#im still shaking and im starting to feel a bit sick like im actually sweating. im getting like fight or flight. idk why im so scared of thj

[loserboy-futterman]

-Peetas sick-

Peeta Mellark x Gn!Reader

No warnings!! Only fluff and rusty writing!!

You woke up to the cold winter morning biting at your skin, making you pull the thick duvet over yourself more. You grumbled at the morning light and turned in bed to find Peeta still asleep next to you. Peeta was usually an early riser, especially after the Games. But today he was sleeping in more than you were.

You sat up and stretched your stiff muscles, trying to decide if you should wake peeta up or not. You decide to let him rest but kiss his forehead before you go. The second your lips touched his skin, it felt like you got burned. You pulled back, frowning down at Peeta as you place your hand on his face, checking his temperature. The boy was burning up and sweating, causing you to worry your lip.

Peeta shuffled around and started to stir before he opened his eyes and looked up at you. He smiled softly at you and kept the blankets pulled up close around him.

"Good morning darling." Peeta finished with a few dry coughs and you knew he was officially sick.

You brushed the sweaty blonde bangs off his forehead and smiled down at him. "Morning love... How are you feeling?"

Peeta closed his eyes and seemed to think about his answer for a moment. "I-im okay. Just a little hot is all." He sat up and you could see in his glassy brown eyes, he immediately regretted it.

"Peeta, you're sick." You state, gently pushing his shoulder so he'll lay back down. "Just stay in bed and I'll go make breakfast." You kiss his forehead and hope he actually rests but with the way he fidgets and looks to you, it seems he won't.

"Can I come with?" Peeta asks innocently, giving you his signature puppy dog eyes, making it impossible to say no.

"Of course my love." You kissed his cheek before getting up and padding your way to the kitchen. Peeta followed close behind, wrapped in a granny square blanket and looking worse for wear. You started by making some hot tea while peeta sat down at the kitchen table, laying his head down as his hazy eyes followed you around the kitchen.

Once the kettle sang, you poured peeta his tea and set it beside him. He gave you a sleepy smile before sipping the hot drink, humming as it soothed his throat. "Thank you." He grabbed your wrist gently to pepper the inside with kisses.

You kissed the top of his head and went back to start making breakfast. Usually, you and Peeta would make meals together, him always making the bread or pastries while you did the meal. Peeta watched you move around the kitchen with a small pout of him face. Soon he stood and hobbled over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and burying his head in your neck.

"I can make cinnamon buns." He rasped out, looking over your shoulder at the sizzling bacon. You smile at him and shake your head.

"You need rest Peeta. Just relax." You can feel his fevers still pretty bad and you make a mental note to see Prim after breakfast for medicine.

Peeta sighs heavily but doesn't fight you, only keeping close as you make breakfast. Once your done, peeta pokes at for a while before pushing it aside. Frowning softly and looking paler than usual. He gives you a half grin in a silent apology for not eating.

"Don't worry about it, let's just get you laying down." You mumble, helping him lay down and bundle up under the blankets. Once you get him settled you, you start getting ready to head to Katniss' house but peeta stops you.

"You're leaving?" He asks softly, concerned and confused. A small pout on his pink lips.

"I'll be back, I promise. I just need to run across the street."

Peeta grabs your wrist and frowns up at you. "Stay? Just for a bit?"

You think for a moment and decide to give in to your sick boyfriend. How could you not? You kick off your shoes and slip behind peeta on the couch, nuzzling into the back on his neck.

"Mm, you're warm." Peeta hummed softly. It amazed you he was cold considering his fever. You wrapped your arms around peeta and pulled him close to your chest so he could be warmer. "Thank you for taking care of me... I.. Ive never really had anyone..." Peeta trailed off his thoughts and his eyes closed softly. It was clear he was exhausted. You kissed his neck as he drifted off to sleep in your arms.

[smolla-than-a-bug]

Can you do an dominic x reader where reader sided with dominic during the tree trial?, reader ended up dying first protecting dominic from an attack and dominic went berserk after seeing his s/o killed in front of him, then in his last moments he crawled to his s/o to die beside her while holding her.....

I just love angst and sad endings im so sorry

to have and to hold

—dominic villaceran x reader

navi | trese m.list

content — fem!reader, fluff (a lil bit) to angst, blood, descriptions of violence, maj character death

notes — angst and sad endings?? don’t apologize honey i’m all up for that 🤩 thank you for requesting! i enjoyed writing this a lot actually i hope u like it AHAHA

The sun felt so nice on your skin.

Its prickly warmth was a stark contrast to the coastal breeze. Santorini was a good pick for your honeymoon. The weather was just right; you could wear a sundress and still feel fresh, without fear of ending up sweating buckets or enduring the annoying chafing of your thighs.

You thought back to this morning, when your now-husband had helped you rub shea butter all over your body after a nice, relaxing bath in the tub. The light of the day reminded you that you were alive. As you feel the prickling heat piercing your skin, you smile as the current position of the sun behind Dominic made it look like there was a halo on his head. You're so lucky to be able to sit across from him, sipping on fine wine as baskets of fruit and several Greek delicacies are served for breakfast.

"You think your mom's still pissed we didn't have an actual wedding?" Dominic asked, popping a grape into his mouth.

He doesn't actually care what your mom thinks as long as he knows you're happy—you know this. Back when he proposed to you, he'd asked if you wanted a big wedding or a simple one. You had answered with neither, unwilling to spend a ridiculous sum of money for just one night. An expensive honeymoon trip with the love of your life was very much the better option. “She’ll get over it,” you say.

"It's a shame we never exchanged vows in a fancy cathedral though."

"Oh?" you smirked. "You didn't like the dingy courthouse setting? I thought it was rather rustic."

Dominic snorted, shaking his head.

"Did you want us to be wed at an actual church? I wouldn't have minded, you know."

Dominic thought for a moment, setting his glass down. "I already told you I didn't really care for a traditional wedding." And he didn't, truthfully. In his mind, the sooner his last name was made yours, the better. He just couldn't wait to be able to finally call you his wife and spend forever with you. "But I did hope we'd have a more... romantic place to exchange rings, say our vows."

He did have a point there. In the courthouse, there were no tears shed behind a veil. There were no pews decorated with flowers or filled with people wiping their eyes with handkerchiefs. An organ didn't play music in the background. Doves were not released overhead. In its place, there was the blinking light of a faulty lightbulb, Monobloc chairs, and the smell of a sterilized room.

Despite that, you wouldn't have changed how things were even if you had the chance, for you saw no need for it. So you reached for your husband's hand across the table. "What if we exchanged vows again right now?" You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the view you’re blessed with, surrounded by the whitewashed, cube-shaped buildings adorned with blue accents and colorful plants that the island of Santorini is known for. "You said you wanted a romantic setting! Look around you, my love. What place is more romantic than right here?"

Dominic pursed his lips, fixing your clasped hands so they intertwined together. "A bit cheesy, but alright."

"I take you, Dominic, to be my husband,” you started, “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part."

In all honesty, you thought it would be a bit funny, but as more words left your mouth, you started to mean them more seriously rather than merely poking fun at tradition. After all, vows are meant to be taken to heart for life. If there’s anything you’re serious about, it’s loving Dominic.

And as he recited his own vows (again), you smile because there’s nowhere you’d rather be than by his side. You’d follow him anywhere. It didn’t matter what happened as long as you could be with him.

For a while, you let your words simmer in the salty breeze, absorbing the promises you'd repeated as if it were the first time.

“You think we should have just written our own vows?”

You hum, nodding absentmindedly.

When you did meet his eyes, you were met with a million words, a million promises to you that never needed to be said aloud but would have him bound to you regardless—for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and for the rest of your lives.

Loving Dominic completed you more than words could encompass. In this cold, mechanical world, he’s the one you found warmth in. He spreads that feeling throughout your body and spirit every time he called you his love or his darling, every time he looked at you, every time he held you close. He was your missing puzzle piece, and you’d do just about whatever it took to keep your love whole.

Dominic found himself chastising the sun.

It was the middle of the day, so the temperature was at its peak. The glare of the sun was obstructing his view as if the beads of sweat rolling past his eyebrows weren’t already doing enough of that—or were those tears?

He was struggling to process anything at this point. As he recklessly maneuvered his body and slashed at whatever came his way, he thought of the events leading up to that moment. It was only this morning that he put on soft music and hugged you from behind, lightly swaying you side to side while he pressed lingering kisses on your neck and shoulder.

Those same parts of your body now were leaking blood. The scratches on your neck and shoulder along with the big pool of blood around your abdomen was the only thing he could see from where he was, and it consumed him with panic. That panic quickly spread through his brain, and consumed him with shock, leaving him with a ringing in his ears and unable to determine how to act next to killing every thing that breathes or moves within his sight.

He had to get to you somehow—fast—and the only way his body let him do that was to make a pathway of bodies on the floor until he could reach you, feel you, and most importantly, make sure you’re still warm and breathing. He thought he heard someone screaming in the distance, but the straining in his throat made him soon realize that it was him.

He never even realized the injuries he’s sustained until he fell on his knees beside your limp body that, despite your paling complexion, still somehow glows under the light of day.

“Y/N.” He rarely calls you by your name, shakily reaching for your hand. He feels a soft thumping when he presses two fingers to your wrist. It’s faint, but it’s still there and that’s more than what he could ask for right now. “Please, my love,” he begs, weakly, “open your eyes.”

Your lack of response brought a searing pain in his chest. If only you’d show him your beautiful, lively eyes just one more time. Please.

To his relief, a labored breath left your chapped lips as you struggled to blink your eyelids open. You tried to speak but he was quick to shush you. “No, no… save your strength.”

As you lay there on the dirty ground, you held onto the heat prickling at your skin to remind you that you still had a sliver of life in your vessel.

Dominic’s gaze is lost on you, knowing that of all the years he's lived, the best decision he's ever made was marrying you. Of course, he’s already long realized this, but somehow it hits him much harder how lucky he is that you chose to love him.

Your love was gentle, tender, and giving—never demanding and never expecting. You willingly gave yourself to him out of your own free will because you wanted to show him what he meant to you. Through the years, you'd shown him parts of you that you'd kept reserved, made him feel loved, appreciated, wanted. He’d forever be grateful to the gods for the time he was given to be with you for as long as he has, though he couldn’t help but wish that you’d been given more.

But he couldn’t do much about it now, especially with his growing difficulty in breathing the longer he sat upright, so he slumped down in the rubble with you, lifting your body to rest between his legs so he could hold you as you go.

A familiar warm sensation blooms within you, and you feel at peace. In attempt to make up for the words your body lacked the strength to let you say, you put all your remaining effort into squeezing his hand that was desperately clutching yours, if only to let him know that you were there. You were still with him.

With that one gesture, Dominic knows everything you’re trying to say—a reiteration of the millions of promises you’d kept for one another, gratitude for the time you’d spent together, and grief for all that could have been.

He feels you taking your final breath. A final goodbye lingers in the air as your spirit leaves this world. He thinks he can hear you teasing him with the words ‘I’ll see you in the next life.’ With tears running down his cheeks, he struggles to press one last kiss on your head.

His body feels heavier with each second that passes, and he knows it’s a matter of time before he leaves the world too. His vision begins to darken until he can see nothing. The ringing in his ears fade, and the last thing he feels is the weight of your cold body on his, as opposed to the prickling hot sun of the afternoon, but it’s all fading into nothing now too.

He smiles.

I’m right behind you, my love.

© smolla-than-a-bug, 2021. please do not copy or repost my works. reblogs are appreciated!

trese tag list — @lumpiang-toge @binibiningbabaylan @marinac15 @effmigentlywithachainsaw

[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.

[takesomet]

The Gift */F (NSFW. Remote tickling and edging)

He was going away again. A week this time. She understood of course but it was becoming more frequent. It paid the bills but she knew how much she was going to miss him. Their marriage wasn't in doubt but it was missing the intamcy they had once enjoyed. She just wanted him. She wanted everything about him. She still remembers the date where he confessed about his ‘weird’ kinks. That was the day she knew she was going to marry him.

He had kissed her goodbye in a way that made her a tingle from head to toe. He would be back soon, he said. He would make it up to her. He promised. She waved the car goodbye and sighed. A week was too long. At least she had work to kill the time. She remembered the first time they slept together after he revealed his kinks. How he hungered for her feet and how he tickled her toes. God. She loved him so much.

After coffee she went into the bedroom to get ready. She didn't even see it at first, her mind was so preoccupied on how long this week would be. She first saw it in her mirror. A white box with a pink bow was laid out on the bed. Attached with tape was a note:

My dearest Georgia,

I am so sorry that i’m leaving you again. Please know that what I do is for the benefit of everyone and for us. Still, I will miss you so much. To say sorry I have left you a gift. The boys at RnD think this could be the future. I want you to wear it today at work.

I love you.

X

Opening the box she wondered what on earth could be inside, Her husband worked in tech ‘focussing on nano elements’ whatever that meant. What she found was not what she expected. Black lingerie. Black slick panties, black bra and matching stockings and suspenders. I mean they were very nice. Just not what she expected. She re-read the letter, she searched the box, that was it. Well they were gorgeous. She put them on, fitted better than she thought, and they felt amazing. She looked at herself in the mirror. The lingerie added to her beautiful frame. Buxom and auburn haired and she looked like a temptress. She needed to move quickly or she would be late. She found a nice dress and heels and headed up to work.

Work wasn’t too exciting, a lot of paperwork, a lot of sitting and some gossiping with her colleagues. She shared a department with 12 other workers. Each had a desk that looked out a window. It was nice enough but today work was slow. Her phone buzzed.

Hubby:

ARE YOU AT WORK?

Me:

YEAH. SLOW DAY HAHA

Hubby:

YOU WEARING MY GIFT?

Me:

YEAH. DIDN’T EXPECT THAT. YOU’RE CUTE.

Hubby:

JUST YOU WAIT…

Me:

HUH?

No reply.

She thought nothing of it and continued working. And then it started. A gentle buzz, at her soles.

‘What the?’

The stockings on her soles had started to lightly buzz. She stifled a giggle. She looked at her shoes. Nothing out of the ordinary. The buzzing continued, her feet were so sensitive! She bit her lip, frantically she kicked off her shoes. There was nothing on her feet other than the stockings. The buzzing still going.

‘mmmhahhehemmmm’

‘Everything ok Georgia?’ Someone piped up.

‘Imhehehe fine.’ She quickly replied.

Her phone now buzzed. She picked it up.

Hubby:

SUPRISE :)

Me:

WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?

Hubby:

I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, I GAVE YOU SOME OF THE LATEST IN NANITE TECHNOLOGY :)

Me:

WHAT?!

Hubby:

THE GUYS TELL ME THAT YOU SHOULD BE FEELING LIKE A VIBRATION, OR A BUZZING SENSATION. THE CLOTHES YOU ARE WEARING HAVE TINY NANITES IN THEM. THEY ARE CONTROLLED REMOTELY BY ME. THEY EMIT PULSES AND CHARGE ANYWHERE I SEND THEM. WHICH KNOWING HOW SENSITIVE YOU ARE SHOULD BE PRETTY UNBEARABLE FOR YOU.

She could feel the sensations move around het sole. She kept her feet soft and pampered, just the way he liked, and now he was using this sensitivity against her. It tickled so bad.

Me:

BUT DARLIN’ IM AT WORK!

Hubby:

I KNOW. I LOVE YOU.

The buzzing lept and crawled all over my bare feet. She tried to scrunch my soles on the carpet but it was no use. It was like having tickly ants crawl all over my feet. They had begun to work their magic on my toes now. She was shaking.

‘muhhhmmmmmmmhhhemmm’

‘Are you sure you’re all right Georgia’ another colleague asked.

‘HMhhhhmmm im finnneee. Just haheread a funny joke ahhe.’ she replied.

‘oh ok…’ came the response. It was probably best to leave her alone.

Get a hold of yourself Georgia, she tried to reason with herself. It’s just a little tickling, calm down. But it wasn’t just a little tickling. It was a lot. Both her soles were being tickled mercilessly, mechanically by her husband abroad. They buzzed and they tickled up and down her soft feet and her toes wriggled in frustration as they couldn’t escape their torment.

Suddenly the sensation stopped. She breathed deep. Maybe the batteries had run out? No such luck. She felt a jolt on her nipples. She actually squeaked. More concerned looks from her colleagues. The bra was full of nanites too! She felt the tickles go all around her full breasts, moving and buzzing. Her nipples stiffened in response and buried themselves in the fabric. This left them exposed for tickles. She gasped again and covered her mouth. She wanted to scream. Her face was now a deep crimson. Her tits were exploited. She stamped her feet. She had to hold it in.

Hubby:

HOW’S IT GOING

Me:

FUCKING PLEASE STOP I’M AT WORK PLEASE

Hubby:

I KNOW, I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU GIGGLE IN FRONT OF ALL THOSE PEOPLE. SUCH A NAUGHTY SLUT

Me:

PLEASSSEDDES

Her tits were being played with so expertly. Tickles all around her globes, her nipples ached for more and more they got. The nanites knew every spot and they exploited it. SHe was a mess, sweating and gasping. If anyone came past her cubicle she would be doomed.

The buzzing eased off and then stopped completely. She panted hard. Surely he was done. Her phone lit up.

Hubby:

READY FOR THE MAIN COURSE?

Me:

WTF?! PLEASE NO

Almost immediately she felt it. Her panties came aline. Tickles and vibrations all over her sensitive womanhood. Her pussy lips were stroked and teased. She felt the vibrations move up and down her cunt. Her ass was toyed with too. Every part of her skin that touched the silken panty was teased and tickled. Her clit was erect and wanting, the nanites found it and went to work. They smothered it in teasing tickles, stroking it and coaxing it more. It responded by getting bigger. She almost screamed. Her phone buzzed.

Hubby:

GO TO THE BATHROOM

She leapt up and nearly ran. The pussy tickles didn’t stop. She must of looked drunk. She hurried in and locked the door. She squatted.

ME:

IM HERrre

Hubby:

GOOD.

All three spots now kicked into life. her feet were stroked and tickled. Her toes tormented. She began to laugh, a long and lusty laugh. The nanites worked the backs of her legs and up her thighs. She kicked and squirmed. Her tits now we're being teased again. Her aching nipples craved more and they got more. Vibrations and tickles. It was too much but the nanites didn’t care. Her husband was so cruel. She loved him so much.

Finally her pussy was on fire. The highest setting of tease and tickle. Her clit screamed in torment and she put her hand over her mouth from doing the same. Her pussy throbbed as it was abused for her husband's remote pleasure. This drove her wild. It was sending her closer to the edge.

‘He’s not going to make me cum in here like a whore is he?’ she said to noone but her mind.

They were relentless, they were merciless, they had her gasping and screaming, Her body felt used and she loved it. The maddening tickles all over her body. She writhed and moaned and began to rip off her dress. She imagined her husband jacking off to this. She loved him so much.

She was getting closer and closer. The nanites sensed this and picked up the pace. It felt like she was going to pass out. her orgasm was building.

It hit her hard. She screamed, they continued. She thrashed, they didn’t care. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She kicked and bucked. She felt her pussy pulsate. She screamed again.

The nanites stopped.

It took her 5 minutes before she moved. She reached for her phone.

Hubby:

YOU WILL TELL THEM YOU’RE SICK. YOU WILL DRIVE HOME. YOU WILL LIE ON THE BED. AND YOU WILL NOT MOVE. UNDERSTAND?

Me:

YES.

She moved quickly. She made her excuses. They were worried about her. She assured them it was just a bug. She got into the car and she drove home.

And she had the best week of her life.

The End.

[sako-mii]

Hi!!!! Can I have a Tokyo revengers (male) matchup please ❤️

She/her straight

Personality: I am very empathetic, always trying to keep the people around me happy (even if I'm not in the end) I hate disappointing people so I can over work myself sometimes. Mostly I am kind and polite, but a I get very sassy moments (I can also be very sarcastic). Im also kind of reserved when I first meet someone and it can take me awhile to show my fun, goofy, happy side to them

Aquarius, infj

I like reading books, writing, listening to music (mostly kpop). I also like to go exploring like in the forest or even abandoned places I also love cooking and baking (more so baking tbh)

sometimes I stop in the middle of talking because I think I talk to much (I've been told many times that I do so I just try not to really talk in a way)i play with my hands a lot, I have a really high pitched (idk sorta cute?) sneeze, I can be very clumsy (I literally tripped on air once😂) when I do something scary my hands shaky after I've done the scary thing (if that makes any sense)

I'll assign you...

Baji Keisuke

You were asked by the teachers to help him study. At first glance, he looked like a nerd and you wondered why he needs help because nerds are supposed to be smart

You realized why he needed help as soon as you started tutoring him. He was really bad. But he tried his best.

You started to like tutoring him when suddenly he stopped coming to school for days. The teacher said that he's sick but you still were worried.

He came back to school a few days later and you were kinda happy to see him but you didn't want to admit it.

You had to go somewhere and told him that you'd help him study later. As you were leaving, you saw a kinda angry looking blondie walking up to him. But you didn't pay any mind and walked away so you can quickly do your work and meet up with Baji.

You were walking past the school to meet up with Baji for your study session. You suddenly heard some noise and decided to follow. You saw that blondie again getting beaten up. You didn't know what to do until you saw Baji beating up those guys with no sweat.

' He's like a monster...' you thought. It's the first time you saw him this violent and honestly, it scared you a bit.

You tried to avoid him for several days, you didn't know what to say or how to bring it up. Baji asked you why you're avoiding him. You reluctantly told him you saw him fight that day. He was silent but then told you, "if I didn't show them their place, they could have hurt you"

You two had a slow growing love, but he claimed you as his. He would make sure that you feel alright all the time.

You were not so surprised to learn that he's a delinquent, you knew he wasn't a bad guy, the same for his friends.

You had your first date. He was bad at these kinds of stuff that's why his friend, chifiyu, helped him out. It was a nice picnic date. It was actually nice. Although he felt awkward sometimes

He loves it when you get excited over something you love. Sometimes when you suddenly stop mid sentence, he'd say "why did you stop? I like it when you talk like this. It's cute"

He doesn't mind when you get sassy, he kinda likes it. He would probably say something like "as expected from my girlfriend"

He would pat your head or kiss you to show his affection. You would also hug him and he would gladly hug you back.

Being clumsy, you sometimes would take advantage of it. For example, when you two walk home together you'd "accidentally" trip and hold onto his arm (sneaky)

You once showed him your writing and though he didn't understand much he still loved it

He would let you play with his hair from time to time.

When you get scared and shake, he would either hold your hand giving it a light squeeze, or he would hug you from the side, pulling you in, giving you a little pat

Sometimes when he sees you overworking yourself, he'd make you stop and would make sure you've rested and eaten.

He might be a beast but you managed to tame him. He's your beast now

Enjoy your new realm, that's where you'll stay now

[beomglocks]

colors ; k.th

part of the badlands series!

colors: “you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.”

based off halsey’s badlands album.

warnings and other: museum curator!taehyun, old money!y/n, mentions of depression and grass smoking, little bit of angst i guess??

taehyun sighed as he took down the 11th painting this week. the museum hadn't been very busy in the past couple of weeks, maybe because the weather was getting colder. one part of him figured that many people just wanted to be bundled up at home watching holiday themed movies and drinking warm drinks rather than appreciating enchanting artworks.

he couldn't fool himself though, he knew the truth. today's generation didn't care about the fine arts anymore. a shame, seeing as everything around them seemed to be inspired by it.

kang taehyun worked at his local museum. he had been offered the position by the owner one night while roaming the place. this should've been a red flag looking back. the owner seemed desperate for someone to fill in the position since the previous employee had left without notice. nonetheless, taehyun took the job and didn't regret it one bit.

open 24/7, the red haired boy was always working on the clock. not that there was much to do seeing as most of the people his age or even a bit older didn't hang around museums purely for the joy of it. actually, his only job was to exhibit the newly arrived collections, clean and dust them off, and conduct regular tours and workshops for the public. due to this and the fact that not many people even came by he would take regular breaks.

once in a while you'd see the occasional old person or art expertee roaming around the small museum. if you were lucky, you'd see the local edgy teens posing next to a piece they didn't understand just to get an aesthetic picture. taehyun would also have the unfortunate job of shooing them away or scolding them for getting just a bit too close.

recently his boss, who was the museum manager and maybe the only other person besides taehyun that worked there, had informed him that due to funds and unfortunate unforeseen events, the museum would be closing down in about a month from now. this caused taehyun to fall deep into a depression since this was his only job and he loved it here. the museum was like his second home. he found comfort in the silent images displayed throughout the building. they always told him a story and when new pieces came in he would sit and stare attentively at the new anecdote being told to him.

taehyun smiled sadly at the piece he had just taken down. it was a painting of 2 people kissing however both of their faces were covered by white cloths. this was his favorite and he didn't even have a clue as to why. probably because of the uncertainty of what the other was feeling or because of the fact that the other couldn't see each other's faces through the cloth, that would've made the kiss more exciting in his opinion.

he stepped out of the museum and into the frosty air of the outside world. it was only autumn so why was it so cold? he thought to himself. he discreetly pulled out a prerolled blunt and his white lighter from his pocket. he lit it and stuck in between his slightly chapped lips.

maybe smoking dope wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, especially for a boy so young, barely 19, but it helped taehyun get his mind off the inevitably of losing his job and being homeless for the winter. he shuttered at the thought. he would have to room with one of his friends, he sighed shaking his head. no, he didn't want to be a burden, yeonjun had helped him enough as it is.

he looked at his surroundings taking in the cold autumn afternoon. the trees had long lost their leaves and were bare. the sky was a murky gray color as if it were threatening to rain any time soon. he noticed a girl bundled up in winter clothes near the entrance of the building glance at him. he smiled at her and she jumped at the eye contact, thinking that he wouldn't catch her. taehyun chuckled as he watched her rush into the museum. "back to work," he said out loud to himself.

once the blunt had been almost gone, he smoked what was left of it and headed back into the empty museum. he was feeling light-headed, the effects of the blunt finally taking action, but taehyun was used to it so it barely affected him as much.

he made his way to the girl who was now starting to take off her jacket and scarf. taehyun tapped on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. "hi," he smiled at the girl, showing off his dazzling smile. "if you'd like, i could give you a tour of the museum." well what's left of it anyways, he thought to himself.

"oh...no thank you," said the girl. she smiled warmly at the worker. "well not to be invasive of your decision but it's sort of in my job description," taehyun replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. the girl sighed in defeat, "i guess i have no choice then."

taehyun laughed as he took her coat and scarf to hang up in the public closet, "yep, trust me. they say im not that bad of a tour guide, im quite fun to be around if i do say so myself. i promise not to bore you too much." the girl nodded, not entirely convinced. "if i do end up bored i will hold you accountable..." she took a moment to take a peek at taehyun's name tag, "kang taehyun," she joked.

as they walked through the museum the girl couldn't help but notice that it was fairly empty. "why are there almost no paintings in here?" she laughed hesitantly. "i thought this was a museum?" taehyun stopped walking, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

"the museum is expected to close in about a month or so," he stated simply. "oh...that's terrible. may i ask why?" the girl responded. "my boss says we've run out of funds or something like that," taehyun chuckled bitterly. "people don't really give a shit about good art these days anyways."

"that's a shame..."

they continued to look through the various paintings that were still up and occasionally the girl would ask to see the ones that were taken down and left on the floor. it seemed the two were lost in each other's company as night started to approach.

"thank you for the tour of this lovely museum taehyun. it was fun but it's a shame such a nice museum like this is closing down," the girl said softly. taehyun nodded solemnly, he just wanted to get this day over with and crash at his apartment. he didn't blame the girl before him but talking to her reminded him of his harsh reality. a notification coming from the girl's bag made both of them jump as they were both lost in their thoughts.

"ah, that must be my father. he's kind of annoying when it comes to my curfew," she chuckled, digging her phone from her bag. taehyun watched her with a bored expression until his eyes reached her bag. he hadn't noticed this earlier but she had been carrying a louis vuitton bag. his eyes bulged at the expensive item that was so close to him, they got even larger when she fished out the latest iphone from it.

taehyun wasn't poor per se, he had just enough to get by since he was living paycheck to paycheck. however, he had never been in such close proximity to any luxury items. he suddenly felt weird being this close to this girl.

"what do you mean by curfew?" taehyun asks hesitantly. the girl sighs, "my father is one of south korea's richest chaebol's, maybe one of the big three at his point." she rolled her eyes as if this information was nothing. "he's super strict with me because i guess i'm just his show pony daughter whom he can show off to say he's a good father."

taehyun gulped, had he just been casually hanging out with the daughter of one of the richest men in korea? he felt sick at this. she looked up at taehyun's uneasy expression, "oh my god im sorry i just dumped that all on you! i just needed to catch a break so i came here, i didn't mean to drag you into my life story."

taehyun fixes his face, laughing nervously, "no- no its fine really. we all need a break sometimes right? im glad you got to have that time here." the girl smiled up at him, completely misreading his nervous laughter, "im glad i got to spend it here with you taehyun."

"oh before i go!" taehyun watched her pull out a checkbook from her bag and his stomach dropped. he silently watched her scribble some stuff onto the slip and tear it out, handing it to him.

"there's not too much i can take out of my account without my father flipping out but i hope this helps even just a little. whether it be in your personal life or with the museum."

taehyun eyes the check and chokes when he sees 50,000 dollars written neatly on the black line. he swears he can feel sweat going down his face like in the cartoons. "i- i cant possibly take this from you." he moves to hand the check back but the girl refuses to take it back. "taehyun, you love this museum with your entire being. i see the way to look at the paintings and the passion with which you explained them to me. i'd hate to see that taken away."

"plus, if you're gone who's gonna give me the tour when i come back?" she laughs as if this is something casual. taehyun's hands shake as he pockets the check, "i seriously cannot thank you enough...you don't know how much you just helped the museum and m-"

the girls phone dings again and she grumbles, "ugh why can't he just leave me alone. sorry but i think i really gotta go for real before he tracks my location or something crazy like that."

taehyun nods wistfully at the mention of her having to leave. he was really starting to enjoy her company.

"oh by the way," the girl giggles as she pulls her coat on hurriedly.  "was that you smoking weed at the corner of the museum earlier?" the girl chuckled to herself again just remembering it. taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, "why would you say that kind of thing at out loud and at my job?!" he scolded in a playful hushed voice.

"i just thought it was funny and you also smelled of weed the entire tour, i didn't mind though so don't worry," the girl concluded. she was starting to walk away towards out the door now. "i'll walk you out," taehyun offers. "such a helpful employee. is this in the job description too?" the girl jokes, turning to him while a smile on her lips. "well, not exactly," taehyun says smoothly.

she shakes her head, "i'll see you soon taehyun." he watches her walk off into the darkness of the night when he suddenly remembers something.

"hey what's your name by the way?" he shouts after the girl. for some reason taehyun really was hopeful of seeing her again.

"y/n!" came the disembodied voice of the girl he had just met.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Trying to slowly get back to writing so here it is some bitter ... fluff?

Pain

Is quite ironic.

The source of his power being both cut and disintegrated. His arms. It had nothing on there. Absolutely nothing. Only the mere replacement of plenty new robotic arms so that he couldn't just be more useless that he was already.

Yet it still hurt.

Torture he would discribe as. Every damn night or every time he closed his eyes his mind would replay the exact moment where that kid beaten him up, when he was taken away, when the van crashed and when the leader of the league of villains along with his commurates took away his hard work and arms.

It didn't even made sense to him why he would wake up in cold sweat and feel just the most amount of pain he felt on that day on where it was suppose to be his arms. Provably a psychological thing, but he didn't understand it neither want it.

He just want it to stop... why was he feeling pain on somwhere that it didn't even existed anymore..?!

His eyes burned as he narrowed them at his metalic hands resting on his thighs... if only he had been more careful with Eri... if only his damn pride didn't got in the way of doubting those brats... if only he had listen to the old man...

"A penny for your thoughts handsome?" He visibly flinched before looking over his shoulder and saw you wiping your hands after washing the dishes... a small smile yet aeyebrows furrowed in worry.

Those thoughts and pain were judt so terible that he almost forgot about the most good thing that thanks to heavens was left for him... You.

He would never understand it why you were still here with him. When he escaped Tartarus yoh only welcomed him woth open arms... not taling personappy the outburst he had on the first few months...

Sighing he only lifted hsi prostethic arm and managed to make a wave at you, a signal of him to tell it wasn't anything... you knew better than pry it out of him.

"I'm going to go take a nap, washing dishes has given me some back pain." You giggled while carefully wrapping your arms around his neck. His body answered to your actions by tensing up but slowly relaxing, subsconcipusly his head leaning into yours for just a bit.

He saw you going on your after brushing his mask and pulling it out of his face for just a bit to gige him a peck on the lips.

A shaky sigh left him, bitting his lip to prevent any sound to come out as he fept the pain come back ten times stronger than ever after you closed the door.

He didn't break it until now, and he wouldn't...

.

.

.

Your chest tightened and you felt yourself sick to the stomach due to the constant anxiety and distress you felt.

Kaai mever was one to open up to you. It took you years, YEARS, to find out that Pops wasn't even his biological father and to learn that his parents were absolutely horrible to him.

He would oftenome back to you with bruises, a bloody jacket, rarely with a bloddy nose after a fight on the underground or just some discussion. Yet he always remained with that neutrap and uncaring face of his. The most signal you would get from him that he was in pain or uncomfortable was his hives and by the way his muscles twitched and tensed.

You want it to help your boyfriend. You needed to. But how could you? The man had a ego bigger then the whole word and hated being touched or felt like he was a nuisance or worst, someone nothing.

Kai hated being touched or helped. Not used ti being cared or loved. The consequences of poor parenting and being rased in the mafia was pretty evident on him.

Yet oh how much you loved this man... despite his actions and flaws you swore you teared up every time you thought or just talked to someone about and your feelings for him.

So thats why you never leaved. No matter how many times Kai has gotten to the point of almost kicken you out of his life for what he says, "your own good".

You were about to sit down on the bed until your eyes widened at the sound of pans falling and crashing.

"Kai?" You spine carefully with a basevall bat already on your hand. Living with a now wanted criminal left you no choice.

Instead of an intruder or a cop, you saw the frame of the large shoulders of your boyfriend, metalic arms providing some ground for him on the kitchen counter as he panted as if he had ran a marathon.

"Oh my g- Kai?!" You left the baseball bat fall and came to him, hands hovering over his form as hives appeared on his face and neck as he breathed in and out, eyes clenched shut as sweat crawled down his skin.

"Kai honey please talk to me..." you begged with tears in your eyes as you saw him clenching his jaw so hard that you feared it could break.

"M.. Make it..-" he breathed out "..end."

It seemed that he was more talking to himself than to yoy but you still tried to remain your ground as one tear slid down your cheek.

"What needs to end?" You whispered as he grunted.

His eyes finally opened, the white of his eyeballs wasn't there anymore, instead some redness as he forced down the disgusting pained sob thag wanted to get out of his throat.

"Kai im begging you what is going on?" You cupped his cheek as the other hand took his mask off and saw his white teeth clenched together before you gasped when he dropped his head on your shoulder, curling his prosthetic arms on his chest.

"I cant bear it anymore..." it came his pained whisper as your heart almost riped out of your chest "Is not even there anymore so why does this keep hurting?!" He whispered shouted on your shoulder as you stood there in panick.

What was you suppose to do?!

Hands rubbing his back caustiously, you leaned your head against him as he trembled on your arms.

"What do you mean? Where does it hurt?" You whispered as you heard his unwanted sob manifest on the quiet dostant house you both got to get away from the heros and cops.

"I cant take it anymore angel!" He shouted as tears flew from his eyes "I just can't! It doesn't even matter anymore! Just fucking end me already! I beg you (Y/n)..." he sobbed in your neck as you hugged him... that was the only thing you could do.

Your tears dropped into his neck as you tried your best to understand him until you eldecided to rub the last remain of his arm and his shoulder... his breath hitched as.. his golden eyes widened as slowly his trembling got lower.

He shakipy breathed out as he moved his fake arms to bring you closer by the waist as he spoke the words that you swore that made your heart drop.

"Kill.. me."

Automacally you hugged him tighter as you sobbed immediately your denial as he finally quieted down.

"D-Dont ever ask me that!" You sluttered before pushing him a bit to rest his forehead against yours "Dont even think about it!"

His eyes were hollow and expression numb as he looked at the ground.

It was quiet until you saw his prothestic move to hold the left one.

"When my arms got stolen... I never imagined to still feel the pain as if they were still.. there. Comical..." he sighed, still not looking at you "Is torture.. my thoughts, head, body are being haunted and I just cant take it anymore... I... simply can't." He sighed, dropping his prostethics.

You furrowed your eyebrows before breathing in and staring angrily at your boyfriend. Making the decision that made him astonished.

Taking off his metalic arms from where they were attached to and starting to rub it with a concentrate face. His golden eyes wide open as he clenched his jaw and narrowed them a bit later to ask you what you were doing.

"Does here hurt? It makes less painful?" You ask, still not looking at him as he payed attention to his senses... it didn't. The usual pain he was beating thorugh almost a year was no where.

Shaking his head in shock you sighed and gently pressed your thumbs on his shoulders.

"Is like that. We dont simply deal with it..." your eyes locked with his "We search for a cure like you always did... so let me help?" You asked, eyes actually begging as his golden orbs stares back at yours before tsking... lowering his head on your shoulder once again so you couldn't see more tears threatening to leave his eyes.

"Idiot..."

[vintagedolan]

cross country (gbd)

description: when you get stuck in california during quarantine with a dwindling lease at the dolan’s house, grayson wants nothing more than for you to get to new jersey with him

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: fluff, this is literally um the softest thing i’ve written???, quarantine/COVID, grayson spoiling Y/N, you get the picture hehe

feel free to send in requests! i’ll write most things! hope you enjoy, send me some feedback and I’ll give you my eternal love :)

You never wanted to lift another box in your whole life, that was for damn sure. There was sweat running down your forehead as you lifted the next one, carrying the cardboard all the way through the house into the living room, which was becoming a huge pile of everything that the twins had acquired over their years in LA. 

The plan was simple: the boys were going home to jersey to see their mom before the quarantine got too serious, and then they were coming right back because they needed to find a place in LA, seeing that their lease was ending. 

Well, needless to say, that plan had gone to absolute shit. And that meant you were thousands of miles away from Grayson, and had three days before you would be homeless. 

Lovely. 

The nice thing about it was that you didn’t have much time to mope - since the boys were still in jersey, all the packing was left up to you. And while you were efficient, it didn’t mean it wasn’t a lot of fucking work. 

You went back into Ethan’s room, getting another box of clothes. As you walked, your phone vibrated in the pocket on the side of your leggings. You knew who it was, but you waited until you got to the living room and sat the box down to answer it. 

A facetime from Grayson. That brightened your mood considerably. 

When you swiped over, you immediately relaxed a bit at the sight of his face. His hair was getting so long during quarantine, and it was pushed back with a headband he’d borrowed from his mom, no doubt. He was in a tshirt, which was different than the rest of the times he’d called you. Which was about ten times a day.

“Hey baby,” you smiled at him, catching your breath as you walked back to your shared room. As much as you wanted to sit down and relax and talk to your boyfriend, there wasn’t enough time for all that.  

“You look exhausted,” was the first thing he said. 

“Wow, thank you so much, love you too,” you teased. 

“You look beautiful, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that-”

“I’m kidding Gray. And before you start worrying for the hundredth time today, I’m fine,” you reminded him as you pulled out a dresser drawer you shared, beginning to transfer the clothes into yet another box. He watched you work with sad eyes, and you knew what was coming before he said it.

“I feel like shit that you’re doing all this work.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

“Would you do it for me? If you were stuck across the country in my house-”

“Our house,” he corrected. You couldn’t tell if he was referring to sharing with you or with Ethan, or both, but you kept going regardless.

“Okay, stuck in our house, and I needed to pack it all up, would you do it for me?”

He hesitated, and you knew he didn’t have a good response to that.

“That’s different,” was his only comeback, and you laughed a bit.

“Bullshit. You’re just mad because I’m gonna have to wear all your clothes cause none of mine will fit over my new muscles,” you joked, flexing your scrawny arms. You knew you looked dumb, but it got the laugh out of Grayson that you were hoping for, and that’s all that mattered.

“Right, you act like you don’t just wear my clothes all the time anyways. I’m not even sure you have any clothes of your own,” he teased, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh really? I could have sworn these were mine.” You dug around the drawer, finding a particularly nice pair of lace panties, holding them up to the screen. He groaned, falling out of screen for a moment. It took a second for you to realize he’d fallen back on the bed. 

“You don’t play fair,” he said once he moved his phone back to his face. “I miss you so fuckin’ much, you have no idea.” 

You were pretty sure you had an idea. This was now week four without seeing him in person, and it was actually awful. You’d known it would suck, but you didn’t think it would hurt to be away from him. And you were doing everything you both could - facetime dates, phone calls, texting, he’d even written a letter to you. But there was just something about being in his arms, hearing his laugh without the distortion of a phone speaker, waking up next to him; it couldn’t be replaced. 

Which meant you needed to mention your plan. 

“I wanna come to jersey,” you started.

“You know I would kill to have you here baby, you know that.”

“Grayson, the lease is ending. I think that counts as a reason for emergency travel. I mean, I’m technically gonna be homeless,” you reminded him. “And I know I can stay with Shane, or with Jeffree.” They had been nice enough to offer. Hell, Jeffree was letting the boys store everything at his house, even the cars. “But I wanna be with you.” 

“I don’t want you on a plane. You could get sick.”

“I won’t fly. I’ll take the van. I mean, that’s why you built it, isn’t it?” 

“Y/N...”

“I know, it seems crazy. But if I split it up into three days, I could do it. I’d be careful at gas stations, pack up enough food to last me. You know I can drive for forever, I could probably pull 15 hours or so a day, that would get me back pretty quick, and I’d be safe.”

“Safe,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Y/N, I was sketched out sleeping in that thing with two other grown men with me. The thought of you sleeping in there, alone in some parking lot...” he trailed off. “No. It’s too risky.”

“Gray-”

“Baby I want you here more than anything. Not knowing when I’m gonna see you again is actually killing me, but I’m not putting you at risk over that.”

“Okay, well, let’s compromise then. What would make you feel safer about it?” 

“You not doing it,” he said bluntly.

“Be serious babe.”

“You sleeping alone out there. I know you’d be fine with the driving, but I’m not okay with you sleeping in the van by yourself.”

“Okay...” you paused for a minute, trying to think of a solution. “Okay, what if I drove at night, and then I slept during the day? Less people on the roads, and I think we’d both feel safer if I was sleeping during the daylight. Would that work?” 

“That’s better. I still don’t love it. I’m not trying to be difficult, I just, I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he mumbled, picking at the fabric on his blanket.

“I know that baby, to be honest the thought of sleeping in there alone scares me a little bit too. But I’m willing to do it if it means I get to see you.” 

Grayson was silent for a while. You knew he was fighting with himself, and that he probably felt selfish for even considering giving in. But you also knew, deep down, you were going to do it no matter how much he protested. So you were glad when he finally conceded with a simple “I love you”. 

Now, with the realization that you were going to see him in just a few days, your motivation was renewed ten fold, and you got to work.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

night one

You would have thought it wouldn’t be hard to get to sleep after the day you’d had. 

You were wrong.

The furniture had been moved out - Jeffree had been nice enough to hire a few movers to come get the furniture and the cars. Now, the house lay empty besides your bags that would go with you in the van, and you couldn’t wait to get on the road. Correction; you couldn’t wait to get to Grayson. The thought of seeing him again gave you butterflies. 

Once everything was done and final, you drug a few of the cushions out of the bed in the van, bringing them into the air conditioning so you could try to snag a few hours of sleep. 

While you managed to get a bit of rest, it was mostly futile. The quicker you got on the road, the quicker you’d get to jersey.

So with that, you packed up the van with all the food and snacks you had, reassembled the bed, tossed your bag in and climbed in the drivers seat.

I’m leaving, see you so soon!!!!!! you sent to Grayson, not being able to contain your excitement. 

4pm is not a night drive... he responded quickly.

shut up im excited BE EXCITED

you know i’m excited. be careful, I’ll call you in a little while x

With that, you drove out of the driveway for the last time, with New Jersey in the GPS. 

And the drive wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Grayson called you around 7pm to check on you and keep you company. You ate the sandwich you’d made as the sun set, and you continued down the road. It was peaceful if you were honest, and the van drove so nicely - Grayson really had done a good job. 

Although he tried to stay up, Grayson’s snoring took over around 11pm (2am jersey time you reminded yourself), so you hung up and starting blasting some of your favorite tunes to keep you alert and awake. Not having any traffic was a bonus, and you were amazed with the progress you were making. By the time the sun came up, you were already in Colorado. You resorted to driving until around ten, which landed you about at the border of Nebraska after a whopping 18 hours. You pulled into a non-sketchy looking parking lot, relieved that you’d found one.

I’m stopping to sleep for a few hours. I love you!

You sent it and started rummaging around in your bag, finding your toothbrush, toothpaste and pajamas. You brushed your teeth outside using your water bottle, changing in the car and cuddling up in bed. The bedding smelled a bit like the boys, which was comforting. Just as you started the settle down, your phone rang, Grayson’s contact photo popping up. You swiped over to open it, happy to see his face. 

“Hey baby, I was just about to get some sleep actually,” you said. And now that you had laid down, you realized how tired you truly were.

“I know. I’ll mute my side so I don’t keep you up, but I’ll be here in case you need me,” he said casually.

“Grayson you don’t have to-”

“I want to. It’ll make me feel better, knowing someone is watching out for you while you’re asleep.” 

It was so sweet that you started to tear up, so you just buried your face in the pillow instead.

“I love you.”

“I love you too baby, get some sleep.”

And you did.

-------------------------------------------------------------

night two

You woke up around five, fully refreshed - other than feeling like you needed a shower. You stretched out before getting up and heading to brush your teeth. When you got back in the van you got changed into some of the clothes you brought, happy to have on something fresh.

“That’s my hoodie.” The male voice startled you and you squealed, covering yourself.

“Baby it’s just me! It’s me!” It took you a minute to realize that it was Grayson speaking to you from your phone, which also was pointed where he could see you.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” You huffed, pulling the fabric over your head.

“Sorry, I was just enjoying the show,” he blushed, smirking at you a bit. You rolled your eyes, but giggled with him as you climbed into the drivers seat once again, pulling out the dinner you had packed, deciding to eat a bit before getting back on the road. 

“I can’t wait to see you,” Grayson sighed. You looked at your screen closely and realized he was in his workshop.

“I’ll be there so soon. Now, go build some stuff, I’m all safe and awake now. I love you,” you smiled, knowing he would never be the first to hang up. 

“Okay baby. Drive safe, call me if you get bored.” 

“I will, love you!” 

And so you took off, heading through Nebraska. The states seemed to be getting quicker now as you passed through Iowa, then Illinois, and even Indiana. Grayson called, and even Ethan kept you company for a few hours on the drive, making it go by fast. By the time you got to Ohio, the sun was high in the sky and you realized you actually weren’t that far from jersey. Only another seven hours, and if you kept driving, it would put you at their house around 7pm. You thought about the cold brew that you’d stashed in the fridge in case you’d struggled through the nights.

You could use it, and you could make it. In all honesty, you weren’t even that tired as the excitement started to mount. 

But you also knew that Grayson would rather you just sleep, and that he was going to call you again. So, you had to hatch a plan. 

You pulled into a nice looking parking lot, prepared to set it into motion.

You changed into your pajama shirt, taking your hair out of it’s bun so it looked like you were getting ready to go to bed. Taking a deep breath, you facetimed Gray.

“Is it bedtime?” was how he answered, making you laugh. He was in the kitchen at home, making lunch you were sure.

“Yeah, I made some good progress! I should be getting in around 8am or so tomorrow morning,” you explained, hoping he couldn’t see through you. 

“I can’t wait. I’m gonna pamper you so hard for all the work you did, that’s a promise.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words.

“I can’t wait. But I’ve got sad news.”

He perked up at that, putting down the spatula he was using.

“My phone is kinda low on battery, so I don’t think we can facetime tonight. I don’t want it to be dead in the morning, and I can’t run the van,” you sighed, faking sadness. 

“Are you in a safe area?” 

“Yeah, I feel totally safe here. See, look.” You turned the phone around, showing him the lot you were in. 

He wasn’t happy about it you could tell, but he trusted you. And thinking about how excited he would be made you feel less bad about your white lie. 

“Well, okay. Just text me when you wake up okay? I love you.”

“Love you more!”

“Doubtful. Get some rest,” he smiled, hanging up. 

“Ha!” you exclaimed to yourself, smiling and fist pumping the air. Wow. You really were going crazy after being alone so long. You climbed in the driver’s seat again, pulling the cold brew out of the fridge and popping it open as you started to drive again. 

At first you were so excited that it felt like time was flying, but by the last few hours it was dragging by. The sun set, and the kiss of dusk was hanging over the trees as you got closer and closer. 

But when the GPS changed from hours to minutes, and the roads changed from interstates to back roads, you were fully awake once again. You’d actually managed to pull off almost 24 hours of straight driving. When you pulled into the driveway, there was a gate and armed security - the same ones that the boys had hired in LA.

“Hey guys, I’m early, I’m here to surprise Gray,” you explained. They were sweet like usual and happily let you through, closing the gate behind you. With some renewed energy, you stopped the van and brushed your teeth again - in all honesty, you felt disgusting and couldn’t wait for a shower, but the coffee breath was a definite no go. If you were going to kiss Grayson for the first time in a freakin month, you didn’t want to be worried about anything. 

Once you were back in the drivers seat, it was time for a little fun. 

You pulled your phone out, facetiming Grayson and driving super slow. He picked up quickly, concern on his face.

“Is something wrong?” was the first thing he asked.

“No, i’m okay. I started driving again cause I couldn’t sleep, but now I’m lost. My GPS took me onto some long ass gravel road, and now I’m surrounded by trees and I have no clue where I am,” you ranted, using every ounce of acting ability you had to not tip him off. 

“Slow down, hey it’s alright. Why don’t you just turn around and go back the way you came, and then we can figure it out.”

“I don’t know, I think theres a building or something up ahead of me, maybe a store? I could ask somebody for directions?”

“I’d rather you just go back. I don’t trust some random store at the end of some sus ass road. Just turn around baby,” he pleaded, getting a bit panicked. Luckily, you knew it wouldn’t last long because you were already in front of the house. You cut the lights on the van.

“Here, you tell me if it’s sus. What do you think?” You flipped the camera around, showing him the house. 

“I mean - wait. WAIT. WHAT? WHAT!? NO FUCKIN WAY,” he yelled, obviously freaking out. You laughed, hanging up the call and waiting for the inevitable. Sure enough, you’d barely gotten the driver door open when Grayson came barreling out of the front door. 

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you unbuckled your seatbelt and started to climb down. Grayson beat you to it, coming to the opening of the door and reaching up to pull you out of the car. You were laughing as he grabbed you, wrapping you up in his arms. 

“No fuckin way, no fuckin way that you’re actually here right now! What the fuck!” 

“Surprise!” 

“Did you drive all night? Or all day? I just... WHAT!?” He was truly speechless and it was the most adorable thing in the world. He leaned back slightly so he could look at you, eyes wide with amazement.

“Maybe,” you grinned, shrugging. 

“God I love you. C’mere.” His hands slid down to your hips, then around to your ass and you knew exactly what he wanted. You jumped and he caught you as your legs went around his waist, and then his lips were on yours.

It was like the best first kiss you could possibly imagine. You’d thought about kissing him constantly while you were apart, but you were realizing that it had done this no justice. His lips were soft and warm against yours, the taste of him familiar and wonderful. Your hair started to move in the wind and you realized that he was spinning the two of you around, his boots crunching on the gravel beneath you. You could feel the smile on his face as you kissed him, never wanting it to end.

“Ewwwww,” was the only thing that could have brought you out of it, and sure enough, it did. Ethan was on the porch, leaning against the pillars. Despite his words, he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hey E,” you smiled, laughing a bit at how you must look right now, waving at him while Grayson was still holding you up. 

“Go say hi, I’ll get your stuff,” Grayson smiled, kissing your temple and putting you down. You turned and jogged towards Ethan, who gave you the biggest bear hug, even spinning you around a little bit.

“Missed you squirt,” he teased, swaying back and forth a bit.

“Missed you too,” you grinned, squeezing him tightly.

“Thanks again for uh saving all our possessions and moving all our shit.”

“You’re very welcome. And you also have a shoe problem, just so you know,” you teased.

“I do not!” He exclaimed, putting you in a bit of a head lock and rustling your hair. You pushed against him but it was futile, and you were stuck until Grayson came back and saved you.

“C’mon, let’s go say hi to mom and get you to a nice bed,” he smiled, putting an arm around your shoulders and leading you inside. You’d only been to the house in Jersey a few times, and it was under renovation, so the finished product was a very welcome sight. It was all light walls and tables with dark finishes, cozy yet bright at the same time, even at night. 

Lisa came around the corner, lighting up when she noticed you were there.

“Y/N! Grayson told me you weren’t gonna be here until tomorrow!” She gave him a bit of a scolding look, which made you laugh.

“That’s on me Li, I got a little too impatient and decide to drive on through,” you explained, accepting the hug she gave you.

“Well you must be exhausted, you go on upstairs and get some rest, we can catch up tomorrow,” she assured you, giving  you another squeeze before letting you go.

You didn’t even try for the boys bedroom - you knew that Grayson had been sleeping in the laundry room. So you headed in that direction, Gray in tow with your duffle bag in hand. As you saw the coziness of the bed, every last bit of energy you had drained from you. The crash was coming, and it was coming soon.

“You ready to sleep?”

“As tempting as that sounds, I really need to shower, I feel disgusting,” you mumbled. Just twenty minutes, and you would be able to sleep. You could do that, for sure. 

“Okay, here I’ll get you a towel and stuff, you remember where it is?” 

“Yep, I’ll be there in a second.” 

You rummaged through your bag, finding your toiletries and some clothes. But when you saw Grayson’s stack of shirts, you couldn’t help but snag one. Everything you’d had at the house had lost it’s scent, and you couldn’t help but breathe it in for a second before heading to the bathroom.

When you got there, Grayson was laying out two towels, and already had his shirt off. You stared for a moment, taking it all in, but even with the view your eyelids were heavy. You were fading, fast, and you had the sudden realization that if you all tried to have reunion sex later, you would probably be so exhausted you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. And you really wanted to enjoy it. 

“Gray,” you said, walking over to him.

“Did you find everything you needed? I’m sure mom has some extra stuff if you need it.”

“No I’m good, I have everything. It’s just-” 

He looked up then, cocking an eyebrow. It took him a minute, but when it clicked you saw him smile softly, coming over to you.

“It’s not about that. I just wanna take care of you, that’s all. I figured you’d be too tired,” he explained.

“I’m sorry baby.”

He just kissed you, hands finding the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“No apologies necessary. C’mon, let’s get you clean.” 

You both stripped down the rest of the way and he turned on the shower, which was huge. The tile was white and marble like, and the water pressure made you feel like you were in a spa as you brought your toiletries in. Grayson washed his hair quickly while you let the water run over you, and when he was done you felt his hands find your shoulders, rubbing at the knots he found with his thumbs. You relaxed back into his touch, closing your eyes and resting your back on his chest. 

“Let me get your hair,” he said, reaching behind him to get the shampoo. You didn’t have a care in the world as he worked the suds through your scalp, making sure to get every bit of it before he started to rinse it out. By the time he made it to washing your body you were practically melted, so lost in the relaxation that you weren’t even sure it was real.

“You’re humming,” Grayson teased, pressing a kiss to your shoulder after you were rinsed off.

“Am I?” You mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Let’s get you dry before you pass out on me.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he helped you out of the shower, wrapping you up in a towel and kissing your nose. “You should let me do this more often.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, his statement waking you up a bit as you started drying yourself off.

“Well, you are miss independent you know. Miss ‘I can pack up an entire house with nobody’s help’ and ‘I can drive across the country solo, no big deal.’ I like when you let me take care of you sometimes,” he mused, rubbing his towel over his body and hair quickly before pulling on his boxers.

“Does that mean I get a free ride to bed?” You teased, keeping it light hearted even though you were melting at his words.

“Not dripping wet you don’t,” he smiled, taking your towel and running it over your hair, making you giggle. You were sure it looked something like Albert Einstein when he pulled the fabric away, but he kissed you anyways, passing you a shirt, shorts and your undies. You put them all on quickly, your limbs heavy with fatigue.

“Alright, off to bed.” With that, he scooped you up bridal style, carrying you out the door, down the hall and into the laundry room. He sat you down gently on your feet for a moment, pulling the covers back and climbing in, immediately opening his arms for you. 

“I know you’re not tired,” you mumbled, crawling into bed and immediately resting your cheek on his chest. You put one leg over his, wrapping your arms around his bare chest as he pulled you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“Doesn’t matter. Not a place in the world I would rather be. Now sleep so I can spoil you like I had planned to tomorrow.”

If you’d had any energy left you would have questioned him, but instead you lulled off to sleep in his arms, more content than you could remember being in a long, long time. 

[megalony]

Family of six

This is a new murderer! Ben Hardy series I am going to be working on which I hope you will all enjoy, I know I have quite a few series on the go at the moment but I like to keep switching between them.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have a son together and are pregnant again but things take a worrisome turn when (Y/n) develops severe morning sickness and they find out they’re having triplets.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Buddy, why aren't you at preschool?" Surprise filled Ben's dark sea-green eyes the moment he stepped through the door and was bombarded by his five-year-old attaching himself to Ben's legs.

Ben's words came across as confused and rather authoritiative but his tone made no difference to the little boy clinging to him. Billy was more than familiar with Ben's tones of voice, he knew which tone meant Ben was actually mad at him and which ones meant Ben wasn't angry and was just talking normally. And Billy was also familiar with the unusually sweet tones Ben sometimes had when he felt like being endearing.

He didn't mean to come across as anything but caring and concerned for his son but Ben wasn't expecting to come home and find Billy still here. He should be at preschool until three o'clock when Ben was meant to go and pick him up, he shouldn't be at home right now.

Ben had come home specifically for the reason that he and (Y/n) were going to their first scan for their second pregnancy. (Y/n) was supposed to take Billy to preschool this morning like she did every morning before going to work, although she wasn't working today.

"Mummy's in bed, she's been sick."

"Oh dear. Alright, you go play and I'll go see how your mum's doing." Ben leaned down and hooked his hands under Billy's arms when the five-year-old was reluctant to let go of Ben. Billy hadn't gotten to see Ben all that much for the past week, Ben left for work before Billy got up and on quite a few days he was back after Billy went to bed or just before so he didn't see him very much.

The club took up a lot of Ben's time because he had to make sure it ran smoothly. The front of the club had to be perfect and exact as not to raise suspicion about the dodgy dealings Ben had going on behind closed doors. The dodgy side of the business also had to be carried out in specific and exact ways so that no slip-ups happened and they didn't get caught.

But Ben always did his best to balance out his family life and his work because as much as he had to be at the club to make sure it was functioning and working in the right way, he had to be at home with his family too. (Y/n) and Billy were Ben's world and since the moment Billy was born, Ben had made sure to always try and be there. Billy had flipped a switch in Ben's mind since he was born, whenever Ben was at the club for too long or there every day of the week he would get stressed and annoyed in case he was missing out on something in Billy's life. He didn't want to miss anything, he wanted to be there and be involved and since Billy was so attached to Ben it made it harder for Ben to be away from him.

"Come on buddy I gotta go see your mum."

"Then can we have dinner?"

Ben looked to his watch before looking back at Billy with a smile, Ben had the rest of the day off anyway and even though he was rather good at cooking, he could never be bothered to take the time to do it.

"I'll go and make sure your mum's okay and then we'll head out somewhere for dinner, okay?"

He kissed the top of Billy's head when he giggled in agreement before effortlessly picked Billy up, swaying him side to side as he walked through into the back room and set Billy down on the floor where he had his toys scattered about. Billy preferred the back room to play in and watch tv rather than the lounge, it was a room he could play in and make a mess. The lounge was a room that (Y/n) liked to try and keep tidy and neat in case they had people over.

Ben dumped his keys from his pocket down on the table near the stairs before he headed up to go and check on (Y/n). He knew she hadn't been very well for the past two weeks, morning sickness seemed to suddenly hit her like a train and hadn't made things easy for her. It was unnerving for Ben whenever (Y/n) was ill or in pain because they were things he couldn't control and that made him angry. He liked control over situations especially when it came to (Y/n) because he wanted to make her happy and when she was ill he couldn't make her better.

When they had Billy (Y/n) had next to no morning sickness at all and other than the birth the pregnancy had been rather smooth sailing and Ben liked that. He liked that there was no problems or worries with (Y/n) or Billy.

Heading up the stairs, Ben made his way into his and (Y/n)'s room and he bit his lip when he looked around the room for a moment. The pillows and the covers on the bed were strewn about, the sick bucket was left in the middle of the bed and there were tissues, tablets and a glass of water on the side table.

"Baby? You in here?" Ben cautiously opened the door to the adjoining bathroom and leaned his head round to see if (Y/n) was in there. She had been asleep this morning when he left for work but she hadn't been sick through the night and she seemed fine and settled last night and this morning.

Taking a deep breath, Ben curled his fingers into his palms to stop himself from frowning or sighing when he looked at his wife.

(Y/n) was kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet with her arms folded over the toilet and her forehead resting on her arms. She looked like she had or was about to pass out then and there and Ben could see the way her stomach was constantly sucking in and her throat muscles were straining like she was trying to stop from gagging.

She was wearing her pyjama shorts and her bra, her night shirt was crumpled up on the floor so Ben guessed she had been sick down her shirt. And her hair was scrunched up into a loose knot on her head with strands hanging loose all around her features.

"Fucking hell baby, why didn't you call me and say you were this sick?" Ben wasted no time in kneeling down next to (Y/n) and gently moving her hair behind her ear so he could see her better. If she had called and said she was this sick Ben would have come back sooner to take care of her and either take Billy to preschool or look after them both. He didn't like the thought of (Y/n) being as ill as this and suffering on her own thinking that she couldn't bother him when he was at work. Ben thought he had drilled it into her head by now that she and Billy were more important than anything else.

He could see now why Billy was still at home, if (Y/n) was this sick and couldn't take Billy to preschool and Ben was at work there weren't many people (Y/n) could call on for help. She wouldn't want to bother her friends, she had no contact with her family after they found out she was engaged to Ben and his family were an hour away so they couldn't help either.

It was one of the reasons Ben was so determined in making sure (Y/n) and Billy and the rest of the world knew how much he loved them. Her family hated Ben and what he did and he wanted to show them that he would never hurt (Y/n) or their son and that she was looked after and doing what she wanted with her life.

"Y-you were at work."

(Y/n) rubbed her shaking hand over her forehead, feeling the sweat clinging to her skin even though she was starting to tremble against the cold air of the bathroom. She knew how badly Ben liked the club to be running perfectly and have everything in order and he had already taken the afternoon off for the scan. There was no way (Y/n) was dragging him away in the morning as well when she could just keep Billy at home with her. Ben couldn't do very much at the moment for her anyway.

"Don't pull that one, if you or Billy are sick and I'm at the club you call me. Now I think seeing the midwife would be a good idea for you but I doubt we'd get you there when you're like this."

There was no chance or time for (Y/n) to respond before she had to look away from Ben and hover her face over the rim of the toilet, snapping her eyes closed as she choked and gagged. All morning she had been either throwing up, cradling her stomach or slumped in front of the toilet wondering if she was going to be sick or not. There was nothing left in her system to throw up but her stomach was still trying to force out the sips of water she had earlier and the bile left behind.

(Y/n) had barely managed to make Billy breakfast and she felt so bad that he was sat playing downstairs whilst she had to stay up here. She knew that if she went downstairs she would be stuck in the downstairs toilet which wasn't very big and she could never get herself back upstairs with the way she was feeling.

It seemed like a good idea to go to the scan today because then the midwife could check (Y/n) over and maybe prescribe her something to take. But Ben was sure that if he tried to take her they would only have to keep stopping for her to be sick and she looked like she was about to faint. She was in no fit state to go for a scan or talk to a midwife or doctor.

"I can't go, I- I don't feel well enough." (Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her head on Ben's shoulder. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep and hope that it made her feel better than this.

When she felt Ben's arms curling around her shaking form it made her feel ever so slightly more at ease but she could feel how he was trying hard not to tense when holding her because he didn't like how sick she was.

"It's alright I'll call and get another appointment, but I think right now you need to go back to bed."

Ben didn't like the way that (Y/n) had next to no energy left to move, it showed just how bad she felt and how sick she was when she just let Ben slowly lift her to her feet and hold her weight when she looked like she was made of jelly. Ben moved his left arm so it was wrapped around (Y/n)'s waist and his other arm went around her front just in case she fell or stumbled since she didn't look very stable on her feet right now.

Her head fell onto Ben's shoulder and her feet scuffed against the floor when Ben slowly walked her through into the bedroom. The moment Ben sat (Y/n) down on the bed he noticed she looked like a doll or a puppet, swaying and having limp muscles like she was waiting to be controlled by a puppet master.

"I'm gonna go down and get Billy something to eat... I think it'd be worth you trying to have a biscuit or something in an hour or so. You gonna be okay if I head down?"

It wouldn't be a good idea for (Y/n) to have anything to eat now since she was still throwing up and gagging. But Ben knew her not eating anything wasn't going to help her very much, especially since for the past two weeks she had barely managed one meal a day. That wasn't good for her health in general and especially not since she was pregnant. Soup or biscuits might be easier on her stomach and be something she could hold down.

Ben rested his hands either side of (Y/n)'s shoulders and leaned over her when she laid down. Her eyes were half-lidded as she looked up at him but she managed a smile and a nod in response. She knew well enough to know that Ben would be back up to see her soon anyway, he wasn't leaving her alone for very long unless she was asleep.

He smoothed his thumb over her cheek and kissed her temple lovingly before he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That's your second glass in half an hour, take it easy." Ben leaned his head to the side and spoke in a calm but slightly cautious manner that (Y/n) knew all too well. He didn't want to be demanding or controlling or sound rude but he couldn't help the look he was giving her right now.

(Y/n) had practically downed a full glass of orange juice in one go and was now taking large gulps of another glass. If she did that she would most likely throw it up again because she wasn't keeping anything down. Ben made her soup yesterday and she threw it up, she couldn't hold down two biscuits in the evening or a drink of water last night. She had orange juice all day today in little sips but she was suddenly so thirsty and it felt nice to have something other than water.

"I'm dry, and the baby likes it." (Y/n) swirled her finger around the rim for a moment, knowing she shouldn't down it when it was the most she had drank and managed to keep down in the past two days. Her throat felt like the desert especially with how much she was being sick but the cold drink was soothing and it was easier to drink than little sips of water.

"If you throw all that up your throat's gonna burn like a bitch cause orange has a lot of acid in it."

(Y/n) looked down at her glass for a moment before sighing and looking back up at Ben who was perched on the edge of the bed next to her legs. She knew he was right but she didn't feel sick right now, she had eaten a few biscuits today and had kept them down so far without feeling like she was going to collapse or like her stomach was constantly churning.

"And don't worry about the morning, I'm taking Billy to preschool."

"Are you going straight to the club when you drop him off then?" (Y/n) took a small sip of her juice to try and see if it would make her throat feel less dry and scratchy as she looked over at her husband. She knew Ben's routine and he always went to the club to get there for half seven in the morning to get the place up and running since it opened at eight. But Billy was at preschool from nine until three and (Y/n) doubted Ben would go to the club, come back home to get Billy then go to the club again.

"I'm off to the club in the afternoon, I'm gonna do half days for the next few weeks."

"Ben no-"

"I'm not doing ten or twelve hour shifts when you're sick like this, I wanna be home so I can help you and look after Billy." There was no way Ben was going to keep going to the club every day and do long hours when he knew (Y/n) was ill at home and had to look after Billy. It wasn't fair and Ben owned the club, he could do whatever shifts he wanted and he had people he could put in charge for when he wasn't there.

"You don't like the way the place is when you're not there, it doesn't run smoothly and you know it."

"I'll sort it, I'll leave fucking instructions for them if I have to but I'm not leaving you like this. I'm gonna go put Billy to bed, try a biscuit too since the baby's clearly hungry."

(Y/n) knew she wasn't going to win the argument so she nodded, watching Ben leave the room with a certain smile on his lips because he knew he had won just like he always did. It wasn't as if he was trying to do something bad or wrong either and (Y/n) knew that, she just knew that Ben had a particular way of doing things at the club and he hated when his workers didn't follow his rules or examples or did something wrong. It was better at the club when he was there to oversee everything. But Ben would still be there most days of the week, just not for as long because he wanted to be home to look after Billy and make sure (Y/n) was okay.

"Okay buddy, you ready for bed?" Ben leaned against the wall when Billy came out of the bathroom with a tired smile and droopy eyes.

The little boy held his arms out to Ben who had a knowing smirk on his face as he rolled his eyes but indulged his son anyway and leaned down to pick him up. He settled Billy on his hip and walked down the hall to Billy's room, Ben liked settling Billy to sleep because it never took long he wasn't a fussy child. Ben knew there were kids that took ages to fall asleep or liked the door open or the light on or couldn't get to sleep on their own.

Billy wasn't fussy at all, he got into bed had a night light on and just liked Ben or (Y/n) there for a few moments while he settled and got comfy then he fell asleep almost straight away.

"Can we go see uncle Joey tomorrow?" Billy smiled and tugged on Ben's arm when he settled the five year old down in bed and he wouldn't get go of Ben. With a smile, Ben sat down on the side of the bed and leaned over Billy who was still clinging to Ben's arm.

"Hmm I suppose we can do after preschool, he will be happy to see you." Ben carded his fingers through Billy's hair for a few moments to help settle and calm him. Joe worked for Ben but they were very close friends and Billy saw him as an uncle rather than just one of his dad's work friends. He was as close to Ben as if he were one of his brothers too.

Ben kept running his fingers through Billy's hair but the moment he was about to say something else he stopped himself when a noise caught his attention.

"Alright buddy, I'll get you up in the morning for preschool, I'm gonna go check on your mum now. Night buddy." He kissed Billy's forehead and looked to check that the lime green night light was on before he turned off the lamp and left the room. There was no mistaking that what Ben had heard was (Y/n) throwing up and considering she hadn't been sick since very early this morning he knew she wasn't going to be happy or very well.

Ben jogged back over to his and (Y/n)'s room and headed over to his side of the bed. He kneeled in the middle of the bed and moved his hands to hold (Y/n)'s hair away from her face as she was sat cross-legged on the bed leaning over the sick bucket.

He hated the way that when he rubbed his hand up and down her back he could feel her chest and her muscles constricting as she was barely breathing through her heaving. (Y/n) started to gasp and breathe deeper than Ben had heard before when she finally seemed to be able to breathe rather than just feel her throat muscles pushing together and closing off her airways.

(Y/n) spat into the bucket as she pressed her hand to her temple and closed her eyes to try and fight off the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. "Baby... do you want some water, maybe some tablets?"

"T-the tablets are in there." (Y/n) swiped the back of her hand against her mouth before she moved the bucket further up the bed away from her. The way her lips frowned in distaste and the tears in her eyes told Ben she was not happy about this at all.

She had thrown up all the orange juice, the biscuits and the paracetamol she had taken two minutes ago. Nothing was staying down and she hated it. She hated more that she hadn't listened to Ben who was right, it felt so nice to have a proper drink and not feel queasy but now her throat was burning like it was on fire.

"I don't like this Ben, it was never like this with Billy." (Y/n) buried her face in Ben's chest when he moved his hands from her hair to wrap his arms around her and hold her to his chest.

"I know baby, and if you get any worse I'm taking you to the doctor. I'll get you some water though because I need you to keep some fluids down or we're off to the doctor tonight." Ben had managed to rebook their scan for next week but he didn't want to wait that long if (Y/n) didn't end up eating or drinking anything. This was bad for her and the baby and if she couldn't keep any fluids down at all then Ben would have to take her to the hospital.

Ben buried his face into (Y/n)'s hair and rubbed his hand up and down her waist as he felt her slowly calming down. He really hoped he wouldn't end up taking her to hospital, he had been praying that this pregnancy would be as smooth as Billy's had been.

[janekfan]

hi mom! quick update: i had a panic attack at work the other day. luckily my coworker/manager knew what it was and helped me out but i still had to do the rest of my shift but at least i got the next day off. hours are still bad but everyone around me is talking about how proud they are of me... i just barely managed to scrape up a 50 cent raise... im one of three people on my shift... i cant take time off. i know you already did one for me but... i dont have much else to bring comfort

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072691

My darling child! <3 <3 <3 This is inadequate! And I shall do better soon! But I love you and hope this offers a little comfort!

When asked later if he’d known, Tim lied. Of course not. He hadn’t realized just how sick Jon had been, certainly didn’t know how long it’d been. After all, no one really saw him most days, skulking as he did around the archives, a flickering, limping shadow among the stacks. Jon didn’t have use for them and Tim didn’t have use for him. Not until they enacted their plan of attack and finished things once and for all.

So no. When he’d dropped by to toss Martin’s research at him he ignored the pallor, the beads of sweat dotted along his forehead and matting his curls. He paid no mind to the dark flush high in his face, the glazed distance in his eyes, the shortness of his breath as he fought to form one coherent thought. A plea veiled in a request and it gave Tim all the excuse he needed to conveniently forget to fetch Martin for him.

“T’Tim...could, could you ask Martin to, to.” Jon could barely finish a thought. Exhausted, he’d been under so much stress, running himself ragged on adrenaline and awful, terrible statements, and he just wanted to see someone kind. Someone who might help him instead of hate him. Someone who maybe didn’t want to hurt him or kill him. Or worse. “I’d like t’to speak with him? P’please?”

“Sure, Boss.”

Martin wasn’t coming.

Martin wasn’t coming and Jon was miserable. But he didn’t blame Martin for staying away. It was alright. He was probably upset with him or angry or had a hundred other reasons to avoid seeing him and it was fine.

Jon let his cheek collide with the tea-stained blotter and slow tears slipped down to join the other watermarks, the rust traces of his blood. With a thin, trembling finger he connected the scars etched into the surface like constellations, each one tied to a memory; some he remembered, some he’d forgotten, some he wished he could forget. Why the old desk even had this second skin he would never know; it was already damaged and scratched and why bother protecting it when it could never go back to the way it was before? Heaving a shaky breath that didn’t give him near enough air to sustain him, Jon closed his eyes. It would be a lovely thing if sleep restored anything or made him feel anything other than relief for the blissful span of unmeasured time he spent not feeling. Floating, dizzy and suspended here in the dark, so tired it seemed like the room was expanding around him with every hard won exhale, shrinking to crush him with every inhale.

It didn’t seem worth it.

Like he wasn’t worth it.

When Jon was asleep, he drifted along unfamiliar currents, memories that didn’t belong to him or anyone that he knew from hundreds of years ago, from mere months ago. From far underwater he listened to the sounds of the office fade away through a closed door that may as well have been a kilometer away for all the strength he had left. Everyone was leaving for the weekend and he wasn’t able to stand. Everyone was leaving and he wasn’t able to call out, snared in these fathomless depths and sinking fast.

Silence.

Thick. Blanketing. Suffocating.

He was drowning in it. Struggling to breach the surface only seconds at a time to snatch at sips of air and seawater.

The safety lights cast shadows that slipped along the floor like oil, into the cracks, up the walls Jon clung to, casting just enough light to see by and aggravating his head. He wanted to sleep. He needed water and it was how he found himself in the dingy break room leaning heavily on the sink, holding on for dear life as he weathered the salt swells, the tilting of the room and the vertigo swirling up, up, up. The first glass met its end on the floor when it slipped from Jon’s grip and he could have sobbed from the loss, from how hard he’d worked for it only to let it go. The next he cradled close in both hands, sitting at the rickety table and gulping down close to half before coming up to breathe. Cool rivulets trickled down his throat, soaked into the neck of his borrowed tee and he shivered. It was always cool down here. For the documents. Only now he was freezing, longing to fall into the cot, just rest, but it was too far away. He’d never make it as he was. He drank the rest of the water and went through the trouble of a second glass. There were no bottles in the fridge, none in the cupboards. He’d never be able to carry it back to his office. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. Why was this so hard? Laying his head on folded arms, Jon let the frustration come, shoulders shaking, and when he woke again he forced more water on himself and limped to the doorway.

Which way?

This time, a cough bubbling up in his lungs jerked him out of the deep. It was harsh, painful, and he lost the remaining water in his stomach from the force of it, tasted iron behind his tongue. Groaning, clutching at his aching chest, Jon realized he was on the floor in the hallway. Not even halfway to his goal and he didn’t remember collapsing. His limbs were lead, movement sluggish because of it, and he only managed to drag himself another meter before the spiraling of the corridor forced him to close his eyes. The fever was relentless, sapping him of everything, throbbing in his bones and boiling in his blood. Jon coughed again. The hot, tight tangle in the center of him drew tighter, a noose, instead of giving way and the black lurking at the edges of his vision swallowed the rest of it.

Martin adjusted the blanket in his arms, thinking again that it would have been easier to have put it in his bag for the walk from the train. He didn’t regret his choice though. He remembered how cold it could get down in the archives and Jon looked like he could do with a bit of comfort these days. Maybe being wrapped up in this monster would do it. Shouldering it, he took the narrow stairs, surprised that no one else was here yet. But considering none of them really wanted to do much actual work these days it made sense. Martin got his things situated at his desk, leaving the comforter overflowing in his chair before heading off to start the tea kettle warming. Glass crunched under his shoes and when Martin turned on the light it was clear Jon had dropped it. What was confusing was that he had left it. He wasn’t the most fastidious about his appearance or his surroundings but even he wouldn’t leave broken glass just lying around. WIth a crease in his brow, Martin swept it up, dumping it in the bin before turning off the squealing kettle. He prepared two mugs as usual and the only reason he didn’t drop them upon seeing Jon crumpled up in the hall was because he froze stock still.

“J’Jon?” He abandoned the tea on a desk, skidding on his knees to a stop at his side. “Jon! Oh, no, no. Jon, wake up.” Ashen, burning up under Martin’s fluttering hands, chest stuttering with half breaths. Had he been like this all weekend? Had he been like this before they all left? How did, why didn’t he check on him? Only when Martin slid his arms beneath his body did Jon stir at all, a pitiful sound of pain pulled from between his lips when he was lifted. A halfhearted cough ending in a moan. “It’s alright, Jon. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” He should call 999. That’s what he should do but with all that had been happening, was that the right choice?

“Mmar’in…” He toed open the door to document storage and laid him down, brushed back his curls and took up the cold hand Jon was reaching with. “Ma--” His grip was barely there when the deep, damp coughing jag stole the air right out of him, so strong Martin levered him forward, worried he would choke. Days. Days alone like this. He swept the tears away with careful fingers, traced the shadows like bruises beneath his eyes.

“It’s alright.” He propped him up against the corner, wishing there were more pillows to make him comfortable and pulled away, heart twisting up when Jon whimpered at the loss. “Hush, now. I’ll be back, I won’t leave you.” Quick as he could Martin gathered supplies, medicine for the raging fever, the blanket he’d brought along, a thermos of tea, checking on Jon in his fitful sleep with each trip. He sounded bad, he was having too much trouble breathing and the crackling wheeze was terrifying. The next time he came back it was with a basin of hot water and a towel. He placed it in Jon’s lap, sliding behind him to steady both him and the bowl, gentling him when he startled. “Just breathe, Jon. This, this should help.” The steam rose, bathing his face with humidity and it was probably wishful thinking but Martin thought each breath came a little easier. When Jon coughed Martin pressed a handful of tissue against his mouth, tossing the mess into the bin and letting him curl up against him for just a few moments. He was so warm. Too warm and Martin plied him with paracetamol and tea, as much as he would take before letting him fall back to sleep, smoothing a damp flannel over his forehead and leaving him to rest.

Soft, cool hands, kind, reassuring words. Jon drank them in like a desert after the rain, let them flood him, take away all the fear and loneliness he was holding onto. Martin was here. Martin was helping. Martin was holding him, saying things he didn’t quite understand in a steady voice. He wanted to cry from the relief of it, of having someone, of not being alone and he thought he might have but there was no teasing or threatening. Nothing he did made him hurt more. Everything he did made him hurt less. There was tea and pillows and blankets, warmth to replace the memory of lying on a cold floor and drifting in and out.

But he was gone now. He’d left him alone and Jon wanted him here. Struggling to his trembling legs he gave himself time to steady, limping out of the room and following the familiar voices and latching onto Martin’s. He sounded upset and Jon wondered if it was because of him. Most people were upset with him these days. He heard Basira and Melanie and Tim and he didn’t want to see them but Martin was with them and he wanted to see Martin. Martin with his kindness he didn’t deserve. He was cold. He was shaking.

Tim was yelling.

It made something in him afraid.

It made his chest hurt. It made it harder to breathe. It made him want to hide. And when he became even louder, Jon shrank into himself. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t.

“And speak of the devil!” Tim’s mocking tone rang in his head like a bell. “He shall appear.”

“Tim!”

“I’m. M’Martin? I.”

“What, Boss? What else could you possibly take that you haven’t already?”

“J’just--” Still human enough to want, too much a monster that he wasn’t allowed to have. Tim took a threatening step forward, and Jon forgot what he was going to say in favor of stumbling backwards, falling to the ground and knocking the air out of himself. He clawed at his neck, suddenly completely unable to breathe when Tim stood over him, towering and tall and seconds later Martin was taking up the whole of his horizon. Just Martin.

“It’s alright, Jon. Let’s get you back to bed, hm?”

“W’will you stay?” He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, the sniggering coming from behind the larger man confirming what he already knew. Martin had already helped him. He had no right to ask for more. But again Martin carried him to document storage and again he placed him on the cot and this time, he stayed with him, wrapping him up warm and safe and tucking his head beneath his chin. Jon shuddered, the aftershocks of his panic and embarrassment still rocketing through him. “Martin...don’t. Don’t feel well…”

“I know.” Martin pet his head slowly and Jon relished it, pressing his ear against his broad chest and listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. He probably wouldn’t remember this anyway, not with a fever like this already making everything so fuzzy, and he wanted, just for a little while, to feel safe. “I’m sorry.” It was nice to hear even though Martin had nothing to apologize for. It was still nice that someone would say sorry to him. Exhausted all over again, the space between blinks stretched longer and longer. “You can sleep, Jon.” But what if he left? He didn’t want him to leave, the thought of it wetting his face and just like before Martin wiped the tears away. “It’s okay, just close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

Unrequested.

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @im-an-anxious-wreck

Cold Hard Bitch

Summary: Janus is sick and Virgil is at a loss for what to do. Deciding he needs to brave the field that separates them from the others in the mindscape he finds out that things are definitely not always as they seem- sometimes for the worse. (Happy Ending)

Warnings: sick character, brief mention of vomiting, fever, hypothermia, panic, mild swearing, injury, unsympathetic Patton (if there are more please let me know)

Prompt: Hypothermia

Ships: familial Anxciet (familial Virgil and Janus)

WC: 4742

kudos to whoever knows what song the title is 

Tripping loudly down the stairs, Virgil winced at the noise while tugging his jacket tighter around himself. The heat was running but it was always so cold in their section of the house; fitting for them since they had no place with the main three but it would be nice if at some point they could regulate the temperature a bit better. He knew for a fact Princey probably could but god forbid if he ever did anything that wasn’t out of spite or for his own self interests. And they called Virgil selfish. He glanced into the common room as he cleared the last step, just barely making out a shock of fluffy blonde hair peeking over the armrest of the couch. Janus had probably had a late night again, especially if he hadn't even made any sort of sarcastic remark at how much noise Virgil had made or at least looked up to see that it wasn’t Remus. Screwing his mouth to one side Virgil made his way to the kitchen to make some tea. He preferred cocoa but he knew Janus liked peppermint tea and honestly as long as it was hot he really wasn't going to complain about what kind of liquid he poured down his throat.

Puttering around the kitchen while he waited for the tea to boil he caught sight of the time on the oven’s clock. Four pm already? Where had the day gone? He glanced back to the couch and frowned, worrying at his bottom lip. More importantly, where had Janus’ day gone? He should definitely be up by now and usually at around this time he was the one starting dinner; unless Remus had tied him to the furniture again there shouldn’t be any reason for him to not be up and moving around. Especially since none of them had had to do any particularly strenuous work lately that he knew of. Snapping his head around with the kettle’s whistle he quickly took it off the heat and poured the boiling water into the prepared mugs, still mulling over the possibilities of why Janus was laying on the couch. Taking both mugs in hand he hesitated in the doorway, fidgeting from foot to foot and trying his hardest to come up with a reason why Janus should simply be left alone. 

There were too many variables to think of, too many things that his brain was telling him might be wrong but none of which could be confirmed until he actually went over and checked. He knew this, he definitely did but at the same time- what if Janus was just ignoring him hoping he’d go away so he wouldn’t have to talk to him? That had never been the case before but who’s to say it wasn’t now? Maybe he had pulled an all nighter and was just now geting rest and Virgil was going to selfishly ruin it because he was concerned about dinner- that wasn’t all he was concerned about but Jnaus wasn’t a mind reader and he’d probably assume that that’s what Virgil wanted because Anxiety was incompetent and stupid and couldn’t do anything for himself. 

That last thought definitely wasn’t true and he knew it. Janus loved him and even if he could be a bit of a dick at the best of times he still cared a great deal for Virgil and he knew that. He doubted Janus would actually care and would probably think the embodiment of anxiety worrying over him would be sweet...as annoying as that was. All he needed to do was go over, shake him awake and ask if he was alright. Then he could go back to sleep or get up and Virgil would help make dinner and try to flush Remus out of whatever hell portal he had sequestered himself into that particular day. They’d all have a late start to their day and maybe watch movies or something and it would be fine just like it always was: the three of them- four on rare occasions- hanging out like nothing had ever been different and he’d be able to laugh off his panic in the morning before he found something different to worry about. All he had to do was step forward, one step and everything would be set in motion and he’d see that this day was fine and nothing at all to fret over.

Blowing out his cheeks he gripped the handles tightly and stepped forward, the steps getting easier and easier to take the further he went. He didn’t even glance at Janus at first, simply placing the mugs down on the coffee table coasters because “We aren’t heathens, Virgil.” and listening for the sounds of his soft snoring that he was all too familiar with from curling himself up next to the deceitful side on night’s he couldn’t sleep and nothing else he did helped except cuddle as close as possible to someone else to feel safe. Most of the time it didn’t work and he’d leave in the early hours but there were a few occasions when he’d wake up gripped tightly around the middle with the other breathing against the back of his neck. He liked those nights the best, he slept well for weeks afterwards. 

His heart sped up however when the sound of snoring never reached his ears but rather quiet, rasping gasps that sounded like it was almost painful to draw breath in. Leaning over and down quickly he placed a shaking hand on the oblivious sides’ forehead only to quickly retract it with a worried hiss. Janus was far, far too warm for his liking and when he looked closer he could see beads of sweat running down his cheeks as his lips parted to breath those shuddering, rasping breaths. It wasn’t often any of them got sick and when they did it was usually nothing more than a small head cold that was gone within a couple of days- provided they were resting properly. One look over Deceit had Virgil guessing this had been coming on for at least a week but it had gotten ignored in favor of working and then overworking, which again, the hypocrite was constantly chiding Virgil and Remus both for. Always remember to take your breaks, he said; a ten minute break was better than a ten week one.

“Of course you can’t even listen to your own advice, you idiot.” Virgil growled under his breath, running quick fingers through his hair as he looked around for what he could do. He knew how to take care of someone who was sick with a mild cold or odd bout of nausea, but it was something else entirely when the person in front of you was practically comatose while he burned alive on your couch. Burning! The way to treat fevers was to cool the person down first- so his first step should be stripping Janus of his gross, sweat stained clothes and into something that breathed better and maybe getting a damp cloth for his forehead. Nodding to himself he sunk into Janus’ room quickly to find what he’d need.

“Remus!” Pulling open the drawer he knew pajamas to be he quickly got out thin cotton pants and a shirt hoping that they would be more comfortable than the everyday layers that the other had fallen asleep in. Foregoing gloves and deciding Janus would just have to deal with it he left the room and made his way to the bathroom to get the damp cloth. “Remus are you here?”

He didn’t want to shout loud in case he woke Janus but he doubted Remus would answer anyway. The last they had seen him had been a couple of days ago when he informed them he was working on a new project deep in one of the forests so realistically he couldn’t expect him to be within yelling distance. It just figured that now that he was mostly alone with no one to ask for help caring for a sick side outside of said side Remus decided to fuck off into the woods somewhere. Huffing in frustration he wet the cloth and slammed the faucet off before sinking back down to the common room, holding the clothes out and changing Janus with a snap of his fingers and gently placing the washcloth across his forehead. Janus winced slightly but made no other indication he minded the change, relaxing after a few seconds but looking no better for the time being. Wringing his hands Virgil paced around, unsure what to do and not knowing who to ask. Remus wasn’t here and- well best not to approach him unless it was absolutely necessary, not that Virgil would know where to look anyway. And then there were the main three on the other side of the mindscape- but they would be almost impossible to reach as he and Janus were. Defeated for the moment he plopped down to watch Janus, forgotten tea cold and unwelcoming as the room grew darker with the setting sun.

-----

The next morning was worse.

Virgil didn’t know when Janus had last eaten anything but he knew vomit shouldn’t look that dark for someone who was barely gagging anything up. His eyes were unfocused and Virgil had to practically carry the side to the sink to rinse his mouth. No amount of prompting seemed to get through to him however and Virgil ended up having to cup water in his own hand and hold it to his mouth to try and get him to rinse and them drink something but most of it just dribbled down his chin as he weakly clutched to his hoodie and panted for breath he couldn’t seem to catch. Frightened, Virgil sunk them back downstairs and laid him onto the couch, where he fell into a heavy sleep once again as soon as his head hit the pillow. The cloth wasn’t helping and no amount of googling gave him any answers as to what he should do. When regular people got sick like this it often made sense. There were symptoms that matched with certain diseases or viruses and you got treated for whatever one you had. Sides however, got sick differently. Stress could turn a cold into something that resembled death. Creative block could manifest into a coma. Anxiety could have someone thin as a rail from lack of appetite and dehydration. With careful monitoring and proper care one could avoid the extremes, but sometimes there was nothing you could do and you just had to ride it out and hope you made it to the other side.

This was different though, He was alone and had no idea if this was from stress or exhaustion or fear. He didn’t know if Janus had ignored it for so long it had decided to hit him full force to teach him a lesson. All he knew was that it was bad and he needed help but he didn’t have any so it was only going to get worse which could end one of two ways: he watched as Janus pulled through or he watched as he continued to get worse until he reached a point he can’t return from.

Tears pricked his eyes at the thought. They didn’t always get along, but to lose him entirely- he glanced out the window and subconsciously pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He was going to have to go to the others and hope that maybe they could help if he wasn’t immediately turned away. Listening to Janus rasp painfully in the otherwise silent room, he really didn’t have any other option.

Mind made up he stood and snapped his fingers, instantly bundling them both up tight and warm, wincing in sympathy as Janus’ face contorted with discomfort. “I know, but it’s a lot better than the alternative. Let me try and get you attached here-”

The alternative being freezing  to death in the constant blizzard that separated them from the other sides. Princey was petty but so was Remus so they had both decided the best idea was to make sure neither of them could enter the others’ domain without permission or extreme difficulty. They had made a simple snowfield at first, but everytime a bit of tension rose it turned into a snowstorm so thick you had only your instinct to go by if you wanted to walk in the right direction. Freezing temperatures and biting winds and a frozen lake that was hopefully snowed over so they didn’t slip went on for a mile or so between the two spaces, which really wasn’t a lot but added with the other variables it made for an extremely dangerous journey that Virgil was loathe to bring Janus into but he couldn’t see any alternative with how things were currently going. 

Cursing Remus and the sids across the mindscape one last time he got Janus’ arms secured around  his neck, hoping to everything Thomas his last bout of vomiting actually would be his last- at least until Princey was in their sights. Tucking his hands underneath his thighs he took a deep breath and stood, nearly bursting into tears on the spot as he realized just how light Janus was. 

“It’s fine, you’re fine. We'll get you there and it’ll be fine.” Repeating the mantra desperately he hurried to the door and managed to jimmy it open without jostling his cargo, shutting it behind him with his foot and looking out across the field.

He could see the other house from their porch but he knew as soon as he stepped beyond their “line” it would immediately be obscured by the snow. Settling Deceit one last time and making sure he was facing towards the house he began to walk towards the line, becoming more and more grateful he had bundled them the way he did as the temperature lowered the closer they got to it. Taking one last deep breath right before the barrier he stepped forward with determination.

And almost immediately got blown back with the wall of wind that slammed against him, filling his eyes with stinging snow and covering them both with a thin layer of ice in a matter of seconds. Virgil swore as he hugged Janus closer to himself and walked further into the field, having to fight his way through snow that piled up to his knees in the deepest parts. He only just barely understood why the others didn’t like them in the first place but going so far as to make it this difficult to get to them was a bit much in his opinion. As far as he knew they had only had a few major fights about certain decisions Thomas had made throughout their lives- he had always been kept more in the background of things and with how chaotic things could get he wasn’t about to complain- things had always been resolved one way or another though so this level of “protection” was hardly warranted. Leave it to them to take such extreme measures to keep out opinions that didn’t line up exactly with their own.

The wind howled as snow continued to fall around them and for as hard as he was trying to get through the storm he felt like he had barely made any progress. The only indicator that he was moving at all was the burn in his thighs and hips from having to bring his knees practically up to his chest every time he took a step to prevent his feet from getting stuck in the snow. It was freezing and he could feel the snow beginning to soak into his clothes making them stick to his sweat soaked skin even more than they already were. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear- hell he could just barely feel the weight of Janus on his back as his strength began to fade and nothing but sheer force of will kept him moving, his mind numbing along with the rest of his body. He had always had a terrible sense of time and in hindsight he really should have brought his phone or put a watch on to keep track of it, feeling as if he had already been walking for hours and not being able to see the house through the blizzard to keep track of his progress. They were just stuck in a field of white snow and white noise and cold, and a harsh wind that pushed him back two steps for every one he took. 

Despite the seeming hopelessness of the situation Virgil simply grit his teeth and pushed on. There was no turning back now, he honestly didn’t think he could find his way home if he did. Janus needed help that he couldn’t provide and he’d be damned if he had dragged them both into this mess for nothing. He concentrated hard on making sure the deceitful side was still held securely in his arms and that his numb legs were in fact still pushing them forward, he had stopped feeling the burn in his legs from pushing through the snow a while ago and had nothing else to go on but the sight of his boots breaking the bank every now and again. Just keep moving, first one foot and then the other, try to breathe evenly despite the burn in his chest preventing him from taking deep breaths-

He gasped as his foot sunk deeper than normal and the snow came up to just below his pelvis. Trying to backtrack just made him overbalance however and with a shout he twisted just in time to take the brunt of the fall on his side as they sunk into the snow, losing his grip on Janus as his arm twisted painfully underneath him and snow found its way under his scarf down his neck. He lay there for a few seconds breathing hard and shivering, feeling himself on the verge of tears as he began to crash and felt suddenly exhausted, wondering just how long he could get away with just staying down and maybe closing his eyes for a few seconds. He needed rest and the snow wasn’t that cold when he really thought about it- it was soft enough to be at least a little bit comfortable and at this point he’d take what he could get. His vision began to darken so he shut his eyes and breathed, feeling himself drift as he finally stopped shivering and began to warm up after so long of being achingly cold. Everything would be fine after he slept; sleep always fixed everything.

He snapped up in a panic as a coughing fit that wasn’t his own brought him out of his thoughts. Swearing loudly he crawled with some difficulty over to where Janus was currently attempting to hack out a lung, curled into himself and wheezing painfully. Virgil brushed as much snow off of him as he could with stiff fingers he could barely move and searched around desperately for any sign they were close to their destination. If he squinted to his left he could just barely make out a large looming shadow maybe a few yards away though the blizzard tried desperately to obscure it from  his view. That had to be it! Only a few more yards and he could know on the door and hope to everything Thomas they would let at least Janus in to recover; he didn’t think he’d be able to carry him all the way back if they refused. Getting up on shaking legs he realized he wouldn’t be able to carry him even this short distance either, fingers refusing to cooperate as he clumsily tried to get the other back onto his back. Biting back even more curses he managed to swing Janus’ arm across his shoulders and get a grip around his waist to hoist him up that way, taking a limping sideways step towards the house while dragging the deadweight along with him. His limbs were weak and numb and he felt like he could collapse again at any moment but he had to get Janus to safety- to someplace warm where someone would hopefully know how to take care of him. Just a few more feet, Virgil could do that.

Janus’ boots thumped loudly against the side of the steps as Virgil slammed his way up the porch clutching him as tightly as he was able. He didn’t dare take either of his hands away for fear of dropping him, instead opting to kick the bottom of the door as hard as he could with stiff, uncoordinated jerks while trying his best to keep his eyes from shutting. He blinked as the door swung open and a sword was suddenly in his face, eyes roaming upwards until he caught sight of Princey's confused expression.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” He croaked weakly, stumbling forward as darkness claimed him at last.

-----

“Not on his arms Patton.”

“But that’s where he’s cold!”

“And that will cause the cold blood to circulate which can lead to cardiac arrest or shock. Put them on his chest and under his neck and then cover him with blankets. His limbs need to come to room temperature and then warm up on their own.”

Virgil was only vaguely aware of the conversation around him as he tried harder than he had ever done anything in his life to open his eyes or move his limbs in some way. Panic swelled in his chest as everything remained unresponsive, leaving him at the other sides’ mercy for whatever they planned to do to him for invading their side of the mindscape. His thoughts were cut off as something dry and warm was pressed against his chest, instantly relaxing him as he revelled in the new found warmth. He felt as his head was gently lifted and another dry but warm thing was tucked under his neck and then a calming, heavy weight was draped over him, trapping the heat and relaxing his muscles even as he couldn’t stop shivering. Oh, he was shivering. When had that started again? And where was Janus? They had taken him too right?

Still fighting to open his eyes he began to heave himself upwards, uncooperative limbs be damned he needed to know that Janus was safe. A panicked whimper escaped him as he was gently pushed back down, being shushed by whoever it was that had tucked him in; he was guessing it had been Morality.

“Shh honey, you’re okay. Deceit is too. He's on the other couch beside you. Logan said he had a bad cold but it’s nothing we can’t fix with medicine and rest okay? You’re safe I promise but you need to stay here.” Virgil barely registered the second part of what had been said, simply hearing that Janus was alright was enough to ease his worries and had him slipping back into unconsciousness before anything else could be said.

-----

The next time Virgil awoke he was able to move much easier, which he did fairly quickly to bury his face in the blankets to block the sun from melting his eyes. Until he remembered where he was and he threw the blankets off so fast Janus would be proud of him if he was awake to see it. As it was he was snuggled into just as many blankets as Virgil had been, curled on his side and looking so much better than he had been- sporting a happy blep to boot. Smiling softly in relief he reached over to lay a hand on his forehead, sagging further when he felt the skin was cool and dry. He actually would be okay then- Virgil wondered what it was exactly that the others had done to cure him so quickly but he shook away his suspicion of now to glance towards the kitchen where he could hear soft murmurings filtering through to where he was sitting.

“I’m not making an exception! Yes it was an emergency this time but you really want to make it easier for them to come over here? What if they get to Thomas?”

“We would make sure they wouldn’t-”

“That outside is making sure they wouldn’t, Lo! We’re all busy enough without having to make sure a window isn’t smashed with someone running unsupervised trying to do God knows what-”

“Patton, you’re being unreasonable.”

“Roman you aren’t telling me you’d trust you’re brother in here?”

“I...no. I definitely wouldn’t.”

“See Logan? We’’l just set up better communication for them so if something like this happens again we don’t run the risk of them fading but we preserve the safety of Thomas. It’s perfect.”

Virgil stumbled back into the back of the couch, slapping a hand over his mouth as he reeled in shock. Morality was so...cold. But- he had been so nice when he was half dead on the couch, why would he act like that if he didn’t actually care? He shook his head and turned back to Janus; they needed to leave and they needed to do it now- he knew he shouldn’t have trusted them.

He was just uncovering the reptilian side and trying his best not to wake him up as he got into position to carry him when the sound of a throat clearing froze his blood solid. He turned defensively, eyes already starting to glow as he stepped fully in front of Janus when he saw Logic lift his hands in a peaceful gesture, not helping to lower his guard but making him curious as to what the other wanted.

“Pat- Morality and Prince are gone, I told them I needed time to check on you alone.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Alright.”

Logan gestured to Janus. “He’ll be fine, just make sure he’s well rested and keep him in bed if you can. Things have been...stressful lately; that’s most likely the reason he fell ill in the first place.”

Virgil nodded again, not letting his eyes stray from Logic’s hands for a moment. He knew what the other could do; he had only seen it once but once was always enough if the action was impactful enough. The only thing ensuring Virgil didn’t try anything stupid was the fact that he couldn’t sink out and he wouldn’t get very far through the snow.

Logan softened, lowering his hands slowly. “I know that....well, it actually doesn’t matter. I hope he recovers quickly and completely. The barriers are temporarily lowered. I suggest you sink out with him before Morality notices.”

Heart still hammering in his chest, Virgil scrutinized Logic’s face for any hint of deception, finding none didn’t really make him feel any better though. He wanted out and if the other was willing to let them go he’d take the chance before it was taken away. Laying a careful hand on Janus’ shoulder, he spared the other one last look before mouthing a quick “Thank you.” and sinking back into their side of the mindscape, shoulders sagging in relief that that’s actually where they ended up and he wasn’t set up into a trap. Janus huffed softly and snuggled further into their own couch, which made Virgil smile and run careful fingers through his soft hair in a soothing gesture for both of them. Blepping happily in his sleep the deceitful side leaned into the motion and relaxed completely, looking healthier than he had in a long time.

“You’re lucky you’re cute or I’d tell Remus to set fire to your favorite hat for what you put us through.” His tone was joking but he wondered briefly if anything would be any different moving forward. Logic out of all of them seemed the side one would trust the least but from what he had heard- he shook his head and sighed, reaching up to grab a blanket to cover Janus with. That wasn’t what was important right now and as much as his function screamed at him he didn’t have the energy to worry about it. Nudging Janus over he made himself comfortable on the edge of the couch and sighed heavily, closing his eyes against the onslaught of thoughts that would plague him long into the future.

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[smalltragedy]

* ryan destiny, cis woman + she/her | you know kira blake, right? they’re twenty four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ever? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to babooshka by kate bush like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole lazily stretched out in a ray of light, daisy shaped irises and daisy chain braids, performing an intricate dance to move the ocean's waves thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 22, est, they/them )

hllo ive hd kira in my head fr a bit bt i also know ntohing abt her! this is me winging it even though i hv no right to <3 this is my third character maybe whose birthday is in honor of ella n coincidentally 2/3 of them r in this rp. yea im messy smirks sexily.

DEATH, GRIEF, DRUGS TW

mini playlist.

wuthering heights ;; kate bush / babooskha ;; kate bush / dreams ;; fleetwood mac / california dreamin’ ;; the mamas & the papas / lavender moon ;; haroula rose / time of the season ;; the zombies / after the storm ;; kali uchis / left hand free ;; alt-j / always forever ;; cults / wait a minute! ;; willow / your dog ;; soccer mommy.

statistics.

full name: kira blake

nickname(s): keely.

birthday: october 31st, 1996.

zodiac: scorpio sun, cancer moon, aquarius ascending. 

mbti & temperament: esfp & catalyst / sanguine. 

label: the ebullient.

sexuality: bisexual.

pinterest.

biography.

born to two original hippies which hs pretty much set up who kira is fr the rest of her life <3 the type of ppl who didnt like the boundaries of marriage n held off frm it fr as long as possible until theyd hd a spur of the moment elopement involving a celebrity impersonator at fannie’s <3 yea theyre lesbians lets go <3

nvr rly took things srsly until kira ws like 5 yrs old n then they were like ah gee ah fuck we probably shld probably settle settle. n they job hopped n worked many odd jobs until they found their footing in careers they liked n one of them probably does like. blown glass art. n the other prob fixes old computers n other ~vintage~ mementos of the past fr ppl.

they make a decent living n they live in delpinius heights n they try a few times fr another kid bt it nvr rly works out (raises an eyebrow. adopted siblings anyone?) n fr the most part kira as a child spends her time running around town and tugging on the hem of other’s shirts to ask them small favors (mostly to play a game with her)

often left unsupervised as a kid, bt not in the way tht her parents dnt care (bc her parents love her a lot a lot a lot like she is their world) bt in the way tht they simply raised her the way they were raised. running amuck all day n coming home jst in time fr dinner, front porch light always on, cat always waiting faithfully on their stoop.

pretty evident frm a young age tht kira’s mind saw things differently, in a different light - the world an array of light n mystery n sound n taste n sometimes those collided n created new experiences. prob hs some form of synsthesia bt dnt ask me which one yet. she’s a painting prodigy with an excellent understanding of color theory.

always ws known as a kind of like. rambunctious kid. a well meaning class clown who cld nt keep her mouth shut fr the life of her. grew up constantly with a yellow card beneath her name in school bt ws always well liked by her teachers n classmates alike.

jst a very bright child who did well naturally bt always ws turned more towards art.

feel like her parents very noticeably turned a cheek when she started smoking weed w the cool older kids when she ws 13. the type of person who wnts 2 b liked so bad she’d jump over a hurdle fr it. hs jumped over many hurdles n many fences n many other obstacles to be liked bt does it without breaking a sweat.

(edit: nw tht i think abt it hwevr i dnt think she does tht anymore i think while a bit of a mess atm she. likes herself. n doesnt rly want or need the approval of others anymore she jst does her own little thing. bt when she ws younger? she jst wnted 2 b friends w the entire world.)

nothing bad rly happened fr like. a good bit of her life. got into psychedelics at some point in high school n tht only heightened her artistic abilities. most of her high school art portfolio ws probably done while high bt <3 does it matter.

hd a high school sweetheart n they were pretty serious like. full on in love. a total believer of soulmates kira ws jst like. this is the one. there is nobody else i cn imagine my life with.

death tw

death tw

death tw.

death n grief tw // yea. sometime during their freshmen year of college. car incident. kira ws nvr the same though she’d like to pretend tht nothing’d ever happened. like theyd nvr existed. like she didnt plan out their entire lives together hiking thru hills n valleys n boating across various bodies of water n traveling together until they were old n wrinkly. end of death tw //

cld nt explain 2 u why kira hd bought a van n completely demolished it only to drain all of her savings remodeling it bt nw she lives in it by the beach. hd dreams of travelling the world bt cannot go long distances in a car without feeling sick. sees planes n feels envy. stopped painting fr a long time bt she’s started back up recently. took on surfing. told her parents tht it ws fine n tht she ws fine n theyre concerned bt shes always by the beach, her van rarely leaves. she’s trying her best bt its only been a few yrs n i think ppl cn sense tht shes jst nt the same cheerful girl as they once knew. end of grief tw //

anyways. tugs on my collar. tht’s kira! she lives on the beach n surfs everyday n is obsessed with daisies n is prob growing her own shrooms somewhere. 

personality & facts.

always been very emotional n a little dramatic. nt a drama queen bt is a little messy n does not hv like. many rational thoughts up in there. very cup full or cup empty.

regardless though she hs an. overall reputation fr jst being. enjoyable to be around. her her little moments bt shes also pretty like. laidback. in a way. KDSHFSDLKHGHFLKSD

prob bc she smokes a lot or is often <3 on a trip if u know wht i mean <3

god. got obsessed with the 60s n 70s aesthetic at some point n hs not gone back evr. big fan of psychedelic rock. is a prodigy painter bt her life dream outside of traveling ws always to own her own record label. hs nt happened yet, maybe will never happen? works at a record shop though n does hide the good vinyls tht she wants away frm the customers.

very cheerful n usually uplifting n she doesnt like to b negative around others bt smtms she cnt control it n smtms thinks tht ppl r out 2 get her jst out of. anxiety. hs long bouts where she’ll sit in a still sort of sadness n then shake out of it n hop back into conversation like nothing’s happened bt. its fine we’re fine kira is fine.

shes not gullible or naive bt wants to believe tht everybody hs a heart of gold even if its false. keeps giving ppl second chances bc she hs a savior complex n thinks she cn change ppl.

is very into zodiac n will judge u by ur chart. knows everybody in town’s natal chart. even newcomers. it’s a little scary hw quick she finds this information bt its very important to her.

kind of like. into spirituality bt i wont lie its very surface level n a little superficial. learning tarot cards bt cannot fr the life of her memorize the meanings so smtms she jst makes up things on the spot. hs so many crystals she will not stop buying them.

i think a part of her is desperately trying to cling onto tht like. think positive. self care. msg thts super prevalent online without addressing or actually helping any of her problems. it is her flaw </3

hates to admit when she needs help. wld rather do everything herself.

head is a little in the clouds n her parents r a little concerned fr her bc shes nt rly doing much rn bt like. she jst needs time i think. shes jst doing her little thing.

does not give up on ppl easily she absolutely hates dropping ppl frm her life even if she grows 2 resent them over time which is bad bc she is bad at hiding when she is upset at someone or when she doesnt like someone.

like shes jst passive aggressive abt it n does not properly communicate <3

bt this is rare i think ... negative feelings abt other ppl

self centered bt not selfish if tht makes sense. she will do things fr others without a problem n sometimes trips over herself 2 do it bt at the end of the day i think she cares abt herself the most.

hs only been in love once bt hs hd many infatuations n many like. admirations n very surface level feelings. her body is a temple n she loves 2 b worshipped.

prob does fkn. beach yoga. probably vegan bt also maybe breaks tht every once in a while. almost noncommittal its hard 2 distinguish between her being carefree, not taking care of herself, or jst hving commitment issues? flaky or not? who knows.

feels jst a bit too strongly bt tries to contain it. jst full of multitudes or smth. idk. icon <3

like. cares bt doesnt care. does thinks tht r purposely self destructive n then acts like shes like. cool girl monologue frm gone girl. bt does it while being like peace n luv on earth x

ok thts all i hv goodbye

wanted plots.

a pseudonym 2 fool ‘em... ;; jst hd this idea pop up bt i like the idea of kira going undercover 2 expose cheaters. whether she does this on her own accord or is personally requested by smbdy is up in the air. a plottable point. she h8s cheaters n is chaotic good she prob thinks shes the relationship vigilante testing the strengths of other’s relationships. once again she cld b. specifically going undercover fr smbdy 2 help them out. im sure she wldnt go 2 very. extensive srs measures like actually. sleeping w the assumed-cheaters bt once again. world is our oyster n i lov drama?

crystal visions ... ;; once again. shes super into crystals n astrology n she will base sm of her opinions of others on it. this is nt just abt her being judgmental of others bt also jst. catching her running around in the rain trying sooo hard 2 fkn. charge her crystals in the rainwater bc she forgot 2 charge them under the full moon the night b4. this is her giving wrong tarot readings. she hs no idea wht shes doing at any given time bt acts like she does know. acts like she knows the entire world. she gives crystals as gifts n will do ur natal chart for u bt will also pack her things n leave if ur a capricorn.

time of the season... ;; i dnt knw admittedly. this song’s abt being horny so perhaps? perhaps. kira isnt rly able to keep a grasp on long term relationships rn due to. factors in her life so she hops frm person 2 person often. smtms jst flings smtms its jst a relationship accidentally led on. shes noncommittal n a little flaky atm when she’s usually ride or die fr others. perhaps this is all in the name of some good fun! world? oyster. 

literally anything .dsfskhdkgs ;; god. shes so new i jst dnt know. childhood friends. current friends. friends shes hd frever. enemies n ex lovers n ppl shes constantly pushing away or scorned lovers or both or anything?? she pushed them out of the roller rink to make more room fr herself or maybe they did tht to her. perhaps theyre both constantly pursuing some sort of fkn. meaning in their lives tht they cnt quite grasp. mayb they go on an acid trip together. who knows. 

[burnedbyshoto]

Show Me How You Like It

Kinktober Day 12 ~ kink: pegging

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, smut

word count: 3,850

a/n: this is for @lady-bakuhoe .... oh god, i did so much research for this because ive never tried pegging, but idk....might need to convince someone oneday. also, new season?????? im literally shaking because the first episode was so pure,,,,,but this season,,,,,ohmy

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Do you want to try it?”

Being married was something you thought of as unimaginable. Marriage and you didn’t ever seem to go hand in hand. Not that you didn’t want to get married at some point in your life. You never expected anyone to want you for the rest of your life.

You met Kirishima Eijirou in middle school. As you were best friends with Ashido Mina. You often noticed the shy dark-haired boy always watching on your friend group. You remember going to the U.A. entrance exam and sitting between Mina and Kirishima. The written exam you listened to Mina curse under her breath, and Kirishima shakes as he filled out his sheet.

You remember looking at the field he was then placed in for the practical exam. Sighing when you saw the three of you were then scattered everywhere. You had wished him luck! His cheeks turning pink as he stammered back good luck as you and Mina took off to get dressed. You didn’t know much about him besides that he was shy and very sweet, but you hoped he did well! The next month, the three of you called to the principal's office. You were absolutely astonished to see that Kirishima had gotten in as well! The three of you would be going on to U.A. together!

After ending middle school, you didn’t see him again until orientation. Except, he was different. A good different. His hair stylized, large spikes, and bright red. It was attention-grabbing, demanding even, but his face was still as sweet as ever. Kind and loving.

The first year flew by. Near-death experiences with him formed a bond with him that you never knew would manifest. The three of you--Mina, Kirishima, and you--were close. Buddies, but sometimes, if you were being honest, your eyes would stay on him for a bit too long.

Your heart hammered when he went out for his internship, scared he’d come back scared. Your eyes locking on his flexing muscles, and Mina’s sharp laughter pulling you back to reality. The way he was reckless and shield the class from attacks. Because he was a shield, and he could take it. The way he would catch you in his arms. Those black sleeves were so soft, making you squeak as you were now distracted from your own battle. His toothy grin sucking you in as he made a cute comment about getting there on time. His warm large hands on your body as he placed you down, encouraging you to finish the villain.

There was the night you found yourself knocking on his door. Tears brimming your eyes because you needed to be in someone's arms and Mina was asleep. He took you in without you even asking. Taking you to his bed as he wrapped you in his blanket. His voice apologizing about the state of his room. Apologizing because his blanket wasn’t that soft, and you deserved a softer one. He seemed to panic around his room, setting up a kettle for tea, all while you stared at his blushing face. His cheeks bright enough to match his hair as you stood up from the bed and wrap your arms around him. Your words are weak as you ask him to hold you because that was all you needed. You fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest as he smiled at you. Lips pressing to your forehead.

It wasn’t until your second year did you do something about your feelings. Your eyes on Kirishima as he was joking around with Kaminari over Bakugou’s fuming head. You felt yourself walking over, no plan in mind. The girls staring at you as you went, muffled screams because they could tell what was coming.

You didn’t ask, only grabbing Kirishima’s wrist and pulling him so that he could look at you. His face went from grinning, to shock, to a blush erupting to cover his entire face as he realized it was you. His hand slamming against the back of his neck as he apologized for something. Not that it was actually needed. His lips were so pretty, and you were sick of him not being yours. Your hands fisted into the shirt of his collar and brought his lips to yours. Your first kiss with Kirishima a slamming force. You clenched your eyes as your lips pressed against his, and you felt him stiffen against you.

His quirk going off and you pull away, lips stinging because of his mishap.

The screams of the girls were loud, Kaminari’s seemed louder, and Bakugou was laughing loudly. Kirishima returns to normal his face turning redder than his hair as he apologizes. Kirishima admits he likes you so much, and you caught him completely off guard.

So with a breathy laugh, you pull him in close once again and seal your lips over his.

The kiss makes you dizzy as he holds you tightly. His finger gripping your waist as if you would crumble between his fingers.

So the two of you began dating. Four years of a very serious and committed relationship had your heart soaring. The two of you were each other first’s for many things. There was never heartbreak between the two of you. Fights were always avoided, the two of you always talking before things escalated. So it was no surprise on the night before your fifth anniversary, the two of you home in your sweats, did he propose.

You cried, screaming at him for proposing when you looked like this. Kirishima cried as he stayed on his knee, a sparkling ring in his fingers.

“That’s not an answer,” Kirishima says, as you cover your face. Sobs refusing to stop as you shake your head overwhelmed. “A-Are you not ready?”

“EI!” You bawl as you stumble to your feet, and throw yourself into his strong arms. “YOU’RE SO DUMB! Yes, I’ll marry you! Every day for the rest of my life if I could!”

The two of you spent the rest of that night in each other's arms. Tears intermingling on your cheeks as you expressed your love for one another.

Your wedding was unimaginable, intimate, and wondrous.

So here the two of you were. Six months into marriage on your day off he asked to try something new. Your guy’s sex life definitely was not vanilla. Both of you sported your favorite kinks and positions, and you incorporated them into bed. Today he asked something that you never thought you’d hear. So without judging you uttered those words.

“I’d like to try pegging, one day. I just--I don’t know--I feel like I need to try it out!” Kirishima says, scratching his cheek as you laugh.

“Well, I think we should definitely try it out! I hear it’ll be super enjoyable for you.” You agree as you stand up. “Do you want to order it online or go to a sex shop?”

Kirishima sighs as you take a seat on his lap, and his hands rest on your hips. It’s muscle memory at this point as you kiss his cheek. “If the store is open, let’s go?”

“It’s only three in the afternoon, Ei. It’s open.” You laugh as you kiss his flaming cheeks. Kirishima sighs as he stands up from the chair, his arms wrapping around your legs as he carries you.

“No need to be mean!” He pouts, and you laugh as you pepper kisses against his lips as he walks towards your home’s entrance. “I just hope we don’t run into fans again…”

“Hey!” You laugh as he slips on your shoes all while holding you still. “It’s their damn fault for thinking we don’t have kinky sex… or sex at all.”

“You didn’t let me smash for a whole year.” Kirishima laughs as he shifts you in his arms so that he’s holding you piggyback style. You laugh as he puts on his own shoes. Your limbs tightening around his body for support as he’s leaning down.

“It’s because you kept telling me to smash, and the first time it happened you pulled out Super Smash Bros.”

“You’re telling me you denied me for a whole year because of that?!”

“EIJIROU, YOU LITERALLY MADE ME PANIC SO HARD! The girls and I went out to buy me lingerie and everything!!”

“You’re telling me this now? Sorry, y/n, sounds fake.” Kirishima laughs as he stands up, and begins your journey out.

Eventually, you slide off his back, and he takes your hand into his own. The two of you talking as you walk down the streets of your city as you enter the sex shop. You went were you remembered where the strap on dildos and harnesses were. Kirishima, however, seems frozen as you pick out a sturdy harness. It was black and rather daunting as you handed it to Kirishima.

“You get to pick the dildo.” You say, looking at the collection they had.

“T...This is a lot more than what I was expecting.” Kirishima gulps as his hands rake through his flat hair. “Is there a one size fits all?”

You snort at you shake your head, “No, baby. Just like there are no two dicks alike, you have to choose. We can always start with the thinnest one?”

“Yeah. That sounds right.”

You grab a thinner dildo and choose the bright red one. “For my Red Daddy Riot?” You ask, a burst of bubbling laughter in your throat as Kirishima tosses his head back.

“That was one time!”

“It still happened, and you liked it!”

The two of you laughed together as you bought the two things. Even taking pictures with the person at the register because he was in love with you two. Besides that, the two of you left back home.

Steps quick to try it out. Breathing picking up as you reached the house.

Kirishima’s lips were over yours as soon as the front door closed behind him. His strong arm keeping you on his hips as his other one held the black bag.

“Wow, you’re impatient.” You moan against his lips, as you kick your shoes off.

“It’s the nerves.” Kirishima sighs as he walks towards the bedroom, your lips gliding against his.

Your fingers tug at his hair without care, his heavy pants making you grin. You knew his body as well as you knew his own, and hair-pulling always lit a fire under him. Your back pressed into the mattress, and your breathing increases as he shifts. His shirt pulling off his head. You pull away and watch as his scarred chest heaves.

You sit up, your lips pressing light kisses against every scar. Every bruise. Every impurity. Your lips were hot against his skin, and Kirishima’s wordless praises stirred you on. Your hands grabbed his shorts. Without him even realizing it, you’ve removed his shorts, and have him on the bed in two-fluid movements.

“Is the lube, fuck, is the lube in the box?” Kirishima asks as your lips suck the crook of his neck.

You nod your head as you remove your own shirt, and his hands squeeze your breasts. You hiss at the sensation, your hips involuntarily moving as well. Kirishima’s gasping breathes stir you on as you feel his arousal pressing into your ass. “Are you ready?” You ask, your nails running up and down his abs. You know he likes the teasing of the sensation, and he nods his head as you pull away.

Kirishima watches you from the bed as you strip off your shorts. You’re wearing a nice set already, a deep maroon bra and matching thong piece. It wasn’t lingerie. But the color of red against your skin made Kirishima moan as you pull out the lube from your box of other goods. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his throat as you open the harness.

Your eyes locked on his own, a smile on your face as you slip your legs through the ties. Fastening them all tight around your thighs as you spin around for Kirishima when it’s done. It’s tight enough that you feel comfortable, but not loose enough for it to fall off ever. Kirishima groans, his body falling onto the bed as you place the dildo into the harness. Why did you look ravishing like that?

Kirishima feels you climbing onto the bed, your hair tickling his cheeks as you lean down. “On your knees, Red Daddy Riot.” You whisper into his ear, your teeth nibbling his earlobe.

“You’re the worst.” Kirishima groans as he does as commanded, slipping his underwear off. Your teeth bite your lower lip as you stare at his ass. This was a new angle, and it was one you very much enjoyed. Hell, if you looked this hot, it was no wonder why Kirishima loved doggy style. You could see the sharp lines of his body, the muscles rippling in his nervousness. His ass looking firm and delicious as you shuffle closer. A sigh leaving your lips as you rejoice in him being the perfect height for you to peg him.

“I’m going to start with my fingers first.” You inform Kirishima who nods his head.

“Be gentle at first?”

“Like a flower.” You promise as you grab the lube, rubbing a very healthy amount on your index finger and middle finger. “Ready?”

His nod is weak but sure of his request.

So with as much precaution as you can, your index finger slides past his tight hole. You ease it in as Kirishima lets out a string of curses, his body trembling as he almost falls onto his forearms. Your tongue pokes out, unsure if it was okay to savor the way he was feeling or to be actually concerned.

“Does this feel good, baby?” You ask as your finger curls.

“Y-Yes, oh my god, princess…” Kirishima pants as he thrusts his hips out towards you.

Your finger makes it all the way in, and Kirishima cries out your name as you begin to move it back out. Your finger now slowly beginning to thrust into him. Your hips shifting in the excitement in the way he shakes. His chest falling to the mattress as you continue thrusting into him. Kirishima’s moans stirring you on as you add another finger.

H makes audible gawking noise. You chuckle as your free hands trail up and down his muscular thigh. Your hand moves up his inner thigh and then grasps his hard cock. Kirishima’s pleasure and pained moans filling the room as you stroke his length. “You’re taking my fingers so good, baby.” You groan against his rippling back muscles. “I hope this feels as good as you look.”

Kirishima spasms as your nails gently tease the walls of his hole. His nearly shrieking gasps turn you on further. Your hand that is moving down his length his fisting him as you go. A sadistic smile on your face as his cries continue. His body trembling. Your fingers moving in a wave-like function as he gasps prettily.

Your cunt is now throbbing at the sight of your husband like this. The dom in you bleeding out as you remove your fingers from his hole. Your other hand releases his twitching cock as you pull back. Kirishima’s pleading gasps making you laugh as you slap his ass.

“Don’t worry,” You say grabbing the lube and placing a large amount onto the dildo. “I’m not done with you quite yet.”

Kirishima whimpers softly, the noise music to your ears as your lips press against his ass.

“You’re doing so well.” You whisper as you press the head of the red dildo onto his hole, not yet inserting it. Your grin widening as Kirishima rocks his hips, wanting you to thrust in already. “I’m going to put it in now, and I don’t want to hear a single moan, groan, cry, or word.” You warn.

Kirishima’s husky voice lets out a whine, and you shiver at the feeling as you move your hips forward. The head of the dildo sinking into his awaiting hole.

“You didn’t make a sound, I’m impressed. Are you okay, my love?” One of your hands moving up to rub soothing circles on his back as you pressed deeper inside him. Kirishima replied with a weak head nod. Rutting his hips back into you as you entered completely inside him. You wait a moment as his heavy pants let you know he’s still adjusting. Your thighs twitch with your anticipation, and you want nothing more than to thrust into him. The pool of heat within you intensifies as Kirishima drops to his chest.

“I-I’m ready.” He asserts, and you smirk, your hand coming down heavily onto his ass.

“Are you ready to feel how good I am with my cock?” You tease, and Kirishima laughs, his head nodding.

“Show me how you like it.” Kirishima staggers as your hips roll into his ass.

A shriek of pleasure leaves his lips as you begin pushing your hips against his ass. Your pace a lot faster than it probably should have been. You began to buck your hips against him, admiring in the way Kirishima moans loudly. His hips moving to meet yours. You grinned as you landed another hard smack on his ass, expecting a raw noise in response. Your face lits up when your husband sinfully moans at the action, his jaw-dropping as he pants. Your fingers continue running across his soft skin as you watched it redden under your touch. Your handprint was evident in its shape.

“Please, baby, more!” Kirishima gasps as you shift your hips slightly. His back arching as he clutches the fabric between his fingers. You laugh, your head leaning to press a kiss against his spine.

“Kami, you look so damn pretty when you’re crying for me.” You moan, uncaring about your sloppy thrusts for the moment. The way Kirishima is so responsive to your actions is stirring you on. You’re positive that you’ll be coming as soon as he touches you later. You grip his hips, angling your body so that you’re thrusting into him at a better angle. Trying to desperately find that angle that will make his eyes roll to the back of his head. To find the angle that will make him scream and drool. The loud and raw ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips, lets you know you found his prostate. You continue in at that angle, the same power and depth as the rawness of his voice send chills down your spine.

Your body feels like it’s on fire as you feel so much power. Your husband’s continuous whimpering stirring you on. Your right-hand leaves his waist, moving to grasp his still rock hard cock in your grasp. “Oh, poor baby,” You coo. “Does your cock need to come?” You pant, the action of your thrusting hips making you sweat.

“Yes, fuck, baby yes!” Kirishima shouts, his face burying into the mattress as you massage his length up and down. Your hips are relentless against his ass as you continue fucking him. Your laughs nearly inaudible at the sight of him still fucking himself against you.

“What if I don’t want you to come yet.” You pout, your fingers leaving his length, your hips stilling.

“Please let me come, baby, please!” Kirishima pants his hips unapologetic as he continues pushing against the strap-on. You giggle, taking his cock back in your hand. Your arousal slicking against your thighs as you continue.

You’re intent on getting him to come within seconds, and it shows. Your hips are thrusting harder and faster than you’ve gone yet. Your hand fisting along his length, his leaking precum covering your hand. Kirishima’s spluttering shouts fueling your inner lust. His body convulses under your manipulation.

Sinfully loud mewls and moans leave his lips, and you feel his cock spasm. Your hips finding it difficult to go as fast as you had been going as his hole tightens around the dildo.

“Y/N, FUCK!”

Your hand covered instantly in his hot sticky seed. Your lips in a wide grin as your hand continues stroking his length. His fluids continuing to come out in his heavy load. Your thrusting stops, and with a sigh, you pull away. Falling down on your ass as Kirishima collapses. His eyes locked on you as you lick his come off your hands.

“You’re super hot like that.” You inform Kirishima as you shift towards his heaving body to press a kiss to his lips. “I didn’t think you would be so into it.”

You slide off the bed, taking off the harness and letting it fall to the ground as you groan. You remove your panties and show Kirishima just how fucking wet they were. “Just in case you weren’t sure how turned on I was.”

You take off your bra as you crawl back onto the bed, Kirishima turning onto his back as you straddle his torso.

“You still need to come, huh?” Kirishima states. A low hiss escaping his mouth at feeling your throbbing wet cunt against his hips.

“Yeah, I do.” You sigh your fingers teasing your breasts as your husband leans up. His lips pressing against the underside of your breasts. Your head drops back as you feel content. “Are you gonna help me out, or am I going to be forced to fuck you by myself?”

You shriek as you’re on your back, looking up at Kirishima who is trailing his heavy and hot hands down your figure. You moan at the feeling of his teeth biting against your neck. His sharp teeth sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll know how I felt that entire time,” Kirishima promises, his finger entering your aching core.

“Give it to me, Red Daddy Riot.”

“...I’ll leave.”

“No! You know that I’m only tea--OHMYGOD!”

Kirishima has his once again hard cock slamming into your throbbing pussy. His voice snarling at the sensation as his hands bring your legs over his shoulders. “Now shut up, and let daddy show you how to fuck properly.”

You can’t even tease him as he begins jackhammering into you. Your head slamming into the mattress as a shriek rips through your throat.

[talkfastromance4]

Crushed&Caffeinated-- Ashton Irwin

Not requested. Had a shit day. Had too much coffee and this happened. Ashton brings out the angst in me. This turned out longer than I expected, I was just letting off some steam but tell me what you think.

P.S I know the basis of this concept is weird but this was my day today soo...yeah

Word Count: 1558

Masterlist

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. *copyright is listed below*

• • • •

Horrible days just seem to be a norm for you lately. You’d made multiple errors at work, and felt the cold, hard stares from a co-worker because of the mess you’d made. It’s not like you didn’t fix it, but you still felt the guilt eat away at you. And when the guilt eats away at you, it doesn’t leave any room for you to eat actual food for sustenance.

You blamed your bad misfortune on the fact that it’s a Monday, that your period is coming soon, that there was just a full moon and has left you all out of whack. The more you thought about it, the more it made your stomach turn so you just poured yourself another cup of coffee. 

Coffee became the main meal for you for the rest of the day. Not only were you worked up about the error you made at work, but now your body was buzzing with caffeine. It made your mind race a thousand miles a minute, it left you fuzzy. 

By the time you came home--expectant of cuddles from your boyfriend and maybe a hot bubble bath with Ashton massaging your shoulders--your whole body was buzzing. Your hands had a slight shake to them as you unlocked the door, excited to see him on the other side. You came home at the same time every day and at that same time he’d be waiting for you. It always made you smile because it reminded you of a puppy, and the way he looked at you made your stomach flip in an entirely different way. 

When you opened the door, Ashton isn’t there. With shoulders slumping you continue your way in, calling for him as if he just forgot the time but the house is empty, much like your stomach. With a racing heart, you head to the kitchen and start the coffee machine. Caffeine has been your only friend today; it’s kept you going even when you wanted to stop.

By the time he gets home, your first cup almost gone, Ashton shuffles in through the door, his voice loud and excited but it only hurts your ears. You swallow down the last of your coffee and the trembling in your hands stop.

“Hey angel, sorry I’m late. I picked up some food and it took longer than usual,” he smiles setting a brown paper bag onto the counter.

The smell of teriyaki and fried rice fills your nostrils. On a normal day it would have made your mouth water, but today is not a normal day and it made your stomach reel instead.

“Not hungry,” you mutter and move to the coffee pot to pour another cup. It’s as if your brain is on a racetrack, it’s moving in a constant circle, faster and faster. You’re more than buzzing, you’re. . . a humming and whirring machine about to overheat and explode. You’re a ticking time bomb and Ashton knows it.

“How many cups have you had today?” he asks gently, his fingers moving to grab the mug from you. You swat him away.

“Dunno, lost count in the afternoon.”

“Have you eaten?” he asks as you open the sugar packet. He notices the way your fingers are shaking as you pour it in your cup.

“Not much,” you mumble.

“Y/N,” he stresses your name, he uses the tone that would normally make your thighs quiver. His large hand covers yours, stopping your motions of pouring the sugar in. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Y/N,” he stresses again, using his other hand to grab hold of your jaw. You fight him for a moment but he’s too strong and he forces you to look at him, but you avert your gaze. He grunts in agitation and shakes your head just roughly enough so you’re forced to look into his hazel eyes. “Your pupils are huge, you haven’t eaten anything, have you?”

Your answer is by looking down in shame, but your heart is hammering against your chest, the racetrack in your head is getting louder and louder and you need to quiet the buzz. He knows you use caffeine as a scapegoat, as if it would chase away the feeling you were trying to run away from.

“What happened?” he asks, he loosens his hold on your jaw and the steam from your coffee is making your palm sweat. His hand still covering yours over the mug.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

He sighs heavily, hazel eyes searching yours. “Okay. C’mon.”

He releases his holds on you and starts to walk away. You use this as your chance to finish stirring in your creamer and then you’re flung over Ashton’s shoulders. His hands are strong on the backs of your thighs and you’re smacking his butt and back with your fists, demanding to be put down.

He only sets you down when you’re in his music room and you’re right next to his drum kit. He hands you his sticks. You look at the small pieces of wood in your hands then back up at him.

“What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t want to talk about it, so let it out this way. I’m getting you a gallon of water and some rice because you need to get out of this buzz.”

Then he’s left the room and you fall onto his stool. Your fingers squeeze the drumsticks as you stare at his instrument, he never lets anyone play them. Even for you it’s rare, but when you do it’s only when he’s trying to teach you to play.

The way he plays makes it look like a dance. How his movements are so controlled yet so freeing blows your mind. You love how passionate he is, the passion evident in his face and the force he hits the song in, it’s mesmerizing.

“I’m not hearing anything,” he says, pulling you quickly from your thoughts. He strides over to you, grabs your hands, and makes you hit random drums. “Go! Hit! Let out whatever it is I know you’re bottling up.”

And just like that, it’s as if his own shouts finally flipped the switch that you shut off hours before. You grip the drumsticks a bit harder and pound away. You’re sure you aren’t hitting with a rhythm but the louder it gets and the harder you hit, you feel it in your bones. The horrible day is rippling out of you, you’re hitting it with force and intent and to stop the constant buzzing in your head.

Ashton is egging you on, he even smacks the cymbals a few times as you let loose. Hot tears sting your eyes, when it blurs your vision and you can’t see what you’re hitting anymore, that’s when you stop. Chest heaving, tears falling, you let the sticks clatter to the floor and Ashton wraps you in his arms letting you cry the rest of your anger out.

“Can you drink some of this for me?” he asks kissing the top of your head.

You jerk your head away from his chest to see him holding up one of his large water bottles. You can see the condensation on the plastic, ice cold water will feel good. With a shaking hand, you guide the bottle to your mouth and suck on the straw. In response to the freshness of the cold water, your eyes close as you feel the liquid travel through your body. It’s cooling you from the inside out, you can practically feel it flush out your system.

“Okay, okay, not too much. I don’t want you to get sick,” he pulls the bottle away and some water slips over your chin. He’s quick to wipe it away with his thumb. He kisses your head again, and then once more. “Eat some rice with me.”

After you shared a carton of rice with him, he gave you some more water then rubbed your back. He cradles your cheeks in his hands inspecting your eyes again.

“There you are,” he smiles lightly, “how about we take a cool shower and finish the food?”

“Okay,” you whisper. He gives you a featherlight kiss, but his love holds so much more weight in it.

“Okay,” he smiles. He helps you up leading you into the master bathroom.

You snatch up the clothes you both sleep in setting them on the sink. He undresses you carefully, making sure to hold your hand as you step under the lukewarm water. It washes away your stress and worry, and just when you feel like you’re about to crumble again, Ashton’s strong arms are around you.

“Thank you,” you tell him kissing the center of his chest. You get a small taste of him from the water on your lips, so you kiss him a few more times.

“One of these days your caffeine high is going to make you run away from me.”

You tilt your head up, the water falling along your face as you look at him. His face is smooth, but his eyes are filled with worry, his dimple shadowed in his frown.

“That will never happen,” you shake your head stretching up on your toes to get a proper taste of his lips.

His kisses are sweeter than any cup of coffee.

• • • •

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

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[babysizedfics]

I need to know about doctor mama lo taking care of a sick baby Virgil if you would like pretty please. I dont wanna ask on the in character blog cuz I feel like it would be weird to ask for details and lo seems kinda busy anyway lol.

hey tumblebee!! yeah yeah lets do this, Im gonna write it so that ppl who dont follow the other blog can understand too

WARNING IF U HAVENT ALREADY BLOCKED THE TAGS ILLNESS TW AND VOMIT TW THEY ARE VERY PREVALENT IN THIS

also this is a VERY long headcanon!!

so last night vee got ill, he had been regressed in the afternoon with patton and he was acting much more fussy than usual - not being entertained by his cartoons, not having the energy to play with his rattle, pretty much constantly whining and pouting and he gets very wriggly when he's fussy

patton assumed it was because vee had been upset earlier that day. at one point vee started gripping his stomach, and patton assumed its because he was hungry and could smell the food roman was cooking

but when dinner came around no matter how hard patton tried he couldnt get vee to eat a morsel - he kept turning his head away from the food and whining. at one point patton and logan both managed to convince him to eat a spoonful but his face crumpled with a wince and it looked almost painful for him to swallow it. it was at this point logan noticed he had a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead

things fell into place quickly after that - logan checked his temperature and it was indeed slightly higher than was healthy, they noticed vee's hands were trembling and he was constantly on the verge of tears :(

while patton cleared away dinner and excused roman who wanted to go and craft in his room, logan took vee to his bedroom and tried to check for more symptoms, since vee was non verbal and unresponsive totheir questions. he tested his tummy by pushing it a little to see if the pain got worse when he released it (this is a test for appendicitis) but there was no reaction thankfully except vee being upset by logan not cuddling him. he checked his throat for any redness or infection, nothing.

vee's crying became more pronounced and eventually he was in constant tears, occassionally pleading 'mama mama' through sniffles and hiccups and whines of pain :(( Patton brought him a baby bottle of cooled tea made with fresh mint leaves since that is supposed to help stomach pains. though he left the room again since logan thought it was best not to crowd virgil. Vee's crying had dissipated but he was strangely silent and seemed almost loopy now. he only drank a little of the tea before he pushed it away with a gag.

logan immediately took him to the bathroom knowing what was coming, and sure enough vee threw up into the toilet, crying between gags. logan dutifully managed to keep vee in his lap the whole time and held his hair and rubbed his back, telling him he was such a good boy the whole time

Thankfully it didnt last long as there wasnt much in vees stomach to be emptied. he was shivering and sweating and flushed and had lost all energy. he wasnt even crying anymore, just whimpering under his breath. with a bit of a struggle logan managed to show him how to rinse his mouth out with mouthwash - though he had to hold vee over the sink and pat his back to make sure he didnt swallow it

during all of this patton wasnt able to help because of his heightened empathy, if he sees someone throwing up the likeihood is he will too and that wiuldnt be very helpful! so instead he drives to the store to pick up some medicine and ice pops - and comes back with half the store including some actual baby medicine smh - ((im actually begging u to read that linked post i think its so funny))

it was originallly meant to be logans night to put roman to bed but understandably patton took on that task instead. after roman was drifting off patton pokes his head into vee's room. he had hoped to find lo and vee asleep but they werent. they were lying in the dark with an in the night garden audio story playing on a portable speaker and with vees salt lamp and star night light lighting up the room in a soft glow.

logan offered a strained little smile and nod to patton as he stroked vee's hair and cuddled him close. vee was completely out of it honestly. his body was wholly lax against his mama, his lips were in a permanent pout and his eyes were puffy and wet. he barely even acknowledged his papa coming in, his teary eyes just settled on him for a moment then dropped back to the bedsheets without a reaction. he kept lifting his thumb up to suck on it but logan kept capturing it and apologising as he brought it away. Vee shouldnt suck on his thumb and logan doesnt want to give him a paci while he's ill. understandably, baby vee was completely miserable.

patton asks if logan thinks vee could handle a popsicle or plain crackers at the moment but logan disagrees. he doesnt expect either of them to get much sleep so he will make sure vee eats something in a few hours. with a gentle kiss on vee's forehead patton goes off to bed, confident that logan will be able to look after vee and will come get him if theres any issues

logan and vee really dont sleep much at all. Vee drifts off for a few minutes at a time then gasps awake from vivid fever dreams. logan keeps ice cubes in a bowl by the bed for vee to suck on if he needs to cool down and wraps a couple in a flannel to press to vee's head when his fever rises in the middle of the night.

around 3am logan jolts awake and realises he had drifted off. and vee isnt anywhere in the room. he panics momentarily, bolting up from the bed and dashing to the closet to see if virgil is in there - which he tends to do when he is overwhelmed - but then he hears sniffling from the bathroom.

he finds vee, no longer regressed, curled up against the side of the bathtub with his bangs clinging to his sweaty head. vee is the palest person logan knows but he looks positively grey at the moment

'can i help in any way?' he asks, aware that he doesnt need to baby talk at the moment but still eager to look after this bundle of miserableness

virgil just groans under his breath and clutches his knees to his chest. 'i.. i didnt know what to do with the..' he gestures vaguely to something on the floor

logan notices virgil, being not regressed anymore, had obviously wrestled off the diaper he had been changed into the night before and not known how to dispose of it

'its ok, ive got it' logan wraps it up in a bag and puts it in the trash can they have in the room for just this purpose

'sorry.. m stupid' virgil croaks

'You're not stupid.' logan says firmly as he washes his hands 'You're ill and probably delirious from the fever. it's alright virgil'

theres quiet for a bit longer, virge's head pressed against the porcelain edge of the bathtub likely in an attempt to cool his fever. logan stays there with him for a while just waiting. then suddenly virgil starts sobbing and buries his face in his hands.

'sweetheart, tell me whats wrong please' logan hurries to kneel beside him, lifting his hands away from his face. that wouldnt help the fever

'i dont feel well' virgil cries pathetically, tears rolling down his face.

logans heart breaks 'no, you dont. i'm sorry little one, i know its not nice'

at the nickname virgils thumb raises to his lips again, which logan hurriedly intercepts. 'i'll make you a deal, okay? you're allowed to use a pacifier, but you have to use the same one everyday until you are better. we will need to sterilise it every night too.'

vee sniffles and nods, then chokes 'm not a baby right now though'

'that doesnt matter. you dont need to be regressed to want one of your pacis, vee'

vee is unresponsive and starts scratching at his pyjama pants. logan gets a feeling he isnt saying something. then he notices virgil's pout is much more infantile than his adult ones. 'are you feeling little, baby?'

with a harsh shake of his head vee starts crying again. he whispers 'dont wanna be a b...' then cuts himself off and whimpers

logan cards his fingers through virgils damp bangs. he knows what virgils mind has jumped to. 'were you going to say you dont want to be a baby?' he lifts virgils chin up to look at him 'or that you dont want to be a burden?'

virgils pale lip wobbles 'same fing'

'no sweetheart, no no no,' logan sits on the tiles beside vee and pulls him into his lap. virgil goes willingly. logan rocks his baby as he says 'youre always always allowed to be a baby and its never ever going to upset your family. even if you're an adorable wonderful brave baby boy alllll of the time' he scribbles his finger on virgils rosy cheek and delights at the tiny smile it earns him. 'but especially when you're feeling yucky. you feel a bit yucky today dont you, little one?'

vee nods with a pout

'but yknow whats not yucky? softies and pacis and diapers and lots and lots of cuddles with mama' he holds virgil tighter to prove his point. vee sighs and drops his head to nuzzle against his mama's neck. logan feels he still has a slight fever. 'i know what might help you feel less yucky. does my sweet baby want a sweet ice pop?'

thankfully vee nods against his shoulder and grips tight onto his pyjama shirt, preparing for when logan lifts him up

he first makes sure to change vee into another diaper and even decides that he should wear one of mama's t-shirts as a light dress so he doesnt get as overheated by his pyjamas. at this point vee actually giggles for the first time pretty much all day as he feels the tshirt swish lazily around his legs. logan makes a mental note to observe whether little vee might want to try wearing dresses if the feeling sparks this much joy (at this point logan is unaware that vee has secretly been trying skirts and dresses in his room for months, and roman found out a few weeks ago, but vee isnt ready to tell the cgs yet)

by the time vee is in his diaper and mamas tshirt dress and has a paci and jiji clutched to his chest he is a lot calmer and happier. he's still very ill and exhausted and teary, but theres a tiny smile on his face instead of a pout. in the kitchen he picks a strawberry ice pop and it goes down well, logan convinces him to have a cracker too though vee is in such a young headspace by then that he is just sucking on it, which logan supposes is fine too

by the (real) morning vee is still regressed and has managed to have a couple hours undisturbed sleep. its not much but its better than nothing. logan didnt fare much better. by then vee misses his papa and asks for him and logan hands the responsibility over to papa patton, trustinf the other caregiver enough to catch up on a quick power nap himself

but yes, the main thing is vee thought being ill was a burden enough that he shouldnt be regressed too, but logan makes him see that its okay. vee is regressed pretty much the whole time he is ill over the next few days because its stressful and painful and its a lot easier to feel comforted when ur a baby

yeah! gosh that was long, theres probably a billion spelling mistakes! feel free to ask follow up Qs if i missed anything u wanted to know abt this event

[shsldepressedlesbian]

If you want, could you do 20 for komahina?? Thank you!!!

aright now here is a longer and angstier one. feel like i could have improved, but im honestly chill with how this turned out. i sorta allowed the definition of the prompt go lose, so i apologize if it wasnt what u were expecting lol

ao3

20: things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

"I love you."

Three simple words, that weren't to be thrown around so carelessly.

Three simple words Komaeda wasn't meant to hear.

Especially not coming from a talentless figure of hope.

No, no. Calling Hajime Hinata a figure of hope was a term he wasn't sure if he liked.

That title was better suited for the man he had been before. An amazing man, made out of artificial hope and a lack of empathy. A man that only succeeded in going against his very purpose, and following the goal of that despairful bitch with bright red nails.

Surely though, at the very end, Kamukura could have brought hope, like he was meant to. All bad things lead to hopeful things, afterall. Or so he seemed to try to ponder.

...Hajime Hinata.

Hinata-kun.

The boy Komaeda couldn't wrap his head around at all.

Because he didn't make sense.

Hajime Hinata was supposed to be a bug Komaeda could squash under his foot. Nothing more than a measly reserve course student. Living on nothing more than a lie.

But Hinata… was more like a roach. Or a fly. No matter what seemed to happen, Komaeda couldn't squish him under his heel, and so that bug stayed, as pesky as ever.

An annoyance that lived on impossible circumstances.

Yet an annoyance that had seemed to capture the hearts of the others who lived on the island. The ultimates who had once succumbed to despair, and hardly deserved to live unpunished.

But it would be hypocritical for Komaeda to leave himself out.

And he tried to burn himself out, to put an end to the game of despair.

But his bad luck didn't seem to go away. Which was why he was here in the first place, lying in a hospital bed with a discarded hand, instead of being rightfully gone with those flames.

Still on the same island he had thought he had destroyed.

He can't understand why he was still here. Why? Why?

He had asked the same question to Hinata, he remembered, after the pest came to visit him once again in that same hospital room.

Yet Komaeda had only been met with a cocked eyebrow and a question right back at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't act dumb with me," a disgruntled sound emitted from Komaeda. "We both know I should be dead."

"But you aren't. So stop saying shit like that."

A chuckle, sounding more like a choke.

"Why are you even bothering me anymore, Hinata-kun?"

"I'm bothering you?" was a light response, before Hinata looked away from him. "Well, the answer's obvious, so I'm not sure why you're even asking, especially when it's embarrassing to say. I care about you, alright?"

I care about you.

Komaeda had found another four words he wasn't meant to hear. Because the idea of them felt far too unreal.

He can't remember when it started. A bit before the robotic replacement had been installed, perhaps.

Perhaps it was because the tension had grown too strong, or Hinata had grown too sick of his voice. But either way the two of them had ended up with their lips crashed together in Komaeda's cabin, and things had only shamelessly progressed.

A relationship that may have been better to never exist, but at the same time, probably couldn't not exist.

That was always something Komaeda couldn't understand about Hinata.

How the other could possibly bare to look at him in the eyes, at his body, at anything about him. How the other could possibly bare to wake up with him in the morning, and to check on him so often.

If Hinata was a fly, Komaeda was definitely trash. An unhealthy attraction.

He questions it. How someone as worthless as Hinata could possibly become so great. How someone like him could be aspiring, to work alongside the Ultimate Hope himself.

How someone like him could possibly spend time with someone like Komaeda, who disappointed even himself.

It's one of those nights, where he hears it for the first time.

Sitting in bed, at whatever god forsaken time, with his mind going too fast, but still with a compulsion to leave, run away. A spiral.

But in that state, he gets up way too quickly, and it's not really a surprise when he hears the mumbling beside him.

"Komaeda…?"

Hinata sounds half asleep, of course. Komaeda doesn’t turn around to look at him.

"Ah, Hinata-kun, don't worry. Go back to bed." Some half hearted reassurance, all he can muster, as he tries to get his feet off and onto the floor, but he's stopped by a forceful grab to his wrist.

Had Hinata-kun always had such a firm grip?

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Just for a walk."

"What are you talking about? It's the middle of the night, Komaeda."

This is where Komaeda finally turns his head to meet the eyes of the boy laying aside him. Hinata had prompted himself with his other arm, his eyes rather active for someone who had just been woken up, glaring.

(Perhaps he's disillusioned, but he could swear they were glowing, as well.)

"And I can make my own decisions, can I not?"

"Obviously," is Hinata's almost distrungled sounding voice, "but I'm not sure if I…"

"Trust me?" Komaeda fills in, and in the second of silence after that, he chuckles dryly, a gross sound even to his own ears.

"That's not the point." Is the only denial. Well, of course. Hinata-kun wasn't one to lie about that kind of stuff, but he wouldn't agree with Komaeda either.

"You're sweating, Komaeda. You need to relax. Lay back down."

Ah… was he sweating? Komaeda places his real hand to his face, and only then that he realises that it's shaking, as he feels what definitely is cold damp sweat running down his brow.

He hadn't even noticed. How hilarious.

He wants to laugh again, but he finds it getting stuck in his throat.

"That doesn't matter," he musters instead. "Hinata-kun, we both know it doesn't matter-"

But he's cut off by an arm around his chest, and before he can resist he's pulled onto his side, that same arm keeping him in place.

"Breathe."

A one word request, yet somehow demanding.

But Komaeda can't deny that it feels warm and firm in the half embrace, and he attempts to focus on that, shutting his eyes.

Security.

He tries to focus on the sounds of the other person beside one, Hinata's own breathing. A rhythmic sound, that pulls him to copy. His breathing slowly, evening… quieting down. He realises just then how bad it had been.

There's a moment of silence, nothing but the two's breathing, before he hears Hinata sigh and suddenly he's being pulled in closer, until he's inches away from the other's chest.

Komaeda can practically hear the other's heartbeat, if he focuses on it, and for some reason that causes his own heartbeat to go a little faster.

"You're here, Komaeda."

Words that dont really make sense, but weren't any less reassuring, said in a delicate tone.

He was here. With Hinata.

And there's some shifting, with Hinata moving his legs and tilting his head inwards in order to get comfortable, and Komaeda follows suit, with less movements.

And that's when it happens. The small three words, barely above a whisper, as though Hinata was trying to make sure Komaeda didn't catch it.

"I love you."

And Komaeda's breath hitches in his throat, and his fingers grasp to the bedsheets.

(Had Hinata-kun even realised what he said that night? Wasn't it most likely he was still half asleep, still in a disillusioned state?)

Ah. Ah.

It's strange, because logically, that sentence should be something that would bring him comfort, as out of the blue as it was.

But no, it was far too casual, and he doesn't get it, why would Hinata-kun say something like that to him-

(Half asleep. Not thinking. That had to be it.)

To throw around stuff like that so casually. It's disturbing, and truly, Hinata-kun must be cruel.

(He couldn't have meant it.)

Those words were something Komaeda had craved with his whole being. To be held like this, to be told that, to be loved.

But those thoughts had always been a fantasy, something that he knew he was never actually meant to hear. Something that he'd never get the chance to hear.

He can barely remember ever being told it. Not even when he was younger, when even his father refused to say it, and his mother only whispered it at times and places where it was certain no harm would befall them, for fear of bad luck.

(But none of those precautions had mattered in the end.)

He knew what those words meant, what they foretold. Words anyone else could listen to, but not him, because the punishment was far too harsh, too harsh-

He doesn't even realize he's grabbed onto the night shirt Hinata still had on, so hard his knuckles were turning white. Afterall, Hinata didn't make a movement. It was clear he had fallen back asleep already.

Unaware of Komaeda, who was not even able to emit a noise, even as he trembles.

Komaeda isn't sure whether to be grateful he wasn't disturbing him,

or to wish for him to wake up, as he finds he can't fall asleep for the next few hours. Pondering, pestering thoughts, but not being able to move.

Three simple words Komaeda wasn't meant to hear.

Especially not coming from Hinata-kun.