#but also when i was trying to exhale and my body (on autopilot) was inhaling

[eggsistential-basket]

how it feels getting trapped in a sleep paralysis/false awakening loop for 40 minutes while trying to take a nap right before having to make a phone call

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Hey, I adore your work; you are so very talented!! ♡ Would you mind writing a continuation of 'Reverse Your Regret,' in which Sapnap gets possessive over the reader? Perhaps, after their ex arrogantly reaches out to them, asking for forgiveness, the reader thoughtlessly brings it up to the incubus .. I hope that makes sense .. Anyways, wherever you decide to take this AU (if anywhere), it will be magnificent. Just wanted to share a passing thought. :)

I love this. I absolutely love this. Also this request.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: incubus!Sapnap x afab!reader 

warnings: smut (18+), biting, possessiveness, Dream being an asshole, language, mentions of God and angels

previous part

You furrowed your brows slightly as a knock came to your door. Checking your watch briefly, you swiveled around the corner from your campaign of rifling through the fridge. You were hesitant to peek at who it was, mainly because of the time of night. You stood on your toes, peering through the peephole until your eyes focused on a familiar head of blond hair.

You slumped back against the door, feeling out of breath, and paralyzed with shock. What was he doing out there? You scorned, trying to remember if you had recently texted him when you were drunk, or if he had come on his own accord.

You twisted the knob slowly before inhaling and opening your door to face him. Clay’s eyes met yours, his weight leaning on his hand propped against the threshold lazily. His towering frame blocked most of the hallway light from spilling into your apartment. “Hey,” he greeted easily, voice raspy and low. It had once been your absolute weakness; how simply he could make you unravel by just whispering in your ear or making a snide comment.

You moved an inch to let him into your apartment as if you were on autopilot from his previous actions. After you shut the door behind the two of you, you shoved your hands in your pockets, your fingers brushing against the cardstock that had brought Sapnap to you. His voice seemed to flash into your head when you touched it as if he were consoling you.

Clay leaned against the back of your couch, crossing his arms as he surveyed your body as if he were looking for something in particular. He wet his lips, furrowing his brows. “I really miss you,” he mumbled, looking at you with a softer expression. “I really have no idea what was going through my head when I broke things off,” he apologized.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I’m not…” you answered, the hesitance in your voice demonstrating your disbelief. “I mean, we really… weren’t healthy…” His eyes drifted to your floor in front of him before darting back up to your gaze.

He stiffened slightly as if noticing something about you. “You look different,” he muttered absent-mindedly. You pinched yourself, wondering how you could have ever vied for his gaze and attention. You used to yearn for him to scrutinize and nit-pick, but now you knew what it was like to have a man that earned your respect, even if he did own you. Clay only took it.

You shrugged slightly, unsure of how to answer him as the pads of your fingers traced the raised print on the card. “I haven’t done anything differently,” you answered, averting your stare to bounce around at his clothing.

He tsked lowly. “No, something is definitely off about you.” He stood, walking to plant himself in front of you. He slowly reached a hand toward you, brushing your hair off your shoulder before gently dipping his fingers between your collar and moving your shirt to expose one of your shoulders. You hated yourself for wanting to lean into his touch and bury your face in his chest.

His fingers brushed against a sore spot on your skin, and you knew instantly what he was looking at: a bite from Sapnap.

Something dark flickered across his expression and he seemed almost fearful as he took a step back from you. He smirked slightly. “I see how it is,” he nipped mockingly, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I knew your eyes seemed a bit dead, I just didn’t think you would have gone that far.”

You quipped an eyebrow in his direction, your hand moving to rest over the mark. There was no way he could have been able to tell what it meant. Your heart thumped in your chest as you wondered what Clay would have thought of you.

Before you could ask, he spoke again. “I just came by to check up on you. I heard you’d been acting strange.” He chuckled shortly. “I get why now.” You weren’t sure why he was so bitter, in fact, even when the two of you were at your worst, he never spoke to you with such malice. He began to back out of your apartment. “Just be careful. You don’t seem like the type stupid enough to get into that stuff, but from the looks of it, I might be wrong.”

You furrowed your brows, watching him leave as you stood there in shock, unable to piece together what had just happened. You weren’t sure how long you have been standing in the middle of your apartment with your mind running blank.

“What is that smell?” Sapnap’s voice boomed from one corner of your room, making you jump to look at him, your heart seemingly restarting. His face twisted in some kind of angry disgust.

You exhaled. “Jesus! You have to stop doing that!” You bit back as he seemed to further investigate whatever was bothering him, even going as far as opening a window. When you realized how much I affected him you self-consciously sniffed yourself. You smelled fine. “What are you smelling?” You queried, watching as he scoured your living room.

He stopped, looking at you with gleaming eyes. Something seemed to click in his mind and before you knew it, he was standing before you, hand resting on the side of your neck as he took a whiff of you, nose brushing against your neck. You inched away from him out of confusion and discomfort. “You’ve had an angel in here haven’t you?”

You were taken aback, to say the least. “I- what?”

“Who just left?” He asked, covering his mouth and nose as if you were repulsive to him.

You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest, and folding in on yourself. “I don’t know… It was just my ex-boyfri-“

He cut you off. “Are you fucking serious?” You nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this, and if these pieces of your story were de-cluttering his puzzle. “That’s why you were so uncomfortable, and why you smell overwhelmingly like rotting flowers?”

You tilted your head. “Rotting flowers?”

Sapnap rubbed his chin slightly. “He could probably tell. Mortals lose a certain light in their eyes after giving themselves to a demon,” he muttered, watching your expression shift. “Those fucking God cops are always in our territory.”

You wet your lips. “Speak plainly, Sapnap,” you insisted, breath becoming shallow.

He smugly grinned at you. “You were prime angel real estate before I came along, baby,” he answered snidely, making heat spread across your body. He got closer to you, pressing his fingertips against the portions of your skin that Clay had grazed over just moments prior as if he were spreading his own scent to cleanse Clay off your skin. “Now, not even God can help you,” he gleamed, teeth tugging at his lip before leaning towards you and pressing his mouth to yours. He broke the kiss only to hover near your ear, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. “Your soul’s mine.”

His body was intoxicating, and while you knew it was dangerous to be with him, you felt safer with Sapnap even if he was blatantly telling you just how damned you were. The news was easier to swallow with his tongue slipping into your mouth and his voice whispering sweetly possessive venom into your ear.

You ground your hips against him as he pressed his lips against your neck, teeth trailing after his contact, fingers digging into your skin or the leather couch beneath you. Your hair tangled with his movements, clawing at his back as his teeth clicked against your chest. His tongue darted over his previous bite that you figured would end up scaring; a permanent homage to him on your body.

He had known the adrenaline rushing through your veins at Clay’s arrival. He’d known the discomfort and the borderline fear you had to edge yourself off of earlier, therefore as he kneaded the flesh of your thighs in his hand, he was sure to validate that Clay could threaten you all he wanted, but while Sapnap was around, he couldn’t hurt you. He had explained in the past that you were his personal plaything, and thus you had gained his protection and respect in an almost sadistic way.

You moaned as his fingers slid beneath your shirt, tugging it over your head while you pulled his own off, letting his lips attack your neck again. You brazenly ground your hips up against his, wrapping a leg around his thigh in a desperate search for more friction.

You knew the heated mix of Sapnap’s possessive urges and your determination to please him would have your knees shaking in no time as he dragged your pants down your legs, fingers clawing at the now bare skin of your thighs as you, carded your fingers through his hair, tugging at his roots and swallowing his moans.

The two of you rushed into your pleasures, letting him push into you and send your mind spending. You were forgetting Clay’s name with each punctuated thrust of his hips as he bottomed out in you. You clenched around him, making him groan into your shoulder, teeth threatening to mark you again.

He pulled out of you, only to flip you onto your stomach, jutting your hips up and against his as he drove himself into you again, pressing your shoulders into the couch. You bit down on your bottom lip preventing yourself from moaning out his name as his fingers dug into your shoulders, teaching you just how much he liked to use your body. With how good he was making you feel, you didn’t give a damn.

He panted out your name, his voice low and gruff as he nearly commanded and controlled your orgasm. You whimpered at his antics and he chuckled darkly. “I should be ripping you apart after you let that thing into your apartment,” he threatened seductively. You moaned out and apology as his lips and tongue met your shoulder blade, fingers tracing the length of your spine. You could feel the pads of his fingers circling each of your vertebrates as he drove himself deeper into you, reaching just where you needed him.

You came undone quicker than you had expected, moaning as he picked up his pace to bring himself to finishing, your vision blurring from the stimulation as he used you. His hand gripped onto your hips as his paces stuttered against you, a groan hissing through his teeth. His hand laced with yours momentarily before the two of you straightened yourselves up.

You pulled your knees to your chest, watching him rebutton his shirt. You slipped your arms further into your hoodie and he looked at you with a small perk of his eyebrow. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

You chewed the corner of your mouth. “What do demons smell like to angels then?”

“Charcoal,” he answered plainly. “Sometimes just burning.” He sat beside you, pulling you to his side. You snuggled into his warmth, resting your head on his chest.

You inhaled sharply. “So… Clay’s an angel…”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his eyes began to glow at the mention of the other species, especially the man you’d been associated with. “Yeah, they call him Dream.” He hesitated slightly. “He’s one of the worst.”

You felt like you were walking on eggshells to ask him more. “Did you know him?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Before I got kicked out,” he joked, covering the obvious hurt in his voice.

“Kicked out of where?” You probed, already somewhat figuring you knew the answer.

He was quiet. “Heaven.”

Sapnap Tag List:

@bobbyftmydad

[lovelybarnes]

get the girl- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, mentions of ned, betty, mj, and brad warnings: unrequited love (kind of?? implied), lotsss of pining and fluff, a little long about: requested! (DF4) “you fell asleep, i couldn’t move.“ + (DF31) “maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance.” a/n: been wanting to write a peter parker friends to lovers for a while, so thank you so so much for requesting this. i swear i don’t usually take this long?? i got carried away and it got way longer than i expected, i hope you enjoy! thank you for requesting!

peter thinks it’s hopeless. the cliche he’s stuck in seems cruel- no matter what the movies you (and, fine, yes, him sometimes) make him watch say. nothing that happens in them ever transpires to real life; beautiful girls don’t fall in love with their nerdy best friends and guys like peter parker don’t get the girl.

it’s fun to fantasize, though. and especially fun to look at you, particularly when you’re laying on his bed, oblivious to him standing in the doorway, observing as you twist your neck to get a good look at the polaroids he hung up on his wall. a familiar smile grows on your face when your eyes scan them, flickering to the polaroid camera you got him for christmas years ago.

you move to try to get a better look at them without standing up, glancing down when you feel a sharp edge poke at your skin. he watches as your eyebrows furrow in possibly the prettiest way possible and you pull out a polaroid from under you. and oh, peter is just now realizing exactly what that photo is and why it’s on his bed instead of hanging off the empty miniature clothespin that comes from the pack you thrust at his chest when you noticed the increasing pile of pictures on his desk.

he’s moving on autopilot towards you, the foot already halfway through the door used as a stepping stone to go to your side faster. he’s with you in less than three steps, tugging on your ankle and then tackling you as sensibly as possible, laying his whole body on yours. you oof, dropping the picture, having seen it for too little to really question it, and laugh breathlessly. “pete!” you wheeze, curling your arms around his back, one of your hands absentmindedly drawing figures through his hoodie and your other one inching up to his hair, already beginning to thread through the chocolate curls. “yes?” he hums innocently, furtively grabbing the polaroid you dropped and shoving it in the pocket of his hoodie before his arms wrap around your thighs.

“i told you if you keep doing that, one day you’re gonna get hurt,” you scold, looking attentively as peter leans his head against your chest. “me?” he questions, feeling you nod under his cheek. “uh huh, you. you’ll hit your head or something. for a spider-”

“spiderman. superhero,” peter corrects, you ignore him, “you are really clumsy.” peter huffs in dissent, letting a comfortable silence blanket over the both of you for a minute before he looks up at you. “what?” you ask, a smile brimming at the edges of your words. you’re so pretty, peter wants to say, but instead, he goes with a more best-friend-friendly question, “d’you wanna watch a movie?”

you nod at him, pulling your hands away from his head to play with the strings of his hoodie, “sure, what do we want to watch today?” peter’s eyes immediately light up, and you realize you never actually needed to ask. “fine,” you agree, trying not to grin too hard at the way his face brightens. “which one?” you request, watching his freckled cheeks flush pink in excitement, “sixth one. the best one, of course.” you smirk, shrugging, “right, don’t know why i asked, i basically know the movie word for word now.” peter can’t help but give you heart eyes at the knowledge of your knowing the script of his favorite movie. god, you really were the dream girl.

“‘kay, go make some popcorn and get everything ready while i go to the bathroom,” you request, tapping peter’s shoulder as a way to tell peter to let you out from under his body weight. he does the complete opposite of what you imply, however, nuzzling further into your chest and inhaling deeply. “peter,” you laugh, poking his shoulder again, “‘m comfy,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “pete, c’mon, i gotta pee and you’re lying on my bladder,” you whine, “also, don’t you wanna watch episode six of star wars while i eat popcorn and play with your hair?” you singsong. he’s suddenly moving his body off of yours to let you go, although not before pressing a sloppy- friendly- kiss to your arm, “hurry up.”

you giggle as you stand, stretching out your limbs and walking to the bathroom while peter watches you walk away. once he hears the bathroom door shut, he digs his hands into his pockets, fingers tugging on the polaroid he had shoved inside. a smile grows on his face without his permission when he holds it at his stomach, the light reflecting off of the smile that was printed on the picture. he traces a nail over your face, bright and open in the way that makes you gleam. it’s his favorite picture ever, the only one that managed to catch you so in your element, your natural halo of glow apparent in your outline. peter had scrawled the words best girl in red marker on the white space at the bottom- something he thought he could explain away easily if he had to. the picture had its own designated space on his wall, right in the middle so the importance was clear, but it was rarely actually up there, instead always next to him for inspiration when he was doing homework and on his dresser for when he couldn't sleep.

his lips quirk one last time at the photograph before walking to the wall where all the rest of them reside. he hangs it up, glancing at it once more until he turns to walk out of his room.

the movie is ready to play when you walk into the living room, and peter is in the kitchen making your popcorn. “it smells good,” you say in a greeting, sniffing the air and exhaling in satisfaction. peter laughs, “you do that every time we have a movie night.” you tilt your head at him, “do what?” he motions to you, “that. the whole smelling thing and letting me know how good it smells, it’s cute.”

your face heats when it slips out of his lips, pausing to absorb the words he doesn’t seem to have noticed he said. his back is to you, dumping the popcorn into a bowl for you. you can’t see it, but he’s freaking out, trying to think of an excuse if you decide it was too weird. you don’t do anything to imply that, though, just blink until the words dissolve in the air. “thanks,” you finally reply, as nonchalant as you can make it while you grab his m&ms. he hums in response, turning around to head to the couch, “star wars time,” he winks, making you grin.

you follow him as he heads to the couch, settling down next to him once he puts on the movie. the star wars theme starts, the tune fringed by peter’s humming. cute, you think, snuggling deeper into the crook of his arm and shoving popcorn into your mouth. “hmm, good,” you compliment, watching the scenes you’d seen so many times pass on the screens. you mouth along when you recognize the lines until your eyes feel heavy and they shut completely.

-

quiet thwips wake you up hours later, when the black of the night has bled the sky blue and the stars have littered over the clouds, the moon replacing the sun. you see that the movie is long over when you blink yourself awake, beginning to cuddle deeper into your pillow when you realize it’s too warm and hard to be a pillow. you are met with the vision of your best friend, lip tugged in between his teeth as he concentrates on something behind you. he doesn’t seem to notice that you’re awake, trying to remain as still as possibly while the thwip noises continue. he mutters a curse, scrunching his nose adorably before flicking his eyes to you. they widen when he notices you’re awake, dropping his hand. “what’re you doing?” you yawn, sitting up and away from the warmth of peter’s embrace. “uh- i just- the movie ended and you didn’t wake up, so i tried to get the remote, then i got hungry…” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, scanning the room and you turn to observe, stunned to see the mess of webs and dropped items you weren’t sure how you didn’t hear. “oh my god, what the- did you try to get everything with your webs?” you ask in bewilderment, eyeing a bag of gummy worms open and on the floor, you snap your neck towards him to observe his burning cheeks. “um. yes,” he confesses, blushing harder. “why didn’t you just get up?” you question, looking back at the ruined living room, exhaling in surprise as you notice the remote on the ground.

“you... you fell asleep on me. i couldn’t move.”

you pause, tilting your head slightly to look at peter, “pete, god, that’s so sweet. but you really don’t need to…” you motion to the dropped items, “do all that,” you laugh. peter shrugs, and you notice the tips of his ears are red, too. “i didn’t want to wake you up. i know how much of a light sleeper you are.”

you feel like you’re melting, every single muscle in your body drooping in the loveliness that was peter parker. you weren’t sure how the boy was real. you suddenly drop yourself on him again, wrapping your arms around his burning neck, “thank you, peter,” you say into his skin. like a reflex, his own arms go around your waist, holding you securely so you won’t fall, “‘f course.”

a moment of quiet follows until peter’s stomach rumbles suddenly, making you laugh, “i think i’ve starved you long enough. you pick today. also, when did you get so ripped? your arms are so big--” peter cuts you off with a groan, dropping his head on your shoulder, “you had to ruin the moment--”

-

peter doesn’t know what it is with you (actually, he does) that makes you so distracting. you’re just waiting in line for lunch, standing next to mj and laughing occasionally when she says something. all you’re doing is standing, and maybe it’s peter’s boy-hormones combined with his spider-hormones that magnify every single perfect feature of yours, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. you’re so pretty. the curve of the smiles that pulls into your cheeks, the twinkle that remains permanent in the color of your eyes, the way you look in that skirt--

“maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance,” a voice points out from next to him. peter scoffs, ripping his sight away from you to turn to ned. “i talk to her all the time. she’s my best friend.” ned shakes his head and sighs, “you talk to her about star wars, you talk to me about star wars, how is that supposed to help you have a chance--”

“i have a chance,” peter mumbles, trying to believe it himself, “she knows that she and you stand at different levels of best friends--” ned looks offended, “different levels? what is that supposed to mean--” peter stares exasperatedly at his best friend, “it means i want to date her and i don’t want to date you--”

“that’s a little rude--”

“hey you guys,” you greet, sitting down on the seat in front of peter’s and patting the seat next to you for mj. she stares at you silently, and you frown, patting the seat harder, “sit.” you instruct. she sighs and does what she’s told. “what were you guys talking about?” you ask, picking up your small plate of cherry pie to replace the bowl of orange slices that you took from peter’s plate. “thank you,” peter mumbles, digging his fork into the pie the moment you set it down. you hum, stealing a cherry tomato from his salad.

“oh, you know. the usual, your friendship with peter,” the latter shoots him a look and you raise an eyebrow, “that’s the usual? a little strange, don’t you think?” ned shrugs, “did you know that you and i stand at ‘different levels’ as peter’s best friends?” peter nearly chokes on his pie, glaring at ned. you cock your head at peter, thinking as you steal another tomato, “i… guess i thought so? i’ve known peter since, like, preschool, and we tell each other everything.”

“everything, huh?” ned wonders, a sound of pain falling from his lips when peter kicks him under the table. “peter.” he hisses. mj narrows her eyes at the two boys, “what is going on with you guys today? you’re acting weirder than normal.” peter’s face screws up in confusion, looking to you for help. you shrug, “she’s right.”

“i usually am,” mj mutters.

“so what is it?” you query, popping an orange slice as peter cringes at the mere thought of the taste. “peter has a crush,” ned informs helpfully, oblivious to peter’s dismay, “i- i don’t-”

you blink, feeling mj’s elbow shove into your ribs as her own way to make sure you’re okay. you ignore her, and it tells her everything she needs to know. “it’s liz, right?” you guess, trying to mask the hurt on your face with a teasing smile, “i saw you looking at her the other day. she’s pretty.” “no! it’s not- i mean, yes, liz is pretty, but i don’t like her or anything- ned doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” peter rambles. “pete, you don’t have to be embarrassed, i’m just upset you didn’t tell me,” you lie. peter’s eyebrows furrow, “you’re just upset that… i didn’t tell you?” he repeats. you nod, biting into another orange slice. “just that?” he asks meekly. you cock your head at him.

“i just- never mind. it’s not liz,” he says, poking at his pie. “so you admit you have a crush?” you start with a fake smirk, jabbing at your best friend with your fork, “just not on liz?”

“i didn’t… i didn’t say that-” peter stutters. your eyes narrow at him, lip tugged between your teeth, “i’m gonna find out who it is by the end of the day.”

peter is unfortunately sure you will. he’s not subtle as is, but you’re never deliberately looking for the signs, which makes it a lot easier to hide his embarrassingly large crush on you. but now, you'll be paying attention to his every move, and knowing you, he knows you won’t stop until you find out what you want, unless he tells you to back off. but, does he want you to back off?

he pushes his tray away, suddenly not feeling so hungry.

-

you stay true to your promise, hanging off his arm for the rest of the day, observing the way he acts around some of your classmates, but somehow not noticing the way he blatantly refuses to look at you- which proves humiliatingly difficult; peter never realized exactly how much he turned to look if you laughed at the joke too, or to catch one of your smiles when you hear something funny or peter whispers a joke into the shell of your ear.

by the end of the day when you’re walking to the train station together, you’re groaning at him, putting your full weight on his arm as you tug at him. “who is it? is it betty? oh my god, is it mj? is that why you kept looking at her?” you ask excitedly. peter wants to tell you the truth: he wasn’t looking at mj, he was looking at you, because as much as he tried, he couldn’t pry his attention off of you, who just so happened to sit next to mj.

“not mj. not betty,” he replies, pulling you inside the subway and scanning for free seats. you trail behind him when he finds a spot, letting you take it as he stands in front of you. “not them… it has to be liz, right?” you pry, sighing when he shakes his head. “brad- it’s brad, right?” you grin, whining when he denies it again. “can you just tell me if i got them already? i’ve practically said everyone in the school,” you complain, “they do go to school with us, right?” at peter’s nod, you drop your head against his abdomen, “and you have not said their name yet.”

“peter,” you drag out, reaching out for his hand to pull it, “just tell me! i can probably set you up with them!”

“y/n, just drop it,” he sighs, and you sigh too, mumbling a fine before noticing an older lady standing at the door. you wave her over, standing next to peter and letting her take your seat. peter feels like his heart will pop out of his chest.

the bumps of the subway push you close enough to him to feel the thundering of his heart, and your eyebrows knit together in worry, “are you okay? your heart’s beating, like, really fast-” yeah and your hand on my chest is not helping- “‘m fine.”

“is it because of the crush thing?” yes, “because i’m sorry about annoying you about it so much, if you don’t want to talk about it, i won’t bother you with it. just know that if they don’t like you back, they’re insane, because you, peter parker, are a ca-”

it was like a rubber band snapping, and peter suddenly couldn’t help it anymore, pushing his lips against yours, effectively cutting you off and catching you so off-guard, you freeze for a second before reacting, pulling his jaw closer. you almost tug him back when he pulls away, before you remember you’re still standing on a crowded, moving subway, and while kissing your best friend had been all you wanted for way too long, you were absolutely going to miss your stop if you didn’t stop.

“i- i’m sorry, i just-” peter stammered, stepping back. “no! so, please don’t apologize, seriously, it’s fine, it’s, like, better than fine.”

a beat of awkward silence passed before the tube halted to the stop right before yours. “it’s you. in case that didn’t… come clear. you’re the person i like,” peter informs quietly. “really?” you ask, cheek already pulling in a shy smile. “really,” peter assures.

this time, you don’t really care if you miss your stop, and neither does peter, now that he knows that, sometimes, peter parker does get the girl.

[romiithebirdie]

From the Furthest Tether: Part Five

Everything was dark, the only light coming from a few dull-looking lights that continued to flicker constantly like a dying flame of an old candle.

Water droplets fell from the rotting ceiling of a rundown warehouse where the villain group known as the Paranormal Liberation Front had chosen to lay low while they recovered from their earlier injuries.

Izuku felt like he was floating, watching the villains converse with each other while Tomura Shigaraki heaved over his elite Nomu creations whom were currently being used as nothing more than a makeshift throne for the leader.

One of the Hero Killer's main followers had stood up, attempting to call out Shigaraki's odd behaviour while Izuku's insides twisted with discomfort and fright, while the other villains didn't seem to sense the scent of death in the air, the teen could.

Shigaraki's entire aura was completely different; calmer than usual, yet had a dangerous edge that the teen could feel, even in his current phantom form.

Speaking of which, was this the doing of One for All? Or some kind of link that Izuku had with Shigaraki due to them meeting back in the subconscious of both Quirks?

Thinking about it made his head hurt…

"Now that your concerns have been duly noted there is a more pressing matter that needs to be addressed."

"Which is?" The blunt voice belonging to Dabi piped up from the background. The eldest Todoroki child looking completely unbothered by the many pairs of eyes staring widely at him, the other members of the group fearful of Shigaraki's response to his tone.

Thankfully, All for One who was currently using Shigaraki like a puppet, chose to wave off Dabi's remark as if he were nothing. "Just the little spy in our midst," Shigaraki's crimson orbs suddenly honed in and immediately connected with Izuku's own fearful emeralds.

He can see me?

Was that even possible? Izuku fought back a heavy gulp.

That being said, the teen wouldn't have put it past All for One to have some kind power that allowed him to sense the strange link between the two successors…

Either way, this was bad. Really bad.

"No need to worry, though," he looked in the direction of the teen, his rough voice sounding as if he'd swallowed sandpaper. Pointing a finger from the mangled hand, old burned scar tissue littered across his remaining fingers as they twitched erratically; "Soon everything we've strived for will be in our grasp."

Snap out of it, Ninth!

Izuku gasped loudly, clutching his head and cursing darkly as he gripped the bedsheets of his hospital bed tightly.

Why was this happening to him?

Everything was moving so fast, his brain was completely overwhelmed.

Tears of frustration stung his eyes and he blinked hard, fighting them back with all the energy he could muster as he breathed out sharply. Every time something was going right for him and his friends, there was always something that completely tore that newfound hope to shreds.

It wasn't fair.

Especially when the talk with All Might, once he'd arrived at the hospital, had gone down so well. Aside from Izuku's own worries, he had been quickly pacified by his mentor's comforting and reassuring words.

To Izuku's relief, they had discussed the Eri concern and addressed it straight away, with All Might immediately getting into contact with U.A and his acquaintances from the Police Force. His mentor had also informed the boy that Aizawa had been discharged a day prior and was currently recovering back at U.A, albeit with the Pro undergoing physiotherapy to help get him used to his temporary leg prosthetic.

"There are measures being taken to protect Young Eri so try not to worry yourself," his mentor had explained, offering the boy a faint smile tugged across his thin face. All Might had left after Izuku had gotten a visit from his doctor who'd then informed the pair that the teen would more-than-likely be discharged from the facility a lot sooner than they had thought.

About an hour or so later, his mother had arrived and Izuku finally allowed himself to lean back against the plush pillows to finally relax. However, this was quickly short-lived when his mother announced something that nearly made Izuku choke on his own air;

"Your father called me last night," Inko's voice was soft as she folded Izuku's old nightshirt into a neat little square before placing it in the bag that she had brought with her. "We talked for quite a while."

"With Dad, uh...You did?" Izuku's mouth and brain suddenly felt as if it had been set on autopilot. Was it weird that he felt oddly...numb to that revelation? He hadn't heard from his father in years, surely he should have been happier about hearing this?

Inko nodded, humming delicately, sliding another one of Izuku's shirts into the open bag, "He was concerned, of course. I caught him up with what's been happening, he's…" she paused. "He proposed something that I've been thinking about since last night."

Izuku's heart thudded under his freshly laundered nightclothes. He dreaded what he was about to hear but had to ask nonetheless: "What was it?"

His mother inhaled sharply, nibbling on her bottom lip, "He wants us to come overseas so we can be together as a family. Like before," her hands began to tremble. "There's so much that Hisashi and I need to discuss but right now, Izuku, I feel it would be for the best."

"W-What are you saying?" Izuku felt queasy, was his mother seriously suggesting that he pack up all his things and move abroad? To live with a man that he barely knew?

"Izuku-"

"I can't just leave!" Izuku's voice grew louder. "What about U.A? My friends?" All Might.

Inko's own temper flared and she glowered at her son, gesturing to his bandaged limbs, "Look at yourself, Izuku!"

The younger Midoriya visibly flinched, swallowing the retort back down his throat and averting his guilty gaze away from his mother. His eyes wandered along the lines of thick gauze around his knuckles and he shakily exhaled; unsure what to say next.

Was there anything he could say? He was completely tongue tied.

Thankfully, Inko was the one who broke the awkward silence by running a hand gently through his curls, "I'm sorry, Izuku."

He tried not to wince at those words. It honestly felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"But I don't know what to do at the moment."

"Mum-"

"Stop," her voice was quiet but firm. Izuku's eyes moved along each part of Inko's face, noticing the blotchy skin from crying, the heavy bags under his mother's eyes and the way her hair just hung limply over her face like a set of old curtains, dreary and aged.

Was there anything he could say to her right now?

Aside from…

I'm sorry.

                                            .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Here are your discharge papers, Midoriya-san."

It was as simple as that.

Before he knew it, Inko had been given Izuku's hospital paperwork and had then quickly ushered her son into a cab alongside All Might. After a short and frankly slightly awkward car journey, they had eventually arrived back at U.A High School where they had then escorted Izuku to the dormitory facilities.

To Izuku's relief, his classmates had respected his space and quietly offered greetings to him as he limped towards his dorm room, his adult supervision carrying his luggage for him due to his arms still being heavily bandaged.

His mother hadn't mentioned their earlier talk and Izuku wanted to keep it that way for the time being. She had left after barely speaking and All Might had offered to walk her to the gates, which she begrudgingly accepted. Izuku noted the hardness in her voice when she spoke to the retired hero, a tone that Izuku had rarely heard Inko use in all the years of his life.

He prayed that she didn't give All Might a hard time once they were out of earshot. They had left quite a while ago…

From the other side of his locked door, he heard the distant sound of his classmates calling out loudly to each other, Izuku recognised Kirishima's cheery voice and he felt his lips tug into a small grin.

Maybe he should have gone downstairs and taken part with the others…

Izuku glanced at the red and blue striped clock on his wall and sighed, his chest tight as he shuffled over to his drawers to begin loading his clean clothes back into storage. Although it wasn't the same as his bedroom at his mother's apartment, he was glad to be back in a familiar place…

For how long? Came the unwelcome and unwanted nag in the back of his already-racing mind as he clenched his teeth together. He had no time to worry about the what-ifs right now, what mattered was getting back on his feet and concentrating on his Quirk control.

DANGER!

Izuku blinked, ears buzzing. He could hear laughter in the distance, was One for All reacting to something else? Maybe it had something to do with the connection he was sharing with Shigaraki-

A loud slam against his window completely destroyed his own concentration, his heart jumping in time with his body.

The walls violently quaked and Izuku soon stumbled. He had barely enough time to react as a massive hole seemed to be forcibly ripped through the wall to the outside.

The impact shook off the teen's balance as he fell to the floor, kicking back against the carpet as he shuffled up against the door. A large, scaly hand clamped around the broken pieces of plaster and a familiar face peered in that sent waves of absolute terror up Izuku's spine.

It was another Nomu. Did that mean the League were here? Speaking of that, how could they know that he'd returned or where his dorm room was?!

Izuku moved his hand towards the doorknob of his dormitory door and the creature screamed loudly squeezing itself through the small hole with little resistance. Izuku pressed himself up against the door frame, bandaged arms and legs screeching at him as the Nomu loomed over him. Sharp pieces of broken brick dug into it's thick hide, small trickles of blood forming around it's body as it slammed a heavy palm straight against Izuku's jaw, the movement cutting off any attempt that Izuku had at crying for help.

A crackle filled the air and Izuku's attention was drawn away from the fact that the Nomu currently had him pinned to the door by his head. With a narrowed gaze, the teen's eyes fell upon a tight-fitted collar around the creature's massive neck. Due to the odd crackling noise, Izuku soon noticed the device attached to the thick leather, which looked to be some kind of radio device.

"Excellent work, No. 1977. Remember this one needs to be alive. For now, at least."

Izuku paled, recognising the person talking immediately.

That blend of eerie voices, like an unhinged duet completely out of sync with each other.

He attempted to speak, a choked gasp cut off as the creature tightened it's grip. He knew that voice all too well; the man who planned out multiple attacks on his friends, the one who was involved in the incident in Kamino and most recently, the Jaku attack...

Tomura Shigaraki.

[justlightlysedated]

and the last one, this one is almost 10k and is another fic for my dear @bestillmyslashyheart, where michael and alex have unhealthy coping mechanisms after max dies:

one.

The door slams shut after Michael leaves, and Alex just inhales deeply and lowers himself back into his chair, ignoring the way his stomach hurts and how badly his hands are shaking.

Michael knows exactly where to hit him where it will hurt the most, and over the last couple of weeks, Alex hasn’t really gotten any more used to the way Michael can twist every single thing he’s ever told him and use it against him.

Alex figured out early on that fighting with him makes Michael isolate himself, and then the only person getting hurt is Alex, which might suck, but he can more than handle it.

He inhales a shaky breath and turns back towards the computer system he'd set up in the lab to see if he could finish decoding the files from the last Caulfield drive.

"That isn't healthy, you know," Kyle's voice startles him enough that Alex jumps, his nerves already shot from dealing with Michael.

Alex turns towards the side of the room where Kyle had apparently been standing the whole time.

He raises an eyebrow at him, "What are you talking about?"

Kyle just gives him a look that clearly says he’s not fooling anyone.

Alex just shrugs and moves to turn back towards the computer.

“I mean this whole thing that you’re doing,” Kyle says, stepping closer and putting himself firmly in Alex’s peripheral vision. “Where you paint a target on your back and push until Michael blows up at you. I wasn’t sure exactly what you were trying to accomplish until I realized that Michael hasn’t gotten black out drunk since Noah’s funeral, he’s also not picking fights with strangers, and Liz hasn’t complained about him acting like a jerk in weeks which was a daily thing when they worked together before, especially the longer it took to get to the answer.”

Alex turns towards Kyle and studies his face trying to see if he can figure out why Kyle is telling him all of this when Alex already knows it. Kyle is staring at him with the worried eyes and furrowed brow combo that usually gets Alex to go along with his suggestions.

Alex just sighs. “Look, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Kyle gives him a look that says clearly how impossible that task is.

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Kyle tilts his head at him, giving him a disbelieving look and Alex sighs again. 

“Look, what do you want me to say? I know it’s not healthy,” he says, turning to Kyle since it’s obvious that he’s not going to leave this alone. “But I’m not willing to just let him spiral when I can do something about it. And I-”

Alex looks away from Kyle, eyes darting all around the room.

“I want to be a part of his life, and if this is the only way that he will have me, then I’ll take it.”

Kyle exhales loud and rough, and Alex jumps a little when his hands grab on to his shoulders, his heart thunders in his throat, so loud in his head he swears it sounds like a door slamming shut.

Kyle looks at him, eyes serious, and Alex looks right back at him, trying not to feel like all of his emotions are on display on his face. “I’m going to tell you something that’s probably going to be hard to hear, but you need to hear it.”

Alex just blinks at Kyle nonplussed, and Kyle sighs again.

“Michael Guerin isn’t worth this,” he says and shakes Alex’s shoulders a little. “You made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean that you have to martyr yourself paying for them.”

Alex just shakes his head at Kyle and pushes him away. “Don’t worry about me,” he says again. “I know my limits, okay?”

Kyle just exhales again and moves back, shaking his head, “Fine, but I'm keeping an eye on you."

Alex just rolls his eyes again and turns back towards the computer.

-

Kyle uses the worried eyes and furrowed brow combo to send him home two hours later, and Alex drives home on autopilot.

He yawns widely as he slides out of the car, eyes closing and doesn't notice the truck until he practically stumbles into it.

He blinks sleepily and tries to remember if his fight with Michael happened last night or earlier tonight, but he can still feel the sting from his parting words, "Why are you even here? Oh, I forgot. There should always be a Manes present at an alien autopsy."

Alex just takes a deep breath and pushes himself away from the truck, making his way to the back door.

He doesn’t spot Michael until he’s almost at the door and the automatic lights flare revealing Michael sitting down in one of the lawn chairs.

Alex sighs as he turns to face him, putting his back firmly to the door so that he could make a quick getaway, his keys pressing sharply into the palm of his hand as he clenches his fists.

“Something you forgot to say earlier?” Alex asks, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

He’d meant what he told Kyle. He knew his limits, and one aggressive confrontation with Michael a day was more than enough.

Michael doesn’t really say anything as he gets to his feet, and moves closer to Alex.

Alex takes a step back towards the door as he gets a little too close, and Michael stops moving, eyes on Alex like he’s doing something puzzling and Michael is trying to figure it out.

Alex takes in his appearance, his hair messier than usual, his shirt on backwards, a mark too red to be blood on the collar of his white shirt, the way he seems to be swaying slightly in place, and feels a little pang in his stomach when he realizes that Michael is not only drunk, but had obviously had sex with someone.

“Look,” Alex says when all Michael does is stare at him, eyes entirely too focused for someone that Alex is pretty sure is drunk. “I’m tired, so can we just skip to the end of this argument. Yes, I’m a terrible person by virtue of being born into the wrong family. No, I absolutely bring nothing to the table but information I only know because my family tortured it out of your family. Obviously, every single choice that I have ever made about us was designed to hurt you on purpose. And I am the last person that you actually want to be around on a daily basis. Did I get it all or have I missed something?”

Michael just tilts his head to the side, eyes getting narrower the longer Alex kept speaking.

Alex just rolls his eyes a little when he still doesn’t say anything.

“Glad we had this chat,” he says and moves to turn towards the door. “We should do it again sometime.”

Alex puts the key in the lock, and then Michael is crowding in close behind him, hands coming up to cage him against the door.

The air is punched out of Alex’s lungs as he gasps, making a low noise at the back of his throat as Michael pushes in even closer when Alex doesn’t immediately protest, sliding an arm low around Alex’s hips and pressing their bodies flush together.

Michael presses his forehead against the back of Alex’s neck and breathes out. Alex shudders in his hold, blinking rapidly.

“Guerin, what?” He says his voice is more breathy than he would like.

Michael inhales deeply and makes a low noise at the back of his throat.

“Did you know that whenever I say something that really pushes your buttons and you’re fighting not to actually snap, you do this whole thing with your face where you clench your jaw and furrow your brow and your eyes get really intense?" Michael speaks, voice a low whisper, and he wraps his other arm around Alex’s shoulder and cups his jaw in his hand tilting Alex’s face to the side exposing his neck.

Michael presses his face there, lips so close to his neck, almost touching the skin of his throat but not quite.

"And it’s almost the same exact face that you make when you push in deep inside of me and are trying to stop yourself from coming or fucking me too fast,” his breath is hot against Alex’s skin, and he slides the hand on Alex’s hip beneath his shirt, palm hot and rough against Alex’s trembling stomach.

Alex swallows thickly, and he blinks rapidly a few times trying to clear his head, which is difficult to do without Michael touching him. Alex desperately tries not to remember that the last time that he had sex was with Michael.

Alex inhales to speak, and Michael presses his lips to Alex’s neck, and the words get tangled together, and he only barely manages to stop himself from moaning.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” Michael admits, lips pressed to Alex’s skin, sending sparks of tingling heat down the back of his neck and all the way down his spine.

“Tried to get it out of my system,” he admits in a low voice, pushing in even closer, pressing their hips together, and Alex can’t help but let out a strangled moan at the way he can feel Michael’s hard dick right against his ass.

“But the whole time, I couldn't stop thinking about how much better it would be with you.”

He tilts Alex's head even farther and presses a biting kiss higher up on his neck, almost on the hinge of his jaw, and Alex trembles feeling his knees going weak.

"Not the first time that I thought that over the years," he keeps going, sliding his hand lower on Alex's stomach. "But it is the first time that you're right here."

He presses down on Alex's stomach, keeping him in place as he grinds his dick against Alex's ass. 

Alex's hips stutter back and he shuts his eyes tight, and his head feels heavy and hot, and he needs to think.

He blinks rapidly and tries to clear his thoughts, but then Michael opens his mouth and sucks a kiss to the back of Alex's ear, and Alex loses all coherency.

Michael bites down on his earlobe and whispers hotly into his ear, "I want to fuck you, yes or no?"

Alex thinks a little distantly that he should definitely say no, that maybe if Michael had said no the many times that Alex had whispered that in his ear they wouldn't be having the problems that they're having now.

But it's that fact, the fact that Michael didn't say no, that he let Alex take what he wanted because it was what he needed at the time.

And if Michael needs this from him, then there is no way that Alex would tell him no.

Not when it's something that he wants as well.

"Yes," he says and it sounds like it's being dragged out of him.

Michael makes a low sound at the back of his throat that sounds like relief, and he presses another kiss to Alex's neck.

-

They barely make it inside of the living room before Michael pushes him forward into the arm of the couch, making him fold in half as Michael drags his jeans down his thighs.

Alex barely manages to get his hands free and grab one of the cushions before he feels Michael’s hands on his lower back, sliding his shirt up, settling his hands on either side of Alex’s waist.

He drags his hands down, fingers rough, nails biting down as he settles his hands on Alex’s hips and tugs him backwards a little, trapping Alex's hard cock against the arm of the couch.

Alex lets Michael move him exactly where he wants him, and he barely hears the clink and zip of Michael’s belt buckle and pants being undone when Michael drags his hands back up Alex’s back, beneath his shirt, sliding his hands around to his chest, too dry fingertips dragging against his nipples.

Alex shivers and loses himself a little bit in the sensation that it surprises him, sending pleasure down the back of his neck as his voice cracks on a moan, when Michael presses in close and pushes his cock between Alex’s cheeks dragging the head across Alex’s entrance.

Alex’s fingers tighten around the cushion and he drags it to his face, pressing his cheek to it and trying to breathe.

Michael drags his hands down to Alex’s hips and a low groan falls out of his mouth as he starts to move, dragging his cock down the cleft of Alex’s ass.

Alex whimpers low in the back of his throat as Michael keeps moving, a low satisfied hum leaving his mouth, and he’s leaking heavily, leaving Alex feeling wet and sticky, and every single time the head of his cock drags across his entrance, Alex feels like he’s going more and more crazy, until he’s shaking, and he feels hot and dizzy and like he’s going to come at any moment.

“Guerin,” he croaks, pressing the side of his face to the cushion and panting against the rough material. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Michael makes a low amused noise and leans over him, covering him completely, before he nudges his chin down against the collar of Alex’s shirt and presses a kiss to the exposed skin, making Alex shiver and close his eyes tight.

“Oh I'm going to fuck you," Michael says in a low voice, pressing his mouth right to Alex's ear. "I'm gonna make it so good you'll be feeling it all day tomorrow."

Alex makes a low strangled sound.

"Gonna be so good for you," Michael says, voice sounding a little too desperate.

Alex just nods his head and breathes out, "Always good for me."

Michael seems to freeze behind him, barely breathing, and Alex fears that he crossed a line, and Michael is just going to leave him there high and dry, but he just presses his forehead to the back of Alex's neck and breathes in deep once before he's pulling away.

Alex barely makes a low noise in protest when Michael backs away from him, but then his hands are on Alex's back again, dragging down to his ass, nails scratching slightly before he's spreading him open.

Alex barely hears the rip and squish of a lube packet before Michael's fingers are pressing against his entrance.

Michael opens him up, fast but thorough, only barely hesitating when he has to work up to two fingers, barely brushing against his prostate.

Alex whines low in his throat, and pushes his hips back, and tells Michael that he is so ready, to hurry the fuck up, and surprisingly Michael does.

He exhales slowly, trying to calm his racing pulse, and he can hear Michael inhaling deeply before he tears open the condom wrapper which doesn’t really help him at all.

Michael wraps his hands around Alex’s hips, and presses in close, “Ready?”

Alex inhales deeply and before he can answer Michael is pushing inside of him,

It pushes a strangled sound of his throat, and he turns his face and bites down on one corner of the cushion, fingers going even tighter, as Michael slowly presses inside until his hips are flush to Alex’s ass, the cold belt buckle and the rough material of his jeans rubbing against the backs of Alex’s thighs.

Michael leans down, pressing his forehead to the middle of Alex’s back, grunting low in his throat.

He barely gives Alex enough time to adjust before he’s moving, standing up straight, hands hooked around Alex’s hips as he starts to fuck him, too fast and too hard to actually keep a steady rhythm, but every thrust he brushes across Alex’s prostate, and it punches out a low moan out of Alex’s mouth every single time.

Neither of them last long, and Michael groans out Alex’s name as he comes, leaning back over him, pressing his hot and sweaty forehead to the back of Alex’s shirt, making him feel even hotter and like he’s about to spontaneously combust.

Alex comes right after him with a moan, Michael’s name mangled beneath it as he buries his face in the cushion, feeling like he’s coming apart at the seams.

Michael stays pressed close for the few seconds it takes Alex to blink back into his body, and then he moves, pulling out and taking a few staggered steps back.

Alex feels his next inhale get trapped sharp and painful in his throat, and he tightens his fingers even more around the cushion as he hears Michael inhale and exhale deeply before there are more footsteps, leading towards the back door.

Alex feels a little too exposed and a little too vulnerable, but in a way that he doesn’t like at all.

Alex doesn’t hear the door close, so he knows that Michael isn’t actually leaving, but the fact that he even left at all hurts in a way that he feels really deep in his chest and the pit of his stomach, sharp and insistent like a stab wound.

He moves then, standing, and hissing at the ache he feels in his thighs and in his lower back and in places that he’d forgotten could ache like that.

He drags his pants back on, but doesn’t bother to button them as he staggers to sit on the couch.

He doesn’t want to take his prosthetic off, not when he already feels an exposed nerve, but it’s pinching in a way that he knows isn’t good.

He exhales in relief as he tugs it off, and then he’s leaning back against the couch, exhaling roughly, and lifting a hand to his head.

He feels a pressure behind his eyelids, and he’s so exhausted that a few tears manage to leak out of the corners of his eyes.

He hears the scrape of Michael’s boots against the floor, and he leans forward, wiping at his face, and then breathing in carefully.

He feels hot and sweaty and like he needs to take a shower, several showers, but also exposed and almost fragile in a way that he hadn’t really expected to come after having sex with Michael.

Michael doesn’t say anything, but he sits down on the arm of the chair, and Alex feels something cold hitting the side of his arm, and when he looks over it’s to see a half empty bottle of cheap whiskey.

He doesn’t really think about it when he takes the bottle and drinks.

He takes several long swallows, ignoring the taste, and then lowers the bottle from his mouth, handing it over to Michael, and gagging at the aftertaste of the whiskey.

Michael makes a low sound, but grabs the bottle before it falls to the floor.

Alex swallows a few times, and then he hears the flick of a lighter and then the smell of cigarette smoke fills the air.

He turns to Michael, who lowers the cigarette from his mouth and holds it out to Alex, blowing a stream of grey smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

Alex takes the cigarette from his fingers and takes a drag, glad at least to chase the taste of whiskey out of his mouth.

They pass the cigarette back and forth, but Alex shakes his head when Michael tries to pass him the bottle.

Alex wants him to say something, anything, something that will make this sick feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach go away, but he doesn’t say a word.

He drinks the rest of the whiskey and then drops the cigarette into the empty bottle and leaves the bottle on the floor by Alex’s prosthetic.

He doesn’t say a word as he gets up, and then seems to hesitate, before he exhales roughly and then leaves.

Alex stares at the way the streetlights from out of the window shine off the bottle on the floor, and listens as Michael closes the door and then starts his truck and leaves.

He exhales shakily and leans down, pressing his forehead to his knees and closing his eyes, an arm wrapped around his stomach.

He breathes in and out, and fights the urge to cry, and thinks that maybe, he doesn’t have the situation as under control as he thought he did.

two.

“We need to talk,” Alex says when Michael opens the door to the Airstream after he knocked so hard that the trailer shook with it.

Michael leers at him, so Alex holds up the folder where he’d put all the information that he could find about unexplained disappearances in Roswell and corresponding Project Shepherd files.

Michael just exhales roughly and turns to head back into the Airstream, and Alex follows after him.

“I know you asked me for this weeks ago,” he says, setting the folder down on the counter to open it. 

He hasn’t really slept in the last two days. Kyle has been busy at work and fielding World War Ortecho, so he hasn’t been around to make Alex act like a normal human person.

He looks over to Michael, mouth open to continue speaking, and the words dry up in his mouth.

Michael lets his shirt drop on the floor, and then he snaps the button of his jeans open and they slide down low on his hips, letting Alex see that he’s definitely not wearing any underwear.

Alex closes his mouth and licks his lips and then looks away.

He told himself that this wasn’t going to happen again, that it was a phenomenally bad idea, especially because it means something completely different to him than it does to Michael.

He had thought that that first time would’ve been it. It had been a lapse of judgement on both their parts, born of frustration, and he had figured that Michael was probably going to avoid him for a while, but that hadn’t been what happened at all.

It wasn’t like their relationship had improved at all. Michael still acted like a complete asshole to everyone, even more so to Alex. They still got into arguments in the middle of the lab when it was late and they were the only two in there. Alex still pushed Michael when he snapped at anyone else in his frustration, making Michael turn on him, and ignored the worried looks that Kyle and Liz shared.

Alex hears Michael kicking off his jeans, and he tries not to think about the fact that he’s already succumbed to this two more times during the last ten days.

“I have some other stuff saved in a f-file,” Alex stutters over his words and they die in his mouth as Michael moves closer, pressing against his side.

Alex inhales deeply trying to calm himself, but that’s a mistake, he knew it was before he’d even taken the breath.

Michael’s scent fills his head, hot and heady, like a humid summer night. The fact that Alex can tell that he hasn’t showered since the last time that they had sex should really be a turn off, but it punches Alex in the stomach with a need so visceral he gasps.

Michael sets a hand low on his back, palm searing against his skin even through the material of his shirt.

“You really came here to talk?” Michael asks, leaning in even closer and pressing a kiss to Alex’s jaw, and when he nudges his nose against his chin, Alex tips his head to the side, letting Michael trail his lips down Alex’s neck.

“Wait,” Alex says, voice airy, but firm, as he moves, taking a step away from Michael and putting some distance between them. He turns towards Michael, which is another mistake, maybe he should just avoid coming to the Airstream from now on.

Michael doesn’t actually wait, almost like he knows exactly what Alex is thinking and what he’s planning to do, he moves, practically stalking forward, and Alex barely has time to lift his hands up before Michael is crowding into his space, pushing him back towards the counter until it’s pressing uncomfortably across Alex’s ass.

Alex’s hands are resting on Michael’s shoulders, fingers stretched out as he tries to stop himself from pulling him in even closer.

He licks his lips and looks at Michael and freezes.

Michael is staring at him in a way he hasn’t in a long time, eyes wide and bright and something new and strange swirling in them that Alex didn’t recognize before but now knows is hope and love and then his eyes drop to Alex’s mouth, and Alex can’t really stop himself from reacting.

He drags his fingers up into Michael’s hair, and Michael’s eyes flutter close, and he sways forward a little, and Alex pushes forward the rest of the way, their noses brush, and then Michael inhales sharply, and moves, pushing Alex back against the counter, and ducking his head, to nudge Alex’s chin up with his nose and press a kiss to the hollow of his neck before moving lower and biting down, sucking the skin into his mouth.

Alex bites down on the noise that wants to leave his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he tangles his fingers in Michael’s hair, and he remembers the reason why he wanted to put a stop to this.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want it, because he wanted Michael in any way that he could have him, but Michael hasn’t kissed him. He puts his mouth on every single part of Alex’s body but never his mouth. And there are a lot of things that Alex is willing to put up with, but this is a level of impersonalization that he doesn’t want from anyone, least of all from Michael.

He pushes Michael back, and moves so that he’s not trapped and has a direct line to the still open door.

“I can’t stay long,” he says as firmly as he can, but it doesn’t seem to deter Michael, who looks too amused as he listens to Alex speak.

“I have an appointment to get to in less than an hour,” which was a lie, but Michael didn’t need to know that.

“And I really just came to drop off the file,” he keeps going. “But next time I’ll be sure to give it to you before you leave the lab.”

Michael’s amused face shutters at that, and Alex feels a small measure of relief.

Alex just nods his head when Michael doesn’t respond, and he turns around to head towards the door.

He barely makes it one step before Michael is moving close behind his back, hands wrapped around Alex’s upper arms as he pulls him back, pressing so close that Alex can feel every single inch of him, too hot and too close.

“Stay,” Michael says, voice pitched low, and there is a hint of something almost needy in his voice, that it makes Alex’s eyes fall shut.

Michael pushes in closer, and noses along the back of Alex’s neck, pressing a kiss the skin right above the collar of his shirt, and whispers something too low for Alex to hear, but his fingers go even tighter around Alex’s arms.

Alex can bench press over three hundred pounds, can get in the ring with anyone and come out as the last one standing, can withstand torture, and he has an extremely high pain tolerance level, and still, he’s so weak when it comes to Michael Guerin.

-

Michael slides off the bed, and heads towards the shower, turning the water on and ducking inside while Alex tries to catch his breath and convince his legs that it’s time to move.

He can feel the sting of several hickies on his neck, and he wishes that humans reacted the same to acetone that the aliens did and he could just dab some on the bruises and they’d be gone within the hour.

Michael takes quick showers, and Alex wants to be gone before he comes out.

He manages to drag himself off the bed and into his clothes before the shower shuts off and is in process of putting his sneakers back on when he hears the sounds of a car pulling in and parking, since they didn’t exactly bother to close the door since it was way too early on a Wednesday morning.

Michael’s phone rings where he has it on his desk, and Alex just turns towards it, biting down on his lip and wondering which one of their friends is out there, and if he could get away with saying that he just came to drop off the files.

Liz might buy it if he leaves fast and doesn’t talk too much to her and hopes that she doesn't notice the hickies, but even if he did hide them, Kyle would know immediately what happened and spend another week giving Alex worried eyes as though Alex is about to drop dead at any second, instead of just dropping into Michael's bed.

Isobel would use it against him the next time they interacted, since she loved to throw things in his face when he least expected it.

“Guerin! You home!” he hears Maria yelling, and closes his eyes tightly. She was the last person that he was expecting to come here this early in the morning.

He can hear her boots crunching against the gravel as she gets closer, but before he can figure out what to do, or what to say, Michael is walking past him, pulling up the same jeans he'd been wearing earlier as he goes, hair wet and dripping to his shoulders and down the back of his neck.

"Hey, DeLuca," Michael drawls as he walks out the door, barely giving Alex a passing glance. "Operating hours aren't for another hour, unless you're here for the other kind of service."

His voice is flirty, but not serious, which Maria seems to know from the scoff he can hear, and it's the only reason that Alex doesn't give into the panic attack threatening to take over.

If there was one person that he didn't want to know that he and Michael were having sex, however impersonal it was, it was Maria. And there was no way to disguise what had happened, not with a freshly showered Michael and the fact that Alex knows how he looks, with his messy hair and the stretched out, wet collar of his shirt, and the hickies on his neck.

And anyway, even if he could deny it, Maria was smart enough to figure out the truth.

Maybe, Alex could pretend that he was invisible and hope that whatever it was that Maria wanted would either not take too long or take them away from the front of the Airstream.

"None of the above," Maria answers, and Alex can hear the sounds as she nervously shifts from foot to foot.

"I just haven't seen you at the Pony in a while. and the last time you were there, there seemed like something was seriously bothering you, but you were too busy at the time, so I didn't ask, but I just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay."

She sounds genuinely worried, but the inflection that she gave the word 'busy' tells Alex that whatever Michael had been busy with had hurt her enough that she kept her distance until now. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply.

"I'm fine," Michael says, and Alex knows that he's lying. "Things aren't flowers and roses, but they never have been for me. You don't have to worry about me, DeLuca, I got things under control."

Alex hears Maria inhaling to speak, and then his phone rings, loud and demanding from wherever it had dropped when Michael had pulled off his jeans.

Alex looks around, a little frantic and takes longer than he should've looking for the phone. He manages to find it right as it stops ringing, and he sighs when he sees that Liz was the one calling, meaning that she had been the one to call Michael earlier.

The phone rings again in his hands, and it's Liz again, so he answers it, pulling the phone up to her ear.

"What do you need?" He asks her, turning away from the door, and ignoring the fact that if Maria looked through the window, she could probably see him, now that he's standing.

"A new lab partner," she says, sounding a little sullen. "Call Guerin and tell him to bring me back my samples, dammit!"

Alex exhales roughly, "Have you tried calling him?"

Alex can hear Liz rolling her eyes, "He only answers your calls when it's not an emergency."

Alex wants to protest that that's not true, but before he can say anything, Liz is hanging up the phone.

Alex pulls the phone away from his ear, and hears Michael saying a little too callous, "I'm a free agent, DeLuca. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"You know," Maria says, sounding upset, voice shaking a little. "You have a funny way of showing a girl that you're not interested. If you're so keen on staying a free agent, then why did you try to kiss me that night?"

Alex exhales roughly and tightens his finger around his phone and really, he was trying to spare Maria more pain, but it seems like out of the three of them, he's the only one who cares about that.

"I wanted to get laid," Michael says, and Alex really doesn't want to be here for the rest of this conversation.

He inhales deeply, clenching his jaw, and walks out of the Airstream.

Michael and Maria both turn towards him.

Maria inhales sharply and Alex can see her turning away and covering her mouth with her hand. 

Michael raises an eyebrow at Alex, face entirely too amused for the situation, but Alex can tell that it's a mask. His eyes definitely don't lie, and they're telling Alex that this is literally the last thing that he ever wanted to happen.

Alex just swallows and drops down the last step.

"Call Liz," he says, looking away from Michael and catching Maria's gaze.

Maybe, if his face had looked even half as upset as Maria’s does right now, when she found out about Michael and him, she wouldn’t have decided that how he felt didn’t matter, but it was too late for that now.

He tries to smile but he knows it falls short when she frowns even more.

He just shakes his head and walks to his car as fast as he can.

He gets in the driver's seat and closes the door on Maria turning to Michael, "You're sleeping with Alex?!"

Alex starts the car and leaves before either of them can drag him back into that conversation.

-

“How long have you been sleeping with Michael?” Maria demands, walking into his house before he even gets a chance to welcome her inside.

Alex turns towards her confused, and closes the door, “On and off for the last ten years?”

Maria gives him a look as if to say that's not what she meant.

Alex inhales deeply and just shrugs a little, settling his shoulders deliberately so that he's not on the defensive. He has no reason to be defensive around Maria.

"For the last week or so," he finally says when she just keeps staring at him.

She scoffs disbelieving, shaking her head a little as she turns and paces once, before turning back to face him. "And you didn't think to give me a heads up? Maybe stop me from making such a fool of myself?"

Alex just exhales, and gives Maria a look, "I didn't think I needed to. The last I heard of it, you told me that it meant nothing and that it was never going to happen again."

Maria looks away at that, blinking rapidly.

"And also, I didn't say anything because there's nothing to say."

Maria turns back to face him. 

"There's everything to say," she says,  contradicting him. "You're having sex with Michael."

Alex scoffs and shakes his head. "It's not like I'm the only person he fucked this week."

Maria flinches at that, but throws him a hard look, eyes glinting a little bit like she's upset at him. "Yeah, but it's different when it's you."

Alex shakes his head, "No it's not."

Maria makes another low disbelieving sound at the back of her throat. "I've spent weeks thinking that Michael and I had an actual chance at turning this thing between us into a real relationship, when in reality it was as hopeless as he said."

Her voice goes a little desolate, hitting Alex a little in the chest, but at the same time her words twist at his insides, anger and jealousy, spiking momentarily before he inhales deeply and calms himself, clenching his jaw.

"I wouldn't know," he says, and Maria's gaze snaps back to him. "Michael and I have never really had a relationship."

She furrows her brow at him. "But you're in love with him."

"One doesn't negate the other,"' Alex says, looking away from her and over the dark living room. "But we're not good for each other," he continues a little scathing. "So it's not like it matters."

Maria just tilts her head at him, and her gaze becomes a little too intense and Alex just shakes his head, "No, this is why we're in this mess in the first place."

"No," Maria says, glaring at him a little. "We're in this mess because you refuse to actually talk to me about the important stuff!"

"The same can be said about you!" Alex snaps back, and Maria just bites down on her bottom lip and looks away.

"I'm just confused," she says with a sigh. "What exactly are you doing with Michael if you really think that?"

Alex raises an eyebrow, "Pretty sure you're the one who walked in here asking me if I was sleeping with him, and it's been a few months since the last time I actually woke up next to him."

Maria closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head once before opening her eyes again.

"So what you're saying is that it's just sex?" She asks him, voice tight.

Alex licks his lips and nods his head once.

"Just sex with someone you're in love with?" She continues and her eyes go really sad in a way that makes Alex bristle immediately.

“Look,” he says and shakes his head a little. “What exactly do you want me to say? That it was a mistake and won’t happen again? Because I can’t promise you that.”

Maria blinks at him a few times, “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“That as long as he wants me, I’m going to be here, in any way that that means.”

Maria licks her lips and her brow furrows and her eyes go more worried than they have been in his direction in a while. 

“Alex,” she starts, and Alex shakes his head, taking a step backwards towards the door.

“I already have enough with Kyle to deal with. And I’m only willing to put up with him because at least I can trust that he doesn’t have ulterior motives.”

Maria shakes her head at him, giving him a disbelieving look. “I don’t have ulterior motives. I’m worried about you. This situation you’re in right now isn’t good for either of you.”

“And I already know that,” Alex says. “It still doesn’t change anything.”

Maria exhales and gives him a look like she can’t believe that he said that.

“Listen,” he continues, when it looks like she’s going to try to say something else to convince him to stay away from Michael. “The minute that he decides that he’s actually done with me and wants to actually try something with you, I will stand aside. But he’s not yours, any more than he’s mine, and I don’t owe it to you to stay away anymore than you owe it to me.”

Maria stares at him for a long moment before she nods her head once, and moves to walk past him, to the door.

She stops right beside him, and reaches out to grab his hand.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she says. “It’s obvious that things aren’t exactly like how I thought they were. But please, take care of yourself.”

Alex just nods his head, but she just gives him a look like she doesn’t believe him.

She lets go of his hand and walks out without saying anything else.

Alex exhales roughly, before he turns towards the door and locks it. He presses his forehead against the door and closes his eyes.

Maybe he should stay away from Michael for a few days, maybe a break right now would be what’s best for all of them.

He pushes away from the door and rubs his hands across his face and into his hair, before he shakes and walks towards the kitchen. 

What he needs is a drink, and then a shower, and then he’ll come up with a plan.

three.

Damian insists on walking Alex to the front door. "Didn't you hear? There's a serial killer on the loose."

Alex just raises an eyebrow in return. "I can take care of myself."

"God, that's hot," is the only comment that Damian makes.

Alex just rolls his eyes, but he lets Damian open the car door for him and lead him to his front door.

Alex slows down as they get to the door turning towards him and Damian looks around, eyes focusing at some point over Alex’s shoulder.

Alex tilts his head, studying Damian’s face as he inhales deeply and then looks at Alex, eyes determined. 

“How do you feel about kisses at the end of the first date?”

Alex straightens up, tilting his chin forward slightly, and he thinks about the fact that he had a really good time, even though he only went on the date because Kyle had told him that Damian was a good guy.

And he was a good guy and also funny and apparently didn’t have much of a filter, but Alex kind of liked that.

Alex thinks that maybe he could actually have a relationship with someone like Damian, but he also knows that it would be an exercise in futility.

Still.

Alex reaches for him, cupping his jaw in his hands and pulling him in close. Damian moves easily into the kiss that Alex places on his mouth, chaste and swift.

He pulls away, feeling a little bit disappointed that he didn’t exactly feel anything, and Damian blinks his eyes open, looking at Alex with eyes that are shining too bright.

“I’m definitely calling you later,” he states.

Alex just shakes his head and lets him go, “I might answer.”

Damian just laughs and turns around walking towards his car.

Alex stays standing there until he gets in his car, and Damian turns back to look at him twice, before he waves as he opens the driver’s seat and gets inside.

Alex waves back shaking his head and then he turns to open the door.

All in all, he thinks, it’s been a pretty good day.

He’d come back home from spending a few weeks in Washington after he’d volunteered for a consultation job, and Kyle had blindsided him with a blind date.

He was tired, but at least he’d gotten a free meal out of it.

He walks inside of his house, closing and locking the door behind himself before he turns the light on, before he turns around and finds Michael, leaning against the back of the couch, arm’s crossed, a frown on his face that deepens when he looks at Alex and the smile on Alex’s face drops.

Alex hadn’t even realized that he’d been smiling until that moment.

Alex hasn’t seen him since he’d told everyone that he was leaving for a few weeks. 

He had waited until the last possible moment, and then had been gone before Michael could confront him alone.

He squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw and tries not to let it show that his heart is beating too fast, and his hands are clammy, and it feels like a million butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

"What are you doing here, Guerin?" He asks when Michael just continues to look down at the floor like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

Michael just breathes in deeply, but still doesn't look up at him as he speaks.

"You missed the big resurrection," he says, voice coming out almost accusing, but not quite.

Alex nods his head, "Yeah, sorry. I figured I wasn't really needed."

Michael looks up at that, "We couldn't have done this without you."

Alex tilts his head at that, thinking it over before he shakes his head. "No, I'm pretty sure Kyle would've figured everything out eventually. In the long term, Rosa did more than I did. All I have is a wealth of knowledge that I only know because my family has spent generations hunting and torturing aliens."

Michael makes a low sharp sound at that, but then he's shaking his head. 

"I didn't come here to fight about that," he says and pushes away from the couch, boots making a low clicking sound against the tile floor as he steps closer. 

Alex swallows hard and stands his ground, “Then I’m not exactly sure why you came then.”

Michael just shakes his head, and stops right out of arm’s reach, stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at Alex for a long moment, eyes intense.

“Who was that guy?” he asks, motioning towards the door with his chin.

Alex rolls his eyes a little. "A friend," he says shortly. "Kyle introduced us."

Michael licks his bottom lip and gives Alex a half smirk. "Right," he shakes his head.

And Alex wonders if he's jealous and then squishes the thought down.

"You kiss all your friends on the mouth then?" He asks, almost blurts out, voice full of accusations.

Alex just scoffs, and rolls his eyes again when Michael looks back at him, brow furrowed.

"I don't really have to explain myself to you. Guerin," he says, raising both of his eyebrows. "You've made it more than clear that what we currently have is going to be the extent of our relationship. So you don't get a say if I decide to date someone else."

Michael makes a low protesting sound and steps forward, "So it was a date."

Alex sighs exasperated, "And what if it was? Why do you even care?"

Michael just stares at him for a long moment, looking at Alex like he can't believe that he's actually that stupid.

He moves which Alex had been expecting, backing him up into the door, and Alex lifts his hands to Michael's shoulders, gathering the fabric of his shirt in his hands and moving to push him backwards when Michael cages him in and leans in close, pressing his forehead to Alex's and exhaling roughly.

Alex inhales sharply and feels the air get caught painfully in his throat.

He stares at Michael from way too close, each breath shuddering in his chest as Michael’s eyes fall shut and he breathes in deeply.

Alex exhales slowly, and Michael’s eyes flutter open.

He moves back a little, enough that Alex can actually look into his eyes, which are bright and clear. He looks a lot more sober than he has in what feels like months, and Alex doesn’t know if that has anything at all to do with his absence the last couple of weeks.

Michael blinks a little and then his eyes fall to Alex’s mouth and then back up to his eyes, a question very clearly on his face, but it’s almost like he doesn’t know how to ask Alex.

“Alex,” he says, voice low and right on the edge of desperate.

Alex licks his lips, inhaling deeply, and that seems to be the last straw.

Michael pushes back into his space, caging Alex in, forearms pressed on either side of Alex’s head, braced against the door. He leans in, noses brushing together as he pushes in even closer.

Alex barely has time to inhale sharply before Michael is too close, just barely brushing their lips together.

The move is so slight, but Alex feels it like a punch to the stomach.

He makes a low sound, more of a sob than a groan, and his hands are trembling when he slides his hands up and cups Michael’s jaw, fingers maybe a little too rough, as he tugs him in a little bit closer.

Michael makes a low noise at the back of his throat and his lips part against Alex’s and Alex tilts his head slightly, and moves his chin forward and presses their mouths together just a bit harder, but also soft and trembling, feeling like he just might break into a million little pieces.

Michael takes that as all the permission that he needs.

He moves his arms, crossing them behind Alex’s neck, and making his head tip backwards a little awkward, but he forgets about all of that when Michael presses in closer, pushing up on his toes as he kisses Alex hard and rough, biting down on his bottom lip and licking into his mouth.

Alex drags his hands back into Michael’s hair and twists his fingers around the curls and holds on tight.

He feels terrified, like this is all a dream. Every single part of his body is shaking, his skin feels like it’s on too tightly, it feels like he just may shake and fall apart at the seams at any second, but then Michael pushes in even closer until they’re pressed together so tightly against the door that all Alex can feel is Michael and the overwhelming heat of him, so solid and real.

And Alex feels himself slipping under.

He had told himself that this couldn’t happen again, but he hadn’t expected Michael to kiss him.

He had planned to tell Michael that this couldn’t happen again, that they needed to set up some boundaries, especially if they had to continue to work together, but he should’ve expected that Michael would’ve picked now to do something like this.

Alex tugs against Michael’s hair, and pulls him backwards, and Michael goes unwillingly, whining low in the back of his throat.

Alex inhales deeply, licking his lips and blinking rapidly and trying to figure out exactly what he wants to say, but it’s difficult when they were still pressed so close together, and when Michael just pulls against his hold and tightens his arms around Alex’s neck, pushing in close and kissing him again, deep and wet and all consuming.

Alex sinks into the kiss, dragging his hands down Michael's back, and wrapping him tighter in his arms.

Michael pushes into the nonexistent space between them, dragging his hands to Alex's jaw and pushing Alex's head back until their lips part with a gasp, and he presses his forehead to Alex’s cheek and just breathes raggedly.

Alex swallows hard and blinks rapidly, eyes focusing on the dark ceiling.

“Alex,” Michael repeats, voice cracking a little, sounding like both the question and the answer that Alex was looking for.

“Yes,” Alex says, moving his hands into Michael’s hair, and urging him backwards a little to get a good look at his face.

Michael looks at him, eyes too wet and too wide, and just too much for Alex to bear.

Alex pulls him into another kiss, and Michael moves into it eagerly like all he’d been waiting for was for Alex to kiss him, like he wasn’t the one who’d been pulling away every single time that Alex had tried.

He pulls away then, and Alex makes a low protesting sound, but Michael just shakes his head once, hands moving up to tangle in the short strands of Alex’s hair.

He stares at Alex for a second before he’s breathing in deeply.

“I want-” he starts to say, but Alex is already nodding his head before he can even finish.

“Anything,” he says a little recklessly, but at the moment, Alex would do anything if Michael would just keep kissing him.

Michael’s lips twitch into a half smile, and he just shakes his head a little before he’s tugging Alex back in for another kiss.

Alex pushes into the kiss, pushing away from the door.

Michael staggers backwards a few steps, but he snags his fingers tight in Alex’s hair and drags him along with him.

Alex loses track of his surroundings and doesn’t exactly realize that Michael is leading them somewhere, too busy fitting his fingers against the back of Michael’s neck and keeping their mouths locked together.

Alex feels the backs of his shins hit something solid, and then Michael’s hands are dragging down to his chest and he’s pushing Alex backwards.

Alex stumbles to sit back on the couch, and he swallows hard, feeling his pulse jumping erratically.

Michael looks down at him and then inhales deeply before he’s reaching towards the back of his neck and tugging his shirt over his head in one fast movement.

Alex barely gets his hands on the collar of his jacket, before Michael is dropping into his lap, sliding fingers into his hair and tugging his head back roughly before dragging a hard kiss across his mouth.

It takes them longer than it has the last couple of times they’ve done this to get naked enough. 

Michael kisses him until his mouth feels numb and there is a slow, heady heat sinking deep into his bones, rocking on Alex’s lap in uncontrolled movements until he’s hard and aching, hands tugging desperately against his belt loops.

Michael pulls away three times, and all three times Alex slides his hands into his hair and tugs him back to his mouth.

Alex wants so many things, but more than that, he doesn’t want to stop kissing him, and from the way Michael sinks into the kiss with minimal protest every time, he doesn’t want to stop kissing Alex either.

He pulls back a fourth time, lips making a soft slick sound as he does, and Alex slides his hands down to Michael’s jean clad thighs and rubs against the rough material restlessly.

Michael makes a low noise in agreement and rocks his hips down on Alex’s lap, punching a breathless moan out of Alex’s mouth.

“Okay, okay,” Michael says and then he’s sliding out of Alex’s lap.

Alex makes a sound in protest and Michael just shakes his head as he kicks his boots off while settling his hands on his belt buckle.

Alex stares a little too long as Michael slides his jeans off, and barely has his own pants and underwear down his thighs, before Michael is sliding back into his lap.

Michael kisses him and Alex settles his hands one either side of Michael’s waist, sliding them down to his hips and tugging him in closer.

Michael moves with the touch eagerly, and the move pushes their cocks together.

Michael kisses him for what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, rocking down on Alex's lap, dragging Alex's shirt up and out of the way to move even closer and grind their cocks together on Alex's stomach, making low moaning sounds at the back of his throat with every push.

Michael kisses Alex until he's dizzy and lightheaded and his hands are on Michael's ass, fingers digging in as he keeps him as close as he can.

Michael drags fingers into Alex's hair and pulls his head back, pulling their mouths apart with a gasp. Alex's head drops back to the back of the couch, and he blinks up at the dark ceiling, spots swimming in his vision. 

Michael presses his forehead to Alex's chin and slows the speed of his hips, dragging out the movement, making Alex whine low in the back of his throat.

"Wanna ride you," Michael says in a low wrecked voice, pushing his forehead harder against Alex's chin. "Been thinking about it for weeks."

Alex makes a low noise in agreement and squeezes Michael's ass in his hands before he's dragging his fingers down the cleft and rubbing his dry fingers against Michael's entrance.

"Lube?" He asks, and Michael just leans over and pushes his hand in between the couch cushions, pulling out a tube of lube that looks half finished.

Alex didn't know that that was there, but he's not surprised. They barely make it to the couch every single time this happens in Alex's house, so it's not surprising that Michael has lube stashed there.

four.

--Liz tells Alex that Michael left early cause he and Maria are going on a date, and Alex very nearly breaks delicate lab equipment, when Kyle comes, Alex makes excuses to leave

--he needs to get away from Roswell for a bit so he goes to the cabin

--he gets woken up by Michael, and they argue in bed, and Michael asks him if he loves him, and Alex fights him, and then says yes, and Michael tells him that he wants to try again, and Alex asks him what he’s actually trying to say, and Michael tells him, “I’m saying yes.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH13

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW

WC: 4382

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean’s standing right in front of her apartment, didn’t really know how he got here. It’s like he was on autopilot as soon as he started driving and his subconscious led him here. He also didn’t really know why he thought it was a good idea to show up so late (or early). All he knew was that he wanted to see her. Which is really stupid — probably.

Yeah, no.

It is really stupid because she’s most definitely asleep. It’s stupid, because he can’t even bring himself to stay a night away from her, what the fuck happened with his willpower, his self control? It’s fucking stupid, because he’s fucking weak and feels things that will most likely — most definitely — ruin him.

And there he was telling his cat that he won’t do anything stupid. He chuckles to himself at his stupidity, wonders if she would think he’s weird for talking to his cat at all, while he gathers all his strengths and wills his heart to stop beating so fucking fast.

Dean knocks.

Soft. Not nearly loud enough like he usually does.

He squints his eyes close and waits. He wants for her to wake up but also he doesn’t want for her to be scared? It doesn’t make any sense, he knows.

Silence.

He wants to try again, doesn’t know if he really should.

Dean sighs and rests his forehead against the door.

That was a really fucking stupid idea.

Another sigh.

He’s trying to make a decision if he should try to knock again or leave, when the door flies open. Light spilling out into the darkened staircase.

“Dean?” Y/N whispers, her voice low, full of sleep. She’s dressed in a shirt that’s loose around her shoulder and she wears some boy short panties.

Goddammit.

It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

Her hair’s up, tucked into a bun and some strands fall loose around her ears. She yawns and it makes him feel guilty for showing up. Only a little, because Jesus, he can’t stop looking at the stupidly cute thing in front of him.

“‘M sorry,” He says, keeps his voice low, and he wants to say so much more but he can’t, doesn’t know where to start, where to end. His thoughts are bumping together in his head all at once. Wants to spill out his thoughts and swallow them down at the same time.

Wordlessly, she opens the door wider for him to step in, and he’s thankful for that. Thankful that she doesn’t question his motives at all. She locks the door behind him when he’s inside.

He toes off his shoes at the door next to her pair of shoes that she probably wore today, and she waits for him, still not saying a word.

Turning around, he faces her, sees her rub at her eyes, and then she takes his hand and guides him towards her bedroom.

His heart picks up speed when it should be calming down.

It’s all because of her. He can’t catch a breath around her he once told her, and really, it’s not a word of a lie.

Y/N turns off the light in the hallway, ushers him into her bedroom and lets go of his hand. She climbs back into her bed in the darkened room and he stands there, his feet rooted to the floor as he watches her.

Moonlight shines through the crack of the blinds, granting him enough light to see her face, to see the way she’s tangled under her sheets.

What a fucking beautiful sight.

“You coming?” She asks with a tired smile, yawning once more and it’s weird how adorable he thinks she looks when she yawns.

Dean swallows, pieces his brain together enough to form something coherent. “Oh… oh, yeah.”

Zipping down his hoodie, he lets it fall to the floor before he gets rid of his sweat pants and socks, debates sleeping with a shirt on but he usually never sleeps with a shirt (just that one time when he let her sleep in his bed but that was because he didn’t want her to freak out when he was lying there only in his underwear), so he tosses it aside too, adding the shirt to the pile of clothes next to his feet.

He’s in his underwear and nothing else and he just watches her as she watches him. He’s hard too, can’t really help it, it’s the effect she has on him, it’s hard not to be hard around her. He sees her biting down on her lip, sees her shiny slick spit on them. Dean reminds himself that thinking with his downstairs brain is not really what he came here for.

“Scoot up,” He says playfully, takes a step closer and places a knee on the bed.

“Whatchu wanna? Big spoon or little spoon?”

Dean laughs, “Just turn around,”

“Big spoon it is then. And there I thought I could be your jet pack.” She grins, turning around underneath the covers and faces the other way.

“Maybe some other time, sweetheart.” He climbs in, feels the warmth surrounding his body and he moves closer, his arms hug her from behind, pulls her towards him, while he presses a kiss on the skin where her shirt slipped down her shoulder.

“Lift your head,” He whispers against her throat and when she does, he places his other arm underneath her head, lets her use it as a pillow.

Dean inhales her scent, tilts his head back to kiss the back of her neck, and then forward again, down to her shoulder. Her back melts against his chest, and he’s sure that she can feel how fast his heart is beating. Should maybe be a little ashamed of it. Ashamed, of how obvious his feelings are for her, but he can’t bring himself to care.

They lay tangled together in silence for a while. Dean’s eyes are half closed, ready to be lulled into maybe another nightmare.

“So, what is it that you do?” Y/N whispers quietly but Dean hears her bright and clear. Is a little taken aback by the question, too, because he doesn’t think she’s awake enough to ask such a heavy question. She must be thinking about it, can’t get back to sleep without knowing an answer.

He has his lips on her shoulder, “I’m not really a good man,” He starts and pecks her skin, exhaling and inhaling as he thinks about what he should tell her, and how much he should tell her, “Illegal things mostly. My people deal with it, I kinda keep it all together. It’s straight business. I run a business that happens to be illegal and I meet with others who aren’t exactly legal to get good deals and occasionally, I get my hands dirty, too.”

“Like some kind of a mobster?”

Dean noses at the side of her neck, kisses her skin once more, just because he can, “I’d say that I’m a CEO in my organization, a great businessman, too, but yeah, you could call it that.”

“Gangster boss,” She hums.

“Are you scared of me?”

He can feel her backing her body up closer to him after the question and he holds her just a little tighter, breathes against her ear.

“Nuh-uh,” She says, and maybe he’s imagining it but she pushes her ass up against his bulge.

“Nuh-uh?” He whispers, kisses her behind her ear, sucks in her earlobe, and she whimpers.

“No, you have a good heart.”

Her hand flies behind his head, and Dean’s really not imagining it. She starts to grind against his cock.

There’s a groan he tries to hide. It’s a weird sound he makes, like something’s dying in his throat. He swallows, tries to calm down.

“Sweetheart, I’m not here to fuck you. Stop trying,” He mumbles, and saying it is harder than he thought it would be. He doesn’t stop kissing down her neck and he’s a blink away from losing it himself if she keeps on going what she does.

“Why?” Y/N turns around in his grip and there it is, the fucking pout.

Goddammit.

Dean chuckles as he kisses cheek, her nose, and her pout, sucking in her bottom lip before letting it out with a small pop, “Because that’s not the only thing I want from you. I don’t want you to think it is. That’s not what this is all about. We will, and god knows how much I want to, but not tonight, okay?”

She buries her face in his chest, and Dean thinks it’s because she’s embarrassed, which is really the last thing he wants her to be.

“Hey,” He says, his hand tucks her hair behind her ear, “Look at me,”

She hesitates before she does. Her eyes are a little glassy, and he can’t really see it in the light but he can imagine that her face is flushed and she does the little cute thing where she bites down on her bottom lip. If that’s not a sight that sends his heart racing, he’d be lying.

He kisses her then. It’s sweet, tender, only tickling her a little with his tongue, his teeth scrape along her bottom lip and she’s a fucking tease because she can’t stop wriggling her hips.

“Baby, you should stop.” He says, and he trails his hand down her spine, lets it rest on her ass cheek, squeezing a little for her to stop rubbing against him, and she giggles.

Dean rolls his eyes and kisses her again, shutting her up and she grinds against him some more. Her lips are still tugged into a smile while she’s still biting that fucking bottom lip of hers but she doesn’t stop fucking grinding.

This fucking girl, seriously.

Two can play at that game.

“Are you wet again, baby?” He kisses her nose, and she nods her head. He releases the grip on her ass cheek, sneaks his hand to the front of her underwear, “Can I check?”

“Uh-huh.” She nods again with her lip between her teeth and it’s fucking killing him.

Dean’s hand finds the seam of her underwear and dibs his fingers in, trailing the pads of them down her front, letting out a shaky breath when he feels that she’s shaved bare, can’t help but wonder if she did that for him. He didn’t think she was the type to shave and honestly, he wouldn’t have cared one bit if she wasn’t because he’s sure that her pussy’s beautiful either way. He damn near groans when he reaches her pussy, parts her lips with his fingers, and damn, she’s not lying. She’s slippery wet.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re soaked,” His hands are shaking as he lets his fingers glide through her slick, “Did I do this to you?”

She’s back at burying her face in the crook of his neck, probably hiding her embarrassment. “Uh-huh,”

“Did you get yourself off today? Thinking of me?” He knows he probably shouldn’t ask. Knows that she’s a fucking good girl and probably doesn’t feel comfortable answering such a nasty question, but he can’t help it. He wants to know if she thinks about him the same way he thinks about her.

She has her face buried flat against his chest and he feels the hot air of her breath on his skin. He’s still rubbing her and she’s breathing hard. Her voice is muffled, speaking into his skin, “In the shower. You think it’s creepy that I did?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

He curses himself now because even though he wanted to know he was not really prepared for the image she plants in his head.

He chuckles lightly, “Not creepy. You’re doing things to me, too.”      

Dean rubs her lazily and she wriggles some more. He feels the slick coat his fingers, and fuck, he’s hungry for a taste.

Y/N looks up to him now, her lip still between her teeth. The room’s dark but her eyes are a shade darker and then she asks a question that catches him a little off guard, “Did you ever rub one off thinking of me?”

He should have seen it coming.

“I did,” He kisses her forehead. “Exclusively.”

“How many times?”

He groans at that.

If he tells her the truth, she might think that he’s a creep. But also he decided yesterday that he’s not going to lie to her. He’s too old to keep up two different facades and since Jo already tried to kidnap her, the facade would soon crash down around him. So the only way is forward and he hopes that she’s not entirely freaked out.

He can’t help but blush a little himself. “Too many times. Since the day I met you.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s kinda creepy.” She says but she hugs him tight and kisses his throat, catches a little skin, and sucks at his pulse point and fuck, his dick twitches in interest.

“I think we’ve established that we’re both kinda creepy, sweetheart.” He flickers his finger on her clit, making her whole body jerk up and he can’t hold back a laugh.

“Shit,” She pants and moves her hips in a figure eight, tries to get more friction and he likes that. Likes how desperate she is.

Desperate for him.

He wants more of it. Wants her moaning and begging. Not to toot his own horn, but they’ll get there, he’s sure of it.

“Did Bobby bring you enough food?” He asks, averting the subject a little, but with a clear intention.

“Yeah,” He feels her warm breath on his skin when she speaks, the little hitch in her voice when he rubs her just right, “Too much food, I was in a food coma after,”

Dean flicks at her clit with his middle finger, making her yelp up and he grins, kisses the top of her head. “Good,”

“Did you eat?” She asks, her hips gyrating on his finger now, her voice trembles, “There’s still some leftovers.”

Dean moves a little, taking his hand out from her panties to look at his fingers. He can see them glistening in the dim light of the room. He also can’t help himself, licks at the pad of his middle finger, there’s a weird sound coming from his throat the moment her taste hits him. A sound he doesn’t usually hear himself make, and fuck, she’s really as sweet as he always imagined her to be.

He holds his fingers out for her, and she takes the hint — what a fucking good girl. Her fingers wrap around his wrist and she sucks two of them in while looking him dead in the eye.

His cock strains painfully in his underwear.

“‘M not hungry for food,” He grins, all bravado, and she must have sensed it because she let out a stutter of a moan that — he can’t lie — goes right where his cock is pulsing in his underpants.

“Yeah?” She answers him with that challenging tone of voice that makes him actually want to kiss her more just to shut her up, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he wrestles above her, pins her beneath him, kicks the covers to the end of the bed as he moves down her body. His hands find the hem of her shirt and push it up, revealing her chest.

“Fuck,” He mutters as he hunches above her and looks down at her tits.

His hand cups one of it, pinches her nipple between his thumb and index finger, making her arch her back and she gasps out in shock. Dean cups her tit in his palm, a handful, cutest tits he’s ever seen.

Lowering his face, he seals his lips around a nipple, sucking at it before he let his teeth nibble at the peak. Her body trembles.

“You’re sensitive,” He chuckles as he abandons the tit to attend to the other.

She didn’t say anything to that, at least it’s nothing coherent. Not that Dean expected her to say anything at all.

He kisses his way downward, shoulders himself in between her thighs and he looks up, sees her watching him, her lips between her teeth. Dean holds the gaze while he uses his big hands to spread her luscious thighs.

The big palm of his hand strokes along her upper thigh and he hooks his fingers through the seam of her panties. He watches her and when he doesn’t see resistance in her eyes, he pulls them down slowly, taking in her lower body as he strips her off the needless fabric and tosses it onto the pile of clothes on the floor. He breathes in her sweet tang which makes his head spin and he swallows hard at the sight of the feast that lays before him.

“Look at you,” He whispers, his voice dropping deeper and is trembling a little but he keeps himself in check, still. “What a pretty sight.” Dean rubs his thumb around her clit, spreads more of her wetness around. “Prettiest little pussy.”

She doesn’t say anything, just keeps biting those sweet lips and presses her thighs together, her hands fly down in a futile attempt to try to cover herself. She wants to shield him from the place where he wants to get a taste the most and he’s come this far, he can’t let that happen. She wants it, he can see that, she’s just utterly shy and he gets that, too.

“Shhh,” Dean’s voice is soft and low, “It’s okay, baby. Let me,” He lays his hand on hers, waits until she moves her hands away on her own.

“Good girl,” He praises her, and she shows him a shy smile.

He licks his lips, wishes for more light because he’d like to see more of her. Wants to see the pink of her pussy, wants to know if it really matches her cheeks when she blushes at him.

Thumbing her lips apart, he steals another glance, stores the image in his memories — thinks that he might really be a little creepy but they’ve already established that — before he dives in with his tongue, licking a broad stripe up her slit and she moans, arches her back at the first contact. Dean has to pause to grin and then he blows air against her clit, making her tremble and moan some more.

He can’t help but look up at her as he sucks at her clit, wonders if his beard is too rough against her delicate skin but she grinds down on him, pushes herself against his mouth some more as she closes her eyes and plays with her tits, rolls and twists her nipple between her fingers.

What a fucking beautiful sight.

He licks his lips, tastes the sweet tang on them, groans a little to himself before he goes in for another taste. All the while, he’s watching her, couldn’t not watch. He watches as she fists her hand in the sheets when he teeths at her sweet clit. He watches as she throws her head back when he swipes his tongue along the rim of her hole. He definitely couldn’t not watch.

“Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever eaten,” Dean growls, spreads kisses along her lips and thighs. “So fucking delicous. Could eat you for days,”

There’s not a word of a lie. He really could — if she would let him.

Y/N frowns a little, he thinks it’s because he has a dirty mouth and can’t keep it shut. Not with her.

He keeps his left hand on her thigh as he toys along the outside of her hole with the pad of his middle finger of his right hand. Dean looks up to meet her eyes and she nods at him.

His finger pushes in carefully before he has to stop because he needs to recollect himself. It’s tight. So fucking tight. And Dean feels another twitch of his cock just by imagining his dick instead of his finger.

“Fuck, baby.” He swears and grits his teeth a little as he pushes in further, feels the wall of her pussy hugs his finger tight. “So wet and tight,”

She looks at him all flustered and he curses that there’s not more light for him to see the pink of her cheeks. She flinches a little as he digs in deeper, but she isn’t telling him to stop so he goes on, drives further in, cautiously, until he hits the end and there’s no going forward anymore. Carefully, he slips in another finger, feels her wall fluttering and expanding to accommodate him.

“Shit,” She exclaims, closes her eyes as he curls his fingers up to search for that special button.

He’s back at licking her, sucking her, drinking from her like a starving man as he moves his fingers a little, not too much, just enough to rub against that spot that clearly drives her wild.

“Dean,”

It’s a whimper. She’s a mess above him while she tries to grind against his finger and face. Dean grins into her sweet lips.

“You’re close, ain’t that so? I can feel it, sweetheart. What do you want?” He’s breathless himself.

“Want to com—ah!”

He laughs, as the voice dies in her throat with a twist of his fingers. He can feel her walls tightening around them, if that’s even possible for her to be any tighter at all. He thinks that’s she’s so fucking tight that when he really wants to sink his cock into her, he needs to work up to it. But he’d do it gladly.

“Shit,” She bites her lips.

“Feels good?” He seals his lips around her pussy again, it’s so tiny and cute, he kind of fits it right into his mouth with room to spare and then he hums, sending vibrations throughout her body.

He’s a little shit, he knows.

“Fuuuck, Dean! Uh-huh,”

“Uh-huh? Did you reach that spot yourself today, baby?” He rubs at that spot on the inside to emphasize his words.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Nuh-uh? Then let me help you.”

He rubs and fucks her faster, sucks harder, eyes steady on her because he wants to see that. Wants to see her coming undone.

“Fu… Dean,” She fists her hand in his hair, her nails clawing at his scalp, kind of pulling him in further and she’s strong, it hurts him a little, but a good kind of hurt. Because he likes that too, can not lie about it.

He manages to look up, his lips still attached to her clit when he speaks, “Look at me baby,”

She blinks, closes her eyes for a long stretch and revels herself in the feelings before she opens them up and looks down at him.

“That’s it, good girl.” He hums and mouths at her pussy, seals his lips around her clit and sucks before he lets go again. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want you to look at me when you come. I want to see you.”

His voice is deep, has probably dropped a little more, if that’s even possible. It’s shaking a little, too, because god knows that he’s so fucking close to creaming his own goddamn underwear.

“Oh god!” Y/N closes her eyes briefly, but then she remembers that he told her to look at him and her eyes fly open, staring into his fucking soul as she shakes around his mouth and finger. The one thigh that he didn’t pin down comes up, pushing against the side of his face so hard as she vibrates.

Dean’s smile is confident afterward while she lies above him, her chest heaving, her eyes closing and opening, still riding on that high.

“It’s Dean, not god.” He grins cockily and she looks down to roll her eyes at him.

He takes out his finger, licks it clean before he laps at her pussy, cleaning her up as best as he can and yeah, he can’t get enough, that much is clear and he would dive in some more, make her come a couple more times (would love to know how many times he could make her come in one night, and yeah, he wants to find that out), if she wouldn’t have whimpered when he sucks at her clit. She’s so fucking sensitive and that’s a major turn on, too.

Honestly, at this point, Dean doesn’t think there could be anything about her that could turn him off anymore.

Climbing up her body, he fishes at the covers at the foot of the bed and brings it back up, covering both of them with it. He kisses her then, letting her taste herself off his tongue.

“Perfect.” He whispers as he comes up for air.

“What?”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

He knows that she’s blushing but he doesn’t care, kisses her once more.

Dean breaks the kiss after, maneuvers her onto her side again so he could spoon her from behind. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” She says and adds, “Amazing.”

“That’s good.” He whispers, his mouth so close to her ear and it sends sparks through her spine.

Never once did someone ask her how she feels after.

“And now we sleep,” He places a kiss behind her ear.

Y/N looks back, probably thinks he’s out of his mind (which he might be, because it was never about him and that’s a first for him). “But you didn’t—”

Dean feels her bare ass against his rock hard and leaking cock. He’s sure that he dampened his underwear. He kisses her shoulder, her jaw, her temple. “It’s not always about me, it’s all about you. I usually have control over myself, although it’s pretty hard to have it around you sometimes.”

She doesn’t say anything but he can feel the huff of air as she cozies herself into a fetal position. He holds her, and he swears that he’s out so fast, even if his cock’s still fucking hard. It never happened before. Things happen around her, that he clearly has no control over and maybe he should be scared but weirdly, he’s quite okay with it.

CH14

[ajokeformur-ray]

Three of us against it all // J x Patrick x Reader // soft cuddles.

Summary: It’s been a long, hard day at work and you just want to curl up in a puddle in between Pat and J and go to sleep. All you want is your clown and your koala... and when you get home, well... you get exactly what you want. To the world, these two men are cold, callous... to you??? They’re sweeter than sweet.

A/N: Because @loveletterstoledger​ and @jokershyena​ are total sunflowers and I adore you so much that talking to you makes me feel like I can do and be anything. If one day when I grow up I become half the person you are, then it’ll be the single greatest achievement of my life. You inspire me so much and I love you dearly. You deserve the world and you deserve to lay in between J and Patrick and to be loved on. So here you go, lovelies! I hope you both enjoy, *mwah* <3 also - this is the only time you’ll ever see Pat on top of J... enjoy it.

Though it is stated on my masterlists, I just want to make it very clear that in my OT3 imagines, the ages are as follows: 

J is 30 (Heath was 27- 8 so it makes sense), Pat is 19-22 (Heath was 19 when filming) and the reader is in their early 20s. All is discussed, consensual and agreed upon that they are all romantically involved!

Word count: 1, 368.

On the way home from work could you only think of one thing: getting home to your koala and your clown. Both of them had arranged to be home waiting for you when you finished work this day and it had been the only thing to get you through your long, gruelling shift. Your feet positively ached, your mind felt like it was full of rocks and you just wanted to go home and curl up with the two most important people in your life. Oh, but you were exhausted. You were operating on autopilot and the commute home somehow passed by in a flash but dragged on forever; your entire being alight with excitement and with relief at the thought  that your loves were waiting for you at home.

Your mind, filled with clouds and with the alluring thoughts of your loves’ arms and of your bed, kept you company, kept you busy until the moment that your house key slid easily into the lock and finally, finally, did your daydreams become reality. You busied yourself with toeing off your shoes, carelessly abandoning them next to Pat’s. J’s steel toe capped boots were nowhere to be seen so he was likely still wearing them, little did he care for the state of your carpets. What did it matter, when they could just be replaced? Your outer layers quickly followed your shoes, dumped were they in the dirty laundry basket, and you sighed with relief. You could hear the low baritones of your men talking in the bedroom even through the closed door, and the humming of their voices kept you company, kept you safe while you went in the shower. They revitalised you, filled you with hope and energy and sunlight, and tonight, even through your exhaustion, was their power over you and your wellbeing no exception. You could picture them cuddled up together, not that one of the two would ever admit to such a thing, and it only made you hasten through your after work routine.

You could see them so vividly in your mind, as if you were right there in the room with them... Pat would be lying on his side, an arm stretched out across the expanse of the bed so that J could rest his head on Pat’s palm, the younger man’s fingers in J’s slightly greasy curls. J would be lying on his back, his hands down by his sides. J’s head would be turned on the pillow to look at the Aussie, the tendons in his neck prominent. The sharp curves of J’s face would be begging to be kissed, to be worshipped by Pat’s full lips. Indeed at this moment, as you climbed into the shower, was Pat leaning over J, his fingers still in J’s hair, fingertips rubbing at J’s scalp tenderly, tracing J’s jawline with the cool tip of his nose. J growled lightly under his breath and pushed his face into Pat’s warm lips and reverent touch. The distant sound of running water acted as the accompaniment to their breathing; as Pat inhaled did J exhale, like puzzle pieces were they. Though they fit together, however, you were the glue which softened their jagged edges, which kept them coming home to one another.

Like this did they stay, together did they remain until the bedroom door cracked open and you came in, an ice cold can of drink in your hand. Pat’s smile was dazzling as he straightened up from J and looked at you over his shoulder. “Hey there, Y/N. How you doin’?” He moved off of J, who grumbled at being disturbed, and both Pat and J wriggled around with dramatic, over-exaggerated bounces to free up space in between them. Your lip curled upwards in a smile as you crawled up the bed, being mindful of the can you held in one hand, and J grunted in slight irritation at having to move as he grabbed the can from you and set it down on the bedside table, the hand he had used to do so then coming to wrap around your arm to tug you down beside him.

“Well, hel-lo, beautiful. And you are beautiful.” Intense chocolate eyes dared you to disagree. J huffed in amusement when you didn’t take the bait, and then he got down to business, “Did ya’ check the locks on y’r travels, doll?”

“Yeah. They’re lo - “ You let the rest of your sentence drop away as J groaned tiredly and got out of bed, his entire body on the defense as he checked the windows. You heard him moving through the apartment, checking locks and seals, checking for forced entries, making sure that his koala and his hyena would be safe this night. J could handle his own, though it had occurred to you moments ago that all three of you were exhausted beyond measure and needed this night to be just for you. While he carried out his nightly check did you roll over and get comfortable with your Peppermint, who sighed sleepily and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. Full, hot lips feathered a series of kisses to the crown of your head. Loving you and J was Pat’s religion; J had received his hourly worship and now would you receive yours. In abundance, too, for nothing about Pat was half assed.

“How was work, love?”

“Work was... work.”  You shrugged, your voice already a soft whisper. You were almost asleep already, the warmth emanating off Pat only adding to your exhaustion and your innate need for rest before tomorrow - never could you fully catch a break before the next day’s work. J had been right - capitalism was one of the worst jokes you could think of.

Pat hummed in understanding and in sympathy as he rubbed his hand up and down your arm, comforting you with his touch. He was there for you. He loved you. This was precisely what he had been waiting for; for you to come home so that the three of you were altogether again, so that the three of you could curl up in a mess of limbs and blankets, and sleep. In your threshold consciousness were you when J came back into the bedroom. He shut the door with a loud click, uncaring was he that you were almost asleep, and Pat shushed him impatiently. Pat was just as exhausted as you were, having stayed awake for you to finish work. He had to be up early to go to school tomorrow and that would mean that he would be running on as little as six hours of sleep - he needed his rest just as much as you did.

“Y/N’s almost asleep! Be quiet, you old clown!” Pat’s harsh, deep whisper was soothing and you nuzzled into his chest, your fingers curling into the material of his dark grey shirt. You heard him coo, heard J moving around, and you moaned softly as the mattress dipped with J’s weight. A low, soothing rumble sounded so close to your ear; trying to comfort you was he. J always slept on the side of the bed closest to the door, and he slept facing it, too, so vigilant and so subtly protective of what was his was he. J shuffled back so that your backs were touching and you whined in your sleep, somehow managing to both press into J but into Pat at the same time. You were surrounded by physical and emotional warmth in this moment, Pat’s lips in your hair, J’s broad back pressed against yours, your hand reached back to rest on J’s hip so that you could feel him there, Pat’s arms tightly around you... the combined scents of gasoline, gunpowder, greasepaint and of a slight hint of sweat coming from J and of apples, cigarette smoke, leather and something spicy coming from Pat filled your senses and intoxicated you. It filled your heart, infiltrated your soul, and sent you straight into Morpheus’ arms. You were accompanied by your koala and your clown, however, for nowhere could you go where they would not follow.

HL OT3: @tsukiakarinobara   @1-800-dead-inside  @antonija89 @hotpacino  @call-me-harley-quinn @jokershyena

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: leave her wild; drew gulak

Notes:

So this is my feral!omega fic universe. And this came to me on the main from @andie01​ and one day, I swear to God.. I’m gonna do something with Drew and Lily and the whole concept of a feral omega. So, until I figure it out, have this instead.

Summary:

The night Drew scented Lily / their first meeting. Intense flirty banter ensues.

Warning:

uhh... not really? just lil hints of dominant!gulak, that’s all.

Pairing:

Drew Gulak x OFC, Lily

Strawberry filled the air and Drew froze in the middle of the hallway and inhaled it in sharply. His entire body went from relaxed to taut as a rope and his eyes darted around. The scent got heavier and heavier, until it almost had his mouth physically watering. He growled to himself quietly, hefting the purple strap of leather from one side of his chest to the other.

It all happened so fast when it did happen that as her scent faded seconds later, Drew was left to stand there, hand in his hair as he puzzled it out.

The blonde tore down the hallway,  with Mustafa’s girlfriend Nima hot on her heels, this mischief filled giggle filling the air and piercing through Drew’s deep thought and intent focus. The scent was almost overpowering as the blonde raced past.

… it’s her, she’s ours…

… god she’s so fucking beautiful…

… go on, go after her… she needs us…

… there isn’t time right now… after the match…

… mate needs us now… not after the match… couldn’t you scent it on her…

… not now. Be patient… i have every intention of making myself known as soon as the match ends…

He was just about to step into the dressing room, but she stopped and turned. Her eyes met his and she gave this devilish little grin as her hand raised, fingers tangling in the ends of long blonde strands. She stared him down, almost as if she were undressing him with her eyes.

But what really got to him the most was when she called out to him.

“Has anyone ever told you, sir.. Staring is rude. Take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer?” - was said with a soft laugh punctuating the end of her words. The wink she gave had Drew Gulak tensing his hands at his sides and her little amused smirking giggle, well… It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that his Omega was… Not your typical one.

Most had the thickest hint of needy in their scent. Not her.

This heavy air of wild and free, that replaced the usual neediness.

… a challenge, hmm?… we’ll just see about that…

… she wants you… needs you… just won’t show it easily… but you’ll win her over… we’ll win her over…

Then, as fast as it all happened, his Omega was gone, disappearing out into the parking lot, leaving just the faintest hint of wild and over ripened strawberries in her wake. Drew inhaled deeply again and then took a long and shaky breath.

Focusing on the task at hand was going to be difficult now. Not so difficult he couldn’t, but just a shade more challenging than he might have previously thought.

X

Out in the parking lot, Lily exhaled sharply. Her breath was shaky and she leaned heavily against the door, staring up at the darkening sky. Just that fire in those eyes.. Her thighs were absolutely coated with slick. It was taking every single ounce of her willpower not to march right back in there and seek him out.

… Alphas are all entitled schmucks though… name one you know who isn’t an asshole when the other side takes over…

…. Go to him…. Ours… Want…. Need… so much… fuck….

…then again Lily thought to herself on the subject of her Alpha apparently being none other than Drew Gulak, he’s too controlled for that and something tells me that while maybe he has his moments… he is far from an asshole type… but there’s no way it would ever work, not without one of one or the other changing massively… is there?

From beside her, Nima spoke up.

“You do realize.. If you try to keep him at arms length, it isn’t going to work. And Drew isn’t.. A bad guy. Not at all. He’s not like the others, he wouldn’t hurt you. That is what you’re afraid of, is it not?”

“It is. But how do I know Drew Gulak isn’t the same as literally every single other Alpha out there? I mean…” Lily dragged her fingers through her hair and grimaced as the teeth she’d had filed into fangs recently poked at her lower lip.

“Still stand by thinking it’d be ‘wicked’ to have fangs?” Nima questioned with a soft laugh as she gazed at her friend. Despite not being the same as Lily was, she knew enough alphas, betas and omegas to know that what was happening to her best friend right now was huge. And Lily, well.. She was probably overthinking it, just like always.

“Hell yes. They suit me. Just.. wish they’d hurry and dull at the tip.”

Nima snickered, she didn’t have to be Lily’s longtime best friend to realize that Lily thought she was in the clear and the subject at hand was going to change. She’d simply let the matter drop for the moment.

She got the distinct feeling that Drew Gulak was going to be relentless in his pursuit and that could be a very good thing for her best friend. Lily needed and most certainly deserved the attention and stability Drew would bring to the table.

And Drew, well.. Lily could teach him how to loosen up a little, hopefully.

Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see how the rest of the night unfolded. She knew how driven Drew could be when he set his mind to something… and if that look in his eyes was anything to go by, well… He’d set his mind to having Lily as his chosen Omega.

X

The match ended just the way he’d pictured it ending and the ref raised his arms in victory. The strap was still clutched tight in his hand and despite himself, his eyes scanned the crowd.

At some point during the match, he’d scented her in the area.. And he felt an intent gaze.

An intent gaze that persisted throughout the entirety of his match to defend the belt. Just knowing she’d seen him… Gave him this sense of pride.

And yes, maybe he was a little smug. Because despite the whole air of distrust / amusement he’d picked up earlier, she was admittedly curious enough about him to watch his title defense.

He made his way up the ramp on autopilot, it barely registered as he stepped through the curtains and into the backstage area. He stopped to lean against a wall, gather himself together a little bit.

Her scent was much heavier now. If he had to guess, she was in the throes of heat fever. Just the thought of that had him a little out of sorts.

And he sensed that she might well be right now too.

And that it also was not going to be easy to get her to see reason. To see that no, he wasn’t at all like the other Alphas they were surrounded by.

But, he thought to himself, he was going to die trying if he had to.

He was just about to step away from the wall, set off to go track her down when Mandy Rose cornered him. He stared down at her, a blank look on his face as she trailed her fingertip over his chest and bit her lip.

“That was a very, very impressive win.”

“And? Your point? I have to go.” Drew shoved past her, leaving her to stand there, staring at him as he walked away. Drew rounded a corner and a wall of wild and over ripened strawberry hit him, encasing him and almost sending him right into a stupor. His body tensed ever so slightly.

The blonde stared up at him in amusement.

“In a hurry, tiger?”

-  fuck, her voice is so soft and low, she’s practically purring, just how the fuck am I supposed to… focus… on anything… ever again… the thought came and he pushed it out quickly, in favor of answering.

“I prefer wolf… And no, not now.” Drew stepped a bit closer. The heaviness of her scent was drawing all sorts of attention from the other Alphas he shared a roster with. He wanted it perfectly clear just whom the blonde in front of him was meant for.

“Oh really?” Lily’s teeth tugged at her lip and she stared up at him, conflicted. There was this air of confidence practically radiating off of him that drew her to him and yet, the fact that he was an Alpha -and apparently, her Alpha, it was keeping her at bay. She’d heard of far too many bad experiences to just.. Give in easily.

Her own mother’s experience with the bond, for starters.

His scent hung heavily in the air, earthy and yet still crisp and clean somehow. She breathed it in deeply, trying to be as covert about it as possible, but when she saw that little amused gleam in his eyes, she knew she’d been caught. He moved closer. Fuck, he’s a giant, she swallowed hard as the thought came bursting to the forefront of her mind. His hand reached out, brushing away the shaggy fringe that hung in her eyes to neatly tuck it away behind her ear. He gave a satisfied smile as he did it, muttered in a smooth and quiet tone, “There now, that’s much better. I can actually see your eyes.”

“Maybe I liked my hair messy, sir.” Lily started to protest, biting her lip, biting just a little too hard and swearing over it when she felt the pointed tip of her filed teeth lightly stab against the soft flesh of her mouth as her lips settled into a pout. She gave him an almost defiant look and Drew chuckled, giving a lazy shrug. “I’ll keep that in mind then.”

“Yeah.. Do that.” Lily swallowed hard again and shuffled her feet, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. “Your match was amazing, by the way.. Not that I was like.. Watching or anything.”

He chuckled and at the sudden filling of the hallway, found himself pressing much closer. His hand lingered at her hip, giving just the slightest hint of a squeeze as he boldly met and held her gaze. She went to look away, he tilted her chin so that she couldn’t, so that she had to see him.

“Now we both know that isn’t true. You were watching. Which is good. It’s okay to admit you’re curious about me.”

“No, I just happen to be passing by.” Lily tried to insist, even as he shook his head and chuckled. She found herself pressing closer, despite everything in her trying it’s best to resist the urge, to fight the pull to him she felt.

It was almost overwhelming. Like being in a strong current that she couldn’t get out of. And the scariest part?

Deep down she didn’t really want to get away. She didn’t want to put up a fight, but it was in her nature to an extent.

The two sides of her were conflicted and battling it out.

“Either way.. I’m glad you stuck around and watched. It kind of gave the match a meaning and a purpose for me.”

“You mean beyond that purple strap you’ve got yourself there?” Lily eyed the belt and he chuckled, raising a hand to rub his chin. When she pouted a little because he’d moved his hand, he was quick to put it back down at her hip where he had it and he gave her an amused look.

The heat in her body was hanging heavily between them and when he saw her sway a little on her feet, he gripped her hips tighter, pulling her in closer and as a result, closing the distance between them. “That is exactly what I mean.”

“Yeah? Tryin to prove something to little old me, big guy?” Lily sucked in a deep and harsh breath just to stop the whine from coming when she actually pressed her body right against his just to keep from falling forward, tired of trying to fight everything like she had been for nearly two days now.

It wasn’t getting any easier at all. The calmest she’d felt was right now, with him standing here, his hands on her hips, his body against her own. She could actually breathe again.

… you know this isn’t gonna go well… you’re two very different people…

… we want him… he’s chosen us… stop fighting it…

Drew felt the slackening of her body and he took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t even be standing here right now.” his hand raised to her forehead, the back of it resting against as he hissed at the spike in her body temperature. The scent of her was almost syrupy sweet now and her mouth opened and closed again, almost as if she fully intended to protest but for whatever reason, she stopped.

“Yes, well.. I have to work.”

“You need to rest.” he bent, picking her up. She squeaked in surprise and eyed him, biting her lip, almost as if she were considering what he was trying to do. “I have feet, you can put me down.”

“I could.” Drew responded in a firm and yet mild tone, shrugging as he continued, “But I’m not going to.”

“Just why the hell not, hmm?” Lily asked the  question, purposely brushing her lips right against the side of his neck. She smirked to herself when she felt his pulse quicken even more. Despite everything in her continuing to insist she protest, she do something to stop the magnet’s pull she was under, she found herself nuzzling against him, resting her head against the space between his shoulder and neck.

“Because, princess.. What kind of Alpha would I be if I did make you walk right now, hmm?” his voice was whisper quiet, almost a low hum and she stared at him intently, taking a few deep breaths. “The kind that I’m used to.” Lily answered truthfully. There was no sense in lying to the man, if he insisted on pursuit.

“Clearly, you’re used to the wrong kind.” Drew scoffed and found himself wondering just where her misconceptions about the bond stemmed from. She wiggled just a little in his grip and he held her tighter, pushing open the door to a quieter and far less crowded room backstage with his foot and stepping inside, sitting her down. Once he had her sitting down, he began to walk back and forth, thinking everything out.

“Possibly. But tell me, sir.. Why should I believe that you’re not just looking for holes to fuck like all the rest?”

Drew stopped and stepped between her legs as he snorted in laughter and his fingertip trailed her jaw, tilting her chin upward so he could stare down at her. “If I were looking for that, I’d go and find someone completely useless and tedious to deal with like Mandy Rose. I didn’t and I don’t intend to. No,” he eyed her and barely restrained a low throaty growl from deep in his chest as his eyes met hers again, finishing, “I’ve made up my mind. And once I make up my mind, princess, you’ll find that I don’t change it often.”

Lily sucked in a breath in an attempt to cover a whine. She failed miserably. Her mouth opened and closed and it did so again and again, still no words coming. The heat was almost searing her skin now. “You’re betting on a losing outcome this time, I hate to tell you.”

“You believe so? Because I don’t, actually. You might say one thing.. But I know the truth.”

Lily swallowed hard, her eyes darting around. Drew cupped her jaw and made her look directly at him again and when she did, she swore under her breath. He could tell she was exhausted. She’d probably been fighting this far longer than he knew. She’d probably started to feel the change days before he ever scented her, before the other side chose her.

It tended to happen that way.

“So what is this truth you know, hmm?” Lily scooted to the very edge of the table, her arms raising and slipping around his neck. If he was going to keep calling her out, damn straight, she thought to herself, she was going to keep pushing. Sooner or later, one or the other would hit a non comfort zone.

Drew picked right up on what she was doing and he chuckled quietly, giving her an amused smirk. “Oh princess. You really think you’ll make me back down first, hmm?”

“I’ll go as far as I need to.” Lily answered, gulping as she did. Her lips carefully brushed right against his and he sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the pierce of sharp fangs prickling at his gums.. The wolf within was… beyond ready to lay claim.

“You will, hmm..” Drew’s eyes darted down, one of his hands left her hip and moved over her thighs almost casually as he looked back up, hint of an /innocent/ smirk on his face when his eyes met hers. She gulped, even more this time. A sharp hiss lingered in the air as Drew’s hand continued to lazily move over her skin, almost intimately. Almost as if he were… learning the way to get a response out of her. After a second or two to collect herself, she gave a nod, but it wasn’t as confident as she’d been up to this point.

Lily was in grave danger of cracking like an egg.

“I.. I will.” her voice wavered just a shade and she mumbled the words softly pressing her lips right against his as her fingertips dug into his shoulders and she went from keeping a healthy distance to pressing completely against him. When her tongue danced over his lips, he growled and dug his fingertips into her hip, backing away. He had to breathe.

It was… Intense.

A thousand times more intense than he’d ever thought it might be.

Her body rubbed against his and he growled quietly, raising a hand, resting it against the back of her neck, pulling her mouth against his roughly, giving a greedy kiss. She started off with her palm down against his chest, as if she intended to pull him away, but before too long, her fingertips were digging into his skin lightly, earning her another deep growl that escaped into the kiss and was quickly swallowed. She repeated it, the rubbing herself against him and he nipped at her lip.

“Don’t fight it. You have no reason to.”

“I have every reason..” Lily managed to take a few deep breaths before pulling his mouth back against her own greedily, “To fight it.”

“Name one.”

The kiss broke  and Drew stared down at her solemnly, waiting.

“I..I… You’ll try to change me.. All of you Alphas say you won’t. You always do. And when you can’t, well.. You’ll be gone too.”

“If I wanted to change you, I’d find someone else.. Someone who fit what you seem to think I want.” Drew answered patiently, leaning back in. Lily tapped a fingertip against his pecs and stared up at him, pondering over what he said.

“Maybe you have me curious.. But I’m gonna… Need time.. Proof you’re not just another over entitled schmuck.”

Drew chuckled and nodded, taking a deep breath to get himself back under control. “I think I can manage that. I’m a patient guy when I really want something and I believe it’s worthwhile to be so. Took a few years, but I now have this.” he nodded ot the belt lying discarded on the tabletop next to her and Lily swallowed hard, leaning against him heavily.

“It’s so fucking hot in here..”

“It’s your fever, princess. Let’s get you out of here, hmm?” Drew cupped her jaw, pulling her mouth back to his as he mumbled the statement quietly.

“Okay, alright.. For the moment, you win. Simply because I am too damn tired to argue.”

[mysterious-story-teller]

SUF AU- Chapter 4: Droplets

Author’s note: Hello! Mystery is here! I would love to say thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read my work and I know what you are thinking: It has been almost two weeks and this is all you can offer? I get it, this is a lot shorter than the last post but trust me when I say this: Having all the chapters combined into one file is around 19k and I will not have those that take the time to read an essay. I still do believe my AU isn’t as strong as the rest I have seen but I am taking a step forward and have my work being published for all the world to see. Without further delay, let’s get started! Word count: 1,993 ^x^

Also, for now on: I will have a *Trigger Warning* whenever something drastic is happening in the chapter. So for this warning! There will be blood. Enjoy <3

A pair of amethyst eyes slowly opened with the teen looking around in confusion, all he could see was darkness; no light in sight. However, with a twitch of his ears, he was hearing the sounds of water hitting the ground. Which brought more confusion when he could have sworn, he was in Steven’s home, but maybe he dreamt about it and this was his reality. From everything being pitch black, he slowly gets off the ground but with such struggle when not being able to get up with such ease. The ground below him was so slippery and upon losing his footing, he felt water hitting his face; subconsciously licking the corner of his lips. His whole body froze momentarily to process what he has just licked and how it tastes like...copper?

Before fear consumes his mind, he carefully and cautiously gets up from the ground and taking his first steps forward; trying his hardest to ignore the fact that the floor was not only wet but sticky. As much as he would like to run to find some sort of light with his mind spiraling; he inhales and exhales slowly with every step he made when his mind can be playing tricks on him from not being able to see. Trying to convince himself that he is just imagining it when it would be impossible to be in a situation that involved...blood.

He held no memory as to how he got here in the first place so all he was left with is confusion and desperation to find answers of his own whereabouts. He continues on walking forwards to wince when bumping against a very hard surface with his hand rubbing against his forehead; placing his other hand against the wall to find something that he can grab or anything for that matter. The teen felt some sort of switch and with a bit of force, he was able to move it up as light engulfs him; blinding him from having everything being so bright. Slowly, he opens his eyes to have his vision being fuzzy for the moment yet the only thing he could make out through his blurry vision was the color of red.

He closes his eyes tightly in fear when that couldn’t have been right. There is no possible explanation as to why he would see the color of red; bringing his hands close to his chest to try to calm his beating heart and how everything will be okay. With a slight yet hesitant nod, he slowly let’s go of his hands to notice that his hands had a sticky texture to it; opening his eyes with extreme caution to completely regretting it. His hands all the way to the tips of his fingers were covered in blood to look all over his body to see nothing but red.

Breathing heavily when seeing the walls, the ceiling, and the floor being drenched with blood, his feet taking a step back.; t The smell of blood hitting his nostrils making his gag to being sick to his stomach with his hand placed over his mouth. “Why is this sickening to you? You are the one who brought such destruction into this place. Bask into the delightfulness of your work of art.” Startled, the teen looks up at the source of the voice to see no one was around to hear the echoes of laughter. “Skittish, aren’t you? Maybe if you were able to see yourself, you won’t be as scared.” With that being said, an oval shaped mirror appears on the other side of the room as the teen slowly takes small steps yet from what he is seeing all over his body.

Does he want to see the reflection of his own reality? As much as he wanted to stop his tracks, he couldn’t. It was his body that had a mind of its own and not listening to him when wanting to stop walking towards the truth. His body stops moving when finally, being in front of the mirror, his eyes widening so far that it started to hurt with his pupils shrinking in size at the sight before him. The playful spikes of his hair weren’t so playful anymore but rigid with the strands being stuck together from the dried-up blood to his face had the same result.

However, from all the blood and gore that surrounds him, the only color that popped out to him was his eyes. How the color of amethyst contrasts with the color of red yet his eyes made it stand out more; feeling some sort of comfort when seeing another color other than red. “Fascinated by it? Look how innocent your eyes look when there is nothing pure about you.” The reflection of the teen shifts to now seeing him holding onto a blade tightly with his expression looking so twisted as the voice continues to echo through the walls of the room, he is trapped in. “Why do you look so traumatized? This is what you wanted.”

The teen holds onto his head to try to focus and recall anything at all that got him here in the first place to have the voice interrupting his concentration. “It’s such a shame that you don’t remember of the massacre you’ve created but then again, you were seeing red.” The teen covers his ears in desperation of trying to block out the words with his teeth grinding in frustration to look up at the ceiling to try to shout back at the voice that has been taunting him to hear  crackles echoing through him that it brought a chill down his spine.

“Don’t protest and deny the truth. You are a murderer, a being who kills for fun and loves to bask in your victims’ blood all the while.” The teen tries to make another attempt to defend himself when none of this can be the truth to hear the sounds of squishing organs; turning his head towards the sound. This was becoming too much for the teen when seeing a figure slowly walking towards him; how the being was disfigured with the eye sockets filled with blood and their body slashed up; their intestines dangling through their stomach. “Come on, ___, this is what you love to do. Taking the eyes of your victims so they won’t see you and wanting to see their organs out in the open just so you can enjoy the sight when they stop functioning.”

The teen had enough of this and stopped forward with blood splashing around them, “I’ve heard enough! I know this can’t be real and I refuse to be tormented by this!” The voice of the teen was shaking as the disturbed being gives him a crooked smile and half-hearted claps, “Such strong words for such a small boy. If you don’t believe me then maybe this will jog your memory.”

With a snap of their fingers, the scenery changes with the floor collapsing beneath the teen with his screams echoes so loudly that the walls could break just by how terrified he was. The drop felt like eternity with the disfigured being continuing to taunt him by getting closer to him, “Let this be engraved into your memory so you will never forget.” The disfigured said to the teen and points down with the teen looks down to face first into the pools of blood and quickly swims up with a cough escaping from his blood-stained lips to the only light to guide him through this slowly vanishing. The teen moved as fast as he could to get away but there was nothing to grab, it was like he was in an endless sea of blood to have the light vanishing.

Stopping him from swimming further to looking around to see nothing but the blood splashing around; yelping when feeling cold hands gripping onto his ankles tightly. Being dragged down into the depths of the warmth of the blood surrounding him yet with the strength he can gather; he tries to swim the opposite direction. His lungs were squeezed the life out of them when having no air and his mind becoming shrouded with fog.

His heartbeat being heard within his ears, the pupils of his eyes going into a daze, slowly accepting his fate. ‘Yuugi...’ Amethyst eyes shot open when a single word snapped him back to his senses, but his lunges couldn’t take it any longer as his screams were silenced. Closing his eyes tightly, forcing himself to try to wake up from this hellish nightmare. ‘Wake up! You need to wake up from this, Yuugi! This isn’t your reality!’ The taste of copper overpowers his taste buds with membranes curling around him tightly to keep him in place; his lungs being filled with blood. ‘Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! This isn’t real!’ With the last bit of strength, he had left, he extends his arm up and just before losing consciousness; he says one final plea.

‘Please...open your eyes...get me...out of here...’

———

Amethyst eyes flew open so wide that if they were open any wider that he was sure he would get a splitting headache. With his hand covering his mouth, he looks around to see he was nowhere near what he just dreamt about; he’s back, in a world that he would even dare to say that would make him feel secured. His heart still pounding against his chest from having such a heart stopping nightmare with his other hand carefully unzips the zipper of the sleeping bag he was sleeping in so he can properly sit up; his hand finally letting go of his lips so he won’t let out a voiceless scream.

With a bit of wiggling, Yuugi got out of the sleeping bag when starting to feel unbearably hot with his clothes feeling stiff and his hair feeling slightly damped; going on autopilot from folding and putting the sleeping bag to the side when his mind was still racing from what has occurred. Of having no memories of his past or who he was, it shook him upon having such a vivid nightmare that he could still smell copper in the room when there was no blood on sight. However, with a slight sigh escaping from his lips, he tries to focus on what is around him; his amethyst orbs glistening of the sun’s rays.

His eyes wandering to paused momentarily when hearing a pleasant sound of soft snoring to look over on his right; not being able to see much yet his mind quickly registered that the clumps of hair was Steven and Connie’s. Recalling back from last night's events before going into a hellish experience of both of the teens helping him to bed as it is pretty evident that Connie stayed over the night. A slight smile was playing on his lips and carefully gets up from the ground so he wouldn’t disturb the young teens and how he felt his eyes sparkle at the sight. The scene was so sweet, so serene that it would be impossible to see both Steven and Connie being close to one another; their hands slightly touching with their expression looking so calm like nothing was going to hurt them.

Still having a hard time to brush off the nightmare he had, it warmed his own heart from seeing such a wonderful scene before him to snap back into reality when his clothes were now making him feel uncomfortable. He walks back to where he was resting and grabs ahold of his notebook to write a message down so when the cute ‘couple’ finally wake up from their slumber, they would know where he has run off too. Hoping that deep down in his heart that the nightmare he had would not ruin this day for him and for the sleeping teens…

———

Author’s note: Horray! You made it! Now wasn’t that fun? :D Please don’t forget to like and reblog! Have a amazing day and remember: Steven loves you! :3 

[guileheroine]

a silly ficlet of not-yet-very-established relationship for korrasami month, day 20 (prompt: muscles), modern au/the everthere 💨

“Ooh. Zen.” Korra only says, by way of good morning, once she’s glugged down a litre of water and set the cup on the table.

“Korra,” Asami acknowledges her, businesslike (by way of that’s not a good morning and you know it). There isn’t a twitch in her form as she remains sitting with her feet pointed together in a long stretch, facing the sliding door to the garden, her back to Korra.

She has her yoga pants on and a tank top, which means this quiet time has been expressly marked into her mental schedule, whether a half hour ago or a week.

For a moment, Korra stands witless, without the bearings to consider the idea this seeds, her own next move on the day that stretches before her. Public holidays always feel this way. A Monday off isn’t really invigorating enough on its own terms to have her up early, but the alarm for class that she’d completely forgotten to disable is. And now she’s kind of at a loss, though not in a bad way.

And Asami here, trying presently to touch her nose to her toes isn’t helping. Normally she just goes for a run before diving into something a little more cerebral.

Clearly, it’s an odd morning for them both.

“So, is this... what you do before I get up?”

There’s a twinge in the collected line of Asami’s spine, only just percperceptible, as the laugh in her chest interrupts her posture. “Yeah, it’s a whole new world out here. So peaceful. Who knew, huh?”

Korra’s smile is fully formed, not that she can see it. “Then should I mind my business?”

Silence.

She isn’t sure if she’s read the implicit invitation correctly, nor if she says I’m gonna join you, but Korra thinks it to herself, which is enough for the moment. She proceeds on autopilot and by the time she’s returned downstairs with suitable clothing and a mat she feels more herself. Everything is in focus, especially five foot ten of very limber friend. (It’s not even the kind of thing she’d usually remember, let alone search out, but lately every detail of only Asami crawls for headspace.)

Well, girlfriend.

Wait. She’s not gonna ruin Asami’s very earnest effort to have a healthy and relaxing morning. Looking at it now, this seems like the next in all the little ways Asami’s been cooling down since finishing up with school for good. In which case Korra, for one, finds it extremely welcome and indeed healthy and relaxing.

She mirrors her movements, the very best way to mess with her from afar, but Asami takes it in stride. In one calf stretch she’s leading her through the next pose, and in a few more they’re alternating turns to guide. Korra relishes the unspoken groove they’re in. They exchange more by sight, but although conversation is slow from the priority they give to their bodies, it’s smooth.

“Hey, you never come to the gym with me anymore,” Korra muses, turning her head on the mat to consider Asami as she tucks her knee to her chest with both arms.

Asami wraps her own hands around her leg, and while she breathes deep before answering, Korra continues to reflect. They’d work out together pretty often back when their schedules matched better. Though they were easy days for Korra compared to her real training, she remembered those first couple years fondly: the simpler days of their friendship. Before twists and turns excruciating in ways both bitter and - fucking finally - sweet.

“Oh, you know it’s just ‘cause you’d intimidate me,” Asami says, dripping with sarcasm instead of gently simmering like usual. Her voice rides low with it as she she uncurls and bends carefully into the bridge pose, sloping up slowly.

Korra moves alongside, pulling to feel the stretch in her locked fingers against the mat. “Or I’d distract you...” she counters matter of factly. She blinks at Asami; at the long, sinuous line of her, with her ribcage and her hipbones practically catching the light.

Asami tightens the stretch, but lets her head loll to the side. “Well, speak for yourself,” she says, breathier from the angle.

Okay then?

Korra looks up at the ceiling instead, and nudges at her mind to wander elsewhere. “Just thinking about how my mom used to make me do yoga every weekend during high school.”

“Oh, really? Hah.” That’s her normal voice again. “Did it help?”

“I mean… yeah, I’m pretty sure it did. Man, you know what? Now that I think about it it’s probably some shit Tenzin and Pema sent her.”

Asami giggles. “Zen buddies.”

As only middle aged parents could be. Korra snorts. Remembering her turn, she ponders absently what stretch she’ll pull them into as she inhales deeply. Her eyes fall closed as her chest and back open up, enticed with an effortless ease by the pose and her steady breath. Asami does the same and she makes - quite the bridge. The slip of a sigh draws Korra’s attention once again; and it finds the hem of Asami’s shirt also slipping a few inches chestward as she deflates.

Korra sits up as decisively as she can in this mindful pace, waiting for Asami to follow before she flips onto her front. “You know, this is yoga, technically. If you’re a just a little more conscious of your breath.” With her legs flush along the floor, she pulls her shoulders and torso up, weight on her palms. “Breathing is the more important part - which felt kinda phony when she said it, but Mom did show me some moves that really helped me destress.”

“Oh… I bet I could really use that. I just didn’t ever really get the hang of yoga, ‘cause I feel like I never know if I’m doing it right.”

It takes Korra a second of staring dumbly ahead to realise how pointed the statement is.

“What, you’re saying you’re still stressed?” She veers off easily, trying not to bite her lip. “You’ve no reason to be.”

Asami coughs, barely, but Korra notices that her upward dog threatens to buckle with a similar amusement. “It’s… hard to come down, you know, that’s all. And today I wanted to go to the bank for the new car before I realised-”

“Sit up, fine,” Korra says. “I’ll show you.”

She accedes wordlessly, a smile playing on her lips.

Korra pulls her mat to the centre of the floor and crawls over its length catlike in order to smooth it down, watching Asami watch her. She gestures for her to sit in the middle.

“Okay, cross your legs.” She sweeps around to examine Asami’s posture and then aids her to adjust it, with a tap here and a gentle push there. “Press your feet together. Spine straight.” She takes her hands and guides them to clasp loosely over her ankles.

Then Korra leans back on a hand, satisfied. “Hold that position, I’ll teach you how to breathe.”

That point must be very clear. Now, she sidles up behind her. “Just - notice how you breathe. Like, don’t force it.”

Asami’s arms are trim with their lean muscle, but Korra reminds her to loosen with a flat, lingering hand over them. Hardly thinking, she even flicks her thick ponytail over one side, eyes tracing up the racerback of her top until the rhythmic rise and fall of Asami’s shoulders curves her thought back to the exercise.

Korra slides an arm around her, under Asami’s own straight arms, to press without pressure below her ribs.

She thinks that’s a protest, in the form of more force in Asami’s exhale that she’s been explicitly told she can have. Her voice is a whisper. “What are you doing?”

“Noticing how you breathe.” It’s true, not even an excuse.

And she breathes like a hypnotist.

A glance at her focused face tells Korra that Asami would shrug if she could. Korra just tucks her chin over her shoulder. For ease of observation. “Now inhale deeply through your nose, for a count of four.” Asami remains impeccably still as Korra’s hand moulds over her abdomen, moving with it as she breathes in. “Hold it, for a sec - exhale for eight.” Through the thin shirt, she’s both firm and sleek - Korra skims over her skin with her sensible fingers to check the crucial balance of these remarkable qualities.

Having exhaled, Asami says, “You know that focus is a very important part of yoga?”

“Yeah, I’m the instructor here.” She curls the fingers of the hand around her inwards as a retort, causing Asami to shake her off. Korra settles shortly, with a light, unassuming hand over about the diaphragm again. “In for four again, and hold it for eight this time.”

They both manage to hold for eight. Asami clearly has a harder time of it, what with Korra holding all the way from her ribcage to her waistband in a long and luxuriant swipe. She exhales for six or seven maybe, certainly not eight.

“Alright, now what are you doing?”

Korra can’t keep the laugh out of her voice. “Admiring your, uh, form. It’s really hot, actually.”

“That a technical term?” Asami’s eyes glint.

Korra tugs down sharply on the hem of her shirt to make her bow forward, giggling. “You know what, I think this is blocking your energy from me.” She slips her hand under the shirt this time. “Try holding for eight again.”

As Asami breathes Korra runs her other hand gently along her side. Her posture remains perfect. All the dips and ridges with their even tone. She’s long and strong, treelike. One of those very pretty trees, like a birch or an aspen probably - slender and supple despite all the keen shapes. And Korra feels them out, skin on skin.

Asami’s tenser than she should be this time, even though she had been doing so well. Korra can tell her count’s failed.

“Control your breath,” she says over her shoulder.

“Control your hands,” Asami bites with no bite.

“Trying to help, I told you.” Korra sniffs and replies smoothly. She’d said hands, hadn’t she? So Korra puts the second over the first under the shirt - all the better to centre her. Asami hums suddenly to relieve her… whatever she’s feeling, while Korra smirks into her shoulder.

Then Asami loosens, and makes a valiant attempt at an even inhale. She unclenches her stomach from where she had tightened so as not to squirm too much; letting her hand fall away, bravely, from where she’d momentarily placed it over Korra’s to prevent it from roving.

Maybe Korra should honour the attempt. But it’s a lot easier to honour her own wicked whims. What with five foot ten of beautifully toned girlfriend.

Asami sucks her bottom lip in as Korra spans the expanse of her abdomen with a silky, inquisitive touch. And when she pulls her arms tighter around her, her practised breath hitches high.

Korra doesn’t laugh in her ear so much as in her neck. “Again, control your breath.”

Asami cheeps. “I cannot do that.” She rubs her nose on the back of her hand, face flushed, as they both take a moment. The edge that enters her voice somehow doesn’t detract from the utter modesty. “But you should - I mean, I can keep trying, if - you show me again.”

[ifridiot]

⭐ for About The Living For The Dead

okay, so this one ain’t done yet, but I am admittedly Super Fond of this idea. The crossover no one wanted (yes, I am aware of the What If comic, yes it’s good, no it holds absolutely no bearing on how, why, or what I am doing with this fic). Punisher symbiote fic: About the Living, For the Dead.

First of all, can we talk about the title? I think it’s been made pretty evident in my fics that I fixated pretty hard on David’s little speech in the episode ‘Danger Close’. That whole conversation was so good, and the way the show handled it it felt like real, natural concern from David for Frank at this moment when Frank was displaying real suicidal intent in his search for vengeance. Memento Mori and the Let Them Eat Flesh series are both heavily drawn from that scene, and of course Puncture Repair. 

So I decided to title this fic as it is because obviously Frank himself is gone. That’s kind of the ugly point, isn’t it? Frank is gone and now David is doing what Frank did. Frank didn’t ask him to finish what he started. Frank probably didn’t want him to, for any number of reasons. Frank just asked David to save the symbiote because otherwise it would die with him and if he could save one more life out of the mess then he was going to, by god. David (with Punisher’s support and encouragement) really takes it on himself to go after Billy. To set himself up in the basement of his family home so he can track Billy down, confront and kill him. On this, even in the haze of grief and loss, David is single-minded; the symbiote is the one reminding David to spend time with his family and take care of himself. It’s David that has the fixation, the bloody mind; it’s David forgetting to ‘live his life well’. I haven’t gotten to publishing the scene where it’s made explicit yet, but in this fic it’s the symbiote who’s concerned more ‘about the living’, while David is motivated by vengeance ‘for the dead’.

Favourite bits under a cut, because this fic is multichap and there’s some good bits in each chapter.

Chapter One:

Madani is not watching. Madani can’t hear Frank’s dying rasps – Madani is taking care of clean up, giving them space because she knows what it’s like to hold someone too late, to take on the responsibility of being the last thing they see.

Ugh, just... Dinah really understanding what David’s going through here. The obvious fact that they can’t save Frank, so David’s left in the same place as she was with Sam, and she knows exactly how painful that is, exactly how awful. The responsibility of being the last thing they see, I just like that.

Frank’s fingers are clutching his, shaking and seizing, every breath labored and wet. Each exhale sends little flecks of blood flying, and David thinks he might be drowning, suffocating on his own blood. From the looks of it, Rawlins had worked him over expertly before he’d managed to break free and kill him, but the exertion had cost Frank dearly.

Those fingers guide his hand to Frank’s gut, to the squirming, charred surface of the symbiote. David has never dared touch the creature, and is surprised when it flattens against Frank’s skin, spreading thin, away from David’s hand as though shy. Frank presses David’s palm into it. He’s making desperate eye contact with David, dark eyes flicking over David’s as he struggles to stay, but there are no more words. David curls his fingers against the oil-slick darkness, and knows that Punisher and Frank are having one of those conversations David can’t hear but can see. Franks lips move as though he’s trying to speak, but he can’t hear him however close he leans.

Frank working so hard to stay together, to stay alive long enough to be sure Punisher bonds safely with David. The display here that Frank and Punisher are so well bonded; a conversation David can’t hear but can see. 

He will die he will die if I leave

“Yeah,” David says, and he can see his tears splash on Frank’s bloodied torso. “He will. We can’t save him. But I can save you. Lemme save you.”

I love the way Punisher talks, the difference between structured sentences when it forms a physical mouth to speak from and the stream of conscious dialog, no punctuation when its speaking between itself and its host.

also just. ow. 

We do not mourn the loss of a host

Frank’s eyes drift, and glass over, and he heaves a shaking, weak sigh that has no follow up, no reflexive inhale. His body is so warm and so heavy across David’s lap.

We mourn a friend a love

Immediate, and i mean immediate use of the word we for Punisher and David. No hesitation, they are a team now. Also i feel like this part is so rude emotionally lmao, like it’s really just kind of a punch.

Chapter Two:

Bad David bad brain phenethylamine dopamine norepinephrine all low unhealthy mourning mourning mourning we have to focus

David understands that. That’s why he’d let himself go on autopilot for the last – he glances at his watch and curses. Seven hours? They’d been down here for seven hours and he hadn’t finished the array?

I like to think Punisher uses more clinical terms for what it needs with David and it did with Frank, because David either already knows them from the research he did on the symbiotes (re: hacking the Life Foundation and also probably a bunch of military sources too) or because David is curious enough about new words to look them up, while Frank just understood he needed to take a supplement or else Punisher would die/kill him.

the time loss due to depressive dissociation is also a big Thing to me. 

“Frank felt deeply. We adapted. He took care of himself, of us, mindful. Curtis taught him. It was… difficult.”

It comes in a rush of images and impressions, memories not his own – Frank meditating, Frank focusing on their bond, Frank loving – them, not just Punisher, but them, both of them, and latching on to that love to pull him on and on. The realization that Frank had cared for him as much as he cared for Frank is –

Well.

“You did not know?”

David scoffs, shakes his head, looking away. “Of course I didn’t know. Half the time he looked like he wanted to kick the shit out of me and the rest of the time I wanted to kick the shit out of me.”

I just love this conversation, the gentle revelation of it. Punisher having taken it for granted that David would have understood on his own that Frank loved him too. 

“He chose, David. It wasn’t for any lack of yours. The moment we bonded I knew I would lose him. He belonged to the dead more than he would ever belong to us.”

David can’t imagine that. He can feel Punisher’s pain – the pain of loving someone and knowing their heart, despite the effort they put into the relationship, wasn’t really in it. The pain of knowing that your love was willing to die, just waiting for the chance really. He’d never really thought of Frank as suicidal, but seeing him through the symbiote’s eyes, he has new perspective. Frank dreamed of death, courted it, counted on it.

He loved so many things, so deeply, but his losses had been too great. Finding out that the work he’d done in Cerberus had been illegitimate, had made him a murderer of who knew how many innocent men had been the end of him. He didn’t believe in redemption, certainly not for himself. He’d loved David, loved Punisher – he’d loved Sarah and the kids too, David felt that in the memories Punisher shared – but he had hated himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says...

Just this whole exchange is Good. For an extra hit, allow me to point out that Punisher says ‘It wasn’t for any lack of yours’. Not ‘ours’. Just ‘yours’.

Also the Punisher loving Frank and having a front row seat to his self-destruction, his lack of self preservation. Uh, can you imagine, for a minute, what Frank bonded to a symbiote was like? The risks he’d throw himself into because even if he took a bullet or broke a bone, Punisher would heal him before he died from it? yeah.

“Look, Russo is out there, right now – that smug piece of shit thinks he got away and –”

“And he is hiding. Like a rat, like a roach. When we find him, we will eat his pretty face off his skull and he will die screaming, begging our mercy and there will be none. It will be delicious and we live for that moment. But that is future. This is now. Go up stairs. This… moping… is unbecoming.”

Haha i love how much they both hate Russo. I really treasure that. And the whole way Punisher talks about what they’re gonna do when they catch him is just Nice.

Chapter Three:

So when David twists and writhes in bed, Punisher tastes his anguish, his despair, and wakes him before he can wake Sarah. It soothes him into rising without a noise, but drags him from the dream swiftly, baring it from further examination. This is easy for the symbiote, sort of like throwing the thought in a box. It’s not David’s thought, it’s theirs, and if they have to share it, then Punisher will deal with it.

Part of what I like so much about this chapter is the narrative perspective bleeding back and forth between Punisher and David. Because they’re bonded quite well at this point, and their experiences still have distinct flavours but more and more they function as one. So Punisher coming forward and just boxing up David’s Bad Thoughts is just kinda cool and nice.

He’s cut off by the image, definitely not his own, of himself, sitting at the desk in the power station. He looks tired, and distant, not focused on anything in particular, just looking off to one side, gently lit in the low lights but somehow distinct. His hair is wild, longer, tangled around his face in a mess that somehow reads as endearing; his eyes – they’re not even focused on them, but they’re so blue its unnatural. And in this image – it’s a memory, but it’s not, it’s something more, enhanced by so many emotions that Punisher is pushing through their bond

protect beware infuriating love love love

in this image he looks up, straight into his minds eye – Frank’s mind’s eye because who else would he have been talking to there – and he smiles, and his own heart twists with the fondness and delight he feels, emotions high and unnatural for ‘him’ at the time. He feels a distant stirring of arousal, and again it’s not his own, but the pounding of his heart certainly is.

The memory dissipates all at once, leaving him feeling shell-shocked and wide-eyed in the basement dark, and Punisher curls protectively, sweetly, around his ribs. It’s a physical presence; he can feel the symbiote in his chest, winding around bone, caressing his thudding heart. It should be disturbing, but somehow it’s a comfort.

This whole exchange is just Wow and also Romantic to me. Punisher being able to give David Frank’s memories and let David perceive himself how Frank did. I just really like that as a concept. bombarding David with the feelings Frank felt when he looked at David. That ‘beware’ was one of those emotions.

“Maybe he deserved them more than me, okay? Maybe that’s what it’s about, maybe I’m not scared of him – why the fuck would I be scared of him? I loved him so much I would have died for him and now he’s gone and he shouldn’t be, he should be here – Sarah would be happier with him, someone strong and steady, not some loser who hid from her for a year!”

Those white eyes are wide in shock, though they are mentally entwined and David thinks it had to have known… but then, he hadn’t known Punisher was angry about his nightmares until it spoke, either.

“Everything he did he did for your survival. For you, David.”

“Yeah, so you say! Maybe you’re just fucking with me, trying to make me happy – gotta make those brain chemicals, right? Make it comfy in here for you, right?”

He regrets saying it even as he says it, his own eyes widening at the surge of hurt and upset he feels wash through him, followed by a coiled sort of anger. All at once he’s slammed back into the futon, and he can’t move; Punisher looms in front of him, dangerous teeth on gruesome display. For all that it always seems to be grinning, there’s nothing amused about it’s visage now.

lmao just... god, being so nicely bonded and still having this kind of miscommunication is Good. They’re still alien to one another, especially in emotional experience. David saying something ugly and regretting it even as he’s saying it. Being able to feel how hurtful the words are to Punisher. Punisher rising up righteous in retaliation.

“What was that he said?”

Again, like an instant replay, Frank’s eyelids fluttering, his back pressed against the cold tiles of the shower they’d used in that hellish basement, his hand squeezing just slightly as he moans David’s name.

“Ah, that’s right. You, he was thinking about you.”

The words are so smug yet so bitter – Punisher proving a point.

Did i make it obvious yet how Frank loved David more than Punisher?

Frank could have gone after anyone. That Karen woman, hell, he could have been thinking about Sarah and it would have been more understandable, but he wasn’t. He was thinking about David, he wanted David, yearned for him, and David – oh, David was lost in that revelation.

“You think I was was lying? Manipulating you?”

It’s accusatory, mocking, but David knows he deserves it. Punisher would not, maybe could not have lied, he understands that now. But still he can’t move, can only shiver when the symbiote makes a soft sound, a click of the tongue maybe, and then his legs slowly part. He has no control over it, but he makes no effort to stop it, nor does he stop his hands when they move to shimmy down his pajama pants. His breath hitches and Punisher shushes him, nuzzling against his cheek.

“He wanted you. Loved you. Wanted you happy, David. So let’s be happy.”

How about now?

Also I rarely :eyes emoji: at my own work, but... :eyes emoji:.

David only realizes tears are leaking out of him when Punisher hums, leaning in to lick them away. “No, David, no tears. We are happy like this.”

The weirdest part of it all is, he is, and it’s not just fuck-happy, it’s genuine, bone-deep, actual joy.

I just dig the idea of Punisher comforting David, telling him not to cry.

You have me I have him all of him in me so you have him too

Romantic!!! Sweet!! I REALLY LIKE THIS LINE.

[katsuchako]

three - friend or foe?

Runaway Rating: M Running away was her only option; living the life as a princess was never meant to be. Meeting a traveler with a fierce and overwhelming personality was also never meant to be either, but with him, she didn’t feel the need to run away anymore.

Between the awkward tension that began to loom over the two wanderers and the heat that beat down from the rising sun, Ochako felt her mood quickly plummeting. From the moment she found this strange boy lying on the ground, to their escalating greetings, she felt at a standstill with herself. Instead of internally arguing, she inhaled a fresh breath of air and smiled.

“So what’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She frowned, her brown eyes scanning the boy that walked next to her, taking in every detail he had to offer. His clothes were dirty, his hair light like white sand, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, eyes the color of roses, and the posture of a man that doesn’t care. Her lips pursed as she continued to walk beside him.

“Well, where are you from?” She asked as sweetly as possible, her lips pulling into another smile. She hated the feeling of having to act grumpy like him, and instead of remaining strangers, why not get to know one another?

“Doesn’t matter.”

Once more, Uraraka frowned, her arms coming to cross over her chest as she continued to walk. She didn’t take her eyes off of him once, considering that he had told her the world outside of being a princess was a dog eat dog world, the last thing she wanted to do was put her trust in a total stranger’s hands.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s weird, knock it off.” He scolded as his strides came to a stop. Her cheeks heated up under his stone cold gaze, catching her off guard until she looked away. Her thoughts had gotten the best of her and in no time, she was dozing off.

“Why are you so rude?” She finally barked back. “I’m sick of it.”

“That was your choice to follow me. Either get use to it, or kick rocks, missy.”

“Missy?” She spit out, her hands clenching into fists. Of course, the only person that she finds wandering through the words just had to be this kid that thought he was an adult. “I pity you.”

It was Bakugou’s turn to glare at her; ruby orbs mixing with her own brown eyes, the tension between them turning to jolts of electricity.

"Like I said, if you don't like it, then go home, princess." The way his eyes looked into hers caused her brows to furrow and her posture to sag slightly. There was absolutely no winning with this guy.

"Fine. If you're not going to tell me anything, then I'll just stay silent for the remainder of our trip," Uraraka spoke softly as she continued down the road. While they had been walking, they came upon a fork in the road, and that's where they had it out and got their feelings out in the open.

"Wrong way," Bakugou called to her, his face casual as he held himself in place. Ochako's eyes glanced back at him, her hands still clenched as she began to walk back towards him. "You don't know a thing about survival, do you?"

She remained quiet, her lips sealed together as she began to walk down the road that he stood next to. She could tell that he was rolling his eyes internally, but Uraraka didn't care -- the tension between the two of them never lightened, and for that, she felt miserable.

.

.

.

It was now three in the afternoon, her stomach was growling like crazy while her feet throbbed. The two of them had been traveling through the mountains for what seemed like days, but it had only been hours. Neither of them spoke a word -- something that absolutely irritated Uraraka. Whenever it came to traveling or spending time with someone, she found joy with conversing and striking up something interesting between her counterpart.

The blonde haired boy finally came to a halt in front of her, but little did Ochako know that her body was now running on autopilot.

"Oof--"

"Really?" His ruby eyes found her form directly behind him, her hand rubbing her forehead as she realized that she had just ran straight into his back. "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry," she mumbled, mostly to herself. His broad shoulders etched and caved from underneath his cloak, and it was in her mind that she thought about how warm he was underneath the thick fabric.

"It's whatever." He muttered, hardly audible, but she smiled nonetheless. "We're stopping in a bit."

Relief washed throughout her body at his declaration, and instead of arguing, she nodded her head happily, receiving a roll of the eyes from her acquaintance.

"Weird, roundface."

She ignored his arrogant comment and continued to follow after him. Even after their couple minutes of down time, her legs began to ache more than they ever had before. The amount of pain she felt in her body even outmatched the growls that came from her stomach.

Just perfect, she thought to herself.  Roughing it with a stranger, and I'm so hungry and my feet hurt.

"Here," the boy declared. Although it wasn't exactly what Uraraka had thought of when he mentioned taking a break. His idea of a break was on the side of a cliff, looking down over the mountain side from up above.

"You're serious?" She asked, chocolate eyes wide as she took in the view. Birds flew from east to west, clouds circled in various patterns as they stood on the side of the trail. The sound of metal hitting metal sounded from the side, and while she didn't want to look away from the beautiful scenery, she glanced at the boy.

"What's that?" She inquired. Uraraka cursed herself for even asking before thinking. The way his eyes shot up and looked at her caused her fingers to intertwine while her thumbs fumbled against one another. She glanced away nervously, listening to the way he dug around in his bag. Finally, she felt a slight tap against the side of her thigh; dark, muddy eyes glanced back at Bakugou, and in his hand, he had a piece of dried out looking meat.

"Eat it," he ordered. "You need the protein."

Ochako reached for the dry food, her fingers wrapping around it carefully as she brought it to her lips. It didn't have a smell, but the taste was amazing. It was salty, her mouth watering as she chewed hard and long on each piece. Soon, she felt her stomach quickly eating away at the provided food the moment she swallowed, and instead of finishing the rest quickly, she savored each and every bite.

"You really are a princess, weren't you?"

The way his tone changed made her eyebrow raise, her mouth still chewing away at the meat. Ochako shrugged her shoulders before sighing. "Once upon a time."

She wanted to say more, but she also wanted to hear more about her mysterious new traveling partner. Their eyes remained on one another, words falling dead between the two of them. Finally, the boy cleared his throat before looking away.

"What's your name?" Uraraka asked once more that day. The smirk that lifted his lips caused her cheeks to heat in a blush, making her mind run wild and her body to feel hot. He certainly had a chiseled and handsome face.

"Why does it matter?" He tried to duck and avoid her question once more, but she pinned him down with her brown, brown eyes.

"Just call me Bakugou."

"Bakugou," Ochako tried it on her tongue, her eyes lighting up with happiness and she smiled gently. "Nice to meet you, Bakugou!"

His scoff caught her attention, along with it, those rose colored eyes of his. The next question that came to mind floated around on the tip of her tongue, trying to decide if she actually wanted to ask it or not.

She shrugged. "Your hair isn't entirely white, but are you supposed to be an albino person?"

Bakugou's confused glare shot right to her, an uneven blush crossing the bridge of his nose as he shuffled from foot to foot. "What in the fuck makes you think I'm albino?"

Ochako chuckled lightly as she held her hands behind her back and smiled. "Your eyes are red and your hair is super light. Your skin is fair as well, it's a reasonable question to ask."

"No," he hissed. "I'm not fucking albino."

"Right," she joked casually. Bakugou merely shook his head before looking away from her. His hand grasped his bag and flung it over his shoulders.

"Let's go, princess."

.

.

.

The night sky loomed over the two of them, deep reds and blues coloring the sky. Autumn air filled the atmosphere now as a breeze began to blow gently. Uraraka crossed her arms, hugging her body in as she shivered lightly. The night prior to tonight was cold and unusual for her; alone and wandering through land she had never been through. While she wandered through small villages, none of them turned out the way she had expected them to.

Old and run down, quiet while only few people spotted the sides of the worn out roads. She passed through quickly, not stopping to make any friends or do any sightseeing, as she was a runaway princess on the loose. Bakugou was the first person she had actually stopped and talked to -- unintentionally that is.

Before she even met him, she was already considering calming down for the night and finding somewhere to stay. During the few minutes she had stopped and visited with her mother before departing, her mama had slipped a small amount of coins into her bag without Ochako noticing.

As she followed the river that ran through the base of the mountain, she began to think about stopping for the night -- or morning -- and getting some rest and relaxing her legs. The last thing she had even thought about was stumbling upon a person that was possibly hurt.

"Do we want to sleep at a cottage?" Uraraka finally asked once the sun set. The chirping crickets and whistling breeze sounded around her,  making her feel free to her heart's content.

"The fuck we 'gonna find one at?"

Ochako turned to glance around at her surroundings, trying to find anything that might point to a place to stay, but to no avail.

"Exactly. Not as easy as you thought it was 'gonna be, huh?" His snide remarks stirred her anger, made her eyes narrow as she exhaled deeply.

"I wouldn't mind camping," she announced honestly.

"Gather some wood before we run out of light." Bakugou ordered instantly, his alpha-like personality caught Uraraka's attention as she pressed forward and towards the trees. It wouldn't be a large and bright fire like she had seen so many times before, but a simple brush pile made for keeping warm throughout the cool night.

She could hear the blonde's steps to her left as she made her way through the thick brush. Her hand reached out to every dry twig and dead branch that she could find, remembering back to her mother teaching her that live branches won't burn as well. When she finally filled her arms with twigs and branches, the brunette began to make her way back towards Bakugou blindly.

"Bakugou?" She called out, her eyes scanning through the dense forest that they had found themselves in. Chills creeped up her spine when he didn't respond. "Hey?" She called out once more.

The moment she heard a stick snap behind her, she whipped around to find his face only inches away from hers  -- smiling like a maniac with wide eyes.

"Scared?" He questioned, his tone low.

"Don't do that!" She shrieked, her arms growing tired from the load of wood she had managed to pick up. "Seriously."

Bakugou's snort eased her angered mood, causing her lips to pull at the corners while she slouched on one leg.

"We can set up here. We have enough cover, and the smoke won't be too thick," his eyes looked around. The dim light was growing darker with each passing minute, and in no time, the blonde boy had the pile of sticks and dead brush set up. He worked quickly, his calloused hands working the dry wood with ease.

A thin trail of smoke began to rise from the friction he had caused, floating up and over his head. Following closely behind started up the embers, and soon after, small flames began to lick at the sticks. Uraraka felt victorious, her hands cupping her cheeks as she smiled brightly.

"Wow! Where'd you learn to do that?!"

Bakugou ignored her excited mood and continued to blow on the growing flames. In no time, small crackles sounded throughout the woods, flicking flames illuminating the space around them. The smoke smelled almost too real; crisp and hard to breathe in, Uraraka coughed out while Bakugou finally glanced in her direction.

"Don't breathe it in. Have you ever been around a fire before? God damn." The shake of his head only made Uraraka smile. "And it's what you learn from being on your own."

His second sentence was spoke quietly, almost going unnoticed but it peaked Ochako's curiosity. "Do you not have a family?"

The same awkward tension from earlier began to loom over them, but Ochako shrugged it off. She looked intently at Bakugou who stood next to her. His head simply glancing in the opposite direction, his arms crossing over his chest as she grunted.

"Let's not get too familiar with each other." He muttered.

Although it wasn't as rude as his previous comments throughout the day, it concerned Uraraka. Instead of questioning his motives, she plopped down in the dry dirt and grass and nodded. "Right."

"Tomorrow we're going to finish our travels down the mountains. There's a village on the opposite side, and that's where we'll part ways."

"Why? I think we do pretty good together and--"

"We're fucking parting ways, princess. I can't be around you. It's not good for someone of royal blood to be around a peasant like me."

His words stung, ice encasing them as he glared at her. She wanted so badly to question him, to learn about him and learn of his past. She had always been cooped up in a castle, never being allowed to wander too far from the exterior walls or adventure into the nearby village. It wasn't every day that she got to converse with someone that wasn't royal -- hell, who was he to declare that? If she wanted to be around him, then she would remain by his side.

"What if I want to stay with you, though?"

His face dropped, his eyes softening as he looked back in her direction. No words fell from his lips, no sense of defense started up, either. His rose orbs looked tired and beaten down for once, and not fired up. Ochako blinked, her brown tresses blowing lightly in the breeze as she waited for his answer.

"Then that's on you."

She nodded before glancing back towards the fire, the crackling wood soothing her senses as she inhaled deeply. There was something dark and mysterious about this boy, something nagging and eating away at her, telling her to uncover his secrets.

"So be it," she responded quietly.

.

.

.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Soft vibrations stirred her from her sleep, shaking her mind from a realm of calm and peace. Chocolate eyes opened, only to be met by a face she was growing familiar with each day.

"What time is it?" She asked with a groggy voice. Ochako didn't notice that she was still entirely too close to the blonde haired boy, her body touching his as she was curled up in a ball beside him. His warm surrounded her, keeping her comfortable and safe from the cool night breeze.

"You literally slept right up against me." While Bakugou's tone was unamused, his eyes gave him away. Even the light blush that heated up his cheeks and the way the tips of his ears glowed with a red shade made Ochako's eyes widen.

"What?"

The way his hand came in contact with her back caused her to stir slightly, resulting in her eyes to open all the way. When she finally realized what he was talking about, Ochako rolled away quickly and looked at him with wide eyes.

"I did not!" She declared. "I was sleeping here first and you're the one that came to me!"

"Regardless, we'll have to tie you up to a tree next time."

"Ha!" Uraraka chuckled. She felt slightly better about what had happened knowing that Bakugou was at least making a joke out of it. The tension between the two of them had nearly dissipated over the night, resulting in a day that would be better than yesterday's.

"Let's just get going." He groaned as he got up from the ground. His cloak held blades of dry and dead grass, along with leaves and twigs. Before them, the fire that he had made was merely a pile of embers and charcoal; the smoke from the night before had completely died down, leaving only the remains of a travelers campsite.

"Have anymore of that meat?" Uraraka asked with a grin.

Bakugou's snort made her laugh once more -- she could get use to hearing that sound come from his lips.

previous chapter | next chapter

[krisiunicornio]

One yogi editor plunges into a seven-day yoga challenge and has five major takeaways from her experience.

I’m toggling between work projects when I see the email from YogaAnytime.com pop up in my inbox. It reminds me that it’s time to take a break and start the 7-day Summer Challenge that I signed up for (for this assignment). When it comes to freelancing, the Law of Attraction actually plays out—a lot of work tends to beget even more work. So while several projects that I was juggling for other clients were already eating my weekends, I’d taken the assignment to do a 7-day summer challenge on YogaAnytime.com and write about the experience because I figured, if nothing else, it would MAKE me take a break each day for a week and get on my mat.

So I do that now, unrolling my neglected yoga mat on my office floor. I play the Challenge Intro trailer, where I meet the spirited (and very young-looking) Steph Winsor for the first time. I have to admit, I’m skeptical. The title of the challenge is “Enjoy Yourself.” What does that even mean, I think, still wearing my editor hat. I’m a little annoyed that I have to trade the dent that I could be making in my long to-do list for “Day 1: Simple and Sweet.” I assume it will be a basic beginner practice that I could lead myself through—when I actually have the time. Which isn’t now. What can this twenty-something have to teach me? I probably finished my yoga teacher training before she was out of middle school, I think. But I suck it up and start—only because I have to. For work.

Try the Yoga Anytime 7-Day Challenge, free for 30 days with Code: EnjoySummer

It doesn’t take more than a few rounds of movement-synced breath before things start to loosen inside me. Steph’s voice feels a little too cheery at first, but the practice begins doing its work of slowly untying the hold my to-do list has on me so that I can just be there and breathe. Within minutes, I’m not thinking about deadlines or the impending parade of houseguests we’ll have over the next two months. I’m in the practice and I’m enjoying it, despite myself.

And then—what? I suddenly can’t autopilot the pose she’s cueing. I look up at my screen to see her arrange her knees in Garudasana and then rise to stand on them. Garudasana is a well-worn groove in my body, but lifting my hips and torso to stand on my knees with my legs crossed? The action taxes not only my balance but my brain. It’s new—to me, anyway. I’m listening a lot more carefully to the ingenue on the screen now. And by the end of that first class, I understand that I’ve grossly underestimated her. The yoga is already doing what it reliably does well—holding up the mirror, showing me my blindspots.

It turns out, Steph Winsor and this challenge did teach me a few things. 

Here are five lessons I learned from YogaAnytime’s Enjoy Yourself Summer Challenge:

1. New movement leads to new discoveries.

I later learned that the variation of Garudasana that Steph teaches so often is a pose from the Katonah classes she takes with Abbie Galvin at The Studio in Bowery. She says the kneeling version of Garudasana is not only good for people who struggle with the classic shape of the seated posture but for everyone because it provides you with information from both the right and left sides of your body. And sure enough, I did feel tightness in muscles on my outer left hip that I’d never felt before and nothing on my right hip when I switched sides. This is the kind of new knowledge about my body that I treasure as I work toward more functional muscular balance and symmetry.

2. Shaking things up is always valuable.

A couple of times during the Challenge, I found myself gyrating in ways I hadn’t ever before on a yoga mat. One such instance, Steph had me sitting propped up in Virasana and then instructed me to bounce up and down for a bit. It felt a little odd at first but I knew this kind of bouncing was supposed to be good for moving lymphatic fluid and thus the immune system, so I went with it and felt undeniably lighter after.

Steph later confirmed my suspicions, “Unlike the circulatory system, which moves by virtue of the heart, the lymphatic system doesn’t have a pump. Our daily movement is the source of the lymphatic fluid’s movement and filtration. The bouncing and shaking should also really help you clear your energy field and expel things that weigh you down.”

3. There’s no one right way to do things.

With a background in an Iyengar-based practice, it used to be easy for me to get caught up in perfectionism on the mat. So Steph’s reversal and acceleration (she floors it!) of the usual breath pattern in Cat-Cow got me curious. Instead of inhaling in Cow and exhaling in Cat, she frequently exhales in the backbend and inhales on the contraction.

Steph pointed out that we already do this (exhale on the spinal extension) in poses like Ustrasana or Standing Backbend. “I feel that this breath is safer for the back as we pick up the speed of Cat-Cow,” she says, explaining that as you exhale the engagement of the belly helps to protect the spine. But ultimately, Steph says if you’re practicing poses with integrity, “you should, over time, be free to breathe wherever and whenever you like. The practice can remind you that you’re not beholden to a certain way of doing things.” There’s so much freedom in that.

4. I can always talk myself into 30 minutes of yoga.

This challenge reminded me of the value of a daily practice—no matter how short. A couple times I considered skipping it, but YogaAnytime’s daily email reminders were effective at fighting desk work–induced inertia and getting me up out of my head and into my body. After seven days, I learned that, really, I can always find 30 minutes in my day for yoga and without fail I feel better afterward.

5. And online yoga makes that even easier!

When I’m time-strapped between work projects, family, and my social calendar not having to go anywhere but my browser window for a class or think about what to practice actually makes it 100% doable no matter how busy I am. After the first couple days I began looking forward to Steph’s bright, uplifting vibe. And each day I landed at my desk feeling a little lighter, a little clearer, a little more capable of tackling my workload. I have to admit it—I enjoyed myself. Which it turns out was exactly what I needed this summer.

Try the Yoga Anytime 7-Day Challenge, free for 30 days with Code: EnjoySummer

[cedarrrun]

One yogi editor plunges into a seven-day yoga challenge and has five major takeaways from her experience.

I’m toggling between work projects when I see the email from YogaAnytime.com pop up in my inbox. It reminds me that it’s time to take a break and start the 7-day Summer Challenge that I signed up for (for this assignment). When it comes to freelancing, the Law of Attraction actually plays out—a lot of work tends to beget even more work. So while several projects that I was juggling for other clients were already eating my weekends, I’d taken the assignment to do a 7-day summer challenge on YogaAnytime.com and write about the experience because I figured, if nothing else, it would MAKE me take a break each day for a week and get on my mat.

So I do that now, unrolling my neglected yoga mat on my office floor. I play the Challenge Intro trailer, where I meet the spirited (and very young-looking) Steph Winsor for the first time. I have to admit, I’m skeptical. The title of the challenge is “Enjoy Yourself.” What does that even mean, I think, still wearing my editor hat. I’m a little annoyed that I have to trade the dent that I could be making in my long to-do list for “Day 1: Simple and Sweet.” I assume it will be a basic beginner practice that I could lead myself through—when I actually have the time. Which isn’t now. What can this twenty-something have to teach me? I probably finished my yoga teacher training before she was out of middle school, I think. But I suck it up and start—only because I have to. For work.

Try the Yoga Anytime 7-Day Challenge, free for 30 days with Code: EnjoySummer

It doesn’t take more than a few rounds of movement-synced breath before things start to loosen inside me. Steph’s voice feels a little too cheery at first, but the practice begins doing its work of slowly untying the hold my to-do list has on me so that I can just be there and breathe. Within minutes, I’m not thinking about deadlines or the impending parade of houseguests we’ll have over the next two months. I’m in the practice and I’m enjoying it, despite myself.

And then—what? I suddenly can’t autopilot the pose she’s cueing. I look up at my screen to see her arrange her knees in Garudasana and then rise to stand on them. Garudasana is a well-worn groove in my body, but lifting my hips and torso to stand on my knees with my legs crossed? The action taxes not only my balance but my brain. It’s new—to me, anyway. I’m listening a lot more carefully to the ingenue on the screen now. And by the end of that first class, I understand that I’ve grossly underestimated her. The yoga is already doing what it reliably does well—holding up the mirror, showing me my blindspots.

It turns out, Steph Winsor and this challenge did teach me a few things. 

Here are five lessons I learned from YogaAnytime’s Enjoy Yourself Summer Challenge:

1. New movement leads to new discoveries.

I later learned that the variation of Garudasana that Steph teaches so often is a pose from the Katonah classes she takes with Abbie Galvin at The Studio in Bowery. She says the kneeling version of Garudasana is not only good for people who struggle with the classic shape of the seated posture but for everyone because it provides you with information from both the right and left sides of your body. And sure enough, I did feel tightness in muscles on my outer left hip that I’d never felt before and nothing on my right hip when I switched sides. This is the kind of new knowledge about my body that I treasure as I work toward more functional muscular balance and symmetry.

2. Shaking things up is always valuable.

A couple of times during the Challenge, I found myself gyrating in ways I hadn’t ever before on a yoga mat. One such instance, Steph had me sitting propped up in Virasana and then instructed me to bounce up and down for a bit. It felt a little odd at first but I knew this kind of bouncing was supposed to be good for moving lymphatic fluid and thus the immune system, so I went with it and felt undeniably lighter after.

Steph later confirmed my suspicions, “Unlike the circulatory system, which moves by virtue of the heart, the lymphatic system doesn’t have a pump. Our daily movement is the source of the lymphatic fluid’s movement and filtration. The bouncing and shaking should also really help you clear your energy field and expel things that weigh you down.”

3. There’s no one right way to do things.

With a background in an Iyengar-based practice, it used to be easy for me to get caught up in perfectionism on the mat. So Steph’s reversal and acceleration (she floors it!) of the usual breath pattern in Cat-Cow got me curious. Instead of inhaling in Cow and exhaling in Cat, she frequently exhales in the backbend and inhales on the contraction.

Steph pointed out that we already do this (exhale on the spinal extension) in poses like Ustrasana or Standing Backbend. “I feel that this breath is safer for the back as we pick up the speed of Cat-Cow,” she says, explaining that as you exhale the engagement of the belly helps to protect the spine. But ultimately, Steph says if you’re practicing poses with integrity, “you should, over time, be free to breathe wherever and whenever you like. The practice can remind you that you’re not beholden to a certain way of doing things.” There’s so much freedom in that.

4. I can always talk myself into 30 minutes of yoga.

This challenge reminded me of the value of a daily practice—no matter how short. A couple times I considered skipping it, but YogaAnytime’s daily email reminders were effective at fighting desk work–induced inertia and getting me up out of my head and into my body. After seven days, I learned that, really, I can always find 30 minutes in my day for yoga and without fail I feel better afterward.

5. And online yoga makes that even easier!

When I’m time-strapped between work projects, family, and my social calendar not having to go anywhere but my browser window for a class or think about what to practice actually makes it 100% doable no matter how busy I am. After the first couple days I began looking forward to Steph’s bright, uplifting vibe. And each day I landed at my desk feeling a little lighter, a little clearer, a little more capable of tackling my workload. I have to admit it—I enjoyed myself. Which it turns out was exactly what I needed this summer.

Try the Yoga Anytime 7-Day Challenge, free for 30 days with Code: EnjoySummer

[amyddaniels]

I Tried 7 Days of Online Yoga and Here's My Five Takeaways

One yogi editor plunges into a seven-day yoga challenge and has five major takeaways from her experience.

I’m toggling between work projects when I see the email from YogaAnytime.com pop up in my inbox. It reminds me that it’s time to take a break and start the 7-day Summer Challenge that I signed up for (for this assignment). When it comes to freelancing, the Law of Attraction actually plays out—a lot of work tends to beget even more work. So while several projects that I was juggling for other clients were already eating my weekends, I’d taken the assignment to do a 7-day summer challenge on YogaAnytime.com and write about the experience because I figured, if nothing else, it would MAKE me take a break each day for a week and get on my mat.

So I do that now, unrolling my neglected yoga mat on my office floor. I play the Challenge Intro trailer, where I meet the spirited (and very young-looking) Steph Winsor for the first time. I have to admit, I’m skeptical. The title of the challenge is “Enjoy Yourself.” What does that even mean, I think, still wearing my editor hat. I’m a little annoyed that I have to trade the dent that I could be making in my long to-do list for “Day 1: Simple and Sweet.” I assume it will be a basic beginner practice that I could lead myself through—when I actually have the time. Which isn’t now. What can this twenty-something have to teach me? I probably finished my yoga teacher training before she was out of middle school, I think. But I suck it up and start—only because I have to. For work.

Try the Yoga Anytime 7-Day Challenge, free for 30 days with Code: EnjoySummer

It doesn’t take more than a few rounds of movement-synced breath before things start to loosen inside me. Steph’s voice feels a little too cheery at first, but the practice begins doing its work of slowly untying the hold my to-do list has on me so that I can just be there and breathe. Within minutes, I’m not thinking about deadlines or the impending parade of houseguests we’ll have over the next two months. I’m in the practice and I’m enjoying it, despite myself.

And then—what? I suddenly can’t autopilot the pose she’s cueing. I look up at my screen to see her arrange her knees in Garudasana and then rise to stand on them. Garudasana is a well-worn groove in my body, but lifting my hips and torso to stand on my knees with my legs crossed? The action taxes not only my balance but my brain. It’s new—to me, anyway. I’m listening a lot more carefully to the ingenue on the screen now. And by the end of that first class, I understand that I’ve grossly underestimated her. The yoga is already doing what it reliably does well—holding up the mirror, showing me my blindspots.

It turns out, Steph Winsor and this challenge did teach me a few things. 

Here are five lessons I learned from YogaAnytime’s Enjoy Yourself Summer Challenge:

1. New movement leads to new discoveries.

I later learned that the variation of Garudasana that Steph teaches so often is a pose from the Katonah classes she takes with Abbie Galvin at The Studio in Bowery. She says the kneeling version of Garudasana is not only good for people who struggle with the classic shape of the seated posture but for everyone because it provides you with information from both the right and left sides of your body. And sure enough, I did feel tightness in muscles on my outer left hip that I’d never felt before and nothing on my right hip when I switched sides. This is the kind of new knowledge about my body that I treasure as I work toward more functional muscular balance and symmetry.

2. Shaking things up is always valuable.

A couple of times during the Challenge, I found myself gyrating in ways I hadn’t ever before on a yoga mat. One such instance, Steph had me sitting propped up in Virasana and then instructed me to bounce up and down for a bit. It felt a little odd at first but I knew this kind of bouncing was supposed to be good for moving lymphatic fluid and thus the immune system, so I went with it and felt undeniably lighter after.

Steph later confirmed my suspicions, “Unlike the circulatory system, which moves by virtue of the heart, the lymphatic system doesn’t have a pump. Our daily movement is the source of the lymphatic fluid’s movement and filtration. The bouncing and shaking should also really help you clear your energy field and expel things that weigh you down.”

3. There’s no one right way to do things.

With a background in an Iyengar-based practice, it used to be easy for me to get caught up in perfectionism on the mat. So Steph’s reversal and acceleration (she floors it!) of the usual breath pattern in Cat-Cow got me curious. Instead of inhaling in Cow and exhaling in Cat, she frequently exhales in the backbend and inhales on the contraction.

Steph pointed out that we already do this (exhale on the spinal extension) in poses like Ustrasana or Standing Backbend. “I feel that this breath is safer for the back as we pick up the speed of Cat-Cow,” she says, explaining that as you exhale the engagement of the belly helps to protect the spine. But ultimately, Steph says if you’re practicing poses with integrity, “you should, over time, be free to breathe wherever and whenever you like. The practice can remind you that you’re not beholden to a certain way of doing things.” There’s so much freedom in that.

4. I can always talk myself into 30 minutes of yoga.

This challenge reminded me of the value of a daily practice—no matter how short. A couple times I considered skipping it, but YogaAnytime’s daily email reminders were effective at fighting desk work–induced inertia and getting me up out of my head and into my body. After seven days, I learned that, really, I can always find 30 minutes in my day for yoga and without fail I feel better afterward.

5. And online yoga makes that even easier!

When I’m time-strapped between work projects, family, and my social calendar not having to go anywhere but my browser window for a class or think about what to practice actually makes it 100% doable no matter how busy I am. After the first couple days I began looking forward to Steph’s bright, uplifting vibe. And each day I landed at my desk feeling a little lighter, a little clearer, a little more capable of tackling my workload. I have to admit it—I enjoyed myself. Which it turns out was exactly what I needed this summer.

Try the Yoga Anytime 7-Day Challenge, free for 30 days with Code: EnjoySummer

[staunchfaun]

Ideas for overcoming the feeling of being overwhelmed and lost?

Ah,so I can only speak to which helps me but.. Mindful breathing techniques for starters help, for we must go and do and be so much in a day's time we don't feel like we caught our breath. We are on autopilot more times than not, so getting back to the basics helps. Luckily our brain and body connect works so well we do not have to consciously breathe all the time, but there are benefits in doing so especially when needing to crave small moments of centeredness in a busy life. I don't really mess with different number counts as far as breath. Just a conscious breath in through the nose, a comfortable hold ( I try to also acknowledge what all a breath of air helps create and maintain within my body during the inhale and practice gratitude of it in that pause ) then I exhale from a small part in my lips. Sometimes though I need to just feel the feeling of breathing depending on what feels best. Lately when self critical or harmful language towards myself arises during times of peak stress, I have to combat them. Seeing them as their own entity separate of myself. A simple way is to say 'stop', seems silly but stop reminds me to 'stop self abandoning' myself. To stop forgetting who I am while others and this world asks so much from me. Ultimately, I am enough. I do enough. For I do all I can that also still serves me, that's all I can ask of myself. I dissociate heavily around times of high stress so basics for me is kind of like I spy but alone, so I use that when externally the world is fuzzy. When that starts to happen usually the colors dull out, which helps my brain acknowledge the state I'm in. Consciously I ask myself to think of a color (I like red), boom, go find or look for five things that are a shade of red if you are able. One is still good! Sometimes I test myself even further and with memory, try to remember something I know was yellow while I was looking for red. Continue with that as long as you want. If colors aren't your thing, just literally naming five objects around you helps me. Honestly this is just my experience with these feeling states, but for me my mind and body aren't connected during them. They are not working together. So finding a practice(s) and/or hobbies that work to bring them closer has benefited me. Plant your feet firmly, and feel you have always been meant to root yourself to this ground. That you will bloom, and this world will be more beautiful due to witnessing it.