#please (sniff) why are so much people here dumb as rocks. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tigerdrop · 3 years

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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.

#writin stuff #please clap.

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angstysebfan · 4 years

Text

Choices - Chapter 8

Pairing: Steve X Reader, Bucky Reader (not Stucky)

Summary: You fall in love with a super soldier, but after a decision that leaves you heartbroken you find yourself needing to decide where your heart truly lies.

Warnings: Depression, nightmares, wishing for death

It’s been three weeks since Bucky whisked you away from the compound. You are still having bad nightmares, but you are not sleeping the day away anymore. Bucky has had to force you eat most of the time, because you do not have much of an appetite.

You have kept to yourself since your conversation with Bucky about wishing he would have left you. As hard as it is, Bucky has allowed you to take everything at your pace. There are times you want him near you, and times when you want to be alone.

You have started to sit on the shore of the lake, looking out into the quiet still water, allowing your thoughts to overcome you. How easy it would be to just end everything and take the pain away. You are so tired of being in pain, and yet you don’t know why you are feeling such pain.

Bucky makes sure he is somewhere close by, not trusting you wouldn’t hurt yourself, but you just stay seated, staring off. He loves the times when you want him near, as you normally cuddle in his lap, nuzzling into his neck. He knows you have no idea how much that contact affects him, and he makes sure to keep his composure and just be there for you.

One day, you are both sitting on the edge of the lake, looking out to the other side, where all you see is woods. “It’s so quiet here. It makes my thoughts louder.” you say quietly, as you snuggle closer into Bucky’s chest. Bucky continues to stroke your hair as you speak.

“Did you want to go somewhere else? You know I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” he says. You sigh, “No. I think I need to hear my thoughts, so I can move on. I honestly don’t know why I feel the pain I do. It’s not like Steve and I were together for years, it was only a few months. I knew he had feelings for Sharon, and I knew that they were doing things behind my back when she returned. I turned a blind eye because I didn’t want to lose him... isn’t that stupid?” you say.

Bucky shifts in the lounger chair and wraps his arms tightly around you. “Just because you didn’t date him for years, doesn’t make this harder. You trusted him, and loved him. Not only has be betrayed your trust, but he was going to allow you to die. You deserve so much better than him.” Bucky says, before kissing the top of your head.

“Why are you so good to me, Bucky? You have always been there for me, and taken care of me. What did I do to deserve you in my life?” you say looking up at him. He gives you a small smile, “I think I should be asking that question, doll. You... you accepted me when you first came to the compound, no questions asked. Most people are scared of me or treat me like I am about to break. You never did. You were like a breath of fresh air, and I think I have improved even more since you came into my life.”

You look at Bucky in shock and then in awe. He always knows how to say the right things, and always did. He was always by your side, no matter what happened. You felt some fluttering in your stomach as you looked into his eyes, but immediately pushed that down. You’re no where near ready to think about Bucky more than friend.

You nuzzled back into his chest and suddenly felt very tired. you felt yourself sinking further into Bucky’s embrace as sleep overtook you. Bucky looked down and saw you asleep and brushed some hair from your face. He thought about how much you better you got over the last few weeks, but knew it was still a long way to go.

It was another two weeks later when there was a knock on the door of the cabin. Bucky was in the shower, so you answered it, though you wish you didn’t. Your breath got caught in your throat at the site of Steve standing on the porch. “Y/N,” he said. You felt your lungs starts to close and the panic starting to rise, though Steve seemed to not notice.

“I was hoping you and I could talk for a moment. There is so many things I want to say, and I am sure you want to say back. Can... Can I come in?” he asks quietly. You step back, trying to compose yourself. You walk quickly into the kitchen and grab some water, hoping that will help. Steve sat at the counter, again oblivious to the thoughts and feelings running through your mind.

“Look, I am sure you hate me, and honestly I don’t blame you. I messed up, big time, and I want to apologize for what happened on that mission. I can’t tell you what was going through my head, but I am sorry you got hurt, and are still suffering. How are you doing?” he asks concerned.

You look to the staircase when you hear Bucky’s footsteps coming down, relief coming to you immediately, but not enough for you to breath. “Hey Y/N/N.. do you want... Steve? What the fuck are you doing here?” Bucky says angrily. You step over to Bucky, who immediately wraps a protective arm around you. Steve sees this and his face hardens.

“I came to speak to Y/N, since I have a lot of apologies to give to her.” Steve says. Bucky looks at you and sees the panic in your eyes, “Y/N, go up to your room, okay? I will take care of this and I will let you know when he is gone,” he whispers in your ear. You nod and immediately leave the room.

“Buck, I mean no harm here. I really just wanted to apologize to her, and hopefully help her heal.” Steve says annoyed. Bucky walks up to Steve and punches him in the jaw. Steve falls to the floor with a groan, “Seriously? Bucky, come on! You’re my best friend, and I know what I did was dumb, but I am trying to make it right!” Steve yelled getting up.

“Make it right?! Please, you are trying to relieve yourself of guilt, nothing more. Tell me, are you and Sharon together right now?” Bucky asks. Steve sighs and looks at the ground, giving Bucky all the answer he needed. “Y/N is trying to heal not only from the poison that almost killed her, thanks to you, but also from the trauma of the man she loves allowing her to die for someone else. She has made so much progress, and you being here might set her back, so tell me, pal, why are you really here?” Bucky again asks stepping closer to Steve.

“Yes, I have guilt but I do care about Y/N! I want to apologize, whether she forgives me or not, she needs to know that I didn’t mean to hurt her and I will regret it for the rest of my life.” Steve says. Bucky just looks at him with an emotionless expression, “I’ll give her the message, now leave and don’t come back here,” Bucky says walking to the door.

Steve’s face hardens again, “How long have you been in love with my girlfriend, huh? Stop acting like you are doing all of this because you want her to feel better, when we both know you are trying to win her heart too.” Steve says. Bucky grabs Steve by the throat his his metal hand and drags him outside onto the porch.

“Yes, I love her, and it’s because I love her that I saved her life. But everything I am doing now is to help her get better after you destroyed her. She wanted to die, Steve!” Bucky yelled, making Steve pale. “Whether or not she develops feelings for me doesn’t matter, as long as she gets better. I love her enough to let her go if I have to.” Bucky says before releasing Steve.

Steve sits on the stairs of the porch and puts his head in his hands. “Buck, I... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I almost killed her, I destroyed her, she wants to die because of me! When did I become this... this monster that doesn’t care about anyone else but himself?” Steve says emotionally.

Bucky looks at Steve, “I wish I knew when you changed, cause I would have beat this guy out of you sooner.” he says. Steve sniffs before standing and looks at Bucky with sad eyes, “I’m sorry about what I said, I know that if anyone can lead her from the darkness, it’s you. And I am sorry about just showing up, the guilt was just eating me and I was selfish for coming here without making sure it was okay. And please tell her, it’s okay if she never forgives me, but I am sorry about... everything.” Steve says before turning and walking away.

Bucky watches until Steve disappears and then runs into the house and up into your room. You are lying on your bed, tears falling down your face. He quickly wraps his arms around you, “It’s okay, he’s gone. I’m not going to let him come back and hurt you okay?” he whispers into the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his torso and look up at him. “Thank you Bucky.” you say with a small smile.

Bucky kisses your forehead, “Anytime, you know that. I’ll always be here for you, anytime.”

Chapter 7 / Chapter 9

Oh Steve, you should have stayed away. Lucky Bucky didn’t go Winter Soldier on you, but doesn’t mean he won’t next time. And Bucky again being the rock the reader needs. Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness

Story Taglist: @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @supraveng @rebekahdawkins @vicmc624

#steve x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve grant rogers #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve angst #Bucky angst #sharon carter

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shebeafancyflapjack · 3 years

Text

Eavesdrop

A quick alternate to Earshot, but set in canon S2 rather than NPL, where the demons focus on Michael for their taunting.

Second book in on the top shelf. That’s the one to pull to unlock the secret door hidden in the wall behind Michael’s desk. She’s supposedly the only other being, besides Janet, in this micro-universe privy to that bit of info. It leads to a hallway that extends to a secret chamber filled with a bunch of Earth collectables along with, recently added on her suggestion, a mini-arcade with classic game machines and a karaoke stand. The walls were sound proof, obviously.

She’s not here to escape a lecture from Chidi about messing up the laundry by hanging out in her demon pal’s very own ‘bud hole’ this time. Her ear is pressed to the closed panel after sealing herself in, waiting for the big Satanic tree to arrive.

To her surprise, and slight annoyance, he hadn’t arrived alone.

“You shouldn’t be getting drunk like this. What if the humans saw you? Everyone here is supposed to be abstinent of all vices!” Michael had grumbled, a ruckus of giggles behind him.

“That’s the point, dummy! It’s a ‘Purge’ night!” Vicky cackled; “Tell ‘im again, Gunner!”

“I got the idea off this human movie - one night, we’re allowed to do any shirt we wanted without consequence! We can drink, smoke, do drugs, stab and bite to our black hearts content!”

“NO! Definitely no stabbing! Or hurting any of them...Physically!” He’d struggled to make that last detail sound natural.

Good save, bud, Eleanor had thought.

Another demon, Petra, Eleanor thinks, had groaned; “Ugh, you are such a buzzkill lately. Can’t you see how awesome this idea is? Think about how wasted Eleanor is gonna let herself get! That dork, Jason, is gonna be high as a kite and it will make Chidi and Tahani wanna cower inside their homes! It’s genius!”

Eleanor had almost let herself be excited for the idea of trying to make the most of this supposed ‘torture’, similar to the one at Tahani’s party, which even Michael had said she hadn’t done too bad at acting and preparing the chaos sequence the next morning. She could hear the worry in Michael’s response though, being surrounded by three hundred demons, losing their inhibitions and wanting to let off steam in the most ‘passionate’ way possible, had the potential to go very wrong. For all of them.

As she listened, Michael’s attempts to reign in his rogue employees soon descended into outright pleading, which only gave him more scorn in return.

“Look just...remember what our goal is here. I get that you’re all frustrated but we’re doing so well and all I ask is that you don’t go too far on the humans, please.” He’d tried to ask, nicely. Wrong move.

The laughter nearly shook the building.

“Jeez! If you love these humans so much, why don’t you fork them?” Bambadjan teased.

“Nah, let’s face it, not even those cockroaches would wanna go near that disgusting skin suit with all it’s musty folds.” Vicky responded; “...Oh, what’s wrong, Mikey? It’s not like we’re insulting ‘you’ after all...Unless you’re starting to feel a little too cosy in that costume of yours.”

Eleanor’s stomach twisted on his behalf. She knew how much he loved that suit; he was so forking vain, after all. But then again, is it vanity if it’s not really his body? He just wishes it was.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Michael responded, quietly.

“Then prove it, dude! Take it off! Strip! Todd goes streaking every night.” Gunner encouraged.

“You know I can’t! It’s not the same for me.”

“Maybe I’ll take mine off tonight. Imagine how much Mendoza will freak out when he sees a giant acid snake coming for him after too many mushrooms!” Vicky joked; “It’s still ten times better than any torture method you’ve come up with for them, Mike. Maybe melting their brains by revealing your demon form will provide us some results.”

Is it really that bad? Eleanor was naively hoping there was some sexy bald goat-man underneath that suit. Dude was so shifty about it, like he didn’t wanna spoil the mystery. Was it more than that? Was he ashamed?

“You’ve all made your point, have your Purge and I’ll clean up the mess tomorrow. Just go easy on the humans - I insist.” Michael sounded so tired.

“Oh he ‘insists’!? Did you hear that guys? Mikey, who failed his own experiment over eight hundred times, wants to ‘insist’!” Vicky sneers.

“Well I insist that he shuts his fugly food hole and leave the masters to our job!” Petra cackled; “And he gets back to trying to fork his paperclips or whatever shirt you get up to here.”

That sounded painful, Eleanor couldn’t stop herself picturing it.

“Jeez, Mike, you always were a loser but there’s really no hope for you, is there. Before you were just the quiet nerd no one wanted to hang out with because of your weird fixation with Earth-people. Soon you’re gonna be known as the idiot who failed his first experiment; even if the rest of us do manage to salvage it for Shawn, we’ll all know the truth about how badly you suuucked!”

It took all of Eleanor’s strength not to shove the panel open, stomp over and grab Vicky’s hair to slam her face into the desk. They all just followed him in there to bully him?! They were the losers.

“C’mon, guys! We should have known he wouldn’t have wanted to join our party, it’s not like he’s used to being invited to any.” Bambadjan added, inciting more giggles.

“See you in the morning, dumb-ash. Be up bright and early to clean up our shirt, as you say, chop chop!”

Counting to ten to contain her rage luckily meets up with the sound of the door closing, the demons exiting the building.

She carefully opens the secret door, seeing Michael sat in his chair, hands folded on his lap, eyes cast down. When he hears her soft footsteps, his head turns, expression shifting to try to cover the wobbling lip she’d briefly caught sight of. He sniffs and rubs his upper lip with his hand.

“Eleanor!” Michael straightens up; “Were you there the whole time? What if they’d seen you or...sensed you were there?”

“Relax, man, they didn’t see shirt, it’s cool.” She puts her hand up; “...You okay?”

He looks to the side, forcing his ‘superior’ smirk, “Uhh, yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be? Just...having a bit of workplace banter, as they say.”

“Didn’t sound like ‘banter’ to me, dude.” She edges closer, slowly, knowing that if he’s as much like her as she knows, he’s gonna be like a wounded tiger right now.

Getting too close, too quick, is gonna get her eyes clawed out. She would know, she’s swung a few claws herself.

Michael sniffs, struggling to keep his mask on; “M’fine, Eleanor, really. You better go prepare for this Purge or whatever they were talking about, go enjoy yourself or...make sure the others are safe-.”

His words are cut off by her weight falling down onto his lap, arms looping around his neck as she embraces him. Fork it. Screw being slow and steady; the demon was about ready to cry.

“Wha....What are you doing?” Michael stutters, stiffening.

“Hugging you, idiot...Sorry, I mean that affectionately,” She says against his ear.

“W-why?”

She shrugs, still hugging him tight, shuffling on his knees; “’Cause you need it. ‘Cause it’s the quickest way to let you know that all those things those demons said was garbage. Fork, have they always talked to you like that?”

His silence answers her question.

She squeezes him again; “Damn, no wonder you’re as new to this whole friend thing as me.”

“Demons insult each other all the time, Eleanor, it’s how we compliment each other. We’re meant to enjoy it.”

That made zero sense.

“But you don’t....do you?”

Michael breaths in deep against her. Then she shakes her head, leaning into her shoulder.

“That’s ‘cause I’m a freak...I’m wrong, just like they say...like Shawn says...I’m just a failure of a demon.”

“That’s a good thing in my books, man.” Eleanor pulls back, looking at him, admiringly; “You might be failing as a demon but, I have it on good authority, you are rocking it as a newbie human. And I know you think we’re all gross and stupid but...I know you love us.”

He wrinkles his nose, trying to look as though he denied it, yet refusing to. His eyes gaze into hers, a rush of color brightening his cheeks.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to say it, I know you’re not quite ready there yet.” She knows herself how difficult it is to say those three words, to anyone; “But we’re your friends. We want you on our team, Michael, not just ‘cause it stops you torturing us but...Because you’re a cool guy to be around, when you’re not giving paperclip showers or putting us in purple space bubbles.”

A smile threatened to crack on Michael’s face as he squirmed beneath her. Was it really this easy to make an all-powerful being look so shy and bashful? It was adorable.

She moves her hand up to his cheek, thumb stroking below his eye, reddened with unshed tears.

“Also...I feel kinda obliged to confess something.” She says, “This skin-suit? Your skin-suit? What Vicky said was bull-shirt. All of it. Not only is this suit as much you as whatever demony essence you got going on underneath...But it’s also not bad looking either. I might even go as far to say ‘handsome’. In like a Richard Gere in Pretty Woman way.”

“R-really?” He looks hopeful for a second; “I mean...I know it’s gorgeous, but I wouldn’t expect...I mean I wouldn’t want you - or any human - to ever wanna-.”

She cuts his babbling off again with a kiss on the cheek.

He’s frozen now.

Eleanor grins; “That prove it for you? You know me, I don’t give out pity kisses.”

Michael squirmed again, biting his lip, mumbling something which might have been ‘gross’ or ‘weird food holes’, but he doesn’t move his hands away from where they’ve found the small of her back.

“Hey...how about we do one quick bit of karaoke before we go brief the others on tonight. You can pick the song.” She says, giving his bow-tie the smallest tug.

He smiles, touched, then nods; “Sounds good...”

“Cool. Also, don’t open that drawer on your desk until you’ve properly cheered up - I rigged it with a pie to get thrown in your face as revenge for cheating off my paper earlier!”

“Oh, pies are the best prank! I wish you hadn’t told me now, you’ve spoiled the surprise.”

Eleanor giggles as she takes his hand, leading him to his bud-hole; “You know me, demon buddy. I’m always full of surprises.”

His fingers squeezed hers; “That you are.”

#hellstrop minific #michael x eleanor #fluff #emotional hurt/comfort

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ahkaraii · 3 years

Text

damuron drabble (+yuri&flynn; 1447 words)

"They really eat this crap?" Damuron mutters as he heaves the monster's corpse onto Mister Hanks' rickety table.

"Don't be rude, soldier," Casey says coldly. "Not everyone has the privilege of eating like a noble."

Damuron wilts and mutters a "Sorry, Captain" before scuttling off to fetch another dead wolf. He personally thinks he'd never stoop so low as to eat a friggin' ratwigle, even if he was dirt poor and starving; he'd rather die, he thinks.

"Hey, shit for brains!" squeaks a high-pitched voice. "Eat THIS!"

Damuron turns just in time to get a face full of monster guts.

"All knights are bastards!" screeches the little shit that has just pelted him with stinking innards.

"What the fuck!" Damuron yelps. "You little shit!" He brushes the gore out of his eyes and chases the kid, who promptly turns tail and flees. "Come back here!"

"Catch me if you can, AKAB!" The brat has the gall to stick his tongue out at him as he runs. Oh, it's ON!

A flash of blue-gold causes him to react and then course-correct just in time to avoid slamming an elbow into yet ANOTHER child, who has barrelled into his legs, tripping them both down to the ground. "Leave Yuri alone!" pleads the new kid, eyes wide and blue and fierce. "He didn't mean anything by it!"

"I meant every word, Flynn!" The so-called Yuri spits. "Who do these knights think we are!"

Ahh, he knows that tone. Wounded pride. Understandable, really--Damuron would've reacted the same, in his place. "Get off me, kid," Damuron says, tiredly. "I won't do anything to your friend."

"He's not my friend!" Yuri protests, just as Flynn turns a little red and says, "Sorry, sir."

"Look, it's rude to throw shi--I mean, stuff at people." Damuron remains on the ground, arranging his limbs into more of a controlled sprawl, to remain level with the two shrimps. "I know the care package sucks, but it's something, at least. We're trying to help you guys."

"And we're very grateful, sir," Flynn says quickly.

"No, we AREN'T!" Yuri says hotly. "Not even a DOG would eat that! Hanks'll get the runs and almost die again!" His voice hitches and there's a glassy sheen to his eyes, now. "Then Hanks'll die for real and I'll be all alone again and, and--"

"Mister Hanks won't get the, uh, 'runs'," Damuron promises, and internally hopes he's not lying. "We cured the steaks with salts and a bottle of panacea. That means they won't get you sick, even if you eat them tomorrow." They might taste really fucking salty, though, but, well, what can you do.

"You're lying," Yuri says wretchedly, through a clogged nose. "All knights are liars."

"Take that back!" Flynn barks. "My dad wasn't a liar!"

"''cept your dad, of course," Yuri mutters, and sniffs loudly. "He was pretty cool, I guess."

"And Mister Leblanc!" Flynn insists. "He brought Miss Flora pencils and paper so we could learn our letters!"

"That guy's the opposite of cool," Yuri mumbles, but he's deflated enough that Damuron knows he's probably all fought out.

"Knights are people," Damuron says, scratching at his now-matted hair. "And people can be pretty cool, or pretty uncool. It's a bit of a gamble, really. But! Trust me. Casey Brigade's one of the good ones." He throws the kids a lopsided grin, mindful of the fact that half his cheek is smeared with dried up guck. "You can trust us."

Yuri eyes him distrustfully. "That's what bad people say to make you think they're good people."

Jeez, but this kid's on a whole other level. Damuron can't help but laugh a little. "Okay, fine. Those are good instincts, I guess. Believe what you like." He hefts himself up to his feet and feels a little sad when the two kids flinch away, as if afraid he'll strike them. "Maybe someday I'll prove it to you. 'Till then, I'll keep doing my job. So, avoid throwing any more stuff at me, okay? I'm trying to earn my gald, same as anyone."

"Yes, sir," Flynn says with a little wobble.

"AKAB," mouths Yuri, narrowed eyes following his every move.

"Right," Damuron says, a little defeated. "Then I'll be off.”

He makes his way back to the brigade's wagon, thinking about poverty and pride. He’s never wanted for anything in his life, except maybe affection, and attention. But food? Damuron’s never gone hungry in his life, excusing the times he was sent to bed without dinner for being a little shit. He’s never had to eat ratwigle rot ‘cause there was nothing else to eat.

“Shit,” he grouses. “This sucks.”

“What sucks is the punishment you’ll get for slacking off,” Lieutenant Hietham says coolly.

Aw, crap. “I wasn’t slacking off!” Damuron whines, hefting the last of the monster corpses onto his back. “I was just doing my civic duty, sir, honest.”

“You’re such a liar, Damuron,” Samaras mutters. “I saw you roughhousing with the locals, as usual.”

“Was not!” Damuron says. “I was teaching them about life, and resilience!” He deepens his voice, intoning, “‘Wind does not break the tree that bends.’”

“Who said that, your mom’s violin teacher?”

“My history tutor, actually,” Damuron grins. “Big on ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ and all that rot.”

“Lieutenant Atomais,” his Captain’s voice rings out, causing him to stiffen up and salute automatically.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Did you hurt the locals,” she says, cold as ice.

“No, ma’am,” Damuron says. “I did no such thing.”

“Are you lying to me,” she says, gaze sharp.

“I am not,” he says, stiffly.

“Leave him alone!” cries out a familiar voice. “He’s not lying, lady!”

Damuron blinks, and in that moment a rock’s gone flying and he barely catches it, inches before it hits Casey’s face. She looks just as shocked as he does.

“Oy, kid,” Damuron says, as if he’s in a dream. “What did we talk about throwing stuff?”

“Not to,” says the kid, grudgingly.

“Right, so,” Damuron says, a little out of breath, “will you apologise to my captain, please?”

“Sorry, I guess,” Yuri grumbles. “Ugh! That’s what I get for trying to bail you out, you dumb cop! AKAB!” And that’s the last Damuron sees of the little shit, ‘cause he’s gone.

“That kid,” Damuron sighs, and then remembers Casey’s looking at him. “Ah, crap. Um. Sorry, ma’am. He’s a bit, uh, impulsive. But he didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“I see that,” Casey says, her tone much softer, and her eyes much kinder. “Sorry for accusing you, Lieutenant.”

“Ehh,” Damuron never knows how to take an apology like that. “You had reasonable doubt, ma’am, it’s not like I haven’t proven you right before, and all.”

“No,” Casey insists. “You’re a good man, Damuron. I was wrong to assume otherwise. Please forgive me.”

Shit, shit. By Hiethum’s snort and Samaras’ subvocal whistle, Damuron KNOWS he’s beetroot red. Damn this stupid crush of his. “Um. No worries, Captain. Don’t sweat it.”

“I won’t,” Casey says, with a small smile. “I have antiperspirant.”

Damuron chokes on a startled laugh. This is why he fucking loves her, even if she’s a hardass. Her ability to switch from drop dead serious to deadpan humour is second to none.

“Now finish unloading that dire wolf, Atomais! And you help him too, Sergeant, don’t think I didn’t see you taking a smoke break. Move it!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Samaras and Damuron chorus in unison. Samaras sneaks a punch to Damuron’s liver when he loops an arm around the wolf dangling over Damuron’s shoulder.

“Ow, what gives?” Damuron whisper-hisses.

“Cap’n likes you,” Samaras whispers back, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Damuron grouses. She’s got a guy already, everyone knows that. A mid-level soldier, Damuron has deduced: she gets heart-stamped letters and a flood of flowers delivered to her office every fifteen days, hours after sergeants, officers, and lieutenants get their biweekly Imperial paycheck.

“The locals like you too, I think,” Samaras says, thoughtfully. “That kid tried to kick your ass then minutes later tried to defend it. How the hell do you do it, man?”

“What?” Damuron says, adjusting his hold on the wolf’s back legs, to avoid clawing himself. “Do what?”

“Get everyone to like you so fast,” Samaras says, and is there a mild note of resentment in his voice? C'mon, Damuron, work your magic.

“Aww, Sammy,” Damuron flutters his eyelashes. “You confessing to me?”

“Fuck off,” Samaras says, but he’s grinning. “I really don’t know how you do it.”

Damuron grins back at him, and pretends to be mom’s violin teacher, chirping, “'The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.'”

“Oh my god,” Samaras says, laughing. “I hate you so much, man.”

"Naw, you love me," Damuron says. "No take-backs."

#karaii fic #tales of vesperia #wanted to write some damuron and decided to throw a yuri and flynn cameo there too #just wanted to flesh out the casey brigade's voices in my noggin :)

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

Text

The Arachnoids: ROCK BAND AU [STARKER] - Chapter 9: WARY WORDS

READ “CHAPTER 9: WARY WORDS” ON AO3

Find the masterpost with all the chapters linked here!

Taglist: @crystallinecrimsonmoth & @staticwhispersinthedark (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Chapter 9: Wary Words

Tony’s gone.

That’s the first thought that crosses Peter’s mind when he stirs back to life after a short but good sleep. The room is empty and quiet, and it’s not just the man that has vanished. His bags are gone too and the sheets Tony slept under are neatly drawn up over the mattress. If it weren’t for the cologne lingering on Peter’s shirt, he could’ve sworn it’d all been a dream. It’s real, he reminds himself. It’s all real.

Peter doesn’t like the uneasy feeling that settles under his skin. He clamps his jaws together and blows into his cheeks, then letting the pressured air escape past his lips in a defeated sigh. He doesn’t know what to do. While it’s clear that something has to change for Tony, Peter wouldn’t know where to even start. He does realize it’s not his problem to solve, but he wants to help Tony however possible. It’s idle hope, though, to think the solution might come easy.

Tony’s gone, and there’s no sign of him until the live performance. It physically aches Peter’s chest to watch how freely Tony moves around the stage. No anxiety. No spiraling thoughts. Just Tony living through his music. The stage is Tony’s home. Performing is his home.

But after thanking his Finnish fans for supporting them today… There’s no trace left of where he could’ve gone. Tony’s hiding once again.

Latvia.

Poland.

Hungary

The next few days are all the same. No sight of Tony other than soundchecks and shows. No one knows where he is. And Peter realizes, horrified, that as much as everyone’s worried about Tony’s behavior, they don’t really care. Not truly. As long as Tony shows up to sing they seem awfully okay with it.

Austria

Italy

Spain

Peter still hasn’t managed to catch a moment alone with Tony. From a distance, he can see that the man looks paler. Tired. Lonely.

France

Belgium

Germany

Peter’s fed up with Tony evading everyone and he decides that he’ll do everything it takes to connect to him again. He will talk to Tony. As soon as he gets the chance.

Netherlands

“Hey, Stark!” Peter greets the man cheerfully as he finally finds the man by himself in the large Nijmegen venue. Tony’s leaning against the front barrier, looking up at the stage. “I’ve been thinking about your offer and I’ve decided to take you up on those guitar classes.” Tony tenses up and he grips the front barrier so tight his knuckles turn white. Oh no. Slowly, Tony turns around to face Peter. Tony looks straight at him but Peter can tell it takes everything the man has, to not avert his gaze. Peter’s heart clenches at the knowledge that the man’s been hurting so much lately, that it's a habit for him to hide everything.

“Hi, space boy.” Tony sniffs once and straightens his shoulders, faking a wide grin. Peter frowns at that. Does Tony still have the feeling he has to pretend so much? Tony continues talking before Peter has a chance to resume the conversation himself. “Wouldn’t you rather do another one of those sleepovers? ‘Twas quite a messy night, huh?”

What?

“That makes it sound like we had an actual one night stand,” Peter says slowly, eyebrows raised. If Tony wants to approach it like this, Peter will try to play along. Tony huffs a startled laugh at that. “That’s what happens when there’s only one bed,” he jokes. Tony’s smile falters soon after. He casts his eyes down to the floor. “I’m really sorry about that night, though… That… Wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What wasn’t?” Peter asks, tilting his head. He kinda expects Tony to cut the conversation short and make a run for it, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. “The panic attack- I never wanted to drop that on you. The hug…” Tony’s cheeks turn a little bit redder at that. He’s ashamed, Peter realizes. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony tenses at that once more. He blinks a few times, unsure of what to do. Peter swallows. The last thing he wants is to chase Tony away himself. “Hey…” Peter speaks softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” “No,” Tony pushes out. “You did. And you’re right, I guess. I have been avoiding you.” Tony glances around real quick to see if there’s no one else around. When he confirms they’re alone he sighs. “I’ve never been this vulnerable around anyone. I… don’t know how to deal with it.” Tony sits down on the floor to lean against the front barrier and he shakes his head. Peter carefully walks closer to him.

“That’s alright. It’s hard,” Peter breathes as he sinks down onto the cool metal plates as well. “I know my story isn’t nearly the same…” He continues. “But I was young when I lost everyone but Aunt May. I closed off. It fucking sucks when people watch your every move ‘cause they’re not sure what to do with you and your emotions.” Tony looks up at that. His eyes contain the exact spark of recognition Peter had hoped to ignite.

“Sometimes, it’d be much easier if none of it ever happened - or if no one knows. So that you can pretend it never did, even if just for a few minutes.” Peter pauses, trying to figure out the right words to continue. “But- If you never allow yourself to be vulnerable, no one’s gonna understand why you keep pushing them away. Eventually, they’ll take it as rejection. They give up. And it leaves you lonelier than you were before.” “Sounds familiar,” Tony mumbles quietly. Peter’s lips curl into a faint smile. “Yeah... And I’m not saying you always have to talk about the shit that’s going on, but you can let people know you’re not okay. Confide in them. You need that sense of community, Tony. Especially when things are bad.”

They’re both silent after that. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. Not at all. At one point, Tony’s composure softens. He goes less rigid, and his left knee falls against Peter’s right one. Peter lets it happen without a single thought; perhaps he too likes the warmth coming from the other’s body. Someone who, even though the story is different, shares the emotions Peter knows so well.

“Thank you,” Tony finally breathes. “That’s… You’re right- I-...” Tony groans when the words don’t come easy. Most likely unconsciously, he presses his knee into Peter’s a little more. Peter doesn’t say anything to give the man his time. He does press his knee back, though. Hoping to comfort Tony. Tony swallows and slowly continues. “Talking to you makes me feel like I can breathe, even if just slightly.” The words cause a gentle warmth to spread through Peter’s chest.

“I meant what I said the other night, Tony. I’m gonna be here, alright?” “You barely know me...” “Isn’t that enough of a reason to get to know each other better? I mean, we already slept in one bed after all,” Peter says, trying to lighten the conversation with a small joke. It seems to work. Tony snorts. “I think you’re my favorite one night stand,” Tony grins. Somehow, even though it’s obviously meant as a joke, it catches Peter completely off guard and he blushes. Tony notices and he grins. “Ooooooh! You liked it too!” Tony teases. Peter growls in response and leans sideways to bump into Tony’s shoulder. The man laughs, actually laughs, and the sound reverberates in Peter’s chest. Is this the lighter side of Tony he hasn’t seen yet?

“Hey,” Tony mumbles once his snickering died down. “I have to go do this stupid interview. Harley will lynch me if I don’t show up.” “Shouldn’t Bruce and Happy be the ones to do that?” “They don’t really bother with me. They’ve given Harley the most prestigious task of babysitting me.” “Harley seems nice though, isn’t he?” Peter tries. Tony hums. “For sure. He’s a good kid.”

Tony’s silent after that and Peter bites down his bottom lip. He feels like the conversation isn’t over yet. He drops his head to one side to look at Tony. Tony raises his eyebrows. “Will you be okay?” Peter asks quietly. “I…” Tony sighs. “I guess? Interviews trigger my anxiety quite badly. Nat, Steve, and Harley know about the medication shit, though. They try to help me through. They just don’t know about… Morgan.” Tony’s voice wavers when he chokes out her name. “I’ll manage. I promise.” Peter smiles and leans into Tony a little bit more, trying to bring him some comfort.

“Alright. Promise me one thing though,” Peter whispers. “Or, two actually?” “What’s that?” “I want those guitar classes,” Peter states and Tony snorts, shrugging and shaking his head. “Sure, what else?”

Peter hesitates and he clasps his own hands together, leaning forward onto his upper legs. From there, he eyes Tony carefully. “Don’t rewatch it.” Peter takes a breath. “The interview. Answer their questions and then forget about it.”

Tony takes a few moments to think about that before he swallows and nods. His eyes sparkle when he raises his head to look Peter straight into his eyes. “I promise.”

Peter mindlessly helps Ned set up his drums for tonight. Ned loves the new set, even though it’s not nearly the same quality as the one he has at home. It’s got a nice sound, Peter has to admit that. He doesn’t know enough about drums to give a solid opinion, but if Ned’s happy, so is he.

“So, what’s up with Tony?” Ned asks, fiddling with one of his drumsticks when Peter finishes tightening the last hi-hat clutch. Peter leans back, eyeing Ned curiously. “What do you mean?” “He seems… So… Nice? Today? I dunno,” he mumbles. “He’s not himself.” “Oh?” “Yeah, he-”

Before Ned can finish his explanation, the door slams open and Peter looks up startled. MJ comes rushing in and she throws herself into Ned’s arms. “Help!” She squeaks. “Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” “I- Harley, he- He asked me out,” she chokes out. “And my dumb ass said no. But when I ran off I- I realized I wanted to say yes and I don’t know what to do.” MJ groans and presses her lips together.

“Please, you gotta help me.”

Read the next chapter >> 10: Blossoming Bond

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serifsans · 3 years

Text

"I just want you to know that it's breaking my heart that you won't take me trick or treating and I simply do not know how I will ever recover from this cruel, cruel thing you've done to me," Jean-Paul says.

They're filling goodie bags in the office. They had anticipated they'd go through a lot of them but neither of them quite anticipated the volume of small children coming into the shop, so after a quick trip to the shops to salvage what candy they could off the shelves, JP and Vladimir are trying to restock their supplies before the horde decimates the remaining bags.

This is so hard because when you get down to it, JP's a simple creature with simple desires (to make as much money as possible to prove they're amazing at being human; to be beautiful; to live forever and be adored; to protect the person they love; to raze the entire Bastienn family to the ground and tear out the hearts of those who kept them in that cage for all those years; to figure out why volphs exist; hook up with hot aliens; to be darling) and chiefest among them is the very simple want of shoving your muzzle in a bag of chocolate bigger than your body and going to town. Life is hard.

"You'll live," their boyfriend says because he's a cold, cruel man. "When you turn into a child, it's strange. Please have fun though, yeah?"

Vladimir wasn't even supposed to be in Maroa tonight but here he is. Jean-Paul's not complaining, of course, because they live for when he's here. Most of their relationship has consisted of Vlad vanishing for weeks at a time with little explanation other than business or family (and then sometimes it's because he needs space or because one or both of them are scared of regs and then sometimes it's because he's off pursuing his favorite hobby of chasing after choreographers, which gives JP time to go on Finder dates with as many exciting new aliens as possible) and Jean-Paul's used to it, Jean-Paul understands, Jean-Paul's not going to pretend that they're not a fickle creature themself, but it's lonely. It's very lonely. They spend so much time missing him.

He's been spending more time in Maroa and more time around the shop lately. Vladimir's giving less and less of a fuck if regulators sniff them out and Jean-Paul doesn't have it withing him to chase him off.

"Of course I will, darling. I'm excellent at Halloween," JP says. "Ah. This is unrelated, absolutely unrelated, but it's something I've been thinking about since Vegas."

"Yeah?"

Jean-Paul finishes tying off a bag of candy and doesn't look up from their work.

"Am I pressuring you into giving up your humanity?" they ask.

Vladimir scoffs and they don't have to look up to feel the incredulous look on his face.

"My sweet little Paulie," he says, "do you think you could possibly make me do anything I wasn't going to do anyway?"

Jean-Paul almost argues that yes, actually, he's an aeons old creature from a distant star who barely understands how people work, so they might very well be influencing their unfortunately human boyfriend towards something he only thinks he wants, but they wisely shut their mouth because Vladimir Volchenkov is stubborn as an ox and if he doesn't actually want to do something, nothing on Earth can possibly make him do it. He's met rocks with more give.

"Oh, don't be an ass, darling. I worry. The vampire thing is a poor solution to our problem but I haven't found anything better. Besides, humans are very precious. I just don't want you to lose something if you might want it back later."

Vlad takes his hand in his.

"My love, you do not see it because you would like to not be a volph very much but humans, we're no good. Humanity is something I am happy to be rid of."

Oh, he's doing this again. Jean-Paul suppresses a growl because they're a refined man of business and refined men of business don't growl like dumb little animals, but they do bring his hand up to their mouth and gently nip. This is probably weirder than just growling, actually.

"Vladimir, you absolute turnip, that's bullshit and you know it. So a few humans are rotten? So what? It doesn't mean the rest of them are mushy too."

"I know what I know, Paulie," he says in that tone that means the discussion's final, that it's over, that he's not changing his opinion about the rest of his species and that's that. Vladimir's the most frustrating man in the entire world and if they didn't love him so much, they'd bite him to death.

"Ugh, fine, whatever. I still think you all aren't nearly as bad as you think. Anyway, I just want to be certain that you're really sure."

"We have talked about this for twenty years. It was different when Vera was young. She's a grown woman now with a child of her own and she does not need me. I am tired, Paulie. I have spent all of my life running and hiding (no, do not give me that look, it is not because of you, you know what my brother is, you know why I move) and what do I have to show for it? A big house? Some money? It is nice, yes, but you are nicer. I have to live forever so that you do not spend all of your money on decorative statues."

JP throws a peanut butter cup at him.

"Oh! Oh, oh, oh, I am not going to do that. I'll have you know that I'm extremely fiscally responsible. I just like to have some fun sometimes."

They stick their tongue out at him. Vladimir shuts up him momentarily by shoving a lollipop (blue raspberry, a good flavor) into their mouth.

"Anyway," they say around the candy, "I think it's really important to emphasize that vampirism is not immortality. It just prolongs things a bit if you have vampire blood. It's a bad solution but I don't have anything better."

"Then it gives us more time to figure things out. You fret too much. I think I'd look good in fangs. Pretty sexy, don't you think?"

"All the other volphs will judge me terribly but yes, actually, fangs are sexy but only on you."

They finish putting the goodie bags together and not even an hour later, they have to put together more. This has more to do with Jean-Paul surreptitiously eating candy bars than they want to admit.

#ooc #drabble

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dumbfuck-mojave · 4 years

Text

FNV Companions React to Someone Being Aggressive Towards Rex.

@spidester basically came up with this idea.

TW: Mentions of violence against humans and animals. Some sexual flirtation. Swearing is the norm at this point

Fucking IDEK if these are out of character anymore we just roll with it. Also, shitty and inconsistent writing and react length ahoy. Also yes I lied and said this was going to be out last night but I got sick please understand-

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Arcade: Six had dragged him into Ultra-Luxe because once again, they were being stupid and trying to beat some sort of goal they had set for themselves earlier that day at the gambling tables. Rex had also come in with them, but had wandered off with his snout up in the air towards the kitchens. While Six was focusing on the Blackjack table Arcade heard a sudden yip and bark behind him and turned to see two people laughing and kicking the poor dog. They weren’t dressed like the people that would usually gamble here and they certainly weren’t a White Glove, so Arcade just assumed they were some travelers that didn’t know Six’s reputation and love for their canine companion. Also angry at the situation unfolding, Arcade briskly made his way over to them.

“Excuse me-”

“Fuck off.”

Now, that made Arcade very unhappy. Honestly, he expected them to be rude, but was still a little surprised at how quickly they shot him down, not even trying to start an argument or anything. Yet.

“Listen, gentlemen.” Arcade said sharply, “I suggest you leave now because you’d much rather deal with me telling you how vile of people you are than for my friend over at the Blackjack table getting word of what you’ve been doing to their dog.”

“Oh, tough guy, eh? Well guess what, we don’t give a shit about what you or your idiot friend have to say!” The taller of the men sneard, getting right up in Arcade’s face. “Fucking forget it, the dumb dog isn’t worth our time. They ran out of booze a while ago anyway.”

Arcade gave them a look of disinterest as the semi-stumbled out the door. He made….. eye contact?..... with one of the masked servers when he looked away from them, who also seemed relieved that the two men were gone, probably because they had trached dust and mud throughout the entire main room. Making his way back to Six, Arcade was going over scenarios in his head about what Six would do once he told them. Turns out one of his guessed scenarios was true. He did know Six very well after all. Unfortunately for the men, they had decided to sleep naked that night and Six had found out where they were staying through a few connections. A few hours later the men’s clothes were strung up on and lit on fire in the middle of Freeside, with the neat edition of shoving several hungry geckos into the men’s hotel room. The men ran out into the Mojave, naked and with a few flesh chunks missing from their body, while Rex gnawed happily on his Brahmin Steak in the Lucky 38.

Boone: A Legion party had ambushed them just outside of Red Rock Canyon as they were making their way towards Vegas from Goodsprings. The system they had was working well enough, Boone had managed to climb his way up on the hill to the right of the road and was sniping them from afar while Six was up close with their ripper. It was hard to get solid damaging headshots on them since they were those dumb helmets, but if he got lucky Six would get close enough to rip one of their helmets off so he could get a clear shot through their skull. Usually, there were 4 Legionaries in a party but Caesar must have really wanted Six dead at this point, so they were currently being surrounded by at least 12, possibly even more. As Six drop-kicked two legionaries into each other, Boone noticed one of the other Legionaries targeting Rex and backing him up against the Canyon wall. Luckily for Boone and unfortunately for the Legionnaire, there was no helmet in sight. Boone lined up the shot and it entered the target’s head with a whiz and a squish. As the now-corpse fell to the ground, the group of three reorganized amongst the carnage. Rex sat down at Boone’s feet and looked up at him, mouth open and panting.

“Don’t look at him like that.” Boone said in a monotone voice, making the Courier laugh beside him.

“Boone, you’re talking to a dog.” The Courier started on their way once again to Vegas, looking down at the dog now trotting beside them.

“You want to go see the King Rex?”

*Bark*

“Look who’s talking to the dog now.”

Veronica and Cassidy: The girls had decided to hang out together today, without the Courier. They also had Rex in tow and were currently sitting at the Atomic Wrangler’s counter. Both of these women were at least three bottles in each already and their laughter poured through the casino as Veronica slouched over and snorted at one of Cass’ merchant stories.

“There is *snort* there is no way he did that.” Veronica wheezed out, falling into another fit of laughter.

“He did! He just grabbed that fucker by his-”

Their conversation was cut off when a man walked over to them. Much too confidently, I might add. They both looked up at him in disgust and annoyance.

“So, what are two beautiful ladies doing out here all alone. You know, why don’t we all go upstairs and have a little *fun* together. ” The man leaned in so far he almost touched noses with Veronica. Rex had been sitting idly with his head in his paws on the floor until this moment. When the man leaned in, Rex growled and stood up, brisling at the man.

“Dumb dog.” The man grumbled, swinging out his hand and hitting Rex in the head. Now no one knew if the man had meant to hit Rex so hard that he slammed his glass dome into the counter, but it didn’t matter now. Veronica pushed up off the counter and shoved the man back.

“Who do you think you are?! First, you come up to two ladies who are CLEARLY disinterested in you, interrupt their good time, then you have the audacity to hit our dog?!” Veronica practically yelled, drawing attention from several others in the room. Two people in particular had the look in their eyes that was almost begging to see a fight.

“Listen, girlie, I do what I want, ok?” The man growled, cut off by Veronica shoving his back against the counter, “Oh, girlie, you want to start right now?”

“She doesn’t want to do anything with you. Nobody would.” Cass said as she finally stood up, looking over Veronica’s shoulder.

“Now come on ladies, no need to fight over me.” The man slurred, the beginnings of a wolfish grin on his face.

Now, Ronnie may be small but she has a power fist and can fuck some people up. In a flash, the man was on his knees with both arms straining behind him, courtesy of Cass. Veronica unveiled her power fist and a spark of fear appeared in the man’s eyes as she swung it dainlity near his temple.

“I could swing my fist sideways right now.” She started swinging faster and more aggressively, “And give you a good lesson about how to treat others around you with an indent on your head to remind you.”

“N-No!”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure it would be no trouble for my friend here.” Cass sneered, tightening her grip on the man’s arms, making him squeal out in man.

“Please, please! No!”

As the once confident man was damn near sobbing just at the prospect of getting hit, Veronica and Cass looked up at each other and grinned. Dragging the man outside, Veronica used her unarmored fist to hit him into a puddle of… something. The man stumbled to his feet and looked back in fear at the doorway. Then sprinted off.

“DAMN! NEXT TIME YOU START A FIGHT YOU BETTER BE ABLE TO FINISH IT!” Cass yelled after him before they retreated into the casino once more.

. On their way back in, two figures walked out the door, following the now out of sight man. Sometimes, if you want to see a fight, you just have to start one yourself.

Ed-E: *Pulls out laser canon* “Beep beepbeep bop'' Translation: “You bitch ass motherfucker”. Even if Rex sometimes drools on Ed-E or accidentally whips a ball at it’s shell, Ed-E will still protecc and attacc.

Lily: Ok no but honestly and sorry to disappoint but any scenario involving her reacting to this is just them fighting, her calling the Courier Jimmy, then absolutely rocking the perpetrators shit. Like, tear that person in half grandma. I wanted to write a longer thing out….unless

Raul: He and Six had decided to stop at 188 Trading Post for the night instead of attempting to walk all the way back to Vegas. They were low on supplies, tired and hungry, and Raul’s back was acting up again. Samuel was nice enough to let Raul lie down for a bit on one of the mattresses behind the bar while Six was focusing on cleaning their weapons and bartering. Just as he was about to drift off, he heard Six’s voice speak up above the radio.

“Don’t touch my goddamn dog like that!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do you fucking piece of shit! Oh fuck-”

Raul stood up and peered around the corner to see a rather interesting sight. Six was straddling some random man and aggressively slapping his hands away when he tried to reach for them, all while screaming every obscene thing they’ve ever been taught, even some things in Spanish thanks to Raul. Samuel was looking very concerned at the bar, not wanting to get directly involved in this mess while Rex was barking his head off in the man's face. After Raul managed to drag Six off the man, he found out the man was an associate of Alexander and was talking about making a deal with him when Rex came up to him to sniff his hand. Agitated, the man reached down and put his fist around Rex’s muzzle, yanking him up on his back to legs. Nothing escalated past that point as Six had entered the picture by then. They eventually decided to just walk back to Vegas that night and extend their break home, but damn if Raul wasn’t impressed and kind of flattered at the way they gracefully told a man how they were going to cut out this tongue and feed it to rats. Raul is dad.

(The insult thing was definitely a nod to one of @nuclear-reactions posts)

Thank you for reading! Requests are open!

#original writing #fallout writing #my writing #fallout companions #fallout companions react #companions react #companions react to #tw: animal abuse #animal abuse mention #cw animal abuse #characters react #craig boone #raul tejada #veronica santangelo #rose of sharon cassidy #lily bowen #ed-e #arcade gannon #rex

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all-my-novels · 4 years

Text

Carlotta’s Lament / Tool Scene

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure fanfiction: OC/fankids focused

Words: 1,481

Read on the Ao3 here

Carlotta Brando sees herself as a tool to be used, and assumes Kokoro Kujo sees her the same way. She couldn't be more wrong, though.

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This is a scene from my fanchild fanpart for JoJo, called "Heartbreak Hotel Heartbreakers." As I'm notorious for never finishing things, I'm writing out scenes from my fanparts so you guys can read them in case they never get written. For more updates on these characters and more, you can find their works here:

My Writeblr -- Fankids Ask Blog -- Fankids Discord (open to anyone, I'm not the only one who posts content there)

Did you like this? THEN COMMENT. Seriously. Leave kudos too, and if you really liked it, bookmark! Creators won't create if there's nothing to create for!!! It's not hard to leave a comment saying "I liked this!" so please do if you liked it!

Carlotta’s Lament / Tool Scene

"Carlotta -- hey, Carla, slow the hell down!"

Kokoro's voice is uncharacteristically loud and somewhat emotional as she chases down her wayward cousin. The blonde stalked off after managing to defeat Hephaestus, a stormy expression on her face and sour parting words hanging in the air:

"I'll be making my own way from here on out."

Kokoro knows it's an illogical decision. The Artemis House is far from defeated, and if Carlotta goes off on her own, she'll most certainly be killed by them. It's what she's been trying to avoid...

So why is she moving faster while Kokoro tries to catch up?

Catching the other girl on the shoulder with her hand, Kokoro whirls her around to face her. Her expression is still stormy, but now there's an undeniable pain on her face as well and in her eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" Kokoro says quickly. "You know going off on your own puts us all in danger, right? Not just you? Making impulsive decisions will drag this whole team down --"

"It's always like this," Carlotta murmurs. Her voice may be quiet, but she absolutely sounds hurt. "I'm always -- always -- doin' shit for other people. Been that way since I was a kid." She bites her lip. Kokoro decides to keep her mouth shut for now, instead watching and listening while Carlotta continues. "Now, nobody asked me t' do that, t' be fair. I took up the mantle on my own, of my own free will. I'm always shoulderin' my own shit to deal with other people's. For their good, instead of mine. Y'know why I do that, Miss Psychologist?" Carlotta jabs a finger into Kokoro's chest, but the red-head doesn't respond.

"Not even gonna guess? Damn, yer borin' as always." Carlotta turns her head to the side and spits, then looks back at Kokoro, in the eyes. Kokoro's uncomfortable with the direct eye contact, but maintains it. "Well, fine. I'll take the fun outta it n' just tell ya: it's cause I think that, mebbe, if I keep helpin' people, even when they don't like me? Maybe they'll start t' like me."

A period of silence stretches between the two, and Carlotta snorts, removes her finger from Kokoro's chest and lets her hand fall back to her side. "I mean, I get it. I get this whole Artemis House deal, I get why people don't trust me or anybody else with th' name "Brando." My Pops did some bad shit back in th' day. I mean... how many folks d'you know who had their brother's body copied t' use as a backup in case somethin' happened to theirs?" She chuckles bitterly, but there's absolutely no happiness behind it. "Course, Uncle Jonathan forgave 'im for that, 'cause he's got a soft heart, y'know? Like me." She curls her hand into a fist over her chest, her fangs sinking deeper into her lower lip. Kokoro can tell that she's drawn blood, but she keeps speaking anyway.

"But the damage 's done. Nobody trusts me when I say I'm not a bad person. So I got to thinkin'... mebbe, if I just... stopped worryin' 'bout myself, how I felt, n' just let myself be a tool for others to use... mebbe I could fix us. Mebbe I could fix my family." Carlotta sniffs, her blue eyes shimmering with tears now as she rubs furiously at her face.

She may be eighteen, and legally an adult, but in reality, she's still just a child. A child with a burden far too heavy to bear on her own.

"Mebbe I could rewrite the Brando story, y'know? So that -- so that we ain't always just moochers on th' Joestar line." She sighs, looks down at her feet and kicks half-heartedly at a rock lying next to her foot. "But that was naive, n' stupid. We ain't never gonna be nothin' but a footnote in somebody else's story at best. At worst... we're the villains." She swallows, wipes away some of the blood trailing down her chin from where she split her lip earlier with her fangs.

"Pa n' Pops always wanted better fer us than what they got in life. 's why I never... told 'em about any o' this. Thinkin' about how Pops'd feel if I told 'im I was depressed after everythin' he's done for me? 's too much. 'sides, he don't need to worry 'bout me when we've got all the little ones, already." Carlotta wraps her arms around herself. She's long since looked away from Kokoro, instead turning her focus towards the ground as she shuffles her feet.

"Don'tcha get it, Kokoro? I'm -- I'm a fake. A fuckin' fake. Everythin' I've ever done is for somebody else, to make somebody else happy, so somebody else'll like me, or at the least, y'know, find some kinda use for me. My Pops used other folks as tools for his own gain..."

And here, Carlotta's hands curl into fists at her sides as her shoulders tremble with the weight of the world; she's become her own Atlas.

"... so I became everyone else's tool t' fix it. But even then -- even then, I couldn't win ya' over. An' not the Avdols either -- sure, J.P loves me, n' I'd die for him like I'd die for August or Teddy, or any of the others, but he's his own brand o' crazy. The others ain't gonna trust me. Even if I did die for 'im, I doubt they'd care enough to leave flowers at my grave. Yer different, though, Koku-chan. I think..." She furrows her brow and sniffs as tears roll down her cheeks. "... I think I wanted t' be friends with ya' so bad 'cause I wanted t' prove we -- the Brandos n' Joestars -- ain't gotta fight all the time. We can be friends, y'know?"

She starts to cry harder now, hiccupping sobs breaking through her words here and there. "But -- but I was -- I was wrong, again. Like a dumb lil' kid, I -- just don't learn my fuckin' lesson. It's my fault. I'm -- I'm not th' cousin ya' deserve, or th' friend ya' deserve either. I'm not good enough for nobody."

She ends her final word with a choked little whimper, curling in on herself before sitting down on the forest floor. Without thinking, Kokoro kneels down in front of her and puts her arms around her cousin, pulling her head in close to rest on her chest -- cheek pressed just above her heart -- just as her father Noriaki had done so many times when she would get overstimulated and panicked as a young child, so she could hear her heartbeat.

"You're wrong, Carla," Kokoro finally murmurs. Carlotta stops crying for a moment, curls her hands into the fabric of Kokoro's coat and goes still against her chest. "I don't hate you. I never have. I kept pushing you away because I figured you would be better off without me. I'm... not very good with showing emotions. I do a better job at analyzing other people's emotions and feelings, and talking them through it. Until you came looking for me, no one had ever tried to be my friend before, besides Axel." Kokoro sighs heavily, rests her cheek against the top of Carlotta's head as a few wet drops fall from her own eyes onto her hair. "I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry that I hurt you. But I don't -- I don't hate you. Not for anything you did, and not for anything your father did. That doesn't concern me -- or either of us -- anyway."

She squeezes Carlotta tight, presses a platonic kiss to her scalp. "Just promise me you'll do your best to live for yourself, and stay alive for yourself, and nobody else? You're not a tool to be used. You've got a path all of your own that's just as important as anyone else's. That's why I agreed to help you with Artemis House, anyway. I did it for you, and your family, not because I wanted anything out of any of you. I just believe living things have the right to live. Even if they are smelly vampires."

Carlotta snorts out a little laugh, pulls her head away from Kokoro's chest to look her in the eyes. She slides her glasses off, and Kokoro removes her shades for a moment, and they both rub at their eyes at the same time before putting their eyewear back on in tandem.

"We're gonna fight this battle together. As friends and equals. Got it?" Kokoro says, extending a hand to Carlotta for her to shake.

Carlotta gives a wry grin, takes Kokoro's hand in hers and shakes it. "Yeah. Got it. Thanks Koku-chan."

They return back to the others, hand-in-hand as cousins, not knowing just how important their bond is for the future of the Joestar family line and for each other.

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shanastoryteller · 5 years

Text

Moonlight Pale Bones

“You know what they say about these woods?” Diego asks, walking close and grinning down at her, his teeth extra white in the darkness.

Maria scowls. She likes him, but not now, not when it’s cold and dark and all their friends are waiting for them. Why did she even agree to come to this stupid party anyway? “That dumb teenagers who cut through the woods at night end up getting murdered?”

“Well, yeah,” he frowns. “Do you know how, though?”

“Shot? Strangled? Eaten?” she rattles off, stepping closer to him without thinking about it. Her house is filled with her screaming little sisters, but at least there aren’t any murderers there. Probably. She wouldn’t put anything past Mama.

“Nah,” he leans down to speak in her ear, his breath hot against her neck. “Ghosts.”

She shivers and tells herself it’s just from the cold. She whacks him in the chest and he stumbles back, laughing. “Shut up.”

“It’s true!” he swears. “My grandpa said there was some lady who went missing in the woods. She was a teacher at our school, and he swears up and down it was the boyfriend, some scumbag drug dealer who killed her for refusing to marry him, but they couldn’t prove anything.” He lowers his voice to say, “They never found the body.”

“They’ll never find your body if you keep this up,” she threatens, but he only laughs at her again. “No one goes missing in these woods, not for long, that’s a ridiculous story.”

It’s true. Kids might spread rumors, but even adults don’t mind their children playing in here so much these days.

Kids get lost often enough, but they never seem to go missing.

Paola hates Diego.

That’s not true, and she feels bad as soon as she thinks it. Diego is always sweet to her, and polite to Papa. But Maria used to stay home and play with her on the weekends, and she still does, sometimes, but more and more she leaves the house to go spend time with her stupid boyfriend.

Diego isn’t stupid. He’s actually helping Maria raise her grade in history.

But she doesn’t want to be left behind again this weekend.

So this time, while Mama is busy with the twins and Papa is cooking dinner, she slips from the house to follow them.

If Maria is going to keep leaving, the least she can do is take Paola with her.

At first, it’s easy, hiding behind bushes and lamp posts. But then they go into the woods, and Paola hesitates.

She doesn’t like the woods. People say bad things happen there, and she doesn’t want bad things to happen to her. But Diego and Maria are getting further and further from view, and she doesn’t want to be left behind, so she steps past the clump of trees, trying to follow her sister.

She does okay. For a while.

But it’s dark, and the trees are dense. She can’t see more than a foot in front of her, and the sounds of cars and other people are muffled in here, until they fall away completely. She tries to hurry, planning to come clean and catch up to them, because even if they’re angry it won’t matter, because she won’t be alone anymore.

Her foot catches on something, the top of her toes jammed under a root, and she throws her arms out to break her fall.

“Ow,” she whimpers, pushing herself up. Her hands are bleeding, and she thinks her knees are too. Her shoulders hurt, a dull sort of ache that she can just tell is going to get worse. “I hate this. I want to go home! MARIA! MARIA, COME GET ME!”

Silence.

She wraps her arms around herself. “Diego! DIEGO! MARIA! ANYONE! IS ANYONE THERE?”

Something cold brushes against the back of her neck, like a drop of ice water crawling down her spine. She yelps and slaps her hand against it, but there’s nothing there. She looks up, but it’s not raining.

There’s a brush of cold air against her legs, and it’s too quiet, everything is too quiet. Even forests aren’t supposed to be this quiet.

“Hello?” she whispers, eyes wide and darting around, but all she sees is darkness and the vague outlines of trees.

When she’d asked if anyone was there, she hadn’t meant it as an invitation.

They’re nearly outside the forest when Maria feels a sharp pain against her hand and yanks it out of Diego’s grip. “OW! What the hell did you do?”

“Me?” he asks, confused. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?”

“I – my hand,” she starts, confused, because it’s not just the hand he was holding, but both of them.

She holds them up, and Diego pulls out his phone to shine his light on them. They stare for a moment in silence. “What the hell…” They’re scraped and bleeding, and tiny indents of rocks that didn’t break her skin surround the shallow cuts. “Did – did you fall?”

“I think you would have noticed,” she snaps, still staring at her hands in confusion.

“Right. Well. It’s okay, we’ll clean those up once we get to the party. You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, but there’s something uneasy in her stomach.

The sooner they get out of these woods, the better.

Paola runs.

She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she’s afraid, and anywhere is better than here. She’ll run so fast that whatever is there won’t be able to catch her.

Just because she can’t see anything, doesn’t mean there’s not anything there.

Her lungs feel like ice, and her legs are burning, but she doesn’t want to stop. She jumps over tree roots and runs through a thicket of rose bushes, which leaves long thin scratches all over her bare skin, but she doesn’t pause.

Something tugs at the back of her shirt, and she screams, ripping herself free, tells herself it was only a tree branch. Then there’s a sensation of a freezing hand around her wrist, and someone pushing at her shoulders, trying to push her back.

They don’t feel like adult hands.

They feel like kids’ hands, hands her size, and she sobs as she forces her way through them. “Stop! Don’t touch me, leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

She takes her next step, but the ground gives way beneath her feet, and then she’s falling.

Maria is waving to their friend Isabelle, finally relaxing in the streetlamps and cars, the light and music and sound spilling all around her.

She’s hit with the force of sledgehammer in her sternum. Diego’s arm around her shoulders is all the at keeps her from falling back onto the pavement.

“Maria!” he shouts, and she clings to him and tries to remember how to breathe, eyes wide. The wind’s been knocked out of her, and she can’t seem to make her lungs work.

Isabelle is crowding around her. Diego picks her up in his arms, and the heavy pressure on her chest finally falls away. She takes in a deep, painful breath, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, frantic, and she shakes her head, clawing at her shirt.

Isabelle reaches forward and tugs it down, and Diego turns his head away, but looks down again when she breathes, “What the hell?”

Deep purple bruises are down her front. Even if she had just been hit, it wouldn’t be this color yet, and she definitely didn’t have these when she got dressed this morning.

She doesn’t understand. Something she doesn’t understand is happening, and it scares her.

Her phone rings, the noise startling the three of them so badly that Diego jumps, still holding her. She pushes at him until he puts her down, then takes out her phone with a shaking hand. “Mama?”

Her mother is speaking high and frantic, everything coming out in a panicked mix of Spanish and English, so it takes her a few seconds to understand what she’s saying.

Her sister is missing.

The first thing Paola is aware of is that everything hurts.

The second is the voices.

“-sorry Miss, we tried to stop her-”

“I couldn’t grab her, she just kept running–”

“At least Sir won’t get her, not with you here, Miss–”

“-not dead, right? We’d know if-”

“Miss, what do we do?”

“-won’t find her here, she has to get up-”

“I’m up,” she croaks, and everything is silent again. She tries to push herself upright, but it all hurts too much, so she just rolls over on her side and opens her eyes.

The empty sockets of a skull stare back at her.

She screams.

“Mama said she was upset that I was leaving,” Maria says, the flashlight heavy in her hand. “What if she didn’t even make it to the forest? What if someone saw her on the street and – and –”

“Hey,” Isabelle says sharply. “Relax. She’s a little kid, and it’s dark. She’s probably just lost in the woods or got scared and is waiting for us somewhere. We’ll find her. Your parents are starting on the other edge of the forest, don’t worry, one of us will find her.”

Maria sniffs. “But it’s so big.”

It is. Papa said they’d make a pass along the route Maria and Diego had taken first to see if she was there before sounding the alarm, because if she’s not there –

The forest is so big. How will they ever be able to find her?

Diego takes her hand and squeezes, and she smiles at him even though the pressure on her wounds hurts.

Something cold goes over her face, blocking her view, and Paola screams even louder. “No!” says a voice, but it sounds different, muffled, “Don’t look, just turn the other way, it’s okay.”

She takes a deep breath, shivering, and slowly does as she’s told.

“You’re okay,” says another voice, this one sounding like it’s coming from an old tv. “You didn’t hit your head, and you didn’t break anything–”

“Uh,” says a third voice.

“Anything important!” the second voice continues. “Just your leg! That’s not so bad. Ms. Rodriguez died down here because she hit her head, but you didn’t! You’re doing great!”

“Marlene,” says the first voice again, in warning.

“What? It’s true! It’s not even that deep! She can climb out!”

“Uh,” the second voice says again, more emphatic.

“Oh. Right. Good point.”

There’s a sigh. “Children. Please.”

“Sorry Ms. Rodriguez,” says two voices in tandem, neither of them sounding quite right.

“Sweetie,” says that first voice, this Ms. Rodriguez, “I’m going to take my hands away, but you can’t panic, okay? I know you’re scared, and everything hurts, but you I need you to stay calm. I’m going to help you.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

The coldness leaves her face, and she blinks, waiting for everything to swim into focus.

Then she blinks a few more times, just in case her mind is playing tricks on her.

There’s a girl around her age sitting cross legged in front of her, but she’s wearing a weird frilly dress, her hair falling in picture perfect curls around her face. Then next to her is an Asian boy in overalls and bare feet, a straw hat too big for him tipped back on his head.

That wouldn’t be too strange, except for the way she can see straight through them. “Am I dead?”

“No,” says the boy. “We are.”

“John,” Ms. Rodriguez says, and Paola tilts her head back so she can see her.

She’s not totally there like the kids are, flickering in and out of her vision, and more transparent when she is there. She’s in long skirt and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a shiny diamond ring on right hand. “Who are you?”

“I’m Ms. Rodriguez,” she says, smiling. “I used to teach at the school. Do you go there? Are you in school now?”

“Yes,” she whispers, and her eyes fill with tears. “I like school. I – I have to study for my spelling test. I can’t die.”

“You’re not going to die,” Marlene says, “Miss doesn’t let people die, and we help! Katie is getting your sister right now!”

“Katie is not,” says a new voice, and a dark skinned girl appears in pale blue satin flapper dress, her hair short and curled close to her head. She’s older than Paola, but younger than Maria. “Her sister is too dumb to take a hint. But I didn’t see my dad anywhere either, so there’s that.”

Paola scowls. “Maria isn’t dumb!”

“She’s too old,” she continues like Paola hadn’t said anything. “She can’t see me. I tried hurting her to get her attention–”

Ms. Rodriguez rubs a hand over her face. “Katie, we’ve talked about this–”

“You hurt my sister?” Paola demands, pushing herself upright to glare at her properly, even though it makes her chest explode with pain.

“Please be careful,” Ms. Rodriguez frets, hands hovering over her like she wants to touch, but she won’t be able to.

Katie shrugs. “Not permanently. I gave her some of your injuries to see if she’d get the hint. She didn’t.”

“John?” Ms. Rodriguez asks, looking at him.

He sighs and takes off his too big hat to run a hand through his hair. “Well, I can try, but I’m not very good at this sort of thing, Miss. Katie’s the best at affecting things.”

“That’s because Katie is a poltergeist,” Ms. Rodriguez says. “She’s very skilled and we’re grateful for her help. But we’re looking for a softer touch right now.”

“I could knock a tree over?” Katie offers.

Marlene’s eyes widen. “Please don’t do that.”

John scratches his nose. “What if – what if Sir is still out there?”

“He’s hiding,” Katie says, softening. “He knows that Miss knows he was messing with the girl. He won’t cause any more trouble tonight.” Marlene looks doubtful of this statement, but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re so good with sounds,” Ms. Rodriguez says to John, pulling his attention back to her. “You speak to the birds so prettily. Could you mimic our friend here?”

John puts his hat back on, tilting it down to cover his eyes. “I’m not good at this, Miss.”

“You’re getting better,” she says warmly. “Skill takes time. Won’t you try for me?”

He scuffs his feet against the ground, but the dirt isn’t unsettled at all. “Alright, I’ll try. But don’t be disappointed if I can’t do it.”

“I’d never be disappointed in you for trying,” she promises. John looks up just enough to smile at her before he disappears.

“The girl’s name is Maria!” Katie shouts as she sits cross legged next to Marlene. “If this doesn’t work, I’m knocking stuff over until they find her. She’s too little. The cold will get to her before anything else can, including my dad.”

“Is it cold out?” Ms. Rodriguez asks, concerned. “I can’t tell.”

“Yes,” Marlene and Katie say together.

Paola does her best to stop shivering. “I’m okay.”

Ms. Rodriguez steps around her to the other side, moving things around, but Paola refuses to look over. “Oh, I’m sure my coat is still here somewhere.”

“It rained a couple days ago, remember? It’s wet,” Marlene says gently. “And old. I don’t think she wants to wear the coat you died in, Miss.”

“Oh, you’re right,” she says, sounding disappointed. “Thank you, Marlene. I’m sorry, honey. What’s your name?”

“Paola,” she says. “It’s really okay. But I was wondering – who was touching me earlier, when I was following my sister? Was it one of you?”

“Of course not!” Marlene assures. “That was Sir. He’s always causing trouble, and trying to – um, trying to – he’s not very nice.”

Katie scowls, and Marlene leans against her. “That’s my dad. He’s a poltergeist too.”

“Did you die together?” she asks innocently.

Katie’s face goes dark, and Paola wants to say sorry, to take it back. “No. He got mad one day, and we were fighting, so he killed me and dumped my body out here. Only Mom found out, and when she did, she brought him out here and shot him dead right into the river. She meant well, Mom loved me, but I wish she hadn’t done that. Now I’m stuck with him forever.”

“Sorry,” Paola whispers, a heavy weight of sadness right in the middle of her chest. That’s so sad. How is it possible for something to be that sad?

There’s a moment where Katie keeps glaring, then she sighs, relaxing again. “It’s okay. He doesn’t bother me anymore, not since Miss came. Miss can cause trouble too, when she wants to.”

“There’ll be no more trouble caused tonight,” Ms. Rodriguez says, patting Katie on the back before sitting by Paola again, still fizzling in and out of her sight. “What are you studying in school? Maybe I can help.”

Katia and Marlene groan, but Paola smiles, doing her best to push the sadness away. “We’re learning about water, and where it all goes, and how it rains. Can you explain that?”

“Of course. I was a very good teacher,” she says, winking.

In spite of their groaning, the two girls listen with rapt attention as Ms. Rodriguez begins her lecture.

“Maria.”

Maria freezes, swinging her flashlight around her. “Did you hear that?”

Diego and Isabelle pause ahead of her. “Hear what?”

“Oh,” she frowns. It had almost sounded like her sister. “I could have sworn I heard –”

“Maria.”

“There! Again! That!” she says, taking a step off the path.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Isabelle says. “Are you sure?”

Yes! No. Maybe. “I guess not.”

“Maria!”

That’s definitely her sister, and it’s definitely coming from off the path. “Paola!” She bolts, using the flashlight to dodge anything in her way. Her friends are calling after her, and it sounds like they’re following her, but she doesn’t pause to check. “Paola, where are you? Paola!”

“Maria, Maria, Maria!”

Each one is just as faint as the last, and she’s worried she’s not getting any closer, that she’s not hearing anything. But it sounds like her missing sister. She has to keep going.

“Stop!”

That doesn’t sound like Paola, but she obeys, looking around, heart in her throat. What if there are really murderers in these woods, ones that got Paola, and used her sister’s voice to lure her here, and now she’s going to get killed and no one will ever find her –

“Maria! Down here! Be careful!”

She’s so relieved she’s nearly dizzy with it. Paola sounds so close, but she can’t see her. “Where are you?”

“In front of you! Use your flashlight!”

How does her sister even know she has a flashlight? She tips it down at the ground, not sure what she’s looking for until she sees it. There’s a small hole, but it doesn’t look big enough for anyone to get through, even a child, up until she gets closer and realizes most of the hole is covered with large pine tree branch. It makes the hole hard to spot, but doesn’t prevent anyone from falling through. It looks like an old boarded up well, except some of the boards are clearly broken. She carefully goes near the edge and points her flashlight down.

Paola is immediately illuminated, and she grins, waving up at her.

Maria’s elation is short lived, because right after she sees her sister, she notices the skeleton that’s right next to her.

“Paola,” she says with a calm she doesn’t feel. “Don’t look behind you.”

Paola, of course, doesn’t listen. She makes a face, but doesn’t otherwise react. “It’s okay, that’s just Ms. Rodriguez. She’s a teacher!”

She stares. “If you overheard that ridiculous story Diego told me, it wasn’t true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but that’s Ms. Rodriguez,” she says earnestly. “She helped me! You don’t have to be afraid.”

Well, that’s one way to rationalize being stuck in a hole in the ground with a skeleton. “I’m coming down,” she warns, sticking her flashlight in the belt of her pants. It’s only about eight feet deep, and there are plenty of stones and roots sticking out of the sides, so it takes her less than a minute to get down.

She grabs Paola in a hug, and they make twin sounds of pain. “My chest,” her sister wheezes.

Maria lets her go. “What?”

“I hurt myself when I fell,” she says, “I landed on my chest. But I only broke my leg, not a rib or anything.”

“Your leg,” she says, and they look fine to her, but she’s not a doctor. “How do you know?”

“John said so. He was the one mimicking my voice.”

Maria goes cold. Now that she thinks about it, there’s no way she could have heard Paola all the way from the path. “Who’s John?”

“Now you’ve done it,” Katie sighs. “If you hadn’t said anything, maybe she wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong.”

Paola shoots her an irritated glance before addressing Maria. “He was here when the earthquake happened and the well got all filled up. That’s how he died. He’s buried at the bottom of the well.”

“Did you guys tell her everything while I was gone?” John demands.

Marlene shrugs. “Have to pass the time somehow, and the water cycle only takes so long to explain.”

“Okay,” Maria says slowly. “Well, let’s just get you out of here. After we get you to Mama and Papa, we should tell the police about the body and get them to board up this well again.”

Ms. Rodriguez’s face crumples. “Oh, no, don’t do that! If they put me to rest, I’ll have to leave!”

Paola is trying to figure out how to explain that to Maria in way that will make her listen when she notices her sister has gone unnaturally pale. “Hey. Are you okay?”

She shakes her head, but before Paolo has a chance to get concerned, she whispers, “Did you hear that?”

There’s a beat where no one moves. Then Ms. Rodriguez goes, “She can hear me?”

Maria flinches.

“You’re joking,” Katie snaps. “We could have just sent Miss to tell her where her sister was this whole time? That would have been so much easier.”

Maria doesn’t react to Katie speaking. Paola asks, “Did you hear anything that time?”

She shakes her head.

“How odd,” Ms. Rodriguez says, “usually people can’t hear me at all, and I’m the only she can hear.”

“So is it true?” Maria asks, looking around all over the well. She can hear, but she can’t see. “Did your boyfriend really kill you and hide your body here?”

“No!” Maria looks nervous, so Paola pats her sister’s knee. “Carlos would never – I know what everyone said, but he was such a good man, he loved me, we,” her voice catches, “we were going to get married. We’d just gotten engaged. I – I wanted to get married in the forest, I thought it would be cheap and beautiful, and I was looking for a spot when I walked over the well. The boards had rotted through, so when I stepped on them, they broke, and I fell.”

“Then you hit your head and died?” Paola finishes.

The kids look sad now.

Ms. Rodriguez grimaces. “Yes. I – it wasn’t the hitting my head that killed me, exactly.”

“She got a concussion,” John says quietly. “She couldn’t stand long enough to climb. She tried. I – I tried to help, we all did.”

“But we weren’t good at helping yet,” Marlene whispers. “We used to always try and help, but we could never do anything. We could only watch.”

“Dehydration isn’t such a bad way to die,” Ms. Rodriguez says briskly, as if unwilling to linger on her own tragedy. “It’s much more peaceful than the books would tell you. There’s certainly been worse.”

Maria sucks in a breath. “Oh. Oh, no, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s quite alright,” Ms. Rodriguez says, forcing a smile. “But please don’t tell anyone you found me. Although, if you could come back to board up the well, I would appreciate that. But I don’t want to go.”

“You don’t want to move on?” she asks.

Ms. Rodriguez looks at her children. “They still have so much to learn. I was a teacher in life. It only fits that I’d be the same in death. I want to stay.”

John hides under his hat while Marlene blows her a kiss. Even Katie is smiling.

“We really can’t do anything?” Paola asks. “Can we take something back maybe? Not a bone, but – your jacket, maybe?”

“Miss,” Marlene says urgently, “What about your ring? That’s still here.”

“Oh,” she says. “Yes, if you could – Carlos spent so much on that ring, he was so proud to give it to me. Could you give it back to him for me? Tell him – well, tell him I’m sorry we couldn’t get married. I was so looking forward to it. His last name was Santiago, if you can find him.”

Maria sniffs, but nods. “Okay. I – okay. My boyfriend’s grandpa is a cop, we’ll figure it out. Where’s the ring?”

It takes a couple minutes, but Ms. Rodriguez finally finds it under a couple of small bones that may have belonged to her fingers. Maria has to pick it up herself, and she quickly sticks it in her back pocket, as if she can barely bear to touch it.

“Maria!” a faint voice calls out.

“Paola!” yells another.

She grimaces. “We have to go. Those are my friends.” She looks around the well and says earnestly, “Thanks for looking out for my sister.”

“You’re welcome!” the kids say together, while Ms. Rodriguez only says, “Of course, dear. We do our best not to let anyone get lost in here.”

Maria crouches down and carefully helps Paola climb onto her back before she climbs up out of the well. “DIEGO! ISABELLE! We’re over here! I found Paola!”

There’s more yelling, and then a crash as they both come running towards them. Paola looks back down the well, but everyone is gone.

All that’s left is Ms. Rodriguez’s moonlight pale bones.

Hopeful Horror: Part 1

(this story was done as a commission by someone who requests that you go thank a teacher)

#hopeful horror #ghost story #john is japanese and katie is black #marlene is whatever race you want #i go back and forth with her right now #i can't decide if i want hopeful horror to be more general stories #or if want to keep telling stories with these kids #this also the last of my commission stories from last year #ghosts #horror #ish #not really

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scige-archive · 5 years

Text

welcome 2 my twisted mind ex dee ?

PREFERRED NAME — james uwu

PRONOUNS — she/they

AGE — 20

TIMEZONE — est

HOW OFTEN ARE YOU ONLINE? — everyday all day usually hjfdnkmg

HOW DID YOU HEAR OF WATERSHED? — i actually first found lockwood while going through the recommended blogs on mobile when you search up things via it (i think it was ‘new rp’ tht i searched) n then the next i checked they’d gone ovr to watershed n then there were Other Things bt i didnt end up joining until a few weeks or like a month later impulsively n now its been many months n im still here BJDNSKFMG love u guys

DISCORD — sniff #3644 where im also always online

OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE — musing @svrgcnts n my pinterest is ‘big tid’ or offbrandsodapop uuuhh i dont think theres anything else!

MYER-BRIGGS — infp turned istp we call tht character growth

HP HOUSE — i honestly dont know anymore ive gotten all of the houses before bt ive just taken a test n i got slytherin so like :///

ZODIAC — aquarius!

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY? — not to the point where it dictates who i like / dislike

DO YOU ENJOY ASTROLOGY? — ya im a slut for when things tell me what im supposed to be like bc i dont have a sense of identity

HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU STARTED RPING ON TUMBLR — uh like 19 bt ive been rping since i was 10

WHAT YEAR WAS IT? — early 2018 so actually i might’ve been 18 for a lil bit DJNKFLG

NAME A RANDOM ROLEPLAY THAT STICKS OUT IN YOUR MEMORY — listen i’ve had many, many good experiences bt for some reason what came to mind first was a weird owner/slave smut rp tht i stumbled across (never joined bc im ... not like that) n i was just rly baffled by the concept even tho ik its a Thing bc i thought smut rps died out like in 2017 BJDNFKMG

WHAT WEIRD ANIMAL WOULD YOU HAVE AS A PET IF IT WAS REALISTIC — i want a fucking capybara

WHAT PET DO YOU GENUINELY CONSIDER GETTING SOMEDAY? — i want a cat even though im rly allergic to them

NAME THE FIRST SONG ON YOUR DISCOVER WEEKLY ON SPOTIFY OR THE FIRST SONG THAT COMES ON APPLE MUSIC / ITUNES SHUFFLE — the apocalypse made me brave by girlfriends

NAME A BOOK THAT YOU READ IN SCHOOL THAT YOU SURPRISINGLY LIKED — um probably like ,,, the crucible ,,,

NAME A BOOK YOU HATED THAT MOST PEOPLE LIKED — god i dont know i’m not hard to please bt i wont lie i also like ... didn’t finish half the books i was supposed to read in high school. of mice & men maybe ... i hated books that didn’t do much n just wrote a whole bunch of nothing even tho i like those books now ... i think bc they were for school ... outside of school i hated the hazelwood n i think that the grisha trilogy is a bit. weak. bt i love six of crows. n also the um. theres this one YA series tht i never read bt i can tell i dont like NJKSMDFFDG

WHAT TV SHOW DID YOU RECENTLY BINGE? WOULD YOU RECOMMEND IT? — schitt’s creek DSJKNFDGF um i’ve also been watching gossip girl a lot & also asoue & also also i just started watching um end of the f***ing world n its very good so ?? i watched the first episode of his dark materials n i liked it n i havent finished looking for alaska bt its also very good

WHAT FILM DID YOU LAST WATCH? DID YOU LIKE IT? — uuuhh i think it was scream tbh ??? and ya it was p swell

FAVOURITE QUOTE — im a slut for anne carson bt i cant name any quotes directly rn i have rocks for brains

LINK TO A VINE / TIK TOK / VIDEO THAT EXUDES YOUR ‘ENERGY’ — this immediately came to mind

DO YOU WRITE OUTSIDE OF RP? WHAT DO YOU WRITE? — i used to write outside of rp bt i havent in ages bt when i do its usually like modern magic / urban fantasy / whatevr those kinda elements n abt faeries bc i like faeries

THREE YOUTUBERS YOU STILL LOVE & TRUST — jenna marbles, micarah tewers, and uh ,,, claire frm bon apetit

A CELEBRITY CRUSH THAT JUST WON’T QUIT — cary elwes ... andrew scott ... anne hathaway ... first three tht came to mind

EVER MEET A CELEBRITY? SHARE YOUR STORY — no bt david dobrik was in miami and i was NOT and im UPSET bc i want his MONEY

WHAT’S YOUR PICTURE-PERFECT NIGHT? — i am not in pain. thats it thats all

A CONSPIRACY THEORY YOU KINDA BELIEVE IN — jeffrey epstein was murdered haha jk thats not a conspiracy theory thats FACTS

ARE ALIENS REAL? — ya sure why not

PLAY ANY PHONE GAMES? WHICH ONES? — lily’s garden please play im level 1241

PLAY ANY OTHER GAMES? WHICH ONES? — i played all the bioshock games n rly enjoyed them ... deponia the entire series which is still my favorite video game 2 this day

WHAT’S A FILM YOU LOVED WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG AND RECENTLY WATCHED, ONLY TO FIND OUT YOU DON’T ANYMORE — i never finished my rewatch of the golden compass bt thats just bc i didnt feel like finishing it uuuh ... i dont know i enjoy things too easily

DO YOU COLLECT ANYTHING? — buttons n seashells and rocks and flowers until theyre dead and then i collect dead flowers and then empty glass bottles that look kinda cool and jewelry boxes or tin containers and i used to kiss an index card every time i wore lipstick and kept it, i had over 100 filed away for no reason at all bt i lost them & then i also collect condoms :/

WHAT’S SOMETHING YOU WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT BUT YOU’RE TOO LAZY? — i wna learn how 2 make jewelry n like ,,, embroidery bt i know how to embroider i just wanna get back into it n i wna learn like. knowledge. academic stuff too bt im also too lazy and im just a dumb old horse so :/

THREE LANGUAGES YOU DON’T SPEAK, BUT WISH YOU COULD — italian n french n ig spanish too

MOVIE YOU’VE WATCHED MORE THAN 5 TIMES — shrek ? austin powers ? princess diaries / elle enchanted ?? halloweentown n all the sequels ??

NAME A FICTIONAL CHARACTER FROM TV/FILM/MOVIE/GAME/BOOK THAT YOU FIND YOURSELF PROJECTING ON / YOU RELATE TO — shawn spencer frm psych, veronica mars, penelope garcia frm criminal minds, mike myers’ cat in the hat, dr. evil frm austin powers bt also his son scott evil, scooby doo probably, daria ??? i relate to my dog bodhi :/ puddles the clown

IS THERE ANY MEDIA (BOOK/MOVIE/GAME/TV SHOW) YOU FEEL CHANGED YOU IN SOME WAY? — six of crows / fleabag / deponia theyve all made me cry before bt like. continuously cry.

DO YOU FOLLOW ANY SPORTS? WHO DO YOU ROOT FOR? — no.

HOBBIES BESIDES WASTING AWAY HERE? — um. redacted

PLUG A TV SHOW / MOVIE / BOOK / VIDEO GAME / ETC… YOU WISH MORE PEOPLE WOULD CHECK OUT — big fish directed by tim burton go stare at danny devito’s bare ass do it do it do it i never even finished the movie i dont think BJNSKDMLFG

TEAM EDWARD OR JACOB? (IF NOT APPLICABLE, WHO DO YOU LIKE MOST IN THE TWILIGHT SERIES) — edward

LAST MOVIE SEEN IN THEATRE — um thts rly hard bc i dont know bt i have a ticket so let me just check ,,, the joker i went n saw the joker

DO YOU STILL READ FOR FUN? — occasionally bt i dont have motivation so

IF SO, WHAT ARE YOU CURRENTLY READING? — n/a BDKFJ

ON A SCALE OF 1-10, HOW MUCH DID YOU HATE FILLING THIS OUT? – 5 bt thats just bc im not feeling gr8 today

#wshtask #wshtask001

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Damsel in Distress

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1658

Summary: Baz’s father made the mistake of bragging to the gods, and now Baz has to pay the price. That is, unless a golden hero comes and saves him.

Carry On Countdown day 5: Mythology

Read on AO3

AN: Heyyyy I know I said I wouldn’t be doing anything for the Carry On Countdown, but I love Greek mythology, and this idea just came to my head. So, here’s another dumb greek myth AU from Theo. Enjoy! :)

———————————————-

Baz

I hate this. I fucking hate this. Which is understandable. There isn’t much enjoyable about being chained to a bloody rock.

I uselessly pull at my cuffs, but they stay in place. What I wouldn’t give for Hercules’ strength right now.

“This is stupid!” I shout back to where (I think) my family and friends are. “Are we sure this is necessary?”

“The Gods demanded it!” Dev shouts in reply.

I growl and look back out the sea. “The Gods can shove it for all I care.”

“Don’t say that! Blame your dad for bragging about how brilliant you are!”

“I blame him too!”

And I really do. Stupid arsehole bragged that I could outsmart any god. (Which is probably true. I'm brilliant.) But David, King of the Gods, was not at all pleased by that statement. So he made a completely reasonable demand of my father; chain me, his only son, to a rock so I could be eaten by a sea monster as punishment for his arrogance. Which is stupid. It’s not like I said what offended the Gods. Why do I have to get eaten?!

I guess those questions are pointless right now, since I’m already chained up.

The ground starts rumbling. Fuck, guess my time is up. I can see something coming up very, very quickly in the distance. I press myself back by instinct. Not that I can escape. I just have to stand here and wait. I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, fuck, I’m going-

“Hello.”

I open my eyes, and I gasp. I must already be dead and in Elysia. Because this man has to be a gift from the heavens.

He’s perfect in every single way. Tawny skin covered in moles that looked the constellations of the sky. A beautiful thatch of curly bronze hair illuminated in the sunlight. His eyes, though plain blue, are gorgeous. The corners are crinkled up with his glowing smile. His short white chiton blows in the sea breeze, which almost makes me squeak. There’s a bag over his shoulder, along with a polished shield and strange curved sword.

“Um,” I say. “Hi.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Baz. Who are you?”

“My name is Simon.” He leans to the side, looking at my restraints. “Why are you here?”

I scoff and rattle my chains. “Same old story. My father pissed off a god, he has to pay a price. I’m the price.” I tilt my chin towards the ocean. “The sea monster is going to eat me.”

Simon frowns. It’s painfully adorable. “That’s not good. You shouldn’t pay for his mistake.”

“You’re telling me. But i’m already stuck here so,” I shrug, “guess I’m sea monster chow.”

Simon keeps frowning. He’s thinking, I can tell. I can almost see him the gears turning in his beautiful head. Whatever it is, he takes a little longer than I think he should considering my limited time. But eventually, he grins again, looking at me with bright, idea filled eyes.

“I could save you, from the monster. Would that be okay?”

My eyes go wide. What the tartarus? “Sure, if you can, I wouldn't complain. I’d very much like to live.”

Simon puffs out his broad chest. “Of course I can. I’m a hero.”

I’m about to question that smug statement, but the rumbling gets very close. Simon’s head whips back. He looks back at me. “Stay here,” he says, then runs towards the edge of the cliff where I can’t see.

“It’s not like I have much choice!” I yell.

Simon doesn’t reply. I huff and slump down, only chains holding me up. Suddenly, the entire rock starts shaking. I tense up. Fuck, here it comes. I look up, and the ocean explodes in a monumental geyser. The massive sea serpent rises up from the water. It’s taller than any building I’ve ever seen. It’s blue-green scales are beautiful, almost distracting from it’s enormous mouth filled with rows of pointed teeth. It growls, and large fins fold out from it’s head, trying to intimidate me. I want to be brave, but this thing is terrifying. I’m breathing heavily, pressed back up against the rock. The beast sniffs the air, then looks down at me, and roars so loud the ground rattles and my ears hurt. I press back even more.

“Simon!” I shout. “If you’re going to do something, I think you should damn well do it now!”

“Close your eyes!” he shouts back.

Well, I don’t know what he’s going to do, but if I’m going to die I’d rather not see it coming anyway. So I close my eyes tight. The monster roars again. I can smell it’s disgusting fish scented breath. I’m waiting to feel it’s bite on my flesh. I hear another bone shaking roar, but suddenly it dwindles into a whine. There’s a weird crumbling and cracking sound that follows. I can’t smell the monster’s breath anymore. Slowly, carefully, I crack open one eye. I gasp.

The towering sea serpent, the one that was about to eat me, is now a huge stone statue. Frozen with it’s mouth open to eat me, but no longer a threat. And there’s Simon, fucking floating above me. Well, more flying, actually. His shoes have goddamn tiny wings. He’s putting something back in his bag, something with snakes on it. I’m intrigued, but I’m not sure I want to know what the fuck that thing is.

Simon flies back down to stand in front of me. He’s smiling so hard his pretty freckled cheeks must hurt. “Told you I could save you.”

“It seems you were telling the truth,” I say, still in a slight state of shock.

“M-hm. I’m a hero.”

I chuckle. “Well, Mr. Hero, could you do me a favour and get rid of these?” I shake my chains.

Simon looks very surprised and a bit embarrassed. “Oh, right, sorry.”

He takes out his odd sword, then holds it up in front of me. I wince away instinctively. There’s a sound of metal on rock, then my arms are loose. I open my eyes. A few links from my chains still hang from the cuffs, but I'm free.

“Thank you,” I say. “For, everything.”

His golden skin flushes a beautiful shade of pink. He scratches the back of his neck and shuffles his feet. “No problem. Uh, all in a day’s work for a hero.”

Gods above, he’s adorable. And kind. And brave. And downright gorgeous. I take a step towards him. “Well, I’ve never met a hero before,” I drawl. “Are you all so courageous and devastatingly handsome?”

He turns bright, bright red like a tomato. He's so cute. “Well, uh, I-I don’t know. I’ve never met another one.”

I chuckle once more, taking another step closer. “What, you don’t all have some sort of club to compare grand quests?”

“Nah, doesn’t work like that. People only tell your stories when you’re dead, I think.”

“That’s depressing.” I tilt my head to the side. “Want to tell me about your quests then? I’m sure I wouldn’t mind some heroic tales.”

Simon’s blue eyes go wide. “Oh. Uh, sure, yeah, I’d like that.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I could, um, fly us out of here. Go somewhere nicer.”

“Please do. I don’t want to spend another minute on this blasted rock.”

Simon smiles. He takes my hand, rough skin dragging on mine, and pulls me even closer. So close I can feel his hot breath. My mouth feels very dry. “Mind if I pick you up?” he asks.

I nod before even thinking. “Please do.”

Suddenly, Simon puts one arm around my back and the other under my knees. He picks me up like I weigh nothing. I yelp and instinctively grab his neck. He grins, then we fly up into the sky. I hold tighter. The ground shrinks into nothingness. Dev, Niall, and my father are mere awe struck specks.

“Wow,” I gasp. “Please don’t drop me.”

Simon chuckles and pulls me closer. “What kind of hero would I be if I dropped my damsel in distress?”

I glare at his stupid smug, beautiful face. “I am not a damsel in distress. I was an unfortunate victim of a god’s bruised ego.”

“Okay, true.” His brow adorably furrows. “Which god did your father anger anyway?”

“The king arsehole himself, David.”

Simon’s eyes go wide, but his smile doesn’t go away. “Uh, that’s weird. Because David is actually my father.”

Shit. Of course, just my luck. I hold on even tighter. “Does that mean you’re going to drop me now?”

Simon looks positively horrified. “No! No, of course not. I would never. Besides, I don’t like my father that much. He’s kind of a prick.”

“Well, that we can agree on.” An idea crosses my mind. A terrible, wonderful idea that might get us struck from the sky by a bolt of lightning. But it would be worth it.

I turn towards Simon with a smug smirk. “Say, how much do you think it would piss off your arsehole father if you kissed the man he tried to have eaten?”

Simon flushes down to his neck. He looks shocked at first. But slowly, his lips pull into a big smile. “I think he’d be really pissed. But I’d really like it.”

I wind a hand in his thick curls and pull us so we’re nose to nose. (I really hope he doesn’t lose focus and let both of us fall.) “I would too.”

He leans down and presses his mouth firmly against mine. His lips taste like the sweetest fruit. I sigh into it, tilting my head, deepening the kiss. He presses me closer to his warm body. I feel like I could melt into him.

Well, this isn't how I thought my day would turn out, but I’m certainly not complaining.

———————————————-

AN: Hope you liked that :D I changed stuff from the original Perseus and Andromeda myth for Carry On's sake, so don't jump down my throat because it's not accurate to myth plz. I know my greek myth lol I'm just adapting. So I don't know if I'll do anymore Carry On Countdown prompts, what with my big bang still a WIP, but who knows. If so I'll make this part of a series. Maybe inspiration will suddenly hit me again haha. Have a good day and good countdown everyone :)

#carry on #snowbaz #coc 2018 #carry on countdown #baz pitch #simon snow #mythology #fluff #mysnowbazfanfic

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jul-bilant · 6 years

Text

Prince!Seungcheol

prince seungcheol

he was always the buzz around the whole kingdom *i mean y wouldnt he?? have you sEEN the guy????*

he’s always going around town, supervising incase any dumbass decided to sell drugs around the block or smth

(he once caught one and he didnt kno seungcheol was the prince and offered him marijuana and got arrested bc of tht and bc seungcheol got offended lmao)

and whenever he passes by, theres always gonna be some thirstyass girls staring at him like

“oMF SAMANTHA ITS PRINCE SEUNGCHEOL”

“SHUT UP JESS HE’S GONNA HEAR YOU DIMWIT”

or like

*runs up to him* “cAN I BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND??”

and tbh seungcheol just deadass rejects her but like,,, politely bc pRINCE MANNERS

and thats why he has two bodyguards with him at all times outside the palace now

anyways;;; prince seungcheol’s rlly rlly rLLY polite and well-mannered

he’s also a smart boi like

8 yr old seungcheol can solve 10th grade algebra, write a whole 10+ paged essay abt cytology and find the cure for cancer

kidding lol *nOT*

but srsly, this boi is smarter than yo algebra teachers like bi h

and he’s also sort of leader-like, so people already know he’ll be a great king one day

but he also has a kind heart and cares for everyone he loves and the whole kingdom

a 5 yr old girl once tripped over a rock infront of him and he took her to a bench, bought a bandage and aided her scraped knee ;-;

you can tell im soft for seungcheol hhhh

anyways, he’s been stressing out for a while because his coronation as king is nearing and it’s in a few months since his father died a year ago

and he needs to find a suitable partner

thats where you come in

you’re a maid in the palace

the maids have a thing where they check on seungcheol every two or three hours to see if he’s hungry, needs smth, or anything like tht

and this time, you were assigned to check on him

tbh you’ve never been assigned because it’s always the head maid that checks on him or that one maid thats always been the head maid’s fave

but not today

it was 10 pm and you went to see if seungcheol needed anything so you go to his study room

but before you knock, you hear something from inside his study room

it sounds like crying

and you know for a fact that thats seungcheol’s voice thats crying

you were at a loss of what to do, so it took you a while to do anything, but you decided to go down and tell the chefs that he was hungry just so you could bring him his favourite food to cheer him up

when you went back to the study room, you knocked

but he didn’t answer

it was quiet now, no more sobbing

so you opened the door

and saw seungcheol with his head down on the desk

you quietly wheeled the food towards his study table and put the tray on the other desk near the couch

you carefully approached seungcheol out of curiosity

his cheeks were stained with dried tears, but other than that, he still looked as handsome as ever

you grew concerned and took of the blankets from the bigass closet near the prince’s room and draped it over him

i mean, you were already there so why not lol

the next morning, seungcheol awoke to the smell food and a blanket around him

he grew confused but shrugged it off, he expected one of the maids to do these things

but he smiled knowing someone cares

meanwhile, the head maid came up to you and told you that you’ll be the maid who’ll regularly check up on seungcheol from now on since she was, quote-on-quote, “busy”, and her favourite maid had to retire for god knows what

you didn’t know why but you felt a sense of happiness and anxiety at the same time

so in the afternoon, you go to check on seungcheol as he’s in the study room, sorting out papers

when you enter the room after knocking, seungcheol kinda stares at you

not in the bad, offending way, nah m8

but like

‘holy shit this woman looks better than a grilled cheese sandwich’

which roughly translates to “prince seungcheol is making googly-eyes at maid y/n” ty v much

and he blushed a bit but hid it well when you approached him

“good afternoon, prince seungcheol.. i am maid y/n, i’ll be the new maid who’ll check on you from time to time from now on..” you inform him

he smiles

s m i l e s

“thank you for informing me, miss y/n,” he replied

“may i ask you a small favor?”

you were like

‘w8 boi whut-’

but you just replied with an “ok”

“please tell the maid who draped a blanket over me and brought me food last night 'thank you’, and tell her it’s from me.” he smiled

you contemplated on telling him whether or not it was you,

which would be odd for other people, since they would of cOURSE take the chance and say that they did

but you had a sense of not taking credibility in most cases bc you like being humble and shiet so you nod and telling him you’ll inform her

“thank you, it means a lot to me..” seungcheol smiles

a few months after, you hear his royal adviser, which no one rlly likes tbh (tht includes seungcheol), scolding him because he has yet to find a partner

so you go check on him in his bedroom after knocking, and he let you in

you two had, undoubtedly, grown close

which is weird bc he doesnt really make friends w/ workers in the palace, much less be best friends with them

but thats what happened

he basically tells you everything from his dreams, to when his father passed, to how his cat scratched the curtain of the theatre room and etc.

so naturally, you started liking him

but of course, why’d the prince like a maid like you????

yall were just best friends

(like any other ff pfft)

you sat down on his bed, a concerned look on your face as he was on the verge of tears

“whats wrong?” you asked, even if you already knew what dampened his mood

“Mr. Song is pressuring me into getting married again, but this time he told me other things..”

you watch as a tear or two falls from his eyes

its really painful to watch him cry

“its okay… you dont have to tell me if you dont want to..” you reassured seungcheol but he just shakes his head

“no.. i think you deserve to know”

and he told you about how his adviser called him a worthless prince for not being able to even court a girl, telling him that if he was this indecisive, the kingdom would fall, and other hurtful things like that

at this point, he was crying the whole waterfall somewhere in the deep woods near the kingdom

“cheol.. i’m sorry you had to endure that…”

without thinking, you gently pulled him into your arms, pulling him into a warm hug

both of you were surprised, but didn’t waver away from the hug

for a second you thought 'omf why the fu c k did i do that’

but you just shook the thought away, telling yourself that your best friend is in emotional pain and you did that for moral support

(which wasnt the only reason but you wanted to deny the others hhh)

but seungcheol on the other hand was lo si n g his shit

on the inside, of course

he’s like 'omg omg omg she’s hugging me mOM-’

but thats where it dawned on him

he likes you

the next day, you knocked on the door of his study room

but it was silent, just like that one night when he cried himself to sleep

so you opened the door,

but he wasnt there

you panicked a little, thinking about where on palace grounds he couldve gone to

so you checked his bedroom, the kitchen, the theatre room, the throne room, the royal gardens, everywhere

but aside from finding his cat scratching the theatre room curtains, they were all empty

you asked the head maid where he was and she answered you with a shocked expression before replying

“you mean to tell me you didn’t know he was in the neighboring kingdom, meeting up with his arranged fiancee?”

fiancee

arranged or not, it still hurt to know that he was with the woman who he was going to marry

and that was not you

the head maid gave you the day off, since seungcheol wasnt here for the day

you dressed casually, a white, plain, sleeveless dress that goes to your knees, instead of the regular, convervative, longsleeved maid uniform you were obliged to wear when you had work

you took a walk around the palace grounds, eventaully stopping when you reach the rooftop balcony

the moon was already making an appearance, the night ready to take over the sky

you stay there for the time being, finding the night sky, stars and a few blobs of clouds enticing to the human eye

moments later, you find yourself holding back tears

you let out a few stray tears drip down your cheeks as you sniff, not bothering to wipe them away

you were surprised when a blanket was wrapped around you, and a familiar pair of arms pulling into a hug

“its cold, you shouldn’t be out here at this ti- ….why are you crying?” you heard him voice out the last part in a soft whisper, contrasting his normal tone of speech like how he talked a few moments ago

“n-nothing… its dumb..” you tell him, dismissively

but he wasnt having it

“come on, i’ll listen to you.. tell me whats bothering you to the point where you’re crying..” seungcheol wiped a few of your tears away

“i’ll be fine, cheol.. and.. aren’t you supposed to be in the neighboring kingdom until tomorrow?..” you asked

“yes.. but there was no reason to stay if i rejected the marriage.”

what

w h a t

“you- what?!” you turned to him, dumbfounded

he chuckled

“yeah, i rejected the marriage. i have my eyes on another girl..” he confessed, not breaking the eye contact you both shared

“…quite literally..” he grinned

“she was there for me through everything, comforted me at the toughest of times, and brought me food and a blanket when i fell asleep at my study room..”

so he knew

you blushed, knowing exactly what he meant

he approached you slowly, and once he had you in his field of reach, he cupped your face and pulled you closer to him

“would you…” he paused

“…marry me?”

you smiled a gentle, assuring smile

“..of course.”

and in a fit of smiles and small laughs, seungcheol kissed you

#seventeen #imagines #scenarios #prince!au #seungcheol #s.coups #fluff #royal!au #royalty!au #choi seungcheol

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rwbyremnants · 6 years

Link

WARNING: Depressing talk.

=Chapter 33

The flight wasn’t terribly long, and Penny and Ruby were both ready to pick her up straight from the airport. Ruby had even taken the liberty of making a sign up so it was easier for Weiss to spot her at the lobby, as ridiculous as it seemed for her to do. Of course, there was the inevitable few people that recognized her and wanted a signature, but thankfully no paparazzi.

A quick drive back to the dorms later, Penny had just started to pull into the parking lot, having only made simple small talk until they got back home. Both Ruby and Weiss seemed to think that best. But now that they were here, Penny tried to start for them.

"We really are sorry, Weiss. She made Ruby promise not to tell you anything other than her being safe. I know it doesn't help, but please don't think badly of us."

“It’ s alright, ” Weiss said in a weary voice, finding it within her to spare the girl a smile. All of her crying and thinking had been done during her hours on the airplane, leaving her more drained than anything else. “ I, um … I understand the situation a little better now … thanks to my former sister. Not yours or Ruby ’ s fault. ”

"I still feel awful…" Ruby admitted, only just unbuckling her belt and opening the car door. They may have been talking, but all the while, Ruby was quiet, and continually looked towards the ground. She clearly felt guilty about the whole ordeal. "I feel bad for breaking Yang's promise, too! But… you needed to know. I can't keep something that big to myself."

Once out of the car, Penny went to get the luggage from the trunk while Weiss drew Ruby into her second hug since landing and gripped her tightly. In a quiet whisper, she said, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry you have to deal with my crazy family, I d-didn't want this to happen to Yang…"

"No… nononono, Weiss. This isn't your fault at all, d-don't…" But as she noticed tears forming in Weiss's eyes once again, she just hugged her back, nuzzling against her neck. Weiss needed someone to be close to her just as much as Ruby did. Sure, she had Penny, but the more the better. "Don't cry… Please, you had no idea any of this was happening. None of us did. Yang never told me how much was going on in her brain until today. I don’t even think Blake knew."

"Yeah, I know that… I know. God, I'm so sorry for what Winter did; she has no excuses. None. Interfering with our lives that way…" With one more good squeeze, she stepped back and shook herself. "Anyway, we can mope and be gross in your dorm. No sense standing around out here in the parking lot like this."

"Good point. And, uh… I'm sorry in advance if any of the girls ask you for an autograph. Some of them have been kinda, uh… pushy toward me once learning I knew you…"

Following her redheaded girlfriend, the two began to make their way inside. Thankfully, it seemed like the other students were out, only the odd one or two sat in the common room with a coffee, which made it easy enough to slip by and head to their room on the middle floor. As soon as they got there, it became clear Ruby had already tidied up, clearing the spare bed they normally used as both table and sofa back to a spare bed for Weiss again, and all the fast food boxes had been put in the trash can – or at least near it. Typical student living, but it was Weiss's temporary home.

Normally, Weiss might have commented on the dubious tidiness or offered to help, but she was too emotionally drained; all she could do was flop down on Ruby's bed. She hadn't even picked it intentionally, only headed straight to the nearest one.

"Ugh… I can't believe this is my life right now…"

"U-Um…" Ruby mumbled, looking back and forth between Weiss on her bed, and toward Penny. Of course they knew she hadn't realized, so neither said anything. All Penny did was bite her lip nervously while her blushing girlfriend slowly approached, and sat down by her side. And then remembered what Yang would do; joke.

"Come on, our room's not that bad is it?"

Another long groan. "Your room is fine. The rest of my life isn't." Then she rolled onto her side and looked up at Ruby. "So um, about Yang. I… I don't know if I really want to know this, but… how did she… try to…?"

The jokey attitude had completely disappeared, and she breathed out sadly. These were the awful questions she knew she'd have to answer, not that it made it any easier. "I didn't ask, but Yang mentioned Blake tackling her off a stool, so I assume…" She didn't say the word, only brought her hand up toward her own neck, gesturing as though she was going to grab it.

"Oh…" Weiss squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears out and down onto Ruby's pillow. "I… I'm so stupid, why didn't I realize? Here I am, walking around in a stupid daze like I’m the only one who… and there's Yang, she's in pain because of something my sister did, and I never put it together…" Sniffling, she breathed, "I'm not worthy of her. So stupid."

"You can't blame yourself, Weiss." Thankfully, Penny was a lot calmer than Ruby was, having acted as her rock for the whole day since she got the terrible news. At least she could speak up a little more than she could right now. "What your sister did… It's not fair, not one bit. But you are not her. That's not your fault. You'd have never let any of this happen if you knew."

"She's right," Ruby managed to force out, sniffing herself as she held back the tears that were forming. She'd done more than enough crying today. "Penny's completely right. How could you have known she'd try this? I'd never suspect any of my own family; even if I had another sister like Winter, I'd have never thought someone that close to me could be so mean."

Nodding weakly, Weiss let out a long, would-be cleansing breath. But what she said was, "I didn't… didn't love Yang enough. Or obviously enough, maybe. If I had just shown her a little more clearly how I felt, maybe Winter wouldn't have been able to scare her into running away…"

For a full minute, they all sat in silence. Then Ruby whispered, "Penny, can you make me and Weiss some hot cocoa? And, maybe pester Pyrrha into giving me my DVDs back?" Her girlfriend nodded, giving them both a quick smile when she grabbed the two empty mugs sat by the open laptop on the desk, quickly vacating the room and shutting the door behind her.

Once she was gone, Ruby pulled out her phone again, quickly unlocking it, clear in Weiss's view. The pop star only stared at what Ruby was doing for a few seconds. Then she finally whispered, "Do you want me to give you some privacy?" Clearly, she assumed Ruby was going to make a call.

"Nope." The girl dialed her voicemail, switching the phone to speaker so the both of them could hear the monotonous voice of the menu. "But I can give you the privacy if you need it. Just… hit One to play."

"What?" Her brow furrowed as she looked at the phone, then up at Ruby again. She didn't bother to ask her to leave; only reached up, hesitated, then pressed her index finger against the screen.

"First message. Received earlier today."

"Hey, Rubes… It's me." Once the message began to play, it was obvious who the voice was. It was her Yang's. Undeniably Yang's.

"Oh…" Weiss's voice grew tear-soaked within mere seconds of hearing the one on the phone, and she sat up, clutching the other girl's phone as if it were suddenly made of gold.

"I'll go help Penny." Ruby barely whispered, quickly getting up and exiting the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaving behind the voice of her sister on the phone, one which Weiss couldn't even respond to. But she needed to hear it. Even if the very first bit appeared to be Yang herself sobbing, and speaking in a clearly drunken slur.

"I screwed up, Ruby. I screwed up big time. I thought I could do all this myself, that I could be happy and that she could be happy and it would all work out after a while like Winter said… But it's not. I can't sleep, I c-can't eat… I'm a mess. A complete mess."

Tears had already begun flowing from Weiss's eyes again by this point. Never before had she heard Yang in so much pain, so much unlike herself. She'd never even heard her drunk on more than one occasion. What had this unfortunate situation transformed her ex-girlfriend into?

"I can't even smile anymore, or laugh. I can't even make a pun, a fucking pun. How d-dumb is that?" The voice seemed to chuckle very slightly. Even if it didn't last long at all. The sorrowful monologue continued. "You're probably thinking I shouldn't have listened, right? T-that I shoulda just come home, punched Winter in the face and said a great big 'Fuck You' to her stupid face… I keep wondering that, too. Like, what would have happened if I didn't listen to her, if I'd just have let her put those photos out…"

Weiss leaned closer, hanging on every word. This had been something she thought a lot about during her flight; why did she give in? Let Winter control their lives this way? It seemed so unlike the bodyguard she had come to know and cherish …

"I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk the media making stories. Not of me, I don't give a shit about me. But about Weiss… doesn’t take some fancy degree to know what stories like that can do to a star, how cruel the media can be. I remember we learned about Amy Winehouse in my media class, how they trashed her like they wanted her to die. Then where does she end up? Exactly." There was another deep breath and a sniff. Yang was well and truly broken on the other side, apart from the odd hiccup, which re-affirmed she was drunk as well. But perhaps, for the sake of telling the truth, she needed to be. "I CAN'T let that happen to her, Ruby. I can't even risk it… I…"

Yet another deep breath, and then the sentence Weiss had been waiting so long to hear. She just wished it was under better circumstances.

"I love her, Ruby. I love her, a-and now I'll never get to tell her. I should have told her when I had the chance, told her how much she meant to me, that I can't live without her… but I was too fucking SCARED to say it. And now it's too late. ”

"No, it's not!" Weiss found herself whispering to the phone uselessly, tears running down her cheeks and onto its touchscreen. But she also couldn't help but feel like maybe she had been the worst kind of girlfriend for the special type of girl Yang was: one in the public eye. Given her gender status, there was nothing more dangerous to her than that. She had been the one taking too many chances, she had ignored the dangers. Not Yang.

"It's way too late… I've been away for so long, I've turned into such a mess, putting Weiss through all my shit, and now Blake… everybody has every reason to hate me now. I really am a circus freak, everything Winter said was right…" But a few more sniffs later, she managed to power herself to keep going. "You have to be strong, okay? Stronger than I was. And I don't want you to be upset, or beat yourself up, because I don't… I don't deserve to keep being here anymore; you do. You need to be the amazing daughter that Dad deserves, okay? Study hard, achieve your dreams, all that shit. Even look after Zwei… Tell Dad I love him. And… and tell Weiss, I'm so, so sorry."

"End of message. To delete, press seven. To save…"

Why did this hurt her so much more than Yang leaving in the first place? Finding out that she did still love her, loved her so much to sacrifice their happiness together for a perceived need to protect her… it was too much for her heart, and she let the phone fall to the floor as she convulsed, curling into a ball on the bed and pressing her hands to her face.

Ruined. Her entire life had been ruined by the actions of her sister, and by her own inability to reassure Yang in the correct ways that she wasn't a danger, she wasn't a mere obstacle to her future. How could she have been so stupid, so careless?

Such a mood was interrupted when the phone vibrated once more. A text message had come through. One from Yang herself to Ruby.

Srry I scared u. Jst got back to Blake's. I'm safe n I mean that honestly this time x oxo

And even though there was another wave of relief, one so similar to the one she had felt when Ruby first told her she was okay, it couldn't quite erase Weiss's own growing guilt that the entire situation came about in the first place. That she had let Yang go… that she hadn't figured out she was at Blake's, hadn't gone after her physically. Been too confused and hurt to try anything besides calling her over and over.

Maybe she really didn't deserve her. As much as she had been tempted to think Yang failed her so many times, this only showed her it was clearly the other way around. She was such a pitiful excuse for a girlfriend that she had let Yang slip through her fingers, let her fade away and nearly die. And that was the worst thing she had ever done, however inadvertently.

But then another vibration, yet another message. Actually, R u free? Not for skype, jst voice call?

This was an opportunity that might not repeat itself. Her one chance to actually tell Yang she was sorry; after all, there was no guarantee if she went to Chicago that Yang would want to see her. She only hesitated for a second out of guilt for deceiving Yang before she texted back: Yea I am

Not even a minute later, the phone began to ring. Typical of Ruby, it was one of Weiss's songs playing for a short moment. But the instant it was answered by Weiss, there was a moment of silence. Before the clear voice of Yang spoke again. "Hey, li’l flower. Sorry about all this, I just… I don’t know."

"Don't hang up," Weiss breathed desperately. "Please, can you just… just listen for a minute?" There was no answer from Yang. Of course not; she had ruined her life so much that she had nothing to say to her. Therefore, she pressed on.

"Yang, I'm sorry. I had no idea Winter did any of that, that she went behind my back and… but that's not an excuse. I should have known something happened, should have figured it out instead of just… just whining into your voicemail a billion times. God, I feel so stupid…" She took a breath, pushing up from the bed to pace back and forth. All the while throughout, there was no voice from the other side. It was only the odd shaky breath outwards that was the indicator that Yang was on the other line. "But you're probably better off without me. I mean, if I wasn't smart enough to figure this out, and we've only been dating for a few months… what happens a year from now? Five, ten? What if you need even more and I’m even less ready? You need somebody who's smarter than that, who won't… drag you into the tabloids, even if it's just on accident. Somebody who isn't me, clearly."

A few seconds after Weiss had stopped, she sniffled and whispered, "Y-You heard…"

"Yang?" But she cut herself off from hoping Yang would say more. This wasn't right. "Sorry for, um, picking up Ruby's phone, but she's honestly out of the room right now. That was… I'm sorry for so many things." Her voice grew tight. "But I don't agree with what Winter said; I want to make that completely clear, okay?! She can go sit on a rusty garden rake for all I care! I think you're… you're a beautiful, perfect, incredible woman! And I always will!"

There was a sudden intake of breath from the other side, as though Yang were beginning to cry as well. The majority of the call between them was silence, just listening to the other with only the odd one or two words. Especially from Yang, anyway.

"I'm s-sorry…" She was barely holding herself together. "S-sorry if I-I… scared you…"

"You did," Weiss admitted. "Twice now, I… I don't know what I would do if you… had really…" Now she was crying again, though she had been doing so well up until that point. "You can't do that! I don't care if you hate me for making you promise not to try again – go ahead! Hate me, but hate me because you made the promise! Please?!"

And the crying had gotten worse. Now she was sobbing rather loudly the other end, shakily breathing in and out all through the call. It wasn't what Weiss wanted or intended of course, but she couldn't hold it in anymore. Everything was just too much after hearing her voice again since so long had passed.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry that I failed you, twice now, I… but you have to promise. Right now, promise me!"

"I should be apologizing," Yang stopped her, attempting yet again to try and keep herself from sobbing ridiculously loudly, taking a deep breath in, and then releasing. "So I can't promise exactly that… I w-wish I could. But I promise, I'll work to make myself how I was again. And I’ll really try this time, I’ll bust my ass. Swear to God, I’m… I’m not giving up."

Another broken sob came from Weiss's throat. "No… no, you can't try it again – ever! Please?!" No response, other than sobs. "Damn it… I can't even do this, I can't do anything, I'm such a…" But she couldn't even finish that sentence. She wasn't sure what she was.

"I want you to be happy." That was all Yang could say. Even as she heard Weiss sobbing and shakily breathing, barely keeping it together, she continued, "But you won't be with me. Obviously. I’m just a mess right now, and you deserve better; I was supposed to protect you, and that's impossible for someone like me to do… when I can’t even save myself from myself."

"I… I don't agree, but… but I don't really have any right to say anything." Pressing her hand into her face, she tried to think of what else she could say. There were three words she wanted to, but she didn't have any right to those anymore, either. "How did everything go this badly, this suddenly? Like… what happened to us? Everything was perfect, and now…"

Instead of answering directly, she changed the subject. Perhaps she had given up trying to explain anymore after all. Or perhaps… Perhaps she wanted to keep Weiss in her life, talk to her as a friend. Even if they both didn't want to be distanced. "How come you're at Ruby's? Like, why would you be all the way out there?"

"Well… Ruby wanted to explain to me in person. What happened, and… I mean, it's no big deal." Her fingertips ran through her fringe as she stared at a spot on the floor, leaning up against one of their desks. "You… ended up at Blake's, huh?"

Sniffing, Yang was at least able to hold herself together now. Better than she was anyway. "Been here for about two months. I thought… thought it would keep Winter off my back."

"She didn't say she was still trying to mess up your life further, so I guess it worked. I'm… I won't make excuses for her. She crossed the line in a big way, with both of us."

"I think I left her a voice mail…" That sounded very uncertain. "I can't remember… I was pretty… drunk, high, distraught. I've been… Well, I am , a mess."

"High?" Then Weiss forced herself to back down from that particular topic; she didn't exactly approve, but it wasn't currently any of her business. "Well… What's important now is that you get better, right? Just… you're still my b-best…"

Yang had a feeling she knew where that was going. And she stopped it before it did. It was one thing to know, but another to hear it fall from her mouth. She wasn't ready for that yet.

"I will, eventually. G-Good luck next week at Beach Fest… I'll watch it on TV, okay?"

"Thanks!" she half-laughed, half-sobbed. "I'll dedicate a song to you, if… if that's okay with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?" She tried to laugh herself, by now sounding as though she had perked up a little bit more, even though there was occasional sob and sniff in between. There was so much she wanted to say, so much more she wanted to confess. But it seemed she wasn't brave enough to do that anymore. "I should let you get going."

Again, the weak laughter. "And where the hell am I going?" But once the laughs faded, she whispered, "It was… really good to hear your voice, Yang. Take care of yourself for me."

"Yeah… Yeah, you too. I lo-" But instantly she cut herself off, and made out that she was clearing her throat instead. "L-Later."

"Later."

And the instant they hung up, Weiss began weeping. Partly out of pain, and a regret for what they lost… but partly from relief. Now she had something else: hope. That had been the word Yang was about to slip into the conversation. It wasn't certain, and she didn't assume it meant they would ever get back together… but at the very least, Yang was relatively alright and still cared about her. That was better than she was doing before the call.

After a few more minutes, finally Ruby and Penny reappeared into the room again. Ruby headed in first, peeking her head around the door to check on her. Seeing she was just staring at the floor, Ruby held a steaming mug out toward Weiss.

"We added some cream and marshmallows, Pyrrha let us have some when we got the DVDs. Lemme know if it's too hot."

Taking a long sip, the pop star smiled gratefully up at her friend and friend's roommate. "It's perfect. You guys…" She sighed, the smile slipping down a notch. "God, should I feel bad? I'd rather be here with you guys right now than with Neon, and that seems wrong somehow… it’s like… I don’t know. I really don’t know what’s going on with me anymore. "

"Oh, shit! I completely forgot!" Ruby instantly closed her eyes tightly, sitting by Penny's side with her own drink as she took a sip of her own drink. "How is she? Is she still, um… performing with you in a couple of weeks?"

"Yeah, yeah she is. Oh! That's right, I have…"

Jumping up from the bed, Weiss did get best not to spill any of her cocoa as she went to her suitcase and unzipped it quickly. "I was going to mail you a little surprise, but… well as long as I'm here, I can give it to you in person."

"Huh?" Ruby looked toward what she was doing, but seeing the glimmer of shine on two strips of paper gave away instantly what it was. And Ruby's eyes went to the size of dinner plates. She had to struggle not to suddenly drop her own drink or end up screaming. "Tickets?! You got us both tickets to Beach Fest?!"

"Of course I did," Weiss sighed with a smile — one markedly less morose than her others of the day. "Backstage passes! I want you and whoever you pick…" There, she paused to glance pointedly at the placidly waiting face of Penny. "To really enjoy yourselves, alright? It… will be nice to have a friendly face in the crowd, and not just people who see stars when they look in my direction."

Penny laughed. "Well, Ruby still does at times, as much as she hates to admit it."

"Shut uuuuup." Ruby insisted, pulling the hood of her hoodie back over her head to try and hide her slight embarrassment over Penny's words.

Not that it did much good. After taking a sip of her cocoa and smirking at her girlfriend however, she looked over to Weiss again and asked, "Would you like us to stand in a certain place so you can see us while you perform? I think that'd be nice for you."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll see you wherever…" Then she shrugged one shoulder once she had thought it over. "Off to stage right is usually where the people who can come backstage end up. If you're not there, I'll look for you in the front row where your seats are. Really, as long as you enjoy the show, that's all I wanted."

"They're front row, holy shiiiiit!!! " Ruby had grabbed one of them to get a better look at, holding it quite close to her face so she could read the smaller print at the bottom. It included all the details of the event, and their backstage coverage, and terms and conditions.

Which was something Penny was interested in particularly. For one moment she was lost wandering her own trail of thought – tapping her chin thoughtfully. The next, she asked, "For the backstage part… Do we need anything that lists names? Like, say if I fall ill and can't go, could Ruby take someone else and they can get backstage fine?"

"No, just those tickets. Ruby will have to give her name to get you backstage, of course; they're in her name. Security measure, you understand." But her pleased smile was entirely unconcerned about such minor details; she had succeeded in inviting her friends to the show. Things were finally beginning to look up.

"And I'm probably dragging you there even if you are ill, anyway," Ruby insisted, finally taking a sip of her own cocoa now that she wasn't as distracted as she was, but all the time she was grinning in glee. She barely even noticed her own girlfriend was sat perplexed in thought, staring out blankly. But she would learn why, in just a few short hours.

It didn't take too long before Weiss called it a night, only managing to get through a few episodes of Doctor Who on Netflix before she retired back to Ruby's bed, snuggling into the sheets, headphones in to block out the noise of rowdy and randy students as Ruby recommended, completely asleep.

And her temporary roommates would have been as well, if they weren't occupied with different things. As usual, Ruby was scrolling through Tumblr for posts to add to her blog, occasionally showing Penny a funny meme or two; while her redheaded girlfriend however was still staring blankly at her phone. Still thinking.

Until at last… "Hey, Ruby?"

"Yeah?" Ruby asked, still not having looked up from her laptop screen.

A quick glance to make sure that Weiss was certainly asleep later, she shuffled up to Ruby that bit extra, leaning a head on her shoulder. And then covering her mouth, she attempted to cough, even though it was the most fake sounding one ever.

"Oh, oh dear, I seem to be feeling ill. Looks like you'll have to take someone else to the Beach Fest with you."

"Cut that out," Ruby snorted, navigating a page on her browser with the greatest of ease. "You know there's nobody I wanna go with besides you. Well, maybe Dad, but he wouldn't have any fun; all the musicians are under the age of thirty."

"Oh, really? Poop… it's a shame you don't have someone who would absolutely love to go. Like, I don't know, a sister, or something." Penny continued, and then slowly tilted her head to watch for Ruby's reaction, no matter how slow it came.

"But you don't have a sister! Or… wait." Finally looking away from her screen, she rolled over to look at Penny, a delighted expression in her silvery eyes. "Are you plotting what I think you're plotting? Because if you are, then… then I think I might want in on it!"

"Sshhhh!!!" Penny pressed a finger to her lips, quickly looking toward Weiss again to make sure she didn't stir. Not even a peep, excellent. Diverting her attention back to Ruby again, she was grinning giddily. "Think about it; you're in the front row, and Weiss is gonna be looking for you. If you and Yang are standing together, she'll see you both! And then they can head backstage, talk things out in person, and then they'll be back together!"

"Yessss," Ruby whispered in a hushed voice. "Oh my god, it's so PERFECT! This is why we're bee-eff-eff, you know!" Sitting up cross-legged again, she rubbed her face. "Though the real trick is getting Yang to come down there… I mean, she's halfway across the country from here, and in a funky mood…"

"Which is why I thought we should probably start working on convincing her. Do you have the friend she's staying with's number?"

Nodding, Ruby offered her phone, unlocking it and handing it over for Penny to peruse the contacts. "Her name's Blake."

"Blake… Blake… Blake!" Finding the number in there with ease, she went into the messaging application, she quickly typed the following message.

We think we have a way to deal with Yang's funky mood, or even fix her relationship with Weiss! Do you think you can get Yang to come to the Cali Beach Fest for Friday? Penny'll pay for any travel costs with her allowance, of course <3

And of course, Ruby had been watching over her shoulder as she typed up the message, her smile slowly growing the entire time. She had never really done anything this sneaky before… and the fact that it was for such a worthy cause made her even more wickedly gleeful.

“Heh heh hehhhh… this is gonna be AWESOME!”

#white noise #freezerburn fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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