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ohhophelie · 3 years ago

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when: may 24 - 30 who: fee, ft. @theo-chaussard what: fee actually does something dark and violent!!!! warnings: drugs, overdoses, other dark violent things

May 24, late

“Ok so,” Ophélie looked at Théo with almost a pleading look, twisting her ring around her finger to keep her hands from shaking. “I have an idea and I think it's a really good one if I can play it right. I really need you to please, like, hear me out fully before saying no or telling me to stay out of things. Please Théo?”

Théo nodded, and Ophélie beamed at him.

“Thank you.” The blonde ran a hand through her curls, then sank into the chair across from him. The gallery was empty, the last patrons having left an hour ago. They would send someone for the painting in the morning, but Ophélie knew better than to let them leave without writing her a check. It now sat on the desk between them, along with several others from the past few weeks when she’d assumed control of their joint endeavor. He looked exhausted, the hollow space between her ribs ached for all they’d lost and all they still might.

Anger was better than grief, anger was better than guilt.

“This,” she set her ipad on the desk, open to the instagram account of a bleach blonde, “is Everly Astor, American expat, very new money - oil money - despite the name, her father’s third wife is the daughter of a Russian oligarch.”

***

“So you like run this place? That is so fucking cute, Fee-Fee, I love!” The American’s voice was shrill, clawing at Ophélie’s already frayed nerves, but she smiled coyly and shrugged.

“I mean I do all the fun stuff.” This was bubbly airheaded Fee, the shallow thing with a lilting, girlish voice and little desire to do anything but play. “Like hosting parties and events, picking out the art, playing with the artists,” a wicked sort of smirk, “None of like, the business-y stuff,” she waved an errant hand, “Absolutely not interested. But what have you been up to? How was the wedding?”

“Uhg,” Everly groaned, “it was fine, he keeps having ‘em bigger and bigger while his wives get younger and younger.” She rolled her eyes. “But it's like whatever makes y’all happy. She keeps tryin’ to like, be besties with me and invite me out with all her scary skinny Eastern European model friends. They are actually super fun and flirty though, we literally never pay for anything. So I’ve just started hanging out with them without her. Daddy will replace her in two years anyway so what’s the point?”

“Love that for you, honestly,” Ophélie laughed, and it felt hollow. “We’ve literally already forgotten her name.”

***

“Pierce St. James went to school with Gaël,” Ophélie opened the next account to show Théo, “He has a weakness for pretty girls and boys,very much playing the pseudo-intellectual starving artist trope when in reality his parents seem to think throwing money at him will fix his drug habit.”

***

“I cannot believe G is engaged,” Peirce was classically beautiful, almost irritatingly so. Ophélie let him pull her close, an arm casually wrapped around her shoulders. She even managed to smile instead of flinch when he touched her.

“I know, he’s already being such a bridezilla, to the surprise of absolutely no one,” this wasn’t one of her usual haunts, AU and Vixen too full of pain and anger from those she loved for her to effectively play the part she needed to. To be the girl who didn’t care, who didn’t wake up screaming and burn with such anger. “He wants like, five ‘pre nuptial’ festivities, as befitting the token gay Redgrave. His words, not mine.”

Pierce tossed his head back and laughed with such genuine ease it almost startled her. She joined a heartbeat too late and she almost convinced herself it sounded real.

“I’m sure you will throw five absolutely spectacular parties, O, don’t stress your pretty little head.” She allowed him to ruffle her hair. “You always have the very best shit anyway, one day I will get your connection’s contact information, count on it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ophélie smiled sweetly, lacing a bit of promise into her words. “It is far more amusing to me for you to try and convince me, when you know I always share the goodies they find me.”

***

“Our third and fourth contestants are Stuart and Marina Gray; she trained in St. Petersburg and was with the Royal Ballet until last year when they eloped. I think we talked about it then,” she tilted her head to the side trying to remember as she showed Théo the last account she had pulled up. “Yeah, it was like a whole big thing because she was incredible, like, poised to be the next big star. Anyway they both rely on drugs - her to stay skinny and him to stay interesting. He might also be in a bit of financial trouble, and she’s told nearly everyone about it.”

***

“To London’s youngest retiree and a year of wedded bliss!” Stuart and Marina were too high to catch the casual cruelty in Ophélie’s voice, and happily returned her toast.

“Bliss sounds so boring, we aren’t that boring yet!” Marina looked at her husband pointedly, he shifted in his seat, taking a long sip of the champagne Ophélie bought them.

“Of course not, darling, weren’t we just out with your friends the other day? I am way more interesting than the old men who follow them around.”

“Who needs interesting when you have wealth?” Marina snapped back at him, and Ophélie laughed like this was all a fun little game they played regularly.

“An old married couple already,” Ophélie teased, “once you stop arguing I have a very belated wedding gift.”

***

“Through extensive, stimulant-fueled social media sleuthing that would make MI-6 proud, I have confirmed that all of them are individually connected to and frequently party with women who I would bet my life savings work for that Russian pimp as her b girls, I think they are called. You know - the talent-less wannabe vixens that they don’t actually give a shit about?”

“Also,” Ophélie continued quickly, she was nearing the crux of her proposal and slipping close to nervous rambling. “They all individually know me, and believe I have this excellent drug dealer who I am very protective of. But being the generous and delightfully fucked up little disaster socialite they all think I am, I am always willing to get extras for my friends.”

“Everyone knows that I am a coke girlie, but we have been known to dabble in other things.” She avoided his eyes here, knowing he wouldn’t exactly like how far she was willing to put herself at risk for them. So she wouldn’t tell him all that she tried on herself to see how noticeable the difference was between the MDMA her contacts were used too and that which was laced with something extra. Just a taste, nowhere near the amount that would seriously endanger her - the amount she planned to use.

“I promise I have a point,” Ophélie looked back up at Théo. “My friends, and I’m using that term very loosely, always ask for extra whenever they are going to be with the b girls, apparently their mistress keeps them on a tight leash and they have to go outside of the family if they want to partake.”

“So, my proposal is that I, through one or more of my contacts, provide them with laced drugs. I was thinking MDMA with Fentanyl. I’ve got the dosage figured out for maximum damage. And when a dozen or so young women overdose at the same club on the same night, it will be detrimental to their business. Not only because they lost those girls, but also who’s going to go to a club where all that shit happened?”

She took a breath, the first one in what felt like a few minutes.

“If we need revenue to do things, then so do they. And this isn’t something like destroying a building where there’s insurance. If this goes the way I hope then it will take time to recover.”

Théo’s face grew brighter as Ophélie spoke, giving him more of a smile than he had in what felt like weeks. He appreciated the thought that went into it, the research (he had used social media for similar purposes and could appreciate how much time was spent when it never looked that way), and the fact they were going after the money. Going after people, that was a given, but people were replaceable. But the money? That was much harder to replace once it was gone.

“Do you think that you can use your connections after to do more damage? Spread a few extra rumors, just for extra impact. The drugs are a fantastic idea, and I think you’re in a very special position with these connections of yours to do more damage on this scene than we could.”

Ophélie blinked, almost in shock.

“Really?” She barely let herself hope that he’d consider her plan upon asking him to listen, and this? This was more than she’d even considered. “I mean probably - no, definitely. I have more connections, these were just the people that made the most sense for this thing.”

She took a deep breath and let herself feel that glimmer of possibility.

“So you’re saying yes? I can do it?”

“I am giving you a tentative yes, but I have a few more questions,” Théo nodded, “more of a let’s workshop it than any of these are full deal-breakers. I just want to know how are we going to make sure that this doesn’t turn into everyone dying. It’s war, as much as I hate it, we can justify a few deaths because technically they are a product as disgusting as it is to say about a human. But most of the B-girls are human trafficking victims. I just want to make sure we’re not turning this into a mass casualty event. That might get the wrong eyes looking at where those drugs came from, where normally OD’s and a bad reputation aren’t going to do anything but damage the business.”

“Ok yes, anything.” Her enthusiasm was almost overwhelming, but she bottled it up, like all things. At his questions her face fell into a mask of cold cruelty.

“Mass casualty? Like when they walked into a fucking hospital and repeatedly shot people I love? Or is this more of an argument for their innocence? Like I was innocent the Halloween before last, and instead targeted and brutalized for my fucking name and nothing more?”

She’d suddenly become almost preternaturally still, the only movement her fingers lightly trailing the scar that still figured prominently across her chest, its mate only recently masked by the peony tattooed down her spine. The peony Varden helped her design.

“They are distant enough that it won’t be instantly connected to us. And even if it does get back to me, none of these contacts know of my involvement with you all, so the organization will be safe.” Unspoken - I will take the fall.

“Fee,” Théo quietly said, taking her hand and squeezing it, “what they did to you was horrific. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it. But we’re better than that. If they get to the hospital there’s a chance that they’ll be able to properly get out. The Russians will still be hemorrhaging their money, the club's reputation will be in pieces, they’ll be losing their B-girls. Maybe one will even leak Zhanna’s name in an attempt to get safety. And that’s all your plan. I just care about you and having that many deaths on your conscience, it’s not easy. It can haunt you, and that’s not me saying that you’re fragile because you’re so much stronger than I think you even give yourself credit for. It’s so easy to lose yourself when all you want is revenge, and honestly, after losing Noa, I don’t think that I can handle losing another person who I look at like a sister.”

But we’re better than that.

“I’m not.” She stood quickly, pulling her hand from his and turning away to pace the small office as the rest of Théo’s words sank into her skin. “I’m not better than that, because I don’t know how else to convince everyone that I’m here and that I’m all in. I’ve tried other ways and been told I would only get in the way.” Ophélie wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t - her hands combing quickly through her hair as Étienne’s rebuke echoed through her mind.

“I don’t know how else to convince everyone I love that I am here to stay. I know I ran last year and I know I shouldn’t have. But it doesn’t matter, I don’t want it to matter. Because if I hadn’t met Paul, if I hadn’t been brought into this group, this family - I don’t know who I would be right now, I don’t even know if I’d still be around.”

“You didn’t know me then but like, Théo, I was a fucking mess as a teenager and in uni. To this day I am shocked I made it this far. And I know that, without you all, and if I’d done what I was supposed to do - I’d be married off to some politician who resents me, who once tried to push me down the fucking stairs because I was 23 and reckless and kissed his rival. And I would hate myself and my life.”

“So no, I am not better than mass murder. I would burn this fucking city to the ground if it meant that the people I loved were safe, and that they knew how much they meant to me.”

It was a sentiment that Théo understood well, one that he had felt so many times since he had found out about the attack on the hospital. Truly he wanted to burn the city to the ground too, for all the hurt it had caused them. Noa would have wanted them to do as much damage as possible, everyone was in mourning, hurting, trying to find a way to make it feel somewhat better. And as much as he hated doing it to victims, sometimes people had to be a means to an end.

“Do it,” he finally said after a few seconds of thought. Théo had always been softer than most in his position, maybe it was time he changed too. “Think about what I said, but do what you think is right. But if Sofie asks, the deaths were accidental. Understood?”

“Fuck.” The reminder of Sofie and her own too familiar past with those Ophélie might endanger hit her. The blonde sank back into the chair, all fight fleeing her body at once. “I forgot about that.”

Fuck. Théo supported her. He really did. She saw the violence flash in his eyes, the danger etched upon the soul of one she loved as brother, and finally beheld him for the threat that he was - the thing that had earned him that ring. And he would back her, would fight for her plan and support her - it was so much more than she was prepared to feel.

Ophélie swallowed a sob and then looked at him - gray eyes more akin to silver flames.

“You’re right,” she whispered, “I wouldn’t be able to handle that much death, you all know I’m an emotional disaster anyway.” Ophélie shook her head and blinked back tears.

“Okay but what if I decrease the dosage of fentanyl but increase the time frame, and instead of just using one of the connections - we use them all. Sustained, longer term impact. I can make it so it’s not as fatal but still harmful to people who haven’t got a tolerance.”

***

She started with Peirce.

He’d always had a thing for her. It was almost too easy - despite the fact that she needed two glasses of wine before she felt calm enough to text him. By the time he responded and made his way to her place, Ophélie had fully settled into the shell of the girl he expected her to be. All smiles and laughter, playful airy flirtation and that almost ephemeral affect of never quite being fully focused on the present. The dark and twisty bits, all those sharp edges and messy anger were locked away; bottled up and shoved down into that deep part of her that was the well of unwanted emotion. She sometimes wondered if she’d ever find the bottom.

She laughed at his jokes and did not think about loss. He played right into her hand, practically tripping over himself for a bit of the MDMA she said her source had around, and conveniently offered to take it off her hands when she complained about having too much. And because she was nothing if not committed, Ophélie even convinced him to try a bit with her, right then, to fully seal it. She knew which ones were safe, of course, but the high was still tainted with a low beat of anxiety - what if she’d fucked it up? What if he saw right through her? What if? What if? What if?

They finished off the wine and she got her pulse under control.

She let him kiss her and felt an echo of guilt, like it was something she’d forgotten. She kissed him back and carved out the guilt. It was hard to be engaging, enthralling, when one felt like an open wound. When she took him to her bed, when she looked up at his heartbreakingly beautiful face and saw only greed and arrogance - Ophélie decided she no longer cared what happened to him beyond her own purposes. Still, she let him fuck her. She did not let him stay the night.

When he was gone she went back to the roof. Not for vertigo and grief, but the sobering silence of the still cool spring nights. The next ones would be easier, particularly now that she’d gotten over that unfortunate moral dilemma about involving people in a war they had no idea existed. She thought of Noa & Dan, of the children they’d never get to see grow up and all the love and life they should have had. She felt their absence like a haunting, and it was suddenly easy to justify her choices.

Everly only needed an extended lunch and five mimosas, her desperation to impress her new found model friends doing little to mask the deeply seeded daddy issues manifesting in her need to outdo his third wife. Ophélie was only three mimosas in, sober enough to recognize the hypocrisy in her own judgment but far past caring. She played the generous friend well enough, it seems, that Everly didn’t even take her up on the offer to sample them before slipping the tablets into her purse.

They made promises to do this once a month, at the very least, and Ophélie knew she wouldn’t see Everly again.

Somewhere between numb and tipsy, her anger so smothered under that mask that she couldn't even summon an ember of it to hold on to, she sought out Olivier. His own rage burned hotter and darker than hers, and they spent the afternoon in bed where he skillfully coaxed out the real Ophélie until she could finally feel something again.

She always asked Olivier to stay the night.

Marina and Stuart were the easiest, or maybe it was just that she no longer cared what happened to the people it was convenient to use. She’d been playing the volatile couple off each other for weeks now, ever since she first considered her grand plan. Careful messages meant to look thoughtless, some well placed rumors, and three separate happy hours/cocktail parties (one with him, one with her, and one with them both) - and Ophélie had them. After slipping them the tablets - seriously it's nothing, my connection had way too much and then gave me way too much, I know you’re good for it, just get me next time - they both texted her separately asking to know if she got any more.

That night, for the first time in what felt like months, Ophélie did not wake from a nightmare.

***

May 30

Monday, she’d argued, was not the best day for the type of business her targets were involved in. But the general chaos of the broader French plan won her over. The initial shock would only make the long run damage she willed upon them that more effective.

A part of her, a very very tiny, incredibly reckless and utterly stupid part of her, considered going to see it for herself. Security at these sorts of venues had been an issue she and Théo had to reckon with but they decided the odds were in their favor with a greater number of contacts. So Ophélie knew that her walking into The Basement (what a gauche name for a club, really what was the thought process here, what vibe were they going for) would likely end with a gun to her head, or worse. Still - for the space between seconds, she let herself consider going and watching her own triumph or failure.

Instead, Ophélie stuck to socials. By now she knew intimately who to follow and what to watch for this kind of news - all through burner accounts of course which may or may not have initially been created to stalk her own fans/haters. She felt like a live wire, liable to spark at any moment with her anticipation and anxiety. It was the lack of control that bothered her the most. She’d created this plot, neutered and crafted it almost lovingly to the most effective damage, but now she had to watch it unfold out of her hands - at the whims of people and forces she did not know.

She paced, her restless energy jerking at every sound from her phone or ipad. She regretted waiting it out alone. She would have driven any company mad with her pacing and questions and stress.

Then the rumors came in, the messages in various groups, the vague instagram stories and tiktoks. Ophélie gave herself one minute to luxuriate in this feeling of utter success, to bask in the power trip of her manipulations. After the minute was done she texted Olivier to come over. Then she texted Théo.

Ophélie: unconfirmed reports have 1 or 2 down at vorya and 3 (!!!!!!) down at the basement Ophélie: which is a shitty fucking name for a club but i digress Ophélie: did i actually maybe pull this off théo?

#self para tag tbd #we told you this was melodrama | development #this is long af but i warned yall #the fee plot! we are very proud of her #its mostly rambling #apologies in advance

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years ago

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New Life Pt.2

Word Count: 1,730

Characters: Young!Derek Hale, Zach Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore (brief), OC Characters, Reader

Pairings: Zach Salvatore x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: angst, small fluff, TW: death

A/N: okay! since my other series is coming to an end, I decided to start this one up again. This series is a crossover between The Vampire Diaries and Teen Wolf, taking place after the Hale fire, in Mystic Falls. You do not need to know anything about Vampire Diaries to read this series, nor do you need to know much about Teen Wolf.

A/N 2: This series is sort of a pre-series to another series that I have planned after this one, which will take place around season 3 of teen wolf, and around season 4-5 of Vampire Diaries

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Happy birthday (Y/N)!” you heard your mom’s voice as she walked into your room, waking you up.

You smiled softly, wrapping your arms around her.

“Thanks, Mom,” she stroked your cheek softly before kissing your forehead.

“Come get ready, there’s a surprise for you downstairs, okay?” she said.

You nodded your head before she hugged you once again.

“My baby’s growing up,” she said to herself, before leaving your room.

---

Your body shot up in your bed as you opened your eyes, taking deep breaths. You were still in your room at Zach’s house. You let out a shaky breath before looking at the clock. It was only 4. There was no way you were going back to sleep now.

You continued to sit on your bed for a while, taking a breath while you thought back to the events of the past year. It had already been one year, something you seemed to have trouble gripping. It was now April 16th, your 16th birthday came.

You changed your clothes, trying to keep your mind off what today was as you tied up your hair, leaving a note for Zach that you’d be out on a run. Music and running always seemed to help clear your mind. You raised the volume as high as it would go, plugging in both headphones before you walked out of the house.

---

“Mom?” you walked downstairs, finding your boyfriend instead of your mom.

“Jay, what are you doing here?!” you exclaimed happily, while he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You thought I was gonna forget your birthday?” he smirked, making warmth flutter throughout your body.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” you felt a slight blush on your cheeks.

“I wouldn't miss it for the world. Now, come with me.”

---

You dug your nails into your hand, walking into school.

The only thing you could think of was your mom. You knew what happened was all your fault and your mom was the one who had to suffer because of your dumb mistakes.

“Hey, happy birthday, (Y/N),” you heard Dean’s voice from behind you as you turned to face him.

“Uhm, thanks,” you gave him a tight smile.

“You idiot!” you saw Emily yell at Dean, before smacking his arm.

“Ow!” he exclaimed.

“Don’t you remember last year? She doesn't want to celebrate her birthday this year!” Emily whisper-yelled, and seemed to forget about you standing right there.

“Em, leave him be. I’m fine. But we need to get to class,” your and Emily’s relationship was confusing to most people.

The two of you hated each other, but were always the first ones in line to protect one another from anything or anyone. Sometimes, she would annoy you, but other times you were grateful, not that you’d ever admit that to her.

Emily wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“You don't have to pretend to be so brave,” she squeezed you in a tight hug while you groaned.

“Emily, really, get to class,” you saw Derek approaching you, looking a little upset.

Oh, great

“I was under the impression that you were gonna give me a ride to school today,” he started.

“Oh, what made you think that?” you were slightly annoyed by him while he groaned.

“Because! I asked you last night! You said that you’d give me a ride,” he replied.

“Okay, wolf-boy, calm down. It was an accident,” you rolled your eyes, leaving Derek standing there with his mouth open, in shock.

Just as he thought the two of you were becoming friends.

You walked into your first-period class, sitting in your seat.

----

“Mom?” you groaned softly, putting your head up as you squinted your eyes, looking around the dark room.

“Mom!” you felt the ropes tied to your wrists and ankles as panic began to rise in your chest.

“Mom!” you cried out again.

“(Y/N)! I-I’m right here,” she cried out.

The lights flipped on, while you saw your mom in front of you, tied to a chair with blood dripping from wounds.

Your eyes watered immediately, as you tried to pull yourself out of the ropes, screaming out for your mom.

“(Y/N), calm down,” your mother’s voice remained calm while you cried softly.

“Mom, you’re bleeding,” you cried.

“I know, I know, kiddo. Just stay calm,” she said softly.

“W-Who… Who did this?” your voice was shaking as you saw a familiar figure walk into the room.

“J-Jay… what are you doing?”

---

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” you peaked your head up, hearing your teacher call your name.

“Yes, sir,” you cleared your throat.

“What’s the equation?” you flipped through your notebook, before reading it aloud.

“A squared plus B squared plus C times x plus D times x plus E,” your teacher gave you a look before looking back at the board.

“Did you just fall asleep?” you heard Derek whisper to you.

“Shut up, I’m trying to learn,” you replied.

“What's going on with you? Really? You're acting differently,” he asked.

“Shut up, Derek,” you said again.

“Derek, (Y/N). Detention,” you rolled your eyes, clenching your jaw before glaring at him.

His face softened before he leaned back in his chair.

“Now, open up to page 384…”

---

“You got me detention! I’m allowed to be mad at you!” you slammed the door shut as you and Derek entered the Salvatore house.

“I already said sorry! I just wanted to know what’s wrong-”

“Have you ever considered that you’re my problem?! You with your constant blabbering! I couldn't care less about you and your life!” you yelled at him, while he flinched.

Your face softened before you clenched your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“Don’t… I’ll leave you alone,” you could feel guilt immediately washing over you as he walked away, going to his room while you heard the door close.

“(Y/N)?” Zach walked to you, looking concerned.

You groaned softly, before shaking your head.

“I was being dumb,” you replied softly.

“What’s wrong?”

---

“What did we ever do to you?!” you screamed, watching as your boyfriend tied a cloth around your mom's mouth, holding a knife to her throat.

“She killed my parents!” he yelled.

“N-No, you’re getting it confused, o-okay?” you cried.

“So your mom isn’t an ex-hunter?” he scoffed.

“S-She… She is but she never did anything wrong!” you cried.

“My family was innocent!” he yelled. you saw his eyes glow grey, while he growled at you.

“Tell her what happened, Mrs. (Y/L/N)...”

---

“(Y/N),” you heard Zach knock at your door as you wiped your tears, sitting up.

“Is Derek okay? I-I didn't mean to scare… I would never hurt him,” you said softly.

“I think he was just surprised. But he’s fine. He’s actually asking how you’re doing,” Zach sighed.

“I’m fine,” you shrugged.

“Do you think I forgot what today is?” he sat down on your bed next to you.

You looked down, keeping your focus on your hands.

“What happened… what happened was terrible, and there's no way to fix it or make it go away,” Zach started.

“Zach, stop,” you shook your head, blinking back your tears. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your words.

“I-I…” your voice cracked as you dug your nails into your palms.

“Every time I close my eyes, I can see my mom dying. I-I can see Jay killing her,” you buried your face in your lap, trying to hold back your cries.

“You never told me that before,” he said.

“I thought you’d be mad at me,” you said softly.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“B-Because… you were ready to propose to my m-mom, and then I got her killed,” he caressed your back, trying to calm you.

“It wasn’t your fault. Things happen for a reason,” you knew he wouldn't be able to convince you it wasn't your fault, so you just nodded your head.

“How about you get some rest?” he kissed your forehead softly while you nodded before he left your room.

---

“Your family killed people. That’s why they’re dead,” you spat.

“(Y/N), just stop. Jay, I-I’m so, so sorry,” your mom apologized.

“No! It’s too late! They're dead!” he yelled.

“Jay, please. The past is the past. Please don’t hurt her,” you begged.

“She killed my parents and I had to watch. Now you’ll know how it feels,” you screamed out while he dragged the knife into her throat, while you watched the blood drip from her throat, her body going limp.

You cried loudly, screaming out as you pulled as hard as you could, trying to break free of the ropes.

“(Y/N)? Oh my god,” Stefan ran to you, taking the ropes off as he gasped, looking at your mom.

You fell into his arms, sobbing as he wrapped his arms around your shaking figure, trying to calm you.

---

You stood in front of Derek’s door, debating on whether or not to go in or not. You felt guilt for what you did to him, but were never one that was good with confrontation.

You froze in front of the door, before it opened, Derek’s surprised look in front of you.

“(Y/N),” he replied.

“Hey! Uhm, well, I just wanted to say…” you started, your voice drifting off.

He crossed his arm, leaning against his doorway, with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, don’t strain yourself,” he muttered.

You gasped, smacking his arm lightly before shaking your head, earning a small chuckle from him.

“I wanted to say sorry for snapping at you, okay? You don’t have to be an asshole,” you replied.

“Wow, thank you for that, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been on you,” you could hear the sarcasm in his voice as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m trying to be nice,” you scoffed.

“Oh, yeah, I forgave you hours ago. It’s just fun to see you like this,” he laughed.

“Derek!” you started.

“I know it’ll kill you to talk about. Now, what do you say we just go to a movie, and you pay, okay?”

“Oh, god, yes,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder before the two of you made your way downstairs.

“Oh, happy birthday, by the way,” you raised an eyebrow, before he gave you a look, walking out of the house with you.

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pfft-yikes · 4 years ago

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I can't find the anon button so i volunteer as tribute-- top shino vs. bottom shino? Shino trying kinks with s/o? thank you monarch, mighty delicious bones.

I’m back with a request that has been sitting in my drafts for quite sometime now! Sorry about that @boneeating--baastard ;;

Anyways, this will be pretty long: I hope the length helps makes up for my horrendous post gappage ^^;;

*tw!*

- if harder kinks/BDSM aren’t your thing or make you uncomfy, I would skip this particular prompt. Enjoy!

Top!Shino - NSFW

Shino is very quiet mostly because he gets interrupted or ignored all the fucking time, so it made you wonder if things would be like a silent in the streets freaky in the sheets sort of thing

It’s definitely that and then some ♪

When you first started dating, obviously he wasn't gonna flat out go "Sweetheart, I need you to understand that I'm kinky husband material and will make you beg for me to touch you"

In fact, saying such a sentence would be quite embarrassing

He didn't want to push that on you though, or scare you with kinks he likes or wanted to try

However, this changed one night

You were staying over at his place during his off day; you'd already slept together before so it wasn't a big deal or anything

One thing led to another and next thing you know, you're both going at it

Something seemed different though, with both of you. Maybe you never noticed it before, but

..was Shino holding back.?

I mean to be quite honest, you’d gladly do it whenever Shino wanted to, however he wanted to

Y-You just never openly said this

And another thing; you're way too turned on right now, more than usual

Oh n o

✨ Ovulation ✨

You've never done it when you were ovulating!! You really didn't want your inner sluttiness to come out, Jesus ChriST-

..B-But..I want more..

You tried your best to hold back, but all of a sudden you find yourself staring Shino in the eye, wriggling around

"S-Shino.."

"..D-Do me more..Fuck me so hard that my pussy memorizes your shape..p-please?"

??!

"..I won't hold back anymore, then."

All of a sudden he slams himself into you, sending jolts down your spine

You can't help but turn into a moaning mess in front of him, scrambling to grab whatever you could on the bed

He grabs your small wrists with one of his big hands and pins them above your head

He lifts one of your legs up and places it on his shoulder, pushing himself deeper inside you

"..Tell me what you want. I know you have ideas in that cute head of yours."

"P-Pull my hair..c-choke me.. I'll do anything you want..I want more.."

He stares at you and caresses your face, running his thumb over your cheek, then your lip

"Is that really what you want?"

You lick his thumb and look up at him;

"Yes, sir."

Shino.exe has stopped working

He moves his hand to your neck, careful to lightly squeeze your arteries and not your throat

He feels your pussy throb and squeeze him harder, making him groan

"You're so eager. Cute."

He flips you over and pins your arms behind your back with one hand while grabbing your hair with the other

"Arch your back for me, sweetheart. I want you to feel everything."

He pounds you deep, making your legs shake

You had to have came at least 4 times now

Shino starts groaning more, and you feel his dick twitch inside you

"P-Please cum inside me..I want it so bad.."

"You really want me to take the condom off and do that? What an interesting request."

"I'm on birth control.. Please..?"

"Please what?"

"P-Please, sir?"

"How naughty."

He kisses your back while he slips himself back into you, raw this time

"Mm, fuck.."

He feels amazing inside; his dick is so warm.. Why didn't you get on birth control sooner?

His thrusts get faster and harder, putting you over the edge once more

He cums inside you, filling your hole up until it spills out

You thought that was it, that it was satisfying enough to stop

But you both sensed it wasn’t.

All of a sudden Shino picks you up off the bed and slams his hands on top of yours against the wall

Without missing a beat, he slowly pushes himself into you while licking your ear

“Let’s see how well your birth control works, darling. Keep your hands on the wall.”

Shino firmly plants one hand on the small of your back and gently reached around and placed his other hand’s fingers in your mouth

He starts picking up the pace, going deeper and deeper

Your head feels so light; it feels so good it’s dizzying

Shino notices how shaky your legs are and mentally captures this moment, chuckling a bit to himself

He turns you around to face him, and lifts you up, tucking his arms under your knees

He kisses you so deeply that the kiss itself could make you cum at any moment

You wrap your arms around him as he slams you down onto his dick, both of you getting close

Shino groans in your ear, pushing you to the edge

He feels your walls convulsing, and releases more hot liquid deep inside you

He carries you to the bed: you lay there shaking, while he holds you and plants small kisses on your hands

"Shino?"

Oh god she hated it

"..Hm?"

"..C-Can we try bondage next time? I-I have other ideas too, i-if you want to try them.."

Heart eyes for yOoOoOuU-

"Of course. Let's help you to the shower for now."

Bottom!Shino - NSFW

You two have been getting more comfortable with each other, both in bed and in general ever since you guys stopped holding back

There’s been a lot of experimenting throughout the last few months, just as promised

In fact, Shino probably knows you better than yourself in some ways now

You learned a lot about him as well in the process too; however

It’s still a bit difficult to read him, he’s very good at keeping a poker face;;

There is..s-something you could try, if he’s okay with it of course..

E-Even if it’s embarrassing for you, it’s for a good cause!! Understanding how to read your significant other is important for a healthy relationship!

The weekend rolls around, and you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to do on your way to his place

Shino opens the door before you even knock

“Oh, hello Shino! Did I make you wait too long?”

“Of course not, I just knew you would be here soon because of my bugs. Come in.”*

*This is a half truth; in actuality he was simply really excited to see you after that bullshit mission with Naruto and Kiba and couldn’t sit still

You go inside, give Shino a hug and quick peck on the cheek, and say hello to his contained bugs

They were really happy to see you

You spent the afternoon chatting about what’s new, and listening to him vent about being stuck with the two idiots again during his last mission

After helping him in the kitchen with dinner, you decide that now is as good a time as any to prep for spending the night

“Shino, I’m going to go take a quick shower, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll be checking on my beetles.”

...She was acting fidgety when she was grabbing a change of clothes from the dresser.*

Yes, you have your own drawer of clothes at his house uwu*

He glances towards the drawer in question

But..I don’t want to mess with her things. Hm...

The water just stopped, so I’ll just wait until she comes back.

While Shino contemplated why you were acting sus as fuck in the bedroom, you were trying to calm down before you finished drying your hair

Feeling a bit nervous, you walk out of the bathroom sporting a simple oversized t-shirt and some baggy shorts

Shino looks at you, and gives you a kiss on the back of your hand when you sit down on the bed next to him

Oh thank God, he doesn’t suspect anything

“You seem anxious.”

So that was a fucking lie-

“I-I’m not really-..I-I mean, it’s just that-”

...

“I was wondering if..m-maybe we could- you know..d-do it.?”

“..? Of course we can. I wouldn’t refuse.”

Shino gently lifted your chin and gave you a simple kiss, slowly deepening it

You could feel yourself getting dizzy, but remembering what you had planned brought you back to your senses

You gently lean on top of him, pushing him back onto the bed

You look at him, and nervously say

“C-Can..can we try something different.? I kind of want it to be a surprise, so.. I-I guess what I mean to say is, d-do you trust me?”

Shino gives you a small smile and nods

“Of course.”

“O-Okay then; please, t-tell me if anything is uncomfortable, or if you want to stop, alright?”

“Mhm.”

With that, you grab his hands and start kissing him once more, slowly moving his hands above his head

You take his shirt off, and right after his arms get free from his clothes-

-you proceed to tie his hands together with a pre-knotted silk.

“...So..This is why you’ve been anxious.”

“W-Well, that’s..part of it..

What does she mean “part” of it?

You take your baggy clothes off, revealing black lingerie you hid in your bag, then straddle your tied up partner

“Oh. I..didn’t expect that.”

Drats, he’s still composed as hell! Time to start kicking things up a notch

Shino was not, in fact, composed at all

At least not internally; his heart couldn’t handle this sort of pleasant view

He didn’t think you would take this sort of initiative

You proceeded to leave hickeys all over his neck and chest; he’s always so covered up that it’s not like anyone besides you would see them anyways

You kissed your way down his stomach, and felt how hard he was

You pull down his pants and eagerly caress his dick, planting a small kiss on the head

Looking up at him, you drag your tongue up his shaft and swirl it around the head, slowly taking it in your mouth and sucking

She did not just do that-

While I’m tied up.

You noticed how he seemed to want to buck his hips the deeper you took him in your mouth

You looked up and noticed him turning a light shade of pink

You wondered if you could..

All of a sudden, Shino flinches

!? Did she just..s-start deepthroating me.?

He couldn’t help it; Shino brought his tied hands down and grabbed your head, thrusting his hips against your mouth

You heard his breathing get shaky, and all of a sudden you felt his hot load in the back of your throat

“! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Shino looks down to see his girlfriend with tears streaming down her face, staring at him while she swallows what’s left of his cum

“Y-You..”

“Hey, Shino..”

You crawl on top of him, rubbing your pussy on his dick

“..Cum for me more..”

Oh my god, she’s completely turned on. It’s like she’s a totally different person..

You lean back and slip him inside you

You let out a moan, and you feel him throb inside you

Oh..he must like hearing me moan

You started to slowly pump yourself up and down

He started thrusting himself into you, wanting to pick up speed

..but you kind of felt like being a brat ✨

You stopped, then started grinding, swiveling your pelvis in circles

He seemed..irritated?

“So, you decided to tease me..”

All of a sudden you feel yourself fall backwards, and find Shino hunched over on top of you

Looking at the silk around his hands, he seems to have wanted to pry himself free a few times..it’s kind of..c-cute..

He kisses your neck, nipping you here and there out of frustration for not being able to grab you

You turn yourself around, pushing your ass against him in this huddled doggy position you both found yourself in

You can feel how warm he is, and notice how much his dick is twitching; you’re more than positive he wants to stick it back in

You slowly push yourself back onto his dick, mewling at the sensation

You can hear Shino release his breath above you, as if he was holding it

Noticing that his hands are right in front of your face, you grab the silk-

And pull his weight forward while you thrust your hips back

“Hn..! W-What..”

Did he just kinda moan??? ✨

You start quickening your pace, causing the man looming over your body to swell inside you

You slow down, and crawl out from under him, leaving his dick agitated

“Leaning over for so long probably isn’t very comfortable when you’re restrained like that, right?”

Shino sits up, a bit confused about what the fuck you’re talking about; He honestly wasn’t even thinking about it because of how good you felt

“I..suppose.”

You crawl over to him and wiggle yourself between his arms, straddling his lap

“This is better, don’t you think? Now I can kiss you all I want!”

“..marriage..”

“Hm? Did you say something Shino?”

“No. This is nice; I get to look at your cute facial expressions while you’re in my arms. I like it.”

..h-he still finds ways to embarrass me even in these situations;;

Shino chuckles to himself, seeing you turn a bit red

He leans forward and presses his lips to yours, progressively making it heavier and hotter

Without even realizing it, you find yourselves grinding on each other, you both getting slicker the longer it goes

You finally lift yourself up, and push yourself onto his throbbing dick

You both pant out of relief, and ease yourselves into a steady pace

You don’t even care about the fact that he’s thrusting himself into you, that you aren’t in as much control anymore

You both just really need to feel each other

“I can’t..resist anymore..Sorry, sweetheart.”

You feel Shino grab hold of your hips; you forgot that the silk hardly made an impact on your size differences

Then without warning, he slams himself deep into you, causing you to dig your nails into his back

You can’t help but cling onto him, grabbing a fist full of his hair

Shino groans into your neck, sucking and biting your skin

He feels you cum, your legs shaking

The sensation of your walls squeezing his dick is too much; his cum is so hot it feels like you’re melting on the inside

He came so much that it’s practically dripping out of you

You untie his hands, and he instantly holds you close to him.

“I’m surprised.”

“About?”

“You taking this sort of initiative. I didn’t expect it.”

“But you found out I was up to something before I even did anything, silly.”

“I didn’t know you’d do this though. But it was cute. I like seeing another side of you.”

With that, you both goof off and cuddle for a while; bath time can wait just a bit longer

I hope you guys enjoyed it! I might put up a poll to see which character out of my requests to do next, I don’t want to put out too many of the same character at once;;

Until next time! ✨

#headcanon #headcanons #x reader #shino aburame headcanons #shino aburame headcanon #shino headcanon #shino headcanons #shino x reader #shino aburame x reader #shino aburame #shino

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oppabimbab · 5 years ago

Text

risky and freaky | kim namjoon

genre: smut

starring: namjoon x reader

synopsis: he has been busy with online meetings but you’re horny. what a risky combination

words: 2,730 words ( a very quick one )

tags: slight dom reader, handjob, bl*w!job, fingering, slight dom namjoon, cl*t tease, degrad!ng, unprotected s*x, hot!namjoon, submissive reader

side notes: namjoon is really hot for some unique reason so i made this after have been stucked with jk and taehyung fics for so long. actually, im a bad writer idont even know what im doing but tq so much for reading this :D

STAY SAFE EVERYONE. WEAR YOUR MASKS AND NEVER GO OUT IF YOU DONT HAVE ANY IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO.

A faint chatter sound can be heard from Namjoon’s studio as he is casually playing a sneak peek of his new composed song to his team through the Zoom meeting.

This has become his daily routine ever since the quarantine started in your area because of the damn virus. Honestly, you don’t really care about quarantine since you’re doing it with your boyfriend. That means you have so many hours to spend with him, doing things both of you love and plus, you could rest as much as you want.

Few days of quarantine seems nice and all but things turn into something different than you thought. Namjoon becomes extremely busy with his online meetings. From days to nights, he will do some sort of camping in his studio—completely forgot that he has life other than those damn composing shit. Especially his sex life.

You’re not happy, obviously. Rather than being sad or angry, you feel more needy and desperate every time he didn’t give you the attention you needed. Plus, Namjoon in that casual t-shirt and sweatpants? Of course, you’re horny. He is so hot.

You lean against the door—looking at him who probably can’t see you over there. But, surprisingly, he sees you.

He looks away from the screen and glances at you for few seconds while raising his brows before he mouthed, “What’s up, baby?”.

You don’t say anything as you help yourself from pouting at him. It’s really frustrating. Not gonna lie. He is there in one of the God-knows-how-many meetings he has done with the other members. The meeting seems chaotic and loud with laughter from the boys.

After few seconds, you come closer to him and lean against the desk—being cautious for not getting in the camera so the boys won’t see you in Namjoon’s shirt with only panties and no bra.

“Guys, I need some break. Go on without me,” he says as he turns off the mic and camera before he brings his eyes to you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Do you need something?” He places his big hands on your hip, giving it a small pat while he stares into your eyes with curiosity.

“I miss you,” you say. What a clingy bitch.

He raises his brows in amusement before chuckling.

“I’ll be done in 1 hour. I promise you okay?”

You frown.

“You said that 2 hours ago?”

“Did I?”

You nod with frowned face. So he wants you to wait for another hour before you could suck his cock? Hilarious.

“I really promise you. I’ll give you whatever you want once I’m done with these. Alright?” he rubs your thigh casually while smiling but little did he know, it’s arousing you in the wildest way ever. You get butterflies everywhere and the knot in your stomach is getting crazy.

Before you could say anything, Namjoon averts his attention back on the screen before turning on the camera and mic. He signals you to wait or probably leaves the room. The meeting goes back to the most chaotic ever—leaving you here with crazy arousal. What a torture.

He might want you to wait for another hour but it doesn’t seem that way to you. Not at all when you slowly get off from the desk and get on your knees. Quietly, you slip in between his legs under the desk. You immediately witness such horror look on Namjoon’s face as he looks down at you but nothing comes out from his mouth.

He can’t say anything, can he?

“I’ll be quiet,” you whisper at him and he seems speechless. Without letting him to protest, you trail your hand closer to his clothed shaft under that thick sweatpants. Namjoon almost jerks when you finally palm them inside your small hand. A familiar liquid feels coming out from your cunt at the touch.

“So big, your cock,” your eyes stare at the bulge—completely mesmerised at the size even this is not your first time touching or even seeing it. Namjoon’s eyes are glued on the screen even you clearly can see how intimidated he has become—all because of your touch. Of course. He likes this.

“You like this?” you whisper in a very needy voice while looking at him.

You keep grabbing, rubbing and touching the shaft but there is barely any whimper or such moan from him, making you want more. You need more.

His eyes become bigger when you reach for the strap of his pant and immediately pull them down. He catches your hand and mouthed, “What are you doing?!”. Completely ignoring him, you pull the sweatpants down until his bulge under the boxer finally come to your sight. Without no doubt, you grab them quickly and it’s making Namjoon to let out a small whimper, a very faint one.

“Huh? What’s wrong with you dude?” you heard Yoongi’s voice from the screen. Namjoon immediately turns pale. Holy shit, this is fun.

“Nothing. It’s cold here,” he makes up some weird excuse while rubbing the back of his head. You know he wants to look down at you but it will just make the other boys become suspicious so he just let you do whatever you want to do. That’s the best part.

Enough with the clothed service, you pull his boxer in such speed—making his huge cock sprung to your sight in a very delicious way. You could feel how wet your panty is.

They’re huge, long and hard—your mouth probably is going to sore so fucking bad after this. You stare at it for few seconds before you look up at him, waiting for his reactions.

You meet his eyes. They’re darkened. His pupil seems dilated. Gosh, he is fucking hot.

“Do you want me to suck it?” you whisper while giving a soft peck on the bruised tip. There is a pre-cum on it and you lick it clean—causing his hips to move slightly. Namjoon don’t give any reactions but he immediately runs his fist in your hairs before pulling your face closer to his shaft.

It’s crazy that he could keep such a straight face while his dick is this hard. You smile before opening your mouth to take his length into your mouth—completely burying his hardened shaft inside your mouth until the tip reaches your throat.

As you’re adjusting to his size, slowly, your head starts to move up and down—sucking every parts of his cock. You never take him fully before because of his size but this time, you try to taste every parts of the length and you’re not disappointed of it even you feel like choking yourself. He jerks his hip towards you, reaching your throat before you could hear another faint whimper coming from him..

Honestly, it’s not only him. You feel good too. Licking, rubbing and kissing the veins along the cocks—you try to help yourself from moaning no matter how good this feels like. You trail a finger to your wet clit and touch it —spreading the cunty liquid all over them. The damn meeting really makes you and him become this oddly quiet for something erotic. You definitely aren’t this quiet when giving or receiving sex.

Slowly, you pull down your panty and flinch a little at the cold on your bare pussy.

Wanting to see his reactions, you look up while clenching your mouth around the hardened shaft and pumping them in your hand up and down. The veins in his neck and arms are popping to the point you don’t really care about anything else right now. He needs to wreck the fuck outta you now. The saliva keeps drenching along your neck—making the wet sound echoes through the room.

“Baby.....,” you moan as the knot in your stomach is driving you crazy.

“Hsss. Babe, I—ugh fuck,” he curses, out of breath. It’s pretty loud for someone who is in a meeting but you don’t really care about it.

“Baby.....I want you inside me,” you mewls—rubbing his cock in between your hands while looking at him straight into the eyes. You never been this needy before, what exactly quarantine has done to you?

Without answering you, he suddenly stands up on his feet as he fists your hair harder before thrusting his hip even deeper into your mouth—fucking your mouth like an aggressive beast. A soft moan escapes your mouth as you try to catch up with his pace.

“Yes, yes. Take my big cock with that pretty mouth of yours,” He grunts in every thrust without taking the eye contacts off you Tears prick in the corner of your eyes but it feels too good for you to stop.

After few more thrust, you could feel his cock grow bigger and harder as it twitches inside your mouth. You know He is getting closer when he breathes faster and a small breathy grunts come out from his mouth.

“Do you want to taste my cum, baby? Are you going to swallow it all, huh?” his deep voice is echoing throughout the room—making it’s hard to not moan at the pleasure.

You nod softly. He smiles before he takes his shaft out of your mouth with a loud pop—rubbing the length for few seconds as his seed is plastering on all over your face and mouth as you already stick your tongue out like a puppy. Namjoon is twitching when he cums—probably feel really good the oral you just gave. You lick every drops of the white semen coming from the tip—cleaning them by sucking the cock for one last time.

“Fuck, you’re freaky, do you know that?” he says in breathy voice—running a hand through his hair while his dick still few inches away from your face. Still hard as fuck

“Are your members okay with us moaning just now?” you ask, innocently while still licking his cum on your lips. You know he’s got them camera and mic turned off.

His jaw is clenched, showing off the veins along his neck. He is mad, huh.

“Get up,” he commands seriously and in a blink of eyes, you did what he told you to do so. The crazy thing is you never want to look away from his sexy eyes.

“Turn around and spread your legs wide,”

Hiding a smile, you turn around so you’re facing the screen and it’s immediately making you blush when you see his friends on the Zoom meeting. They surely can’t see what both of you are doing now but this honestly feels like they are looking at you right on the eyes while you do the nasty deed.

Before you could say anything, a scream escapes your mouth just right after he thrusts his length deep from behind inside you—stretching your walls with the throbbing cock with no mercy. Namjoon don’t even let you to adjust with his size as he starts to move back and forth—forcing his hip onto you. Your eyes are rolled back at the sensation. He is fucking huge inside you and the way his cock fits in your cunt—Holy shit, this is heaven.

“Mmmm—nghhhh,” you moan through gritted teeth as he found your sensitive spot and abuse it over and over again. Nails are clawed into the desk, your body arched in such desire. This feels so good, just like you wanted.

“Moan as much as you want. I know my big cock is stretching your pussy so well,” he whispers in your ears before you could feel his pace quickened. Both of you are grinding on each other, making you tremble inside his embrace. You throw your head back and scream his name.

“Namjoon....Nghh, like that, mmm,” you beg, holding on to his firm arms for support as he bangs himself inside you. Your body bounce every time he pumps himself inside you.

“You’re a fucking nasty slut. Sucking my cock during my meeting like that,”

“Yes!! Oh fuck,” you scream with eyes closed. Breath hitched, legs trembled, mouth opened.

“You want them to know you’re getting fucked tonight? Huh? You want them to see how good I fuck you?” he bites your neck, not even slowing down his pace. Namjoon reaches the mouse to turn on the camera but you stop him immediately.

“No, don’t do that,” you say in between moan and whimper. He chuckles.

“You don’t like it? What do you want then?” he pulls your hair slightly while the other hand is on your hips to synchronise your pace with him.

“You,”

“This?” he grunts as he thrusts even deeper—giving your ass a few slaps as he grope your tits in his other big warm hand, pinching the nipple to bring another scream from your mouth. Namjoon stares at his length getting burried in your pussy while biting down his lower lip. He probably feels as good as you do.

“Look at how dirty you are. Begging for my cock like a nasty kitten,” he bites his lower lip—hiding a satisfied smile.

The slapping sound and your lewd scream are filling the room along with the chatting sound from the boys in the meeting. It’s a weird combination but none of you cares about it.

“Your dick feels amazing in my pussy. I—fuck, Namjoon. Yes, yes, yes!!! like that,” you scream when the tip reaches your walls. Holy shit.

Sweat pricks on your body. Your vision goes blurry. Namjoon brings you closer to him as he finds you stumbling on your feet.

Sticky liquid keeps dripping down your thigh before your legs start to feel wobbly as you are reaching for the climax. The knot in your stomach is twirling like crazy, wanting to release the cum from the cunt. You clench around him—he groans out loud before putting one of his finger into your mouth. Like a good girl, you suck on them long fingers.

Both of you moan. Like crazy.

“Gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, Namjoon. Shit, I’m cumming now,” you scream with tears prickling on your eyes—grinding on him even more to increase the pleasure so that you can cum in peace. He is pumping into your sweet spots more and more, not giving a fuck at your begging.

“Cum on my dick, slut. Coat me with your cum like you always do,” his voice is calm yet aggressive to the point you feel nothing but him.

And you did as he told you. Body keeps flinching everytime the sticky juice coming from your pussy—coating every part of his long dick. He groans at the warm feeling before he starts to fill your pussy with his semen—the same one that fills your mouth.

“Fuckkkkk, this is good,” he grunts.

Both you and him moan out loud—taking each other’s seed before he pulls out of you. Silence fills the room as you both catching some air from the intense fuck you had as you lean against his chest.

“Baby...” you call him, almost losing your voice.

“Hm?” he hums against your neck.

“They’re waiting for you,” you chuckle while looking at the screen. He shakes his head.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Namjoon mumbles as he shuts down his laptop without saying anything to the boys before he swings you across one of his shoulder—causing you to scream in surprise. Your pussy is still throbbing.

“I’m gonna fuck you all night baby. So hard that you don’t even know how to walk tomorrow,”

#namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon smut #rm smut #seokjin #jin #suga #yoongi #j-hope #hoseok #jimin #jungkook #taehyung #bts smut #bts #bts imagine #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #kpop #rm

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outofangband · 4 years ago

Text

Masterlist/Explanation of the Dark Arafinwë verse

Other masterlists

Maedhros is attending a formal event near Alqualondë and is accosted by another elf. Unable to wrangle the truth from the ages of pre-existing biases and feuds, Teleri wardens arrest both the accoster and Maedhros who finds himself fighting against his own memories. When, to his very great surprise, Arafinwë himself intervenes on his behalf, Maedhros is brought back to the palace to be kept under supervision until the matter is investigated. (More details at the end notes)

CW: forced stripping (non sexual), abuse of power, callous disregard of past trauma/exploiting trauma responses, dissociation, gaslighting

Edit: I’ve had some people tell me that the gaslighting in this story is very difficult to read so I wanted to give an extra warning for that element

Tag list: @iwenttomordor @elarinya-nailo @mozart-the-meerkitten @tears-and-lilies @much-ado-about-whumping

“Strip.”

There was no malice in the command, simply an almost weary calm. Nelyafinwë was aware of his own eyes widening just as a sense of unreality came over him. The soft warmth of the evening felt suddenly oppressive and the clean and comfortable room he had been lead into twisted and distorted. He took a step backwards and his half uncle raised an eyebrow.

“I know you carry weapons upon thy person, Russandol. For rather obvious reasons I cannot allow you to keep them.”

The room did not come back into focus but Maitimo gave a small sigh, apprehension as much as relief. He raised one booted foot and undid the laces, pulling out a small blade and handing it over to Arafinwë who pocketed it with a small nod of acknowledgment. Maitimo then undid the other boot to show there was nothing in it.

Arafinwë looked impassively at the other elf, fingers pressed together at his chest.

“It would not be very prudent to simply take thy word, Russandol. Remove the rest, I will give you something to wear.” Maedhros’s gaze traveled to his face, his own expression of startled disbelief. He waited for a few moments for Arafinwë to leave or turn away. Arafinwë does not.

Maitimo swallowed, aware of the tingling, almost trembling in his arms or legs. He started on the buttons on his tunic so it fell into two sides, revealing the scars on his chest. Including the numerous iterations of kinslayer carved or tattooed into his flesh. He winced as he thought about this, not wishing to force Arafinwë to view another reminder of what had happened here so many years ago.

But he handed the tunic over over. Arafinwë set it and his boots on the bed, more of an examination table than for rest. He gestures for Maitimo to continue when the Noldor prince pauses again. Next come the trousers, slightly scuffed from the altercation that had landed him here in the first place. The heat rises to his ears and he can no longer maintain any sort of eye contact, directing his gaze to the floor instead.

Maitimo procrastinates pulling off his leggings until Arafinwë makes a soft sound of impatience, jarring him back to the present. The present where he is standing almost completely naked in front of the king of the Noldor in Valinor.

“I was there when Angamando fell and I have worked as a healer. I know you are scarred. Please remove the rest.”

Maitimo hands over the last of his clothes and finally Arafinwë looks away from him, gathering up his leggings, tunic, trousers and boots along with his jewelry.

“Stay here, Russandol. I will bring these to my guard to examine.” He starts towards the door.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Maitimo sees that the beaded bracelet Rôg had crafted for him is visible in the pocket of his trousers. He longs to hold it, to rub the smooth stone between his fingers as he does when the memories of the past intrude so vividly into the present.

“Lord Arafinwë?” He starts to say but the look on his half uncle’s face, that same impassive, cool interest, prevents any more words from leaving him and he merely shakes his head and waits as the other leaves.

...

Arafinwë returns nearly half of an hour later and Maitimo has not dared to move, even to try and cover himself. Loathe as he is to admit it to himself, any scolding or reprimand he might receive is likely worse than the shame of being so exposed. The door is closed, perhaps it was locked.

The king moves past him to take up his previous position. His expression has not changed.

“I am afraid you will have to be restrained for the night, Russandol. I do not have guards to spare.” Maedhros looks up at him, his heartrate spiking again.

“I do not need to be restrained, My Lord” he says slowly, carefully, “I am hardly going to attack you nor anyone else, naked and with no weapon.”

Arafinwë studies him. “I have absolutely no idea whether or not you will attack another should you become frightened or angry. I cannot afford the possibility that you enter such a state and harm someone. Lay down,” he gestures to the narrow bed before continuing, “This is a process that would typically be done by our wardens. Are you not grateful you are not suffering this under the hands of strangers?”

Maitimo was more acutely aware than ever of his nakedness as he took the few steps forward and lay down on his stomach. He hears rather than sees Arafinwë come to his right side, using a strap made of a soft leather to fasten his hands down. He urges himself silently to breathe through his nose, to remain calm. By the time his ankles were also strapped down, he had to actively count his breaths to keep them steady.

“Open your mouth.” This next command is spoken as calmly, coolly as the others, it is only Maitimo who is experiencing the dizzying panic. He doesn’t obey this time. Arafinwë approaches him again, kneeling beside his head and holding out what seem to be more of the leather straps.

“Your teeth are a weapon, Russandol,” now there is something like sarcasm, mocking in the king’s voice, Maitimo is sure of it.

(Is he sure?)

“You can hardly be surprised that you are not trusted here. Do you not understand I have made this process significantly better for you? Open your mouth. This will not hurt you and it is only until the morrow.”

Maedhros tastes cleaned leather as something is forced into his mouth, preventing him from moving his tongue. More straps are fixed around his head. Arafinwë is careful to keep his hair out of the way of them so it does not become caught or tangled. But the parts that press against his face irritate the old scars made when less considerate hands strapped similar devices over him.

Finally, Arafinwë takes a step back. Maedhros’s shallow breathing is softened slightly by the piece in his mouth.

“Good. Get some rest, Russandol. I will check on you in the morning.”

To be continued

Author’s note: This type of gaslighting used both implicitly and explicitly throughout here, the “no, of course there’s nothing sinister about me doing these things, that’s just how you’re interpreting them because of Angband and it’s really offensive of you to compare me to the Dark Lord” is incredibly insidious and makes me really angry! Unfortunately it will only get worse from here.

Author’s note: Maedhros was caught off guard here and his shock as well as his guilt is used to manipulate him into thinking this is legitimate procedure however he soon starts to understand more how dangerous Arafinwë and please know that he becomes an absolute nightmare to hold hostage. Or well he’s not currently a hostage but he’s soon to be

There is more about why Ara is doing this linked in the AU masterlist and more will become known as the story progresses!

More backstory here:

Maedhros is attending a formal event near Alqualondë and is accosted by another elf. Unable to wrangle the truth from the ages of pre-existing biases and feuds, Teleri soldiers arrest both the accoster and Maedhros who finds himself fighting against unpleasant memories of being confined and restrained. He’s alone in his cell, trying not to flinch whenever a guard comes by and alternating rapidly between the instinct to fight and scream and lash out and the instinct to hide and be subdued. He sees the guards stop and bow and he stands and walks to the door and sees Arafinwë. To his astonishment, he’s told that Arafinwë has agreed to have him released into his custody. He can’t leave the city for a few days, at least not until the matter gets sorted out. Maedhros starts to refuse just on instinct, saying it’s not necessary, etc. Arafinwë looks loftily at him.

“Do not speak foolishness, Russandol. Come with me.” And the guards unlock the door and nod to him and he can’t exactly insist on staying in prison especially because he is actually innocent in this encounter so he agrees reluctantly and follows Arafinwë to his carriage.

#the silmarillion #maedhros #finarfin #Arafinwë #splinters like jewel shards #short writings #saved

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lesetoilesfous · 4 years ago

Note

sensory overload with fenders for the bad things bingo? (specifically fenris, if you’re up for it)

Godddd I had too much fun with this and I very much hope you enjoy it. Also I hate with a burning passion the fact that Hawke can give Fenris back to Danarius. I hate it so, so much.

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: Sensory Overload

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Sensory Overload, Slavery, Panic Attack, Vomiting

Pairing: Fenders (pre-relationship)

Characters: Evil/Red Marian Hawke, Fenris, Anders, Varric Tethras, Isabela, Danarius

Additional Tags: Hawke tries to give Fenris back and the KWC says no thank you, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 1,503

“Take him.”

Fenris feels as if he’s been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. “What?”

Danarius smiles: a slow, creeping sort of smile that Fenris has seen him wear a thousand times. “Interesting. I’ll make it worth your while, of course. The power of the Imperium will be at your disposal.”

Feeling dizzy, Fenris stares at Hawke. Her pale features are set and rigid with cold disdain. “Don’t do this, Hawke. I need you.” The words fall out of his mouth like pulled teeth, dragging at his insides with a sharp ache.

Hawke's lips curl back in a sneer. “You’re on your own, Fenris.”

Everything inside of Fenris collapses. It reminds him of something he’d read, recently - a book by a Qunari philosopher about the stars - a woman who hypothesised that sometimes, when a star died, it collapsed into an inverse of itself, dragging everything around it into darkness. Behind him, Danarius’ voice sounds both far, far too close and impossibly far away.

“What shall it be, Fenris? Will you throw your life away?”

Fenris can’t breathe. He feels is if the floor is swaying beneath him, shaking like a ship at sea. He remembers dancing on these floorboards, with Isabela...Fenris looks up, but the gold and brown and cream of the Hanged Man’s interior is a spinning kaleidoscope of colour. His mouth moves, and his tongue feels numb and fuzzy with static. “No, I will go with you.”

One of the guards moves, and the clanking scrape of their armour sounds painfully loud. Fenris sways away from them as they drop a purse heavy with coins into Hawke’s hand. Danarius speaks again, his voice cutting through the fog of sound and colour, weaving through Fenris’ ears like a thread pulled through his brain. “Lovely! Here’s a token of my appreciation, Champion. I’m sure I can arrange to have something more...appropriate sent along soon.”

The wooden floorboards beneath Fenris tilt, and he finds himself stumbling forwards toward his master and the red-headed elvhen woman, Varania, his sister. Fenris stares at his feet, which seem far too far away from him, and tries to remember how to breathe. His face feels hot, and his lungs are aching, desperate for more air. Danarius smiles, and the hairs on the back of Fenris’ arms and neck lift. “Come along, everyone! The boat leaves for Minrathous within the hour.”

The group begins to move, and Fenris feels as if the entire tavern is folding around him like a Rivaini paper flower. His vision tunnels, surrounded by darkness, but everything is still too loud and too bright and too hot and how had he never noticed the smell in here? Every time he breathes he feels as if he’s inhaling a thick stew of sweat and leather and steel polish and sex and alcohol and piss. He gags, falling forward. Behind him, Hawke doesn’t even move. Beside her, Fenris can’t make out Anders, Isabela and Varric in the blur of colour and noise. He still can’t breathe. The past ten years feel unreal, rapidly fading from his memory like a dwindling dream.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

Varric’s drawl is immediately preceded by the familiar thunking of his crossbow, and Fenris thinks for a moment with relief that the rogue is going to shoot him in the head and end this nightmare before it begins. But the bolt doesn’t hit him, or Danarius, and he turns - slowly, too slowly, as if he’s moving in treacle - to see Hawke’s eyes rolling up into the back of her head as she collapses like a sack of potatoes.

Isabela draws her knives. “Oh, thank the Maker.”

Anders swings his staff from behind his back, twirling it in a wreath of blue fire that leaves burning imprints on Fenris’ irises. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Fenris turns back, forcing himself to lift his head despite the ten tonne weight that feels as if it’s resting on him, and sees Danarius’ face twist into a mask of fury. He sees Danarius’ hands claw, and the mercenaries charge, and shades bleed up from between the floorboards of the tavern like oil dragged from the earth. Then everything shatters into a swirling kaleidoscope of shattered stained glass and colour. Fenris can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t hear. Everything is too much: too loud, too bright, every movement feels like a needle in his eyes, every sound like a knife stabbed into his ears. His tongue feels heavy and burning with the overload of spice and salt in the air, and his nose is thick and choking on smoke and sulphur. His heart is thudding so hard in his chest, Fenris thinks he must be trembling with it. Blindly, he moves towards what he thinks might be the door, and doesn’t care if someone stabs him in the back for it.

Fenris makes it three feet into the cool Kirkwall night before he crumples to his knees and vomits, retching again and again until his stomach is spasming and his eyes are burning with useless, burning tears as if he’d pressed his face into a chimney full of smoke. Arms shaking, dripping with cold sweat, he kneels on the cold white sandstone of the street, washed silver by the moon, and shudders until the world stops spinning. It stops slowly, the brightness in his eyes turned unnaturally light, every colour too saturated and too vivid, even out here in the dark. The barking of Fereldan mabari, normally a strange kind of comfort, punches his skull every time they break the night, leaving Fenris shuddering with recollections of Hawke and her mabari and every time he’d saved her life, every time she’d saved his. He’d trusted her.

The sea breeze is too salty on Fenris’ tongue, which feels as if it’s been coated with grease and spices. He spits until his mouth is dry and his throat is sore, and doesn’t know how long it takes before he can breathe easily again.

When, at last, the world is no longer a Fade-saturated parody of itself, Fenris realises two things. First: the sounds of combat from inside the tavern have long since faded. Second: he is not alone.

Slowly, he forces himself to look up from the familiar sets of black and brown boots to Anders and Isabela. Isabela looks uncharacteristically sincere, and Anders’ wrinkled features are creased with worry. Twenty feet away, Varric is talking to a small huddle of Carta dwarves next to a cart with Hawke’s unconscious body. Fenris nearly throws up again, and Anders starts forward, totally ignoring the puddle of bile and vomit on the stone in front of him. Fenris flinches back, violently, and Anders freezes.

Finally, Fenris finds his voice. “Danarius?”

Anders’ jaw tenses, and some of the worry clears from his features. “Unconscious, in chains, supervised by Merrill and Aveline. We drugged him with magebane, too.” Anders hesitates, and glances at Isabela before going on. “We thought - we wanted you to have the final say. On what we do with him.”

Fenris nods, and breathes, pushing himself further away from the sick to sit on the stone. He glances towards Varric and the carta. “Hawke?”

Isabela’s lips purse into a thin line. “Varric drugged her. I say we slit her throat. Varric’s keeping her drugged in a safehouse until we come to a group decision.”

Fenris nods again. The breeze pulls across the open stone courtyard, tugging at Anders’ and Isabela’s hair, and cooling the sweat on the back of his neck. He looks at the pirate, and then the mage. Varric is walking over to them, now, too, Bianca loose in his arms. “Why?”

Isabela’s features flicker, briefly. Anders’ expression crumples. “Andraste, Fenris, because we love you.” He says it so easily. As if it’s something they’ve said to each other before. And then he keeps talking, because it’s Anders, and he always has more to say. “Also, I don’t know if you’ve been listening to me at all for the past ten years but, "the right of every man, woman and child to freedom in Thedas" does, in fact, include slaves. I know, I know, a manifesto about freedom being anti-slavery, it’s improbable right? You’d think I was healing all those elvhen slaves over the past decade with my own sweat and blood and tears for some secret evil agenda. But no, it’s actually pretty simple. Slavery’s one of the foulest, most cursed, pus-infected tumorous boils on the Maker’s taint, and so’s anyone who fucking supports it.”

Fenris thinks it’s a strange world, indeed, that he finds himself comforted by the mage’s rambling. Varric steps forward and reaches out, offering a hand. “What Blondie’s trying to say, Fenris, is that we’ve got your back.”

Fenris hesitates, staring at Varric’s hand, his mind full of Hawke’s bright blue eyes and strong jaw. Isabela unfolds her arms from where they’d been tightening across her chest. “No slaves, no masters.”

Fenris takes Varric’s hand.

#bad things happen bingo #dragon age 2 #fenris #anders #varric tethras #isabela #my fic #gaysolavellan #anon

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Text

the impossible replication of desire

Summary: Body sharing fic!

Warnings: panic attacks, their trauma (Alex has a dream of Michael’s exorcism & a dream of Jesse Manes’ abuse, super easy to skip), angst, happy ending

ao3

Alex was tired.

His steps were heavy as he climbed the stairs of his porch, heading towards the front door of the cabin. All the lights were off, but that didn’t mean anything. Michael’s truck was out front. He was home.

Home. Alex nearly flinched at his own thoughts, carefully unlocking the door in slow motion before pressing in the code on the keypad for the third lock. This wasn’t Michael’s home and he wasn’t Michael’s family. He made that clear more than enough times, but Alex’s home was open to him and so was the security of his bunker. It was all Michael’s if he wanted it and therefore here he was.

After not only being taken by his father, but discovering his house practically ransacked, Alex put his house up for sale and moved into the cabin. A chunk of money he got from the sale was spent on security systems. It was more difficult to break into than the White House now.

He knew Michael would be here. He felt safe coming home and knowing he would be there, all of the notifications from his security system and the easy access to his security cameras letting him know long before he could see his truck there for himself. It was nice.

Still, the house was dark as Alex let himself in and then locked the door back behind him, throwing on the chain latch for extra measure. There was light coming from the bunker, but other than that it was just as he left it.

“Did you eat dinner?” Alex called down to the bunker, flicking on the light to the living room to drop his stuff down. He then moved to the kitchen, turning on the light in there and opening the refrigerator. It was basically the same, only restocked with water bottles. He’d thank Michael for that later. “I guess not.”

Alex yawned and pulled out a frozen bag of vegetables from the freezer, turning the oven on to pre-heat. He moved as if on autopilot as he walked past the bunker and towards his bedroom. It was a little weird that Michael hadn’t responded, but maybe he was finishing something up. Alex changed into something more comfortable even while leaving his prosthetic on. He’d take that off later.

“Guerin? Did you fall asleep down there?” Alex asked when he emerged from his room and Michael was still nowhere to be seen. A familiar wave of anxiety shot through his system, his stomach tensing with nausea as he immediately assumed the worst. Which was stupid because he was probably just wearing headphones.

Convincing himself not to worry, Alex put a layer of tinfoil on a pan and then poured the frozen vegetables onto it before putting it in the oven. Then he went and sat on the couch while he waited for it to cook. His phone, however, couldn’t keep his attention as his eyes kept drifting to the bunker. Michael was okay. He was safe in Alex’s bunker. He was just listening to music or too in the zone. There were a billion reasons why we didn’t answer.

“Dinner’s ready!” Alex called when twenty minutes passed and he pulled the food out of the oven. He listened quietly‒no response. “Michael?”

Deciding that he could use the excuse of dinner and it was his house, Alex went to the opening of the bunker. He held on and carefully started climbing down the latter. He hated how many times he would look down to check his foot placement, though he could easily blame the fatigue for his anxiety.

“Michael, what are you‒”

Alex froze as he turned to the work table. Michael stood by it, eyes wide, lips parted, and his hand a new piece of alien tech Alex didn’t recognize. He looked catatonic and Alex could feel his heart thumping in his ears.

“Michael?” he asked, taking a cautious step closer. No reaction, not even a blink or anything. “Hey. Hey, are you alright?”

Alex slowly walked closer and gently touched his shoulder. He didn’t move. Alex swallowed hard, slowly counting down from three mentally to keep himself calm.

“I’m going to take your hands off of this and then I’m going to call Isobel. You’re alright,” Alex said out loud, more for himself than Michael.

He carefully touched Michael’s wrists and he was abnormally cold, colder than even any human should be, and Alex became increasingly aware that he wasn’t sure he was breathing. He had to count down from three again, head spinning and jumping to conclusions he shouldn’t.

“You’re fine. I know you’re fine. You’ll be fine. This is fine,” Alex repeated, panic swarming his brain like a cloud of bees that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he swatted. He managed to stay relatively calm nonetheless.

And then he accidentally touched the alien tech in the process of peeling his fingers off of it.

A bright light flashed through Alex’s eyes and a piercing white noise flooded his hearing, cutting him off from most of his senses as something body-slammed him and knocked him to the ground. His mind was too fuzzy to construct thoughts. All he could do was breathe and wait for it to pass even as thoughts and memories crowded into his mind too fast to catch. Half of them he was sure weren’t even his own.

And then it all went black.

When Alex came to, his body ached and his head was throbbing.

He sat up slowly, his eyes instantly falling on Michael who hadn’t moved. The sight almost brought Alex to tears‒he felt overwhelmed. He was tired and he hurt and he was overwhelmed. It was like his body was stuffed with emotions that he wasn’t prepared for. Which‒honestly wasn’t that abnormal. Maybe he should go take his anxiety meds before bed…

‘Do I actually look like that?’ Michael asked suddenly. Alex would’ve been relieved by the sound if maybe Michael’s mouth had moved or maybe he’d heard it with his ears rather than inside his own head, alongside his own inner monologue.

“Michael?” Alex asked weakly, still feeling too much.

‘Don’t freak out, okay?’ Michael said, still inside his head. Tears pricked Alex’s eyes and he started breathing heavier. ‘Alex, hey, don’t freak out. It’s okay. I’m here‒literally. And‒oh, fuck, I don’t like that. Do you feel like that all the time or is it just right now? Is it because you’re panicking? Do you feel this way each time you panic? Because your thoughts are too fast for me to even process and you feel like you’re suffocating which would be bad because I’m in you too and that’s gonna be hard to explain on the death certificate, ha. If you are freaking out, maybe‒’

“Do you always think this much because shut the fuck up,” Alex snapped, meaner than he meant to but he couldn’t think. He needed to just think and he couldn’t when Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain and‒

Oh god, Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain.

‘Hey, my thoughts aren’t that bad. But don’t worry, I think I can sort of keep you out of most of them because I can only hear your loud ones‒I think. I’m gonna need you to calm down before I know for sure.’

“Michael,” Alex whispered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “Can you please get out of my head?”

There was silence for a moment and Michael must’ve been right that they could only hear the loud thoughts. But‒Well, he could still feel him. He could feel the way he was struggling. If he was in front of him, he would probably have that cocky little smirk and his head tilted back. He would act like he was chill, like he wasn’t scared, maybe he’d pretend to be angry.

But Alex could feel the fear. It was a cold, quiet, deep dread.

“You don’t know how to get out, do you?” Alex asked carefully.

‘No.’ Michael replied honestly. Which. Fair enough. ‘But I’ll figure it out!’

“Figure it out,” Alex said, “Do… do you even know what happened? How are you in my head? What did you do?”

‘Okay, so, working theory, the alien tech I was messing with was working through my consciousness and when you touched it, it freaked out and put me in the wrong body. So, your body. So my entire consciousness is in you. Kinda kinky if you think about it.’

“No,” Alex whispered, closing his eyes and slowly bowing his head. He didn’t like this. There were a billion ways to feel, but his brain could only say how much he didn’t like this. He didn’t like hearing someone else’s voice in his head.

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, ‘Alex, are you okay?’

“You’re in my fucking head, what do you mean am I okay? Of course I’m not okay, are you okay?” Alex said, heart thudding in his chest and head still swimming. He was tired and he hurt and he needed to eat and he needed Michael out of his head.

‘Let’s go eat the dinner that you made,’ Michael told him, ignoring the question which was answer enough, ‘Then we’ll come see if I can fix it.’

“I don’t like this,” Alex said.

‘I know. Me neither. But you need to eat, I can tell you haven’t eaten all day,’ Michael instructed. Alex swallowed and lifted his head, looking up again.

Michael’s body was still frozen in place, empty of all thought apparently. Leaving him there was just something Alex wasn’t prepared or willing to do. He pushed himself to his feet carefully, ignoring Michael’s ‘whoa’ reaction.

‘You’re tired,’ Michael said. Stating the obvious, loud enough for them both to hear.

“Yeah, I worked all day,” Alex said. Michael didn’t respond. “I’m laying you down.”

Alex walked over to Michael’s body, carefully reaching out and touching his cheek. He was still cold. He moved his thumb to rest under his nose. He wasn’t breathing. Alex gave a shuttered breath.

‘It’s just in stasis, it’s alright, don’t freak out. I’m still alive.’

“Don’t freak out,” Alex repeated with a scoff.

Still, he was careful as ever as he put one hand on the back of Michael’s neck and the other on his waist. He made sure not to even accidentally bump the alien tech just in case that somehow made this horrific situation infinitely worse. He guided his body to the couch they’d placed in there, taking the brunt of his weight and not caring if his body ached in the process. It didn’t matter.

Michael was suspiciously silent through the entire thing, even as Alex brushed his hair back and pulled a blanket over him just in case. What if when he came to, he was still cold? That just wouldn’t do. He wanted to keep him as warm as possible.

“Can you feel hunger right now?” Alex asked after a long stretch of silence. He didn’t want Michael in his head, but he also didn’t really like the feeling of him being too silent for too long. At least while he was in his head, he knew where he was.

‘I can feel yours. It’s basically like I was just stuffed into your body. I bet I could control it if I tried.’ It was said in a rather intrigued tone, that of a scientist and nothing more. But it still shot a pang of panic through Alex’s system. He’d experienced not being in control of his body before and he wasn’t keen on a repeat, this time even more extreme. ‘Sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked carefully, his hand deceptively steady as he scraped off the vegetables onto a plate. They weren’t hot anymore. It was cool enough to touch the pan. “Like you’re trapped in my head?”

‘Well, don’t say it like that.’

“So, yes,” Alex said, bringing the plate to the table. He sat down and held his fork in his hand, staring at it. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

‘Alex. Eat.’

And he tried. Michael was quiet. He could tell he was still there, the buzzing of his thoughts still affecting Alex despite the fact that he was keeping them from overpowering Alex. It was almost impressive how quickly his thoughts were moving, constant unfettered thought process. He was suddenly hit with a memory of Michael, young and pretty and hiding so much from him, saying how loud and chaotic his thoughts were and how music helped quiet it.

The buzzing slowed for a moment.

‘Is that how you saw me?’ Michael’s voice asked him, curiosity in his tone more than anything else. Alex blinked. He was starting to feel a bit numb to the whole thing.

“So we can share memories,” Alex said bluntly, dread building in him and dissipating into his bloodstream. He couldn’t care about that. If he cared, he’d think more about things he didn’t want Michael to see and he would be loud about them.

He leaned into the numbness.

‘I’m going to fix this,’ Michael said with a newfound determination. A bitter smirk found Alex’s face. He wondered, not for the first time, about all the things that Michael didn’t want him to know.

“Okay.”

Alex finished half of the vegetables before putting them in the refrigerator and telling himself he was definitely going to eat them later. Similar to the way he was definitely going to get a water filter since he didn’t trust the water that came to the cabin but he didn’t want to just keep buying water bottles. Eventually, he would, hopefully.

Michael’s thoughts buzzed and Alex dragged himself back to the ladder down to the bunker. He was tired and his body ached and he really didn’t want to be climbing up and down the latter so many times. Couldn’t Michael accidentally discover this horrific thing on a day he didn’t have work?

‘Right, so, this is going to be a little bit weird because I can’t handle the tech myself. You’re just going to have to listen to what I say and try to do them to the best of your ability. Not saying that you aren’t as capable as me, I’d never say that, you’re so smart and good at everything you do. I actually saw your work the other day, that website you were coding for that little mom and pop shop in town and that was really impressive how quickly you can type. I didn’t know you did freelance work like that either, is that for extra money or for a hobby? I wonder how complicated it would be to set up a recording system with all your tech stuff, I can’t imagine it’d be‒

“Michael,” Alex said slowly, a headache already coming on. He suddenly had a new appreciation for Michael Guerin in his own body. It was beginning to feel like a miracle that he didn’t have panic attacks every day over his own overwhelming brain. “Slow down, keep focus.”

‘I’m focused, I am, sorry.’ It was a lie. Maybe that’s why he was good with his hands, he needed something to put his energy into. ‘My point was that it’s hard for me to explain what I’m doing with my hands, so I’m just gonna try and hope for the best.’

“I’ll try.”

‘And I trust you.’ There was a pause, though the buzzing never stopped. It honestly didn’t really stop when he was talking. That alone was a bit scary. Maybe they’d need to work on something to help his brain relax.

“I trust you too,” Alex whispered.

Michael guided him through different ways to handle the tech, correcting him here and there and doing his best not to get frustrated which Alex appreciated. He tried to hold onto it while Michael’s body was still holding it and he focused really hard, trying his damnedest to send Michael back. And Michael was trying to, giving all of his focus, but no matter how long he tried, nothing happened.

‘Try holding it by yourself.’

“What if we both just get sucked in and then we’re both catatonic?”

‘That won’t happen.’ There was a pause. ‘I think.’

Alex took a deep breath and just listened, carefully peeling Michael’s fingers off the tech. It was like taking something from a corpse which was. Unpleasant. And not the first time Alex had done that.

‘Alex.’ Michael’s voice was a warning and it’d be more helpful if Michael knew what he was warning him from. ‘I’m okay. I’m not dead.’

They were friends right now. They weren’t together, but they were friendly and Michael was welcome in his house. Sometimes, they hugged. Alex knew restraint and he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Even with all of that, he couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted and turned at the prospect of never touching him again. It would be endless taunting to have his voice in his head and yet nothing to be tactile with. Nothing to touch, nothing to feed, nothing to hold, nothing to be held by.

“I know,” Alex said, pushing those thoughts down deep and pulled the alien tech into his lap. If Michael heard any of his thoughts, he said nothing.

‘Okay, do you see that thing in the top right that looks like a thumbprint?’ Michael asked. Alex scanned it and then nodded, going to reach for it. ‘No!’

“What? Why not?” Alex asked quietly, but he snatched his hand away.

‘Sorry, sorry. It’ll shock you if you don’t put your left thumb on it, but it has to be kept in the top right corner.’

“How does it know?” Alex asked.

‘Fuck if I know. Okay, put your left thumb on it and then put your right palm in the center.” Alex did as he was told. ‘Close your eyes and picture me being plucked out of your mind, through your arm, and into the piece.’

“What is this, some kind of meditation?”

‘Just bear with me.’

And Alex did. He pictured it over and over, plucking a tiny Michael out of his brain. When the first one didn’t work, he imagined different parts of his brain. Then he imagined the tiny Michael flailing like a Mii. Which really only messed up his focus because he started smiling at the idea.

‘This isn’t working,’ Michael sighed. It was weird that he could sigh in his brain. He wondered how that worked. Could he laugh in his brain? Alex couldn’t. ‘You’re distracted.’

“I’m sorry,” Alex said instantly, his spine straightening up a bit in response. He could feel the buzzing of Michael roar a bit louder.

‘It isn’t your fault. You’re tired‒I’m tired. Maybe we should go to sleep and try again in the morning.’ Michael suggested. Alex gulped softly, staring at the piece.

He wasn’t too keen on sleeping with Michael in his head. When he was awake, he could keep things quiet. He didn’t know what would happen if he went to sleep. Would Michael see his dreams? The idea in particular scared the shit out of him, more than even their current situation.

“What happens tomorrow, then? I have work. Don’t you?” Alex asked.

‘Maybe we could call in. For me, just use my phone to text Sanders. Old man has the font on his phone ridiculously big and can still barely see it, so he just has my ringtone set so he’ll piece it together. It’s not even anything cool, it’s just one of the sparkly ones that come already downloaded into your phone. I do like that I have my own ringtone though. Does that make me weird? Do you think he’d be freaked out if he knew I liked it? Nah, he’s basically like my dad. Don’t tell him that, though, I think that’d make it weird. Well, he did want to adopt me, so maybe not that weird, but‒’

“Michael,” Alex cut in, lips parted a bit as he absorbed the few words that he could, “He wanted to adopt you?”

There was just buzzing for a while and then, ‘I thought I told you.’

“No, I would’ve remembered,” Alex whispered.

‘Oh. Well. Yeah. Sorry.’

Alex swallowed and shifted, looking over to Michael’s body. He was still cold and not breathing and the whole thing was just more and more unsettling by the minute. So Alex took a deep breath and placed the piece on Michael’s stomach before standing up.

“I’ll call my superior in the morning and tell him I can’t make it,” Alex said.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He typically found that as a comfort, as sealing himself in so it was just him. But that didn’t quite work with Michael in his brain. It was just as invasive. As much as he loved Michael with his entire being, it still made his skin crawl in a way he dreaded to admit.

‘In the morning, we’ll figure it out. And if we still are struggling, we’ll call in Liz. Oh! I bet Izzy could help if she could get into the mindscape.’

“No offense, but I barely like having you in my head. If we can avoid bringing your sister in that, that’d be great,” Alex said dryly, making his way to the latter. It looked much more intimidating than usual. God, he was tired.

‘Last resort.’ Michael promised.

Alex sighed and started to drag himself up the ladder. It took way more effort than he would ever willingly admit‒but he couldn’t even keep that to himself because Michael was in his head. He, presumably, could feel how much it was taking out of him. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

Alex took his time catching his breath as he moved to his bathroom, locking the door behind him on instinct, and then paused before he made another move. He needed to wash off, but he wasn’t keen on that with Michael in his head. He was comfortable with Michael seeing his body, yes, but… That was different.

“Michael?” Alex asked.

‘Oh, um, I’m sure there’s a way I can, like, turn off. Or something? Give me a minute.’

“Wait,” Alex said quickly, clutching the counter. His breathing labored a bit as his stomach churned and Michael’s buzzing amplified. “Don’t… Don’t turn off, that’ll freak me out, I don’t want you to go away until you’re in your body again.”

It was probably a horrible thing to say that he would regret, but also the idea of Michael going silent was suffocating and he couldn’t handle that on top of everything else.

‘Okay, I won’t.’ His voice was soft, earnest. It was debatably the first time he sounded like he actually understood what Alex needed from him. Alex didn’t want to think about that.

“Just… How do you see? Are you seeing through my eyes or is it some type of omnipotent, third-person type view or… I don’t know, I haven’t read enough sci-fi books on body sharing,” Alex said, pulling out the stool that was tucked underneath the counter.

He sat down and put his hands on his thighs. He pushed down with each finger one at a time slowly, from his pinky on his left hand to his pinky on his right. He breathed in tandem.

‘I see through your eyes. Right now I see your hands, your sweatpants, your rug. I love that rug by the way, but I don’t know if you should have a fabric floor mat in the bathroom. That’s, like, a hub for mold and bacteria. Did you know that? They have rubber ones, do you think those would work? I’m going to get you one and see how you like it, I think it’d be good. Or, like, at least‒’

“Michael,” Alex sighed. He’d said his name more times today than he’d said probably ever before. He just thought so loud and so much.

‘Sorry. But, yes, I see through your eyes.’

“Is there a way for you to not look?” Alex asked. Michael was quiet except the buzzing. “This is just… I don’t think…”

‘I don’t know, Alex. Let me see, okay? Give me a second, let me try.’ Michael sounded like he really would try, so Alex nodded and let him.

There was a stretch of silence with Alex doing nothing but pressing his fingers into his thighs, keeping himself calm and grounded. He didn’t try to rush as Michael fiddled around in his brain. He wasn’t really in a rush anyway. He wasn’t eager to go to sleep like this.

They kept on until Alex’s left hand stopped pressing into his thigh without his approval. Alex stopped breathing, staring at it and trying to move it. It wouldn’t.

“Michael,” he whispered, all that panic he’d subdued rising to the surface at alarming rates. It only worsened when his hand clenched into a fist on its own accord.

Alex made a noise between fear and shock, flinching away from himself. His throat closed in on itself and choked him and his head spun and tears pricked his eyes and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t

‘Fuck! Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that‒Alex, Alex, breathe. Breathe, okay? Breathe. Move your hand, look, it’s yours, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Michael rambled and Alex felt hot tears pour over his cheeks. He clenched his hands into fists over and over, making sure he could control them.

Alex’s breathing was ragged and he was shaking, but he watched his hands and tried to ignore Michael's rambling. He slowly moved his hands to the top of his head and looked at the pole that held his shower curtain. He counted each ring as effectively as he could, trying to catch his breath. Michael eventually caught on that his words weren’t helping.

They sat like that for‒for too long. Alex wasn’t sure how long it actually was, but it was enough that, by the time he could breathe again, he was too exhausted to think about showering. He still kept moving his hands, making sure he was able to.

“I don’t like that,” Alex said, voice smaller than he would’ve liked. Childish, honestly. Helpless and out of control and childish.

‘I am so sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen, I was just trying to figure out where I could go. But, I… I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.’ Michael was genuinely repentant. Later, Alex would feel embarrassed about the entire thing. Right now, he just wanted Michael in his own body. ‘I’m so sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked, swallowing softly, “Like you’re completely out of control? Like… like something is moving for you?”

Michael’s lack of response was response enough.

Alex laughed a wet laugh and sucked a deep breath in through his nose. Hands shaking, he turned towards the sink. He wet his toothbrush with hot water and put toothpaste on it and brushed his teeth the way he did every night. Michael stayed quiet.

He rinsed, spit, washed his face, took his anxiety medication, and told himself he’d try to shower in the morning. A few more grounding breaths later, he moved to his bedroom with a wet washcloth in his hand. Alex sniffled and sat on the edge of his bed, slowly removing his prosthetic. He was supposed to clean the sleeve, but he couldn’t right now. He instead wiped his stump with the washcloth and decided it would have to be good enough.

Alex pulled out his phone and checked to make sure all of his security alarms were on and he’d already known the doors were locked. Typically, he would’ve done another round, but he was tired and overwhelmed and wanted to get in bed. He shifted towards the top of his bed and climbed beneath the blankets, wrapping himself up tightly. The lights were still on. He’d turn them off in a minute.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Alex whispered after a solid two minutes of cocooning himself.

‘Don’t be. I’m sorry for this entire situation. It’s… super invasive.’

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Alex murmured into his comforter, breathing as steadily as he could. In, out, in, out.

‘It’s unfair. I promise I’m going to fix this.’

“I believe you.” And Alex did believe him. He believed that Michael could do practically anything he set his mind to. That was the benefit of having a genius on hand.

This was just a particularly horrible situation that had Alex too nervous to think too loud.

‘You’re tired. Get some rest.’ Michael said, soft and sweet. For a fleeting moment, Alex wished he was here. ‘I wonder if my telekinesis works in your head. Do we even know if it’s physical or psychological? I don’t think we really do, or, like, not entirely. We gotta look into that as soon as I’m back in my body. Do you think I could turn the light out without making you get up? Do you mind if I try?’

Alex swallowed and clutched his blanket closer. When it was dark, it’d be even harder to fully conceptualize that Michael was in his head. When it was dark, he would hear him and it would be so easy to imagine he was just on the other side of the bed.

Still, he was right. Alex was tired. And the only way he was going to calm down was if he slept. That was easier said than done and he didn’t really want to sleep, but it was something he needed. He’d just have to play it by ear.

‘Please get some sleep, Alex.’ Michael sounded like he heard him. Perhaps he really did.

“I’ll try,” Alex said, “Try turning out the light.”

In theory, Alex did understand how the aliens used their powers. It was an intense and beautiful thing and Alex could watch Michael do it for hours. Feeling it, however, was something different. Michael focused on the light switch and Alex was all but lit up from the inside. His lips parted and the barrier in his mind he used to keep Michael out of his private thoughts seemed to shatter as they melded for a moment, too quickly to really learn anything and yet long enough to feel akin to the way he did when Michael whispered his closest secrets minutes after sex. Too intimate. Too close. Too much.

The light was off and the feeling died and the barrier returned. Michael went to his side of the brain and Alex took shaky breaths, tugging the blanket tighter around him. At least the feeling of sheer panic had subsided. Instead, blinding embarrassment and foggy pleasure and a massive amount of fatigue had filled his entire brain. Because of a fucking light switch.

‘My bad.’ Michael said, his voice warm enough to be a verbal hug.

Alex breathed in, curling up beneath his blanket and holding it to his nose. He wanted Michael so badly, more than he had in a while. Which was saying something because he typically wanted him a lot.

“You feel like that every time you use your telekinesis?” Alex asked softly. If he let his mind drift enough, he could imagine idle fingers on his hips, a foot rubbing against his calf, a pair of lips on his neck. Even then it was nothing more than phantom desires, once he hoped were too quiet for Michael to hear.

He was a little too convinced that they weren’t and yet Michael didn’t mention it.

‘No. I guess because it’s, like, through a different conduit‒not saying you’re just a conduit, but, you know, my body is built to do that stuff and yours isn’t. So it’s kinda like immediately lifting 50lbs when you’ve never lifted weights before. Deceivingly easy and then it’s not, like that took a lot of effort on my part and it’s not my body. And then‒there’s two of us, so it’s different. I kinda for a minute felt like we were bumping brains. Did that hurt? I didn’t feel any pain, but I don’t know how this works. I bet that drained you, though, you feel more fatigued. I won’t do it again. Are you okay? Talk to me.’

“Lifting too much weight doesn’t feel like that,” Alex whispered, eyes drifting closed. He was tired. So tired that he was almost a little angry that he wouldn’t be able to stay up long enough to keep his dreams away from Michael.

Michael hummed softly, amused.

‘Can you try something for me?’ he asked, soft and sweet and coaxing. A drastic tonal shift from where he’d been just a moment ago, from where he’d been for months. ‘Try talking to me in your head so you don’t have to keep talking out loud, I know that gets exhausting. Let’s see what it sounds like.’

In a different world, a different time, Michael would’ve called him baby somewhere in there. Sometimes Alex listened to him talk and could hear where he should’ve called him baby. He hadn’t heard it in so long. God, he needed to get rid of these thoughts.

‘It was draining and I’m tired,’ Alex tried, like an internal monologue but with more intent. Here is where Michael would smile at him, lean close, touch him somewhere just because he wanted to. Because he could. When was the last time Michael touched him simply because he could? Had it been a year now? More?

‘You’re thinking a lot of stuff I can’t hear. You okay?’ Michael asked.

“Does it sound like buzzing?” Alex murmured, “Yours sounds like buzzing.”

‘Yeah, a little. You don’t like the in-brain talking?’

“Might make it difficult to keep the stuff I don’t want you to hear away from you,” Alex said simply, “It’s hard enough.”

‘Fair.’ Michael was quiet for a moment, the buzzing still there.

Maybe they would wake up in the morning and this would all be fixed. Maybe this was a bad dream that would just force Alex to appreciate Michael’s existence.

But that would be fucking stupid because he already appreciated Michael’s existence. It was Michael who didn’t want him, not the way he wanted. Not the way they used to be.

Alex’s eyes slid open, suddenly not as willing to go to sleep. He was exhausted and wasn’t sure he would be able to get up in the morning if he didn’t sleep, but he didn’t want to. There was a chance that he would sleep and Michael would see things he shouldn’t and it wouldn’t change anything other than their already fragile relationship.

He couldn’t even keep his thoughts straight at this point.

‘Alex, you need to go to sleep. We’re tired.’

Alex didn’t respond, just staring at a fixed point on the wall. He shouldn’t have let him turn the lights off. The longer he forced himself to stay awake, the more the good feelings from his power faded and the more the bad ones from earlier in the night amplified.

Alex stayed awake as long as he could, fought off the fatigue, ran off the adrenaline from his anxiety.

Still, none of it was a match for how drained he was in every sense of the word.

“What are you talking about? What are you doing?”

Alex was laid on a bed of some kind, trying to fight them off. They were all faceless until they weren’t. Light would shift and he would catch angry, hateful, sorrowful, and clinical stares. They ignored his questions as they strapped him to the bed.

He was shirtless, pantsless, bare, and exposed. His ankles were held down by more straps. The people around him ignored him as he started to panic. They were all wearing black and white, all in habits and priest attire. Where was he? What was going on? What were they doing?

“Please, Father, help this young boy,” one of them said. A nun, the one who looked like she wanted to cry. Like maybe she felt bad. If she did, she didn’t do anything to help him. “Please.”

“Step back. We don’t know what this thing will do.”

The one who held his hand slipped away and Alex tried to keep himself calm.

If you’re good, they’ll let you go. If you’re good, they’ll let you go. Just be good. Just be good. You can be good.

Alex locked eyes with the priest who stood over him. He made a face, one of disgust. One of ‘how dare you think you’re allowed to look at me’ and Alex never broke eye contact.

He spoke in a different language and began to circle Alex’s body. It started off stupid: just recitations and throwing water on him. It was cold and Alex would flinch, but beyond that he didn’t do anything. This seemed to piss off the man more and he took a step to the side to speak with the other patrons. While he was doing that, Alex started to try and wiggle out of the restraints.

Before he knew it, though, they were back. The water they threw on him this time was hot. Flicks and droplets of scalding water, enough to make him gasp and enough to make him want to try to fight the restraints more. On his chest, on his thighs, on his legs, on his arms, on his face. It burned.

He kept it in for as long as he could, kept quiet, kept obedient, tried to be good. But it hurt. He screamed at them, please, please, please.

“It’s working.”

It seemed like it went on for days, hours. Alex laid there until he couldn’t cry anymore. He laid there until he was starving so much he felt nauseous. He laid there until every inch of him hurt in some way. He laid there when they pressed heated crosses into his arm. He laid there and let them brand him.

He laid there.

He laid there and he didn’t lose control.

He was going to be good.

Alex woke up with a start, gasping and clutching the sheets.

It was dark still. His dream was… not one he’d had before. Mindless, he checked his body the places his dream had said he’d been burned. It felt real. He checked his arms for crosses, rucked up his shirt to see splash marks from boiling holy water, felt his face to see if there were any sensitive spots. It took him three checks to realize it was the wrong body.

The cross brand that had faded over the years was rather inconspicuous on a man full of scars, but Alex had felt it. The parts of his body that took him a while to not flinch away from when Alex tried to touch made more sense. He just… didn’t think it was because of this.

‘I’m sorry.’ Michael’s voice was soft and nervous. Alex felt residual anxiety on top of the pre-existing bullshit from the dream itself.

“Michael,” Alex said because that’s all he could say, “Michael.”

‘Go back to sleep,’ Michael tried, ‘I’ll do better this time.’

Alex caught his breath and tightened his hold on his sheets. He wanted to curl up into his chest, to tell him sweet nothings. To touch and be touched because that was safe. Whatever he’d just dreamed was not safe. Having an empty Michael-suit in his basement was not safe.

Still, he slowly coaxed himself back to lay down. He was tired still and that dream had robbed him of any sense of being rested. And it was still dark.

‘Please go back to sleep. It’ll be okay. I’m sorry.’

“I’m sorry too.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dohman said, getting too close to Alex’s face. He would never understand why men who took homosexuality as their enemy number one decided to get nose to nose with other men when they were angry. It would be funny if it wasn’t the actual worst.

“Look, Dohman, you’re not my fucking type, get over it,” Alex said, shoving him back. That was his first wrong step, but what was he supposed to do? Let it happen? “I like men, not whatever the fuck you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dohman asked, his eyebrows tugging together further and his face turning a deeper shade of rage red.

“What‒are you upset? Aw, do you have a crush on me?”

Dohman threw the first punch and Alex managed to dodge it, throwing the second one. There were a few more, a blur of them, before he was hit in the nose and stumbled back. He stumbled straight into a different room, a kitchen.

“Alex. You’re late.”

The voice was one that instilled fear deep within Alex and he stood up a little straighter. His father sat at the head of the table, staring at him like he expected him to be late. Alex took a deep breath and went to sit at the table.

“I’m sorry, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Alex blinked.

“Sitting.”

“Did I say you could sit? You’re late. You missed curfew. Do I need to remind you what happens when you miss curfew?” he asked. Alex shook his head.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Alex held his breath as he stood up straight and went to the corner of the kitchen. He knelt down, his face towards the wall, and held his arms up. If he slumped or his arms wavered or if he sat on his feet, he would get an extra two hours. So he didn’t let that happen.

Alex listened to his father eat dinner. Listened to him put his dishes in the sink. Listened to him go into the living room and turn on the TV. He always wondered if he forgot about him, but he knew he couldn’t get up without consequences.

So Alex stayed.

And Alex didn’t slump.

He was going to be good.

When Alex woke up this time, the sun was still hidden away.

This one was less shocking, less jarring, more standard. Still, he curled up in bed and rubbed his knees mindlessly. Michael’s buzzing was there, but he didn’t say any words. Alex was almost thankful for it. He was embarrassed and still tired.

As his alarm went off to tell him to get up and get ready for work at the bright and early time of 4 AM, Alex turned it off and instead called the base. He made up an excuse about a stomach bug and how he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk giving it to anyone else and didn’t he have sick days built up? His superior agreed, told him to get some rest, and promised to see him when he was better.

Alex dropped his phone.

‘It was much sexier sleeping next to you when we didn’t share dreams.’ Michael sounded tired somehow. How did that work? Michael had probably already thought about that question a million times over.

“Yeah, it was,” Alex agreed.

He laid in bed for a few extra minutes before deciding he wasn’t going to get any more sleep. Whenever Michael left his brain, he was going to be taking a trazodone and he was going to knock into a relatively dreamless sleep for 12 hours. He at least had that to look forward to.

Alex climbed out of bed and reached for his crutches. When he got upright, it made it just that much more prevalent how tired his body was. This whole thing was draining and exhausting. His leg was sore, his head hurt, his stomach felt like he’d gotten a rather extensive core workout.

He spent his morning going through his regular routine, only this time with mindless Michael commentary. Alex had definitely understood Michael had a rather busy thought process and he struggled with silence, but he hadn’t realized how much. It was almost concerning.

Still, he listened and brushed his teeth, listened and washed his face, listened and took his meds, listened and put his prosthetic on, forced himself to eat breakfast, etc, etc, etc. Midway through his third cup of coffee, Alex started making his way down to the bunker. He held the mug between his teeth and focused on the ladder instead of Michael’s rambling.

When he looked at Michael’s body, it was exactly the way he left it. Alex walked over slowly and put his hand on his bicep, massaging it carefully and making sure it wasn’t getting stiff. He looked dead, he didn’t want him to feel dead.

Michael in his mind, however, went actually silent for a moment. Even the buzzing stopped.

‘What are you doing?’ Michael asked carefully.

“Sorry, I won’t touch you,” Alex said, taking his hand away. His eyes were harder to remove.

‘You can.’ He was speaking slowly, the buzzing returning at an all-time loud. ‘I just… didn’t think you would want to touch me. That’s pretty gross. Haven’t bathed.’

“Neither have I,” Alex said simply, “I pretty much always want to touch you.”

The buzzing, somehow, amplified.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut in response, the headache he had worsening because of it. Michael hadn’t mentioned the headache and Alex was beginning to wonder if he just always had a headache and that’s why it wasn’t phasing him. It would make sense if his brain was really that full all the time.

Instead of thinking too much about that, Alex took a big sip of his coffee and then sat it on the table.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

The two of them got to work brainstorming which was much easier than it would’ve been if Michael was on the outside because Michael’s ideas that were hard to verbalize came across to Alex in concepts. Well‒easier in theory because Alex only had so much knowledge within Michael’s specialty.

But, nonetheless, they worked. And they worked. And hours went by and Michael was still stuck in his head and no matter how hard they worked, nothing happened.

By lunchtime, Alex was exhausted all over again and he was beginning to feel more than a bit frustrated. He just wanted Michael in his own body. Why couldn’t the universe just give him that one thing? That should be an easy fucking request.

“I hate this piece of shit,” Alex grumbled, carefully setting the alien tech down instead of throwing it across the room because that would presumably be very bad. He tilted his head back from where he was sitting on the floor by the couch, the back of his head resting against Michael’s thigh.

‘Maybe we should call Liz,’ Michael in his head suggested, not mentioning a single thing about where his head was. Alex’s hands rested carefully on his own thighs, pressing down each finger one at a time starting from his left pinky all the way to his right. This was fine.

“What do I say? That I accidentally robbed you of your subconscious and that you’re stuck in my brain and she’s basically lost her science partner because he’s in my fucking head and I’m not him and I’m useless and‒”

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, in the same way Alex had said his name when he got to rambling, ‘You’re not useless. And this isn’t your fault. It’s not one’s fault, we didn’t know this was going to happen. So let’s just call her and see if she can come help.’

Alex breathed in deep and nodded slowly. He sat there unmoving for a moment after that. Michael’s buzzing was incessant and it was very clearly worried. It gave off the same energy that Michael had so many times before, just much different because it was in Alex’s head rather than on Michael’s face.

“I wish you could hug me,” Alex said softly. It felt like a simple, easy statement all things considered. Michael’s worried buzzing tapered off just a little.

‘I wish I could too.’

And they sat there, taking a break before they called Liz. She wasn’t in California anymore, having come back because there was just something about Roswell that refused to let you fucking leave. Or she missed her dad and her sister. One of the two options. So, at least they had that going for them.

Alex pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts and found Liz Ortecho sitting in his short list of 25 contacts. He hadn’t actually spoken to her in a while, not over the phone and not just the two of them. Once upon a time it would’ve upset him, but they were adults and they hadn’t been each other’s first priorities in a very long time. Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever been hers. But that was fine too because that’s what friendship was sometimes.

“Alex?” Liz answered like she was extremely confused to see him calling. Alex huffed a laugh despite nothing about his situation being funny. Not in the fucking slightest.

“So, I have a little situation that I don’t feel comfortable telling you over the phone,” Alex said. He knew she was rather easygoing about what she shared over the phone, but he wasn’t as trusting. Hell, he barely liked having his phone on him when he was doing things like this at all even with all of his protective shit on it. He knew how easy it was to be tracked, to be listened to. The only one who took his concerns seriously was Michael and Kyle. “Can you be at the cabin in less than an hour?”

“...what cabin?”

Alex sighed, “The old Valenti hunting cabin? Come on, I know you and Kyle probably hooked up here a lot when we were in high school.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”

“Kyle.”

“Got it.”

Alex sighed as the call ended and dropped his phone. His eyes drifted over to Michael’s body, still and cold and catatonic. He reached out for his hand mindlessly and started to massage it carefully, working into all the muscles he knew still got sore on bad days. Not like they were sore now.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Michael said, ‘You don’t have to…’

There was an implication, one that was rather insulting if Alex was asked. He never allowed his feelings to go unknown, not since his rather embarrassing display at the Wild Pony. It was Michael who needed to catch up; Alex hadn’t been hiding it.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alex asked again.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I just hate that I can’t feel it.’

“You will when you get back. You’ll be able to feel it then,” Alex said, a quiet promise that he would continue. He hoped that was good enough for Michael to understand.

They sat, waiting for Liz to show up and staying as calm as they physically could. Alex considered crawling beside him more than once but he felt that would just be too much. Too much whatever. Alex waited until he felt as at peace as he physically could be.

“Michael,” Alex called, “How did you take over my hand last night? You tried to explain it but I didn’t really understand.”

‘Basically, from my understanding, I just connected those parts of my psyche to your arm. Like when you’re laying in bed and you need to get up and so your brain tells your body to move. Like that, I guess, and I guess it was enough to take over yours.’

Alex blinked and breathed steadily, rolling his shoulders back and steeling himself.

“Try again,” Alex suggested.

‘What? No. No, I’m not doing that. You didn’t like that, I’m not doing that to you again.’

“You’re cooped up in my brain. Don’t you want to stretch out? I feel guilty that you’re trapped there. As long as you don’t take over my whole body and I know what you’re going to do, I think I’ll be okay,” Alex urged. Michael didn’t say anything right away. “I just feel bad. Just tell me what you’re going to do before you do it, okay?”

‘Are you sure?’

Alex nodded and kept his breaths steady, waiting for the moment Michael would decide to act. Maybe this was stupid and maybe he’d freak out again, but…

‘Okay, it’s gonna be your left arm, elbow down.’ Alex kept his breathing steady and used his right hand to continue holding onto Michael’s. He wasn’t clutching back and that made it feel a bit hollow, but that was alright. Michael was in him. One day when this was over, he’d probably make a joke about it. ‘Okay, ready?’

“Ready,” Alex agreed.

He swallowed as he felt his arm go numb and tingly as Michael took over. He kept his breathing even and held onto his hand and watched as Michael moved his fingers carefully, just stretching them around.

‘I’m gonna raise it, alright?’

“Alright.”

‘You’re doing so good, thank you for this.’

Alex nodded as watched as his hand rose and his wrist rolled. He could feel a bit of panic edging in him, but he held out. Michael used Alex’s thumb to trace each finger on his hand.

‘Can I touch you?’ Michael asked. Alex took a shaky breath and nodded again, not really trusting his voice. This whole thing was weird and slightly terrifying and slightly exhilarating at the same time. He’d never felt something quite like this before. He was pretty sure not many had. ‘Okay.’

His hand moved to his face, gently tracing over his nose and his cheek. Alex’s lips twitched and let out a heavy breath. Michael guided his hand over his jaw and to his neck, sliding over his shoulder and down his arm until he got to where Alex was holding Michael’s body’s hand. The hand Michael was controlling layered over them, squeezing the hand Alex still had.

‘Squeeze back,’ Michael requested. Alex did. It must’ve looked insane that he was just holding his own hand, but his heart was thudding in his chest at the reality of it.

“You know we’ve never held hands,” Alex pointed out, “Not for real.”

‘Yeah,’ Michael said softly, ‘We’re gonna.’

“We’re gonna?” Alex wondered, watching as the thumb Michael was controlling rubbed against the back of the hand he could feel.

‘We’re gonna. This doesn’t count.’

“Okay.”

Alex startled as his phone went off, alerting him that someone was within a half-mile of the cabin. Slowly, feeling came back to his hand and Michael was no longer in control of it. Alex took a few breaths to reset himself before putting Michael’s hand back on his side.

��We should go upstairs,” Alex said.

‘Do you feel okay?’

“Yeah,” Alex said even though he knew Michael could literally feel him. It was nice that he asked nonetheless.

Alex pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his empty mug before going to climb the ladder again. He needed to put stairs in or something because this was just getting annoying.

‘I’ll build you stairs,’ Michael offered. Alex tried not to get that warm and fuzzy feeling in response to that because this was very much not the time.

“Not necessary.”

‘I’m gonna.’

They got up to the cabin and Alex walked over to the kitchen, rinsing out his mug. He stared at the coffee maker for a few seconds before he reached over and dumped the grinds out and rinsed the mesh. Michael rambled about coffee grinds being good for compost or something and Alex nodded along, agreeing to wherever his train of thought was headed. He started another pot and then waited.

By the time Liz and Kyle showed up, Alex had already poured himself another cup and went to unlock the door. If he looked like he hadn’t slept (which he knew he did), they didn’t say anything as he let them in. Kyle did, however, reach to give him a short hug because they did that now. Alex still thought it was a little weird, but he appreciated the effort and sometimes he actively wanted the affection.

“So, what’s going on? Is Michael here? Because if not, you should’ve had me bring him,” Liz said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, he’s definitely present,” he said. It wasn’t funny. Michael seemed amused anyway. “There’s no point in me beating around the bush or anything, so basically Michael fucked with a piece of tech, got stuck in it, and when I touched it he got stuck in my head.”

They stared at him.

“Like… you can’t stop thinking about him stuck or…” Liz trailed off. Alex snorted.

“No, like his entire psyche is currently existing in my head. He says hi and to tell you your haircut looks nice,” Alex said. He didn’t notice she even got a haircut. Their eyes widened. “We’ve messed around with the piece for hours and nothing is working, so we called you over.”

“Okay, um,” Liz breathed, nodding her head, “Yeah, absolutely. Just, like, give me a minute. This is insane. He’s really in your head? Where’s his body?”

“Downstairs. And, yeah, he’s really in my head,” Alex said.

A warm feeling started to burn in Alex’s stomach, one that he was rather certain didn’t belong to him. It still took him a minute to realize it was Michael’s and that was… a lot. Apparently, every other feeling of his Alex had felt was one they were sharing at the same time. Good to know that they were both guilty and existential as hell.

“Okay. Wow. Right. I’m going downstairs. I wish you would’ve warned me! I could’ve brought some more stuff,” Liz said as if she didn’t have a backpack full of things already. She headed down the ladder with no hesitation.

“And you’re okay?” Kyle asked, keeping his voice low. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern as he searched Alex’s face. “That’s like a major invasion of privacy. Are you sure he didn’t do this on purpose?”

‘Dude, what the fuck.’

Alex snorted, “You know he can hear you, right?”

Kyle blinked a few times and then very clearly decided he didn’t care because he eyed him very deliberately.

“Tell me if you need anything. I’ll get you some sedatives or whatever if we can’t figure this out because I know you haven’t slept,” Kyle said, squeezing his arm. Alex nodded in appreciation, but they both knew he wouldn’t be accepting anything. “Coffee fresh?”

“Yep, just brewed it.”

“And you’ve eaten lunch?”

“I will,” Alex said. Kyle raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “I will!”

“I’ll make you some toast and meet you down there with Liz,” Kyle decided and then headed into the kitchen. Alex rolled his eyes, but he listened without argument.

‘It still freaks me out how close you two are. It’s so weird. He’s still so punchable.’

“His jaws way more chiseled now, though, so it might hurt,” Alex pointed out, his words muffled around his coffee mug as he carefully made his way down the ladder.

“Huh?” Liz answered.

“Was talking to Michael,” Alex said and chose not to be embarrassed by it as he hit the floor. If he was, that would just be more than he could physically handle right now.

“Oh. Okay. Right,” Liz said, blinking as she stood up straighter, “Sorry, this is just so weird.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird for me too,” Alex said.

His eyes drifted to Michael’s body where Liz had clearly already gotten started. She was questionably comfortable with his body, having already taken a blood sample and written down his current state in detail in her notebook. Sometimes she worried Alex with this whole thing, but Michael didn’t seem to have any arguments.

‘She’s basically like my best friend after you. We’ve done a million experiments on each other, so I don’t really care what she does to me,’ Michael explained anyway. Alex nodded and let him continue to think about what she was going to do. He could tell this was going to be rather exhausting having to play translator, but he supposed it was worth it.

“Okay, so, he’s stable. It’s obviously a different kind of stasis than the pod, but he is in stasis. I checked his blood under his microscope and all of his blood cells are basically frozen in time. Oh, I need to check his hair and his skin cells. This is insane,” Liz rambled. Alex could feel Michael’s residual excitement start to build in his body. He almost felt bad he couldn’t enjoy this with her.

For Michael’s benefit, even though it made him uncomfortable, Alex looked under the microscope at the frozen cells. His skin cells were equally frozen and his hair‒well, his hair looked like all hair does, but Michael seemed to think it looked different and he would just accept that.

Liz picked up the piece and marveled at it for a moment, grinning wildly. Alex felt himself doing the same solely based on Michael’s emotions which was, honestly, too much. He tried not to think about it too much. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure anything would get done.

Alex very quickly realized that he couldn’t keep up with Michael’s thoughts and his headache was strengthening by the second even after he ate the toast Kyle decided to force-feed him. He, however, kept that to a minimum and tried to carry a conversation with Liz by repeating Michael. He made it a good thirty minutes before he hit a point where he wasn’t making sense due to Michael’s brain saying three different things while Alex was talking.

“Okay, wait, stop,” Alex said, dropping his head in his hand. It was throbbing and Michael hadn’t said anything. “What the fuck, does your head hurt all the time?”

‘More times than not, yeah,’ Michael answered. Alex shook his head and rubbed his temples. ‘I’m sorry. Do you have medicine? Nothing usually works on me outside of acetone and that only dulls it. I’m sure something works on you, though, right? Do you have ibuprofen? I know you have Tylenol upstairs in the bathroom, but I’m not sure if that would work and maybe it’d make you tired and you’re already tired enough which would make things a little bit more difficult since we’re trying to‒’

“Michael. Please,” Alex whispered. He stopped rambling where Alex could hear, but the buzzing never stopped. Liz and Kyle, on the other hand, were silent. “Kyle, can you go get my Aleve from upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Kyle said, his footsteps rather quickly heading up the ladder.

Alex sat there for a moment, rubbing his temples and breathing. This time, he could feel the separation from his own guilt and nerves and Michael’s guilt and nerves and he could feel where they blended. He needed a fucking nap.

“Alex, do you need a break?” Liz asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Are you going to figure it without me translating for him?” he asked. Liz didn’t answer and that was answer enough.

Alex took a deep breath and lowered himself to the floor beside the couch. He could feel the guilty, yet restless energy burning within him that all belonged to Michael. He wished he was out and so he could watch him ramble, watch him pace, just watch.

‘What can I do?’ Michael asked.

“Nothing,” Alex responded. Liz, by now, caught on that he was simply talking to himself.

Kyle returned with a glass of water and a doctor-approved tweak of Aleve. Alex took it graciously, downed the rest of the water, and then returned his head to his hands.

They’d barely made any progress, namely because they didn’t know where to start other than the piece which Alex and Michael had already worked with. Alex, under Michael’s instruction, had gotten out the other pieces in hopes that would solve the problem, but that hadn’t made a difference.

Maybe they were stuck like this.

‘We aren’t stuck,’ Michael said, ‘I’m getting my body back.’

Alex felt when his breath hitched and felt when tears pricked his eyes. He brought his knee in closer and bowed his head against it so he could at least pretend he wasn’t losing it. But he was. He was overwhelmed and fucking terrified and he wanted Michael.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, ‘If anyone can figure this out, it’s us, alright? Just take a breath and I’ll try to dial it back. I’m sorry.’

‘You shouldn’t have to apologize for just existing as yourself. This just isn’t fair,’ Alex thought back at him, not really eager to let Kyle and Liz in on their conversation. Part of him was still scared this would make it harder to keep his thoughts to himself, but, after their dreams, he was beginning to feel like it didn’t matter.

‘It’s not fair. Not at all. But maybe there’s a reason for it? Like, why would this exist if there wasn’t a reason for it, you know? Why would they make it if it was just a torture mechanism?’ Michael asked. Alex bit the inside of his cheek. ‘I’m trying to think of what use this could have.’

‘Couples therapy?’ Alex offered. Michael’s amusement lit him up for a moment, a silent acknowledgment that he’d probably laugh if he had a body to do it with. ‘Missions, maybe? Or coaching. It’s an effective communication device.’

‘Maybe when they were coming here they only had space for so many people, so they had some people leave their body on their planet,’ Michael suggested.

‘Maybe. We probably won’t ever know. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Michael said, but they were both keenly aware that it wasn’t actually okay that they knew so little, ‘I just need to get back into my own body.’

“What’s the next step?” Alex asked.

‘Give us the rest of the day to try and figure this out and, if not, then we might have to call Isobel in,’ Michael said at the same time Liz responded with, “I think we should keep trying and if we can’t figure it out by tonight, we get Max and Isobel to see if they can think of anything.”

Alex huffed a laugh and raised his head.

��Okay. Let’s keep trying.”

Hours later, Alex found himself in his bathroom again. This time he was a little more determined to actually bathe. He felt gross and just needed something to make him feel better. The food and medicine Kyle gave him only helped so much and their constant stream of failures didn’t make any of it better.

Kyle and Liz with apologetic faces, but they had a clear determination to want to continue trying to figure it out. However, the four of them agreed to bring in Isobel and Max because this very clearly was going to need some more alien reinforcement.

“I’m really not looking forward to Isobel being in my head,” Alex sighed, leaning over to turn on the faucet. He felt until the water was hot before plugging the drain and sat himself down on his stool to wait for the tub to fill.

‘I know, but I’m hoping she’ll be able to see something we can’t. We aren’t really in a mindscape right now. Maybe she’ll see a way to put me back,’ Michael encouraged. Alex sighed and unbuttoned his jeans.

“I get why we need her, I just don’t know what I’m going to have control over. And, no offense, but I don’t really trust Isobel to be respectful or quiet about anything she does see,” Alex admitted. Michael’s instant understanding and agreement was palpable.

‘I’ll try to make sure she keeps it to herself. She’s getting better,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and hoped he was right.

Alex pulled off his jeans and tossed them into his hamper and went to his prosthetic. Thinking about his hesitation from last night almost felt ridiculous‒as if Michael would say anything about him bathing‒but he knew the circumstances tonight were a little different. He felt different.

Once his prosthetic was removed completely, he put it outside the bathroom door and then closed it. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that with his jeans and then closed his eyes. His head still hurt and he was exhausted, but he needed to bathe. He was gross. Michael, for his part, stayed quiet for the first time since that morning. It was honestly a blessing though he felt guilty about it.

The bathtub got to where Alex wanted it and he shut off the water, moved to take off his boxers. He threw them alongside his other clothes and then skillfully moved himself onto the ledge of the tub. Alex swiveled around and put his foot in the bath before slowly lowering himself in. He could feel his muscles instantly reacting to the warm water. He needed this.

Alex sunk into the water until it touched his chin and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of it. There was something endlessly lonely about having someone you love stuck in your brain and not being able to touch them. It was cruel, almost.

Michael’s buzzing seemed to calm a bit as they sat there in nothing but the hot water and each other’s company. Alex had imagined bathing with him more than once and never had it crossed his mind that the first time he would get the chance, Michael’s body wouldn’t be there to experience it. They were having too many firsts this way.

All of them led right back to being too close, too much, too aware. He hated it and yet he had never felt more seen by Michael Guerin in his entire life.

Cruel and laughable.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, soft and warm like he had late the night before, ‘Can I use your hand? The same one as earlier. I just… wanna try something.’

Alex’s heart picked up speed in the same way it had when he held his hand and he nodded without hesitation.

His left arm tingled and then went numb as Michael took over. The hand Michael was in control of glided across the top of the water and then rested over his heart. He rubbed his hand into his skin, slowly making his way up to his neck and over his jaw. Michael felt over his features again, only this time focusing on his lips.

His thumb pressed into Alex’s bottom lip and slowly dragged his mouth open. Alex huffed a laugh and opened it further, letting Michael press the pad of his thumb against his tongue. Alex bit down gently and felt a burst of adoration flood through him. It stole his breath for a moment.

Michael pulled out of his mouth slowly and slid back down to his chest and then to the arm Alex still had control over. He felt over his bicep and his forearm, feeling each muscle as if they were something to behold on their own which really only had Alex’s picking up speed.

‘Why have I never taken my time with you before?’ Michael asked. They both knew. Neither of them said anything.

Alex tilted his head back and closed his eyes as Michael’s fingers dragged over his neck and then dipped beneath the water. He traced over his chest and his stomach, slow and curious despite the familiarity of it. Michael touched his thigh and dragged his fingertips up and down before sliding between his thighs.

Alex caught his wrist and Michael obediently paused.

“Michael,” Alex whispered, his breathing noticeably heavier as he tried his damnedest to ignore the tight, warm feeling in his stomach, “Michael.”

‘Yeah?’

“What happens if we can’t figure it out?” Alex asked, “What happens if you’re stuck?”

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael answered.

“We have to think like that. Eventually, we’re going to have to go back to work, eventually, we’re going to have to pretend to carry on. What happens if you’re still stuck in my head?” Alex demanded.

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael repeated, ‘It won’t come to that. We will fix it.’

“But what if we can’t?”

‘Alex, listen to me. No matter what happens, I won’t be stuck in your head for the rest of your life. This is temporary regardless of what that means for me. I’m not making your life miserable.’

Alex breathed out like he’d been hit. He didn’t ask what that meant. He didn’t ask how long Michael was willing to try. He didn’t ask anything.

“I miss you,” Alex breathed, “I want… I want‒”

‘I know. Me too.’

They sat there for a moment with that and Alex wanted to say he loved him, just in case. But they had time. They had to have time.

And he didn’t want any more firsts this way.

Alex let go of his wrist and Michael’s hand rested on his legs. He let his eyes close again and tried to relax as Michael moved again. Alex almost expected him to reach between his thighs again, and yet Michael just rested his hand on his face.

Michael cradled his jaw in his hand and rubbed his thumb over his cheek slow and methodically. Alex squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into the touch. If he kept his eyes closed and if he focused hard enough, he could almost feel his breath on the back of his neck.

‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’

Alex woke up long before his alarm again.

Dreams of angry foster parents bled into dreams of angry drill sergeants bled into active battle bled into his father with any object he could get his hand on. It was miserable and Alex had to wonder why they couldn’t have a nice dream. Just one. On where Alex could pretend to touch him again and he’d be warm.

Despite having Michael in his head, Alex couldn’t help but feel even more lonely than he had when he climbed into bed. They’d tried to shut off the lights with his telekinesis again before bed and it was a little more painful than the first time and Michael vowed not to use it again and he’d gone quiet. And Alex was lonely.

“You know what’s crazy? It’s only been, like, 36 hours. Why does it feel so much longer?” Alex whispered, voice deep from sleep.

‘Because it has been longer. I was practically living in your house and yet I didn’t do anything. I wasted so much time,’ Michael said. Alex wanted to argue, but he found himself not having much to add. They had wasted so much time and now they weren’t even sure what time they would have.

“Me too.”

‘No, Alex, you’ve known what you wanted for a year now at least. You’ve made it clear. I kept trying to wait for, like, a moment when it felt right. And I’m beginning to think it just never felt right because I wasn’t with you. Self-defeating cycle or whatever,’ Michael said, very clearly annoyed in the emotions that filled him.

“You’re allowed to take your time.”

‘But I was never going to be perfectly ready. I’m always going to struggle. But I could’ve had you. God, I was so lonely and you were right there.’

“I’m here now,” Alex whispered. Michael’s self-deprecation was louder than Alex was willing to take.

He laid in bed for a few seconds longer before he got up and reached for his crutches. He was lonely. Michael was lonely. This was so stupid and ridiculous and he hated every goddamn thing about it. He just wanted him back. Was that such a hard request?

Clearly, it was. The universe didn’t want them to have anything.

Alex made his way to the bunker and ignored the worry Michael was experiencing as he slid his crutches down the ladder. He made sure they landed out of the way before heading down himself, hopping down one rung at a time while having his arms carry the brunt of his weight. Michael managed not to say anything.

Once he hit the ground, Alex picked up his crutches again and made his way to the couch where Michael’s body was. He rested his crutches down on the floor and then gently pulled the alien tech off of Michael to put it on the counter. Then he pulled the corner of the blanket up and crawled inside.

‘Alex,’ Michael whispered, sounding almost pitiful. Alex just cuddled closer. He was cold and unbreathing and it was unsettling as hell, but it was Michael.

Of all the things they hadn’t done, they had done this. Alex had slept with his head on his shoulder or his chest more than once. Michael had slept fully on top of him even more. They always slept well together. Even when the nightmares came, there was a safety in having another body to hold. And so Alex held him.

He tugged Michael’s limp arm around him and layered his hand over his to keep it on his hip. He rested his head on his chest and draped his leg over Michael’s thighs. Then Alex closed his eyes.

‘Get some sleep, Alex,’ Michael said, ‘I’ll hold you for real soon.’

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Alex murmured.

‘I fully plan to keep it. Get some rest.’

And Alex did. He never actually fell asleep hard enough to actually dream which was both great and terrible. He was still tired when he opened his eyes again, but he didn’t have any dreams to add to the list and that in itself was refreshing. Michael was still a cold, unmoving rock beneath him. Alex didn’t move.

He laid there for a long time, rubbing circles in his chest with his thumb.

Eventually, Alex made his way upstairs to get presentable whenever he realized Liz, Kyle, Max, and Isobel were probably on their way. Michael was quiet in his mind, but the ever-present buzzing wasn’t gone so he took that as a good sign.

Alex got dressed and brushed his teeth and got his prosthetic on and managed to even eat breakfast by the time they pulled up.

‘It’s gonna be okay. Hopefully, we’ll figure it out today,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and nodded, sipping his coffee as he unlocked the door.

“Hopefully.”

“So you trapped my brother in your brain?” Isobel greeted. Alex managed a smile.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Can he hear us?” she wondered, eyeing Alex. He nodded easily. “Michael, this was a really weird way for you to try and get a boyfriend.”

‘That’s not what happened!’

“He said that’s not what happened,” Alex repeated. Isobel rolled her eyes like she didn’t buy it. Alex was too ready to get this over with to argue. “Let’s go downstairs and you can see what you need to do. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you guys want any.”

No one went and got coffee.

By the time they made it down to the bunker and Alex sat on the floor beside the couch, he found himself feeling like a spectacle. They were all staring at him and Michael with confusion and fear and pity‒and he was more than slightly miserable about it. Michael murmured encouraging words, but it only did so much.

“I hate seeing him like that,” Isobel said, suddenly a lot less flippant now that she was actually seeing Michael laid out and unbreathing and cold. Alex watched a series of emotions cross her face and couldn’t help but think about how this was the second brother she was seeing look dead.

‘I’m not dead. I’m going to be okay,’ Michael insisted. Alex nodded. He hoped he was right.

“Me too. Can we get started?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Isobel said. She quickly knelt beside him and beside the couch.

‘Wait, before she starts, we all three should be holding the piece,’ Michael said quickly. Alex licked his lips and nodded.

“Michael says we should hold the piece. And, Kyle, stand by to check vitals whenever he comes to. Max, just be ready to do your little healing thing just in case,” Alex instructed. Kyle nodded and Max opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was immediately shut down by Liz and Isobel simultaneously glaring at him. Then he nodded.

Alex took a deep breath as grabbed the piece. He pulled Michael’s hand off the couch to touch it as well and Isobel grabbed onto the other end. Alex locked eyes with Isobel and instantly started to feel her trying to pry. Instinct and training told him not to let her.

‘Alex. Relax. I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay,’ Michael coaxed. He kept whispering sweet words of encouragement and Alex did his best to let himself go as he started at Isobel.

Slowly but surely, he phased out of consciousness and into where she wanted him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is this?”

Alex was sitting cross-legged on a bench of some sort and everything around them was pitch black. Well, mostly. Isobel was far to his right and across from him was Michael. To his left, the piece floated and lit the empty space well enough that he could see their faces. Isobel was fully mobile and aware, but Michael seemed to be just as catatonic as he was in real life.

“Why does he look like that?” Alex asked, “He’s obviously awake, I’ve been hearing him in my head.”

“I don’t know, why does your mindscape look like this? I’ve never been in one that’s all black before,” Isobel commented.

Alex could barely give her the time of day as he stared at Michael. It took him a moment but he eventually realized he was vibrating so quickly it was hard to catch. No wonder there was incessant buzzing. Alex wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but he couldn’t seem to move.

“Jesus, this place is ridiculous, I feel like I’m walking in tar,” Isobel said. Alex finally looked at her and she was moving, but it was in slow motion. It was really fucking frustrating.

“I think it’s because I don’t want you to see anything,” Alex admitted. Isobel scoffed.

“Well, will you let up enough for me to try and fix this?” she demanded. Alex swallowed and looked at Michael and then to the piece. He really didn’t want to.

“Tell me what the plan is first,” Alex said. Despite how irritated she very clearly was, Isobel gave him an answer.

“I’m going to lead Michael to the piece and then I’m going to get out of your mindscape and then go into his and lead him away. That sounds like the easiest route,” Isobel said. Alex bit his bottom lip as he stared at Michael. That did sound like the easiest route. And that’s primarily what made him nervous.

He didn’t like doing this without hearing Michael’s opinion.

“Listen, Alex, maybe if you let up, he’ll be more aware and we can ask what he thinks we should do,” Isobel said. Alex stayed quiet for a moment.

He made his decision quietly while staring at the blurred outline of Michael’s body. Light started to filter into the space and Isobel’s movement was made a bit easier as she headed to Michael. As the light flooded in, so did memories.

Michael’s voice‒never with someone I like as much as I like you. Alex’s voice‒you’re mine. His father’s voice‒too many to pick out anything in particular. Isobel glanced over at him as his father’s voice started to overpower Alex’s own thoughts.

“Stop it, focus on him,” Alex said. Isobel took a breath and nodded.

Michael’s blurred figure slowly opened his eyes, blinking and tired. Alive. The sight alone was enough to bring him a bit of comfort. Alex listened as Isobel ran her plan by him and he nodded, glancing over at Alex. He gave a smile and Alex couldn’t help but give one right back.

In the background, his own voice and Michael’s voice overpowered his father’s.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Michael told him, echo-y and honest. Alex nodded.

“And I’ll see you.”

Michael took Isobel’s hand and she swiftly led him over to the piece with practiced ease. She gave one more glance around Alex’s mindscape before she waved and everything went black again.

Alex opened his eyes to see both Isobel and Michael still out of it. Michael’s buzzing no longer filled his head.

Alex gave a breath of relief and slumped back, his hands bracing against the floor as he waited.

It was painfully quiet as they all watched Isobel and Michael hold onto the piece with bated breaths. It worked. Hopefully. It was working. Michael wasn’t in his head. That was good. This was good. Things were going in the right direction.

Or he thought that until Isobel opened her eyes and let go of the piece. She didn’t look satisfied or relieved as she stared at Michael’s body. His still, cold, unbreathing body. They all waited.

“Where is he?” Alex asked after a moment, “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“He… He said he could do it on his own. I thought he had it…” Isobel said softly. Alex choked on air and stared at her with wide eyes.

“Well go back in and see where he’s at! Maybe he got lost!” Alex demanded. She didn’t look his way as she stared at her brother.

“No, I saw him leave. If he’s not there, then I don’t know…” Isobel trailed off.

In an instant, Alex was on his knees and trying his best to avoid the piece as he shook Michael’s shoulders.

“Wake up,” he told him, “Wake up, you promised me you’d see me.”

A few more seconds passed without him and Isobel scrambled back to grab Max’s arm, tugging him forward. She was snapping at him to do something, but Alex could barely hear as he shook him. He needed him to wake up.

“Alex, move, I’m gonna try to get up, but if you’re touching him it could hurt you,” Max said. Alex moved away faster than he logically should’ve, but Max quickly stepped in and put his hand over his heart.

Before any funky alien healing could happen, though, Michael’s eyes opened and he took a deep breath.

“Fuck, my head hurts.”

And for the first time in days, Alex laughed.

After Michael insisted he was fine, let Liz and Kyle take vitals, and insisted he was fine some more, they eventually gave them some space under the condition that Michael had to get lunch with Isobel after he got some rest.

The house was quiet, the doors were locked, and the sun was shining through the windows as Alex sat on his bed and Michael sat across from him. They were both changed into nightclothes and staring at each other, feeling familiar in a completely new way. Alex had no doubt that his joy was nothing but his own.

It was nice to have quiet in his mind again. Nicer to have Michael here. Even nicer than that, to have Michael be on the same page.

“Alex,” Michael said, slowly like he was testing the word in his mouth again. Alex found himself smiling a bit too wide.

“Michael,” Alex said back. Michael smiled just as wide. “In the nicest way possible, I never want to get near your brain ever again.”

Michael laughed softly and, fuck, it was a nice sound. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

“And in the nicest way possible, I never want to be stuck inside you ever again,” Michael said. His tongue pressed behind his teeth as he smirked. “I mean, not in that way, at least.”

Alex shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“When are you going to touch me with your own hands?” Alex asked. Michael sat up a little straighter.

“I thought we were meant to take a nap.”

“Why can’t we do both?”

Michael didn’t need to be asked a second time as he lunged forward, easily pressing Alex into the mattress. For the first time in a long time, Alex was kissed without hesitation and without a time limit and without restrictions. He was kissed like he was known and loved by someone he knew and loved.

Michael’s hands gripped his sides and slowly slid up, feeling him and gripping him tightly. He settled between Alex’s thighs and kissed him breathless and touched him anywhere he could reach. Even the way he grabbed his knee and his elbows felt like gentle caresses, carefully and deliberately.

“I am going to take my time with you,” Michael whispered into his mouth, “And I am going to savor every minute of it.”

Alex grinned and tugged him closer, wanting to have every inch of himself pressed against every inch of Michael. He was warm and breathing and his heart was beating. All things Alex would never take for granted.

“I’m going to put in the work this time, Alex,” Michael promised, pulling Alex off the bed just enough to grab the blanket and throw it over them. With a tilt of the head and no ridiculous reaction at all, the light shut off and the curtains closed and it was just them. Separate, but together. “This time I’m not wasting time.”

“Me neither,” Alex hummed. Michael’s hands slid beneath his shirt, over his bare stomach and chest, and breathed him in.

“I love you,” Michael said, honest and out loud, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Alex said, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you.”

Michael grinned and wrapped his arms around him, slowly lowering himself as he left a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck. His head hit Alex’s shoulder and his body relaxed on top of his. Fully and completely.

Because he was here. And he was breathing. And he was his.

And Alex finally fell asleep.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #alex + body

97 notes · View notes

stillebesat · 5 years ago

Text

Lemon Drops

Sanders Sides: Patton, Remus Blurb: Patton just wanted to go somewhere where he wouldn’t be judged, wouldn’t disappoint...wouldn’t...screw up another relationship. (Takes place after SvS Redux) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Frog!Patton Overall Fic Warnings: Remus being Remus, Death Talk, Mentions of Nudity, Various Innuendos, Blood mentions, Negative Self Talk, Trapped/Captivity talk, Fight talk, Panic Attack Taglist in Reblog.

There was no answer.

Patton exhaled, biting his lip as he dropped his hand, staring with only slightly blurry vision at the crown emblem on Roman’s door.

There had never been no answer before.

Out of all the others, Roman’s room had always been open to him. No matter the time of day or night. No matter the reason. Roman...Roman would always let his door swing open and Patton could come in to spend however long he needed to inside.

Now….now….he swallowed, fighting to keep his vision from blurring further. Now...it obviously wasn’t.

Maybe because of today this door would be closed to him forever.

We love you.

He hugged himself, chest aching as he turned away for the stairs, keeping his head down as he moved past both Logan and Virgil’s doors.

Both firmly locked.

Both silent.

Both...unhappy with him too.

Do you think there’s a limit... on how many times someone can say sorry?

He wished there wasn’t. He wished that it would just be one more apology and things could get back to...being...better. Back to the...okay not great...but better times when his fellow Sides actually kinda wanted to be around him.

If they had ever wanted to be around him in the first place.

Had they?

Had they ever...liked him?

His breath hitched as he entered the kitchen, his fingers digging into his arms as he came to a stop in front of the stove.

Cooking had always made him feel better.

But what was the point of cooking for one?

Patton closed his eyes, fighting to keep the tears pooling behind his lids from seeping out.

He’d been so overbearing for so long. Been so set in his ways. In trying to make sure that Thomas was a good person...that...that all those icky feelings were locked up tight and pushed away that he--that he--Patton reached out blindly as his legs buckled, grabbing onto the handle of the oven, hanging onto it like a drowning man clutching to a tree root as his knees made contact with the tiles.

Do you think there’s a limit on how many times someone can someone say sorry...before you have to admit...that they’re just bad for you?

Thomas wasn’t always a good perfect person. Despite how much Patton wanted him to be. He was...he was...Human. And humans made mistakes. His fellow Sides made mistakes. Patton...Patton himself could make mistakes.

He just wished it didn’t hurt so darn badly.

Patton dropped one hand to his shirt, clutching at the fabric over his heart as he pressed his head against the cool side of the oven door, his throat aching with suppressed sobs as the tears he’d been fighting so hard to keep at bay flowed down his cheeks.

Repressing depression can also be bad.

Well...he’d--he’d never been particularly good at facing his own icky feelings either, not when returning to his room could bring such a quick jolt of happiness that he could forget for a time...all the...all the...and not let the others see...his...this...see him---

Unhappy.

Not that anyone was likely to see him unhappy here right now.

Not when they were locked in their rooms.

Avoiding him.

Because he...it felt like he’d been wrong more often than right these days. Hurting the ones he loved.

And nothing he did seemed to fix--fix--

Patton shuddered, curling in on himself, trying to find a way to steadily breathe, to keep silent so no one would come to investigate. To--to...calm down. He didn’t--he didn’t need to become--that mutant frog again...to let his icky feelings change him like that--but it...he…

I just have a lot of feelings.

And none of them were the right ones to help the others.

They never seemed to be any--any--

A zing of electricity rushed through him and Patton let out a small cry as he felt his body abruptly shift.

NO. NO. NO.

He jerked his head up, gasping for breath as he caught sight of a bright green arm before it shifted back to his normal human appearance.

NO! Patton fought to shove all the ick--sadness he was feeling away. To keep his regular appearance. He couldn’t trigg--

But the grief was welling up. Swelling like the tidal wave he’d felt before growing into that monstrous frog into a--bad guy.

Patton shoved to his feet, heart racing his tears as he leapt for the doorway, shooting for the stairs. For his room where he could get that jolt of happiness that had to stop this--

He gasped as another electric zing zapped through him. He stumbled, falling against the door under the stairs that lead down to The Others.

“Please.” He begged, sticky green fingers slipping off the handle as he curled back into a ball on the floor. Fighting to stay small, to not grow into that...that thing as electric pulses danced along his skin.

Small.

SMALL.

He had to stay---

He cried out, closing his eyes as it felt like all the air was suddenly being squeezed out of his lungs and he felt himself shift further with a soft POP. He shook his head, missing the weight of the glasses on his nose and his cat hoodie around his shoulders as they fell with a muted thud to the carpet. NO FROG NO FROG NO FROG. He internally shouted, mashing himself into an even tighter ball, his voice choking off in a deep Croak.

NO! Patton had to--he’d break something if he--he desperately synced himself out of the living room, falling down and away before anyone could come investigate the noise.

The others couldn’t know.

He landed with a soft plop onto a semi-bouncy surface that could only be his bed.

Safe.

Patton drew in a shuddering breath, burying his head into the blanket, breathing in its fresh lemon scent, waiting for the familiar zing of happiness to hit him, to help him shift back to his normal human look.

He had to stay--stay---happy. Pre--pretend that things were---that it would all be okay.

And that meant going somewhere else where he wouldn’t be judged, wouldn’t disappoint...wouldn’t...screw up another relationship further because he couldn’t control himself and became a terrible giant monster--

“FROG!”

DANGER.

Patton’s eyes flashed open barely taking in the surroundings of the softly lit room that definitely wasn’t his bedroom as he instinctively leapt before the oily voice over his head could finish pronouncing the G, terror rushing through him and coming out of his mouth in a series of frantic ribbits as he sprang off the enormous unmade bed.

SPLAT.

“Hey!”

Patton gasped as neon red liquid flew past his face as he landed in something cold and slimy and--he didn’t want to think about just what he may be sitting in right now. No. NO. He had to get away from Remus before he...before he!

“Whoa! Wartface! Hold it!”

Patton flinched as Remus’s shadowy form towered over him and jumped--hopped? His limbs definitely were more froglike than anything human--freeing himself from the red icky liquid, to land on the cold black floor, leaving bloody red frogprints behind as he hopped yet again.

Only to have a puke yellow slime meet him in a squelchy embrace as he landed in a different container.

What was this stuff?!

“Froggysoggypants stop!”

No. No way. Patton croaked as he freed himself from the second container, landing with another plop onto the blackened floor, marring its surface with red, orange, and yellow streaks as he frantically tried to run--hop away from Remus towering over him like--like--

Earlier. When Patton had towered over the others as a giant frog. But now that Remus--did that mean...had he shrunk instead?!

“GOTCHA!” Clammy hands grabbed him around the middle midleap, squeezing him tight enough that Patton was certain his eyes were bulging as he was lifted upwards.

Remus’s crooked grin filled his vision, showing him just how small he’d become.

He squeaked, an awkward sound coming from his frog mouth as he struggled helplessly in the Duke’s grip.

“Look at you!” Remus breathed, easily holding him in one hand as he used the other to pull Patton’s arm out. “You’re blue!” He exclaimed, eyes sparking as he played with Patton’spaint covered pale blue froggy toes. “I wonder--”

Patton flinched, trembling as Remus ran his tongue over his back, the hairs of his moustache brushing against his skin.

This was it. This was how he died.

“Bleh.” The Duke gagged, pulling away wiping his mouth against his shoulder. “You’re not one of mine.” He complained, running his tongue over the fabric in a manner that had Patton cringing.

How could Remus stand the texture of cloth against his tongue? Didn’t it--no wait. This was the Duke who ate pickled poo log deodorant. He probably loved the sensation.

“You taste far too sweet like--like--” He poked Patton between the eyes with a frown. “Like a saccharine sugar cookie under all that paint! Peh! At least taste bitter like arsenic or mucus! Frogs are covered in mucus! You should taste like that at least.”

Patton closed his eyes, shuddering, still feeling Remus’s tongue on his bare back. It wasn’t like he could control what he tasted like! And if he tasted like cookies then that was much better than than--

Than all the ugly and gross things that would be right up the Duke’s dark, grimey, and probably blood covered alley.

But if Remus didn’t like sweet things. And if he realized who he was holding in his hands--

His heart dropped.

It definitely wouldn’t be pretty. At all. Not when he was sure the Duke blamed Patton for being kept from Thomas’s conscious mind for so long.

He could easily take revenge.

Remus could skewer him with a sharp stick, throw him in a boiling pot of oil or even peel him open like some sort of crazy science experiment---

Patton whimpered, the sound shifting to soft frantic ribbits as he wiggled in the Duke’s grip.

“Nah! Ah! Sticky Feet! No. Stop squirming!” Remus tightened his grip on him as Patton did his best with his odd toe finger things to find purchase to pull himself free so he could hop the heck out of there and shift back to normal away from the Side that had always given him the heebie jeebies.

After all…it wasn’t like any of the others would come to his rescue.

Not when none of them...liked him currently.

Not when their resident Prince and Hero who loved to save people in distress...had locked his room and refused to come out.

Patton stopped struggling, feeling a cold heavy weight settle in his stomach as he stared hopelessly up at Remus.

Roman wouldn’t come save him. Not this time.

Perhaps it was only right that his brother, the Duke, Master of the Dark Side of Creativity, held him now. Captive. Trapped. He probably deserved it after all he put everyone through today with his…..monstrous self.

“There there.” Remus whispered, stroking Patton’s back with a finger instead of his tongue this time. He plopped down cross-legged on the paint splattered floor, head tilting at an unnatural angle as he studied him. “You’re not mine.” He repeated softly, an eerie light shining in his eyes as he played with Patton’s toes. “Too sweet. Too sweet. Not Ro’s either. The salt on him is thick these days. Sooooooooooo~” He tilted his head the other way, a small smile playing on his lips. “What brings you here to me in my dark dismal tower and not to him in his gleaming marble castle, little sugar wartface?”

Patton gulped, trembling as Remus brought him up to eye level, unable to do anything more in his grip. He’d already tried to go to Roman. B-b-but--

That door was shut to him now.

“Blue...a blue frog….” The Duke mused, humming under his breath as he rocked in place. “Call me Mr. Blue...but with the downright stodgy rainbow theme all of us have going on...being blue means you can only be--” He paused, eyes growing sharp as he grinned like a feral cat about to catch its prey.

Today really wasn’t his day.

Patton slumped, a soft ribbit escaping him as he fought back the urge to sob. He just wanted to get away where he wouldn’t hurt the others. Where he wouldn’t be judged or hated. Where he couldn’t...couldn’t mess things up for anyone any more.

But all his icky feelings had only screwed him over more. Changed him into a tiny slimy frog. Landed him in Remus’s room where he was now trapped in the Duke’s grip.

And now Remus knew exactly who he was.

“Potty.”

He flinched at the nickname, closing his eyes as his heart sunk even lower. Sure, he felt like a pile of crap right now. A tiny smelly useless pile of nothing. But he didn’t...didn’t want to be compared to a...toilet.

“This is no place for you and your awfully tender heart.” Remus said, booping him on the nose. “Why did you come to me? Like this?”

Patton cautiously opened his eyes, confused. Why was the Duke not boiling him alive right now? Hating him too? Why was he--he---being gentle?!

‘I don’t know.’ He whispered, his words changing to a soft croak as he spoke, rendering his words incomprehensible.

Out of all the Sides...Remus would have never have crossed his mind as someone to come to for any reason. In a--in a perfect world he would never have to deal with the Duke at all.

“Ooooohh~ Lemme guess.” Remus flopped backwards, head landing in a pan filled with pink paint, sending neon droplets flying across the room as he held Patton high over his head. “You waiting for a kiss?” He asked, puckering his lips, drawing him close.

True love’s kiss can break any curse.

Even if this had been a curse and not his own fault that he was now a useless tiny slimy frog, Patton knew that no-no one woul--would….no one--not even Remus--He recoiled as the moustache filled his vision, breath hitching as the gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be only seemed to grow wider.

A kiss wouldn’t work. Not--not when...no one loved him.

How many times? How many times can you say sorry?

Not enough. Never enough. He couldn’t--

A fresh lemon breeze washed over him as Remus paused a hair's breadth away from pressing his lips against his face. He tilted his head, going cross-eyed as he hummed staring down at Patton.

He snorted. “No kisses? Figures. You don’t want to see us as lovers?” Remus wiggled his eyebrows, smirking as he rolled to his stomach, the room spinning like a kaleidoscope around them.

L-lovers?! Patton squeaked, feeling his body go all warm. If he’d been his normal human self, he was sure his face would have gone bright red at that.

Remus cackled, dark eyes glittering. “Surely as Thomas’s Heart, wittle Pittle has a teeny weenie spot of love for smelly old me if he loves all of Thomas.”

And Patton thought his heart couldn’t break further. If he was any good at his job...then that should have been True.

But it wasn’t.

The knowledge that he didn’t want to have any love for the Duke only made him feel worse.

What good was he as Thomas’s Heart if he couldn’t love every Side of him?

Remus huffed, eyes growing sharp. “Oooh~” He sing-songed jabbing a finger into Patton’s chest. “Did Sappy Pappy forget he’s the center of all of Thomas’s feelings?”

Patton kicked back smearing paint across the Duke’s arm as he wiggled in his grip. No!...Yes…maybe? He...he was...the center...but….Patton pushed pointlessly against Remus’s fingers, his throat contracting with suppressed croaks.

What did it matter what he was to Thomas? Feelings. Morality. He wasn’t doing a very good job of being either one right now.

The Duke wiggled his eyebrows as he made a fart noise with his tongue. “Are you trying to only be happy again? Hide all your juicy twisty feelings? How booooring, Poppyseed. You gotta let it out!”

NO! He shook his head. Letting out his...twisty feelings had only resulted in BAD Things. He’d become a giant frog! That wasn’t good.

Now you’re a small frog. Is that any better?

“Guess what, Potthead.” Remus dipped one hand into a pan of green paint, flicking his fingers at Patton’s face. “Hate is a feeling.”

He flinched, raising a shaking toe finger hand thingy to rub the paint off his face, giving a loud ribbit of disagreement. Hate was such a...a strong word.

Remus rolled his eyes, plopping Patton down in a pan of orange paint, speaking over his croak of disgust at suddenly being surrounded by more cold slimy ickiness.

“That’s not bad, Pottycake.” The Duke said, easily catching Patton as he jumped out of the paint and plopped him into a different can of pink slime before he could blink. “You don’t have to like everything you encounter or everyone you meet.”

Of course not, but that didn’t mean he--Thomas couldn’t pretend! Patton wiped the paint from his eyes before he doggy--froggy paddled over to the edge.

Things worked a lot more smoothly when Thomas was nice and happy.

Only it hadn’t worked out doing that this time had it?

Patton pressed his lips together, chest aching as he heaved himself out of the can.

It didn’t matter. It would work out eventually. He just had to keep up the positive attitu--

Remus scooped him up, careless of how Patton struggled in his grip, getting slime and goo all over himself. “You know…” he clicked his tongue, dribbling purple paint all over Patton’s back. “I don’t need you to like me, or tell me exactly how you feel, but that feeling is a part of you.”

‘NO!’ He didn’t want it to be.

The Duke’s eyes grew sharp as he lowered his hand, chuckling as Patton sprang from his grip, narrowly avoiding landing in any other pans, his feet leaving multi-colored prints over the dark floors. “It’s a part of good old Tomalongadingdong that won’t go away, Potty, no matter how much you try and shove it into a dark dusty corner and forget about it.”

Repression can be bad.

It was--he knew that. Patton forced himself to keep hopping, crying out in frustration as he was easily grabbed around the middle and plopped back into the Duke’s lap.

Remus had proved that as Thomas’s Intrusive Thoughts despite Patton’s best efforts to keep Thomas from ever knowing that his Dark Creativity even existed. That the bad thoughts could be--be--okay. That just because they were there didn’t mean Thomas himself was...bad. But knowing was not the same as...as...accepting.

And he wasn’t about to accept being stuck here with Remus any longer than he had to. Patton scrunched up his face, concentrating on gathering his limbs together for a more coordinated hop. Even if he wanted to express his icky feelings--which he didn’t!--there was...wasn’t anyone left he could...could go to. Who would ever need you? When all you do is more harm than good?

Remus tsked, scooping Patton up and dropping him in a large can of blue paint before he could spring away.

GAH! That. WAS. IT. ‘Would you QUIT it!’ He yelled as he surfaced, splashing paint back up at Remus’s face.

It was bad enough already being stuck here without any hope of the others coming to get him without continuously getting tossed into paint along with it!

He froze as the Duke threw his head back with a loud laugh.

Oh no.

“Oooh.” Remus’s eyes glittered as he lowered his head, teeth flashing as he grinned, blue paint dripping from his moustache into his mouth. “Patteywattey has some fight to him!”

‘NO!’ Patton recoiled with a strangled croak. He’d fought far too much earlier today as that--as--tha--as the Monstrous Frog! He’d--he’d attacked Leslie, Lee and Mary-Lee. He’d even attacked Thomas without realizing--He’d--No. NO NO NO. NO FIGHTING. EVER.

He ducked down, letting the paint cover him completely, a hollow ache in his chest. He had made another stupid stupid mistake splashing back. Fighting back. That wasn’t supposed to be him! If he wanted Remus to leave him alone he shouldn’t have encouraged him by action! It should have been through words---

What words? You’re a frog. All you can do is Croak.

It wasn’t like words had helped earlier either. Not when he didn’t...when he hadn’t known the right things to say.

Patton felt rather than heard the splash of something else entering the paint can with him before reaching fingers grabbed him, pulling him free of the paint, if not of Remus’s grip.

“Hiding from a fight isn’t very fun.” The Duke said as warm liquid splashed over Patton’s body, washing away the heavy weight of the paint covering him. “But then again.” His blue moustache came into view, tongue stuck out between his teeth as he carefully wiped around Patton’s eyes with a green stained towel. “You fighting against me would be really weird, Pops, despite how often you’ve threatened violence against our dear old Virgin.” He smirked.

I will physically fight you.

Patton shuddered, gripping onto Remus’s fingers as another wave of icky feelings rushed through him, choking him to the point he could barely breathe.

Again and again. He was reminded that he could do nothing right no matter how hard he tried.

Virgil.

Logan.

Roman.

Despite his efforts...he’d let them all down one after the other.

Just like the deadbeat fathers in all those tv shows.

He was a failure through and throu--

“The thing is….” Patton looked up as Remus ran the towel down his back before setting him on the half-made bed.

“It’s just goo and paint, Pattycake.” Remus gestured around his room to the various multi-colored splotches before resting his arms on the bed. “Using it to create--” He placed a sheet of paper on the bed along with a tube of paint, squirting a glob of red into the center of the page. “It’s just a way to express your feelings. All your feelings” He said dipping a finger into the paint, trailing it over the black sheet creating a--.

Patton winced, looking away from the crude image.

“There’s nothing bad about getting those feelings out. It’s what Creativity is for.” He wiggled his shoulders suggestively as he flicked his fingers at Patton splattering him with red droplets. “Didn’t you once say that you liked playing with the stuff?”

My channel would have videos of me playing with goo and mixing paint.

Patton frowned down at his hands, squeezing his toe finger things into fists before relaxing them on the page. It felt like a lifetime ago though. Back when he’d been trying to include Anxiety in their group. Back before everything---He hadn’t even thought about sticking his fingers into a tub of goo in ages. Not when he’d been trying so hard to keep Thomas happy.

And failing.

“Now’s your chance, Patcasso.” With a wave of his hand the image on the paper vanished, leaving the single glob of red paint once more untouched. Remus winked as he scooped up Patton, depositing him on the large sheet right next to the glob of paint. “Stop repressing. Paint.”

Repressing Depression can also be bad.

But...But….painting? How could that hel--

Remus hummed, dipping his finger into the paint, idly drawing a heart right next to him. “The Heart becomes a Frog.” He murmured. “Just like one of those prudishly dull fairytale quests my dear old brother enjoys huh? With the kissing and the happily ever afters.”

Had enjoyed...it wasn’t like Roman would want to---Patton drew in a shuddering breath before shakily dipping his hand into the paint, drawing a jagged line down the middle of the heart.

No one loved him.

The Duke’s eyebrows rose, eyes gleaming as he leaned forward. “A broken heart? Oooo~I do love an unhappy story.” With a wave of his hand, the rest of the rainbow appeared as globs of paint on the page. “Go on.” He encouraged, resting his arms on the bed. “What fly got into your soup?”

Go on? But he had no idea where to start. It was just--too much. He’d been wrong--so strict and set in his ways for so long, he didn’t even know where the problems had begun between him and the others! Today was just the latest addition to a very very long list of--and--he shoved both hands into the red paint, smearing it across the heart with a muted croak. Red for his failure with Roman.

We love you.

….Right.

The hurt. He’d tried so hard to--but--red streaked fingers dug into the yellow paint, as he drew a lopsided crown on top of the heart, the yellow marred by lines of red. Roman refused to answer the door. To let him do what he did best. Comfort others.

Hence why everyone has shut their doors to you huh. You’re sooo good at comforting.

Another lie. Another falsehood. What good was Morality? What good were Feelings if he couldn’t--

He shoved his hands into the dark blue paint, drawing another wobbly heart with a line through it followed by a large smear and then a ragged tie. Logan.

Another broken heart. This one purple. Followed by the cloud and a lightning bolt. Virgil.

All streaked through with yellow. With Janus. With Deceit.

How many times can you say sorry?

Not enough. Never enough. He--he--Patton slammed his fists into the paint sending it flying all over the bed, chest aching as he closed his eyes.

“....Patton?”

He shook his head, ignoring Remus. It didn’t help. Painting didn’t help. The icky feelings were still there. If he was feeling icky how could he ever hope to--

Patton gasped, jerking as splotchy green arms suddenly wrapped around him in a warm hug, squeezing him far more tightly than he was comfortable with.

He looked up, meeting the dark eyes of another frog, one with blue tipped black spikes sticking out from his upper lip.

Remus? Why had he--why was he hold--why was he a FROG?!

The frog gave a watery croak, holding Patton close in an embrace that was so warm it sent a wave of soothing heat through him.

Oh Crofters...He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged.

It felt--it felt---He melted into the other’s arms, burying his head against the Duke’s chest as the dam he’d tried so hard to build to hold back his tears crumbled like so much dust, leaving him sobbing in a series of squeaky croaks against the Dark Side.

Remus made a buzzing noise, nearly like a hum as he rocked Patton back and forth, keeping up the steady too tight pressure around him.

It shouldn’t make him cry harder. Yet Patton found himself doing just that, hot tears trailing down his cheeks. It had been so long. So long since anyone had done this with him. He’d never expected Remus of all Sides to instigate a hug with him, not when he’d spent so many years trying to keep the Duke from influencing Thomas’s everyday life. By all rights, Remus should hate him for being so strict. Should want nothing to do with him.

And here he was.

Hugging Patton.

Comforting him.

Trying to help in his own odd Remusey way.

It left him feeling all tingly inside, like butterflies dancing inside an inflating balloon as electric pulses danced across his skin.

Fresh tears leaked through his closed eyelids. It should end soon. All hugs had to end. Remus had to pull away at some point to leave Patton feeling all cold and icky again.

And yet…

Remus didn’t move.

The Dark Side wasn’t known for his long attention span, always fidgeting or spouting out a new topic of conversation.

But here he was...holding tight unto Patton without showing any signs of releasing his grip, his warmth as constant and steady as the Duke’s heartbeat.

Patton drew in a shuddering breath, eyelids fluttering. He didn’t deserve this. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice hoarse, barely registering that actual words left his mouth instead of croaks.

Remus huffed, adjusting his grip for the first time to run his fingers through Patton’s hair, sending a shiver down his spine. “Apology accepted, Padre.”

Accepted? Just like that? No questions? Patton trembled, breath hitching, not quite believing he’d heard correctly. “Y-you--why?”

“Mmm?”

Patton steeled himself before looking up, registering Remus’s very human face inches from his own. His regular sized face. Not a giant one. Which meant...he’d somehow shifted back to his normal self while bawling his eyes out. “Y-you di-didn’t ask why I-I-I was sor-sorry.”

Remus made a clicking sound with his tongue, as he trailed his fingers down the back of Patton’s neck, eyes glittering. “Do you know why you were saying sorry?”

Patton blinked, mouth half open with no idea what to say, his mind racing as he raised a shaking hand to scrub at his wet cheeks. There was...it was hard to explain! “I…”

Remus chuckled. “Then it’s sewage under the bridge, Patters. I don’t need to know why. You just needed to know I accept. Right? Make you feel better?”

He...he did feel a little better. “I--but--that--” Patton growled, shaking his head. “Tha-that’s not how apologies work!”

“Says who? Cus they’re wrong.” Remus winked. “Besides I got to see your rosy cheeks and it was well worth the wait.” He met Patton’s eyes before deliberately looking down.

Patton looked down as well and squeaked, practically throwing himself off of the Duke’s lap, knocking the paint covered paper to the ground in his desperation to grab a blanket to wrap around his waist, ears burning as Remus collapsed in a fit of giggles, his own--his own...rosy cheeks just as exposed as Patton’s had been. “WHY ARE WE NAKED?!” He demanded, voice cracking.

Sure he’d felt his glasses and hoodie fall from him when he’d changed into the tiny frog, but he hadn’t realized the rest of his--He shuddered again feeling Remus’s tongue against his bare back. No wonder it had been so--but he was human again! He should be wearing clothes! He’d had his outfit unmarred after he’d changed back from being that monster frog!

Remus rolled to his side and Patton flushed harder, looking away, pulling the blanket up to his neck, getting a wift of lemons as he did so.

“Never changed into an animal before have you?” He remarked, a wicked grin crossing his face. “Clothes can’t shift with you when you do that. You just leave them behind.” He pointed to his own pile of clothes on the paint covered floor.

Patton gulped, twisting the blanket in his hands. “But Deceit!”

“Shifts between people.” Remus waved a hand dismissively. “That’s different. People wear clothes. You’ve never seen him change into a snake in front of you have you?” No….but! ”But that-- my clothes! Earlier! I kept--”

Remus raised an eyebrow as he rolled off the bed, heading leisurely to his closet. “Were you a real frog earlier?”

Patton paused, mouth half opened. He--he--well they had been in a video game formant at the time he’d--he’d changed. Did...did that not count?

“Thought not.” Remus reemerged, thankfully wearing a tank top and very very short shorts as he tossed a wad of fabric at Patton’s head, the clothes vanishing just before hitting him only to reappear on his body.

If he hadn’t done cloth swaps before with the...with everyone else before, that would have been---Patton shoved the thought from his mind, drawing in a shaky breath, reluctantly lowering the blanket to see just exactly what Remus had dressed him in.

His fingers brushed over the black tank top with a picture of a kraken wrapped around a broken ship, to land on a pair of pajama bottoms that made it look like he had a multitude of tentacles instead of two legs.

Remus gave him a critical once over before flopping back onto the bed. “Satisfied Mr. Monk? I’m sure that outfit won’t upset your delicate tastes too much.” He winked. “Though I can always dress you in something more--” he popped his lips.

It wasn’t his favorite get up... but it was much better than--than a lot of things he could imagine Remus wearing. Imagine Remus trying to get him to wear to get a reaction from him. Patton bit his lip, looking back up. “Why are you being so….nice? To me?” He whispered.

Remus tilted his head at an unnatural angle to look at him, his eyebrows raised.

There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do.

Right. Patton flushed, looking away. Remus just...did things. Not just bad things apparently. Good things too. “Sorry. I just---no one…” He cut off as his voice cracked, blinking as his eyes began to burn again. “I...I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Recently. I--I thought you’d--”

“Kick you while you were down?”

Patton bit his lip, pulling his knees up to his chest, grateful his tentacle patterned pj bottoms were pants instead of a pair of short shorts. “...Yah.” The Dark Side of Creativity liked doing things like that...didn’t he?

Remus twisted, shimming up to flop between Patton and the wall. “It was tempting.” He admitted, tapping a random pattern on Patton’s arm as he smoothed down his moustache with his other hand, “but considering you just cried hard enough to fill like twenty toilets--” He shrugged. “There’s only so many times you can kick a dead horse before it’s no longer fun. Seemed like you needed a breather from being hit.”

Patton swallowed over the lump in his throat as he relaxed his grip on his knees, turning his head to Remus. “Yah...I-I did.”

Remus smirked. “As a frog though? You know there is this delectably bitter frog leg soup I’ve been itching to make and your legs--” He smacked his lips, eyes dancing with laughter as he stared at Patton. “Are quite shapely.”

And he thought his face couldn’t grow any hotter. At this rate he would give himself a sunburn from blushing so hard. “I--I-”

Why did Remus have to go and say THAT. Despite his legs already being covered with his pants, Patton pulled the blanket back over them, hiding them from view.

“Soo sensitive.” Remus teased, his feet prodding at Patton’s covered ones.

He was Feelings. He just--he pushed his feet against Remus’s, shoving them back. “I’m not used to--”

“Ah yes.” Remus propped himself up on one elbow, rolling his eyes as his knee knocked against Patton’s calf. “Roman’s compliments are a bit more tame aren’t they? Something more boring about how you’re super sweet and like unto fields of flowers and being like the Sun and other trite drivel?”

Patton bit his lip, a hollow pang echoing through his chest at the sound of Roman’s name. “...I don’t think he’ll be saying anything like that...to me….for a while.” Probably never again.

Remus froze for half a breath before he twisted, forcing his head between Patton’s chest and his legs so that he could use his stomach as a pillow.

Roman used to do that.

Patton swallowed over the lump in his throat, staring down at the Duke as he made himself comfortable.

He should push him away.

But at the same time...he--he missed...moments like this. Where it--it felt like someone wanted to be in his bubble. Wanted to stay near him.

“I do love an unhappy story.” Remus remarked, bracing his feet against the wall as he gave Patton a feral grin that quickly softened as he stared up into his eyes. “But,” He raised a hand to brush at Patton’s wet cheeks, fingers coming away with flecks of paint on them as he dropped his hand to his lips, tongue flicking out to lick his fingers. “...I don’t think you should tell it tonight. A scab isn’t fun to pick at if it’s still fresh you know.”

Patton bit his lip, blinking to keep his vision from blurring. “Right.” He managed to choke out.

He didn’t know when this..this would not be fresh though. Would it ever...ever scab over if Roman--if Virg--Lo...if he was constantly left alone on the Light Side--

A warm hand again pressed against his cheek. “You’re welcome to stay, you know.”

Patton drew in a shuddering breath, leaning into the Duke’s palm. “Huh?” He was...welcome? Here?

“The night. For a breather. Be away from everyone. Seems like you need it. Though--” Remus’s eyes lit up with laughter as he gestured with his other hand around the low lit room. “I do only have the one bed.”

Patton jerked, face burning as hot as the sun as he shoved Remus off him. “REMUS!” His voice shouldn’t sound that strangled. But. AH!

The Duke’s infectious laughter rang through the room as Remus rolled back to his spot between the wall and the bed, giving Patton as much space as he could on the twin sized bed.

He may be more naive than the others in some aspects, but after finding some of the stuff that the Fanders had written about them...he--he--knew what that particular phrase could imply. “You could create another.” He said, once Remus’s laughter had died down to faint giggles, hating how high his voice still was. “You’re Creativity too!”

“I could.” He easily agreed, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. “but that’s not Fun. I wouldn’t be able to hear your breathing if you weren’t right here,” Remus dropped his voice seductively, smoothing down his moustache. “Next to me.”

If he got out of this room without getting third-degree burns from blushing Patton would be amazed. “I--I--stop it!”

Remus tilted his head at that unnatural angle, his foot darting out to tap his toes again. “Stop what? You’re the one still here, Patters. On my bed. I haven’t tied you to it with fluffy handcuffs or anything though I could give you some. In your favorite shade of blue even.” He snickered. “Ooooooh, I’m sure I could make you squea--” He cut off as Patton shoved a pillow into his face.

He! He! Patton fell on top of the pillow, muffling his voice as he--he wasn’t sure if he was screaming or not, but AGH. Remus was--was so! So!!

An arm snaked around the pillow tapping Patton’s head before trailing down his neck. “Why haven’t you left?” Remus asked, his voice barely understandable through the pillow. He wiggled, the tip of his nose peeking out. “You can any time you know. I know you don’t like me, Pats. Don’t stay on my account.” He--yah...he---he could leave. Should have left as soon as he realized he was again. Synced back to his room. To the light sides...to--to the loneliness. “If you know I--I don’t---lik--I haven’t been that--that good to you Remus. Why are you being nice to me?” Patton whispered reaching up to grab The Duke’s hand before it could trail further down his back.

“Thomas is nice.” Remus said simply, going lax under him, his fingers twisting to squeeze Patton’s. “I’m just nice...differently.”

He didn’t understand. Had never fully understood Remus nor his purpose. But this-- Patton tightened his grip. “Well it’s...I...I need nice right now. To feel--” Loved. Wanted. He trailed off, trying to keep his voice from wobbling. Was that pathetic of him? Wanting to stay when Remus was talking to him when no one else would? When he was instigating touch without Patton having to ask? “And..and you’re...you’re being nice...you hugged me and I just--” He cut off with a squeak as the pillow suddenly vanished, sending him right into Remus’s chest, the Duke’s arms wrapping around him in that too tight grip, fingers trailing through his hair.

“Let me hold you then.” Remus whispered. “If that’s what you need.”

It was. He--he needed--Patton trembled, fingers gripping the Duke’s shirt as he pressed his face into his chest, breathing in the scent of lemons. “I’m sorry...it’s---”

Remus huffed a laugh into his ear, squeezing him tighter. “Apology accepted.”

#Lemon Drops #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Patton #Remus #Morality #Duke #Frog!Patton #Death Talk tw #Nudity tw #Innuendos tw #Blood tw #Negative self talk #Trapped/Captivity tw #panic attack tw #Fight talk tw #Frog!Remus

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