#anyways Im still sick and exhausted so Im gonna go to bed now

[arolesbianism]

I've been chipping at a new oni save recently and I have to say I have gotten way less ambitious with my teleporter planet over my past few saves. In a lot of my earlier saves Id dive right in there, but nowadays I find myself ignoring the teleporter for a good while before dipping in to set up some basic utilities there before leaving again and continuing to stall lol

[samlacy]

Let me go, I’m starving

my first SPN as well as Ship fanfiction on here

I hope you like it :)) And Im sorry for the long ass hiatus…

Happy new years??

PLUS check out my ao3 Samlacy, I post on there!!

Summary:

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Sam gathers his words,

“Cas, please, just this once.”

————

The book slammed down on the floor by a strong force, hitting the wood, hard enough to make a noise that notified the whole apartment (if there was anyone), Sam was seriously pissed off.

Cas looked up from his palms to Sam sitting on the hotel chair, his laptop on the desk and some book on the floor.

His hands were gripping his hair, giving the impression he could pull out his long hair-strands right out of his head.

Which was not a pleasure to Cas, since he loved Sam’s silky, straight and long for a man hair.

Cas hopped off the Hotel bed and walked up to the book on the floor. He picks it up and puts it, gently, back on the desk, still keeping his hand on it while his eyes focused on the stressed individual.

Sam noticed the book with the hand on it and looked up to, expectedly, see Castiel.

Not that it was a bad thing that he was here the whole time he was tearing himself up about this case, but the fact that he had such a harsh expression on his face that it didn’t quite fit in either the angry or disappointed category.

“I’m sorry”, slipped out of Sam’s mouth, with no control. Why was he sorry? He didn’t hurt the Angel in any kind of way, did he?

“You’re good”, Castiel whisper-says as he took the hand off the book and instead pulled the other chair back to sit right across Sam.

The silence filled and Sam decided to just keep working and try to find at least something, anything on the Web. Although

Cas eyes were piercing through his head and he felt it.

The angel once again had a worry or suspicion on Sam, and he was oh-so-curious to know what it is now.

Its almost like Castiel always is suspicious of him!

But this time, Sam felt the mood shift a little as soon as Cas sighed and leaned back into his seat.

Sam’s heart was beating in his chest, just like it always did when him and Cas were somehow alone or he had an interaction with the angel.

He doesn’t know if it was a demon instinct or that he had a big fat “teenage” crush on the so called angel.

Sam will rather go with option one.

Or neither, if possible.

Its not like Sam wants to feel this way, especially when Cas is his brothers best friend (and maybe almost boyfriend). He honestly doesn’t know, but he does notice the tension between those two.

The way Dean gets soft to Cas, like he never was to Sam, it is quite the scene.

He can honestly just hope for those feelings to disappear completely one day, its not like Cas would love him anyway.

“How long are you gonna keep this up, Samuel?” Cas breathes out, hinting a bit of exhaustion in his voice, looking straight at Sam.

Sam’s eyes widen immediately as his shallow yet uncoordinated breathing followed up. He tried calming down, tried making it less obvious that he could go crazy any minute.

With as much calmness he can get to in the moment, he asks shakily, “What do you mean, keep up what?”

Slam.

Castiel slammed the laptop shut and was stood. Sams eyes were even more widened than before and had a hint of blush on his face, maybe also some reaction down there.

The Angel had a stern yet soft expression on his face as if he was genuinely sick, fed up of whatever Sam was doing.

The silence couldn’t be even more noisy after the slam, as it was exposing Sam’s shaky, caught off guard breathing.

Their eye contact was long and deep, as if Castiel could burn right through them any moment.

Ironically.

As it took long enough for Castiel to realize that this length of the pause was getting awkward and intense, he coughed and backed off, by standing straight in front of Sam.

He fixed his coat up a little before speaking, “You know. The avoiding of me, an angel, in your presence or maybe the lack of attention, even words, to me. Why is that?”

If Sam wasn’t nervous enough before, he might’ve hit the limit right now. His hands starting shaking as no words left his mouth, as if he froze in place.

What could he possibly reply to that?

Castiel got out of the way of the desk and walked to Sam’s side to cup the man by his cheek and turn his head to face him, the hand moving down to hold his chin up.

Sam’s lips turned dry and eyes were fixated on Castiel’s, blue like the Atlantic, eyes.

“I..”, Sam manages to get out, however didn’t help his case.

“Hm, tell me, Sam. What is up with the ignorance?”

Sam’s cheek heated up like crazy. His heart was basically already out of his chest beating like crazy. He managed to lick his lips and gulp down.

“Nothing, it’s nothing”, he breathed out trying to get out of Castiel’s grip, before he felt the tight squeeze and couldn’t move a bit.

Castiel sighed as he slightly loosen the grip, as to not hurt the man.

“You know that’s not true, Sammy”, the nickname made Sam’s head spin, do stuff to him.

‘Please, keep calling me that’ is what he wants to say, but how could he? It would only ruin everything that he tried so hard to build up between them.

Every single answer would ruin their friendship, relationship.

Why now, why exactly at the time he doesn’t know what to do?

“Do you like me, Samuel?”

Silence.

Dead silence.

No, no, no, no, no. Don’t call me that. Please, please, please! Please just everything, but not that.

How is he supposed to answer that? Was it even really a choice at the moment to answer or not.

Im your Sammy, so please call me that, please.

Cas let go of Sam’s face as he turned his head to the side and proceeds to walk out the room while mumbling a ‘whatever. It was a stupid question.’

“Yes”, was all he had to hear for Cas to turn back and freeze at where he stood before, in front of the (to the side turned) sitting boy.

“What?”

breathe.

“Yes, I do. I like you”, Sam felt a hole in his stomach, scared shitless of the possibilities of Cas’ reaction right after he finishes talking, “Hell, I like you so much that I always start shaking, gasping for air and stutter like a teenage girl saying ‘hi‘ to her hallway crush for the first time.”

Corny, but worth it.

Yet again a silence that got broken off by a calm soft voice.

Not the good kind, but maybe curiosity.

“Are you not ashamed of how dean might react to this intimacy of ours? Your feelings towards me might really damage the relationship between you and your brother”, Cas talks in his yet always wise voice.

“It’s damaged enough, what do you want me to do? I just love you, I can’t control it”, Sam gasps out, tears threatening to fall as shame fulfills that pit in his stomach.

But yet, for fucked up reasons, his cock was hard in his jeans, with no shame.

Which seems like Castiel noticed it and had zero shame as well to ask.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Sam gathers his words, looking up at him with teared up eyes and a shaking bottom lip,

“Cas, please, just this once.”

And he complied.

No other words exchanged as Cas took Sam by his wrist and dragged him to the bed, gently pushing him down so he lays flat down.

Sam was ashamed enough to move anyway. So he just watched Castiel unzip his jeans to reach to the hardened cock with underwear covering it.

Cas pulled Sam’s jeans off for him and let it drop onto the floor as he positioned himself on the bed, between his legs.

His hands rid up Sam’s shirt, slowly lifting it up until above his chest, which his fingers caressed over his nipples.

Sam never knew he would be this sensitive to Castiel’s touch as whimpers left his mouth with no control.

Cas was gentle with his expressions, yet his fingers were pinching and abusing his nipples.

He decides to lean down and wrap his lips around Sam‘s left nipple, his right hand on Sam‘s right nipple.

His tongue licked over the nipple, wetting it while looking up at Sam. The sight was immaculate enough to almost make Sam come in his underwear right there.

Fuck, Cas was a complete tease.

“Please, Cas, please, please, please—“,

Sam groans when Cas bites down and then let’s go to suck on them, as a way to sooth them.

Now tears of pleasure instead of shame were spilling from Sam’s eyes as he slowly put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, gently gripping onto them for support.

The shirt was creasing under Sam‘s touch before Cas decided to let go of boy‘s body whole, only forcing the shirt off of him.

Now Sam was completely naked (apart from the boxers) in front of Cas while Cas just took of his upper body clothes, only unzipping his jeans and letting his lower part stay clothed.

Sam was desperate to see the Angel clothes free, as he slowly caressed his hands down to the cock of the man.

But before he could imagine anything further, Cas slid his hands in Sam‘s underwear, cupping his ass cheeks before he leans down to kiss the man.

Sam wraps his arms and legs around Cas as he melts into the oddly gentle kiss, mouth wet all over.

Cas gives the boy‘s ass a squeeze before one finger was teasing his hole. Sam gasped silently as it was sudden of Cas pushing in a whole finger, his walls hugging tightly on the dry finger.

It was burning, it did not feel good at all.

But Sam couldn’t get the words out as he really didn’t want to miss this chance.

His only chance of ever having this with Cas before he watches him run to his brother, Dean, and possibly even get together.

It’s not fair! He loved Cas first, he always loved Cas more, but why did the angel have to go and like Dean? Someone who denies his sexuality with all his strength just to go to some bar and drink his brains out.

Cas broke the kiss as he slowly went down Sam‘s neck leaving a peck before sitting straight, so he can pull Sam‘s underwear off and finger him normally. Quickly demanding Sam to suck a little on his fingers, taking them back immediately after.

The cold breeze hit Sam‘s cock and hole as he shivered. He sat his ass back down as he lifted it before to let Cas take his underwear down.

His legs were spread wide, his hands sneaking to his thighs, holding them open.

Cas had a small glitter in his eyes as he leaned down to nip at Sam‘s inner thigh, his index finger teasing his way into his hole.

Sam whimpered, his chest rising before dropping again when Cas‘ lips left his thigh alone and instead kissed his lower abdomen.

That one finger turned into two and then directly to three as he thrusted in and out. Sam‘s hands gripped for the sheets as he huffed fast.

Cas was still struggling with understanding some humans cant go as fast or have the stamina an angel does. But Sam is slowly trying to learn to last longer, so its a good challenge.

“Cas, please I need you in me. please—“, Sam gasped when he felt the fullness leave and get replaced with emptyness.

Cas still had the calm, straight face he always had around anyone, except dean of course. Always dean.

It broke Sam, he doesnt know why, but the angel just seeing him like any other person broke him. It really did.

Sometimes he might’ve caught himself wishing he was Dean.

Cas pulls his underwear under his balls, as he strokes his desperate hardening cock.

“Im going to enter now”, Cas warns as he slowly pushes in with a groan, stretching out Sam.

Sam’s vision went blurry, he felt the Angel already move before he could realize it any further.

Castiels hands were on his hips, holding tightly as he pounded into Sam with full force, showing no mercy, hitting the man’s prostate every time.

He begged for his release, by each thrust groans and whimpers slipping from each other as Sam’s cock slapped his own stomach.

It really didn’t take long before Sam was begging again, “Im gonna come, please Cas.”

And by that Cas wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock and started pumping to which Sam shot out, leaving out a scream.

He was shaking from the orgasm as Cas let go of his cock and pull out of the boy.

When Sam was feeling more conscious after the orgasm, he was confused as to why the Angel didn’t come yet.

He watched as Cas zipped his jeans up and threw his shirt on, neatly and not missing any buttons on his shirt.

“Why didn’t you come?” Sam took the courage to ask as he covered himself with the blanket.

Cas was done with the tie as he slowly turned to Sam, having an as confused expression as Sam.

“I did this purely for your pleasure, Sam. I was helping you out, and if we are done now, I’m going to have to leave and look for Dean”, Castiel calmly responded as he turned to the mirror, making sure his hair was in place, “Oh, and did you see my coat by any chance?”

Sam felt his world shudder into even more pieces than before. Anger and Sadness all in once taking over him.

Why couldn’t at least Castiel lie to him, tell him he loved him or just come for the shake of this!

“Just seriously go Castiel! I had it with you, just go and look for your Dean”, Sam spat as he threw the man’s coat at him. He stood up from the bed, his knees weak, but enough strength to pull his underwear on and try to fetch on some joggers and a shirt.

Cas was trying to keep up to the situation as he held Sam by his wrist, trying to get out some kind of information off the boy. Why was he throwing a tantrum?

Sam harshly waved the hand off of him as he turned to Cas with tears spilling down, a pained expression on the man’s face.

Did Cas do this to him?

“Just go, please. We are done for today”, Sam gasped as he watched the Angel take his arm back and disappear into thin air.

Sam broke into pieces as he just stood there and sobbed his eyes out to some feelingless Angel who would forget about this by the next minute.

Who didn’t even care if he had sex with Sam, he just did all those soft kisses and gentle touches to feed Sam’s pure delusions.

[blonkk]

feeling healthy. classic friday night crying unexpectedly because it just occurred to me that im almost 30 and ive spent the last 3 days alone with no one to talk to. im just in bed watching the simpsons wishing i had someone with me just to fucking watch the simpsons or stupid youtube comps. i’ve been seething because my roommate left days ago without telling me and he hasn’t cleaned a thing since i moved in so i’ve spent the past 2 days scrubbing the place clean which makes me resentful. he also left his aging dog here and she drives me insane and i didn’t sign up to be a dog owner but here we are. should i let her starve and shit in the house or do i just do the right thing and make sure shes fed. let her out when she screams at the door at all hours of the day night and morning. its been raining but stopped today so i left the house and spent 50$ on nothing and i still dont have a job and i just have to come up with new ways to spend my time with nothing to do no money no one to talk do on this shithole hill

like when you’re young and optimistic and idealistic you never think that sad loser is gonna be you. like no way i’m gonna be a sad friendless lonely freak of nature. no way im gonna be broke and jobless near 30.

and it just creeps up and like i’d do anything to get out of this but i just fail and fail and fail and i can’t find a way out. everything is just closing in on me rn. and if i go home to my parents i wont need to worry as much about money for the time being but what kind of back peddling is that….i spent my entire 20s working up the courage to move out completely and again im failing. i can’t go home anyways because believe it or not my situation is every worse there

and my parents are so scared for me…like they won’t say it but they’re ashamed and disappointed and they pity me which is honestly worse than anything else….i don’t want them to help me out of pity it feels like no one believes in me at all

which makes sense lol i don’t believe in myself either….i don’t excel at anything…..i can’t even get an entry level job in my field where i have experience…i can’t monetize anything else i do because im just not a very skilled person and its not self pity, or maybe it is, but like no one cares about art or whatever it is i like to do.

like i’ve felt like i’ve been fading away for a few years now as friends and family moved onto bigger and better and it’s just getting worse as time goes on…i don’t know what i want i’ve never known and it doesn’t even matter because i’ve never gotten anything i’ve wanted anyways. i just want to not be lonely. it’s so simple

i just want to disconnect from everyone and everything because i’m so beaten down by rejection and failure and isolation and despite good things these bad things compound and im so exhausted i don’t even care about what happens to me anymore

it’s so weird being this person you know people pity…that the worst part

i’m tying….i go outside…i exercise…i engage with my hobbies….i haven’t shut out my friends….i keep applying for work even though i feel this feeling of dread and know it wont go anywhere …i haven’t given up yet but im not really under any illusions that things will “get better” anymore

anyways i’m sorry for the boo hoo wah woe is me wahhhh moment im just so sick and tired of this relentless shit

[gingerwerk]

lmao yesterday i had so many plans for halloween, i was gonna go the ren fair with friends during the day, come back home and take a quick nap and rally and then pop over to my neighbors halloween party and then show up at my coworkers halloween party near the end when everyone was drunk and falling all over for a laugh but of course i got home from the fair and i was Exhausted and cold and still felt carsick from the drive back home so i went to bed at 11 and called off work today anyways (because im sick of working the day after halloween weekend and having to bust my ass because everyone else called off). but now im just Sitting in my living room trying to do anything semi productive but my brain isn't having it

[deadgrantaires]

soooo as i worked up my courage to make a million calls this morning i also got the crushing news that my gov insurance has been ~*canceled*~ and as im trying to cope with that it goes hand in hand with now trying to rate my 20+ medications against each other and decide which ones im going to try stopping altogether bc i literally cannot afford to take them all, especially when my daily inhaler that i need to live/w0rk at all has no generic option and will ALWAYS cost me like $60/month. I have a month left to see doctors before i shut myself in and just live with all my problems forever bc all my problems need testing and all the testign costs hundreds of dollars, of which i do not have in spare cash with my measly p4ych3ck after yknow. rent and utilities and food. so thats out of the question. it also means if/when i get hospitalized again for getting ANY sickness i cannot afford the bill and will just be completely screwed. which is only BETTER because ofc nobody is taking covid seriously anymore despite still being in the middle of an unimporving pandemic. but no eveyrones ability to go to the grocery store without wearing a mask IS more important than my life, who am i kidding

but anyways im just. completley fucked and i guess its good i was always kinda prepared to be completely fucked and its really just a waiting game to see how much all my meds are gonna cost me and budgeting from there. but may have to say farewell to the dreams of seeing a therapist again since idk if i can afford it as a monthly/weekly expense with everything else. added to the fact that i have to keep switching therapists bc they "feel they arent helping me as much as they should" like yeah absolutley bud, the stress and frustration and panic of having to spend my obsolete energy shopping around for another therapist who takes my insurance and isnt meshing at all with me is surely BETTER than u spending the time to try and understand how to help me, as is literally. your job. so i think ill just give up on that!

like as if it wasnt bad enough that im jsut Not Eating half the time anyway bc i dont have any time or energy or will to make myself food. the ammount of times ive just gone to bed without eating bc i looked in the fridge 20 times and eveyrthing i thought about made me feel sick or exhausted me so i said fuck it and went to bed hungry. so like at this point saving money by not going to therapy would at least MAYBE give me wiggle room to buy more food i can actually eat. not that i can. leave the house at all any more since im so burnt out that even thinking about leaving the house on the weekend to get groceries literally saps away my strength all week trying to work up to it. and i STILL cant go out on the weekend. so i literally. dont know howim supposed to survive this other than just. see how it plays out and hope for the best or like. that i kill myself good enough that i just die and dont end up in the hospital with bills about it 🙄

.

[neko-nemesis]

𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙄 𝙛𝙞𝙩?

Diluc Ragnivindr x fem-bodied reader.

❗WARNINGS ❗: MDI (MINORS DON'T INTERACT OR EREN IS COMING FOR Y'ALL), 18+ sexual contents ahead, nsfw, angst at the beginning (read the important note please) , slow burn-ish(?), SPOILER ALERT ⚠️ (Diluc's backstory is revealed a lil) Hurt/comfort, Fighting, Hatefuck, Hard Dom!Diluc x reader (later the mf is soft asf mmm), oral (receiving), fingering, temperature play, degradation, outdoor/public sex, extreme spanking, mask kink (sorry I'm kinda a whore for masks >//<), praise kink (receiving), reverse comfort, making up, emotional!Diluc (idk, I just see him being vulnerable around those he genuinely trusts) anddd I think that's it. Imk if I missed anything.

𝑷𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒆: 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒎 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒈����

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.5k

⚠️ important note: before becoming basically a smut writer, I wrote and was into Angst (a little too much, a little sus?), I still very much am ehe~. Don't mind me posting angst now and then 🤪. On a real note, please remember this is a work of fiction, I have no intention of making a character look bad nor romanticize arguments and problems in relationships. But I will say this, it's very real. No relationships is gonna be 💯%, never. Communication is a must <3 If this may seen triggering, please avoid reading this! I love angst because there's realism in it and writing about it with comforting/spiCy (joking) endings or even reading other amazing writers helps me cope with my own bs. Lemme know what y'all think of this and if I should make more of others. Reading shit like this sometimes is very heavy, so hotties y'all better remember to take care of yourself and remember that you're loved. Mwah 💋 <3

Note : Sooo, Im in the mid of writing something 'bout Albedo 👀 (stay tuned for that babez) so like suddenly I just blink and see that I've written this whole shit about Diluc /j 🧍🏻‍♀️ damn, my bad 🤪 ik hella crazy but it is what it is. Ohhh and I'm literally going on a trip to the beach literally in the morning buuuuut it's about drive, it's about powe- anyway, sorry I lagged irl. As I was saying, fuck sleeping 😩🤟 (/j, please don't be like my dumbass.) LEMME KNOW Y'ALL'S THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS as this is my first angst here and if I should continue 👽 and uh, oh yeah THANK YOU FOR THE INSANE AMOUNT OF FUCKING SUPPORT, BRO WHAT?!!?!! YALL GOT ME CRYING AND SHIT. THANK YOUSM 💓🫂 UDRHJEDJ okay enough, I realize how long this is getting, Oop$. Reblogs and notes are appreciated alot!! Suggestions/requests are very much open. (Ya gal's a little empty in the head sometimes, it's very much appreciated too >//<) Aite I'll shutup now though lmaojshdj- (-_-;)・・・

You stare off into the distance, you felt sick and lonely. You felt hurt. This is not what should've happened. You and him were supposed to be happy. Your hand digging into the flesh of your palm, leaving a crescent mark caused by your nails. The events from 2 days ago left you restless and emotionally exhausted in the middle of the forest.

You understood being in a relationship with none other than Diluc was not going to be rainbows and unicorns, you understood he disliked PDA, wanting to keep his reputation clean and just in general wanting to keep what you two share behind the comfortable door of the Dawn winery. But for the past few weeks, you felt as though you were getting ignored, just totally shoved to the side like it's nothing. Waking up to find the cold bed empty is not something new to you but doesn't mean it hurts any less everytime. You tried to understand his problems and tried somewhat of a helping hand to him but only to get pushed aside.

"Thank you for the offer dear but I'm fine."

"I'd like to do my work in peace, I hope you understand."

"Please shut the door behind you."

Biting your lips hard and blinking away the tears, you went on, letting him be and carrying on. You were a ticking bomb, tolerating things until you couldn't anymore. You weren't asking for much, you wanted to be in a more committed relationship, like marriage. You both weren't getting any younger and have been together for years now yet Diluc didn't see the necessities of that. You accepted that too. You weren't asking for much. Just his love and time was enough but unfortunately you were deprived of them too.

Your hands slam hard on the table, "Diluc I can't explain this enough, can you not see it for yourself how distant you've been?" You yell, being already tired of the argument. From all the stress and burden of running the Tavern and being the Darknight Hero by night has already taken a toll on him. And the start of an argument with you was the last straw. Cutting the string from which he was barely hanging on. "I don't have time for this." He mumbles, walking past you but you didn't cave in this time, you raised your hand and block his way. "You don't have time for anything anymore. It's now or never! You're not going anywhere, Diluc." You say, shaky voice and fury dancing in your eyes, "it takes two for a relationship! Two goddamnit!" You say, your hand weakly hits him in the chest, "I feel like I don't exist! You're overworking yourself and I want the fucking best for you-"

"Oh? you do?" He asks, mockingly, all self restraint going out the window. "Because hearing you complain like this rather tells me a different story." You cock up your brows in irritation, "Oh so now, caring about your health is complaining. You're being ridiculous" you gritted your teeth, Diluc now standing so close to you that it was almost comforting. What changed it though was the fact he leaned down enough to be inches away from your face as he chuckles, you can tell he's angry. "You don't understand anything, do you y/n? You do know well enough I need to be present in order for my business to run smoothly and by night, Im around Mondstadt making sure the civilians are safe because I'd be damned if I ever trust the Knights of Favonius ever again." He snarled, making you nervous but from the adrenaline rush, your anger didn't falter. "Say Diluc, where do I fit? Hmm?" You ask, diluc pauses and you can see the conflict behind his crimson eyes, he was taking far too long to reply to you. Well then, I guess you had your answer.

You look away for the first time and laugh as you realize how dull you started to feel. Visually it seemed like the colours around you drained and now only darkness took over. Without another word, you run out the door faster than you ever had and mindlessly without a sense of direction, you ran. You ran and ran, from between the grapevines, then through the forest. Only stopping as you gasped for air. Your lungs screamed for oxygen, your legs ached but that wasn't even the worst part.

You never heard him chasing after you, to stop you from leaving and it crushed you.

Now here you were, heartbroken in the whispering woods, picking up lampgrass flowers lazily, for what reason? you don't know. Maybe they reminded you of him. You laugh at yourself from how ridiculous all of this was getting. You hadn't dare to step inside the city nor go anywhere around the dawn winery in the past 2 days. The nature became your home, dipping in the lakes, sleeping under the open sky and living off of fruits and meals cooked on the camp fire. You just don't know what to do. Is this the end?

Are you two officially..broken up? Just like that? You remember everything back every moment and think if you became just too overbearing, s high maintenance person. If you were expecting too much, if this is all your fault.

Tears fill up your eyes again as you held your face in your hands, stopping yourself from another crying session. Footsteps could you heard and you felt unnerved. Your head shot up and looked around frantically, standing up fast and grabbing your weapon. Before you knew it though, red consumed your line of vision and the dull blade you had in your hands, which you were clutching onto for dear life goes flying off to somewhere you can never find it again as your back hits a tree. You yelp in shock, you weren't hurt though. Not when the familiar warm arms held your back and no matter how hard the impact was, you were shield from the blow. Your eyes widening as the face of the man you love stares back at you, the only difference was the mask he had on. His chest heaving for air but still, his expression of rage never falters. "You could've gotten yourself killed!" He yells at your face, your head roll to the side as a weak chuckle escapes from your mouth, "ah, the dark knight hero. You're suddenly very caring-" "Enough already!"

He huffs out air in frustration. You look past him as you tried to struggle out of his hold. "let fucking go, Ragnivindr." your loud voice rings out into the woods, radio silence taking over as his eyes watches you struggle, you could barely push him away. "You're not going anywhere." He mumbles, lowly.

"Just fucking go, leave me alone, fucking go away- go leave leav-" "fuck you." That was the last thing he says before his lips shuts you up soon enough. The kiss was anything but gentle. It was filled rage and hate. Messy and desperate yet the relief washing over Diluc made him light headed. Teeth clattering at times but most importantly, both of you fought for dominance, diluc's teeth often sinking down on your bottom lip as you try to pull away to breathe. "Fuck-" you tried to speak, "stop- I need to b-breathe." Pulling away for a second as the long string of saliva dripped down his chin, diluc could say one thing. "You don't need to, sweetheart." You almost agreed with him. From how desperate his lips kept getting on yours, felt like you were breathing for the first time ever after so long. You felt Alive in his arms.

Soon he pulls away, both of you were panting for air but Diluc left you no chance for that as soon as you both pulled away, your body was used like a rag doll as he now had you turned around and bend over. "Wai-" you were off by the sound of your dress getting torn up along with your underwear. You gasp as you felt his warm hand smacked your ass hard. "Now- say.." he begins, rubbing his hand on your bum to sooth out the pain as your lips trembled. "What should I even do to you." You hear him say next right beside your ear. You tried to speak but the exhaustion was catching upto you. "You ran away, you ran away from me." He mutters, using his vision to warm him his hands more as then proceeds to smack your ass harder than the last. The heat from his palm had you gasping for air. He groans at your cute little expressions and tears before chuckling as he notices your arousal dripping down your thighs, "I've just now hurt you and you're getting off to this?" He mumbles, his voice darkening with lust, amused even though it was not the first time, "Disgusting little whore." Again proceeding to hit you harder as you let out choked cries out of pleasure. "S-shut up" you cry out. Tears flowing down your face, which made diluc look fondly at you for a second before a small smirk creeps up on his handsome face, his mask making him look more ominous. "Oh yeah?" He asks, "it's pathetic to see you under the impression that you have any say in this?" He questions you as if you were stupid. You felt so little under his burning gaze but it turned you on so much more. You hardly can remember when was the time you both last had sex but this, you weren't complaining but doesn't mean you'll be obedient.

"Of-ofcourse I have a say in this!" You snap, his head lilts to look at you and Archons, you regret whatever you said. Darkness consumed the man's face. "Want to repeat that, darling?" He asks, in a mocking loving tone. You notice his jaw clenched under the moonlight. "I-"

The next moments were blurry. When you were back to your senses, you realized your body was barely covered by anything, the remains of your clothing on you barely did shit but you could hardly care about it as your head was now in the clouds. Under the tree, Diluc had his tongue buried deep inside your cunt, as your head lay in the grass. Though your hips were raised enough for the man to eat you out like a starved stray animal. The filthy scene as you glanced up had you clamping down on the wet muscle of his tongue. "Fuck, you taste good." His words came out muffled as he tried to dig in his face even deeper, not even taking a second away to breathe. It was like the man was really parched for days. He hummed as all he could think of in his head was to lap up all the juices that leaked out of you and drink you up. "S-slow down!" You tried to stop him, your hand raising up and clutching onto his hair as your tried to push his head away only to have him moan and lick and suck more greedily. Soon his gloved fingers accompanied and slipped inside you with ease and started pumping in and out of you with a rough pace. His groans vibrated on your weak spots, making you let out incoherent lines as you could barely think straight. "Cum on my tongue, fucking- give it to me now." He demands as he pulls away with a pop from sucking on your clit harshly, as if on cue, you let out a gutteral moan and silence scream staying frozen on your features for a bit as your eyes rolls back from the intensity. "Atta girl, aren't you precious?" he praises you as he smiles, feeling his heart flutter by seeing you so ruined, by him and for him only. "there's my good girl, my baby." Lifting you up, you barely had the time to catch your breath as his arm grips on your hip hard enough to have control and slams you down on his hard cock. The sudden stretch was not something you were prepared for, it made you tremble in his arms as he whines, feeling your insides grip onto him tighter by the second. He starts his brutal pace, fucking you while his mouth finds home between your chest you hug his head for deal life. Then he grips onto your hair, pulling back for you to look at him as his face glows bright red as he stares into your eyes. "Fucking damnit take it" he moans, "take it take it, you dirty little girl A-Archons please, goddamnit make me cum please please" you couldn't help but whimper at him begging, he was so lost, so high off you that he let down all his guards and begged you. "Please cum- cum on me, make me cum, please hahh" by now, he was making barely any sense. He really lost it all, tears forming in his eyes from the immeasurable amount of pleasure of drilling into you while he looks upto yours, you were already sobbing at his harsh thrusts. "You. Are. Mine" he thrusts in slow and deep in-between his words as he drools, slurring on his words as his thrusts becomes sloppier. sucking on your nipples, he whines louder and louder. Muttering your name like a mantra. "Y/n i- fuck I'm close I'm close, I'm gonna cum and you're gonna take it o-okay?" With one last thrust, he emptied himself as he fills you up. From the second intense orgasm, you passed out of exhaustion.

Sometime has gone by and you wake up to the sounds of sniffles. Opening your eyes slowly and adjusting to the lights, you realize it's early morning, right as the sun begin to rise for the start of a new day. You look around and realize you're in the Dawn winery, in Diluc's room. You look to the side to see Diluc, silently crying as his comforting hands slid a warm cloth down your thighs in order to clean you up.

You tried to get up, which catches the attention of your boyfriend finally, he looks away, wiping tears away fast as he slows you down and instead helps you up, bombarding you with questions. "Are you okay love? Do you need something? Are you too sore? You've been out for days, Barbatos knows what on earth you've relied on for food. Are you hungry? Wait let me get adelinde-" you yawn, cracking into a genuine smile, "No I'm alright, stay" your tired hand lift up to caress his cheek and he buries his face into your palm, seeming very touch starved. Without his dark knight hero mask, you noticed how tired he looked, incredibly broken even. It broke your heart to see him like this."What's wrong Diluc?" You ask, concerned.

He couldn't take it anymore, he crumbles.

He crumbles like the day when his father died.

He crumbles like the day kaeya confessed about his dark secrets.

He crumbles like the day he realizes he's truly alone.

He crumbles like the day you left, falling down and never being about to stand back up and run after you.

Pulling you into a deep embrace, he cries his heart out. All of his walls has fallen down over the fear of losing you too and he was not about to watch and stand by to see you gone, like the others.

"I failed you." His voice comes out broken, "I treated you like shit god knows why, i won't- no. I can't CAN'T let you go please, I'm sorry I'm well aware it's selfish of me but just I'm so fucking sorry-" he begs, you coo and brush his hair to calm him down, whispering words of love and acceptance. The sincerity in his words are enough for you. He felt like he doesn't deserve you. Already being forgiven so easily, it hurts him.

This is who he almost lost.

Hugging you tighter, the early morning passed with him kissing you with love and apologies to which you'd reply with acceptance until you fell asleep, being secured and feeling loved again in the arms of whom you wanted only. As for Diluc, he was in the brink of collapsing but he couldn't, wouldn't stop staring at your sleeping form, it was like a fallen angel is in his arms. He couldn't help but let out the cries that re-surfaced again. This time over relief. You came back, you accepted his sins, you forgave him, you took him back with open arms even when you were wounded. And he'd be a damn fool to lose you over his own ignorance. You may have forgiven him but he hasn't, he counts down on days and plans on everything for the upcoming days where he'd do everything in his ability to make up for everything and be worthy for your love again. You are his comfort, you are his home.

He smiles as his eyes darts back to look at the little box in the nightstand before looking back at your sleeping form.

"And the day starts from today." He thinks to himself, as he falls into deep slumber on top of you, holding you and never planning to let go.

xxx

Edit: forgot to mention how much of a whore I am for this man, alright that's all. Thank you for listening to my tedtalk, love you guys <3

[goldenempyrean]

hiiiiiii. i know these arnt on your prompt lists but i saw them on other and thought it’s be cute “It’s weird to hear you complain.” with nat and shes all sniffly and tired. Thank youuuuuu 💕💖

A Small Confession

Hey :) I liked this prompt so I hope you like this. Im probably gonna write for Scarlett next :)

I have not grammar checked this yet soooo….. yeah theres gonna be aload of errors in here.

Summary: Nat’s sick and sniffly, and isnt being shy about it.

Wordcount:1134

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When you woke up that morning, you were surprised to see Nat still laying beside you. She had always liked to get her day started early so when you’d woken up to her hand still wrapped around your waist it was an unusual yet pleasant surprise. You gently lifted her hand and carefully got out of bed, making sure to pull the duvet back up so she wouldn’t get cold. After that you silently tiptoed across the room to grab some thicker clothes before sneaking out the door, taking care to close it silently.

You didn’t want to risk using your ensuit bathroom, you had a habit of accidentally being really loud in the mornings so you used the gym changing rooms to get changed out of your pyjamas and into some cosier clothes. You weren’t going out today, infact nobody was. The whole team had just got back from dealing with an incident that had kicked off in Russia. There had been rumours of a new specially engineered bio-weapon being released by Hydra so the team had been dispatched to deal with it. However things didn’t go as smoothly as everyone had hoped. Somehow news of your arrival had been leaked and so when yourself and the team attempted to “ambush” the base, things didn’t exactly go as planned. It had taken an extra 3 days to dispose of all the contaminated rubble and debris. That was way the whole squad had collectively decided that today was to be a day of calm and rest…

That was until somebody turned on MarioKarts. You had heard the cheering when you stepped out of the changing rooms. Following the noise, you were led to the common room. Entering the room you couldn’t help but smile as you saw Wanda, Clint and Thor all sat on the floor laughing as they played MarioKarts. You were welcomed as you sat yourself down on the sofa next to them. For the next few hours you found yourself laughing and giggling as Thor accused Clint of cheating and Clint accused the TV of being biased. Wanda won effortlessly despite the fact it was her first time playing.

Everything had been normal… Well as normal as things could get with a teamful of Avengers living together. That was until you heard a small shuffling behind you. Nobody else had noticed it, they were too absorbed in the ongoing game. Curiously you turned and were slightly taken aback to see Nat. She was rummaging around in the mini fridge at the opposite side of the room, after a moment she took out a cherry gatorade. Weird… She hates cherry gatorade.

Natasha took a swig of the drink, spluttering slightly as she did.

“You alright over there?” You asked as Natasha slowly came around the side of the counter.

You didn’t really get a reply, well not in words anyway. All you got was some sort of incoherent mumble and a sniffle. Wait- Shes sniffling?

It was then that you noticed her appearance. You hadn’t been able to get a proper look at Natasha until now and well… She didn’t exactly look healthy. Her gorgeous red curls now hung damply at the side of her head, and her nose had obviously been irritating her judging from the red rawness which had formed around it and she was quite obviously exhausted.

It was obvious she was sick. It would explain why she had woken up so late too. Wordlessly you opened your arms as you gave her a sympathetic look. Nat’s shoulders dropped in defeat as she shuffled towards you. The sound of her shuffling was only emphasised by the fact she was wearing slippers. Adorable white rabbit slippers.

Natasha slowly sat down beside you, curling into your side as she clutched the box of tissues which she’d grabbed from the counter. Your heart broke. You hated seeing her like this. It was almost too much when she muffled a series of painful sounding coughs into her hoodie sleeve.

“Y/N?” She mumbled quietly as you slowly began to run your hand through her hair, “I don’t feel good.” Almost as if her body wanted to emphasise her point she had to frantically grab another tissue to muffle a flurry of sneezes into them, “Hiiit’ssshiew! Hh..H’tsshiew! Hih’iiishiew!”

“Aw sweetie. Bless you.” You sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “Yaknow its weird to hear you complain.”

“I feel like shit.” She groaned rubbing her hand against her tired glassy eyes before she closed them and snuggled further against you.

It was then that the others had noticed her arrival. Clint turned and gave you a confused look but after a moment he too noticed her red flushed cheeks and quietly questioned, “She sick?”

You nodded and Wanda gave her a sympathetic look, “Poor thing.”

“She’s really not feeling well.” You admitted as you held you closely.

“Im not surprised shes sick though.” Thor added, getting up from his position on the floor, “She spent the whole 3 days in Russia in a thin bodysuit. Clint, you coming to train?”

Clint accepted his offer and also got up from the floor. “Look after her.” He said as he left in the direction of the gym. As he left however the large door slammed behind him sounding a loud bang through the room.

Natasha stirred against you, being pulled from her sleep. “Mm?”

“Hey. Hey. Its alright. The door just slammed.” You comforted your feverish girlfriend who was curling into your arms, “We should probably get you back into bed sweetheart.”

“You’ll feel better with some sleep.” Wanda added as she too got up to go and train, Make sure to keep hydrated.”

“That’s a good point actually-“ You stopped, noting the rapid rising and falling of Nat’s chest.

“I nee- to… sn.. snee- Hii’tschiew! Huh’tshiew! Hh…Heh’tsshhiew!”

“Oh darling. We’re definitely getting you back to bed.” You cooed, carefully helping Nat get up incase she was dizzy.

You helped Nat walk back to your room, opening the door for her, “Thagks.” She said, her voice brimming with congestion, “Hiiiitsshiew! H..Hh’tshoo!”

“Bless you.” You cooed, instructing Nat to lay down. “Wait, did you leave your tissues in the common room?” You asked as she sniffled against her wrist.

Nat nodded and went to pull herself from the bed to retrieve them, “No, no.” You stopped her, pulling the duvet back over her, “I’ll get them, you just stay here.” You smiled as you left the room, knowing that Natasha would probably be asleep by the time you returned. But that didn’t matter, she was resting that’s all that mattered. At least you’d be able to spend the rest of the day cuddling the one you loved, even if she was all sick and sniffly.

[hazzabeeforlou]

Hi, I’m Toni.

Got a slew of new followers and I’ve been almost inactive the last half a year (at least) so wanted to do an update/intro so you know who I am LOL and so my long suffering fandom besties know what the fuck’s been going on (if anyone still cares rip sorry it’s been forever)

Currently writing this from my sick bed of ear cellulitis? That I got from wearing my mask? It would literally only happen to me. Had to go to urgent care and get a butt shot of antibiotics so it didn’t, you know, spread to my bloodstream :)

Anyways I say that to say that I probably got sick in the first place because I’m incredibly run down right now. The classical music world (im a professional musician) FINALLY opened up again, and to meet gig demands I only work my pandemic retail job once a week. I have been traveling the last four weekends in a ROW, which, due to my chronic pain (which has seen SOME improvement over the last year!!) makes me super duper exhausted and I have to admit tik tok has been getting most of my brain numbing time.

Life post-happy drugs has been tough. I’ve seen improvement in the areas I wanted to, physically, but mentally god. Drugs were nice. Anywho, I’ve done a ton of witchy/ancestral connecting/herbalist kinda things the last six months, and I now have an alter and a spiritual practice that has really brought me a lot of growth and meaning. It’s hard healing from your past when you’re still living IN it… and there’s no improvement with my parents. They’re still homophobic as hell and Republican as fuck, despite screaming matches. The threats of physical violence prevent me from confronting my dad any further. I’ve kind of given up hoping they will ever change.

It’s funny though, I would classify this year as the year I started to “feel” things, and of course that happened physically post the drugs, but also emotionally once I started to let myself FEEL emotions, god what a train wreck. Who knew humans could CRY so much? That emotional revelation led to the probably overdue realization that I’m likely Autistic and high masking, and have been suffering from that classic 30’s wall that “gifted girl high masking autistic children” eventually hit wherein they are no longer able to just push through and ignore. That’s been tough.

Writing has always been how I process and understand emotions, and now that I’ve started to actually FEEL them, it hasn’t become as essential to my functioning as it had been the last six or so years. I miss it, and I plan on finishing all my projects I left behind… as I’ve said many time The Garden part 3 IS coming I promise lol. But! Hopefully. And no promises. But I have the most delightful Christmas fic tucked into my head that I would love to publish this year, if I can find the time to get it on paper.

Okay as for fandom… I did a “growth thing” earlier this year and deleted all the bbygate stuff I’d been saving for the inevitable end. I just can’t anymore. All the photoshop, the blatant exploitation of it all… yeah I think the best option is just not to care. If they’re gonna drag this out for the rest of my life then I’m going to ignore the shit out of it. Speaking of ignoring, I also noped out of the H and O nonsense. God. What a MESS. I liked HH, truly, but the fave for me was Matilda. To be honest with you all, I listened until I grew naturally full of the album and I moved on with my life, it wasn’t world changing to me the way FL was. HOWEVER. FITF? Lord save me i didn’t even know it was coming out and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m fucking obsessed. I’m planning a MP. I genuinely think it’s Louis’ finest work and I can’t get enough of it. Every time I listen I like it MORE. I theorize it’s going to be a slow blooming album that smacks everyone’s expectations in the face. I’m so fucking proud of Louis. I bawled real ugly tears at Common People.

And lastly as always, I believe the boys were in love but I make no claims about their lives now. I enjoy the hints and speculation and love larrying along, but I think they’ve established these personas that are bulletproof to fan speculation these days, and I feel that’s how they truly want it. And that’s cool, won’t stop me from writing Larry because it was the truest gayest baby Star crossed lovers story out there and still makes the best fan fic.

Apologies for the novel but nice to meet you if you’re new HI I’M TRYING TO BE BACK to my old chums, and feel free as always to talk to me, my ask box is always open ❤️

[enderwoah]

ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

[boneheadduluc]

I'm in need of some Andrea smut every time I read something about him there is no sex because this was in the 30's and it would be inappropriate to do it before marriage. So...let's get inappropriate (?

no mommy kink please, i can't cope with that

Actually this was going to happen v/ soon in my fic of Andrea BUT I'll write a quick drabble/one shot for you bc same! we need that in our lives :) I'll be doing gender neutral reader for dis ;) Warnings!! 18+ , loss of virginity, perhaps slight edging? oral on reader (female presenting) and NO mommy kink per request :)

Rules were rules. Marry a nice man, then lose your virginity. You had been following those rules. Even now, you lived alone in a small cottage on a hill. And you still haven't lost it. You never felt inclined too really...and you were fine with that. It's just everyone in the village usually was a kid or a senior. No one was around your age, so you preferred a secluded kind of life. 

 Even if that meant following rules you didn't want to follow. You hated that you didn't have a choice. You hated how your parent's voice replayed in your head over and over. Telling you “wait! get married first!” You were sick of it, you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to lose it to whoever you met, but then...

 a new boy showed up, you learned his story since you were a bit close with Janet and Ursula, the old sisters who were housing the young man. So you met him, and god... he was just your type.

Plus they invited you over so he could play for you? meaning the violin. At first, you felt a little out of place... until he started playing. Needless to say, he was more than talented than you expected. You’d never heard anything like it, afterward, he wanted to talk to you surprisingly. 

“What is you name?” he tried his best to speak, you were told his English wasn't the best so you found it more endearing than anything and applauded his effort since he’d only been here for a few weeks. So you looked to him, sitting beside you with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. His hair was a bit shaggy as he shook the hair out of his eyes.

“Oh, my name is (y/n).” You gave a warm smile, shifting in your seat to face him more. “And you are Andrea, yes?” and he nodded before he repeated your name warmly, and honestly you loved the way it sounded in his mouth.

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

Weeks passed, you visiting, Andrea playing for you, afterward, you would talk to Andrea, his English noticeably getting better. And sometimes he would even be a bit of a flirt. So one day you just asked the sisters if they would allow you to take him into town. You did your best to sound as friendly as possible and it seemingly worked.

You showed him a few of your favorite places, took him dancing to the pub. Though he wasn't a very good dancer, you had to kind of show him. Guiding his hands to land on your hips and pull you close, telling him to watch your feet as he got red because honestly he couldn't help but stare at your face. 

Then finally he asked to see your home. And you couldn't help be nervous, he had been making eyes at you all day, smirking like a cat with cunning eyes. Like he had so much more in that head of his, thoughts that he wasn't sharing. Plus he was already holding hands with you, keeping you close to him as he kept calling you ‘Liebling.’ And of course you didn't refuse him, not at all. So by the time, you were halfway up the path on the mountain and he slowly stopped walking, staring at you with a sweet smile. 

“Something the matter Andrea?” you questioned- confused as to why he had stopped. He moved slowly, stepping closer to you, leaning in, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then backing away, checking your eyes for permission. You nodded and Andrea knitted his brows together, exhaling through his nose as he slowly moved to press a kiss to your other cheek. Gently. Wonderfully. Then your forehead. The tip of your nose, then finally his mouth hovered over your own. Breath shaking with feverish anticipation.

You ached to lean in and finish what he started, but you wanted to see if Andrea would do it himself, and after about 5 nervous seconds you felt him roughly slot his lips against your own.

You were lost, blindly lost to pleasure and yearning. You barely realized the way you pulled him up the hill, mouths slotted together as you rushed backward, your back soon up against your door, your hands at his waistband, he moaned against your mouth.

And soon enough you were turned around and inside and he was walking backward as you led him to your bed. Pushing against his chest as he sat and you climbed his lap. Kissing him so harshly you felt your teeth clink against his own, embarrassed you pulled back, your hand coming to your lips. 

“I apologize, Andrea-” You were breathless, with shy eyes and flushed cheeks. 

He looked the same, though less embarrassed. More lustful than anything. 

“No, no-” He started softly. “You are wonderful.” He spoke slowly, catching your eyes as he brushed your hair out of your face with his thumbs. Putting a strand of hair behind your ear lovingly. 

“But...I need-” He started up again, and he groaned out, almost a whimper really, like he was in pain and that's when you felt something poke against your inner thigh, and then you understood. You ground forward and watched as his mouth fell open. Andreas eyebrows furrowing, his face growing red, a moan caught in his throat.

“Oh, you wonderful creature.” You mused. Almost amazed at the power you held over him. So you did it again and again until he was begging for you to let him cum. 

“Please...Please (y/n)-” He buried his face into your neck, his large hands on your waist, fingers digging in deeply, his shoulders going tense at your dry humping. 

A part of you was nervous honestly. You didn't know if Andrea was also a virgin, but judging by his closeness already ...you were gonna bet on the fact he was, but then again you didn't know what you were doing anyway. 

So instead, you simply stopped. And he stopped breathing. He was frozen actually, and you wondered why, a part of you wanted to laugh, he was curled up into you, unmoving, holding you. 

“Andrea?” you questioned and finally he moved, looking up at you, 

“I do something wrong?” he slowly drawled out, voice tiny and nervous and you shook your head. “No, of course not I just...have you ever done this before?” It was your turn to be tiny and nervous now, especially self-conscious. 

He gulped, Andrea understood. And he slowly shook his head ‘no’

“I'm sorry,” he whispered and it almost broke your heart. 

“Oh my love, no! You have nothing to be sorry for. I have never...done this... either. So it's okay Andrea. And...and honestly, we don't have to do anything if you don't want to.” You cupped his face, giving him a warm smile and he returned one. Slowly pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“I want you.” He whispered after breaking the kiss barely. 

And that was all you needed to push him back on the bed so he was laying down. You climbed atop him, undoing his pants slowly. He raised himself on his elbows, watching you, breathing heavy, eyes flickering back and forth between you and your hands. 

And suddenly he took your hand, putting it away from him. Softly and gently and lovingly.  “first you. Let me...help.” He muttered, looking to you for permission and so you switched roles and he was helping you undress from your light dress. 

And you were naked and self-conscious and nervous in front of him. 

But he was smiling, eyes running over your perfect form. You were perfect to him, everything about you, even the things you considered a flaw, he would reach out, brushing his fingertips lightly over them. He muttered how you were beautiful before reaching with both hands to your thighs. Parting them slowly, gently as all his movements were. 

He slowly moved off the bed, to his knees as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulder, his eyes on yours, looking up to you the entire time. Your hands gripped the blankets harshly and nervously. But you nodded at him and he leaned forward, delving his tongue over your entrance. And you moaned, the feeling making you throw your head back. 

And he did it again, though opening his mouth even wider, taking you into his mouth, his tongue lapping up your wetness. Moving up to run over your clit. And you shivered, sensitive all over. 

He realized that was the spot, so he did it once more and got the same reaction, actually an even bigger one. Your back was beginning to arch. Toes curling. 

And he kept eating you out- tongue sometimes delving into you, into your warmth and he would moan against your wetness and heat. Eyelashes fluttering and closing as you would spread your legs further, pushing your cunt against his mouth- thighs shaking and quivering as you felt a knot of heat in your lower stomach slowly coming closer and growing bigger. And finally you were gripping his hair, pulling as he whimpered against you. 

“Oh Andrea- Andrea Im so- Im going to-” You could barely get a full comprehensible sentence out before your thighs were convulsing around his head and your back arching and a loud moan was drawn out from deep within you moaning- screaming his name as a intense orgasm slapped you right across the face, and god- you were exhausted in all honesty. You even fell back on the bed, his tongue still on you though as if he couldn't get enough, nose sometimes even nudging up against your clit as he hungrily and greedily tasted everything in you. 

And as much as it was amazing soon you were becoming over sensitive and with each lick and moan of his against your pussy you were being shocked, body twitching and you pulled back, breathless, a mess for a lack of a better term. 

And you began to chuckle as well as he rose up now, smirking at you, his lips and chin, all slick with your wetness and his own spit. And you grinned right back at him, and pulled him down to meet your mouth as you kissed him, without a care in the world. It was almost satisfying to taste yourself on Andreas tongue. 

But finally you broke the kiss, cupping his face as you knew what came next. “Your turn my love.” You muttered. Sitting up now as you went for his belt, undoing it slowly, hoping he wouldn't stop you again. Though it was worth it last time. But he allowed you to- Andrea even began unbuttoning his shirt. Throwing it to the floor along with your dress, as you followed up with taking off his belt and pulling the pants away- his cock finally free and hard. Fully upright, beads of pre-cum forming at his reddened tip. He was so desperate, it was clear in his expression. Mouth slightly agape as he watched you. 

You thought for a moment, wondering on what you should do now. On what position and honestly how all of this was gonna go. A part of you was scared as you shuffled back on the bed, and patted the space beside you, signaling him to come be by you, but first he began shuffling out of his shoes, then along with his pants until he was fully naked. The look on his face signaling he didn't want you to feel self conscious with him being half clothed, so he decided he too would be fully undressed for this.  He moved beside you now, huffing out a short breath, nervous. It was clear so you pulled him close, kissing his jawline softly.  “Lets go slow, yes?” You mumbled to him softly. He looked up at you, shoulders tense as he nodded. “Yes mien Liebling.” he whispered back, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he furrowed his brows again for you were laying back now, resting your head on the pillow as you slightly spread your legs for him to fit in between. So he moved to lean over you, head of his cock teasing against your lower belly softly, it made him whimper as you couldn't help but giggle as you looked up to him, he looked beautiful this way.  “Should I- uhm..” he stuttered, cheeks burning red as he lowered himself slightly, trying to align himself with your entrance.  “Yes Andrea- go ahead.” You bit at your lower lip, eyes gazing as he closed his eyes, throbbing tip budding at your opening, he pushed his hips forward, his tip sliding in before it slipped upwards, you really were that tight- though you felt bad, for if you were more relaxed it would've gone in easier. “I apologize-” you mutter, exhaling shakily but he shakes his head.  “No- not your fault.” Andrea shares a calming smile, his eyes shining as he looks deeply into your eyes.  “I try again.” he reassured and positioned his cock to your entrance once more, this time sliding it in your slickness and heat easily. You held your breath, feeling him stretch you wide, Andrea on the other hand groaned out, whimpered as his head fell into the crook of your neck. You couldn't imagine how sensitive he must be at the moment.  He kept sliding in until he couldn't anymore, and he filled you to the brim, you felt so full and couldn't help but moan softly, your hands going to the back of his nape, playing with his hair, twirling it around your fingers, admiring the feeling of his warm body atop of yours, holding you. he stayed still, immediately understanding you would need some time to adjust. So you two stayed still, breathing and trying to figure this all out, he lifted his head, and you just stared at him until the two of you broke into small laughter. Warm chuckles filling the air around you, and you caught his lips softly, he laughed into your mouth even- so shy and nervous, Andrea couldn't help it. But after a minute of kissing and nervously giggling you finally felt ready. You broke the warm kiss. And caught his eyes. “Andrea I think I'm ready...move...please?” You muttered shyly- you didn't want to sound demanding but were soon relived when he just smiled at you. Giving you a look as to say “of course.”  And he pulled out halfway, inhaling deeply as he then slid back in setting up a pace, not to fast not to slow, just right honestly. And that's when you felt the pleasure slowly beginning to take over the slight discomfort. When he soon began pumping into you like a animal in heat. You moaned his name over and over, arching your back as you watched his face turn desperate. He would mutter in polish and German. whispering into your ear and you couldn't help but scratch at his back. He changed his angle slightly, cock hitting your g-spot. 

“Oh! Oh Andrea you- oh fuck.” You cursed, closing your eyes. “Yes harder please.” you moaned out, feverishly. Everything felt so hot, you were even sweating across your forehead slightly.  And he did as you commanded, pushing harder, fucking into you, moaning brokenly each time he pushed in. The squeeze of your pussy around him making him lightheaded even. He dropped his head to your chest eventually. Tongue finding its way to your nipple. Opening wide and sucking on your breast. And you felt so sensitive, everything overwhelming you but in the best way possible. 

“Oh yes, yes-” you chanted, breathless and suddenly wrapped your thighs around him, flipping the two of you over so you were on top, he gasped- eyes wide as he looked to you, his face becoming flushed once more- the sight of him was enough to push you to the edge as you began to bounce on his cock, suddenly reaching you climax, steadying yourself by putting your hands to Andreas chest- your back arching as you clenched around his cock, falling forward now- pushing your lips together. 

He kept thrusting into you though- desperate to cum inside, “Please- please.” He begged for release, closing his eyes as you groaned softly, your insides sensitive as you sat back up, and it only took 2 bounces on his cock for Andrea to be moaning out your name- as he gripped your thighs and soon you felt his warm seed fill you up, he whimpered and fucked into you harshly now- sitting up and pulling you close, fitting his mouth over your tit to muffle the shameful sounds spilling out of him. 

As he fucked through his climax he soon began to slow down, exhausted as you moaned- feeling him suck your nipples softly now, closing his eyes as his breathing calmed. 

You ran your fingers through his hair softly. Kissing the top of his head- satisfied now and he now popped off your tit, lips a bright color that matched his cheeks. He smiled at you and you grinned back, pressing a kiss to his nose. You raised yourself off of him, and you felt his warm seed inside of you, you adored the feeling as you rolled off and laid down- he lowered himself to be by you. 

“You were amazing Andrea- absolutely wonderful.” You sighed softly as his hand reached your stomach, drawing invisible lines with his fingers over the soft skin. Andrea shyly smiled now. “Danke.” he whispered in German, you knew what it meant and chuckled softly. 

“Im sleepy.” you whispered, and it was true- your eyes were heavy and Andrea nodded. “Sleep.” he kissed your cheek warmly. And so you did, you fell asleep to him cuddled beside you, humming a tune that was familiar to you. 

[iwaisuke]

confessions; but not remembering it

ft. kita shinsuke, sakusa kiyoomi x sick fem!reader

genre: fluff

masterlist

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and then i rushed bc i was getting tired 🙃 also. sakusa's is a little ooc. sorry ab that

-» ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

» the clean yet musty smell of rain filled the gym as the boys practiced. it was a surprisingly humid and rainy spring day today here in the country side of hyogo

» "achoo" you had been sneezing and coughing all day. you also had a terrible headache but took some medicine to see if it would help. the spring allergies really getting to you

» you didnt reay have the time to be worrying about yourself. As a 2nd year manager of the inarizaki team, (recommend by suna) and the boys working so hard practicing for nationals there was no way you'd let this little cold get in the way. you had to work just as hard as everyone else!

» "hold on, im about to hang up your jerseys to dry"

» "i got you guys some fresh towels!"

» "i can run and grab that coach. im headed that way anyways"

» the coach called for a short break to rest up for a bit. everyone was sore and exhausted from practicing every day. "here. i filled your water bottles up!" handing them to all the boys. "y/n you're all wet" akagi sounded concerned.

» "hm? oh its alright. I'll dry off in a minute. i took the shortcut to the drinking fountain to refill your waterbottles instead of taking the long way" you nonchalantly said. "so you ran through the rain like an idiot?" suna threw a clean towel over your damp hair and ruffled it. "suna!! stop!! you're gonna ruin my hair"

» "like i said. its alright" you reassured the boys.

» kita, on the other hand had noticed your fatigue. although he wasnt as perceptive on peoples feeling and thoughts as well as others, he could easily pick up signs like yours. he admired you dearly for how hard you always work for the team. how you willingly did anything to make them smile. how you always put others first before yours. needless to say, he had a bit of a crush on you.

» "l/n san. i think you should take a break too. there's no need for you to be running around for us while we're resting" kita assured you. "i still have a few things left on my list to do.. but afterwards I'll take a break!" kita let out a sigh. you were stubborn sometimes and kita knew you were the kind of person to not stop until you're finished.

» "I'll be right back. i gotta grab the laundry"

» making an excuse to leave, your heart was beating fast. you knew kita's words were the kind he'd say to anyone, but it made your heart feel fuzzy when he'd look out for you.

» the stone cold captain who you thought he was, actually was so kind. he was just a little awkward like you, and a little blunt with what he said sometimes. but you learned the great qualities he carries and how much he actually cares about others well being. he was a hard worker and you couldnt help but absentmindedly fall for the captain.

» running up the stairs to the second floor of the gym, you felt a shift in your step. head becoming dizzier than it was just 5 minutes ago. legs trembling, you started falling before feeling a presence behind.

» kita's arm wrapped around your waist, supporting you in efforts to not letting you fall over. "i told you to rest l/n san" kita said sternly. "you wont benefit anyone if you keep overworking like this."

» you knew kita was right, but you really didnt want to rest knowing you'll be letting the team down by not working hard.

» "i promise I'll rest as soon as im done with this one thing" pleading with kita. he let out a sigh, knowing you really wouldnt until you did finish so he allowed you to do so.

» finishing grabbing all of the dry jerseys and bringing them downstairs to pass out to everyone, you didnt really notice atsumu and osamu spiking volleyballs at each other until aran yelled

» "y/n! watch out!" honestly, you were too tired to move out of the way so you figured, it do be like that sometimes, and allowed the ball to hit you.

» or... so you had planned the ball to hit you.

» kita stood in front, blocking the impact of the spike that you had prepared yourself for. there was agitation in kita's eyes. more than you usually noticed when then twins were miss behaving. concern washing over, he looked you straight in the eyes

» "... is there something wrong kita san?" lifting up his hand to your forehead, he let out a sigh. "why didnt you tell me earlier you had a fever", then walking over to the coach meanwhile atsumu and osamu come over to apologise for being reckless.

» "get your stuff. we're going home" kita said bluntly.

» "huh? but practice is-"

» "please l/n san. for me"

» kita would only take yes for an answer this time. no if's ands or buts. so here you were, walking home with kita. only the sound of raindrops hitting your shared umbrella being heard.

» muscles starting to ache a little more and your legs becoming more tired than they were when you left the gym, you began to walk a little slower every step

» "get on my back l/n" "its ok kita san, i can walk. its already enough that you're walking me home" "i didnt ask if you wanted to. im telling you to"

» you couldnt tell if it was the fever that made your face warmer or if it was kita's words. nonetheless, you got on kita's back. he was a lot stronger than he looked and you couldnt help but stifen at being so close to your own crush like this.

» "relax. I'll make sure you get home." he reassured. you leaned into his back, warmth seeping in, your eyes began to feel heavy.

» "kita san" "yes?" "thank you for always watching out for me"

» a comfortable silence was met as the sound of rain filled your ears.

» "kita san" "hm?" "did you know..." your voice softened "i like you a lot kita san"

» did he hear you correctly? if he wasnt paying attention he wouldve missed what you had said, being drowed out through the pitter patter of water. now his heart thumping louder than ever before.

» "l/n san-" he was about to go on but was met with the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the soft snores of you on his back, knocked out from exertion. kita let out a light chuckle, finally relieved you were resting.

» you had missed the next day of school, but when you came back the whole volleyball team bombarded you with love.

» "WE'RE A FAILURE TO NOT NOTICE YOU FEELING SICK" atsumu cried. "how could we let our one and only precious manager get ill for taking care of us" akagi, clearly dissapointed in himself. "please let us know when we can take care of you too y/n" aran said.

» "its no big deal. really!" waving your hands in defense. "it was just a small cold. but i do have a question though"

» all the boys gathered around to hear what you had to say

» "how did i get home?? i really dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu"

» it shocked the guys honestly. you genuinely didnt remember a single thing due to your fever. "wait? you don't remember kita taking you home?" suna replied, your face becoming red. "k-kita san took me home-?" "yah. he left in the middle of practice to do so" osamu added.

» immediately, you got up to find the captain that apparently took you home the other day. he was in the storage closet cleaning and grabbing the equipment for todays practice.

» "kita san" "oh. l/n. glad you're feeling better" his smile brightened the musty closet. "about that, im sorry for troubling you and having you take me home the other day. i honestly dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu. my mind was really fuzzy that day, but im truly thankful for you going out of your way for me. it really means a lot"

» kita was dumbfounded. you really dont remember? "no need to apologize l/n. it was my responsibility as a captain. and afterall, what good would i be if i couldnt even take care of the person who means the most to me"

» your heart raced. 'person who means the most to me' ? cheeks blushing a rosy pink, you were internally thanking the musty store room from being dim.

» with arms full of equipment, kita walked by you and stopped.

» "by the way l/n san. did you know?"

» ears perking up at the vague yet familiar line

» "i like you a lot too l/n san"

» now we all know sakusa HATES germs and for the past week and a half, he's been telling you to keep up with washing your hands, wearing a mask at all times even when you eat omi it doesnt work like that. pls especially since you are prone to getting sick easily no matter how hygenic you are. your immune system just hated you. PERIODT

» you remembered sakusa scolding you for running out of hand sanitizer and then the next day you were out of commission. bed ridden with laryngitis, cough, slight fever, the whole works. it was like your body was making fun of you or something

» you texted komori, asking him to take notes in class for you and relay homework information while you were at home resting up. but there was one request you had and made komori PROMISE.

» DO NOT TELL SAKUSA YOU GOT SICK

» "he's probably gonna notice your absence y/n. he'll find out about it either way"

» "well if you dont tell him then he wont know. its not like he even cares about where i am like that"

» "thats what you might think. but i know he's gonna say something i can garuntee it"

» the next day at school, sakusa did notice your presence missing. it was quieter not having a 3rd person in the group of friends. not having you around to talk to him when komori was gone.

» pulling out his phone to text you, he asked where you were that day.

» "on a family trip :D !!! forgot to tell you, but I'll tell you all about it when i come back!" you wrote, attaching an old selfie of a different trip you went on to make it more believable.

» you had hoped this silly cold would get better in a day, but soon that day turned into 2 and then 3 and then 4... you pretty much missed the whole week of school at that point

» Friday rolled around and komori was on his phone all day. sakusa noticed his cousin fidget in his chair more than usual and it irked him to see him like that

» "what's with you today?" one eye raised, sakusa finally asked. "uhhh nothing really" komori wasnt very good at keeping secrets lets just start off with that, but he was trying his best.

» "well clearly somethings wrong. you're fidgeting." "well haven't you noticed somethings been different all week?" komori hinted

» sakusa sat there in thought. nothing's been different? he ate the same breakfast he usually does every morning. all his studies have been well. there were no tests this week so there was no reason to be anxious like komori was and even if there was, he would've done well anyways.

» "just tell me what it is." sakusa was starting to get annoyed. "y/n..." komori started. "y/n?" "do you know where she's been this week?"

» did you not tell komori about your family trip? you usually told komori everything, but then again you didn't tell him either until he asked you about it.

» "she said shes on a trip?" he nonchalantly said. komori's eyes started watering. "A TRIP TO THE HOSPITAL THATS WHAT IT IS" he blurted out. komori didnt mean to let it slip , he was just so worried about your well being.

» "hospital?? what are you talking about. did she get injured on her trip?" "no omi. shes been sick all week and her mom just texted me saying she went to the hospital today because shes had a fever for 3 days straight. there is no family trip"

» sakusa's heart shattered. you were sick and didnt even tell him?

» before both he and komori knew it, his legs were running faster to get to the hospital than he had ever imagined he could ever run.

» and there you were. fast asleep in a bed with an IV drip. your face flushed, forehead sweaty and shallow breaths escaping your chapped lips. you were a hot mess but sakusa didnt care. stepping to your bedside to greet your mother she explained to him that she had to go to work and asked if he could watch over you until she gets back.

» sakusa said yes without even hearing the whole thing. his heart and mind saying yes to whatever it took to get you to feel better.

» gosh how he hated hospitals, but what he hated even more was the fact that you were in the hospital and he didnt even know.

» the doctor came in for their evening round and ensured sakusa that you were indeed getting better! your fever had broken not too long ago and your body was working extra hard to heal itself up!

» "is there anything i can do to help?" sakusa asked. he felt helpless in this situation just watching your face distort in uncomfort every now and then, and coughing your lungs out.

» patting sakusa's shoulder, the doctor told him that just being here for you is enough. "you gotta be a strong boyfriend for her alright son? she'll be able to go home tomorrow first thing in the morning if her fever doesnt come back"

» sakusa slumped in his chair at your bedside, the doctors words ringing through his head. 'boyfriend huh?' he thought to himself. "if i was her boyfriend..." he whispered to himself, "i would be a failure for not even knowing my girl was sick..."

» to kiyoomi, you were beautiful. even now in this sad state you were in. deep down he locked these growing feelings he had for you inside of him because he always felt like you were a better match with someone else and after this stunt you pulled of lying to him about going on a family trip, it only made him feel worse.

» it was now night time and you finally began to stir in your sleep, the fever finally gone. sakusa reached out to move some hair that was stuck to your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. your eyes slowly opened and met with his dark orbs.

» "y/n?" "saku- wait this is just a dream. omi wouldn't be here. he hates hospitals" you let out a forced laugh and then a sigh through your sore throat.

» you reached out to sakusa's hands that were resting on the side of your bed. "omi would never let me hold his hand because he'd say im passing germs to him so hopefully dream omi wont be the same" you were aimlessly talking to yourself, not even realizing that this really wasnt a dream.

» he squeezed your hand in return. hoping that you wouldnt let go any time soon. a funny smile appeared on your face just at the thought of him. "even if you're stupid for not realizing how much i like you... i cant wait to see you again omi" you whispered before falling asleep again.

» sakusa didnt know what to do. he sat there frozen in his chair. it was his first time hearing you call him omi. heck. you literally just confessed to the boy. his brain was running wild. groaning in distress he let go of your hand to step out for a breath of fresh air now that you were back asleep.

» it was 5am and your mother came back to the hospital and thanked sakusa for staying by your side. He left in a hurry to make sure you didnt see him there.

» Monday rolled around and sakusa was waiting outside of the school gates for you. he had planned on asking you about your "trip"

» "good morning sakusa!!" your bright and cheery voice rang through his ears. honestly he was trembling inside. the memory of you confessing to him still fresh in his mind.

» "how was your trip?" you stopped dead in your tracks. "haha... it was good !! sorry i forgot to get you a souvenir" you were trying to play it cool but sakusa could tell you were forcing yourself. "i wouldnt want a souvenir from where you came from so its fine" sakusa's words threw you off. "i - im not sure im understanding what you're saying sakusa?"

» you felt a tug on your hand. "dont you mean omi?" his voice husky as he whispered into your ear. cheeks flushed, your brain felt like it short circuted. you've always tried your hardest to not let it slip that you want to call him omi since he hated when people called him that.

» sakusa smirked at your cute reaction he got out of you. letting go of your hand he began to walk into the school leaving you at the gate dumbfounded. "and by the way. you're just as stupid for not realizing how long ive liked you too"

-» ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

thank you for your order! enjoy~!

[wizkiddx]

ohmyword if your doing req can u pls do another fluffy, domestic one bcos honeymoon morning is some i read daily AHAH maybe like the reader gets ill and toms away or something???? pls just anything fluffy

awh thank you for being so sweet abt honeymoon morning - I do think that's one of my favourite concepts ive done!! and I hope this suits what you want, im not so sure myself but I tried :)))

summary: you try to hide being ill from Tom before he leaves but inevitably it doesn't all go to plan

warnings: mentions of being sick, I think that's all - basically just fluff 

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The night hadn’t really gone typically at all. Instead of relishing the last night with Tom for a few months, your body seemed to have different plans. Hence why now you were curled up in a ball on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV, while the washing machine whirred next-door in the utility room and the chemical smell of cleaning products enveloped the downstairs. At least when you were sick, you were a clean sick. 

You were also a quiet sick. You had been pulled from your sleep by the uncomfortable heavy sensation from your stomach barely an hour after you’d both headed to bed. Why was beyond you - what had been important in that moment was to get away from Tom. He was flying back to set tomorrow (or given the early hours currently, lunchtime today was more appropriate) and only had a single day to settle before launching back into filming. So the poor boy was inevitably, given time zones, going to be running on poor quality plane sleep for the next couple of days - you wanted to five him a final night of peace, at least. 

As a result, you’d crept downstairs and since then spent a large chunk of the night making good friends with the downstairs toilet bowl. Once you were absolutely certain there was literally nothing else in your stomach, you chucked some bleach down the loo; then stripped your *stained* pyjamas and chucked them in the washing machine; changed into some freshly washed stuff in the utility (comprising of joggers and one of Tom’s hoodies); before you could curl up in the corner of the sofa. 

And that’s how you’d been for an hour or so. Still feeling grim, unable to fall asleep as much as you were trying to and generally just lying in a ball of self pity. And that was fine… until you heard the unmistakable slow padding of footsteps down the stairs. 

“Love?… -hy’re you up?” His voice was drenched in sleep, making it pull on your heart strings, even before he had rounded the sofa and come into view. Dressed only in his heather grey joggers only, Tom’s curls sat ontop of his head wildly - sticking up at all ridiculous angles. And then there was his puffy eyes, barely open as he slowly processed the sight of you curled up on the sofa. 

“Just couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to keep you up tossing and turning. Why are you up bub?”

“Don’t sleep good without you… you know kicking me and stealing the duvet and stuff.” Never one to maintain a level of seriousness and ‘soppiness’ - it was instantly turned back to the typical relationship of the two of you. While rolling your eyes, you still chuckled at him in the low light of the TV. Tom took the opportunity to perch on the edge of the sofa, sitting so he was grinning loopily down at you. “You fancied putting a wash on too?” 

“...I don’t know just trying to be productive?” He was catching on, he was suspicious. You could tell. His eyebrows furrowed together and he delicately hovered the back of his hand over your forehead, feeling the undeniable heat radiate into his skin. 

“And bleach?”

“Toilet needed doing anyway.” You mumbled, head turning to stare back at the TV- knowing his eyes were piercing into your soul. He sighed, in your peripheries you could see him shaking his head in slight frustration, as his hand reached for yours, giving it a squeeze. 

“You’re ill aren’t you?”

“I’m alright-“ he cut you off with a low warning of your name, making you cower slightly because he’d caught you in a lie. “I threw up a couple times but now I just feel a bit ‘eugh’”. That was, to be fair, a completely truthful description of your evening and current situation. Maybe not put most eloquently but Tom definitely got the messsage, somehow reading your mind by lightly massaging your abdomen with his hand that wasn’t clasped with yours. 

“Come on... let’s get you back to bed.” As much as you wanted to argue with him, it was clear any attempt would be futile. One of things you love so much about Tom is how fiercely protective he is of those dear to him. His circles progressively shrunk as he learnt who he could trust and who ... well he couldn’t. The culling had left a handful of people who were almost central to Tom’s life - somehow you’d managed to wangle your way into these select few too. 

So no, there was not point arguing or suggesting he puts his own welfare first. 

After putting you back int the double bed, Tom had disappeared for 10 minutes or so, when he reinterred the room it was clear he’d been busy. His tongue was stuck out in focus as he tried to balance different mugs and plates on a tray to you. Even if you felt shitty, for a moment by just seeing how far this guy had gone for you - you’d never felt better. 

“Okay there’s some lemsip with honey to settle your stomach, water and a slice of toast just because you should probably see if you can keep something down.”

“You really are the sweetest.”

“And you’re the illest so get drinking love.” He laughed softly in the yellow glow of the bedside lamps that illuminated the room. It highlighted his prominent jaw line and the way his eyes crinkled in the corners and given your slightly off state, you might’ve spent a bit too long ogling at the man cosied up next to you. Never would there be a time you weren’t grateful for him. 

Turns out you couldn’t keep the toast down but the experience was somewhat less horrific - this time you were spilling your guts out into your ensuite, while Tom held your hair and rubbed your back. Eventually things settled, allowing The two of you nestle back into bed, Tom wrapping his arms round your stomach to lightly trace random patterns on the skin underneath your hoodie - as you nestled back into his chest more. 

“I really love you Tom”

“Love you darling, now get some rest and shout if you need anything.” You hummed lightly, almost letting go to sleep now your felt a bit less like your intenpstines were wringing themselves together. But not quite. 

“I’m gonna miss you and your stupid face.”

“We can talk about that when your better” It was as if Tom thought whispering and drawing circles on your stomach was going to deafen you to his words. Yes your stomach wasn’t having a lot of fun and you were tired - but you were not deaf. It was oh so predictable too, he loved to be absolutely ridiculous. Indignantly you huffed, rolling over and eyeing him intently. 

“What’s there to talk about?” 

“Just…. Just if your sick you shouldn’t be on your own. I could always just-“

“No no you couldn’t. You and me both know for a fact you do have a choice and even if you did it be pissing off a hell of a lot of people.” He pouted, you could tell even in the darkness of the night. 

“I hate having to leave you though, especially like this.”

“Yes but you love your work too. I’ll be here when you get back… maybe just with a bit less intestines.” Laughing at that, Tom pulled you onto his chest, pressing his tips to the crown of your head as your burrowed into his side. 

It can’t have taken more than 5 seconds for you to fall asleep, exhausted from the illness, the stupid time in the morning and maybe slightly for dealing with Toms idiocy.  

You were awoken in the morning to Tom stroking your hair gently, all dressed and ready for his flight - but still finding the time to fuss over you and wanting to say a proper goodbye. After practically ordering his to leave… you best believe he dropped in the fact he’d got both Sam and Harry to come round as your babysitter. 

He was an idiot. But he was your kind, caring , beautiful and loving idiot. 

[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.

[poor-baby-bangtan]

i was wondering if you could do something snz-centric with jungkook. like a cold or flu. hes just so adorable and im too much of a sucker of bts taking care of him in fics. (also im so happy youre back and well, you're one of my favourite bangtan sickfic writers here on tumblr ^^)

I hope you enjoy! 

Sickie: jeongguk 

Caretakers: Namjoon and Seokjin 

Words: 6,853

Themes: snz, fever, hurt/comfort 

"Ht'tschu!"

By the fifth time that Jeongguk had to tear himself away from the recording equipment to sneeze almost violently into his hands, Namjoon was ready to call it quits for the day. The pair had been finishing up some backing vocals for a nearly-completed song - it was only a bit of harmonization, nothing extreme or extravagant. Jeongguk had always been the best with harmonizing, especially in a higher pitch, so Namjoon figured that he would layer the maknae's hidden track over it first just to get a feel for the way it sounded.

But Jeongguk was barely able to get through any of his lines or simple melodies without having to turn around to sneeze or clear his throat. And now that Namjoon thought about it, his voice did sound a bit rough around the edges and maybe even a little congested if he listened closely enough to his dongsaeng's voice blasting through his headphones. And, above all, he couldn't get through a track that he would have aced any other day. It was nearing 1 AM and the maknae looked tired, stressed, and sick behind the mic.

"JK," he called through the slightly-opened door beyond the large built-in window between them (purely to keep unwanted sounds out of the recording). "You okay?"

Jeongguk sniffed and rubbed at his nose with a knuckle, ears reddening slightly at the sudden attention. Namjoon found it incredibly endearing that, despite living together for just shy of seven years, he still managed to get embarrassed over minor stuff like that.

"Yeah, I'm alright, hyung. I'm sorry, I know you wanted this finished quickly," he managed, staring at the open mic in front of him with obvious frustration and guilt, the tip of his bunny nose pink with mild irritation.

Namjoon stood and took off his bulky headphones, joining him in the adjacent room and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Gguk, it's not your fault." The maknae sniffled again but didn't say anything, looking so pitifully sad as his eyes wandered around the floor. "Are you wearing a new cologne or anything? New shampoo?" Namjoon knew how sensitive their youngest was to smells - his perfume of choice was actually faint and made for women and he wore it for the sole purpose of it not irritating his sinuses. Even a change in shampoo, conditioner, or hair spray had a tendency to trigger Jeongguk's rhinitis flare-ups.

Jeongguk shook his head. "No, everything's been the same, Joon-hyung. I don't know why it's like this."

The rapper chewed at his lip worriedly, running a hand through the younger man's soft hair. "You think you're getting sick, babe?" Namjoon chose to break out the pet names now - it helped break Jeongguk out of that shy, nervous, I'm-grown-up-so-I-can-handle-everything-myself shell he always tried to adopt.

"Hih-H'tshhuh! T'cHh!"

Jeongguk didn't have time to reply before he was pitching forward to sneeze twice into his elbow, leaning back with a little groan. Namjoon chuckled quietly and rubbed the maknae's back as he sniffled and scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve. "I think that might be a yes."

The maknae sighed, rubbing at his brow like he had a headache. "I don't want to be."

Namjoon just tutted and put his palm to the younger man's forehead, frowning when he felt the slightest bit of heat underneath his hand. He wasn't flushed and didn't feel too warm, but he always ran hot when he was coming down with something. "I don't think you have a choice in this one, Gguk-ah."

"But hyung," Jeongguk whined, looking up at him with his big doe eyes, "I can't get sick right now. We have so much stuff to do and I'm already making you stay late-"

"Hey, no," he shushed. "You're not holding back anything. We have work, sure, but it's not anything that we can't push back a few days for you. This is the lightest our schedule has been for a while, so don't stress about it, okay?" Namjoon smiled faintly, running his fingers once more through Jeongguk's fringe. "And you're not keeping me here doing anything. We could have been doing this next week or even not at all; this is optional just to test the sound, you know that."

Jeongguk nodded, sniffling again for good measure. "Yeah, okay," he mumbled, still disappointed and very much not convinced.

"Why don't we go ahead and head home? It's late," Namjoon yawned, stretching, all an act just to get the maknae to not protest leaving just like the rapper knew he would. He had always been the hardest one to take care of - most of the others eventually gave in and let themselves be coddled. But, nope, not Jeongguk. He would put up a fight until he was passed out or in the hospital, something that his hyungs tried relentlessly to keep from happening. No matter how much they drilled into his head that you need to talk to us, Gguk or you can tell us anything, Gguk, it seemed like the kid never listened. Despite the fact that he had recently turned twenty-one, he had absolutely zero skills in the self-care department.

Jeongguk nodded and Namjoon marked that as a big success on his part. "Okay." He patted his pockets a few times before sighing. "Let me find my keys first."

That's right. He drove us here this morning.

"No that's okay, Gguk. I'd rather call a cab." Namjoon wasn't sure if he really wanted his maknae driving while sick, and at midnight nonetheless. He was already a little reckless behind the wheel on the best of days and the last thing they needed was him having a cold (or worse yet, flu) on top of that. The leader silently cursed himself that he hadn't gotten around to getting his license yet (and tried not to be embarrassed that the youngest of his group had to drive him around despite the age gap).

"No, I'm fine, hyung. I can drive," Jeongguk protested, looking just a little too eager to prove himself and that he was indeed okay. "I can.. d-dr- hhitsHh!"

He was interrupted by another sneeze, though, pitching forward, bent at the waist from the strength of it. He slowly straightened upwards, hands still cupped around his face. Namjoon took the hint and passed him a tissue, which Jeongguk hesitantly took as if he were almost too prideful to take it. He usually was, and the rapper was thankful that it was late in the evening. A tired Jeongguk was an obedient Jeongguk.

"I know you can, Ggukkie, but I'd rather just call someone. It's late and we're both tired; I'd feel better if we had a cab or a manager come pick us up. Besides, we're here every day. We can pick up your car another day, yeah?"

Jeongguk wiped his nose with the tissue and threw it away, sighing. "Okay. Is Sejin-nim still here?"

"Let me text him. Go ahead and put your coat on."

The maknae nodded and went to retrieve his hoodie as Namjoon fumbled with his phone.

Joon: Hyung-nim, are you still in the building?

Cool manager hyung: yeah I'm about to leave. need a ride?

He smiled at how Sejin already knew what he needed before he had the chance to say anything about it.

Joon: yeah, me and Ggukie are finishing up in the studio.

Joon: do you mind dropping us off?

Manager hyung: of course, it's on the way anyways. but I thought Jeongguk drove you two here..?

Joon: yeahh but I think he's coming down with something. don't want him on the roads right now ~_~;

Manager hyung: aishhhh why am i not surprised 

Manager hyung: that kid always pushes himself too hard

Manager hyung: meet me outside in 10. i'll stop by the pharmacy tomorrow.

Joon: thank you Sejin-hyung :))

By the time Namjoon looked up from his phone, Jeongguk had pulled his hoodie on and was scrubbbing at his nose with one of the sleeves, sniffling weakly. The hoodie was a couple sizes too large and hung low around mid-thigh. He had balled up his hands inside of the sleeves, making rather adorable sweater paws with them. His nose was now red, morphing from the innocent pink tinge that it had held for most of the night, and his eyes looked a little far-off and watery. Namjoon tried his best not to make a sound of endearment and simply pocketed his phone, reaching out and squeezing his dongsaeng's shoulder.

"Sejin-nim is gonna pull up out front for us."

"'Kay," the maknae mumbled, looking exhausted despite himself. Hopefully it wouldn't be hard to get some medicine in him and put him to bed.

Sejin held true to his word; his car was already warm and running by the time the pair made it downstairs. Namjoon crawled into the backseat with Jeongguk instead of taking his usual place up front. Jeongguk didn't seem to mind, or even notice for that matter, as he put on his seatbelt and yawned into his hand. Namjoon caught Sejin's knowing smirk in the rear view mirror, though, and felt his face heat up.

He wasn't one of the most doting members but he still cared, alright?

Sejin started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "How's the song looking, boys?"

"It's going great, Sejin-nim," Namjoon smiled. "Jeongguk is really blowing it out of the water." He reached over and ruffled Jeongguk's hair lightly. Jeongguked smiled that cute smile he does, lips barely pulling back to preview his bunny teeth, eyes scrunching gently around the edges, and it was all Namjoon could do to not make a noise like a variation of a dying animal. That kid does something to his heart that should not be legal. The maknae pushed his hand away and he let him, reaching down to intertwine their fingers and rest them on his thigh instead.

Sejin chuckled deep and throaty, smiling in the rearview mirror. "Just as usual, huh?"

"Yep." Namjoon ran his thumb over Jeongguk's knuckles. "Golden maknae here always does his best."

Jeongguk ducked his head and smiled, teasing his lower lip with his teeth, ears going a bit red. He had never been able to take a compliment without getting embarrassed. "Thanks, hyung."

"Aish, don't thank me kid." Namjoon swore his heart was about to burst. His maknae really was just too sweet without knowing it.

Jeongguk was opening his mouth to say something back but stopped short, getting a far-off look in his eyes as his jaw hung slack. His nose twitched and scrunched several times with the effort not to sneeze; his breath hitched several times as his breathing quickened. He was not able to quell the feeling, though, and sneezed openly onto his lap before he could react.

"Hih.. hh-huh-H'itsxhu! Ht'scHh! Es'cHischh!"

He tore his hand from Namjoon's as he caught the second and third that came with it. They sounded increasingly intense and painful, and Namjoon winced in sympathy.

Sejin sucked in air through his teeth sharply as Jeongguk slowly brought his hands away from his face and sniffled in retaliation a few times. "You feeling okay, kid?" He pulled up at a red light and looked him over in the rear view mirror. "That sounded kind of bad."

Namjoon was glad that Sejin chose not to mention the fact that he had already told him Jeongguk wasn't feeling his best. Jeongguk would have been eternally embarrassed and probably would deny his hyung's help for a while. He had a strange trust system and Sejin seemed to know that.

Jeongguk snuffed once more against the increasing stuffiness in his sinuses before replying. "Yes, I'm okay Sejin-nim, thank you."

Namjoon withheld a sigh and put a hand on Jeongguk's thigh. Always so closed off and shy. Of course, he loved his maknae and wouldn't change his personality for anything. But sometimes he wished he would open up a little more and be a little more trusting to those around him. He had opened up to his band mates after a while, of course, but it was still hard for even them to get through to him at times. Jeongguk could be silly and goofy and just himself wherever he was, but when it came to showing any form of weakness it was like he retreated as far back into his shell as he could get. It was a constant inner struggle for him, realizing that he's still human and needs to treat himself as such. Even one (1) voice crack during a performance can drive him to tears. Weakness and mistakes are just not something that he tolerates with himself, as sad as it makes Namjoon. He's never really as concerned with Jeongguk's physical condition as much as he is with his psychological one when his health dips.

Sejin sighed quietly enough for Jeongguk to miss it and pulled up as the light turned green again. "If you're sure. Just let me know if that changes, okay, Jeongguk-ah?"

"Yes, hyung-nim." Namjoon could hear the gratefulness in the maknae's voice, even if he most likely would not accept the help.

"Aish, kid, always so formal," Sejin grumbled playfully. He had long stopped trying to get Jeongguk to drop the honorifics. They were fond and playful now more than anything.

Jeongguk made that happy noise in the back of his throat that he tended to do, sort of like a mix between a laugh and a endearing huff, and replied, "Of course, Sejin-ssi."

"Ack!" Sejin waved one of his hands in the air dismissively. "That's worse!"

Jeongguk chuckled, fully this time, with a grin that split his whole face and made his eyes squint. He seemed tired, but happy still - probably wasn't feeling too bad, then.

The trio fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip. Namjoon could feel that they were all tired - reasonably so, it was past 1am - and if he was being honest he was ready to do nothing more than just crash in bed when he got home. But his maknae still needed to be taken care of, because he certainly wasn't going to take medicine on his own.

The pair said their goodbyes to Sejin after he pulled up outside of their apartment, with the older man giving Namjoon a knowing wink as a way to say good luck with that one. Namjoon just laughed and waved him off. He knew how to handle his maknae.

Jeongguk stumbled inside, already half-asleep from the car ride, and made his way into the bathroom. Namjoon veered towards the kitchen where their medicine cabinet was and dug around for a few minutes looking for some sort of cold medicine or anti-congestant. He came up with a half-empty blister packet of a nighttime cold medicine which was about the best he could have hoped to find. With the winter, colds had been going around the members quite often and it was around that time of the year that they were constantly running low on medicines. That, and it would help Jeongguk sleep more soundly - even though he usually slept a lot (like, a lot) when he was sick, it was never very deeply and it left him still feeling exhausted, even after he was healthy again.

Namjoon popped a few blue gel-capped pills into his hand and filled up a glass of ice water as he heard the shower come on, sighing when he realized he also still needed to shower. But then he had a thought... why wait? He'd rather keep an eye on his dongsaeng anyways.

Setting the pills and glass on the counter, Namjoon made his way other to the bathroom and poked his head in. "Mind if I join you, Ggukkie?" he called.

"Sure, hyung," came Jeongguk's reply, rough around the edges and tired. Even though he had been living with roommates for many years, he still erred to the shy side, especially when it came to being undressed around others. But, if he was tired enough or felt bad enough, he tended to care less about exposure and more about having company and skinship.

At his response, Namjoon stepped into the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind him, quickly stripping down and pulling back the shower curtain to step under the warm stream of water. Jeongguk stepped over to make room for him (thankfully they finally had enough money for an apartment with several large bathrooms with large tubs and showers, so both of them comfortably fit). The water was a tad too hot, probably because the younger was feeling chilled from being out in the cold, even if they were just walking from the car to their door. Or that's what Namjoon hoped - he was praying the kid wasn't cold because a fever was coming on. He did his best to ignore it, though.

Jeongguk was just beginning to shampoo his hair, eyes droopy and tired. He sniffled once, and then twice - the steam was probably helping with his congestion. Namjoon struggled against a fond little smile and reached over to shampoo his dongsaeng's hair himself. Jeongguk didn't even argue and dropped his hands immediately to his sides. His eyes fluttered closed as his hyung worked the product into his hair, swaying with the motion. He sighed a long, drawn-out breath and leaned into Namjoon's touch, mouth just barely hanging open like a puppy's when receiving a good scratch.

"You're not allowed to ever stop that, hyung," he mumbled, words thick with exhaustion and groggy, eyes still closed. Namjoon laughed again and massaged the base of his scalp.

"We'll see about that, kiddo." He worked the suds through Jeongguk's long hair (wow, it had really gotten lengthy, hadn't it?) and took a second to admire the youngest's features. Even when he was feeling under the weather, his face was still radiant and beautiful. His skin was perfectly blemished, a healthy tan (how could anyone ever want to whitewash him?), and the resting-exhaustion-pout glued to his expression made him look younger and more adorable than ever. As Namjoon guided his head underneath the stream of water, he took a second to appreciate how lucky he was to have Jeongguk as his dongsaeng.

Jeongguk preened under the warm water, melting under it as it met his skin. He looked half-asleep. Namjoon fondly tapped his cheek, to which he opened his eyes; the older man smirked. He was just about to say something teasing when Jeongguk's face screwed up and he hitched, pitching forward catching it in his elbow.

"Hh- hh'itschiew!"

He sniffled a few times as he straightened up, keeping his elbow to his face as he coughed a couple times into it. Namjoon felt his chest tighten and eyebrows pinch together.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay Ggukkie?" He ran his hands through the younger's hair once more, scratching at the base of his neck. Jeongguk just nodded and coughed one more time before dropping his arm, pushing even further into his hyung's touch. But he didn't say anything or respond verbally at all. He was probably feeling too tired to even try and debate about his health. Namjoon just sighed and reached for his own shampoo, quickly lathering up his silver-blonde hair. "I have some medicine laid out for you. Let's just finish up so you can take it and we can get you to bed, hmm?"

Jeongguk only nodded sleepily once more, fumbling for the conditioner. Namjoon once again took over washing his dongsaeng's hair as soon as he had finished with his own; Jeongguk was seriously lagging behind as he struggled to stay awake underneath the stream of hot water. After rinsing out the remaining conditioner from the younger's hair, Namjoon passed over the body wash, turning the maknae around so he could wash his back. Soon enough, though, they were both toweling off and clumsily dressing in sleepwear. Jeongguk groaned when Namjoon pulled out the hairdryer.

"Hyung, can we please just skip that? I want to sleep," he whined, lip protruding in a cute little pout in an attempt to win his hyung over.

"Nope, no way. You're already getting sick and the last thing we need is it getting worse because you went to bed with cold, wet hair. Turn around and sit on the counter if you want."

Jeongguk huffed, annoyed, but did as he was told anyways. Namjoon pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead before brushing through the younger's hair and turning on the blow-dryer. Now the maknae was actually falling asleep, head lolling down several times before he woke himself up and jerked himself back upright. Namjoon bit back a smile as he continued to blow dry his hair, overwhelmed by fondness. By the time his hair was dry, Jeongguk was passed out, mouth hanging open and cheek pressed against his shoulder. At the sound of the dryer turning off Jeongguk stirred, blearily opening his eyes and blinking several times to focus them.

"'M done?"

"Yeah, kiddo. Hop down and we'll go take your medicine."

Jeongguk fixed him with a groggy glare. "You didn't dry your hair."

Namjoon chuckled and winked. "I'm too tired, I guess."

The younger slid off the countertop and headbutted his hyung in the chest; evidently he was too tired to pick his head up, so he let it rest on Namjoon's sternum as he weakly hit him with a closed fist. "You're the worst, Namjoon-hyung," he mumbled, no real heat behind the words.

He just chuckled in response and wrapped an arm around his dongsaeng's shoulders, leading him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. "Oh yes, I'm just terrible for looking after my maknae," Namjoon said as he passed Jeongguk the pills from where they were on the counter, holding up the glass to the younger's lips. Jeongguk mumbled faux-angrily under his breath as he tossed the pills into his mouth and let Namjoon give him a drink of water to wash them down. Namjoon took the glass with him as the guided the younger down the hallway and into their shared room, setting it down onto the nightstand.

Jeongguk belly-flopped onto Namjoon's bed with a big sigh, stretched out parallel to the headrest. He grumbled incoherently into the duvet and stilled completely. Namjoon huffed a laugh and slapped him lightly on the back of the thigh.

"Come on, Gguk-ah, move over so we can both fit. That's right, get under the covers." Jeongguk sighed and grumbled again at his words, lazily re-correcting himself to lay properly on the bed. Namjoon lifted up the covers for him and the maknae crawled obediently between the sheets, settling in on his side with his feet curled up in a half-fetal position. The older man climbed in after him on the opposite side of the bed, turning off the bedside lamp and pulling up the duvet over the both of them. He reached over and adjusted the covers to below Jeongguk's chin, effectively tucking him in. As he got settled in himself, Jeongguk squirmed his way to Namjoon's chest, cold nose feeling over his collar bone. The rapper intertwined a leg with the younger's, wincing at his freezing toes, and slung an arm around his slim waist. For a few seconds, it was just the quiet sound of the AC and the feeling of the maknae's chest rising and falling against his own, warm breaths puffing against his neck. Jeongguk's long locks tickled against his cheek.

"Th'nk you, hyung," Jeongguk slurred against his collarbone, sounding sleepy and content but more congested than he had previously. Namjoon just gave a low rumble and pressed a hand to his maknae's forehead. A little warm, but that was probably just from the combined heat of the shower and hairdryer.

"Of course, you don't have to thank me, Gguk." He pressed a kiss into the younger's hair. "How're you feeling, jaigya?" Namjoon's brow contorted in concern as Jeongguk shivered a little in his arms and sniffled against his t-shirt.

Jeongguk just gripped his shirt a little tighter and nosed further into the crook of his hyung's neck and mumbled, "Shh, hyung, sleepy t'me, shhh..." His breaths became a little deeper as he fell further into the grasp of sleep, the small rushes of air sending goosebumps over Namjoon's olive skin. "No m're talkin'," he murmured, sounding as if he were barely hanging onto the last dregs of consciousness.

Namjoon pressed a kiss to his forehead before relaxing back into his pillow, fingers drawing invisible pictures onto the younger's back. "M'kay, babe." Namjoon figured he had been awake long enough - it was nearing 3am and he was feeling sick, there was no point in keeping him up any later than he needed to be. He could always check up on him in the morning. Plus, Namjoon thought he had done a pretty good job of taking care of his maknae thus far - a little questioning could wait. "Goodnight, aeghi. Saranghae."

Namjoon was only barely able to hear the whispered reply of "Joon-hyung, saranghae," before the youngest promptly fell asleep in his arms.

xxx

As expected, Jeongguk was restless during the night. He never really woke up but tossed and turned all the same, occasionally making sleepy noises and sighs against his hyung's neck. He never slept particularly well when he was unwell, which was something Namjoon knew was going to happen. That being said, the older man didn't get much sleep either. He was hyper-vigilant and woke up every time his maknae so much as stirred. Namjoon was exhausted, seeing as he had several late nights in a row, but somehow he didn't seem to mind this time. As the night went on, though, Jeongguk seemed to still, back pressed up against his hyung's chest. Namjoon woke up a few hours later to light streaming through the window and Seokjin knocking at the door to wake them up up. The rapper stirred and stretched, inhaling sharply. It felt like he had hardly slept, but it was already 8am.

Jeongguk still lay quiet as the little spoon, curled up into Namjoon's stomach. His body was radiating heat and he was breathing laboriously through his mouth. Namjoon swore and peeled back the covers, pressing a hand to the younger's forehead; he found it to be hot to the touch. His tan skin shone with sweat and his face was particularly pale aside from the flush of his cheeks. Along with that, he was shivering a little in his sleep, brows contorted into a painful grimace. Namjoon dropped his hand and sighed; he knew this was going to happen.

The older man tucked his maknae back into the covers before getting up himself, sighing once more. He made sure Jeongguk was still asleep as he left the room. Seokjin was in the kitchen brewing coffee from the Kurig, watching with tired eyes as the bitter liquid slowly filled his cup. Namjoon approached him from behind and wrapped his hands around the older man's slim waist, burying his face in a broad shoulder and pressing down hard with his forehead.

Seokjin chuckled and patted his arm. "What's this, Namjoon-ah?"

"Jeonggukie's sick," he grumbled into the fabric of the singer's sleep shirt, getting a whiff of his fabric softener in the process. Seokjin always smelled so nice. The younger man could feel the other craning his head to look at him so Namjoon picked his head up and rested his chin on his shoulder instead, meeting Seokjin's gaze. "It came on last night," Namjoon sighed. "He was restless all night and when I woke up he was running a fever."

Seokjin maneuvered out of his arms, turning around to face his dongsaeng and tracing the pads of his thumbs over Namjoon's eye-bags with a concerned crease in his brow. "Are you sure you didn't get it, too? You look awful, jaigya. You're pale."

"No, hyung, I feel fine. Maknae-ah just kept me up with all his tossing and turning."

Seokjin got a smug look on his face, smirking.

"What?" Namjoon deadpanned. He was too tired for this.

"Well," Seokjin drawled. "You're usually such a heavy sleeper. Worried about our youngest, are you?"

Namjoon felt his ears go hot with embarrassment. What's the deal with people, first Sejin, now Seokjin was teasing him? Unbelievable. "With all due respect hyung, shut up. Just because I don't show it as much as you do I actually do care about my maknae," Namjoon spat, pushing away against his hyung's chest and trying to walk past him, annoyed. Seokjin's squeaky laughter followed him and he was stopped by the older man catching his wrist.

"I'm just kidding Joonie, don't get so defensive," he giggled, drawing the younger back into a hug.

Namjoon sighed and buried his face again in Seokjin's shoulder. "Maybe don't tease me then," he grumbled, but the heat was gone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Seokjin stroked his back and laughed one more time. "Have you checked his temperature yet?"

"Not yet. He's still sleeping."

Seokjin hummed, planting a kiss in Namjoon's bed head before pulling away.

"I'll go get the thermometer. Will you wake him up for me?"

"Sure, hyung." Namjoon started down the hallway, slowly creaking the door open and slipping into his and Jeongguk's shared bedroom. The maknae was exactly where he had left him, turned away from the door curled up on his side. Even though he was about to wake the younger man up anyways, the rapper tiptoed around the bed and kneeled next to his pillow as quietly as he could. Jeongguk's face was still scrunched up and tense with pain, a flush high on his cheeks. His hair and shirt were saturated with sweat. Namjoon reached up with his hand and smoothed over the distressed wrinkles on his forehead; his face relaxed after a few seconds, melting into a neutral expression. His face was hot to the touch and Namjoon's fingers came away damp.

"Jeonggukie," Namjoon murmured, reaching over to grasp his maknae's shoulder gently. "Aghi. It's time to wake up, jaigya." The younger stirred, eyebrows immediately scrunching up again as he fought against waking consciousness and the pain he obviously felt. Namjoon shushed him gently, cupping the side of his face with a large hand and rubbing his thumb over his temple. "I know, babe, wake up for just a few minutes."

Jeongguk blearily opened his eyes and immediately winced, making a pitiful noise of pain from the back of his throat and curling up into a tighter ball. He squeezed his eyes closed and buried his face in his pillow.

"Aigoo, I know, I know it hurts Ggukkie." Namjoon moved from stoking his forehead to running his fingers through his damp hair, something he knew Jeongguk had a soft spot for. "Seokjinnie-hyung is bringing you a thermometer and then we'll get back to sleep, okay?"

Jeongguk whined weakly, voice gravelly from a combination of sleep and sickness, looking up from his pillow to gaze at his hyung pitifully. His eyes were red and glassy and tired, framed by the high spots of fever-induced color on his cheeks. Jeongguk's face screwed up, and for a horrifying second Namjoon was sure he was about to start crying. He pitched forward with a sneeze instead, following it up with a few rattling coughs. Whimpering, he reached up to hold his head in his hands as though the movement had aggravated a headache. The older man frowned and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead before settling himself on the edge of the bed, running his hand over his dongsaeng's back in soothing strokes.

"How're you feeling, babe?"

Jeongguk just grunted and gently placed his forearm over his eyes to block out the light from the window. "Bad," he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

"Tell hyung what's hurting," Namjoon prompted, smoothing out the wrinkles of his maknae's shirt over his side.

Jeongguk didn't move his arm as he answered. "My head n' my body are aching. It's cold."

"I know, aghi. Anything else? Is your throat bothering you?"

The singer just slowly shook his head before once again going still, arching his back against Namjoon's touch. He could feel the younger's fever through his shirt. He was satisfied that the younger's throat wasn't hurting him, though; a hoarse voice was an idol's worst nightmare.

Jeongguk reached back with his free hand and pulled his shirt up to expose his back, reaching for Namjoon's hand to press it into his skin. "Push harder, hyung. Please," he murmured, pushing with more force against Namjoon's hand, digging it into his ribs.

Namjoon took the hint and began to massage his back with the heel of his palm; Jeongguk shivered under his touch, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. He was probably cold and skin most likely sensitive, but wanted skin-on-skin contact anyways. His skin was moist and sticky from perspiration, but Namjoon bore the discomfort and carried on.

"Does that help with the pain Jeonggukkie?"

The maknae nodded underneath his forearm, releasing Namjoon's wrist and draping his arm back around his waist. "It feels good, hyung."

Namjoon adjusted his position on the bed for a better reach, kneading the palms of his hands into Jeongguk's feverish skin, moving from his shoulders down to his calves. Jeongguk mewled under the touch, arching his back and wincing but not pushing his hyung away. He always got awful aches when he was feverish and Namjoon seemed to know just how to get rid of them. The maknae tried to keep as still as possible, pressing his forearm against his eyes hard to try and reduce the pain.

A soft knock resounded on the door before Seokjin poked his head in, frowning softly when his eyes drifted to their youngest member. Jeongguk was shivering and trying his hardest not to let small noises of pain slip through his gritted teeth as Namjoon worked against his tight, painful muscles. The skin of his face was flushed and damp with perspiration - even from across the dim room the mat-hyung could see the rivulets of sweat trailing down his neck. Namjoon turned around, hands still kneading against Jeongguk's thighs, and met Seokjin's eyes with the same concerned look.

Seokjin looked back to the maknae and closed the door behind him, walking around and dumping his handful of medical supplies on the bedside table, keeping only the thermometer.

"Oh, honey," he murmured. "You must be feeling awful. I'm sorry, jaigya." Seokjin passed his fingers through Jeongguk's damp, sleep-tousled hair.

Jeongguk peeped out from under his arm and met Seokjin's gaze. "Good morning, hyung." His voice was strained and congested and the older man winced at the sound of it. He pursed his lips and planted a kiss on the maknae's forehead.

"My Jeonggukie, always so polite. Good morning to you too, baby. Let's get you some medicine and some food so you can get back to sleep okay?"

"Okay," Jeongguk mumbled, struggling to push himself up to sit against the headboard. Namjoon immediately moved to help him up, hoisting him up by the armpits until he was comfortably upright. The younger man winced as soon as he was sitting up, grinding his palm against his eye to try and ease the headache. He obediently opened his lips for the thermometer, holding it underneath his tongue until it beeped. 101.9.

"He wasn't very bad last night at all, hyung, I was surprised when I woke up this morning," Namjoon fretted, chewing his lip.

"You and me both, Joonie. We'll fix him right up though, aghi, don't worry too much," Seokjin said, putting the thermometer down on the bedside table and unscrewing the lid to the fever reducers, shaking a few out onto his palm.

Namjoon was about to respond when Jeongguk's face screwed up again for the second time that morning. His eyes got a far-off look as they glazed over, breath hitching. His already-pink nose twitched and nostrils flared, trembling. He brought his hands up where they paused, hovering just a few inches away from his face.

"Hih..."

Jeongguk squeezed his watering eyes shut, letting out an involuntary whimper as the sneeze refused to leave his body. The singer's mouth hung open just slightly as his breathing hitched again, once, twice, three times, nostrils flared and nose twitching.

"Hih... Hh... Hih.h..! Hihtshu! Hi'tshh!" His body lurched forward as he caught the sneezes in his cupped hands. Seokjin quietly blessed him and rubbed his back. Jeongguk let out a little groan as he leaned back slowly, dropping his hands and scrunching his face up in pain. The sneezing hadn't done much to help his headache.

"Oh, baby, I know," Seokjin cooed, running his thumbs over the distressed lines in the younger's face. Namjoon hopped up from the bed and drew the blinds, engulfing the room in a pleasant darkness. Jeongguk visibly relaxed at the abscence of light, sighing and melting back into the headboard. "Here, Ggukkie, take these and drink half the glass." The older singer pressed the pills into the maknae's hand and held the glass of water he had brought along near his lips. Obediently, Jeongguk popped the pills into his mouth and drank from the cool glass of water as Seokjin put it to his lips. Surprisingly, the younger drained the whole thing - both of his hyungs were pleasantly surprised.

"Good job, babe," Namjoon praised, kissing him on the cheek and patting him gently on the head. Jeongguk made a satisfied noise low in his throat, eyes already closed and lolling down to his shoulder.

"That's my maknae," Seokjin smiled, patting the younger on the shoulder before turning to Namjoon. "I'll finish making his breakfast and leave it in the microwave. I think it's fine if you let him sleep for another few hours. Watch over him, okay?"

Namjoon fixed his eyes on the younger who was blissfully dozing by that point, head lolling down to his chest. "I will hyung."

Seokjin kissed the maknae on the top of his head before leaving the room, going to wake the rest of the members and get them to get ready as quietly as they could (if they could at all, that lively bunch...).

"C'mere, Jeonggukkie," Namjoon muttered, going around to his side of the bed and crawling under the covers, holding his arms out for the younger to crawl into. Jeongguk didn't miss a beat, drowsily slouching down and scooting over until he was wrapped up in the older's arms. He nosed forward until his warm forehead was pressed square against his hyung's cheek. Jeongguk intertwined a leg with the older man's, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close as he shivered; he must have been freezing cold. Tucking the blanket securely underneath his dongsaeng's chin, Namjoon pulled him as close as he was able. The younger's breathing was already slow and even, already asleep. Namjoon laughed silently and pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting his eyes drift shut as well.

“Saranghae.” 

There were definitely worse ways to spend the day, he thought.

[nyanbinary-zack-foster]

Blight - A Friday Night Funkin Corruption Mod Fanfic

[WARNING - THIS FANFICTION HAS A MENTION OF GUNS AND OTHER CANON-TYPICAL SUBJECTS.] [This fanfic also includes minor mentions of Pico x BF x GF, and is based around the corruption mod.]

Pico leaned against a lamppost by the railway, idly twirling the gun he always carried in one hand. Nothing was really going on on that particular day, then again, for him at least, that was a good thing.

But something felt off today. Maybe it was just his usual issues, he had always been paranoid, especially since a certain day when he was younger. Maybe it was nothing.

Being near the railway reminded him of his fight with Boyfriend. Shortly after that, they’d ended up meeting back up, it had been who knows how many years since they’d last seen each other, and leaving off on meeting because of a hit taken out on him wasn't the way he wanted to meet his ex. But hey, it did give him the chance to see him again. No regrets there. His partner, named Girlfriend strangely enough, was pretty nice too. It had been a while since then, they’d all ended up dating. It was nice.

… where was Boyfriend anyways?

Pico hadn’t seen him in a while, and they all usually kept up. Texting each other when they got the chance, checking up on each other… why hadn't he heard from him? In fact, he hadn't heard from Girlfriend either. She would have texted him if something bad had happened, right?...

Just then, Pico looked up. In the distance, a little ways down the tracks, there was Boyfriend and Girlfriend. Pico let out a sigh of relief. Just in time, he knew it was just his mind getting to him again. Nothing bad had happened.

… right?

Something still felt wrong. Sure, the sun was setting, it was getting dark, but he couldn't see either of them aside from a silhouette. An outline against the light, nothing else.

Calm down, Pico, it's nothing, it's just the light.

But even when the two got closer, it didn't change. Still nothing but an outline. Even their movements seemed off. Too rigid and twitchy, almost robotic. Like whatever was there was just trying to simulate them.

Pico took a more defensive stance at this. Something was definitely wrong. This wasn't them.

When the two got close enough, he could finally make out the figures better. It wasn't just light, they seemed to be covered in some kind of black or dark pink material. A sharp grin on both of their faces, too wide for a normal human’s. Their eyes wide and scleras dark, pupils pink. There was… something dark on their hands, mostly Boyfriend’s. He- no, it looked almost like… Pico didn't have time to complete the thought. They were both getting closer. Whatever this was, it wasn't Boyfriend. And that definitely wasn't Girlfriend. But while the Girlfriend doppelganger looked more passive, the imitation of Boyfriend seemed far more aggressive. It was looking directly at him. Pico took a step back-

Suddenly, out of nowhere Boyfriend lunged at him, grabbing his arm roughly. Pico could feel the sharp pain of it’s claws digging into him. He screamed, both out of fear and pain, slamming the grip of the gun into the hand now on his arm. That was, thankfully, enough to make it back off enough for him to quickly back away. He then looked down at his arm.

From the scratches on his arm, there was the same kind of black material coming out along with the blood. It wasn't oozing- it was more like it was spreading from the wound, slowly.

“What the hell?...” Pico looked back up at the two figures. Boyfriend - or whatever this… thing was - was holding a microphone. This felt too familiar.

But that gave Pico an idea.

Maybe if he had a rap battle with this thing, something would happen. He didn't know what, if this thing was a doppelganger maybe beating it would scare it off or weaken it or something. Or if it was actually Boyfriend, it would bring him and Girlfriend back.

“Fine then, if this is what you want, I’m not gonna back down from a challenge.” He got out his own microphone, and the battle began, albeit this time, Pico kept his gun pointed at his opponent.

By the end of the first round, Pico was slightly out of breath. It was probably just out of stress rather than actual exhaustion. Being panicked will do that to you.

But something did happen due to this.

The Boyfriend lookalike let out a strange sounding beep - he’d noticed its beeps were different than Boyfriends - and gripped its eye like it was in pain, doubling over.

When the clawed hand dropped, pico saw something.

Part of the strange material had cleared, about half of its face, and under it there was… Boyfriend’s face.

The creature from before didn't speak, it could only let out beeps that barely resembled boyfriends. But when this happened, when Boyfriend saw Pico, he let out a tired and rough-sounding voice, as if it was hard to speak. “... Pico?...” The infection on Pico had spread through the course of the fight. It covered about half of him - but seeing this had some effect on it. It cleared up to only about his shoulder.

“Its working-” he couldn't believe it. So far there hadn't been an effect on Girlfriend, but that could come later - this was progress! “Boyfriend, its okay, listen, just- just keep going, we can do this!” he wasn't the best at encouragement - never was - but he tried his best. It seemed to work, Boyfriend weakly smiled a bit and nodded, gripping the microphone. They had to keep going.

Another round complete, things were looking up. Boyfriend seemed to have regained a little bit of strength. This had to work.

But afterwards, Boyfriend let out a pained cry. “Boyfriend?? What's wrong, what-” But what happened next spoke for him. The microphone dropped to the ground, and Boyfriend let out another scream, this one worse than the last. Then the material that had cleared up before spread back over his face.

Oh no.

No, this can't happen, it was getting better, it-

Then Pico felt a similar pain. He winced, and watched as the strange black substance spread back over him. The vision in one of his eyes went dark. His body felt stiff.

No, he wouldn't let this happen to him too. He had to stop this.

Pico aimed his gun at the other figure.

“I don't know who or what you are, but I'm not letting you do this. Not to him, not to her, and not to me.” the figure just stared at him, with the same sick grin it always had. Almost daring him to pull the trigger.

And yet he couldn't.

‘What are you doing,’ he asked himself, ‘just pull the trigger!’ ‘But that's still him. I can't just shoot boyfriend!’

‘THAT'S NOT HIM!’ And yet, after what he had seen, he couldn't deny the idea that if he did shoot, it would hurt the person being held captive by this thing.

His hands were shaking. He couldn't do this. He’d done this dozens of times to people he didn't know, but he couldn't do it to someone he did.

He lowered the gun and held the microphone up again with shaky hands.

“Fine. You win. We’ll fight on your terms.” The imitation picked up its own microphone.

‘This is the last chance we get. Let's do this.’

Pico was used to losing to Boyfriend. He was good at this. But this time it hurt. Not just emotionally, but physically.

The creature he was against seemed to smile even more as he collapsed. He could feel himself crying, even screaming, but he couldn't hear it somehow.

Finally, Pico’s vision went dark.

“..co? Pico, wake up!” Pico jolted awake, the memory of what had just happened still fresh in his mind. His whole body ached. And there was Boyfriend. He looked just like he had looked that morning.

“Hey, dude, you were shaking and crying in your sleep again, you okay?” He had been asleep? Was that all that was, some weird nightmare? He hadn't had one like that before, usually it was about… “Y-yeah, im fine. Just a nightmare.” His voice was shaky, as it usually was after a nightmare like that. Was he crying? God, that’s embarrassing.

Boyfriend smiled, almost like he could tell he was embarrassed for crying. “Hey, it's okay. You’re safe. Do you wanna talk about it? You don't have to, but if it would help…” He sat on the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Pico. It was nice. Warm. “Maybe… it was weird, I was at the subway and you and Girlfriend were there, but you guys looked… weird. Then something happened and I... “ He tried to think of how to describe it, but landed on a blank. “I don't know how to say it. It was just weird and…” “That's okay. Lets get your mind off of it, okay? Y’know, Girlfriend said she’d be at this cafe downtown. Wanna come?” Pico smiled. That's just what he needed. Some food and some time with his two partners. “Sounds great. Lemme just get ready.” Boyfriend got up and headed over to the door of Pico’s room. “You got it! Come out whenever you're ready.” “Thanks.”

Pico got up. Or, what used to be him did. He didn't look any different to Boyfriend now. He picked up his gun, it had dropped on the ground when he collapsed. Boyfriend and Girlfriend had left, off to take care of others.

Pico had his own plans in mind. He’d take care of those they couldn't.

That's what he was supposed to do after all.

[floating-in-limbo]

You're my sun, my moon, and all my stars.

Tw: self h*rm, depression, angst.

GN!Reader x Hawks angst

A vent fic I wrote because I needed to do something to cope healthily. I might write a short second ending, but idk. I didn't beta read this, but I'll polish it tomorrow and post it to my AO3 as well. Much love.

BNHA writing blog @hawksmodelofficial

The room was dark except for the faint light shining from your phone's screen. It was some what quiet due to the sound of your fan whirring, keeping your room cool. All this was part of your typical nightly routine and wouldn't be concerning except for the fact that you felt suffocated. Again.

You're sitting on your bed, the air blasting you giving you one of the only physical sensations you can feel in this state. Staring ahead into the black room, you sit and listen to all the horrid thoughts running through your head.

You feel numb and would give anything to feel something other than this suffocating emptiness. You tried your usual coping mechanisms: watching videos that usually make you laugh, listening to your comfort bands, distracting yourself with any sort of pastime.

None of it is working though. None of it has been working for a while now. This numbness, emptiness, hollow feeling consuming your body grows every day. Some days you can manage to push past it, jump over the hurdles and clear the finish line. Not today.

The last option you can think of before doing something harmful is to reach out to someone. You've been isolating yourself, but you desperately want their help at the same time.

Looking at the phone resting in your hands, you pull up Keigo's contact. It had been a couple days since the last time you two talked. He's the #2 pro hero, so he's constantly busy, but always tries to make time for you.

Y/n: are you awake

You sent the message and watched it deliver. You only ask because it's currently 3:26am and most people are asleep at this time. He responds a minute later.

Dodo Brain: what's up?

You're staring at his message. On one hand you're relieved Keigo's awake but on the other, you can already feel the guilt eating away at you for bothering him.

Y/n: i need help

Y/n: i hurt

You typed out the messages with shaky hands. Your chest tightens and you feel sick. You hate asking for help. Why should you make other people suffer because you can't help yourself?

Dodo Brain: are you ok, kid? what's wrong are you hurt???

Looking at the clock, it really hits just how tired he must be and how much you're intruding on his personal time. You decide to call off your cry for help before you make it any worse for him.

Y/n: ah yeah nvm dont worry about it sorry to wake you

You toss your phone onto your pillow. Once again, you're sabotaging yourself but you don't care anymore. Getting up from your bed, you head to the bathroom to get bandages, and tissues. While doing this, you fail to notice your text notifications going off.

Dodo Brain: kid what are you talkin about

Dodo Brain: why arent you answering

Dodo Brain: please answer me you're making me worried

Dodo Brain: im heading over now

Once you have your supplies to clean up, you head back into your room and sit back on your bed. You grabbed your hidden blade on the way and now just contemplate your actions.

Craving to feel something, anything, even if its pain and regret, you'll take it. You chose where you want to cut and begin, pulling a long line across your skin. You hiss at the immediate sting. Blood already begins to bead.

You continue to do this, almost in a daze yet you feel tears suddenly well from your eyes and fall. It hurts. Not just what you're doing, but what lead you to this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Keigo immediately flew to your residence. He grabbed the spare key you gave him and unlock the front door. Its eerily quite except for the faint sobs he can hear as he navigates the dark residence.

After you were satisfied with your work, you just sit there letting the blood drip down your skin. You'll have to do laundry but that's the least of your worries. You lean your head back against the wall and cry. Soft whispers of "I'm sorry..." leave your lips.

Keigo finds your room, using your quite cries and soft words to navigate. He flips on the lights and gasps at the scene in front of him. You jolt your head forward, eyes wide and you scramble to hide yourself. Unfortunately that only makes you wince in pain and open the wounds further.

"We need to get you cleaned up. Dont move okay? You already have bandages so let me do the work." Keigo's words dont really reach you but you sit there anyway.

He moves towards you with conviction but the energy around him is scared, nervous even. Sure he's seen your old scars before but never this. He grabs the bandages and antiseptic, applying them to all the wounds.

Every now and then you wince, and he immediately spills apologies. Your head is hanging low, you can't bear to make eye contact with him. Once Keigo finishes cleaning you up, there is an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry..." is all you can croak out before your sobbing into your hands. Embarrassment floods your head. Regret. Resent. Why did he have to come? Why did he have to see this?

"Fuck, kid. Please don't apologize. You didn't answer my texts and I figured something was wrong. I just wish I got here sooner." You can hear the pain in his usually cheery voice.

"I didn't know what to do anymore! I'm sick of feeling like this! Im sick of hurting so much that I have to hurt myself to distract from everything else. It's not fucking fair..."

Keigo stands in front of you assessing the situation. He reaches out to touch you but you shrink away from him. "Please leave, Kei...please...I'm tired."

"So am I, y/n but if you think I'm leaving you alone like this, I'm pretty sure you're the dodo brain out of the two of us." You smile ever so slightly. Its broken and he can tell.

"Let's get some clean sheets on the bed first, ok? Then we're going to sleep and I'm not leaving you alone. Not when you're hurting like this. Can you move?" You shake your head no. Not only do you hurt, exhaustion set in.

"I'm gonna pick you up alright, kid?" You nod and that's all he needs. Gently, he wraps his arms around your frame and pulling you into his chest. Red feathers move throughout your room, pulling the bloodied sheets off and tossing them into your hamper.

"I'm gonna set you down so I can grab the spares. Promise me, you'll be okay until I get back."

"Kei, you're just going down the hall."

"Y/n." His voice is stern but still soft at the same time. "Look at me." You gaze up at him and see the broken expression on his face. You never noticed the pain he probably feels right now.

"Pinky promise you'll be okay for a couple minutes." He holds out his hand, sticking his pinky out for you to reciprocate. You slowly do the same and cross fingers. "I'll be right back."

He leaves your room and you can hear him grabbing stuff from the closet with spare bedding. You sit with your head hanging down, eyes closed, thinking of everything. Keigo comes back with am armful of bedding and you shakily stand so he can change the sheets completely.

"Let's go to bed, okay?. I'm taking tomorrow off and I'm staying with you until we figure this out.

"You dont need to do that. I'll be fine, really. I dont want to burden you..." You can feel the tears well up again and you begin to shake. "Y/n, please. I can't bear to see you like this. You're the sun I see in the sky when I fly and the moon when I rest at night."

You look at him with disbelief. "Let's go to bed and talk more in the morning okay?" You nod and he moves you to bed, pulling you close but still aware of where you're hurt. His wings come around on top of you, almost like he's shielding you.

Your eyes slowly dip close as he rubs circles on your hand with his thumb.