#but other managers use headphones and listen to music quietly enough that they can hear everyone. why cant she do this

[everybodysaycbx]

.

[cuubism]

Predictive Modeling

Part 10 of Complex Mathematics

[ just a little hurt/comfort sorta fic for you I guess]

Dream gets overstimulated fairly easily. It caused him issues as a child: needing to leave rooms, getting constant headaches, losing his ability to function if there was too much going on.

But he has been dealing with it for so long now that he knows, for the most part, how to manage it. He knows how much time he can spend in certain environments before he needs to leave. He knows how to best approach class obligations to limit the time spent in distressing, overwhelming situations. He knows how to set his own boundaries. Perhaps he sets them too hard, sometimes, as he had done at first with Hob, not wanting to let him near. But he has figured most of it out, and knows how to retreat before getting overwhelmed.

Hob exists in such a state of energy that it takes Dream a long time to realize that he gets overstimulated, too.

He’s not certain Hob realizes it, though.

Hob recognizes the overstimulation in Dream. He’s learned to see when Dream is starting to shut down, when he needs to retreat back into his room and his work. Dream has started to find himself capable of letting Hob stay with him in those moments, so long as Hob is able to just be with him quietly. They’ve passed many an evening with Dream buried in a notebook, using his equations to push away the outside world, while Hob lies beside him on the couch, watching or listening to something on his phone, headphones in, toes pressed to Dream’s thigh, a light, grounding touch.

Hob is so much more capable of coping with chaos that Dream wouldn’t have thought him to get overstimulated. Hob goes out and meets with friends, enjoying the play of a group conversation that Dream always finds too difficult to follow. Hob teaches big sections for his classes and doesn’t seem to find it overly burdensome to manage all the students. Hob likes to go out drinking, and clubbing.

(This latter activity is one he’s managed, somehow, to get Dream into, on occasion. Dream had indulged him the first time, with great apprehension, warning Hob that he would likely need to leave immediately— but Hob had said trust me, I have a feeling. Armed with earplugs to cut the harshest edge of the noise, Dream had let Hob draw him into the darkness and flashing lights and the sound.

Oh, the wave of sound. Dream had expected it to shatter his skull, to need to flee—but the music was so heavy, so loud and undulating, that it somehow crested the threshold of overwhelm and flattened out on the other side. It rolled over him instead of cutting, the bass pounding through his chest so hard he could feel it in each heartbeat. He closed his eyes to block out the flashing lights. Moved close to Hob, let Hob wrap around him so he was all Dream could feel. The press of his body, and the weight of the music so beyond loud he could not even hear his roiling thoughts. He could only feel.

Hob had leaned in close to his ear. Dream could not hear what he said, but he knew it anyway. Told you.)

In retrospect, that should have been his hint.

He knows, already, that Hob is more attentive to Dream’s needs than to his own. He hadn’t realized Hob’s mind moved so fast he simply skipped over his own needs, sometimes. It would be better for Hob, maybe, if he had someone other than Dream to look after him, someone who wasn’t so often behind the curve in understanding what was going on in other people’s minds. Perhaps that person would have picked up on it quicker and figured out something to do.

They wouldn’t have been like Dream, and missed it until it became a panic attack.

~

Hob is. Maybe. A little bit scattered.

Not that it doesn’t happen often enough. And not that it should really be a surprise, considering. But it’s— yeah, he’s a bit all over the place. He’s glad he had the foresight to put Dream in charge of logistics, like the hotel reservation, otherwise God knows if they’d have gotten there.

They’re in London for the weekend. Hob has a tech conference, and Dream came with him because he wanted to go to the library, apparently. Hob half wonders if Dream just wanted to keep an eye on him, or wanted the company, but it doesn’t matter, he’s always glad to have Dream along.

In any case, Dream’s gone to amuse himself reading some arcane mathematical text while Hob’s at the conference, and they’re meant to meet up after. Hob’s been working nonstop on his presentation for this thing for weeks, and now that it’s over he’s—

—he’s supposed to meet Dream to get dinner. Right. Assuming Dream doesn’t get lost in the library.

“Hob.”

Hob whirls around. “Oh! There you are.” Dream’s just come up the stairs from the station entrance, and is now a lone still figure in the sea of people streaming around him. Hob weaves his way through the crowd to meet him. Just his luck this conference had to be in such a busy area. He hopes it’s not too chaotic for Dream.

He takes Dream’s hand. Dream smiles at him. He says something, but the chatter and traffic and noise around them is so great that Hob misses it.

“What?”

“Should we go to the hotel?” Dream repeats.

Their hotel is also nearby. But Hob shakes his head. “No, we were supposed to get dinner, remember? The place you wanted to try?”

Dream nods. Hob consults his loose mental map of the area. “Should be… this way.”

He leads Dream along, still holding onto his hand, weaving them through crowds, past street vendors and people congregating in doorways, passing conversation and music and the smells of food cooking in restaurants, flashing lights in the dusk and cars whizzing by—

“How was the conference?” Dream asks as they walk.

“Um.” Hob darts them across a street, keeping an eye out for traffic. “Um. It was good! I mean. I had to explain the project about eighty-seven times in a row. So.” He’s probably going to be reciting the introductory spiel in his sleep for weeks. Dream knows it too, Hob’s practiced it in front of him enough.

“Lots of networking,” he adds, and Dream grumbles. Hob doesn’t mind it too much, though. At least, when it involves actually talking to people about their work with genuine interest, he doesn’t mind. He could do without the false veneer of the thing, and the fake manners.

The restaurant should be around here… probably? It’s starting to get a bit dark and the lights everywhere are very bright and it’s really very loud, all overlapping noises, he might have taken them across a wrong street? Circled or doubled back? He was distracted. He feels… very distracted.

He spins around, trying to figure out where they are. He thinks he’s… maybe taken them the wrong way? Fuck.

“Hob,” Dream says. Like he’s not saying it for the first time.

Turning again to face him makes Hob’s head spin. He feels kind of dizzy. Maybe he didn’t eat enough? No, he ate lunch… probably. Just needs some water, maybe.

“Hob,” Dream repeats, brow pinching.

“I’ll— I’ll find it,” Hob tells him, reaching for his phone. It slips from his hand and Hob watches, as if through tunnel vision, as it drops to the pavement. Dream picks it up, holds it out to him, unharmed. It takes Hob a second to take it back.

He puts it in his pocket. Finds himself reaching out to touch Dream’s arm to make sure the world is not actually spinning the way it feels like it is. It doesn’t seem to be. Dream is solid under his hand. But Hob can’t. Can’t think. It’s too loud. His throat feels tight. He stares at the buttons on Dream’s jacket. Counts them. One. Two—

Dream takes his arm. Starts leading him down the street. Hob tries not to stumble. Everything whirls past. He clutches to Dream.

Well, maybe Dream’s figured out where the restaurant is, at least. That’s something.

He doesn’t figure out where Dream’s actually taking them until they’re through the sliding doors of their hotel—apparently it was closer than he thought—up a flight of stairs, and through their hotel room door. Only then does Dream release his arm, and Hob finds himself hunched on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, collapsed in the sudden vacuum of silence.

It all rushes from him, all at once, all the noise, chaos, energy, and what’s left is a sweeping sense of doom. He might actually be dying. This is what the imminent collapse of death feels like. Sudden assurance of the end.

“Hob,” Dream says. Hob’s closed his eyes, and only feels the dent of the mattress as Dream sits beside him.

Hob means to tell him he just needs a second and then they can get back to what they were doing. Instead he plants his face in Dream’s chest.

Dream makes a surprised sound, then tentatively wraps his arms around him. He doesn’t say anything more. Gradually his embrace grows tighter. He slips his fingers into Hob’s hair and holds him close.

Hob always ends up surprised by how solid Dream actually is. He’s appreciating it now as he hides his face in Dream’s shirt, trying to block out everything else. Being in the quiet of their hotel room helps, though. Everything’s not spinning as much. He thinks he can breathe again.

“Hob,” Dream says, eventually, “are you..?”

“I’m good,” Hob says, and finally lifts his head from Dream’s chest. The room, thankfully, doesn’t spin. “I’m— I don’t know what that was.”

“Overstimulation,” Dream says solemnly. He looks almost guilty about it, though Hob can’t for the life of him fathom why.

“Oh.” That… doesn’t make sense. He’s seen Dream get overstimulated. He usually describes it like something is itching under his skull. Like even the slightest sensation starts scraping at him. This was more like… there were just too many things going on. He got caught up in a whirlwind. Pulled in too many directions.

“I believe you had a panic attack,” Dream continues, still with that vaguely ashamed look that Hob doesn’t understand.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Wouldn’t you have to be afraid of something to have a panic attack? At least upset? “It wasn’t even a bad day or anything.”

“No, but perhaps a loud one,” Dream says, gently.

Huh. Is that really what happened? Did he just… snap?

In retrospect… maybe Hob’s felt that way before. Only he usually just pushes through it, rides the feeling out until it goes away and he can think again. Surely, if he were getting overstimulated, he would feel the need to retreat like Dream does—

Oh.

“You think so?”

Dream nods.

Well, he’d probably know better than Hob. “Well. I think I feel better now, so—”

Dream raises a hand to stop him. “We will order in. I will see if they do takeaway.”

While he’s ordering on his phone, Hob contemplates. Finally, stuck on that guilty look on Dream’s face, he asks, “Why did it make you upset? Wait, that came out wrong, I mean—”

“I should have known better,” Dream says.

“What?”

“I… I have dealt with this,” Dream says. “I ought to have noticed. Known it would happen. I could have done something. Before it got so bad.”

“Dream—” Hob really picked the most ridiculous man in the world to love. He can’t believe this is the same Dream who once told him he wanted to carve out his own eyes to avoid having to look at Hob. Something Dream would probably be mortified to be reminded he said, though Hob still finds it hilarious. “It’s not your fault.”

“I am supposed to help you,” Dream insists. “Particularly when it is something with which I have experience. Am I meant to sit idly by while you suffer?”

“Dream.” Hob squeezes his hands. “Of course not. But you can’t blame yourself for what’s going on in my brain. Besides, you brought us back to the hotel, didn’t you?”

“I’ve seen you like this before,” Dream argues. “I should have recognized it.”

“All-knowing, all-powerful Dream,” Hob teases, but Dream’s frown only deepens. “If I couldn’t recognize it, how are you meant to?”

“I have experience,” Dream insists, but Hob pets his hair, and he quiets.

“Well, if nothing else, you’ve distracted me from it—I’m just going to be thinking about this instead, now.” He ruffles Dream’s hair, which makes his mouth pinch into a little moue of irritation. “Sweet darling.”

“Sweet,” Dream echoes, with some distaste. He is, though. Can’t deny it.

“I will take your experience into account for next time,” Hob tells him, which seems to mollify him.

“The food will be here in approximately twenty minutes,” he tells Hob, after again consulting his phone. “In the meantime, stay there. I will fetch your pajamas.”

He’s doing that thing again that he did once when Hob got a concussion. Taking charge of the situation. Hob kind of loves when he does that. He hopes he’s not just doing it out of some misplaced guilt, though.

“I’m really fine!” Hob calls after him. “Could’ve still—”

Dream is ignoring him. Hob just shakes his head fondly.

While he’s alone, he takes stock of himself. He gets, now, what Dream meant about overstimulation. It was all very loud, and there was a lot going on, and he’d been in the thick of it all day. But. Could Dream actually be right about it being a panic attack?

Hob’s impression was that panic attacks were more… obvious? Surely he’d be crying and hyperventilating on the floor, if he was having a panic attack. Not just— just—

freezing.

Hob goes into the bathroom to wash his face. He still feels a little… shaky. Better, but… he remembers that crushing feeling. Like the world was bearing down on his throat. Strange.

When he goes back out into the bedroom, Dream’s managed to find his pajamas in the mess of the bag Hob definitely overpacked. Maybe he should have delegated that task to Dream like he did with the hotel reservation. Dream would have considered and had a reason for everything he brought.

Dream hands him his pajamas, then promptly disappears again, presumably to fetch their food. By the time he comes back, Hob’s changed and is sitting up in bed. “Didn’t get drinks with that, did you?” he asks hopefully, as Dream sets the takeaway bag on the nightstand.

Dream sighs in exasperation, but opens the bag to reveal a small bottle of wine. Hob mentally cheers. Dream hands it to him, and a glass from the room bar, but says, “Though I think it may not be the best idea.”

“Noted.” Hob opens the bottle—thankfully a twist-off lid, as he didn’t really want to have to break out his undignified uni-era bottle opening tricks in front of Dream. He has no idea if the wine will be any good. He doesn’t much care, just pours out two glasses.

Dream changes clothes too, and sits beside him in bed. Often Hob puts the telly on as background noise to settle his mind but today he just… can’t. So they sit in the quiet. Hob downs an entire glass of wine before even opening his pad see ew. Dream ignores his and just takes solemn, deliberate spoonfuls of his customary green curry. He stays solid and steady as he lets Hob lean against his shoulder.

“Have you had panic attacks before, then?” Hob asks when some time has passed, though it feels far more awkward to reopen the conversation now.

Dream nods. “Not for some time. But. Before I learned what it felt like when I needed to go somewhere quieter. Then yes. It— much of it is in my own mind. And so. Anything outside becomes too loud.”

Yeah. That does track. Sometimes Hob revels in having bustling chaos around him. But today, it’s like his mind was already fielding so much sensation, inside and out, that it just fritzed out.

“I wasn’t afraid of anything, though,” Hob argues.

Dream taps his spoon against the rim of the takeaway container. “I think. Panic. May be a different emotion than fear. Fear looks forward and backward; panic reacts only in the moment. It’s instinctual. An instant flight. Or freeze. Even if the problem is inside.” He ducks his head. “As it often was for me.”

Hob pets his hair, and Dream leans into the touch.

“In any case, it can be prevented if one can remove the overwhelming stimuli. But only if they can be identified.”

“Hmm.” Hob will have to think on it. “What’s your prescription then, Nurse Dream?”

Dream sighs, always long-suffering about that moniker. “You simply need to rest in a calmer environment. And remove sources of stress, if possible.”

“Alright, then.” Dream’s taken care of a lot of that for him already. “Thank you, darling.”

For once, Dream doesn’t tell him not to thank him.

Hob steals a bit of his curry—and then struggles to even swallow it. “Wow. They make that proper spicy here, eh?”

Dream’s lips quirk in a half-smile. “As I was hoping. I don’t think the place at home believes me when I tell them I want it spicy.”

Hob’s not sure he’d believe it either, if he hadn’t watched Dream eat it without even blinking. Dream’s relationship with food is strange, and Hob can’t always get him to eat at all. At first he’d thought he should just try to get him to eat bland foods, but no, it’s actually easier to tempt Dream to break his habits with sashimi than it is with toast. Hob already knows he’s going to have to get some sort of fancy tech job after graduation, because whatever salary comes along with being a maths genius isn’t going to keep Dream in biweekly sushi.

The thought just makes him smile.

“I’m glad. You should have it the way you want. Even if it burns your tongue off. Though on second thought, if you lose feeling in your tongue that affects me too—”

“You must be feeling like yourself again if you are rambling this nonsense at me,” Dream says, going back to eating his curry, but Hob can hear the fondness in his tone.

“That’s a pillar of our relationship.”

“Yes, nonsense certainly is,” Dream agrees, and Hob pokes him in the side in admonishment. Dream breaks into a true smile then.

“Capsaicin does not create actual burns,” Dream continues. “My tongue will continue to be at your disposal.”

“At my disposal, eh?”

“I ought to feed you more of it,” Dream warns, and Hob grins.

“I’ll happily swallow anything you care to feed me—”

“Eat your dinner, Hob.”

“Yes, Nurse Dream.”

~

Hob wakes the next morning with his face planted in Dream’s stomach, and feels immensely grateful they don’t have any plans for the day other than eventually going home. He’d like to stay right here until Dream wakes up, which could very well be at—

Dream is already petting his hair.

“Did you even sleep?” Hob asks, voice muffled in Dream’s shirt.

“Do I ever?” says Dream, deadpan.

“What are you thinking about? And if you’re going to be awake can you get some coffee before I die?”

“You are too stubborn to die,” Dream says, and hands him the hotel room phone.

Hob muzzily asks room service to bring coffee, then rolls on his back to look up at Dream. “Hey.” He reaches up to touch Dream’s jaw. “What are you thinking about?”

Dream takes his hand and starts playing with his fingers. “I did not like seeing you like that.”

“I’ll try not to let it happen again?”

Dream shakes his head. “It was like you simply… froze. I did not like it at all.”

As usual, Hob ends up rambling to distract from the lump that puts in his throat. “Well you’re always telling me to shut up, so—”

Dream shakes his head fervently. “No. I did not mean it. Did you think I meant it?”

“No.” They’ve always been like that, poking at each other, since they first met.

“You did not notice it,” Dream says, apparently back on the track of Hob’s little silent meltdown. Hob’s not sure how much he cares to go over it again. If he lets the possibility worm into him, he’s never going to stop thinking about it. “You thought. It was normal.”

“I guess?”

Dream seems truly distressed by it. More so than Hob, even.

“I do not want you to suffer and not do anything about it,” Dream says, voice cracking, and oh, darling.

Dream presses Hob’s head in to his chest, arms wrapped around him, and Hob strokes his side, throat tight. “It’s alright, sweetheart.”

“It’s not.” Then again, Hob feels much the same when he sees Dream not eat. Helpless to fix it. And Hob knows that even if he doesn’t have that problem, he can definitely be prone to forgetting that too much is a thing that exists. He hadn’t realized it bothered Dream.

“It is not alright,” Dream repeats. Then, quieter. “I do not want to see you suffer.”

“Then don’t look?”

“Hob Gadling.”

There’s a proper snap in Dream’s voice now, and Hob winces. “Don’t make yourself responsible for me.”

“I am responsible for you. I do not know what the point of this is if I am not. For us to simply glance ineffectually off each other with not a care? Is that what you want?”

It’s not. And really, he’s already made himself responsible for Dream. Hypocrisy, not to acknowledge it.

Hob’s spared from answering by room service knocking on the door. But he can’t help but feel regret as he goes to fetch their coffee.

Dream looks sullen when he gets back, but he accepts the cup of coffee Hob offers him. Hob sits back in bed, but this time facing him. He lays a hand on Dream’s knee.

“I do feel responsible for you,” he says. “I’m sorry I said that.”

Dream sniffs. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make my problems your fault, though,” Hob adds, and Dream’s lips twist in dissatisfaction, but this time he doesn’t argue.

“It distresses me when I can see you are hurting,” Dream says, insistent. “You have always wanted me to share my feelings. Well, I am sharing them.”

“I think it’s distressing you more than it is me,” Hob says. But when he picks up his coffee cup again his hands are trembling. Never mind that it’s a day later. Never mind that he should be over it, thought he was over it. It’s the thought of the thing that’s getting to him more than anything. The thought that he could just shut down and not see it until he’s over the precipice.

He thinks. Maybe he was wrong in saying there was no fear there. He might not have been afraid of anything in particular, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t rise up to choke him anyway, that crashing fear when there’s just too much, when your own mind is slipping out of your control.

Panic, Dream had said. The snap instinct to fly, or freeze.

Dream catches it, takes the mug from his hands and sets it aside. Then he draws Hob to him so Hob can press his face into his throat. He often mimics the things Hob does for him, and this is no exception— when Dream is feeling overwhelmed, and hasn’t decided he wants to be alone, he’ll often curl up in Hob’s lap, tuck his face into Hob’s shoulder. Hob does it now, worms in close, takes in the familiar smell of his skin, all the sharp lines of his body that Hob has memorized by now. He thinks of Dream, his very first sight of him, bristly and sharp and quick to snap, and how careful he is now, with Hob, how quick to jump to blaming himself, like he thinks Hob doesn’t have any of that armor and so Dream’s got to provide it himself. And to be fair, Hob let himself get pricked by Dream’s thorns a hundred times before even knowing for sure there was something soft to find underneath. He’s demonstrated himself incapable of operating with caution.

Dream’s learned to protect himself, sometimes too well. Hob’s never felt the need. So Dream’s done it for him.

“Looking out for me, hmm?” Hob says, still with lips pressed to Dream’s skin, and it comes out wavering.

“I do not know what the point is if I don’t,” Dream says, tucking his nose into Hob’s hair. “I do not know how to do this in a way where I am not protecting you with all that I am.”

“Dream…” God. Hob doesn’t know what to say to that. Except that he feels much the same. “I love you.”

Dream squeezes him tight and doesn’t let him go. Hob submits to his fate, gladly, curling in closer against him. It is nice, really, to have Dream hold him. Dream’s better at it than he thinks he is.

“Maybe next time we just won’t plan dinner out after an already busy day,” Hob says, in concession to Dream’s concerns that he ought to stave off overwhelm.

“See,” Dream sniffs, “it is not so hard.”

“Well now you’re just being a superior twit—”

Dream laughs, breath ruffling Hob’s hair, and it feels like they’re able to find their usual rhythm again. “I am not superior. I am only telling the truth.”

“That is, in fact, exactly what someone who’s being a superior little twit would say—”

Dream bundles him down into the pillows, and Hob laughs as he’s nearly smothered in the mess of blankets. “You will pay for your name-calling.”

“Oh, like I’ve paid for it so far?”

Dream kisses him very much like he means to shut him up. Hob laughs into his mouth, tangling his fingers in Dream’s hair. “My perfect darling,” he says when they part to breathe, “my love. Is that better?”

“Yes,” Dream says. “I like when you call me that.”

“Good.” Hob caresses his cheek, and Dream smiles. “So then, just don’t behave like a—”

Dream pushes him down further into the sheets before Hob can finish the sentence, and Hob loses himself to laughing as Dream kisses his cheek, his jaw, his neck. This is really more of what Hob initially had in mind for last night, so he’s glad they’re getting to it now. He wraps an arm around Dream’s back, pulling him closer.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Dream leans his cheek against Hob’s, still holding him tight. “As am I.”

[hayeshellcat]

On Becoming A Lady Person, Pt. 3: On Pronouns and Misguided Moral Conduct

Journal Entry

9/11/24

Notes

All conversants are cisgender women (numbered), plus me (“Me”); various substance use disorders, co-occurring mental health disorders, and post-acute withdrawal symptoms in play.

As a trans woman early in my transition, I am accustomed to special attention, often in the form of compliments on my wardrobe or some aspect of my physical appearance. I understand that these are meant to be affirming. I suspect simultaneously that these comments serve various ego trips and growth processes as the cis women adjust to the existence of an unfamiliar presence: a transgender woman (admittedly, a rather stylish one, with great hair).

Setting

Smoking area in the fenced-in yard of a large treatment center for women. It is dusk, mosquitos are dodging blue tobacco smoke, searching for exposed skin. Children’s toys are scattered about. Around 10 women sit in an approximation of a circle, in mismatched lawn furniture; or stand by the nearby entranceway. It is early September, in the mid-70’s F, in the American Midwest. 

Scene

Woman 1: (staring at me for an extended period, then turning to the larger group, in a sudden burst of social energy) Doesn’t he have such great hair!?

Me: (smoking a cigarette, listening to music in can headphones - one headphone off-kilter enough to track conversation; casually, this is my 20th such compliment today and I would prefer to just accept it without noting the misgender, and shift attention back to my music and my American Spirit): Thank you.

Woman 2: (in a chair beside W1, quickly and in a hushed, sharp tone) Her hair.

W1: (embarrassed, realizing her mistake as quickly as she is corrected) Her. Shoot. Sorry. (body language of guilt; in her haste to receive her gold star for complimenting the resident tranny,her attention faltered and she revealed her bias)

Me: (quickly, quietly): No sweat.

Woman 3: (standing 10 feet away, didn’t hear the full exchange, just the initial compliment; aggressive, disgusted tone and body language; to W1) It’s her. (to Me) You know you can correct her, right?

Me: (again, quietly; wanting to move on): Yep, I know. She caught it. 

W3: (to W1, walking closer) Do you realize what you did? You said he. It’s she.

W1: (more embarrassed, body language of guilt intensifies) I know! (to Me) I know you.

Me: (slightly louder, clearer; now entirely focused on managing the situation, not on my music and my cigarette) It’s okay. It happens. Thank you. (arms gesture, indicating “let’s drop it here”)

(I put my cigarette out and get up to go inside.)

Woman 4: (comes outside as I am walking in; turns to another woman and speaks, purposefully within ear-shot of me and the larger group): Damn, he’s lookin’ good!

Me: (I smile at W4, make eye contact with W3, who is staring back. I raise my eyebrows and shrug slightly, as if to say, “See? I have to pick my battles.” I head inside with my headphones on.)

Analysis

What can we learn from this situation? What would I like other people to understand about this, what I assume is a common experience for trans women who brave social situations with cis women?

(1) Yes, for me, misgendering is exactly this common. I am in a unique social situation (a residential treatment center), but I think that I am pretty safe to generalize this experience. Let’s summarize what happened and put a timeline to it. 

This exchange, in total, lasted about one minute. A well-meaning cis woman tried to do a “social good,” let’s call it, and betrayed her bias (i.e., she sees me as a man). In the process of walking twenty feet to the doorway, just seconds later, this exact behavior repeated itself, in what I believe to be the same moral context. When I say moral context and social good, I mean this: “Look at me. I’m affirming this person who is different, and I am so caught up in my goodness that I lose focus and do a whoopsie-uh-oh microaggression.” This is my own intuition and analysis, not the facts. 

Here’s what I want you to know: Yes, this (the misgendering, the well-meaning corrections, the awkwardness, the body language of anxiety, guilt, and defeat) happens frequently, many times a day. This is especially true in social settings with people who are unfamiliar and unpracticed with transgender experience. That includes the vast majority of people everywhere. I am in the rural Midwest. It applies to 97.285% of folks up here.

(2) I am well-practiced dealing with this. I understand intuitively what is going on. It is bias and momentary inattention. It is not malicious. When I say “No sweat” or “It’s okay,” what I really mean is: I don’t like this, it’s not okay in the big picture, but in this small social interaction, I am offering grace and forgiveness with ease. I am able to brush it off and move on, which is what I want to do. 

Now, if I am in a similar scenario and I do not have the emotional energy to truly shrug it off, I might say the same things (no sweat, it’s okay). In such a situation, my feelings may be hurt and I may have some stirred-up shame and gender dysphoria to deal with. My comments about it being all right are arguably insincere. Still, my emotions are mine to identify and express, and the current, mundane, distressing social interaction is not where I wish to process those feelings. I will seek out a safe person and ask for support; or some other self-care-type thing. 

As a final comment on this, I want to explore another perspective, which is that I could be more vocal and more assertive in my follow-up communication around these microaggressive microsituations. Where I am in my transition and general mental health journey, I have come to realize and accept that I am not a typical warrior. I have no righteous tack. In Jungian terms, I am probably an introverted intuitive. Whatever. I am working to honor the truth that I really value righteous vocality in my friends within the community, those who might be labeled social justice warriors. I have to protect my energy, though, and so the idea that I am going to resolve whatever problem I am presenting here by learning to speak up for myself is uninteresting to me. 

(3) Woman 2 acted like a true ally. This is common sense if you have done any work on the topic of trans allyship. The thing to do is either a) As W2 did, quickly and calmly offer a correction, and move on; or b) Don’t say anything. Option b, I want to emphasize, is equally okay - at least in my case. Other trans women might have different expectations. Duh. The bottom line is that we either will or will not correct someone, and our reasons are our business. In this case, it was late in the day, I was trying to decompress and enjoy a cigarette, and I was half-invested, socially; signified by my headphones half-on/half-off. I made a split-second decision that it was not a good use of my energy to speak up. W2 made her own split-second on my behalf, and it was A-okay by my own boundaries. Cool cool cool. I wish this had been the end.

On that note, before I move on to my last point, I want to emphasize this:

(4) This was a truly mundane experience. I neither enjoyed it, nor was I particularly hurt. Next, I am going to talk about why this stuff has the capacity to hurt me, and so I want to make it clear that I personally view these exchanges and microaggressions through a thoroughly generalized lens. They all just blend together because I have a certain amount of experience dealing with them. It is almost like a weird scripted conversation that I am forced to perform like ten or more times daily. I disconnect emotionally and run through my well-rehearsed lines as quickly as possible. At this point in my transition, I think that this is a healthy approach rooted in resiliency and born from my mental health and spiritual work. As I hope I am making very clear - this is my own perspective and is always subject to change. Earlier this year, with less experience, it would have conceivably hurt a lot worse. Or if I am having an off day, it still might get my goat. But generally…

The reason I have to work at making this stuff not a big deal is the same reason it actually really, really hurts me. 

(5) The issue is that we (the cis women and I) have different perceptual experiences of what is important and what is worth our attention. Otherwise stated, the problem is a lack of awareness or focus and/or a lack of empathy. 

Misgender me once - no shame. 

I have misgendered members of the community. I get it. I know how this happens. I have also learned the protocol and best practices of apologizing, making the correction, and quickly moving on. 

Now, here is what I really want to say: The fucking issue is that these common, mundane experiences of misgendering betray what most people are actually paying attention to. It hurts so fucking much when I go through this stuff and I see that cis people are not learning to see me as I am. They are learning the protocol for when they mess up, which is simple and offers a tasty moral reward. I believe that most people are far more interested in feeling good about themselves than they are in putting in the work to empathize with me and to understand my experience as a transgender woman. This. Fucking. Sucks. 

My experience tells me that 75% of the time, people get so caught up in their own egoic morality trip (i.e., getting the psychic reward of complimenting the tranny (W1 and W4), or in performing the little social justice drama of pronoun-correction protocol (W3)) that I, the object of the microaggressive behaviors, become absurdly inconsequential to this whole affair.

You motherfuckers forget to learn anything at all about me. Who I am. What I want. How I connect with others. You are so caught up in doing good. You would rather be good than pay attention to me. To see me as a fucking human being. I am fucking interesting, goddamnit. Complex. Nuanced. Feminine. Passionate. Compassionate. Attentive. Empathetic. I have such a rich inner world and if you take the time to get to know me, my transgender experience will come to make such beautiful sense that it will enrich your whole worldview and every other relationship you have. 

So many people who I am trying to keep close in my life, cis people I love and who were my friends before my transition, perform this song and dance reliably. They always behave appropriately when they make mistakes, but they never really learn. They keep making the mistakes. I am so hurt and angry about this. I am learning that I can usually tell within two or three interactions with a person whether they have the capacity to empathize with me on my transition journey - if they can devote the attention and energy needed to navigate their bias and to show their actual interest in learning about me. So. Fucking. Many. Cannot. Long-term friendships. Blood relatives.

Misgender me five or six times, every time - shame on you. SHAME ON YOU.

Fuck you. Fuck you. I do not judge you for having bias. I was socialized in the same systems. I do not care if you slip up. I care that you try. I care that you learn. 

And you don’t.  

You dance the moral dance. You retreat into your stuff. You. You. You. Even when your mouth says “great hair” or even “I love you,” your uncomfortable body language betrays you: your thinly-veiled, hostile anxiety;  and, most of all, your inability or unwillingness to do the challenging work of changing your mind about who I really am and how it all fits together.

Listen, I understand the nature of the work. It is fair to call it challenging - though, like everything else, it is only difficult in a specific context and will get easier with intentional practice. I know bias. I know transphobia. I know our culture. I know the gender binary.

What is going through your head? Like, really going on? Your unresolved shame about watching transgender porn? Maybe  it’s your fetish for womens’ lingerie. Maybe your irrational fear that I am a violent sexual predator. Or that I am diseased. Mentally unstable? Confused? Maybe the drugs I took scrambled my brain, or I had a porn addiction that went on for too long and I went too far down the sissy hypno rabbit hole. Maybe despite knowing that the larger social justice community vilifies TERFs, you can’t help but hear J.K. Rowling or even Dave Chappelle and think, “My gut tells me that they’re speaking the truth.” Is that your feminine intuition you’re feeling? Your real, actual experience as a real, actual woman telling you that what you see is unnatural: a wolf man in sheep womens’ clothing. Or you, as a man’s man, see women in the two appropriate, socially-sanctioned contexts: 1) objects of sexual desire and conquest, or 2) precious, pure mothers, daughters, and sisters who rely on strong men like you for protection.

If I’m not with you, I am against you. I am your moral, spiritual enemy. Your instinct tells you who is on the home team, who is basically good. 

And I’m not. Your gut tells you I’m wrong. Bad. Evil.

Here’s the deal. My whole life’s journey to this point might be summed up by the suffering I have endured navigating this whole social framework. I have done the work to explore it, understand it, and discard it. It sounds hokey and pretentious and I don’t care. I see the Reality and Truth beyond all of this. I see how who I am as a transgender woman is actually a natural, wonderful thing. I feel wonder. I see the beauty. I will own some amount of psychological projection. But fuck you if you are here to tell me, whether in words or actions, that I am wrong, unnatural, sick, confused; that I do not belong here. I do. 

The work is worth it.

Please, give me your attention. This is truly interesting. Your intuition, your gut feeling is telling you that something is not right. 

It is not me. 

Please, take a deep breath and start the work of figuring out what it really is. I promise nothing but love and acceptance if you choose to include me in your journey. I can help. It is worth it. I promise. 

Lastly - she/her, please.

[fiddler-sticks]

Third Wheel Race

Summary: Jack goes on a ✨secret mission✨ to distract his boyfriend from overwhelming schoolwork, and drags Race along with him

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

-Modern AU-

"Remind me why I have to go with you again?"

"Because we told Medda we were going on a walk, and David's window is too high up for me to reach on my own."

"You know she would've just let you go over to his house if you just asked."

"Yeah, I know, but where's the fun in that!"

Jack and Race were walking through town on a mission. Well, Jack was on a mission, and Race was just along for the heck of it. Well that, and Jack kind of dragged him along, but we're not gonna talk about that.

"Why can't you just walk through the door? His parents already know," Race said.

"He's working on some big essay, and they might not let me in in order to 'not distract him'," Jack said, using air quotes. "Thing is, he's working himself too hard. He won't answer any of my phone calls or texts, and he acts like a zombie at school. I'm worried about him."

"Maybe you're just being annoying. You annoy me to no end."

Jack deadpanned. "Thanks."

"You're welcome!" Race said cheerily. "So what are you gonna do when we get there? Throw rocks at his window and break it?"

"No," Jack scoffed. "I'm gonna get on your back and knock on it."

"You didn't say anything about you getting on my back! I am a delicate human being, and you cannot just do that to me!" Race pouted. "And what if he has headphones on and can't hear you?"

"Then we'll try the front door. He doesn't work with headphones on though. It's either no music or through speakers."

"I ain't going to the front door if he doesn't answer. I'm running home and leaving you on your own."

"Fine. I don't think it'll come to that though."

"It better not," Race grumbled.

"Look, here we are!"

"Oh goody."

"Quit your griping, and c'mon!"

The two boys quietly ran up to the Jacobs' house, and slunk through the shadows to the back where David's window was.

Jack looked around on the ground, dragging his shoe through the dirt.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna throw rocks!" Race hissed.

"Fine, I won't then if you're so desperate for me to get on your back."

Race swore under his breath, but stomped over to the side of the house underneath the window, putting one hand on it to steady himself. "Just get on already."

"Thanks, Racer. You're the best."

"Ain't that the truth. You lovebirds better make this worth my while soon."

After much struggling, Jack managed to get on Race's shoulders (piggyback wasn't enough height), and knocked on Davey's window.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Davey's face was scrunched up, deep in thought as he stared at his laptop screen, when he heard knocking coming from his window. Perplexed, he got up to investigate, thankful for something real distracting him.

When he pulled up the shade, he was surprised to see his boyfriend on the other side of the glass. He pushed up the window.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a low voice, confusion on his face.

"I came to see you, isn't that obvious?" Jack said.

Davey rolled his eyes. "You couldn't've just used the front door?"

"Exactly what I said!" a voice said that David couldn't see.

Jack looked down. "Shut up, Racer," he said. David laughed.

"Of course you had to rope Race into this."

"You better be thankful!" Race quietly called up.

"Racer. Quiet," Jack said again, and Davey heard a quiet pout before it went silent.

"Now, answer my question," Davey said. "Why are you here?"

"Can't a guy just go see his boyfriend?" asked Jack.

Davey stared at him.

"Fine. You weren't answering anything I sent you, and you seem like you're running on caffeine alone at school, so I came to check on ya."

Davey sighed. "I'm trying to write a big essay for the end of school, and it's not going as well as I hoped."

"Well, maybe I can take your mind off'a that," Jack said with a wink.

Davey blushed.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Meanwhile, Race was busying himself with memorizing the side of the house, inch by inch, trying not to listen to what the lovebirds above him were saying. His back was starting to hurt though, so he let go of Jack with one hand, and pulled out his phone. Too bad he didn't think to bring earbuds.

He was contentedly reading fanfiction, when he felt Jack pull his hair, and realized he'd let Jack slip down his back a good bit. He hoisted Jack back up to let them continue... whatever they were doing. Race shuddered. He didn't want to know.

Especially when Jack leaned down and told him to be still, sounding like he was out of breath.

Yeah, Race REALLY didn't want to know what they were doing.

When he checked his phone though and saw the time, both he and his back were greatly relieved.

"Jack, it's almost 7. We gotta get back," he called up.

After a few seconds of hearing almost nothing, he tried again. "Jack, c'mon! Before Medda gets suspicious," he tacked on.

A few more seconds went by, but then he heard Jack grumbling from above him.

"Yeah, okay, I heard ya the first time."

"Okay, I'm setting you down now," Race warned.

"Be careful!" David called, and Race rolled his eyes.

After Jack was safely on the ground, he smirked, and called out, "When am I ever not careful!"

"More times than I can count on my fingers and toes," Davey shot back.

"Fair. C'mon, Jack. We gotta go. This was supposed to be a walk around town, not 'I'm gonna suck my boyfriend's face and drag my brother along'."

"Bye Davey!" Jack called, then glared at Race.

"By Jack!" A few seconds. "And Race."

"Glad to know I'm appreciated," Race said with a roll of his eyes.

Jack elbowed him in the side.

"Hey!"

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

This is based off this fanart that @kodzimon made :))

[paintball-writes]

Day 3 - Identities

Day1 - Day2 - Day3 - Day4

Marinette had been living with the waynes for over a month now. The reason? Tom and Sabine sent her away to her biological father. Apparently To Dupain was not her biological, but Bruce Wayne was.

Marinette had a sliver of hope, A really, really thin one. Which had faltered by the month.

Marinette had defeated Hawk Moth with Chat Noir. Apparently Plagg found the brooches along with two sleeping kwamis accidentally. At night when Gabriel and Natalie were asleep, He had stolen the miraculous. On the patrol that night, Chat had told her that the miraculous were right under their noses. He gave her the two brooches and told her that Plagg had found the brooches in his father’s study. He told her that Gabriel was Hawk moth and Natalie was Mayura. Then he de-transformed and handed her the ring saying that he wanted to continue his life as a civilian.

Later that week it was announced that Chat noir found out who Hawk Moth was and he had stolen the miraculous at night. He then said that Gabriel and Natalie were the Villians. He then revealed himself saying that he was innocent, and he had no idea that his father was Hawk moth. Marinette had thought that with Hawkmoth gone she could beat Lila, But no, it Backfired. That was the reason she was Shipped off. Like an object. She was replaced just like an object.

Her only wish was to die. But she had tried to do that multiple times. Someone always managed to save her. So no, that option was unavailable. She had thought that she would finally be able to die in Gotham by sucide, But no, Selina, Cassandra or Jason always managed to save her.

By now she had started to see the woman as a mother figure. The Waynes hated her. They didn’t even listen to her side of the story. Only Cass and Jason had seen that there was more to the story. Selina and Alfred too, of course. The waynes saw her with disgust. They laid out certain rules.

And of course she figured out they were Bat family. She may not be from Gotham, but she wasn’t certainly stupid. She had to admit, The Waynes were really good at hiding the Batfam thingy. But what gave them away? Misplaced Batarangs by Tim. Then Tikki had also found the cave. She wasn’t stupid, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne were good friends and certainly Batman and Superman. The people of Justice league stopped by often at the Manor too.

Speaking of the Justice League, They had given her an offer to join the League, but she declined. They had given her a satellite phone for emergencies to contact the league. They had praised her high and low. Batman was even Concerned for her when he found out her age range. Concerned! If they knew that Ladybug was their new sibling who was claimed to be a bully, she’d be declared a threat and her take Miraculous away.

Her routine was the same. Wake up. Eat breakfast in silence as she was being glared at. Study something. Do commissions while talking to her boyfriend, Luka and the others. Eat Lunch while being glared at. Study the Grimoire with Alfred. Sketch some designs while talking to Selina and Cass. Draw illustrations while Jason talks. Eat dinner in Silence. Stay up till 3 am doing commissions. Sleep.

Last week she had introduced Luka to Cass, Selina, Jason and Alfred. It went really well. Especially when Jason found out he was Jagged Stone’s son.

She was thinking how she could step up her game with the Waynes. In her thoughts she didn’t see Selina coming in.

“What are you thinking about Kitten ?” Selina asks, seeing the half sketched dress.

“Gah! Selina don’t scare me like that! Anyway I was thinking, ``What do I do to annoy the waynes?” Marinette asks the Master of scheming Cat-woman.

“Hmm, what about going to your true self? Being in headphones, ignoring them, Snide answers, and stuff like that?” Selina says thoughtfully.

“Selina, that's brilliant! You’re the best Mom!” Marinette says. She covers her mouth with her hand realizing what she said.

“Aww, Com’ere Kit. I love you.” Selina says softly.

“You’re not mad?” Marinette hesitantly asks.

“Of course not!” She says.

“You’ll be more of a mother than Sabine will ever be to me.” Marinette says with a small voice and hugs the older woman.

Then the Chaos was unleashed. Whenever the Waynes wanted to ask her something she’d ignore them and she always had her headphones on.

- - - - - - - -

“Marinette, tell me why did you hurt the poor girl?” Bruce asks in a stern voice. Of course Mari didn’t hear him because of the blaring music.

“Marinette, Why did you hurt the poor girl?” Bruce asks again, obviously annoyed.

“MARINETTE-” He was cut off from Alfred of course.

“If I may Master Bruce,” he says, earning a nod. He gently taps the girl’s shoulder. Marinette moves her hair away and removes her Airpod. The music is loud enough for everybody to hear.Meanwhile Bruce flushes in embarrassment. “Miss, Your father wants to ask you something.” Marinette nods. She turns to her Father.

“What?” She asks.

“I asked, Why did you hurt the poor girl marinette, around two months ago?” He asks, patience bearing thin.

“Oh? I didn’t know that I could make a clone of myself and Send one to the fencing class and the other to beat her up at the Seine?” She says in a bored tone. Jason and Cass, not being able to hold their laughter any longer, burst out laughing.

Later that night they checked her attendance, sure enough she was in the fencing class.

- - - - - -

One day Marinette got a call from the Justice league, Stating an emergency. She quickly transformed to Ladybug and Portalled to the Watchtower.

“Ladybug, welcome to the Watchtower,” Wonder Woman welcomed, standing at the head of a group of heroes. Interestingly enough, Batman and all of his brood were among them. Nightwing, Red Robin, Black Bat, and Robin and the others.

“Wonder Woman,” she greeted back. “What’s the problem?”

“Your former partner has been kidnapped.”

Ladybug’s face turned pale, but she took a deep breath instead of panicking. “What do we know?”

“Ra’s al Ghul has taken the former Chat Noir in an attempt to convince the Guardian of the Miraculous to turn over the jewels to him,” Batman reported.

Her face turned up into a snarl. “The League of Assassins,” she spat.

They were surprised that she knew Ra’s. But they hid it well.

“I take it you understand why we cannot allow the Miraculous to be surrendered to his control,” Batman continued.

Wonder Woman stepped in before Ladybug could reply. “Ladybug, we need you to tell us who the Guardian is so that we may protect them.”

Ladybug let out a cold laugh. Shivers ran down everyone’s spine. “Wonder Woman, you misunderstand. The Order of the Miraculous is all but dead. I’m all that’s left. You want the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous?” She spread her arms wide. “You’re looking at her. And Ra’s al Ghul can have them over my dead body. ”

The gathered heroes looked stunned. “Now where is Adrien?”

Red robin started, recovering first. “You’re not going alone.”

“You’re right,” Ladybug cut in. “I’m not. I’m gathering my team.”

“What Red Robin meant to say is that Batman and his assembled partners are going with you,” Wonder Woman soothed. “They have experience dealing with Ra’s and would be a great asset.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, at the most.” She said. Everyone nodded. She portalled away to gather her team.

Five minutes later a portal opened and stepped out Honey bee, Dragoness and Cobra in the Glory. The portal snapped shut when Ladybug entered.

“This is not enough! We’re dealing with Ra’s al Ghul and the league here!” Ladybug said. “We need her. She’s the last resort if we lose!” Dragoness exclaimed. The Justice league was confused. Who were they talking about?

“You’re right. Bee, you’re the only one who knows where she is. You’re her best friend. I can't find her in all of paris!” Ladybug asks, turning to Honey bee.

“You’re right, I do. It’ll be easy to find her. She’ll be in her room. She’s always Isolated, so don’t worry about getting caught.” Honey Bee answers.

“Isolation! I thought I told her to Socialize!” Ladybug exclaims.

“Yeah, but her family treats her like a pariah except some people. But Ladybug I don’t know if she’ll be able to fight.” Honey bee says.

“Rossi?”

“Rossi.”

“Now location please.” Ladybug says.

“Right. Wayne Manor, Gotham, New Jersey.” Honeybee whispers. Earning surprised looks from Ladybug and the Supers.

“Alright.” Ladybug portals away. This was all staged of course. She had recently found a spell to make a clone of herself.

“Why won't the hero be able to fight? She’s a hero!” Batman exclaims.

“Depression, you overgrown furry, Depression. She’s tried committing sucide several times. We saved her.” This earns many shocked looks.

Cue opening a portal. All of the Paris heroes Gasps. All in glory Multimouse is standing there.

When Honey Bee saw Multimouse, she gasped and enveloped her in a hug, muttering French endearments and saying how much she’d missed her. Dragoness stole Multimouse for a hug next before passing her on to Viperion who also received an extra peck on the lips in return, while Ladybug watched with a soft smile.

With Kaalki involved, it was child’s play to get into the assassin stronghold. Team Miraculous filled the gaps and worked seamlessly in their own right, simply a step away from Gotham’s Bats. They beat assassins on their own. The Bats just watched in awe.

It didn’t take them long to make their way to Ra’s.

The man wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he greeted him from his throne. A bruised and bloodied but otherwise intact Adrien was being restrained on the dias a few feet away.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Team Miraculous,” Ra’s mused, looking down the line. His eyes paused on Multimouse and his expression shifted to intense amusement. “And if it isn’t the latest in the Detective’s brood. I suppose heroics truly do run in the family after all.”

A number of shocked and confused gazes snapped to Multimouse, who simply stared at him down with cold eyes growling quietly.

“And yet she isn’t why we’re here,” Ladybug cut in coldly, shoving that problem in a box for later.

Ra’s shifted his oily attention to her. “Yes, I believe I requested the Guardian, young Bug.”

“And here I am,” Ladybug said simply. “But I will never cede the Miraculous to you.”

“Well, then I suppose the Blonde Cat dies.” The assassin near Adrien tried to kill him only to turn to orange smoke. Ra’s growls when he realizes he was tricked.

“Your reign is over. Your crimes won’t continue much longer. Tell me, just how long have you been using the Pits to keep yourself alive?”

“Goodbye, Ra’s al Ghul,” Ladybug intoned. “We’ll leave you to what remains of your empire.” She turned and motioned for the Fox to open the portal to the Watchtower. The Bats followed behind.

Adrien was at the fringes, attempting to escape a hero that was trying to get him to the Medbay for medical attention. He only had eyes for Multimouse.

“Marinette!” he called.

The Bats were shocked at both the name and the blatant outing of a secret identity.

Adrien broke free from his wounds. “Marinette, I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly.

It was quiet for a moment. “I take it they told you why I left, then,” Multimouse said, carefully devoid of emotion.

“I never thought-”

“Don’t, Adrien,” Queen Bee snapped.

Adrien gaped at his friend, shocked at the venom her words carried against him.

“But her Lies, they weren't hurting anyone!”

“How?” Multimouse snapped, her voice cracking. She took a deep breath. “How was it different? Because you told me I had to ‘take the high road?’ Because her lies would unravel themselves? Because she wasn’t hurting anyone? Bullshit, Adrien! They were hurting me!”

“She followed your advice at first,” Queen Bee said sharply. “She shouldn’t have, but you were her friend and she trusted you. By the time she realized that it had been a mistake, it was too late. Everyone else was in too deep and you did nothing . When Mari tried to tell everyone that they were being lied to, she was made to look like a liar. A bully.”

“Do you realize that the rest of us had people on watchlists?” Ryuko said bluntly. “People at risk of Akumatization that could bring the city to its knees. Aurore, because of Stormy Weather II. Ondine, because of Syren. But do you know who was on top?” She let the silence sit. “Marinette. Marinette was on top of that list. The only reason she was above Ladybug was because Marinette was drowning. But any time she tried to get through to the others, Lila hit back harder and you would ask Mari to back down. Because we don’t want to upset Lila, right? We don’t want her to become an akuma. Again.”

“My parents believed her, Adrien,” Multimouse said quietly. “They sent me away because I was ‘out of control’. I’m treated like a criminal where I am now! So I’m sorry, Adrien, but I can’t forgive you. You said you didn’t want to live with more lies, but then you stopped telling the truth when it threatened your ‘peace’. Even when that ‘peace’ might have ruined my life.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “But you know what they say, right? Never meet your heroes.” She turned and looked straight at Batman. “They’ll always just disappoint you.”

- - - - - - - -

The next week was tense at the Wayne manor. But eventually they apologised to marinette. She became close with them. She and her family then sent lawsuits to the Akuma class.

The saying is true then. “All’s well that ends well.”

@maribat-bdbwm

[spaceskam]

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.

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ starting prompt: based off a tweet i saw that said ‘we always kinda shipped them together. he kept scoffing that he didn’t like her and yet he always look at her first when someone made a joke to see if she was laughing too’.  

♡ pairing: walter hahn (WWE / NXT) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination. take a look and you’ll see into your imagination. i’ll be begin with a spin....”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes

"who’s that?” Walter asked his blond friend. Marcel looked up to see you, headphones in and blaring music so loud that everyone was able to hear. “oh, that’s ( your name ). she’s Timothy’s-,” before he could finish the sentence, Timothy came up to you and gave you a quick hug, “that’s his manager. she also works in the front office,” he continued. 

Walter’s eyebrows went down in confusion. never in the time that they were together in RingKampf had he ever took interest in having a manager and from the looks of it, you were the exact opposite of Tim. from afar, you were bubbly, excitable, and cute. 

Tim was nothing of the sort. polar opposites one might say. 

you were sitting in your seat as Tim was eating lunch. dancing to whatever you were listening, Walter couldn’t help but laugh at your antics. he knew Tim like the back of his hand so the decision to make you his manager was either his doing or something that was out of his hand. 

“she’s....interesting,” he said under his breath, making Marcel look at him for a moment, “any particular reason why you’re so interested in her? she’s been his manager for a while now,” Marcel put in. Walter shook his head, deciding not to respond. 

you were Tim, watching as he scarfed down his dinner while you finished up a few papers that needed to get done for next weeks taping. you were supposed to be dressed and ready to go by six but because of Tim’s new storyline with the boys from Imperium, you had to figure out a few things before the match. 

Timothy was a bit hard headed at first, stating that he didn’t need a manager but after a while, he got used to having you around. you were almost like a pest that he cared about like a sister. 

“hey, your friends are over there! why don’t you say hi!” you exclaimed, seeing Walter, Fabian, and Marcel in a corner, speaking to each other, “no. we’re not supposed to be speaking with each other,” was all he said before continuing to eat. 

you huffed before scooting out of your chair, “well, I’m going to say hello. since we’re going to be working with each other, I guess it’s only right to get formalities out of the way,” you stated, making Tim’s eyes go wide in panic. 

he instantly tried to get you to come back but by the time he tried to reach for you to come back, you were already prancing over to them. 

“hi!” you exclaimed happily. Fabian, the friendliest of the bunch gave you a smile, “i’m ( your name )! Tim’s manager. it’s nice to meet all of you!” you introduced yourself, giving them your hand to shake. 

Fabian introduced himself, giving you a hug instead. Marcel on the other hand just took the handshake and murmured his name to you. Walter remained looking at you, not bothering to say anything outside of giving you a simple head nod. 

to the untrained eye, like yourself and others, Walter’s reaction was a given. he was never a man of many words yet to the boys and Tim, they could see that Walter was holding himself back. almost like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. 

you giving Walter a smile, one that would’ve made anyone fall for you but he just turned his head to another direction and started to speak to Marcel in German. you gave Fabian a confused look, wondering why he didn’t tell you much but you felt a hand clasp onto your shoulder a second after. 

“evening boys,” Tim’s voice spoke from behind you. you gave him another look, wondering why he went back on his word from earlier, “they’re looking for you in makeup and they’re pissed,” he whispered into your ear.

your eyes widened, realizing you were beyond late to get your makeup done. you gave them a quick goodbye, shoving your work into Tim’s hands and screaming at him to put it into your office before basically darting off to the makeup station. 

Tim, Fabian, Marcel, and now Alex who had shown up looked at Walter with suspecting eyes. no one said a word but Tim could sense Walter had taken an infatuation with you. 

+

a few weeks passed since your encounter with Walter and the rest of Imperium. since you were working 'against’ them now, outside of the ring, you got a bit close to Marcel and Alex. they would invite you to sit next to them when Tim wasn’t with you. 

you tried to get closer with Walter but he always closed you off. he would say absolutely nothing to you and when had too, it wasn’t anything besides a few words. at first you thought that maybe you just annoyed him to the point where he didn’t like you but eventually, Tim told you that he was just that way with anyone that didn’t know him. 

“good morning to my favorite Germans!” you said, running up to Marcel and Alex, engulfing them into a forced hug. they stood stiff, basically embracing the forced hug, “and Walter!” you added on, giving him a brief wave. 

“where’s your boyfriend?” Alex asked, looking around. you fluttered your eyebrows in confusion, “boyfriend? wanna tell me who that is?” you asked. Marcel gave you a hearty laugh, “Tim. he’s asking for Timothy,” he stated. 

you let out a laugh, louder than you intended as you sat down next to Walter and Alex, “Tim? my boyfriend? that’s like saying it’s gonna snow in Florida. never going to happen,” you joked, trying to calm down your giggles. “very defensive about it, aren’t ya?” Alex added on. 

“people love the idea that we’re secretly together but Timothy is like an annoying brother. I love him but I wanna kick his ass 90% of the time. the other 10 is caring that he doesn’t get killed by you guys.” 

before you could continue, you heard a producer call your name, telling you that you were needed to clear up a few things for Hunter. you told them goodbye and went over to the producer. 

“so she’s single, huh?” Alex said, tapping his chin. Marcel looked at him, “why do you care?” he asked. Alex shrugged, “now that we know maybe this idiot will ask her out,” he mentioned. 

Marcel let out a laugh as Walter stared at him annoyed, “yeah right. he actually has to make conversation first and he can’t even do that with her. I’ve been hearing a few people have been interested in asking her out. not that she knows or anything,” Marcel said quietly. 

he actually had no idea if anyone was interested in you or not. personally, he could have cared less but he knew his best friend better than anyone else. Walter liked you, he was just too much of a chicken shit to actually admit to it. 

“who?” Walter asked almost immediately. Marcel closed the circle in, “for starters, in the NXT roster is Jordan Devlin and Sami Zayn from Smackdown has been rumored to have gotten her number,” Marcel lied. Alex perked at the names, “and how did you find out?” he asked, a bit suspicious that he knew. 

Marcel shrugged, not bothering to say anything for a moment, “oh, just heard a few of the girls talking yesterday while I was working out,” Walter stared at the table, his mind racing with thoughts. he never knew others actually had taken an interest in you, not that it was wrong to do as such but he was taken back that it was more than one person. 

“what has you so quiet all of a sudden?” Walter shook his head, not responding as he got up, taking his jacket with him and leaving the table. “I wonder what his problem is,” Alex murmured. Marcel laughed, “he’s finally going to grow a pair and ask her out,” Marcel stated. 

-

you were working in your office, sorting through a few different files you needed for a storyline in the women’s division. it was already late into the night as you filed the sheets away and started to get your things ready to leave.

“of course this week had to be my busiest week, now I have to call an Uber home,” you groaned. you had put your car in the shop because of a few issues it had and it wasn’t expected to get finished until at least Monday, “god damn it Tim, you just had to leave,” you huffed. 

just as you pulled your phone out, you saw Walter walking out of the locker room, “hey Walter! what are you doing here so late?” you asked, trying not to make it awkward, “I stayed working out late,” he said. 

you nodded, “ah, don’t overwork yourself now,” you mentioned, “but give me a second? I need to call an Uber home. my car is stuck at the mechanics until Monday and Tim already left,” Walter’s eyes widened, realizing this was his chance. 

“I have a car, I can take you home?” he asked, trying not to come off as intimidating. you perked up in relief, “really? that would be so amazing!” you said happily. he grabbed his keys and jiggled them, “my cars on the other side of the building,” he said.

you followed behind, trying to make conversation and interestingly enough, he was actually responding to you like a normal person would. not those snippets of conversations he would say around the others. 

the entire ride home, you were trying to crack jokes, seemingly trying to make him laugh which ended in you making an idiot out of yourself and making him laugh that way instead. Walter had never realized he actually liked you as much as the others would joke he did but now that it was just the two of you, he could sense the feelings were there. 

the ride to your house was a bit on the shorter side. you lived in a small two bedroom house, closer to Full-Sail than he thought. just as he put the car into park to let you get out, you turned around and gave him a smile, making Walter glad that it dark outside and you weren’t able to see his sudden red face. 

“I know this is weird but would you like to come in? I have food I made for myself this morning after I came from work and I’m sure there’s enough for you.” 

Walter sighed in relief. 

“I would love too.” 

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Tw broad mention of maternal abuse, sort of misophonia?

so I’ve come to associate my abusive mother with the sounds she makes. I have extremely good hearing, and all my senses are dialed up to 11 around her.

I can hear every swallow, sniff, chewing noise, everything. And it always induces rage in me. She sniffs a ton, and that’s probably stupid of me, but it makes me violently angry (which of course I have to stifle).

now the problem is growing, bc I spend a decent amount of time with my (paternal) grandmother. And as an 85 year old, she sniffs a lot, slurps her coffee, swallows loudly, all the things that drive me crazy about my mom. They also both have hearing problems.

so I guess my question is, how can these nonstop body noises stop making me resent my grandmother? That sounds ridiculous as I say it, but it’s killing me and I don’t know what to do.

Hey anon,

I actually have misophonia as well and I completely understand how horrible it can be, not only to have to hear but to manage. I've given the death stare to people who chew with their mouth open or eat chips around me. But it's definitely a matter of finding healthy ways to communicate what's bothering you.

Some things I do is remove myself from the situation or just go into the next room. I also use noise-cancelling headphones or listen to music with them. Or I may politely ask them to chew more quietly or eat something softer if I know them well enough.

There are some other good ideas in this article.

Hope I could help. I know misophonia doesn't really have an easy or quick cure but there are definitely some ways to manage those feelings. We're here for you if you need anything.

-Bun

[yelenasdog]

something like “i know” (ben hardy x fem reader)

genre: FLUFF FINALLYY

summary: sometimes making tiktoks with ben doesn’t always turn out the way you plan, but by no means is that a negative.

words: 1.4k

warnings: age gap (not dramatic, reader is like, idk, 23 maybe?), kissing, i think that’s it but lmk!

a/n: hi! so i’ve had this idea for ages and wanted to write it so here it is! the end of it is far sappier than i planned but meh whatevs. also ty to cici and eva for helping me pick the moodbard hehe. k enjoy!

☆❂✧

Having an age gap was never something that put a large damper on their relationship. The conflicting personalities of the two balanced out quite nicely, and the similarities that drew the two of them together in the first place (apart from the aforementioned) made sure they never had a lack of interesting things to talk about that weren’t generational.

Until TikTok, that was.

Now of course, there were some other millennials on the application, but Ben just for some reason couldn’t get it.

“Yes, I know that, babe, but why do they do dances?”

“They lip sync too!”

“But what is the point?”

And that’s how the conversation would end. Every single time. So Ben would sit on the sofa, watching as she danced about in front of the small screen, occasionally playing some cruel (ok, that’s a large exaggeration, they’re somewhat mean, at best) joke on him, claiming it was a trend on TikTok? That just did not sit right with him.

He didn’t remember hearing “mean pranks” in the initial description of the app when she had described it to him all of those times.

Ben tried to tune it out, he really did. He would wear his headphones, blasting Zeppelin as loud as he could while reading scripts or a book. But somehow, those catchy little tunes always managed to worm their way into his ear, being stuck in there for days and days on end.

He would waltz around the house humming Megan Thee Stallion, the occasional Flo Milli or underground indie artist also making an appearance often.

He was pouring a cup of coffee for himself one Tuesday morning in the kitchen before going on a run, Y/n watching fondly from afar. Rain was softly rolling down the windows, barely coming to a cease. The air was chilly, and fog floated through the early morning sky, a sense of calm washing over their shared South London home.

The room was kept somewhat warm, though, from the fireplace that she had insisted the house had to have, which Ben ended up being grateful for on more than one occasion. He looked over his shoulder briefly, smiling at the sight of his beloved wrapped up in his seafoam jumper, watching him move about contently.

As he turned back to where he was working on filling the two mugs in front of him, he began to oh so quietly sing the lyrics to what sounded like a familiar tune off of the app. Watermelon Sugar, maybe?

“Ben? Baby?”

He turned, his eyes growing wide and his hands flying to his hips as he leaned against the countertop behind him.

“Mhhm, yeah, w-what’s up, babe?”

She couldn’t hold in her giggle at the sight of her boyfriend’s red face and disgruntled appearance, one of his hands now scratching casually at his gold locks.

“What’re you singin’, pretty boy?”

His blush only increased at the nickname, eliciting another laugh from his girl.

“Y’know, just somethin’ I heard on the radio the other day.”

She immediately recognized his lie, he refused to listen to the radio, only using either Bluetooth or the aux cord, his music taste too pretentious for mainstream stations. She didn’t mind, though, always finding it quite funny how much of a music snob he was.  

But rather than call him out, she only nodded and smirked, standing up and bringing her phone with her over to the windowsill where she usually filmed her TikToks, pulling Ben along with her.

He sipped from his mug, eyes slanted as she scrolled through something on her phone, various sounds emitting from the speaker.

A little smile showed up on her face when she (apparently) found what she was looking for, leaving her to set the phone down, allowing a video under the sound to play on repeat.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asked, ever so cautiously, taking a step towards her. She walked towards him, engulfing him in a hug which he (yet again) cautiously reciprocated.

“I am going to teach you a TikTok dance.”

He had to do a double take.

“Come again?”

She pulled on the elastic waistband of her sweats, grabbing Ben by the arm.

“Come on, I know you wanna. And if nothing else you’ll do it to make me happy.”

He rolled his eyes, slightly irritated at her confidence and that she was so incredibly correct, he would do mostly anything to put a smile on her face.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He grumbled, moving to stand next to her.

She clapped once in excitement, joy flooding her entire body. The music started up again, but this time, she began to dance along to it.

“Ok, so just try to do what I’m doing, alright?”

“No! Not alright, can I just stand here, I think I should just stand here-“

“Ben, it's literally not that hard, 8 year olds can do it!”

“Well, I’m an extremely confused 29 year old man, thank you very much!”

And that’s basically how the next 15 minutes went until she finally gave in, allowing Ben to stand behind her, occasionally doing a little move of sorts. The two were in a fit of giggles now, struggling to keep enough composure for long enough to get even one successful video.

“Benjamin Jones! This is the last one, okay?”

He put a hand on his stomach, both of the pair attempting to catch their breath.

“Yes, yes, right okay, got it, last one.”

The little timer button counted down, the sound echoing throughout the property. 

The music then started, and she could barely keep a straight face for the 15 seconds. Bored of the routine, but never of her, Ben decided he would grab her and throw her onto the sofa, as payback for all the “TikTok pranks” she would pull on him. He waited for the perfect time to strike (one where she wouldn’t hopefully be too infuriated), restlessly shifting from foot to foot.

Nearing the last few seconds, he made his move. He swooped forward, a high pitched shriek falling from her lips as he wrapped his strong arms around her waist, running and jumping onto the couch, crushing her. He rolled off quickly, and she moved to be on top of him, her hair wildly astray. She sat up, straddling his thighs with a bright smile plastered on her face.

“You little jerk.”

He only smiled boyishly in response, a lovesick gaze set in his eyes.

The song was still playing on repeat as she leaned down, positioning her hands on either side of his head in order to place her lips gently upon his.

“That’s your reward for putting up with me today, Jones.”

He scoffed, taking her by the shoulders and bringing her to his chest. She looked up from where she was now comfortably lying, meeting his homey emerald gaze, his eyes like sea glass that had washed up on white sands, waiting to be rediscovered.

“I feel as if I deserve something more for all of that.”

“Oh, do you?”

He hummed and nodded, closing his eyes. She reached up, placing another peck on his plump lips, before scurrying away to retrieve the phone. He sat up rather quickly at the sudden loss of her body weight, smiling at the sound of her laughter coming towards him.

“Ben, look, it turned out so well.” She managed to slip out before basically throwing him the phone. A grin erupted on his own face soon after, along with the hearty chuckles to match. 

He made some commentary on how wonderful it was, before handing her back the device. She moved so she was once more essentially laying on top of Ben, the screen in both of their views. 

After sharing a few more laughs over the video, she captioned it and posted it, throwing her phone to get lost in the couch cushions as the likes and comments began to roll in.

She looked up at him once more, and he met her gaze, as he always would, bringing a hand up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. 

It didn’t leave her cheek, resting there and lightly caressing her skin. The two were most serene then, almost appearing as two felines that had decided to nap during the morning showers, most comforted by each other and the steady sound of the droplets as they pattered.

He was whispering now, the rambunctious energy of the room fading into a much more tranquil and stolid vibe, wrapping the two up like a warm embrace.

“Y’know I really would do anything to make you happy, my love.”

She closed her eyes, taking hold of one of his hands.

He then heard her mutter something like “I know”, and all was well.

☆❂✧

it was fitting for the theme. but anyway i hope u enjoyed, pls reblog and like if u did :) go drink some water, eat some protein, and take an electronics break!

love you bunches! xx hj

[alpacaparkaseok]

7 Secrets Drabbles

The one where Beth finds the diss track

Yes, I know. This has been pending on my m.list for a while now. However, I wanted to wish @dreamcatcherjiah (as well as all my followers) a very merry Christmas and happy holidays! I know some of you really wanted to see/requested what went down with the diss track (a kind of inside joke between Joon and Beth) so here we are. Thank you to everyone who has supported me and given my works a fighting chance lol. 

7 Secrets is my baby and I just have such a soft spot for Beth and Joon. 🥺🥺 If you haven’t read it yet...just do it. Read it. It’s a good time, I promise.

Merry Christmas!! Enjoy! ⇊

In my defense, I wasn’t planning on snooping around Joon’s workspace. It just kind of happened. 

We were supposed to meet up at the company building to head out to dinner with everyone. Today is a big day: it marks six months since the day we met. 

Six months since I first stepped into that little room just a couple of floors above where I now sit. My heart nearly beating out of my chest and Namjoon standing on the other side of the room. 

My entire future, right in front of me. 

The boys have been busy the past couple of months, I’ve hardly gotten to see any of them due to their new album coming out soon. Promotions are brutal; I’ve begun to see that. Every so often Namjoon will show up at my office completely out of the blue, give me a short greeting, and promptly take a nap on my couch. He says it’s one of the only places he can actually close his eyes without worrying about someone coming to the door and seeing how the album is coming along.

Even though I wish we had more time to just be together, I think those spare minutes with Namjoon snoring up a storm while I work quietly at my desk are my favorite minutes of the week. 

Namjoon’s studio is empty when I arrive, oddly enough. I’m sure he’ll be up in a few minutes; chances are he’s in a meeting with the project manager or in somebody else’s studio. 

“What do we have here?” I wonder aloud as I plop down on his swivel chair, scooting forward to look at the post-it notes scattered all around his desk. Most of them make little to no sense to me, as they all consist of producer slang and half-formed thoughts. 

There’s one though that really catches my attention. “Oooh what song is this?” Scrawled down on a bright yellow sticky note, Namjoon has written out, ‘decide whether or not to include first breath in the album’. 

See, I would’ve been more than happy to just wonder what song he was talking about and maybe ask him about it later, but is it really my fault if he kept his laptop open and signed in? 

It’s all too easy to click on his files and scroll through them until I see what song he’s talking about. 

If I really think hard about it, maybe this is my way of helping him with work. If I like the song, then I’ll just tell him to add it to the album. There! One sticky note down, five thousand to go!

I can’t find any headphones, so I just make sure the volume is low before double clicking on the file. 

Hoseok’s voice comes first, quickly followed by Yoongi’s. One after another the rap line begins to tell a story. 

It doesn’t take long for me to realize that this is a true story. 

By the time the chorus rolls around, I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, clinging to the arm rest as though it’s the only thing keeping me in reality. Suddenly the question of whether or not he should include this in the album makes sense; it’s clear that this is a very personal song. It’s about us. 

About me, I realize as Namjoon’s voice flows out. There’s a bit of disdain in his voice as he raps I had to hold my breath for seven years just to make everyone happy and that’s when I put two and two together. 

This is the diss track. The diss track that’s not really a diss track but in a way is a diss track because we were kept apart for so long. 

Yoongi is drawling out the final few notes when I hear someone clear their throat behind me. 

“Having fun?”

I slam my knee up into the underside of Namjoon’s desk, crying out as I rub it. Namjoon comes over to my side, crouching beside me and cutting the music before putting his hands over my sore knee. 

“Why did you have to scare me so bad?” I whine, hissing as Namjoon’s hands ghost over my knee. He grins at me, not looking at all apologetic. 

“Since when did you start sneaking into my studio and listening to my music?” Namjoon’s voice is light, but I can see that he’s panicking a bit. 

Rightly so. 

“That was the diss track!” I practically shout, pointing at the screen. “I can’t believe you’ve never let me listen to it!”

Namjoon shakes his head, looking a little off as he pulls me to my feet. “It’s...you ready to eat?”

He dodges all of my other questions as we head out into the black SUV. I glare at him from where I sit beside him, only wanting an answer to my question. 

Namjoon looks exhausted. More exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. He struggles to keep his eyes in one place as he stares out the window, his knee bobbing up and down. 

His legs instantly settle as I place my hand atop his knee. “Did you really not want me to listen to it?”

Namjoon exhales a long sigh, finally turning to look at me. “I...isn’t it a bit overwhelming? I mean, that’s what the guys said when we recorded it. It’s all a bit too much, don’t you think?”

I furrow my brows, shaking my head. Of all the things that these boys have done, this is the project that seems over the top? “Of course not. Why do you think that?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Namjoon takes my hand in his and begins to study it like it’s some sort of newly discovered species. “I mean, the entire song is about how I felt like I never even breathed before I met you. It’s basically me confessing my undying devotion. Don’t you think that’s a little hardcore? Maybe too hardcore to put in the album?”

He has a point. It’s only about five months since we went public. Suddenly dropping a song that’s dedicated to his soulmate and not to his fans would probably hurt more than inspire. 

“Can I tell you what I think?”

Namjoon’s eyes are bright as he nods at me. “Always.”

“I think you’re both right and wrong.” Namjoon looks confused but he doesn’t interrupt. “It’s intense, sure. Hardcore? Maybe. But it’s how you feel. And that’s all that really matters. I, for one, think it’s pretty great. It’s nice to know that you feel like that.”

“So you think I should put it into the album?”

I shrug. “If you want to, I guess. It’s up to you. I see where you’re hesitating; some people might not take to it. Especially since it hasn't been that long since everything happened. But I do think that there are probably some people out in the world that would like it.”

Namjoon nods, taking on a serious expression as he looks back out the window. It’s quiet for the rest of the ride; something that I’ve grown accustomed to with Namjoon. It’s only as we’re arriving at the small restaurant that everyone has gathered at that he turns back to me. I wait for him to speak, playing with the ring on his finger as he gathers his thoughts. 

He sighs heavily, his breath making my hair fly and making me smile. He smiles back, albeit a little uncertainly. 

“Can’t we be selfish?”

I stare up at him. That’s not what I expected. “What...what do you mean?”

Namjoon rolls his shoulders. “I love the song. And I’m so happy that you love it, too. And while I think that there might be a few people in the world that might love it as well, I just...I want to be selfish for once.”

He quiet for a moment as he prepares to say the rest of his speech. Turning to face him completely, I see the bodyguards outside the back entrance of the restaurant. The others must already be here. 

“You...you’re everything to me.” Namjoon fights to keep a light tone, but I can see right through him. “And I already share so much with the rest of the world. I even have to share you, in a way. We have to be so open and transparent about everything, which I get it. It’s good. I don’t mind most of the time. But just this once, I want to be selfish. This one time, I don’t want to share.”

I slide over closer to him, smiling softly as his arms automatically encircle me. “So you don’t want to include the song in the album?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No. I don’t. I want it to be our song. Just ours. For your eyes and ears only.”

Reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead I can’t help but laugh a little. My soulmate stares down at me, trying to figure out what’s made me laugh this time. 

“What’s so funny about that?”

I shake my head. “No, I get it. That’s...perfect. Really. I would love nothing more than to be selfish with you.”

“Then...?”

Leaning up to brush a kiss against his cheek, I marvel at the way his cheeks still go a little red even after all these months. “I just can’t believe that you dedicated an entire diss track to me. I’m flattered.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, groaning as he leans over to open the car door. “You’re the worst.”

I laugh, following after him and instantly feeling better as I see that he doesn’t look quite so weighed down anymore. “No way! You can’t say that after you just dedicated a song to me! What was it that you say in it again? My first breath after swimming or something?”

Namjoon whirls around, feigning offense as he loops his arms around my shoulders. “It’s you’re my first breath after drowning under their expectations you little punk. Get it right.”

“Oooh, that’s right.” We push the door open and follow the sound of familiar voices. “Well, since you wrote a song about me...”

Namjoon pauses, pulling on my arm as I try to go on without him. “What? You can’t just say things like that and not finish them!”

I cackle at his exasperated expression. “I can’t really say much yet, but I’ll say this. Stay tuned for a new Webtoon about a pair of star-crossed soulmates.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, a bit of boyish excitement peeking through. “Wait...really?” I nod. “That’s amazing! It’s about us, isn’t it? When is it coming out? Did you already pitch the idea? What are their-”

I cut him off, laughing as I back away from him. “Nope. That’s all the information you’re going to get, Joon.”

“What?! Why?”

Everyone goes quiet as we near the room, and I swear I can hear Taehyung mumbling something about how we’re here and as loud as always. 

Holding up six fingers in front of my soulmate’s face, I glare at him. “Six months, Kim Namjoon. You made me wait six months before I found the song. And you didn’t even show me! Consider this my revenge.”

Striding off and leaving him in the dust, I barely catch what he mumbles under his breath, but I’m pretty sure I hear something along the lines of met my match and insufferable. 

Winking at him over my shoulder, I can’t help but agree. 

I’ve definitely met my match. 

taglist: @mae-musicbitch @heartblackerthancoffee​ @agustneeds​ @eusticenatalie​ @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah​

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is hard right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately following the path of straight and narrow is difficult when you find a blonde ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was easy. New experiences, new friends, new interests...what could go wrong?

Chapter 4: Fine. Fight Me

Content Warning: adult language, Cringy Situations, slight mentions of grinding

WC: 1.4K

AN: This is what I was listening to when I wrote this :)

It was a restless sleep to say the least. First you were hot, then you were cold. Hours of tossing and turning had passed until you finally realized you weren’t going back to sleep. You stared out the window at the night sky for a while contemplating on what to with yourself.

Glancing at your phone to check the time, it indicated that there was still an hour until sunrise. You huffed and swung your feet over the edge of the bed. You padded quietly to the bathroom and flicked on the lights, wincing at the brightness.

You examined yourself in the mirror. You had faint dark circles under your eyes and disgusting eye boogers. You must have slept hard for the time you did sleep. Quickly you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Feeling slightly better, you brushed your hair and threw it up to get it out of your face.

When you retreated back to your room you opted to change your tank top into a sports bra with a loose cropped top. You put in your contacts carefully infront of the mirror hanging infront of your closet. Sliding some socks on, you picked up a pair of sneakers and headphones. Deciding to begin your work out, you took the three flights of stairs to the gym.

You paused for a moment infront of the gym doors to lace up your shoes. Making your way inside an audible gasp escaped you. The room was filled with expensive equipment. Rows of treadmills, bikes, bench presses, you name it, gleamed. “Planet Fitness doesn’t have shit on this place.” You drooled.

Finding an empty spot on the floor you began stretching. Once you were warmed up, your eyes darted from one thing to the next. Settling on running a few miles, you chose the treadmill in the corner, facing the wall. You clicked on your work out playlist and turned the volume up loud. You found you could think better with music flowing through your ears than silence.

You jogged for about 20 minutes before shifting to a run. The to do list for today formed rapidly in your head. You needed to buy the essentials, obtain a residency card and a metro pass, pick up your uniforms, and locate your hero costume. You didn’t exactly know where to go for any of these things, but you knew you needed to call Mr. Aizawa about the last part.

You began to think about your costume. You loved it with every fiber of your being. Designing it yourself, It was made to be a simple yet functional long sleeved black bodysuit. The sides were a breathable sapphire colored material. You adorned the same colored high boots with a thick heel that made it easy to run. Blue goggles were made especially to protect your eyesight from diminishing more, thick insulated gloves helped form your UV light, and a utility belt to hold your smaller support items.

Lost in your thoughts you realized you had ran about two miles and you were loosing steam. You turned off the treadmill, and tried to catch your breath. Your muscles ached and you shirt was sticking to your back. You felt gross. Closing your eyes you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face.

When you turned around and opened your eyes there stood Bakugo in all his shirtless glory. “Ugh, don’t look!” You cried out and pulled your shirt down, attempting to stretch the thin, white fabric over your stomach. If you weren’t mortified you probably would have tried to sneak a peak yourself. His cheeks dusted with a heavy blush as he dropped his weights onto the floor.

“I wasn’t fucking looking! You’re the one who flashed me!” He shouted, defensive he had been caught.

“I thought I was alone!” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to make yourself feel small. You had a banging body that you weren’t ashamed of, but your cleavage hanging out of an old, ratty sports bra infront of a guy you didn’t know was a different story.

“You live with 20 extras! You’re never alone!” Bakugo argued. He stared at the floor, not making eye contact with you.

“Clearly!” Your own blush not faltering. “How long have you been here?”

“Just long enough to hear the whole rendition of that Chris Brown song. Jesus, I thought some stray dogs were going to break in.” He laughed. You threw your head into your hands. You had to get out of here.

You hastily made your way to the exit. “Go to hell.” You called over your shoulder.

“See you there, Cherry. ” Bakugo called after you. You paused dead in your tracks, anger taking over you.

“You just always have to get the last word in don’t you?” You were fuming at this point. You never let anything bother you, but you had enough. He didn’t have to be rude to you all the time.

“You started it.” Bakugo grunted, now gaining his full attention once again. “ Look, I don’t care who the hell you are or where the hell you came from, we can go right here. Right now.” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, maintaining a hardened stance.

Turning on your heel, you stomped towards him. He was built and had the advantage of a few inches on his side, but that didn’t matter. You had taken on far scarier enemies. Your gaze bore into his. Without breaking eye contact, you responded. “Fine. Fight me.”

You could have sworn your answer took him by surprise. His face faltered slightly before turning back into the grimace he wore well. “No quirks. I’ll be damned if I pay for one more thing in this shithole.”

“I don’t need it.” You hissed. Taking him by surprise you hit him in the face, hard. He groaned, but it didn’t affect him as much as you were hoping. Bakugo countered and hit you with a jab to the side. Thank god something told you to move so when he connected with you there was only half the impact.

You two were going at it hard. Every move he made you matched. It was a pretty equal fight overall. You didn’t hold anything back. You let out all your aggressions and frustrations onto him. He took them in stride. If you weren’t so focused on winning this battle you might have realized you were having fun.

“This is all you’ve got, Cherry?” Bakugo taunted as he blocked another one of your punches. You knew you needed to end it fast because you didn’t have a whole lot left in you. You managed to kick his leg out from underneath him and twisted his arm behind him as he fell. You landed ontop of his back, straddling him, and held his arm tightly in place.

“You don’t have to like me, Bakugo. But you will respect me.” You huffed, feeling accomplished you kicked his ass. You held his head down so he couldn’t escape. He squirmed under you as a string of curses left his mouth. You remained like this for a few moments until he stopped moving. Smiling, you let up on his arm slightly, assuming all the fight left his body. You were wrong.

Bakugo used the opportunity of you loosening the grip and flipped the two of you. Your back was planted firmly on the floor, pinned under the weight of him. He held your wrists down to your head with both of his hands.

You both were panting messes, chests rising to meet each other and falling back into place. “I’ll be damned if you tell me what to do, Cherry. ” He hissed, just loud enough to make your head swim. It was a compromising position to say the least. If anyone were to walk in they’d assume the worst. Hell, you were beginning to assume the worst.

You shifted under his weight, planning your escape. There was no point in trying to use your arms, so you used your lower half to wrestle against him. The friction you caused was dangerous. You both felt it. You felt something press into you and you knew it wasn’t his phone. The gym felt like it was five hundred degrees.

You struggled to find your voice. “My name is Y/N.” You whispered. Giving up, you stopped resisting. This time he ground his hips into yours, not breaking eye contact. You moaned in response. You felt yourself throbbing to the core. Bakugo wasn’t dumb, he could tell you enjoyed it.

He leaned down and his lips hovered over yours. You held your breath and closed your eyes, waiting for his to meet yours.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Bakugo peeled himself off of you and left you laying on the floor alone without another word.

You grabbed your chest, “What the hell just happened?”

~~~~~~~~~

AN: Hi all! So if you’ve read the chapters before this one was posted you might be confused why Bakugo is calling Y/N Cherry. Well, after brainstorming ideas of the future chapters a thought came to mind referring to the panty incident of 2021, “Lane, he can’t call the reader pinky...that’s Mina’s hero name.”

That was a total face palm moment. So if you go back you’ll see I changed the underwear to black with cherries on it. Ok, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 😬

[ayellowcurtain]

Pls write about Sobbe going to a party from Sander’s school. There, Sander gets distracted chatting with his friends. Robbe doesn’t know anyone, feeling out of place. He doesn’t want to drag Sander away from his friends bc it’s too selfish. After 1 hour of isolation, he leaves the party discreetly and sends Sander a text to say he went home but wants him to have fun. Sander runs to catch up to him, apologises and says Robbe is his best company, they kiss and embrace and go home happily together

Sander holds his hand even tighter when they go inside, leading the way through the heavy crowd, trying to find his friends in the maze.

“There they are!” Robbe hears before he can see. Sander stops and steps aside, still holding his hand but while hugging all his friends with his other arm, and Robbe follows him, smiling at the loud, obnoxious boys, celebrating their arrival, always teasing them about how it’s rare to see he and Sander at parties.

They follow the boys to wherever they’re settled at the party and there’s not much room, Robbe is more than okay standing up but Sander pulls him to sit on the couch too, squeezed on the side, having to put one leg over Sander’s so they can all fit.

Sander keeps his hand on Robbe’s thigh at all times, and when Robbe has no idea what they’re talking about, he moves on to touching the back of Sander’s hand, following the veins that he can feel from his wrist to his fingers.

Someone brings them another round of beers and soda for Robbe and Sander.

He drinks it slowly so he doesn’t have to just be there, not talking because he doesn’t know the movie they’re talking about, having to watch it for a class.

Sander sits up straight to tell one of his friends his technique to do proportions on his drawings and Robbe sits better too so his leg is not in the way of the other two. Once they seem to finally understand each other, Sander comes back to rest against the back of the couch, looking at Robbe, smiling softly.

“I can teach your proportions too.”

Robbe smiles, moving a little to his side so they can fit closer and better and  yet, not take too much space on the couch.

“Yeah? I don’t need to bribe the teacher this time?”

Sander shakes his head, quietly putting one arm tightly around Robbe’s waist to keep them flat against each other, kissing after what it feels like forever. It’s not the most comfortable position, both of them kind of desperately trying to pull each other even closer, but there’s no room for Robbe to open his legs so Sander can fit in between them, even though he wants it, desperately.

“Sander...” he whispers in between the kiss, and Sander leaves a soft kiss on his lips before moving back to his friends, ready to find an excuse for them to go somewhere more private when the boys start teasing them again, a hand coming to mess Robbe’s head from behind the couch, telling them to leave each other alone for a second.

Robbe sighs because he knows they won’t be going anywhere any time soon. Sander goes back to talking to his friends, and Robbe tries to think about anything else to calm himself.

The night goes smoothly, but Robbe is merely a watcher of the other ones having fun together. He’s not good at all at making conversation or small talk or pushing himself constantly in the middle of a conversation to remind everyone he’s still there.

It’s getting late, and Robbe is bored out of his mind. He’s a little tired and thinking about a comfortable bed where he can lie and close his eyes for a few hours sounds like paradise. Sander and the boys went to find something to eat, and Robbe decided to stay back. 

They take forever to come back, standing at the kitchen door, snacking on something, talking excitedly, and there are strangers sitting on the couch now, Robbe feels like an intruder once again. So he gets up carefully, thinking Sander ‘s sixth sense of always knowing where Robbe is will make him look, but he doesn’t, laughing with his friends. 

There’s nothing wrong in being in different places. You and him are two people. 

Robbe walks outside and stops in the front yard, his ears still buzzing with the loud music he was hearing for hours, grabbing his phone to text Sander that he’s home already. He’s sure Sander haven’t noticed him for the past few minutes so he won’t know Robbe just left, and he won’t have to leave just to take Robbe home.

In the back of his mind, he wants to be with Sander, wants him to drop everything and everyone to be with him but he knows it’s stupid and selfish and that there’s absolutely nothing wrong in spending a Saturday night apart. 

to Sander: I’m home, baby <3 didn’t want to bother you, but you have fun! We’ll see each other tomorrow.

I love you

He starts walking away, closing his jacket, trying to find his cheap headphones he keeps at all times inside one of his pockets to listen to some music to keep himself awake and alert on his walk back home.

He hears his name being called, but he thinks it might be the music saying something else that sounds like his name. 

“Robbe...” Sander holds his arm gently, making him stop, taking his headphones off, confused as to why and how is his boyfriend here, “Why did you lied to me?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were home, but I saw you leaving, thought you were just going for a little bit of air...” 

“I didn’t want you to leave because of me. Sorry for lying.” Robbe puts his earphones back inside his pocket, holding Sander’s hand to tell him it’s fine, he can stay, and Robbe will go home. He won’t tell it’s because he’s bored out of his mind though.

“Robbe, we came here together. I’ll go with you. Just give me a minute to grab my stuff.”

His boyfriend starts to move back to the house and Robbe holds his hand tighter, “Sander, it’s your friend’s party. You don’t have to leave because I am. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

Sander rolls his eyes, standing close to him again, hovering over him, making Robbe’s heart always start beating faster.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re not bothering me, Robbe. We spent the whole day apart, we didn’t sleep together last night, I was with them last night and today. You’re not forcing me to go. I want to go with you, I miss you and want to spend my night with you. Is that allowed?”

Robbe tries to roll his eyes and mean it, but it’s hard when they’re just inches apart. He can only nod his head and Sander brushes their lips together.

“I’ll go grab my things. Wait right here.”

Robbe pushes himself back until he finds the garden fence of the neighbor, leaning against it while he watches Sander walk back to the house, fixing his hair and looking back to make sure Robbe is still there.

He’s so handsome, with his all black aesthetic, wearing that leather jacket that feels like it’s a part of him already, walking so confidently, always searching for Robbe.

While he waits, Robbe walks back to the front of the house, seeing the club lights changing, the loud music reverberating through the whole house. From here, he can only see foggy, soft shadows of the people inside, so many of them smoking Robbe feels a little high himself from being inside a small space with so many joints around him.

Sander comes back out a few minutes later, but not alone this time, his friends teasing him, pushing him away, messing up his hair and giving him an extra beer and a joint.

“You’re stealing him from us again, Robin!” One of them screams, they’re talking all over each other and Robbe laughs, showing them the middle finger while Sander finally manages to get rid of all his friends’ grabby hands.

“You don’t have a chance, sorry.” He explains to them, holding Robbe hand when they’re close enough, walking back home in no rush, taking his time while talking excitedly about the movie he watched with the boys last night. 

[cupofteaguk]

i think i’m in love with you and i’m terrified

FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION

[pairing] :: jungkook x fem!reader

[genre] :: fake dating au + fluff 

[word count] :: 1.9k 

[note] :: previously “things you said too quietly” on my old blog 

.

In retrospect, maybe inviting you over to his apartment with the excuse that he ‘needed a favor’ hadn’t been the brightest idea Jungkook has ever come up with. But when the basis of your relationship sprouts from that exact same line, it doesn’t really leave him with too much legroom on how to go about conversations with you, especially ones that involve these particular moments. 

‘These particular moments’ pertaining to instances like these where he just really wants to see you and he can’t seem to get you out of his mind. Not because his mother had thought to call again to ask about your wellbeing, or to ask about grabbing another lunch with another family member; not because he needs you to spew up some lie about different milestones in a nonexistent relationship—but because he just really, really, kind of sort of maybe really enjoys your company. A lot more than he probably should, which is dangerous, considering that once his parents deemed his relationship with you ‘good enough’, you wouldn’t necessarily be… needed in his outside life anymore. 

And that thought, that uncertainty of what will follow, frightens him deeply. It’s gotten to the point where he can no longer picture an evening without you by his side, a dinner party where you aren’t grumbling snarky remarks about the wine underneath your breath, or filling him with stories about your childhood that makes him double over the chair in laughter—can no longer picture a day without your hands which, although much smaller than his own, still manage to fit perfectly in his own, can no longer picture a moment in front of his family where he couldn’t kiss you, partly because he had to but mostly just because he wanted to. 

However, his own hesitation, his own insecurities that you couldn’t return his feelings the way he wanted you to, keeps him from spilling the truth of his thoughts and emotions, keeps him hiding away in the dark, hiding behind poor ‘Hey, I need a favor’ text messages as an excuse to see you. 

Somehow, in spite of his pathetic nature that makes friends such as Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi roll their eyes at him, it makes everything worth it to see your frame lingering outside his door, suddenly all wide gazes and the concerned curl of your lips. “Hey, I saw your text,” You say, brushing past him to enter the apartment, whirling back around to face him. “Is everything okay? Is your mom asking for another dinner?” 

“A-Ah, no, not today,” Jungkook manages, followed by an internal cursing because maybe he really should have thought this through just a little bit more. “I just needed some advice. Your opinion on something.” 

You inhale, exhale, shift slightly on the balls of your feet, and he wants to know what you’re thinking, what immediate thoughts are plaguing that brilliant mind of yours. 

And he’s nervous, although this isn’t necessarily the first time he’s called you over to ask of such a thing. He’s definitely engaged in a handful of these calls—but each invitation brings that choking anticipation of whether you were going to figure out his real intentions, the underlying fact that while yes, he really did require some advice over whatever predicament he’s caught himself into, that desire to see you overpowers his own independent responsibility. 

So he stares at you, just as you stare at him. He thinks he sees a flicker in your eyes, and his heart might give out because you know, you know, oh man, you definitely know and you’re going to confront him and reject him and leave him alone—!

“Oh yeah, for sure. What do you need help with?” 

The previous flicker is gone, no trace of it left behind in your eyes and he briefly wonders if he had imagined the whole thing just to give him some hope that maybe, just maybe, you returned his feelings and his internal, one-sided pinning wouldn’t be for nothing. But you are back to wide smiles and understanding eyes and he doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or not. 

“W-Well, uh, just follow me.” He waits until you have discarded your coat and purse, resting it down atop the counter in his kitchen, before following his form down the hall and into his bedroom. You enter the space hesitantly, lingering by the door frame momentarily before he beckons you to sit on the bed next to him. 

“Oh god, this seems serious,” You muse, clearly trying to keep the atmosphere light as you gingerly join him. Even though the pair of you have had to engage in similarity intimate moments within the company of his parents to keep up the facade, it’s different when no one is watching the pair of you, when there’s no expectation—and somehow that makes Jungkook more nervous than ever before. 

 “It is.” He elects to momentarily play along, distracting himself by opening his laptop and rummaging around for the file he’s looking for. “This is pretty life or death.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, taking his banters under a serious context—as always, an endearing quality about you that makes the smile want to spread itself wildly across your lips. “Is it really?”

Without a warning, he pokes your cheek. “Of course not, you moron. Would I really be this casual if the situation was that serious?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, lips pressing together, cheeks feeling as if it’s been set aflame. “I don’t know!” You retort. “You can be very calm under pressure sometimes!” 

For a moment, Jungkook cannot say anything, too caught up in his small fit of laughter over your protest. “You’re so cute,” He says without thinking, immediately halting his light-hearted giggles as the smile diffuses quickly from his face as he tears his gaze from you to the computer screen once again. 

Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to speak such words without thought, even though he’s the one who put himself in this situation and knew more than anyone that it was important to separate emotions from objectivity. His mind is reeling, unable to think of anything other than the fact that he’s always been an open book, and if you were having doubts before about his feelings before then you would certainly know by now, there’s no way you couldn’t know at this point. 

But you don’t say anything. Not at first, anyways. Then, you pout. “Since this isn’t a life or death situation, what’s going on?” 

He doesn’t know how to feel about you brushing over the previous topic, but he decides, in this moment, to be thankful for it instead. He’s not sure he can handle you confronting him right now, especially when he has something important to ask of you. 

Which reminds him… 

“Oh, right,” He says, smiling softly to himself as he opens the file of his choosing, followed by making a grab for his headphones. “Well, remember when you encouraged me to get that composing software?” 

Your pout and the tension from his previous observation fades away as you look at him, lips twisting as if you don’t know what to make of his statement quite yet. “Yeah, I do,” You reply. “Why?” The corners quirk up. “Did you get it?” 

“I may have,” He answers, smile growing bashful when you grin and start clapping your hands together softly. “And I used it to record a cover.” 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim. “That’s so awesome.” 

He swallows thickly, looking down, looking over at you. “Would you like to listen to it?” 

“Of course,” You reply, taking the headphones that Jungkook offers to you. You have to move closer to him to avoid stretching the cord out too far, which immediately allows him to feel your body heat. He barely manages to talk himself out of tensing at the gesture, but you don’t seem to notice as you seem too fixated on readjusting the headphones so they are snug against your ears. “I’m ready,” You say, a little louder than necessary, but that only makes Jungkook exhale quietly through his nose in the form of laughter before he’s hunching over and clicking the play button on the program. 

At first, there is only silence, before some of the music from his cover start blasting out from beyond the headphones, meaning that you have turned the volume up incredibly high to hear every single detail he’s put into the track. Every breath, every curve and inclination of his voice, every key from the piano or every move of a string. He watches with bated breath as you listen with bated breath. 

He takes in the furrow of eyebrows that you’ve developed to signal the level of concentration you’ve put into making sure that you could really listen to his song. He takes in the way your lips have curled up into the softest of smiles at the sound of his voice, and he can feel his previous nerves disappearing at the sight of you enjoying yourself so much. 

He sees the fondness touching along your features, and can’t help but wonder how much different things would be in his life had you not decided to accept his plea for a fake girlfriend, had you not decided to indulge within your curious state of mind for him, had you not grown determined to dig through the realms of his past and his interests. Maybe he wouldn’t be feeling this way about you, but maybe certain passions would never have been uncovered, maybe his life would never have been the same. 

You start lightly humming to the track of his song, your voice barely above a whisper, something you probably don’t even realize you’re doing, but he sees it, and he feels it—his heart swelling, his eyes fixated across your features. You care so much, you care so deeply and so powerfully and you genuinely want to help Jungkook out in any way that you possibly can. You’re his friend, but you’re more than that. On the days his parents drop by into the city, you’re the one by his side, you’re the one running your hands through his hair, the one gazing into his eyes, and even though nothing about your relationship is real—it feels real and hopeful and influential. There’s no real title, but real feelings that are like warmth rushing through his body, his mind, lighting all the nerves from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” He says, barely above a whisper, watching the way you watch his work, his passion, his dreams come to live through the wire. He pauses. “And I’m terrified.” 

You don’t hear him over the ringing of his own voice in your ears, but you see the movement of his mouth out of the corner of your eyes. You turn towards him, lifting one side of the headphones up to address him. “Did you say something?” 

He straightens slightly, watching the same way you’re watching him, your eyes big and wide and curious and his own holding the truth neither of you were ready to face yet. 

That fear keeps him grounded, keeps him from saying too much, keeps him from spilling the truth of his feelings down across the bed on this Thursday evening. You expected just a typical friendly favor, not a confession. It doesn’t feel right, it feels far from such, and he would never want to lay anything emotional upon you just for his sake. 

So his lips remain shut, hoping that there will be a moment, and hoping that it will be alright. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

[imagineitup]

𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 (𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭) : 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵: chaotic, clumsy slytherin muggle, meets scorpius, who helps them? i think it'd be so cute ☺️☺️ hope you are well!

𝘢/𝘯: ok hear me out … scorpius coffee shop au 

𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵: when you spill the coffee order all over the attractive customer, you expect him to scream at you.  what you’re not expecting is for him to profusely apologize.  he even asks if you’re alright.  um, what?

- - 

“Double-shot espresso,” you call, raising an eyebrow at the name written on the receipt, “for Scorpius?”

It’s a strange name, that’s for sure.  You’ve seen your share of strange names, even though you go through the entire ordeal of trying to repress the last five years of your life.  You shake your head, trying to clear things out of your mind.  It’s near closing hours, and there’s only a few more minutes until you’ll get to leave.  Yet to your dismay, there are still people inside the coffee shop: students loitering around the dim lamplight and listening to music through tangled headphones, couples quietly holding their lover’s hand, little kids opening and closing the door to hear the whoosh of wind and soft bell clink. 

You let your eyes roam around the coffee shop, trying to guess who this ever elusive Scorpius is.  Maybe it's the older man leaning on his cane, doing his best to regard the different porcelain mugs despite failing eyesight.  It would make sense, considering this Scorpius hasn’t come to get his coffee yet.  Or maybe, even, the little kid yawning and tugging at his mom’s sleeve.  Little kids get all sorts of strange names these days, because apparently the more unique the better. 

“Scorpius?”  

But before you can contemplate any longer, there’s a screech of metal to your right, and you watch in amusement as an older boy your age comes running up to the counter, hopping on one foot in an attempt to regain the balance lost from his rush.  There’s another loud clatter as his chair leg regains its balance against the floor.  “Here, here, hi Scorpius --” he frowns, out of breath.  “Wait … you’re not … I’m Scorpius.”  His cheeks flood pink, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.  His eyes sheepishly meet yours.  “Sorry, I promise I haven’t done that in years.  Today’s just been a mess.”

Well.  You never thought this Scorpius would be cute.

But you end up laughing softly at him, shaking your head in amusement.  “I gathered.  You’re drinking a double-shot espresso at closing hours, and I think it’s safe to say I’m just a little concerned.”

“Pssh,” Scorpius says, shrugging bashfully.  “I just needed a jump after the apparating.  I’m exhausted.” 

You let out a screech.  Is he insane?  Your hands drop forward, and you watch in horror as the recycled paper cup you’re holding teeters forward and sloshes all over Scorpius and his nice coat.  The cup rolls against the floor, and you freeze, terrified.  Shit.

“Oh my god.  Oh my god I--”

“Agh,” Scorpius yelps, stepping backward to mournfully look at the coffee staining his wool sweater.  Then he bites back a hiss as he wrings out his hand, his bottom lip clenched in-between his teeth.  “Ouch.”

You’re suddenly all too aware of the other customers watching you with blank, unimpressed stares, some even going to the extent of ignoring you completely due to second-hand embarrassment.  The little kid with his mom finally manages to convince her to walk out the door, and the little bells jangle twice as they exit. 

You turn your attention back to Scorpius.  “I’m so, so sorry --”

Scorpius’s eyes quickly dart back to yours, and you wince, expecting him to yell.  Or at least hit you with a disgusted gaze and demand a refund.  But instead, he panics?  He steps forward again, clearly forgetting about the mess on the floor and the coffee sloshing against his shoes, and he reaches a tentative hand out toward you.  “Are you alright?  I’m so sorry!  I didn’t mean to make a mess, can I, can I help?  Fix it, I mean.”

What?

You’re speechless, all your words disappearing.  All you can do is stare in stupored awe, wide-eyed and speechless at the boy who stands across from you.  Here he is, this strange, strange boy, who talks about apparating out loud and apologizes to you for something that was entirely your own fault. 

“What?” Is all you can manage.  “Wh--”

“Are you okay?” Scorpius repeats, gently and clearly concerned.  “It was hot.  I, erm, really hope you didn’t burn yourself.”

“But I spilled it on you?” 

Scorpius shrugs.  “Well, must’ve been a reason, no?” He laughs bemusedly, shrugging good-naturedly.  “And besides, it’ll dry out in seconds.  It’s no big deal.” 

“But your sweater …” 

“I’ll just magic it out.”  

Your mouth drops open.  He didn’t seriously just say that, did he?

Scorpius stuffs his hand over his mouth, and then stammers, “I mean, the washing machine will do wonders.  Like magic.”  He turns, grabbing a handful of napkins from the counter and immediately starts dropping them to the floor, using his foot to seep up the coffee. 

You watch him with wide eyes.  “I’ll do it, you just sit --”

“No, it’s the least I can do --”

“Oh my god, I’ll get a mop.”

You run into the back room, the double doors swinging behind you as you let your face fall into your hands.  After taking in a few breaths, you let your eyes scan around the cabinets and extra bags of coffee grounds, and you shakily reach for the mop in the corner, nearly knocking over a box of glass supplies. 

When you re-emerge from the back room, you watch with bewilderment as Scorpius reaches for something in his jacket pocket, freezing when he sees you.  “Oh, perfect!” 

He cheerfully takes the mop from you, all too eager to help clean up. 

“Hey, wait a minute.  You want anything to eat?” 

Scorpius’ eyes widen, and he sneaks a look at the pastry shelf.  “No, I … I shouldn’t.  Albus didn’t give me that much muggle money,” he sneaks a look at the coins held in his hand, “he only gave me these.  Said it was enough for the espresso?”

Albus?  This Scorpius really ain’t sly. 

But you nod, busying yourself with fixing him another espresso, this time making sure to create it as perfectly as you can and to fill it to the brim.  As soon as you slip the lid atop the cup, you wander over to the patisserie display, reaching for the metal tongs to sneak in two iced gingerbread men and a loaf of banana bread.

“Scorpius?” 

He perks up, leaning against the mop and then stumbling, flushing a bright red.  He quickly places the mop against the side of the wall, and then turns to you as he sees the drink in your hands, pleased.  “Is that my espresso?”

You nod, handing him the cup (carefully this time), and then the parcel of baked goods.  “Here.  It’s the least I can do.  It’s on the house.” 

Scorpius blinks.  He tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes filling with awe.  “Wow,” he whispers, his lips parting.  Then he gingerly reaches out to take the parcel, his face lighting up as he looks inside.  “You gave me three?”

You smile sheepishly.  “Yeah.” 

Scorpius attempts to slide over the coins he has, but you stop him, placing your hand over his and pushing the coins back to him.  “It’s on the house.”

“On the house?” 

“Free.”

Scorpius’s mouth drops open.  “But --”

“But what?”

“But I can’t accept this.”

“Well, you’re going to.”  You laugh, shrugging.  “Tell Albus Potter to teach you more about muggle etiquette.”

Scorpius grins.  And then he frowns, eyebrows scrunching up.  “Wait, what? Muggle?  What’s that?  I mean, what?  Erm, how do you know that?” 

You laugh, lips twisting up into an easy smirk.  “I’m a Hogwarts drop-out.  Magic wasn’t really my thing, so I decided to come back.  Finish up school and work here on the side.”

“But how’d you know --”

You hold up a finger, “you mentioned apparating,” you hold up another finger, “literally said ‘muggle money’,” and then a third finger, “and then you said Albus.  The Potter’s are practically famous, you know.”

Scorpius flushes pink. 

“And the phrase, ‘on the house’.”

Scorpius looks at his shoes, obviously flustered.  “Oh, I, uh --”

“It’s cute, though.  You should come back, one day.  I’d give you my number, but I don’t think you have a phone.”

Scorpius frowns, then smiles shyly.  “Do you have an owl?” 

You quickly write your address down on a napkin.  “Here.  Owl me one day.”

Scorpius’s fingers fumble as he reaches for it, and the smile that spreads across his face lights up the room.  “Okay.  I’ll come back.  And I’ll write you.  Every day!”

You laugh.  “I’m counting on it.”

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Trust Issues

Summary: Virgil and Logan are internet friends. Can they be something more? Angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, analogical. Mentions of abuse.

Word Count: 3,784

Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01​​ @spoopy-turtle​​ @lizluvscupcakes​ @more-fandon-than-friends 

Virgil kept everyone at arm's length. He knew it wasn’t fair to himself but he didn’t care. It was the way he had been since high school. He was half way into college now and doing fine. That was, until he met someone online. They got along well, having similar interests and Virgil enjoyed talking to him. He didn’t realize that he was letting his walls down until it was too late.

He was trying to study for an important exam when he got the request for a call. Sighing, Virgil rolled his chair over to the side, reaching into his loft bed to grab his phone. He accepted the call as he rolled back, turning the music coming from the laptop down. 

“Salutations, Virgil.” The almost musical voice came from his phone.

Virgil was still out of sight of the camera and allowed himself a large smile before sobering and propping the phone where he could see it and be seen. “Hi, Logan. Did you need something?”

“I wanted to spend time with you.” Logan said as if it was the most logical thing in the world to call someone up simply to spend time together. Which, for most people, it probably was. Unfortunately, Virgil wasn’t most people.

Virgil scoffed as he jotted down a note. “Sure, because you’ve got nothing better to do.”

Logan sighed, already used to this from him. “Virgil, I can see you multitasking. Is it not possible to conceive that I might also be capable of doing the same? Is it a truly impossible idea that I simply wanted your company, whether we discuss topics or not?”

Virgil’s hands stilled, pausing in his thought process to look at the small screen housing Logan’s face. “No, I guess it isn’t.” He ran a hand through his hair, oblivious to the amount of graphite on the side of it. “Sorry, I’m just stressed out right now.”

Logan smiled. “Take a deep breath. Now, do you want help, or a listening ear?”

“A listening ear. I’m trying to study for my second to last exam but it doesn’t feel like I’m remembering any of it.”

Logan nodded. “Okay, maybe it’s time to take a break. It seems that I called at just the right time.”

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t want to bother you with this. It’s stupid and not even like it’s the class with the most credits right now. I think I’ll just switch to a different subject and work on that.”

Logan’s voice took on a dejected tone. “Alright. I’m here if you need me.” He turned away from his screen and Virgil got a look at his surroundings. Unlike Virgil who was in a dorm, Logan seemed to be in at least an apartment. He was standing in an immaculately clean kitchen with a few mixing bowls behind him.

Logan turned to the bowls, grabbing a bag of flour from off screen and started measuring out ingredients. Virgil rested his chin on his palm, elbow placed on the desk, and let himself watch for a few minutes as Logan whipped up a batch of cookies by hand and placed them in the ove, setting a timer before turning back to the phone, obviously surprised to see Virgil spaced out in front of him.

Virgil startled out of his thoughts when Logan called his name. Eyes focusing again, he found himself looking at Logan’s face with a soft smile resting upon it. “Virgil.” He called again, voice impossibly gentle. 

Virgil lifted his head. “You need something?”

“You spaced out for a bit. Anything on your mind?”

Virgil shook his head, removing his pencil from behind his ear and looking back at the scratch paper in front of him. “Just the math problems.”

“Okay. I’m gonna read a book for a while so just say if you need anything.”

Virgil gave a thumbs up to the general area of his phone and hoped Logan saw it. After a few minutes of quiet music and no sound from Logan, Virgil needed more auditory stimulation. So, he rolled back in his chair and pulled out a drawer that housed his headphones. Plugging them into his laptop, he turned the volume up just enough that he could finally think. 

His thought strayed from his work to the man sitting nearby but so far away. Looking up, Logan’s phone was positioned against what Virgil assumed was a lamp that allowed him to read and still have the phone within his sight line. Virgil sighed quietly as he directed his gaze back to his page and started to doodle in the margins.

He knew what was happening, had known for a few weeks now. He was terrified of the consequences of these feelings that were beginning to bubble up inside him like a freshwater spring in the mountains. While he wanted to live by the spring and drink deeply of it every day, he knew he was doomed to be a nomad and was scared to fill his water bottle from the spring. 

He knew he was falling for Logan, knew he could confess and have a good chance Logan felt the same. He also knew the chances of him turning him down and cutting off all contact with him. Virgil didn’t think he could stand that again. He looked up when he heard a sound, only to find Logan staring at him with another smile in his eyes.

Logan mimed taking headphones off and Virgil did as requested. Pausing the music, he turned his full attention to the beautiful human on the other side of the screen. “You need something?”

Logan coughed. “Well, I actually did call you for a reason.”

Virgil nodded, letting his pencil fall out of his hand and roll across the desk. “I’m all ears.” His heart was in his throat and was pounding a mile a minute. There was no other sound in his room as he turned his undivided attention to him.

Logan smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing major, I assure you.” Virgil nodded, heart rate slowing just the slightest. “I have to go away for a week or two and I won’t have access to the internet or service. I’ll essentially be radio silent for the foreseeable future.”

Virgil nodded in understanding even as the feelings he had been dreading the most clawed their way into his throat. He forced them back down, telling himself he would deal with it at a later time that would never come. “Okay. Are you just informing me out of courtesy?” He was surprised by how nonchalant he managed to sound as he started looking around the desktop for the dropped pencil.

“I know you worry to the point of excess at times and simply wanted to inform you so you don’t freak out when you can’t get into contact with me.” He paused. “Virgil, are you alright?”

Virgil was leaning away from the camera. “Yeah, just looking for my pencil.”

Logan sighed as a timer went off in the background. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m fine. Go check on the cookies.”

Virgil finally sat back up, pencil in hand. He could feel the tears pricking his eyes even as he swallowed them. ‘He’s just going somewhere for a while.’ He thought. ‘He’s not like him. He’ll come back, there’s no reason to panic.’

He watched Logan stand and walk off screen before his head dipped back down, looking at his paper through blurry eyes as a tear splashed onto the problem he was working on. Sniffling, he rolled away to grab the box of tissues that his roommate stole. He blew his nose in case Logan was within hearing range before swiping at his eyes a bit too hard. He cleaned his face up before blotting the water drop on his page. 

Logan came back into view and picked the phone up, holding it away from his body. “Are you alright? I thought I heard something from here?”

“Yeah, I just have a stuffy nose right now due to the weather.” He rubbed his hands down his face, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Hey, I really need to focus on this right now. I don’t know if I can call you back later so I’ll talk to you in a few weeks.” Virgil purposely kept his voice light, almost cheerier than normal. “Bye!”

He ended the call, head falling to rest on his desk. First it was the stress of having homework to do on top of studying for a test he was sure he was going to fail, then he was sure he was coming down with a cold, now Logan initiated a long bout of not talking. He knew Logan wasn’t going to abandon him, but it hurt just the same.

Remus came back a half hour later to find him in the same position. “Yo, dude. What’s wrong?”

Virgil grunted, not bothering to move.

Remus’ voice softened as his footsteps approached. “Hey, you wanna talk about it?”

Virgil’s hand shot up, showing Remus the bird. Remus just snorted. “I get that enough from my brother, you don’t scare me, emo. Come on, what’s wrong?”

Virgil finally lifted his head, allowing Remus a glimpse of his red, puffy, and bloodshot eyes. “My life is going to hell faster than you are.”

Remus nodded, ignoring the last part of the sentence. “Okay. That’s not new. Tell me what happened this time.”

Virgil stood from his chair, crawling into his bed and hugging his pillow. “Logan just told me he wasn’t going to be able to talk to me for about two weeks and now I’m having past trauma creep up. Nothing too major.”

Remus sighed, climbing into the bed next to him. “Do we need to move your appointment up so you can talk about it with Dr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Probably. I don’t want to bother him with this though.”

Remus laughed. “You do realize that this is the exact thing you started going to him to help with, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Virgil leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. “So, how was your day?”

So, Remus distracted Virgil from the tempest raging inside him, talking on and on about the things he learned and got to experience in his mortuary science classes. That night, Remus helped Virgil bump his appointment to the day after next.

When it was time to go, Remus offered to drive Virgil but he opted to walk instead. He got there and checked in with the receptionist, Remy. They chatted about what kind of coffee Remy was drinking today and his current recommendation before he was told to go ahead and go on back. Dr. Picani came in shortly, skipping the theatrics and going straight to the nitty-gritty.

“So, something's bothering you?” He asked as he sat down.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah. It’s just . . .  something happened recently that caused me to go back into the mindset of a few years back.”

Emile nodded. “So, your abandonment issues are back?”

“Yeah.” Virgil sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, almost ashamed to have brought this to him. “It’s something so stupid too.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to this. Now, what caused this?”

“A friend that, for the past two years-”

“Logan?”

“Yes, Logan. We keep in contact regularly, always chatting at least three times a week, sometimes more.”

Emile nodded. “He’s good for you.”

“Well, he says he has to go somewhere for the next few weeks and won’t have any service or access to wifi. In his own words, he’s going radio silent for one to two weeks.”

“I can see how that would be distressing to you. What feelings does it bring up? Honestly, please.”

“Honestly? Inadequate, too much, like I was stepping on his toes and wasn’t told of it until just now. Most of all, it hurts to know that I’m falling for him but have no courage to confess or even bring it up. I don’t even know if he’s into guys.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly.

Emile made a note. “So, you feel like when your ex left you?”

“Put plainly, yes. I’m back into the loop of wondering if I did something wrong only this time I have the knowledge that Logan communicates enough to let me know if I did something wrong. He would have no reason to lie to me. Then again, he was baking cookies while we were talking.”

“He is not the baker type?”

“I’ve never seen him use that much sugar in all the time I’ve known him.” Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

Emile hummed. “You are not paranoid, but you are probably overthinking this. If you have a way of texting him, maybe do that to cope. If nothing else, write him letters when you want to talk to him.”

Virgil nodded. “That’s a really good idea, thanks!”

The rest of the appointment went smoothly, Virgil needing a refill on his medication anyways. Over the course of the next few days, Virgil bought a small notebook that he started filling with random thoughts that he thought Logan would enjoy or things he really wanted to tell him. Maybe he would tell him parts of it but much of it was something he would die of embarrassment if anyone found it. 

One night, Virgil was sitting at his desk while trying to do some research for an essay when there was a knock at his door. Groaning, he stood up. “Remus, you’ve gotta stop leaving your key here.” He said as he opened the door, not even looking at who was at the door. Afterall, who else would be knocking on his door at two in the morning? 

“I did not know I possessed a key.” A familiar voice that definitely wasn’t Remus answered.

Virgil whirled around, only to see Logan standing in his doorway, a suitcase in one hand and tubberware in the other. Logan raised his eyebrows. “Do I need a key to enter?”

Virgil shook his head, brain not actually connecting what was happening at the moment. Logan smirked as he stepped past the doorway and shut the door behind himself. “Are you alright?”

Virgil nodded. Legs giving way under him, he collapsed into his desk chair. His eyes were wide as they followed Logan. Logan slipped his shoes off and placed them by Virgil’s near the door before setting his suitcase down and handing the tupperware to Virgil, who took it and placed it on his desk.

Another minute passed as Logan got a good look around the room before Virgil finally got his brain cells working again. “What are you doing here?”

Logan laughed, pulling Remus’ desk chair over to sit at Virgil’s eye level. “I wanted to surprise you.” His eyes were soft and voice fond, leaving Virgil a figurative puddle of feelings.

Virgil blinked but had enough presence of mind to close the journal he’d been writing in, making it look like he was just tidying up his desk. “Why?” His voice was filled with bitterness directed at himself. He wasn’t sure why Logan went through all the trouble of coming all the way here.

Before Logan could answer, the door was flung open. “Emo, I’m hoooome!” The word ‘home’ was sung out like Remus was in some sort of sitcom.

Virgil sighed, grateful for the distraction. “Hey, stinky.”

Remus looked over at him. “Oh, who’s this? Is this that boy you’ve been talking to for the past three years?” His eyes were bright with mischief. Or maybe that was alcohol.

Logan stood, holding out a hand for Remus to shake. “I’m Logan. It’s a pleasure to meet Virgil’s roommate.”

Remus looked at the hand before taking a few steps forward, close enough that their noses were almost touching but not quite. Before he could do anything, Virgil spoke up. “Bad Remus. Go to bed.”

Remus pouted but climbed into his loft bed, rolling to face the wall and putting his headphones on. Virgil sighed, standing to give him a water bottle before turning back to Logan. “He tends to lick new people.”

Logan rubbed his cheek. “Lick?”

Virgil nodded, chuckling. “Yeah.”

Logan nodded, a relieved expression crossing his face as he sat back down. “So, how have you been? We haven’t talked in a little while.”

Virgil nodded, grabbing water bottles for himself and Logan out of the minifridge before sitting back down, handing Logan his. “I’ve been okay.”

Behind Logan, Virgil saw Remus roll over and raise his eyebrows in a way that Virgil had come to know as, ‘You wanna tell him or should I?’ Virgil waved a hand at hip height, something Logan would miss but Remus would know as, ‘Leave it.’

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You seem unsure of that.”

Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair before taking a sip of water to avoid the question. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue he realized that the last time he drank something was an energy drink a few hours ago and chugged half the bottle. When he came up for air, Logan looked concerned. “Do you want the honest answer?” Virgil asked, capping the bottle.

Logan’s concern turned to surprise. “I thought we were always as honest as possible.”

Virgil nodded, hand subconsciously reaching for his fidget cube. “I’ve not been doing so well.” His hand went through his hair again, tugging slightly.

Remus laughed. “That’s an understatement!”

Logan turned to look at him. “Would one of you care to explain?”

Virgil gestured at Remus, who instantly swung his legs over the side of his bed, not caring that he didn’t have a railing. “So, Virgil has a past. Because of this, he’s got such things as abandonment issues and an anxiety disorder. He’s going to therapy for both but had to bump up his appointment due to you going radio silent.”

Logan held up a hand, turning to face Virgil. “Is this true? Why did you need to change the appointment date?”

Virgil nodded, fingers pressing the buttons harder than he meant to but the clicking was calming. “I needed to get a refill of my meds as well as needed to talk to my therapist about it.” He shrugged, his hoodie being pulled tighter around him. “My ex would often be abusive before going radio silent. I got used to the connection to the point that he could just go radio silent and I would wonder what I did wrong. I haven’t seen him in years but old habits die hard.”

Logan’s face crumpled in sympathy, leaning forward to put a hand on Virgil’s knee. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Virgil shrugged. “That’s cause I didn’t tell you.” 

Logan nodded. “I’m sorry for making you feel like that. No one should have to go through that.”

Virgil nodded. “I guess.”

“Hey!” Remus called. “It’s late and I want to sleep! Get out!” 

Virgil playfully gasped. “Remus! You don’t even know if he was planning on spending the night here!” Virgil turned to Logan, hope in his chest but practiced indifference in his eyes as he struggled to build his walls back up brick by brick. “Were you?”

“No. I was going to get a room in the hotel down the road. Although, I should be going now as it’s quite late.”

Virgil nodded, standing with him. As he rested his hand on his desk to stand, it fell on the journal he was writing in earlier. On a whim, he picked it up and held it out to Logan. “Take this with you. You know, for some light reading.”

Logan smiled as his hand gently closed around the book, slipping it into his suitcase. “I will, thank you.” Virgil ignored the way Remus was making kissing faces.

Logan left and Virgil had a hard time getting to sleep. Eventually, he did. Sleep crept in like a thief in the night, noticed just as quickly and caught even slower. When morning came, he was just drifting off to sleep but had to get up to go to class, grumbling all the way.

When he was getting out of his last class, Virgil got a text from Logan that said to wait in front of the dorm building. When he got there, a car was already parked outside. The window rolled down to show Logan in the driver’s seat. “You got time?”

Virgil smiled and nodded, getting in. Logan sped off gesturing to the stereo. “I don’t know the local stations and this is a rental.”

Virgil sat forward, hand poised to change the station. “What are we looking for?”

Logan shrugged. “Anything you like, really. I’m not that picky when it comes to music.”

Virgil smirked before changing it to the one station that was eternally stuck in the early 2000’s. Logan smiled. “I missed this music.” He muttered.

Virgil sat back and let himself get lost. He didn’t care about the destination, just focused on the music around him. Blocking out all thoughts except for the music, he started to hum along to songs he knew. Eventually, he started to sing to them. Logan just smiled and turned the music up.

When the car stopped, Logan turned the music down and all Virgil’s worries came back. He remembered the book he gave away last night, which he now noticed was sitting on the center console. Logan turned to face Virgil, who started to play with his hood strings.

Logan smiled, reaching a hand out to hold one of Virgil’s. “I want you to know I read the whole thing.”

Virgil wished the car had an eject button or that the ground would open up and swallow him. 

“Honestly, reading that gave me confidence and made this infinitely easier to do.”

Virgil squeezed his hand, reminding himself Logan wouldn’t have come all the way over here just to tell him he didn’t want to be friends anymore.

“I want you to know that I feel the same way.”

Virgil’s gaze shot up from their joined hands, looking at Logan and feeling like a house was being built by the spring. “Do you mean it?” His voice was quiet, hesitant.

Logan smiled, thumb idly rubbing on the back of Virgil’s hand. “I’m as serious as I’ve ever been. I made cookies to butter you up, for goodness sake!”

Virgil giggled. “You’re a dork.”

Logan leaned forward, his smile turning into a smirk. “Can I be your dork?”

Virgil nodded, leaning in to close the distance and kiss his dork.

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Don’t: Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic)

S.S: Heyo, its been a while since posting a story so here you go! BE CAUTIOUS!!! This fic ca nbe ver ytrigger so read at your own risk! Thank you guys hope you all had a wonderful holiday season!

Warnings: !!TW!! cutting, depressive/sucidial thoughts, anxiety, bleeding, needles, MAJOR ANGST and some fluff

Word Count: 1,798

Again, please read at your own risk!! Thank you!!

MASTERLIST

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The events of Endgame had affected everybody. The loss of Tony, Nat, and Vision, the resignation of Cap, Thor off in space, and Bruce was somewhere in Europe helping develop cures for diseases, everything had changed. There were only a few who stayed around the reconstructed compound anymore. Those few including Bucky, Wanda, Sam, and me. 

It was usually quiet, sometimes Pepper, Morgan, and Rhodes stopped by to see how things were going. Peter always came after school to see if we needed help on missions. T’challa and Shuri always checked in over the video call, same with many of our off-world allies. Valkyrie even checked in every once in a while, per Thor’s request when he couldn’t. It was nice, but nothing would ever be the same, and everyone knew that.

We each had our own ways of coping. The four of us that lived in the compound did our best not to bother each other. Bucky usually locked himself in his room, Sam went on runs, Wanda meditated and I blasted music so loud that I couldn’t hear my thoughts. It probably wasn’t the best way to cope but if it helped, it helped.

It was one of those days where memories flooded and tears fell without a second thought, so I plugged in my headphones and laid back in my bed getting lost in the bass vibrating in my eardrums. I watched the blades of my ceiling fan turn painfully slow while the urge to eat crept on me. I turned to my clock and realized that it was around noon and I hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday. So I wiped the few stray tears away and managed to roll out of bed, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath my feet.

I pulled an earbud from my ear, even turned the music down just slightly as I walked down the hall. Even though there was plenty of room to spread out the four of us decided to share a hallway, the close proximity giving some comfort in the time of difficulty. It was nice.

As I passed a certain door, the sound of a muffled cry reached my ear. It was Bucky’s door. I understood why it had been so hard for him to lose Steve. He had been Bucky’s anchor in life, and his comforter after the whole Hydra situation. He had to put on a brave face before Steve left to return the stones, knowing that the punk of a friend would stay and live his life. He had to bite back the tears when he saw Steve sitting on the wooden bench, hair turned white from age and skin wrinkled. 

I took a step closer, removing my other earbud and pausing my music so I could hear better, pressing my ear gently against the door. Another strangled sob came from the other side along with a guttural scream. I felt awful, I wanted to check in but I didn’t want to bother him if he just wanted to be left alone. But I went against the latter and gently knocked on the door.

“Bucky? Are you ok?” I asked. The only reply I got was muffled sobs. Maybe he hadn’t heard me. So I knocked again a little harder. “Bucky?” Again, nothing but crying.

I took a minute, maybe he just needed a minute before he answered. So I waited, listening to the pained cries until I couldn’t take it.

“Bucky, I’m coming in,” I called through the door. I turned the knob and opened the door to see Bucky on the floor, sitting against the side of his bed, a throwing dagger in his metal hand, and fresh bloody cuts along his flesh forearm.

“Bucky? What are you doing, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” I closed the door before moving towards him, tossing my headphones and phone onto his bed before kneeling beside him. I took the stained knife from his metal grip, tossing it across the floor to pick up later, and pressed my hand over his cuts to minimize the bleeding causing him to hiss in pain.

“Please, please don’t.” he cried, his metal digits wrapping around my wrist.

“Buck, I’m gonna help you no matter how much you might not want it. I’m not gonna leave you,” I told him, looking into his lifeless blue-grey eyes.

“That’s what Steve said, now he’s gone. How do I know you aren’t lying?” his voice was weak and quiet, scared almost.

“I’m not Steve, I’m not going anywhere. I swear on my life,” My hand still pressed against his bleeding cuts. “But this needs to be a mutual agreement, so you cant leave me either. At least not right now. So I need your help, alright? I need you to work with me here Barnes.”

His gaze was hazy but he nodded and let go of his grip on my wrist.

“We need to get you to the bathroom, and I know I might be strong but your much heavier than you look, no offense.” I smile, trying to bring some light to the situation. Luckily I saw a small smirk form on his paling face before he nodded again. 

I removed my hold on his arm, standing up and reaching my hands down to pull him up, which was successful as he used the bed to help. His left arm wrapped around my shoulder as we shuffled to the bathroom where I set him on the toilet.

I grabbed the darkest washcloth in his cupboard of towels, pressing it against his wrist and placing his metal hand over it.

“I need you to keep the pressure on that, please. I know it probably hurts but you gotta do it,” I commanded gently, squeezing his hand around his arm. He simply nodded as his eyes followed mine lethargically. I continued to look through the cupboards for his first aid kit.

“Top cupboard to the left.” He sounded tired and I didn’t blame him. I had walked in on him sitting in a small puddle of his own blood and the emotional toll this event has all taken on us was more than enough reason to be tired. I opened the cupboard he suggested and retrieved the kit from the shelf opening it quickly and pulling out what I needed.

Even when the blood had been dripping from the cuts I knew some were deep enough for stitches, so I pulled the needle and suture thread from the box, gaining a groan from Bucky.

“I’m sorry but I know those cuts are too deep. It’ll only be a stitch or two and ill make it as painless as possible Buck, you just gotta stay with me.” I replied, looking at him. He replied with a nod as tears streamed down his face. I quickly wiped one away before sending him a small smile and returning to my task.

“Alright hun, we need to clean your arm so I can make clean stitches,” I stated, standing in front of him holding my hands out again to help him to the sink. He took my hands and hauled himself from his position and made his way to sink and began washing the cuts under the running water, wincing at the stinging pain.

Once he was back on his seat, I carefully patted the area dry with the used towel and began stitching the larger cuts. I only paused when Bucky hissed in pain or jerked away after I had pulled the thread through. A chorus of apologizes came from my mouth, and from his.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” his usual stern, strong voice was broken and came out in whispers.

“Buck, you dont have to apologize. It’s alright, life gets hard, it’s only logical to find a coping mechanism. It’s ok hun. It’s not your fault.” I cooed, trying to calm him.

“But I do, I just tried to kill myself because, what? Because I’m sad that my friend left me to be happy? How pathetic is that?” He denied, shaking with anger and sadness.

“It’s not pathetic because it is completely valid.” I began pulling the last stitch tight. “Life gets hard, and you have been through hell and back too many times to count. We have to cope with it somehow and pain can be a distraction, though not always the best option.” I continued looking at his sorrowful tear-filled eyes.  “Steve was your rock, the person you went to with every issue. And now without him, you feel lost and your drowning under the metaphorical waves of life. So your feelings are valid, and your actions were valid, just not the right way to go about it.” I finished as I wrapped gauze and Coban around the fresh stitches.

A moment of silence filled the bathroom as I finished wrapping his arm and cleaned up the supplies that had been used.

“How are you so good at this? Why weren’t you phased?” he questioned, breaking the eerie silence.

“That, my dear friend, is a conversation for another time. You need to focus on yourself right now.” I said with a smile while I watched my hands.

He looked away, down to his bandaged arm flexing his fist as the muscles shifted the bandage.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For helping me.” His eyes looked to mine, the small spark of hope back in his irises.

“It’s what friends do,” I replied. “Now you need some sleep,” I said helping him from the toilet and leading him back to his bed. Moving my phone and headphones out of his way, he settled onto his bed grabbing the fleece blanket from the foot of his bed and pull it over himself.

I carefully help before grabbing my phone and the knife on the floor and turning to leave. 

“Wait. I-uh- could you stay? Please.” he sounded like an innocent little boy who was scared of the monsters under the bed.

“Ya, of course I can.” I smiled, crawling into bed next to him. I sat with my back against the headboard, Bucky’s head on my lap, and his bandaged arm wrapped over my legs. My fingers found their way through his brunette locks as his breaths became heavier.

“You know you can always come to me,” I said quietly, leaning my head against the backboard. “I’ll listen, always.”

“You can come to me too. Tell me anything and everything,” he mumbled through his tired state.

“Love ya Buck. Sleep well.” I hummed quietly, closing my eyes.

“Love you too Kenz.” he murmured quietly before the room was filled with soft snores from both the soldier and me.

Things might not go back to how they were but they will get better.

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THanks for reading. IF you ever need someone to talk to if you ever have thoughts like these dont be afraid to send me a message! Im alwasy willing to talk through lifes troubles with soemone if it helps them! Also know that there are hotlines that you can call!