#it worked with Paralyzed. and it seemed to be appreciated by/helpful to a number of other people as well. maybe it’ll work again

[seventh-district]

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Chapter 17

Chapter warnings: Flashback- is it getting hot in here or is it just me? Let's be real folks, I've been lowkey blueballing you on the smut for months, it's just getting worse this week. The flashback is sexy but hardly crossing to rated M. AN: Ladies, gents, spoons, sporks and forks- Sunflower is here! Let's see how Mia's anxiety can fuck shit up *this week* **shuuuuhhhh I totally didn't get the chapter number wrong for a min***

Masterlist Kofi

It felt weird to have Tom in the apartment again. The same bags he had left with were stacked neatly by the wall as he set to work helping her make breakfast. Tom was humming as he peeled potatoes, not many but more than Mia had initially planned to make for her and Sally. 

He said he missed her. She hadn’t had a chance to say it back though, the words stuck in her paralyzed throat. Instead she found herself trapped in his eyes and then he was kissing her like it would give him life. She had kissed him back. 

What did that mean? What did it all mean?

If she asked him, he would tell her it meant they were married and just doing what married people did or some variation of it, she was sure. But it had to have some deeper meaning. Was it true?

She wanted to tell him she had missed him too but the moment was gone. It would be weird now to say it, wouldn’t it? They had moved on from kissing to breakfast. 

The moment was gone. 

“Tom!” Sally’s voice came from the hall, sleep replaced by excitement as soon as her eyes hit him. 

“Sally!” Tom matched her enthusiasm, putting down the bowl of potato shreds. 

He took a second to rinse his hands, sending shredded potatoes down the drain and didn’t bother drying them. He rushed around the counter as Sally ran to him. Her small frame was enveloped in his arms as he lifted her up. Giggles filled the apartment as he spun her around, letting the small girl’s momentum drive the dance.

Mia’s heart couldn’t help but open to him just a little bit more. What if she could have this for more than a year? What if this could be her forever? What if this could be Sally’s forever?

Shaking her head, Mia tried to banish the thoughts. Their relationship needed to crawl before it could walk, let alone run. It was too soon to be thinking of forever. 

“I missed you.” Sally said so easily what Mia had been trying to figure out how to say herself for the last hour. 

“I missed you too.” Tom squeezed the little girl in one last hug before setting her back down. “Why don’t you go get dressed while we finish making breakfast?”

Sally ran off to do just that. She was young but a dutiful child. It didn’t take a lot to set her on the right path for the morning, something Mia had always been truely thankful for. 

"Did Tom bring us flowers?” Sally asked, sitting at the counter while she ate. 

Tom and Mia sat at the table but Sally couldn’t be convinced to join them. The counter was by far the neatest place to eat her meals, as far as Sally was concerned. It wasn’t a battle Mia thought was worth fighting, so she didn’t. 

“I got them for your Mom.” Tom said and quickly added when Sally’s face began to fall, “I got you something else.” 

“What? What!” Sally was on cloud nine having her funny talking friend back. 

“After breakfast!” Mia interjected. The last thing she needed was whatever Tom brought getting covered in pancake syrup.

“You heard her, after breakfast.” Mia appreciated how easily Tom seemed to fall into the step parent role. 

Was that what he was doing? Would he accept such a title? Would she be alright giving him that title? Did it matter at this point, anyway? 

~~~~~<3

When dishes were safely in the sink and sticky hands and faces washed, Tom finally went to his suitcase. Carefully, he pulled a gift bag out and presented it to Sally.

“Can I open it?” She asked, fingers picking ever so carefully at the tissue paper.

“Of course.” Tom smiled at Sally, kneeling on the ground next to her. 

Mia watched over them from where she leaned against the counter as Sally pulled blobs of tissue paper out. Colorful fluffs of paper fell to the floor around her as she uncovered the bear hidden inside. 

It was dark blue and held a stuffed Lady Liberty in his paws. His white shirt had the classic ‘I <3 NY’ decal on the front. The bear wore soft dark plastic sunglasses and looked terribly soft. 

“I love it.” Sally squished the stuffed animal to her chest and seemed to curl in on it in her enthusiasm. 

As soon as she uncurled from the tight hug, she launched herself at Tom again. Little arms wrapped around his neck as she knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. He caught her and returned her hug as she thanked him repeatedly.

Was this what his future would be? Bringing home trinkets and flowers for his wife and daughter when he returned from his travels? A warm greeting and appreciation waiting at home? 

This was a life he could get used to. 

That was terrifying. 

Sally sat happily coloring with her bear. In her game, the bear was telling her what colors to use where and she was being a very good listener. The page she was working on was a coloring sight word page where she was practicing color name recognition in preperation for kindergarten starting shortly. 

Mia reminded herself again that she needed to transfer Sally’s enrollment from the school she had been planing on attending in a few months to the one near their new home. 

Moving was such a hassle, she thought as she started the dish washer. It was worth it though. She couldn’t help but be happy she gave in when she looked around. 

“Can we talk?” Tom asked, leaning against the counter. “Catch up a bit?”

Mia hated it when people said things like that. Her anxiety instantly spiked and she worried. With how common anxiety even was anymore, it amazed her that people still opened conversations with ‘can we talk’.

“Sure?” Mia followed him into her bedroom as Tom carried his bags in. 

Blankets were bunched around on the bed. She hadn’t gotten around to making it yet this morning. 

Tom glanced around but didn’t mention the mess of dirty laundry tossed into the corner. She had thought she had time to clean up before he got there.

“What did you want to talk about?” She swung the door mostly closed behind her. Being alone with him, or at least mostly alone made her heart beat faster. She told herself to stop acting like a schoolgirl. 

“I’m not sure how to say this. I don’t want to intrude but also-” 

“It’s a bit late for not intruding, don’t you think?” Mia smiled and tried to laugh to soften the blow of her poor attempt at a joke. He intruded the moment he decided he was against an annulment. “That ship has sailed.”

“I suppose so.” Tom chuckled, running his fingers through his short hair. The morning sun was strong through the bedroom window, bathing him in the warm light. The bedrooms got direct morning sun and the living space was lit up perfectly with sunlight during the day. Right now, that morning sun was playing on his sharp features and highlighting the golden and auburn hues in his hair. 

He could play one of God’s most beautiful angels. Perhaps, he could play Lucifer himself. Was he a blessing or a devil?

Mia had to get her mind under control. This was getting ridiculous. 

“I want- I think it would be best if I made this my home base.” The words came carefully. “I think it would be better for us if this was my home too.” 

“Better for us?” 

“For getting to know eachother. Building our relationship.” Tom smiled at her. “I don’t think we can really give this a fair shot if we live separate.”

“What are you saying?” Mia didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Are you saying you want to move in?” 

Tom’s smile lit up his face. “Yes! I want to live with you as man and wife. What better way to get to know eachother more?”

“You don’t think this is too fast?” Mia’s head was spinning. 

“Hasn’t that ship sailed as well?” Oh he was good, she had to admit it.

“What does that even mean? Like, really mean?” Mia sat on the bed as Tom unzipped the suitcase. 

“That’s a ‘yes’ then?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, fine.” It was fast, too fast, but what was the point in arguing with him. 

He would argue until she gave up anyway. The man took their marriage seriously and if he thought they needed to live together than he would be as adamant about it as he was about even remaining married in the first place. 

“Is there space in the closet for me?” Tom asked. “I don’t have a lot of clothes but I’ll probably bring more when I come back next time.”

“Just shove stuff aside and pick a side.” She wasn’t really attached to any section of the closet, she hadn’t lived in the apartment long enough to have things like a preferred side of the closet. It wasn’t like she had enough clothes to really fill it anyway. There was more than enough room for both of them. “There’s hangers if you need- I’ve got a lot of extras.”

“Thanks.” Tom waisted no time in slipping shirts onto hangers. His suits were in zipped bags with plastic hangers just waiting to be hung up. 

“I don’t have much dresser space.” 

“We can pick up another dresser.” Tom hung his pants over the hangers and left what couldn’t be hung in his suitcase for now. “That’s not a problem.” 

“How was New York?” Mia asked, not wanting to leave him but also feeling awkward sitting on her bed and watching him put his clothes away in her closet. No, their closet. 

“It was alright. Mostly late night shows.” 

“Is it stressful?” Mia picked at the blankets. 

“It can be. There’s a good bit of pressure with everything going on,” Tom shrugged, “But I’ve got standing relationships with a few of them so it’s not as bad as it could be.”

Tom set his suitcases in the closet, the carry on nestled within the larger. 

“How long will you be here this time?” Mia cringed at how that sounded. “Not that I’m trying to get you to go, I just-”

“You want me here?” Tom looked back at her with his eyebrow raised. 

On impulse she threw a pillow at him. Her face was hot and she dreaded to know how red it looked. She wanted to back peddle, to tell him how he was assuming things or putting words in her mouth but there was no way she could do that without swinging wildly the other way and sounding like an ass. 

“You don’t have to answer.” Tom’s laugh told her that he already knew the answer anyway. 

“I don’t not want you here.” Was the answer she settled on giving. 

“I’ll take it.” Tom’s smile made her smile, she couldn’t help it.

Oh God, was she falling for him?

The springs in the bed squeaked as Tom all but threw her onto it. He loomed over her, admiring how her brown hair fanned out around her, contrasting with the cream bedding and the white of her dress. Her face was flushed, it had been all night but now it looked even better now, looking up at him. 

There was something intoxicating about standing over a flushed woman laying on his bed. Her dress was bunched around her thighs. It had long been one of Tom’s favorite sights. This though, her being his bride, made the sight oh so much better. Tom couldn’t help but run his fingertips up the soft flesh of her thighs.

He traced the tan line that marked where shorts hand cut the sun’s harsh power. It had been a while since he had seen something as simple as a unintentional tan line. 

She was so beautifully normal and he loved her already for it.

As she rose up on her elbows, he admired how the change of position pushed her breasts up. 

“Something wrong?” She asked. 

“Not even a little.” Tom planted his hands on either side of her waist and leaned forward and into her. 

Using one arm to support herself, she ran her other hand up his chest. Her fingers wrapped around his neck and pulled him to her. The kiss started sweet, a reminder of romance she had begun to think was only for story books and movies. 

It quickly became fierce however. These were the kisses that she knew existed but damn, it had been so long since she had kissed someone who was so good at it. She wanted more. Craved it. Needed it. 

Tom rolled them, pulling her to straddle him. Just as he had appreciated how she looked sprawled out on the bed, she was caught in a moment of admiration as well. 

Never in her life had she slept with a man as good looking as Tom. Now he was her’s and this was her reality. He belonged to her now and she to him. She won the Vegas jackpot. 

She could feel how much he wanted her as she rested on his hips. Though that was exciting, just having a man as strong and successful as him under her was enough of a rush in itself. He was beautiful. 

Tom rather liked having his wife straddling his lap. This was something he hadn’t thought he could ever have but it was here. She was here. It was his wedding night and she wore a beautiful white dress just for him. He wanted to see on the floor. 

Sitting up, he kissed her neck and chest as his arms wrapped around her. Her skin was so soft under his lips. While he worked along her collar bone, she ran her nails through his hair.

She smelled like sunshine, flowers and summer time. She smelled like sunflowers. What a strange, unique choice. What a beautifully her choice. 

When he found just the right spot, she couldn’t stop the moan that fell from her lips. That was a sound he wanted to hear her make again and again. Tom was hard in his trousers and she was pressed against him, each shift she made in his lap sending a wave of pleasure through him. She felt good against him, held against his chest, wrapped in his arms, neck against his lips.

He wanted to feel more of her against him. Never in his life, had he wanted to delve into a woman more than he did at that moment. Not once in his life. 

Not once. 

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing @evedia

[nursingwriter]

Music Therapy The development of biology and the sciences in general have lead to the slow realization that all humans are fundamentally similar; however, the concurrent progression of psychology and genetics have, in the last century or so, begun to plumb the depths of the differences between human beings. Practice always trails science, and so it is not surprising that current conventions of therapy are largely procedure-driven, with little or no attention given to the individual. As science repeatedly emphasizes the great variety of minds and bodies, a similarly great variety of new techniques, such as equine-assisted therapy and music-assisted therapy, are in the beginning stages of development. Because music is so universally appreciated and loved, it is among the fastest-growing tailored therapy technique. Music is well-suited as a therapy technique because it translates something difficult to understand -- human thought -- into a form that humans have been analyzing and interpreting for thousands of years -- music. Differences in pitch, dynamics, and tonality can express differences in emotion and levels of tension. These differences may be compared using three excerpts from a music-therapy session under the direction of Alan Turry. The three samples, which can be obtained at www.AlanTurry.com, are those entitled "Broken Pieces," "Scared and Paralyzed," and "Oh My Child." Broken Pieces" begins disconnected monosyllables: the singer repeating the word "no." Accompanied by broken and dissonant chords and arpeggios on the piano, this melancholy rebellion expresses anger felt in conjunction with complete hopelessness. Such a complex emotion would be extremely difficult to convey in words. At approximately two minutes, descending chromatic scales crescendo beneath damsel-in-distress screams, signifying life crashing down entirely out of the singer's control. It is clear that, even before analyzing lyrics and applying modern linguistic analysis tools, music can easily express even complex emotions with stunning accuracy. Scared and Paralyzed" in an upbeat number in a minor key that moves about so briskly that it belies the title. This contrast in conjunction with the singer's frequent maniacal laughter summons an astonishingly clear image of a woman trapped within herself. Her laughter is crazed with fear and she repeats the words over and over again, unable to move beyond that singular point in time. Once again, a very complex idea is expressed that as quite transparent to analysis. The final excerpt, entitled "Oh My Child" seems to be about the singer's mother. The beginning of the song steps up and down in adjacent eleventh chords, the dissonance symbolizing her confusion and doubt regarding her mother. Approximately thirty seconds into the song, the singer becomes very emotional, and over the next minute is often either in tears or close thereto. At two minutes, the singers seems to reach a broken catharsis, purging herself of old resentments. The piano remains extremely unobtrusive throughout this time, indicative of the arduous process of sorting through one's feelings for one's parents. All three excerpts contain volumes of information that are easily expressed by the singer and easily understood by the therapist. The pianist and the singer work together to create a musical version of an event or feeling in a way that also acts to purge the singer of those emotions and dynamics, and to help them grow emotionally. The results of a music-therapy session can, however, be drastically different -- as different as two pieces of music can be, in fact. "Scared and Paralyzed" was almost vaudevillian, while "Oh My Child" was a hodgepodge of genre ranging from jazz to acoustic emo. It is the variety of potential expression that makes music therapy such a powerful tool for understanding the human mind. https://www.paperdue.com/customer/paper/music-therapy-the-development-of-39748#:~:text=Logout-,MusicTherapyThedevelopmentof,-Length2pages Read the full article

[aizawasnumberonefan]

Hi! I was wondering if you still need some ideas? I really like your writing and would like to see how you would interpret a young All Might (or him in his prime) receiving a surprise kiss for the first time! Can be on the cheek, lips, nose, knuckles, idc

I feel like he would be all blushy and cute

Thank you!

this is literally so cute i am in love!!! i'll come back and reformat later but i need this out rn rn rn

Sweet Treats

All Might x Reader

It’s been a long day out for the number one hero, All Might. Between interviews, meeting civilians, and defeating villains, the poor man has hardly been able to catch a breath. He practically falls through the door to his apartment, collapsing in a muscular heap on his sofa. His blue eyes shut as he finally allows himself a moment of peace at the end of his day. He doesn’t notice how quickly sleep overtakes his overworked body until he hears a timid knock at his door. Toshinori stretches, yawning as his dreams slowly drain from his mind. Once again, he hears a knock against his front door.

“One moment!” He calls, his husky voice still muddled with sleep. He stands and his apartment fills with the sound of both him and his sofa groaning in response. He half-heartedly messes with his hair in an attempt to fix it before making his way towards the door. He barely suppresses a yawn as he opens it, but finds himself a little surprised to see you, his neighbor. His eyebrows raise slightly in response. “How can I help you?”

In the amount of time that you’d been living in your apartment, you’d hardly taken the time to meet your neighbors. You knew that All Might, the young, buff, blonde that the entire world was in love with lived next door, but you’d never busied yourself with heroes or their work. You appreciated them, but you weren’t as involved in their lives as many people seemed to be.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you so late.”

“It isn’t a problem.” Toshinori replies with a reassuring smile, glancing at his clock on the wall to confirm that he had indeed been asleep for several hours and it was now approaching midnight.

“I’m baking for a get together tomorrow and I just melted my only mixing bowl on the stove. I know it was a stupid mistake, but no stores are open right now and I promised that I would bring cupcakes. Is there any way that I could borrow one of yours?” You ask, subconsciously returning his smile. You’re embarrassed by the admission, but he can tell by the flour in your hair and on your shirt as well as by the frazzled look on your face, that you genuinely tried every alternative before coming to his door.

He chuckles, opening the door wider and stepping back to allow you in. “Of course. I’m glad that you felt comfortable asking me.” He says, closing the door softly behind you after you step inside. You wring your hands in front of you, but don’t gaze around in awe, which he would expect from most of the public. It’s refreshing, he thinks, to be treated like a person instead of an untouchable item.

You watch as he moves, muscles flexing passively as he goes through his kitchenware to find a bowl suitable to your needs. “I’m Y/N, by the way. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself before.” You say, holding out your hand with a smile.

He turns to look at you, face lighting up with a grin of his own as he feels the pleasure of introducing himself as, well, himself, instead of his hero persona. “Toshinori Yagi. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says, grasping your hand for a firm but warm shake. “Will this bowl work?” He asks, holding up a large bowl adorned with the pattern of his costume.

You nod eagerly, taking it as he holds it out to you. “Thank you so much Toshinori. You’re a lifesaver.” You say, pulling him in by his hand to stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” You say with a sweet smile before disappearing back out his door and into your own apartment.

Paralyzed in shock, All Might feels his face slowly heat up as his cheeks and the tip of his ears turn a burning red. His signature grin replaced by a soft smile that slowly grows until his cheeks hurt. Slowly, his hand moves up to touch his cheek where you kissed him, shaking him out of his temporary paralysis. “You’re welcome.” He says quietly, to the closed door that you left behind you.

The following day was decidedly a good one for All Might, despite it being busy. Throughout his morning and afternoon, his thoughts had been consumed by your smile and your kiss. He knows that it shouldn’t be as big of a deal as he is making it, but it was the first time in a long time that he had been seen as something separate from All Might. He returns home around the same hour as the day before to be greeted with something on his doormat. His bowl, sparkling clean, sits patiently for him, holding 3 beautiful cupcakes. While the cupcakes were divine, he found that his favorite treat that you gave him was a thank you card with your phone number on it.

[wicked-mind]

Soulmates

Summary: Soulmates are connected on a deeper level emotionally and physically. They can feel what the other needs and wants. As hints, the universe grants tattoos on your skin to help you find your soulmate. When Bucky’s soulmate tattoo appears out of the blue, he knows that she is about to come into his life, but the way she does is not what he was expecting.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Small bit of violence, swearing, little bit of drinking.

All Writings Masterlist

Note: This is a potential series so if you would like more, let me know! 10 points to anybody who knows what Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children is from as well as Weasel (;

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated❤️

*gifs not mine

Chapter One - Tattoos

Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children, the place where the bad and ugly went to escape. It had been turned into a bar years ago after the actual school got shut down for child abuse, and this was the main spot mercenaries-for-hire went to get jobs.

At the end of the bar quietly sat Y/N, drinking a bottle of beer. She wore black leggings with a grey guns-n-roses shirt with cut off sleeves, showing off her left tattooed arm. The tattoo had appeared one day out of the blue, stretching from her shoulder down to her fingertips. It covered every inch of skin on her arm and hand, even the palm. It was mostly black and white swirls that looked like smoke with pictures of dog tags, a freight car and some Russian words as well as the numbers seventeen, nine, and one. On her shoulder laid the only color the tattoo had, a maroon star. This was the tattoo that symbolized Y/N’s soulmate, though that didn’t matter to her. She had other things to focus on than finding someone to spend her life with.

Y/N had been hired by an unknown source to steal information from the Avengers, something to do with a James Buchanan Barnes, whoever the hell that is. They were paying her a lot of money to get the information and Y/N couldn’t pass up the amount they offered. Things had been slow for her lately, the world must’ve been running out of scumbags to take care of.

“You want another?”

The bartender known as Weasel broke Y/N’s concentration with the question, making her eyes snap to his face, “Sure. I’m going to need to be a little tipsy to fit in at Stark’s gala. I don’t think walking in there looking like a raging bitch is going to work.” She muttered out to him, sliding her empty beer bottle towards him and caught the filled one that was slid back to her.

“You got invited to the Stark gala?” Weasel asked curiously with wide eyes.

“God no, do I look like a prissy pants woman who’d be invited to something like that?” Y/N replied then took a large gulp of the beer, “I’m sneaking in, got a job to steal some information.”

Weasel shook his head, “Wait. So, you’re going to just walk into the billionaire’s gala full of super persons and just expect to steal information from them?”

Y/N shrugged at him, “Well, yeah. What? You think it’ll be hard?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Weasel blinked at her, trying to decide if she was being serious, “Nah, should be a cake walk.” He said sarcastically, “All you have to do is get past the billionaire robot man,”

“I think he calls himself Iron Man.” Y/N corrected with a scrunch of her nose

“Iron Man, two super soldiers, some bird dude, two assassins, and whoever else decides to show up. Shouldn’t be hard at all.” Weasel said with a roll of his eyes before walking away, “I’m putting your name on the dead pool!” He called behind his shoulder as he walked.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, “You must be a groupie to know the whole squad!” She yelled towards him before finishing chugging the rest of the beer. She checks her phone, almost time for the gala. She would have to change into something nice and find someone man’s arm to hang onto so she could sneak in.

——

The soulmate tattoo had appeared on Bucky’s right forearm a days ago. He thought he didn’t have a soulmate since one had never shown up, but then he woke up to a burning on his right arm as the tattoo slowly appeared. It was the queen of hearts playing card with a knife stuck through it surrounded by Marigolds. He stared at his forearm for a moment, wondering why it had shown up now instead of sooner. Something must’ve changed in his and his soulmate’s path that would bring them together. Buck reluctantly pulled on his long sleeved black jacket, having to look nice for Tony’s party. He hated these events, but had just cleaned things up with Stark and wanted to keep on the right path with making his amends and becoming a better person. He walks out of his room with a slight scowl on his face, walking to the elevator and heading down to the main floor where the party was. He quickly found a spot at the end of the bar where he could hide for the rest of the night to drink whiskey and not be bothered.

Y/N had changed into a long, tight black dress and some black heels. The dress had her arms covered so only her hands showed, the left one heavily tattooed. The back of her hand had the number seventeen tattooed on it while the inside of of her palm was just tattooed with what looked like smoke dancing up to her fingertips. She was hanging onto the arm of some man she had just learned the name of, flirting her way to get inside the gala with him. She quickly lost him in the crowed, losing her smile when she departed from him. Y/N scanned the room before spying what she would figure would be an easy target at the bar to take her upstairs. She pulled out lipstick from the small hand held purse she was holding, putting some on her lips careful not to ingest it. It had a paralyzing agent in it that would help her get to the information she needed. She approached the handsome man and introduced herself under a fake name, “I’m Michelle.” She said with a smile to him. Y/N learned his name was Sam and after a little bit of flirting, she was walking to the elevator with him giggling and holding his hand.

Bucky had watched the mystery girl named Michelle approach. He narrowed his eyes at her, something about her was different. Something drew him to her and he couldn’t figure out what. He couldn’t help but feel a slight disappointment and jealousy watching Sam take the woman to the elevator. His stomach turned slightly thinking of Sam touching such a woman and he couldn’t figure out why. He usually didn’t care about who his friends bedded but something was pulling him towards her.

Y/N waiting until the elevator doors shut, turning to Sam and pushing him up against the wall. She slowly pulled on his tie to make him lean towards her and kissed him, smiling slightly as she felt his body slump against her in a paralyzed state before falling to the ground, “Sorry, sweetness. You seemed like a good time.” She told the now paralyzed man on the floor. She quickly slid the dress off, revealing black shorts and a matching black tank top. She had a gun strapped to one thigh and throwing knives on the other. Her heels followed, being kicked to the corner of the elevator. Barefoot was going to have to work, she despised heels. Y/N pulled a queen of hearts playing card out of her bra and placed it on Sam’s shoulder with a smile towards his brown eyes that stared at her widely. When the elevator doors open, Y/N waltzed out of the elevator and towards the nearest lab she could find.

Bucky had enough whiskey that was never enough to get him drunk and watching the guests mingle. Plus he was still irritated that he couldn’t figure out why it bothered him so much that Sam had taken some woman he had never seen before up to his bedroom. He walked to the elevator doors, clicking the button. He froze when he saw Sam on the floor just staring at him with wide eyes and tying to form words from his paralyzed lips. Bucky went in and leaned down, the doors closing behind him, “What happened to you, bird brain?” He muttered out before noticing the red lipstick and the queen of hearts playing card, quickly thinking back to the woman. He picks up the card, freezing as it looked just like the one of his soulmate tattoo before seeing the dress the mystery woman had been wearing on the floor. Returning to his senses when Sam was able to mumble ‘floor three, buck,’ he quickly hit the floor three button, dropping the card to the floor before exiting.

Y/N stood in front of the computer, typing codes to shut down Jarvis’s security system and rerouting the AI whenever it tried to reprogram. She quickly searched through all personnel files, finding the one labeled ‘James Buchanan Barnes- Winter Soldier.’ Y/N pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and plugged it in, downloading the information. Hearing the door behind her open, she grabs a throwing knife from the strap on her right thigh, throwing it with her tattooed hand towards the tall dark haired man that had entered.

Bucky caught the knife with ease, leaning his head back away as the blade passed before he caught it. He kept his eyes on the woman in front of him, studying her. His eyes snaked up the tattooed covered left arm, his eyes widening at the pictures, numbers, and Russian words that painted across her smooth skin in bold black. They were his words, things that were significant to him. Then he saw the red star on her shoulder, staring intently.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the man, watching him study every inch of her tattoo. She rolled her eyes slightly, grabbing the flash drive and tucking it back in her pocket. Based on the file she just went through, this was James Barnes. Her eyes quickly moved to red hair walking up from behind the man, a smile flashing across Y/N’s features, “Ah, Natalia. I heard you were part of the super squad now. How’d graduation go?” Y/N asked the redheaded woman, her eyebrow twitching upwards for a moment. Y/N knew the woman who now went by Natasha, they trained at the Red Room Academy together. However, Y/N had left before the graduation ceremony, becoming a free-agent assassin and spy for hire.

Natasha rolled her shoulders, ready for a fight, “I was having a nice time at the party, then I find Sam and your card in the elevator.” She said, stepping closer to Y/N until the space had closed to a few feet, “What are you doing here, Y/N? Who are you working for?”

Y/N shrugs slightly at the question, “Don’t know. But they pay really well.” She smiled again before throwing out a punch towards the redhead which was blocked immediately.

Bucky watched the two women throw punches and kicks at each other. Both of them had the same fighting style which made them a pretty even match when it came to fighting. Neither were making good progress in stopping the other. It wasn’t until the rest of the team came up to stand behind Bucky, watching the two fight. Jarvis had alerted them after the flash drive had been unplugged and Y/N had stopped typing in codes to reprogram the AI. Clint and Steve rush passed the frozen figure of Bucky who was just watching Y/N, his eyes locked on her tattooed sleeve. Clint grabbed onto one of Y/N’s arms before being kicked away. Steve was able to wrap his arms behind Y/N, pinning her arms down while Natasha quickly put magnetized cuffs on Y/N’s wrist, pinning her to the closest metal table. Y/N managed to kick Natasha and Steve away, but hadn’t noticed Clint get up. He stuck her in the neck with one of Natasha’s shocking spheres, causing Y/N’s body to seize before going into unconscious.

Natasha took a deep breath and looked over towards Bucky after Y/N was unconscious, “Thanks for the help, Barnes. You were super helpful.”

Steve looked at the unconscious woman, his eyes sliding along the tattoos. He looked to Bucky then back to Y/N, “Oh my god…” He trailed off, knowing immediately what this meant.

Bucky watched Steve observe Y/N’s tattoos before walking closer his eyes locked on the face of Y/N, studying everything about her. It was like colors were brighter when he looked at her and worry melted away from his core. Everything drew him to her, “She’s my soulmate.”

______

“Her name is Y/N Y/L/N.” Natasha began as the whole team stood outside the cell Y/N was in, watching her through the mirrored glass, “She was at The Red Room Academy with me. She was the top of her class, a year older than me. Y/N adopted the name ‘Queen of Hearts,’ a name I helped come up with. I thought it was ironic given that it didn’t seem like she had one. Y/L/N left the academy before she graduated, refusing to kill an innocent man. Last I heard she was doing mercenary work.”

Steve nodded at the information, looking towards Bucky who was just observing Y/N through the mirror, “What was she trying to steal?”

Natasha pulled out the flash drive she had obtained when Y/N was unconscious, “She was stealing information from us. Information of Barnes.” She said, her eyes flickering towards Bucky, “Whoever paid her, wanted to know everything about you, including all the information we know of how you became the Winter Soldier.”

_________________________________________________________

next part>

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 16

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It was 2006, one of the last seasons for Beacon Hills Girls lacrosse. The other girls on the team and I fought hard but it would be over by the time my senior year rolled around. We thought if we had made it to the state championships, we would save it. Here’s to hoping. As team captain, all eyes were on me to make the season great. We were lined up on the field, ready for the toss up. I stared into the eyes of the opposing player, the girl’s eyes were determined. But so were mine, I glanced to the side at the bleachers. There was Uncle Noah, Stiles, and Scott, cheering me on. I was just happy Stiles came today.

I looked back up, just in time for the pearl toss, I scooped it from the air, immediately shoving passed the opposing player. I ran down the field, narrowly missing players looking to tackle. I threw the ball towards an open offensive player just as someone slammed me from the side. I grunted as I hit the ground, hearing the crowd wince. I got myself up on my arms and looked down the field. My player was able to get through the other team’s defense and scored the game winning goal. Coach Finstock laughed loudly, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd. I stood up, raising my crosse in the air and shouted into the sky. I ran back to the bench, congratulating my teammates. But now I needed to see him. I pushed through the crowd, I looked around. As I got through the crowd, I was left alone. I was staring out into the woods. An eerie feeling came over me. There was something out there. 

“Hey!” Michael’s smiling face came into my vision, causing me to smile. 

“Hey.” I smiled, looking back at the crowd, “Have you seen Derek?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at me, “Who’s Derek?” I paused, asking myself the same question. 

“I don’t know.”

-

“So let me get this straight,” I said into the phone. I was on the phone with Stiles getting a recap of what had happened over the last couple days, “You stole a police transport vehicle-”

“We put gas in it!” 

“Of course, you did. You stole a transport van, filled it with gas, kidnapped Jackson to talk to him, left him in the woods. Jackson’s father, a lawyer, has issued two restraining orders against you and Scott.” I made sure to separate the kanima and Jackson. “Found out the kanima is being used by a ‘master’. Is that it?” Derek raised his eyebrows at the conversation.

“I was also grounded from Scott.” He added. 

“Unfortunate.” 

“When are you coming home?” He asked, hushing his voice a little, “I’m all for you living out your best werewolf life but I would rather you be home.” I motioned for the group of Derek, Erica, and Isaac to go ahead of me. 

“When I have the courage to face your dad. Or when my lie that I’m staying at a friend’s house doesn’t work anymore. Whatever comes first.” I sighed, “I’ll try to come home soon. I need to apologize.” After our goodbyes, I hung up the phone. 

After I stepped into the railway car, I made it just in time for our “pack meeting” to start. 

“So, why do we need their help?” Isaac asked. 

“Because it’s harder to kill than I thought, and I still don’t know who it is.” Derek said impatiently. 

“And they do?”

“They might. Which is why I need one of you to get on their good side.”

“Mmm. Scott or Stiles?” Erica hummed flirtatiously. Honestly, I don’t think she realizes she’s barking up the wrong tree, no pun intended. Scott was more focused on Allison than his own life and Stiles was in a persistent pursuit of Miss Lydia Martin.

“Either.” Derek sighed, probably fed up with her new found flirtatious nature.

“Good luck with that.” I said under my breath, causing the group to look at me, “What? The last time they saw you, you broke into Scott’s house and tried to kill them.” Isaac titled his head to the side and nodded a little in agreement. 

Isaac turned to Derek, “You know, the full moon's coming, Derek.”

"I'm aware of that.” Derek said irritably, he opened a large wooden chest, searching around for something. He pulled out dark, rusted chains. 

“Oh my.” Erica lifted up a bundle of them, “These look comfortable.” She said sarcastically. He quickly took them from her grasp and put them with the rest that he pulled out of the chest. 

“You said you were gonna teach us to change whenever we wanted.” Isaac said warily, eyeing the chains. 

“There hasn't been time.” He said. And truly he hadn’t had time. I had really been training myself on how to control the chains with what I was calling exposure therapy. Getting really mad and controlling the change before turning so I would be less likely to kill someone during a spout of road rage. 

“But if you have to lock us up during the full moon, that means... That means you're alone against the Argents.” Isaac said. 

Derek closed the lid of the chest, “They haven't found us.”

“Yet.“ Kid had a point, “So, how about we forget about the Kanima?”

“We. Can't!” He shouted in frustration. He sighed, “There was something about the way Gerard looked at it... He wasn't afraid, at all. I don't know what he knows, or what he's planning. But, I'm sure about one thing-- we have to find it, first.” 

“With Scott’s group.” I added, “We are stronger in numbers, that’s how the hunters work and that’s how we should work.” 

-

On the drive home to the Stilinski house, I really had to convince myself not to turn back around and go back to the depot. But Uncle Noah deserved an apology. He had taken me in, given me a fresh start and asked that I be safe in return. Yet here I was, fighting a lizard man with the threat of hunters on my tail, not to mention that I was a movie monster. I parked in the driveway next to his police cruiser and closed my eyes. My emotions were running high and it was hard to keep my eyes from turning red. 

“Breathe.” Derek’s voice echoed through my head, “It’s going to be okay.”

I took a deep breath in and out and when I opened my eyes, the red was gone. Now or never. 

After closing the front door behind me, I walked quietly into the kitchen where I found him. He was leaning against the counter and sipping a cup of coffee. He looked exhausted. He looked up from his cup a little surprised. 

“(Y/N)...” 

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before answering, “Uncle Noah...”

“Is...Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” I said quickly, “Everything’s....” I let out a deep breath, “Everything’s not fine. I’m so sorry about the things I said.”

He smiled a little, “It’s fine.” 

“It-It’s not fine though. You’re just looking out for me, I should appreciate that more. You’ve done more than anyone in my situation could have asked for. You opened up your home, bought me clothes, gave me my own room. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“No, no.” He said, setting down his coffee mug, “I did have to do that. Besides promising your parents that I would look after you, I did this because you’re like one of my own. You’re like the daughter I never had. I love you.” His eyes held a special twinkle. One that you could only find in people that truly loved you. 

Tears prickled at my eyes, my lips trembling, “I love you too.” 

“C’mere, sweetheart.” He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. I gripped onto the material of his shirt and cried. The first time I had really cried since everything happened with my parents. It just felt like my eyes had been built up and after a while, I was crying because of Uncle Noah, because of my parents, because of the torture I went through. I felt like I had no one to vent to like how I could my mom and dad because they weren’t here anymore. It felt nice to cry and feel safe because I knew that Uncle Noah loved me, no matter what. I just wished that if me being a werewolf did come out, he would still love me like his own. Even the thought of it scared me. 

“It’s alright.” Uncle Noah stroked my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, “Everything gonna be okay.” 

But it’s not okay. 

-

Just a drive to clear my head, that’s all I needed. Stiles was ringing my phone off the hook which really wasn’t helping with my anxiety right now. I looked over to reach for my phone and when I looked back there was someone standing in the middle of the road. 

“SHIT!” I screamed, turning my wheel harshly, sending me off the road and into a ditch. I slammed on the brakes, making my body slam forward into the steering wheel. I felt the cracking of my ribs against the hard plastic of the wheel. Pain washed over me in waves as I tried to catch my bearings. I felt dizzy and nauseous on account of the whiplash. I looked back towards the road and the mystery person was gone. It was around that time that my airbag went off, slapping me in the face. 

“Nice.” I grunted, opening up my car door. I turned to look out when I froze. The kanima was staring me right in the eyes. But it didn’t make any sense, unless the kanima can turn without moonlight. 

“Jackson...” I whispered, “Jackson, if you’re in there I need you to listen to me.” I swallowed, watching the creature tilt his head to the side. It seemed to recognize my voice. 

“I can help you, Jackson. I don’t want to hurt you. Just please... Don’t...”

“(Y/N)...” The creature’s voice said. I didn’t even know it was capable of speech. But the voice wasn’t exactly reptilian, as if that was possible. It wasn’t Jackson’s voice either. It was a voice that seemed so familiar, but not. 

“Well... That’s not good.” I said, just starting to move to get to the other side of the car when I felt Jackson’s whip-like tail slice across my side. 

“God....dammit.” My voice was strained since my entire body became paralyzed within seconds. The creature reached out, pulling me out of the car. 

Ah yes, a roadside killing for the kanima, how wonderful. Okay, maybe thoughts like this weren’t the best. This is how I died, alone on the side of the road. I took a deep breath, watching the world go by as Jackson’s scaly hands dragged me down into the ditch further. 

A loud roar cut through the air and I felt Jackson drop me, hissing before I heard him take off into the woods. Derek’s face filled my vision and relief washed over me.

“It’s alright, I got you.” He said, picking me in his arms. I saw my car out of the corner of my eye. 

“Is she totaled?” I asked. 

“No, she’s fine.” He chuckled, “Your transmissions probably shot though.” 

“Awesome.” I groaned, closing my eyes. 

- By the time I woke up, it was later in the day and I was back home on the couch. With Derek and Uncle Noah... talking. My eyes widened and I sat up, I hissed in pain and laid back down. My head was still killing me. 

“Woah, slow down there, kid.” Uncle Noah came to my side, kneeling down beside me on the couch. He smiled and smoothed back my hair from my face, “I thought I told you when you saw a deer in the road, you can’t swerve. Just slow down and if you hit it, you hit it. It’s sad, but there are more deer, there’s only one you.” I glanced up at Derek, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed not at all concerned around Uncle Noah. 

Uncle Noah followed my line of sight and smiled, “It’s okay, secret’s out.” My heart almost stopped, why in the hell would Derek tell him I was a werew-

“And it’s okay. I am... okay with you seeing Derek.” I blinked at him. 

“What?” 

“Is that where you’ve been? At a friend’s house.” He stood up and chuckled, patting Derek on the shoulder, “Derek, here, explained it all to me.” 

“I told him that you didn’t want to disappoint him by dating someone who was a murder suspect.” Derek said, smiling a bit at the sheriff. 

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine now. Just for the future, you can always tell me anything. No matter what.” He smiled reassuringly. Well... I guess that was one thing out of the way. 

“Your car’s in the shop, it’ll be there a day or two. So for now, Derek has volunteered to take you to work.” Uncle Noah smiled, then looked down at his phone, “I gotta take this.” He excused himself from the room and left out the front door. I sat back up again, looking up at Derek’s with my eyebrows raised. 

“How did that whole situation go?” Referring to ex-con Derek Hale telling the chief of police that he is dating his pseudo-daughter while she was unconscious in his arms. 

Derek shrugged, coming to sit on the edge of the couch, “Well, I was threatened with the gun at first. But after explaining some things... He understood.” He reached out, holding my hand, “He also said he was glad that we were friends again.” 

“Does that mean my parents told him that I wasn’t friends with you anymore and not to bring you up?” 

“Seems like it.” He sighed, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. 

“God.” I breathed out, feeling tension rising in my shoulders, “I understand why they did what they did but... They had a total disregard of the consequences. What were they going to say when I asked what happened to you, would they tell me they told you to go away or would they lie again? A majority of my life was stolen from me and when I try to remember my old lacrosse games where you could have been there... The only face I see is Michael’s. And I think he knew something.” 

“We’re gonna figure it out.” He said. I moved closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. 

Derek then explained the events of the dad, the kanima attacked Scott, Stiles, Erica, and Allison in detention and he had agreed to not kill the creature. 

“Why did the kanima go after me? Why didn’t he kill me immediately.” 

“You don’t have to cover for him anymore, I know it’s Jackson.” 

I sighed, “Good, because I didn’t like keeping it from you.” 

“Yeah, why did you keep it from me?” He asked, looking down at me. 

I gave him a surprised look, “Well, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you would have killed him? Yeah, he’s a douchebag, but that’s a little much. From what you said, finding out Jackson was adopted at birth and that he literally had to be removed from his mother’s dead body... Maybe that’s what caused the bite to mutate.” 

“It’s possible.” The sound of the door slamming shut and the sound of familiar awkward footsteps made us both look up. Stiles halted in the living room, looking me over. I’m sure I looked like a wreck, still kinda felt like it, but the cracked ribs and head injury had healed by now. 

Stiles pressed his lips together tightly, moving with purpose. He fell to his knees in front of the couch, wrapping his arms around me. Trying not to cry for the second time today, I hugged him, resting my cheek on top of his head. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. Stiles hold tightened at my words but he didn’t say anything. Derek nodded at me, making his way out of the house. Leaving Stiles and I alone. 

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

Read part 17 here!

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[mmilkbreadd]

Chapter twenty five: “The End”

Masterpost - Prev.

Warning(s): a bit of swearing ; post-timeskip manga spoilers!!

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Or aka, ‘The Sakusa Kiyoomi Theory’

Act One: “Who is Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

Saturday, 6:23 am, “y/n's home”

“You're late,” said y/n with crossed arms, she was already waiting for him at the door of her house. “I hope this doesn't become routine.”

It was already morning in the streets of Paris. Tendou Satori and her neighbor (and best friend), y/n l/n, were walking towards their famous bakery and chocolate shop, ‘Sweet Strawberries.’ It was a small place with a few tables to sit for tea and delicious things to eat. Also, although it was small, it was quite crowded.

“Woah, how angry you are today, little baker... More than usual, actually” y/n shook her head at her friend's comment. “But obviously I already know why, and it seems that you know why too.”

Y/n decided to ignore what Satori had said, and keep walking quite ahead of him. It was still an hour before the store opened, but they already had several orders that were due to deliver around nine in the morning. A three-tier wedding cake, forty heart-shaped chocolates for the anniversary of a married couple, and of course, the strawberry cake for someone named Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Around a quarter to seven, they arrived at the bakery, and they got down to work to get all the orders completed on time. 

Tendou was more dedicated to the chocolate part, of course, and to serve customers. Despite y/n had advanced a lot in terms of her social skills, she still needed to learn a little about how to communicate normally with a person.

“That 'Sakusa Kiyoomi' has a Japanese name, do you think he is too?” y/n asked, wiping flour from her hands.

“I don't know, they could be. But doesn't that name sound too familiar to you?”  Satori replied.

“That's exactly what I was thinking!”

“Weird.”

“Yeah... Anyway, the customer asked not to make the chocolate so bitter so add more milk to that please.”

“Yes, boss!” Satori made a military signal and continued his work.

Act Two: “Pretending to be Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

8:39 am, “Paris” (?)

Bokuto Koutarou, along with Miya Atsumu and Hinata Shoyo were lost in Paris. They had circled the Eiffel Tower at least five times. But it seemed they hadn't realized it yet.

They were more lost than Bokuto studying math. But a simple city would not defeat them so easily... would it?

“Maybe we should have brought Sakusa,” Hinata said after round number six.

“And hear him complain about how dirty everything is? No thanks,” Atsumu Miya replied, shaking his head. “We don't need Omi-Omi. I, Miya Atsumu, am enough to know where we are.”

Atsumu put a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. Bokuto and Hinata looked around, ignoring the enormous tower behind them, wondering where they were.

“And where are we then?”

“Paris, of course” he replied. “I can’t believe you’re seriously asking that, Shoyo.”

Hinata and Bokuto looked at each other, unable to believe what their teammate was saying.

“Sure…” Bokuto said, getting his phone out of his pocket. It was time to be the serious person of the trio. “Akaashi, we got lost” and that time was now over. Koutarou was crying as he spoke to his friend, who was on another continent. “No, I can't stop crying, Akaashi. I swear I was following the steps you wrote on the map so we wouldn't get lost, but Atsumu wanted to take the lead, so he broke the instructions, and we don’t know where we are. It's all his fault...! No, Sakusa has not come either.”

“Hey! It wasn't my fault,” the dyed blonde complained, crossing his arms. “And we never needed Omi-Omi!”

“Okay, Akaashi, I'll do it. Bye, love you… As a bro of course” Bokuto finished saying and hung up. “He told me I have to call Tendou. Is the only way.”

Hinata started shaking his head from side to side, while Atsumu slapped his forehead with his hand. Then a message came from Keiji; It was the number of Tendou Satori himself. Bokuto started dialing the numbers that appeared on the screen of his phone, on Hinata's.

“Wait wait, shouldn't I speak? He might recognize your voice” Hinata said, awkwardly taking the phone from Bokuto's hands. 

“He would also recognize yours, Shoyo. I'll do it.” Atsumu snatched the device from him and pressed the call button. “Hello, sir, what’s up? I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi, could you help me get to your store? I'm a bit lost... How did I get your number you ask? Eh– It's on your website dude! You should delete it, some people pretend to be someone else and you should not fall for that...”

Act Three: “If Sakusa Kiyoomi was real, we should have brought him.”

10:04 am, “Sweet Strawberries Bakery and Chocolate Shop”

“I can't believe it took us almost two hours to get here! It wasn't even that far from the hotel” Hinata said looking towards the building that was a few meters in front of them.

“Six blocks. Can’t believe it either.” Atsumu wiped the sweat from his brow. “And now that? Are we going in or not?”

Bokuto went pale. He was going to see you, after so many years without communicating or having exchanged glances. He never imagined that he would see you again after that cold day in Miyagi. He had made a thousand scenarios in his head of how you two meet again: in some distant future you visit your hometown and he visits Hinata, and thus you meet in the park or on the street. You would have your own family, and he would have his. But that would happen in many years, not now. Not at this moment, when neither of you had grown enough... When he hadn't managed to forget you yet. But these weren't Koutarou's inventions, this was reality.

The incredible and stupid reality.

“I don't want to go in,” Bokuto said suddenly and stopped walking. “I’m not ready.”

Atsumu, who was already one step away from the door, turned to see him. Hinata collided with Miya's chest because he was walking right behind him.

“What are you talking about? Let's go in now” Atsumu said walking towards the ex-owl. “We didn't change the whole tour just so you don't go see your little girlfriend… We change it so you do! Don't be scared, do it now or you'll regret it for life. I remember how you talked about her during practice, and I even want to meet her after that! Come on dude, use the little braveness you have left.”

It seemed that Atsumu's words, or Hinata's smile next to him, made Bokuto take courage and head towards the entrance of the shop. 

A bell rang before three pairs of feet echoed through the small place. There was a great smell of chocolate that invaded every inch of the establishment. Hinata paced around the place until the sound of a door opening made the three teammates turn their heads to where the sound was coming from.

“Welcome, what can I offer-- So all of you are Sakusa Kiyoomi, huh?” Satori Tendou said, coming out of the back-room. “You see guys, I never believed this would happen. It makes me think a lot too… So, is Sakusa Kiyoomi even real?”

Atsumu, Hinata, and Bokuto were paralyzed in place for several seconds. The former Shiratorizawa monster stood with his hands on his hips, staring at them.

“Is it Sakusa Kiyoomi? Tell him I'm coming in a minute!” y/n yelled from the back room.

“Oh no, y/n, it’s someone much better!” Tendou replied, holding back his laughter. “You won't believe it even if you see this!”

Then, silence took over the place until a few quick steps interrupted it. A figure appeared through the door, with several boxes in their hands. A pile of boxes so big it covered their face.

“Help me, Satori, I'm going to fall” y/n complained, and after Tendou took out the boxes that covered her view, she saw her friend smiling widely. “What?”

Satori, who couldn't contain his laughter anymore, gestured with his head towards the three statues in the middle of the place. And finally, seeing her friend's face, he started to laugh out loud.

“Kou?”

“A-and Hinata!” shouted Bokuto nervously. Shoyo looked at him and then pointed at Atsumu.

“And also Atsumu!”

“And Saku– shit, we should have brought Omi-Omi after all…”

───∘°❉°∘───

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Note: I am very very very very sorry for not posting this sooner, but I had thousand of things going on in my life. Now I’m better and ready to finish this beautiful, and crazy, love-story.

I hope you loved it as much as I did. I truly enjoyed it writing, and I’m happy to finish it too.

I’ll appreciate it a lot if you comment down below what you thought about the series. I’ll read you later -Tina.

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Tags in reblog!

Thanks for reading🥰

[writingblackpink]

If You Leave Now, You Lose Everything (pt. 3)

Read pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 4

genre: you guessed it: angst

word count: 2k

pairing: jennie x reader

You and Jennie have been together for two years now. While the relationship has been rocky as of recently, will you find a way to make it work before it’s too late?

A/N: Basically this is Jennie’s pov of what happened after the breakup. One more part after this. I really enjoyed writing this part, so please let me know what you think :)

- 

Jennie was a mess.

As soon as she stepped out of your apartment, the tears flowed freely. She sunk down against the door for a few moments to collect herself but soon got to her feet, adjusted her mask, sunglasses and cap so as to stay incognito in the New York streets, and walked to her waiting car in the street. 

She thought that giving the situation some space would help her think everything through, but the only thing on her mind was how she thought she might’ve made the worst decision of her life. The 14 hour flight didn’t help either, and when she landed back home, she couldn’t even bring herself to dial your number and let you know she made it home, instead opting for a “made it home” text free of any emotion, written more so out of courtesy than anything else. 

Jennie knew you were trying to call her. She heard the voicemail left after the first call and almost called you back, but she figured there would be no way to get over you if she did that, so she deleted the call from the log. The second time you called, Jennie stared at her ringing phone in her hand and debated on whether or not to answer the call, going through everything that might be said if she did answer. As soon as she pressed her finger to the answer button, the call screen disappeared, signaling you had ended the call. The third time, the call came through in the middle of the night. Jennie was startled awake by the vibration on the nightstand and without thinking ended the call only to realize in the morning that it was you that had called. She almost wondered if there was some emergency that would explain why you were calling with no regard to time zones, but she was supposed to be ridding you from her life, so she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. After that, the calls ceased. 

Jennie spent some time off after returning from the States. For the first few days, she sulked around in her apartment, her group mates only coming by to bring food and make sure she was still doing well. On the inside, she really wasn’t, but she put on a smile so they wouldn’t worry as much. 

Midway through the week, she figured she needed to do some cleaning. As she did so, she tossed every single thing that belonged to you in a box that she labeled, “Y/N’s THINGS” in thick black ink and placed it in the corner of her room, having every intention to ship it back to you in the next few days. A few more days passed before she realized that not being able to see your things didn’t really help with getting rid of thoughts of you like she thought it would. 

In the following few weeks, she threw herself into work, thinking that maybe if she had something to occupy her time with, she wouldn’t think of you as much. Or how you’re doing. Or what you’re doing. Or if you’re thinking about her as much as she’s thinking about you. Jennie went out with friends and drank to try to wash the memory of you away, but it never seemed to work. It only left her with a headache the following day, and embarrassing stories from her friends about how she wouldn’t shut up about you. Again.

“How are you doing, Jennie?” Jisoo asked sincerely while walking out of a particularly difficult dance practice. Jennie assumed she had been asking about that when she replied. 

“Pretty good. A little tired. These practices have really been kicking my ass.” She stopped when she noticed Jisoo had stopped walking and turned to face her. 

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Jisoo said accusingly. 

Jennie took a deep breath before plastering a smile across her face and lying. 

“I’m doing ok. I’m figuring it out day by day.” It wasn’t a total lie, she was figuring it out, but she didn’t know how “ok” she really was. 

Jisoo squinted at her. “I don’t really believe you,” she paused, picking her step back up and moving past Jennie, “but if you do need anyone to talk to about it, I’m here.” And it was really nice, Jennie thought, to have friends that cared so deeply for her, but the wound was still so fresh that even bringing up the situation made her feel like salt had been thrown directly on it. She didn’t want to talk about you or how she felt about the situation because she didn’t wish to be faced with the harsh reality that she did miss you because there was nothing she, or anyone else, could do about it. You guys were over.

Another week passed before she received a phone call from an old friend from New Zealand saying, surprise, she was going to be visiting in a few days for the first time in a few years and staying with Jennie for a few weeks. The timing was perfect. Jennie had a pretty open schedule for the next few weeks and she was grateful to have someone else around to fill her time and hopefully this would be the kind of therapeutic presence she needed to start getting over you. 

Jennie was ecstatic, nearly floating through the airport and scooping her friend up in a long hug as soon as they reached each other. 

“Oh my god, babe! I missed you so much!” Her friend exclaimed rather loudly in the bustling airport. 

“I missed you too! It’s been too long!”

For the first few days, everything was going good. Jennie found herself wrapped up in everything her and her friend were doing together. She genuinely smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. She thought maybe time actually could heal. 

Everything was going good until she started asking hard questions. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked on an afternoon coffee date. Jennie had been zoned out for a few minutes, staring out the window. Jennie shifted her gaze to her friend who continued, “You’ve been a bit distant today,” her brows furrowing in concern. 

Jennie didn’t know if she could tell her friend that the reason she was distant was because she had ordered what you usually ordered, and Jennie couldn’t stop thinking of all of the sweet coffee dates you two had been on in the past two years. 

Without thinking, she spoke up. 

“I broke up with Y/N.” She said flatly, looking directly into her friend’s eyes. 

“Sheesh,” her friend replied, clearly taken aback by the news, “I mean, I wasn’t going to ask, but you usually only talk about her so I was kind of wondering….” Her voice trailed off. 

Jennie peered into her cup of steaming tea, waiting for her friend to continue. 

“Jennie, what happened? From what you told me, it really seemed like she was the one?”

Jennie looked up again before replying, “distance” and leaving it at that. 

A silence sat between the two friends and Jennie was almost glad that her friend didn’t ask her anything else. She was fine with that for a while until she felt the words bubbling up her chest, threatening to escape. 

“I still love her.” Jennie said. Her own eyes widened as she heard each word leave her mouth. Well, it was out there now. 

Her friend looked sympathetic for a beat before responding, “Have you tried reaching out yet? Maybe you both should just talk it out?”

“No, we haven’t. You’re right. Maybe I should.” Jennie said, emotionless. Yeah, she had opened this line of conversation, but now she wanted to close it and she hoped her friend would catch on. Thankfully, she did, and soon both of them were heading back home. 

Jennie sat up in bed that night, kept awake by the thought of you and the box she seemingly had forgotten to ship in the corner or her room staring back at her in the moonlight. She didn’t know what to do at this point. She wanted you back, but it had almost been a month. What if you moved on? What if you were already over her and thriving in the U.S.? Her brain was flooded with scenarios of what would happen if she were to talk to you again, and all she really wished for before she closed her eyes to sleep, was a sign. 

The following evening, Jennie and her friend decided to cook dinner at home. Jennie appreciated the night in. 

“Hey! I don’t know if it’s even possible, but please don’t burn the pasta. If my memory serves correct, you were no Gordon Ramsey back in the day.” Jennie said teasingly. 

She loved being able to talk to someone with no pretenses. Her friend didn’t ask her questions about you and it made Jennie feel so free. 

“Har, Har, Jennie! If MY memory serves ME correct, you did burn the bacon this morning so you have no room to talk.” 

Jennie laughed out loud. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so freely. Probably with you, she thinks, and then swipes the memory away. 

Just then, she heard a knock on her door, looking toward the door and trying to think if she had invited anyone else over. 

“Let me get that,” She said while moving to unlatch the door, throwing one last thing over her shoulder before making eye contact with whoever was on the other side.

“And if you do burn this, you’re sooo buying brunch tomorrow.” Jennie giggled, turning to face her guest. 

Immediately meeting your eyes, Jennie squinted, trying to make sure what she was seeing was actually reality and not a hallucination. She couldn’t believe it at first, blinking a few times to make sure she hadn’t manifested this very situation with all of her thinking about you. 

She realized she had been lost in her thoughts for too long when she heard a weak “surprise” leave your lips. All she could think was you and all she could see were your eyes staring back at her, pleading. Yet, she felt paralyzed in her spot, not able to move, not able to speak. 

Jennie felt her friend walk up behind her and say something, but it sounded so far away that she couldn’t decipher what it was. So, she kept standing, frozen in her place. 

And, now what are you doing? Are you crying? Jennie couldn’t figure out for the life of her what was going on but then she heard you speak again. 

“um...this was a bad idea, I’ll just be going. Sorry.” 

Jennie heard you clearly, thoughts running wild at the thought of you leaving again. Jennie had asked for a sign and this was a pretty fucking big sign. No, no, Y/N, wait! She was saying the words but nothing was coming out. Her throat burned with the words that ached to be said.

You turned and headed to leave and Jennie could hear her friend asking her something, but again she couldn’t make out what it was. All she could think about was how she couldn’t just let you leave this time.

“Y/N! Come back!” Her voice strained out. You didn’t turn back around and Jennie grew even more confused. Did you not want her after all? She pushed those thoughts aside and turned to run back into the apartment, grabbing her car keys and a jacket and turning to leave again. She didn’t make it past the door before her friend grabbed her arm. 

“Jennie, what’s going on?” she asked, voice laced with concern. 

A single tear fell down Jennie’s cheek as she looked back at her friend. 

“That was Y/N.” They stared at each other until her friend connected the dots. 

“THAT was Y/N?” She instantly released Jennie’s arm from her hold. “Jennie, what are you waiting for? Go get your girl!” 

And with that, Jennie turned and bolted to the door at the end of the hallway, sprinting down the stairs to the parking lot and hoped she wasn’t too late.

[fangirlovestuff]

You Make Me Feel Right - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - Hey lovely people! this one is part of @evansxxx​‘s I Don’t Wike It Challenge! congrats on a 1,000 followers love! prompt is in bold (it’s #25) and itaics is a flashback/memory. Enjoy! <3

Summary: You and Steve finally go on a date. You go to a place that holds a glimpse into your past - and maybe one into your future?

Word count: ~2,180

warnings: very brief mentions of violence, nervous steeb🥺

The lights of the New York street were shining all around you as you walked hand in hand with Steve through the crowded streets. You sneaked a look at him – the billboard next to you cast a red tint on his face, which were turned down to look at his phone.

You and Steve were finally going out. The last few months you were both very preoccupied; missions, paperwork and general chaos in the Avengers tower kept you both from having proper dates for a long while - the last date you’ve had was probably 4 months ago. Obviously, you made due, getting to spend some time with each other anyway, especially since you were living together. You were working with the Avengers, and weren't one of the famous superheroes but a simple lab worker. When you discovered a break in both of your schedules, instead of spending a lazy night at home you suggested you finally go on a proper date. Steve was hesitant at first, he didn’t want to be recognized and ruin the night, but you managed to persuade him to go, on the condition that he gets to plan the night. His cap was low on his forehead, along with fake glasses he thought made him look very different. You knew it wouldn't actually stop some of the crazy fans out there from recognizing him, but you went along with it. The glasses looked very cute on him, so that was a bonus.

Right now, Steve was trying to navigate the two of you to a restaurant he heard was very recommended close by. His blue eyes scanned the busy street as you headed towards the outskirts of the crowd. You turned a corner to find a nice little restaurant, potted plants surrounding the outside tables. Steve smiled in accomplishment and tugged on your hand to lead you towards the restaurant.

You beamed at him. "You're really getting the hand of all this tech stuff, aren't you?" You referred to his use of google maps on his phone without the grumbling that was usually involved. Steve just hummed and smirked a little as you entered the restaurant hand in hand.

"Mr. Rogers," the hostess greeted and smiled. "We're very pleased to see you here this evening. Follow me please," she said to you both. She led you into a secluded corner of the room, where you most likely won't be seen by anyone else, where she left you both to read you menus.

"I had to make a reservation to make sure they had a place for us," Steve explained. "I know we're not really aiming to get recognized tonight, well, actually the opposite of that, but--"

"Steve, it’s okay. I get it," you smiled at him so he can know it's really okay.

Your food quickly arrived, and you didn’t even realize how hungry you were until you smelled the delicious smell coming from the plates that were put in front of you. You dug in happily, humming appreciatively at the tasty food. You looked up at Steve, expecting to see him enjoying his food as well. Instead, you saw him only moving the food a little on his plate, taking small bites with a slight frown on his face. As a super-soldier, Steve had an enormous appetite, so you had to ask him, "Earth to Steve. You alright there?"

"Yeah, sorry," he smiled and started eating his food with some of his usual enthusiasm. You were still suspicious, but you let it go for now.

"So, you know the new kid at R&D? Tony told me he's like a genius or something," you started to make conversation.

"Oh, Jake, right? He seemed like a nice kid when I met him so that's good for him. Did you hear about what Nat is now calling 'The Disaster'?" he chuckled.

You giggled. "Oh my god, I can't believe how dramatic she is. One of the new trainees caught her singing in the kitchen one time and she literally won't shut up about it." You started impersonating her, "You don't understand, it was humiliating!" you put the back of your hand on your forehead dramatically and Steve laughed.

You continued in conversation throughout the evening, and it flew easy as usual. Despite that, you were still worried about Steve. He supposedly never got sick, but he really didn't seem that hungry.

"Steve, are you sure you're alright?" you asked after the waiter took away his still pretty full plate at the end of the meal.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he smiled softly and reached for your hand across the table. His hand was a bit clammy, but you still took it as you narrowed you eyes at him playfully.

"I don't really believe you, but dessert should fix it if you're not willing to tell me." You both decided to share your favorite dessert, that was thankfully on the restaurant's menu. You ended up splitting it pretty much if half, which was admittedly a regular occurrence, since Steve was always the gentleman and insisted on eating half despite of his larger appetite.

When you left the restaurant hand in hand you started wandering around towards the quieter streets, only encountering a few people in your way. You walked in silence for the most part, simply enjoying each other's company. You shivered a little at the night chill and Steve wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his warm body.

You came across a small alley you recognized right away. "Steve look!" you pointed his attention to the alley across the street. He chuckled in relief. "I'm glad you recognized it."

The tall man was towering over you, the gold horns on his head shining as devilishly as his eyes are. The large scepter in his hand is pointed towards you, pushing you to the corner of the small alley. Your back was pushing against the wall and you were screaming for help, but it seemed like no one was going to show up. His scepter started shining in a blue light and it was getting closer and closer to your head. You'd stopped screaming, now paralyzed in fear. You thought you were done for. You closed your eyes; your whole life wasn't flashing before you. There was just panic.

Just then, you heard a loud thud. You opened your eyes to see two tall, blond, muscular men. One of them was holding a hammer and punching the evil dude with it. The other one was wearing a mostly blue suit and coming towards you, and—holy shit, that was Captain America. Your brain was back working now, and you couldn’t help but notice he looked way better up close than he did on the TV. And he looked gorgeous on the TV.

"You okay?" he asked, his blue eyes looking into yours with worry.

"Yeah," you gulped, "I'm okay now."

He nodded at you and you noticed the alley was quickly filling up with other Avengers. They now cornered the villain much like he did to you before. "Who is he?" you asked Steve.

"Loki, the god of mischief. And Thor's half-brother? Or was it adopted?" he debated to himself.

"I'm sorry, he's the what?"

"Yeah, you're right, they look hardly alike. As I said, probably adopte--"

"Not that! He's a god?"

"Oh yeah," Steve blushed slightly. You saw the Avengers cornering Loki but you saw a flash of something metal behind his back. "Anyway," Steve continued, "you should come with us to the compound, we can check if he--"

"Watch out! He's got a knife!" you shouted at the Avengers who automatically went into their defensive poses even before you finished your sentence and then disarmed Loki.

"Thank you, human," Thor waved at you.

"I'm surprised Rogers here didn't notice it before. Must've been busy looking at something else instead of helping his teammates catch a dangerous god." Tony quipped.

Steve blushed deeper than before and you giggled. "Thank you," you said, "for saving my life. But I really gotta go, so see you." You smiled and walked away from the tall man. You didn't even realize how close to you he was until you backed away, missing his closeness. But he was Captain America, and no matter how cute he was it's not like you stood a chance.

Steve followed you with his eyes practically shaped into hearts.  

"Seriously Rogers? If you were gonna neglect your duty like that, at least get a phone number out of it." Natasha came closer to Steve and teased. Steve's face sobered up instantly.

With little effort he caught up to you. "Can I have your phone number?" he asked timidly. You looked at him, surprised. "I mean, to check up on you. And also maybe grab a coffee sometime, if you'd like, maybe-"

You mercifully stopped him from rambling by putting your hand out for his phone. "I'd love to."

"Um, great." He awkwardly reached for his phone and handed it to you.

Of course you remembered this alley, and you told Steve this. "Of course I recognized it! I almost got murdered by a god in here!" you exclaimed playfully. "And I also met you here, lady-killer," you teased.

He chuckled nervously and led you into the alley.

To your utmost surprise, the alley was full of fairy lights; with the moon shining above it was a beautiful view. "Steve, did you..." you trailed off, staring at the transformed alley in awe.

"Do you like it?" Steve asked, a bashful smile on his face, holding your hand in his.

"I absolutely love it!" you smiled and pecked his lips. "What's the occasion?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you something." He smiled and reached inside his pocket, taking a deep breath. He took out a small box and got down on one knee, still holding your hand in his.

"Steve?" you asked, a huge smile across your face.

He bit his lip and smiled. "When we met here, I was dumbstruck, quite literally." You giggled, your eyes filling with tears. "You were the only woman I had eyes for, you still are. All I could think was how much I wanted you not to leave, to know you. From the get-go, you've always looked like a person I'd want to know. And maybe I'm not as smart as you, but in this case I was right. There's not one day I go by without being grateful for knowing you. For the opportunity to love you. Because before you, I was lost. There was this whole new world I didn't know, and I thought I didn't belong here. But you proved me wrong. Thanks to you I almost know how to use my phone." He smiled and breathed deeply before continuing. "And I know I belong here, because no matter what – I belong with you. I used to think I was a man out of time, but I've realized it's not true. Almost everything I had in the past pales in comparison to you. I’ve spent most of my life not knowing what right was supposed to feel like, and then I met you. And everything changed. You make me feel right. You're my home." He opened the box to reveal the most beautiful engagement ring you've ever seen. You gasped at the sight of it, tears falling out of your eyes. "I've never been happier than in the two years I've known you," Steve continued. "Would you do me the greatest honor in being by my side for the rest of my life? Will you marry me?" he beamed at you.

"Yes! Yes, yes, of course yes!" You kneeled down in front of him and nearly tackled him with a fierce hug. "I love you, Steve Rogers. And there's nothing I want more than to be your wife."

He surged forward and kissed you, his lips soft against your own. The kiss was passionate but soft, conveying through action the happiness and love that words simply cannot describe. Your hands were wrapped around his neck and his went to your waist when you heard a soft thud. You let go of each other's lips and laughed, because in the moment, Steve dropped the box with the ring.

"Oops," he scratched the back of his neck before reaching for the box. He took out the ring and slipped it onto your finger, a perfect fit, where it glimmered softly with the lights of the street.

You finished admiring the ring and gasped. "Wait! Is this why you were being weird all night?" you realized.

"Yeah," Steve smiled bashfully. "I guess I was just nervous…"

Seeing the beefy super-soldier being unsure of himself made your heart swell with love. "You had no reason to be," you reassured him.

You both went home that night hand in hand, sending each other lovesick gazes that would've no doubt made a few of your friends roll their eyes if they were there. But nothing really mattered at this moment, nothing besides you and Steve, the moon the only witness to your love.

[bichlordstories]

17: Turning Point

You were going to kill Todoroki when you find him.

Fucking running off and making you follow after him... what the hell does he think he's doing?

Just 30 minutes ago, you, Endeavour, and Todoroki were on patrol when the attacks began. There was screaming left and right, filling the air along with inhuman sounds that belonged to these mutant beasts with brains showing.

Fires and explosions went off and there were pro heroes dealing with these abominations that seemed unkillable

Endeavour was the first to react and quickly burned the thing to a crisp and you were quick to follow his lead.

Once activating your quirk, you punched one of the monsters to the ground and started beating it up, tearing it's limbs off.

The thing slowly regenerated, which brought you frustration.

You bit into it's brain out of rage and pulled its chunks out as it screamed at you.

"Blood God. Move."

You recognized the voice as Endeavour's and slowly got up. You hesitantly looked at the writhing beast beneath you before moving out of the way for Endeavour to burn it.

"You did quite the number on it." He said before fire left his fist.

The man let out a grunt as he roasted the thing alive before turning to you.

"I need you to go after my son and make sure he doesn't get into trouble. Is that understood." He said and proceeded to tell you where to find him.

You grew confused and infuriated when you realized that Todoroki was gone.

What the fuck is he doing? There are villains to fight here!

You had a moment of clarity and spat the brain bits out of your mouth.

"Yes sir."

Before he could respond, another monster came into view and tackled the man. Endeavour shot fire into its face, making it lose its control over the situation.

And thus here you were, trying to find the stupid bicolored brat.

You nearly passed an alleyway before a noise and a flash of yellow and orange caught your eye.

There he was, fighting a deranged looking ninja and... and the greenette brat. For some reason, when the man licked his blade, Todoroki fell to the ground, laying on the ground.

Just as the man was about to strike the bicolored moron, you leapt into action, quite literally.

Your body rammed the man, making him tumble back and rip up his clothes from the pavement. He was caught in a daze before shaking it off and searching for who was responsible.

"...All Might?" The man said breathlessly before narrowing his eyes.

"...no... you're not All Might."

You ignored this as your brain was registering who this man was. You knew he was familiar, no one can forget someone with his ugly mug. You heard of his ideas and his rants about society a few times before. Everyone has.

You especially heard of what he did to a pro hero by the name of Ingenium.

"So... you're the hero killer: Stain."

The crazed man slowly stood up held his sword out, pointing at you.

"You... you're the fake that nearly killed the bicolored one." He spat.

You simply ignored this and looked past him to see Deku, Iida, and a man in a Native American themed costume. Midoriya locked eyes with you and immediately yelled to you in desperation.

"Don't let him lick your blood, His quirk will paralyze you!"

Stain shifted in front of you to block your view from the greenette, which you were thankful for.

"So you've come to save your fake hero friends..." he said.

"They're not my friends." You stated.

"Hm... doesn't really matter anyways..." he said before shooting forward.

He was fast, you wouldn't lie, but you were also quick on your feet.

You ducked down really low and grabbed his feet, which took him by surprise, and pulled them out from under him.

You didn't hesitate to drag him and spin around the ground before making him go airborne for a quick second and having him make impact with the wall. Hard.

He should have passed out. Should have. But he didn't.

This infuriated you more as you quickly went to grab his face, only for him to lift his sword up just as quickly.

He left a shallow cut on your shoulder, to which you quickly grabbed the blade and pulled it away from him. You weren't about to leave the blade with him since it caught a bit of your blood.

You backed away from the slightly dazed man, who slowly walked towards you.

"You dare... take my blade... you damn fake."

"You dare take my blood, you murderer." You said back to him in a mocking tone, holding his blade in your now bloodied hand.

The man smirked, narrowing his eyes at you as he started walking forward.

"Heh... you're skillful and intelligent... I'll give you that."

He lifted his bloody hand up and licked it, which confused you for a moment before you fell limp.

The sword that you once held clattered to the ground along with your body. Stain approached you slowly like a predator ready to strike.

"...it's a shame your quirk makes you bleed out naturally."

He picked up the blade and pulled out another before standing over you.

"Any last words, fake?" Stain said while placing his two blades on both sides of your neck.

"...of all the things..."

The man's nasty smile fell and he cocked his head to the left in confusion.

"What was that?"

"Of all the things to go after... you chose fakes that still did their jobs of saving lives...? You... you could have used your skills... your fighting experience to kill pedophiles... rapists... human traffickers..." you glared daggers into the now expressionless man's eyes.

"You could have taken the hero's jobs and still make a god damn statement about how unreliable fakes are... but instead you chose to target corrupt politicians, people with shitty fucking opinions over... over actual murderers." You spat out a bit of your blood as your quirk was still activated.

"There are people you could have saved that the frauds failed to do, but instead you go after a bunch of stupid kids who wear their hearts on their sleeves, one of which had his older brother sent to the damn hospital because of you." Your voice cracked as you grew both fearful and angry each second.

This man was going to kill you, you realized. He was going to kill you, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Everyone else was paralyzed including you.

Oh god.

You were going to die.

You never even got to save anyone and become a hero.

Fresh blood and tears trailed down your cheeks more and more, staining your (h/c) hair.

The man still stared down at you with no emotions on his face. His smile was long gone, replaced with a slight frown.

Just then, a flash of green knocked the man away from you, which caused one of the blades to leave a shallow cut into your neck.

You couldn't move your head, only your eyes and mouth, but you knew who it was.

The greenette held up against the man while the rest of you laid there paralyzed.

Soon, the ingenium kid, Iida, got back control over his body and joined the battle.

You were paralyzed both physically and mentally.

You almost died. You were about to be decapitated.

You were still in danger, after all, he isn't in cuffs yet.

But you were staring your death in the eyes.

In all of your 16 years of life, you had never been faced with something as severe as your own death.

You seen death before, you do visit the hospital and you have gotten to meet patients with terminal Illnesses.

But never have you battled your own death.

Is this what helplessness is like?

You didn't like it.

Not one bit...

You stayed laying there until someone came to pick you up.

"...No..." you croaked out, not realizing that it was the ingenium kid.

"(L/n)-san, I'm here to help." Iida said while giving you up into a piggyback ride.

"...Stain." You said, growing weaker as your quirk slowly deactivated itself.

"We took care of him..."

You could have sworn you saw tears collect in the kid's eyes.

"You all did..."

You couldn't hold onto consciousness any longer and slipped into darkness.

You woke up to the smells and sounds of a hospital, finding odd comfort in the familiar environment.

A formal voice was talking in the background followed by a woof. You didn't open your eyes but instead listened to what he was saying.

It took you a couple minutes to realize that he was talking about the legality that was the battle against Stain. A whole bunch of junk about how todoroki, Iida, and the greenette brat should be punished for initiating a fight against the villain.

"...they're the only one who was given permission by a pro hero to help keep you out of trouble and did what they were told."

It was obvious he was referring to you.

After chewing them out more in a professional way, the mutt finally told them that they have an option to pretend it was Endeavour who took out the hero killer and avoid punishment.

Although reluctant, they were forced to agree.

The police chief muttered his thanks to the kids and then left.

"...is he gone yet?" You said out loud, wincing at your dry throat and the scratchiness in your voice.

Your eyes were closed the entire time, so you didn't see the dog-headed man leave.

You heard a bit of gasping near you and some shuffling.

"You're awake!"

That annoying voice. That damn annoying voice you hate so much is talking to you.

There was a moment of silence, which made the three boys believe they were just hearing things before you spoke.

"...I believe I should give credit where credit is due..."

While you refused to open your eyes while saying this, you could still hear everything around you.

"You saved my life... Deku... and I... appreciate this second chance at life and shall cherish it..."

You could feel the shock radiating off the greenette. Tch. So obvious.

"...but don't think that for a second that I'll be picking daisies with you. I still fucking hate your guts." You said.

"Eh? How is that being appreciative???" Iida asked in a bewildered tone.

You didn't answer, which made the blue haired gentleman start making chopping motions with his broken arm before yelping when it let out a crack and pop.

"Iida!"

~~~~~~

Old habits die hard, aye? Iida couldn't help but try to scold Mc, which didn't work out for him since he just made his arm worse.

Looks like Mc is slowly gonna respect Izuku... until they find out about All Might being their secret dad.

And when they learn that Midoriya knew before them.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hi! I'm new to this and I don't know if I'm doing this right... Could you write a story about ghost James (not really come back as a ghost in wizard way but more like a ghost in muggle stories, the kind that no one can see and can't really do anything) watching (and maybe staying with) Sirius through the years and finally reunite with him behind the veil? And they live happily ever after in the other side?Thank you!

James hated it when Sirius was sad. It was his number one least favourite thing in the world. It was horrible to see. James was pretty sure that it started to rain specifically because Sirius was in a bad mood, sometimes. His proof of that was that it had never been sunny when Sirius was sad, and that was good enough for him. When Sirius was sad, it's like the whole planet sagged to join him in grief. He'd said that to Remus once, and Remus had replied that James couldn't possibly be more in love if he tried; James was pretty sure that his response to that had been that everyone could stand to be more in love with Sirius. 

Point is, Sirius was sad, and it was James's fault. He couldn't make it better, and that was almost worse. There had been times, during first their friendship then their romantic relationship, that he'd made Sirius sad. Some stupid fight or other, and he would make Sirius cry because Sirius hated when they fought. He'd made Sirius sad before, but he'd never been incapable of comforting him afterwards. 

He was dead. Sirius couldn't hear him or feel him. It didn't matter what James did, because as far as Sirius was concerned, nothing at all was happening. James could scream in his ear, and Sirius would hear nothing but waves and the distant echoes of the other prisoners. He knew this for a fact; he'd tried. Just in case. No one knew about the kind of ghost that he was, and he wasn't going to let Sirius be miserable just because he hadn't thought to try. 

It had taken him a minute to understand what had happened when he appeared by Sirius's side. The details around his death were a bit fuzzy. He couldn't really remember what had happened, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. From the absolutely haunted expression on Sirius's face, it didn't seem like something he'd appreciate remembering. 

It took James less than two days to figure out that nothing he did would get through to Sirius. Instead of constantly pestering him, he decided to do things that would make Sirius feel better. He talked. Shared stories even though they were all stories he'd heard before or had been there for. 

After a couple weeks, James figured out how to make himself basically solid. It didn't help Sirius it all, but it made James feel better. He could lean his head against Sirius's shoulder without falling straight through him. 

On the one hand, it was nice to be able to see Sirius even though he was dead. Spend time with him. On the other hand, he was pretty sure this was a version of hell. What had he done to get placed next to the person he loved most, but completely unable to communicate with him? He didn't know how he really felt about it. Twelve years of thinking about it, and he still didn't know. 

*

James talked to hear his own voice. It's not like Sirius could hear him and feel better to know that he wasn't entirely alone. 

Sometimes he felt like Sirius could hear him. Not as he was-- standing beside him-- but like a whisper to his conscience. An errant thought in his head that took purchase. It was wishful thinking, James knew that, but it made his existence feel important. Sirius didn't lay flat to stretch his legs because James said he should; he did it because he'd been curled up in a ball for so long that he was uncomfortable. 

It still made James feel better. 

*

"Er, Sirius? Is it just me, or does that look like Peter?" James asked, tilting his head to get a better look at the photo in the Prophet. Fudge wasn't holding it at the best angle for Sirius, but Sirius was smart; he saw it. He asked for the paper, and Fudge handed it right over. 

James grinned at Sirius. "That's my Padfoot. Let's get out of this hellhole. It was putting you in a worse mood than normal." Not that there was any good measure for that. It had been so long since Sirius had been in a normal place that James only had memories for what it was like to see him smile. When the minister visited, the Dementors had to stay back a certain amount; it's why Sirius made conversation instead of telling him to bugger off, but it didn't exactly make him happy. He was just... less miserable. 

*

If anyone could see James right now, they'd probably say that since he wasn't happy with what he was doing, he should stop. That was a load of bullocks. He was dead, what did it matter if he wasn't completely happy? His happiness was a non-issue. He had an entire afterlife that he could enjoy when Sirius was around to enjoy it with him. For now, it was more important to him that he keep an eye on Sirius. Even if he couldn't effect the world around him at all, he liked knowing what was going on. 

There was a paralyzing fear in the back of his mind that if he left now, he'd never be able to find Sirius again.

*

"No no no," James said frantically, staring at where Peter transformed and ran away. He tried tugging on Sirius's arm, but obviously he couldn't feel it. "Sirius, he's getting away!" 

But Sirius was more focused on making sure that Moony was okay and that the kids weren't going to get hurt-- or killed-- to worry about the way his own future was going. 

It had run away. Peter was slippery. It was a miracle that they'd found him the first time, and James was certain that they wouldn't be able to find him a second time. In another life, James would be able to feel something like sympathy for him. In this life-- his afterlife, Sirius's first still-- he couldn't manage it. James had been beside Sirius for nearly every second of Azkaban, and there was no forgiving someone who put you in there. 

Peter vanished, less than a speck in a dark night on a black ground, and James wanted to scream. So he did. 

*

"This cave is depressing. I feel like you could find a better hiding spot." 

Sirius glanced towards where the castle was, and James nodded. 

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't be this close to Harry anywhere else. I still think it's pretty damn risky. You should be on the beach. Soaking up the sun after so many years in Azkaban. I swear, that place is better classified as a dungeon. You could lay on the sand. Get some shades. Listen to your bloody muggle music and just breathe for once." 

Sirius wrung his hands in the way that meant he was thinking about Harry. Worrying about him. Even if he went to the beach, he wouldn't be able to relax. He'd be there, wondering how Harry was doing. Wishing he could take him away but unable to do so. Sirius could make his way on his own in large part because he could turn into Padfoot, but Harry couldn't do that. A boy with a dog drew more attention than just a dog, not to mention that no one would just let Harry go missing. 

*

Lily showed up once. James just about jumped out of his skin when she appeared on Sirius's other side at the long dining table in Grimmauld Place. "So this is where Sirius grew up," she mused, looking around at the décor. "Sort of explains why he was such a pretentious git when we were kids." 

James stared at her for a long moment. "How are you here?" 

"I don't really know," she said, frowning. "I thought about you, wondering where you were and." She held up her hands in a ta-da sort of way. "I should've guessed it was with Sirius." 

"Are you going to stay?" he asked. 

"I don't think I can. I'm here to visit. I visited Harry for a while, but I got... kicked away after a couple days. It's the longest I can stay before I have to take a break. I have no idea how you've managed to do this for the entire time." 

"I haven't done anything," James argued. "I just woke up next to Sirius and never left." 

"You woke up next to him?" Lily asked, eyebrows raised. 

"Appeared next to him, whatever." 

"No, that's not what I- Merlin, James. I always knew that you and Sirius were strangely close; I just didn't realise... well. Never mind. How's it been?" she asked, turning her attention to the man sat between them that couldn't hear a single word that was being said. 

"Rough. He was in Azkaban for a murder he didn't commit, and now he's a fugitive because he broke out." 

"He broke out? Of Azkaban? How the bloody hell did he do that?" 

"That's a Marauder trade secret, Lils. Can't tell." 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're so full of shite." 

"Yep." 

She glanced at Sirius again, and her expression softened to something sympathetic. "It's been that bad?" 

"Yeah." James sighed, patting Sirius on the shoulder even though he couldn't feel it. "Yeah, it's been... not good." 

*

Sirius got hit with a spell, and he was falling, and James knew that it wouldn't do any good but still tried to catch him. 

Only it worked. Sirius landed in his arms, a heavy, warm weight. Sirius was as surprised by it as James. He tilted his head up and broke into a gut-wrenching smile. Equal parts sad and hopeful. "James?" 

James mirrored the expression. He'd wanted Sirius. Not like this, though. Sirius was supposed to get his name cleared and live with Harry. He was supposed to have another seventy years alive so that he could remember what it was like to not be caged up. He wasn't supposed to meet James this soon. James even knew how he wanted for it to happen. Sirius was supposed to be free and happy, and then James would move on; Sirius wouldn't need him watching anymore because he'd be fine, and he could catch up with Lily-- see if she knew anything about this whole being-dead thing. "Hullo love." 

*

It took Sirius a long time to stop marveling at the fact that he could now touch James and talk to him. In his own way, James was doing the same thing. He'd gotten so used to Sirius not being able to hear anything he said that he was pretty sure he hadn't shut up for the last twenty minutes, just so he could hear Sirius hum or say 'yeah' as he talked. 

"How do you know all of that?" Sirius interrupted at some point. James had sort of been ranting at him for staying in Azkaban for so long, and then going to Grimmauld Place afterwards. Historically, those were the worst two places in Britain. 

"I was with you." 

"You mean, like, watching me?" Sirius asked, tilting his head slightly as he tried to wrap his head around it. 

"No, I mean that I was with you. Since your first week in Azkaban." 

"You... the whole time?" Sirius asked, voice breaking. 

"Yeah," James said, giving him a small smile. "I couldn't leave you alone, Sirius. You were sad. I can't leave my Padfoot alone when he's sad." 

Sirius pulled him in for another hug even though they'd never really let go of each other, clenching so tightly that James wouldn't have been able to get away even if he wanted to-- and he didn't. He could stay this way forever. 

[taexual]

HOLIC - 48 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: angst

words: 3.4k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

           prev / next

The next few days passed by surprisingly quickly. You’ve set your mind on a fair number of things and finally relieved yourself of some of the exhausting doubts that have clouded your mind for as long as you could remember. Most importantly, you’d decided to quit your job at the gallery – and, thus, began your last week of work before you moved on, diving head-first into the dark unknown.

Knowing that you wouldn’t have to work there anymore and no longer having to stress out about your potential exhibition made every morning much easier as you no longer had to spend the first fifteen minutes after waking up cursing at every inanimate object in your way. On top of that, although plunging yourself into the abyss of uncertainty was relatively scary, you still felt alive with excitement. Not to mention, now you had much more time to find a new job, all while rehearsing the words you were going to say to Jaebum once Jackson finally called you with a way for you two to meet.

You had decided to start to work on a new version of yourself but, first, you needed to fix your relationship with Jaebum. That was the only broken thing from your past that you wanted to take into the future with you. No, “wanted” didn’t quite describe it – needed, perhaps. You needed this relationship to continue because you were afraid of your life without it. You were waiting for Jaebum to make the choice of where to go from here but, even though the reins were in his hands, you weren’t going to stop fighting for the one solid thing on an otherwise rocky foundation of your life.

This determination was a relatively new feeling for you but it was the only feeling that you were certain about. If, like Jaebum, you had to pick the most prominent emotion that you were feeling and put it into your art, you’d have picked the overflowing love and inserted it into all things around you until your surroundings were screaming as loud as your heart was.

Thinking of Jaebum was what made the wait for Jackon’s call so difficult. You went on with your life – or, tried to – choosing to busy yourself with work instead of sulking, but you couldn’t help but feel your mind wander back to him again. It was like the aforementioned love always pulled your thoughts towards him, never letting your mind stray from him for too long.

And that was how, after convincing Eva that you weren’t going to change your mind about quitting, you finished your day at work, and found yourself looking at the pictures of Jaebum you’ve taken on the day he brought you to Jackson’s studio for the first time. Looking at them brought back all the memories, especially accentuating the fight you and him had had before he gave in and finally played “Don’t Touch Me” to you.

You’d both done and said some awful things to each other that night and you could still recall how much Jaebum’s doubts about you made your chest sting. What made it hurt even more, however – actually, so much more, that for one passing moment, you thought you were having a real heart attack – was Jaebum’s confession that he was terrified of himself around you because he wasn’t thinking. Because he forgave and forgot, and kept giving you second chances every time you did something that raised red flags in his overly-alert mind.

The memory made it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

You’d been so angry and so upset with him for saying those things – for even thinking that you’d ever treat him in any way that he didn’t deserve – and then you made his fears come true by omitting the truth. By selecting which parts of your life you wanted him in. By lying, just like he was afraid you would.

Closing your laptop shut, you got up from the bed and left your room as you tried to breathe in through your nose and exhale through your mouth. It was a pathetic attempt to calm down, really, because it seemed as though your heart was now a whole separate being that was powered by your anxiety and had promptly gone into overdrive.

Breathing exercises didn’t help. Drinking water didn’t help. Lying down made it even worse.

It was the sort of wave of suffering and self-hate that you could have only been saved from if someone told you that everything was going to be okay. No, not someone—him. But he wasn’t here and it didn’t seem like it was going to be okay – hence why you were nearly shedding your skin as you tried to find a way to break out of the paralyzing chains of pain.

You’ve lived through the past few days worried and anxious but still in control. You’ve lived hoping and anticipating your conversation with Jaebum. You’ve considered what you were going to say. You’ve even rehearsed it all. But the consequences of your words is what pained you now.

You haven’t given Jaebum’s response any thought. You had set your mind on explaining yourself to him and giving him enough time and space to decide what he wanted to do but now the raw grips of panic were tearing you into pieces just at the thought of Jaebum choosing not to do this anymore. And the worst part was, you didn’t think it was fair for you to keep on fighting if he gave this up. He was just as mature as you were and he had certainly thought about this as much as you have – what would you even say if he told you to leave?

He had every right to let your relationship go because he deserved one where he would never be put in a situation like this. You didn’t think you had a right to search for ways to make him stay with you if your behavior proved to make him suffer. If you turned out to be as toxic for him as the girl you’d tried so desperately to save him from.

Suddenly, it felt like this was the last time you were standing in your kitchen. And, in a way, you were glad. You felt trapped here, in this room. You felt just as trapped in your own body – but the helpless feeling was slowly fading. Searching for an empty glass inside one of the kitchen counters calmed your heartrate down, replacing the desperate wave of fear you’d felt with a silent numbess.

It was as if a sixth sense had opened something up inside of your heart – subconsciously, you knew what was going to happen the next second, so your mind and body had to prepare in advance: you couldn’t possibly start to hyperventilate when Jackson finally called. And, as soon as you grasped the glass of water in your shaky hands, trying to keep yourself hydrated despite the pointlessness of the task, your phone finally rang.

You lunged for it, drops of water spilling on the kitchen island – empty now that Jaebum wasn’t here to eat meals with you – and nearly landing on your phone, too. You could barely keep yourself together when you saw Jackson’s name on the screen.

“Yes?” you picked up, the one word coming from the back of your throat and thus making you sound like you just woke up even though it was way past into the afternoon now.

“Hey. Sorry it took me so long to call you back,” Jackson started and you couldn’t help but notice the voices in the back of his call. You wondered if Jaebum was there with him. “I—I’ve found a way for you to talk to him.”

Your entire chest seemed to expand to provide more space for your wild heart as it continuously banged against every single rib in your ribcage.

“You did?” you asked, the words coming out in a huff.

“Yeah. There’s, uh, this party his label is hosting this Friday,” Jackson said, quieter now as if he was trusting you with a big secret. “We’ve both been invited and, even though he said he’s not going, I’ll drag him there myself. One of the producers owns this club downtown, so we’re getting a private lounge, and, you know, it seems like a good spot as any for a serious conversation. Away from the maddening crowd, so to speak.”

“Yes, yes, that sounds perfect,” you were nodding frantically. “Are you sure you can get him to come, though? Jaebum isn’t really someone that gives in to persuasion easily.”

“That’s true but alcohol makes this much easier for me,” Jackson replied. “He won’t miss a chance to get drunk. Especially amidst all that’s happening, you know?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“So, anyway,��� he added quickly after catching the discouraged tone in your voice. “I’ll send you the address and let the security know you’re my plus-one.”

“Okay,” you inhaled deeply, “thank you so much. I-I—you have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Shuffling was heard on the other end – from the sound of it, you assumed Jackson was avoiding a group of people that just walked past him – before he replied, “it’s alright. You can pay me back by getting back together. There might be a million-dollar song on the line here, yeah? He can’t write it if he’s not with you.”

“I—”

“I’ll see you Friday,” Jackson said. He must have known you could never find what to say whenever the topic of Jaebum writing a song about you was brought up. “Don’t overthink this, okay? Jaebum might not show it, but I have no doubt that he’s dying to talk to you, too.”

Friday turned out to be an eventful day. For one, it was your official last day at the gallery – handing in the employee badge that you’ve worn around your neck for the past few years was rather bittersweet: relieving, on the one hand, but also rather glum – but it was also the night of Jaebum’s party. It truly felt like today was going to be the last day of your old life – one last hoorah before you started a new era – and you even debated getting a haircut, to really imprint the change that was coming.

As it turned out, you didn’t have any time for a haircut. You barely had enough time to decide on an outfit before, packing up your phone, wallet, keys, panic, and anxiety, you walked out of the door of your empty apartment and headed downstairs to catch a cab.

The ride to the club wasn’t very long, so you didn’t have enough time to rehearse the words you planned to tell Jaebum one more time, but that didn’t really worry you much. You had a feeling your entire thought process was going to end up in shambles as soon as you saw him, anyway.

Once the cab stopped and you stepped into a busy street, it took you a good minute to find Jackson – if he wasn’t waving his hand like a madman, you’d have probably missed him – and then another minute to actually reach him as the people, crowding outside of the club, were very intent on pulling you to the back of the line.

“Hi, sorry there’s such a commotion here,” Jackson said once you finally made it to the door. “I’ve told them it wouldn’t be smart to throw a private party at a club that already goes over capacity every Friday night as it is but no one ever listens to me. Should we go in?”

You nodded, too out of breath to actually respond, and followed him inside. The security guard merely glanced at you before nodding and allowing you two to enter – Jackson, clearly, was a familiar face – and, before you could even prepare yourself properly, you were suddenly listening to the same loud, organ-clenching EDM song that Jaebum was probably listening to.

“Alright,” Jackson stated—and then repeated himself louder when you squinted your eyes as if that could help you hear him better. “Jaebum is upstairs. He got here first and I told him to wait for me in the lounge.”

“Okay—”

You had already turned towards the staircase at the back of the club but Jackson grabbed your hand. “Ah, hold on—you need a drink before you go see him. Let’s take a quick detour to the bar, yeah?”

You had to admit, that wasn’t such a bad idea, so you allowed him to pull you towards the bar where a few girls were already dancing on the bartop lit up by dozens of neon-LED lights. The atmosphere in the club was buzzing with life and it was so electrifying, you were surprised to find yourself loosening up even before you had your first drink.

Jackson took the liberty of ordering while you were too busy watching the captivating dance moves of one of the bartop girls – for someone who seemed as drunk as she was, her movements were surprisingly smooth and, honestly, rather captivating.

“I’m sorry if that’s out of line for me to say,” Jackson spoke, distracting your attention, “but you look different. How have you been doing?”

“Oh. I’m—well, I’ve been trying to move on from the things that made my life miserable,” you said but weren’t sure how much he heard because, just as you started to speak, the DJ changed the song, and the gaggle of young-adults next to you proceeded to screech at the top of their lungs. “Uh, unfortunately, I can’t move on from my own self, so I’ve been trying to make a change in my life instead. I-I guess that might be why I look different.”

“That’s good!” Jackson nodded enthusiastically, not hearing all that you’ve said but definitely catching the most important parts. “I didn’t say it was a bad different. What have you changed so far?”

“I’ve, uh—” once again, you got interrupted by the bartender bringing you and Jackson the drinks he’d ordered, “I’ve quit my job.”

Jackson’s enthusiastic smile suddenly faltered, “oh, shit. You did? What are you doing now?”

“Nothing, really. Searching for a new one,” you replied with a small shrug. “Something behind the stage, preferably. I’ve had enough customer service experience to last me a lifetime.”

He chuckled at this, picking up his drink and encouraging you to do the same. Somehow, you’ve never tried rum before but, after just a sip of the Cuba Libre in your hand, you couldn’t really tell why. It tasted far more like coke than rum and yet you could still feel the buzzing effects of the alcohol as it entered your bloodstream.

“Yeah, I suppose galleries don’t get the best specimen when it comes to clients,” Jackson said once he emptied his glass. “What about your exhibition?”

“Oh,” you took a final sip and put the empty glass down – carefully, so the girl dancing on the bartop nearby wouldn’t accidentally kick it over, “that’s not happening. I’ve said some pretty fancy words to Jiho the last time I saw him, so it’s over. I’m not really hosting one anymore.”

Jackson noted that you didn’t look overly upset about that – in fact, he was sure he saw you smile when you mentioned the last conversation with Jiho you’ve had – but he’s been around enough artists to know how deep the wounds inflicted by a crushed dream could be.

“Well, why don’t you come to me?” he offered.

You frowned, unsure what he meant. “What?”

“To work, I mean,” he explained. “You already know how big my family is on art. We’ve been investing in artists that aren’t just musicians. Actually, my very first job was modeling, did I ever tell you that? My parents hosted this whole photoshoot for me when I was, probably, two months old? The photographer said I was a star.”

You laughed. “Oh, wow, over twenty years in the modeling industry and you’re not even thirty. That’s impressive.”

“I know, right?” he played along, smirking. “But, anyway—why don’t you think about it? Not modeling, I mean. Photography. My family—they’re nice people. We look out for each other and it’s always art that comes first for us.”

It felt like a rather witty—and subtle, no doubt—way to chastise you for choosing to work with someone who thought of publicity before thinking of the art, and you felt your face heat up as you looked away from him.

“T-that’s good,” you commented awkwardly, not having expected to get scolded—yet again—on your decisions by someone who wasn’t Jaebum. You’d prepared yourself for his opinion only. “That’s a great attitude.”

“It is. I think so, too,” Jackson said, not noticing—or, choosing not to notice—your embarrassed state. “And you’re a talented artist. I understand that your mind is probably elsewhere right now—”

“Yeah,” you stretched nervously, “sort of.”

“—but do know that your dream isn’t entirely hopeless, okay?” he finished. “If you want something enough, there will always be a way to make it happen. I’m here for you.”

You’ve heard these words before but they seemed to have a different meaning tonight. Perhaps because you finally realized what the thing you wanted more than anything was.

“Thank you, Jackson,” you said, the thoughts of Jaebum being nearby doing the work that the rum and coke didn’t. You felt positively intoxicated already. “Seriously, I—I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jackson waved his hand and then helped you stand from the bar stool as soon as he realized your mind could only be distracted from Jaebum for so long. “Now go. Talk to him.”

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes for a few moments to mentally prepare yourself. “Right. I’m going.”

“Everything will be okay,” Jackson reminded you, “as long as you focus on what’s really important.”

You nodded one last time and then allowed his warm smile to push you towards the stairs, leading up to the VIP lounge where Jaebum thought he was waiting for Jackson.

With each step that you took, coming closer and closer to seeing him, you kept thinking about what so many people have said to you the past few weeks – if you wanted something enough, you could find a way to make it happen. They’ve all been talking about your ambitions in life – the exhibitions and the career as a photographer – but, the truth was, those were the things you’d have liked to have but they weren’t exactly the things that you wanted.

What you wanted the most in life – with ten more steps separating you from Jaebum – was to have a purpose. To have it and not to lose it. And you knew what the purpose of life was because you had it found it way before you met Jiho or even started to think about hosting any exhibitions.

Love.

As corny and cliché as it was, that was it. Everyone knew it but they liked to pretend that they didn’t. They searched for something else – money, work, children – but, at the end of the day, it always came down to love. The strongest emotion a living creature was able to feel, so much stronger and all-consuming than any shape or form of anger or hatred.

Knocking on the door and waiting, you were able to understand that love might have started wars but love ended them, too. Love was the beginning and love was the end. And – as you watched Jaebum’s red eyes appear behind the black door of the private lounge room – you knew you didn’t want your love to end. You knew you couldn’t lose your purpose in life.

“Jaebum,” you exhaled, the loud music from the club downstairs almost drowning out your voice. He stopped short at the sight of you. You couldn’t see it but, inside of his chest, a heart that seemed to freeze when he left your shared apartment, was slowly beginning to beat again. “Can we talk?”

     chapter directory

[hitokayachichi]

⛧ you get me closer to god; a tendou satori fic ⛧

⛧ ... school stress makes you do crazy things!! ...like try to summon your guardian angel and summon a demon instead  ⛧

⛧ ... first part of my sadist!tendou series hehe

⛧ ... ahh a little bit is inspired by seita, both for the idea of sadist!tendou, but her blog is rly supportive and welcoming has also given me the confidence to write lewds, and I really appreciate that :>

wc: 6.5k

cw: demon!Tendou, smut, degredation, praise, corruption kink, sadist!tendou, bdsm elements, pet names :>, spit kink, dumbification kind of, there might be something else i cant remember hhfkdjfs

Staring at your open notebook, you rub your eyes tiredly. It’s only one in the afternoon, but your Precalculus class has drained all of your energy. Your professor was absolutely insane, assigning so much homework. Doesn’t he know that college students take more than one class per semester? In your head, you’re already planning out the order in which you’re going to have to do your assignments and when. How late you’re going to have to stay up. All you want to do is take a nap after your last class, but will you even have time for that?

Class is over now, so you pack up your things and leave. At least your next class is much easier. Your Creative Writing professor is super sweet and you’d take a bullet for her, probably. Besides, your friend, Mayu, will be there, too. She always makes you feel better. Mayu has a sweet, but a little chaotic personality that usually rejuvenates you on bad days.

And there she is, waiting at one of the seats in the hallway. Once she sees you, she waves you over to the table excitedly. Her laptop and notebooks are out because she had a half-hour break between classes, and you gently push the notebooks aside to sit next to her.

“Hey, (y/n) guess what! I finally figured out your issue for Precal!” Normally Mayu is on some kind of bullshit, but since you were texting her during class earlier, it piqued your interest.

“Hmm?”

“Look!” Mayu exclaims, pointing at her computer screen. You lean over and it looks like she’s on some sort of forum webpage? It doesn’t look like any popular one that you’ve seen before, but you squint, trying to read.

... angel summoning?

“Mayu, what the hell?” As you read the forum page, you become more and more confused. The users spoke about chalk circles and meditation and wine and bread to summon your ancestral guardians, or something like that. It’s a little too much, right now. Your brain is still spinning from class.

Mayu is into some pretty unconventional things, so you aren’t exactly surprised, but each and every time she suggests some odd thing, you’re still a little... impressed with what she finds. “Okay, listen!” You look at her, and she just smiles at the way you’re telling her to shut up with your eyes. It’s never worked on her.

“Hear me out, (y/n). This is something I’ve actually done before, so I can one hundred thousand per cent guarantee that it works, I promise you.” A huge part of you wants to roll your eyes at her, but once again, you aren’t exactly surprised that she would have attempted something like this. “I met my guardian angel and she’s the one that helped me get accepted here! She guided me during my application and here I am!”

You just stare at her. “Right...”

“I swear on my life!” She begins to pack up her things, now that class is soon to start, and you shake your head at her. But by now she was finished with the conversation and is prattling about some girl she met in one of her other classes.

It’s so stupid, but the whole class, your mind keep tabs on that forum, just at the edge of consciousness.

⛧  … 

It’s 2:13 am and you very much hate your life. You’re exhausted and stressed. It’s way past your normal bedtime but you just have so much Precal homework to do. You feel like you’re drowning. Maybe it’s just because it’s late and you’re tired, but you can’t seem to stop thinking about what Mayu suggested. Mayu might be into some pretty odd things, but she most definitely isn’t dumb. If she’s said she’s done it before... maybe summoning an angel really does work?

You shake your head. That’s stupid. Rubbing your eyes, you get back to your homework. You have thirteen more questions left on this assignment, and then another fifteen question one. There’s no time to mess around.

So why can’t you get it out of your head?

You last six minutes before texting Mayu.

She tells you to make a sugar circle in your room, with bread and wine in the middle. It’s just you in your tiny studio apartment, and you’re a little too busy to really bake anything that needs sugar, so all you have is a tiny little thing that you use for your coffee. It’s not nearly enough to make a circle with. You use salt instead. Wine isn’t a drink that you typically have on hand either, but you have some leftover vodka that someone had left from a rare party that you had hosted like a year ago. It’s alcohol, so you figure it’ll work. The only thing that you actually had from what Mayu texted was bread, but you have a disappointing feeling that sliced bread from the grocery store isn’t quite what she meant either.

But you’re summoning an angel, after all. None of this is really as it seems.

There is a chant that Mayu sent you in what she says is Hebrew. That.. isn’t a language that you speak, so you know for a fact you aren’t going to say it right. You don’t know if it even truly is Hebrew. But once you draw the circle, light the red candle (Mayu said a white candle, but you only had red, so), and set up the alcohol and bread, you begin chanting.

Mayu had told you to go through the chant only once. But, doing so once, nothing happened. Twice, nothing happened. Thrice, with the same result. There was no smoke, no poof of magic, and most importantly, no guardian angel. Nothing.

You sigh, disappointed with yourself. The one time you trust Mayu’s ridiculousness, and it ends up like this. How could you be so dumb? Of course, no guardian angel is going to save you from math homework. If they even exist at all, they definitely have much more important things to do than a college student’s work. Sitting back down at your desk, you shoot a quick text to Mayu that it didn’t work.

She says to be patient, that it might come at one of the angel numbers. You don’t know what that is, but you’re tired. At this point, you just want to finish a couple more questions, then head to bed. The rest will be an issue for the future (y/n) to deal with.

But, as much as you wish to sleep, something keeps you up. You retired to your bed half an hour ago, at three. Most of your homework is completed, except for maybe a few questions. That’s something you can do before class, though. If you manage to fall asleep, that is.

There’s this itch underneath your skin, tingles with every move you make. It’s been like this for a while. you think. Maybe you’re getting sick. It’s hot, but you don’t feel like you have a fever. No, this is something different. The heat isn’t focused in your head, and you aren’t sweaty. Subconsciously, your thighs are clamped shut, hips softly moving. It feels good. You feel a little high.

The red light of your alarm clock illuminates your face as you stare at the time.

3:33 AM

Oh.

A little bit of you understands, but your mind has become a little hazy, a little foggy like cold November mornings. From the horror movies you’ve watched, seeing this specific time blinking red is unsettling.

Almost as if on queue, the floorboards creak in the hallway. Your cunt clenches, and you can’t help it. There are goosebumps on your arms, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. Slowly, you sit up. You normally leave a nightlight plugged into the socket across from your door in the hallway so that you don’t have to turn on a blinding light when you need to use the restroom at night. You can see it through the gap under your door, unless something is blocking it.

You watch the shine of the light disappear.

There’s someone in front of your door.

Curling your toes, you hold your breath, waiting. At this point, you think, there’s nothing you can do.

Slowly, steadily, you hear the lock on your door click, and watch as the door slowly opens.

Clearly, the summoning had worked.

But this is no angel.

Mottled black and purple horns protrude from the figure’s head, just barely illuminated by the dull lamp at your bedside table. His hair is red, and stands up. There’s a predatory smirk on his face, and your body heats. He’s wearing black ripped jeans and a leather jacket, and the skin on his knees look normal, but his hands are shaded a gradient of black and purple.

This, no questions asked, is a demon.

You frown, corners of your mouth wobbling. Surely, you are going to die, but you can’t help but feel something else. The way the demon looks at you is hungry, and it should not be so arousing. Perhaps he is going to eat your soul. But you think the fear does something for you too.

“Ah,” the demon says, smiling with sharp teeth. “How cute,” All you can do is stare at him. “How lucky am I to have someone as innocent as you,” the demon purrs and steps closer to your bed. “Look at the way you’re trembling, darling,” he reaches a finger out, and his nails are black and clawed. You can feel the tip of it on your chin, poking at you, and you lift your head with the movement of his finger to look him right in the eyes. You didn’t realize that you were shaking, but you stop now, paralyzed as you look into his eyes. They’re ravenous, and dark. No pupils, just blackness, but it’s piercing. There’s no way to really tell where he is looking, but you know that he’s staring straight through you.

The demon leans down to get level with you, where you sit up in bed. He grins, and his teeth are so sharp.

He’s going to tear you apart.

“Darling,” he murmurs, and his forked tongue darts out to lick at a tear you didn’t feel slide down your cheek. “I’m going to have so much fun with you,”

Once again, you tremble at his words. You have no idea what that means, but you’re certain these are your last moments. Taking a deep breath, you speak. “Are you going to eat me?” You mumble, quietly. The demon laughs loudly at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, cute. Of course, I’m going to eat you right up, how could I not?” He leans down further to lap at your neck, and your thighs clench together. Something about the sensation of his tongue and his proximity to you is so.. intoxicating, yet terrifying at the same time. You don’t know what to feel. Maybe you do want him to eat you.

“Am I going to die?” He lays you down, amused at your questions. You go pliantly, his tongue leaving you boneless. “No, not if you’re a good girl. Not if you don’t want to die. Do you want to die? Or do you want to be a good girl?” You are quiet for a moment, as you decide. A part of you wouldn't mind if you were eaten by him. His presence leaves your head foggy, almost as if you were tipsy on sweet wine. Perhaps you were just tipsy on his scent. He smells like earth and smoke and sulfur, something that makes your nose itch and your head hurt but leaves your thighs clenched together in the same breath. 

"No... I suppose I don't want to die," you whisper, as if speaking any louder will whisk him away. 

"So you're going to be my good girl, darling?" His right-hand slides over your chest and ghosts over your throat, his feeling of his fingertips lingering. He cups your jaw, thumb pulling at the corner of your mouth, and you only gaze at him, mesmerized. "Well, pretty? Good girls answer when asked a question." You nod, squeezing your eyes shut just for a moment.

"I-" you stutter when his left-hand slips under your sleep shirt, caressing the expanse of your stomach. "I'll be your good girl, um. Demon, sir." The demon laughs genuinely at that, leaning down to pull you in a short yet sultry kiss. He tastes like sweet nectarines, saccharine and syrupy, and you want to taste more. 

"You can call me Satori, sweetheart." Satori hums, kissing you once again. as if he knows how much you loved how he tasted. "Do you know what I'm here for? You called me here, after all." You shake your head, bashful that you had botched your summoning so awfully.

"... no, Satori, sir. I had, um, I had meant to summon an angel to help me with my math homework." Satori grins, forked tongue poking out between his teeth. With every word you speak, he looks more and more amused.

"And you got me instead, how ironic. You, my love, have summoned a demon." Of course, you had assumed that, it's quite obvious that Satori is nothing close to an angel. Yet, hearing the words, the confirmation, slithering off of his tongue leaves goosebumps. "I'll give you your deepest and darkest desires, darling," Satori drawls, his hand cold over your rib cage. When you shiver, you aren't sure if it's from the temperature or the touch itself. But you want it. The air around you is heavy with want, dark and leaden, weighing on you. 

"Okay," you whisper, because you don't really know what else to say. What else can you say? There is a demon in front of you, on top of you, touching you, kissing you, and he's going to ruin you. There is nothing that you can say. Your body speaks for you, with the way that you tremble beneath Satori, dripping with arousal.

"I know that you want it, pretty. I can smell it on you." Satori leans down, licking a stripe up the side of your neck, inhaling when he gets to the juncture between your jaw and your ear. "I can taste it." He bites at your earlobe, and it provokes a soft moan from you. "I'll eat you up, sweetheart." He sits up a little, just enough to pull you into a kiss, and this, this one is so... heady. Satori tastes so delicious, you just want to drink him up, and kissing him makes your head so cloudy in the best way you've ever felt. No drug could ever make you feel like this. When he pulls away, Satori leaves one hand on your jaw, and the other on your stomach slides up to cup your breast, squeezing firmly, but gently, and heat pools at your stomach. When you gasp, Satori hooks his thumb into your mouth so you can't close it all the way. Drool spills out of the corner.

"Oh, darling, look at you. So gorgeous, already drooling for me. Do you like how I taste, pretty?" You nod, tears pricking at your eyes, his words so sickly sweet, condescending in the most addicting way possible. "Of course you do. My spit is an aphrodisiac. Don't you feel it, sweetheart? Feel yourself go dumb with every taste?" A strangled sound leaves your throat, so desperate already. Satori laughs, so amused by your pathetic tears. You watch as he gathers spit on his forked tongue, watch as he leans over you and lets the spit from his tongue drip into your mouth. Immediately, the fruity taste explodes across your tongue and you whine at him, thighs clenching together. Your skin feels so hot, feverish and sweaty and you haven't really even done anything yet. 

"Look at you," Satori drawls as you moan at his touch. He caresses your cheek so gently compared to his words. "So pathetic, just lying here, letting me touch you. Looking so innocent but you're a little whore, aren't you? You even let me spit in your mouth, how disgusting!" The smooth pads of his fingers leave your cheek, only to connect harshly once again with a loud smack. The moan you let out is desperate, and sounds foreign even to your own ears.

He had slapped you, and you liked it.

Satori stands and roughly drags you to the edge of the bed, and you squeal in surprise. It's a little frightening, how his demeanour has hardened, but you're still wet and throbbing, and heat still flows through your body. You find that you enjoy being manhandled like this. It makes you feel like prey, and perhaps you are.

Gripping your waist, Satori fingers the edges of your pyjama shorts, grinning when you look up at him with teary eyes. The bulge in his pants is huge, and your cunt squeezes with the thought of something so big inside of you. He takes the waistband of your shorts and pulls, not hard enough to rip them, but it hurts a little when he yanks them off, and a part of you hopes that he handles you roughly enough tonight to leave bruises. With this, you feel surprised. You've never really had thoughts like this before. 

You feel corrupted.

Once your shorts are off, Satori sighs, one hand splayed over your hipbone and the other softly running up the wet patches on your underwear. "Have you ever been touched here before, darling?"

 You squirm in his hold, cunt sensitive already. "Um," you stutter, toes curling when he presses just the tiniest bit harder at your clit. "Kind of, I guess," While you weren't a virgin, you most definitely haven't felt anything like this before. Satori only smiles.

"I don't know about that," he says, moving your panties to the side. He settles lower onto the bed, closer to your abdomen, and kisses lightly at your stomach. "I don't think you've ever been touched like this before, not with the way that you're so responsive. Satori kisses at your hipbone, licks at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You gasp when he blows cool air over your pussy. "You smell too pure. Sweet. Like cherries." And he inhales, just slightly, but you can hear it and your hole clenches around nothing, heat swelling in your stomach. You don't think you've ever been so wet before.

"I think I want to ruin you,"

Satori's nails are sharp against the flesh of your thighs, and a part of you wants him to make you bleed. Slowly, you can feel the darkness swirl through the haze of your mind, and you find yourself desiring things that you've never thought of before. When Satori uses his nail to poke sharply at the sensitive skin of your clit, you jerk, and it hurts, but it's good. You don't know what has gotten into you.

"God," you sigh, when he licks up your slit, but Satori shudders at that, a guttural growl leaving his throat. His teeth snap, and he looks up at you with dark eyes. The grip on your thigh has gotten tighter, almost breaking the skin, and your chest is full with arousal.

"Darling," Satori speaks coldly, and you know that you are in trouble. "Do you think it was smart to say such a word around me? Did you forget what I am?" He rises, his fingers still digging into your thigh while the other wraps tightly around your throat. You can still breathe, but it's difficult and there's pressure against your skull. It makes you a little light-headed, and your heart jumps in a pleasurable sort of fear.

"No, Satori, sir, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." you struggle to get out, but you do and he smiles, kissing hungrily at the corners of your mouth and your jawline.

"What a good girl you are, sweetheart. Of course, you weren't thinking, how could I forget how dumb I've made you for me? Just drooling and crying because you're so wet. Pathetic." You whimper at his words, diamond tears in your eyes, because he's right. There are no thoughts in your brain besides arousal and want, the desire for Satori to touch and corrupt you. Satori squeezes at your throat, just a little, but enough for your cunt to clench desperately. He leaves you with a light smack to your cheek, settling down between your legs once again. Instead of pushing them to the side, Satori takes your panties off this time, tugging them off roughly. His hands travel up your thighs, fingers digging so deliciously into your soft flesh. You look down only to see Satori looking at you like he wants to devour you.

And maybe you want him to.

"Fuck," he curses, eyes trained hungrily on your glistening cunt. "You look so appetizing, sweetheart. Gonna eat you right up," And Satori licks at your pussy like he's paid to do it, like he's born for it, and nobody's ever eaten you out before, but Satori quickly has you seeing stars with the way he puts pressure on your clit with his tongue. You sob in his hold, thighs quivering with the way that he eats you out. Soon, he takes a hand off of your thigh to slide a finger between your folds, using your wetness to slick it up enough to slide sweetly into your cunt, and it's only one finger but it presses against your walls and you wail beneath him. You've only ever been fingered once, and it wasn't that good, even with two fingers. Yet, even with just one, you're feeling ten times more pleasure than you ever had before, even by yourself. You squeeze around him as he still sucks on your clit, working a second finger inside of you. Even with his mouth busy, you can feel Satori grin against your cunt, so amused and satisfied with your reactions. When he presses his fingers against your sweet spot, you cry out, hands flying down to grip at his hair. Satori groans, and it's so deep and terrifying, but your toes curl and you feel so so close.

"Satori," you gasp, tears trailing down your cheeks. "Satori, please, wanna feel good, 'm close Satori," and he doesn't respond, can't really with his face buried in your cunt, but suddenly, he works a third finger in and you can't hold it anymore, and you gush around his fingers. He laps it right up, moaning into your pussy, and oh, you must taste good, then, if he's cleaning you up so eagerly. When he licks at your bud again, you jerk, still sensitive, crying out sweetly. It hurts, so you push at his head, but he insists on staying right where he is, with you trembling under him. He keeps the pads of his fingers pressed snugly against your sensitive walls while he continues to suck at your clit, and it's so so much, has you shaking and squirming to get away, but Satori lays his arm over your hips to hold you down. You can feel another orgasm building, and its much too soon. You sniffle beneath him, in tears with overstimulation, but there's amusement in his eyes when he looks up at your ruined face and you know he isn't going to stop until you come again.

"Can't, Satori, no more," you beg, hands pulling at his hair. He only grins into your cunt, fingers working you harder. "Please, no, I can't, not again!" You're sobbing and shaking but his fingers keep moving faster and harder, and when he pulls away from your clit to change his angle, you can feel it even more. "Oh, Satori, it's too much!" But he's smiling hungrily, teeth sharp and terrifying.

"But you love it, darling. Love being ruined, don't you? Wouldn't be so wet if you didn't." His fingers press in all the right places, and suddenly you can feel yourself rolling over the edge once more, and you can't hold it in. You squeal as you squirt all over yourself and his arm, trembling with overstimulation, and you can hardly breathe with the impact of your orgasm. Satori really loves it though, and it seems like with each orgasm that he brought you, his eyes got brighter, like he was feeding off of your pleasure, and maybe he was. He's a demon, after all.

"Fuck," you curse, and your legs twitch with every after-wave of arousal, cunt throbbing with the force of your orgasm. Slowly, Satori slides his fingers out of your sopping cunt, and his arm is dripping, something that you never would have thought you would see, and you clench when he looks you in the eyes and licks at the slick trailing down his forearm. You whimper, head falling back, where you're propped up on your elbows, and your inner thighs burn where Satori has forced them open. 

"So good for me, princess," Satori says coyly, as he continues to lick up your slick. "Taste so delicious, I really want to eat you up, now. Nobody's ever made you do that before, huh? Made your little cunny squirt?" You whimper and shake your head, hands curled up towards your chest, breathless. "Cute," he comments, and he pets himself over his black jeans. He had never alluded to his own pleasure this entire time, that you almost forgot what tends to happen next, and suddenly you get shy, and a little scared.

"Darling," Satori coos when he notices your change in demeanour. "There's no point in being afraid," he laughs, staring straight into your eyes. "I've already ruined you anyways, might as well just take this." You frown, but he's right. He's already made you come twice, and you still feel hot, your cunt is still throbbing and begging to be filled. There is nothing more that you can do but take Satori's cock. 

He's knelt over you, thighs straddling your ribs when he takes his cock out. It's so close to your face, and you go cross-eyed staring at it. Satori is big and thick, and you don't know how he's going to fit anywhere. You've never done more than a handjob before, much less given a blowjob or taken cock in your pussy before. You gaze up at him, worried, but that only serves to make it better for him, you can see the way his eyes get a little more lidded when he looks at you. "Satori, sir," you murmur.

"Yes, sweetheart?" But he already knows what you're going to say. He strokes himself above you, and his precum drips onto your chest, just barely missing where your sleep shirt is scrunched up under your underarms. You whimper, just a quiet little noise, but of course, Satori hears you. He smiles deviously, and takes his cock and rubs it on your breasts, making a mess of you with his precum. "Darling," Satori groans, oh so condescending. "Looks like you've got a little something on you, what a messy girl. Pathetic." You moan at his words, humiliated, but it feels good. With your panties off and your shirt rucked up, you feel so exposed, and you find that you love this feeling of helplessness. Satori strokes his cock again and scoots up your chest just enough so that the tip of his cock rests just at your lips. "Since you're so disgusting, I think you should clean me up. You've made this mess, after all. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. It's only fair."

Your lips wobble preciously, on the verge of tears as you gaze up at Satori with glistening eyes. "But," you whisper, a gentle frown on your face. "I don't know how to do that, Satori, sir. I've never... never done that before." And Satori, he smiles wider at you, and you can see the way that glee swells within his eyes, and oh, you realise, cunt throbbing, oh. He gets off on this. Satori gets off on the idea that you're innocent. That you're a virgin. He wants to destroy you, corrupt you, ruin you for anyone else. He wants to take something away from you that nobody else can get after. It's his. He, Satori, is the one who ruined you. Somebody else can fuck your tight cunt, can taste you, can feel your lips on them, but he had it first. 

But its okay, you think, because you want Satori to ruin you, too. 

"Good," he whispers, before his cock is pressing more insistently against your lips. Reluctantly, you open your mouth, and you're a little worried, you don't know how to cover your teeth or take him in or anything, but you know that it'll be okay in the end. Satori will teach you. "Good," he repeats, headier, as he slides just the very tip between your lips, and while maybe you are a little inexperienced, you aren't innocent either, and you know what feels good, so you swirl your tongue tentatively around the head, tongue dipping precariously into the slit. Satori groans above you, and you can feel the muscles on his thighs tense under your palms as he resists the urge to completely sheath himself down your throat. "Fuck," Satori curses, and suddenly, his hands are in your hair, gripping hard, and his eyes are glowing. You cry out in a surprised moan, the hold on your hair bringing diamond tears back to the corners of your eyes. "So fucking good, darling, what a good whore for me," he says, and in the same breath, he's shoving his cock a little bit further into your mouth. You choke, just slightly, but recover quickly, and you try your hardest to focus on keeping your teeth covered and making him feel good, eyes squeezed shut. Just slightly, you press your tongue right under the head, and his cock jerks in your mouth, and god, you think you can feel your pussy leaking.

Your body is warm and tingling, even as you choke so gorgeously on Satori's cock. He's not even in all the way, and you're already gagging, your throat just not used to taking something so big inside. Now, he's just let go, pays no mind to your breath or your jaw, lost in the pleasure of the wet heat of your mouth. Even though it's difficult, you try to work your tongue as he fucks your throat, and you can't really swirl it, at least not now with such a low skill level, but you manage to press it against the underside of his cock, the pressure catching just under the head of his cock every time he pulls out, and he groans, grip on your hair tightening. You feel so used and normally you would be disgusted by this, but all you can really think about is how you want this always, how you want to be Satori's, his sweet puppy knelt at his side where you belong and, and you have no idea where this is coming from. It feels like you're intoxicated, the only things that run through your head is the way that Satori's cock smells, his touch, how you want him to split you open forever and ever. 

"Oh," Satori groans, and suddenly you're brought back to the real world. You had floated away at some point, you aren't quite sure when, but you're finally aware of your surroundings again. "Poor baby, got fucked so dumb she forgot what she was doing, sweet thing." It's now that you realise that your jaw had gone completely slack, lips no longer wrapped tightly around his cock. Your tongue just rests dead in your mouth, and you really had just checked out, thinking about how much you wanted Satori. Let him fuck your sloppy mouth, too dumb to even do anything. 

"'M sorry," you gasp when he pulls out. You feel a little bad, but it seems like he liked it. Liked that you couldn't even think and just let him do whatever he wanted. But you don't mind. Satori can do whatever he wants to you whenever he wants. Your saliva drips from his cock onto you breasts, and Satori looks feral on top of you.

"Its okay, darling," Satori coos, taking your breasts in his hands and squeezing, sucking in a breath at the way they glisten with all the spit and precum smeared on your skin. "I already know what you need. I can smell it on you. Your poor cunny is absolutely dripping for my cock, and I know that you want it too, don't you?" You cry out and nod, because you do. You need it so bad. 

"Please," you whisper, and you sound so desperate and wrecked that you almost didn't recognise your own voice. "Satori, sir, please. Need it so bad, so bad." You start to cry, then, and your cunt is throbbing and you want to be filled so badly, all of these feelings are so overwhelming. Satori hushes you with his mouth, using his tongue to spread your lips apart. He pulls away and slides off of you to grip your thighs and press them as far as he can towards your chest. 

"Okay, darling," Satori drawls, a feral grin showing off his sharp teeth. "Gonna ruin you real good," He moves forward, taking one hand off of your thigh to line himself up with you fluttering cunt. Your thighs shake in anticipation, you've never had anything like this inside of you before, and you're so scared but also incredibly excited. And you can feel it, too, when the head of Satori's cock presses against your hole. Your pussy throbs, and it's right there and you can feel it. So so close to having his cock inside of you, you squirm, moving your hips to try and work the head in some more, just a little bit, anything! Satori laughs at your efforts. 

 Satori coos at you. "That's cute, sweetheart, wanna be filled so badly? Take it then." He pushes himself all the way in.

You cry out, and it fucking burns, but his head hits just above your cervix so mind-numbingly that you don't even care, body seizing in an addictive mixture of pain and pleasure and you can hear yourself gasping, but you can't feel yourself breathe. Satori curses above you, leaning into his thrust to fill himself as deep inside you as possible. It's almost like you can feel him in your stomach, he's so big and pressing so deep, you feel much more full than any vibrator could ever grant you. It's so good, even more so when Satori pulls back out and slams himself inside once again, leaving you to cream delicately all over his cock.

"Fuck," Satori groans, his grip tightening on the flesh of your thighs as you flutter around him. You sob, reaching up to grab at him, needing something, anything to ground you. Taking your left hand in his, Satori presses your arm above your head, and even though your other hand is gripping hard on his shoulder, you feel so helpless. Your second orgasm did absolutely nothing to help with the heat in your stomach and with the way that Satori continues to fuck your tight heat has you bracing yourself for your next orgasm.

"Fuck, Darling," Satori curses again, pulling out to carelessly flip you over onto your stomach. One hand presses between your shoulder blades to keep your upper body flush with the mattress, and the other grabs your hips and settles you on your knees. A part of you must have forgotten what he is, and you were shocked with the way he just lifted you like you were nothing, but his roughness only led to arousal, and you sob as he pounds you into the mattress. "Cute, sweetheart," Satori coos, hand sliding from your back to grip your hair and pull. You moan loudly, and you've never felt a feeling of pain and pleasure like this before, and you think that it's something you may become addicted to. "Love being manhandled like this, huh? Who's gonna think you're innocent now, hmm? Such a dirty girl, now, getting off to being pushed around and bruised. Ruined for anybody else." Satori leans down, then, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. "This is all mine, isn't it, love?"

"Yeah," you respond, breathless with the way that Satori thrusts into you, "yes, Satori, sir. All yours," It's difficult to speak and your words stutter and slur, between the drool dripping down your chin and how Satori is fucking you mindless, but you hope it gets the point across. You don't know. You can't really think. Satori nips at your earlobe and growls into your ear.

"Good." And then he pulls your hair so hard you have to bring your back flush with his chest, and his other hand wraps deliciously around your throat as he holds you up against him. Before, you could never understand how anyone would like to be treated so roughly during sex, the thought of being choked was terrifying to you, but here you are now, eyes fluttering delicately as you can hardly breathe from the hand on your throat and Satori's hips. It feels so fucking good, and you don't think anyone else could ever make you feel this way. You feel drunk on Satori's existence, and your cunt squeezes so nicely around him at that. 

"Please," you beg, just barely able to get your words out. That feeling is there again, and you know that you're close, but you want Satori to come first. "Please," you repeat, just as broken as before. You try to move your hips yourself, just a little, but Satori only laughs.

"Sweet thing, trying so hard, but you've been pounded too stupid for that, hmm darling? Can't even speak, poor girl." He speaks so highly, but you can tell that he's close too, with the way that his hips stutter, and he sounds a little breathless himself. You only squeeze harder around him, half on purpose and half because the way he speaks to you is so addicting. His groans are deep and they're getting a little feral, and it's so fucking hot, his nails dig into your skin and it hurts so good, his thrusts become so erratic and he's louder and growling and, and-

Warm liquid spurts into your cunt and his cock pulses inside of you and that, that, sends you over the edge, and you cream over his cock once again as he comes inside of you.

Satori lets go of you, gently placing you face down on the bed, and finally, you can breathe again. Your chest is heaving as you lie there, and when he slowly pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you. Whining, you squirm at the feeling, mind too hazy to do anything about it. "Sweetheart," Satori murmurs, running his fingers through your hair, shushing you. "I'll run a bath to clean you up. Feeling okay?" You only whine again, toes curling in embarrassment. That was so... you were so... dirty. But Satori only laughs softly at you, nothing close to the degrading laugh you heard earlier. 

"No worries, darling, I'll take care of you."

[hencethebravery]

#writersmth2020 • (12) meet cute

(12) meet cute [ouat, captain charming]

author’s note: about 2 yrs ago i started a captain charming enchanted au that i never finished (surprise, surprise). i had actually stopped writing right before the two first meet, and this seemed like a good opportunity to start working on it again. will i finish it now? no idea, but i enjoyed hopping back in because i was very excited about it initially and i kinda hate that it’s unfinished. you can read the first chapter on tumblr or the archive. oh also for @phiralovesloki​, who never gave up on me or this stupid story.

+ Killian’s adult life, his pre-Prince-from-another-land life, starts like this: With a handful of unfortunate “misunderstandings” with local law enforcement; a worrisome drinking habit that he often ignored; a nebulous, unexamined fear that he’s been left behind; and a large number of fleeting, meaningless relationships that had only become so due to his own infuriating habit of allowing them to be. So, yes, according to most, Killian Jones was living what some would refer to as a “sad life” (or perhaps a lonely life, at the very least).

He might respond that he in fact “liked it that way,” but any discerning sort of person would be able to suss out that lie rather quickly.

If his life were like one of his mother’s wretched storybooks, the otherwise mundane, rainy evening in October when he almost totaled his bike would be considered the “incendiary incident.” The moment when the story really begins—a suggestion that all of the blather leading up to this has been nothing more than literary window dressing. There is an argument to be made however, that the moment in question would indeed feel less like the “inciting action” had it lacked the proper and necessary context.

The real trouble with saturated, dark city roads at night is the fact that they become nothing more than garbled reflections of the circus of light that surrounds them. While they might be perfectly black and impermeable during the day, in darkness they become quite a bit more ominous. Despite the most logical parts of you screaming otherwise, there’s still a niggling concern that if you’re not careful you could take a wrong step and tumble into the odd, rippling echo of an inverted city you’ve never seen before.

Killian’s traversed these same streets on a number of previous evenings, and through worse weather than this, but for whatever reason, on this particular night, it seems to be unusually bad. The wind whips between the buildings creating paralyzing pockets of frigid air, as the drains clog with garbage and leaves, causing the puddles to become dangerously deep; those confounding, reflected surfaces becoming even more unknown and void-like.

He’s only a few blocks from home, on the cusp of admitting to himself the precariousness of current travel conditions when he sees it—a gleam out of the corner of his eye. City lights do not gleam. Soft, yellow light glowing from behind long, sheer curtains also hold no unique, eye-catching sheen. Speeding through city streets on the back of a motorbike requires a certain degree of concentration. If you’re the sort to become easily distracted by twinkling lights and the occasional odd bit of human movement, you’re not fit to be driving. It’s why he thinks of it as a “gleam,” rather than say… a light you might see emanating from a billboard or a traffic stop. Not to mention the fact that if this were any other normal kind of illumination, it wouldn’t have caused him to become distracted enough to completely miss the crater-like pothole on the road in front of him.

This strange new land is loud—loud enough that he would almost feel compelled to clap his hands over his ears… if not for the bright, flashing lights that look nothing like any open flame he’s ever seen. He would be tempted to shut his eyes… if not for the sight of the tall, tall, tall vertical structures that he would maybe call castles if he weren’t so terribly confident that he wasn’t in his kingdom any longer and they likely weren’t castles at all. If the sights and the sounds weren’t enough to convince him, the throngs of oddly dressed people staring at him as if he were the strange one certainly was. It takes him a few moments amidst the chaos of his new surroundings, but he remembers all the same—the sickeningly red, wet sheets; the sound of his newborn daughter’s cries, and that final glimpse of her in the arms of some nefarious, hooded figure, disappearing into a swirling vortex.

He breaks into a run, his cape flapping heavily behind him.

He has no earthly idea where he’s running to; only that he’s a father who’s lost his only daughter and he is entirely unmoored. Perhaps for the first time in his life. There’s no specific destination in mind but speed has to be a factor, right? After all, he jumped right in after them. Maybe they’re not so far ahead that he can’t catch up, so long as he runs. He’s finally stumbled on a somewhat quieter street when he witnesses the strange metal contraption only just manage to skirt a rather large hole in the ground before emitting an ear-piercing screech and collapsing onto its side. He’s stunned for a moment, and wonders if perhaps it’s some kind of animal, but when it fails to move and he notices the man who seems to have fallen underneath, he rushes over, his curiosity temporarily waylaid in favor of playing in a more familiar role.

It’s difficult to discern in the dark, but at a glance the man in question is dressed almost entirely in black (which doesn’t seem smart in any land), with short, unkempt hair that’s grown over his ears and across his forehead. For a few moments he’s worried that the man is dead, but he emits a small groan and David springs into action, pushing the “beast” away and pulling him off the street.

As he slowly regains awareness he curses himself for having gone on what feels like a historic bender. Because how could his head hurt this much otherwise? And it’s only when he starts to feel the numerous aches growing elsewhere, along with a distinct lack of dry, soft bed sheets that he starts to remember the painful, confusing reality of a few minutes previous—that bloody gleam, the pothole, the momentary sensation of dreadful weightlessness. Christ, his bike. 

“Hey,” he hears (along with a mild, worrisome ringing), as if from a distance, “Hang in there, okay? You’re gonna be okay.” And then, at a softer pitch, “...I think.”

“Ugh,” Killian manages, a nauseous feeling building in his stomach, “please tell me you didn’t call an ambulance.”

Even in his post-nearly-flattened-by-his-bike state, the thought of cumbersome medical bills on top of the repairs he was certain needed to be made on the bike was a whole other kind of headache he could happily do without.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I don’t know what that is,” replied the deep, noticeably pleasant voice floating somewhere above him. 

In any other circumstance there likely would’ve been a short chuckle after that, but Killian feared some for the state of his ribs at the moment, and merely grunted some more. “Bully for you then mate,” mumbling, “overpriced nonsense. I’ll be fine.”

This is one of my favorite parts of this story—no matter how many times I’ve heard it. The first time he laid eyes on him. Before all the mess that came after (myself included); before he started to realize the kind of story he was in, the only thing he could see (so he says) was dad’s eyes. Which, as a teenage girl, I am fully ready to believe. And dad does have pretty eyes.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the help,” Killian started, wincing from the streetlight overhead, “but is that a cape you’re wearing?”

Not just a cape (although really, who just wore a cape these days)—the man hovering over him, his rescuer, for all intents and purposes, who he was slowly beginning to realize might have actually been the cause of his current predicament, was draped in an absurd amount of Renaissance faire finery. From the fur-lined cape to the loose-fitting blouse, Killian began to suspect that the man in question had not been trying to be funny when he claimed to have no knowledge of ambulances. Or perhaps, Killian began to think worriedly, he had ridden in a fair number himself.

[seawriterxx]

it's you that i lie with

katsuki bakugou wanted to die alone on a deserted park bench, but a stupidly sweet spiky-haired bastard decided to spoil his plan.

Once every few million years. Those were the odds. The odds of that ten fucking kilometer rock hitting the Earth. And of fucking course, just for a little extra shittiness, it just had to be heading straight for Japan. Straight towards him.

It was a glaring blemish in the sky, menacingly and consistently growing larger. He couldn't look at it, wouldn't look at it. It filled him with such a deep seated anger, the type that consumed him, that tore his skin apart and boiled his insides until he was a heap of bones and fuming rage.

It mocked him. Taunted its strength. Proving his weakness, his inadequacy. He wished he was strong enough, or even smart enough to fix it. But at this point? Not even the impenetrable heroes he read about in those shitty comics the green-haired brat that lived down the street obsessed over would be able to solve this.

Maybe if he had grown up in a world where he had power, had strength, then maybe he could stop the impending doom he was facing. He didn't know when it would hit. One hour? Two? He surely couldn't trust those asshole scientists plastered on every fucking screen Japan had to offer. After all, the bastards didn't even bother warning them, well not until it was too late to do anything. He couldn't stand the screaming throngs of people rushing home, hiding in street corners, too scared to face the reality of what was about to happen. It was pointless. He was going to die anyway. Die alone and angry. Who cared where it was. An empty street, his warzone of a house. It didn't matter.

He had left for a reason. Not because of the old bat's nagging, or his father's annoying ass whining, but because he wouldn't be able to do it. He didn't want his final thoughts to be of his mother's crying face, of his father's look of pure terror. He didn’t want theirs to be their son’s uncharacteristic silence. The Bakugou house was never silent, he wouldn't let it be silent. The screams of his mother, the bargaining of his father was what he was used to. And it was what his last memory of the two would be.

His phone continued to buzz in his pocket, barrages of texts from his family, school 'buddies' and even that green-haired loser from down his street. How'd he even have his number? He ignored them all, hand trembling. Maybe, if he wasn't so selfish, he'd be able to face them, say his goodbyes. Instead he was on a park bench in the streets of Musutafu, dying alone with quiet dignity. “What a fitting end for Bakugou Katsuki.” He thought bitterly.

A scream rang out. If he had to guess the origin it would be another person realizing their family member offed themselves. The smell of death fumigated through the streets, people taking their lives into their own hands instead of letting a shitty rock take them out. He wished he was strong enough to do that. Instead, he chose the latter. Pathetic.

A guy, almost hunched over, walked from that direction towards him almost aimlessly. He was shaking. Bakugou tensed, hunched down and prayed, pleading to any godly power that the guy would avoid him, avoid the bench, avoid the entire area. They chose not to accept the prayer, if they hadn't screwed Bakugou over enough already.

The boy sat down across the bench on the ground, curling onto himself like Bakugou simply wasn't there, like Bakugou wasn't watching him with a look of sheer shock as he sobbed. He wasn't that tall, maybe a few inches shorter than Bakugou at most. His red hoodie covered most of his head and body. He was rather quiet in his crying, which Bakugou could appreciate, given his plan to die in silence.

As quickly as the boy appeared, he stood up once again, shaking himself out of the ball he put himself into and rubbing his puffy eyes harshly with his arm. He was taller than Bakugou had assumed, in fact Bakugou was sure that if he left the current seat he was basically glued to, they’d be about the same size. He looked to be the same age as well. Nevertheless, Bakugou was glad he was leaving. He was pretty far from his house, not wanting to risk his parents finding him, for anyone he knew finding him. He didn’t want all that work to be for nothing.

The boy took off his hoodie to reveal what Bakugou considered to be quite possibly the most god awful haircut he'd ever seen, spiky red hair with thick black roots, as if he hadn't dyed it back in awhile. If it was any other situation, Bakugou would have started laughing.

But it wasn’t, and he didn't realize the boy had approached him. Fuck.

“Hey man I-"

“Fuck off shitty-hair!" Damn it. He really didn't mean to be as rude as he just was. Maybe it was the impending death, but he had meant to be at least a little nicer.

“It's not very manly to insult perfectly good hair!" The red haired boy yelled back earnestly, a small smile gracing his lips. What? Wasn't he literally sobbing a minute ago? Bakugou felt his eyes widen in shock and his mouth moved to blurt out a string of not so nice words when the boy spoke again.

“Anyway. Now I have to start all over! Look man, I know you're all 'mopey' and 'emo' over here, but I was wondering if I could stay here a bit.”

If Bakugou could be anymore shocked, he would be. His head short-circuited, he could feel his mouth gape open, and tried to force himself to say something, anything.

“Huh-"

“Wha-"

He felt himself stuttering, Goddamn it, he had to fucking pull himself together and reject this dude outright. He was Bakugou Katsuki, not a simpering pussy.

“Hey, before you say anything.” He stopped for a second and Bakugou looked him in the eyes, the gaze that shone back was conflicting yet powerful, there was a ton of sadness sure, but this dude's eyes held strength he wasn't expecting, especially because he had just cried on the ground in front of him.

“Please"

Please. One word, and somehow all opposition fell from his mind. One fucking word and Bakugou felt his mouth close, felt his head nod, his eyes narrow. The boy's eyes light up, and Bakugou felt his mouth twitch. What?

“Why the fuck did I just do that.”

He didn't have time to question his actions, the boy had sat down and already started chatting up a storm.

“-shima.” He said brightly, unfortunately in Bakugou's thoughts he heard absolutely nothing. Maybe it was because it was the end of the world or whatever, but he was really off his game.

“Huh?” He abruptly said, cutting off the animated words currently coming from the boy's unusually sharp mouth.

“I said, my name is Kirishima!” The boy said. “Anyway, so why are you over here? I've never seen you around here. What's your name? How old are you?” Bakugou gave the boy a glare. “It's fine! You don't have to talk much, you don't seem like a talker anyway, huh explosion boy?” Bakugou felt weird, his face felt red, his head throbbed and worst of all, his heart hurt.

“Shut up shitty-hair!” He yelled, fists at his side, face ducked. The boy just cocked his head and smiled.

“I thought I already told you, my name is Kirishima!” He said, smirking and once again surprising Bakugou. He wanted to be alone but this fucking spiky-haired bastard kept blabbering in his ear. Bakugou could already imagine the verbal assault he'd give God if the last thing he heard before being obliterated was the boy's nonsense.

“Anyway! You know what I'm going to miss? Video games. I might not look like it because I'm so manly and strong, but I'm a master gamer! “ Bakugou snicked, to the boy's obvious delight. “Hell man, I bet I could run circles around you!” The boy joked, laughing over Bakugou's growling.

“I'd like to see you try, I'd beat you in any game you think you're even an ounce good at.” The snark just made the boy laugh more, and Bakugou couldn’t help but notice how good his laughter was, how it wasn’t fair at all that in an hour, no one would ever hear that laughter again. How he’d be the last one to hear it. Death made him sappy apparently. The laughter had stopped, the boy looked up, something Bakugou didn’t have the guts to follow, instead he settled for the other boy’s face.

“You know, when I thought of my death I didn’t imagine this.” His voice was soft, eyes just on the verge of watering up. “I just-” He cleared his thought and Bakugou resisted the urge to interrupt. “I just thought I’d die in a little more of a manly way, you know?” Bakugou snorted.

“And getting crushed by some shitty space rock isn’t manly?” The boy smiled and knocked his shoulder against Bakugou’s. When did he get so close?

“Not cool man, you understand what I’m saying! I wanted to die in a blazing glory after defeating some super strong villain!”

“Yeah, I get it.” He found himself saying back, did he get it though? Bakugou had never thought about his death. It wasn’t something that he thought he wouldn’t face for a while. He was so obviously wrong.

He wanted to ask the boy to leave. Why didn’t he? Bakugou never had a problem stating his mind, so why was he having trouble now? The air felt heavy around him, tense in anticipation. The streets were eerily silent, the only sound reaching his ears was the breeze against the leaves behind him and the light breathing of the boy beside him.

It would be any time now he was sure, their conversation had lulled into a simple silence. This was it. His last moments would be with some random cute boy that in any other universe would be irrelevant to him. The boy breathed deeply, prompting Bakugou to look over at the boy from his gaze at the ground, confusion swimming in his mind.

“It’s getting closer.” He simply stated. Oh.

He could do it, lift his neck higher, look into the blue sky speckled with fluffy clouds, a view he took for granted his whole life. The weight of his head held him down, the paralyzing fear of looking into his murderer, watching it come closer towards him, towards the boy next to him. His fists clenched down on the hard wood of the bench as he slowly raised his head.

His killer was strangely memorizing, he noted. It grew larger and larger, energy permeated the area. The boy let out a breath and turned to Bakugou, tears lightly falling.

“Thank you.” He simply said. The earnest words sank deep into Bakugou’s heart, filling him with an unknown feeling. He shook it off, refusing to meet the boy’s eyes. He was not going to die crying. His right hand shook and he started to unconsciously clinch and unclinch his fist.

“Hey...Kirishima.” He said, so soft he was surprised the other boy heard it, quite honestly the softest he’s ever said anything.

“Huh?” The other boy questioned, tilting his head. Bakugou closed his eyes and put his head back down, outstretching his hand hesitantly.

“Will you hold my hand?”

...

Eijirou Kirishima died without knowing Bakugou's name and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thank you sm for reading! I really hope you enjoyed! I'm going to be writing more BNHA Bakugou fics, as well as more angsty kiribaku in the future so if you enjoyed this please keep on the lookout!

[justlightlysedated]

the one where an alien pathogen makes the aliens kill the person they love the most:

Max is trying so hard to help that he’s over helping, and while Liz appreciates it, she really does, she also thinks that clearing out the lab would go much easier if it was just her and Michael.

“Where should I put this one?” Max says, turning around with an open box labeled FRAGILE in big bold letters, the flaps at the top moving with the motion that he makes.

He takes a step forward, but he doesn’t see that there is another box in his way and he trips, fumbling with the box.

“No!” both Liz and Michael yell at the same time, moving to get to Max.

Michael gets there first, but even though he manages to keep the box as still as he could with his telekinesis, a cloud of pinkish dust still poofs out, covering both him and Max.

They both sneeze three times at the same time, and Liz immediately grabs a mask and gloves.

She hustles them into the decontamination shower down the hall, and then starts to clean everything up.

She finds a jar, open inside of the box, the pink powder everywhere, and there is a peeling label taped to the cap with faded writing and a serial number.

She can’t make out what they nicknamed the compound, but she knows exactly where to find the serial number and figure out what the hell that dust was supposed to do.

She finds the right folder and looks up the number and reads the big bold letters at the top that say, PATHOGEN AB3-49-332 WORKS FASTER ON HUMANS, KEEP ANTI-PATHOGEN AB3-50-333 ON HAND BEFORE ADMINISTERING TO TEST SUBJECT, before she hears Max.

“Liz!” he’s almost yelling as he bursts back into the lab.

She turns around to face him, and flushes bright red when she realizes that he’s completely naked.

“Liz!” he says again, and gets across the room before she can even get to her feet, wrapping his fingers around her arms and tugging her up.

Liz can just hold still, while Max checks her over like she’d been in danger while he was in the shower, but she looks at him and tries to catalogue his symptoms.

She can feel that his heart is racing, it’s calming down a bit as he sees that she’s safe, but that could cause major problems in his state, and when she looks up into his eyes, she sees that the pupil is blown wide.

She frowns and then pushes him back gently.

He goes willingly, and she would offer him her lab coat to cover himself up, but he seems content to just stare at her.

She opens her mouth to tell him to go sit on the gurney while she figures out which of the jars is the anti-pathogen when Max, grunts in pain and leans back hard against the desk.

Liz just moves, walking back over to the box, and opening it up.

She looks over the jars and finds the serial number that she’s looking for.

There isn’t much of the anti-pathogen, but she’s taking it out of the box when Max turns her around.

He doesn’t seem to be in pain anymore, but there is an intensity to his gaze, dark and disquieting.

He moves slowly, like he’s afraid to spook her, and then his fingers are pulling the mask down from over her face.

Liz feels a little bit like she’s frozen in time, trapped in that gaze, when he leans in, eyes fluttering down to her mouth and back up into her eyes.

She reacts before he can get much closer, opening the jar and tossing most of the content into his face.

He flinches backwards, falling back against the counter, and sneezes again, three times in a row, before he blinks and looks at Liz a little dazedly, before he falls to the floor, unconscious.

Liz goes to make sure that he’s still breathing and pulls off her lab coat draping it over his lap so that he doesn’t wake up completely naked. She’s glad that she had called Kyle to come over earlier because they’re going to need to do a full check up.

She looks at the jar and notes that there’s still enough at the bottom for Michael.

Michael, she thinks again, and then turns around and heads towards the decontamination showers.

The good news is that unlike Max, Michael at least put on his spare clothes.

The bad news is that he’s gone.

She pulls her phone out and calls him, but it goes straight to voicemail.

She debates for a second, and looks at the time to see that only ten minutes have passed since they inhaled the pathogen, so there is a good chance that he hasn’t gotten too far yet, and that she can figure out where he’s going to go before he gets there.

She heads back into the lab, to the folders of information, and reads through the pages quickly, and then a little bit slower, and then she unlocks her phone again and calls Maria.

Maria answers after the second ring, and she starts talking like they’re in the middle of a conversation, which is what she does when she’s bored and while usually Liz loves this, right now she doesn’t have any time.

“Maria, listen,” she says, and Maria stops talking immediately. “Michael is going to head over to your place. We had an incident at the lab, and he disappeared, but the pathogen works in a way that makes the afflicted seek out the person that they love the most to infect them. So just, knock him out or something until we get there, and whatever you do, don’t let him kiss you.”

Before Maria can say anything, Kyle’s voice rings out across the room. “Is there a reason why Max is naked on the floor, and does it have anything to do with the way that Guerin flew out of here like a bat out of hell?”

Liz turns around to face Kyle, feeling relieved. 

“Yes,” she says and hangs up the phone on Maria’s voice tiny and demanding.

“Did he tell you where he was going exactly? Because Maria is at home, but he might go looking for her at the Pony.”

Kyle gives her a confused look, “Uh, he didn’t mention anything about Maria when I tried to stop him and make sure that he was okay, but he did keep saying that he had to go and find Alex.”

Liz shuts her eyes tight and exhales roughly, and then unlocks her phone again, and sends a message to Alex.

-

Alex doesn’t get to read the message from Liz until it’s too late.

He’d been expecting a message from Forrest so he had immediately picked his phone up when it buzzed, but then he heard the squeal of tires braking too hard and too fast, and then the sound of someone trying to knock down his door, while also pressing down on the buzzer. 

And then Michael’s voice, too loud and too frantic, “Alex!”

Alex drops his phone on top of the table without unlocking it and walks towards the door, but before he even gets halfway there, the door is being unlocked and slams open.

Michael lowers his hand down and walks inside, eyes finding Alex immediately.

He’s panting like he just ran a race, and his hair is wet and still dripping down the sides of his neck and wetting the collar of his white t-shirt, like he’d just taken a shower and had come right over.

“What the hell, Guerin?” Alex says, brow furrowing in confusion and anger. “You can’t just break in here-”

Michael reaches for him, and starts to look him over, tugging at his clothes, and dragging fingers through his hair, inspecting him like he’s expecting Alex to be hurt or something.

“What the hell?” Alex asks again, more to himself, and reaches out to push Michael away, but Michael grabs on to his hands, and then looks at Alex with wild, dark eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sounding a little desperate, and Alex begins to think that there might be something seriously wrong with him.

“Guerin, I’m fine,” he says, and Michael lifts his hands to Alex’s face to look into his eyes, and Alex sees that Michael’s pupils are blown wide, almost taking over the iris. 

"Alex," he says, pure relief in his tone. "You're okay. I thought something bad had happened to you."

"I swear, I'm fine," Alex repeats, giving Michael a worried look. “Are you okay?”

Michael blinks at him a few times, like he hadn’t been expecting the question, but before he can say anything or Alex can ask him again, he grunts, eyes falling shut as his face scrunches up in pain.

He lets go of Alex and bends over at the waist, whining low in the back of his throat, and breathing heavily.

He sounds like he’s in pain, and Alex might not be an expert in actually asking for help when he needs it, but he knows when to ask for help.

He looks over to the table where his phone starts to buzz and he moves to grab it, maybe someone knows what exactly is going on and how he can help and has been trying to reach him, but before he can even walk towards the table, he’s frozen in his tracks.

It's only for a second, but Alex feels like he's paralyzed for one horrifying second, before he stumbles forward slightly.

Michael catches him before he can move any further, and he doesn't even touch him, he just steps in close enough that Alex can just feel the heat of him against his back.

“Alex,” he says in a low voice, in the same relieved tone as before, and Alex can feel him moving closer, hands framing Alex’s shoulders, but not actually touching him.

“You know,” he keeps going, moving his hands down along Alex’s arms, whispering the words right up against the skin of Alex’s neck, sending a shudder down his spine. “Sometimes I have these dreams where you’re standing right in front of me and I try to touch you, and you disappear before I can.”

Michael’s fingers brush against the skin of his wrists, and Alex jumps, turning around and taking a step away from Michael.

Michael steps in close, eating up the space between them, and Alex tries not to flinch backwards immediately.

“What are you doing here, Michael?” he asks as clearly and commanding as he can.

Michael blinks at him a few times, swallowing hard, before he breathes in deeply and moves in even closer.

His fingers are almost too hot against Alex’s skin, but he pulls Alex in close with an almost too rough movement, and keeps him still, and kisses him, licking into his mouth when Alex gasps startled. Alex kisses him back, almost automatically, until a strange metallic almost electric taste fills his mouth like he stuck his tongue on top of a battery.

He pulls away from Michael, who makes a protesting sound, but lets him go.

Alex wipes a hand across his mouth, but his tongue feels heavy and his lips are buzzing, and then everything goes fuzzy around the edges and too bright, and Alex sways.

Michael catches him before he falls to the floor, and Alex stares at him with wide eyes, “What did you do to me?”

Michael blinks at him again, before he shakes his head, “I didn’t-nothing-I mean, I didn’t do-”

Alex breathes in deeply, trying to think rationally, and then his heart starts racing, and he feels a squirmy anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Michael,” he says, and his hands which were clenched at his sides are now on Michael, tugging him close. 

“Hey, Michael.”

He feels a little desperate, and needs to make sure that Michael is okay, but obviously, Michael is okay, since he’s standing right in front of Alex, and he’s been fine for the last couple of minutes, but Alex feels like something terrible is going to happen to him.

“I’m right here,” Michael answers, hands coming up to frame Alex's face.

His hands are too hot, but his touch sinks like icy cool relief through Alex.

He gasps, and Michael moves in even closer.

"I don't know why but I felt like something terrible was going to happen to you," Alex says, fingers tangling in the collar of Michael's jacket.

"I know," Michael says moving closer, feet overlapping, knees knocking into each other, chests pressed together. "But I'm okay."

"Good," Alex says, leaning forward to press his forehead to Michael's.

He breathes carefully and then feels a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. He grunts low in the back of his throat, and leans forward even more, eyes shutting tight, knuckles going white on Michael's jacket.

Michael wraps his arms around Alex's waist and keeps him upright as his knees buckle.

Alex breathes out, whining low in the back of his throat, and then an almost numbing sense of calm comes over him, as the pain disappears without a trace.

He breathes in deeply, and his head fills with the smell of lightning and ozone, and he looks up and into Michael's eyes.

“I miss you,” he finds himself saying, voice shaking slightly. 

‘I’m right here,” Michael says again, and Alex closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“I used to dream that I would come back and you’d be long gone, and I’d never see you again, but you’re still here, and I still miss you.”

Michael starts breathing heavily, and Alex feels like he’s shaking and about to fall apart even though he also feels like he’s standing perfectly still.

“Why did you go?” Michael asks, demanding, the question falling helplessly out his mouth.

“Why did you push me away?” Alex demands back, hands tightening again in the collar of Michael’s jacket.

They both stare at each other for what feels like forever and then Michael’s laughter bursts out of him, and Alex can’t help but laugh with him.

“It’s not funny,” he says, trying to think clearly.

Michael pulls his lips together, like he’s trying to stop himself from laughing, but it bursts out of him in peals of giggles.

“It’s a little funny,” Michael responds, and Alex has to admit that he’s right.

“You’re such an idiot,” Alex tells him with too much fondness, using the hold he has on Michael to push him backwards, but Michael tightens his hold on Alex’s waist.

“But I’m your idiot,” Michael says teasingly, keeping him close so they sway a little in place at the push and pull of their movements.

“You’re mine?” Alex asks, feeling a sort of euphoric jumpiness in the pit of his stomach, bubbling up his throat, making a slow smile spread across his face.

“Absolutely,” Michael answers immediately, a wide smile across his face as he leans in closer and presses their foreheads together. “Completely. Totally. Without a doubt.”

Alex has to kiss him then. Michael responds enthusiastically, pressing his hands down on Alex’s back.

Alex licks against Michael’s mouth, and he tastes sweet like rain water, and something else that Alex can’t recognize, but he chases the taste into Michael’s mouth.

Alex pushes Michael backwards, and Michael holds on even tighter, hands coming up to frame Alex’s face to keep their mouths pressed close together as they go crashing into the wall.

Alex crowds Michael against the wall, and presses in close, trying to keep him still so that he can kiss him exactly how he wants to.

Michael makes a low noise, and then he's pushing Alex backwards, separating their mouths with a gasp.

Alex feels a little confused, and before he can ask what happened, Michael is pushing him to the side and pressing him against the wall, fingers wrapping around Alex's wrists as he traps Alex's hands on either side of his head.

Alex feels a bolt of desire go through him like electricity, and he inhales sharply.

Michael smiles a little predatory, "You like that don't you?"

Alex does, but he's not going to give in that easily.

He tugs against Michael's hold and Michael tightens his fingers.

Alex raises an eyebrow at that, and Michael pushes in even closer, and Alex moves, using all of his strength to tug out of Michael's hold and pushes him back, and then keeps pushing until they hit the table.

He hears one of the chairs fall and clatter on the floor, but Michael drags him in, leaning back on the table to support their weight, pushing it across the floor a little bit, before he’s kissing Alex like he’s on a mission to conquer, all teeth and tongue, his hands tugging at Alex’s clothes.

Alex drops his hands down on top of the table, and pushes in even closer, making a space for himself between Michael’s thighs.

Michael drags his hands down to Alex’s ass and pulls him in even closer, dragging their hips together, and Alex hadn’t even realized that he was hard, and the pleasure sweeps through him like a wildfire.

He pushes their hips together harder, the table screeching in protest as it’s pushed back further, but it’s not enough.

Michael seems to agree, but he pushes Alex back.

Alex stumbles a few steps backwards, and Michael gets to his feet and moves, practically stalks forward, and Alex just keeps moving backwards and hits the island counter in the middle of the kitchen.

Michael moves in to cage him against the counter, and Alex ducks and weaves, and takes a few steps back, turning to face Michael again.

Michael leans back against the counter and just stares at him, with an almost calculating look, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to take him down.

Alex just smiles, and Michael pushes away from the counter. Alex takes another step backwards, and Michael stops tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“Why you running away, Alex?” he asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, tugging them lower. “Scared of what’s gonna happen when I get you?”

Alex snorts, rolling his eyes a little and shakes his head. “I’m not scared of you at all, Guerin.”

Michael just touches his tongue to his top lip and nods his head once.

“But if you want me, you’re going to have to work harder than that. I’m not just going to lie down and roll around in the dirt with you.”

Michael huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Okay,” he says, and then he makes a motion with his hand, while he moves forward, and Alex is too busy trying to back away to realize that he dragged the coffee table closer.

Alex stumbles backwards and down, falling almost flat on his back on top of the coffee table.

Alex breathes out roughly, but he feels a bubble of delight in the pit of his stomach.

“Cheater,” he says, leaning up on his elbows as Michael gets closer.

Michael just shrugs, and keeps moving closer, eyes dragging down Alex’s body in a way that makes his stomach tremble.

Alex waits until he gets close enough, and then he sweeps his foot, getting Michael right on the shin hard.

Michael hisses, jumping backwards, and Alex pushes himself off the table, and grabs Michael by the collar of his shirt and pushes him to the side and down on the couch, following after him.

Alex barely has his knees on the couch, before Michael is hooking his hands across the back of Alex’s thighs, and tugging as he pushes forward with his chest, pushing Alex down on the couch.

He drags his hands up to grab Alex’s hands when Alex goes to push him off. He presses Alex’s hands down on the couch, and leans in close, a smile on his face like he’s sure he’s won.

Alex smiles, letting him think that as he braces his right leg against the ground as best as he can, and then he pushes up with his hips and swings his left leg to hook around the back of Michael’s thighs and pushes them both onto the ground.

He lands on his knees a little too hard, but uses Michael’s surprise to wrap his fingers around Michael’s forearms and presses his arms down above his head.

Michael looks up at him, chest heaving, but otherwise completely still.

Alex smiles and leans in close, brushing their noses together.

He watches Michael’s eyes fall shut, and feels the hot air against his mouth when Michael’s lips part.

He waits until Michael’s eyes open again, “Is that the best you got?”

Michael’s eyes go wide in surprise, and a surprised huff of laughter falls out of his mouth.

“Okay,” Michael says again, and then he tugs against Alex’s hold. 

Alex keeps him in place easily and then pushes in even closer and licks across his mouth.

Michael’s breathing stutters, and his mouth falls open, and Alex kisses him, deep and wet and all consuming, letting go of his arms, and feeling a low thrill at the fact that Michael is distracted enough that he doesn’t even realize he’s not being held down anymore.

Alex cups his face and kisses him deeper, and Michael whines low in the back of his throat, hips pushing up.

Alex pulls away, and Michael blinks at him looking dazed.

Alex moves, getting to his feet, and thinking about where to go exactly, but Michael is grabbing his ankle and Alex twists and falls back against the stool set in front of his keyboard.

Michael moves forward before Alex can even sit up properly, crawling between his legs, and pushing his knees apart and pressing his forearms along the bench on either side of Alex’s thighs, leaning up, and Alex meets him halfway, settling his fingers in the curve of Michael's neck.

Michael kisses him hard and rough right from the start, pushing up and moving his hands to either side of Alex’s face as Alex tangles his fingers in the collar of his shirt and pulls him closer, something desperate and hungry, eating away at the rest of his self control.

Michael hums low in the back of his throat and bites down on Alex's bottom lip as he pulls away, and Alex whines, and his fingers go tighter in the collar of Michael’s shirt wanting to get back to the kissing.

Michael just hums again, more amused this time, and makes to push him backwards, when Michael lifts his hands to Alex’s face, cupping his cheeks and pressing his thumbs down on Alex’s bottom lip.

Alex’s eyes flutter open as the anger simmering in the pit of his stomach gives way to the sharp spark of desire.

“I love your mouth,” Michael says in a low voice as Alex just stares at him.

Michael pushes his thumbs down, pressing into Alex’s bottom lip harder before he drops his hands to Alex’s still tangled in the collar of his shirt.

“And I love your hands,” he continues, lifting Alex’s hands to his mouth and crushing Alex’s fingers against his lips in a wet kiss before he moves again, hands hooking behind Alex’s knees as he pushes his legs open wider.

Alex tangles his fingers in Michael’s hair, and Michael cups Alex’s cock, squeezing. Alex pushes his hips into the touch, mouth dropping open. 

“And I love your cock,” Michael keeps going, squeezing again, before he moves to undo Alex’s jeans, making low frustrated sounds when he can’t get Alex’s belt open, immediately.

Alex just pushes him back a little, using his hold on his hair, and then moves his hands to get his pants open himself.

Michael wraps his arms around Alex’s hips, leaving just enough space for him to get his belt undone, and then he’s sliding his hands down the back of Alex’s boxers before Alex manages to undo the button and the zipper of his pants, digging his fingers into Alex’s ass.

“And I really love your ass,” Michael continues, sliding his hands even lower.

Alex presses back into the touch, feeling sparks of pleasure shoot up the base of his spine, and tangles his fingers back in Michael’s hair, titling his head back and pulling Michael up for a kiss.

Alex kisses him with all of the shivery, desperate feelings swirling inside of him as Michael slides his fingers down the cleft of his ass, fingers too dry as they drag against his skin, but Alex pushes into the touch, a small noise caught in the back of his throat.

Michael pulls away because it may have been years but he still recognizes that sound. He pushes his forehead against Alex's.

“I want to fuck you,” he says, almost a question, like he doesn’t know how much Alex wants that too.

Alex tilts his head and kisses Michael again, dragging his hands down to Michael’s chest.

“Okay,” he says, in a voice much more sure than the jumpy feeling in the pit of his stomach, pulling away, and nudging their noses together. 

Michael starts to smile at that, so Alex pushes him backwards, before he gets to his feet and settles his foot down on Michael’s chest, pressing just enough to keep him on the floor.

“But you’re gonna have to catch me first.”

Michael gives him an amused look, and raises his hands up in defense, otherwise staying completely still, like he's giving Alex a head start.

Alex sets his foot back down on the floor and takes a step backwards and then another when Michael just stays there, and then he turns and starts to run.

Alex manages to clear the table, and is at the entrance to the hall that will lead him to the front door, and he’s thinking that maybe fucking Michael in the back of his truck in his driveway will finally drive home the point that he is gay to his single mom next door neighbor, when Michael pushes him up against the wall, using his powers.

Invisible, slightly vibrating bonds wrap around his wrists and his waist, tingling against the backs of his knees and neck, keeping him pressed against the wall.

Alex feels heat sink slow and steady through him from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he presses his forehead against the wall, shutting his eyes tightly.

He turns his head to the side and sounds entirely breathless when he speaks, “Cheater.”

Alex can tell that Michael is standing behind him, but he can’t tell how far or close until Michael is right there, caging him against the wall, pressing his hands over the backs of Alex’s wrists as he leans his weight against Alex’s back.

“You never said I wasn’t allowed,” he hums low in Alex’s ear.

“I’ll be sure to go over the rules more clearly next time,” Alex responds, biting down on a moan when Michael presses in even closer at that, grinding his hard cock right against the curve of Alex’s ass.

“Next time?” Michael questions, sliding his hands from Alex’s wrists to press them low on his belly, right beneath Alex’s shirt, fingertips teasing beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Alex breathes in shakily, but before he can answer, Michael is sliding his hands into his boxers.

“I like the sound of that,” Michael continues, but Alex doesn’t really follow what he’s saying because Michael has Alex’s cock in his hands and he’s jerking him off too dry and the touch just on the other side of too rough, but that combined with the pressure still keeping his hands anchored to the wall above his head is enough to make Alex’s head fall back as he groans, pushing his hips backwards.

Michael makes a low noise in encouragement, before he slides his hands out of Alex’s boxers and starts tugging Alex’s pants down.

He stays close though, pressing his mouth to the side of Alex’s neck and grinding his cock against Alex’s ass, for a long moment, enough for Alex to start to get a little restless, and a little desperate, and he opens his mouth to ask Michael if he’s going to fuck him or not, when Michael presses a kiss right to the curve of Alex’s jaw, and then drops to his knees, dragging Alex’s jeans and boxers down with him.

Michael presses a kiss to the back of Alex's right thigh, right below the curve of his ass, and Alex shudders wanting to move, but finding himself unable to drag his hands down.

Michael's lips curve into a smile that he keeps pressed against Alex's skin, but he just tugs Alex's boots off and then his pants and boxers carefully, lifting his legs up one by one.

Alex expects Michael to get back to his feet, but he hooks one hand below Alex’s right knee and pushes his knee up and against the wall, while settling his other hand on Alex’s hip and tugging him backwards a little. 

The move exposes Alex completely in a way that sends his cheeks burning with embarrassment, but the feeling disappears when Michael presses his hand to the underside of his thigh, pushing his legs open wider and then he feels the hot breath of Michael's mouth right against his entrance.

"Guerin," Alex says a little sharply, feeling a little bit out of control, since they've never really done this before. "You're-"

And then Michael licks across his rim, and Alex jerks, hands managing to slide down the wall a little as he tugs too hard on Michael's hold while he's distracted.

Michael pulls away, and Alex makes a low mournful sound at the back of his throat, hips moving backwards a little.

Michael makes a low amused sound and then the pressure around Alex's wrists goes tighter and his hands are pushed higher above his head.

"Stay," Michael says, and Alex feels the same vibrating pressure around his wrists, pushing his right knee up higher.

Alex grunts low and opens his mouth to tell Michael that he's not a dog, when Michael places both of his hands on Alex's ass and spreads him even wider, before he leans in close, the curls falling across his forehead tickling across his skin.

Michael licks across his entrance and Alex inhales sharply, eyes falling shut, fingers clenching and unclenching uselessly.

Michael doesn't take his time intent on driving Alex as crazy as possible before his dick gets anywhere near him.

He licks against Alex's rim until he's wet enough that Michael rubs a finger across his entrance and pushes inside.

It burns a little at first, Michael goes too fast and his fingers are almost too dry at first, but then Michael pushes in deep and Alex feels the pleasure burst through him like rock crashing into the middle of a still lake, sending ripples of warmth through his entire body, making his cock twitch where it's hanging hard and heavy between his legs.

Michael seems to forget that there is a goal here that isn't getting Alex off with his mouth and hands as he starts to fuck Alex with his fingers, dragging against his prostate and pressing down, causing high pitched whining sounds to fall out of Alex's mouth.

He's distracted enough that when Alex pulls hard, trying to free his hands again, he gets them free.

Alex reaches behind himself and he tangles his fingers in Michael's hair and tugs.

Michael just pushes his fingers in deeper, and Alex hips stutter.

"Michael come on," Alex whines, resisting the urge to reach down to jerk himself off. "I'm ready. I'm so fucking ready. You've been doing that for hours just fuck me already."

Michael pulls his face away from Alex's ass.

"Impatient," Michael tssks, voice thick and hoarse.

Alex makes an unintelligible noise, and tightens his fingers in Michael's hair, his other hand clenched into a fist, right against the wall.

"If you don't hurry up and do it, I'm going to fucking kill yo-"

Michael moves then, sliding his fingers out of Alex's ass almost too fast, making him whimper at the loss, but the whimper dies in his throat when Michael gets to his feet and crowds in close behind him, fingers wrapped around Alex's wrists and trapping him against the wall again.

His jeans are rough against Alex's ass as he leans heavily against him, making Alex feel too hot.

"Not if I kill you first," Michael whispers low, right against the curve of his neck.

"Michael," Alex whines again, and Michael slides his hands down Alex's arms and down his sides and to press low against his lower belly as he shushes Alex gently.

"It's okay," Michael whispers, soothingly. "I know exactly what you need."

And then he's moving again, and Alex feels something icy-hot slide down the back of his neck when he hears Michael undoing his buckle and the air gets caught painfully in the back of his throat, and he feels almost like he's buzzing from trying to keep himself too still.

Everything sounds too loud in Alex's ears, and he shivers when Michael grunts low as Alex feels his cock, hard and wet against Alex's ass.

Michael slides a hand between Alex's legs, and pushes two fingers into him, wrapping his right arm around Alex's shoulders.

"Come on, relax," Michael says gently, patting the left side of Alex's face as he pushes in deep and presses hard against Alex's prostate, sending pleasure crashing through him.

Alex moans, and pushes into the touch, digging his fingers into the wall.

"That's it," Michael says. "You want this. So just relax a little bit more, and I'll make you feel so good."

Alex swallows hard and presses his forehead against the wall, letting his hands slide down a little as he breathes in carefully and then out, trying to ease the tension from his body.

"There we go," Michael says, as he pulls his fingers out of Alex, and presses the tip of his cock right against Alex's entrance, feeling so hot and so wet, that Alex can't help bucking his hips, something made difficult by how Michael still has his knee hitched up and pressed to the wall.

Michael presses one hand down on Alex's lower back, stilling the motion of his hips, while he digs his fingers beneath Alex's jaw and tugs Alex's head back so that he's looking up at the ceiling, head thrown back on Michael's shoulder.

"Stay still," Michael whispers low and hot, sliding his hand down, fingers pressing down just hard enough around Alex's neck that he feels the air catching in his throat.

Alex swallows hard and goes still in Michael's hold, trying to think past the heady feeling fogging up his brain, making it impossible to think at all. 

There are things that Alex wants that he’s never talked to anyone about because the only person he would trust with it is Michael, and Michael isn’t exactly available.

"Good boy," Michael says, and Alex whines, wanting to move to contradict the words, but Michael squeezes a little, and colors explode behind Alex's eyelids.

"Not your dog," Alex manages to pant out.

Michael hums like he's not too convinced about that. "Maybe not, but you still want to be good for me, don't you?"

Alex just makes a low sound but doesn't give Michael an actual answer.

"Stop teasing me and fuck me already. Or I can find someone else to do-"

Michael doesn't let him finish, he moves his hand from Alex's neck to brace against the wall, right by Alex's head, and then he's pushing his cock inside of Alex, and Alex’s voice dies with a high pitched moan.

Alex tries not to tense up, but it's hard not to.

Michael moves his left hand low on Alex's belly and slides his hand down to wrap fingers around the base of Alex's cock as he sinks deeper inside of Alex.

Michael grunts, voice low, “You’re so tight.”

Alex wants to tell him that of course he is, he hasn’t exactly done this in a while, but instead he just breathes in and out and tries to force himself to relax.

They both moan when Michael bottoms out, and Alex's fingers flex against the wall as he drops his forehead down, trying to get used to the sensation of being so full, and maybe actually start breathing.

--calm before the storm, michael passes out after he comes, and alex is nearly there when his buzzing phone catches his attention, he reads the messages from liz and realizes that he’s fucked

--fight instincts triggered to overdrive, michael and alex fight, yelling hurtful truths

--alex goes and hides in his bedroom calls liz, liz tells him that everything should be fine as long as they don’t want to kill each other, alex realizes that he’s been searching for his backup handgun, and tells Liz that he thinks it’s too late for that, liz tells him the only way to cure them then is for one to kill the other, and since this is their lives, alex actually considers that a viable option, he makes a plan

--only cure to kill the threat, they fight alex tries to inject him with something and michael just makes him inject himself, it turns out to be a poison, alex dies in michael’s arms

--liz's pov, everyone gets to alex house, it's been like maybe an hour since they got infected, max is fine, just a major headache, maria gets there when they do and demands to know what's going on, they hear michael scream in pain and it rattles the very foundations of the house

--they run inside, in time to stop michael from injecting himself with the rest of the poison in the syringe

--aftermath, michael's pov, he's been avoiding alex, so obvs alex comes to him, they argue and end up having sex when michael asks alex how he can bear to have michael touch him after what happened