flowers bloom at a crazy speed...?

Epel: Yeah!

Cater: Epel-chan, I can’t believe you! You’re way bolder than you look!

I’m actually blown away!

Crewel: Just when I thought I heard a ruckus over here... this is an odd pair. What are you doing in the botanical garden?

Hm? Don’t tell me I’m seeing... lambent flowers blooming in that flower bed?!

Epel: Professor Crewel, what do you think? I grew lambent flowers!

I’m really close to being able to get you one teacup’s worth of nectar... Please wait a little while.

If you’d like, I could even get a whole teapot’s worth.

Crewel: Heheh, hahaha! And here I thought you’d surely tuck your tail and come crying miserably to me... I didn’t see this coming.

You must have needed an extraordinary amount of dedication to raise lambent flowers up to this point, since they die so easily.

You’re a much pluckier puppy than I’d taken you for. Good boy, Epel Felmier.

Epel: Thank you...!

Crewel: However, don’t think I’m going to be lenient with your class and exam grades just because of this.

I’m just holding you in the same regard as the other puppies now.

This recognition is simply for making up for your shortcomings.

Epel: Yes, I understand. I’ll continue working as hard as I can from now on.

Crewel: Good answer. ...Keep this up and prove yourself to the other students too.

Epel: Okay!!

Cater: ...There you go! “Good boy” is Professor Crewel’s biggest compliment!

Epel: Ehehe...

Cater: All’s well that ends well, huh? ♪ Man, but anyway...

The sparkly, shiny lambent flowers, and a smiley Epel-chan. You wouldn’t even have to edit this; it’s already super photogenic.

Hey~ Is now the right time to make a Magicam account? I’m sure you’d go viral!

Epel: I’m sorry. I’m going to go to the library now... to study!

I’m going to keep doing my best in Potions... and maybe... I’ll even be able to surpass the Dorm Leader!

See you later, Cater-san. Excuse me!

Cater: Ehh~! Don’t be so cold~ Your super nice senior¹ will help you study~!

1. Your super nice senior

Cater refers to himself as “oniisan” (big brother), but I tried to substitute with something more fluent-sounding that still conveys a similar feeling of familiarity/him being “older”

[mmvalentine]

Let Me Touch You Pt 2 | Feysand

High school AU. Part 1 Part 3

Feyre was able to function well at school today because Rhys was away. Sick or ditching, Feyre didn't know, and didn't care. She could breathe easier when he wasn't around, and was able to concentrate much better in class.

Just yesterday, they had been in history class and Feyre was trying to copy down a list of dates, when Rhys had started a fight in the back row. He was sitting behind Feyre and Mor with two other boys, Cassian and Azriel, and there was a crash and then Rhys yelped "mother fuck" and then a scuffle had broken loose. It took the teacher ten minutes to calm them all back down again, and the lesson had ground to a halt. Never mind that Feyre actually liked history, and very much wanted to do well in this subject.

Things like this is why Rhys irked her so much. And then the fact that he managed to get her riled without so much as talking to her irritated her even more. It was like his energy alone was enough to get under her skin, like she was allergic to him.

To make matters worse, Feyre had recently found out that Rhys was Mor's cousin. You wouldn't tell from looking at them, Mor was blonde and ice blue where Rhys had much darker colouring and jet black hair. But from the way she talked about him, they were quite close, and since Mor was her only friend, she couldn't very well tell Mor that Rhys bugged the hell out of her.

Maybe she should try to get along with the prick? Okay, that was a bit far. But she could surely learn to not hate him. Feyre wondered if she should ask Mor what she saw in him.

Luckily, this was a problem for tomorrow. Today, she would just enjoy the peace. Mor had asked her to come over later to study, complete with a colour-coded timetable for study hours leading up to exam time. Feyre didn't know how she had the energy- but Mor always, always had energy. She usually sat next to her in classes, and Mor was constantly twirling pens, or colouring in her margins, or passing Rhys and Feyre notes. It was a good thing Rhys was so annoying in class, or she was sure Mor would get into trouble.

The day went by quickly, and then Feyre was walking home with Mor. She felt a little proud of herself, felt that going over to someone's house after school was a significant achievement in a friendship. If they wanted to see you outside of compulsory hours, that meant they really liked you, right?

Mor chatted away as they walked, and Feyre stared around at the street they were turning into. It was a much wealthier area than where Feyre lived, and the houses and gardens were astounding. When Mor reached her house and pulled the gate open, she had to work her jaw off the pavement.

Mor's house was a veritable mansion. There was a japanese garden out the front, and down the pathway, the enormous house was covered in vines and bay windows. Mor didn't seem to notice Feyre's reaction, just kept crunching down the gravel as Feyre gaped at the koi pond and adjacent water feature.

"Here we are!" Mor announced, putting her key into the lock. "My parents don't get home until eight or nine, but there's always food in the fridge."

Mor stepped through, dropped her school bag in the foyer- there was a foyer- and Feyre followed suit. She looked around, taking in the arched ceilings and the marble staircase.

And there, sprawled out on the bottom stair like a lazy prince with a scruffy dog in his arms, was Rhys.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Rhys nearly dropped Bryaxis. Was he having a waking Feyre dream, or had she actually just walked into his house?

"Oh," she said. "Hi." "Hey," Rhys responded automatically. What else were you supposed to say to people again? "What are you doing here?" Feyre asked. Rhys raised an eyebrow. "I live here," he said. "What are you doing here?" "Didn't I tell you?" Mor said to Feyre. "Rhys lives with us." "No," Feyre said weakly. "No you did not."

Rhys got a hold of himself. "Orphan, I'm afraid," he said to her. "I... you weren't in school today," Feyre said.

Rhys' heart stuttered. She noticed he wasn't in school today?

"Yeah, Bryaxis got real sick and I had to stay home with him." "Your parents-" she corrected herself. "Your aunt and uncle let you do that?" Rhys shrugged. "They leave before we do and get home late. They don't know." "Yeah," Mor added. "We sort of come and go as we please. Rhys has lunch here most days because he'd rather hang out with his rescue than actual humans."

Rhys cringed, not wanting Feyre to think he was some sort of recluse. He poked his tongue out at Mor, and she gave him a much more adult gesture with her left hand.

"What are you guys doing?" Rhys asked. "Studying," Mor said. "Join us. You can copy my work from today if you like."

So Rhys left Bryaxis in his little dog bed, and joined the girls in the dining room. He fetched his books from his room, and copied down notes from Mor's books while she and Feyre did homework. The whole time, he knew that sitting opposite Feyre like this meant that if he stretched out his leg, he'd bump into hers, and had to twist his ankles around the chair legs to prevent himself from doing it.

Feyre didn't seem to notice; she talked easily to Mor and scratched Bryaxis behind the ears when he wandered over. She even tentatively offered Rhys her notes when a part of Mor's became positively illegible.

"Thanks," Rhys said in surprise, and then studying Feyre's handwriting made him want to eat the pages. Would it be completely weird to ask out a girl he had barely said five words to?

****

Ah, delinquent Rhys. Let's all relive our youth as if we were cool in high school.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 20

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

The Batman hiding behind a corndog stall from a teenage girl: are you sure this is necessary? Twins: yes

First < Previous > Next

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

They arrive at the fair without being followed by Harley, at least she hopes so. Bruce somehow being able to convince Marion to not eat before going on the rides. In return Marion takes them straight to the most intense ride they have.

“Oh darn Mari,” Marinette says being dragged in line, “I don’t think we can go on this one without our disguises falling off,”

“Don’t worry I’ve been on plenty of rides like this and my glasses have never fallen off,”

You have magic glasses you twat! Marinnette glares, getting only a grin, telling her Marion knows exactly what he is doing. She's about to say as much when she notices an unfortunately familiar pair of pigtails in the crowd.

“Mari-” She looks over to her grinning twin.

“You know Nette if you really don't want to go on you don't have to,” Marion teases, Harley Quinn getting way too close to escape.

“On second thought let's go,” Marinette pushes Marion towards the ride, ignoring Bruce's surprise and Marion's taunting.

They get pulled onto the ride, Marinette coming off ghostly pale. Thankfully no Harley Quinn in sight.

“Let’s go again,” Marion starts pushing Marinette back in line, too light headed to stop him.

“How about we try some of the food, instead,” Bruce offers, looking over at her with concern.

“Sure, we can go on the rides later then,” Marion calls cheerfully, skipping off to a cotton candy stand.

“I got played didn’t I?” Bruce asks, watching Marion join the line.

“Like a fiddle,” Marinette starts to get some of the color back in her cheeks, “Don’t worry happens to everyone,”

“Yeah, he’s like his Mom,” Bruce mutters under his breath, but she still hears, “I mean…”

“It’s alright,” Marinette shrugs, walking towards the stand “Cotton candy?”

“Do I have to eat it?” Bruce grimaces, following her.

“Marions going to find a way to make you try it one way or another,”

Marion somehow manages to convince them all to get cotton candy. Bruce being thoroughly confused by it.

“It’s easy, all you do is pull a piece off,” Marinette demonstrates pulling off a piece.

“Or you can just bite it,” Marion faceplants into it.

“And get it all over your face,” Marinette deadpans, sneaking some to Tikki.

“Exactly,” Marion grins, coming back up with pink sugar all over his face.

“And you’re sure I don’t need any utensils,” Bruce says, looking quite out of place with the oversized pink cloud.

“No!” They both shout.

‘Alright then,” He pulls off a piece, cringing as he eats it, “This is just sugar,”

“Precisely,” Marion grins, biting off a big chunk.

“You're going to make yourself sick,” Bruce looks like he’s about to yank it away from him.

“ Precisely ,” Marion says, muffled by the dissolving sugar, “We should try funnel cake next!”

“Dear god, he’s just like Dick,” Bruce frets, watching as Marion bounces to the stall.

“I’m willing to bet Mari’s worse,” She watches as he eyes up the powdered sugar, “he’s a bottomless pit,”

“I think you might me right,” Bruce winces as Marion receives an oversized funnel cake, “that's terrifying,”

“You should see him around cheese,” Marinette suggests innocently, “Especially camembert,”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,”

Please do

They follow Marion around the food stalls. Marinette is able to keep up by feeding most of her sweet treats to Tikki. Bruce is not so lucky. They come across a mirror maze Marinette points out to give Bruce a break.

“Ah yes the mirror maze the best place to make sure no one recognises you,” Marion recites theatrically.

“The reflections are distorted,” Bruce walks past a mirror making him comically short

“Yeah that guy looks kind of like the Joker,” Marinette looks over to where Marion is pointing.

“Ah Mari,” She hesitates looking over the group of clowns reflected in the mirror that should definitely not be holding guns, “I think that is him,”

“Not again,” Marion mutters, backing up.

She tries to form a plan, they have to make a break for it to change into costumes or people could get hurt. But how are they supposed to so that with Bruce hovering over them. He looks like he’s trying to find an escape route, they have to find a way to protect them and-

“Is that Harley Quinn?” Marion whispers.

Sure enough they watch a reflection of the group making out from the stretched image as Harley walks over to the group and hits the Joker right over the head with a mallet.

“We should leave,” Bruce whispers, herding them in the direction they came.

“Will she be alright?” Marinette asks, watching the fight through a different mirror and gunshots echo.

“Yeah I think she’ll be fine,” Bruce says, as Harley knocks the gunmen's weapons away while hyenas chase after them through the maze.

They exit the maze in record time, Bruce being able to lead them through it easily.

“Do you think we should tell someone?” Marinette asks, there doesn't seem to be any more people going into the maze, maybe it's a Gotham six sense.

“We should,” Bruce agrees, less than enthusiastically.

“Or, or,” Marion dances in front of them, “We could go play some games,”

“We were almost attacked by the Joker and you think that's a good use of time?” Marinette can tell Bruce is thinking the same.

“Exactly! We were almost, so it doesn't count now does it?” Marion doesn't wait for an answer as he rushes off further into the fair.

They have no choice but to sigh and follow after him. Well they do but that's beside the point.

“Oh how awful it is, to not get to partake in the joys of a rollercoaster, unlike yourself whom screams with delight and fear every time-” Marinette uses the water gun to spray in the clown's face, “Hey!”

Unfortunately the clown that is related to her, not the carnival game. Marion tries to grab the water gun and they start fighting over it. Somehow they still manage to get a high score, enough for the big prize. Whether it was her good luck or Marion's bad luck projecting onto the stall runner is unclear.

“Unbelievable,” Marinette sighs as they walk away from the stall.

“Sorry, Nette there's just no love for the bugs,” Marion grins, hugging the giant black cat to his chest.

“I will find a Ladybug, just watch me,” She promises, this was never a problem in Paris, they have tonnes of Ladybug plushies.

“Sure you will,” Marion hums, Bruce just looks amused at their antics.

“If not I’m sewing spots onto the cat,” Marinette threatens, walking between rows of stalls none having a Ladybug plush.

“Nooooo,” Marion cowers, hugging the cat close.

“I think I saw a Ladybug prize somewhere back there,” Bruce points in the opposite direction.

“Where?” Marion runs where Bruce is pointing, Cat raised above his head, “We must go to save Dough boy!”

“Dough boy?” Marinette jogs slightly to keep up.

“From your disproving tone I can tell you approve,” Marion turns on his heel walking backwards.

“You know I technically won that game,” She pokes the cat toy in the chest.

“Please you were losing without me,” Marion grins, people moving out of his way.

“No I wase- look out!” Marinette pushes them both into the gap between stalls.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, on guard looking out for the Joker, Marinette can feel him scanning the area.

“The devil has arrived,” Marion whispers, noticing Lila, “Her dark shadow always follows us,”

“... Pardon?” Bruce relaxes taking it for a joke, which it is most certainly not,  Marinette tenses as Lila sends Kim right to the stall they are hiding behind.

“Girl at school we really don’t like, who really doesn't like us,” Marinette summarises, shallowling inhaling the smell of greasy batter.

“Which one?” Bruce analyses the group of teens near them.

“Sausage hair over there,” Marion nods to her, watching as Kim comes back with a corn dog, “Gasp, cannibalism!”

“Are you telling me Lila wouldn’t eat another human?” Marinette crouches down further keeping to the shadows.

“Are you telling me Lila is human?” Marion mutters back, both keeping their voices down.

“Good one,”

“Thanks,”

“Who’re we spy’n on?”

They all jump at the new voice. Marinette twisting to come nose to nose with Harley Quinn.

“De ja vu,”

“What?” Bruce turns to Marion.

“Nothing!” Marion very smoothly avoids eye contact.

“Spy’in on another date are we?” Harley asks, squeezing in next to the group.

“Another?” Bruce looks between them confused.

The twins frantically shake their heads behind Bruce's back. Harley makes a ‘o’ face and gives a nod.

“We’re spying on the devil,” Marion points at Lila, grateful she could at least serve as a distraction, “Bless whatever unfortunate soul has the displeasure of dating her,”

“Sounds to me like you have some strong opinions,” Bruce says, with slight disbelief, probably thinking they are overreacting.

“Trust me they’re founded,” Marinette whispers, cringing at the shrill laugh Lila gives.

Bruce gives her an expectant look and wedged together between a corn dog stall and who knows what else isn’t the best place to pick a fight.

“That’s a grade A psychopath right there,” Harley finally whispers to them.

“You can tell?” Marinette asks, ignoring Marion giving Bruce a smug look.

“Well from what I can see she’s a manipulative Liar-”

“To put it lightly, I don’t think she’s told the truth once in our years of knowing her,” Marion scowls, as Lila animatedly tells another tale, “Not even her name, don’t you think Lila and liar is a bit too convenient?”

“Anyway, she has pretty much all the class wrapped around her finger,” As if to prove her point Sabrina runs off to fetch her a drink, “Makes up rumours about anyone that doesn't follow her blindly and turns the rest against them,”

“I’m taking it you didn’t follow her blindly?” Bruce guesses, what on earth would give him that idea?

Harley seems to be studying Lila like she is a particularly interesting bug.

“Oh no we just love Lila so much we hide in joy every time she comes near,” Marion retreats further into the shadows, a hair away from actually hissing.

“You went toe to toe with scarecrow are you honestly telling me you're hiding from her,” Bruce studies Lila, as if looking for some sign of danger.

“If it helps she literally appeared in my fear toxin… illusions?” Marion looks for confirmation, Bruce giving a nod, Marinette shrugs he had already told her and didn’t feel like a stretch, “As the devil, soooo…”

“What did that meanie do to you!” Harley cries wrapping Marion in a hug, its alright Bruce only looks very concerned.

“Then I suggest we retreat rather than wait for them to leave,” Bruce offers, Marinette gives a nod but Harley has other plans.

“Not until I fuck that girl up!” Harley stands brandishing a mallet.

“Harley no!” Marinette hisses the three of them trying to pull her back out of the stalls.

“Let me go!” Harley struggles but not with any real strength, making sure not to hit them with the mallet, “She needs to pay,”

“Harley if we wanted her gone we could have done it already,” Marion placates, trying to push her away.

“You want her around?”  Harley stops in her tracks, tilting her head to look like a confused child.

“If we wanted her gone violently ,” Marinette specifies, guiding Harley out the alley.

“So you’ll accept a non violent way?” Bruce speaks up surprisingly.

“Yeah… I guess?” Marinette hesitates, Bruce and Harley share a glance then a nod, whatever just happened it might be better to remain ignorant.

“Well, glad we avoided that disaster,” Marion sighs, as he stretches out.

“What disaster, those outfits? Because you look utterly ridiculous,” They all turn to see Chloe scowling down at them.

That's right they said they would be with their aunt today and had turned down her invitation to the fair.

“Chloe! Hi great to see you,” Marion cringes, backing up under the blondes glare, “And everyone else, what a pleasant surprise,”

“Who were you hiding from?” Kagami asks, or rather demands staring suspiciously at Bruce. She gives a simple nod at the waving Harley.

“Would you believe Lila is here?” Marinette sighs, pointing back at the gap they escaped from.

“I suspected she was after Adrien threw up,” Chloe shrugs, Marinette's concern pushes into overdrive, overlooking Adrien for any signs of damage.

“I think that was more the rides combined with this food,” Kagami informs, looking down at a deep fried hotdog with disgust.

“Guys, please…”  Adrien blushes, glancing at her for some reason.

“Who is this?” Kagami demands, definitely demands this time.

“Harley Quinn-”

“Yes we know that,” Chloe huffs, cutting off Bruce.

“Oh.. um,” Marion exchanges a hesitant glance with both of them, “Bruce Wayne?"

“Right, and why is he here with you two?” Chloe doesn't look impressed at Marion's awkward chuckle.

“Um well… uh,” Marinette tries, glancing at Bruce who doesn't meet her look, “We just happened to be in the area?”

“Bzzt! Wrong! Try again,” Chloe makes and ‘x’ with her fingers.

“Publicity stunt?” Marion says, in the most unconvincing tone conceivable.

“Rion, if you were planning a publicity stunt there  would be confetti glitter and fireworks,”

Marinette tries not to laugh remembering a publicity stunt involving MCD that features exactly that.

“What do you want from me,” Marion whines, hiding behind his large plushie.

“The truth,” Kagami snaps, scowling.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” Adrien says gently, half reaching out to them.

“The truth is…” Marinette trails off, completely weak for the boy but it’s clear Bruce doesn't want them to know.

“... I am their biological Father,”

They all look at him in shock. Marinette’s is a happy shocked, but their friends...

“What?!”

“I knew it!” Harley cheers, jumping up and down.

“But you- there was- you said-” Kagami stutters, a rarity for her.

“You, me,” Chloe points at Marion then at herself, “Words, now ,”

“Someones in ~trouble~,” Marinette whispers over to him.

“You too Marinette Dupain Cheng,” Chloe points right in her face.

“Ohh full name,” Marion returns the favour, “It’s been awhile,”

“Careful Cheng Dupain,” Chloe glowers, Marion chuckles uncomfortably.

“I’m in danger,” Mario gets dragged to the side, Marinette following, leaving Bruce behind.

“You’re in trouble ,” Kagami scolds, as they stop out of earshot from Bruce and Harley who is buzzing around asking a million questions, “If you don’t explain right now,”

“You owe us an explanation,” Chloe lets go of Marion's arm, “You were in the hospital and we were all worried trying to control these rumors and now you tell us its the truth and I-”

“Chlo, I’m sorry Selina only just told us,” Marion cuts off her rant, bordering on tears, he adds, “In the hospital,”

“You’re Aunt told you, but how would she-” Adrien puzzles, realisation dawning, “ No ,”

“Yes?” Marinette backs up a step, everyone realising the same.

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous,” Chloe stomps her foot, “How can someone do that?!”

“Chlo, we’re not mad,” Marion tries to placate, Chloe turning on him.

“Of course you're not!” She explodes, “You two are perfect and forgiving which is why I have to be mad for you,”

“I think it would be nicer if you weren't mad and just supportive,” Marion smiles, Chloe's anger crumbling around her.

“... but it’s so much easier to be mad,” She whines, “Can’t I be angrily supportive?”

“I feel like you're going to be anyway,” Marion grins, one of whom they both know Chole is powerless against.

“So what are you doing now?” Adrien asks, looking back at Bruce who is now arguing wiht Harley, or rather getting yelled at.

“Trying to figure things out I guess?” Marinette looks over to confirm with Marion, “Bruce wants us to be sure we want, this,”

She gestures around herself, not sure what she means either.

“Do you want it?” Kagami asks carefully.

“... We want to try,” Marion gets a nod from Marinette.

“Very well, I will make sure he is worthy of you,” Kagami stomps off towards Bruce.

“Kags, you really don’t have to do that!” Marion calls, chasing after her.

“And she’s gone,” Marinette sighs, turning to the others, both smiling, “Adrien, Chloe can you do something?”

“We sure can,” Chloe walks over next to Kagami who is chewing out Bruce with Harley, “So, what do you want with my friends?”

“Not what I meant!” Marinette yells, getting a pat on the shoulder from Adrien.

“Quite you, the adults are talking,” Chloe waves her off.

“I’m older than you!”

“You should know they already have amazing parents that you can't replace,” Adrein adds to the onslaught of demands from the girls, a lot less threatening.

“I know, I’m not trying to,” Bruce answers evenly, still looking concerned at their guard dog like friends.

“Very well, you should know they are both amazing, and if you show anything less than a hundred percent support I will slice you in half,” Kagami threatens, and if she had her sword she would be holding it to his throat.

“Kagami no,” Marion tries to calm her down.

“You’re right, I will make it far more painful,” She growls.

“~Nooo~,” Marion backs down, hugging the cat to his chest.

“That's right, and don’t you dare think that just because your a billionaire your money will cut it,” Chloe scoffs, “Trust me the twins aren't that superficial, in fact they aren't superficial at all, it's frustrating,”

“She said twins,” Marion whispers to her as the demands continue.

“Package deal,” She hisses back, Bruce looking more and more overwhelmed by the pushy teens.

“Good friends you got there,” Harley whispers, content to let the chew out Bruce.

“What were you yelling at him for?”

“Oh nothin, he said some crap about not wanting to put you in danger, so I calmly explained the psychology behind it,” She crosses her arms smugly, “I think I got through to him,”

“If you're worried you should know Mari- they are really strong and can protect themselves,” Adrein says, Bruce starts to agree but is cut off.

“Hey! You were going to say Marinette! Weren’t you?” Marion demands, distracting the three from their onslaught.

“Both your names start with Mari,” Kagami points out, turning to him.

“Are you so insecure you immediately thought he meant Marinette?” Chloe taunts, inspecting her nails.

“No-I,”

“Geeze Rion I know Marinette awesome but your, you know… ok,” Adrien joins her teasing, muttering, “I guess,”

“That’s it, I’m disowning every one of you,” Marion points at each of them before turning to Bruce, “By the way, these are my ex-friends we used to be quite close, then they made the decision to humiliate me and I cut them out of my life forever,”

“Don’t be like that Rion,” Chloe grins, leaning against him.

“Yeah just because Marinette probably won that prize,” Adrien takes his other side, poking at the cat.

“She did not!”

“I did,” Marinette grins, Marion rolls his eyes.

“It was a team effort,”

“Heavily leaning on Marinette,” Kagami adds.

“Alright, let's settle this,” Marion looks at Bruce, “Where did you see that Ladybug?”

“Follow me,” Bruce smiles minutely leading the way.

“Ohh, Ladybug, maybe I should get one,” Chloe gushes, as if she didn’t have a hundred Ladybug plushies already.

“Yeah I can win it for you,” Marinette smirks, flexing her muscles.

“That does it! I’m winning that prize and sewing on cat ears,” Marion pouts, getting cooed at as they point out Marinette is the better seamstress.

“So how’ve you two been doin?” Harley asks, walking in between Chloe and Kagami.

The two start blushing, spluttering denial; which does nothing to convince Harley, or anyone else for that matter. Bruce follows them through the fair on their search for the Ladybug. If Marinette saw him taking pictures as they fought to win the Ladybug first, she wasn't going to say anything.

---------

Hi sorry I missed a few days life got busy>-< Also sorry if I don’t respond to messages or likewise I’m still trying to figure out Tumblr I’ll get there eventually... hopefully.

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@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd