#(have to sit in the parking lot to stop shaking from adrenaline before going inside and clocking in)

[northwestofinsanity]

Man, I love hydroplaning down the highway in the morning...

[edgessunflower]

Love can you do something about a Chyna x Fem!reader and your survival/ natural disaster experiment kidnapping?? Love you lotsssss 🫶🫶🫶

Ooooh okay!

You mean so much more

Pairing: Chyna x Fem reader

Description: After being abducted and found, your friend Chyna tells you what she's been wanting to for a few years

Warning: Abduction, physical assault, trauma, and emotions

You feel the breeze blow past you as you walk and get in your car, until you feel a hand on your mouth and a knife on your throat "Scream and I'll cut your throat" you feel tears brim as they take you out of your car and throw you in the trunk of another. You are yanked out by your hair and thrown into what you assumed was the basement of a house, you are bound and duct taped to a chair as you begin to cry as they hit and yell at you meanwhile at your house your friends Chyna and Rey feel worried as Eddie walks in "I have called her and she isn't answering something isn't right" eddie grabs his phone and calls Chavo to meet with him to find you while rey leaves to go search around town, and chyna calls the police stating that you had to have been hurt or even worse, the police question her as the boys come back telling them that rey found your car in town in the pharmacy parking lot with all your personal effects inside which immediately made them file you as a missing person. You feel the adrenaline and energy in your body slowly seep out of you as you lay on the floor bleeding, shaking, and crying after being tortured yet again, you try to understand why this was happening to you but you couldn't since they didn't rob you or take your car let alone rape and murder you yet for whatever reason, you are pulled out of your thoughts when you hear yelling and suddenly loud footsteps which makes your heart race and pound as you see people in front of you "Ma'am listen we're police your safe we're getting you out of here" you cry as you are carried out on a stretcher and rushed to the hospital questioned by a detective on the way until you passed out from blood loss. You wake up to see a nurse above you checking on your vitals "Glad to see you're awake you have some people who are worried about you" you feel tears flow as your mind processes what happened to you earlier and you quietly cry as the door opens "Gracias a dios you're alive" you smile as rey hugs you "Jesus how did you survive?" you look at him as you cry more "Because I knew if I didn't, all of you would never be okay again" he cries with you as he sits next to you for an hour, you giggle as you see a relieved chavo and eddie yell "Girasol!" they hug you tightly while being mindful of your physical state "You are one of the strongest and bravest people I have ever known estimada" you shake your head as they talk to you before leaving to go pick up food not just for themselves but for you and two other people after you fall asleep, you wake up after feeling a warm light touch on your hand and crying when you see chyna by your side "It was you, you made sure I was found" she holds you in her arms as you cry and slowly tell her of everything that happened soon you feel wetness on your gown looking to see chyna crying as well "I thought I lost you, that I would never tell you everything" you look at her with confusion and patience as she sighs "You mean more to me, you mean so much more than you know and I wanted to tell you but when you didn't come home I thought the worst" you stop her with a kiss that made you both cry and hold each other more "I love you Chyna" she smiles as she takes her shoes off and lays next to you in your bed, quickly warning the three boys to be quiet when they walk in to find you asleep in her arms.

[chaotic-super]

Bird's Eye View

Supercorptober Day 14 - Soaring

Lena watches mouth agape from her office balcony as Supergirl flings herself through the sky full speed at a massive purple creature, looking more dinosaur like than anything else she has ever seen.

Her heart feels like it is in her mouth as they both fly backwards, barrelling onto the ground into a mess of concrete and dust. She can’t even see that famous red cape peeking out anywhere from behind the huge body  of the alien.

What she can see is the alien get up while Supergirl does not.

Once the dust settles as the alien steps away victorious. She can make out the form of a slumped heroine, face down in the rubble, unable to help anyone. Lena can see the same questions running through minds of everyone else who is watching this scene unfold. Everyone is simply asking, who is going to protect us now?

Her heartrate increases astronomically when the creature sets its sights on something, its mighty claws pulled back and rage pouring through every inch of its body.

The world slows right before her eyes as it takes its first swing towards the office building across the way from her own, full of innocent people just trying to get on with their day and most of whom probably don’t know the sanger that they are in.

Right as the alien is about to make contact, out of the corner of Lena’s eye she sees a blue and red blur soaring across the sky once more, this time aiming for the arm that is about to strike.

Supergirl grabs it with all her might and drags the alien with her, spinning it over her shoulder and slamming it into the road sending blocks of concrete flying.

It tries to stand once more but only gets part way up before it is giving a sharp kick to its spiny head by Supergirl, sending it sprawling out again, this time out cold.

The pair of duelling aliens then find themselves surrounded by dozens of government agents but before they fully reach them, Supergirl takes off into the air, flying high up into the clouds and out of sight.

Lena, along with everyone else watching, releases the breath that she was unconsciously holding and struggles to drain her body of the tension that had risen up when she thought that Supergirl wasn’t going to stop it and it was going to destroy every building in the surrounding area, maybe even the city.

The agents don’t seem at all bothered by Supergirl’s sharp exit and when Lena thinks about it, it’s probably because they are used to it. She’s seen them on TV when Supergirl has taken down other threats, as soon as the perpetrator has been subdued, they show up and take it from there. She’s just never paid a whole lot of attention to what Supergirl does following the fights.

Lena’s hands shake where she grips the railing to her balcony, the bar digging into her stomach as she leans over it slightly to watch exactly what is happening below her, namely the alien being loaded up into a very large truck and then being driven away to who knows where.

With a shaky breath and tired bones she pushes herself back and away from the railing, content to head back inside for a stiff drink and a well earned sit down. Who knew watching someone else fight could be so draining?

She turns towards the door, trying not to look back down at the rubble left behind or think about how awful it’s going to be getting to work now the road leading to the parking garage is out of order. She’ll have to get someone to come and fix that up because the city will take way too long to do it otherwise and she hasn’t got the patience for that.

Lena takes a solid step into her office and closes the door behind her, now realizing how cold it is outside in the chilly National City breeze.

Her chair is more comfortable than it has ever been before but that might be because she so desperately needed to sit dawn and her legs had grown shaky from the fear and adrenaline rush that accompanied it.

The desk is solid beneath her elbows when she leans forward onto it and rests her head in her hands, calming her beating heart one deep breath at a time.

She’s startled out of her state by her phone buzzing away next to her laptop. A quick glance at the screen tells her that there’s an incoming call and that it’s Kara. She reasons that it’s probably because she saw the attack on the news and is either checking that she’s alright because she’s so close to the scene where it happened, or she is hoping that she saw something she can use in an interview.

As shitty as she feels right now, she is always willing to listen to Kara ramble away on the phone to her, even if it is shop talk. As soon as she answers she is bombarded by the sound of whipping wind crackling through the speakers.

“Kara? Hello?”

It crackles a little more before she makes out a voice on the other end. “Lena, I’m on the roof, can you come meet me?”

“What roof? Why are you on a roof?” Lena finds herself shouting down the phone, matching Kara’s volume, only to realize that she doesn’t have to shout too.

Kara doesn’t wait even a second before yelling right back down the phone. “L-Corp roof, just come get me!”

The line cuts out right after, leaving Lena puzzled. She stares at her phone for a moment, trying to piece everything together but finding herself wholly unable to do so.

Through the bewilderment Lena stands, her tired feet taking her right out of her office and to the stairs leading up to the roof.

She climbs them quickly, not at all sure how Kara could have ended up on her roof or why she would choose to go up there now of all times. The door swings open after a harsh push, it always gets left unlocked, no matter how many times she tells the security guys to lock it after they come up here for their smoke breaks.

She doesn’t spot her right away and walks back out into the freezing air, propping the door open as she does so they don’t get locked out by accident.

Lena turns her head back and forth, searching for her best friend. Only when she turns back towards the door does the spot a familiar blonde figure hunched over into a ball with her back against the wall behind the door does it hit her all at once.

It isn’t Kara sat there, but it is. It’s also Supergirl.

Blood is dripping down the side of her face and her right hand is turning a steady shade of black, either very badly bruised or broken, probably from punching the alien during the fight earlier.  

“Kara?” Lena crouches down in front of her, taking her head between her hands. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you. I’m sorry to show up like this, I had to get somewhere safe before the DEO agents took me back.” Kara mumbles out, her eyes bleary and unfocused.

Lena is momentarily touched how Kara stated that she is safe here, but the betrayal of the hidden identity is still stinging. That doesn’t matter now though, she has to get her downstairs and to her office pronto. She needs to get her warm and cleaned up, she can go from there after.

It takes a decent amount of struggling but Lena does manage to heave Kara up, grateful that Kara is doing her best to hold herself up, even if she isn’t doing that much to actually help. They take it slow and eventually manage to get to Lena’s office, Jess helping when she sees them approaching.

Lena doesn’t think twice about asking Jess to call Alex Danvers for her until she has Kara on her couch and worries that it might give away Kara’s identity. She can’t worry about that right now though, she has to help Kara as much as possible right now, and that means taking care of her injuries, not her secrets.

She kneels beside a half conscious Kryptonian, completely clueless on how to help and how to feel. Her emotions feel like they have all been poured into a blender and whizzed up together until they can no longer be separated.

Instead of focusing on how she’s feeling she sweeps Kara’s hair out of her face and begins to whisper to her softly. “Don’t worry about a single thing Kara, help is on the way, and you’ll be just fine.”

Kara turns her head towards her as much as she can manage, which isn’t a lot, her strength diminishing more and more with every second that passes. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this, I was going to tell you, I promise.” Her voice is raspy and her breaths uneven. The one thing that strikes Lena more than anything though is the tears freeing themselves from Kara’s eyes, spilling the truth of Kara’s words right down her cheeks.

“We’ll handle that later, you’re more important now so just rest and let me take care of you for a while, ok?”

Kara pulls her lips into her mouth, trying to stop herself from crying because she knows that no matter what Lena is saying, she has hurt the person on this planet that she cares about the most.

Her heart hurts worse than all of her other injuries combined. The worst part is that she deserves it.

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 1837

Part 1

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp

When Natasha sees your eyes close, she finally comes back to her senses. She squirms away from Steve, crawling under an ambulance and making her way towards you. She ignores Steve telling her to stay put and doesn’t hear Clint telling police officers the direction the bullets came from. All she can think about is bringing you to safety.

The ambulance engine is still running, causing its underside to reach temperatures that make Natasha feel like she is hiding in a furnace. She holds her breath from the fumes as she crawls to the front of the vehicle, throwing her arm out and reaching for your hand.

“Y/N!” she screams. “I’m right here! Hold on!” Her fingertips brush yours and she grabs onto your wrist tightly. You’re bigger and heavier than her, but the adrenaline gives her strength. With a massive heave, she drags you under the ambulance. You smear through the puddle of your own blood and it soaks through the back of your shirt. 

There isn’t even enough room for her to lift her head, but she grabs onto both your arms, digging her elbows into the ground and crawling backwards. “I got you, Y/N. I got you,” she pants. But the lack of space and your deadweight make it impossible for her to pull you all the way through, so she backs out from under the ambulance. “Steve, help me!” she shouts.

“Move!” Steve says to her, although his shoulders are too broad to fit in the narrow gap. However, his arms are long enough to reach both of your hands, and all it takes is one big tug for you to come sliding out from the ambulance. 

Your eyes fly open suddenly, awakened by the agonizing pain coursing through your shoulder like a lightning bolt. You scream, and as much as it makes Natasha’s heart hurt, she’s glad to see that you’re still alive. 

“You guys need to get out of here right now!” Clint yells. “Take the ambulance!”

Steve pulls you into a standing position and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you onto his shoulders effortlessly. You flop over him like a ragdoll, pain pulsing in your stomach when you bump against his chest.

BOOM.

A bullet shatters the sideview mirror of the ambulance.

“Go, go!” Natasha urges, putting herself between the danger and you and Steve. Steve runs with you to the back of the ambulance and flings the door open. There is no gurney, so Natasha helps him lay you on the floor and climbs in after you.

“Stay with Y/N. I’ll drive,” Steve offers, going around to the front. “Clint, we’re taking Y/N to the Quinjet! Hold the scene down!”

“Copy that!” Clint is just as concerned for your safety, but he knows you’re in good hands. Steve jumps into the driver’s seat and throws the ambulance in reverse.

BOOM.

The windshield explodes.

“Let’s go!” Natasha screams, ducking her head.

“Hold on!” Steve backs into a sharp U-turn. The tires screech as they find traction on the road to accelerate forward.

Natasha practically lays on top of you to prevent you from rolling around. From a shelf, she grabs a handful of gauze packets, tearing them open with her teeth. She rips your shirt open and presses the gauze first to your shoulder, then another to the side of your stomach. You’re completely soaked in blood and it continues to pump out of you with each heartbeat. Your face has faded to a sickly pale. 

“N-Nat,” you whisper, trying to move but pinned down by the pain. “N-Nat—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she comforts. “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

You see the blood smeared on her face, her neck, and her hands, too delirious to remember that it’s yours. “A-Are you h-hurt?” you stammer.

Natasha wants to laugh and cry at the same time. You’re so in love with her that even in the face of death you don’t even think about yourself. “No, I’m fine,” she says, grabbing onto your hand and interlocking your fingers. She looks over at Steve, veering through parked cars and roadblocks. “Can we hurry it up a little?” she asks in panic, even though she knows he’s driving as fast as he can.

“I’m trying!” Steve swerves around a fire hydrant and the sudden movement jolts everyone in the ambulance. Natasha presses down on you too hard and you grunt in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “We’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

Your vision fades into fuzzy shapes and blurred colors. Even breathing seems to be too much of a task for you. Steve parks behind the Quinjet and comes around to help carry you in.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Steve asks as he lays you across the back seats of the Quinjet.

“No.” Natasha shakes her head. “Stay and help Barton.”

Steve doesn’t even try to argue. “We’ll find who did this, Nat. I promise.” He goes to the controls at the front and presses a few buttons. “The coordinates for the Tower are set. You’ll autopilot all the way there. Just make sure to update the medical team on Y/N’s condition.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Everything will be okay.” He places his hand on Natasha’s shoulder for a moment before jogging back to the ambulance. As soon as he’s off the Quinjet, the door raises shut and the engines blast on. You’re several states away from New York, but at the speeds the plane can travel, you should be there in minutes. You just have to hang on until then.

Natasha leaves your side only to grab more gauze, pressing it against your bullet wounds to slow the bleeding. She rolls you to your side so there’s no pressure on your front or back, but grimaces when she sees that your back looks as bad as your front.

“N-Nat,” you try whispering again, but she is quick to shush you.

“Not now, okay? Just stay awake for me, Y/N.”

You’ve never felt so weak before. It feels like you were hit by a bus and ground up by its tires. Your mind processes in slow-motion—probably a side effect of the blood loss—and you already forgot how you got into the Quinjet. But the physical pain isn’t your greatest concern anymore. You just don’t want to lose your fight and leave her.

Natasha fits an oxygen mask around your face and the cool air is comforting, but you know your time is ticking away. You don’t notice the Quinjet hiss to a landing or acknowledge the team of doctors suddenly hovering over you.

“We’ll do the surgery in room six!”

“Prep a blood transfusion!”

“Two gunshot wounds from a large-caliber gun!”

The doctors move you to a gurney and wheel you off the Quinjet. Natasha holds onto your hand as they take you to the surgery room, but a doctor stops her from entering with you.

“No, Romanoff. You gotta stay out here. We’ll take it from here.”

Natasha doesn’t fight back, letting your fingers slip through hers as you disappear behind the doors.

***********************************************************************

“Any updates?” Clint and Steve finally arrive a few hours later, but you’re still in surgery.

“Not yet.” Natasha paces the kitchen anxiously. Although she found the time to wash your blood off her hands and face, she hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet.

“Nat, you should get cleaned up. Y/N isn’t going anywhere,” Clint says.

“I know, I just…I want to be there when—” She can’t finish her sentence, falling into Clint’s arms and crying into his shoulder.

“Y/N is a fighter, remember?” Clint says, rubbing her back.

“But the amount of blood—”

“Super soldiers don’t go down easy,” Steve reminds her. “Y/N will pull through. And besides, you’ll be there to help with the recovery.”

Natasha nods, pulling away from Clint and wiping her face. “I’m sorry I froze when I saw Y/N get shot—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Clint asks.

“I don’t know—I put you all in danger because I couldn’t get myself out of the way—” she hiccups. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assures. “In fact, you were the one who dragged Y/N to safety, remember? I couldn’t fit under the ambulance and Clint was just sitting around like a duck—”

“Excuse you,” Clint interrupts, and Natasha smiles thinly.  

“So, did you find who did this?” she asks.

“Uh—” Clint and Steve look at each other awkwardly. “Natasha, we—”

“Did you find them?” Natasha repeats with more force. Clint motions for Steve to explain.

“That’s the thing,” Steve says. “We don’t know who did this. We scoped out the whole area with the police. We went out more than a mile, but we couldn’t find anything. No shell casings, nothing.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me a ghost shot and tried to kill Y/N?” Natasha scoffs.

“No, we…” Steve tries to find the right words. “We think it was a setup, maybe like a hired assassin or something.”

“Who would want to kill Y/N?” Natasha asks.

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Natasha knows you have a lot of baggage from your past, particularly when you were forced into illegal covert operations by the government. But it’s been a long time since then. You became your own person and changed your life for the better. Unfortunately, not everyone sees the side of you that Natasha and the Avengers do.

When Clint and Steve leave to shower and change, Natasha finally does the same. She dresses in clean clothes and curls up on your shared bed, inhaling your scent through the pillow and blankets.

Sometime later, Clint visits and knocks on the door. “Hey, Nat? Y/N just got out of surgery—” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence and is almost run over by Natasha as she hurries over to the medical bay. She doesn’t know which specific room they’re keeping you in, but it’s like she’s drawn to your very presence and finds the correct one instantly.

You lie upright in the bed, propped forward with pillows so there’s less pressure on your back. Your right arm is in a sling and your entire torso is wrapped in bandages. An IV drip leads into the veins on your hand, while a blood pouch sends blood into the vein inside of your elbow. You have an oxygen tube up your nose and looped around your ears.

“I heard the doctor went a little overboard on the anesthesia,” Clint says from behind Natasha, startling her. “You know, with the super soldier serum and everything. Y/N will probably be out of it for a while.” Natasha walks to your side and kneels, gently taking your hand. Your skin is clammy and colder than normal, but your pulse beats strongly.

“I’ll be here as long as it takes.” Natasha raises your hand, mindful of the wires around your wrist, and kisses your fingers.

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: Thanks for the amazing support from everyone! Definitely didn’t think I’d get that kind of response, but I’m extremely grateful for you all. The next part will reveal the identity of the shooter, so I hope you’ll stick around for that. :) Peace out!

[taechaos]

can u do more of jealous jk drabbles?👉👈

this one kinda cute but theres smut 😃

The best time of the day is when the sun is just over the horizon, taking on a blue and orange hue in the sky, not shining bright enough to blind or give a heat stroke to the crowd in the amusement park. Just enough illumination to not have to rely on the lights provided from the ferris wheel, neon titles above the rides and games you stand before.

You can't contain your squeal and shake your interlocked hands with Jungkook while bouncing on your feet, the three companies you came with much more casual about the occasion. "Where should we go first?!"

Your boyfriend shrugs, Soyeon glances at Taehyung who makes the decision: "Rollercoaster." He has a crazed grin on his face, the sparkle and mischief in his eyes matching yours. Both of you are extremely fond of these thrillers.

"A rollercoaster...? I'll wait for you guys," Soyeon sheepishly holds her nape with a smile. You coo at her.

Jungkook scoffs arrogantly, "Are you afraid too, baby? You can hold onto my arm."

You blow raspberries and clutch onto your friend's arm, "I love rollercoasters." You and Soyeon gaze into each other's eyes as you say, "Don't worry. It'll be fun if you come with me."

She blushes, Taehyung and Jungkook watching the interaction with quirked brows. How boy-friendly of you.

The seats were decided. You all bought the tickets, and it's your turn to hop on the carts. Girls sit in front of the boys, and Soyeon hesitantly places her hand on top of yours on the railing. Taehyung wraps his hands around Jungkook's arm, who is slouching in his seat with a frown.

"I'm so scared, Jungkookie," Taehyung's teeth chatter, "w-will you protect me?"

All the carts are secured as the ride slowly moves forward, slightly creaking as Jungkook groans, "Let go of my fucking arm!" Despite his relentless shaking, his best friend only holds on tighter.

"Why? Your girlfriend is having a sexual awakening with her buddy girl, why can't we?!"

Jungkook gapes at him, brows meeting in perplexity before he looks at the row across. The two of you have your heads leaning on each other, and no, that was the romantic scene he was supposed to have with you, not Taehyung who snuggles into him in whimsical fear.

"She's straight," he counters weakly, not even caring about his numbing arm from the sight before him.

The carts reach the peak of the tracks, a sense of adrenaline stirring in everyone's stomach and you squeeze Soyeon's hand comfortingly seconds before Taehyung's scream torments the whole population's ears. Needless to say, Jungkook had it the worst.

—————

Your boyfriend winces with a finger in his left ear as he follows the group with Taehyung next to him, behind you and Soyeon.

"Remind me to never go on a rollercoaster with you," he seethes intimidatingly, emitting a snort from the guilty.

"Ooh, bumper cars!" Taehyung childishly points at the competitive game. Jungkook smiles wickedly, "I'm going to give you a fucking concussi–"

"Boys against girls!" Soyeon chirps, and you gasp at the amazing idea.

"Yes! That'd be so fun!"

Upon seeing Jungkook's incredulous face, Taehyung bursts out in laugher and clutches his stomach, tearing up when he instantly goes in denial mode.

Which didn't help, because Soyeon stole you for herself once more and he is stuck with the dumbest person he's ever met once more.

"Let's beat those bitches."

"That's my girlfriend, Tae."

Those words were thrown out the window the moment the game began, because he became ruthless. Even Taehyung was getting nauseous from how violently the car was bumping against yours, the one Soyeon claimed shotgun in, rocking your bodies back and forth. It's revenge for not giving him the attention he rightfully deserves, and leaving him with who was supposed to be a fourth wheel.

No mercy, you must suffer.

When you all got off the ride, Taehyung couldn't stop stumbling all over the place.

"I'm going to throw up," he groans and pinches Jungkook's shirt.

"That settles it: I won," he shrugs triumphantly. Soyeon is quick to bite back, "You almost killed us."

"Oh no," you jump to his defence with a giggle, "he's just very competitive."

Your boyfriend smiles at your first acknowledgement of his existence, relieved as he throws an arm around you. "I'm not about to lose to a bunch of–"

"Please don't finish that sentence," you smile at him; sickly sweet with your warning.

He forces a chuckle, "–a bunch of strong, independent women."

—————

"You ever seen lesbian porn, Jungkook?" Taehyung asks as he licks up a fat stripe on his ice cream. Jungkook doesn't bother responding. "It usually begins with one girl being all shy and reluctant until the sexual tension becomes too much. Say they're studying, gossipping, whatever, the normal stuff. Then... one of them makes the first move, and the other eventually gets into it." He glances at his friend to measure his reaction; nonchalant and barely listening. "Oh, but I have a boyfriend, oh this is wrong, oh friends don't do this," he imitates in a higher pitch. "Then they fuck."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks, flabbergasted and annoyed. He's holding onto your ice cream after you left to the bathroom with your friend, Taehyung protecting hers and licking the melted drops to keep the cone clean. What Soyeon doesn't know won't hurt her; the flavor is too good for him to waste.

"I'm just saying man, you never know with these girls," his cheeks puff out as he suppresses a laugh. Jungkook's paranoia is easy to mess with, and he knows he shouldn't do it so often, but it's just so fun. A snort slips.

"They've been roommates for two years, I'm sure if she was bisexual, she'd know by now," he spits defensively.

"Oh my God, do you think they got drunk and kiss–"

"We're back!" you announce and take your cone from Jungkook's hand, your friend doing the same.

"Welcome back, baby," he stands up to hug you, effectively pulling you a few steps away from Soyeon with a glare. You relish in it with joy, mushing your face against his chest.

"What should we go on next?" Taehyung casually cuts into your display of affection.

"The ferris wheel, maybe? Oh, Soyeon, you have–" you point at the corner of your lip, and she mirrors the opposite side, prompting you to reach out a hand and wipe off the stain with your thumb. Jungkook blinks in astonishment. Taehyung's eyes widen to saucers as he watches his soul leave his body. His words are getting to him.

Your hand is snatched away in a flash, and you're dragged away back to the stalls where he corners you, answering your unspoken question: "Hey, just wanted to privately ask you how your date is going with Soy milk." His voice drips with sarcasm, the attitude catching you off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, I feel like I'm third wheeling in front of my own girlfriend," he scowls, and your heart drops. "You haven't done a single thing with me today. I thought we came here to spend time with each other, yet we've done anything but. Be honest, are you..." he gulps and averts his gaze, "is there something going on...?"

"Jungkook," you startle and place a hand on his chest, "it's nothing like that. Of course I wanted to spend time with you, but Soyeon's been trying really hard to mend our friendship so I thought I would reciprocate. I didn't want things to be awkward between us, but I didn't realize I was neglecting you. I'm really sorry, love."

Your explanation endears him, shoulders slouching in relief just before he murmurs, "But in lesbian porn..."

"Oh my God," you exclaim in disbelief with a laugh, "I just hung out with her."

"You know I get needy!" he frowns with flushed cheeks. "That bitch wouldn't let go of you for one goddamned second, if I didn't know better I would've dragged you away a lot sooner."

You coo at him and squeeze his cheeks before he shakes you off grumpily. "I was going to go on the ferris wheel to make it up to you."

"Oh wow," he rolls his eyes, "can't believe you found the time to think about me."

"So jealous," you tease.

"Shut up," he pushes your forehead with his finger, "before I try to mend my friendship with Soy milk as well."

"She is not your friend," you glare at him with hooded eyes.

"So jealous."

—————

"The ride is five minutes long," Jungkook blurts out of thin air the moment you step into the moving cabin. "And we're going to stop at the top." At your gasp, he continues as he takes a seat, "Yeah, I did that movie cliché and paid extra."

"Jungkook," you coo with doe eyes and lay your head on his shoulder, "that's so romantic."

"Hey, don't get all cute. You said you were going to make it up to me." He tilts your chin, "How far are you willing to go?"

His question doesn't throw you off, and you chuckle, "Whatever you want."

"Yeah? Your time is running out," he looks past the window to see how high up you are. Four meters off the ground, give or take. "You think you can make me cum before we get off?"

Oh. "Better choose fast–"

You fondle with the buckle of his belt and make quick work of your hands to pull down his black jeans that hug his thighs. You lick your lips for moisture, and after what some experiences have thought you, you know to spit in your hand before wrapping your fingers around him.

"Damn, you didn't come here to play," he releases a humored breath as he watches you get him off. As if the limited time isn't bad enough, you have to get him erect in remarkable speed as well. He shifts slightly with a deep sigh, and when his cock starts to grow, you get on your knees before him and take the head of his length in your mouth. He sucks his teeth and weaves his fingers through your hair as he closes his eyes. Thirteen meters off the ground.

Mindful of your pace, you ease his length inside by taking him inch by inch, swirling your tongue the way he likes it and bobbing your head. His grip on your hair tightens as a low grunt resounds in the cabin. "You're doing so well," he looks down at you with half hooded eyes, lustful in their gaze, "you want to make it up to me that bad? Want to please me? Gosh," he sighs.

You deepthroat him with your hand covering what you can't reach until he thrusts into your mouth. You gag in reflex, and he uses your hair as leverage to do the rest for you. It's sloppy now, and saliva drools from the corner of your mouth with welling tears. You can only hope he reaches climax in time. Twenty two feet off the ground.

When his thrusts begin to slow down, you take it as your cue to pull away and jerk him off, your tongue taking care of the tip as his breaths grow more and more shallow. You assume he's holding back moans as to not attract any attention to your cabin. Thirty one meters. You make it a challenge for yourself to make him cum by the timr you reach the peak.

"Ah, go faster," he furrows his brows, face twisting in pleasure as he leans back on his seat. Your scalp starts to sting from his strong grasp.

Your hand listens, and you suck harder on the head while teasing the slit, and he gasps louder each passing second. He's panting while forty three feet off the ground, and a few moments later, his hips lift off the seat as he groans, his release on your tongue that you swallow. It comes in stutters, so you keep your mouth on him until you've swallowed every drop to avoid getting banned from the amusement park. Calling it simply taboo is an underestimatement.

"Shit, shit," he breathlessly says and thrusts into your mouth two last times before pulling out, a string of saliva still attached to your mouth. The ferris wheel stops. "You were fucking perfect, baby," he murmurs and his head goes limp, eyes dazed from the climax. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smile despite the ache in your jaw.

"Thank you," you squeak and sit next to him. His head rolls to you. "Is my face okay?"

"Oh, you wore lipstick," he laughs quietly and uses the hem of his matching black shirt to clean up the smudge, his stomach on display from the action. You sit still as he fixes up your appearance, brushing your disheveled hair with his fingers, and just to be extra, he adjusts your collar, making you giggle and roll your eyes. "Like nothing happened. I'll eat you out at my dorm to return the favor."

You blush in surprise at his words, but he dismisses it by looking at the view. The sun has set, and all the lights sparkle from under you and the midnight black sky. It's beautiful. You admire it with him.

"I can't believe I paid extra for this. There's not even fireworks."

BONUS:

Soyeon and Taehyung sit across from each other without averting their gaze from the sky, effectively ignoring the presence of one another until he breaks the silence. "This is so romantic."

"Yeah."

"If we were a couple, this would be the perfect moment to kiss."

"Um... I guess," she shrugs off his unusual flirting.

"You want to be a couple for this ride?" he suggests and looks at her with wiggling brows.

She doesn't return the stare, softly speaking, "No, I think I'd rather jump off."

He chuckles under his breath, "Jungkook is going to have a field day when he finds out you're lesbian."

"Huh?"

"I said why don't you jump on this dick."

[bangtangalicious]

the glow up | pjm, kth (1)

pairing: jimin x reader, taehyung x reader ft. a splash of jungkook

summary: after going off to college, you & your best friend committed to working out. a year later, the results show, and you cant wait for your hot hometown friends to see you. now all you wanna do is wild out and have lots of sex, and enjoy it without feeling insecure

genre: smut, angst drama childhoodfriends!au weightloss!au (is that a thing) friends-to-lovers!au

word count: 3.5k

warnings: body image issues, car sex, road...riding(?), exhibitionist themes, groping, toxic behavior, lots of making out, dirty talk, boys being problematic, weight loss, slut-shaming, unprotected sex (disclaimer: everyone’s body is beautiful. there is no ideal weight or body type! you’re beautiful) 

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7                                                    masterlist

The sun rays filtered through your blinds, and as you felt the piercing heat on your skin you smiled. Summer was finally here. You had come back from college just a few days ago, and had yet to catch up with your old friends.

You were really excited this time. The past year, you and Jimin had made a pact to hold each other accountable and go to the gym. You were proud of your hard work, and the results showed.

You had always been the chubbier friend. Not to the point where anyone really noticed, but you did. Jimin would relate to you back in the day, as you both would get teased by his friends for his cheeks. Today was Jimin’s pool party, and you were expecting to make a grand entrance to show off your new body. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Everyone would be unable to take their eyes off of you.

Taehyung had graciously offered to pick you up since he would be in the area to pick up the alcohol anyways. You saw from your window as his white convertible entered the parking lot. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, an oversized T covering the skin tight bikini underneath.

As Taehyung saw you emerge from the building, he pulled his arm back, gesturing you to sit next to him and smiled. He was always really sweet to you. You had known him just as long as Jimin even though you weren’t as close.

“Morning princess. It’s been a while”

You blushed and rolled your eyes. You made a point to show off your tones legs as you got into his car. You didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned your figure as the wind teased your curves under the baggy fabric.

“Hey Tae, damn it really has. I haven’t seen you since last year!” You twirled your finger in your hair absentmindedly. Taehyung kept one hand at the back of your shoulders as he began to drive. Something about the way he was driving had you squirming. He glanced over at you, and you good see the smirk in his eyes from behind his round glasses. He turned on the radio as he pressed down on the gas.

Next thing you know, you’re lowering yourself down onto his hard dick.

When did you end up getting into his lap and riding him as he drove? When did you get completely naked in his car and let his taste every inch of you? The details were a blur. But as you reached Jimin’s house, you were a sweating, breathless mess. Taehyung looked completely fine, as if nothing had happened. He waved to some others who were gathered around the entrance as he stopped the car then turned to you. His hand found your thigh, slowly caressing you as his fingers crept up, his thumb brushing over your wetness, still sensitive from the quick fuck you two shared just minutes before.

“You ready to go in?” He smiled genuinely, it was as if he had turned back into the Taehyung you knew from your childhood and not the boy who was whispering absolute filth into your ears about how many different ways he wanted to destroy you.

“Um, you go ahead, I just need to gather myself”

He nodded in understanding, pushing your hair behind your ears, gazing at you intensely before leaning to kiss you passionately, as if he had been craving you for years and couldn’t get enough. Your hands instantly cupped his face, reciprocating and rolling your body towards him, searching for something you knew you wouldn’t find. His lips were incredible. Soft and tight, teeth grazing over yours and tugging at you. You shifted to get even closer to him, allowing him to grab your waist. It was not the most comfortable position, but you were too lost in sensation to care.

“What the fuck”

As if someone threw a bucket of cold water on you, you yelped and jumped away from Taehyung, realizing how blatantly in public you two had been making out. You turned and saw the shocked and confused expression of your best friend.

“Jimin…hey”

You took in the sight of him. He looked hot. You had to blink to make sure you were even looking at the right person. His face had changed strikingly, his jaw sharp, angled, and neck toned. He also seemed to be trying to digest everything he was seeing.

Your mutual staring was interrupted by the sound of Taehyung getting out of the car, slamming the door shut. He came up to your side of the car, tilted your face up and kissed you one last time. You saw Jimin’s knees go week, and fury built in his eyes. Taehyung then playfully pat his back before leaving the two of you to go enjoy the party.

You had no idea what to say. You didn’t know if you should feel guilty. You technically didn’t do anything wrong. Jimin was simply gaping at you.

He finally cleared his throat, seemingly coming to some sort of compromise within himself. “Sorry, I was just…not expecting that.” He opened his arms as an invitation for you to get out of the car and hug him, which you did. You basked in his comforting scent.

“Missed you loser” You muttered. You heard him scoff as he let you go, his eyes flickering over you.

“So…” He backs away so that you two are still pressed against each other but he could see your face, “You and Tae?”

“No! It’s not like that I…”

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head.

“Did he fuck you y/n?”

You nodded. You felt his fists clench. You quickly grabbed his wrist before he turned around to go find Taehyung.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him that’s what”

He tried to shake you off but you wouldn’t budge. “Calm down. Hey. I wanted to Jimin, it was mutual” He shoved you back against Taehyung’s car, you almost tripped back over the door into the seat but you caught yourself.

“Why? Did you really put so much time and work on that body just to hand it off to the first person you get your hands on? Did you really go through all the hell these past few months, getting up early, sweating every day? All that work and you just toss it to him like it’s nothing? Now you’re acting like a complete whore? Don’t you have any self respect?”

You had seen Jimin angry before, but this was different. He looked dissapointed. You realized with a queasiness in your stomach that your best friend was looking at you in disgust. Judging you. You felt small suddenly, wishing you could rewind and take it all back, just arrive and have fun like you had originally planned.

“Let me see” He demanded. “Show me your body” You were incredibly confused, but did as he asked, lifting your shirt up and tossing it into Taehyung’s car. You observe as Jimin gulps, staying absolutely silent. If he likes what he sees, he makes no indication of it. He looks away.

“Wow. You…you’re hot” He says softly, his voice much kinder but he couldn’t meet your eyes. You swallowed nervously.

“So are you. I’m proud of us” You reached for his arm affectionately. “Jimin, I’m sorry if me fucking Taehyung made you feel uncomfortable, but come on I haven’t seen you in so long. I wanna enjoy today with you. Let’s just move on” Jimin finally looked back at you, sighing and nodding his head.

He led you to the pool. Taehyung was already in the water, playing volleyball with Jungkook and Hoseok. He smiled your way, pushing his wet hair back. You could feel Jimin’s eyes on you like a hawk as you smiled back. He got out of the pool and walked over to you. You couldn’t help but ogle at the way the water dripped down his bare chest.

“Y/n, you should come play with us” He offered sincerely. Jimin scoffed quite loudly, causing others to turn their heads as well. Taehyung ignored him, smiling towards you still.

“Y…yeah for sure. I’ll come in a bit”

“Aw come on, I can carry you, it’ll be fun” He wrapped his arms around your hips, allowing your legs to wrap around him. You giggled as he swung around and screamed as he threw you into the pool. Jungkook swam over and caught you in an embrace, his hand accidentally brushing the side of your breast.

“Hey y/n!” He said sweetly, “It’s great to see you! You look really good” You blushed as Jungkook let his hands travel up and down your back. Jimin was practically fuming. Jungkook’s fingers teasingly toyed with the tie of your bikini, making you heat up inside. Seeing as you didn’t back away, he took it as invitation to advance even more. Making sure his back blocked any sight of what he was doing to you, he slid his hand under your flimsy bikini. He whispered into your ear “You like that?” You nodded, unable to hide the red flush on your cheek. He smirked and pulled you flush against him so you could feel his hard cock through his trunks. “Tell me how Tae fucked you y/n”

“I…”

“What did you do, hm?” His hands squeezed your inner thighs, spreading your legs out so he could push in more. “Did you give him road head? Did you ride his cock? In a convertible fuck just out in the open for everyone to see? Is that what you’re into huh? You like it when others watch?”

You nodded furiously, your core getting extremely hot with his words.

“What do you think? Want me to turn you around right here? Take you in front of everyone? Take you in front of Taehyung…in front of Jimin? Poor motherfucker would probably die with jealousy”

That statement didn’t sit well with you. Jimin? Jealous? You wiggled out of Jungkook’s grip, swimming away slightly.

“Why would he be jealous?” You asked. Jungkook laughed. Taehyung swam up to the two of you to see what was going on.

“Hyung, what do you think? If I fuck her in front of Jimin, how do you think he would react?”

Taehyung chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “I know if I were him I would probably beat you up” He pulls you in towards him, kissing your cheek.

Was it true? Did Jimin want you? Is that why he was so upset? You shook your head. There was no way. If he liked you, he had so many opportunities to tell you, and you knew you wouldn’t have denied him. You guys were the closest that two people could be. You didn’t think of him in this way before, but you could definitely admit that he was extremely attractive.

Taehyung lifts you out of the pool. Water molds over you as you emerge from the water. He nibbles your ear “Jimin missed out, I feel kinda bad” He paused, “Actually I don’t. You were incredible” Jungkook whines.

“Lucky” He pouts. “I want her too”

You were lost in thought, still confused over the realization that your best friend might like you. You felt upset suddenly, wishing so badly you hadn’t fucked Taehyung, no matter how good it was. You couldn’t imagine how hurt he must have felt. Your friendship was hanging by a thread.

And these two just could not keep their hands off of you. You hated that you liked the attention. They hadn’t looked twice your way before, but Jimin was always there. Jimin always reminded you that you were beautiful no matter what. He supported you to do things for yourself, not because you needed to impress anyone else.

“Is this just because of my body? Is that why you two are acting like this?”

Taehyung gaped at you. You couldn’t tell if he was offended or guilty.

“God you make me sick” You pushed him away from you, getting up and running into the house.

You began to cry. Jimin was right. How could you have been such an idiot? You looked for a place to find privacy, but there were people everywhere. You shuddered at the thought of what you almost just did with Jungkook, shame overtaking you. You just let him touch you like that. You felt pathetic.

You found Jimin’s bedroom empty, shut the door and curled up on his bed, finally able to voice your sobs.

There was a light knock at the door. You froze.

“Y/n? Are you in here?” Your heart dropped at the sound of Jimin’s sweet voice. You couldn’t bear to face him now. You wished the floor would just swallow you whole. The door slowly opened and Jimin peered in. His eyes were full of concern as he located you, entering and closing the door behind him.

His heart wrenched as he saw your tears. He quickly made his way to you, sitting down by your side and wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“What’s wrong? Hey…” He stroked your face affectionately, “Sssh. You’re okay…you’re okay” His kindness just made you cry even harder, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m so sorry Jimin” You cried out, “I ruined everything. I’m such an idiot”

“What are you talking about? What do you have to be sorry for? I…I’m sorry about how I was acting earlier if that’s what made you upset”

You shook your head, “I didn’t know. I’m so stupid. Jimin, I just…I think I asked Taehyung to have sex with me because he was checking me out, and no one…no one just does that with me, so I got excited. And then I got here and…Jungkook and Taehyung kept”

Jimin growled, “What? Did they hurt you? What did they do?”

“No…no. They just…I liked that they were paying attention to me and…so I kept letting them do whatever they wanted. I’m such a whore”

Jimin cupped your face with his hands, leaning his face so that he could look straight into your eyes, trying to smile for you. “It happens baby”

“You were right. Everything you said was completely right…and the worst part is that…” Another sob escaped you. “I didn’t know…you…were interested in me like that”

Jimin let out a laugh, causing you to flinch in surprise. Had you misunderstood?

“You didn’t know I was interested in you? That’s why you’re crying?” He giggled. You pouted at him. He cooed at you affectionately, laying you down on the bed so he could hold you closer. “You’re so cute y/n”

Jimin kissed your lips tenderly. “It’s my fault” He whispered, “I didn’t have the balls to tell you before. I guess I just, was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way so. I know I’m not the best looking amongst our friends” You smacked him at this statement.

He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful to you. Inside and out.

“Jimin” You exhaled, voice trembling, rolling into him and finding his lips once more. “I would do anything for you. If you wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask”

Jimin pulled away. The both of you were breathing heavily. He shook his head, “I…I don’t…just want to fuck you” He sat up and brought you into his lap so you could straddle him. He brushed the hairs off your face, eyes gleaming with adoration. “You’re my best friend” You could see the overwhelming emotion overcoming him, “You’re…everything to me” Your heart was racing. You felt absolutely vulnerable in his arms, but at the same time you knew you were completely safe.

You kissed him, his hands slipping behind you to gently clutch your ass, pushing you closer to him. Your hips roll slightly, wanting to feel some sort of friction. You were both moaning helplessly into each other’s mouths, unable to breath. You reached your hand down towards his waistline but he stopped you, shaking his head.

“No…baby…not today”

You whined.

“You literally fucked one of my closest friends this morning y/n. I can’t exactly not think about the fact that his cum might literally be inside of you right now. In fact, I might need a while to get that thought out of me”

This was true. Thinking back to what was now a blur of events, reminders of the ethereal bliss you had felt, as you bounced yourself like a maniac on Taehyung’s big dick, hands clutching his pink hair, moaning at the top of your lungs as he zoomed down the highway, evidently speeding. It was the riskiest, most profane, dirty thing you had ever done. Anyone could see you, and you didn’t care one bit. You chased after your high as if nothing else even mattered. It was the best sex you ever had.

Your face flushed as you recalled how Taehyung had to pull over because he needed to touch you himself, laying you sprawled out on the head of his car, ravishing every inch of you.

“I can’t believe how good you feel” He groaned, “This is even better than in my dreams”

His words returning to you. How he looked like he was in heaven as he came inside your thick walls. The way his eyelids fluttered in bliss. “Oh my god princess, take my fucking cum” He sucked your tit harshly “I’m gonna fuck you up so good. You’re mine”

After he came how he had become so caring and gentle, but somehow till leaving you breathless. How he had kissed you all over your face softly, whispering sweet nothings. Like how beautiful you were, how much he had prayed for this day to come, how happy he was to see you, how bad he had missed you.

Wait.

“Taehyung…oh no” You couldn’t stop your remark as you realized what a big mistake you had made. Taehyung wasn’t messing with you. He was letting you live your wildest fantasies. He was everything you wanted. Someone insanely sexy, who would tease you, drive you crazy, and fuck you so well.

You were beyond confused, as you remained in the lap of someone you could never lose. Maybe Taehyung was just a fleeting moment. Jimin was secure. You knew he’d never hurt you. He’d love you right. He was a good guy. He deserved to get everything he wanted.

The more you thought about it, the more unsure you were. Someone was playing with you but you didn’t know who. Jimin sensed your unease.

“Baby” He let his nose graze against yours, “Y/n?”

The door swung open, making Jimin tighten his hold on you. Taehyung barged in, looking more serious than you had ever seen him. He paused to see what he had walking in on before shaking his head quickly.

“Look y/n. If you want Jimin that’s your choice and I respect and support that, but you have no right accusing me of being so shallow” He barked. “You act like today was the first time I looked at you like that when you know that’s not true. I always flirted with you. I always complimented you. I always made moves on you but you were so busy hating yourself to see that. I didn’t fucking care how you looked. You were such a great person to be around. I was always attracted to you. I accept a loss when I see one, but I’ll be damned if you walk away thinking so low of me” He was panting. Your eyes were wide with shock.

“I even” He laughed incredulously, “Just last year. I asked you if you wanted to leave Hobi’s party with me, and you just laughed in my face and said as if someone like you would get with someone like me and I said, wanna bet? and you just laughed and left it at that…god can you like not sit in his lap like that right now”

You obeyed, startled by his confession, standing up and backing away from both the boys.

“Okay Taehyung, I think she gets it. But it doesn’t matter anymore”

Taehyung scoffed, ignoring Jimin, “I just need you to know that I wasn’t just waiting around for you to get hot. It’s not that you lost weight and now we’re all looking at you, it’s just that now you actually notice because before you wouldn’t believe that anyone thought you were beautiful. And one more thing” He glares at Jimin “I would never belittle you for exploring your sexuality. We’re all allowed that. Just because we might have done it in high school and you’re doing it now doesn’t make you a whore.”

With that he slammed the door and went off.

next ———>

A/N: FIRST of all. There is so much toxic behavior in this. I want to make a point about how the “good boys” aren’t always the “good” boys. Jimin better step it up hehe. Next chapters are way more smut and a lot less plot ope. Um, again i’m new here so if you want to be tagged or something for updates lmk i guess lol 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Exactly What You Wanted

CW: Drunk whumpee, referenced drug use, abuse survivor lashing out, low-level ptsd, rough recovery drabble, some references to dubcon and noncon

Timeline: During the years of Kauri’s Poor Life Choices

“Come on, baby,” Kauri says, in a voice like a deep rumbling purr, tilting his head just right, putting all that heat and warmth he doesn’t really feel into his eyes. He’s a good liar, he’s a great liar, and the booze in his veins and whatever that guy gave him two hours ago make him feel unstoppable. “Take me back.” He pauses, then giggles, and he knows they love to hear him laugh, they always love to hear him laugh.

He can laugh with a knife to his throat, he can laugh with his legs spread, he can laugh when every other trainee would be screaming, if they were in his place.

Jake, though, Jake doesn’t like the laugh. He doesn’t like the heat in Kauri’s eyes. He doesn’t like the voice, or the head-tilt, or any of it. He just sets his jaw, looking around the bar as if checking for witnesses, and Kauri can’t stop laughing at how comically serious he is. 

“Oh my god.” Kauri giggles again, puts his hands over his mouth. The bar is spinning around him, the colors are liquid bleeding into each other, he can feel the air move over his skin, like someone touching him. “You look like you ate a lemon.”

“I have class tomorrow, Kauri,” Jake says, voice sharp and flat somehow both at once, and he grips Kauri by the arm, pulling him towards the exit. A few of the guys at the table Kauri was sitting at boo loudly at the loss of Kauri’s sparkling brilliance - or maybe just at losing the way he’d been sitting in their laps one by one just to feel their arms around him. “I don’t mind taking you home-”

“Not my hooooome,” Kauri singsongs, but he lets himself be pulled. Jake’s hand on his arm feels nice. All of it feels nice, all touch, anyone’s hands mouth whatever they want on him, it’s nice. 

Means he’s wanted.

Means he’s real.

Jake exhales, rubbing his free hand over his face. He looks tired, doesn’t he? Kauri can suddenly see those dark circles under his eyes, the way his hair is all mussed up from a pillow. 

“I woke you up,” Kauri says as they leave, the stale heat and booze-smell from inside the bar giving way to cooler, fresher air outside. He lets Jake pull him down the sidewalk, looking up at him. He nearly walks into someone going the opposite way, until Jake pulls him to the side. “You, you were asleep when the phone rang.”

“Yeah,” Jake says roughly. His shirt’s on inside-out - Kauri hadn’t noticed that before, either. He must have rolled out of bed and changed out of his pajamas without even taking time to check. 

Kauri called for a ride and Jake didn’t waste a second.

“My car’s a few lots down,” Jake says, not looking at him as they walk. Kauri hums, taking in the beauty of the streetlights with their halos like angels hovering over the road, lighting the sidewalk. Someone calls his name and Kauri waves, trying to go give her a hug, but Jake’s grip on his arm stops him. It stops him, and makes his heart beat faster. “If we hurry, we can get back by 3, I can sleep til 6:30 if I pay for parking tomorrow instead of taking the bus.” He sounds like he’s already worked this all out for himself, and maybe he has. Maybe he talked through it the whole way here.

Kauri thinks of Jake talking to himself, planning out his day at a stoplight, and starts laughing again. Once he starts laughing, he can’t stop. They pass a small park, a kind of courtyard between two businesses, and Kauri puts up a hand, collapsing onto a bench. He can’t stop the giggling bubbling up out of him.

Jake all serious-faced, checking his phone, I can be asleep by 3:30, I can do this, I can do that, his whole planned life and his classes and Kauri is drunk at a bar and he’s high at a bar he did some stuff with a guy in a bar and he’s calling for a ride back from the bar-

“Kauri, come on.” Jake’s voice is weary, not just tired, not just sleepy, but exhausted. By the night, and by Kauri himself. “I don’t have time, I have to go to sleep.”

“You’re as stupid as I am,” Kauri says when he can get control of himself enough to speak, and there’s still laughter edging his voice, slightly breathless. “You know that? You’re a fucking moron just like me. Doing this. You’re so fucking stupid, we’re both so fucking stupid, Jake.”

“Kauri, you’re not stupid. I’m not talking about this here with you-”

“Why do you do this? Huh?” Kauri shakes his head, sweaty black curls sticking to his forehead in a sudden chill as a breeze ruffles them. He can feel his hair at the back of his neck, too, pressing there. Not the weight of a collar, but a memory of one anyway. “Why do you answer when I call?”

Jake swallows, rubs at his face again. “Because I want to-”

“No. No, that’s not it. No, you answer because I’m your fucking... your charge, right? Your ward. Because you feel sorry for me.” Kauri giggles, but there’s no real humor in it now. “I’m pitiful.”

“It’s not like that. You’re in pain-”

“Oh, shove your fucking psych-talk, Dr. Stanton.” Kauri shakes his head, leaning his back against the metal curve of the bench, looking straight up. In the city there are no stars, only a faint glow of lights making even the night sky just a little orange around the edges. “That’s what it is, right? You feel sorry for us, so you get to be the big hero, and we’re the pretty little pets grateful for whatever crumbs of mercy you throw-”

“Kauri. Stop it.” Jake’s voice snaps, and he leans in closer, and Kauri breathes in the fear that hearing an angry male voice lights in him, lets it spark his nerves with the booze and the everything else already there. “I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for anyone. Okay? Get up, we’re going home.”

“It’s. Not. My. Home.” Kauri meets Jake’s eyes this time, his own a sparkling, crackling blue flame, and Jake’s stony silent ocean, nearly gray in the darkness. “It’s not. You like this, huh? You like getting to show up and save the damsel in distress? Yeah?”

“Kauri, I would give anything to be fucking asleep right now-”

“But you didn’t. You got right up when I called, and that’s why you’re as stupid as I am. I’m brainless because they beat all my brains out of me, Jake - beat and fucked and drugged ‘em all out, left me all sweet and pretty and pointless for whoever paid the price - why are you stupid? Huh?”

Jake’s jaw works. “Kauri-”

“You’re stupid because you think I’m gonna stop being like this. You’re stupid because you think I can get better.”

“You can-”

“No, I can’t. I like me this way.” Kauri snorts, looks down his hands, but they’re shaking a little, and he doesn’t like that. He can’t feel them shaking but he can see them shaking. 

“I don’t think you do,” Jake tries, but his voice is getting ragged along the edges, and Kauri knows he’s pushing too far but he can’t stop himself now. “I think you want to get better and you just need more time.”

“Time?” Kauri laughs, and people walking by look over at them briefly, at the mess on the bench and the big tough man leaning over him. Kauri gives a little wave, I see you eavesdropping, assholes, and they hurry past. “Maybe this is fucking it, huh? What you see is all that’s left of me. What do you do then?”

Jake stares down at him. “I keep coming to pick you up anyway.”

“Oh, you’re just the best. Huh? The absolute pinnacle of fucking manhood. Jake Stanton, guardian angel and patron saint of the fucked-up messes that fall on your doorstep,” Kauri sing-songs, clapping his hands together in a mockery of prayer, eyes rolling back to the sky. “At least I’m nice to look at, huh? Got that going for me. I mean, it’s pretty much all I’ve got going for me, good fucking looks and pretty mouth and my tongue knows how to do that thing-”

“Kauri-”

“Used to be popular, in training,” Kauri says, leaning forward now, licking at his lips. Like Jake is the prey this time, like Kauri for once isn’t the one being held down but the one doing the holding. “Used to be a favorite. Only one way you get to be anyone’s favorite in training, Jake, and it’s not by being smart. Face it, Stanton, you got a hopeless case on your hands, you’re a big saintly perfect hero getting in your car after midnight to get your chaste savior rocks off with a fucking whore who won’t stop, who can’t stop, who will never get any better than this-”

“Kauri, for the love of God, stop it!” Jake’s voice raises finally, and Kauri flinches back against the bench. Adrenaline pulses all at once through his veins, heart racing, and he feels a mix of terror and a mean, cruel, small victory. 

Made him mad. I made him mad. Now he’ll be just like everyone else. Now he’ll hurt me. Now he’ll see why Owen had to.

But Jake doesn’t get closer, doesn’t shove a finger in Kauri’s face, doesn’t grab him by his shirt or his arm or his hand, doesn’t slap him doesn’t hit doesn’t scream. All he does is sigh, and look away, down the street in the direction he must have left his car. His shoulders shift. Kauri can see the anger in him, but it doesn’t rise, it isn’t wielded. It... fades, after a second, and leaves behind a weary look. An emotion Kauri can’t read. “Kauri. I’m not doing this. I’m not having this fight, not this late, not now. If you want to argue this in the morning, fine, but... god. I need to go home, okay?”

“Then go home,” Kauri says. He feels tears in his eyes, suddenly, and he can’t understand why. “Leave. No one’s stopping you.”

“You called me to come get you,” Jake says, but he knows where this is going, Kauri can see it in the way his shoulders slump, in how his hand moves into his pocket to dig his keys out. “Just come get in the car, okay? If you want to argue all the way home, it’s fine, but-”

“I already told you it’s not my fucking home. Go, Jake. I’m sorry I called. I won’t call you again.”

“Yes, you will.” Jake looks at him, an expression of almost comical confusion and hurt, and Kauri’s heart aches. “You will, right?”

But he sets his jaw. “No, I won’t. Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”

“Did you call me out here just to start a fight, Kaur?” 

Kauri doesn’t know how to answer, because he hadn’t, but now that he has started a fight he doesn’t want to admit it was an accident. He just swallows back the apology that tries to find its way out, forces it down. He sits back against the bench and shrugs, crossing his arms in front of himself. 

The silence draws out. 

As though the silence in itself said something - and maybe it did, really - Jake nods, finally, and pulls his keys out from his pocket. “Fine. I’m sorry it went this way tonight. Please... please call me.”

Kauri doesn’t answer, because if he opens his mouth, he’ll apologize for doing this, he’ll beg Jake not to hate him for it, and he can’t do that. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a rock in his mind blocking him from taking the first step to mend the break he made.

“Get some sleep, Saint Stanton. Maybe I’ll be pathetic enough to call you in the morning. We can go back to pretending you give a fuck about who I am as a person and not just as the little rescue who needs you. Make up for whatever fucked you up before that makes you want to work with us.”

That hits home. Kauri sees Jake wince, sees his hurt feelings written all over his face. Sees Jake consider arguing, give up. Sees the second Jake decides to stop trying.

That’s right. Stop trying. I’m not worth it. I don’t deserve you.

Kauri tries to feel that sense of victory from before, but all he feels now is cold - and as Jake turns and walks away, the cold slips from his heart into his fingertips, all the way down to his toes.

Cold, and alone.

“Congratulations,” He whispers to himself, watching Jake’s back as he walks away, until he turns a corner and is gone. “Good job, Kauri Grant. You got exactly what you wanted.”

Now all he wants is to take it back.

-

Tagging: @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @orchidscript @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @wildfaewhump @whumptywhumpdump 

[snowywrites]

Doki Doki Literature Club Girls x Reader

summary: you spend the day at the amusement park with the rest of the Literature Club! (it's recommended to read these together in order because they are connected, but if you prefer then you can read just whichever one you want to. Reader is intended to be female.)

full word count: 7.7k

Sayori

It was a gorgeous Saturday morning in town. The sun was shining high overhead in the pale blue sky, but the fluffy white clouds drifting by here and there were enough to ensure that it wasn't too hot. There also happened to be a nice, soothing breeze out, you note to yourself as you gaze out your open window to the neighborhood. A perfectly lovely day.

Well. That was enough of that, you muse to yourself as you slide your window closed again and pull the curtains in front of it to avoid any of the cheery sunshine washing into your room- it created an awful glare off of your computer screen which made it hard to watch your anime.

Content with your decision to stay inside today and catch up on your favorite shows, you walk over to sit down at your desk and turn on your computer. That's as far as you get before the doorbell rings, however.

You ignore it for now, assuming someone else in the house will go answer it. Then you suppress a groan of frustration when you recall that you're home alone for the better part of the day, a big reason why you had set the date aside to stay indoors and enjoy some peace, quiet, relaxation, and anime.

The doorbell rings again and again, much more insistent now; it almost could be playing a song of some kind. "I'm coming!" You call as if the visitor can hear you, grudgingly hopping up and hurrying downstairs. The doorbell just keeps ringing, and you don't even check the peephole to see who it is before you open up because the sound is really starting to grate on your nerves and you just need it to stop as soon as possible.

Your neighbor and somewhat-best-friend Sayori is standing there, and she looks a little shocked to see you, despite this being your house. She slowly presses the doorbell one last time, and you resist the urge to sigh heavily.

"Hi, Sayori. What's up?" You question. It's been a minute since you two have visited outside of the Literature Club, so you're making an effort not to act as annoyed as you feel for being so rudely disrupted. She could have at least texted a message saying she was going to be dropping by- then again, this was Sayori. Odds were, she had been walking by heading to the store or something and spotted your home, causing her to make the impulsive decision to bug you.

Her eyes brighten and a wide smile replaces her startled expression. "Hey, Y/N! It's Saturday!"

You stare at her for a moment. "Uhm...yeah, it is." You aren't entirely sure what she's expecting from you- maybe an invitation to come inside? Sayori's sort of a pain to watch movies or shows with, though. She's such a chatterbox and can't really focus on one thing for long at all, so whenever she does tune back in, she's got a million dumb questions that she'd know the answer to if only she'd bothered to pay attention. Nonetheless, you offer, "Did you wanna hang out? I was about to watch some anime, and you can join me, if you'd like."

Your words don't seem to come as any shock to Sayori, and she shakes her head firmly. "Y/N! I figured you were shutting yourself up in here. It's seriously a nice day, let's get out and have some fun!"

So much for compromising! And you'd even been trying to be nice, sheesh. "But I-" You frowned, trying to come up with an excuse for why you couldn't go out today, eventually settling on the truth since it was easiest. "I was just looking forward to some downtime, maybe next time though, okay?"

Instantly Sayori is pouting, acting like the exact same little kid you first met years ago rather than the almost-adult she was. "We've had this talk before, I don't want you becoming a total NEET! You can watch your shows tomorrow, but we really should enjoy this day, I bet it's gonna rain tomorrow! I mean, the rain is fun too, but-"

You're visibly defeated. "Okay, okay, lemme just grab some money. What'd you have in mind?"

Instead of calming down now that she's gotten her way, Sayori gives an excited little bounce, clapping her hands together. "Thanks, Y/N!" She grins at you, radiating warmth and energy. "I was thinking the amusement park!"

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

The amusement park was in town for another few days, and you had yet to go to it, but you doubted you were missing out on much. It was crowded with people, as expected, and you recognized a lot of other people from your school even in their casual clothes. It made you absently wonder if any of the other girls in the Literature Club were here today...

"Hey, did you hear me?"

Sayori's voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and you look over at her. "Oh, sorry. What'd you say?"

She doesn't seem upset in the slightest. "I said, we have to go on the roller coaster!" She points excitedly across the park where you can see the top of the coaster. A lot of screams and a long line are in that direction, and you do your best not to look nervous.

"R-Roller coaster? Isn't there anything else you want to do first?" Trust Sayori to immediately pick the biggest attraction in the place. You're a tad surprised she isn't already hungry, to be honest, though you two did just enter the park.

"Coaster first!" Insists your best friend, taking your hand and beginning to drag you off towards the ride in spite of your clear hesitance. "And then probably food! I'd hate to get sick, you know?"

You can't help but smile. It was likely the most responsible thing you'd ever heard Sayori say, and one which you were grateful for considering you two would obviously be sitting next to each other. It helps you to relax a little bit too, but as you join the line with her, you can feel your anxiety starting to mount yet again the closer and closer you get.

Sayori is chattering away, but you're trying to block her out because she's babbling about all sorts of things. You wonder suddenly if she's trying to distract you...but quickly brush that assumption away. It would be nice, but Sayori just tended to talk a lot all the time, this wasn't new.

After what feels like much too short of a time, it's your turn to ride the roller coaster. Fear grips you, much as you don't want to admit it. You shoot a panicked glance at Sayori, who was humming cheerfully to herself. She meets your gaze, and her hum falters, tapering off. She gives you a reassuring and oddly quiet smile, taking your hand. It's different than before, when she'd been pulling you through the park. This time, her grip is steady but not demanding, allowing you to pull away if you wanted to do so. It's also possibly the only time you can recall ever seeing your best friend look so...shy.

It's more comforting than anything she could've said, and you give her hand a squeeze to thank her. The two of you enter the roller coaster in seats next to each other, and a worker comes along to help the two of you strap in properly. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, and you're assuming it's just because of the roller coaster adrenaline, nothing more.

The ride starts and you close your eyes shut tight, keeping a death grip on Sayori now; you can hear her breathless and excited laughter even through the sounds of the other riders screaming and whooping. Many twists and turns, sometimes slow and sometimes fast yet always nerve-wracking, and a particularly terrifying drop-off later, and the ride is over.

You blink open your eyes, stunned to realize you're still in once piece, and leap out of the coaster as soon as possible, tearing your hand out of Sayori's. She doesn't seem all that worried about it, fortunately. She climbs out onto the solid and safe ground next to you, and you bite back a giggle. Her hair is so crazy and windswept and sticking out in all directions from the ride, but then you figure yours probably is too, and self-consciously try to pat it down.

Unlike you, Sayori doesn't appear concerned with her appearance, her cheeks flushed with delight and invigoration, not embarrassment. "That was so much fun!" She cheers, spinning around you as if she still had too much energy to contain. Then she paused, practically glowing as she looked at you and you only had a heartbeat to notice that she was very close in your personal space. "Thank you so much for coming with me, Y/N."

It was such a genuine and vulnerable statement that you were briefly at a loss for words, trying to read the uncharacteristically intense emotions shining in your friend's blue eyes. "I- it was, sure, it was a lot of fun, Sayori..." You trail off awkwardly, stepping back a pace to escape the close proximity.

Sayori opens her mouth to say something else, but a gasp comes out first as her attention fixes on something behind you. "Can you buy me some pizza? Pleeeeaaaaseeeee? Pretty please?! I'm really hungry now!"

The moment is over with that, and you wince at her childish request. "Pizza sounds good," you relent, causing Sayori to squeal with excitement and rush off to the food stand. You're giving in a lot today, and you aren't sure why, honestly. It wasn't like this was more fun than staying home and watching your favorite shows, right? Although, you did enjoy Sayori's company. There was a reason she was your kind-of-best-friend after all.

Oh, well. You can think about it later. For now you might as well try to have a nice time while you were still here. You follow after your puppy-like friend, spotting her at one of the tables just outside of the food stand talking with someone sitting there. With a start, you recognize the violet long hair of your fellow clubmate, Yuri.

Approaching, you start to greet them, but Sayori interrupts you before you can. "Yeah, Y/N/'s here too!" She pointed at you brightly, and Yuri tenses up, looking up at you like a deer in the headlights, which confuses you. Yuri had seemed perfectly calm before now- sure, a little shy, but now she was the stuttering and nervous girl that you were most familiar with from the Literature Club.

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Yuri

You smile, giving a tiny wave. "Hey there, Yuri." Of all the people you might have expected to see here at the amusement park, Yuri was perhaps at the bottom of the list. You would have assumed she would be like you on a Saturday, preferring to stay at home. Except she would be reading novels or writing most likely, not watching anime or reading manga.

You're partly right, because on the table in front of Yuri is an open book instead of anything to eat. How she was able to focus with all the conversation of groups of people swarming around, you had no idea.

"Y/N," whined Sayori after Yuri just gave you a slight nod of greeting, "My pizzaaaaa, please?"

You laugh, waving her away. "I'm going, I'm going, hush! Yuri, did you want anything?" You offered politely.

Your clubmate seems to shrink in on herself, allowing her long dark hair to fall so that it hid her face from your view a bit. "Ah-! Uhm, that's okay, thank you, though." Sometimes you weren't sure how she could write just long and beautifully-worded poems when she seemed to struggle so much with the simplest of phrases spoken outloud.

You accept this and go to buy yourself and Sayori a slice of pizza each, and end up buying Yuri a sweet tea too just because, well, you would feel weird and rude to eat in front of someone else if they didn't have anything. You make your way back over to the table where Sayori is talking to Yuri, her arms flailing around in wild gestures, and you get the suspicion that she's telling Yuri all about the roller coaster ride. Quick to intervene, you set the tray with the food and drinks down on the table, leaning towards Sayori threateningly. "What exactly are you talking about?" You inquire sharply, eyes narrowed.

Sheepishly, Sayori swipes one of the plates with pizza on it to take a bite and shrug, using the food as an excuse not to reply.

Huffing, you distribute the stuff you bought between the three of you, turning to Yuri to protect your reputation. "For the record, I was totally not scared," you promised her.

Yuri is slightly more comfortable now, you think, and there's a tiny glimmer of faint amusement and sympathy in her violet eyes. "I believe you," she murmurs back, so quietly that you almost were unable to catch that. She blinks at the drink that you placed in front of her, apparently having to take a second to process what it meant. And then, completely the opposite of Sayori, her head snapped towards you and her gaze was now wide. "Oh-! You- thank you, Y/N, but- you really, didn't have to, go through the trouble...!"

You tuck into your meal, taking your time in replying while Sayori scarfs down her own food, curiously glancing between you and Yuri as if studying the interaction. "It's no worries," you say after a short while. "I would've felt bad otherwise since me and Sayori have something." You turn your attention to the forgotten book in front of Yuri. "Sorry if we bothered you, by the way! We didn't mean to interrupt your reading or anything."

Sayori bobbed her head in an enthusiastic agreement since her mouth was full and she couldn't say anything.

Once again, you worried that you'd said the wrong thing because Yuri's reaction was much the same as the last time you'd said anything. "That's- that's okay, really! It wasn't, important, and I was..." She seems to give up, seeming helpless and frustrated with herself, only able to take a sip of her drink in defeat.

Sayori finished with her food, standing up abruptly. "Thanks, Y/N!" She chirps, apparently not effected by your and Yuri's awkwardness. "I'm gonna go check out some other stuff, so you should have fun with Yuri!"

Her words catch you off guard, and before you can react or suggest the three of you find something to do together, Sayori is already racing off somewhere, waving over her shoulder at the two of you. You watch as she slams into someone as she wasn't paying any attention to where she was going, and shake your head as she profusely apologizes to them. "Oh, Sayori," you sigh a little dramatically to Yuri. "What are we gonna do with her?"

The other girl bites her lip like she's trying to hold back a laugh. "It's nice that you look after her," she speaks up quietly.

"Ah- I mean, somebody has to, right?" You chuckle to yourself as you resume eating.

Yuri is fine with silence, which doesn't really surprise you. She opens her book back up and starts to read after a minute or two, and you're content too to just finish up your pizza and do some people-watching.

Eventually when you do finish, you throw away your trash and then rejoin Yuri, who's politely closing her book again and standing up as well. She's calmer now, as if reading and not having to engage in conversation for a little bit has recharged her, which you're happy for. "Uhm..." She begins timidly. "Would you like to walk around the park with me?"

You aren't used to Yuri initiating anything at all, and in the space of your bewilderment, she hurriedly continues, "It's okay if you'd rather not-! I only thought..it might be fun, but I understand if..." The last part is more of a mumble.

"Sure, Yuri, I'd love to!" You try to reassure her as smoothly and swiftly as you can in order to avoid hurting her feelings any further or even risking her fleeing. Yuri was such a sweet person, and you'd never want to say no to her and have to see her awfully sad expression, you reflect. "We can head...that way." You pick a random direction and start walking, Yuri following you meekly. She walks near you, but also just a step or two behind, and when you try to slow down so you guys can actually walk together, she stops altogether. Deciding you can't do anything about it for now, you continue the trek, absently looking around at the various stands, games, and rides as you pass them. "I wasn't expecting to run into you here, to be honest," you comment.

Yuri's silent for a beat, causing you to wonder if she was even going to say anything back to that. She finally does, thankfully. "Admittedly, this isn't the sort of place I might usually spend a weekend at." Her words are low and carefully-chosen as usual, like she's cursed to overthink even the barest minimum of small talk. "But my parents insisted I come here."

An amused smile quirks up your lips as you glance back at her. "So you brought a book instead of arguing with them?" You deduct. "Clever. I would've brought a manga or something, but Sayori was impatient to get here. She's always trying to drag me out my house and make me socialize. Take the Literature Club, for example."

Yuri gives you a tiny nod. "It's kind of them to care about us," she says. "I do sometimes wish they could understand me better, though."

"I get that," you agree. "Even if they're a pain sometimes, you love them anyway."

Yuri evidently agrees, but something causes her to stop walking. You pause too, going back to join her. Her attention is on an attraction nearby, a 'haunted house' sort of place. She doesn't look like she had any idea it was here, and you recognize interest and anticipation on her face, which makes you happy- you might be getting a little bit better at reading Yuri, the more time you spend with her.

She reluctantly focuses back on you, and you sense she's about to apologize and continue walking, so you speak before she gets the chance. "We can go check it out, if you want?"

Your clubmate lights up for a moment before wincing. "We don't have to, if you wouldn't like it," is her answer. It's honestly not annoying, mainly because Yuri makes indecisiveness, shyness, and doormat-ness look really, really cute.

"It might be fun," you laugh, guiding her across to the entrance. It looks pretty stereotypical, and you recall going to one of these kinds of places with Sayori one year for Halloween when you were much, much younger, probably like 11 or 12. The line isn't long at all, which is also a bonus. When you two are given the all clear to go inside, you and Yuri enter the narrow, dark hallway.

You're suddenly quite aware of how close Yuri is as you walk- instead of trailing behind, she's right at your side now, pressed up against you since there's not a ton of room in this corridor. She doesn't seem to notice, too enraptured (ha, maybe you were hanging around her too much) by the thrill of what scares might await them to pay you much mind.

Talk about making a girl feel self-conscious. Despite being around the same age, Yuri was so much more...mature than you, to put it politely. It was nice in a way too- you felt safer than if you were by yourself, at the very least, since she was taller than you and so close to you.

The haunted house wasn't too scary, like you had assumed. The actors were great though, and at some point one of them lunged out towards you from a secret passageway and it startled you so badly that you ended up leaping backwards and pressing back against Yuri, your eyes wide and your heart hammering so loudly you bet the violet-haired girl had no trouble hearing it.

You stared tensely at the 'monster', needing a moment to collect yourself and remember how to breathe again. It's Yuri that manages to bring you out of it, which is so sweet of her since you all but crashed into the poor girl. She wraps her arms around you in a very gently hug, resting her chin on your hair. Where did all that confidence come from, anyway? It may have been the really dim lighting, you think to yourself- you can hardly see each other, so that could've given Yuri some boldness. Either that or she was finally getting comfortable around you!

The actor slowly recedes away, and you stay perfectly still for a minute longer than necessary. Finally, you clear your throat, awkwardly disentangling yourself from Yuri, who hops away from you quickly too, and even in the near-pitch black you could swear that she's blushing like crazy as she tries to stammer out an apology.

You shake your head, smiling nervously even though she can't see it. "T-Thanks, Yuri."

Okay, so maybe you had lied a little bit about it being 'not too scary.'

That was the last of the real scares, and you gladly spring out into the sunlight of day again, stretching your arms over your head. You look back to see Yuri hovering back in the darkness of the haunted house- was she okay? You ask your thought outloud.

"Y-Yes! I'm sorry. I'm coming..." She grudgingly steps out to join you in the real world, and you realize with a sense of deep sadness that she's not meeting your gaze anymore again. Great, just when you finally thought you were starting to make some progress on being friends with her. "That was a nice time, thank you very much, Y/N-" Those next words are blurted out and spoken so fast you're shocked she doesn't stutter over them. And the next thing you know, she's gone, disappearing into the crowds and leaving you alone and more than a little disappointed and confused.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Natsuki

You sigh to yourself as you wander around the amusement park, scanning around to see if anything piques your interest. You were also sort of hoping to see Sayori, considering she was responsible for dragging you here and now she'd ditched you, but you also wouldn't mind bumping into Yuri again to hang out. Something told you that Yuri had been pushed to her social interaction limit for the day though.

A loud, squeaky, angry, and oh-so-familiar voice causes you to head towards it and check out what's happening. As you thought, it's Natsuki, another of the girls in the Literature Club. She's standing at one of the game stands with her hands on her hips and leaning towards the guy running the game in an aggressive stance. You note that the game is one of those ones where you have to throw some darts at a balloon, and if you can pop one, you can get a prize. The prizes line the wall behind the man (more like disinterested teenage boy, but close enough), and they all are varying degrees of fluffy and cute stuffed animals. You never were a fan of amusement park games because they were more often than not rigged more than a claw machine.

You get a little closer so that you can hear better.

"...completely unfair! I hit that balloon, you and I both saw it!" Hisses Natsuki at the worker. It was too easy to compare her to a puffed up and angry kitten, you muse to yourself.

The boy shrugs. "Look, kid, if the balloon doesn't pop, then you don't get a prize. That's like, our only rule."

Fury flashes across Natsuki's face, and you resist the urge to laugh. Natsuki did look pretty young, but she was around your age, and probably this guy's age too. "Don't call me 'kid'!" She exclaims. "I won, fair and square! Just because it didn't-"

The argument was starting to draw in other bystanders, not just yourself. And you realize with a flicker of fear that you can see the worker reach for his walkie-talkie like he's going to call in security. Security on Natsuki, for god's sake. Ridiculous.

To prevent her from possibly being forcibly removed from the amusement park, you hurry over and place some money down on the game stand stable. "Can I try?" You interject. Even though you're not looking at Natsuki, you can feel her flinch away from you and sense her hostility and surprise at this new turn of events.

The boy running the stand regards you boredly, but you're relieved to see him put the walkie-talkie down. "Sure. That'll get you three tries."

Beside you, Natsuki scoffs. "As if you can hit one of them!" She grumbles. "It's not as easy as it looks." By how frustrated she was acting, you could guess that she'd been here the better part of the day attempting to win. But which prize did she have her eye on?

"Maybe not, but I can give it a shot," you say lightly. "Which one are we after?" You question her.

Natsuki glares at you fiercely, and you can see she's got a blush that matches her hair. Grudgingly, she points towards one of the bigger stuffed animals, a white bunny rabbit near the very top. "It's- it's not for me!" She informs you at once. "I wanted it for- for a friend. That's all."

'She's a terrible liar.' Nodding, you turn your attention to the man and tell him, "If I win, we get the bunny. Deal?"

"Means you've gotta shoot the purple balloon."

Of course, the purple balloon is at the very top of the wall of balloons. Fantastic. You don't have too much hope that you'll actually be able to pop it, especially when you see the kinds of darts he hands over to you. First of all, the tips are so blunt and dull that you can 100% believe that Natsuki did hit the balloon with one, but it wasn't nearly sharp enough to even hurt someone if they tested it against their skin. Second, the weight of it felt wildly uneven in the palm of your hand. The shape of the dart just wasn't sufficient enough to propel it through the air like it should have. This was precisely why you never would waste your time or money on this...but you couldn't exactly back out now, not with Natsuki's intense magenta eyes watching you like a hawk. If you didn't at least make an attempt, you'd never hear the end of it at the Literature Club, and it might cause you to lose what little respect Natsuki had for you. Which never seemed like a lot to begin with.

"C'mon, we've got a line now," sighed the worker, unimpressed with your examination of his faulty darts. It wasn't his fault they sucked, anyway. You were so focused on aiming your first dart that you didn't see the angry glance Natsuki cast at the boy.

You pulled back your arm and flung the dart at the balloon. It was pretty pitiful, you couldn't deny that. It sailed off away from the wall of balloons and landed outside of the game stand on the grass somehow.

Natsuki huffed a sigh, her arms crossed. But when the worker snorted and tried to hide his laughter, the little pinkette sprang closer like an affronted pomeranian. "It's not her fault these darts are total crap!" She snapped. You would never have expected in a million years for Natsuki of all people to jump to your defense and try to protect your honor.

She catches your wide-eyed gaze and then looks off to the side irritably. "Keep- keep your eyes to yourself," she growled under her breath.

You fortunately have the sense not to tease her about it. You have a better feel for how the darts travel through the air now, so you pick up the second one and aim again before sending it sailing. This time, it manages to hit the purple balloon target, but it simply bounces off the surface of it and clatters to the ground.

Natsuki opens her mouth to potentially blow up on the man, but you press a finger to your lips in a silent plea to ask her to be quiet. Now you have to take the brunt of her righteous fury in only a single expression, but she doesn't say a word.

One chance left.

You pick up your final dart, judging the distance from here to the balloon and considering the best angle to throw it. After a bit, you finally shoot your shot- and the resounding pop! catches you and all the bystanders by surprise.

What remains of the purple balloon flutters uselessly in the breeze. The worker still cares nothing for this, just goes to pluck the stuffed rabbit toy down from the prize wall.

You turn to beam at Natsuki, pleased with yourself. You've managed to surprise her, you can tell, and when you're handed your prize, you offer it out to Natsuki with a bright smile. "That was fun, huh?"

She stares at the bunny rabbit, still trying to process what had just happened. Slowly, as if she believed it's soft, fake fur was poisoned or something, she reached out to take it into her arms. Her face is growing more and more red by the second, and she buries it into the plush doll as if to hide herself or maybe try to regain her composure. Probably both.

The worker clears his throat loudly, indicating the two of you are still holding up the line, so you and Natsuki swiftly step to the side and start walking through the park. You're a little concerned she might trip over something or into someone since she's still hiding her face in the rabbit's fur and can't see where she's going, so you stick close to her in case she needs a hand to steady her. So much for 'letting her fall next time.'

When you can't handle the awkward silence any longer, you say, "Er, Natsuki...? Are you-"

She straightens up, cuddling the rabbit close to her. "It's fine!" She squeaks. "I- I mean- that was-" She's truly struggling here, and it makes you feel guilty. "You did okay," she manages to at last get out.

A twinge of unexpected hurt flashes through you. You'd privately been hoping that she would be impressed and grateful, but you guessed you shouldn't have ever thought those words might even be in Natsuki's vocabulary. "Oh..." You didn't mean for it to come out so forlorn, but you couldn't help it. "Yeah, thanks." You turn away from her, fighting back your disappointment. "I guess I'll see you at the club after school Monday, then-"

As you take the first step away, however, you feel Natsuki's hand dart out to grab your arm and force you to stop. "Wait!" Her voice is high-pitched with some frantic emotion you can't place a name to. "W-Wait, Y/N- I only meant that-" She huffs, stomping her shoe on the ground in obvious exasperation that you could only hope wasn't directed at you. "I-" God, it's a train wreck not just for her, but for you to witness too. "Thank you-!" The words have to be practically dragged out of her, so she tries again. "...Thank you."

You wait in confusion to see if there's anything else she's going to add, but when she doesn't, you tentatively reply, "Uhm...no problem-? I mean, you're always bringing cupcakes and stuff to share with everyone, so I just was hoping maybe I could try to return the favor and get you something." You pause. "I mean, get you something that you wanted to give to your friend." Best to try and fix any potential mistakes that could get you yelled at again.

Those words had some kind of effect on Natsuki, that was for sure, but you had no idea if it was a good kind or a bad kind. She's gazing up at you silently, seemingly frozen in place. Something snaps her back to reality, for she at last releases your arm, hugging the rabbit again like it could support her. "I guess...you can be really sweet sometimes instead of just a pain in the ass," she mumbles. You're about ready to be offended until Natsuki slowly holds out her bunny towards you, refusing to look at you. You're extremely befuddled and not sure what to expect when the soft nose of the plush bunny rabbit is touched gently against your cheek in a gesture that's very much like a feather-light kiss. "S-Stupid."

You feel like you're too paralyzed to respond in any kind of way, and besides, Natsuki's already brushing past you and stalking off, not giving you a moment to react anyway. You stand there for what feels like a long time after she's gone until it feels like you might have just imagined what happened there at the end.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Monika

Your day at the amusement park was drawing to a close, and suffice to say, you were thoroughly exhausted by everything that had happened. You stop to rest at one of the benches that was sort of away from the throngs of people who were starting to leave the park to head home, so at least the crowds were thinning out. Sayori had insisted you guys come here today, since it was Saturday and all, but she'd ditched you what feels like forever ago, and then you'd run into all the other members of the Literature Club- well, almost all of the other members, that is.

You let your mind drift as you sat there, leaning back into the wooden white bench and staring up at the sky. The yellow light was starting to fade as the sun slowly began it's descent into the horizon line. The amusement park would be closing in maybe an hour or so, you think to yourself as you let your eyes drift shut. You should really go and try to find Sayori so you can walk home together with her...not that the streets weren't safe in the evening, but it was entirely possible your friend could get lost or distracted and end up wandering around town for hours when she should be home. But you were honestly worn out from hours of walking around and socializing...

Right when you've finally gotten comfortable enough that you think you're dozing off out of reality and into a well-deserved, dreamy nap, there's a voice from right beside you that scares you enough to make you jump and snap your eyes wide open.

"Hi, Y/N! Fancy meeting you here."

Aaand, now you'd come across all of your Literature Club members- sitting on the bench beside you with her hands folded neatly in her lap was Monika. You've never seen her in anything besides her school uniform before, but the casual white and mint-green floral spring dress matched both her signature white bow and her eyes nicely at the same time. You hadn't even heard her walk up or sit down, which was kind of odd, but not odd enough for you to really think anything of it.

"Ah- hi, Monika," you greet with a small smile, trying to relax and not look as out-of-sorts as you felt. You run a hand through your hair, exhaling quietly in what was almost a sigh. "Yeah, I wasn't planning on leaving the house today, to be honest," you say in faint amusement. "Sayori sort of dragged me here to hang out."

Monika tilts her head to one side with a pleasant smile in return to you. "I see." She glances around as if she's expecting to see Sayori racing towards the two of you and calling loudly, her arms up in the air to get both of your attentions. But you and Monika are mostly alone. "So you spent the day with her?" The question is casual, and you don't think much of it at all.

"Uhm, not the whole day. We spent a little time together before she ran off somewhere...I bumped into Yuri and Natsuki today too, actually. Oh, but I was sort of thinking I should go try and find Sayori so we could head home."

Monika's emerald green gaze flicks away from you as a breeze ruffles her hair and yours. She doesn't respond for a moment, but you see that her friendly smile has faded somewhat now- and she looks...it's hard to say. Monika looks- gosh, you wish you were half as smart and descriptive as Yuri sometimes- wistful? Was that the word? Contemplatively wistful? She speaks again and it rouses you out of your daze. "So you were just about to leave." The Literature Club president flashes you an apologetic glance before rising gracefully up from the bench. "I didn't mean to bother; I can see you're tired, Y/N. I should get going too."

She doesn't seem sad, not necessarily, but you get the sense that something is a little off. Maybe it's the time of day affecting her mood? It's that weird hour where the day is technically over, but not quite yet- and there's a regretful longing permeating the atmosphere, the only way you could describe it might be like the feeling a high school kid gets on a Sunday evening, in spite of the fact today was Saturday, meaning the weekend wasn't over yet.

You move to stand up as well, a little clumsier than Monika. "But- there's still a little while before the park closes. If there was anything you still wanted to do here, I could come with you, if that sounds alright? Unless you were really going to leave, that is. I'm not so tired that I'd miss hanging out with you- outside of school, I mean."

There's the slightest hint of hesitation, and you're unable to decipher Monika's feelings right now. If you were to guess, you might say she's conflicted. Just as you're positive she's going to politely decline, her warm smile returns. "That would be nice," she says, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"Okay, cool!" You brighten up and begin to walk through the amusement park with Monika.

She has her hands clasped behind her back and she's looking around to admire the scenery around you both while you do your best not to stare like a weirdo at her. "So, uhm...were you wanting to go on a ride or...?" You ask after a little while of silence.

Monika hums, but you don't think she's actually considering your suggestion. "I wouldn't ask you to wear yourself out anymore. When I first saw you on the bench, I thought you might have been taking a nap." While her tone of voice is casual, you can't shake the sense that there's an undercurrent of something else in those words. Almost like she's accusing others of making you tired or something. You're probably just imagining it.

Briefly, you wonder why she joined you if she thought you were asleep.

As if reading your thoughts, your club president continues, "Sorry if I disturbed you, Y/N." She slows the pace while you assure her that it was okay and she had done no such thing, stopping eventually to gaze upwards.

You follow suit to see the Ferris wheel towering above your heads. "I haven't been up there today," you comment thoughtfully. "Is it a pretty view?"

Monika dips her head slightly in assent. "I think so, yeah. Coming?" She leads you over to the man who is seating people in each of the carts, and he warns that this is the last go-around. "We understand, thank you," Monika says to him, and while she's just as charming, you think you know her well enough now to tell that this is her feigned politeness, like her guard is up.

He grunts and allows the two of you in one of the carts, shutting the glass door behind you.

You actually aren't scared at all. Well, you guess you are a little apprehensive at being in this small space alone with Monika, but you tell yourself you're being ridiculous. She's your friend, isn't she? So there's not a thing in the world to be nervous about...

The cart starts to go up into the air, and you stay standing while Monika takes a seat. Your hands press against the glass as the two of you climb higher and higher. The city is there, with all it's buildings and roads, but beyond it is... you can't really see what's beyond the city, and this confuses you. Shouldn't there be...something? Instead of just, blurry darkness? You blink several times and then brush at your eyes with the back of one hand like your sight is trying to deceive you. But when you look again, you still see only the murky black of nothingness beyond your city.

Monika's voice so near to you gives you a start- you'd been so dumbfounded by the missing scenery that you hadn't heard her stand up and come closer to you. Instead of watching the outside world, you sense her eyes are fixed intently on you. "What do you think?"

It's almost a relief to tear your gaze away from the glass. Her expression is rather closed off but serious, and sort of searching yours. You wish, not for the first time, that Monika was less of a mystery to you.

How to respond? "It's- strange," you manage to say.

The brunette leans impossibly closer to you, alight with surprise and near-disbelief as she presses, "What do you mean strange, Y/N?"

Feeling awkward and pressured, you find yourself taking a step backwards from Monika to get some space between you two. 'She'll think I'm crazy if I say it looks like we're floating in the middle of nowhere-outer-space in the middle of like a black hole or something.' "J-Just that-" You can see something akin to desperation written on her now, like she's trying to silently plead with you to answer her question sincerely. You fumble on the words, unused to this sort of intensity. "Just that...the town- it looks- different from up here..." Each word is stiff and awkward, you're really an awful liar, maybe even as bad as Natsuki.

Fervid disappointment seems to shake Monika's entire being, and she pulls back away from you, looking outside of the Ferris wheel cart again and far off into the distance. She's starting to become composed again and when the cart makes it last lap around and comes to a slow halt at the bottom, she turns back to face you and she's her usual self again: friendly, sweet, and bright. "I understand. Thank you, Y/N." The door to the cart opens and Monika moves to step out, offering you her hand to help you out.

Your breathing feels a little labored, and it isn't until later that you realize you'd actually been afraid. Not of Monika, more of the fact that you'd never once seen her behave anything like that before. It left such an impression on you that you were positive you hadn't imagined it. You do end up accepting her hand though, and you wonder if she can feel it's slight tremble.

One thing you weren't sure if you had imagined was the weird end of the world thing surrounding your city. Maybe there was something wrong with you. But you couldn't really think about that now.

"I told you it was a pretty view," giggled Monika. "You seem surprised. Didn't believe me?" She teased gently.

"Oh-! Oh, no, it isn't that! Like I said, it just was, er... different than I expected, is all," you murmur, glancing away- Monika's still holding your hand, but you don't have the heart to pull it out of her grasp.

You don't end up having to make that choice, since she jumps away from you at the yell of your friend Sayori. You see her bounding over to the two of you, just barely managing to hit the brakes and skid to a halt before colliding with you. She does however manage to shower you with dust and pebbles, to which you just press a hand to your forehead to quell a headache.

"Y/N! There you are! I was looking all over the place for you!" Sayori exclaims. She then waves at Monika, as bubbly as ever even though she should've, theoretically, gotten rid of some of that excess energy at the amusement park today. "Hey, Monika! Thanks for looking after her," she laughed.

Monika nods, much to your indignation. "My pleasure, Sayori. I'd better head off, then. I'll see you both after school for the club Monday!" She walked away, waving her farewell for a moment.

You didn't realize you were watching her go until Sayori's hand flailed in front of your face to get your attention. "Hey, we are going home together, aren't we?" She insists. "Otherwise I wasted soooo much time trying to hunt you down, Y/N!"

"Right, right, sorry. Of course we're walking back together- I was looking for you too."

Sayori pouts a little. "Did you think I'd be on the Ferris wheel?"

You grin. "Did you just use sarcasm, Sayori?"

She shakes her head quickly to deny it. "No, never! But am I wrong?"

"Okay, so maybe I did agree to spend some time with Monika," you confess with a shrug, allowing Sayori to pull you away towards the amusement park exit.

Sayori frowns, an unusual look for her. But it isn't a sad frown- it's a concentrated one. She was studying you with determination. "Did something happen? You seem a little out of it!" Amused, she pokes your cheek. "Fess up, Y/N! Do you have a crush on our club president? You have to tell me if you do! We're best friends!"

Sheesh, as if Sayori could ever keep a secret. But she was completely off base with that guess. "No," you answer her calmly. "I guess I...had some kind of epiphany."

".....what's an epiphany?"

'Ohmygod.'

[atmostories]

Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Matter - Chapter Six Tags: Angst, Gender-Neutral, Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Depression You kept driving. The constant sensation of moving, of going somewhere was the only thing that was holding you together. You needed to go, you had to get away. Your foot pressed down harder on the accelerator, your hands were wrapped tight around the steering wheel. The scenery was flying by faster and faster. The only thing you could concentrate on was the highway, everything else just fell away like it never mattered in the first place. It stripped you bare, washed you clean. You couldn't remember the last time the anxiety had been silent. You drove faster, chasing the feeling, hunting it down, it was the only thing that mattered. Nothing else- 

Shit, a sedan was pulling out in front of you. Slamming on the brakes, the seatbelt dug hard into your body as it held you from going into the wheel. The sedan ahead kept getting closer, your eyes widened at the imminent collision. Somehow you managed to slow down in time, the sedan was steadily pulling away from your car. Your heart was thumping so hard it hurt. Adrenaline dissipated outwards from your chest and it made your hands shake. Turning off at the next exit, you parked up at a gas station and turned off the engine. That was close, that was too fucking close. How fast were you even going? You didn't look to see, you didn't care. All you were focused on was maintaining that sensation of freedom and nothingness where the anxieties didn't exist anymore. But that was a momentary blip, they'd already come rushing back as you considered what would have happened if you reacted a second slower, half a second slower. When you'd calmed down, you filled up the tank while you were at the gas station and realised you didn't have a clue where you were. It was hours ago since you'd left the city with no thought of where you were headed. It was already getting dark. After looking up the directions back to the apartment, you got back on the road. Inevitably, you began to picture that pack of beer in the refrigerator again. Why hadn't you thought about him drinking? It wasn't like you'd only been seeing Johnny for a few weeks, you'd been going to the dojo for months. In all that time, you hadn't considered it? If you were honest with yourself, you felt betrayed by him. But he had never lied to you, he never said that he'd stopped drinking. You just didn't think about it. You had blocked it out of your mind, content with your self-imposed ignorance. So what were you so upset about? Johnny was drinking in front of those kids, wasn't that reason enough to be angry? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't picture him getting drunk in the dojo. Those beers were getting him through the day, a whole pack wasn't going to get him drunk, he'd practically still be sober. You were so conflicted. You knew you were wrong, but it didn't stop how you were feeling. You felt dejected and angry and hurt. There was no one to blame, nowhere to put the emotions so they had to be buried away. You were in half a mind to go to a liquor store, buy a bottle of that cheap whiskey Johnny liked and get fucking wasted. Instead when you finally made it back to the apartment, you got high. Though it didn't help much, you'd take any kind of relief you could get. You didn't know what to think anymore. It'd be easier if you didn't have to think at all. - - - When Johnny called, you didn't pick up at first. You just let it ring and ring until it finally went to voicemail, unable to scrounge up enough courage to actually talk to him. You needed more time to get your head straight. It still wasn't sinking in that he hadn't done anything wrong. Even though he was still drinking, he wasn't like before when you were together. He was healthier, he was more himself. No matter how many times you reminded yourself of the truth, it didn't ease the rising dread and the constant thoughts of the Firebird wrapped around a tree, him going on another bender, him ending up passed out in some alleyway, him lying face first on the ground, wheezing, choking, dying. An hour later he called again. This time you answered, needing to hear his voice. He asked if you could come to the dojo tomorrow and you agreed, like always. Parking up next to his Firebird the next day, you hesitated getting out of your car. A small part of you wanted to bolt. Maybe distance would somehow lessen the pain, maybe if you never saw Johnny again you could imagine that he was perfectly fine, forever healthy and untroubled. You pushed the anxious thoughts aside and headed into the dojo. There were a few kids already there. Hawk, Aisha and Miguel were chatting in the corner, too engrossed in their conversation to notice you coming in. As you went into the office, you almost collided into Johnny and reared backwards to avoid him. He immediately reached out and held onto your shoulders, carefully steadying you before you could stumble. “You okay?” He murmured softly, his bright eyes entirely focused on you. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” you replied, unable to hold to gaze. Turning your shoulders slightly, he seemed to take the hint and let you go. He didn't. . .he didn't smell like booze. Maybe he was being polite and he'd wait until you left before he started drinking. You moved passed him and settled down at the desk, quickly picking up some pieces of paper to start working. Johnny was still hovering by the door, his presence was almost oppressive. You were hyperaware of him in your peripheral vision, you could still feel his hands on your shoulders. Thankfully he went into the dojo and you could breathe a little easier. This was so pathetic. The things you had made yourself believe, the things you convinced yourself of in order to try and ease the pain. It wasn't just being naïve, thinking that he'd stopped drinking, it wasn't even willed ignorance, it was worse than that. You had deluded yourself, you had created an impossible narrative and you hadn't even noticed until it stared at you right in the face. Johnny was never going to stop drinking. He didn't stop for Robby, he didn't stop for you, and he certainly wasn't going to do it for himself. Anguish bled into your heart at the realisation. You looked over to the dojo through the window, seeing Johnny talk to a few of the kids. There was nothing you could do, there was never anything you could do. That sense of helplessness you hadn't felt for months was back. You couldn't even help the one person that you loved more than anything in this world. You were worthless. - - - The next time he called, you didn't answer. Not the second or the third time either. You couldn't bring yourself to go back there and see him again. Your head was all over the place. You felt deeply agitated but calm at the same time. There would be times when your mind would blank, and then it would be a mess of racing, spiralling thoughts. Whenever you got home from work, you didn't know what to do with yourself anymore. You considered listening to some music or watching a movie, but you didn't have the energy to decide. It was too much effort. A strange weight had settled deep inside your chest. Sometimes it would flare up, almost like the echoes of adrenaline. You didn't know whether it was agony or rage, neither conceded to the other so it felt as if you were in the eye of a storm, waiting for the moment when everything would come undone. You parked up outside the apartment after another long, shitty day at work, trying not to think about the fact you needed to get some groceries. The refrigerator was almost empty, the cupboards were largely comprised of condiments and spices. There might be can of soup hiding somewhere. You walked to the entrance of the apartment building, thinking that the soup would have to suffice for dinner even though you wanted a proper meal. A few days ago you got food poisoning from something, you hadn't worked out what it was in the end. Tomorrow you would go to the grocery store. Or maybe the day after that would be better- “Hey.” The sound of Johnny's voice made you look up in surprise. He was standing near the main door with his hands in his jean pockets. “What are you doing here?” “I was driving through, thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing.” You let out a sigh, rather irked by the fact he'd turned up in person. It was easy to ignore a call, but you couldn't ignore him standing right in front of you. His eyes were watching you carefully, expectant of anything but a dismissal. “Let's go up,” you told him, pulling out your keys and opening up the main door. He followed behind you silently as you took the stairs, Johnny's presence was making you nervous, you almost tripped up on the last flight of stairs. The sound of an argument from one of the neighbours permeated through the corridor as you went to your apartment. You fumbled impatiently with the botched lock, completely forgetting the normal routine of opening it up. Taking in a breath, you focused on doing it slowly and managed to get it open after a few seconds. “Want me to take a look at that?” He offered as both of you went inside. “It's fine,” you replied, gesturing to the sofa. After kicking off his shoes, he sat down with his elbows on his knees. There was that same sour expression on his face from the last time he was here. You tried not to take it personally, he was just thinking about his mom. Rather than sitting next to him as the sofa was a little small, you perched on the armrest, waiting for him to say something. “I tried to call a few times,” he told you, obviously waiting for an explanation. “I haven't had time to come to the dojo.” “How about next week? Is Thursday okay?” “Do you have a lot of paperwork then?” “Uhh. . .yeah I guess.” “I'll let you know,” you replied, taking to your feet. “Was there anything else?” Johnny's jaw twitched as he looked away from you for a brief moment. “I wanted to know how you're doing.” “Fine,” you immediately responded. “Just tired.” He kept watching you, wanting more than a three word response. “How are you and the kids?” “I'm okay, kids are doing great too.” You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together. After a few moments of silence Johnny asked you how things were at work. “Busy.” He looked down to his hands, he seemed uncomfortable that you were being so unresponsive. “I saw Robby yesterday,” he mentioned, trying to keep the conversation going. “How's he doing?” “Pretty good. He was in a bit of trouble at school but he's keeping out of it for now. We go to a burger joint each week and I drive him to school sometimes.” “That's good. He needs you, Johnny.” “He asked about seeing you. I haven't told him that we're not uh. . .” “Why not?” “I didn't want to give him another reason to be disappointed in me,” he murmured. “He's got enough already.” The hurt in his eyes made your heart twinge in discomfort. Both of you broke eye contact, unable to hold each other's gaze. “I think he'd be more disappointed that you lied to him,” you replied quietly. He stared at you again. Your chest hurt even more so you turned away and headed towards the front door. You said that you'd let him know whether you could make it next week. Johnny finally took the hint that you wanted him to leave and got off the sofa. After he put on his shoes, he stood in front of you for a few moments, his hands were almost balled into fists, his fingertips grazing the pad of his thumb. “Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at the door?” “I said it's fine.” You opened up the front door for him and he moved past you. He turned as if to say something else so you cut him off before he had the chance. “Talk to me first before turning up here again, alright?” Your tone was harsher than intended. His eyes flicked down to the floor, he nodded in response and then walked off down the corridor. You watched him walk away, trying to ignore how wrong it felt to watch him leave, just like you wanted. - - - It took less than five minutes for you to regret how you had spoken to Johnny. You shouldn't have been so rude to him. You were just so exhausted, and for him to catch you unawares like that, like he always managed to, made you shut down. The only thing that seemed to make sense was to put some distance between you and him, to give you a moment to process what was happening. Almost a week has passed and the agitated state you'd been in had finally started to settle out into something more predictable. Extra shifts and overtime kept your mind occupied. It was almost like you were functioning on autopilot, going to work, driving back, eating some food, getting high, sleeping, you did a lot of that now. Before you had barely been able to sleep, but now you'd go ten hours straight and it still wouldn't be enough. You didn't think about those beers in the refrigerator as much. Every now and then the anxiety would bleed into you uncontrollably as you wondered where Johnny was, whether he was okay, how much had he been drinking, had he got into a fight. Was he safe? He had the dojo now, he had the kids, he had Robby back. It would be enough for him to keep it together, he wouldn't get as bad as before, it had to be enough. When he was in your apartment, you'd said that you were going to call to let him know whether you could make it to the dojo on Thursday. It was only the night before that you finally managed to coax yourself to give him a call and tell him you'd be able to make it. The next day you found yourself driving to the dojo, smoking a joint to try and relax a little. With the windows down and the music blaring, you ran over the apology you were going to tell Johnny. You hadn't meant to be so dismissive and kick him out of the apartment after he'd barely been in it. You were still pretty fucked in the head, maybe seeing him every now and again would calm you down, maybe you wouldn't worry as much, maybe you wouldn't be so scared. After parking up next to the Firebird and heading inside, you asked Johnny whether you could talk to him for a minute. “Everything okay?” He asked when both of you were in the office. You stood in front of the desk, keeping your arms from crossing over your chest. “I wanted to apologise for being rude to you last week. I was just so tired and. . .” you trailed off, the words you had prepared earlier didn't seem right. How were you meant to explain yourself? How could you tell him that- “It's okay. I shouldn't have turned up without checking with you first,” he replied solemnly. That wasn't what you'd been trying to say, was it? “Sensei!” Miguel said as he came in to the office. “Aisha can't make it today, she's got a family thing she can't get out it. . .sorry am I interrupting something?” He must have noticed the tension between you and Johnny. Forcing a smile on your face, you shook your head and sat down behind the desk. “It's fine, Diaz. Text down what we've been doing today and let her know.” “Oh I'll just FaceTime her later.” “Face what?” “It's a video call, Sensei.” “Right, sure.” Miguel failed to hold back a grin as he left the office. Johnny turned his attention back to you. For a moment you thought he was going to say something, but he simply nodded at you and went into the dojo. Over the next few minutes, you watched as he chatted to his students before gathering them all together on the mat and starting the class. His words kept playing over in your mind over and over. Was he never going to turn up at your apartment again? Why did the thought fill you with so much dread? - - - Maybe monthly visits to the dojo would be the best compromise. It was frequent enough to keep on top of the paperwork but infrequent enough to give you time away from Johnny. It would be better if you started to drift away from him. Aside from helping him out in the office, there wasn't anything good you brought into his life. You hadn't helped him before when he needed it the most. All you did was watch him get worse and worse until you couldn't do it anymore. Why hadn't you helped him? Were you really that useless? Why had you walked away? Were you really that much of a coward? It was shameful what you had done, unforgivable. You'd left him. You'd left him all alone. What if he did that to you? You'd never recover, you'd never be the same again. When Johnny called, you didn't answer. The week after you'd been to the dojo, he called a few times, the week after that maybe once or twice. Even though you'd told him not to, you held out hope every time you went to and from work that you'd see him waiting outside your apartment. But he never turned up again. It had been a tiring morning. Work had been torturously long and you were only halfway through your shift. You were on lunch break, sitting in your car smoking a joint. It was the only thing that took the edge off anymore. Your phone buzzed and you were taken back by a text message from Johnny. He never texted. You checked the number a couple of times, making sure it was him. The content of the message should have been evident enough. >> can u come to dojo tonite at 8? He had never texted before, he didn't know how to. Immediately you called him back, but it went to voicemail after a couple rings. A few minutes later you received another text. >> have class cant talk. really need to see u. its urgent Your eyebrows furrowed. It was urgent? Was something wrong? Was he okay? You texted him back, telling him you'd meet him at eight, asking if he needed you to come sooner. He sent back a reply saying eight o'clock was fine. Unable to hold back your curiosity, you shot off another message, asking how he knew how to text. >> Diaz teachin me He didn't text anything else back for the rest of the day. The rest of your shift passed by in an anxious blur as you worried about whether he was okay. Something must have been going on. Had something happened to Robby? If it was really bad, he wouldn't have waited until the evening, would he? You parked up at the dojo a couple minutes before eight o'clock, trying to ignore the growing nerves. Heading in through the door, only the office was lit with the main lights turned off. Passing round the mat, you heard Johnny's voice. “For the last time Diaz, I'm not buying you those nunchucks, they're-” Johnny stopped talking the moment you walked into the office. He was sitting with his feet on the desk, beer in hand, a magazine on his legs which he must have been flipping through. There were a couple of empty beer cans on the desk, one had already fallen to the floor. You suddenly felt nauseous and had to force yourself not to turn away from him. “What are you doing here?” He questioned as he took his feet off the desk and dropped the magazine down onto it. “It's eight o'clock,” you reminded him quietly, eyes fixating on the beer he was holding. How many had he had already? “So?” He spat back. “You said you wanted me to meet you here at eight.” “No I didn't.” “It was a couple of hours ago, Johnny. You texted me.” “Since when do I text?” “Since Miguel started to teach you?” He looked at you puzzled for a few moments before his expression filled with recognition. He let out a deep sigh. “That kid. . .” he mumbled in irritation. You suddenly realised that it was Miguel who had texted you. Shit. . .why didn't you realise? Johnny always called him Miguel whenever he spoke to you, not Diaz. You should have known. He'd never texted you before, and then after he rejected your call, he didn't call you back. He always called you back. You felt stupid, embarrassed. “Well. . .I didn't mean to interrupt you. You seem to have plans so. . .” You tried not to think about how many more beers he'd get through tonight. About to turn away from him, he quickly stood up and put the can down on the desk. “What's going on with you?” “What do you mean?” “What's going on? I haven't seen you in nearly three weeks.” “I've been busy.” “Doing what?” “Work's been crazy, I haven't found the time.” “Haven't found the time, that's a good one. I should remember that.” “What?” “I'm just making a note of your bullshit,” he told you as he began to approach you. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?” “No, I don't want to fight,” he replied softly, stopping a few feet in front of you. The smell of alcohol was even stronger now. “I want you to tell me what's going on. Something's not right with you, what is it?” “I say no when you ask me for a favour and that automatically means there's something wrong with me?” “I thought you liked it here. The kids think you're great, they keep asking me when you're coming back and I don't know what to tell them. It's better when you're here.” “Gotta have someone to do your busy work, right?” “Don't do that. Don't put words in my mouth. I don't give a shit about the paperwork. I like having you around, alright?” Your eyes dropped to the ground, you didn't know what to say, you didn't know what to think. "Look I know work's crazy but. . .can't you come here once a week? Just for an hour or two." You slowly started to shake your head, every week was just too much. "Okay, what about once every two weeks, starting tomorrow?" You pressed your lips together, hesitant to agree even though it was better than every single week. "Please?" You looked up at him then, at his bright, hopeful eyes and you were nodding before you even realised. He walked you out of the dojo and to your car not long after that. You supposed you would be back here tomorrow. - - - The kids greeted you warmly the next day when you walked into the dojo. Miguel, Aisha and Hawk followed you into the office, but it was only Aisha and Hawk who were chatting excitedly about the mock tournament that Johnny was going to plan, discussing who was going to fight each other, what new moves they could incorporate in the fights, who was most likely to win. Miguel remained quiet and avoided your gaze, Johnny had probably chewed him out for the stunt he pulled on you last night. He might have been trying to do the right thing and help his Sensei, but he had no right to lie like that. It wasn't fair.  Johnny greeted you without any awkwardness or tension and rounded up the kids to begin the class. It was. . .kind of nice being back in the dojo, listening to the rhythmic sound of the kids doing their movements, to Johnny as he walked along beside them, effortlessly explaining how they could improve and complimenting the students which had cracked it or had shown improvement. After the class, Miguel came into the office with his backpack and apologised genuinely for what he did. You nodded in response and accepted his apology before asking him why he wasn't staying. "Sensei says I have to do some endurance training today." "Endurance training?" "Yeah, it's a lot of running and stuff. Fifteen miles to start and then-" "To start?" You reply incredulously before mumbling under your breath where's Johnny. Taking to your feet, you looked out to the dojo to find him talking to Bert. Miguel might have done wrong, but he didn't deserve to be punished like this. "Oh it's fine, I do it anyways. Just not usually on the night I'm supposed to be going out with my friends," he reassured you. Your eyes flicked between Miguel and Johnny, uncertain whether it really was okay. "I know I shouldn't have lied so. . .really it's fine." "Alright," you told him. After Miguel left the office and more of the kids headed out of the dojo, Johnny came in to see you. "Diaz apologise?" He asked, coming around to your side of the desk and perching on the edge of it. "Yeah, he did.” “He's a good kid really.” “I know.” He nodded slowly, his eyes avoiding your gaze like he was preparing himself to tell you something. “I uh. . . I told Robby about us. About a lot of things actually.” “Yeah?” “About Sid, and Cobra Kai and all the shit I did in high school.” He paused for a few moments, taking a deep breath. “I told him about my mom too and. . .how she passed.” Johnny had told you what happened to her a long time ago. He talked about the months he'd spent visiting her in hospital before she died, how day after day she got worse and worse until she wasn't really there at all. Her death hit him hard, she was all he had. “I think I said too much. He hasn't answered my calls in a couple days.” “He probably needs some time to process,” you replied. “That kid's always got a lot to process huh?” “You still taking him to school?” “He'd already left when I got there yesterday.” “Beat him to it next time.” “What. . .I should camp outside the front door at sunrise?” “You gotta show someone you love them right?” “Yeah. . .” Johnny mumbled back, focus drifting away from you as he became preoccupied with his thoughts. - - - The angst fest is back in town! Been a while huh? I'd hoped to get this finished months ago but season 3 of Cobra Kai really just put me off Johnny's character and I had a total loss of inspiration. I do plan on completing this story and hope you'll enjoy this next installment. Your comments are much appreciated as always. Taglist: @whyhaveyouwritten-mehere @lacontroller1991 @stressedstark @wndrcarol @carissakingofthecastle92 @witchcraftandwit @magicwithaknife@80strashbag @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @chlqefrazer @actuallydrew @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch  @wholesomehen  @deadpoolgirl23   @sorryyoureoutofmyleague​  @princealfie​  @jackbarakms​  @the-a-word-2214 @sunflowerkitt @supernaturalcat7 @marvelfangirllll @walkerchick007 @kaelyn-lobrutto24

[kpop---scenarios]

The Ride

Pairing: Mafia! Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Mafia Au

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning: Gun Use, Mentions of Death, Kidnapping, Smut, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Sex Trafficking

Summary: Baekhyun was hired by your grandfather to watch over your cousin after she felt like she was being watched and marked. During his time at the diner with her, you and him became quite close. Little do you know the two of you are in for quite the ride.

Tagging: @shesdreaminginoverdose @ice-cold-taeyong @skittlez-area512 @exolnctzens @tacojisung @you-n-me-e-e @puli2things @xlxbaekhyuneex @blahblahblah-boo @precious-seungwooya @michimouse98 @ncteaxhoe @brokenbutchocolate @amixoferrthang @xiumin-tzuyu @biaswreckingfics @milky-baek @reynadelsol25 @maygem2780 @bbhmystar @xnovyx @sunbyun21 @jungkooksworld18 @noonawriter​

You lean over the counter, your cheek resting on your palm as you giggle at something Baekhyun had just said to you. 

"You're so gross. He's supposed to be here for me." Rose scoffs as she smacks her gum, continuing to text on her phone. 

"Oh my god, no." You laugh at Baekhyun before glaring at your cousin, scrunching up your face before hiding behind your hands. Your phone rings, you take it out and look at the caller ID, seeing grandpa flash across the screen you know he's there to pick up Rose. 

"Grandpa is here for you." You tell her, seeing his car pull up out back. As she gets up to leave, you turn away from Baekhyun when you hear the bell from the front door ring, along with mumbling deep voices. 

"Um.." Baekhyun says, making you turn around. You see a group of three men walking into the diner and Baekhyun's body stiffening up. 

"It's a group of old men, Baek. Stop." You laugh, grabbing menus before heading over there. 

"Hi guys." You smile, laying out the menus. "Can I get you guys something to drink to start?" You ask, slipping your notebook from your pocket. 

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing. Hey Jon? Dontcha think she's pretty." One man says, looking you up and down. 

"Absolutely." Another one murmurs. "She would make a nice fit with the others, hey Al?" He chuckles. "It's too bad she's not who we're here for." 

Your hand begins to sweat and shake as you try to remain cool. You felt uneasy but your grandpa always told you how to handle these men, should you ever encounter them. He always told you to not worry about it because the diner was a safe place, but on the off chance something happened, he was only a phone call away. 

"We heard Rose was going to be working today?" One man says with a smile. "I hear she gives great service. Could you get her?" He asks, his smile forced. 

"She's not here but I'll get you some waters." You mumble, quickly walking behind the counter. You notice the spot that Baekhyun had been sitting was now empty. You gather up the waters and head back to the table, placing one down in front of each man. 

"Do you guys know what you want to order or did you need more time?" You ask, your voice shaky. 

"Oh I know what i want." Al says, standing up. "Rose." 

"She's not here, I believe i said." You say, waving him off. 

"I don't believe you." He laughs. All three men stand up. 

"You guys can get the fuck out before I call the cops." You spit, placing your hand on your waist. 

The men laugh as they stand up, one of them winking at you as they walk out the door. 

"I'll be seeing you." He says, walking through the door, letting it slowly close behind him. 

"Not likely!" You yell. 

What a piece of shit.

You felt like you could finally breathe as you watched them climb into a car, turning your back before you even see them leave. 

You walk into the kitchen where the cook was cleaning the grill, the music blaring from his headphones. You tell him about your encounter and just ask him to keep an eye out.

You go back up front and you see Baekhyun walking around the front of the diner as you gather up some garbage, watching him turn the corner. You never understood why he stayed here after Rose left, since she realistically should be the only reason he was here. 

 You take the garbage out the back and through the door to the dumpster. As you see Baekhyun looking inside your car you notice a man with a gun sneaking up behind him, the gun pointed directly at his head. 

"Duck!" You scream. 

Baekhyun drops to the ground as the man fires his gun, the bullet going straight through the window of your car.

He pulls out his gun, swiftly turning around to shoot the man before getting up and running to you. He grabs your wrist, dragging you to his car, opening the passenger door and pushing you in before he hops in the driver's seat, starting the car, putting it in drive, as he screeches out of the parking lot. 

"Shit they had people waiting." Baekhyun spits, pressing down on the gas as two cars follow behind you. "I fucking knew it. I thought they would have moved on since she wasn't here." He mumbles. 

"Yeah cause sex traffickers move on that easily once they have a target." You sigh, rolling your eyes. "They're not dumb, Baek. They know you're there to protect her."  

"Here take this." He says ignoring what you said and handing you a gun. "Just keep shooting out the window. Try to aim for the tires." Baekhyun yells as he jerks the steering wheel to the left, the car behind you still trailing you too close for your liking. 

As you take off the safety, your mind wanders back into how you got into this position, meeting Baekhyun. 

**

"Ayn, this is Byun Baekhyun of EXO. He's here to watch after Rose while she's at work." Your grandpa, Chairman Yang tells you. 

"Watch Rose? Why? Because she does such a terrible job?" You laugh. Your laugh quickly fades away as you see the seriousness on everyone's face and that's when you knew it wasn't something to be joking about. "What's going on?" You ask. 

"She's been marked. Her car for the last few days have had the markings for trafficking." Baekhyun tells you. "This is how they do it, stake her out for a few weeks before they try to make their move." 

"So you're there.." you pause before he cuts in. 

"To protect her." He finishes. 

"Don't worry Ayn. Nothing will happen." Your grandpa smiles, trying to ease your mind. 

You weren't worried. You knew everything would be fine. 

"Don't they know who she is? Why pick her?" You wonder. Your family was powerful, so why risk it? 

"More powerful the family, more money for the girl. Some guys are just willing to take the risk." Baekhyun says. 

"I've got to go to a meeting. All will be fine, Ayn." Your grandpa finishes, placing a kiss on your forehead before walking away, leaving you with the man you soon would fall for. 

** 

The first day Baekhyun showed up you laughed. He sat on a stool at the counter and looked around the building trying to locate Rose. 

"Seriously?" You smile, looking at him with a blank stare. "First day and you already can't find her?" 

"I know exactly where she is." He scoffs. "Back there." He says, pointing to the kitchen. 

"Actually no. She didn't come in today. She had me take her shift today." You say, smiling wildy. 

Baekhyun laughs as he shakes his head, lowering it in embarrassment. 

"It's okay if you're not very smart, you're still hot." You smile. 

"You think I'm hot?" He asks. 

"Don't get all soft now, mafia man. You have a job to do." You say, walking away to serve the new group of people who just walked in. 

Baekhyun knew then things would never be boring as long as you were around. 

**

"I did it!" You exclaim excitedly as you watch the car behind you lose control and crash into a pole. 

"Good job." Baekhyun laughs. "One more to go." He murmurs, jerking the car one more time and speeding up. "Hold on tight." He spits, grabbing the wheel tightly, stepping on the brake and turning the wheel hard, completely turning the car around. 

You both speed past the car that had been trailing behind you, and laugh as you watch them through the mirrors, they slam on their brakes and try to turn to catch the two of you. By the time they had turned around, Baekhyun had already pulled into one of many side roads, turning off the car. 

Sitting there in silence, you squeeze your legs together, your clit throbbing. 

"Are you okay?" Baekhyun asks, worriedly.

"Adrenaline makes me horny." You breathe. You move your panties to the side, slowly slipping your fingers into your pussy, only letting out a soft moan. 

"Are you..?" He begins to ask, but is cut off by you getting onto your knees, pulling your fingers from your pussy and leaning over to him. You lift up his shirt, running your fingers through his treasure trail, licking your lips before whispering "nice." 

You unbutton his pants and he lifts himself up, making it easier for you to pull them down. 

You lick your lips at the sight of his cock, hard, leaking pre cum. 

You place your mouth over the tip wrapping your lips around it, swallowing his cock. 

Baekhyun moans as you gag yourself on his cock. His head falls back against the seat, his mouth hanging open as he thrusts up, shoving his cock further back down your throat. 

You bring yourself up, sitting up, you wipe your mouth, looking him in the eyes. "Im clean. Are you?" You ask. 

"Yes." He whispers as he watches you pull your panties down and throw them in the backseat. He leans his seat back, pulling your arm to help you climb onto him, hiking your skirt up in the process. He holds his cock as you slowly begin to sink down on him, his cock stretching you out an unimaginable amount. 

"Shit." He cries. "You're so fucking wet. You're drenched." He moans. 

You place your hands on his shoulders, you're rolling your hips, curling yourself into him. 

"Oh my god." You moan in his ear, leaning forward. 

You move your fingers down, putting them in between the two of you and in between your lips, rubbing your clit. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

"Dont stop." You cry, rolling your hips in just the right way. Your clit becomes sensitive as your orgasm quickly approaches. 

You lift yourself up from against him, your head flying back as you cum all over his cock. You move your hand from between your legs, lowering your head to look Baekhyun in the eyes, you place your fingers in your mouth, sucking the juices from them. 

Baekhyun moans as his hands leave your hips, moving up to begin undoing the buttons of your top, exposing your bra. He pulls a cup down, letting a breast spring free. He moans as he cups it, leaning his head forward to take it in his mouth. 

Shivers run down your spine as he continues to suck while you ride him, his cock hitting the right spot every time. 

You move your fingers down, putting them in between the two of you and in between your lips, rubbing your clit. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. 

Baekhyun lets go of your nipple with a pop, but before he's able to say anything else, a pair of headlights are set on your car and a gunshot rings through the air. 

"Shit." He spits, turning the car on. You try to get off of him but his one hand keeps you there in place. "I don't think so, baby." He smiles, putting the car in drive and flooring it. "Grab the gun." He spits. 

You reach over to the empty passenger seat, grabbing the gun you had left there. "Aim it out my window. Try to hit wherever you can." He yells, jerking the car around another corner. You wrap your arm around his neck as he looks over your shoulder, watching the road. You stick your arm out the window and pull the trigger, doing your best to keep your aim at the car. You were having a little trouble concentrating with Baekhyun subtly thrusting inside you as he drove. 

As you aim the gun out of his window, a moan slips out of your mouth, whispering the sound into his ear. 

"Fuck baby, you can't do that." He groans, grunting as he bucks his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside of you. 

"And you can't do that, if you want me to shoot." You gasp, clutching the gun tightly. 

Managing to get a little bit of your concentration back, you squeeze your pussy around his cock as you aim and fire. 

"Oh my god." Baekhyun gasps, biting his bottom lip before thrusting his hips up, pounding himself into you. 

"Fuck." You cry out, bringing your free hand up to cup your breast, squeezing it tightly. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you ride Baekhyun, forgetting that you would be distracting him from trying to get the two of you to safety. 

"Take another shot." Baekhyun groans, trying to concentrate, both hands on the wheel but his eyes on your bouncing tits. 

You stick your arm out the window again, firing another shot, this time hitting a wheel, making the car begin to swerve before inevitably crashing into a tree. Baekhyun laughs as he slams on the breaks, shifting the car into park before his hands end up on your thighs, pushing down while he thrusted up hard. 

"So fucking sexy." He grunts. You use your knees against the seat, bouncing on his cock, your tits in his face. 

"Fuck I'm gonna cum." You cry, your hand grabs a clump of hair as your orgasm hits you, halting all your movements, causing you to shake. "Shit." You moan as Baekhyun thrusts himself into you more, chasing his own high. 

"Im gonna.. cum." He stampers, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he shoots his load into your pussy, coating your walls with his cum. "Fuck." He huffs. 

You smile as you both catch your breath before you get off of him and sit yourself in his passenger seat, feeling his cum drip from inside your pussy. "You can just drop me off at home if you want." You breathe, running your hands through your hair. 

"I need to talk to your grandpa so yeah, let's go." Baekhyun says, turning shifting the car into drive and heading for your house. 

** 

"Yes sir." Baekhyun says as your grandpa gives him new instructions. 

"You're to be there all day everyday. If EXO wants us on their side, you better be keeping us granddaughter safe." He says, not looking up from his desk. 

"Yes sir. Of course sir." Baekhyun finishes, nodding his head. 

"You may go. Ayn?" Your grandpa says. 

"Yeah?" You say, turning around to face him. 

"Maybe you should take some time off from the diner. Just until everything blows over." He suggests. 

You laugh as you walk over behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I appreciate the concern, but they're not after me. Besides, you know i can handle myself." You say, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

"I know you're tough." He chuckles. "Doesn't mean I can't worry about you." 

"I'll see you later." You smile, walking out of his office. 

**

A few days later you were back at work, missing Baekhyun. He had gotten a phone call from Rose saying she had an appointment and he was the one who needed to take her and watch her there. You could almost guarantee that she did not have an appointment, she just didn't want to come to work like usual. 

You're brought out of your thoughts when the bell on top of the door rings and you heat the sound of footsteps walking into the diner. You turn around and see one of the men from before standing there, but this time he's alone.

"Table for one?" He asks. 

"Sit where you want. I'll be right with you." You say, turning around to grab a menu. You take a deep breath, planning out what you were going to yell at him. You walk up to him, dropping his menu on the table as he looks up at you. 

"Before you say anything.." he pauses. "I want to apologize for my friends and I the other day." He smiles. "They're into some weird business, we were drinking that day and things just got out of hand." He sighs. "A friend had told us about Rose and we pushed too far, we didn't mean any harm,  i'm sorry." He finishes. 

"If you weren't here to do any harm, then what about the guy who was shot?" You ask, trying to unravel his apology. 

"What guy? Someone was shot?" He asked, looking worried. 

"Nevermind.' You whisper. You weren't sure if you believed him but it's not like you would see him  often, so you let it go. But that wasn't true. You saw home almost everyday after that, and everyday you became increasingly more and more comfortable around Al. 

** 

"Hey Al." You smile widely as he walks into the diner for the fifth time this week. 

"Hello dear." He laughs, sitting down at his usual table. Already you were behind the counter grabbing his water and his coffee to bring to him.

"BLT or eggs today?" You smile, not even bringing him a menu considering he only ever ordered one of two things. 

"I think the BLT sounds good today, Ayn." He says, sipping on his coffee. "How's your cousin?" He asks. 

You had told him that she was a terrible coworker and he always liked to tease you about it. "Shitty, as usual." You smile. "I'll go put your order in quick." 

As the night went on and Al finished his food, he liked to stay and have a few cups of coffee after, reading the paper and just enjoying the sound. Yoh remembers how he told you his family was all gone, his wife passed away years ago, and his children were all grown up and left the house. He missed the noise, being surrounded by people. Or that's what he told you. 

"See ya, Ayn." He says, waving as he walks out the door a few hours later. You head over to his table to clean up his cups and underneath one of them was a $100 bill. He always managed to make you smile with his tips. 

**

A few weeks later, Al was still coming in and Baekhyun didn't like it. "There's something off about him." He says, sipping his coffee, eyeing up the man who you had become close to. 

"He's lonely. Leave him alone." You laugh, smacking Baekhyun on the arm. 

"How was your day today, Ayn?" Al asks as you refill his coffee. "The same as yesterday and the day before and the day before." You laugh. "Work work work, go home and sleep and more work." 

"You work far too much. You closing up again tonight?" He asks. 

"Not tonight, I'm off early tonight but the rest of the week I'll be closing." You tell him. 

"You make sure to be careful. There are some weirdos out there." He warns. 

You thank him and turn around, missing the small smirk that appears on his lips before disappearing quickly. 

At 7pm, you happily took off your apron, throwing it in the laundry basket in the back before saying goodbye and getting into your car. 

Once you were home you took a quick shower, not bothering to use a towel to dry yourself off, you prefer to air dry. 

You walk to your dresser grabbing your lotion off the top shelf as your door opens and in walks Baekhyun with his eyes closed. 

 "Look." He says. "We need to talk." He finishes opening his eyes, trailing your body up and down. "I.. we.. um." He stutters. 

"Im listening." You say, rubbing lotion over your stomach before moving up to your breasts. 

Baekhyun lets out a deep breath before moving to your desk chair, he sits down, biting his bottom lip. "Well.." he pauses. 

"What do you want to say to me?" You ask, standing in front of him. 

"I don't remember." He says, looking up at you. You smile as you crawl into his lap, straddling him. You wrap your arms around his neck, your breasts pushed into his face. You lift yourself up before rolling your hips against his clothed cock. You feel him grow beneath you as you continue to grind yourself on him.

"What do you want?" Baekhyun asks, his voice low. 

"Do whatever you want to me." You breathe. 

"Whatever I want?" He smirks. 

You nod your head, biting your lip to hide your smile. Baekhyjn stands up holding your back as you wrap your legs around his waist. His hands move to your ribs, holding pulling you off and throwing you on the bed. 

"Ropes?" He asks. 

"Handcuffs." You reply, pointing to your closet. Baekhyun gets off the bed, moving to your closet. He reaches up to grab the pair of handcuffs, twirling them around his finger as he walks back to your naked body laying on the bed. He crawls on, smiling as you hold out your wrists for him. Happily he locks the handcuffs in place and pushes your arms to lay flat over your head. 

"Hold onto the headboard and do not let go." He says with a growl. 

"Yes sir." You purr. 

Baekhyun moves down your body, forcing your legs open, spreading them as far as he can make them go. Your pussy is already dripping at the thought of him between your thighs. 

He lays down on his stomach, spreading your lips before flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your back arches for a moment, until he pushes you back down, keeping his hand there to not let you do that again. 

"Oh my god." You cry out, his lips wrapping around you clit, sucking harshly. 

He releases your clit, sliding two fingers into his mouth before slowly entering them inside you. He slowly pumps his finger in and out of you, bringing his other thumb to your clit and gently rubbing, making you arch your back again. 

"Fuck fuck fuck." You cry out, the overwhelming sensation continuing to grow as he works his magic fingers. 

"You're going to make me.. cum." You scream out, your hands holding on tightly to the headboard as your orgasm washes through your body, Baekhyun's fingers still continuing to work on you. 

"Please. Please no more." You cry out, your body trying to twist away from him. 

"Shh baby, you told me I could do whatever I wanted. So stop moving and let me make you cum again." He snaps, his eyes dark. You bite your bottom lip, your body tries to relax but fuck you're sensitive. 

"I can't." You cry. 

"You can and you will. Cum again, baby." He says, his fingers thrusting in and out of you quickly while his thumb rubs your clit. 

"Fuck." You cry out, another orgasm washing over you, your clit throbbing from being so sensitive now. 

Baekhyun removes his hands from you, standing up and pointing to the floor. "On your knees." He states, pointing to the hardwood floor beneath him. You crawl off the bed, your hands still in the cuffs. Your sink down onto your knees, in front of Baekhyun. He begins unzipping his pants, letting his cock spring free. You notice the precum dripping from his red tip. 

"Suck." He demands. 

You take a breath before leaning forward, licking the tip of his cock, swallowing the cum before taking more of him in your mouth. 

Baekhyun's hands reach around and grab the back of your head, pulling a clump of hair to keep your head still before he slowly thrusts his hips back and forth, gently hitting the back of your throat. 

As the seconds went on his thrusts became harder and faster. His grip on your hair tightened as he slammed his cock into your mouth, sliding it down your throat to make you gag. Tears brimmed your eyes as you choked on his cock. 

"Such a good slut." He moans, pulling his cock from your mouth, letting you breathe. 

"On the bed. All fours." He spits, discarding his shirt somewhere in your room. 

You climb on the bed, mascara burning your eyes as it runs down your face. You put your face in your bed, pressing it into your sheets while sticking your ass in the air and wait for Baekhyun.  

You feel the bed dip behind you before a hard slap lands on your ass, making it burning. 

"Good girl." He purrs, grabbing your ass roughly before slapping it one more time. 

Baekhyun lines his cock up with your hole, pushing himself inside you a little bit before he grips onto your hips and slams himself inside you. 

"Holy fuck." You cry out but it's muffled. Your fingers hold tightly onto the bed sheets as your face is buried into the bed. 

"Such a nice pussy." He groans, this thrusts slowly but hard, hitting your G spot everytime. 

Seconds later he picks up his pace and begins pounding himself into you, his breathing heavy as his fingertips dig into your hips. 

"Clench." He grunts. 

You clench your pussy around him, making him cry out loudly. 

"Fuck, just like that." He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Im gonna cum." He yells, his grip becoming even tighter before he stops moving. He's hunched over you, as he spills himself into you, coating your walls with his cum. 

"Shit." He breathes, giving small thrusts as he milks himself for everything.  

He pulls himself out of you, letting cum fall from your pussy, as he walks to the bathroom to grab you a cloth. 

He comes back with a smile on his face handing you the cloth before unlocking your hands, tossing the handcuffs onto your bed. 

After cleaning up, he crawls in beside you, pulling you in close to him, sleep coming easily to you both. 

Late in the morning, Baekhyun gives you a kiss on the lips as he quietly leaves your room, heading home to shower before going to the diner for his shift with Rose. "I'll see you later." You smile, knowing you'll be there in the next few hours for your long shift. 

** 

Over the next few nights of your closing shifts, Baekhyun had to leave early for the first two and had planned on staying for the third one. It was around 10pm when Rose had left to head home and it didn't take long for Baekhyun's phone to ring after that. 

"You just left Rose." Baekhyun sighs as he answers the phone on speaker.  

"I think someone's following me." She whispers. 'I've been taking a bunch of random turns and the car follows me the whole time." She says. You can hear the panic in her voice as you hear whimpers through the phone. 

"Where are you? I'm on my way." Baekhyun says, taking off from the diner. Your stomach was in knots thinking about what could happen to Rose. You just hoped Baekhyun got to her in time. As you watch his car screech out of the parking lot, the front door opens. You see Al walking in, a smile on his face. 

"Hey stranger." You grin, grabbing a cup for coffee. 

"None tonight." He says. He looks uneasy and uncomfortable. "I'm really sorry Ayn. It's not my decision." He says. Before you're able to ask him what he meant, you hear the sound of a bullet hitting something or someone in the kitchen and then a body hitting the floor. 

You look at Al with terror in your eyes as he shrugs his shoulders before you're hit over the head with something, making you fall into the darkness. 

**

Baekhyun got to Rose as fast as he could. She had pulled into a well lit gas station that had many people around while she waited for him to show up.

"They're gone?" She says, looking around as Baekhyun walks up to her window. "It's like they saw you and took off." She says shrugging her shoulders. 

His mind immediately went to you. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He pulled out his phone, dialing your number but you didn't answer. His hand starts to shake as he presses redial before running back to his car. He speeds out of the gas station and heads back to the diner. 

You still didn't answer. 

Baekhyun dials Chairman Yang, who picks up on the second ring. "What is it?" He asks.

"It's Ayn. Meet me at the diner." Baekhyun says before hanging up the phone. His foot presses on the gas, jolting his car to go faster.

He finally reaches the diner, barely putting the car in park before he flies out of the driver's seat, running inside. He calls out your name but you don't answer. His eyes look to the floor where he sees a large spot of blood. 

"Ayn!" He calls again, no answer. 

Chairman Yang runs through the door, looking at the blood then back at Baekhyun. 

"It was never Rose." He breathes. "They never wanted her. It was always Ayn." He finishes, feeling like he's failed you. 

[tintentrinkerin]

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

[127-mile]

THE PROSPECT.

PAIRING: Biker Hendery x racer female reader.

GENRE: Gang, motorcycle club, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst.

WARNINGS: Car accident (the accident already happened when the fic starts), blood, injuries, strong language, mention of a dead relative, of neglect, illegal race, quick mention of guns.

PLOT: The biker and the car racer, it sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke, but it is not. The biker wants to taste normality, and the car racer is happy to oblige.

WORD COUNT: +6.3k.

A/N: This is part of the Adrenaline rush collab hosted by @lucas-wongs​​ | I'm also working on a fic from Johnny (the club's president)'s point of view.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" you scream in frustration.

You hit the steering wheel with your fists, and you ignore the throbbing pain in your right wrist. There's smoke coming out from under the hood, and you know it's only a matter of a minute before a spark threatens to set the whole car on fire.

You unfasten your seat belt, probably the only reason you haven't gone through the windshield, and you get out of the car, slamming the door behind you, causing the window to explode into pieces.

A car pulls up near you, and you turn your head. "The finish line is a hundred meters away, why are you stopping?"

Taeyong gets out of his car, and he gasps when he sees the condition of your vehicle. "Because I wanted to make sure you didn't get hurt." he responds, rubbing his sweaty hands over his pants. "She's good for the junkyard."

You didn't need Taeyong to figure it out. "If I call a tow truck now maybe I have a chance to still have a car tomorrow, what do you think?"

"If it doesn't catch fire, yes." he whispers.

You pull away from the curb when other cars are crossing the street at full speed, you don't want to get hit by a car after crashing into a fucking pole.

"You could have been first if you hadn't stopped." you say in a sigh.

He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no money to win tonight, I don't care if I win." yeah well, good money or not you would have liked to win, and you were so close, damn it! "And I can always find a way to be accepted for the next race. I know the organizer, I will tell him about you too."

Taeyong walks over, and he takes your face in his cold hands, which makes you hiss. "You are bleeding, you should go to the hospital." he says firmly and you roll your eyes, which shouldn't be as painful as it is.

"Do you really think I have enough money to go to the hospital? You're cute." you take a step back and Taeyong's arms fall to his sides. "Do you think the Neo garage is open at night?"

Taeyong sighs. "Call the garage to check, I'll call Ten to see if he can sneak you in to make sure you're okay." the perks of having a nursing friend who doesn't care about the rules.

You pull your phone out of the pocket of your jacket, and you wince when you see the broken screen, but at least it still works. It takes you a few minutes to find the garage number, and you heave a sigh. You're always doing repairs to your car yourself, but it's way too bad now.

"Neo garage, what can I do for you?" a voice asks after the second beep.

"Hi, I have a question, when someone calls you to pick up a wrecked car, do you have to call the police?" you ask in an annoyed voice, you have no choice but to ask this question which must be bizarre, since the person chuckles on the other side.

"No, we don't call the police unless you ask us to." good to know, you won't end up in jail tonight.

"Perfect. I had an accident, and if you could come and pick it up that would be nice, if it didn't catch fire before you got there."

The person hums. "Where are you?"

You look around, and you shrug your shoulders even though no one can see you. "I am on the main street, in front of the tea shop."

"Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes." and the person hangs up.

You put your phone in your pocket, and you approach Taeyong who is waiting. "The tow truck is coming." you say, and he nods.

"Ten said the emergency room is empty, you can go, he will let you through without having you fill out the papers."

You have the choice between going to the hospital to check that your wrist is not broken and that you do not have a concussion, or to wait for the tow truck, the choice is already made, you love your car more than you love yourself. "Go, take my car, I'll wait for the tow truck, I'll send you a message later."

You frown. "Are you sure? Weren't you supposed to spend the evening with Doyoung after the race?"

Taeyong hands you the keys to his car. "He will understand." you thank him deeply and get in his car. "Please, no accident with my car or I'll kill you." he says and you nod with a thin smile.

"I'll try my best."

You hope it's not the last time you'll see your car, and you drive to the hospital which is a few minutes away.

Either way, taking Taeyong's car after banging your head against the window was a bad idea, but you park in the parking lot without a hitch. You are an amazing driver. Most of the time.

Ten is already near the glass door when you approach, and he presses his hand against his mouth. "You look like shit." he says, voice muffled by his hand.

"Thank you very much, you should see the condition of my car."

You follow Ten in the hospital, and in one of the emergency rooms, and you sit on the edge of the bed. "You'll have to take an X-ray to see if you don't have a concussion."

You shake your head. "I don't have a headache, I don't feel nauseous, I am not tired, I have nothing Ten. Just clean my wounds and look at my wrist, I have to go to the garage after."

Ten sighs. "Stubborn."

Ten takes care of the wounds you have on your forehead, cheek and lip, then he looks at your wrist. "It's swollen, can you move it?"

You move your wrist, biting your tongue to avoid growling in pain. You can't be in a plaster. "See, it's not even broken."

Ten narrows his eyes. "I don't believe you. I'll wrap it in a bandage, and I'll come see you tomorrow to check to see if it hasn't gotten any worse." he mumbles, wrapping your wrist and part of your hand with a itchy bandage. Great. "If I ask you to spend the night here, you are going to refuse?"

You shake your head and he sighs. "Why are we friends?"

When your phone vibrates in the pocket of your jacket, you pick up. "Taeyong? Did the car catch on fire?"

He snorts. "No, your car didn't catch on fire. It's in the garage, they'll take care of it tomorrow morning, so go home, I'll come pick up my car later."

"How are you going to get home without your car?" but you don't have an answer since Taeyong has already hung up, he finds that hanging up is much easier than arguing with you. He is right, and you love him for that.

"Thanks Ten, I owe you one." you stand up from the bed, and Ten throws his gloves in the trash.

"Take painkillers before you go to bed, it won't stop making you feel like you're dying, but it will help."

You kiss his cheek, and you walk out of the room, making sure no nurses are around, then you walk out of the hospital. The cold night air whips your cheeks, and you close your eyes, it feels good on your burning skin.

It takes you a little longer to get home, due to the fatigue that has suddenly crushed on you, and when you walk in your apartment the first thing you do is drop onto your bed, ignoring your limbs crying out in pain.

When you open your eyes, your room is bathed in light and yet you have the impression that you have barely slept a few minutes.

You turn on your back, and you growl. Maybe you should have listened to Ten and taken an aspirin before going to bed, because the pain is so bad you can't think straight.

It's like you have an elephant lying on you. Or like you've been in a car accident. Your humor makes you smile.

With your fingertips, you reach for your phone in your blanket, and you sigh when you see your friends' messages. Ten and Taeyong want to know if you're still alive, Doyoung is laughing at you, and Kun tells you that you should never have taken part in the race in a "I told you so" way.

You answer Taeyong and Ten with a simple: Alive.

It's almost two in the afternoon, which means your car should be finished, or at least they should know if your car should be scrapped or not.

You get up, and if you thought you were in pain, it's nothing like the pain when you shower and get dressed. It's horrible, you want to die, just like Ten said you would. Stupid nurse.

Rather than taking Taeyong's car, you walk to the garage, and a strange shiver runs through your body as your gaze lands on all the motorcycles that are parked in the parking lot. You know these are the bikes of the mechanics, and the club members.

This club has quite the reputation.

You approach the small building which contains nothing but a desk and piles of papers which are scattered over it. "Excuse me?"

A young man turns his head towards you, and he smiles. "Hello, what can I do for you?"

You clear your throat, resting your shoulder against the doorframe. "My car was towed here last night, it's a black shelby." you explain, and he nods.

"Oh yeah, I thought the mechanic was going to cry when he saw the state your car was in. Something about the Shelbys needing to be treated with love."

You roll your eyes, but you giggle. "I totally agree, but the pole I hit last night didn't think the same."

"I don't think it's over though, do you want me to take you to see it and talk with the mechanic?" he asks, getting up from his chair, and you nod your head. "Follow me."

You follow him to the garage which is only a few steps away, and you wait when he goes inside. "Hendery, the owner of the Shelby is here."

The young man smiles at you, and he goes back to his office. Immediately, a man arrives, wiping his hands full of grease on a piece of cloth which he stuffs in the back pocket of his pants. "I am Hendery." he says. "I'll shake your hand, but I'm dirty."

You shrug your shoulders. "It's okay. How's the car doing? Will I be able to get it back one of these days?" you ask, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice. You put in so much money to have this car, and to make it perfect that it would be a shame to have to throw it away. Well no, it would not be a shame, it would be absolutely heartbreaking.

"Yeah, there's going to be some work to have it rolling again, but I can do it." he says and it's like a weight is lifted off your shoulders. "Though, the way you treated it, I shouldn't even give it back to you."

You open your mouth, and you see the shadow of a smile on his face. "What? But it's my car! It's not my fault I hit a post."

Hendery shakes his head. "Besides, how did you manage to hit a pole? Considering the condition of the car, you must have hit it at a very fast speed."

You shift from one foot to the other. "I wasn't going that fast, I was just driving around town and had to look at a storefront and didn't see the post." you mumble. You're normally a really good liar but for some reason you just can't seem to do it with him.

"I'm giving you a second chance to tell me the truth." he says in a voice he wants firm, but he can't help but smile, he is clearly messing with you.

"If I told you I had an accident during an illegal race, would you believe me?"

He snorts. "Not really, no."

You smile. "So it's definitely not because of an illegal race. Can I see my car?" you ask to change the subject, and he invites you to follow him in the garage to your car. In bright light, it looks much worse than in the dark last night. "My poor baby."

Hendery looks at you, then he looks at the car, then he looks at you one more time. "A normal person wouldn't drive a Shelby." he suddenly says, and you tilt your head.

"Of course it's not a city car." you answer. He works for a club which is known for its illegal activities, it would be hypocritical if he were to report you to the police, and even then there is no proof, so you have no reason to lie. "So do you believe me?"

He nibbles on his lower lip, and he nods. "Yeah, I think I believe you." he puts his hand on the dented hood of the car. "And that's so fucking cool! I've always heard about the races in town, but I've never had the chance to meet anyone participating in it."

You shrug your shoulders. "I am Y/n." and he smiles.

Hendery walks around the car, and he cites all the things that need to be fixed, or changed, and when he stops talking, the weight is back on your shoulders. "It's going to cost me both of my kidneys."

He laughs. "Oh yeah, it's going to cost you a lot of money." when he sees your worried face, he puts his hand on your shoulder, which he regrets because he knows that there will be a trace of grease from the shape of his hand on your t-shirt. "But I'm sure we can work it out."

"Tell me?"

Hendery seems to think about it, and when he has an idea, his face lights up. "If you take me to a race, and if you can convince someone to let me get in their car, I could take care of your car outside of my working hours, and it will cost you next to nothing."

It's something very simple, it's not like the public isn't allowed to watch the races. "For that you have to promise me that you won't call the police."

He arches an eyebrow. "Why would I do such thing?"

"I don't know! We don't know each other, maybe you are looking for a way to get me arrested to keep my car."

Hendery throws his head back, and he laughs heartily. "I love your car, it's true, I'm mad at you because you broke it, it's true, but I prefer my motorcycle."

You turn your head towards the motorcycles. "Is one of them yours?" Hendery nods, proud of himself. "They're cool. They don't go as fast as my car, but it's cool that you like the quietness of a small motorcycle."

The way Hendery's eyes widen is almost comical, so you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing. "A small motorcycle? Are you kidding me? Have you at least ever been on a motorcycle?"

You shake your head. "No. I don't like motorcycles, they don't give you enough adrenaline." adrenaline is one of the reasons you race on the daily, you can never get enough of it. You crave it, it's a bit like a drug. "But I don't have to get on a motorcycle to know you could never beat my car."

Hendery crosses his arms against his chest, and he tries to make himself taller, which is amusing. "I could beat you in a race with my motorcycle."

You giggle. "You could beat me if I had to drive my car in this state, for sure. But otherwise you don't stand a chance boy."

Hendery's cheeks turn red, and you don't know if it's from anger, or from embarrassment. All you know is it's a lot of fun. "Prospect, what are you doing?" you hear, and Hendery doesn't waste a second getting out of the garage.

You can't hear the conversation between Hendery and the other person, so you run your fingers across the body of your car. You hope you can drive it quickly, you don't want to miss the next race. You could of course ask a friend to lend you a car, but it won't be the same. But you would have an excuse.

When the conversation lasts for over five minutes, you decide to leave the garage, and you meet the gaze of Hendery who you smile at. "Thursday, 10 p.m. in front of the garage, don't be late." you say, and you walk away.

"What was that?" the person asks with a laugh, and Hendery has to shrug because you can't hear an answer.

If you want to impress Hendery, you're going to have to find a good car.

"Not even in your dream. No. No."

You sigh, exasperated. "Please? It's just for one race while I wait for my car to get out of the garage!"

Doyoung looks you up and down, judging you without even hiding it. "You will never touch one of my cars." you pout, but he looks away, he knows you too well.

"Why not? You don't even race, you don't even drive your cars, it won't kill you to lend me one!"

He crosses his arms against his chest, his brow furrowed. "You had an accident with your car, I don't want to risk losing one of my cars." it's a low blow, you think.

"It's not like I had an accident on purpose!" you mumble, and he shrugs. "Taeyong, do something! You know very well that I'll be careful." you turn your head towards your friend who shakes his head.

"Keep me out of this conversation." he says.

"It's okay, I'll ask someone else. Maybe Yuto will accept." you turn on your heels but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you smirk.

"Don't go see that idiot, he would be able to give you a car he messed up with on purpose! You know he is up to no good."

You chuckle. "He would do it to you because you're a jerk, but he wouldn't do it for me." you know this is wrong, Yuto knows that you are friends with Doyoung and he will not hesitate to attack you to reach him. Or any of your friends for that matter.

Doyoung mumbles something you don't understand, and he heaves a long sigh. You know you won. "One car, for one race, and if you damage it, you'll pay for the repairs." Doyoung is filthy rich but he acts like a broke bitch most of the time.

You turn to face him. "I promise you'll get your car back in the same condition you gave it to me, and I'll even fill up the tank!"

"You better."

And that's why the following Thursday, you park in front of the garage, sitting behind the wheel of one of Doyoung's cars. A car that will never be as fast as your Shelby, but which could perhaps give you a chance to win the race, or at least to make it to the top 3.

You really don't understand why Doyoung has so many racing cars in his garage when he doesn't do anything with them. Probably something rich people do that you will never understand.

You jump when little knocks are given against the passenger window, and when you turn your head, you smile when you see Hendery. You weren't sure he would come. "Come!"

He opens the door, and he sits down. "I'm not late?" he asks, and you shake your head, making the engine purr, foot on the gas pedal.

"Not at all. I hope you're ready because you're going to be with an amazing racer tonight."

Hendery's smile could almost blind you. "Oh really, who?"

"Me."

Your shoulders drop when Hendery's smile fades and you refrain from hitting him. "Hey! Are you disappointed? Because if you are you can get out of the car and go fuck yourself!"

Taeyong would have gladly agreed to take him in his car, but since you were lucky enough to be accepted for the race despite not having finished the previous one, you thought it would be better to have him with you.

He shakes his head. "No, I just didn't expect you to race without your car."

"This car is definitely not the ideal car, but that's all I could find since a certain mechanic hasn't finished fixing my car yet." you tilt your head and Hendery laughs.

"Sorry for having other priorities besides your car."

You snort. "And what's taking you so much time? Waxing the club members' pumps?"

He rolls his eyes and you decide to get out of your parking space, it would be a shame to be late for Hendery's first race. "It is more complicated than that."

You hum. "A guy called you prospect last time, what does that mean?" you do not know if you have the right to know since you are not a member of the club, but you are quite curious.

He turns his head to the window. "Prospect means prospective member. Basically I'm being given undesirable tasks until they decide if I have what it takes to be a full member of the club."

You scoff. "So you're their maid? You do the dirty work?"

Hendery shrugs, and out of the corner of your eye you see him smile. "That's a way to see it."

"And what made you want to join the club?" you don't know if it's too personal, but it's interesting. Hendery never had the chance to meet someone street racing, and you never had the chance to meet someone wanting to be part of a club like the Neos.

“My older brother joined the Neos when he was very young, so I grew around them a bit. Then when he died the members said they would always be there for me, to meet my needs and they offered me a job in the garage. Of course, working in the garage doesn't mean I had to join the club, but I do enjoy being around them so when I asked, they immediately agreed to make me the new prospect."

You didn't think he would tell you something so personal, but it's a sign that he trusts you, right?

"I'm sorry for your brother, but it's good if you've found yourself a new family with the club."

His  smile is so big and sincere that you can't help but smile too. "Yeah, they're awesome, they take good care of me."

The race is in another city, which makes the trip a little longer, but the silence is not heavy, it is pleasant. A silence that is suddenly broken by Hendery wriggling in his seat. "So what made you decide to start street racing?"

He decided to be sincere and personal, so now you have no choice but to be too. "Uh," you start to say, "my parents decided to have a child to salvage their mariage, not because they wanted one, so they never had that parental fiber." Hendery hums, prompting you to keep talking. "Life at home was not fun, I was basically left on my own devices all the time. And when I understood they didn't really care what I was doing, or where I was, I started hanging out with the 'bad kids' at school and they introduced me to street racing. I did my first race way before I had my driving license, and the rest is history."

Hendery heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry about your parents, but in a way it gave you the opportunity to find something you love and are good at."

You smile. "That's true."

You would of course have preferred to have loving and present parents, but it's too late to change things and you're not unhappy with the way your life has turned out.

You decide to change the topic, you don't want to continue with the delicate and sad subjects. "You are going to meet my friends, and I hope you are ready, they are impossible to live with."

You stop at a red light, and you see Hendery's gaze. His eyes are bright, and you wonder if it's because he's excited. "Really? I can't wait!"

You chuckle. "Do you have friends Hendery?"

His lower lip juts out and he shakes his head. "The members are my friends, of course, but we don't do anything fun together, just garage and club related stuff." poor guy.

"Well you are about to have new friends and they are terribly annoying, you'll soon regret meeting them, trust me."

After ten minutes, you approach the zone of the race and the crowd is already making it hard to drive to the start line. "Oh come on, I can't have blood on the car, don't make me roll you over." you mumble and Hendery laughs.

When you finally park the car, you get out. "Come on!"

Hendery gets out of the car and it's like being with a child, he is looking around with big eyes and a bright smile. "There are screens that allow you to see every corner of the race so you don't miss anything, a group that takes care of capturing the location of the police, this kind of stuff."

"And over there you have the worst human beings." with a nod you indicate a group of people. Your friends.

You approach your friends, and you put your hand on Ten's shoulder to get his attention. "What are you doing here, don't you work nights normally?" you ask immediately and he shakes his head.

"No, I asked a colleague to take care of it, I wanted to see you lose the race."

You roll your eyes, and grab hold of Hendery's wrist to pull him closer. "This is Hendery, he works in the garage where my car is. He wanted to see a race in real life." you explain. "Hendery this is my friends, Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten and Kun."

"Nice to meet you guys." Hendery says, and the boys shake his hand. "I'm really excited!"

"He's going to ride with me." you add, and Ten puts his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing at all. Have fun Hendery, because this might be the last time you'll be excited about something. You're going to die tonight. You should give me the number of someone to contact to let them know what happened."

You hit Ten's shoulder. "Come on, I had one accident. And if I crash Doyoung's car, he is going to kill me." Doyoung nods his head.

"She is right."

"The race is about to start." someone says in a megaphone. "To the participants, please join your cars."

You turn to Hendery. "If you want to watch, that's perfectly okay." he shakes his head, and he walks towards your car.

"Nah, I'm going with you." cool cool. You don't remember the last time you had someone riding with you, so you better not mess up, that would be embarrassing.

"One condition," you say, sitting behind the wheel. "you'll take me on a ride on your motorcycle." you never tried a motorcycle before, and even if it was fun telling him he wouldn't beat you in a race, you don't want to die stupid.

"Deal."

You start the engine. "If you feel sick because of the speed, please don't throw up inside of the car." you don't plan on stopping for any reason. And you don't plan on cleaning the car if he gets sick.

Hendery laughs softly, but he stays quiet.

Out of the corner of your eye, to see his mouth open when you press your feet on the gas pedale. "Let's go baby." you whisper.

During the first part of the race, Hendery is mostly silent, only making little surprise noises when a car gets a little too close to his door for his liking, but after the second roundabout he starts to laugh. "It's incredible!" he exclaims, a hand resting on his heart which must beat wildly.

"Do you like it?" you ask, and he nods vigorously. "Being behind the wheel is even better. I'll give you a try someday." not during a race, but on a racetrack, with no other car around, and with a car that you won't have a problem with if it breaks.

You laugh when you drive past Taeyong's car, and he gives you the middle finger which makes you laugh even more. "That's it Taeyong, stay behind, that's where you belong."

You see the finish line, but you also see the car in front of you, but you don't try to overtake it, second place is perfect, especially with Doyoung's car.

Hendery screams when you cross the finish line, and when you brake, he's quick to unbuckle his seatbelt to turn towards you. "Oh my god you are the best!"

You can't help but smile. "So I've been told! You don't regret going up with me?" he shakes his head, and you get out of the car.

"You cut me off!" you turn when you hear Taeyong's voice, and you scoff.

"It's a race Taeyong, not a ride, it's normal that I cut you off!"

He pouts. "I made a bet with Ten that I would finish before you. I lost 100 bucks."

You shrug. "That's too bad."

You congratulate the winner of the race, and you make your way to Hendery who is already talking about his experience with Ten and Kun. Both of them are listening to him with attention, something you are not used to. Did he win the hearts of your friends in less than an hour when you've been trying for years? That's not fair!

"Thanks again for the car Doyoung, I owe you a big one." you say, handing him the keys and he shakes his head.

"Keep it, at least until you'll get your dear Shelby back." how sweet of him, and you wonder if he would have offered his car if Hendery was not around. You hate it here. "Hendery, it was a real pleasure to meet you, I hope we can see each other again." he says, and the other boys agree one after the other. "Y/n, please give us his number so we don't have to go through you to see him."

You bite the inside of your cheek, and Hendery wraps his arm around your shoulders. "We're a package deal. If I come, she comes."

"Already? That's adorable!" Ten cooes and you want to punch him, but not in front of Hendery. Later.

"Come on, I'll bring you back." you mumble, grabbing Hendery's wrist to pull him back to the car.

It's a bit difficult to ride with the crowd around, but you manage to do it, and when you finally find yourself on the road, you heave a sigh. "Will you come back for another race?" you ask, and he nods.

"If you want me, yeah, I'll come to all the races! I'm gonna work hard on your car so you can show me everything you've got!"

"And if you're good, maybe you can even ride my Shelby one day." it's a decision you can change depending on Hendery, but it could be fun.

His mouth opens wide, and you giggle. "It would be such an honor!"

The rest of the road is pretty quiet, and after the hubub of the race, you're not unhappy. When you arrive near the garage, you notice that a lot of people are in the yard. "A party?" you ask.

"Yeah, one of the club members was due out of jail today so they're celebrating his comeback."

You hum. "Didn't you want to participate?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "He was already in jail when I joined the club so I don't know him. And frankly? I'll miss every parties in the world to participate in another race." adorable.

"Good to know. Thanks for being a good co-pilot." Hendery smiles, and he even leans in to kiss your cheek before getting out of the car and waving to you.

Well, that was unexpected.

The next two weeks are pretty much the same. You wake up, and you spend your breaks at the garage, looking at Hendery working on motorcycles, cars, and of course, yours when he is done. And you honestly appreciate his presence. His, and the members of his club, they are all very sweet to you, and to him. They mess with Hendery a lot, but you can see that they cherish him a lot. And weirdly enough, it appease you to know he has a family to look over him.

"Your car is done."

A weight falls down on your stomach when Hendery speaks, but you smile nonetheless. "Already? I thought it would take more time." you say, stepping inside of the clubhouse. Hendery is sitting on a stool behind the bar, a glass of water in front of him.

"The guys gave me more time to work on it." that explains a lot.

You sit down next to him. "I'm happy to have my car back, but it's a shame, I really liked spending time with you here." Hendery turns on his stool, a smile on his face. You wonder if he ever stops smiling.

"Me being done with your car doesn't mean you can't hang out at the garage. I asked, and Johnny doesn't mind." Johnny, you learnt, is the president of the motorcycle club. He is still young, but he was apparently voted in after the death of the past president.

"...we need to figure out how to get the guns out without.." the door of the clubhouse opens, and the conversation stops when your presence is noticed. "Oh hey Y/n! What's up?"

You smile at Yuta, the sergeant-at-arms. "The usual!"

The young man's smile is a bit tensed, maybe because you heard a part of the conversation and as you are not part of the club, you probably shouldn't have, but you don't mention it. "Stay out of trouble, okay?" you nod and he steps inside of the meeting room with a few other members that you saw a couple of time around the garage.

"Did you hear what he was saying?" Hendery asks, nervously playing with his fingers and you shrug.

"Heard what?" you like Hendery, and he likes the club, you wouldn't gain anything by speaking up about the things you hear on the daily.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asks suddenly, standing up from his stool. "I did promise to take you on a ride on my motorcycle."

"Let's go!"

You follow him outside of the clubhouse and to his motorcycle. He hands you a helmet that you put on your head, and you wait for him to get on the motorcycle to climb behind him. "Hold on to my waist, and if you want to stop, pinch me, I'll understand." you don't know how safe it would be to pinch him while he drives, but you accept.

"Yes sir!"

You became acquainted with the sound of a motorcycle engine, but it still gives you chill. It's different of a car, of course, but it still brings you the adrenaline you love so much. Car, motorcycle, as long as it has wheels and purr, it's the same.

Hendery leaves the garage, and instead of driving toward the city, he leaves it.

And you soon understand why. On the hallway, he can drive as fast as he wants without being bothered by cars and trucks. And the feeling of the wind against your face is amazing. It makes you smile, it makes you want to scream.

And just like that, with your arms around his waist, your head against his shoulder blade, you understand how happy you are to be here. To be with Hendery. With the wind whipping your face, and his laugh echoing around. Breaking your car wasn't such a bag thing, it gave you something akin to love.

[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.

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 3

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut

Word Count: 4.6k

Masterlist

A/N: INTRODUCING: I.N.tentional: Intentional, but told through I.N.'s POV! give it a read! itll take 1 min tops!

Taglist (reply to be tagged!): @planetdemon​ @hvunvely​ @fluffybitch0325​ 

last thing: welcome back hyunjin I missed you! skz ot8!

“Y/n,” his low and steady voice echoed around the pillars of the parking lot, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my friend.” You simply answered, slowly taking short steps backwards. It was best to not tell anybody that Yoojin was injured.

“Is she here? I’ll help you find her.” His eyebrows furrowed as he took quick strides towards you.

“No- that’s- it’s okay. I’m uhm, I’ll just try finding her myself.” You clenched your shaking fists. “Thank you for offering though.” You quickly added, not wanting to come off as rude to your boss.

“Y/n. Why do you keep avoiding me?” Manager Kim grabbed your shoulder with one hand. You felt the tips of his fingers dig through your jacket. The blend of cigarettes and cologne wafted past your nostrils.

“Manager Kim, please, I really need to get going.” You begged as you heard your voice start to waver. Why couldn’t the word ‘stop’ just come out of your mouth?

Manager Kim didn’t seem to care as he simply pressed his fingers harder on your shoulder, tightening his grip. He took a step closer, tipping his head down to look at you as he exhaled through his mouth. The stench of cigarettes became stronger.

“Yesterday, on your first day, I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Y/n, I am your boss. Stop avoiding me.” He spoke through clenched teeth. His words became quieter and quieter as his monologue progressed.

You had no idea what to do. It was obvious by now that Yoojin wasn’t in this parking lot as you would have heard her by now. The sun was setting fast, and the lot was basically empty, save the lot attendant — who was busy watching a movie on his phone when you first spoke to him. However, this attendant was your best bet. If you somehow managed to run past him, Manager Kim would most likely stop following you. This was your plan.

You quickly slipped out of your jacket, catching Manager Kim off guard. He lost grip of your shoulder, and the only thing he had a hold on was your now discarded jacket. Then, you made a run for it. You had only caught a glimpse of Manager Kim’s irate expression before adrenaline filled your muscles once again.

“Oh, you don’t run from me this time.” You heard him drop your jacket, then soon after, footsteps.

You didn’t have time to fixate on his movements as your only goal at the moment was to reach the attendant. You ran and ran, and after a short while, you saw the attendant’s post.

It was apparent that Manager Kim also noticed that there was another person nearby because you heard his footsteps gradually slow down and then come to a halt. However, you were too scared to turn back to confirm your suspicions and just kept running. Once you reached the front entrance of the parking lot — where the attendant was — you slowed down your running to make it appear as if nothing had happened. God knows the amount of slander you would’ve gotten in the office if you had gotten Manager Kim in trouble.

You tried to keep yourself composed as you left the parking lot, however, nothing could stop the uncontrollable shaking of your hands and the erratic beating of your heart. Once outside, your brain was in jumbles — what the hell just happened?

The wind nipped at your skin as you sprinted towards the familiar blue building. It was the only place you could think of to hide as you wait out Manager Kim. Usually, the man acted polite, if not a little standoffish, but there was something so sinister about his voice tonight that gave you an uncomfortable chill.

Finally nearing your office building, you held it out for a final push as you hurriedly entered the front doors. As soon as you were inside, you felt the adrenaline reach your body. You put your hands on your knees for support as you tried to catch your breaths. You still couldn’t process what just happened with Manager Kim.

“Y/n.” A hand touched your shoulder.

Instinctively, you flinched and wrapped your arms around your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” The hand immediately fell off your shoulder. You recognized this voice. It was Bang Chan.

It might have been the wave of relief rushing through you — or that you started to process what had just happened — but as soon as those words left his lips you couldn’t contain the tears rushing out of your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You sniffed, turning away from him to wipe your tears away. It was so embarrassing that you were crying in front of somebody you just met. Moreover, you could sense people in the building starting to stare.

Bang Chan looked at you in confusion for a moment. “Did you want to take a walk? We can find a quieter place you can uhh…” He drifted off towards the end, scratching the back of his neck.

You simply nodded your head. Bang Chan gestured for you to follow him whilst making sure to keep his distance from you. You stared at the back of his hoodie as you mindlessly followed him in silence. He meandered through the building halls naturally and confidently, like he had been here his whole life. You sped up your steps to walk beside him, scared that somebody would somehow snatch you from behind. Bang Chan turned his head to check on you before continuing his trek.

He led you towards the familiar elevators that you took every morning so far, but this time, he pressed the button of an unfamiliar floor. This elevator ride was shorter than what you were used to, however you still felt the floating sensation that came with every elevator ride.

The elevator dinged, letting you know that the two of you had arrived. Bang Chan’s arms gestured for you to get off first, and so you did. He got off after you and started leading you to his destination. You walked in silence with your arms still crossed over your torso.

He kept up his pace, and soon, stopped in front of a door. Using a key card to unlock the door, he opened the door for you to go in first.

Although it was cozy, the room was small. With a desk on one side and a single black couch on the other, it was clear that this room wasn’t meant for a lot of people. You looked at the walls. Green, strange.

“Hold on, lemme just…” Bang Chan mumbleded as he rushed past you to the couch and tossed a shirt and an opened bag of chips out of the way. “Here, you can sit.”

You sat down. “Thanks.” You rasped.

“Did you want some water?” He asked.

“Yes, please.” You replied in a quiet voice, not wanting him to see that you cried — although it was really obvious by now.

He left in a flash, leaving you alone in the room. At least the door is locked. You thought.

The unnerving silence of the room left you alone with just your thoughts. Thoughts on Manager Kim, on how you cried in front of Bang Chan, of Yoojin. Yoojin!

You pulled out your phone and found yourself filled with worry again. You quickly dialled her contact number.

“Y/n?” A voice picked up in an almost confused manner.

“Yoojin, thank god. Are you okay? I went to where you said you were and couldn’t find you.”

“Oh my god, Y/n!” She suddenly bursted out. “I’m so, so sorry. I messed up the parking lot I was in with yours! I’m the world’s dumbest person. I don’t deserve your friendship.”

“Yoojin, it’s okay, mistakes happen. And friends always help each other.” You try to calm her down. “As long as you’re safe right now.”

“I am, thank you Y/n.” She sniffled. “But, you didn’t run into any trouble trying to find me right?”

You decided not to tell her about Manager Kim. She had a long day already, what with her injury. “I didn’t. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” she said, “alright. In that case, I’ll go get some rest now. Goodbye Y/n.”

“Bye Yoojin, I hope you get well soon.” You hung up.

With Yoojin being safe, you had one less worry on your plate. However, now that you weren’t consumed by your worry for Yoojin, the only thought that you had was the looming threat of Manager Kim. What if he was still looking for me? You thought. What if he tries this on me again? What if I get fired?

The dark thoughts started to overwhelm you so much to the point where you couldn’t control your tears again. You put your face in your hands, silently begging yourself to stop crying. You were scared. Scared for your future, your safety, and your reputation.

“This place is so big, you’d think they’d place a few more vending machines…” Bang Chan abruptly interrupted your thoughts.

You flinched, startled.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me.” He had that boyish grin on his face as he unscrewed the lid of the plastic water bottle before handing it to you.

You accepted the water and took a sip. “Sorry, I’m just—” You were scared to finish that sentence. If Bang Chan knew how rude you were to his boss, he could get you fired as well.

Bang Chan looked at you in confusion for a couple of seconds. “You know,” He started, “you don’t have to tell me what happened, but I’m here for you. We’re friends, remember?” He sat on the chair at the desk.

“Thank you, Bang Chan.” You smiled at him. “I appreciate it.”

“You have a nice smile.”

“What?” You knitted your eyebrows.

Bang Chan cleared his throat. “Nevermind, umm, do you wanna see what I’m working on?”

“Umm, sure.” You replied awkwardly.

Bang Chan got out of his chair and turned it around for you to sit in, which you did. He turned the chair around to face the monitor and leaned over you to log in to his computer. His bangs flopped in front of his eyes.

“This was that song I was talking about yesterday.” Bang Chan pressed a button, and a sound started to emit from the complicated looking software. It was a simple but nice beat, although all the audio clips and millions of random colours on the screen seemed to contradict that.

“There’s so many options on the screen, how do you know what you’re doing?”

“Honestly, it takes time to get used to. I’m still not sure what some of these settings do.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Do you wanna try it out?”

You nodded your head, eagerly. You had never seen something like this before. Bang Chan reached over you to take hold of the mouse. He scrolled through hundreds of folders before opening the one he was looking for.

“These are just random audio clips I usually use in songs,” he said, “you can drag them on the screen and it’ll be added in the song.”

You dragged a random audio clip to where he said so and clicked play. The song played, but with a very loud and badly timed bass in the middle. The both of you laughed, and you started to add more random clips to the song. Soon, the song became so cluttered with your add-ons that it started sounding unrecognizable.

“It’s so bad.” You laughed, turning your head around. Bang Chan was already looking at you. His expression was unreadable. You looked back at him.

Silence.

After a moment, you realized that you were just looking at him with no words. You cleared your throat, turning back to the monitor. “What if I add this one?”

You dragged a random audio to the beginning of the song and played it. As soon as the song started, the audio clip interrupted everything else. It was an incredibly loud audio of Bang Chan yelling ‘Stray Kids’. The two of you bursted out laughing.

The two of you stayed in that room for hours, just playing around on his editing software and with his equipment. He showed you how he made new songs, and how he would use his mic and keyboard to add to them. You even asked for him to play you some of the old songs he published. It took a long time to convince him, but he embarrassingly complied. The two of you were having so much fun with music that you did not realize how late it was until you remembered to check the time. That seemed to be a recurring incident for you.

“It’s getting kinda late,” you said. “I should go, I have work tomorrow.”

Bang Chan agreed, “I’ll walk you out.”

And so, you gathered your bag and followed Bang Chan out of his little office to the elevators. The two of you rode the elevator in silence, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. You didn’t feel the need to make any small talk, nor fiddle your thumbs.

You continued your way out, finally exiting the front doors of the building. However, you came to instantly regret that as a gust of wind hit your bare skin, eliciting a shiver from you. Of course, you didn’t have your jacket. It was lost in the midst of your run-in with Manager Kim. You reminded yourself to look for it tomorrow.

It seemed that Bang Chan had noticed. “It gets cold fast here this time of year,” he shrugged off his hoodie. “Here, you can take this.”

“No, it’s fine, really.” You said. “I don’t live too far anyways.”

“You can’t catch a cold on your first week of work,” he said, “I would feel guilty.”

Bang Chan shoved his hoodie in your hands. It seemed like he wasn’t going to budge on his decision, so you shrugged it on. It fit very loosely — the hem of the hoodie reached your thigh and you had to roll the sleeves up quite a bit to expose your hands. It was warm though. And it smelled like him.

“Thanks,” you looked at your shoes, “for this and everything else.”

“Don’t thank me,” he flipped your hood around so it wasn’t inside-out. “Friends, right?”

“Right,” you nodded. “I’ll get going now.”

You waved to Bang Chan and started on your way home, feeling much better than what you had felt earlier this evening. The journey home didn’t feel as dangerous as before now that your mood was lifted. The looming worry of facing Manager Kim eventually was still in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thought away as best as you could.

The train ride was soon over, and your walk home was very quick as well. Everything seemed to go so smoothly when you were confronted with imminent danger. You quickly entered the passcode to your lock and safely got in your apartment. You put your bag down and looked over to your kitchen. I didn’t even eat dinner yet.

It was already so late, but all you had in your kitchen were eggs and ramen. It wasn’t healthy, but it was something. You reminded yourself for the second time since yesterday to go grocery shopping. Maybe on the weekend.

You were busy cooking your ramen when you received a text on your phone. Looking over the counter, you read the text.

Bang Chan: Did you get home safe?

You typed a reply.

Y/n: Yup ^^ making ramen right now

Bang Chan: Ramen? I’m jealous TT

Bang Chan: I’m on a diet but when I’m off I’ll eat 5 packs of ramen everyday

You giggled at the text and typed a reply. Then he replied. Then you did, then he did again. Your back and forth went on for the rest of the night, even as you ate your ramen and brushed your teeth, only ending as you fell into a deep slumber.

The next day was an important one for you. Amongst all the other tasks you had given to you, you were to hand in the notes that you’ve been taking from others. This was especially nerve wracking, however, as you were to also pitch Bang Chan’s idea to Manager Chen.

Before you left, you remembered to bring Bang Chan’s hoodie. You quickly folded and stuffed it in a random bag. On your way to the office, you couldn’t help but feel it in the pit of your stomach. The anticipation of officially pitching ideas to your boss. Also, not to mention the possibility of running into Manager Kim again. You weren’t excited at the premise of that.

You decided to finish all your tasks before pitching all the ideas to Manager Chen. Plus, you wanted time to double check that you had all your notes together too. You straightened yourself at your desk, and with that, you started working.

It was tiring, but honest work. You worked hard today, only making time to take a lunch break. You found yourself smiling at your phone while eating your sandwich when you saw a picture of Bang Chan’s ‘diet lunch’ he sent to you. You took big bites of your food, happy that you didn’t need to diet.

Finally, after a long day of work, the time came to report to Manager Kim. You grabbed your notebook with both hands and slowly shuffled towards her office. Stopping in front of her door, you took a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” she said.

You opened the door, walked inside, and placed your notes on her desk. “Hello Manager Chen. I know this is too early to be giving you my notes, but somebody submitted a really promising idea.”

Manager Chen took your notebook to read through it, her hand on her chin. You listened to the ambient silence of the room. She was focused on your notes, nodding a few times as she flipped the pages. She cleared her throat, and you stared at her with wide eyes, giving her all your attention.

“You’re right. This content does look promising. It would be a bit rushed, but if we quickly start on it, we could produce it in time.” She gave you a look whilst handing your notebook back. “Type this up and make photocopies of it. This will be one of the main points of our Friday meeting tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Manager Chen.” You tried to keep a straight face when taking leave.

Hands clenched on your notebook, you briskly walked past all the cubicles over to the washroom. You tried to keep a straight face in front of your coworkers, but as soon as you entered the washroom, you couldn’t fight the smile on your face.

“Yes!” You whisper-yelled.

Your fingers immediately went to your phone to text Bang Chan, but you decided to hold onto that idea. It’ll be a surprise tomorrow, you thought. Instead, you chose to send a text to let him know that you had his hoodie.

Y/n: Are you in the building? I have your hoodie.

The reply was almost immediate.

Bang Chan: I stayed at the dorm today, you keep it for now haha

You assumed he was simply tired from all the work he had. There were probably multiple schedules and projects he had that were completely separate from the one you were working on. That is also probably why he works so late everyday. Not to mention being an idol was an all-day-everyday sort of career.

It didn’t take a long time to type up and print your notes. You finished your task by delivering the photocopies to Manager Chen’s mailbox, and since there was nothing else on your plate, you decided to head home.

On your way home, you reluctantly stopped by the parking lot building to look for your jacket. You asked the lot attendant and scoured through every corner of the lot. You had even tried to retrace your steps from yesterday, trying to block the memories of Manager Kim out on your search for your jacket. The search was thorough, but nothing came from it. That was a really cute jacket too, you sulked. Also, your lanyard was in the pocket of your jacket. You really did not want to apply for a replacement so early on in your time here.

You left the lot and left for the subway station, a little disappointed that a perfectly good jacket went missing. Although you knew it wasn’t your fault — and you certainly did not regret shrugging your jacket off to escape — it was still a shame that you lost it, now you had another thing to worry about.

At home, you had another ramen dinner along with some tea. Strangely, this was the only mundane night you’ve had since you started your job. You recounted your memories of the days prior. You cringed at your drunken activities from your first day and swore that you would never get drunk with strangers again. Tuesday wasn’t bad comparatively — it was the day you had coffee with Na-eun and Yoojin. And Bang Chan, of course. Yesterday was not a day you wanted to remember, although you did appreciate Bang Chan calming you down afterwards. He was a good friend.

Your night was slow. The majority of your time was spent mindlessly scrolling through social media, silently checking up on your friends back home. You also spent time texting Bang Chan. Somehow your conversations strayed from work-related over to movies, music, and everything in between. It was amazing how, despite being so busy, he still managed to stay positive. You admired that about him.

You started to get ready for bed. Before you went to sleep, you played scenarios of tomorrow’s meeting in your head, preparing yourself for what to say if anybody made you talk.

The next morning, you woke up bright and ready to go. It was the day of the long awaited meeting. That, plus it was Friday. You were nervous, but excited for today as this was the meeting where Bang Chan’s content idea could either be sent for production or tossed in the trash. All these thoughts were running loose around your head as you got ready to go to work. You dressed in your most expensive blouse and skirt whilst trying extra hard on your makeup.

You made sure to arrive at the conference room early so you had the option of choosing your seat this time. You weren’t about to take your chances like last time.

There were only a couple more people in the conference room who came early like you. You greeted them as you walked in, choosing to take a spot further away from them to avoid awkward interactions.

More people started to flow in as the meeting was getting closer to starting. You fiddled around with your pen, clicking it open and closed, when you noticed your friend come in. Bang Chan was again dressed in all black. He wore a beanie and a black hoodie that was almost identical to the one he gave you. He gave you a smile and a nod of the head before heading over to sit in the chair beside you.

“I had such a long morning,” he whispered as he placed a bottle of mango juice in front of you, “I love those kids, but sometimes…”

You mumbled a ‘thank you’ under your breath. “What happened?”

“One of them left a mess in the kitchen last night and didn’t bother to clean it,” Bang Chan rolled his eyes, “so I had to do it for them before leaving.”

“What are you, their father?” You giggled.

“More like their maid.” Bang Chan smirked.

The two of you kept up your small talk until you saw Manager Chen enter the conference room. A number of the employees, including you, greeted her. She returned your greetings and began the meeting. It seemed like Manager Kim wouldn’t be coming.

“Although this was meant to be a preliminary check up meeting, I want to bring up an idea that was submitted by one of our team members.” She started passing out the photocopies you made. “The idea was to film promotional content for our China project. Since the Mid-Autumn Festival is at the end of the month, if the majority of us agree to push forward with this, we should be able to plan, film, and produce this content in time.”

“Won’t we be short on time?” Somebody asked.

“I am confident that, if we rush the planning, we will have enough time for filming and production.” Manager Chen replied. “Now, what are some ideas that we have for this content?”

“We could turn making mooncakes into a competition,” you offered your idea. “They could spin it into something funny, plus, this competition could take up a lot of air time.”

Manager Chen nodded in response.

“We could go somewhere in the mountains to get a better shot of the moon,” somebody in production added. “We can also set up a lantern-making episode.”

The rest of the meeting consisted of even more brainstorming. Many ideas for the content were thrown out and you carefully listened to each one before making up your own opinion silently in your head.

Finally, it seemed like everyone’s brains were wrung dry as there were no more ideas being thrown out there.

“Now we can vote to either go ahead with this idea or scrap it. A show of hands for those who are in favour of this idea.” Manager Chen announced.

Hands went up. It was almost unanimous. You looked over at Bang Chan, eyebrows raised in surprise. He returned a similar look.

“Since the votes were overwhelmingly in favour of putting this idea into action, we will go ahead with the Mid-Autumn content.” Manager Chen looked over at the production members. “Our production crew will start planning right away, and hopefully, we can finish this project before the day of the festival.”

You were overjoyed. This is the first time you had say in a project like this. It was a nice feeling to be in a team and have your opinion valued.

Manager Chen ended the meeting soon after, and you said goodbye to Bang Chan, assuming he was busy for the rest of the day. You were also busy. You left the conference room and diligently started your tasks for the day.

At the end of the day, you were exhausted. The fact that it was a Friday afternoon just made you want to leave work even faster. As soon as it was time to leave, you rushed out of the office, not wanting to catch the afternoon rush hour.

The packed train ride felt so long as you just wanted to get home and rest. You soon arrived at your stop and hopped off before starting your walk to the apartment complex. The thought of jumping in your bed and doing nothing for the evening lingered in your head, making you walk just a bit faster. You hiked up the stairs, over to your door.

There was something placed in front of it.

It was your jacket. And it was completely ruined.

You slowly bent down, picking it up. It looked like somebody put a lighter over it. There were many burnt holes and tears on the jacket. Your heart rate sped up as you knit your eyebrows in confusion.

Standing up, you heard something fall out from your jacket.

It was your lanyard.

Drawn over your picture, in black sharpie, was a hoodie.

It was weird, yes, but what really made you feel nauseous were the two X’s drawn right where your eyes were.

[ilovebeingcalledawhore]

Warning: mentions of drugs, alcohol, violence, death

Summary: After catching your best friend getting involved in things he promised to never get involved in, you make a plan to track him down - something you wished you didn’t do.

Donghyuck was a great friend of mine. He was kind and loving, he made me laugh a lot - days just seemed to be better when he was around. It wasn’t until I caught him doing things he promised to never do. Sometimes he’d come to school high, drunk, eyes bloodshot or beaten up. He was drifting away, so I decided to make it easier for the both of us; I drifted away too. My once known best friend was gone. Not attending school, not going home, not texting me. No parents came to me to ask ‘cause he lived by himself, living through three part time jobs and help from my parents

Sometimes I walk the long way home just to pass by his house with hope to see him there, but he was never. If it was anyone else, I would’ve continued living my life as if they didn’t matter but this was Donghyuck, my best friend of five years. Though I may have forced myself to drift away, my heart holds his. I wouldn’t give up on him easily.

[2:53 am] Y/n’s POV

I feel my heart racing yet shattering at the same time.

I walk into his room and immediately saw cut down clothes and a broken window.

The room was eerie.

I hum in confusion when I see stacks of money on the ground. I run to it and notice the drawer next to it slightly open, I pull it and gasp when I see more inside.

“What have you been doing Donghyuck?” I whisper, hands getting shaky. I take the money away from the dresser, piling it up on his worn out bed but immediately stopped when I saw something I’ve never seen in real life. Dark, shiny and definitely something I shouldn’t be seeing. It was a gun hidden beneath the notes.

“What are you doing here?”

I hear a deep voice behind me, cocky yet neutral at the same time. I gasp in shock, eyes wider and hands shaking harder. I turn around and our eyes meet.

“Donghyuck....” I whisper his name and he whispered mine back.

“Y/n...”

He looked tired - bags were under his eyes and his hair was longer than before.

“Where have you been?” I asked, calming my heart but he just kept staring at me, his eyes boring into mine. “I have no time to explain, we have to go.” He moves next to me and pulls the gun out of the dresser. “You got yourself into this and now you have to deal with it.” He muttered, grabbing my wrist and pulling me outside his room - then out his house.

“I got the girl,” Donghyuck exclaimed and in seconds, I felt the cold metal resting on the temple of my head. “Good job,” I hear a man say, footsteps getting louder and voice getting colder. It was dark and we couldn’t see anything. I held my breath the whole time, trying not to make noise nor movement.

Something about this moment didn’t feel right. Donghyuck wasn’t going to shoot me.

Lights came on, specifically from a black car parked right in front of his house. As the light shone upon us, I finally figured who the man was. It was Jaehyun, a ‘friend’ Donghyuck had. He was dressed in a suit, hair slicked back, a smirk resting on his face and his hands in his pockets.

He was only a meter away from me.

That’s when everything clicked.

Donghyuck’s house was getting watched, I was getting watched.

Though Jaehyun looked like he was alone, someone was definitely out there ready to pull a trigger with no hesitation. I pull away from Donghyuck’s grip, our eyes meeting but this time his wasn’t as cold as before. This time it was neutral - like he didn’t want to be here, like he just wanted it to be over.

“If they want me, they can have me,” I say and I watch as his mouth opened, maybe to say no but it was silenced my Jaehyun’s chuckle as he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me towards his car. “You’re debt free now,” Jaehyun exclaimed at Donghyuck as he watched my friend drop down to his knees, his hands shaking.

He was weak, he was scared and he couldn’t do anything.

Donghyuck’s gun was empty.

I quiety sit inside the passenger’s seat, quite shocked my hands weren’t tied together at this point. “Why do you want me?” I asked as he placed the key into the ignition, making the car roar. “‘Cause he wants you,” Jaehyun answers calmly.

“He?” I ask, brows furrowing and he smiled.

“Donghyuck”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” The car starts and drifts down the road making me lean forward almost hitting the glass. “Put your seatbelt on before you talk,” he replies, the smirk evident in his face.

Everything else happened in a split second.

I grab the metal tip of my seatbelt with my left hand and the dagger on my boot with my right. Slash! Jaehyun had a cut on his cheek, blood dripping down his once flawless face, and seconds later the dagger was deep in his chest.

He was dead.

The car crashes into a pole, enough for bits of me to be squished yet not cut. I immediately picked myself up after the impact, ignoring the pain and unlocking the door to run away.

I was lucky I just crashed into a pole.

I run back towards Donghyuck’s direction ignoring the want of my body to limp, going on a full sprint, the adrenaline keeping me going.

Boom!

It was a gun shot, then another-then another.

I gasp, unexpectedly halting from my sprint causing me to stumble down the street. Still dark but with broken street lights.

Blood.

It smelled it blood.

My eyes widen in realisation.

I was shot.

I cry in pain, eyes watery and head throbbing. My hands immediately grab my torso, finding the wound with ease. I try to scream again but the sound never reached my mouth.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” I hear Donghyuck’s voice and his footsteps.

“You were going to die either way”

I black out.

When Jaehyun said Donghyuck wanted me, he didn’t mean he liked me,

He wanted me dead.

I started this account on May 30 2020 and this is uploaded exactly a year later, thank you so much for the support that really keeps me going. I love all of you.

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (05)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death, Trauma, Bath Sex, Blood and Injury

Notes: Here is the so awaited chapter nº5! It’s pretty much just Niragi’s funeral, but I think you’re gonna enjoy it either way :) I’m kidding lol, there’s no funeral.  Also if ya'll want some music recs, I had Kai's first mini-album on repeat as I was writing this chapter. Is just so damn good. Enjoy <3

AO3 Link        Masterlist

“He’s dead,” Chishiya says like he’s announcing the weather. It’s so cold and impersonal that you feel yourself getting angry at him. It doesn’t last more than a second though; his words hit you like a ton of bricks. He can’t be dead; you would feel it. You don’t know how or why, but you would know. Your legs go weak again under you, but this time you lean against a stone pillar. That’s where you absently notice you’re on the front steps of a big red house.

“N- no,” you gulp, trying to control the tears that threaten to fall. No, he can’t be dead. “You’re lying…” you whisper that last part.

He just looks at you for a moment, without saying a word, before walking to an information board you haven’t noticed before. A card is stuck to the board by a pin. The Ten of Spades. He takes it and approaches you before putting the card in your hoodie’s pocket. Then he speaks.

“Why would I be lying, Y/N?” his tone is so condescending. Anger rises inside you again. “And why do you care so much?” 

“Why do I care?...” you repeat his question to yourself. Why do you care? You don’t know. You barely know Niragi. But he saved you and was weirdly sweet to you on your first night together and he...you...you just care. You’re like eighty-five percent sure that this is your wolf talking, but you don’t care either way, “I’m going to find him,” you say as you practically drag yourself down the stone steps, cursing your injured foot.

“No, you’re not. Stop,” the order makes you stop on instinct, and your mind fogs for a moment. Your eyes go wide as you realize what he’s trying to do.

“Fuck you,” you hiss in his direction, “Go manipulate someone else.” You turn and continue limping down the path. You hear a growl, and he’s suddenly in front of you, now back in his wolf form. His teeth are bare, but you ignore him and walk right past him. “If you’re not going to help, just go away,” you say over your shoulder. “I will find him and bring him back by myself.”

You can’t hear him behind you anymore, but you can smell him close by. You ignore his scent to focus on Niragi’s, trying to find your way back to where you last saw him. You groan in pain at your ankle; it hurts more at every step. The blood seeping through your makeshift bandage doesn't make walking any easier.

You finally catch his scent and try walking faster. Part of you is thankful for the park lights that are now on, almost giving the impression of daylight; it makes the path so much easier to walk through. The con is that you can also undoubtedly see the bodies and blood. You see them everywhere in the open field you were just moments ago; animal and human. It's a bloodbath. You ignore the blood, and the ripped limbs, and the open wounds.

“Niragi!” you can’t help but scream when you see him.

He’s face down on the ground, still in his human form, like he had tried to crawl before passing out. You ignore the possibility that he might be dead. You finally get to him, falling on your knees to assess his condition. He’s covered head to toe in blood, and you hesitate to touch him. You’re afraid to hurt him more if you try to move him.

“Niragi?” you call in a trembling voice, “Niragi, can you hear me?”

No answer.

“I told you he was dead,” Chishiya says, right behind you. You ignore him and finally touch Niragi’s skin. He’s warm to the touch; way too warm to be considered dead. A grunt coming from him startles you.

“Oh my God! ” you exclaim, maybe a little too loudly, “Niragi, can you hear me? Can you move?”

“That’s just gas leaving the body,” Chishiya again, “C’mon, let’s go.” You roll your eyes and keep ignoring him, focusing on what matters. 

Niragi’s hand moves as he grunts again, this time louder, and you realize he’s trying to talk.

“What-”

“Stop saying I’m dead-” he turns his head to the side, and you can finally see his face as he mumbles. “You fucking dog-... I hope you get leishmaniasis-... and die.”

You can’t help the sudden laugh that leaves your lips before you can stop it; people dying don’t talk like that. He opens one eye at hearing you, and you see his brow furrow even with all the blood on his face.

“Me dying is funny to you?” he asks in a croaky voice.

You shake your head and quickly wipe the tears that had started to fall. “No, I- I’m just glad you’re alive.” You turn to face Chishiya, a stern expression on your face “Will you help me, or I will have to do it by myself?”

The man rolls his eyes and grunts, before turning back into a wolf without a word. You help Niragi onto Chishiya’s back, ignoring the wolf’s snarl and the man’s constant complaints. You think most of the bleeding has stopped, but you still fear the open wounds, especially the arrow that made one on his chest. Thankfully, it had hit far from the heart and lungs. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t cause for concern.

You finally got to the front gates without much difficulty; Chishiya had dropped Niragi only once, and you considered that a win. Your own injured leg shot pain through you every step, but Niragis' condition put that out of your mind. You noticed the bundle of clothes both of them had left on the ground before turning, so you limped to grab them before joining them by the car. You also get Niragi’s rifle as you pass by the entrance. You put it in the trunk before helping Niragi inside. Chishiya turns back and puts on his clothes before getting in the car without a word.

“My shirt?” Niragi asks as you’re about to close the car door.

“Oh- Oh right,” you forgot he was naked. You didn’t think you could possibly get him dressed in his state, but it’s obvious he wants to cover up. You pass him the shirt and stare in confusion as he puts it on instead of covering himself. “Niragi, you shouldn’t-”

“I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees my dick,” he says with a grunt as he tries to pass his injured arm through the armhole. You’re about to say something when it hits you; his back. Of course, he doesn’t want anyone to see it. You nod and take off your jacket, now in only your swimsuit top, and cover him with it. He looks at you but says nothing. Lucky for you, you’re able to cover your own back with a scarf before Chishiya notices.

You drive back to the Beach in silence. Chishiya drives as you sit next to him, absently biting the nail of your thumb. Finally seated, you addressed your own injury. The holes the trap made were deep and still bleeding. You can hardly move your ankle now the pain has set. You hear Niragi moan in pain in the backseat as the car runs over bumps that Chishiya purposefully ignores. Besides that and the occasional sigh, the air is filled with awkward silence. Now that the game and fear and adrenaline has passed, you know that is only a matter of time before they’re at each other’s throats again.

You let out a sigh of relief when you get into the Beache’s parking lot. Chishiya is out of the car and gone before you can even say a word to him. Well, it seems like his generosity has come to an end. You sigh and get out of the car, helping Niragi get out as best as you can. He tries to stand by himself, but his mangled foot quickly gives up on him. You both almost fall before three militants nearby see you and decide to help. He looks on the brink of passing out, and his skin burns like it’s on fire.

“Take me to my room,” he says to the men in a faint voice. You’re about to say something against it; he needs special medical care. He stops you like he knows what’s going through your mind. “I don’t-... I don’t need no nursing student-... putting his hands on me. Room.”

You limp behind them in silence, wondering if he will want you in his room. Probably not, but you’ll at least leave his gun there before passing out in your bedroom. You fear a fight, but you’re honestly too tired for that. You do feel guilty for sleeping with Chishiya, but Niragi is at fault here too. He left you alone and purposely ignored you for a damn week. Besides, it’s not like you can control any of it; not anymore. Whatever self-control you had over your wolf seemed to have evaporated the moment Niragi’s hands were on you that first time.

You stand by the door as the men lay him on the bed before he orders them to leave. You lean his gun against a corner and stand there for a moment, considering what to do next. It doesn’t take you long before you decide. You leave the room and walk around the hotel until you find what you need, returning to his room with arms full of medical supplies, a basin, and some clean rags. His eyes are on you as soon as you open the door, a surprised expression on his face. It’s quickly replaced by a scowl.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks. You ignore his tone and focus on organizing the stuff you brought on the bedside table.

“You say you don’t want a specialist looking after you, so you’ll have to settle for me,” you answer as you limp towards the bathroom to fill the basin with warm water. You can feel his eyes on your back as you wait for the bowl to fill. Going back to his side, you start cleaning his skin, starting with his face. You don’t even try cleaning and detangling the mess that is his hair. You keep your gaze on specific points of his face, avoiding his eyes. You’re actually surprised he hasn’t tried to stop you. You clean his face until the water is pink, the gash on his forehead now clearly visible. It has stopped bleeding, the fast Alpha healing clear in the way the wound has started to scab. You stand up to change the water, and again his eyes are following you as you walk to the bathroom.

“How’s your ankle?” you hear him faintly ask over the sound of running water.

“It’s going to heal,” you answer as you go back to his side. You move to unbutton his shirt, but his hand lightly grabs your wrist. Your eyes lock. His eyes have a strange shine to them, and you wonder if he has a fever. By his body temperature, you wouldn’t doubt it. “Can I open it?” 

He stares at you for a moment before nodding. You resume unbuttoning his shirt, opening it to reveal his chest. You keep doing the methodical task of rubbing his skin clean, barely noticing when he falls asleep. There are several lacerations and bite marks all over his chest and sides, but those seem to be healing properly too.

You also notice, to little surprise, that he has several tattoos adorning his pale skin; a tangle of thorns rise from his hip to his ribs, a single black rose in the middle of the artwork; an open winged raven stares at you from his pectorals, the kanji for power in the eyes of the animal; a smaller tattoo of a howling wolf marks his hip. They’re beautiful, and you wonder what their exact meaning is. It’s a shame that they will be covered in scars when he’s finished healing. You wonder if he has more tattoos on his body.

An hour goes by before you finish cleaning and bandaging his front. His foot is by far the worst injury, and you wonder for a moment if he will be able to use it again at its full capacity. You haven’t tried to take off his shirt or turn him around; you know he probably wouldn’t want that. Your eyes are heavy, and you almost doze off several times. You cover him with a blanket and stand up to clean things up. Your now swollen ankle reminds you you have yet to care for it, so that’s what you do, after making sure that Niragi hasn’t stopped breathing in his sleep.

You crash beside him with a tired sigh, eyes closing as soon as your head hits the mattress.

You wake up hours later, startled by the sound of hushed voices right next to you. You stay still, hoping they won’t catch on the fact that you’re now wide awake.

“I know it was you,” Niragi’s voice, faint and rough, “You pushed me into that fucking trap.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chishiya. “All I did was play the game.” 

“So now what, you’re here to wish me a fast recovery or to finish the job?”

“Just came to check on her.” You can feel both of their gazes on you. You know they know that you’re awake, but neither of them says anything about it. You hear Niragi exclaim a rushed ‘hey’ and some rustling. “And to get this,” Chishiya adds. You know he’s talking about the card, still in your jacket pocket.

“She’s never going to be yours,” Niragi says in such a low tone you can barely hear him. You can feel the growl in his chest vibrating the mattress. “So fuck off my room.”

“Hmm, guess we’ll see about that,” Chishiya says in his usual unbothered tone. You hear him as he walks away and gently closes the door behind him. Niragi shifts next to you with a grunt of pain. You can feel the heat radiating from him in waves.

You stay still for a few more moments, trying to understand their conversation. Had Chishiya really tried to kill Niragi? You wouldn’t doubt it, but still, the idea scared you; he had been so close to succeeding. 

You realize something. These are dangerous men; of that, you have no doubt. You’re sure that if it wasn’t for you being an Omega, they wouldn’t think twice about hurting you badly or even kill you. In what mess did you get yourself into? Why these two, of all the Alphas in the world?

“Why did you fuck him?” Niragi’s question breaks you out of your thoughts. You say nothing for a beat or two, before shrugging.

“For the same reason I fucked you, I guess,” you say with a sigh, “I couldn’t control my wolf from getting what she wanted,” he says nothing for several moments, so you decide to just say what else is on your mind. “He also was there when I needed. These guys were messing with me and he just...he was there. I- I did try talking to you several times but you just kept avoiding me so… when Chishiya appeared I… I didn’t even think twice, to be honest.” 

“Would you bond with him?” he asks in a hesitant tone. This makes you turn to him. His eyes are focused on the ceiling, and you notice how heavy his breathing is.

“No,” you say without a second thought, “If I’m going to be bonded with someone, it’s not going to be with him,” it’s true. You really don’t want to be bonded with that man; not after how he acted with you. “Not if I have any say in it.” Which you fear you may not have. But you don’t want to put that into words.

Niragi takes a deep breath and nods, before closing his eyes again. His fists are closed by his side, and you know he’s trying to control his emotions, whatever they may be. He opens his eyes after some time and locks his eyes on you. They still have that weird shine to them. 

“Would you bond with me?” he asks before you can ask how he’s feeling.

“I- I don’t know,” you really don’t. You don’t know anything about him, and you have the feeling that you wouldn’t like him even if you knew him better. “We don’t know each other. The last thing I want is to be bonded to someone I’m incapable of loving. I know everyone thinks I must be insane for refusing to accept my own biology but I- I would rather die than make my future children go through the same shit I went through.”

Niragi just hums in response, processing your words.

“Love is a myth.” he finally says, “The faster you accept your nature and that little fact, the easier life will be for you.” He moves to sit up, before making a sound of pain and falling back down on the mattress, “Fuck-”

“Don’t move!” you order, afraid he will just hurt himself further, “What do you need?”

“I’ll be damned if I need your help to take a piss,” he tries to sit up again, grunting as he successfully rests his back against the wall, “I’m not a fucking invalid.” You ignore his words and stand up to support him as he slowly makes his way to the bathroom.

You’re waiting on the other side of the door when you hear a sudden ‘thud’ from inside. You open the door to see Niragi on the floor, curses streaming from his lips as he tries to stand up. You run to his side, but his hand swats at you.

“I can stand up by myself, goddammit,” he mumbles to you. He suddenly drops against you with a groan. You start to panic; his skin is damp and hot as a furnace.

“Niragi, you have a fever,” you try to think of what to do, and your eyes fall on the jacuzzi bathtub in a corner of the large bathroom. “C’mon, I’m going to give you a cold bath.”

“No- Don’t you try to bathe me...damn woman,” he says, still trying to stand up by himself. You sigh and half-drag him half-support him to the bathtub. You lean him against the wall as you turn on the faucets, trying to get the perfect water temperature. You move to take off the bandages you had put on him just hours before, leaving only the one on his foot. He’s still naked except for his black and white shirt, just like the one he had given to you. You try to take it off of him, but he vehemently shakes his head no.

“Don’t- don’t you fucking try to take this off me,” he manages to say, eyes closed as he takes labored breaths. You don’t even think twice as you take the scarf off your shoulders and pull down your swimsuit, turning so your naked back is in full view to him.

“My father did this to me when I was eleven years old,” you talk fast, and your voice trembles, but you still force yourself to say the words. “He was drunk all the time, and I did something that made him mad, and he snapped.” you pull your swimsuit back up and turn around to face him. “I’m not asking to see your back or for you to tell me how you got them, I just want to put you in that goddamn bath! I couldn’t care less about your scars!” you’re not being completely honest, but your words apparently work. Niragi’s scowl lightens a bit, and he gives you a small consenting nod. You brush off the knot in your throat, focusing on getting him undressed of that crusty bloody shirt before helping him get in the tub.

He gasps as his trembling body hits the water, teeth chattering as he grips the side of the tub which so much force that his knuckles turn white. You take that time to focus on cleaning the rest of his body, including his matted hair, the water immediately turning pink. He visibly flinches when the rag touches his back, before leaning forward to give you better access.

You can’t help but look; of course you can’t. While your scars are just a slash of claws that go from shoulder to hip, his are...messy. They cover his whole back from shoulder to tailbone, some fine and silver, others wide and red. You have a sudden urge to cry, but hold it in; you know he wouldn’t react well to pity. Not that you pity him; not exactly. It’s more like it triggers your memories of the happening, and you remember how much it had hurt; how much that had been a turning point in your life. How much it still hurts, even though they’re no longer open wounds. You fear it’s the same for him.

You can’t resist passing a light finger over one of the deeper scars. You hear him gasp before fully accepting your touch. The sensation of your skin against his never loses that spark of electricity, doesn’t matter how many times you touch him.

“You smell like him,” he snaps. You can’t place his tone, but his sudden reaction makes you freeze and widen your eyes. His hand grabs your wrist, and he pulls you slightly against him. You have to brace yourself not to fall inside the large tub. “Get in here,” he orders. Your surprised expression is replaced by a raised brow; he sure sounds good enough to order you around now.

“I’m not getting in there,” you say as you try to release yourself from his grip.

“Oh yes you are, you fucking stink,” he retorts, pulling you even closer.

“How dare- “ 

You’re falling in the cold water bath before you can finish your sentence. He grunts in pain as you fall on top of him, and you don’t know if you should worry or be happy about it. His hands go to your hips as you try to get out, pressing you against him.

“You idiot, you’re going to open your wounds!” you decide to worry. You put your hands on his shoulders for support, and you notice you’re now nose to nose.

“I don’t care,” Niragi says, eyes locked on yours. “I just can’t stand you smelling like him anymore.” he tugs at your shorts, “Take this off.”

“Niragi, no,” you say as you try once again to get out of his grasp, “You’re sick and this water is dirty from your blood. I’m not bathing in here”

“I want you to smell like me,” he says like he hasn’t heard you. “Take it off or I’ll take them off for you.”

“Niragi-”

“I’m not repeating myself,” 

You comply after a moment of consideration, sighing as you struggle to take off your wet shorts. His body is still hot under you, and that’s what’s stopping you from shivering in the cold water. There’s an uncomfortable moment where you just stay there, straddling him and so close to his face that you can see the specks of gold in his dark eyes.

Then he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him back with as much ferocity. His hands rise from your hips to the straps of your swimsuit, and you let him pull them down to reveal your breasts. His mouth is on them in seconds, pierced tongue playing with one of your nipples as a hand gropes the other. Your arms go around him, pulling him closer as you moan in his ear. It feels so good. You can feel the growing wetness in your cunt as he keeps sucking on you, his hardening member pressing against your center.

You desperately want him. You don’t even try to fight it. You just want him in you as fast as you can. His mouth never leaves your breasts, but his hand moves down, pushing your swimsuit to the side. He’s inside you with a swift push, and you almost scream at the stretching sensation; he makes you feel so unbelievably full. You start moving almost immediately, chasing that indescribable sensation of pleasure that he provides. 

Your joined moans echo in the large bathroom, mixing with the sound of skin splashing on water. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot at every thrust, the angle only allowing him to fuck you even deeper. Neither of you speaks, involved in each other’s embrace, lips kissing and sucking every inch of skin you can reach on each other.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this; you’re both injured, exhausted, and you had fucked a different guy just the day before. But none of that matters. You’ve been wanting this since the first time he came in you.

“You feel so good inside me,” you can’t help but moan as you ride him. You can feel your orgasm growing, your pussy clenching around him every time you impale yourself on his shaft. He just kisses you harder in response, tongue pressing against yours as you moan into his mouth.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, the pleasurable sensation running over you from head to toe. You lean against him, your limbs feeling like jelly. He’s coming inside you not long after, teeth grazing the skin of your neck, so close to your marking spot that you think you can come just from that. You whine in satisfaction at the warm sensation his cum leaves inside you.

Neither of you moves for several minutes, gathering your breath while still connected and in each other’s arms. You don’t want to move; it feels too good. It feels right. You’re also extremely tired, and your eyes soon close, lulled by the fast beating of his heart under your palm. You doze off for a moment, before the feeling of his fingers on your back jerks you awake. You tense for a moment before relaxing to his feathery touch; his fingers are so soft. 

“Now you smell like me,” he says in a gruff voice. There’s undoubted satisfaction in his tone.

You smile, snuggling even more against him.

Maybe Niragi isn’t such a bad choice.

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