#the stuff i keep seeing.. looks so sick.. /pos

[julificos]

WHY WAS I ROBBED

[tldrthor]

Come find me - peter parker x avenger!female!reader

Part two to promises, oceans deep // we both did the best we could do underneath the same moon, and in different galaxies // based on the song 'Peter' by Taylor Swift

Summary: you thought you would get over him, but you never did. It takes getting hurt, and Cap looking out for you, for you to finally get your head straight.

Author's notes: I ignore a lot of post-endgame stuff. Steve never left, Wanda isn't evil, Peter was never forgotten. I've left reader and Peter's ages semi-ambiguous, so you can decide for yourself what age you think is appropriate!

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You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Peter opened his eyes slowly, the light streaming in from the window attacking them. He must have fallen asleep without closing the curtains last night. As he came to, he realised what day it was. And a chill ran through his body.

"Peter!" May called. "Peter, get up! We're going to be late!" She rushed into the room, her nose curling up in disgust at presumably, the smell of depressed teenage boy. "God, we have to open a window in here. It's toxic."

He huffed, and rolled away from her. "May, I don't want to go." He had spoken about this with her already. He knew that Ned and MJ were going, but he didn't want to. He couldn't go, when she wasn't going to be there.

"Is it because of (y/n)?" May's voice was soft, gentle. Like she was talking to a scared, little animal. He hated the pity laced in her words. "I'm sorry she's not going to be there sweetheart, you know she's got a lot going on with rebuilding the Avengers."

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

He swallowed, sadness crossing his face, but May didn't see it. "She's avoiding me, anyways."

Words from the mouths of babes, promises, oceans deep. But never to keep. Oh, never to keep.

May didn't say anything to Peter, but she thought it was for the best. She knew how devastating it was, for both of you, to come back to see one of you had kept moving, while the other stayed in place. She saw, in the few weeks following the battle at the compound, how you looked like you was going to be sick every time you were around Peter.

She saw how you barely talked, barely smiled, barely did anything.

She hadn't been around for the five long years between the snaps, but from what she talked about with Captain Rogers, you had taken the losses particularly badly.

Snapping back to the present, she looked at Peter and wondered if you would ever find your way back to one another. She made a mental note to ask Steve how you were doing when she saw him later.

"Let's go, come on." She held his shoulder and gave it a shake. "Your parent's would've killed me if I ever let you skip your graduation."

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The day was a blur. MJ and Ned gave him a hug on arrival, knowing that he didn't want to be here. All he could feel was the loss sitting heavy on his chest. Tony wasn't here. Natasha wasn't here. His parents weren't here. Uncle Ben. You.

There were photos and smiles and drinks. He forced himself to get through it, for May, if nothing else.

Steve gave him a big hug as soon as he saw him, knowing that he was a poor replacement for who Peter really wanted to see. "Hey! Congratulations, Pete!" He gave him a signature pat on the shoulder as Peter muttered a 'thanks, cap' back at him. Steve continued; "(y/n) sends her regards, she's sorry she couldn't come."

Peter bitterly thought that Steve was just telling him what he wanted to hear. He knew that if you wanted to be here, you would have made it happen. He wanted to be mad... but he knew this day would be too painful for you, too.

I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn. As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return.

At dinner, he was distracted. MJ and Ned were talking about the latest political news -- MJ talked about some senators voting record, while Ned relayed funny memes he had found on instagram about her. This obviously descended into chaos.

Peter was more interested in the conversation going on at the other end of the table, between May and Steve.

"So tell me, how is (y/n)?" May asked, looking at your guardian.

He looked almost... resigned. He breathed out, worry lines creasing his forehead. Peter could nearly feel the worry radiating off of him. "She's doing... okay. She's throwing herself into work at the moment, somewhere in Europe. It's all tightly under wraps, but she's an amazing agent these days."

May smiled, weakly. She knew that an avenger 'throwing themselves into work' was a worrying symptom of an emotional storm. She could see it in her own kid.

"Well, tell her we were asking for her when you talk to her next."

"I will. Thanks, May."

Peter had to know more. It was like a burning, aching in his chest. He watched as Steve silently ate his pasta, something - you - on his mind. He knew Steve hadn't said everything to May. Peter longed for the days where he would've known what you were up to.

"Pete, will you tell him to not infantilise politicians!" MJ finally snapped him out of it. Ned laughed at her outburst.

Peter snapped his head back to them. "Yeah, yeah. Ned, it's like... not good for democracy. Or whatever." He felt bad actually, because it was a good point. He just didn't have the energy to back her up right now.

"Ugh! They are employed for us." She groaned.

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Peter's back was aching. He stretched it out, trying to power through the ache that came with changing position. Shit, he looked at the clock. It was 3am, and he had been sitting working on this assignment for way, way longer than he anticipated.

Just as he stood up to get ready for bed, his phone flashed, illuminating the room.

"What. the. hell." He said to no one. It was a text from you. God, he hadn't even seen you in more than a year now. Whenever you returned from the top-secret missions you were sent on, you were always mysteriously busy whenever Pete was free, or around. He knew you stayed at Cap's new townhouse in Brooklyn with him, but every time Peter went around, you had always just left. And every single time, Steve gave him a pitying smile while informing him that you had really urgent business to return to, but you were really sorry to miss him.

Are you up?

The text message read. Peter felt like he went through all the stages of grief reading it. He opened it immediately, cursing and praying to Jesus that he didn't have read receipts on. He hurriedly swiped off the message app when the typing bubble came up again.

Not a booty call, I promise.

He almost laughed at that. Almost.

Yeah, are you okay? He replied.

As soon as he had sent it, there was a tap tap tap at the window. He froze for a moment, his heart beat reaching an almost crescendo.

And then, he was moving.

He ripped back the curtain, threw open the window. And there you were. Hunched in the darkness of the fire escape, in a way that immediately, Peter knew something was wrong.

"(y/n)? What are you doing - are you hurt?" He watched as you moved at a near snail's pace from the way you were uncomfortably slumped on the fire escape to enter his room.

The light barely lit up the soft, painful smile as you looked up at him. "Hi, Pete." There was almost a slur in your words. Peter's eyebrows knitted together in both confusion and concern. His arms found your waist as he supported you in moving in through the window and to his bed.

Once you were settled, he strode across the room and flicked the small lamp on. He did not like what he saw.

Although your suit was black, he could tell that it was nearly soaked through with blood. Your nose was trickling blood steadily, and there was a large patch of crimson next to your ear, on your hairline. The skin he could see was littered with bruises even where it wasn't streaked with blood.

"Shit, (y/n)." He dove under his bed, to where he kept the first aid stuff from when he went out patrolling. He ran his hands through it, quickly finding suture material and bandages.

Thank god he had restocked recently, or you could've been in serious trouble. To be honest, you were in trouble either way.

He tried to triage your wounds. From what he could tell, the gash on your side that you were holding seemed to be where a lot of the blood on your torso was coming from. "You're, uhh... going to have to take off your suit, so I can see the damage."

He flushed as he said it. And he swore that he could see your face getting warmer, too. But he was so preoccupied on, you know, not letting you die, that he didn't properly register it.

"Sure, yeah." You reached your arm around to the zip, but as you moved your wounds screamed in pain. You hissed through your teeth and swore, quietly. You were all too aware that May was probably sleeping in the room next door, and you had to be quiet.

Peter reached out, "Let me help," He spoke under his breath. He unzipped you and you slowly shuffled off your suit, wearing some gym shorts and a sports bra underneath.

With the suit off, Peter could see exactly the kind of state you were in. Not only from the fight you had obviously been in, but you also looked unhealthy, almost weak. He remembered a you that always looked so strong, sturdy. This wasn't the person he was seeing in front of him now.

There were scars that were recent but clearly had begun to heal, there was bruises over every part of your body. The biggest gash on your side oozed thick, maroon blood. Looking at your face, he could see that your cheekbones were nearly hollow, your eyes sunken, and the bags under them unmistakeable.

Nothing like the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed teenager he used to love.

"What happened?" He looked into your eyes as he began to tend to the wounds. Which was difficult, considering you were more wound than human at this point. He cleaned up around you gash, and then muttered 'this is going to hurt' as he began to exhibit the skills you had learned from Steve's mandatory 'basic field medicine' course a few years back.

"Ow, fuck." You mumbled, your voice strained. "I got into a fight."

"Well, yeah. I had actually figured that one out." He didn't look at you for concentrating on stitching. "A little more explanation would be good."

You breathed out slowly through the pain. "Okay, I got into a big fight."

He rolled his eyes. He clearly wasn't going to get very much information from you.

"Was it a mission?" He asked.

"No, it was - jesus." You cursed once again. It was really hard to talk while someone was continuously piercing a needle into your abdomen. "Extracurricular, you could say."

He looked up. "(y/n), this doesn't look like just a quick neighbourhood patrol." He knew you were keeping information from him because you thought he wouldn't approve.

"Why did you come here?"

You broke his eye contact. "I was nearby, and Brooklyn is a hell of a trek when you can't swing through the city." He nodded, it was a logical answer. He would always welcome you here, no matter what happened between you guys personally. He was glad you seemed to know that. "And... Cap can't know about this."

Peter's concern seemed to grow with everything you said, and you could clearly see it on his face.

"Please, Peter... He's worried already, I know it. And he's semi-retired, he deserves to rest without worrying about me." You pleaded.

He was slow to accept what you were saying. "But he's practically your dad, (y/n), he raised you. You don't think he would want to know that you're injured? Badly injured, might I add. I don't think this is even something our medical training can cover..."

You raised an eyebrow. "So, you tell Aunt May every time you get hurt?"

"Well, I've not been hurt as badly as you have."

"And if you were, you would tell her?"

He broke eye contact, and looked away. You didn't have to acknowledge out loud that he knew you were right.

With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you learned. 'Cause loves never lost when perspective is earned.

The silence that hung in the air was an awkward one. It suddenly caught up to you both, what was happening. Sitting in your shorts and sports bra, on the boy you used to date's bed. The same boy you had successfully managed to avoid for the best part of a year -- with the exception of Steve's christmas party last year. Just thinking about the awkward, heart-achy small talk made a shiver roll down your spine.

"Do you want to stay here?"

The question felt loaded. Want? Need? The lines were blurred.

"If... that's okay? I can't go back to Steve's like this."

He nodded. "You know you're always welcome here. You take the bottom bunk, obviously.” He smiled.

These bunk beds used to annoy the hell out of the both of you. You just wanted to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, but May and Cap had insisted that if you were going to stay round, it had to be bunk beds. And the door had to stay open.

The nostalgia made your eyes sting. It didn’t take a lot to do that these days, to be fair.

Peter jumped into the top bunk, and switched the light off. “Goodnight, (y/n).” He whispered, softly, to the darkness.

“Night, Pete.” You muttered in return.

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That night was the best sleep you’ve had since… hell, you couldn’t even remember when. It was probably the blood loss, or…

No, it was definitely the blood loss. For sure.

A sweet scent caught your attention as you adjusted your eyes to the sunlight filtering through the moth-eaten curtains. And the noise… music, clanging of pots, mumbling.

You checked your phone. “Well, shit.”

7.24am. 38 missed calls from “Cap 🦅🫡”.

There were texts as well.

2am: Everything okay? When should I expect you back?

2.24am: Sweetheart?

3.46am: (y/n), I’m getting worried, what’s going on?

4am: Okay, stop playing now. Call me.

6am: You’re in big trouble if this isn’t an emergency, kid.

Shit, shit, shit.

You jolted up, immediately letting out a yelp of pain as you remembered exactly why you were here in the first place. Fuck.

You pressed your hand to your stomach, with a little blood coming away with your hand. Shoddy workmanship, you laughed. You would have to sort it later.

Pulling on your suit from yesterday - thankfully, the blood stains blended in with the dark material - you realised getting home inconspicuously wasn’t going to be super easy. You listened to whatever was going on in the kitchen, the music that you recognised from when you and Peter were together. It all felt so familiar. Too familiar.

And you said you’d come and get me but you were 25, and the shelf life of those fantasies had expired. Lost to the lost boys chapter of your life, Forgive me Peter, please know that I tried to hold on, to the days where you were mine.

You weren’t proud of it, but you opened the window, and climbed out.

You didn’t see Peter’s face fall when he returned to the room, with a stack of pancakes in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. You didn’t see him stare at the smiley face made of whipped cream, mutter “I’m an idiot” and throw the stack away.

You didn’t see the tears fall.

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The aches and pains that pulsed through your body only grew worse the closer you got to Cap’s house. Climbing the stairs felt like a mammoth task, but as you got to the top and put your key in, the door opened -

He was mad mad. You stood in a sort of pseudo-staring contest for what felt like a long time, unsure whether or not it would be appropriate to look away. His eyebrows were furrowed further than you had ever seen, bags under his eyes larger than they had been for a long time.

“Get inside.” He borderline hissed at you. You didn’t respond, just walked. Slowly, subconsciously covering your bleeding side with your arm.

As you walked into the living room, familiar voices greeted you.

“What time do you call this?” Bucky stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed.

Sam sat on the couch in front of him, nursing a cup of coffee. Coffee so strong, you could smell it from the other side of the room. “You look like shit.”

You looked down. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

Steve put a firm hand on your shoulder. Still wordless. He pushed you towards the couch, and then down onto it.

He sat next to Sam on the one opposite, Bucky moving to sit on the other side of him. It felt like a judging panel. You supposed that’s exactly what it was.

“Explain.” Steve started. His gaze not becoming any kinder as he looked at you.

“I was with a friend-” You started.

“Which one?” Steve asked, pointedly.

You swallowed. “Um,”

“You’re lying, (y/n).” He folded his arms and leaned back. “I phoned all of your friends, you weren’t with any of them. You said to Sam after training yesterday that you were heading straight home, and here you waltz in nearly 12 hours later. Tell the truth.”

“Fine.” You sighed. You knew he was telling the truth, there was no point trying to call his bluff. “I was at Peter’s.”

You watched every one of them raise an eyebrow at the same time, nearly comedically timed. Steve sat forward in his seat.

“Parker’s? Why?” He tilted his head at you. You were glad that the anger seemed to have somewhat subsided, but you weren’t in the clear yet.

You swallowed. “I, uh…”

Sam started laughing. “Oh my god, (y/n)… you dog!” He looked at Bucky and Steve, who painfully slowly caught on to what he was referring to.

“No! No, no. No. Not that, it wasn’t like that.” You felt the heat in your cheeks and prayed that it wasn’t showing to them too, although something in Sam’s gleeful expression, Steve’s embarrassed blush and Bucky’s quiet enjoyment of the situation suggested otherwise.

“(y/n), I’m at a loss right now.” Steve shook his head. “I don’t understand. Lately, you’ve been disappearing, being secretive - I mean, last I heard you didn’t want to be around Pete at all. And now you stayed at his with no explanation whatsoever, when we were all out looking for you last night?”

Your heart sank, thinking of them worried and out on the streets looking for you. You never could lie to them for long - you should just come clean.

You gave a big sigh. “I got hurt while trying to stop a robbery in Queens, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

With that, they all sat up straight. Grim expressions replaced the more relaxed ones that you had fought so hard to keep.

“Hurt? Where?” Steve immediately stood up from his spot and marched over to your couch, scanning you over with his eyes.

You pulled your hand away from the side, where it had stayed for the duration of this interrogation. It was covered in blood.

All three men immediately jumped into action upon seeing the blood. "Woah!" Sam shouted, running for the extensive medical kit Steve kept in the kitchen.

Steve knitted his eyebrows together while putting his arm around you, looking into your eyes, presumably looking for any sort of concussion or mental delay. "You've been sitting here bleeding this whole time?" He sighed, and then sort of mumbled under his breath, "What is going on with you?"

Bucky grabbed a can of coke from the fridge and brought it over to you. "Drink it, you need sugar." You could tell from his tone that he was annoyed.

"Thanks, Buck." You whispered in return.

You watched your adoptive father's worried expression as he looked at the wounds you had sustained, and the haphazard stitches that Peter had put in last night (and the blood coming through them where they hadn't been done properly).

He fixed you, properly, and bandaged the stitches just to be sure. Sam and Bucky hand him things, making jokes occasionally that you smile at, but it does nothing to improve the cloudy look in Steve's eyes.

"Guys, can you give us a second." He ushers Bucky and Sam out of the room. Sam gets up and leads Bucky away, who still looked furious. You knew he probably wasn't this pissed off at you, and rather the people who had hurt you, but you couldn't be entirely sure. Once you're alone, Cap comes and sits next to you on the couch. "Do you have wounds anywhere else?"

You shake your head. "Just bruises and minor cuts, nothing big."

"Okay," He pursed his lips. "Let's talk then."

You avoided meeting his eyes.

"Tell me what's going on, in there." He tapped the side of your head, just like he used to do when you were a teenager at the Compound upstate. Before everyone came back.

You sighed. "I feel like an asshole." He put a friendly hand on your shoulder. "I'm really sorry for worrying you, and Sam and Bucky. I'm trying not to do that, at all. That's why I didn't come back last night."

He sighs. "Sweetheart, you should never be worrying about me. It's my job to worry about you." He puts a loving arm round your shoulder.

He took a second, considering what he was going to say before continuing, "You've not been the same since the Blip, and I know it's hard. But you have to start living again." It was nothing he hadn't said before.

"But I don't really... have anything other than work. Keeping people safe."

"Hey, hey. That's not true. You have us. You know we're your family."

"Yeah, no... I know. But I just... my friends were all blipped, and Peter..." You felt a tear spring to your eye. It had been a while since you had cried about it. "I've not felt normal since they left, and then when they came back... and I was so much older."

He rubbed your back as he watched a single tear fall.

"(y/n), Peter is older now, too. And I know he never got over you, either... why don't you talk to him?"

"I think I might have burned the bridge, Cap. I snuck out the window this morning while I think he was making breakfast."

He gave you a disapproving look that made you feel like a child being scolded. "That's not very nice, kid. I think you should chat to him."

"Yeah, I guess so." You moved to get up from the couch, but sat right back down when a shooting pain radiated up nearly your entire body. "Shit."

"Hey, hey! Sit down!" Steve pushed you back down. "On second thoughts, why don't you invite him and May round for dinner? You're not going anywhere, kid."

"Yeah, that sounds better." You laughed, meekly. "Although I have to shower..."

"I'll call Wanda to help you out with that." His quick, embarrassed tone made you laugh.

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"Hey, there she is!" Sam shouted as you walked back into the kitchen where they were diligently making dinner. Wanda walked past you to the fridge, pulling out a soda. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Better, thanks Sam." He nodded in approval at your response.

"You look better, you know that. You looked like death warmed up earlier, and that's not even an exaggeration." You rolled your eyes at him, "You've even managed to dress nice for the occasion! It's been a while since I've seen you in anything but sweats." You pushed his shoulder, stopping the incessant chatter.

Bucky threw an arm around your shoulder. "You're a chip off the old block, y'know. Just like Stevie." You watched as it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes at his friend's antics.

The doorbell rang through the house, ending the moment. Your heart thudded in your chest, a wave of nausea overtaking your stomach. "That'll be May and Peter, I'll grab the door." Steve gave you a knowing look, like he could read your mind. "Are you going to be okay?"

You nodded, slowly, taking deep breaths. Wanda slung her arms over your shoulder, whispering "you're going to be just fine." She pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Hi, Steve," May Parker's soothing voice carried through to the kitchen. All four of you remaining in the kitchen wandered through the hall to meet your guests.

When May's eyes fell to you, you could swear there was a tear in them. But it was gone almost as quick as you could tell. "Oh my darling girl," She wrapped you in a hug, squeezing tight. It kind of hurt, but you were desperate to not let it show. You needed this. "It's been far too long, we've missed you so much."

"I know May, I'm sorry I haven't dropped by." You apologised as she dropped the hug. She put a loving hand on your face, and smiled sweetly.

"Don't be silly, sweetie. You have nothing to apologise for." Unfortunately, she didn't know the half of what you had to apologise for.

As it came to your turn to greet Peter, your heart pounded. The others ruffled his hair, lightly bullied him over how dressed up he was. It was only a shirt and sweater, you didn't really see the problem. But Bucky and Sam were always on the lookout for ways to playfully get under spiderboy's skin.

"I think you look nice." You blurted out, almost involuntarily. Bucky and Sam smirked at your outburst, and you suddenly realised that maybe they weren't goading Peter, they were goading you.

"Uh, thanks... you look better," As it came out of his mouth, he realised that he was alluding to something you had asked him not to tell them. "Oh, um, I mean like good, you look good."

You laughed a little. "It's okay, Pete. I told them, we're good."

Steve interrupted, a firm hand on Peter's shoulder. "So, Pete. I hear you've been aiding my daughter to keep secrets from me." Peter gulped at his words. "Relax, kid. I'm just messing. Although we definitely have to improve your stitching skills because that was sloppy."

May stood, confused. "Peter, do you want to catch me up to speed here?"

"Sorry, May." Steve said. "I'll explain what these rascals have been up to." He linked arms with her and wandered towards the dining room with everyone else following. Leaving you and Peter standing in the hallway.

You finally flung your arms around Peter. "You told them?" He asked, at least a modicum of relief behind his words.

You nod. "I kind of had to, they had been out last night looking for me. I felt bad." You swallowed, and realised this was a good time to apologise. "Thank you for helping me out last night, I don't know what I would have done without you."

His arm raised to the back of his neck, as he looked away from you. "Hey, no problem. Anytime."

"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye."

"It's... alright, (y/n). You had to get home, I understand."

"No, Peter. It was shitty of me to do that to you. I'm sorry."

He smiled, his hand moving towards yours. When he got there, he wrapped yours in his, and gave a loving squeeze. It was the most romantic contact you had had since... well, since him. You were surprised that it felt so normal.

"Let's get dinner." He whispered. You nodded in agreement.

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You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Dinner was as dinner usually is. It was delicious, clearly Steve had been cooking a lot since he took a step back from the Avengers. Sam and Bucky argued while Wanda, Steve and May talked a lot about current events. You and Peter chatted mostly about what your friends were up to, and what your plans were.

"I'm thinking of going full-time with the avengers." Peter revealed. Your eyes widened, knowing that when you were younger, that's all you had both wanted. To be fighting alongside each other, permanently.

"Peter, that's amazing!" You breathed out. "But what about college, didn't you want to go to MIT?"

"Nah," He smiled. "Changed my mind. Don't think I could do avenging and college at the same time. Plus, Tony left a bunch of science stuff behind for me to finish off, so I would have my own lab at the new facility anyway."

You couldn't help the wide grin that adorned your features. "When would you move?"

"I could move anytime. Are you um, planning to go to the new facility?" He asked.

"Yeah, I was hoping to split my time between here and there." You looked over at Steve, talking with May. He didn't need you here. You knew he would love for you to stay, but he would be just fine without you. Plus, he was only semi retired. He'd probably be at the new facility more than you. "I know Bucky and Sam are going over there full-time, that's why they're crashing here for now."

"Oh, great." He sarcastically rolled his eyes and laughed.

Your conversation was interrupted by Bucky shouting over to you, "Hey, kid! Tell everyone about the time you tripped yourself up and accidentally caught the bad guy."

"Bucky, stop telling everyone about that!"

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"Hey, do you want to go swinging?" Peter whispered, as everyone started clearing plates.

You eyed Cap nervously, knowing that you couldn't leave without telling him, again. Not after your heart to heart earlier. There was no way he would let you swing with Peter, not with as many stitches as you had.

"Maybe just a walk?" You mentioned to Peter. He glanced down at your side, where he had seen the wound last night, and agreed.

You both got up, clearing your dishes as you went. "You ask him." You whispered to Peter while the older avengers and May were still in conversation.

"What? No, you ask him." He harshly whispered back. You rolled your eyes.

"Hey, Cap?" You got the attention of everyone still at the dining table.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Would it be okay if Peter and I went on a walk?"

"Of course, honey. But no swinging," he sternly looked at Peter. "and wear a jacket, it's cold out there."

"Aye aye, cap'n." You saluted him playfully, walking out of the room and waving to everyone. You would see them when you got back, anyways.

What you didn't hear was Steve asking Sam for Redwing to follow you, at a distance. Just in case.

You threw on a jacket and a scarf, opening the door once Peter had done the same. It was cold. It was that kind of biting, painful cold that really settled into your bones.

The walk was mostly silent at first, the street sounds filling the gap. You gasped quietly as Peter snaked his hand into yours as you wandered. The warmth was very nice, but the implication made your heart do double time.

"Where do you want to go?" He broke the silence.

Truthfully, you had no idea. You had absolutely no direction in your brain as your thoughts were smothered by the fact that you were together, holding hands.

"I don't mind, really." You responded.

"I know a place... but it requires climbing, is that okay?" He asked, once again his eyes wandering to where your wound was healing, under your clothes.

"Yeah, that's fine. Where is it?"

He walked with you for a little while longer. Once you reached a taller building, he motioned for you to hop onto his back, as you used to do.

"Be careful," You whispered in his ear. Your hot breath so close to him made his hair stand on end, goosebumps sticking up all over his skin.

He swallowed. "I've got you, don't worry."

And so, he climbed. It was quick, he was stronger now than you remembered. You felt his back muscles tense and relax under you as he flexed out his arms to pull you both up.

He set you down carefully once you got to the top, showing you the view. You wondered how he had found these places, how he always had the most extraordinary little pockets of New York that he reserved, just for you.

"It's gorgeous." You sighed, contentedly.

You could feel his eyes on you. You could tell exactly what he was thinking, without even seeing his face. His hand wrapped itself in yours, as you pulled your jacket and scarf closer around you.

"Are you cold?"

Before you could even respond, his jacket was wrapped around your shoulders. You smiled at his chivalry, drawing the jacket around you and appreciating the extra protection against the elements.

"(y/n), can we talk?" You felt his eyes on you again. You nodded at him, unable to find words as your blood pumped ferociously around your body. "I want to try again..."

Your eyes widened at his confession.

"I mean it," He continued. "I've never... I've never stopped loving you. I've spent years trying to move on, but I haven't. There's no one like you in the world. No one."

His hand lefts yours, and found your cheek. His eyes wandered over every freckle, every scar, every bruise he could see. "You are so beautiful."

You were at a loss for what to say. You had craved these words since the moment you left Clint's farm that day. You could barely hear anything anymore, as the moment melted away to just you, and him.

And so, you did what you had wanted to do for so long.

You kissed him.

As your lips connected, it took a second for him to even register what was happening. But once he did, the passion, the emotion you felt in that moment was like nothing you had ever experienced. His hands tangled in your hair, desperately drawing you towards him.

This wasn't like to loving kisses you used to pepper over each other's lips. This was need, it was animalistic. It was war and anger and heat. It was love.

When you both finally pulled away, your breath was ragged. You placed your forehead on his, your hot breath tickling each other's faces.

"I've never stopped thinking of you, Peter." You admitted. "Not for a second. I've always regretted walking away from you, hurting you like that." You screwed your eyes shut, the pain of the memories a little too much to bear.

He raised your face until your eyes met his. "It wasn't your fault. I left you behind in the snap, and you spent five years mourning me. I never blamed you for what came after, (y/n). Never."

His words soothed the pain in your chest. You had always wondered.

"I want to start fresh with you. I want to go on dates and get to know you, as you are now. I want to be normal kids..." He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I want that too, Pete."

He pressed another kiss to your lips, this one short and sweet. "Good," He looked into your eyes, a mischievous glint in them. "Then we should probably get you home, we've got an early start tomorrow."

You raised your eyebrow in questioning.

"I'm taking you for breakfast, sunshine."

[roxannarambles]

Hey can I get our boi guzma with a s/o who's always sleepy, like, no matter how much sleep they get they're always still tired for like half of the day

Ooh, a request for headcanons? I don't normally do that, but sure!

• You try not to let it bother you, but it's frustrating sometimes, because it's hard to feel motivated or get anything done when you're like this. You remember that you used to have so much more energy and wonder what's wrong with you.

• Guzma tells you there's nothin' wrong with you, anyone's gonna feel like shit if they're surrounded by the same dismal four walls every damn day. Not your fault. He thinks a moment and then grabs your hand, says he's gonna take you somewhere

• You leave Po Town and you ask him where you're going, he says 'the beach.' You thought there wasn't any beach access this side of Ula'ula. The cliffs are too high. He says, for most people, sure, but not for us

• He leads you down a hidden path cut between the hills, covered by the undergrowth. You eventually reach a secluded beach that looks untouched by people, for the most part. You walk for a while in comfortable silence, feeling the crisp breeze ruffling your hair, listening to the lap of the waves, the wingull cries

• Guzma stops to skip a stone and says he likes to come here to clear his head. Then asks how you're doing. You say you're feeling a bit better, which is true. The fresh air and the walk helped a little. You just wish you weren't always like this. It feels dumb that even simple things are so much work for you. Makes you feel kinda worthless.

• He's quiet a while. He says you're not worthless.

"So you got a weakness. Health's not perfect or whatever. Whatever's going on. So what? Doesn't make you useless. You work around it. Figure out what works best for you."

He takes a pokeball from his pocket, looks at it.

"My Golisopod? He bails the second his health dips below half. I thought he'd grow out of it, he never did. But it doesn't matter. So what if he has to bail and take a break during battle? Found a way to work around it. It's part of the strategy now. Now he can wreck face with his First Impression all the time. He's a monster."

He smiles, the pride in his Golisopod clear to see.

"Everyone says bug pokemon are shit, but I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks. I do what I want, and I know bug pokemon are sick. They're used to getting stepped on by everyone else around them, treated like garbage. People kill them just for the crime of daring to exist. But they keep goin' anyway. Nothin' stops them."

He pockets the ball again.

"Anyway . . . you and me, we know what that's like. But we do our own thing anyway. Nothin' else matters. We're not like everyone else, but so what? I know the amazing stuff you can do."

He cups your face with a hand and gently tilts your chin up.

"So don't worry about it, aight, lovebug?"

[brownsplodge]

An over the top and in depth analysis on the rottmnt Family medic candidates, and in what order I’d place them to be in as the most suitable medics(real: Splodge sucks at writing short titles)

I’m not usually one for making hcs outside of the known canon, but there are lots of hcs in rottmnt that i love/absolutely agree with. I’m not sure about this one, i don’t feel there is a fixed medic in the family, but it does make sense ngl.

I’m gonna analyse each family member to tell which ones would be the best to fit the role of medic(or replacement Medic).

Raph: Raph would be very likely to become stressed even if someone skinned a knee slightly, or go over the top if one of his family members were injured(not really a bad thing, but it could make them uncomfortable). He wouldn’t be a great medic, not only because of his obviously larger and therefore more clumsy hands, but also because you have to stay calm, or at least be able to keep a cool head when you treat wounds, especially if they’re bad. Raph is in my opinion probably the worst candidate for a medic in most situations, though he could be good if he stays calm and is careful, as he is very motherly and he would probably be good at looking after someone while helping them.

Leo: Leo is as far as I’m aware the most popular candidate for medic in the fandom, and I do see why. He is smart enough to learn something if he wanted to or felt the need to, and he is the best at manipulating others into thinking he’s calm or laid back even in the worst situations. He’s pretty neat in his own way and would probably be able to make whoever he’s treating be so annoyed they don’t even care about being wounded(/pos/j). He’s likely to do it correctly, unlike his other family members, all more likely to go over the top or not know what to do.

Donnie: Donnie was at first my most logical option, but I realised the flaw in this quite fast. Though he’s very smart and no doubt has excellent knowledge in lots of Things, his interests are mostly in technology(that can be useful in certain medical situations, to be fair), and even though it’s likely he knows in theory how to treat wounds, he easily gets nauseous(as seen, especially in the film, a couple times when he feels sick at seeing certain slimy gooey stuff(unspecified to avoid spoilers). Also, agin like with Raph, he might go over the top, and not just because he cares about his brothers but also because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to be a bit of a hypochondriac.

Mikey: Mikey might be a good medic ngl. At first I thought obviously not, but I realised he might not be that bad. He could probably learn medical knowledge(with a bit of difficulty probably), even if his attention span seems a bit short, and other than knowledge, he might be quite a nice caretaker to have. He’s cheerful so you are likely to feel less stressed, and I bet he has a ton of colourful plasters. If the injuries aren’t very bad, Mikey would be a great medic, and the main reason I’m saying if they’re not bad is because he’s pretty young(to be fair not a lot younger than his brothers, but still young), and learning medical knowledge takes time and a good concentration is definitely a plus(which Mikey doesn’t really have). He’d probably be a pretty bangin’ therapist though.

Splinter: Oof. I’m not sure actually. I know that splinter at least at the beginning is pretty neglectful, but he would definitely try to help his family if they needed it, we all know that. The problems I see are that firstly, similar to Raph, he doesn’t seem to handle stress all that well. And secondly, the boys are likely to injure themselves doing something they weren’t supposed to, so they wouldn’t go to ask him for help.

April: I’m a little surprised that April doesn’t really appear as a medic in any fics/hcs. She would, in my opinion, be a pretty good one. She’s a little impulsive, but that’s mainly when it comes to battle, and she would probably be the smartest if it weren’t for Donnie. As far as I’m aware she doesn’t get nauseous as easily, and she can definitely act fast and smart even in dangerous/stressful situations. She probably won’t go over the top or … under the top I guess, and she’s a great improviser, probably would be able to patch someone up on the spot if needed.

In conclusion, I think that even though Medic Leo isn’t a bad hc, I think medic April makes more sense. The order I would put them in would be:

April

Leo

Donnie

Mikey

And Raph and splinter tied.

I hope you had fun watching me rambling without proof or rewatches and I bid you farewell and good luck on your turtly adventures

[zorilleerrant]

Hi, just saw the word prompt thing? I don't know if you're still doing them or taking them, but if you are, would you mind something with either 25: Hair or 27: Sick with Bruce and/or Jason? Thank you so much! Love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

(absolutely still taking them! see this is the problem with reblogging everything in a row instead of in a queue because that post is like three hours old or something)

"I'm not sick," Jason says, once the coughing fit is over, trying to shove himself away from Bruce without stumbling over. If he falls while Bruce is watching, Bruce will know he's lying, and then he's done for. The thought only occurs to him when he's already leaning against Bruce's shoulder.

"I know you're not, Champ," Bruce says, and it's ridiculous hearing that tone of voice when he's full on Batman mode, the cowl on with smudges of greasepaint all across his eyelids, wrapping the cape around him like when he was small. It doesn't work. The cape back then was soft, quilted one patch at a time by Alfred's careful hand, and warm enough to keep at least the chill of Gotham's winds howling over rooftops at bay. Now it's the thinnest nanofiber metamaterial Jason's ever seen, soft as silk but not half as warm.

It's a nice night. He's only cold because he has the flu, but Jason always wears a mask, so why is that his fucking problem? Nothing's supposed to be able to get through the filters. Not even whatever has Bruce so wary, using dad voice even through his gas mask. "I'm fine. There's just a problem with the filters." Is there a problem with the filters? He was coughing earlier, and something smelled deep maroon and ominous. The people shuffling around the building - no one left inside, but not so far removed yet - are coughing, too. Speaking in strange voices, like they don't know what they're saying themselves. Their faces screw up when they try to talk.

"Jaylad? Are you with me?" Bruce says, pulling Jason's full weight against his chest, as if they're not in front of a crowd right now, cameras pointed at them from all sides. Jason barely refrains from shoving him away, feeling like a little kid trying not to get hugged at school again, and aware that most of the reason he's not pushing is that he doesn't have the energy, and he needs something to balance his weight on anyhow. "How much of that stuff did you breathe in? Here, list off your siblings, will you? I don't know who's behind this new toxin, but we'll find them."

"No one's behind it," Jason says, completely ignoring Bruce's instruction, and fuck him for trying to give it, anyway, Jason is fine. "Look around at the fucking building, B, it was a science fair. It was an accident. No one was behind - okay, actually, that's a lie, Black Mask is behind it, but it's not exactly like you can throw him off a roof over it, so." Jason can throw him off a roof. Maybe. Once he gets a good night's sleep, at least. Oh, fuck, sleep sounds good, right about now. If only Bruce would hurry up and get him to the Batmobile. Of course, if he says that, Batman's going to worry. Like an asshole.

"Black Mask?" Bruce says, in horror, finally moving them in the direction of the car, finally moving Jason out of the way of paramedics that he's absolutely certain would demand to take his temperature and then the jig would be up. "What the hell does he have to do with any of it? How long has he been running this plot?" Oh, sure, once you bring Roman up, Bruce is all invested again. Couldn't have just listened when Jason said the sprinkler systems needed to be double checked. 'Oh we just checked them last week' last week before the last villain siphoned toxins through them again, yeah. Some detective.

"Well, it's not about to help to fight crime at him, B, I assure you, all of his horrifying chemicals are perfectly legal," Jason says, climbing into the chair and reclining it so he can lie down and never get up again. He almost can't hear himself over the roar of the Batmobile's engine. "Some idiot posts a video about how you can hack the blush, soak it in alcohol and precipitate out the metallic component. You know the new bronze and silver ones? Yeah. Well, if you're not careful, you know. I was checking to see if it's made of Nth metal. Some precocious teens beat me to it, I guess."

"That can't possibly be legal," Bruce says, taking a curve a little bit slower than Jason would've expected him to, even on the drive home, even while they're having a totally civil conversation and Jason hasn't yet resorted to trying to bite him. "There are all sorts of regulations on strange metals. We voted on a referendum last week! And you're telling me he's doing this through his company? To, what, entice kids to accidentally cobble together bombs?"

"He doesn't fucking care about the kids, Bruce. I don't even know if he knows - like the advertising isn't even aiming at them, it's aiming at, fuck, celebrities and influencers and shit, he probably doesn't even know it can do this or he'd be selling the shit to Wall," Jason says, tiredly, words that would be mumbled through his hands if his helmet weren't beaming them straight to Bruce's earpiece. "He just found a way to pawn off his trash to the rest of his company, and told them to come up with profits. And they did! Like you always say, crime doesn't fucking pay, eh?"

"Okay. I very much do not want Amanda Waller to get her hands on this. You really think that's his long term plan?" Jason shuts his eyes, not that Bruce can tell under the mask. Because, like, did he fucking say that? Bruce never listens when Jason tries to explain in completely straightforward English - or any other fucking thing - what is going on in Gotham. He missed the limited edition pretzels, too. Asshole. A warm gust of wind blows across his face and Jason realizes that, at some point while he wasn't responding, Bruce pulled his helmet off. Undoing all the latches silently and everything. He's saying something soothing.

Jason ignores him. Wiggles his mouth a little; it's always easier talking when you don't have to aim directly at the mic. He's used to it enough it's reflexive by this point, but it still makes his jaw sore. "Yo, you know the mayor's get kickbacks, even the new one - I mean, I didn't ask him personally, so his kickback may be, like, his own head - there's no such thing as a regulation with no loopholes in Gotham." And then the kids try to mix it up and test out cool new properties, two projects get too close to each other, someone's baking soda volcano sets of a chain reaction or whatever happened in there. The sprinklers took a beat too long to set themselves in motion, Jason knows that part for sure.

"Jay, kiddo, you sound like you swallowed an entire sheep worth of steel wool," Bruce says, in that grudging way where he's trying to show emotion the way Leslie taught him to, but he sucks at it, because Alfie's British and never made proper expressions when he was a kid. Only the thing is he's turned the car to whisper mode and Jason can barely feel the rumble of the engines now, and Bruce's hand is stroking through his hair, and he could probably fall asleep, moving car or no. "Let's get you some of Alfred's soup."

"Yeah," Jason says, even though Bruce is right for once in his life, and Jason's voice does sound a thousand times more like sandpaper now that his voice modulator is gone. "Alfred is the one that misses me, sure thing old man." Actually, who Jason really needs to talk to is Lucius. Maybe over the phone, so as not to get him sick. Because if one thing will piss Roman off it's a fucking hostile takeover. Plus then they can hoard the metal to, whatever, build a Batspaceship or who knows what, like that part matters.

Bruce's hand stills, fingertips still cool against Jason's skull, and they just breathe like that for a few moments, in sync and slow, their heart rates slowing to rest, just the way he used to after a panic attack, even though Jason's pretty sure neither of them are panicking, unless Bruce cares a lot more than he assumed about a flu he's pretty sure he's mostly over anyway. Bruce squeezes his neck a little too hard, and hesitates before he opens the door. "Alfred does miss you."

[the-firebird69]

The Longest Yard- Turley alias Dalip Singh

and it is a sensative piece. but it is about our son. and he is suppsoed to be out to lunch  and work for macs sorta.  and have africans nose out of joint his fault. and they say they do it now and no  premature ok.  and this uns frist and they dont say it but ok it is prempting. this  is too but ok.  and the analogy not soclear to our son and or daughter she says she got it good

Thor Freya

and i am ahead. ok. im an astronaut. your not ok. not big and a baby lol grow up but ok al are small still lol.

and it is like this talkiing abou the cushy tushy by mac and lily and they used it in norway and Thor Freya loved  it. lol.  and the fly scycle and designs and he said it have to keep the wheels.  and solid al and low profile.  shocksand all.  and fast.  wing somwhere they looked yes here and maeks the most sense. 

but this means him and an analogy not real football no that too and action too.  and he says no way. and yes not so big no bigger than them. all.  and he does not show it. no does but is not bigger.  but they say it w the chin.  and then he is not a giant.  and i read it.  he is in fear of bein big a bit.  needs doiugh the use it and we see.and torment him wand we hit and teyi dont care.  and we take advantage must.  but it means he shall be big then.  a certiain time.  in cali they say.  and we say this.  hmmm.  and ok mb when they arrive a bit.  and see they are others no.  but ok.  similar teams.  and theysay this he will be big and lok it sound it but do menial stuf f deliver our code and more. and we say ok sure. and they wont but as the great Kali a demon.  a female wiht a ton of swords and broken up as in angelina movies.  so i say this no way. not my look nope. and it does but heck we fight them and it lost.  well they say it did.  and that is one episode.  and macs whant it and try and we fight them but ok.  

and has to buy a battery. and he laughs they work. and donations stopped and by a mix no. macs iin the end.  tons of money. and spent on charities. and not macs.  and they see it.  got them in.  a few more ok. and they say it to me a lot ok.  and it is his height not too tall. nor big. and see it but strong and they display it like a mule amazing strength. and he doesnt but ok. and they show it and then this.  no no it isnt me.  and he syas it wow it is bent and urt his leg. and did.  theyi saw it no. shows on xray. annd sais wow i did that but ouch.  and said i id not meant o that hard. and more.  are heavy scary to russia. and start out wiht the wrong dainty game he  is not good at. and to po him or what. and it is tough always tough and we are young. worn number or what nope theyo are ful of themeseles have tortured children for ages and  want this opportunity to do it to us as they try to take it all forever. we see why. and it is wrong. we re not used to it respond wiht force.  and hefty amounts. unseen apparently. and we are isolated. but hear it all day. upset angry and p issy lose stuff. shines thourgh all day long and no act no bhobby or duty nothing.  only food sop and basic stuff and heinous attittudes.

today they saidthey would do this that and aso on. and code is thiers. it is.  and they plan to use his dads money and his only oney to have him drive round and it is a waste and the song no black cars will get you money.  and we see. it they say that.  but he needs transportation yes.  they want it we do too to forcecontrols and they say that. ok.

now this is a fun movie but about prison we dont like prison.  and it is liek it here but they get breaks. good.  need it.  

and on to the next show no.  this is hearbreking stuff he cant hear it yeh he can iti is sick stuff he says and it is.

Hera

very sick e hate it now and ue it we see him jc and his brother said he was over  did soemthing and we saw it evil kenivel. you can do it. jump over the shco buses and did

dan a bit too far nope now w e are chckin leaning good he says and he didit saturn ok the light

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

So, now I am making more Zoldyck propaganda on my own now.

So, first of all; I have already linked this post. But I want to talk more specifically about this post, and I want to basically just post what/some of what was said in this post in order to talk about it. Or in case people just don't want to click on the link, lol.

So, here is that post:

And this is what is said in that post:

once when killua was about 5 or 6, and not immune to poison yet, he was with milluki in the woods and he got stung by a poisonous lizard and ended up paralyzed and convulsing on the ground. milluki saw, but he was too lazy to carry killua home, so he just left him there and killua had to crawl back to the mansion on his hands and knees.

So once again Killua was literally poisoned his whole life to grow tolerate to it to the point we see in the show. But this is something he had to build up to gain that immunity to poison. There were times he could still be affected when he was still building up that immunity and/or not immune yet. Imagine having to deal with the pain of building an immunity to poison. Imagine having to worry about the stuff u are eating being poisoned. Imagine that pain and fear. Also; imagine ur brother, before u were immune to poison seeing u get by a poisonous lizard, and just leaving u there, because he was too lazy to carry a very young Killua back home. So Killua literally had to crawl back home, like Killua did.

when killua was REALLY little he once rescued an injured puppy by the side of the road that had been abandoned by its mother. silva encouraged him to raise it as a pet. killua named the dog “wolf” and this dog was his pet for like a year. he was really really really happy with this dog. one day wolf goes missing and killuas looking everywhere for him. silva has him, and he tells killua that wolf has rabies and needs to be put down [it’s heavily implied that he’s lying and killua doesnt know any better because he’s a small child]. killua starts crying but silva keeps telling him that its what he has to do or wolf will keep suffering and die in pain. eventually killua kills the dog and silva congratulates him on being so brave and strong

it’s also stated that the above story is part of the reason why killua believes that he’ll eventually ruin any good thing that happens to him

So yeah; this whole thing is just fucked up and sad and awful. Fuck Silva, manipulative, awful POS (I still love his character though). Also, this story being a reason/one of the reasons why Killua thinks he will ruin any good thing that happens to him is just so sad. Also, even if the dog was actually sick, Silva forcing Killua to kill his own dog is messed up. Though, it is even more messed up that it is implied that the dog wasn't sick at all, and Silva was lying to get Killua to kill a dog he loved, so the dog didn't have to "suffer" anymore. Because some of Killua's family just LOVE to take advantage of Killua's kindness and/or kind nature.

killua used to call kikyo “mama” until one day she tortured canary with electric whips for “being negligent about killua” and killua grabbed onto the whips to try and get her to stop and didnt let go until “…blood was leaking from his ears… his hands were smoking”

So yeah, this further shows how suffocating and overbearing Kikyo was to Killua. Also, Killua cared about Canary (and had wanted to be friends with her, but wasn't allowed to), and his mother still did this to Canary, and then hurt him severely too while he tried to get Kikyo to stop. Which she didn't really. Because Killua literally was basically forced to let go when "“…blood was leaking from his ears… his hands were smoking”", not because Kikyo actually stopped (not she should been doing what she was doing in the first place).

Also this horrible stuff happen to Killua when he was young. By people he should have been able to trust. I.e.; one of his older brothers and his parents, but obviously, he couldn't and/or shouldn't.

(Still love all the Zoldycks as characters though. They are also just; so awful though).

Okay; I am done (for now, maybe) talking about that post that talks even more about Killua's awful childhood.

Will probably do more propaganda later. But for now; have this.

Please vote for the Zoldycks! They really deserve this. If the Zoldycks deserve to win anything; it is being an awful, dysfunctional family!

FINAL FIGHT

The Asanos (Assassination Classroom) VS the Zoldycks (Hunter X Hunter)

The Asanos

Members: Gakuhou Asano (father) and Gakushuu Asano (son)

Propaganda:

CW: physical abuse

"Crazy dad whose misguided goal is just to make his son strong (but whose definition of real strength leaves much to be desired), and son who does see the error in his dad's ways but is brainwashed enough to imagine that his "filial duty" under the circumstances is to "take control". No one knows for sure if a mom exists, but she clearly doesn't want to have much to do with these lunatics." "The dad doesn't even consider his son family, just a "student" as he is a principal. Utterly unhumane conditions is where he trains his son in. And worst of all, they compete on who will control the other, leash included. The first time the son even considers calling him father is when he literally abuses him physically."

The Zoldycks

Members: Zeno, Silva, Kikyo, Illumi, Milluki, Killua, Alluka, Kalluto

Propaganda:

CW: murder, torture, isolation

"What ISN'T dysfunctional about them? A family of assassins, they train all their children to be killers, including with literal torture. Killua is the one of the family who's a main character, the heir of the family, and he eventually runs away due to the dysfunctionality. All the kids are isolated, told they don't deserve friendship, and they all have different opinions on family matters but it affects them all! Illumi wants to control Killua to as extreme a degree as he possibly can, and even though Silva lets Killua leave, he fully expects him to return home and join the family business again, and both him and Zeno knew about Illumi's extreme methods of control." Note: edited for length, full submission here

[jungjangnim]

ajumma chameleon

i promise you all, it's not what it seems. a non-mania au story.

Well, this is Iron's house, alright.

Yoo-jung took a few breaths before ringing the doorbell. Anne wanted her to babysit Alaina and Victoria for a while. All three were on 26-hour shifts at Banyan, and Yoo-jung was honestly sorry for them. She could never stand that kind of stress; talking to people daily, taking care of sick patients, handling the loss of some… yeah, no.

Besides, she has met Alaina and Victoria before. She knows where to take them now.

Kyung-mi greeted her at the entrance. "Hello, Yoo-jung," she said in Korean; bows were exchanged between the two. "Welcome to my humble abode, I suppose."

"Damn, Kyung-mi, never thought your shared fuckhouse would be this simple," Yoo-jung commented. 

"Not a fuckhouse, Yoo-jung. We’re too busy for that. Come on in; Iron and Anne are waiting for you."

And sure enough, they were. All three were dressed in coats—look, it's winter, we're all freezing here—but she was sure enough that their scrubs were underneath. Alaina and Victoria played a bit of Just Dance in the living room per Yoo-jung's recommendation. It seemed Yoo-jung would be shelling out money for Just Dance 2023, but hey, anything to keep her godchildren happy.

"Chateau Banyan, absolutely beautiful," she commented. It was genuine. "Any specific instructions for the two, Iron?"

"Is 'don't let them die' an appropriate instruction?" Iron replied.

"Iron, you know your daughters have special needs that I need to take care of, otherwise I'll make them go ham on the house and destroy everything."

Iron sighed. "Well, you know about Victoria's chronic illness. Just make her take these medications at the appropriate time. Alexa will sound an alarm when it is time." She hands over Victoria's pill box to Yoo-jung. "And Alaina... she'll know what to do. Just remind her to take her supplements from time to time."

"Copy that, Doctor."

"Ajumma will discuss your wages next," Iron said, gesturing to Kyung-mi. The latter decided to whack the former. "You! I'm not that old, you piece of shit!"

"Well, you definitely look older than the rest of us," she quips. 

"You--"

"No fighting in front of the guest," Anne's voice rang from the kitchen. "Honey, the rates. Yoojee deserves to know her payment for babysitting our kids."

Yoojee?

Kyung-mi sighed, then turned to the poor Ph.D. student. "Here's your rate. I'll pay you 30 DisCoins an hour, with an additional 100 to forget where I live."

"Mrs. Young," Yoo-jung replies, "I am good friends with Iron. I unfortunately know where you live."

Silence. "I'll bump it to 350."

"Ajumma, I can teach Iron more Korean to spite you."

Kyung-mi takes a deep breath. "You're lucky Anne likes you. Okay, fine. 30 an hour, plus 500 as a convenience fee. If you stop teaching Iron anything terrible, I'll take you to a research seminar."

"No promises."

"You--"

"Camille, my love! We're going to be late!" Anne shouted from outside. Kyung-mi replied with a loud Coming! before grabbing her stuff and rushing out. 

"Alaina, Victoria, let's see your parents off," Yoo-jung said, and the two readily complied, grabbing her hands before she led them outside. "Kyung-mi ajumma, I'll take care of the kids!"

"Fuck you, Yoo-jung!" And off they went.

Yoo-jung let out a bit of a snicker before turning to the kids. "I have a big surprise for the both of you. Get changed."

It was the first-ever Korean kids' cafe in DisCity.

The owners were famous in the vlogging world; they have always visited kids' cafes in every city they go to. DisCity was one of the few metropolises that didn't have such facilities. Yet, they couldn't just broadcast it to the world. With Keylan being a haven for runaways, the government made it imperative that nothing about the country gets out and that everything sent outside must be done through secure channels.

It might sound like hell, but it's heaven on earth for the lost. Yoo-jung knew it well, and so did her hosts. And she will do anything in her power so that Alaina and Victoria will also partake in heaven's blessings.

Which led them to this kids' cafe.

Alaina and Victoria's eyes widened once they saw the colorful cafe. It's a mini-city with a hospital, supermarket, mall, and anything you might ever need. The place is a bit empty, considering they went out on a Wednesday. It is perfect for Alaina and Victoria with their physical limitations.

(Yoo-jung paid extra for the staff to sanitize the place beforehand. It was a steep price; luckily, a quick call to the Countess was all it took.)

"Yoo-jung eonni, this place is beautiful!" Alaina exclaimed before hugging her. "Thank you for taking us here... never saw this kind of place before..."

"It's so... colorful..." Victoria spoke in hushed tones. "We'll get... to have fun... right?"

"Of course, darling." Yoo-jung pulled Victoria close to her. "I brought you here so you can taste what the world has to offer." So that you may have the childhood that I never had.

"But... Mommy gets angry when we get noisy..."

"Shh." She pats Victoria's head. "Go crazy. Just remember to be mindful of your health. I'll be watching."

And after that, they're off.

(Iron, Anne, and Kyung-mi came home to the three passed out in the living room at six in the morning. Perhaps they had loads of fun... It's indeed an excellent idea to let Yoo-jung lose with childcare.)

[mmunson86]

“You were incredible! Waving him off, and whatnot! Truly, if it was me, I would have been in his bed by now!” Winnie violently shook your shoulders.

Ohh Win trust me we know you would have folded right away but yeah Eddie is an asshole at this point a bitch dont want him he is for the streets we are doing this for you Win😅

Eddie Munson doesn’t chase, but you- he went after you!”

Well that mother fucker better get his track shoes on and chase faster because he is the type of dude we stay away from like i said he is for the streets & they can keep him

Jesus Winnie we get it we wont let it get to our head but dont smack our forehead again or we will stop this plan of yours🤣

Santina we aint special baby he just using you like he used poor Winnie this man is sick i hate how much i want him but want to smack the living fuck out of him , we shall not fall for it! At least he uses protection you know being for the streets and all at least he is being safe about it🤣

“I don’t like this kind of dating.” 

Agreed lol i dont like this Win this is all so complicated its making my head spin

“So, I’m warning you. Do not get with Eddie Munson. He’s, like, a total walking biohazard.”

Ill give it to Winnie she is committing hard to this take down of Eddoe but idk Santina seems to be committed to making this man hers and hers only so yeah i am a little nervous about this plan actually working out🙃😐

“You’re quite hard to get a hold of… Y/N.”

Ohh god fuck us lol welp Eddie that is probably because we dont want to be found & we are helping Winnie take you down so that explains that😂

“I already told you: my date.” 

As much as we would love to go on a date with you Eddie (because you are very attractive & charming) we are going to say fuccck no to the date the amount of cock you have given out like meals on wheels is just not attractive you, my guy are a man whore nobody wants that saddly😩

“I meant what I said Saturday, I do have this funny, little feeling that you’re special, so can you really blame a guy?”

Look this is the same shit you say to every other lucky girl that lands in your bed, special my ass you just want to fuck us and discard us like trash and that is something we dont want to sit around to find out

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal you off of me.”

I dont knowww Eddie is Steve a man whore like you? Because if he is charming & good lookin minus the community cock we might just jump on Steve ✨🫶🏻

Well shit look Winnie dont get mad how the fuck were we supped to know that Eddie would send us flowers?! We are just as shocked as you are🤨

Yeah well fuck Eddie he is working my last nerves him & Winnie like lordt yall making my head spin, ill take Steve over this clown honestly

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them entertained.” He laughed. 

see we are in good hands Eddie i mean not that you care you were already trying to fuck another girl, and nothing Winnie says can be that bad we know you are an ass, you have quite the reputation🙄

Steve dont make me feel bad for Eddie because its working like yeah the people from Hawkins are POS! But that doesn’t mean he has to go around fucking a whole town & breaking girls hearts its fucked

The way i cackled, the fact that Eddie keeps calling Winnie , Wendy made me laugh sorry but its funny😂

“There’ll be a time when you’ll finally trust me.” 

A girl can only hope i truly do wish you would change your ways Eddie , i mean thats if Eddie Munson is being serious about liking us and all this other stuff he is laying out

Way to fucking go Eddie seriously dude how do you want us to THINK you are capable of changing when you act like a total ass! I am glad we clapped back at you!

As much as i want us to be the villan and destroy Eddie a part of me wants us to be the one who changes this man , like pls stop being a whore and commit to us Eddie & not so fast you cant have any girl my love because we are not just ANY girl Eddie Munson💅🏻

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | With the seed planted, Operation Eddie Munson Must Die falls into plan, as—despite your dismay—a double date is secured with Winnie Ambrose, and Small-Town-Hottie Steve Harrington.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, tiniest mention of drugs, alcohol consumption, bits of arguing, insults, overall disrespectfulness, brief moment of a creep, mentions of past bullying, mentions of STDs, and explicit sexual content: oral (male receiving), cum eating, and protected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Apologies in advance, I found that as I wrote it just kept getting shittier, and shittier. So if it's bad, I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. Also desperately wanting to make Reader the villain, and have Eddie end up with a girlfriend... who knows :) Big thanks to these lovely anons (you, you, and you) for the plotline suggestions!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 16.2K

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

“God, I told you- I told you just how much of an asshole he was!” The front door shut with a slam, as Winnie’s handbag went flying to the couch in an adrenaline rage. 

Your bottom plopped alongside the discarded purse, where you made the rash endeavor to release your ankles from the tight imprisonment of strappy heels that left your feet sore beyond repair. “C’mon, Winnie, I knew since the first time he left you crying that he was an asshole.” 

With your fingers attempting to mitigate the soles of your feet, your tired eyes had a hard time keeping up with Winnie’s rampant pacing, as the concoction of a martini plus Eddie Munson had her on a buzzing thrill. 

“And you!” Her finger projected to you, tight hands coming to clutch onto your shoulders. “You were incredible! Waving him off, and whatnot! Truly, if it was me, I would have been in his bed by now!” Winnie violently shook your shoulders. “God, he was so desperate, a-and crazy- god, Y/N, you made Eddie Munson crazy!”

“Oh, please, c’mon, Win, Eddie’s not stupid.” You shoved her hands off. “You even said he does this to every girl-”

“Not chase them!” Winnie urged. “For the love of God, he ran into traffic! Eddie Munson doesn’t chase, we chase- I, embarrassingly enough, chased him! That’s his whole game, but you- he went after you!”

You exhaustedly sighed, shoving your fingertips into the skin of your temple. No matter how enthusiastic Winnie’s words came out, your rationale merely vindicated his motives as nothing but self-indulgent and the furthest thing from interest. “Winnie, what kind of girl doesn’t swoon over a big, really stupid gesture? Like I said, Eddie isn’t stupid.”

With a pop, Winnie sunk to her knees, reaching eye level, as her’s unsettlingly burned into yours. “Y/N, believe me, I know Eddie more than you do,” but you knew his type more than she did, “he wanted you. Hell, he’s probably thinking about you right now!”

“Oh, fuck, baby, feels so fucking good, pussy feels so fucking good.” Eddie Munson clinched his eyes closed, as his hips punctured each thrust with a sticky slap of wet skin. 

“Mm! Eddie! Please, don’t stop, ple-”

“Sh! Don’t talk, don’t fucking talk.” His voice grunted, as his heavy hand muffled Santina Rodrigo’s whines into the pillows of his bed. “Just let me fuck you- fuck this pretty pussy until you can’t speak.” The words rolled off his tongue like a studied script. 

If you weren’t going to be in his bed tonight, someone else surely was.

His thrust became harsher. Bumping into the ripple of her ass, as her back curved to the gluttony of her body that just wanted more, and more. Pounding breaths were ripping through his flared nostrils, with pellets of salty sweat bleeding into his mouth, as a firm bite to his lip kept his moans at bay. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. Eddie, I’m gonna-”

“Cream on my fucking cock, show me how good I’m fucking you. Scream it, sweetheart.” His stomach cramped with each fervent squelch of his dick ramming into her cunt.

You blinked. “You really think he’s thinking about me?” A shy smile unwarrantedly invaded your face. 

Winnie jumped with joy. “Yes! He totally is!” She squealed. “But don’t you dare let that get to your head.” Her hand suddenly came in contact with your forehead. 

“Ow!”

“That’s like strapping steak on your chest, and going into the lion’s den. If you’re not ready to fully face the charming wrath of Eddie Munson, you need to tell me now!” Christ, that accusatory finger was degrading you again with its vicious point. “Okay, you can’t fall for his shit!”

“I- no, n-no, I’m ready, like, so, totally ready.” Your face became stern under her glare. “Yeah, um, very much ready.” Your voice quieted. 

“Remember Y/N, it’s guys like Eddie that get girls to think they’re so datable.” Her eyes dragged to the back of her head. “Okay, all this ‘oh, you’re so special, I’m obsessed with you, I’d do anything for you’ is a little bullshit game that gets girls to fawn over him.” She mocked with such a guttural voice. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect! Perfect just for me! Cum, baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” Eddie’s voice cracked through gritted teeth, as his hands painfully molded to the fat of her ass, squeezing until her skin was tender. 

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, I’m cumming! I’m- aughhh!” Santina mewled into the rumpled sheets that soaked with her perspiration. 

Eddie didn’t give her a minute to spare, as her scalp suddenly burned with the brutal grip of her hair in his hand. Her body nearly collapsed, as she trudged through the attempt of supporting herself on trembling legs, when Eddie forced her face to his body. The stretching of rubber slapped off his cock, as he haphazardly discarded the condom onto the expanse of the bedroom floor. 

“C’mon, baby, open up, lemme cum down that fucking throat.” Her head could barely confirm his request with a nod, before Eddie shoved his length down her airway, with a thick gag to harshly pair with his deep groans. 

Spit slung down the curve of her chin, doubling the stains that had previously bled themselves into his dirty sheets from a week of late night endeavors catered to different women, but always ended the same. 

And Santina Rodrigo was no fool, she was fully capable of grasping the reality of Eddie Munson. 

Which is why this night would end differently. 

“Yeah, I know, which is totally why this date isn’t happening.” You proclaimed. 

But Winnie Ambrose has other plans. “Oh, no, it totally is.”

“What?” You jumped from the couch. “What happened to the, y’know, ‘Eddie wants what he can’t have,’ going on a date with him is giving him exactly what he can’t have?”

Winnie sighed, a shake of disappointment came with the sympathetic look she burdened you with. “Oh, you poor, innocent thing.” Her manicured hand patronizingly caressed your head with pets. “Y/N…” her breath deepened, “…this is all a part of the plan!” She exclaimed. “Remember, you give and you take. Leading Eddie on will only grow his feelings, but never fully giving in will leave him wanting more! This is the basic principle of dating!”

“I don’t like this kind of dating.” 

“Well, it’s what’s gonna work! We have to take him down!” Her hands harshly dug into your shoulders, bulging eyes of crazy staring into your soul. “And we will not back down! Say it with me! We will not back down!”

“Our neighbors are going to think we’re crazy, Winnie.”

“C’mon!” She incited you. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down!” Winnie Ambrose truly had to be drill sergeant in her past life. “We will not back down! Eddie Munson will come down-”

“-Your throat. F-Fuck, gonna cum down your throat. Just keep gaggin’ on my cock, baby.” Eddie held a tight grip to Santina’s head, her hair now in an irreparable state of dishevelment from his unyielding grip that gave him the leverage to pummel his cock down her constricting throat. 

With his balls tensing under the thick globs of spit that squelched his cock towards that buzzing bliss, Eddie suffocated Santina’s nose with the curls of his pubes, as his heavy grunts announced his orgasm, with streams of salty spurts invading her mouth. 

“Mm, fuck, yeah, better swallow that shit down, fuck.” He slowed his movements, until his cock pulled from between her raw lips, as her tongue lapped up the strings of saliva that clung to his dick. 

And here it came. Like clockwork.

“You okay, baby?” A caressing hand; pivotal for the illusion of caring. With his thumb gently stroking the breadth of her cheek, softly swiping the remanments of a blowjob from her lips, Santina Rodrigo melted into his touch. Next, words of affirmation. “Did so good for me, baby. Fuck, that was incredible.” Eddie Munson smiled. “Was that okay for you? Not too hard? You can tell me, sweetheart, want you comfortable, beautiful.” Something to flutter the heart, every person likes being cared for. And with a tired mouth too exhausted to confirm her contentment, Eddie went in for the kill. As Santina peered up at him with the roundest eyes to appeal to him, Eddie cemented this act of love with an intimate kiss on her gleaming forehead. 

It was quite profound, actually. 

Something about his large build hovering over, so easily chalked up to the roughness of man actually being vulnerable enough to express affection. It would have any girl swooning. 

Eddie Munson knew that, but more importantly, Santina Rodrigo knew that. 

So, as his back laid against the cushion of his pillows, his fingers reached for a cigarette to ease his mind of the inevitable downpour of cries that were about to be spewed his way. But the sudden movement beside him had his eyes connecting with hers, Santina. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“I’m off work Saturday.” With his sheets covering her once exposed breasts, she sat with her head held high, eyes unfaltering. 

“I-”

“I understand you put on the theatrics for your gain, but I don’t want it, unless you mean it.” Santina smiled. “Really mean it.” 

Eddie’s brows cinched to the center of his forehead, where his mind blanked at the unheard of bluntness from his—what was supposed to be—one night stand. “What are you getting at here, sweetheart?”

“I want a date on Saturday.” She asserted. “C’mon, you really think I would just let you fuck me, and move one?” Eddie’s face twisted with the laughter that smacked his face. “Grow up, Eddie. This act can’t last you forever.”

His thoughts were invaded with the tumultuous mix of unwanted astonishment that—as much as it pissed him off—sparked a little curiosity in his dazed mind. A laugh scoffed past his lips. “A date? Okay.” If it meant another easy fuck, who was he to give that up over a simple date. 

“And no bullshit, Eddie.” Santina affirmed. “If I’m going to be allowing you to fuck me, it’s just going to be me.”

Eddie laughed. “Hold on now, baby, this,” his finger maneuvered against the space between them, “has only been a one night thing, you can’t, um, you can’t expect me to just stick to one pretty girl, now, c’mon, sweetheart.” He proffered a sly smirk that had her rolling her eyes. 

“None of which will be as good as me.” Her confident stature had Eddie sucking in breath through his teeth-bitten lips. “And you’ll realize that quite quickly, but far too late for me to ever care for. So, Eddie, I suggest you clean yourself up nicely for this date. I don’t like anything cheap.” Stunned, he watched her naked body emerge from his sheets, as she quietly gathered her clothes. Her hand found itself wrapped around Eddie’s chin, nails digging into his skin to keep him face-to-face. “If I were you, I’d reconsider this whole ‘noncommittal’ act you like to screw girls over with.” She smiled, soft breaths against his lips. “I’m different Eddie, and you’re going to respect that. Goodbye.” Santina brandished her lip gloss to his lips with a wet kiss, before her heels clicked their way out of his apartment. 

Eddie Munson blinked, screwing his eyes closed, as he scoffed in disbelief. “What the fuck?” 

“Alright, alright, we’ll take Eddie Munson down.” You shoved your hand over Winnie’s mouth to quiet her voice, only for her muffled squeals of excitement to bleed through. 

“Okay, okay!” She jumped with adrenaline, a bright smile to pair. “We have to be methodical, Y/N. Simply going on the date with Eddie isn’t going to cut it. We have to make sure you’re the only one dating Eddie. He’s never gonna take this seriously, if he’s still seeing other women. We have to cut off the source.”

“The source?”

“The source that makes Eddie Munson so dateable!” She huffed so obviously. “We have to make Eddie undateable.”

“Right, make the tall guy with nice hair, who plays lead guitar of his own band, and just so happens to be known as the man who can make any girl finish undateable. Yeah, that seems totally plausible.” You deadpanned.

Winnie Ambrose sighed. “When will you learn to never underestimate me?”

Next day by brunch, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, Winnie found herself sipping on one too many mimosas, and with the boredom of her lonesome company and the once baby blue polish that was mindlessly chipped to nothing, her endeavors brought her the social setting of Marie Ann’s Nail and Spa. “He gave you what now?!” Suddenly, the nail tech was hesitant to touch Winnie’s fingers.

“Mhm.” Winnie solemnly nodded, as the other women amongst her gasped. “At first, I thought it was just regular discharge, but then it just got worse, and worse!” She dramatically exclaimed. “And then suddenly, I was in pain, it hurt to pee, and I was getting these awful fevers.” Her acting twisted the faces of the fellow patrons to concern. “So, I did what any girl would do, and I went to the doctor, and what do you know it: the clap!”

“And Eddie Munson gave it to you?” Shirley Brinkle, with her toes soaking in the warm water of her chair, massage setting on, interrogated with her manicured hand clutching her necklace. 

“Yup! I mean, he was the only one I’ve ever been with.” Quite the act. “And it checks out, y’know, with all the girls he’s been with, and whatnot.” Winnie fought to hold back a smile, as the ladies around her nodded in agreement. “So, I’m warning you. Do not get with Eddie Munson. He’s, like, a total walking biohazard.”

And it had worked… for some time. With how notorious the playboy had been, word spread quickly through groups of girlfriends who once gossiped about the sheer size of his cock, now having hushed conversations to stay clear of said cock. So, that evening, when Eddie had found himself in flirtations with the lady at the gym, who just looked too good in her gymwear to pass up, his confidence faltered at her sudden departure, when her friend stared him in his eyes, and whispered to her friends. Like, so motion, Eddie heard the quiet word slip from her mouth, “gonorrhea.” Panic.

But rule number one in warfare: never underestimate your opponent.

That Monday to come, Winnie dragged herself through the streets of Indianapolis to clock in her hours at work, though when passing the empty bar that saw its busiest attendance on the particular Saturday nights Corroded Coffin would perform, her body halted. Retaking her steps back, her sunglasses raised, eyes squinting to see if she was really seeing what she was seeing.

Posted on the window, “END THE STIGMA: Let’s talk about gonorrhea.” Eddie and his stupid face plastered on a poster was enough to make Winnie scoff. “Saturday night STD fundraiser! Live show included, here at The Albatross!”

“That conniving, little bitch!” And, of course…

“While an advocate, I, Eddie Munson, do not have gonorrhea or any sexually transmitted diseases.”

And just to rub some salt into the wound, “So sweet, isn’t he?” A stranger—a pretty one at it, too—voiced her admiration to Winnie, as they gazed upon the poster. “He’s, like, the only guy I know who would care about a cause.” 

Damn it, the bar was in hell.

But while Eddie Munson may have gotten the upper hand in this round, he and his confidence in his system of juggling girls could not anticipate the events of Black Tuesday.

-

On Tuesdays like such, customers found little time to meander in the relaxation of the coffeehouse, as midweek work obligations called for the swift in-and-out transaction. 

You quite like Tuesdays like such. 

When little visitors frequented, your boss would tune up the small radio that allowed soft music to linger about, where it once would be drowned under the cacophony of shouting patrons, who took to vividly expressing their lives in conversations.

Spurt. Spurt. You hummed to the voice of Billy Joel, as the fragranced cleaner invaded your noise with lemony pinewood, providing that sleek gloss to the wooden table tops, as your damp rag smeared across the perimeter. Too ingrained with mimicking the tunes of “Vienna,” you hadn’t paid much mind to the chime of the door bell, simply throwing out the usual, “I’ll be with you in a minute,” as you continued the task of swiping away leftover crumbs of pastries that accompanied the light splatters of spilled coffee. 

But turning on your feet to reach the register fell short, when you were suddenly face-to-face with Eddie Munson. “You’re quite hard to get a hold of… Y/N.” Ever so slightly, the sardonic tone of his voice curled his lips upward. 

With a lump caught in your throat, you made the rash decision to merely walk away to the counter, screwing your eyes shut at the sound of following footsteps that stomped behind you. You cleared your throat. “What can I get you?” 

“A date.” He nonchalantly nodded. “As you agreed.” 

“Uh, no, I di-”

“Y’know, after asking you out, I came by Sunday to make plans for our date.” He interjected, as your eyebrows shot into the creases of your forehead. 

“Didn’t work Sunday.” You blunted provided.

Eddie hissed, shaking his head. “Yeah, much to my disappointment.” His hand came up scratching the shavened skin of his cheek. “Though, also kinda lucky.” He laughed off, leaning in close. “Had some mess to deal with, all fixed now, so if you hear otherwise, it’s a lie.”

Oh, Winnie.

You suppressed the bulging of your eyes, and waved off his attempt at a conversation. “What do you want, Eddie?”

“I already told you: my date.” 

“Can’t. Busy.” You turned your back to wipe off the counters that you had already cleaned before his arrival, though luckily, he didn’t know that. 

“Alright, so I’ll accommodate. When do you get off?” With his forearms against the counter, his biceps bulged against his constricting arm sleeves, and maybe, just maybe, Eddie tensed his arms to let those veins pop, as you faced him again.

Annoyance was beginning to bubble in your chest. With what few customers did visit, all seemed to have a stick up their ass with their disrespectful attitude towards you, and you weren’t exactly keen to play into Eddie’s games. “Look, you forcing me to say yes to date, because you did something absolutely stupid is not me actually wanting you, okay? So, unless you’re going to order something, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Eddie propped to his extended height. “Hey, alright, look, you’re right, I’m sorry.” His ringed hands landed on his chest. “That was real stupid of me, but I meant what I said Saturday, I do have this funny, little feeling that you’re special, so can you really blame a guy?” You wanted to slap that smile off his face. You probably wouldn’t even be able to count how many times that one liner was used on other women, and your face showed it with the scowl that took over. “Alright, so you can blame me.” He laughed. 

“Get out.”

“Hey, no, I’d like a latte, please. My usual, c’mon, Y/N, you know my usual.” Ugh, you did know his usual. 

“It’ll be $5.” 

A scoff chuckled out from his mouth. “What? It’s usually $3.10.”

“Not today.” 

Eddie laughed in disbelief, as he reached for his wallet, slapping two $5 bills onto the counter, and sliding them over. “The extra five is for you, feeling generous.” He cockily shrugged. Degrading and patronizing? To hell with it, you were a service worker, of course, you took the tip. You once again turned, given another distraction of actually concocting his order to find reason not to entertain him. “Think the universe is in my favor, no? Came in Sunday, you weren’t here. Came in Monday… you weren’t here. Why was that anyway?”

“Had class. Got the night shift.” 

“Ah, so you go to university. See, look at us, we could be getting to know each other just like this, but on a date.” You despised the soft laughter that echoed through your nose, something Eddie surely had picked up on with the large smile that took over his face. “But then y’know what? Came in on this fine Tuesday, and what d'ya know? Third times a charm, here you are.” 

“Unfortunately.”

Eddie laughed. “Oh, you’re funny.” Oh, Christ, you were smiling. Thank god your back was turned. “You like the movies, got a favorite film.”

“Hate them, actually.”

“Alright, well, what about dinner?” Eddie proffered. “Got a nice restaurant in mind, could order you some nice steak, ooh, the lobster is always incredible. 

“Don’t eat meat. It’s disgusting.” You lied.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Y/N, sweetheart, you gotta work with me here.”

“I quite literally don’t.” You slid over the plastic cup of coffee. Winnie would be so proud of you. 

“Ooh,” he hissed, “I actually wanted this for here.” Eddie matched your movement, sliding back the latte, as his eyes never left yours. 

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders to match his considerably cool apathy, when in reality you were ready to hurl your guts over the mortifying experience of having to talk to a guy like him. “Well, you should have specified that. Too late now.” You shoved the cup back. 

Eddie smiled that sickly grin, leaning in close enough to have you cowering below him. But your eyes stayed staunch to the confidence you were trying to exude, never forfeiting the staring contest he forced you into. “C’mon, just tell me what I gotta do to get you on a little date with me. What’s it gonna take?” His head tilted with that devious smirk. 

“Well, maybe…” you sincerely sighed, “...if you would just leave.” You round eyes peered up at him.

A guttural laugh bubbled in his chest, as he blushed down with a suppressed smile. “I’m being serious.”

“And who says I’m not?” You smiled back. 

“Alright, look, it’ll all be on your terms. Your wish is my command. Anything you want.” Eddie laid his cards out flat on the table. 

You swallowed thickly, regulating yourself through the heavy breathing of a long sigh that escaped from you. Realistically, being one-on-one with someone like Eddie was a set up for disaster. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you’d only survive this far with the words of Winnie Ambrose playing into your ear, coaching you through the complexity that is Eddie Munson. You give and you take, and so far, the easiest thing was taking away, and even that had your stomach twisting with the gruesomeness of anxiety that left your mind on overdrive with intrusive thoughts. 

What did Eddie Munson think of you? How much of an embarrassment would you make out of yourself suddenly falling into his trap? No, you were better than that. This wasn’t going to be another Dalton Barron moment- ugh, Christ, you don’t even want to think about him. Okay, so you learned from your mistake, it won’t happen again, just don’t trust Eddie Munson. Yeah, don’t trust Eddie Munson. Surely, anyone would agree with you on that one. But what if not trusting him puts him off? What if that’s what drives him away, and Winnie’s plan ultimately fails, because of yo-

“C’mon, Y/N, I think you’re gettin’ a little too into your head here.” He swayed in his stance. Your face frowned, clearly not appreciative of how easily he read that. 

“I don’t- I just don’t want to go on a date with you.” You softly answered, watching his head drop in defeat. “At least, not alone.” He slowly peered back up in interest. 

Eddie nodded to your suggestion. Was it ideal? Definitely not, it’d be quite difficult making the moves on you with people around. But if it meant getting you out with him… “I got a friend.” His fingers snapped at the sudden revelation that hit him. 

“A friend?”

“Yup.” His lips popped with emphasis. “Pretty good looking guy, y’know, nice hair n’ all. Family’s loaded, too, he’s working at the law firm his dad owns back in my hometown.”

“You’re not from here?” You questioned.

Eddie smiled. “See, you’re totally interested in gettin’ to know me.” He teased an eye roll out of you. “But, no, to answer your question, I’m not. Hawkins, in fact. Pretty small town about forty minutes out north west from Indy. A little shitty- well, actually, a lot shitty,” Eddie chuckled, “but it’s quiet at night, which I’ve always liked. So, if it’ll make you a bit more comfortable,” he leaned over, “why don’t you and that roommate of yours come out to Hawkins to hang out with me and my buddy.”

Your eyes softened at the request, as your heartbeat slowly dissipated to the calm rhythm it once was pumping at, before Eddie ruined that for you. “You- you’d be okay with Winnie coming?”

“No.” He laughed. “In fact, I think bringing an old hookup—who just so happens to hate my guts—to a double date sounds absolutely miserable, but I’m willing to be miserable if it means getting to be with you.” No salacious smirk this time, spoken matter-a-factly even, which somehow felt more unsettling. “Hopefully Steve can entertain your friend enough for me.” Eddie shrugged. 

“Steve?”

“Harrington.” He finished off for you. “Quite the ladies man, in fact, so I’m sure he’ll have no problem agreeing to this.” Then, Eddie whispered close. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t steal you off of me.” He winked, before grabbing his drink to take a couple steps back. “You get off by, I don’t know, five?” You couldn’t even fathom words at the moment, only meeting him with a small nod that mindlessly controlled itself. “Perfect, then let’s say about eight. Real casual, nothing too crazy. The Hideout, it’s a little bar. In Hawkins. My treat.” He smiled. “Have a nice day… Y/N.”

Eddie Munson had become quite obsessed with saying your name. 

-

“Steve Harrington? Sounds like some boy-next-door sitcom name.” Winnie laughed, as her mouth crunched down on the handful of chips that stuffed themselves down her mouth. 

“Eddie said he was really good looking, though.” You sat by her propped feet on the coffee table. “And- and, he’s in the whole lawyer business thing.” You offered. 

“He’s a lawyer?” Winnie’s interest piqued at the sudden monetary value of Steve Harrington. 

“Well, Eddie said he worked at a law firm, not entirely sure what he does, but you could totally find out if you go, please, pretty please.” You begged. “Don’t let me go by myself, you know I won’t be able to handle it, I’ll probably panic and say something stupid, and this whole plan will come crashing-”

“Okay, okay.” Winnie gave in, folding over the plastic of her chip bag, as she rid herself the crumbs that stuck around her mouth. “You know what? You’re right, we have to get this date going.” She urgently stood. “We have to go all out. What are we thinking? Skirt? Maybe a dress? Ooh, I’ve been meaning to bust out my new Vivienne Westwoods-”

“Wait, no, Eddie said this was supposed to be casual.” You stopped her. “Just some bar, I think by the sounds of it, in his hometown.”

“Eddie’s bringing you to his hometown?!” Winnie halted, face contorting into the dozen creases of dumbfoundedness. “What the hell?! The first time I got with him, I asked for his last name, and he told me not to push it. Had to hear it from some other girl he was screwing. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s whipped for you!”

“What? N-No, he’s not.” You tried appeasing her shock. “It’s just like a convenience thing, y’know? For his friend, I assume.”

Winnie laughed in disbelief, shaking her head to dispute your claims. “Oh, this plan is so going to work!” She cheered. “C’mon, we have a first date to ruin!”

By 5:45 P.M, your bathroom steamed with the hotness of condensation, as the aromas of scented body washes and lotions clung to your body. Unlike the preparations of Saturday night, ‘dressing casually’ proved difficult for Winnie, who opted to rummage through your closet. “Ugh, don’t you have anything lacey?”

“Is lacey really casual?” You wondered, as you hopped into your shorts with a shimmy to get them from around your ass.

“It is to me.” Winnie whined, flinging articles of clothing you knew she’d never clean up. 

“What about my maxi skirt right there?” You proffered.

Winnie examined the layered sheer material. It was a sage green. She quite liked green with her auburn hair. “It’s not too hot for this?” She hesitantly questioned.

“Totally not! Enough flow for some airway.” You sold. “Plus, pretty easy to slip off for Mr. Lawyer.” You teased, at least something funny enough to get her to smile.

“Oh, I shouldn’t- well…” You laughed at her contemplation, as you both fell comfortably in the pile of clothes in your disorganized bedroom. “Maybe if he’s, like, really hot. Like, River Phoenix hot. Ooh, that means I should definitely wear my push-up bra, wherever the hell it went.” You dug for a thin sweater to throw on. “No, but wait, would that make a slut?” You laughed at her question. “Like, royal slut for sleeping with two friends?

“Who cares, Win. Have your fun.” You offered in return, watching her shoulders relax. “Eddie’s doing it, anyway. Why can’t you?”

Winnie gasped. “You would sleep with Eddie Munson?!”

Your mouth fell open. “W-What? No, I didn’t say that, like, a-at all. I just- I meant dating.”

“Okay, but would you?” Winnie teased, poking at your belly to rile you up.

Your mind blanked, mouth falling dry through your stutters. “N-No, I don’t even like him like that. You- it’s you making me do this, remember?” You defended. “I wouldn’t have even talked to him if it wasn’t for this idea.” It’d be best if Winnie Ambrose never learned the identity of your mysterious coffeehouse crush that was discovered to be Eddie Munson. Even then, all those barely there, absolutely not deep, totally juvenile feelings vanished when learned that not only had he been sleeping with your best friend, but apparently all of Indianapolis. 

“Well,” Winnie sighed, trusting your word, “you’re stronger than most. Which honestly, is the only thing keeping this plan working, because let’s be honest here, Eddie is going to try to sleep with you sooner or later.” Your stomach churned. “But, remember we can’t let that happen. Best way to go about it is to be, y’know, calm and collected. Brush him off effortlessly.”

“Okay, calm and collected. Like I don’t care. Just be indifferent.” You detail your understanding. 

“Exactly, but don’t totally wave him off! The only thing reeling him in is your slight interest.” You felt like your head was about to explode. “So, just take notes and remember to be caring and passionate. He’s gotta know you’re feeling something, y’know?” No, you don’t know. “But then,” oh, Christ, “you gotta learn when to hit back, okay? Eddie’s an asshole. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. And that filthy mouth of his is bound to say something gross to get a reaction out of you. So, stand your ground, be proud and aggressive. He’ll easily walk all over you if you’re meek.”

“Okay, well, I rejected him, now I’m going on a date with him, so he thinks I’m “interested,” I just don’t know what to do next.” You frowned in frustration. “This is all a lot, y’know?”

“C’mon, you’ve dated before-”

“Yeah. Though, it was only one, singular, y’know… Dalton.” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eye sockets to suppress the memories that were trying to hash out that anger for the closure you never got. 

“Exactly!” Winnie snapped with emphasis. “You’ve been down this road before, you know what to expect. And people like Eddie and Dalton need to pay up for what they’ve done! So, don’t strike yourself out, we are women! We are feminists! This is for feminism!”

You huffed out a sardonic chuckle. “I don’t think that’s what feminism means, Winnie.”

“Okay, well, we’re both young women, who are hot as shit, and are not going to let some gross dudes ruin us!” She declared. “So, when you go on this date, you play it aloof. Don’t give him everything, but give him enough.”

“Like what?”

“Like, if he compliments you, don’t shy away, you take it!” She explained. “Oh, and the three seconds rule! You wait three seconds to answer him when you’re talking.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little redundant?” You brows cinched in question. 

“No, it totally works for me!” She protested.

“Winnie,” you sympathetically sighed, “you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Ugh, look, if I wanted to keep them around, I would, because that three seconds rule works! Makes me look cool, Y/N.” Winnie sassed in protest. Before you could retaliate a teasing comment to her skewed views of dating, a knock at the front door had cut your conversation short. “I’ll get it.” Winnie huffed, throwing your maxi skirt in the mountaining pile of clothes, before heading out. While you could, your shirt had shimmied itself off your body to find comfort in a sweater that would suffice for the whole ‘I don’t care’ look you hoped to exude with this forced upon date. Suddenly, Winnie’s feet could be heard shuffling as quickly as possible back to your room. “Fucking flowers?!”

“What?” You questioned, as you fixed your hair from the mess that de-clothing caused. 

In the crinkle of brown tissue paper and twine, a dozen stems of pastel tulips stood lively in Winnie’s hands. “He went full Netherlands on you!”

“Eddie?!” Your brows jumped in perplexion. 

Winnie scoffed in disbelief. “Who else would be E. Munson?!” She pulled out the small envelope that propped itself within the tangle of flowers. You stood from the floor, grabbing the pretty bouquet, as Winnie shuffled to slide the card from the paper encasing. “Ugh, ugh,” she cleared her throat. “To ease your mind, something as pretty as you, Y/N. Let me do things properly, give me a call to pick you up: three, one, seven, blah, blah, blah. Gag.” Winnie rolled her eyes. “Sending you flowers, while taking you to some dingy bar, how chivalrous.” 

“W-Wait a minute,” you snatched the card from her hand, “what? Am I supposed to ride with him now?” Your finger skimmed over the felt-tip pen that bled Eddie’s number to the cardstock of the note.

“No.” Winnie snatched the card, ripping it in half.

“Uh- Winnie! This was actually a little sweet, c’mon.”

“Remember, we’re playing this cool!” She urged. “You already agreed to this date, you can’t feed him more. You’re not accepting any of this- well, keep the flowers, they’d look quite nice on our mantel. But don’t call him, okay? We can drive ourselves. And, like, what the hell? Did he just expect me to tow behind? He, like, totally didn’t think of me at all.” Your brow slowly lifted at her. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up about myself.”

-

Through the static voices of Skid Row over the radio, you turned about the creased map every which way, trying to read the barely eligible highways with their too tiny of a font names. “Oh, okay, it’s Exit 13A.”

“How far away is it?” Winnie held the steering wheel under a tight grip.

“Um,” you peered up. “it’s right there! Winnie, right lane! Go to the-”

“I’m trying! This slow bastard isn’t moving!” She screamed.

You reached over the console. “Your blinkers!” A quick flip to the handle clicked on the indicators. “They won’t know unless your blinkers are on!”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s foot had anxiously tapped to the ticks of the clock, as his thumb nail was facing the repercussion of his nervous gnawing. 

Where the hell were you? It was nearing a quarter to eight, and your expected phone call hadn’t come by. No bounce of his knee, no hand through his hair, no pacing around could ease the nerves that pissed him off, because he so ardently waited for your call. He stood from his couch, quickly making his way to the phone, but no matter how desperate that itch was telling him to call instead, it all fell into a lost cause, as Eddie didn’t know your number. Eddie didn't know Winnie’s number. Hell, Eddie didn’t know any woman’s number. They called. Not him. Never him. Well, he could go over to your apartment- no, that was on another level of desperation that Eddie felt was too pathetic to ever let his pride commit to. 

“Augh,” he groaned in annoyance, as those anxious nerves were beginning to be taken over by anger. “What a bitc- mm.” He restrained himself with a gruff. “What am I- what am I doing waiting around? Fuck this, I’ll get someone else.” Eddie raged under his breath, as he snatched his jacket, and stomped his way out of the apartment. 

Your eyes followed along the passing trees, as the prussian blue of nighttime was beginning to feed into the amber glow of the leaving sunset. Hawkins had been nothing but a straight highway of nonbeing, as Eddie’s words came into existence: it was quiet at night. Rocks skipped under the fast turning wheels of the car, as you approached the faded sign welcoming you into the solitude of Hawkins, Indiana. When rows of woodlands finally ended, you were met with the expanse of cornfields. 

“So…” Winnie dragged out. “How exactly are we supposed to find this bar?” She questioned, as her eyes fell on the long road ahead. “Maybe we should have taken up Eddie’s offer.” You shot her a look of disbelief. “Okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, but seriously.”

“Eddie said it was a small town, so I’m sure it won’t take too long. Just look out for bar, preferably with any sign at says ‘The Hideout.’” 

“The Hideout… The Hideout.” She ticked, as she drove wherever the roads guided her. 

Through the unintentional exploration of the suburbs and downtown areas, your destination was found through the environs north front of abandoned diners, lonesome laundromats, and a dilapidated trailer park where rusted car parts littered the dead grass against man made driveways. 

The neon sign buzzed through its draining power. “Some first date.” Winnie groaned, taking in the foundation of stained bricks. 

You shrugged with the bit of optimism you were clawing to hold on to. “M-Maybe it’s quaint.”

“Yeah, for a bunch of hillbilly, old dudes with beer bellies.” She grouched, as her legs dragged her out of the car. You swiftly followed, choosing to subtly cower behind her, as you both loitered the makeshift parking lot of what was just tire tracks and haphazard parking. “These guys better be here already.” Winnie rolled her eyes. Nothing but the running engine of a burgundy Bimmer buzzed through the chilled atmosphere.

And it hadn’t been until the engine was keyed off, with a figure slamming the door shut, that it finally caught your attention. “Hey, hey, wait, you think that’s Steve?” Your hand repeatedly smacked against Winnie’s arms.

Winnie squinted her eyes through the dark. Well, he did have the hair. Great hair, in fact. Totally walked like he could be some wannabe lawyer, especially with the white button-up he adorned; too fancy for a place like such. Could definitely see him being casted as the boy-next-door. And woah, was he pretty. Like, ridiculously pretty. “It better be Steve, fuck me.” Her glossed lips fell open. 

“O-Okay, so, we just, like, ask him-”

“Ayo, Steve!” Winnie’s deepened voice boomed to the likeness of a man, before harshly turning around to avoid being caught. 

“Oh, my god.” You quietly sighed to yourself in embarrassment, as Winnie’s efforts clearly fell short of subtlety, and the now identified Steve Harrington was looking right over. 

Winnie stood stiff, as if to appear invisible. “Well, did he look up?” 

“Yes, he looked up.” You deadpanned. “And right at us, in fact, because that was awful.” An incredulous chuckle scoffed out of you. 

“Aw, great, he probably thinks I sound like a chain smoker now.” She groaned, as you both awkwardly shuffled to his direction. 

He proffered such a boyish smile with a small wave to greet you both, before his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucking under his armpits. “Hey, uh, sorry, this is a bit confusing, you’re here to hang out with Ed and I?” He questioned with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” You softly answered. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. 

Steve flashed you a warm smile, before pointing a curious finger beside you. “Ah, so you’re mine tonight?” He asked for clarification to Winnie, who blushed under his suaveness. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be yours any night.” She mindlessly responded, luckily rifting that first-meet-up awkward tension that now dissipated into sincere laughter.   

“Alright then,” Steve’s cheeks plumped under his growing smile. “Wendy, right?”

Winnie rolled her eyes. “That bastard, it’s Winnie.” She beamed.

“Winnie, got it, I apologize.” Steve offered, as she shyly waved him off, truly enamored through her school girl-like crush. “Well, uh, like I was saying, I am a bit confused, ‘cause Eddie had kinda told me you guys bailed on us.”

“What?” You mused over his words in confusion. 

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not sure, something about you not calling, or just basically canceling, I guess.” You and Winnie slowly looked at one another. “I don’t know, he called me before I clocked off work, but after a shift with my dad,” an airy laugh breathed out of him, “figured I could still go for a drink. So, sorry if I’m a little overdressed.” His hands panned over his suited body. “Yeah, so, I’m assuming some lines of communication got lost. You guys definitely didn’t cancel, right?” 

“No, we were trying to be feminists.” You sarcastically lilted. 

“Right, right.” Steve laughed along. “Well, uh, since this double date is definitely not canceled, why don’t we all head inside? I’ll call up Eddie, see if he picks up, and if not… well, I surely don’t mind taking out two pretty girls, so my treat.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m definitely keeping him.” Winnie whispered into your ear.

Where mandatory I.D checks made up The Albatross, it surely lacked at The Hideout, as nothing but spotted glass door—dirtied by a litter of sticky fingerprints—had fallen easily open to welcome any patron who chose to drown their stress with a bitter bottle of beer. Whatever Top 100 Hits Winnie had been used to listening to during her bar endeavors had been switched to bare the brunt of country rock, as older men and women spaced themselves accordingly, rather than the practical dry humping The Albatross was regularly accustomed to. 

Steve Harrington, the soon to be discovered paralegal, had situated you both to a lonesome table surrounded by four stools, where you received the chance to gaze about the rustic decor of American flags and sports jerseys that complimented the dusty deer head that hung against the dark wood. “Hey, so, you guys have any drink preferences?” His head gestured to the bar. 

“Two beers will be fine.” Winnie’s chipper voice answered, as you nodded in agreement. 

“Perfect, I’ll head up to get our drinks, and see if I can give Eddie a call.” Winnie froze under his innocent hand that landed on her shoulder, before Steve sauntered off. 

“Oh, Christ, I’m gonna marry him.” Winnie groaned into her hands. 

You giggled at her unease. “It’s barely been five minutes.”

“But it’s been a good five minutes.” She protested in defense. 

“Okay, so, um, while you get to enjoy your time with Steve, I mean, what should I do about Eddie?” You talked in hushed whispers, as subtle glances to the bar showed Steve in casual conversation with the bartender. “Like, what if he does come, y’know, he’s gonna be pissed? O-Or, uh, if he doesn’t show, does that mean he’s no longer interested?”

“Okay, shh.” Winnie interrupted your panicked speech. “Look, alright, we kinda did screw over Eddie, but, I mean, who were we to know he thought that was us canceling. If anything, we deserve the right to piss him off, especially me.” She scoffed. “That ‘Wendy’ bullcrap. What, do I look like some freckled, red-head child with braids slapped on some burger wrapper?”

You peered back at the revelation. “Oh, my god, wait, with your hair, you do kinda look like-”

“Shh, lalala, I’m hearing it, that wasn’t the point!” You wiped off the spit that flung from her harsh whispers. “Circling back,” her lips emphasized, “Eddie’s going to come, okay? He’s like every other dude, alright, they can’t take rejection, always have to bother you as to why you don’t want them. So, he’s going to come, and when he does, you have to stand your ground. Alright, no apologizing, no feeling bad, no ‘oh, let me make it up to you.’” She mocked her damsel-in-distress voice. “You better give him the cold shoulder. Anger is still very much an emotion, and if he’s angry that means he cares. It means he has feelings, feelings which you hurt! Like. A. Bad. Ass.”

You chuckled incredulously. “Don’t really think being mean makes me a badass-”

“It does in the case of Eddie Munson, alright?” Winnie cemented. “Clearly, people haven’t been mean enough to him.”

Steve Harrington had given Roger, the bartender, the grace to prioritize the other patrons on their refills, after opening his tab to the orders of you, Winnie, and him—alongside an additional order of generic greasy food—as a phone call to Eddie Munson was surely to last a bit more than a quick ‘hello.’ After gaining permission to use the establishment’s phone, Steve had propped himself against the wall of the back storage room, with the ringing, red phone against his ear.

Perhaps Eddie Munson was trying to overcompensate for the bruised ego caused by your rejection, as he resulted in swallowing the mouth of Jenny Albridge in the center of his living room couch. And I mean really swallowing. Their lips smacked hungrily with too much saliva, forcing Eddie to endure it if it mean fucking his frustrations out. 

And poor Jenny, while she’s heard of the eighth wonder Eddie had added to the world from underneath his pants, she hadn’t actually been with him. It just so happened to be faith that their shoulders collided, while she left her evening pilates class. And hell, after an intense, sweaty workout, she wanted another—albeit slightly different—intense, sweaty workout, especially after the numerous five star ratings. 

Though, maybe she’d just caught him on a bad day. Like, a really, really bad day. But maybe she was supposed to like it? The whole aggressive, teeth clashing, tongue invading, spit drenching make out that would hopefully finally lead to the good part. There was going to be a good part, right?

Ring, ring, ring, ring…

Oh, thank god, Eddie thought, as he finally had an excuse to detach from her lips, giving Jenny the go ahead to catch her breath with a deep gasp of air. He shifted quickly from the couch, walking to the phone, pulling it abruptly to stop the incessant shrilling. “Hello?”

“Ed, man.” Steve stood straight. “Hope you know the girls are here.” He snickered into the phone. 

“Girls?” Eddie wiped the spit from his lips. “What gi-” The revelation backhanded him in the face, as his mouth stooped low with confusion. “What? No, they canceled!”

“I think that’s what they had you thinking, but really they just drove themselves. And now, I’ve just ordered them beers and some food, so unless you’re giving me the grace to talk up your girl and her friend, I’d suggest you come down here as quick as possible.” Steve laughed. 

While he may have lived a couple towns over from the big city, Steve Harrington was no stranger to the name Eddie had given himself in Indianapolis, as periodic visits would consist of his friend recounting the newfound experience he gained with women, to eventually being one another’s wingman. 

In fact, Steve regularly joked about Eddie ‘decrowning’ him as king, as he now flaunted the hookup culture he, so very actively, participated in, thanks to the “bell bottom hippies, who were so desperately horny, they made it a movement.” His words, definitely not any history books’ words. 

“They’re fucking there?! Are you- ugh!” His fingers shoved into his eyes in frustration. “I fucking sent her flowers with the number, and everyth-”

“Woah, you sent her flowers?” Steve interrupted with shock. “Since when do you ever send flowers?”

“I don’t know! This girl is pissing me off, I- I’ll be there, alright!” Jenny Albridge scrunched her face in heavy judgment. “J-Just make sure she doesn’t- I mean, them. Make sure they don't leave!”

Steve chuckled at the stutter of his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep them entertained.” He laughed. 

Eddie scoffed. “I’m serious, Harrington, no funny business! She already thinks I’m some asshole, and her friend is probably feeding her some more bullshit about how terrible I am.”

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, as he recalled the panicked phone call that transpired a couple hours prior, with Eddie imploring him to agree to a blind double date. Something about fucking some girl, but now wanting said girl’s friend, but said girl’s friend doesn’t want him, because said girl told her friend about him fucking other girls. Whatever it was, it was a big, jumbled mess, and Steve wondered why Eddie ever involved himself in the first place. Though, apparently, it was important enough if Eddie had to send you flowers. “Well, you did kinda screw over Winnie-” 

“Okay, that's not the point!” Eddie spat out in a rush. Maybe it was how alike Winnie Ambrose and Eddie Munson had been that repelled them so harshly from one another. Jenny Albridge was quietly shuffling on her shoes. “Look, I-” He took a deep breath, regulating himself. “I’ll be there. While I’m not going to force you to do anything, it would be greatly appreciated if you helped a friend out, and talked me up.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve agreed. “Just hurry up, I highly doubt you cruising around is gonna better any impression this girl’s already got for you.” With that, Steve cut off any response Eddie had prepared with the buzzing of a dead line, as he hung up the phone. 

Eddie sighed, running his hand through his hair. Turning around, he flinched at the sight of an awkwardly smiling Jenny, as he’d genuinely forgotten about her presence amidst the phone call. Both blinked back-in-forth to one another; a mutual consensus silently understood.

“Yeah, you need to leave.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

-

A basket of chicken tenders and fries had interrupted your conversation short, as they were placed against the table, with Steve arriving with his hand clinging to the necks of three beer bottles, each tucked between the space of his fingers. “Sorry, I know it’s not Michelin Star-esque, but it’s the best this bar’s got, so hopefully it’s enough to satiate any hunger.” He smiled. Steve was hit with an influx of ‘thank you’s’ from the both of you, as the stationary centerpiece of condiments were beginning to fill up the tiny containers that came with the meal. “Oh, and Ed’s on his way, as well.”

“He’s coming?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, told him to come as quick as possible.” Steve answered, as he took his seat next to Winnie. 

Winnie squirted an aggressive amount of ketchup onto her tray, leaving Steve to smile at her antics. “Wait, did he sound mad over the phone?”

“Uh, I mean, he was a little worked up, y’know, in his usual dramatic self.” His answer came with the hesitation of wondering how to play the best wingman to people who clearly hadn’t established the best opinion of him. “But, he’s coming, dropped everything and is on his way.”

“See, I told you.” Winnie nudged your shoulder. 

Steve popped a ranch covered fry into his mouth. “Told her what?” 

“That Eddie being angry means he’s totally into her.” Winnie proudly beamed. 

He laughed. “Oh, yeah, I heard about the whole flowers thing.”

You fervently shook your head. “I’m not exactly trusting anything Eddie does to be in good faith.” You proffered a delicate smile. “I mean, I know what he’s like, so not really trusting him to be this great person.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “So, then, can I ask why you agreed to date him? Like, especially after what he did to you.” 

Both you and Winnie took a second to stare at one another, before she leaned in close. “I know he’s your friend, but you promise not to say anything? Y’know, to him?” Now piqued with interest, Steve stood straight, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” Winnie sighed, “we’re basically trying to take him down.”

Steve laughed, quite amused, and very happy with accepting the request to go on this blind double date. “Wow, okay. A feminist thing?” He chuckled, “How’s that going?”

“Well, we’re only in the beginning stages, but it’s working great so far!” Winnie gloated. “I mean, he was literally begging her to go out on this date! I am a genius!”

“So, then what’s the follow up?”

“Well, I’m sure you know how Eddie is.” Steve confirmed it with a shake of his head. “We are just trying to make him feel how we, as women who have fallen victim to him, feel.” Winnie held her head high. “So, if all things run smoothly, then hopefully he’ll learn to not be such a douchebag.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “I mean, he’s a good guy.” Winnie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well, at least, he used to be.” He clarified. “I think moving to the city was very much a way of letting go of his old life here, which, y’know, I’m proud of, though, I’m sure he’s probably not making the best decisions most of the time.”

“What was he letting go of?” You curiously asked, leaning against the table.

“Well, Eddie hasn’t always exactly been a ladies man.” He breathily chuckled. “Uh, in fact, probably not the most liked guy in town. By girls, or people in general. Just unfortunately got tied to a bad reputation, because of how close-minded Hawkins can be. Y’know, the whole metalhead gig isn’t exactly what the church goers of our town prefer.”

Concern etched across your face. “It got that bad that he wanted to leave?”

Steve nodded. “I mean, people are assholes, gave him grief just to take the piss out of him. I know he didn’t exactly want to leave- or, actually, leave the people in his life behind. He’s got an uncle over here, me and our other friends, his old band members, his little DnD club.” Eddie Munson, the cocky lead singer, played Dungeons and Dragons? You softly laughed, truly believing Eddie was an enigma; such juxtaposition within himself. “But, y’know, he had to do what he had to do. For himself.”

“And now he really does just do everything for himself.” Winnie playfully scoffed. 

“Well, I’m sure he’ll have a change of heart if he continues “seeing” you.” Steve smiled. “I mean, think the last I ever heard of Eddie giving anyone flowers was for this cheerleader he had some crush on, before her boyfriend got wind of it. It turned into this big blow out, Eddie, of course, had already gotten into his fair share of fights before, so pretty easy to say this kid got beat up, until his basketball buddies joined in. That only worsened his image, and pretty much humiliated him, so…”

“Yeah, no wonder he turned into such an asshole.” Winnie inferred, as a deep pit of sorrow buried in your belly for Eddie. Something you severely tried to ignore, given his background had garnered no justification for his current actions. 

“But maybe he’ll turn a new leaf.” His friend felt optimistic. Or, at least, hoped. “He still working down at that tattoo parlor, right?” 

Was he? Despite how much Winnie fed you, you actually knew nothing of him. “Probably.” Winnie’s face stuffed with the crunch of a juicy tender. “What about you, though? Eddie mentioned something about a lawyer?” She sweetly smiled.

Christ. Perhaps bailing on Eddie’s chauffeuring offer only forced you to become a third wheel for the time being. “Oh, definitely not a lawyer, just a paralegal for my dad who is one.”

“Still impressive, though.” She batted her lashes. “I’m sure you’re great at it.” Truthfully, Winnie Ambrose had no clue as to what a paralegal was, but if it made him flash his smile, then she’d gladly continue. 

“What about you two? You guys work?”

“Yeah, just as a barista, while I finish up college.” You concisely answered. 

“Oh, and I finished cosmetology school not too long ago, started working as a hairstylist, so I could totally do your hair, which by the way, you have great hair.” Her fingers delicately played with the few strands that framed his head. 

You hadn’t seen yourself suddenly wishing for Eddie Munson to appear sooner. It was on the sixth chicken tender that you were beginning to lose patience. While Steve Harrington had been the farthest from rude and included you in conversation, you weren’t socially inept to understand that his preferences laid in speaking with the girl he blindly agreed to date. But on the upside, you’d been surprised as to how entertaining it was to dip from between ketchup and ranch to please your taste buds. And washing it down with a cool beer? Surely, this was heaven-

“What happened to you not eating meat?” You felt his hot breath against your ear. 

Your nose nearly bumped his, as your head spun to meet his squinted eyes that scrutinized you through his glare. You had no other choice than to smile, and pop the last bit of the chicken tender into your mouth with a glorious crunch and moan that pissed him off with a smile searing onto his face. 

“Hey, man, you made it.” Steve Harrington had brandished Eddie Munson’s hand with the typical boyish handshake, before Eddie’s jacket met the table, and he took his seat next to you. 

Eddie incredulously chuckled. “Well, y’know, would’ve come sooner, but…” his glare twisted to you, “...apparently reading is a little hard to comprehend for some.”

Gobsmacked, you were ready to smack that smirk off his face, but Winnie had chimed in. “Actually, we did read it, we just didn’t care.” She placed a fry into her mouth. 

“‘We?’” Eddie laughed. “C’mon, Wendy, don’t you know by now no guy would ever give you flowers? That note was for Y/N.” Eddie hadn’t even cared to notice the look of offense that stunned her face, only focusing on whispering into your ear. “And I thought I told you by now to have a mind of your own?”

Your stomach became agitated by his words, and suddenly those six chicken tenders and fries felt like a bad idea. “God, you see how much of an asshole your friend is?” Winnie’s voice felt so distant in your hazed mind. 

“Hey, Ed, c’mon, knock it off.” Steve mediated. “Look, let’s just all start on a clean slate, alright? No more bickering.”

“Alright, then.” He sighed, switching his full attention to you with a sly grin. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”

The most you could mobilize out of your mouth was a simple, “hi,” in return.

Eddie’s tongue lolled around the inside of his mouth. It was clear you were going to be short with him. “So, uh, new to Hawkins, huh? How’re ya liking it?” Winnie’s words of advice were burdening your overthinking head. Three seconds. One… two- “Uh, okay, I’m glad you could make it. Glad that you agreed most of all. Even if you got here without me.” You gulped. One… two… thr- “Can I get you another drink?” You blinked down at the half filled beer bottle you’ve been nursing. One… two… t- “Okay, don’t answer.” Eddie gave up with an exasperated sigh. 

“Hey, if you two would like another round, I can grab it for you?” Steve proffered, and you watched Winnie subtly nod her head to you in secrecy.

You stuttered back quickly. “Oh, yeah, t-that’d be great. Thank you, Steve.”

Eddie glowered in disbelief, watching as Steve whisked himself away towards the bar. “Y’know, if flowers weren’t your thing, you could’ve ringed me up to let me know?” He suddenly shoved himself in your face. 

“Oh, they are.” Winnie punctuated. “Just not from you.”

Eddie ignored her. He knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t falling under any trap that would subscribe him to that asshole attitude he surely acquired.

So, Eddie Munson’s eyes glued to yours. “Was it the type? Not your favorite? What is? Or, are you into those weird fruit bouquet things? I can get you those if you are? Hell, chocolate even-”

“No, Eddie.” You stopped his questionnaire. “I just- I just felt more comfortable riding with Winnie, s’all. Thought it’d be best. For me.”

For you. Was that enough to, at the very least, show him you did, in fact, totally, very much have a mind of your own…?

“Alright, then.” Eddie sat back, actually accepting your words. “Fair enough.”

“Plus, she just didn’t want to be stuck in a car with some pervy jackass.” Winnie smiled, mindlessly dipping her food into the condiments. 

Eddie chuckled. “Y’know what? I think we kinda got off on the wrong foot here.” He smiled, as she rolled her eyes. “So, I’m here to say I’m sorry. There it is. My formal apology. See? Growth.” Eddie winked over to you. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Winnie incredulously laughed. “For what is it exactly, Eddie, that you’re sorry for? For being an asshole? For lying? For leading me on? For having sex with me, then ditching me?”

Eddie pretended to ponder on that thought. “Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, as Winnie scoffed in disgust. “All of the above.” 

“Ugh, you little, piece of shi-” Steve set the bottles of beer down.

“Hey, everything alright here?” He hurriedly intervened. 

Winnie took a deep breath. “Fine, then. Apology accepted.” She ardently sat up straight. “So, how do you guys know each other?” She looked between both men. 

Eddie had been quite quick to answer. “High school.” Bluntly so, too.

“Oh, you mean back when you were a loser?” Winnie smiled.

Eddie’s face dropped. “You told them?!”

Steve exhaustedly sighed, running a stressed hand through his hair. “Dude, I didn’t mean- look, it just came up in conversation, I was just trying to explain things.”

Eddie fell back with a look of unease, shaking his head in disbelief. His expression had vividly written the discontent he had with Winnie bringing up his past, it clearly being something he hadn’t wished to be disclosed to people he barely knew. “Hey, okay, look, we don't have to talk about that.” You interrupted, watching Eddie preoccupy his discomfort by mindlessly picking at a napkin. “Um, Steve said that you worked at a tattoo parlor, is that right?” You softly pried, but your endeavors fell short with his blatant choice to ignore you. “Hey, Eddie, you said you wanted us to get to know each other better, right? Well, now, we’re on a date, so we can.” Your genuine smile was enough to have him slowly eye you. Throwing his words right back into his face, he hated it. 

Eddie slowly began sitting up, even choosing to discard the napkin. “Um, yeah. Alchemy Ink.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the one down the-”

“-Street from the coffeehouse, yeah.” Eddie finished for you. “It’s, uh, why I go down there for my breaks.” He tried to shrug off.

“Oh, that notebook- the one you, uh, drew those cute, little bats in- the really good ones, is that where you draw, like, your tattoo ideas?” Damn it, you were making it really hard to stay angry with your sweet conversation. His lips twisted inward to suppress his fighting smile. 

You just had to fucking remember those damn bats, huh?

“Uh, yeah, t-the beginning sketches. Just, y’know, to get some ideas flowing, get a feel of what I can work with.” God, with you staring at him, Eddie really wished he had a beer to drown his stupid thoughts. But with how much you hated him, the rational part of his brain crossed off any idea of becoming a drunken asshole on a first date. 

“That’s really cool.” Fuck you for flashing that smile, Eddie thought. “You should tattoo some law scale on Steve.” You joked.

Eddie chuckled. “Already poked ‘KING’ into his ass.”

With Steve shaking his head in disbelief, Winnie gasped, as the act of hiding his face within his hands confirmed Eddie’s words. “You got the word ‘king’ tattooed on your ass?!” She laughed. 

Fair play to Eddie. “Hey, hey, in my defense, we were drunk high schoolers, and it was just some shitty stick-and-poke.” He laughed. “Plus, you have no room to talk, given ‘FREAK’ is permanently on your ass!”

“Freak? Why that of all things?” You questioned through your fits of giggles. 

Eddie flashed you that devilish smile that had you instantly regretting your words. “I can show you more than I can explain it to you.” And his winked was merely met with the annoyed roll of your eye. 

“No, no,” Steve laughed, “it was just some bullshit high school thing.” 

Luckily, any tension of hostility was able to dissolve through the bubbling laughter that naturally came around. Through the round of beers, the stories of which Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson held were animatedly shared in strides to get their dates to laugh. And to their credit, they surely did accomplish such task with recounting the juvenile trouble they encountered during their teenage years, while not stepping too deep into the territory at which Eddie was still visibly uncomfortable with. A part of you had been curious to understand the complexity as to why Eddie hated his past to such a degree. But your mouth stayed quiet, apart from minimal conversation, as you, too, would feel uneasy if anyone had brought up your past.

Which is why you grew stiff when the topic of conversation switched to how you befriended Winnie Ambrose. 

“Much like Harrington and I, you guys seem quite different.” Eddie interrogated. “So, how is it exactly you guys became friends?”

“Um,” Your brain went numb with the racking thoughts that were trying to spew out of your mouth to find anything, literally anything, to not mention him, Dalton…

“Same like you, y’know, high school.” Winnie briefed concisely enough to save you. “Nothing too crazy, really. Definitely not by some third-party freshman.” She joked to derail the conversation.

But ever the curious one, Eddie hadn’t stopped with the prodding, as he became quite serious with his task of getting to know you. Especially given the circumstance that he couldn’t thoroughly do so to his preferred degree, with two people hijacking this supposed date. “So, what? Through a class? A club? Were you in any clubs, Y/N?” You hated how ardent he’d become with eye contact. 

“Uh, n-no, never really was.” You stuttered out. “We just kinda met through friends, I guess. We, uh, knew the same perso- people.” 

“What person?” Eddie had clocked it, and his interest had skyrocketed. 

“Uh…” You swallowed thickly. “Just some ex-boyfriend s’all.” You adamantly tried to brush off with a giant swig of the beer in hand. 

But, of course, with the mention of an ex-partner, Eddie was never going to let it go. “‘Ex-boyfriend?’” He smiled sickly. “Someone I’m gonna need to fight to get to you, huh?” Eddie teased. “What was that relationship like?” He relished in the invasive nature that had your squirming in your seat. 

“Uh, I-I don’t, um-”

“Jeez, they broke up, and moved on. He’s irrelevant.” Winnie interrupted for your sake, as Eddie quietly scoffed to himself. “Are you currently seeing anyone else, Steve?” She turned the focus away. 

“Oh, uh, no, not seriously.” Steve answered. “Just a couple’a first dates the last few weeks, but most of which we’ve agreed to just keep it as such, no second.” 

Winnie flashed an overly bright smile. “See, it’s so attractive when guys actually communicate, and don’t blow off girls.” She couldn’t have been more obvious. “Right, Y/N?”

“Huh?” Suddenly, her elbow was connecting to your rib. “Ugh-um, right, right, so attractive.” You powered through the pain. 

“Respectable job, communicates, respectful, and has incredible hair,” Winnie gushed, “you’re really just, like, the perfect man, right?” She turned to you. 

“Mhm.” You sweetly smiled, choosing to turn your back to Eddie Munson to gaze your full attention to Steve. “Very perfect.”

Had Steve not been notified of this so-called ‘Take Eddie Munson Down’ operation, he surely would have cocked an eyebrow at the weird behavior you both were beginning to show. But the man was merely left blushing behind his hand, with a smile that held back amused laughter.

Because while Steve smiled, Eddie had scowled at your unexpected response.

It became quite evident he hadn’t been all too keen on sharing this night with others. While he understood he suggested the invitation of a stupid double date, it was only spoken as a last resort to finally get with you. And even then, it didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially, when all of sudden, any chance of a potential romance was abruptly shot down with Winnie Ambrose’s interjection to somehow turn the conversation to Steve Harrington, who you suddenly took a liking to?!

If it was the weather, suddenly you both were drooling over how Steve would “totally be, like, the hot weatherman you’d turn on the news for just to gawk over.”

If it was your studies, suddenly you’d exclaim about how Steve “looked just like that one sexy professor in the psychology department.”

If it was Eddie’s job, suddenly both of your attention was turning to Steve to detail “how hot he’d look with tattoos.”

I have tattoos, Eddie screamed in his head. His nostrils were flaring with deep breaths, as he felt his body boiling over the sight of you leaning over the table just to speak to him. By 10:02 P.M, the date had irreparably turned into some flirt fest starring Steve Harrington, and any attempts at having a one-on-one conversation with you had pissed him off to no avail, as you casually shrugged him off as some old pal. 

Eddie’s knee was bouncing by the second, eyes jumping from person to person, as the conversation carried on without him. Had any of you even noticed that he hadn’t spoken a word in five minutes?

“Well, I spent most of my time working with a close buddy of mine at a movie store, just a couple blocks…” Eddie didn’t even try to listen to Steve’s backstory, he couldn't even if he wanted to. His eyes had trained themselves to your side profile, the one that hadn’t looked at him in six minutes and twenty-three seconds in counting—crazy, he knows, but that wasn’t the topic of conversation—as you were too entranced with listening to Steve’s boring story. Eddie Munson had had enough. “...But my father was really hammerin’ on me to pursue something-” The grating noise of chair legs scraping across the floor had interrupted his speaking, as Eddie made the rash decision to pull you closer. 

With the close proximity, his hand secured itself around the back of neck to pull your head close, as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Finish your food, I’m taking you somewhere else.”

You froze, as Eddie cleared his throat as though nothing happened. “What’s up?” Winnie worriedly questioned. 

“Nothing.” Eddie shrugged, finishing the last bit of his food. “Just taking Y/N somewhere, so we’re,” he gestured to the both of you, “wrapping this up. You lovebirds do as please.” As everyone was slowly accepting the abrupt ending of the double date, Eddie was casually reaching for his wallet to slap the table with a couple of bills. “I asked, so I’ll cover it, Harrington.”

Oh, shit. Winnie hadn’t prepared you for alone time with Eddie Munson. It’s when he strikes best!

“Yeah, thanks, man.” Steve offered in return, before turning to Winnie. “Um, would you be okay with wrapping up as well? You got quite some ride back to Indy, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Winnie solemnly agreed to, as she mentally cursed Eddie for ruining the only good date she’s been on in the last few weeks. 

You stood from your chair, finishing the last swig of your beer that you had left, before Eddie’s hand circled around your waist. “Hey,” he came in close, “It’s been a minute, so I’m just gonna say hello to Rog, and the couple’a people I haven’t seen in a while.” You nodded along, as you took into account the stories he recounted about his days of being a barback. “Here,” his keys dangled before you, “just make yourself comfortable, okay? I won't be long. It’s just the van out front.”

With two pats on the small of your back, all you could muster was a soft, “okay,” before you shuffled to Winnie.

Watching Eddie walk away, you clutched to her arm. “He told me to go to his car, I’m internally panicking right now!” You aggressively whispered.

“Okay, just calm down and go, alright? I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

With Winnie’s words, your legs worked fast to drag you out of the bar, where the gentle breeze slapped you with the needed composure to locate the large van parked a couple feet away. Unlocked, and strapped in, you took a deep breath in the passenger seat of Eddie’s car.

Though, that deep breath was unwarrantedly invaded by the pungent smell of weed and cigarettes, and while you were sure that may have come as a speedy remedy for stress, you weren’t too pleased to be suddenly struck with it at this moment. 

You jammed the key into the ignition, revving the van to life to hopefully clear the smell with the much needed air conditioning, but all you got in return was the thrashing clash of some metal band screaming into your ear from the abrasive volume Eddie chose to listen to his music. 

Jumping to turn it down, you finally settled back against the car seat with a heaving chest. But like clockwork, your nerves were shot with the adrenaline of being horrified from Winnie suddenly opening the car door.

“God, Winnie, you scared me half to death!” You screeched, as she clambered into the front seat. 

“Look, we have to make this quick, Steve’s using the bathroom, and who knows when Eddie’s coming back.” She underlined. “We gotta prepare you, okay? Being alone with Eddie is nothing like being on a double date with Eddie! This- this means he’s really into you!”

“O-Okay, so what now? I wait four seconds to respond?”

“‘Four seconds?’” Winnie looked at you as if you were crazy. “There’s no four seconds, you’re practically seeing Eddie Munson now! This is basically dating!”

“I don’t want to be dating, though!” You implored through round eyes. 

“Well, you’re just gonna have to suck it up!” Winnie set you straight. “Just remember, confidence is key, alright? Don’t let him walk all over you!” She coached. “You be straightforward with your responses, don’t let him intimidate you.”

The panic was beginning to settle too deep. “W-Well, what if he tries to make a move? Is he going to make a move?!”

“Look, just whatever he does, keep it to a minimum. Nothing more than a kiss, alright?” You nodded in agreement. “Are you a good kisser?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Well, I-I don’t know, h-how does anyone know if they’re a good kisser?”

Winnie dramatically sighed. “Well, do you guys tell you you’re a good kisser?”

The sudden revelation hit you like a truck. “Oh, my god, I’m a bad kisser!”

“Sh! Sh!” Winnie tried to calm your trepidation. “Y/N, look, it’s really simple, okay?” She mounted over the center console to set your head straight. “It’s just effortless movements. Light touches, okay? Light.” Her hand gripped to your jaw. “Just lock onto him, nothing too crazy. Grab onto that gorgeous head of hair, but no passion just yet, you have to build it up.” Her face came closer. “Be in control, hold his gaze, it just has to be the temptation,” her breath fanned across your features, as you felt weary as to where this was heading, “just a light brush to leave him wanting more.” Suddenly, Winnie’s lips were planted against yours, and you made your truest effort to follow her guidance, until-

“Holy hell, kiss her again. Do it!”

You and Winnie instantly pulled apart to witness the gross man who stood watching in amusement in front of Eddie’s parked van. “Get out of here, you perv!” You flipped on the headlights to scare the man, who quickly scurried off, when suddenly the beaming headlights showed Eddie coming over. “Oh, shit, Eddie’s coming!”

Winnie freaked, suddenly choosing to scale over the front seats to scramble her way into the messy den that was the back area of Eddie’s car. You sat abnormally stiff once Eddie stepped foot into his van. “Hey, you okay?” He asked, as he settled himself in. 

“Mhm.” You hummed out. 

He took a second. “Um, look, I know it’s probably not the most ideal situation, but I promise it won’t be anything terrible.” You slowly peered at Eddie, who sat cautiously in his seat. “I-I just,” he sighed, “I just want to, at the very least, get a chance to actually speak to you. W-Without Harrington or your friend. Just you.”

“Okay.” You softly nodded to his request, which eased a deep breath from chest. “That’s okay.”

A small smile etched upon Eddie's face, and you hadn’t decided whether to take it innocently or sinisterly. With Eddie Munson, it was almost always the latter. With your approval, Eddie pulled out of the parking lot—unbeknownst to him, with Winnie in tow—to head along the long stretch of highways that traveled along the breadth of Hawkins, Indiana. 

Though, unfortunately, forgotten within the walls of The Hideout, Steve Harrington was flinging his hands dry from water due to the lack of paper towels that were never refilled within the men’s restroom, as he sought his way outside to a dead parking lot. “Win- Winnie?” He turned about. “Eddie? Anyone?”

Eddie’s fingers slowly turned the volume up of his radio. “Did you have a good time, at least?” He asked. 

“Oh, yeah, I quite liked the bar; a lot less crowded, which made it more enjoyable than the one from Saturday night.” 

“Yeah?” He lilted. “Not really into that scene, huh?”

“No.” You chuckled. “Definitely not, but it is yours, no?” You interrogated back, almost accusatory in Eddie’s eyes. “You go there a lot, I’m assuming?” Spoken as if to find a definitive reason to not let this “date” prolong any further than tonight. 

“I, well, um, wouldn’t say a lot.” He searched his way around the words. “Just when needed. For the band.” 

“Huh, okay.” Eddie thought you relented. “Not the best reputation with that band though, right?” You smiled so sickly, Eddie was scoffing out a laugh. 

He hadn’t seen such feistiness from you yet, he was honestly relishing in it. “We just- we just like to have fun, s’all. Don’t you? Unless you’re, like, some total buzzkill.” He smirked back. 

“No, not a buzzkill.” You protested. “Just have self-discipline, you know? Or, wait, do you not know?”

Eddie kissed his teeth with a dimpling grin that was becoming permanent on his face with. “Oh, no, I know.” His finger aggressively tapped against his steering wheel. Because, truthfully, if he hadn’t known, he would have immediately pulled the car over, and shut you up the way he knew best… and, well, did best. “Just, y’know, like to live my life to the fullest with everything accomplished.”

“And everyone apparently, huh?” 

Eddie’s knuckles were fusing white with the tight grip he clutched. “You’re walking on thin fucking ice here, Y/N.” He huffed a laugh from his buzzing body. 

“Why?” You feigned. “I thought you liked having fun?”

Oh, Eddie Munson was so fucked. 

Winnie Ambrose couldn’t have been more proud with the dedication shown by you, as she pushed through the pain of holding back her laughter that threatened to spill with every bump Eddie carelessly passed. She wrestled around the displayed blankets that she felt icky even touching, wondering what unfortunate crusted stains she may have been laying upon. Winnie shifted uncomfortably, as she reached beneath her to wedge out a bra that slung from under. Winnie silently gasped. “That dog.” She mouthed, until her nimble fingers suddenly felt the cushion of thick padding that invaded the bra.

Oh, great… it was her’s, she shamefully tucked the bra under her arm. 

Lover’s Lake had been nothing but a ten minute drive for you and Eddie Munson, but somehow, the tension you both left untouched with silence seemed to make it last an eternity, as you both suffocated in the teasing friction that consumed the air between you two. 

You peered out the window, watching worriedly as Eddie took a turn into a wooded path that left you viewing nothing but dark trees. “It won’t be anything terrible, huh?” You hid your anxiety through forced giggles. 

“Yup.” Eddie did little to denote any further. “There’ll be a time when you’ll finally trust me.” 

You head slumped against the cold glass. “Yeah, doubt it.” You whispered to yourself, unaware of the smile that ate at his face, as he quietly heard your words. 

Much to your dismay, Eddie Munson proved you wrong—though proving your right could have left your name attached to some true crime murder case—as his van parked along the clearing that showcased such a scenic view of a sparkling lake that reflected the crystal tranquility of the moon and stars. Too enthralled, you hadn’t taken notice of Eddie leaving the car, until he approached your side to guide you out. “Is this too terrible for you?” You shook your head. “Perfect, then. One of my favorite places, in fact, so it would have pissed me off if it was.” With the slam of the car door, Winnie peeked up from her hiding place, watching as you and Eddie began walking down west. 

“Do you come here often?” You pondered, taking in the scenery, as your shoes sunk into the mush of muddy grass and moss.

“When I lived here, yeah.” Eddie hopped over strewn branches. “For being so shitty, I gotta admit, this place sure does have some nice hiding spots. 

“You gonna take me to see all your secret hideouts?” You peered up at him. 

Eddie smiled. “When we get there, absolutely.”

“If.” You insisted. 

“When.” He retaliated. 

You rolled your eyes at the tongue-in-cheek attitude he liked to flaunt around, where he found nothing but mirth with every irk he managed to tick out of you. Silence settled through your stroll, until Eddie decided to break it with his unheard of vacillated voice. “So, uh, hey, you said you enjoyed tonight.” You nodded along. “Was that because of Harrington? Did you, like, I don’t know, like Steve?” 

His hands balled behind his back, as his peripheral glued to your face intently. “Oh, yeah, I liked Steve, he was really nice!” You sincerely spoke, as his teeth began sinking into the cracked despair of his bottom lip. 

“Oh,” was all he could proffer in return.

“I feel like it’s my duty to now push Winnie to continue seeing him.” You had no clue how much your giggles eased his mind. “He seems like he could be really nice to her, very sweet he is.”

Eddie huffed out a heavy sigh. “Y-Yeah, it’s nice those guys could hit it off… like us.” He smiled up close to your face, which had you stopping in your tracks.

“Are we hitting it off, Eddie?”

Standing before you, Eddie kissed his teeth with a grin. “I’d say we are, no? Got you out on a date, actually speaking to me, conversing well.”

“Okay.” You simply noted, continuing your walk, as he scurried to follow.

“‘Okay?’” Eddie repeated with the need of elaboration. “I don’t like that I don’t know what you’re thinking, Y/N.”

“Oh, maybe we are hitting it off, I feel the exact same way about you.” You joked through your soft laughter. 

“No, no, I say what I’m thinking.” Eddie maintained his stance. 

You incredulously laughed in return. “But Eddie, everything you say has quite the history of being a lie.” Your reprisal disseminated over any argument he was willing to divulge to support himself. Eddie Munson could only laugh at himself. How stupid of him to believe he could weasel some smooth talking to a girl, who quite literally witnessed him being kicked out of her apartment for being an asshole. “Kinda got my proof with Winnie-”

“Y’know,” he immediately interjected, “I think… you rely too much on her opinion.”

“And I think you’re a jackass.” You defensively snapped back. You hadn’t even expected it to come out so rash. 

Eddie mockingly laughed in your face. “Oh, yeah? You think I’m a jackass? Alright, I’ll be a jackass. What’s up with that ex-boyfriend of yours you got so weird about? He a jackass, too? Hurt you real bad? Did something to make you lose some bullshit trust, so now you rely on your friend to help you through everything? 

You loathed Eddie Munson. “Screw this.” You scoffed back, choosing to turn away from him, and make your steady way back to the van. 

But he had taken a hold of your hand, forcing you back to his vicinity. “Hey! We’re not done here.”

“Okay, fine! What’s up with your past here? You got really worked up over Winnie bringing that up. And I tried to be nice, and not talk about it, but since you’re such an asshole, I truly don’t care anymore.” You retorted. “Steve mentioned how much people hated you here, and honestly I can see why! You are so conceited, and full of yourself. You’re not considerate of anyone’s feelings, and god, you just say the meanest things. I’m pretty sure most people are happy you left this town, since it meant never having to be near you again.”

No longer was this the banter of any light teasing. Eddie had flung your hand from his, as he stared you down. “You don’t have a single fucking clue as to what you’re talking about.” His heavy breathing had to be manually controlled by his self-control, as his aggressive breath blew into your face.

“Oh, what, but you do?!” You derided so scornfully right back at him. 

Nothing but both of your heavy breathing could be heard against the empty lake front. With such intense eye contact that neither of you ever planned on breaking, Eddie was suddenly drawn in with temptation, and inched his head close against yours, as you lured yourself in…

Until your hands slapped against his chest. “What the hell are you doing?” You shoved him away. 

Your push had snapped some sense into Eddie, and his mouth had fallen open with the words that couldn’t be found, as he held his chest with a sincere hand. And it only worsened his case for a cocky grin to creep upon his face towards you. “You so wanted to kiss me.” 

Your mouth dropped at the absurdity of his ridiculing laughter. “Are you insane?! No, I didn’t!” You’d rather drown in Lover’s Lake than ever let him think so. “Christ, would you just get off your high horse for two seconds, and learn that not everyone wants you?”

You stomped on your heel, walking away from him once more. “I don’t have a fucking horse!” God, you could slap the stupidity out of him. “Hey, alright, c’mon, I shouldn’t have done that! Y/N!” His hand latched back onto yours. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie turned you around. “My dad was some absent crook, who ruined my life with his schemes, and everyone in this shit town fucking took it out on me, alright? So, sorry, but it pissed me when you fucking said that shit.” Your brows furrowed at the sudden dump of information he expelled onto you. All while Eddie simply waited. “Well, go on.”

“What?” You questioned. 

“Your turn.” He made it seem so obvious. “You go, say something about that little boyfriend of yours.”

“W-Wha- no, I’m not gonna-”

Eddie dragged his hands over his face. “Oh, my god, just do it!”

“Fine!” You exasperated. “Yes, Eddie, he was a jackass. After two years, he just laid it all out that he never loved me like I love-” Your mouth clamped shut, as your face hid away with humiliation. “Look, I really don’t want to get into this.” You tried to get away, but Eddie had held back your movements. 

“Alright, so we won’t get into this.” He proclaimed. “What’s your favorite color?” 

“What? What are you doing?” You tried to walk around him.

But Eddie was there to keep his pace with you, only to fervently reiterate, “Just like you said, not getting into this. What’s your favorite color?”

You abruptly stopped with a defeated sigh. “Green.”

“Cool, mine’s black. Surprising, huh?” He sardonically smiled. You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a tiny chuckle. “Alright, let’s see what else… oh! What’s your favorite food? And I already know you eat meat, so don’t fuck with me with that.” 

That, unfortunately, had you quietly giggling, but only at your own humor. “Um, I don’t know, uh, pesto pasta.”

“Ooh.” Eddie snapped his fingers. “I love buttered noodles, close enough, huh?” Christ, that got a laugh from you. “Hell, I’ll even make us some for our second date.”

“We are not going on a second date.” You chuckled, as you began walking away. 

Eddie was quick to follow along your steps. “Sure we are. How else am I gonna find out your favorite hobby?” You had to give him credit, it was quite the perfect invitation for a conversation. 

“I like puzzles.”

Eddie snorted. “Okay, grandma, I can get down with that.” He smiled. 

“Oh, shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I know your favorite hobby.” You spoke matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie grinned. “And what’s that, Y/N?”

“Dungeons and Dragons, you nerd.” You laughed, as Eddie shook his head in disbelief. It wasn’t exactly the number one thing he wanted women of his interest to know; not exactly the greatest chick magnet out there. 

Eddie feigned anger. “Fucking Harrington. The mouth on that one.” 

Though, with complete transparency, if airing out his so-called embarrassing secrets was needed in order to keep you happy, he was ready to dish out the time his uncle found a number of women’s underwear when visiting his apartment in Indianapolis. Even sat him down with a heart-to-heart to remind Eddie that he’d love him no matter who he was. 

It was cripplingly mortifying to notify his uncle that he, Eddie Munson, was, in fact, just a whore. 

-

Winnie Ambrose had mindlessly pulled apart all the split ends she managed to find in her head of hair, before she exasperatedly sighed with a heavy fall against the van floor. 

It felt like an eternity waiting for you to return. She’d only hoped you’d come with your dignity, and not as another notch on Eddie’s belt. It was only when her entertainment was finally being satisfied through her nosy curiosity of ruffling through Eddie’s belongings did the passenger door finally open.

Winnie laid so stiffly, as she heard you mutter a “thank you” to Eddie’s chivalry. Your eyes briefly connected for the couple seconds it took for Eddie to reach the driver side, with you nodding to the consensus of the thrown up thumbs up Winnie proffered. 

“Ready to head home?” Eddie asked. 

“Mhm, yeah.” You politely answered. 

The forty minute drive to Indianapolis was thus embarked upon, with Winnie having to endure the detailed lore behind Eddie the Head, when one- one, singular Iron Maiden song played. Where Winnie rolled her eyes, you were quite taken aback with how much information he was ready to elaborate upon, just because it was “totally sick that we share the same name!” In the wise words of Eddie Munson. 

Apparently his only motivation to learn anything. 

Rolling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, the sky thundered with the trudging storm the spring season had welcomed. 

Eddie had turned off the rumbling ignition of his car. “Um, w-would you mind just, like, walking with me?” 

Desperately wanting to jump over to your good side, Eddie had no issue with quickly agreeing to your request. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

Winnie slowly moved to the back double doors that would become her escape route. With Eddie whisking you away, you subtly peered back to catch glimpses of Winnie inching her legs out of the car, holding her breath, as every movement caused the old thing to creak from the rust. 

“Okay, um, I know things weren’t necessarily ideal, but I still really enjoyed being with you, and um, I’m just really glad you endured staying with me for this long.” He sniffed out a laugh that you followed along with. 

“Y-Yeah, um, I think everything managed to work out okay in the end.” You softly smiled.

Eddie’s hand found its way to the back of his neck, a classic move that not only let him appear nervous for your sympathy, but tactfully allowed his muscle to bulge for your pleasure. “I’ve gotten quite the understanding that you’re not exactly the type of girl to kiss on the first date… much to my dismay.” He dramatically sighed to make you laugh. “So, Y/N,” your name rolled off his tongue so languidly, “actually give me a call, because I’m not above tracking you down for a second date. But I mean it, have a great night, darling.” 

Slamming the door behind her, Winnie’s breath hitched at sudden cause that halted her escape plan. The heavy door closed on the damn maxi skirt you suggested she wear! “Oh, no. No, no, no, no!” She pulled against the threads that refused to stretch any longer. 

Watching her struggle, you panicked with how quickly Eddie was about to turn away, and your mind unanticipatedly resulted to your hand turning his face towards your own.

Nose bumping, breath fanning, you stared into his eyes. “Um,” your throat went dry. Eddie took your unwarranted invitation with his lips coming down slowly to ever so gently graze against yours. 

“C’mon,” yank! “Let,” yank! “Go,” rip! 

Winnie’s skirt clung from Eddie’s back doors, as she quickly scrambled to cover her exposed self. Seeing her scurry into the gated pool area of the complex, you suddenly diverged from the kiss, planting the tiniest peck to the corner of his mouth so quickly. “Okay, um, thanks for tonight, Eddie!” You hurriedly began walking away. “Have a good rest of your night!” You waved, while Eddie stood stunned. 

Utterly frozen. 

“Wasn’t even my date, and he still managed to get me out of my skirt.” Winnie cursed herself. 

A fluttering smile flushed on his face with heat, as his fingers graced on the phantom touch of your lips still lingering on your face. 

His confidence strides led him back to his van, as he felt on top of the world. There wasn’t any girl Eddie Munson couldn’t get, and his ego was relishing in the extra boost from your kiss. But with it came the frightening reality that he wanted more than what you were giving. 

He wanted you.

Revving up his engine, there wasn’t anything stopping in the way of Eddie Munson. Not even Winnie Ambrose’s skirt that slapped along the asphalt of the road with each foot Eddie drove up.

Your mind refused to focus on anything, but your apartment door, as one thought about Eddie was going to make your head spiral out of control. You wielded yourself to swallow away those nauseating butterflies that were exploding in your tummy. 

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. You hated Eddie Munson. 

“And my car is still stuck at some dingy bar. Ugh, I hate Eddie Munson!” Winnie exclaimed. 

There was only one thing for certain: Eddie Munson must die!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | If I forgot anyone who asked to be tagged, please let me know, so I can include you in future chapters. This goes for anyone who wishes to not be tagged, just inform me! And, of course, everyone 18+ is welcome to be included <3

It would also help greatly if anyone who asked to be tagged would reblog my work :) @darknesseddiem @tlclick73 @ezzynf @hereforshmut @babez-a-licious @madelynraemunson @nope-thanks @catherinnn @sunshineandwitchery @meowforluv @bellalillyrose @eddieslooneymoonie @honey-flustered @therealgothamguardianfr @fishwithtitz @corrodedcoffincumslut @ohmeg @superas1an @maraudersforlife2005

I sincerely apologize for any user that wouldn't tag, I'm not sure how to fix that :(

[dangan-writing]

I need a n g s t

Kokichi, Nagito and Shuichi with a s/o that’s really forgiving? You could make them end up in the hospital and they’d forgive you

So what if they accidentally kill them and their s/o still forgives them?

If you want, you can do a happy ending where they live! Your choice! :)

╔═══════════════════════════╗

*__ i pick different endings if that's okay Anon, And i picked it to be in the killing game, please tell me if you want it to be changed Anon.

*__ and i apologise if it seems rushed, it's hard to write for 3 character's. And also because you were probably waiting for so long. you can still request for me to remake it Anon, don't worry ^^

*___ Tw -> Ch/king, po/soning, Ka/de, caps, violence, curse words, f/re, injuries

*___Mod Miaya___*

»»———————————- ♡ ————————————««

*___Kokichi Oma___*

When somebody hurts you Kokichi will be fucking rude to them since they don't deserve respect since they hurted you

"Ah Kokichi! Calm down, it didn't hurt that much! I'm okay, see?" You try to move around, but gasping because of the pain "O-Oh.." "See! You got really hurt! That person is gonna get it!!" Kokichi wails "H-hey, i forgive them.. it's not like they murdered me or anything! I'm still here, with just some small injury!" You giggled "Are you that nice?" Kokichi mumbled, before getting up "Hey c'mon! Let's go to Keeboy and have fun with him!" Kokichi smiled mischievously, you laugh "let's go."

That was actually to distract you and go to the person who hurted you and prank the fuck out of the person-

He's concerned about you, i mean. A forgiving S/O? He'll be watching out the people who talks to you, he's a liar. He'll know if they're lying or not. It's impossible for them to hurt you since you have a liar by your side! Impossible he says as he didn't realize they lied in front of his face as you and the person walked away together

After a few minutes passed, he was concerned. Why were you two taking so long? You two must not have been- no, that can't be. Unless...

Shit.. he ran looking after you "S/O!!~ where are you?~ we better not play hide and seek! You'd know i win easily~" he tried to keep up his facade, not wanting to freak himself out... then he saw you tied up, with blood and bruises all over you, with you breathing heavily.

"S/O!" He ran towards you, not even noticing the trap beneath him. As he tried to remove the ropes around you, as he turned around, the door was closed and fire started appearing "Oh shit, t-there was a trap?" He was trying to remove the ropes but it was too tight "Aha.. Don't worry we'll get out of h-here S/O! And we'll get that bastard later for doing this to you dear!" He started to breathe heavily, some smoke blocking his vision. He started to grow weaker "H-ha.. S/O i'm t-truly sorry.." he passed out, luckily people started to bust the door open. The people.. Gonta, and Kaito. With Tenko and the other people "S/O, KOKICHI!" Gonta yelled "Is there any water to put the fire out?" Tenko asked, she doesn't even care if the males save them she just wants them to be saved "I have it here!" Kaito yelled holding some fire grenades with him, he passed the fire grenades to everyone and they started to throw it in the fire

After some minutes, the fire stopped. The others rushed in there finding you two, they picked you two up and put you two in the dorms, Kirumi offered to heal you two. 1st degree burns.. a lot of bruises and blood on you. It took you two two days to wake up.. Kokichi woke up first "nghn.. uh what happened?" Kokichi asked, confused before realizing "ah!- is S/O okay! They better be okay!" Kokichi pouted, looking at Kirumi "they're okay, they just needed more rest then they'll be fine, no need to wory Kokichi. I attended to their injuries quickly after everyone pulled you two out of the fire, they are right next to you Kokichi." Kokichi looked next to him to see you beside him resting peacefully "oh damn, nishishi~" Kokichi looked at Kirumi "Can you leave? I have something to do, like a leader would do!" Kokichi just want to cuddle you actually. Kirumi did as he said, but she knew that he wanted to cuddle you after seeing you there beside him, she smiled.

Cuddling..

After some cuddling you woke up aswell due to his constant moving

"Mmmm Koshi..?" You groaned, half asleep. You rubbed your eyes for a bit "Heeeeey your awake noow! You take too long to wake up!" Kokichi childishly pouted, it's too adorable to be guilty with it, you laugh "That's not going to work in me, that's too adorable y'know?" Kokichi tried his scary face, it's a little intimidating. But it's still cute "still cute-" "Man can't you be scared of me!?" Kokichi cried out! Shaking his arms like a child

After you two were okay now, everyone besides one was trying to find the person who almost killed the both of you

It took 1-2 hours to find the the person who did this

It.. was Angie?

"Uhm.. Why did you try to kill S/O and uh, Ouma-san?" Shuichi asked Angie, who was tied up in a chair "Ahhh~ S/O wanted to give their blood to Atua! That's what Atua told Angie!~" Angie was cheerful as always. Almost everyone didn't believe that "Hey you almost killed me and my dearest S/O!" Kokichi wailed trying to attack Angie, but Gonta was holding onto him as Shuichi said, Angie laughed "S/O offered me some of their-" Shuichi isn't having none of it "Listen.. uhm, you almost killed S/O and Kokichi, how is that uh- related to Atua? And you started a fire for hell's sake...!" Shuichi yelled at Angie, Angie didn't smile. It sended chills on all of their spines.. it wasn't normal for her to not smile, since she always smiles. Seems like she isn't gonna talk for the time "Guys, please don't worry, i forgive her." You jumped in "WHAT? She almost killed you y'know!?" Kaito yelled "Yeah! The idiots right! Angie killed you!" "She's not dead you fuckin' brat!" Miu yelled at Kokichi "h-huh? That w-was uncalled for!" Oh dear now she messed up "W-Wai-" "WWWWWWAAAAAAAHHHHH!!" Kokichi wailed, annoying the others, especially Korekiyo, Kaito, and Maki. They left as soon Kokichi started to cry, except for Kaito-

"Like i said, i forgive her. I'm still alive anyways so that's good right?"

"You forgivable cutie.." Kokichi mumbles

»»———————————- ♡ ————————————««

*___Nagito Komaeda___*

He's a bit protective, you forgive people so easily. He doesn't mind if it's the hopeful people but, the despairful people?? Fuck no he won't let them go to you ever again, he has a quick eye. He'll catch them if they are looking at you

"S/O! Why do you forgive such despairing ugly humans, they hurted you!" Nagito spoke, angrily confused, you are filled with hope thats what he loves but you are a bit too considerate about *everyone's* feelings, even if it's a inanimate object you still refuse to break it.. you really are filled of hope.. too much hope "Huh? Why i forgive people all the time? Uhm... it's just my nature to forgive them, i am aware of how forgiveful i am. I forgive them, but that doesn't mean i like them, listen.. i forgive people but i stay away from them. I can understand when i forgive someone when they hurted me for so long, that's why you never see me with the people i know that hurted me Nagito." You try to give an explaination, of course. You know it isn't all but you decided to give an answer for him to know "S/O.. i.. i understand, how stupid am i to question such hope!" Nagito please calm down we care for you-

You saw him walking, bringing some stuff. Is.. is that poison? Spear, rope, speakers... what is he planning again? He walked inside the warehouse, you need to stop him from being reckless again. But you didn't move from your spot, you waited for a little while. Then you heard fireworks? Then.. running, everyone? They walked to the warehouse, Akane trying to bust the door open. You still stayed im your spot, trying to see if someone is doing stupid. Eventually Akane busted the door open, then you heard

Fire. What the hell? Wasn't Nagito in there? Shit.. You run in the warehouse

"NAGITO!!" you yelled, trying to get the fire canisters and threw them on the fire, it only made the fire more bigger? It's a fire canister.. isn't it suppose to put the fire out? Soon everyone moved and threw the individual fire canister's

Soon enough, the sprinklers put the fire out. You stood up "NAGITO ARE THERE!?" You tried to run in but Monokuma stopped you "Uh-Oh! Unfortuantely you can't be in here for now! Now get out so i can fix this damn warehouse!" You all got kicked out, after 6 minutes Monokuma appeared "Yahhoo, now it's finished now go in there you damn kids!" it's finally done.. honestly it felt like forever. But no time for that, you all ran in the warehouse "hmnn, i smell somethin'.." Akane's nose twitched like a beast when she said that "...That's probably because of the fire earlier.." Chiaki said, and Chiaki pointed out the there was space in the curtains from here, Hajime walked next to the curtain. You felt sick, it can't happen to him plea-

Ding dong bing bong! A body has been discovered! After a certain amount of time, a class trial will begin!

Screams, Kazuichi, Sonia.. and of course you.

You ran to his body begging that this isn't real "plEASE THIS ISN'T- ISN'T R-REAL" You sobbed, the others felt pity.. They tried to drag you away from his body, of course they did take you away from his body.

You eventually pass out from crying, too tired to investigate for the trial. They dragged you in the trial room, you wouldn't wake up so they had no choice but to drag you in the trial. Few minutes later you woke up

"N-Nagito.. set one of us as the killer..." what? Set one of us?

"Huh? What do you mean he set someone as the murderer..?" you asked in disbelief, Hajime explained what basically happened while you were asleep, you just stood there. You tried to focus, you threw a fire canister in the fire, but it only made the fire larger than before.

What...? This.. is unfair unfair- no.

»»———————————- ♡ ————————————««

"I know who did it." You spoke, interrupting their panicking which they snapped out of it when they looked at you "You only decide to talk now!?" Kazuichi yelled, obviously scared for his life "yeah" you nod "uhm.. may i ask who it is?" Sonia nervously asked, you sighed heavily "uh, it's me."

"W-what!? That can't be true! You saved me when i was starvin'!' Akane yelled out "Huuuuuhhh!? What the hell? S/O bought you some food?! That w-wasn't supposed to be allowed-" Monokuma looked dumbfounded until he was cut off "Who the hell cares!? They still saved me.." Akane looked down, it felt like Nekomaru's death all of a sudden..

Hajime and others felt like crying, you were like a leader trying to protect them even though you forgive people too easily "..." Chiaki didn't said anything, she just looked at you. You smiled at her "Do... do you forgive Komaeda-san for what happened S/O?" Chiaki asked "of course not! He set them up as the culprit you kno-" "Yes." You answered, ignoring Kazuichi's comment "hnm, you still forgive him? After he set you up S/O?" She tilt her head "yes, i know he must have a reason. He wouldn't kill someone for his own benifit, that's what i deduced, i believe he has a reason for this. He loves hope, he thinks me as his hope. He wouldn't just throw me away without an explanation, why would he call me a despairing person? I.. yes, i forgive him.." you lowered your head, you didn't understand any of this, why would he kill himself and you?

"Alrighty! Time to vote! Who would be chosen as the blackened?" Monokuma butted in the conversation "Goodbye everyone.. please remember me and everyone in this damned killing game." You smiled, looking at everyone. You are terrified of what kind of execution you have, but you tried to forget it.

This.. is goodbye for me.

S/O has been found guilty, time for the execution!

Right.. goodbye.

I forgive you all for..

*___Shuichi Saihara___*

The same with the two guys, he'll be pretty protective of you since you are so forgiving, there's a high chance you'll get killed because of your friendly nature and he doesn't want that to happen, not ever

"S-S/O, please try to be less considerate.. N-Not that you should be r-rude to anyone! I mean.. you s-shouldn't forgive p-people that easily, even if they are s-sorry. They hurted you uhm, S/O you don't have to feel o-obligated to forgive them." He hugged you, making you feel protected. You laughed

"Ahah, Shuichi. Thank you, i understand that i shouldn't forgive people that easily but, we really are just like that. No matter how many times they hurted us we forgive them. we people, are like that." You tighten the hug, smiling onto his chest

"S-S/O!" He screamed as he rushed towards you, you choking. He didn't realize he put in the poison instead the water.

"S/O DON'T DIE YET PLEASE" Shuichi was panicking, he is gonna murder his own S/O because he was losing sleep that he didn't realize that he put poison in your drink.

'Please pleaee please please please please please please please please please please please please pleaee please please please please please please please please'

..it....

..It was too late? He looked at your dead body.

"S-S/O.. I.. I'm so sorry... i'm such a failure.." he caressed your face. Sobbing, Before.

Ding dong bing bong! A body has been discovered, after a certain amount of time, a class trial will begin!

"WH-WHAT THE HELL!?" Miu screamed out, she rushed to hide in Kaito's back "EEEEEEIIIII, POOICHI IS THE MURDERER!" "What the hell Shuichi!" Kaito stumbled back a bit. Their screams of terror alerted the others, making Kaede, with Tsumugi and Rantaro on her trail.

"H-huh Shuichi!?" "Aaaauuuhh! The killing has started! It's much more different than Sakura's death on Danganronpa trigger happy hav-" "S-Shuichi.." Kaede, Tsumugi, and Rantaro reacted altogether, Rantaro ran towards Shuichi pushing him and trying to do something so he couldn't move "Anyone here have any rope? We need to tie him up first before questioning whats happened." Rantaro stated, looking up at the others "I-I'm sorry.." Rantaro looked down at Shuichi "you will have to explain yourself later, we don't know if you are the culprit, but be honest later on aight?" Shuichi didn't reply

Korekiyo walked in the scene, with a velvet colored rope in hand "i heard that you will be needing this, and so i give this rope to you Amami-san.." Korekiyo handed him the rope " Thanks Kiyo." Amami tied up Shuichi but didn't question on how Korekiyo found the rope but he isn't complaining "Kekehehe.. it is no problem Amami-san..." weirdo..

After they tied him up, they investigated the crime scene first before talking to him because that will waste their time, as they all went to the trial grounds, with Shuichi still tied up. Kaito guarding so he couldn't run away.

"So.. Shuichi, Why did you plan on killing your S/O. Your S/O." Rantaro said. Even if he is not your S/O he cared abiut you deeply, to just see your dead body fuels him with rage "Y-yeah.. Why Shuichi, you guys loved eachother so deeply, i don't understand why you k-killed them." Kaede tried not to sob, but horribly failed "I... i-i didn't mean to kill them, i was tired, stupid.. just vote me out already, i don't care if i die." .. Nobody tried to argue against him, he already admitted it, no point of arguing anyway

"Man you guys got it right! That was boring. an accidental death! Woohoo surely they wouldn't forgive him, he killed them. They wanted to live, yet. You.. killed... them! Puhuhuhu..lets get with on it, i have a special punishment for the ultimate detective, Shuichi Saihara!" Some of the people were clenching their fists, the ultimate detective.. was going to get executed "Let's give it everything we've got! It's... PUNISHMENT TIIIME!"

...

..

.

Huh? What..

What? Why is he, in a pod? He saw someone outside of the pod..is that? No way, S/O?

You opened the pod, smiling at him "well hello there Shuichi, it's so good to see you again." You held his hand, he looked dumbfounded, soon tears started to build up "S-S/O!" He hugged you tightly, not wanting to let go "I'm s-so sorry.. i didn't mean to kill you! I-i... you can hurt me, anything to make you satisfied with what happened.." Shuichi begged you to do it.. he's sobbing, he's so sorry "it's okay dear, i know you didn't mean it! I forgive you! I don't care how many times you hurt me, i'll always forgive you Shuhara. I love you too much for me to not forgive you, or anyone." You caressed his face, smiling softly at him.

"A-ah.." he looked down before smiling, you standed up and he followed what you did "Now, let's go and watch the others now Detective Shuhara."

"Of course."

╚═══════════════════════════╝

[tigerdrop]

so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go

i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack

anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath

Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.

"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.

Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else.  In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.

> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.

> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.

> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")

> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.

> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.

> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"

> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.

Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."

He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.

He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.

"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."

Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.

> Food? Nap? Bath?

> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"

> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.

> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).

> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.

> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.

> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."

He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"

> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.

> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"

Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"

What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--

No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"

He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.

> Benrey blinks.

> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.

> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.

> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.

> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.

> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.

> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.

> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.

Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.

He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.

Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.

"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"

> "Huh?"

> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?

> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?

> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.

> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."

"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"

Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.

...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.

> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.

> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.

> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.

> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."

> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.

> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished.  A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."

> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.

Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.

Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.

"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.

But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.

Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.

His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.

"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.

> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.

> "Cool."

> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.

> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.

> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.

> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--

> Click.

> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.

> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.

Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--

Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.

Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.

He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.

"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.

> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.

> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.

> Lower back.

> His ass.

> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.

> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...

> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.

> "Cute."

> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.

Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.

Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver.  He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.

It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.

Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.

"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?

After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?" Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.

> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.

> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.

> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.

> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."

Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.

At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.

"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."

Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."

As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.

> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."

> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.

> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--

> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."

> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.

> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."

Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.

That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:

Oh, God.

Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.

It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.

"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.

He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."

There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."

> "Wha?"

> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.

> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"

> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--

> Wait.

> "Privacy?"

> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.

> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"

> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.

> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."

Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.

Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.

"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.

The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.

As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.

Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.

> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.

> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.

> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.

> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.

> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.

> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--

> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...

> And...

> "Cute."

> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.

> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.

"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.

Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.

Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.

"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."

> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.

> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.

> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.

> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--

> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.

> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?

> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.

> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."

> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.

> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."

> The words come out before he can stop them.

> Goddammit.

Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.

Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.

The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.

The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)

"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."

> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.

> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.

> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.

> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.

> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."

> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.

> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."

> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.

A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.

In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".

Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.

Cute. Fun size.

"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.

This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...

Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.

Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.

"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."

> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.

> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.

> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.

> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"

> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.

> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.

> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.

> He is not a fan.

"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.

The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.

Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.

He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.

> Oh. Oh.

> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.

> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.

> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.

> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--

> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."

> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--

> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."

> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--

> "Uh."

> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.

> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."

Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.

And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.

Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.

"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.

He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.

Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.

"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."

> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.

> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."

> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...

> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.

> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.

> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.

> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."

> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--

> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!

> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."

> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?

> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.

> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."

Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.

Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.

So why did he stop himself?

When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.

Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.

That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.

Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.

Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.

That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.

It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."

> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.

> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.

> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

> Bathing Gordon.

> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."

> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.

> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.

> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."

> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.

> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...

> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--

> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"

Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.

Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"

After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."

> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.

> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.

> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.

> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.

> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.

> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.

> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.

> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.

> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.

"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.

It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.

That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.

Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.

Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.

After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."

And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.

> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.

> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...

> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.

> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.

> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.

> "Holy shit."

Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."

He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.

Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...

Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)

In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.

He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.

"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.

> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.

> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.

> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.

> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."

> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.

> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"

> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.

> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.

> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."

Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.

On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...

He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.

And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.

But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.

And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.

And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.

He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.

So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,

"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."

> Wait. Was that...?

> Was that admission?

> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.

> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.

> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"

> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.

> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."

> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.

> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."

> A pause.

> "Laugh, please."

Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.

Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.

Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.

"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"

> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.

> Their own secret language of want.

> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.

> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.

> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."

A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.

It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".

"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"

He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.

At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.

"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"

> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.

> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.

> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."

> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.

> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?

> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.

> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"

Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.

"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"

He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--

And--

Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.

"You know," he finishes weakly.

> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"

> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.

> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--

> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.

> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.

> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."

He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.

Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.

Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.

"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.

God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.

Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.

Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!

Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"

As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.

> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...

> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?

> Yeah. He feels wanted.

> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.

> Their game.

> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."

> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.

> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.

> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."

> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.

> His mouth snaps shut.

> Awkward.

Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."

Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.

Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.

But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."

> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."

> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.

> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...

> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."

> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.

> He sounds unconvincing.

> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."

Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.

"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.

The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.

But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.

But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.

> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.

> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.

> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"

> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.

> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.

> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.

> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."

Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.

"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"

> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.

> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.

> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.

> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.

> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.

Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.

"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."

When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.

And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.

And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"

And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.

Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.

Fuck.

> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.

> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.

> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."

> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.

> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.

Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.

When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.

"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"

His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.

His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--

He can't--

Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.

"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"

It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.

> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."

> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.

> Benrey likes to play with his food.

> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.

> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.

> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.

> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.

> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.

> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.

"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.

He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.

"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"

Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to.  Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.

Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.

Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"

He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.

> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.

> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"

> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.

> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.

> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.

> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.

> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.

Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.

It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.

Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.

Oh.

He's hard.

Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.

"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"

Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.

And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.

> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.

> "Huh?"

> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.

> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"

> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.

> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"

> A pause, a laugh.

> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."

Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.

"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.

Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)

And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

⟟ finally had Time to read the new Chapter! WEEE and ⟟ was so excited about it ^w^. ⟟ always say it bur still great chapter <3 Damn 18 Chapters Already that's sick ngl /pos. ⟟ love the new information we got and Chase being Facinated over make-up made me laugh xD.

idk if you could do it but maybe Like write ⏃  one-shot where Chase Trys out make-up but miserably Fails and the Others just laugh about it, you don't need to do it ofc! You're not forced or anything Just thought about it as ⏃ small funny idea.

Alright Back to the Fanfiction again. The new information we got is very useful for them and also for us Because now we and they know more about the king, ⟟ have ⏃ littel Feeling That maybe soon the king will Get Jair Back to him or have ⏃ small encounter With him in his mind or idk in the kingdom in like ⏃ very late time where Jair Just decided he needs some fresh air and goes for ⏃ walk at lets say 2am in the morning where the whole kingdom is asleep and you only hear the owls and birds. And I'm drifting of again oof okay now I'm really going back to the Main plot. Again the information we got is useful for them and us, Side note ⟟ like how Chase Character is Envolving? ⟟ hope ⟟ did write it correct. What ⟟ mean with that ⟟ like how Chase is Building up more Self courage to do things like break into ⏃ strangers Room, hanging around with Marvin, Jackie, schneep and all the others at the Dragonbone really gave him some Motivation That he dosen't needs to be afraid of things. Jairsolas Still needs ⏃ bit of time because he just got free out of King Anti's Grip but yet is still very much afraid of him. And Yeah :> ⟟ think that's all ⟟ wanted to say, ⟟ wanted to write something for Marvin also but ⟟ forgot what ^^" uhhh yee.

It wouldn't let me post this in the comments because my comment is to long TwT ⟟ hope ⟟ can ask this in the question box if not ⟟ guess ⟟ have to do this separately.

Hope you did drink and eat something today! Also hope you looked into the mirror and said "Damn I'm looking fabulous today" because you are fabulous ^^)>♡ sending positive vibes over to you and ⏃ magic Day/Night/Evening for you to have

With Greetings: Hunter Your Old Chap 😉

Ayyy Hunter, good to see you again. Glad you liked the last Fantasy Masks chapter! Sorry for not getting to your ask right away, I was offline.

Anyway, I love how you're imagining more based on the story, like Chase figuring out makeup and a possible future confrontation between JJ and the King. It's so cool to hear about people thinking about my work beyond the chapters itself ^-^ I will give no spoilers for the future, haha. Though I don't write one-shots as often as I used to, I will keep that idea filed away just in case I get the time to. And yeah, I'm trying to have Chase and all the other characters evolve over time—give them character arcs and stuff. I'm proud of Chase so far :) And JJ, too, though he still has a ways to go before he's fully free of the King and the King's effects on him.

I did eat and drink, I just had dinner actually! Thank you for calling me fabulous, too. Right back at you, and you have a good day/night/evening too :)

[moons-among-distant-stars]

AAAAAA HII :D :D :D

THIS IS THE BEST BLINDING GIFT OH MY GOSH!!!

I WAS ACTUALLY SO YIPEE SEEING THIS!!! :DDD

I WONDER WHY???? UGH THATS BLINDING TERRIBLE /POS!!

Collette? Leonce?? Lucien?? are these OCs???? please please please tell me about them :D :D :D

UGH HOW COULD YOU!!! HE'S A SHEEP NOT A SHEPARD

(i'm rocking back and forth)

like ugh.. thats so.. fuck.. ofc he only takes of them cause odile told him too T-T and like ofc he gets other ppl he trusts to do it because that's easier than doing it himself (but he probably feels terrible about it and i imagine him apologizing all the time about how dirty or messed up they are)

ugh sorry im still thinking about siffrin being a sheep, im actually so normal about this, stars...

IM GONNA BE SICK!!!! cause that's their last connection to home and the last thing they wanna do is sever that!! even if it's causing them so much pain and upset it's the last thing they have that connects them to home (this is how loop views sif too) (what who said that)

FLUF! gets shaken around yaaaay yayayaya :D :D happy!! sif getting their other wish!! yaaay!! also yesyesyes loop would sooner loop again than willingly ask for help, esp not for something about home yesyesyes, they so would just steal all of sif's wardrobe "~well we're the same size stardust~"

16.... that's so young... :D :D :D yesyesyes siffrin adoption im so here for this!! ya universe only knows they need a guardian sometimes.. someone to actually help them and be responsible... esp when they can't bring themselves to do basic stuff.. HE'S SO REAL FOR THAT!! i too would stick like glue to my parents' hips!

i'll blinding cry T-T siffrin actually having a last name T-T so he actually does have a family... he does have someone to go home to

T-T

SIFFRIN AVELINE!!! AAA I LOVE IT!!! it's so fricking cute!!! it suits him.. (also i wonder if leonce helped him pick out siffrin)

yes!! please!! also siffrin (once he remembered lol) would guard that secret to his grave!! he would not let ANYONE know that he has a last name!! he would try so hard keep that under wraps (for like a week lets be honest), it would probably either be leonce legal-naming him like that or siffrin like remembers post loops and goes OH!!! and then eventually caves after refusing to tell them (because we don't keep secrets anymore), but then will not come out from his cloak

(also imagine isa being silly and mira or odile walks in on him muttering isabeau aveline trying out how it sounds, or he writes like mr and mr(?) aveline in his journal that bonnie finds)

UGH NO!! i mean ofc... ofc he'd forget... he forgot so much... but stars.... thats so... T-T

YAYAYAY ofc odile knows!! ya and isa is just too close to sif not to notice the way he looks at her...

also i love the idea of mira, like months after sif remembers and both odile and isa realize, is just sitting at camp and gets up like

IS LEONCE YOUR MOM SIFFRIN?????

and sif's just like lol ya :3

hehehehehe i love them so much

thank you v v v much for this ramble :D:D:D it actually made me yippee i loved reading through it and learning more about this!! i desperately need to find the time to read these fics, like i need to so bad!!

also also also please please tell me about these OCs!!! i wanna hear it all!!! okay okay also how do you pronounce aveline (like is it a-va-lan or?)?? also also you said that the king has wings too (cause islander) are they also big?? and they're the same shade as sif's??? are they?? related?? or is it just cause island?? and sif doesn't know??? (also does euphrasie have wings? i know some ppl think she's an islander, which i do really like, don't think cannon but like it near)

also! if you know! what is siffrin's wing routine! like how does he take care of his wings! (or get other ppl to take care of them lol) does he brush them out? like w/ a really soft brush? does he like groom his feathers? like picking out all the gung and stuff? does he have to molt? :OOO does he?? could the party get some of his feathers??!?!?! would he let them??? also does loop have wings? or did they get zapped in the star transformation? are they star wings made out of zappies?

anyways thank you so much for this gift!!! this is so freaking cool!!! i do not have a gift for you right now!! but i will think on it!! cause a gift as wonderful as this must be reciprocated!!!

HELLO HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE @moons-among-distant-stars I COMR WITH A PRESENT.

OTC/DEISY RAMBLING!

im not warning for spoilers because im too tired to do that LMAOO but im putting most of this under the read more

So i saw one of ur reblogs to my reblog of ur reblog (a lot of reblog there) and i was like. Im gonna ramble again!! Mostly ab Sif’s wings!! So ya!!

No, Siffrin does not like his wings. They view them as a burden, as he can’t use them to fly, glide, or anything, and for other reasons. One of those being the fact that it’s a connection to the King, as he has wings too. But, it’s also not just with the fact that they’re just there, no, it’s also appearance wise. Their wings have shades suspiciously close to the shades the King’s wings once were before he was frozen in time. I WONDER WHY!! bats my eyes at you aggressively

Siffrin has trust problems when it comes to his wings, too. He’s so ashamed of them that he doesn’t let anyone outside his family see them, and even then that’s iffy on some days. Only a select few can even touch their wings without asking, those people being Isabeau, Loop, Colette, Léonce and Lucien.

Due to this hatred for his wings, Siffrin hardly takes care of them on some days. The only reason he does on most days is because Odile told him to, and Siffrin’s a sheep most of the time, not a shepherd (ouch, sorry Siffrin… LMAO). And when they don’t want to, then Léonce and/or Loop help him with it.

Sure, Isabeau thinks Siffrin’s wings are very cute, and yeah, it helps a little, but it doesn’t fix Siffrin’s insecurity and loathing of them. Siffrin’s self-hatred runs very deep, but, if you want a good side, it doesn’t run so deep that Siffrin would consider getting rid of them. That’d be severing one of the last links he has to his home, and that’s the last thing they want to do.

A. TIME FOR FLUFF!! Grabs you by the shoulders. Since Siffrin has wings, that means that normal clothing… really wouldn’t work for him. Before the events of IBaS,iTaT!ISAT, Siffrin stuck with cutting wing holes into his shirts, but after the loops, Isabeau began helping Siffrin with that, so now, most of Siffrin’s shirts and such are made by Isabeau. Isabeau has offered to do the same for Loop but Loop very quickly denied it and said they’re fine and they don’t need anything when they can steal from Siffrin. Which… is true. They do that sometimes LMAO.

Im giving you more fluff to balance out the angst. I did some thinking a few days ago and decided THIS!!!: Siffrin washed up in Vaugarde at 16 and Léonce found him (already canon) - they very very likely legally adopted him (translation: she did) since he was a child at the time and yk that child needed a guardian, (and fuck, sometimes he still does have you SEEN the stuff he gets into sometimes?) and well, they stuck to her like glue. Léonce’s last name is Aveline, and by proxy, that became Siffrin’s last name. So, technically, Siffrin does have a last name, which is Aveline. I really need to write a scene where Léonce full-names Siffrin in a tone of an annoyed mom 💀 (“SIFFRIN AVELINE.” LMAOO)

Due to the loops, Siffrin totally forgot about this until he went to Kaia with the party. Then he remembered. He has yet to even bring it up with the rest of the group but Odile has pieced things together based on observations of how Léonce treats Siffrin god awfully like a child of her own… so has Isabeau… but the others remain unknowing LOL

OKAY END OF YAP. IF U HAVE ANY QUESTIONS SURROUNDING THIS AU PLS PLS PLS ASK ME I WANT TO YAP MORE.

[dreamsclock]

Haha, hey you remember that incredibly angsy ask I sent you about Sam finding Dream's stash of secret dirt that you wrote an absolutely devestating fic out of? So I may have. possibly. thought up an even angstier alternate ending ahaha.

So, y'know the Four Fs? Y'know how people respond to danger with Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn or some combination of? And which response you have, as instinctual and uncontrollable as it is, is what will ultimately decide your fate? I was thinking about that as I sent that ask and it occurred to me that Dream was quite lucky that he'd responded the way he had. He'd frozen, he'd fawned, he'd been just non-threatening enough that Sam had time to assess the situation. Wow, wouldn't it be awful if he hadn't been so nice and compliant :)

Dream panics when he sees Sam, furious, in full netherite, storming towards him. He takes a step back, heart pounding. Sam says something but all he can hear past the haze of terror is the anger in his tone, the sound of Sam's sword unsheathing, the heavy footsteps getting closer and closer and-

And Dream runs. He stumbles back, darts for the exit, barely keeping out of Sam's range. He runs through the forest, frantic and desperate, not knowing where to go except /away/. He's good at running, always has been, since he was a kid playing at being hunted by his friends. But this wasn't a Manhunt. Back then his bones didn't ache and his hands didn't tremble and when he was cornered, on two hearts, with a sword to his neck, he didn't go cold with the realisation that he was about to die.

Sam keeps his sword trained on Dream's throat even as he watches the fight die in his eyes. There's no satisfaction in it, just the trembling relief that he stoped this before it was too late. His heart is still racing from the few terrifying seconds where he thought Dream had escaped, that Dream would be free to fulfil whatever awful plan he'd made and that Sam would be responsible for whatever followed. The fear and the guilt turn to anger. He digs his sword into Dream's neck, just a little, just to see him flinch. Sam should kill him. For one awful second, Sam /wants/ to and feels sick at himself for it.

Sam takes Dream back to the prison, alive, makes sure Dream knows this is a mercy. He leaves Dream to rot in his cell and takes away his visitation privilages, indefinitely. Sam stumbles home, exhausted, and collapses into bed. He curls up with Fran and tries not to think about the pale, hopeless terror on Dream's face.

It's not until the next day that Sam remembers the room full of chests. He realises that he should probably confiscate Dream's equipment, though there's little rush now that Dream's locked safely away in Pandora's Vault. It takes until the afternoon for Sam to work up the energy to deal with Dream's stuff but eventually he sets to work searching the chests for dangerous items.

But there's nothing there. Sam searches every chest twice, he even digs into the walls looking for hidden chests, but all he finds is harmless junk. As he's starting to realise what actually happened his communicator buzzes. He knows what it says before he opens it, he'd been brushing off the notifications all day but something cold settles over him as he reads them now.

Dream tried to swim in lava

Dream tried to swim in lava

Dream tried to swim in lava

anon. ANON. how dare you literally break my heart i am simultaneously in love and in hate with this /pos

this is SO GOOD holy shit ,, god, sam and dream both really need therapy ,,,

[initiumseries]

Lol when i was a teenager, I used to think Tom Scavo was a cool father. I'm not a big fan of Lynette, but I felt so sad for her when Tom implied she wasn't attractive enough because of her sickness. Stuff like this happened a lot IRL. Why I hated so much Lynette and Tom? Because they were too damn realistic.

Oh man! I'm not there yet but I do know that later on Lynette does get cancer. And the statistics on men leaving their wives when they get illness in real life is ABYSMAL. This is just a quick grab from an article:

NEW YORK (Reuters Life!) - Women are six times more likely to end up separated or divorced if they are diagnosed with cancer or multiple sclerosis than if their male partners were facing the same illness, according to a U.S. study.

The study confirmed earlier research of a divorce or separation rate among cancer patients of 11.6 percent, similar to the general population, but found the rate jumped to 20.8 percent when the woman was sick versus 2.9 percent when the man was ill.

“Female gender was the strongest predictor of separation or divorce in each of the patient groups we studied,” said Marc Chamberlain, director of the neuro-oncology program at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA).

So basically Tom's behaviour, like you said was really realistic, and I can totally see how, as a teen, Tom could seem cool, because he is positioned this way on the show, like because he's a more involved Dad than the other fathers who are basically completely negligent and absent (Even when they're sharing a house, looking at you Rex), and because he doesn't openly despise Lynette, he's framed as the Good Husband. But he's just as garbage as the others, because he does shit like make major financial decisions that impact the entire family, unilaterally because that's what HE wants, or he shames Lynette for being better than him at work, demanding she be smaller so he can feel like The Man, or how he hides shit from her. He's just a pos lol. And because Lynette is always breaking herself in two trying to keep him placated, she becomes hard to like as well. It's all just...ugh. I hate Tom, and I dislike watching them together because nothing every changes. Tom pouts, Lynette apologizes, and tries to make him feel better. We never just call Tom the pathetic bitch he is and let him figure it out lol. At least not where I am anyway, and I'm not looking forward to watching that scene. :(

[hearth4days]

pls tell us about project sekai we see you guys post about it all the time but all we know is vocaloid rythme game + Tsukasa is a person who exists and probably sings?

so any sort of interesting plot stuff or just weird fun facts would be much appreciated

I put stars next to the people I can elaborate on if anyone cares 👀

(Tsukasa is indeed a person who exists and sings <33333 he is my blorbo)

Okay so the basic premise of the game (story-wise, gameplay-wise it's basically just a standard rhythm game) is that if a person or group of people have strong enough feelings, it makes like a parallel universe called a Sekai. A Sekai is basically like a manifestation of their feelings, and it has vocaloids in it that act like therapists. The story follows five bands and their Sekais.

Leo/Need

I have never seen a L/N fan

Their music style is rock, and they follow a school theme. Also stars

The basic synopsis of their story is that they were friends as kids but grew apart since Saki (blonde girl and Tsukasa's sister) got sick, and now they want to be friends again and start a band

Members include Ichika (black hair, she's such a flat character I cannot think of a single thing about her personality), Saki (very bubbly, her whole character is basically I'm Not Sick Anymore Let's Do Stuff), Shiho (grey hair, absolute bitch), and Honami (brunette, people pleaser)

More More Jump!

Nobody likes them either lmao

Their music is basically just. Cutesy pop shit?

The leader of their group wants to be an idol, so she works together with idols who quit for one reason or another to make a new idol group

Members include Minori (redhead, aspiring idol, very clumsy), Haruka (blue hair, Minori's favorite idol, idk I think she has self esteem issues??), Airi (pink hair, tsundere), and Shizuku (light blue hair, Shiho's sister, very dumb)

Vivid Bad Squad ⭐

They're the gayest bitches here, everyone likes them

Their music style is "street music" which I disagree with but w/e

They want to host a music event that's cooler than a different fictional music event. More importantly, two lesbians get together, team up with two gays, and then the gays break up and cry for several chapters before getting back together. Every story they have is about the lesbians supporting each other or the gays supporting each other. As bros though

Members include Kohane (blonde girl, new to the music scene and a bit shy), An (black and blue haired girl, every wlw loves her, very confident), Akito⭐ (orange and yellow hair, bitch but in a loving way this time), and Touya⭐ (he looks like Shouto Todoroki, very autistic, daddy issues <3)

Wonderland x Showtime ⭐

Definitely the most popular group

Theatre kids <3

A bunch of gay people want to help Emu (pink hair) keep her grandfather's theme park going, so they form a theatre troupe. Their main antagonist is their various mental illnesses and capitalism

Members include Tsukasa⭐ (blonde boy, scrungly, definitely has NPD and autism/pos, forgot most of his childhood because trauma, makes looking after his sister his entire personality, loud bitch, omg), Emu (very peppy, imagine Pinkie Pie is a high schooler), Nene (green haired girl, gamer, has social anxiety, another tsundere), and Rui⭐ (purple and blue hair, social outcast, very into robots and explosions)

Nightcord at 25:00 ⭐

Nightcord being Discord and 25:00 being 1 am. Which. Mood. My favorite unit

They get the #broken music <3

A bunch of depressed teenagers form an online band, and now they're attached and are trying to cure each others' mental illnesses through the power of codependency and love

Members include Kanade⭐ (white hair, autism personified, savior complex), Mafuyu⭐ (purple hair, gifted kid syndrome, also very autistic), Ena⭐ (brown hair, pspspsps Seth you wanna kin her so bad /hj, has an inferiority complex, another tsundere, Akito's sister), and Mizuki⭐ (pink hair, basically canon transfemme 😳, stop repressing your emotions bbgirl)